Experience with filing tax return in US

I had a yet again new experience in US. I filed my Income Tax return today. In India, I never used to bother about such 'overheads' as I always used to rely on my father to handle such matters. But here, when I have to even handle things like cooking and cleaning and grocery on my own, this was not a surprise that I had to take care of this on my own.

Here there are two types of tax. One is state tax and one is federal tax. The federal tax has an online form which can be filled in easily and can be printed and posted to the IRS office in Austin, Texas. But the state tax has no such facility as online form. So we needed some guidance on that one. On a friend's recommendation we decided to go to a consulting place which gives guidance on tax matters for free. Yes, it was absolutely free! So, even in today's world, there is something called free service and free advice.

Now this place is about 2.6 miles from our place and the timing was 9 to 12 on Saturday morning. We decided to test the strength of our legs and decided to walk! We normally walk about 1.5 miles to the school from our place daily so we thought it would not be too much. And to reach early and avoid sitting in queue, we thought we would start early.

So here we were, woken up at about 7.15 on a Saturday morning, cursing the government for the complicated tax filing procedure, wondering why they could not do it online! We started at about 8.15 from our place and kept walking. And then when we were almost half way, my devilish mind started playing tricks on me. I had read that out of two such centers, one center is closed on a last Saturday of the March. And I started having doubts about whether it was this center or the other one! We tried to call the place on the way but no one was answering as it was still not 9. Karthik had made all the plans of beating me up if the place was closed!

We actually crossed down-town of Tucson and it was so surprising because we had a feeling that down town was pretty far. But when we were walking, it didn't feel that way. We finally reached there and to my relief, the center was open.

So this center is a place where 'not so wealthy' people of Tucson come for tax related guidance. And they have volunteers who work for free to help people out. I was really impressed by this kind of facility. It was totally a non-profit institute. Not only non-profit, but they actually didn't charge any thing. Neither did they expect any tips etc. I was taken to an old man who had retired from service and he was volunteering there. He was a very nice gentleman. As expected he hardly could use computer but he was trying his best! And at every step, he used to explain to me what those fields meant. And he said, next year when you come to this center, you will fill the form yourself and I will sit besides you and watch !

It took him long to complete all the forms but he did it very meticulously. And we were done before 10.30 or so. I had not expected it to be so smooth but it turned out to be a nice new experience. So now I am a tax-paying alien resident in this country! With this, I have three tax returns on my name. Two in India and one here!!

World Cup 07 - Time for introspection

"If a game starts taking lives, there is something sickeningly wrong with it". This statement by Sambit Bal, Cricinfo team pretty much sums up the events at this world cup so far. The most unfortunate event probably in the history of the game took place in the small and peaceful island of West Indies. Pakistani coach Bob Woolmer brutally murdered after a crashing exit of Pakistani team from the World Cup. Strangled to death. Most cold blooded murder one can think of.

This game has once again shown its ugly face. This game is like some black magic woman who is irresistible in guise but dangerous when it shows its real face. Probably we will never know the truth. Everyone is talking his own version of the story. Media is leaving no stone unturned to spice up the whole drama. Some version of the story says he was murdered because he was going to reveal some links with bookies. Some say it was a revenge for the defeat by some fanatic. Common sense suggests that whoever killed him, must have been someone he knew. Which leaves the needle of suspicion turned towards the players or the team management persons.

My fear is that the truth will never come out. The ICC is powerful and rich enough to damp the whole incident. At least till the world cup is over. They do not want any bad publicity. It is time for minting money. Human life is no more valuable for them. Many more Bobs can be sacrificed if need be. It's brutal world out there which tries to find profits even in the satchel of death.

India and Pakistan are known for their fanatic cricket followers. In one of the recent interviews, South African bowler Alan Donald said Indian and Pakistani cricket fans are fanatic. This is our impression. We are crazy for a game, so crazy that we can take lives. If that theory turns out to be correct.


The links between Cricket and Bookies-Underworld are not new. Asian bookies have had aegis of Underworld. And the theory that he was murdered because he was going to expose some of the cricketers and members of Pakistani team looks more reasonable to me. The typical Asian mafia are all too powerful and have riches and reaches as long as we can imagine.




Cricket is such an inseparable part of Indian life style. Before the world cup it looked as if the future of the whole country depended on Indian Cricket team. Big hoardings, television commercials, news sites like CNN-IBN, news papers and each and every communication medium had glorified the event as if those eleven players were fighting some war for their country. Some of the advertisements actually looked funny. And if you look at them now, they will look ludicrous and outrageous.



And now when team india has failed to even enter the second round, facing disgraceful defeat, we see fanaticism taking over the Indian cricket fans. Effigies are burnt, houses of cricketers are broken, emails full of dark humour about Indian cricket team are being circulate, funny SMSes deriding cricketers are in demand. What does this show? Gross immaturity! Why should it be so important in our lives? When India is playing, the whole country descends into motionless frenzy. Everyone is either at home, stuck in front of the tv set or huddled in a shop or a restaurant to cheer for the team. I simply do not understand how can we allow a game to take over daily routine of our life? How can it be so important? Why can't we give it a break? If we do that, automatically the Godly status of the cricketers will be stripped. They will be brought back to the mortal lives as players.



It is time to change our attitude towards the game. It is time for Indian cricket team to realize that they can not do whatever they want. They are answerable to the common man who spends hours watching them play. They are as responsible to the country as they are to their sponsors who feed millions of dollars to them. If they pay them dollars, it is we the commons men who have taken them to that level. If they forget us, we should remind them of that fact.

[Image Source: Cricket section of www.indiatimes.com]

Learning to Fly - Pink Floyd

I couldn't resist myself from posting this magical song here. Pink floyd at their one of the best.



Into the distance, a ribbon of black
Stretched to the point of no turning back
A flight of fancy on a windswept field
Standing alone my senses reeled
A fatal attraction holding me fast, how
Can I escape this irresistible grasp?

Cant keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, i

Ice is forming on the tips of my wings
Unheeded warnings, I thought I thought of everything
No navigator to guide my way home
Unladened, empty and turned to stone

A soul in tension thats learning to fly
Condition grounded but determined to try
Cant keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, i

Friction lock - set.
Mixture - rich
Propellers - fully forward
Flaps - set - 10 degrees
Engine gauges and suction - check

Mixture set to maximum percent - recheck
Flight instruments...
Altimeters - check both
(garbled word) - on
Navigation lights - on
Strobes - on
(to tower): confirm 3-8-echo ready for departure
(tower): hello again, this is now 129.4
(to tower): 129.4. its to go.
(tower): you may commence your takeoff, winds over 10 knots.
(to tower): 3-8-echo
Easy on the brakes. take it easy. its gonna roll this time.
Just hand the power gradually, and it...

Above the planet on a wing and a prayer,
My grubby halo, a vapour trail in the empty air,
Across the clouds I see my shadow fly
Out of the corner of my watering eye
A dream unthreatened by the morning light
Could blow this soul right through the roof of the night

Theres no sensation to compare with this
Suspended animation, a state of bliss
Cant keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, i

A Fine Balance - A novel by Rohinton Mistry

This novel is the most tragic reading I have ever had. Normally I prefer not to read tragic novels or watch tragic movies. Although they depict reality, my line of argument against them has always been that we read fiction or watch movie to escape the reality. To find a quiet nook under the shed of unreal world and feel the joy of detachment from reality. But breaking my notion about sad fiction work for this book and reading it full was worth every minute I spent on it. The book is written with immensely powerful words and the author narrates the story or rather weaves the story in a splendid fashion.

