A thousand kilometres away from the magic that happened a couple of years ago, i sit back trying to catch on to those moments which seem to be drifting away as time starts the decimation... i try to recreate the moments from the first day but the heart does not want to end the story sayin goodbye again... so i traverse the journey in rewind, ending where it all started, the moment i entered these gates, making the first imprint as a MICAn, signing in the student register for the first time...
the myriad of colors engulf me as various adjectives and verbs fly through my head like a movie reel as i lie down on the football field looking at the huge tree and the setting sun behind it... i see pinku sittin in a corner and pubby walkin across as ashish points his camera, trying to freeze time thru his lens... the leaves move as the breeze fills them up... i see formations of birds emerging from trees flying away across the dimming light to i dont know where, but together... its like nature was gently reminding me of the life beyond... saloni, mansi, aron and geet walk past to the treasure chest and i remember the morning that started this day... the purple attempt at football in the cricket field... and the morning tea after the perfect night wen we partied in amaltas for that one more time... i cud hear resounding sounds as I watched in admiration wat the chopra of amaltas had created... i admire it cos u did wat no one else even tried... never thought a post grad hostel cud be similar to the boarding school ones... n i wondered if we cud have done the same with MICA... but i guess its perfection lies in this imperfection...
i slept in palaash 26 again, trying to imagine sinha on the other bed and all those who walked tht door, right from the wake up shouts to the paap nights... i glanced at the power corridor etched on the wall and opened the door of 25 to see if GB was still sleeping there... i look at the disputed washroom and the alternate route to parijat... i look down at ground zero and i look at palaash 3... i look at the knotty boys HQ and walk to the corner of someplace else imagining shot glasses and a huge container of the magic potion as palaash celebrated the brotherhood there... i hear voices announcing birthdays to palaash... i try to hear symmetric sounds from 16 as the clock strikes 8.30... ashvin doesn’t wake up here anymore i realise, but he remains my original music man... i remember the times we used to borrow his speakers for the movies in SH during orientation...i walk past the baddy court and see the courtyard of parijat... i see the door of 9 and the window of 14 and then the music room... remembering the mallu vs maadu baddy matches, i walk past the mess and realise that our concept of time wud not be defined by the mess timings anymore... Sundays wud have more significance than butter chicken as weekends start making sense... i take a run to sh3 from the mess lawn and behind champa as im late for class... i reach the doors to find them locked forever... i walk back trying to touch every corner of this place trying to feel complete and one with it... i walk down the road and remember the jogs... i see the director’s bungalow and remember pat’s cognac... i thank kishore bhai for tolerating and taking care of our “high” lifestyles...
i see twinky and remember the drunkenness and the hug in diu... i see apurv and remember the godliness of bhang... i spot mehta and i know il look forward to yo mamasita and pfc... i see vipul and recall our movie dates... i enter chinar and i see art come to life... i remember my first roll as the experts looked on... i remember the gorgeous courtyard and terrace in the endless parties... i remember the smiling faces as we greeted each other every single day, every time we met... i remember the genuineness of geet’s smile... i enter my room and see saloni’s room opposite on the top... i see the purple, i see the blue, i hear the sound of music as i take the deepest breath of satisfaction.. its magic, all over again...
ending again where it all started, i get down at the gates, i sign in as a MICAn in the student register... i always will... thank u breed... i bow to thy force...
green
As i stare in to the open space in front of me...
The vastness of the emptiness makes me numb...
Its overwhelming, cos its endless...
Its white, absolute and pure...
And then i hear voices...
The running and the shouting...
As the big screen flashes glimpses of the bygone...
The smiles, the tears, the stars and the surreal...
I see color...
And then the rain...
As huge waves of music drown me...
I lose myself in the beauty of the moment...
Its green again...
The vastness of the emptiness makes me numb...
Its overwhelming, cos its endless...
Its white, absolute and pure...
And then i hear voices...
The running and the shouting...
As the big screen flashes glimpses of the bygone...
The smiles, the tears, the stars and the surreal...
I see color...
And then the rain...
As huge waves of music drown me...
I lose myself in the beauty of the moment...
Its green again...
im human again
Sittin by the corner, thinkin of the life
I see the world ahead unsure of where it might take me...
The journey these two years has been extraordinary...
Absolutely unexpected things have happened...
The old ones are gone, new ones are in place...
The void remains but i dont know if anyone cares...
I never thought it wud end like this...
Never thought id just give in and it wudnt bother me much...
Never thought i cud be careless, never thought id be losin it...
But as i start to care less, i discover a new way of life...
Its scary cos im not in control nemore...
Just doing what feels right, even if its goin wrong at times...
At least it tells me who’s on and who’s not...
Who cares and who does not...
Cos i dont know where il take myself...
Feels good to let someone else do the thinking for a change...
My life’s not exactly mine at the moment...
But the stakes aren’t that high yet...
Amongst the changing world, I thought id be the constant...
Feels good to know that im still human...
I see the world ahead unsure of where it might take me...
The journey these two years has been extraordinary...
Absolutely unexpected things have happened...
The old ones are gone, new ones are in place...
The void remains but i dont know if anyone cares...
I never thought it wud end like this...
Never thought id just give in and it wudnt bother me much...
Never thought i cud be careless, never thought id be losin it...
But as i start to care less, i discover a new way of life...
Its scary cos im not in control nemore...
Just doing what feels right, even if its goin wrong at times...
At least it tells me who’s on and who’s not...
Who cares and who does not...
Cos i dont know where il take myself...
Feels good to let someone else do the thinking for a change...
