When you say nothing at all...

Being a romantic at heart, I wanted to bring a topic to the table that would touch the soft strings. Hence I chose my favorite song, you say it the best when you say nothing at all. This famous song has a beautiful history of placing not one but three singers into stardom and that too in different times. It is among the best-known hit songs for three different performers: Keith Whitley, who took it to the top of the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart on December 24, 1988; Alison Krauss, whose version became her first solo top-10 country hit in 1995; and Irish pop singer Ronan Keating, whose version was his first solo single and a chart-topper in the UK in 1999.

I know that this information has generated some curiosity in your mind; hence I would like to share a brief history of its creation and evolution.

This famous love song is a country song written by Paul Overstreet and Don Schlitz. Overstreet and Schlitz came up with "When You Say Nothing at All" at the end of an otherwise unproductive day. Strumming a guitar, trying to write their next song, they were coming up empty. In Overstreet’s own words, "As we tried to find another way to say nothing, we came up with the song”. They thought the song was OK, but nothing special. When Keith Whitley (the then famous country singer and producer for RCA records) heard it, he loved it, and was not going to let it get away. Earlier, he had recorded another Overstreet-Schlitz composition that became a No. 1 hit for another artist - Randy Travis' titled "On the Other Hand." Whitley did not plan to let "When You Say Nothing at All" meet the same fate.

RCA released the song in the album Don't Close Your Eyes in 1988 which opened at 61 on the Billboard Hot Country Singles chart but gradually hit the top and stayed there for weeks.

Sadly in 1989, Keith died of alcohol poisoning.

Alison Krauss recorded "When You Say Nothing at All" with her group, Union Station, in 1994 for a tribute album to Whitley. She was already a veteran bluegrass fiddler but her group had failed to place anything on the charts till then. The magic of the song drove it to success again and reached the 2nd place on Hot Country Singles Chart. Krauss' recording won the 1995 CMA award for "Single of the Year".

Ronan Keating recorded it in 1999 for the soundtrack of the film Notting Hill. It was Keating's first solo single outside the confines of popular Irish group Boyzone. Keating's version of "When You Say Nothing at All" was released as a single in the third quarter of 1999 and reached number one on the UK chart. It also reached the top position in Ireland. In the UK, the single was certified gold.

All the three versions have been sung with so much of passion that will take you to a different world altogether and you could feel the calmness and the love around. Personally Alison Krauss’s version is my favorite because of the golden voice she has which adds more charm to the composition but it was Whitley who sang the song from his heart. You can feel your pulse and your mind floating when you listen to him.

So what’s it that makes this one so famous, so touching. It just emphasizes the simplest thing on the earth. Love, care and the feeling that “I’ll be there for you no matter what”. No living being can survive in this world without love. And just like smile, there is no language needed to express this one too. I would like to cite a few examples from our day to day life where great things are conveyed without uttering a syllable or making a phonetic sound.

First of all lets take the obvious example about which the song states. The chemistry between lovers. One fine day, you meet someone who you have been waiting for your whole life. In spite of the pleasures you are in, the company you have got and the love and affection you have received from your nearest and dearest ones, suddenly seem to be less important. Why? Because this person you have been waiting for, will care for you without a condition. He will never ask for an explanation and will provide you an invisible but the strongest sense of security. There will be many things told and heard without the exchange of a single word.

I have heard many of my friends saying, both boys and girls, that their dream date or the most beautiful moment would be taking a stroll on the beach with their beloved, hand in hand, with no conversation being taking place. It’s because the touch, the presence is enough to last a life long and making it worth lived.

Lets take an example of friends. A friend is said to be a true one if he comes when you need him the most. And when a true friend enters in, suddenly all issues seem to disappear. No matter what the depth of danger be that you are in, you know that he will take you out. At least he will never let you fall and get lost. At the time of need, he will never ask you whether you were right or wrong, he will just let you his shoulder to rest your head and cry your heart out and he will understand without you explaining him anything.

One of the best examples that everyone will agree of is the purest relation that exists. The relation between a mother and her child. Try remembering how countless times your mom understood you just by looking at your eyes. Your needs, desires, mistakes, pain and happiness, all were understood and handled, cured or reciprocated without letting you convey or explain them explicitly.