The story circles around four ordinary people whose lives have been interwoven in an extra ordinary way. It is set in the backdrop of one of the blackest era of Indian History after partition – the era of Emergency in early nineteen seventies. The story flows smoothly, unfolding mundane events in the lives of these people and then goes on to unraveling the darkest tragedies possible which happen in these people’s lives. With a single factor which interconnects them – the role of Government during the Emergency time.

The author takes you on a sad ride, giving you deep insight into the events surrounding the four characters. Takes you to the innermost crux of their personalities. And gradually ends the rollercoaster ride in what can be called a zenith of tragedy.

The story reveals the dark patches in the Indian history. Issues like caste based atrocities; unjustifiable obligations enforced upon women in the society; abominable corruption in every place which eats the society like cancer; irresponsible, unreasonable and loathsome personalities of politicians; crimes committed in the name of disciplining the public during Emergency era; the human-trade; hooliganism prevailing everywhere; killings in the name of religion; political revenge and so on. The list is long. And remembering every incidence which was an indirect evidence of one such of the list makes me more uncomfortable.

Without being explicit, the author successfully conveys his disapproval of the acts committed by the government during that time. With biting sarcasm he flays those who were responsible for the calamity and catastrophic conditions which prevailed at that time. Some of the one liners are really touching. In my personal view, he holds a place as high as Oscar Wilde, though the learned critics would disapprove of any such comparison.

Without going into the nitty-gritty of evaluating the author, I would recommend this book to those who like thought provoking serious reading. Take a dive into the dark, gloomy and grief world that Rohinton Mistry recreates from the pages of history into a fiction novel.

Dreams

I fear dreams. Not the dreams that I get at night. Though some of the dreams I get can certainly be called mild forms of nightmares. And I am quite used to it now. But here I am talking about the dreams one sees during the day. The dreams about our lives. Dreams of achieving something. Dreams of possessing ‘your precious’, the thing that you have always longed for, so dearly that the desire to have it starts to become a part of your life. Such dreams are dangerous. Not that they are not lovely. They always feel sweet and beautiful. When these dreams break, they leave behind a disgruntled and psychologically weakened soul.

You see pattern all around you. This behavior of fate is also like a pattern now. You dream. You work hard to achieve it. You inch forward in the direction of achieving it. It feels like it is just at the reach of your hand. You try to grab it and it disappears. Disillusioned, you are left behind.

How similar this looks to the phenomenon of bubbles. Forming in the water, growing and suddenly breaking into minute beads of water. Dreams breaking have much more lasting impact. The entire process passes through four phases. Formation, Growth, Break and Pain. Cycle repeating itself. Coming back full circle again.

As I mentioned in one of my previous posts, I take Life as a Drama on the stage of earth. God - Director of the Drama has scripted it so well and full of suspense, thrills and emotions that it actually looks more like a reel version than the real one. He entices us into dreaming. He nourishes this dream and makes us believe that it can turn into reality. And gullible us! We also start believing that. And then comes the ironical twist in the tale. The most beloved dream is hammered by a cruel blow of fate which you can’t dodge and is shattered into pieces. Leaving the dreamer distraught. Wondering what went wrong.

Wise people have always been saying, 'Never be afraid of dreaming big'. But few tell us how to react to situation when the dreams are shattered. Bertrand Russell is a wonderful raconteur. He makes us believe every word he says. He discusses handling such tormenting situations in his work 'Conquest of Happiness'. But much remains at the liberty and interpretation of the reader. And strength and determination of him.

How do I react to it? I take it as another game being played by destiny with me. I get angry, I fret, I whine and I complain to God. But then it gets over in some time. I realize that it is not that we should not complain because we are helpless. I think that we should not complain because we are here to fight against all odds. To emerge as winners. So, like a wounded tiger, I stand tall. Ready to battle against all hindrances. Take all the challenges at their face value. And show them the mettle and spirit of a fighter.

[Image Source: http://tn3-2.deviantart.com/fs11/300W/i/2006/255/6/c/it__s_dreams_that_binds_us_by_chimy_rainbow.jpg]

Courage

Coincidences have a good affection with my life. They keep popping up from nowhere. I was standing at the street, waiting for the walk-sign to turn green and I thought how would a person who can not see cross the road if there is no voice instructions? I know at some crossroads, these aides are provided and the walk-sign has voice support for the blind people. But I was thinking it should be provided at every crossroad. Nevertheless I respect this country a lot for the provision they give to the physically challenged. Parking lots, crossroads, elevators, and every other place which requires special attention to the disabled, this country has provided for it.

My purpose of this post is not to praise US government or US society for what they do. I will come to the point where I started.

Coincidentally, the moment I crossed the road and walked a few steps, I saw a small girl, aged hardly more than 10 yrs, walking with a stick along side a woman. Yes, she could not see. She was a blind kid. And yet, what moved me was the courage that was visible on her face. She was not holding that lady's hand. She was on her own, with her soul companion for the life - her stick. The lady was training her how to feel the road with the stick, how to identify the poles on the pavement, how to know where to turn and so on. And she was there, patiently listening, following instructions, asking questions innocently, without any trace of grief in her voice and with a lot of determination and strength.

This is what I call courage. Most of us get shivers at the thought of spending even a few hours in the darkness. And here, this girl who has not even seen the world properly at her age, will have to spend her whole life in the suffocating darkness. But still she has accepted the fact and now she is ready to fight the battle. Battle with the destiny that has been forced upon her.

Why did God decide to take away the most precious thing known to humans from her? The vision? Did He think that the world is so ugly that the little soul does not deserve to see it? Does it not have any other beautiful things which this little child needs to see? Is it not cruel and extremely unfair to this child?

All the complaints aside, what we all need to learn from this is that we always crib and complain about our own problems. Open your eyes and look around. People with a million times more misery than yours are living in this world. And living with pride, living with courage. They do not give up. They fight. This is what all the people, including me, need to learn. Face the challenges. Conquer them. Live life like a warrior.

Amul's orange flavored milk chocolate and Hot-Wheels cars

It was mention of chocolate which sparked the thought process in my mind about the reminiscences of childhood. And the chocolate which flashed in my mind was Amul's orange flavored milk chocolate. I am not sure if Amul still makes it or not. But when we were kids, my sister and I, we used to have that a lot. Fruit&Nut and Orange. Amul was the best! There are so many things which give you a thrill when you feel them in the present and they never fail to revive your memories when later you remember them and think how special it was to you at that time.

The most exciting were those toy model cars which papa used to buy for me. They were called hot-wheels and believe me, they were really 'hot' at that time! And my fascination for cars was just too intense when I was a kid. Toy cars and guns. They were like a passion for me. And on birthdays, I would always expect that I will get one such! But even without birthdays, my father used to get them for me. In all shapes and colors! Mostly I remember the red ones. The sports type cars. And also those fire trucks! Machine guns and pistols. There was also a yellow colored bus which was my favorite just because it was so big! And once or twice I remember one of my aunts got one red colored racer car for me from US. And that was such an exciting moment for me! I have a pic with that car in my hand and an ebullient wide smile on my face. As if saying, 'look! I have the fastest car within my reach'.