My life’s not exactly mine at the moment...
But the stakes aren’t that high yet...
Amongst the changing world, I thought id be the constant...
Feels good to know that im still human...
chapter 2
As I stood there amazed at this sudden “cultural” shock, my eyes flickered onto the tiny details of what I initially thought was a shit pot. It was actually a bidet and not a shit-pot (a bidet looks similar but does not have the shit pot hole); Not too much relief but nevertheless, I had little choice. My eyes took in the room. It was an ordinary 7x6 feet probably. White walls, white bed-sheet, brown wooden wardrobe and a huge study table. The black flooring meant I wouldn’t get stares for not cleaning my room. The wall above the room heater had black marks; the heating seemed to be effective. And right in front was a huge window.
I opened it and it felt like I had fallen straight into one of those Colgate fresh ads with nature blowing fresh kisses at me. With the troubles I was getting into, you wouldn’t expect me to check air quality all this while before. This air felt fresh. I had recovered from the “shit-pot” shock and was now staring at the breathtakingly beautiful sky. The sun was playing hide and seek with the dark grey clouds, each fighting for dominance. And their colourful interplay turned the sky into a beautiful mix of yellow, orange and grey interspersed with flashes of the hiding blue. As I stood there, lost at the beauty beyond, I heard my teeth chattering. It was cold, around 2 degrees at 12.30 in the afternoon. Awakened by this sudden unpleasant realisation, I closed the window, ready to explore what France was going to throw at me next.
I was hungry by then and we decided that the university restaurant would be the ideal place to get going on the social aspect. The place was buzzing with activity. It was huge, for MICAns reference, it was probably bigger than 3 SHs combined. This was the cheapest wholesome food you could get anywhere in France. 2.85 euros for a choice between a 3 course meal and an 8 inches pizza. In the shabbiest of restaurants outside, the same meal would cost nothing less than 10 euros.
Very soon I was to realise that my limited understanding of the French language would be severely tested again. There was a lot of stuff to choose from and I had no clue which one was what. Especially the non-veg part since I don’t eat beef and pork. I quickly queued up behind Devika and blurted out “moi aussi” to the restaurant staff. It meant please serve me the same food as hers. Jugaad I tell you, always works for me. We found a table for ourselves and to my pleasant surprise, were joined by some more international students. The lunch felt truly international as we all introduced ourselves to each other. I had started feeling comfortable with the place already.
Our next stop was the admin office where we were greeted by Ms Maggy, our international relations officer. She took us through a quick tour of the school, proudly showing us the beautiful building and its facilities. Unaware of the facilities and her sweet introductions to them, my eyes were blissfully enjoying the swarming “beauties” walking around the school. You have to give it to them. French girls do make jaws drop. The fact that I could see a lot of them looking back at me certainly puffed me up no ends. It was a completely different matter that the looks were more of general curiosity than anything more subtle. I choose to ignore this part.
We were then handed over to the Aloha team who I must say were of enormous help to us. We got our local phone connections and bus cards made. A special mention for Evelyne who patiently helped us out with everything. Thank you !
All done, we decided to go to the supermarket and get our supplies. We took a bus back home, our hands full of stuff we would need in our next four months of stay. The next day we were invited to a house party at Aleksi’s house. Aleksi, fondly called “Al Sexy” by a lot of his female friends, is from Finland and also a part of our IBM group. His nickname should give you a fair idea of his appeal. The concept of house parties was pretty interesting there. The host invites everyone to his/her house and everyone carries their own booze or food. I thought that this was a brilliant idea. Makes life simpler for everyone.
The party was in the evening today and most people I knew were buying wine. Now, I am not a big fan of wine and four months of France has still not changed my preference. I decided to go in for what I liked. Label 7 scotch, my first international whiskey. Well it wasn’t that great a brand but nevertheless, suited my pocket. All set and excited for our first party, we left for Aleksi’s house at around 9 pm. There were so many people there. I have to say that I felt a little lost in the beginning since I hardly knew anyone and everyone else seemed to know each other. But Aleksi was very sweet in introducing us to his other friends and two three drinks later, we all were surely having fun. It had been less than 48 hours since I had left Delhi for my first international trip. And here I was laughing away with faces I never knew existed before. India seemed very far away at that particular moment to me.
As we were leaving for the night, Devika asked me if I was game for a road trip the next day. I don't know if you generally get shocked when you’re high. For a moment I wondered if things were happening too fast, road trip to where, how, with whom, etc etc. Thankfully the Label 7 took over and I nodded in agreement. I would have said yes to anything at that moment...
I opened it and it felt like I had fallen straight into one of those Colgate fresh ads with nature blowing fresh kisses at me. With the troubles I was getting into, you wouldn’t expect me to check air quality all this while before. This air felt fresh. I had recovered from the “shit-pot” shock and was now staring at the breathtakingly beautiful sky. The sun was playing hide and seek with the dark grey clouds, each fighting for dominance. And their colourful interplay turned the sky into a beautiful mix of yellow, orange and grey interspersed with flashes of the hiding blue. As I stood there, lost at the beauty beyond, I heard my teeth chattering. It was cold, around 2 degrees at 12.30 in the afternoon. Awakened by this sudden unpleasant realisation, I closed the window, ready to explore what France was going to throw at me next.
I was hungry by then and we decided that the university restaurant would be the ideal place to get going on the social aspect. The place was buzzing with activity. It was huge, for MICAns reference, it was probably bigger than 3 SHs combined. This was the cheapest wholesome food you could get anywhere in France. 2.85 euros for a choice between a 3 course meal and an 8 inches pizza. In the shabbiest of restaurants outside, the same meal would cost nothing less than 10 euros.