It is sometimes really difficult for us to ease our heart and lift the heavy load that crushes us from within but we are not in a position to do that because we don’t have the courage or will or some resource. At that time we aspire for someone who would just understand us, relieve us from the burden and make us free. He should support us selflessly and here all the beautiful relations of our life come into picture.

I’ll take the example of an ideal relationship between a manager and his sub or a lead and his follower or a teacher and his disciple where the superior identifies the strengths and weaknesses of the junior. He lets him reach great heights by nurturing and encouraging his talents and consoling him when he feels low. I have come across the biographies and auto biographies of great leaders and managers and found that apart from ambition and passion, it was understanding, kindness and simplicity that made them achieve their feat. A manager is sure to get respect and productivity from his resources, if he could understand their needs. A smile of appreciation when you have done something nice, a look of sympathy when you are facing a personal problem, a nod of agreement when you have made a point or a grant of a much required break is what all you expect. That small gesture will help you drive to your limits and produce the best out of you.

All in all, people might have discovered thousands of languages for the ease of communication but the greatest of conversations are held non-verbally. Love, smile and care are the best mediums to win on anyone and everyone. So guys stop talking and start expressing. Go and listen to that song once.

Deepak...A tribute

There are times that change you and your life. There are situations and circumstances that change the world and your perception of it. There are people who keep you updated that how above or how beneath you are compared to their status, knowledge or power. And lately I have had the privilege or misfortune; I am still trying to figure out, to come across some of the strangest yet powerful folks who challenged not only my knowledge and understanding but also my experience and my secret strengths. One such strength I considered was to recognise a person and making an approximately appropriate image of him with his verbal and non-verbal attributes, even when not coming in contact directly with him. A few days back, while I was in the loo, my most favourite thinking place, I was wondering about a similar situation where deceptive looks and fraudulent behaviour of some had proven me wrong and sent me to a state of misery, despair and hopelessness. Suddenly, a long lost memory crossed my mind. A recollection that was soothing as well as hurtful at the same time. It was something that reminded me that something like this has not happened to me for the first time. I had witnessed worse. I had suddenly remembered Deepak. Deepak, the Bastard.
I remember the day I had seen Deepak for the first time. A new boy with scary grey but curious eyes entered the class of standard fifth students. He was tall, broad, thin and extraordinarily fair with untidy hair. His disgusting pink, over-sized, protruding lips however destroyed most of his charm that was being brought out by his shining white shirt and fair lean physique. He looked rather normal however there was something uncannily strange and mysterious about him that drew attention and curiosity. Time passed and the boy mingled with everyone. Soon all came to know that he belonged to a very rich family from the town of Kantabanji, a purely Marwari establishment and a huge business hub, forty kilometres away from my native, Tiltilagarh.
I have been to Kantabanji once or twice, hence let me give my perception of the place. It is a small and clean town with big Kothis and bungalows. A car draped with cover stands still in front of every house and looks more like it lies there more for exhibition than use. There is a small market along the main road that divides the town into two. However the real business takes place at the homes and not the shops. The drawing room of every house is a business counter. As soon as you enter a house, you will see a fat Marwari dressed in all white cotton lying on a mattress flanked with bolsters. He is assisted by his servants and sons who are either pursuing basic education or have left going to school long back as their ultimate goal in life was to lie on that mattress serving customers. In the vicinity, you will find models or showpieces of a commodity that has been stockpiled inside the house. Ninety-nine percent of the residents are filthy rich, foul-mouthed wholesalers.
Deepak however was different. He neither had the ambition of taking over his father’s business nor his legacy. He was jolly and a spendthrift. Sometimes he was selfish and cunning but a good team player as well. He was a man of art. I clearly remember when once our art teacher had asked us to draw a mango and I had completely messed it up. When investigated, the mangoes we had drawn looked like a pear, an apple or some god forsaken fruit; it was only Deepak’s which looked ripe and fresh, ready for the picking. His handwriting was lucid, cursive and beautiful. He never tried anything too hard and always took things easy. He was a brilliant student but he never aspired to be numero uno. He would write what he liked, as much as he liked. He never fought for that extra mark with the teacher unlike us. On the other hand, I always had to be the number one. The first rank was the only solace that I could offer to my parents for the hardships they endured for bringing me up in spite of financial, physical and mental disturbances. Hence I always feared Deepak because if he had tried, he could have easily done it. I was scared the most when he beat me in the language subject of oriya even when he was a Marwari. Thank God, his sciences were not that good.