After those days, my liking turned to cricket bat and ball. I wanted a branded cricket bat and papa knew it. One birthday, he took me to a sports good shop and got that bat for me. I think it had 'Power' written on it and in those days, Kapil Dev used to advertise for this brand. It was an amazing feeling. Getting a branded bat and that too from an authentic sports goods shop! And almost every month I used to buy balls. One kind or the other. I have a big collection of different balls at home. They include Tennis balls, Rubber balls, Ping-pong and so on. And ya, my favorite ones where those small rubber balls which were called 'crazy balls' which used to bounce a lot. They were made of hard rubber and were solid. I mean they were not hollow from inside. I was so fond of them. I broke our tv cabinet glass with one such ball one day and incurred wreath from my mom! I was really scared to see the glass shatter!

I was not much for clothing when I was a kid. But one thing I remember is a white shirt which my mom and papa got me. It was this crisp cotton, immaculate white, full sleeves and the Polo symbol on it. It would remain my favorite piece for long time to come.

My first bicycle was also one gem of a thing. I can't remember the name of it but it was pretty much 'in' those days. It was black-green colored stylish thing and so light weight! I remember the first ride on it was so thrilling. As if I were riding a Harley Davidson!

During school days, I think I am talking about secondary schooling days, Saturday afternoons were most awaited! Because we used to get comic books. Papa would buy us lots and lots of comic books and mostly on Saturdays because of weekend. All those Indian super-heroes. If you remember Captain Dhruv, Nagraj, Chacha Chaudhrey and so on! I can't explain how enthusiastically I used to wait for those comics. And would read slowly for the fear of finishing them before quickly!

New school bags, first Milton's water bottle, new note books, plastic covers for books, labels, those starry-jazzy stickers for notebook covers, erasers with fragrance and colors, new wax colors, board games... All these things which sound trivial today were of great importance to me as a kid! And birthday was always a special day when I would anticipate the whole previous day about what I was going to get next day.

And the most recent thrill was getting my first cell phone. LG 3070 with a flap and 65k colors. Silver color and dual color display. I got this when I joined my first job. It was one of the most beautiful phones on earth according to me and I bought it without caring much about the features and functionalities. And it was pretty much costly too. But what mattered to me was it looked dazzlingly pretty! I used it for two years and still it has not lost its charm. I miss it here in US though.

Things have changed quite a lot. I don't know if it is because of maturity or self-reliance or something else. I wasn't excited about my new bike here! It was just a routine thing. More shocking was my total lack of interest in the new phone that I bought. Though this is the phone which used to be one of my dream phones back in India, it is not so exciting anymore. It is 'just another' phone! A 12 dvd Lord of the Rings set is no more exciting than a bunch of diamond comic books. A new laptop is not as charming as the first monophonic tape recorder. Neither is Hershey's chocolate bar as tasty as Amul's orange flavored milk chocolate.

Things in the past always look beautiful. I asked a friend why. The answer was, 'your mind doesn't want to remember the things which are not beautiful'. I couldn't help but agree.

[Image Source: http://www.sandsmuseum.com/cars/elise/merchandise/miniature/hotwheels.jpg]

Tatas make India proud. Tata Steel wins Corus deal.

I have never written a journalistic post in this blog before. But I couldn't resist myself from writing about today's historical event. After lots of speculations and anxious waiting moments, Ratan Tata emerged as the winner in the auction for Corus Steel, a company three times as big as Tata Steel. Tata Steel is now 5th largest Steel company in the world!


Here is the story !
http://www.ibnlive.com/news/tata-steels-big-deal-wins-corus-as-csn-withdraws/32441-7.html

I can imagine the whole auction to be as interesting as a thrilling movie scene with an emphatic win for the hero in the end! Ratan Tata has proved himself a true Indian hero.

The nitty-gritty of the deal is pretty complex and very interesting too. Tatas started their bid with around 400 something pence per share and they seemed winners initially. Then the Brazilian steel company CSN jumped into the game and offered 475 pence per share to Corus. After a few increases in bids from both the companies, the issue ultimately reached Auction house in which Tatas overpowered CSN with giving a final 608 pence bid, amounting to $11.3 bn! CSN backed off from the fight and Tatas were announced winners.

What an amazing end to a courageous feat! "Fortune favors brave" - the saying was proved correct again. This was the biggest take over done by any Indian company in the history of India.


Ratan Tata - The businessman of the year

http://www.ibnlive.com/videos/31915/indian-of-the-year-tata-biz-boss.html

Snow, Fog and Clouds - White is Gandalf's favorite color !

Beauty is truth's smile
when she beholds her own face in
a perfect mirror.

Beauty is in the ideal of perfect harmony which is in the universal being; truth the perfect comprehension of the universal mind

Rabindranath Tagore

It all looks beautiful in the pictures. But trust me; it looks even more dazzling when seen in real! Yes, I am talking about the majestic sight of snow covered mountains. That was the first time I saw and felt snow in my life. The place is called Alta Sierra and it is about an hour’s drive from my sister’s place in Sacramento. California is known for the blessings Mother Nature has bestowed upon it. From Santa Cruz beach at about 2-3 hours drive to this blissful, hilly, snow covered place at about an hour’s drive in the other direction, Sacramento is situated in a magnificent place geographically

We started at a time in the morning which can be fairly called late for an outing. We started at about 10 o’clock, enjoying the lazy morning of a holiday and then getting ready quickly to start for the place. We dropped the plan of going to Yosemite National Park near San Francisco because it was a long drive and the weather also was predicted to turn hostile. So we decided to go to Alta Sierra which is on the way to the famous Lake Tahoe. The weather was calm and partly cloudy. We started the drive with a cup of strong coffee at a gas station. What can be better than a strong coffee with Irish cream on a cool windy winter morning?

The drive was pretty nice, plain fields decorating both the sides of the highway. I should rather say ‘freeway’ in American flavor of the language. As we reached near the place which is actually something like a holiday resort famous for skiing, we passed some beautiful hilly roads with valleys on one side and hills on the other. The valley looked stunningly marvelous because of snow covered trees and also layers of snow on the fields. The first sight of snow was indeed exciting for me. It was as if some picture drawn had been made into reality. No camera can capture the real beauty of nature’s wonders in its full essence.

The site in the above picture is of the skiing peak. The place is known for skiing. But it would have been silly to jump to the activity we didn't know! And we were not very keen on taking lessons too. So we took a mid-way out and went for something called 'Tubing'. In this, they give you a rubber tube in which you can sit and then they slide you down the slope.

The whole atmosphere around was so charged up! Everyone was in holiday mood. And the weather was also excellent as it was not snowing and there was the bright sun shining in the sky. So it was not unbearablly cold which made it all the more beautiful. I was wearing two jeans (Yes, you read it right, one over the other), a T-shirt, sweater, jacket and other winter accessories like gloves. Perhaps that's how it is when you are surrounded by the hills of ice!

In the above picture you can see the fog covering the mountain peaks. As the God wanted the beauty of those mountains to be veiled behind the enegmatic charms of dense fog! The trip was indeed a memorable one and take my word, this place is indeed worth visiting once if you are around California.

For you, mother

Today is my mom's birthday.





This is for you ma...