Very soon I was to realise that my limited understanding of the French language would be severely tested again. There was a lot of stuff to choose from and I had no clue which one was what. Especially the non-veg part since I don’t eat beef and pork. I quickly queued up behind Devika and blurted out “moi aussi” to the restaurant staff. It meant please serve me the same food as hers. Jugaad I tell you, always works for me. We found a table for ourselves and to my pleasant surprise, were joined by some more international students. The lunch felt truly international as we all introduced ourselves to each other. I had started feeling comfortable with the place already.
Our next stop was the admin office where we were greeted by Ms Maggy, our international relations officer. She took us through a quick tour of the school, proudly showing us the beautiful building and its facilities. Unaware of the facilities and her sweet introductions to them, my eyes were blissfully enjoying the swarming “beauties” walking around the school. You have to give it to them. French girls do make jaws drop. The fact that I could see a lot of them looking back at me certainly puffed me up no ends. It was a completely different matter that the looks were more of general curiosity than anything more subtle. I choose to ignore this part.
We were then handed over to the Aloha team who I must say were of enormous help to us. We got our local phone connections and bus cards made. A special mention for Evelyne who patiently helped us out with everything. Thank you !
All done, we decided to go to the supermarket and get our supplies. We took a bus back home, our hands full of stuff we would need in our next four months of stay. The next day we were invited to a house party at Aleksi’s house. Aleksi, fondly called “Al Sexy” by a lot of his female friends, is from Finland and also a part of our IBM group. His nickname should give you a fair idea of his appeal. The concept of house parties was pretty interesting there. The host invites everyone to his/her house and everyone carries their own booze or food. I thought that this was a brilliant idea. Makes life simpler for everyone.
The party was in the evening today and most people I knew were buying wine. Now, I am not a big fan of wine and four months of France has still not changed my preference. I decided to go in for what I liked. Label 7 scotch, my first international whiskey. Well it wasn’t that great a brand but nevertheless, suited my pocket. All set and excited for our first party, we left for Aleksi’s house at around 9 pm. There were so many people there. I have to say that I felt a little lost in the beginning since I hardly knew anyone and everyone else seemed to know each other. But Aleksi was very sweet in introducing us to his other friends and two three drinks later, we all were surely having fun. It had been less than 48 hours since I had left Delhi for my first international trip. And here I was laughing away with faces I never knew existed before. India seemed very far away at that particular moment to me.
As we were leaving for the night, Devika asked me if I was game for a road trip the next day. I don't know if you generally get shocked when you’re high. For a moment I wondered if things were happening too fast, road trip to where, how, with whom, etc etc. Thankfully the Label 7 took over and I nodded in agreement. I would have said yes to anything at that moment...
chapter 1
Been long due, this is gonna be a series of posts about that period which would count amongst the sweetest and happiest moments I’ve ever had. I don’t know why I’d decided to apply for the exchange program, specifically France. I convinced the logical side of my brain that I would do some research on luxury branding but as it turned out, the logical part went into hibernation the moment I stepped on French territory, THANKFULLY. The grin was back
The start was thrilling. On the flight, someone fell ill and there was an announcement asking for a doctor. Being the nephew of a doctor, I was carrying a full box of medicines with a list of when to use what. I gladly called the air hostess and offered my free services. It felt brilliant when she asked me if I was a doctor. Not to let the moment of glory go, I said no but told them about my medicine box which had a lot of medicines that might help. The look on the air hostess very clearly told me that they needed a doctor not a chemist. :P But I still think I did the right thing.
We arrived at the CDG airport, Paris earlier than the Indian standards of time that we are used to. Over enthusiastic, we gladly accepted the ticket counter lady’s offer of taking the train to Poitiers (our home for nx 4 months) an hour earlier than we had expected. Happy being before time for a change, I flicked out my Vodafone to call Devika and inform her of our change in plans. She was supposed to pick us up from the Poitiers train station. My foresight had failed to warn me that I was in international waters. My outgoing calls were barred!
Ah not to worry, this was an international airport, there sure must be a public phone booth. We have so many of them in India. I saw a phone booth and walked towards it showing Vodafone the finger in my head. Alas, the phone needed coins or a credit card. My bank never told me that coins existed in this part of the world. All I had was a bundle of 50 euro notes which NOBODY at the airport was ready to change. There were no shops in sight where I could buy something from and get some coins either. And all we could get from the helpdesk was, “I speak only French”. It was 6 a.m and I don’t think the French like being woken up at that hour. I looked around for a kind soul and found a well-heeled guy talking away in English on his Blackberry. I asked him if could change 50 Euros for me and “accidentally” let slip in that I needed it to make a call. The world hasn’t lost its kindness!!
Devika had to make arrangements with the international team at school but thankfully they agreed to have us picked an hour earlier. Devika, by the way, is my friend at MICA who had reached France a week earlier. Why we reached a week late is another romantic story between me and the U.K embassy. We had decided to spend our holiday in U.K and for some reason, the U.K embassy wasn’t very approving of it. Anyways, we got down to the underground TGV station to catch our train. Both I and Aditi had four months of luggage to be put onto the train. Aditi, by the way, is the third MICAn who had been chosen for this exchange program to France and we had reached Paris together. If you thought that only Indian families travel heavy, think again. There was this group which was getting down at the airport and had tons of luggage. Polite that I thought we should be, we waited patiently at the train door for them to get down and us to get inside. Suddenly I remembered that the train was not going to wait forever. To my utter shock, I saw that the other passengers had already gotten in from the other door of the compartment. And we ran. Ten minutes of shoving and heaving and we were comfortably sitting, all set and relieved that everything’s gonna be alright now.