If for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, what were the actions that led to Deepak’s reactions? It was finally revealed during one of those horrifying story telling sessions. It is a common and the most trilling Indian pastime of narrating ghost encounters. Hence once when we had gathered, for the first time with Deepak, to discuss ghosts and witches, Deepak’s story was the one which not only scared us the most but also changed our relation with him.
He waited patiently for his turn, first uninterested but later very attentively, to tell the story of his life. With original expressions in his face, he informed that he had heard ghosts talking, crying, shouting and moving around. He had not only felt them but lived with them. When inquired where, we were stunned by the reply. It was not a Peepal tree or an obnoxious pond; it was his mansion in Kantabanji and the ghosts were of his relatives. This part was spine chilling. With a mixed bunch of emotions of fear, sadness and adventure, he continued narrating that story. For some unknown reason, all his family members were obsessed with committing suicide. Almost everyone in his family had killed himself or herself and only Deepak and his father were left alive. It was like, everyone had been either subjects of acute illnesses or depression or sadness or discontent or hate and suicide had been the only way out to put a stop to all misery and pain. However the most genuine theory which was quite believable was that the ghosts present in the house made it difficult for the residents to thrive and always called the latter towards them for freedom. With vivid description he explained how his uncle’s wife had lied on railway tracks, how his uncle hanged himself to the ceiling, how his mother jumped into the blind well and finally succeeded after a lot many attempts, etc. He continued on and on and answered all the questions that were popped onto him occasionally. That very day we were confused to believe him or not until one day he attempted it himself.
After that day of storytelling, we noticed changes in Deepak which were basically gradual. He started remaining more silent. He used to pick up fights and quarrels now and then and his behaviour was erratic. His performance started degrading and so were his social interactions. Later we came to know that the event had triggered his emotions that lied dormant. All we knew about Deepak till date was just a mirage, a person he was faking to be but he was not. In better words he was trying to be a normal person. He had undergone huge stress in his early days and may be the presence of ghosts had worsened the circumstances. His father had thought that shifting Deepak to a different environment would work and it had worked but that day changed everything.
Few days later, we received news of transporting him back to his father after his futile attempt to kill himself by drinking lots of floor cleaner in the hostel. He was criticised for his deed and then he was forgotten.
Years passed. Again one day we received the information of Deepak’s comeback. Nobody actually wanted him back but we heard that his Dad had persuaded the authorities hard and assured that he had changed for good. When Deepak re-entered the class after a long time, I realised that there was a stark resemblance with his very first entry, however he looked a bit older and paler and the shirt on him had lost it's shine.
His second return was not at all social. He remained more to himself. He talked very less and useless. He was no more brilliant though his handwriting had remained beautiful. In the name of fun, he only cracked filthy jokes and made fun of others. Passing lewd remarks and sharp comments had became his trade-mark. He no more stayed in the hostel, rented a separate room and lived alone. At that tender age of fourteen, it was unbelievable. Then information came from a classmate, who was able to peek into his room thru the bedroom of her window, that he had taken up alcohol. Now that was news and we became all curious. Some friends and I approached him to validate if it was true. He honestly admitted it and said that he was proud of it. Then he invited us to his room. After a short discussion, we agreed and that evening after tuition, we went to his place. It was small, dark and creepy. There was an obnoxious smell in the place which was remotely familiar but incomprehensible. One interesting thing however was the paintings on the wall. I was happy that he had not abandoned his art. After a few minutes of stay, we left him alone again with his old monk.
I had inquired the source of the smell but he had avoided to answer. Next day only he told me that the drawings I was too full of praises of were actually painted by semen. There was a cunning smile on his lips which later got converted into a brutal laugh whereas I was on the verge of puking. Additionally he told me that the semen was never collected prior to the act, so I was asked to visualize how they were done. I had only managed to wonder.
When his body stopped supporting his drinking habits, he was again sent back to his home. I remember his father had come to take him. He looked sad and scary too but he also looked like a survivor. That was the last time I had seen both of them.
Few days later, we got the news that Deepak finally succeeded in killing himself by lying on the railway tracks and getting rammed by a speeding train. That otherwise conspicuous boy finally held up his family tradition. The deceiving bastard might have freed himself but I have been unable to do so from my mind. Every time I’ll be hit by deception, I’ll find that bastard floating in my head. Happy haunting buddy.