Baby's Way by Rabindranath Tagore


If baby only wanted to, he could fly up to heaven this moment.
It is not for nothing that he does not leave us.
He loves to rest his head on mother's bosom, and cannot everbear to lose sight of her.

Baby know all manner of wise words, though few on earth canunderstand their meaning.
It is not for nothing that he never wants to speak.
The one thing he wants is to learn mother's words frommother's lips.
That is why he looks so innocent.

Baby had a heap of gold and pearls, yet he came like a beggaron to this earth.
It is not for nothing he came in such a disguise.
This dear little naked mendicant pretends to be utterlyhelpless, so that he may beg for mother's wealth of love.

Baby was so free from every tie in the land of the tiny crescent moon.
It was not for nothing he gave up his freedom.
He knows that there is room for endless joy in mother's littlecorner of a heart, and it is sweeter far than liberty to be caughtand pressed in her dear arms.

Baby never knew how to cry.
He dwelt in the land of perfect bliss.
It is not for nothing he has chosen to shed tears.
Though with the smile of his dear face he draws mother'syearning heart to him, yet his little cries over tiny troublesweave the double bond of pity and love.

Image source: http://yorunokoe.net/blog/images/Photos/roses.jpg

What has changed?

What has changed?

It was early Sunday morning and I was being driven in a cab to the Tucson International Airport. Some beautiful western classical music was playing which I did not understand. The cabwoman was very talkative and she kept on talking about something or the other varying from weather in India to whether we celebrate Christmas in India and so on. And out of the blue, this question struck me. What has changed? This was the place I had longed to be in. The US of A. The land of opportunities. The land of knowledge. Right now, I am at thousands of feet from the land. Leaving on a Jet plane as Elton John sings! And I can’t help giving way to my thoughts and reminiscences of the last 5 months at the Graduate school.

I have started treading the path I have chosen. The beginning of my journey has been mixed with pleasant as well as harrowing moments. Days filled with stressful hours of work. Days filled with anxiety about project completion. Tremendous pressure to perform well in a severely competitive class. Constant effort to attain financial support from the school. Moments of pain. Moments of small yet tantalizing achievements too. I have been exposed to the shades of life which I had never seen before. I never knew how it felt to continuously fail in achieving your goal and then succeed finally and emerge like a winner. I was unaware of how it felt to have worked extremely hard for something and then loose it by a small margin. I never knew how much effort was actually required to outperform someone who is definitely smarter than you. All these things I learned here the hard way. Life has been a good teacher.

So I sit back and think. What has changed? Or rather more relevant question is, have I changed? If yes, how much have I changed? For good or bad? I believe, what life has taught me in these months is really precious. More than learning operating systems or networking, it is more about learning how to face challenges. In the mega-epic Hindu literature Mahabharata, the Arjun’s son Abhimanyu is faced with a challenge which has seven stages. Each stage getting more and more difficult. And the epic drama-poem depicts how the brave warrior Abhimanyu, achieves his goal of penetrating all seven stages one by one. I have tremendous amount of respect for Mahabharata because it is has some element of life for everyone. It describes every sort of problem human kind can face. And also solution which is, ethical or otherwise, but effective. I take the analogy of Abhimanyu’s victory over seven stages and compare it with any ambitious person’s struggle to achieve the goal she sets for herself. And to live upto the expectations of herself and the world around her.

With every achievement, the stakes are higher. A new set of expectations rise from deep within. Expectations from yourself. And also, with higher and higher confidence. Isn’t this phenomenon common in the world in many diverse situations? For example a gambler will keep raising his bets if he is on a winning streak. A team will display more and more attacking game if they are scoring goals. Being a computer science student, I can’t help quote technical example too. That is the TCP networking protocol which has exponential behavior while controlling the congestion at transport layer. If the congestion is not detected, the sending rate of packets is continuously increased. Every success defines higher confidence level. New expectations, new goals established for oneself. Increased enthusiasm to work harder. And show the world that you are capable of doing much more than this.

Success makes you ecstatic. But failure makes you stronger. It is the failure which makes a person think more. Securing financial aid for the first semester just remained a wish. I could not make it. Hitting upon four or five almost definite opportunities, I failed in the end in each one. Most of them, without my own fault. Some of them I still haven’t been able to figure out whose fault it was. Was it just the fate acting against me or was I really not deserving it? But that does not matter anymore. Another blow came as below average performance in one of the subjects for which I had really worked very hard throughout the semester. But the last two hapless hours of final exam ruined all the hard work and I ended up with not so great a result in that subject. I do not have anyone else but myself to blame for that. If I look back, I realize it required more effort from my side. Probably more hard work than I had done.

As the greatest boxer of our time Mohammad Ali says, “Float like a butterfly, Sting like a bee; You just can’t hit what your eyes can’t see” It is about seeing the goal clearly. And an unsuccessful attempt makes you think about how to make your goal even clearer than it is now. Mahabharata also talks about the exploits of Arjun. One of the episodes describes Arjun taking training of archery along with his brothers. And while other could see the whole target bird object, Arjun could only see the bird’s eye as the target. For success, you need this level of accuracy in defining your target and tracking it. Not at any moment, I am claiming that I have attained this level of accuracy or proficiency in whatever I do, but it is for all of us to derive the learning from such episodes of legendary epic.

We don’t know whether the story of Mahabharata ever happened on this earth. Neither do we know whether a man like Arjun or a deity like Krishna walked the surface of Indian continent. But more important characteristics of such epics is to take lessons in indirect form. Instead of questioning the veracity of them, we should learn the underlying morals and principles of such stories. This is what makes them larger than life. The legends. The sources of inspiration.


But apart from all this learning, have I as a part of society, changed? I think I am still the same. Distance and work has not prevented me from being in touch with my family and loved ones. My hobbies and tastes for music and reading have not changed. I am still in love with the music of Pink Floyd as intensely as I was before! I still hate cooking! Even after 5 months of cooking practice, I still do not enjoy it. My heart still bleeds for India when the Indian government brings silly legislations and make way for downfall of Indian society and intellect. I still hate Indian cricket team but still follow the game. Thus maybe as an individual, I have changed and improved a lot. But the other aspect of my personality has still remained the same. That's the beauty of life. The constant change with immutable underlying personality.

Image source:http://www.winds-of-change.nl/templates/test/images/WoC_r3_c3.jpg

A day in the life of a graduate student

An irritating alarm clock goes off. Made in India. Ringing in the bright sunny morning of America. But I do not want to get up. Every night, I convince my self that tomorrow I am going to get up early. Yes, tomorrow will be different, I will keep up the strong will power and get up from the bed early. Same self-talk every night. Same result every morning. The alarm goes off and I say to myself, okey old boy, you will get just 5 more minutes and then you have to get up. Those five minutes transform into 50 minutes atleast and I wake up at around 8 or 8.30 without breaking the schedule!

Time to 'skype' ! Thanks to Skype, I talk to my parents in India everyday two times. Morning and evening. Free of cost! God bless Skype. I have used it so much that I am really thinking what philanthropic soul had the idea of founding this company and deciding to give free calling service. Hope their sanity will remain intact and they will continue this service.

The sleep has still not evacuated my brain cells and it still influences me. Like a hangover! So my parents can figure out everyday that I am still sleepy! But anyway, so the talk lasts for an hour almost. Then it is breakfast time! A desi student's exclusive breakfast. Cereals and milk. We generally keep half a dozen packs of cereals as it is our daily routine to eat it.