I decided that this would be a good time to play some music and my generous soul switched on the laptop and started playing my fav playlist of English songs. I chose my English playlist so that my neighbours in the compartment did not feel isolated and also kept it on speaker so that everyone could enjoy the music. Remembering Ashvin from MICA, 8.30 a.m, I thought is a good time for music. NO! Anytime there is a bad time for “public display of music”. The polite head which stuck out of my front seat immediately reminded me of this. Headphone on, it was time for Cricket 2007 on my laptop.
The train was supposed to reach Poitiers at 10.10 a.m and not to be outdone this time, I was very alert to the time. We went near the door at 10 a.m so that we could get our luggage out and we stopped at the station exactly at 10.10. Happy, I just confirmed with another gentleman whether it was Poitiers only and he nodded his head. Here we were! We quickly offloaded our luggage and looked around the platform for signs of acquainted life. There was no life! Aditi saw a board saying “Welcome to Futuroscope” and we saw the train doors shutting automatically. I could not stop smiling and Aditi had freaked out. She might be forgiven to think that I had gone mad. But it was gorgeous. We had gotten off one station earlier. Our train was late.
We found the ticket counter and asked for the next train to Poitiers. The next train was 3 hours later and the lady suggested taking a cab instead. It would have cost us 20 Euros and we gladly accepted it. In between my phone rang. Incoming was working. Devika had obviously not found us at the platform. It’s easy to laugh now, but it wasn’t funny at all then. They were very worried but thankfully Futuroscope was only 30 mins away. The international team had offered to ‘rescue’ us, but we told them we had hired a cab and would be fine.
30 mins later we reached Poitiers station, taking in the spectacular beauty of this part of the world from the cab en route. I could literally see my camera smile in approval. The familiar sight of life at the Poitiers station broadened my smile further and a few hugs, bonjours and my first Mercedes ride later, I was outside room no. A325, Residence Marie Curie – my abode for the next 4 thrilling months. I turned open the door and found a shit-pot just one feet from my bed. My jaw dropped. I am lazy but so much????.....to be continued
The start was thrilling. On the flight, someone fell ill and there was an announcement asking for a doctor. Being the nephew of a doctor, I was carrying a full box of medicines with a list of when to use what. I gladly called the air hostess and offered my free services. It felt brilliant when she asked me if I was a doctor. Not to let the moment of glory go, I said no but told them about my medicine box which had a lot of medicines that might help. The look on the air hostess very clearly told me that they needed a doctor not a chemist. :P But I still think I did the right thing.
We arrived at the CDG airport, Paris earlier than the Indian standards of time that we are used to. Over enthusiastic, we gladly accepted the ticket counter lady’s offer of taking the train to Poitiers (our home for nx 4 months) an hour earlier than we had expected. Happy being before time for a change, I flicked out my Vodafone to call Devika and inform her of our change in plans. She was supposed to pick us up from the Poitiers train station. My foresight had failed to warn me that I was in international waters. My outgoing calls were barred!
Ah not to worry, this was an international airport, there sure must be a public phone booth. We have so many of them in India. I saw a phone booth and walked towards it showing Vodafone the finger in my head. Alas, the phone needed coins or a credit card. My bank never told me that coins existed in this part of the world. All I had was a bundle of 50 euro notes which NOBODY at the airport was ready to change. There were no shops in sight where I could buy something from and get some coins either. And all we could get from the helpdesk was, “I speak only French”. It was 6 a.m and I don’t think the French like being woken up at that hour. I looked around for a kind soul and found a well-heeled guy talking away in English on his Blackberry. I asked him if could change 50 Euros for me and “accidentally” let slip in that I needed it to make a call. The world hasn’t lost its kindness!!
Devika had to make arrangements with the international team at school but thankfully they agreed to have us picked an hour earlier. Devika, by the way, is my friend at MICA who had reached France a week earlier. Why we reached a week late is another romantic story between me and the U.K embassy. We had decided to spend our holiday in U.K and for some reason, the U.K embassy wasn’t very approving of it. Anyways, we got down to the underground TGV station to catch our train. Both I and Aditi had four months of luggage to be put onto the train. Aditi, by the way, is the third MICAn who had been chosen for this exchange program to France and we had reached Paris together. If you thought that only Indian families travel heavy, think again. There was this group which was getting down at the airport and had tons of luggage. Polite that I thought we should be, we waited patiently at the train door for them to get down and us to get inside. Suddenly I remembered that the train was not going to wait forever. To my utter shock, I saw that the other passengers had already gotten in from the other door of the compartment. And we ran. Ten minutes of shoving and heaving and we were comfortably sitting, all set and relieved that everything’s gonna be alright now.
I decided that this would be a good time to play some music and my generous soul switched on the laptop and started playing my fav playlist of English songs. I chose my English playlist so that my neighbours in the compartment did not feel isolated and also kept it on speaker so that everyone could enjoy the music. Remembering Ashvin from MICA, 8.30 a.m, I thought is a good time for music. NO! Anytime there is a bad time for “public display of music”. The polite head which stuck out of my front seat immediately reminded me of this. Headphone on, it was time for Cricket 2007 on my laptop.