Pursuit

I came across a very beautiful quote few days back that said “You can’t be great if you feel happy and contented when people say that you are good”. That was like a punch in the face. I always felt good to be good, but there was a double entendre to that. Part of it was true and part of it constructed, an idea that made me feel better, that I was not a mediocre. Half-truth, as I know I have created a world of my own. Sadly, I'm not even good, forget being great.

In the last few days, laziness overwhelmed and the appreciations made me complacent. There is one more quote that fits right in, “If you were educated yesterday and stopped studying today, you are illiterate tomorrow”. The world has sped at an unbelievable pace and it feels as if I have lagged much behind. I have been rightly commented on my laziness and stubbornness for not writing during the last nine months. A baby would have been delivered by now but I even failed to deliver a scribbling. What was I involved in during all this time? Have I been of any use to any one? Have I spent my resources wisely? At least, was I happy or good? Well, I am not sure. Lots of things happened and some will definitely go to my memory books, good, bad and ugly. I gained many things, regained some, lost few. Happening, it has been but productive? No. If life is all about changes, why am I not getting any? Patching and creating are two different things. I have been tired of patching and reviving. An effort of dispersing all worries with smoke has burnt my lungs. I want a breath of fresh air. Luckily I have got my totem back and it all feels real now as the world of dreams that I used to live in looks distant. The fantasies that I used to create and pamper no longer pamper me. I have learnt the truths the bitter way as complacency is no virtue and the only thing that is here to stay is practicality. However its hunger and passion that makes one practical and victorious. I can feel that my appetite has weakened over the days and compassion has replaced passion. Good part is that I have somewhat understood my problems and the only task left is to fix them.

Hence the pursuit starts here or precisely the “inception” of pursuit starts. In fact, it is the idea that pushes you and builds the world around you. Next thing is to identify the people who share your dream and the projections required for you to help you make a way out of the maze. Family and friends are those who act as your obedient and potential team and who will be there to help you overcome all odds but there will also be fair-weather friends, frienemies(a portmanteau of a friend who can stab you at the back), unwelcome responsibilities, guilt and sad memories of the past which will always be there slowing your pace on the journey but these factors can’t be avoided but can only be compromised. The trick is to how soon you learn to tackle them. For me, I am still in the process of learning.

Just like the "Pursuit of Happyness", my pursuit will be for solace and of course success. Success in existence and persistence. Conquering the realms of life and the vastness of it will be my motto. Time has come to beautify and not just to behold. If changes don't enter by themselves I'll bring them in. Emotions might be hurt, relations might be put to test and I may suffer the most leaving the cozy bed that has given me a wonderful rest. But I am tired of being immobile like a heap of trash inside a golden bin. I want to be useful and available.I have always wanted to.

I strive to dream and look beyond the horizon for at least I can enjoy the abstract pictures in the sky for real. I vow to laugh my heart out for making someone smile or wonder. I pledge to pursue my goals or in worst case identify them. Life is calling and I will live it for real.

How DJ quenched his thirst..