Then the rush to finish today's homework begins. Only a couple of hours to go before the class begins and still one report to write for the class. So I frantically go through the paper, note down points, half dozing half alert, somehow I manage to write the report well.

I have started becoming sloppy in timing! So initially here, I would be ready to leave my place atleast 30-40 minutes before class. But now I have become more calculative, and bolder. Because I know it takes 20 minutes for me to walk to the department, I will exactly start 20 minutes before. Sometimes even late! And in all this process, the lunch gets sacrificed many times. But I have become more regular in this matter since last few days. So what I do is I make some instant ready to eat which I would have brought from India Store here. I have quick lunch and then go the deartment. I find this way much better.

Then comes class time! Sometimes interesting, sometimes boring. Sometimes literally soporific. No offence meant to any of the professors. But can't help it. Prof. Hartman, the UC Berkley guy of Operating Systems is too funny in the class. His sense of humour keeps the class alive! The talks in his class are really interesting. After the classes, I head straight to library.

Library has become almost my second home. But that is the place where I like to spend most of my time. Reading or working on class projects. The environment within the library is really nice and conducive. A large bar of Hershey chocolate (http://www.hersheys.com/) and a grand sized coffee mug are my usual companions there. Storehouse of calories. Do I care? I anyway need a lot of energy and calory to keep myself going. It is interesting to see some people daily coming to library like me. There are two old gentlemen almost staying in the library the whole day reading some books. They see me, I see them. Daily routine!

The whole evening is spent at this place with nothing better to be done! Anyway I prefer spending time alone working or reading! I take the last Teal back home. Oh, by the way, the Teal means the University's bus service. They have different color coding for different routes. Purple, Teal, Orange and so on. So I come home, have a cup of hot 'desi' tea which I get from India regularly! Then time to call or chat again with friends in India and second round of talk with my parents.

Dinner time is as erratic as our Indian cricket team's performance. It is sometimes at 9, 10, 11 or sometimes even goes to 12 o'clock in the night. Cooking is one of the activities I hate from the bottom of my heart. I wonder how people can cook with such enthusiasm as one of my neighbours does. I hardly like what I cook. Not that I am so bad a cook. But somehow my tastebuds always reject the food that I cook.

Then the night study sessions start. I used to go to the department at night for working on project. But lately, I have been staying home at night, working on my pathetic 800x600 resolution screen of Fedora Linux. I have grown used to it now I realize! If you are constantly given bad things, you get so used to them because of repeatation that you don't feel bad anymore and you become comfortable with it. The session continues till 2-2.30 at night generally and then I drop my self dead on the bed, ofcourse with that self-talk of deciding to get up early the next day, knowing it would be of no use!

Sometimes I wonder, what is it that makes the life so monotonous? Is it the heavy course work load of Computer Science department? Or is it just me, shutting off myself from the outside world where people enjoy and have fun? I hope I will find the answer someday. One semester has passed and I hope I find it before this life as a graduate student is over!

Image: Main Library Building - University of Arizona

Solitude Vs. Loneliness

Although the meaning of both the words is 'to be alone', there is a vast difference between the two states. I was actually planning to write on loneliness but I took up MS Word's thesaurus to play with words and looked up for loneliness and the synonym given was 'solitude' which struck me as awefully wrong. And therefore I decided to write a few words on this comparison.

Who doesn't enjoy solitude? Sitting on the porch of one's house at one o'clock at night, enjoying the drizzling rain outside with a cup of hot coffee, Oscar Wilde's book and Pink Floyd's serene music in the background. This description has uncanny resemblance to my own liking so the reader is free to substitue any book and music she likes. That is how I define solitude which I enjoy. I am sure everyone has felt the bliss of solitude some day in her life. Or at least longed for solitude. It is chosing to be left alone. Far from the meddling crowd. In the company of oneself.

The importance of solitude is immense. This is the time when you can have a dialogue with yourself. Introspection takes over and unravels the inner depths of your own thoughts and psyche. Getting disconnected from the outer world and connected to yourself gives you a chance to know yourself better. And he who knows himself, wins the battle of life. Aspirations, emotions, feelings, frustration, elation and much more get a free flow at such times.

But when negative feelings dominate your solitude, the thin line between solitude and loneliness diminishes and it becomes more of a loneliness. So this allows me to make a transition to loneliness. When do you feel lonely? Most of the times, when you are in trouble, things are not working out in your favor, the whole world seems to act like an antagonist, at such times you feel lonely if you do not have someone to share these thoughts with. But also, in much simpler times, when you won an award in your school and you want someone to know, someone who is near to you but yet far, at that time, this absence instigates the feeling of loneliness.

Some more complicated and unfortunate incidences of loneliness have to do with being with someone yet feeling lonely. You are madly in love with your friend but you haven't confessed to her and one day she comes with a broad smile on her face and tells you about her falling in love with some other guy. You two are sitting side by side. She is with you. You are talking and laughing. But you are lonely. Such feelings of loneliness are even more painful.

One day I was walking back home from school. It was a Saturday night. The whole world was in the cheerful mood of partying and enjoying in groups with friends. It was twilight. I saw a young man sitting on a bench in the park with his dog. The scene described here does not tell you much. But that young man's face was so transparent. Revealing his feelings of loneliness and gloom. I could easily make out he was longing to be somewhere else. With someone. Wishing to break the bonds and transcending to somewhere else in space and time. Humming the tune of 'Wish you were here'.

*Image source: http://www.janeandken.com/ECUADOR/aacaseyhammock.gif

My music choice shifts and influence of Hindustani Classical

People say your choice of music reflects your personality. I am afraid of that generalization. Because if that notion is true, it would imply that I have multiple personality disorder! I can not bear so many personalities in my body.

Music runs in my family. Be it my sister's virtuosity and prowess in Hindustani classical music or my mother's music training in her days of youth, my father's inclination towards old classical songs or my uncle's profound theoritical knowledge of classical raagas. It has been in the family.

Memory is not my strong point. But I will exercise my grey cells a little and go back in past to find the source of my musical inclination. I remember listening to those old songs by Mukesh and Kishor Kumar when my father used to put them on radio or that small tape recorder of old times. It was so much fun even then! The absence of hi-fi dvd players did not dampen the enthusiastic voice of Kishor Kumar nor did it alleviate the sadness of Mukesh's voice. The sweetness of music was unharmed. In its pristine form.

Thus I remember this was my first encounter with some music which I liked. Especially that song of Madhumati 'Suhana Safar' always impressed me so much. That song indeed is enigmatic.

My first exposure to non-filmi and modern/western music occured when I came across a song called 'Patel Rap'. I do not know who the singer was. But it was some Gujarati Rap mixed with some english words here and there. I can still recollect the beats and rhythm of that song even now. It sounded so catchy and new at that time. I had never listened to anything like that before. So that became the pick of the time for me. Then I remember listening to some movie songs which were slightly off the usual track and had some good amount of mixing of sounds and effects. Especially those rock-n-roll type songs of Mithun and Govinda.

Then I see the shape-up of my liking towards English music during schooling days. I had come across a song of Apache Indian who is an Indian named Steven Kapoor, living in Caribbean Islands and popular in Ragge type of music. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apache_Indian_(musician)). A mix of Caribbean music with Indian touch of Bhangra music. It dominated my taste of music for a long long time as I remember now. I had bought all his albums thanks to my father who never denies my whims. So I remember the album names as 'Make way for the Indians', and then 'No Reservations' and a few others. The songs were really terrific. And even now sometimes I like to listen to those songs again!

