WE THE CORRUPT PEOPLE

I am sick and tired of living amidst corruption. All around me, all I see is corruption and the incompetence that follows suit. And just don't waste your time to create the mental picture of a dhoti clad politician or a policeman. Picture yourself, your father, your mother, your husband, your wife, and most sad of all, your children too! We are ALL corrupt.

When stopped by the traffic police, the first thing that comes to our minds is when will he come to the point and ask for the 'chai-pani'. The moment he asks, we smile within, and reach out for our wallets. Some of us even haggle!

And then there is this finger-pointing at others, and thinking yourself to be the most saintly honest man on earth, especially, the young people like us think we are band-wagons of honesty and integrity and it is only the pot bellied policemen or the local councillor whose honesty is questionable. Well, I have been working with one of the biggest IT consultancy companies of India, and I have seen colleagues submitting false bills for what not - technical books and journals, medicines, doctor's visit. Worse still, the large bookstores even remember by heart which company reimburses what amount for books. You are simply asked your organization's name. They take care of the rest at a nominal cost. Even doctors do not hesitate even a little bit before signing a false prescription or a false visit fee bill. These so called eminent, white-collared educated, middle-class, bhodroloks (gentlemen), if were asked to rule the nation, would they have done any different from a Kalmadi or a Raja? I'm sure they would have been as corrupt, if not more.

And what is the result of all this? We have an incompetent governance and a failed system all around us. Stand anywhere on the roads and show me 100 meters of encroachment free, well kept, clean strech of roadside. It is hard to find. This sorry state has percolated into every nook and corner of the Indian society. The reason for this is the corruption and the ensuing incompetence of the people responsible to maintain our roads, stations, bus-stops, law-and order, national security and even judiciary.

I know families where the father taught his son how to master the craft of bribery. "Rishwat dena to khud papa ne sikhaya" - what a true statement. This is another, and perhaps a bigger reason for despair. Values like honesty and integrity are taught to the children by their parents. A corrupt generation will never raise an honest progeny. So, if you ask me, I see a mirky and dark future for our society and beaurocracy, unless a revolution happens. And that has perhaps begun with the Lokpal Bill movement by Anna Hazare.

Amazingly, the entire nation has come together in supporting this bill and the movement to ensure it is finally passed this time, and the media is focusing on the right thing for a change. My simple request to every reader is to think twice before you spoil your integrity next time. Behave as a responsible citizen of the country. Cheering for India in the world cup is patriotism, and spoiling the very core values of its society is criminal. They do not go hand in hand. And, to begin with, support the spirit of the Lokpal bill, because, believing is the first step towards change.

Rapid Fire

1. Where is your cell phone?
Right in front of me, on my desk

2. Your significant other?
choose not to answer.

3. Your hair?
slightly Curly

4. Your mother?
very strict

5. Your father?
I Wannabe like (Except sometimes)

6. Your favorite thing?
Holidays in the Mountains

7. Your dream last night?
Did not have any.

8. Your favorite drink?
Hot Chocolate (on a Cold Rainy evening)

9. Your dream/goal?
A Peaceful life

10. What room you are in?
My Cubicle in office

11. Your hobby?
Pretending that I can play the guitar

12. Your fear?
Loneliness

13. Where do you want to be in 6 years?
With my 11 kids and 6 wives

14. Where were you last night?
OMG! How did u know???

15. Something that you are not?
A selfless monk

16. Muffins?
Yummo Yum (Specially the plain ones with Butter and tutty fruity)

17. Wish list item?
Nobel Peace Prize

18. Where you grew up?
Our Compound in Mulajore

19. Last thing you did?
Had Dinner

20. What are you wearing?
Semi-Casulas

21. Your TV?
State of the art

22. Your pets?
Had one (Garum). It died of old age (11 months)

23. Friends?
Old – Manku(s), Sayan
New – Piyali, Ratul, Senorita

24. Your life?
Simple

25. Your mood?
Steady

26. Missing someone?
Yes

27. Car?
Santro GLS

28. Something you're not wearing?
Supersticious threads and jewellery

29. Your favorite store?
Boookshops

30. Your favorite color?
Black

33. When is the last time you laughed?
During Lunch today

34. Last time you cried?
months ago

35. One place that I go to over and over?
Cinema Halls

36. One person who texts me regularly?
My Dad and Senorita

37. My favorite place to eat?
Home
Govt Tourist Lodges at faraway places
Roadside Dhabas in cold foggy nights
Peter Cat/Moulin Rouge/KFC

38. My favorite food?
Chicken

Aha! Ki shobdo!