My recollections are mushy but they are meant to be. I don't remember what happened that day or that evening but I am still besotted with the memoirs of that night, that spine-chilling night when that fatso, grotesque DJ(one of the three of which Anil takes pride in comparing the Us & Os) managed to quench his insatiable thirst because of the blood,the sweat and the petrol we burnt.Ogre!
That was a starry night of October,2008, I reminisce.We,birds of the same flock,the shaukeen kind,Sumedh,Dhruv & myself found ourselves at the clean and hygienic interiors of 21/A,Tatya Tope,Wanowarie. The residence of Nirav,the theist jain,Sumit,the vagabond,Yogen,the Kauwa and Venky the Saint. So,it was their endeavor which kept the house cozy and tidy. Now,there were thousand rules for guests which were to be stringently followed to upkeep the serenity of the ambiance. How can guys that too bachelors and to add to it,engineers can live life this way?No fag, no booze, no dirt, no NVs of any kind, no this no that,no everything and all these bullshit lured us time and again to commit all those crimes that were banned in that vicinity. I guess girls and Engineers especially freshers share something in common here, they just exactly do what they are supposed not to.
Ok so we were sitting on the laps of the virgin room inviting us for destruction and completion just like a fully ornamented and decorated bride. There was no actual occupant of the room present because of arrangements and engagements. I had the key as I used to be a virtual roomie in that house for a handsome duration last year. We had our bellies full and were discussing all sorts of nonsense as we usually do, carving no fruitful substance but all shit and this shitting requires energy too. Throats sore, hunger peeps and many more lustful temptations that mushroom after the mid of night. So when the hour hand was hovering somewhere around the 2 AM mark, our dear friend DJ suddenly felt the urge of wetting his throat when he had sored it shouting and thrusting his out of the world ideas and philosophies,and what fluid did he demand my friends? of course, Beer! Beer at 2 AM in the city of Pune! Buddies as we are and deeply inspired by the motivational masala movies of Bollywood, DCH,RDB and so on, decided to fulfill our dear pal's need helping us for an adventure to be scribbled in the pages of our lives.
Sumedh kick-started his Red & Black Pulsar and warmed the engine with huge accelerations till the time I successfully managed to rest my grotesque bulk on the back-seat. Bike-rides generally give me a thrill and that night was no different. We just exchanged one last glance for affirmation and then set out for the memorable adventure. The engine roared and in a matter of seconds we were mapping the empty roads at 80kms an hour. The wind was chilling and in reaction all my body hair were straightened resembling the savannah grass. Sumedh is a damn Roadie and he is always geared up in the right attire no matter what hour of the day and I,like always, find solace in my pair of bermudas and half sleeve shirts. Hence I had to take shelter behind his huge back to retain body heat which was oozing out exponentially. However the shear thrill of the ride and the motto of it kept me exuberant and warm. We passed the Camp and reached the railway station area. Something inside Sumedh convinced him that he will be getting the damn elixir nearby the Sohrab Hall. There are a few bland restaurants nearby which open till late night and offer the requisites to men in mission like us but that night we were late than their late night time-tables. Failed once, failed twice but the monster inside was winning each time shouting and screeching, " C'mon guys, this is Pune and you are here to create history, Go on". A gentleman,yes he was gentle, overheard this I guess and then he uttered the golden word "Pyaasa". "Pyaasa will solve your problem kid,it's open all night, straight you go and take a left and right and then left and then..."."Ok,Ok..Thanx a million times chacha" told I and then set off again into the darkness just like a sailor in the midst of an ocean in a new moon night, a ray of distant light is the only hope.Is that a light-house? a star ? an illusion created of own ? I had forgotten all the directions mentioned by the generous chacha.
"should we go back to your chacha?you moron", shouted Bhim.We fondly call Sumedh cause we very much think,he will easily fit into that role. Whatever, we had been wandering for like 20 minutes in the emptiness of Pune and I don't know why I liked it except those Mercs,Audis and God knows what that sped past by reminding how fragile life is,courtesy : Amir baap k bigde aulaad. So,Sumedh was kind of exhausted and had turned frantic because of my forgetfulness. But I assured him of a treasure and convinced him to find it ourselves. We explored many streets and muhallas but I will mention the significant ones.We crossed the forbidden Sambhaji Bridge and smiled on our unfound crime. We crossed the streets of the famous,rather infamous Budhwaar Peth saving our virginity from those hungry hyenas poised to pounce without notice.Both these places are supposed to be swarming with Paandus,who stay hidden and surface immediately as soon as they smell innocence and lack of expertise, making an easy prey of their unsatisfying content of cash. However, to our great astonishment,we find none. Then we came across the majestic but haunted Shanivaar wada. That mistifying monument definitely gave me a chill given the things I had heard about it,that too in the darkest hours of the night,it was sure to make an impact.I suddenly felt colder.