Then the era of chocolaty music of Boy bands came. Backsteet Boys were a rage all over the place. And I stumbled upon one such compilation album in which they had a song. And I became an instant fan of them. If I remember correctly, 'Quit playing games with my heart' was the first song of them I heard and fell in love with their music. Boyzone was to follow. With their chart topping song 'Words', they did not fail to impress me. I bought several albums of Boyzone and Backstreet Boys during those days. Those days were school days of around 11th and 12th standard.

Then came college days. I will only narrate major shifts of my liking here, barring those small flickerings every now and then. Marc Anthony was very impressive with his voice full of sentiments and good music. Therefore I bought a cassettee of his new album and that event has made a huge, lasting impact on my music preference. It came as a serendipity. This Marc Anthony's cassette had a free album along with it and that album was by none other than Pink Floyd. The album 'Wish You Were Here'. One of my most favourite albums of all time. I was introduced to Pink Floyd by this lucky event and from that day onwards, I do not even know where that Marc Anthony's album went and Pink Floyd completely took over my music liking.

The whole genre of Classic Rock and Psychedellic Rock is fantastic. Pink Floyd are unchallenged Gods of Rock music.

Elton John has had a major influence in my taste of music. I remember listening some of his wonderful songs 'Something about the way you look tonight' and 'Sacrifice' and 'Candle in the Wind'. These songs are so beautiful that even after listening to them hundreds of times, even today, I can listen to them and enjoy. Some music is destined to be beautiful eternally. Like an ever charming rose. My most favourite album of Elton John remains 'Songs from West Coast'. Some songs from that album are really amazing. For example 'Original Sin'.

Even though my interest in western music is quite old now, the chance of attending a live concert in India came late. It was April 04 when Mark Knopfler of Dire Strait visited India. I was not particularly fond of Knopfler at that time, but I had heard a few songs by him and was curious to attend a real, live concert ! Therefore I decided to attend it. And it was a fabulous experience. The crowd was sparse, as the number of hard core rock fans in India is still not very large as compared to fan base of people like Bryan Adams. Knopfler was in his ever simplistic attire of blue jeans and a plain white shirt. No body can figure out that he is one of the finest rock star of our time. You can say he is a professor at some University! So simple he looked. And the songs he played that day, I was thrilled. He is a gifted guitarist as well as vocalist. The fame of Dire Strait is often attributed solely to him, rightfully. And after that concert, I became a huge fan of Dire Strait music. You will find almost entire collection of their music on my harddisk!

My second concert visit was in February 05. This time it was heart-throbe Bryan Adams. And this time, I was not alone. I went to concert with a few friends. I had a lot of expectations. But somehow, I did not have a very pleasent experience because of things other than his music. It was a terriblly small place for a crowd of thousands. Therefore people were suffocating each other in the crowd. We could hardly breath, crushed in the sea of people. But the music was asusual fantastic. BA rocks anyday, anytime. He played most of his classic hits like 'Summer of 69' and 'Everything I do' and so on.

My encounter with classical music is not very old. And the major influence is ofcourse my sister as she is one of the best classical vocalists of Gujarat today. I used to go to 'Saptak Classical Music Concert' in Ahmedabad which is a yearly music festival, just to accompany her. But as and when time passed, I started liking the music more and more. And then lately, the scenario reversed such that sometimes she had to come with me to give company!

I am a big fan of Pt. Jasraj and Ustad Rashid Khan. Their music is divine. There are two types of music which touch your soul. One hand you have western classical music and instrumental music by artists like Yanni. And on the other hand you have Hindustani Classical music. The former calms your soul and gives you peace. The latter elevates your soul and takes your mind to a different world altogether.

Lately I have realized that Computer Programming and Hindustani Classical music really go well with each other !! So when I am programmin, I always listen to this music and it really works wonders. It keeps my mind fresh till long hours.

In my shifts of liking, there is also a significant place for Hip Hop music, mainly by eminem. I admire eminem a lot because of his talent for hip-hop and his own struggle in life. His has been an inspiring story. Moreover, recently I have also been listening to Mike Shinoda. He is a good upcoming talent in hip-hop and alternative music.

I wonder what is next in store for me. Jazz.... Carnatic Classical..... or some other genre which many people have not heard of !!!

Wet earth and rain and home

It is amazing how some whiff can take you back in time within a moment. Miles away from the place you are standing, months and days away in time. It is the rain and the wet earth and that smell which is doing this trick to me. I am sitting here writing this in Tucson, thousands of miles away from my home, remembering the days of rain in my home town. My balcony, that wooden swing, the rain, that fregrence of wet earth, that melodious sound of rain drops hitting the earth and bouncing on the puddles, that favourite tree of mine in front of my house, swinging back and forth to the tune of rain and lightening sounds. Mesmerising visuals being drawn in front of my eyes.



I remember how I used to enjoy the rainy days back home. The memories go as far back in time as schooling days. I remember coming back home from school in those rainy days. It used to be so much fun, walking through the small streams of running water on the roads, clasping mother's hand, walking besides her. The green trees, bathing in the pure elixir of God, the rain. And the smiles on everyone's faces, silently thanking the mother nature for her blessings.

After those memories, my mind is flooding with the days spent at my native place called Sihor. It is a beautiful place surrounded by hills. I spent most of my vacations there. This place becomes amazingly attractive during the rainy season. The river overflows. The mountains look charming. And the festive mood accompanies the weather. I remember going to those fun-fairs during those days as at this time, ther is one of our celebrated festivals called 'Janmashtami'. The fun fairs were always very alluring because of the attractive toys, food and above all, going out with the people I love most.

Then there is this celebration of breaking the 'Matki' (A pot filled with butter). This pot is hung high on the street and the youth forms a scaffold and one young boy climbs this human scaffold and breaks the pot. It holds a religious significance in Hindu mythology as the Lord Krishna performed similar rituals. My uncle's old house used to be 4 sotries high and we used to stand on the terrace and watch the whole celebrations at night. People used to throw buckets full of water on the boys to disrupt their formation but they used to persist and achieve their target. Fun, frolic, faith and joy. They used to characterize the mood of those days.

After that I remember my long drives with friends a year ago during the rains. The highway used to be flooded with water sometimes and it was a difficult drive. But it was pleasent as light drizzling and cool breeze made up the mood.

Good old days....

Life as a drama on this world's stage

After three months or so, I am reading something of my interest. After last night's submission, I got a chance to breath and read some literary work. As always, I resorted to Oscar Wilde whom I consider one of the finest writers of the past few centuries.

I am reading his essay on importance of costumes in drama. He mainly talks about how Shakespeare described the costumes and masks of his characters to the utmost accuracy and detail.

Take a look at this sentence. "... But with the stage, how different it is. The ancient world wakes from its sleep and history moves as a pageant before our eyes, without obliging us to have recourse to a dictionary or an encyclopaedia for the perfection of our enjoyment. "

I somehow always believe that the whole life is a drama. And this world is a stage, we all being actors. Compare it with every characteristics of drama. As Wilde says, the drama is always an elaborate depiction of what is written in the book. In life's case, the drama of life is an elaborate depiction of what is there in the 'book of life'. We can assume every person's life to be a biography written by God. And then when the time comes, this biography is performed on the stage of this world.