My Summer of '69!

As our Sumo took a turn round the hilly road, we were all shocked by the first view of the institute we were going to seek admission in. All anticipations came crashing down. It was nothing more than a construction site. Trucks all over, no plaster on the walls, most walls even had not been laid with bricks yet. A cloud of dust enveloped the whole area. Disappointed as we were, we went on for the admission. After a few initial setbacks (due to my abhorrent score in +2), I finally managed one of the last few seats. Little did I know that I would live the most amazing 1000 days of my life there!
A couple of months after the admission, when we went back to start the session, the picture was very different. The view which had turned us off was now amazing - a beautiful building surrounded by many high-rise hostels, right in the middle of a valley and right next to the beautiful river Teesta! Clouds and fog kissed its pagodas and lush greenery festooned it from all sides! Quite a picturesque view for a Technical College, perhaps the country’s most beautiful.

The day I was leaving home for college, I was pretty excited about all of it - a new place, new friends and no more agony of not getting through any good college. I had always wanted to stay away from home and enjoy all the independence (rather self-dependence). But, the first time away from home was intimidating, especially the first 2 weeks. I mean I too had my fair share of choking up (especially while waving good bye to my Mom at the station) and calling up home thrice a day for no reason. But thereafter you slowly catch up with the new friends, new syllabi and the new environment and become too busy with studies (or the lack of it), that you get over the initial phase of home sickness.
Yes, like most other engineering colleges, there was ragging. Nothing violent though, but mostly enjoyable. I still remember the despair we felt when the seniors joined us in the new campus. We had to wear full sleeved formals all day long, and had to address them as Sirs or Madams. Fresher guys had to be clean shaven at all sightings, which made me mournfully shave off my moustache for the first time. I was once asked to sing an extremely offensive song to a senior girl, which I pleaded out of. One of my classmates was giggling at my plight and was hence punished by having to take up the pose of Hanuman holding a tiffin box in his hand as the mountain. He stood in that pose for almost an hour and was let go after all of us left for our rooms. There are many more, but not all forums are appropriate to discuss such things, certainly not this one.
In college, we used to be almost always cash-starved. However, the first one month after returning from home used to be different. Smokers used to settle for nothing less than the best brand of cigarettes, and slowly switched over to the local brands, then they would cut down on the number and by the end of the semester, when the money was paltry, they had to switch to beedis. Some would even have 2 puffs of his beedi and then extinguish it and save it for a later emergency! I still remember how we used to walk for miles and take lifts from passing trucks, or make disgusting faces and eat the Baigan Bharta (which by the way did not even look like what we were used to at home) at the mess, instead of buying some likable food at the canteen, all to save a few bucks. The nearest town was Rangpo, which had a Bengali hotel. However dingy, it was our haven! The restaurant at the tourist lodge with the fabulous view of the river and the mountains was saved for the Birthday bashes only.

Unlike today, there were no cell phones with most of us. We used to rely on STD booths heavily. Some of us did have cell phones, but being a valley, the BSNL signal was even weaker and from most rooms in our hostel, we had to put the phone outside of the window for a successful communication. On some holidays, we used to walk up to the nearby temple and then have Momos and Maggi at Thapa’s, buy some oranges and news paper while returning to the hostel. I can still smell the slow paced life of the remote and relaxed Himalayan village, the wooly dogs, the mongoloid kids playing chungi (a ball made of rubber-bands played with in Himalayan towns), a creek here and a jhora (small waterfall) there, the rustle of the stepped paddy fields or the mystic roar of Teesta. Everyone there seemed to have all the time in the world, and yet so happy. The life most of us lead today is all about chasing happiness. But the more we are chasing it, the faster it is running away from us.