The train was supposed to reach Poitiers at 10.10 a.m and not to be outdone this time, I was very alert to the time. We went near the door at 10 a.m so that we could get our luggage out and we stopped at the station exactly at 10.10. Happy, I just confirmed with another gentleman whether it was Poitiers only and he nodded his head. Here we were! We quickly offloaded our luggage and looked around the platform for signs of acquainted life. There was no life! Aditi saw a board saying “Welcome to Futuroscope” and we saw the train doors shutting automatically. I could not stop smiling and Aditi had freaked out. She might be forgiven to think that I had gone mad. But it was gorgeous. We had gotten off one station earlier. Our train was late.
We found the ticket counter and asked for the next train to Poitiers. The next train was 3 hours later and the lady suggested taking a cab instead. It would have cost us 20 Euros and we gladly accepted it. In between my phone rang. Incoming was working. Devika had obviously not found us at the platform. It’s easy to laugh now, but it wasn’t funny at all then. They were very worried but thankfully Futuroscope was only 30 mins away. The international team had offered to ‘rescue’ us, but we told them we had hired a cab and would be fine.
30 mins later we reached Poitiers station, taking in the spectacular beauty of this part of the world from the cab en route. I could literally see my camera smile in approval. The familiar sight of life at the Poitiers station broadened my smile further and a few hugs, bonjours and my first Mercedes ride later, I was outside room no. A325, Residence Marie Curie – my abode for the next 4 thrilling months. I turned open the door and found a shit-pot just one feet from my bed. My jaw dropped. I am lazy but so much????.....to be continued
Just a thought...!!!
Watershed or just another misdemeanor for the relentlessly suffering state of India.Is that even a question worth asking at this point of time? Perhaps it wouldn’t have been if the target this time was again a soft one; like the local trains or the bus stations. But yeah, the country’s been hit below the belt. The seemingly unconquerable A-listers are at the receiving end, people who perhaps always thought of terrorism as just a tool for politicians to gain political mileage off sufferings of the common man. It is time now for the common man to show solidarity, when the powerful are at the receiving end of these sympathetic messages.
I feel disgusted at the hypocrisy of politicians who’ve been singing praises for the commandos and officers who’ve lost their lives. It’s more like a pain in the ass syndrome rather than a more empathetic response to what’s wrong. I feel disgusted with myself for not bothering to write anything when blasts shook Jaipur, Delhi and Bangalore but writing when big names have crumbled. Is there a way out? We have enough people who offer solutions, I so wish someone could execute them.
I don’t know what the way forward is. Just that these incidents make us stop for a while in our busy lives to take stock, write a few verses for the unified country that we pretend to be, sing a few praises for the heroic deaths, and try and show sympathy for those whose lives have changed forever. Do they who’ve suffered, even give a damn to our sympathies? Especially when it comes stinking with personal propaganda. I don’t even know if we are competent enough to fight back.
I don’t know what the motive of the other side is, why they are doing all this. Perhaps they have a genuine reason. Are they actually better than us? At least they execute the solutions which they think would alleviate their problems. At least they don’t come across as hypocrites who try and make a killing out of a wolf’s skin. At least they have a common cause which they swear by. But then why don’t they take on the establishment head on? Kill the perpetrators of crime against them instead of targeting people who just want to get on with their lives. Do they really think these incidents will make any difference to people who are not directly affected? It suddenly struck me, let us have an open fight and let the best side win. At least the left-overs will have a happy life. I am sure the thought would scare scores of us who are just thanking their stars for being safe amongst their loved ones.
Why are people like this? The most general responses would probably be they are as they are and you can’t help it. Then why am I the way I am or why are you the way you are? Is it just to fit into the realms of society or is it something you’ve gotten comfortable with. Living a safe life within the framework of the society and dying a sad death with people moving on after you’re gone. Or maybe do something worthwhile. At least express your opinion if you’re not doing something about it. Stop being scared and just break free for one moment. If the feeling of liberation excites you, plunge in; if it scares you, then the choice is yours.
I am not a preacher who’s out on a moral lecturing session. I am a part of you and I feel disgusted with myself. Can we for once in our lives be less political, can we just for once be free from deceit, from living within the realms of our narrow minds. Nah, being indifferent is much easier!!!!!!
I feel disgusted at the hypocrisy of politicians who’ve been singing praises for the commandos and officers who’ve lost their lives. It’s more like a pain in the ass syndrome rather than a more empathetic response to what’s wrong. I feel disgusted with myself for not bothering to write anything when blasts shook Jaipur, Delhi and Bangalore but writing when big names have crumbled. Is there a way out? We have enough people who offer solutions, I so wish someone could execute them.
I don’t know what the way forward is. Just that these incidents make us stop for a while in our busy lives to take stock, write a few verses for the unified country that we pretend to be, sing a few praises for the heroic deaths, and try and show sympathy for those whose lives have changed forever. Do they who’ve suffered, even give a damn to our sympathies? Especially when it comes stinking with personal propaganda. I don’t even know if we are competent enough to fight back.
I don’t know what the motive of the other side is, why they are doing all this. Perhaps they have a genuine reason. Are they actually better than us? At least they execute the solutions which they think would alleviate their problems. At least they don’t come across as hypocrites who try and make a killing out of a wolf’s skin. At least they have a common cause which they swear by. But then why don’t they take on the establishment head on? Kill the perpetrators of crime against them instead of targeting people who just want to get on with their lives. Do they really think these incidents will make any difference to people who are not directly affected? It suddenly struck me, let us have an open fight and let the best side win. At least the left-overs will have a happy life. I am sure the thought would scare scores of us who are just thanking their stars for being safe amongst their loved ones.