While we were celebrating our luck and escape,there it was,at a distant,to our horror, a guy getting a good dressing from two paandus. The scene definitely gave us a chill but it was weak enough to send us back. So we raced ahead. The moment when we were crossing that spot,we understood that an over drunk chap has become the victim.That rang a bell.Treasure is not that far dear, we are on the right part of the island. As we moved further, we found another man lying unconscious on the road with puke strewn all around.More good news. As we moved ahead, we saw lots of Paandus sprawling.I quietly hissed,"This is it,man.This is it.We have entered the Chakravyuh,now no looking back".We reached a cross-road when we saw some faint reddish smoke of light oozing out of a bill-board on the distant left.So we took the turn in hope and optimism. I was ecstatic with the feeling that the journey was finally going to end. Fool I was. A few meters into the road, and the raspy sound of the engines had invited the attention of the street dogs all around. Skinny and obnoxious they were unlike the fatty and lazy breed found in the remaining parts of the city. If you have watched Resident Evil : The Apocalypse,The Day After Tomorrow or I am Legend, you can visualize what I witnessed that day.Anyways, the worst part is,those slimy creatures started running behind the bike giving me a run for my life.My bare legs must have looked like large Chicken Tangdis to those beasts. The abominable barks and razor sharp canines still give me a chill.Instantly without my own knowledge,my legs were floating in the air just adjacent to Bhim's ears. When he noticed those pole shapes appearing out of nowhere on either side of his,very confusigly and irritably he asked ,"What are these?",ashamed to say what they were,I just said,"Tu bas gaadi bhaga,full speed".I brought the legs down only after I made it sure that the dogs had lost the chase.

In a few seconds,we were finally there and we could see Pyaasa written in Hindi in Red LEDs. I was no more feeling cold now. In fact I had sweated profusely some seconds back. Anyways,the place was crowded with bikes on either side supervised by a man clad in white who was ordering the customers to park their vehicles in the exact place,he pointed. There was little light in the area and it was very difficult to see,approximately 20 meters on either side,but the rest of the street was flooded with light.It seem as if it was purposefully done.So,we parked the bike and then approached the man.We managed to figure some other people beside hissing and murmuring. The corridor behind the man clad in white was creepy,odious and dark. As soon as we approached him he pushed us into that hallway leaving us aghast. We halted momentarily and then stepped twice.At the end of the hallway,another guy became visible waving as if calling in a hurry. Without a thought,we started walking towards him and also noticed that every step we took increased the quantity of light around us.
The other end of the hallway led us into a different world altogether which convinced us that Pune is indeed the sister-city of Mumbai which never sleeps. The entire setup very much resembled an old fashioned house with open spaces in the middle and rooms on the periphery.The area was bright with light and warmth. It was quaint as well as lively because the hall on the right was flooding with people of all ages who sat across the length and breadth of the flourishing bar blissfully shouting and enjoying as if they are attending a lavish marriage party in broad day-light.The entire site just left me bewildered with amazement. I turned my eyes to see more of the hidden paradise and it's secrets.Suddenly my eyes caught a pair of red eyes,directly aimed at me with constant vigilance, embedded in the monstrous head of a giant black wild rhinoceros.No wait,it's a man.I felt a sudden pain in my stomach and was sure that this man must have killed humans just by his fiery looks whose death might have been later declared as cardiac failure.He had the amount of gold in the form of ornaments across his tanker belly that will even give Bappi Lahiri an envy and would have been enough to help me marry off the daughters of my family for seven generations.I quickly turned my eyes away from the zombie and then saw a peculiar sight.A series of small wooden doors lined up on the right wall of the room. It took me a few moments to understand the secret behind them but as soon as my mind struck, I started to feel suffocating and nauseating. I was just praying,"God please please make me invisible,I have had enough".At this juncture, Bhim called out to me,"Hey,this is a happening place and we have already been through a traumatic journey.So let's chill around and have a a bottle of beer here itself." I reacted in nanoseconds,"Are you fucking crazy out of your mind,you Necrophilia or whatever you are fond of calling yourself?,I can't stand any longer"."You are such a Phattu.Can't you see students around,must be four or five years younger to you.If they can sit merrily,why can't you?",shrieked Bhim."Ya ya but I can also notice the criminals and the wanteds too.No arguments for god's shake.Let me make the deal and we are outta here". I went to the man behind the counter and asked if he had beer to which he replied in a very husky voice,"we have tonnes of it.Just tell me what and how much you want.Don't waste my time".I felt very puny at that moment but somehow gathered the courage to ask,"three fosters large".The transaction was over in a matter of seconds with me ending up paying almost double the price.However I wasn't at all wary of that instead my entire focus was on our return,untouched and unharmed.
When we came out of that abode,Bhim suggested me to tuck the bottles inside my shirt to which I obliged because of the fear of the pack of the paandus strolling all around.Bhim kicked his bike again and I remember well,there was no stopping,no conversation anywhere till we landed safely on the solid grounds of Tatya Tope.The single ab below my diaphragm had become a frozen turkey.
DJ welcomed us in his usual style when we steeped in."Kahan mar gaye the kaminon?" and it was time to narrate him the entire story that we indeed have returned from the jaws of death and shame.We did tell him everything with extra spices by Bhim leaving no opportunity to prove how phattu I was,the entire time.We sipped the nectar and caught our breath lying on the mats spread on the adjacent terrace.It was finally over.An adventure worth remembering.
When 750 ml of beer had managed to position itself in the labyrinth of his enormous stomach,in the wee hours of the morning,DJ purred in a cunning but assured tone,"Ab chai peene chalein?" I failed to react.Lack of energy,cash,sleep,courage and slangs just allowed me to utter a quiet "BOSE D K".Then I went inside and started producing ear-shattering snores seconds later.