Occasionally, when we had some cash to spare, we used to take weekend trips. The first and most memorable, I must say was the one to Darjeeling. We were a group (read as gang) of 8 guys, and we got up early in the morning (or rather late in the night) to catch a glimpse of the sunrise on the Kanchendzonga from Tiger hill. We were very thrilled when a very pretty Chai-wali took a lift in our jeep and almost squeezed in between us. We were all cranked up a bit and made stories up to tease one another (no prize for guessing, she was the naughty heroine in all those stories). In the ropeway (which is now closed down following an deadly accident a few years back), we opened up the emergency exit on the floor, and saw the clouds, creeks and tea gardens all under our feet as we glided from one hill to another. We knew it was risky, but to a bunch of eight 18 year olds, that was the most thrilling experience at that point of time. Many such trips followed, one to Kalimpong (where I fell sick and hence could not enjoy much), one to Temmy tea gardens, another to Tsomgo lake. Some of us fell in love for the first times there. God, it was romantic!

There was a street in our campus where all the couples and gangs used to hang out after the classes right through the entire evening (until the gates of the hostels were closed by the wardens and they had to run to avoid spending the night gazing stars). Single guys used to go for checking out the pretty girls (who were termed ‘Maal’) and thus the street was christened ‘Maal Road’, and in no time, everyone used to call the street by its new name, including the unsuspecting professors (who were not imaginative enough to get the reason for such a nomenclature). It is called Maal Road to this date.
The four years of life there taught me a lot. Of course the technical training and also a lot more that money can not buy. I met my friends for life, learned to play the guitar (which I have forgotten now), took my first puff of nicotine & the first sips of alcohol and learnt how to enjoy the good people and deal with the bad ones. But more than all of that, I came face to face with myself up and close. I was a novice adolescent when I had set out from home, and those 4 years taught me more about myself than I would ever know.
Today I am too busy to take out a few days even to visit my college. My brother now studies there and lives in the same hostel which I used to. From what he tells me a lot has changed in the last few years, but a lot is still the same! I sometimes try to relive my golden days through him. But I would certainly go once again for myself, as it always pays off to listen when nostalgia comes calling.

If bandwidth permits, please take a look at this song. I am sure it might summarize all that I just said, and also take you back to your own Summer of '69. Cheers!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVajnzFkmik

The First Times (A Series) - 1. Flight

My dream was going to come true which was to push a cartful of luggage in an airport! Wow! However silly it might seem, but in those days I always thought that the nitty-gritty’s of the preparations to catching a flight is much fancier that the act of flying itself! The suitcases that are no smaller than a mini-bus, packing the liquids and gels in a ‘3oz see-through sealed pouch’, segregating stuff as check-in luggage, cabin baggage and carry-on, Security checks, Boarding passes and baggage tags, the board that flashes NOW BOARDING, and of course the carts! I mean it all has a sense of style attached, and that always amused me. But now the envy was over, and I was soon going to see it all for myself!

I was travelling with my friend and his mom (both of them have been all around the world and have been to more airports than I have been to rickshaw stands!). But somehow, my friend’s mom too recognized the style attached to pushing the cart and thankfully, she let me do it!

It all happened in a jiffy and before I could realize, we had checked-in and passed security! Now, very little was there between me and my first take-off! I bore a constant smile and was perhaps shaking my legs in anticipation as we waited for the flight! In a while they announced our flight and I was quite unpleasantly surprised to find out that I had to pack myself up an extremely crowded bus to reach the aircraft. For a change, the hostess did give a smiling welcome and we all settled down. I was frowning about the fact that I did not get the window seat. But nevertheless, my excitement was full-to-the-brim as was the plane.

The plane rolled slowly towards the runway and I was peeping left and right to catch a glimpse through the windows. Just after turning on the runway, it stopped. A sudden lull fell on us – lights dimmed and everyone just sank to their seats. Many passengers were casually reading news-papers or taking naps, but my eyes were wide open and were failing miserably to hide my excitement. What happened next was the take-off (the only thing I like about flying to this day). The jet engines roared and the jumbo craft shot to terrifying speed in a couple of seconds and whoosh! A huge piece of sheer metal with a hundreds of people and their bags and baggage simply took to air – nothing short of an engineering marvel, I must say.