Why are people like this? The most general responses would probably be they are as they are and you can’t help it. Then why am I the way I am or why are you the way you are? Is it just to fit into the realms of society or is it something you’ve gotten comfortable with. Living a safe life within the framework of the society and dying a sad death with people moving on after you’re gone. Or maybe do something worthwhile. At least express your opinion if you’re not doing something about it. Stop being scared and just break free for one moment. If the feeling of liberation excites you, plunge in; if it scares you, then the choice is yours.
I am not a preacher who’s out on a moral lecturing session. I am a part of you and I feel disgusted with myself. Can we for once in our lives be less political, can we just for once be free from deceit, from living within the realms of our narrow minds. Nah, being indifferent is much easier!!!!!!
GOOD LUCK IT IS...!!!!
The past few days have seen heightened activity in my life. There’s been a flurry of best wishes flying around. A palpable sense of excitement seems to be gripping the air. And yes, thrilled I am.
I haven’t ever stayed up so late when I’m alone. I’ve mostly bored myself to sleep. But today is a big day. I’m heading off to a new world. A new beginning, a new life…!!! And as I freeze the moment, a lot of memories come flooding back. The day when the quest began. The day I heard the name....MICA..!!!
It was during my third year of engineering. A friend had got through MICA. The name stuck around, I don’t know why, but it did. And then I met one more person. Both of us were preparing for CAT. And one fine day, we got talking about our career goals. I asked her, which stream would u choose in MBA. She looked scandalized. ‘I am not interested in an MBA’, she shot back. I didn’t know how to react. I might have laughed at her, I don’t know. And I don’t even remember what I said next. ‘I’m giving CAT for MICA,’ I heard her saying.
A year later I was sitting in my CAT coaching class. A senior counselor walks in and says, ‘lets see what questions you have and then we’ll take the session from there.’ A hand shot up, I asked him, ‘If you get through an IIM-A and MICA which one would you choose?’ Yeah, the class laughed. Thankfully, the counselor didn’t. He gave me his reasoning as to why choosing IIM would be a better choice. But somehow, IIMs never motivated me, MICA did.
I got called for the MICA interviews a couple of times only to get rejected. I had decided that the third attempt would be the last one. “Third time lucky,” must have been invented for some reason. And here I stand, packing my bags for the train I’ve come to call the “MICA EXPRESS”. Probably because I read Harry Potter a lot and as Hogwarts, MICA had been a dream too. Too long a dream, but I feel powerful now. Because iv always respected people who chase their dreams, Iv always respected people who have dared to dream.
As I stare into the night, looking at an old friend, we talk about all that has gone by. A life that was, and a life that I hope to be. And we feel happy, content. I realize that life at MICA mite just turn out to be just that, life. But at this very moment, I feel happy, happier than I’ve been in a long long time. This is a moment where I congratulate myself for the life that iv had till now, content that the present life has ended with my dreams turning into reality. Because from tomorrow onwards it will be a new beginning. The time to look ahead has come.
Time to board the MICA express and tell myself, “GOOD LUCK IT IS….!!!!!”
I haven’t ever stayed up so late when I’m alone. I’ve mostly bored myself to sleep. But today is a big day. I’m heading off to a new world. A new beginning, a new life…!!! And as I freeze the moment, a lot of memories come flooding back. The day when the quest began. The day I heard the name....MICA..!!!
It was during my third year of engineering. A friend had got through MICA. The name stuck around, I don’t know why, but it did. And then I met one more person. Both of us were preparing for CAT. And one fine day, we got talking about our career goals. I asked her, which stream would u choose in MBA. She looked scandalized. ‘I am not interested in an MBA’, she shot back. I didn’t know how to react. I might have laughed at her, I don’t know. And I don’t even remember what I said next. ‘I’m giving CAT for MICA,’ I heard her saying.
A year later I was sitting in my CAT coaching class. A senior counselor walks in and says, ‘lets see what questions you have and then we’ll take the session from there.’ A hand shot up, I asked him, ‘If you get through an IIM-A and MICA which one would you choose?’ Yeah, the class laughed. Thankfully, the counselor didn’t. He gave me his reasoning as to why choosing IIM would be a better choice. But somehow, IIMs never motivated me, MICA did.
I got called for the MICA interviews a couple of times only to get rejected. I had decided that the third attempt would be the last one. “Third time lucky,” must have been invented for some reason. And here I stand, packing my bags for the train I’ve come to call the “MICA EXPRESS”. Probably because I read Harry Potter a lot and as Hogwarts, MICA had been a dream too. Too long a dream, but I feel powerful now. Because iv always respected people who chase their dreams, Iv always respected people who have dared to dream.
As I stare into the night, looking at an old friend, we talk about all that has gone by. A life that was, and a life that I hope to be. And we feel happy, content. I realize that life at MICA mite just turn out to be just that, life. But at this very moment, I feel happy, happier than I’ve been in a long long time. This is a moment where I congratulate myself for the life that iv had till now, content that the present life has ended with my dreams turning into reality. Because from tomorrow onwards it will be a new beginning. The time to look ahead has come.
Time to board the MICA express and tell myself, “GOOD LUCK IT IS….!!!!!”
The night when you are wide awake…..
“What’s wrong with me??”
I threw this question to my other self, and his first reaction was “what???”..!!! And then he probably understood what I meant. There was this constant battle going on in my mind. I didn’t know what was wrong but I knew something was. I had started forgetting a lot of things, I had started to get angry, I felt that I was so short of time. And then this person took me to the terrace. He wanted me to recollect everything that I thought had been worth remembering, every experience that I had stopped and soaked myself in. I got rather confused, what was this guy doing to me. The sane part of my brain went like “go to sleep, you’ve got work tomorrow, This guy could make you go mad,” but the other half went like “listen to him, he could give you something worthwhile.”