And the more interesting part is, all these biographies being performed interact with each other and make a complete play. And this play is so very interesting. The more you are involved in some events of life, the more you enjoy musing about them in retrospect. Some parts of your life, you can actually re-live when you think about them in your quietest of moments.

We all are actors and the God is the writer director of the drama. But one stark difference between the life and drama is that in a drama, all the actors have known the script a priori. And they know what is going to happen in the subsequent scenes. God's drama is much supirior in this respect. In the drama of life, noone knows what is going to happen to their character in the subsequent scenes. And this makes it so much more interesting.

Such uncertainty bring about the most natural 'acting' possible from the characters. The contemporary drama directors should actually try this strategy. Do not give the script to the actors. Just tell them the immediate sequence and make them act accordingly. In this setup, the actors will have no prejudice towards the coming sequences and will be most focused on the current scene.

Or thinking in reverse direction, how would it be, if God gave us the entire script and asked us to act accordingly? How would it be to act all your life knowing that you are acting. We all act even now, but we just don't acknowledge our behaviour as acting. If we knew what is going to happen in future, in other words, if we had the script of the drama called life, then everyone would be acting.

The world would become so unnatural and appallingly boring. Imagine a boy acting to be in love when he knows that his love is not going to last for ever. Imagine a farmer acting to be anticipating the rains for his harvest when he knows that it will be a famine this year. Imagine a soldier bidding goodbye to his fiancee and promising her to return soon when he knows that his 'role' will compel him to die in the 'war scene'. I would actually say it is not only boring but it is sad.

Another interesting aspect in comparison comes to my mind and that is re-takes. Imagine having re-takes in our lives. If you make a mistake, the director - God will give you another chance to correct it. Will it be good? Will it be bad? What will happen to the consciences of people if they know that they will have a second chance always? Will they be less judicious in their behaviour? Will they be less burdened? But again, one similarity here is that an actor learns from his mistakes in the previous scenes and becomes more careful in his subsequent scenes. Life also teaches lessons at every step. We learn from past and correct our mistakes in future.

Going back to Shakespeare's style of writing, he assumed the most ornated and elaborate stage setup available while writing. Therefore we see many complaints in the literature form the directors of such drama that it was extremely difficult to recreate the magic of Shakespearian dramas on the stage. God is one step ahead than Shakespear. He not only assumes the grand stage for performance, he creates it too. Now think about this, would God have created the stage and then written this drama called life? Or once the God wrote this drama, then he created the stage and selected actors?

If given a chance, would you take up a different role in this drama? Or would you like someone else in your life to take a different role? Would you ask God to change your part of the role slightly?

The taste of failure

It was a bad start of the day today. Barely I had woken up from last night's slogging till 3a.m. in the morning and I got a mail saying I had lost one more opportunity today.

Not that I was very sure of getting the position, but still deep down inside of heart, I had a feeling that I might be able to grab it. But once again, luck decieved me. As a coincidence, I came across a song by Fort Minor which had lyrics which accurately described my day.
He says, "It's 10% luck, 20% skill, 15% concentrated power of will , 5% pleasure, 50% pain and 100% reason to remember the day!"



So that 50% of pain clearly dominated the day today. But yet, doesn't every pain make a man much stronger everytime? Failure makes you realize the true worth of yourself. This would sound negative but clearly that seems to be the case with me. It makes you more realistic about your own self. Cut down to size.

But yet, it doesn't dampen my spirits. Those moments of blues will fade with time. Let the melancholy befriend me for sometime. But I will emerge from that. Rise up to the new horizon. New challenges facing me. Or me facing new challenges !

Bitter Sweet Symphony... Mumbai - A story of my experiences

A small article that I wrote a couple of days ago and got a good response from those whom I had sent initially. So I thought I would share it with some more people !
Hope you will enjoy this..