P.S.
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Sorry Moms but your sons have grown.

Mee kaaye boltoye...

Ohhhk...so the war has somewhat come to a halt and I have temporarily come out victorious over my greatest enemy...my own lazy self, letting me drop a post in this enormous electronic world of outbursts, mood swings and hallucinations...
I will first like to clarify to all the readers that I may not be as tactful and sarcastic as my friend Anil is,an upcoming blogging sensation on the web,I won't be a mud-pot either.Anyways, I am here and since this is going to be my first post,I have decided to start it on a blissful note so I will try to recollect some of the chhaan(good in marathi) moments of my life,most of which have occured during my stay in Pune...aahhh the Queen of the Deccan always brings a sparkle on my face...
Let's begin with the city itself,a great place to live in, to settle down,the weather is God's bless,the money keeps flowing in,the hangouts are euphoric and if you have got a nice eye like mine you will see goddamn angels all around. So if you are skillful enough to evade the MNS and have the potential to churn out 10-20 grands per person per month, you are assured the warmest welcome.
Then comes the turn of my friends.God,why did they take so long,I'd always been waiting for them. They have turned a bread earner's tragic journey into a roller coaster ride. Dhruv,Anil,Sumedh,Sumit,Surendra,Nirav,Priyanka....and the list is endless,all unique and brilliant in their own realms.Man,u need to be having a high coefficient of elasticity to entertain them all. However they are the brightest colors in my kaleidoscope and life would have been really miserable without them.As I am planning to post individually on each of them in the future,consider this as the prologue for the time being.
My workplace in TCS is happening,noisy and lively.I came to know some of the best and the worst individuals,I made great friends and I learnt some goddamn no development technologies but I definitely have made a good name. I have somehow managed to develop a symbiotic relationship both with aesthetic brilliance as well as bitchy politics.Dude,your job teaches you to shed your milk teeth...
There is lots to write when I have sat for writing but instead of converting this blog into a pathetic novel, I am planning to scribble in patches...so stay tuned for the Pyaasa feat,the Ghats,the Corn-Pakoda of Lonavala, the sleepless nights and much more...