And then I started thinking. Have I started running too fast? Have I stopped feeling, have I stopped caring? And then it went like why am I thinking like this? Everything is fine, it’s just a bit of overworked thing that makes you feel exhausted. My mind was getting overworked again. And then I just stared at the sky. The stars and the infinity beyond. And then I saw an airplane. I started wondering about how peaceful the people on that aircraft would be. Traveling amongst the stars into the peaceful night. I wanted to be amongst them. But then I thought, “I’ve been there myself, I never felt peaceful traveling in an aircraft…!!!” It’s never been peaceful inside an aircraft.
And then the clouds gave way and I saw the moon. And suddenly I felt a smile across my face. When I was a small child I used to go up on the terrace and gaze at the moon. I always tried to picturise the moon as a smiling face. All the black spots upon the moon used to alternate as the eyes, ears, nose and of course the smile. Chandamama, that’s where all this came from. But it still made me happy. It used to be so comforting seeing someone smile at you, night in and night out. Whenever I went to the terrace, chandamama was always there for me, smiling away. The moon still made me happy…!!!! I was overjoyed. This is probably what had been missing from my life all these days.
I don’t know whether I will stop forgetting, whether I will stop getting angry or whether I won’t be short of time anymore, but I don’t really care. It’s one of those feelings where you are content enough, not to really worry about anything else on this planet.
The moment where you connect with yourself…!!! The night when you are wide awake…!!!
I threw this question to my other self, and his first reaction was “what???”..!!! And then he probably understood what I meant. There was this constant battle going on in my mind. I didn’t know what was wrong but I knew something was. I had started forgetting a lot of things, I had started to get angry, I felt that I was so short of time. And then this person took me to the terrace. He wanted me to recollect everything that I thought had been worth remembering, every experience that I had stopped and soaked myself in. I got rather confused, what was this guy doing to me. The sane part of my brain went like “go to sleep, you’ve got work tomorrow, This guy could make you go mad,” but the other half went like “listen to him, he could give you something worthwhile.”
And then I started thinking. Have I started running too fast? Have I stopped feeling, have I stopped caring? And then it went like why am I thinking like this? Everything is fine, it’s just a bit of overworked thing that makes you feel exhausted. My mind was getting overworked again. And then I just stared at the sky. The stars and the infinity beyond. And then I saw an airplane. I started wondering about how peaceful the people on that aircraft would be. Traveling amongst the stars into the peaceful night. I wanted to be amongst them. But then I thought, “I’ve been there myself, I never felt peaceful traveling in an aircraft…!!!” It’s never been peaceful inside an aircraft.
And then the clouds gave way and I saw the moon. And suddenly I felt a smile across my face. When I was a small child I used to go up on the terrace and gaze at the moon. I always tried to picturise the moon as a smiling face. All the black spots upon the moon used to alternate as the eyes, ears, nose and of course the smile. Chandamama, that’s where all this came from. But it still made me happy. It used to be so comforting seeing someone smile at you, night in and night out. Whenever I went to the terrace, chandamama was always there for me, smiling away. The moon still made me happy…!!!! I was overjoyed. This is probably what had been missing from my life all these days.
I don’t know whether I will stop forgetting, whether I will stop getting angry or whether I won’t be short of time anymore, but I don’t really care. It’s one of those feelings where you are content enough, not to really worry about anything else on this planet.
The moment where you connect with yourself…!!! The night when you are wide awake…!!!
The trading way of life....
Its 9.50 am in the morning. A group of people are sitting in front of their computer screens. The atmosphere is buzzing with thrill and anticipation. 9.55 - the bell rings. Is it just another bell? Well, it is the opening bell of the Indian Stock markets. Where crores of rupees change hands within minutes. Welcome, to the big and exciting world of trading.
If asked, most of us would say, trading is speculation, betting or maybe even gambling. Some will say trading is what brokers do on NSE and BSE. But is it all that simple? Of course not. We all have heard of CNBC, Reuters, Bloomberg, etc.
All of them are billion dollar companies. And where do they all get their revenues from? By covering global financial markets. This would probably give you an idea of how big these markets actually are. And what happens in these markets? Trading.
Now when we talk of markets, let us understand the different types of markets. They can be broadly classifies into four categories. Equities, Commodities, Forex and Fixed Income markets. The product traded in these markets might be different, the liquidity available might be different, the people who trade these markets might be different, but the bottom-line remains the same. And that is to earn money. But how do we make money? Is there a formula which we can use? Obviously, there isn't because if there was a formula, we all would be millionaires today. In fact making money in these markets is tough and losing money as much easier! There is a lot of fundamental and technical analysis which goes into making a trading decision. There are research teams which take care of this work. But if someone gives you a research report, will money making be easy then? Again no. Because you need something more. It is the psychology and character of a trader. So what exactly does a trader need?
A few important qualities are:
Discipline : So that we don't end up mixing trading with gambling. 'Sometimes your best investment decisions are trades which you don't do'
Modesty : So that we can accept that we were wrong in the market. Being wrong in the markets is acceptable but staying wrong isn't.
Quick thinking : Because the opportunity of a lifetime has to be seized within the lifetime of the opportunity and here, the lifetime could be just one second long!!
Greed : In proper doses of course!!
Let me share one of my own trading experience with you. It was 3rd October, 2006 and my market was trading at new lows. I sensed an opportunity and started buying. The market moved down further and I bought more. The technical charts were suggesting an upward move, the fundamental reports were giving similar indications too. What else could I have cared for. I bought, bought and bought. And then suddenly the market spiked downwards. As the market went into a free fall, my loss started increasing. I panicked and started praying for a miracle. But the miracle never happened. In such situations, it hardly ever does.