Preface:
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I have been to Mumbai quite a few times now. Here is a small part of what I experienced and what I thought about the mighty city. Those who have been to Mumbai will find this story their own. And those who live in Mumbai will find the story to be part of their lives. Undetachable one.
*********************************************************************************
A huge creature is charging towards you with full force. And you see lots of men grabbing that creature, hanging onto it from all over the sides and some even from top. Trying to control the beast which is going berserk. And you hear that beast shrieking at loud thunderous voice.
Welcome to a local railway's platform in Mumbai. The city of blinding lights. The city that never sleeps. The city that never halts to take a breather.
If you have hit the platform of Mumbai for the first time, you are in for a good joy ride. The shock of a life time. There is a sea on the platform. The sea of humans. The difference between a sea and this human sea is that here the humans acting as droplets in the sea are far from being in unison with each other like real droplets in the sea. Thus what you see is not the harmonious waves but a chaotic and grisly picture of reality.
The fight for survival begins at the dawn of everyday. Without even seeing the first rays of the sun, people rush to the railway platforms, lest the rest of the world wakes up and the floods the platform. Every night the fear of tomorrow's struggle haunts oneself. The uncertainties. Or the certainties of hardship.
During my first few visits, I was more involved in saving myself from drowning into this sea on the platform. But as my instincts grew stronger or more ferocious and I became more familiar with the 'ever-urgent' state of people running on the platform, I developed a habit of observing people and thinking their thoughts.
There is this concept of direction and reverse direction traffic on the rails. For example, people say that during morning hours of office time, there is a demonic rush towards south Mumbai on the western line. So it is from Borivali to Mumbai Central that you see the unimaginable rush of people. And during evening hours, it is this crowd that wants to go back, desperately, to their respective homes from office. Thus it is the rush from South towards North. And the remaining hours are quite normal. No denial of the fact that these so called busy hours are indeed frenzied. Unfettered wilderness. But the thing that amazes me most is that even apart from these 'busy hours' there is never a time when you can easily get to sit inside the train. If you get a seat, consider yourself extremely lucky. But most of the cases, you might have been in the wrong train altogether which is a high probability event if you find yourself seated.
Then there is one more legend about trains going to Virar. The people regularly travelling in this train have become so feral that for them, anyone violating their conventions, knowingly or unknowingly is worthy of severest of punishment. For example, if you, by mistake, board this train to Virar, and you want to get down at Borivali (a station which comes before Virar), people will obstruct you and will not allow you to get down at your desired station. Reason? They considered the train to be exclusively for themselves. For those who want to get down at Virar only. And no earlier station. Eventhough there is no such rule written about that train. Even worse, if you try to get yourself free from this half-human half-demon crowd, they will beat you to your limits and make sure they teach you a lesson. And also to the generations to follow. The train is for us. Exclusively.
There have been times, I have had the honour to travel by the Luggage Compartment. The humorous part of the story is that you will hardly find any place for luggage inside such compartments. And there are no rows of seats inside. More room for people. More people. More frenzy. But the most noteworthy part about travelling in the luggage compartment is the wide variety of smells that your senses are exposed to. Most of the times it is the biting stench of fish which kills you if you are not already overrun by the people, the mob. Sometimes, the smell of vegetables, the rotten ones also accompany the drift of stench to your nostrils. But unhindered as you are, you travel on. And on.
One more notable phenomenon about the platforms is the ticket windows. Someone with wits as simple as mine, will never figure out where the ticket window is. Even asking people will not help. Because there are numerous types of ticket windows. Once I stood in three queues one after the other. Finding the right one at last after these many attempts. Sometimes, the windows are hidden under the bridge. Sometimes they are on the bridge. Sometime, inside the station. Sometimes outside. I wonder, how creative, the architects of this amazing maze would be.
Now let me narrate a typical sequence of events when a train charges inside the platform. First thing to happen is that the movement on the stairs of the overbridge increases rapidly. Everyone wants to grab the beast which has entered just now. Can not wait even for a couple of more minutes. Not acceptable. This is Mumbai. Thus, there is a sudden increase in the movement even along the platform. People getting ready to take a sprint. To dive. To throw their corporeal bodies in the direction of the menacing beast.
Let us look at the scene from within the train compartments. People wanting to get out, desperately nudging their way out to the doors. Shouting, abusing, threatening has already begun. Both from inside and outside. It is the battle between those who are this side of the train doors and those who are on the other. It is the battle of wits, nerves and muscles. He who has the perfect combination of this, wins. And so does the persons standing behind him. There is no inclination to make male gender the hero in this story by using 'he'. The only reasoning behind this is the availability of ladies special compartments and thus less hardship, though not the absence of it, for female gender.
While this drama of emptying and filling up of train continues, many potential tragedies are avoided by God's grace, or some mortal who transcends the mortality by helping someone. And for the less fortunate ones, the calamity strikes. Often. But the insensitivity has reached such a level in the persons that these incidents are not paid heed to at all. One accident. One news event to talk about in office. Life goes on.
On a lighter note, I would like to share my own experience of getting in a local. The adventure to be remembered for long. It was Dadar station. One of the busiest places in Mumbai. We had to reach our place where we lived in Ghatkopar and then again return to Dadar for taking a train back to Ahmedabad. It was 6 in the evening I remember. Three of us, Ruchir, Mahesh and I, standing at the Dadar station. The first beast comes rushing in. The flurry on the stairs. The movement on the platform. The site of hundreds of people hanging on the doors frightened us if not bogged our wits down. But we had to catch the train so as not to miss the connecting train to Ahmedabad. Thus, after having a short discussion and taking a unanimous decision of getting into the train no matter what, we got ourselves charged up for the thrust. And the train slowed down, or so it seemed. And the next moment is beyond the comprehension of someone who has not seen the utterly wild and maniac scenes at such platforms. People were literally ready to kill each other for a place to keep a foot on the train. And others to keep a foot on the platform, getting off the train. The fight went on for the dreadful half a minute. And the train moved ahead, as normally as if nothing had happened. Some weight got out and some got in. The machine. What else do you expect from it? Sympathy? Do you expect that from a human as well? In Mumbai?
Unfazed by the white washed defeat and all the more determined, we decided to board the next one. A few minutes of wait. And the same prelude. Same activities before arrival of the train. And then came the time. The effort, hardwork, bravery. All paid off in full and we set our feet on the train. But then we realized that setting a foot each was not enough. We had to squeeze our bodies well inside the compartment. Ruch, and I somehow managed to overcome that challenge after much effort but Hesh's condition was somewhat ludicrous and pitiable. His spectacles had almost fallen of his nose and were about to be shattered under the crushing feet of the wild crowd. He was holding on to my one hand which I had stretched to save him from remaining behind on the platform. The other hand of mine swung into action and I saved his spectacles from falling. The next moment, I gave all the strength that I had left in the body to pull him up on the compartment. And then came the moment of glory. All three of us, successfully inside the compartment. With all the body parts intact and all of them inside the train.
But if you wonder for a moment about the efficiency of this local railway network, you will realize that it is a task of mammoth complexity. Hundreds of thousands of people travelling everyday. Not many times would you have heard about some accident of local train, however minor it is. If you remove the local train from mumbai's face, imagine what would be left of Mumbai? Just like a pale ghostly dead body after all the blood has been sucked from it. Lifeless.
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End of part I
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I plan to write more. Covering my experience in Mumbai apart from those with local trains. I hope I don't have to stop writing that one after getting reviews from the people who have read first part !

With best wishes....

The Hungry Tide - Amitav Ghosh

I am not sure what prompted me to pick up this book and buy. But I am thankful to that moment when I decided to read this book.

It's an awesome piece of work. My thoughts might be coloured by the fact that I have a very intense liking towards Bengali culture and it's people. But above that, I can say that it's a good literary monument.

The book describes the crux of the human soul. There is no hero or villain in the story. The theme is not gripping like some thriller. But there is something in the entire setup which is exotic, inexplicably beautiful. While beginning a chapter of the book, a reader feels as curious as a child opening the christmas gifts. Each page brings a new surprise to the readers. Immersing them in the plot and the surrounding events.

The story is based in some backwater region of West Bengal. The description of the scenic beauty is amazing and touches the most sensitive parts of the neurons of our brain.

Categorically it describes relationships. Relationships between strangers. Relationship between humans and nature. Relationship between humans and animals. Relationship of yourself with you. Relationship of a soul with another soul.

There are mainly 5-6 characters in the novel. There is this Kanai - who is a typical succesful urbane and sophisticated person from Delhi. Despite his external demeanor, he is not characterised as a hero.

There is this girl, Piya, who can be called the heroin of the story. She does not understand the indian languages yet she understands the human nature. The book revolves around her and her feelings towards a rustic young man who is another strong character of the novel.

Again, there is this character of Kanai's uncle. He is described as almost a non-entity but yet, the entire book surrounds his diary which Kanai keeps reading. And the secrets of human souls and feelings that are revealed from the diary are just mind boggling. This character reminds me of people who are never succesful in life. Success neither in their own eyes, nor in the eyes of world. Yet the world is full of such people and they live their lives. But at the same time, there is a hidden desire in their psyche to succeed in life. They always try to give meaning to their life and ultimately die struggling. As 50 Cent says, "get richer or die trying". Ofcourse, this is a bit off track as this character did not have a crave for money alltogether. But I guess you got the point.

The plot describes how the beast (tiger) plays a vital role in the fears of the villagers. They don't even take its name because it is considered ill omen. And in the end, it's the fear that saves Kanai from the beast in a symbolic encounter of his with it.

The story is an epitomization of Love, Sacrifice, The untold feelings, The inexplicable relationships, Human hearts.

Give it a try folks if you get some time to go through the book.

Ever wondered?

Ever wondered why you are here?

The question has perplexed almost all the phiolsophers. Many has endeavored in search of the answer. But have failed is what I can say.

There is 'A purpose'. Or 'The purpose'?

Are we all here for the same purpose? Or everyone has some unique purpose in their 'life'. Now if I had posed this question to Socrates, he would defenitely have replied back with a question, "what do you mean by life". But anyway, as he is not with us, let us continue our discussion.

Is there 'A purpose' or 'The purpose'

A utilitarion (Utilitarianism is a branch of philosophy) would say, 'The purpose'. Why? Because according to him, the only purpose of a life is to contribute to the increase of the total happiness of the earth. So this is the purpose. He would say that the purpose is same for all. It is just the manifestation or culmination of it in different ways.

I more or less agree with this point. If you think God as an entity who is there for 'Good', you will think that all he does is to make sure that the Universe is a better place to live in. So whatever life forms are created by him, they all have the same purpose. I got a lot more to say and think on this.