Soon after, the neatly clad pretty lasses (who are more efficient than anyone else I had ever seen) started the refreshment service and handed me a non-veg tray. I was amazed to see like a zillion food items so well packed in such a small tray! Good for me, always!

Well, then came the beverages. “Tea or coffee, Sir?” I settled for a coffee and along with came another basket of stylish tit-bits. One packet read “Priya Biscuits”. Well, my middle-class common sense took no time to expect biscuits with coffee. Anyways, I opened it carefully and saw wafers, with the usual criss-cross design on it, but only very soggy. “Cheap bastards”, I thought about the airline. “Can’t even serve wafers that are fresh and crispy!”. Anyways, I somehow got over my complaints and reluctantly took a bite. My tongue revolted instantly and it took me no more than a fraction of a second to realize that what I had just bitten in public was nothing close to a wafer, but a wet-wipe with cologne freshener! "Oh God, no one must see this, no one!". But, I could hear the dirty smirk of my friend sitting across the aisle. He was waiting for me to fall into the trap. Even the gentleman next to me was smiling at my misery. I mean which air-headed person would have put such a bold ad of Priya Biscuits on a wet tissue that by chance looked exactly like wafers? No fault of mine, but red-faced with embarrassment, I landed in Bangalore, thanking God that I came out of the flight, away from that shameful situation. My friend kept on grinning at me in the car till we reached the home where we would put up.

Anyways, embarrassed, excited and thrilled, I had been through a lot on my first flight. I was more cautious while flying back home!

When India killed her conscience...

On 2nd February, 1835, in his speech to the British Parliament, Lord McCauley’s had said: “I have traveled the length and breadth of India and there I have not seen one person who is a beggar, who is a thief. Such wealth I have seen in this country, such high moral values, people of such caliber, that I do not think we would ever conquer this country, unless we break the very backbone of this nation, which is her spiritual and cultural heritage…”

So, from where did all these beggars pop up? And what about the thieves all around us? Some literally and others in disguise?

Well, most of us have just learnt how to adjust to this immorality and corruption.
But will it lead us anywhere collectively? If the world around you is unethical and immoral, how-much-ever money we make by means black or white, we will not be able to enjoy the benefits of a civic society – like civic infrastructure, cleanliness, proper health-care, etc.

So think, and think hard. Search for the corruption within yourself. Kill the person within you who evades taxes, gives or takes bribe or fakes bills for false official reimbursements; because if you do not have your conscience dominating over your greed, you will lose the right to point out corrupt politicians and policemen - because had you been in their shoes, you would have done, well, exactly the same!

The Cow and the City of Joy!

On a recent visit to my ancestral village, I was taking a reluctant stroll on the village by-lanes when I saw a cow walking a few yards ahead of me. It was walking in a slow and swinging motion and I was engrossed in the rural beauty all around me, when suddenly, the cow started to poop! I stopped and set aside so as to avoid getting splatterred by the slime, and oh! then it started to pee! Good. The disgusted me told myself - well, perhaps what differneciates animals from us humans is not just the number of legs and that they have a tail and we don't. They could also just throw out anything they need to, right where they are, when they need to! No worry of who's watching, who's covered in his shit or whose pleasurable evening stroll might be ruined due to his refuse.

Then I returned to the city I call home. As I was hurrying to catch my train to work the next day, I saw a mother and her child walking in front of me. She was taking her to the school and perhaps the kid did not have the time to have her breakfast at home, so, the mom was feeding her a cake and orange juice. I was thinking how lucky we had been as kids and was envying the kid for being pampered by her mom, but just then the kid finished her cake and the mom threw the empty packet right there on the sidewalk. I stopped and set aside so as to avoid slipping on the packet, and oh! the mom then threw the empty bottle of juice on the corner of the metro station and climbed down the staircase. I paused and looked around and saw a shameless man relieving himself on the walls of the metro station entrance while talking on his cell-phone, a maid servant throwing a packetful of domestic kachra on the sidewalk from her doorway and then the driver of a bus vomitting gutkha spit on the roads! I could not help but think of the cow and its dung.

Although I have hardly lived here, but I love Kolkata much more than many others. I request all of you who live here and walk or drive on its streets, to pause once in a while and see how many times you are reminded of the fact that there indeed are some differences between man and animals, other than the number of legs and a tail.