I suffered a huge loss and the reasons were clear. I was not disciplined and hence did not cut my loss at the right time, I was not modest enough to accept that I was wrong in the market, I did not think quickly enough to react at the right time and of course I became greedy with my position.
Luckily for me, I was a new trader then and was therefore trading with very few quantities. So the total loss wasn't a very big amount. It's been more than a year since that day now and I have seen a lot of ups and downs in the markets. But the lessons I learnt that day are ones, which I can never forget.
Trading is definitely not for the faint hearted but for those who believe, 'only those who risk going too far, can know how far they can possibly go'
If asked, most of us would say, trading is speculation, betting or maybe even gambling. Some will say trading is what brokers do on NSE and BSE. But is it all that simple? Of course not. We all have heard of CNBC, Reuters, Bloomberg, etc.
All of them are billion dollar companies. And where do they all get their revenues from? By covering global financial markets. This would probably give you an idea of how big these markets actually are. And what happens in these markets? Trading.
Now when we talk of markets, let us understand the different types of markets. They can be broadly classifies into four categories. Equities, Commodities, Forex and Fixed Income markets. The product traded in these markets might be different, the liquidity available might be different, the people who trade these markets might be different, but the bottom-line remains the same. And that is to earn money. But how do we make money? Is there a formula which we can use? Obviously, there isn't because if there was a formula, we all would be millionaires today. In fact making money in these markets is tough and losing money as much easier! There is a lot of fundamental and technical analysis which goes into making a trading decision. There are research teams which take care of this work. But if someone gives you a research report, will money making be easy then? Again no. Because you need something more. It is the psychology and character of a trader. So what exactly does a trader need?
A few important qualities are:
Discipline : So that we don't end up mixing trading with gambling. 'Sometimes your best investment decisions are trades which you don't do'
Modesty : So that we can accept that we were wrong in the market. Being wrong in the markets is acceptable but staying wrong isn't.
Quick thinking : Because the opportunity of a lifetime has to be seized within the lifetime of the opportunity and here, the lifetime could be just one second long!!
Greed : In proper doses of course!!
Let me share one of my own trading experience with you. It was 3rd October, 2006 and my market was trading at new lows. I sensed an opportunity and started buying. The market moved down further and I bought more. The technical charts were suggesting an upward move, the fundamental reports were giving similar indications too. What else could I have cared for. I bought, bought and bought. And then suddenly the market spiked downwards. As the market went into a free fall, my loss started increasing. I panicked and started praying for a miracle. But the miracle never happened. In such situations, it hardly ever does.
I suffered a huge loss and the reasons were clear. I was not disciplined and hence did not cut my loss at the right time, I was not modest enough to accept that I was wrong in the market, I did not think quickly enough to react at the right time and of course I became greedy with my position.
Luckily for me, I was a new trader then and was therefore trading with very few quantities. So the total loss wasn't a very big amount. It's been more than a year since that day now and I have seen a lot of ups and downs in the markets. But the lessons I learnt that day are ones, which I can never forget.
Trading is definitely not for the faint hearted but for those who believe, 'only those who risk going too far, can know how far they can possibly go'
IMPOSSIBLE IS NOTHING
"Impossible is Nothing"- that's what I saw Sachin Tendulkar screaming out as I passed an Adidas billboard down the road. At first instance, I didn't even notice it. But then, it struck me like lightning. Could this be real? Could impossible be nothing? And I was taken straight back to 1995....
I was sitting in my history classroom, and we were doing a chapter on Napoleon Bonaparte. Napoleon was planning to invade a country and his commanding general came up to him and said, " Your highness, the enemy has an army twice our size, an infantry thrice our size and a history of being victorious in every single battle they've fought. It's impossible." Of course, the general was dead the next minute, but not before Napoleon had told him, " The word impossible does not exist in my dictionary."
I was sitting in my history classroom, and we were doing a chapter on Napoleon Bonaparte. Napoleon was planning to invade a country and his commanding general came up to him and said, " Your highness, the enemy has an army twice our size, an infantry thrice our size and a history of being victorious in every single battle they've fought. It's impossible." Of course, the general was dead the next minute, but not before Napoleon had told him, " The word impossible does not exist in my dictionary."
A few days ago I was sitting with my colleagues and I asked them, " If given a choice, how many of you would agree to become the prime minister of India ?" A couple of hands shot up immediately, but the rest shook their heads silently. A very interesting thought came to my mind. I could figure out just two reasons for their refusal. The first, which I was hoping would be true, was that they chose not to become the prime minister. The second, of course, was that they all thought it was impossible for them....And I wished a gas station worker had thought Reliance was impossible....I wished a school drop-out had thought Microsoft was impossible....I wished man on the moon was impossible. Because impossible makes life so simple for me. Whenever I'm faced with a difficult situation, all I have to do is tell myself, "Its impossible, it just cannot be done."
But then a story came to my mind. The story of a musician who lived in the 18th century. He was born a normal boy but in his early twenties, a disease struck him which caused him to lose his hearing ability, gradually. It was almost like a death blow to him. No one was ready to believe that he could still create music. He went into a deep financial crisis and the only word he heard all around him was impossible. But he never gave up. He used a special rod attached to the soundboard on a piano that he could bite, the vibrations would then transfer from the piano to his jaw to increase his perception of sound. And he created music. There is a well-attested story that, at the end of the premiere of one of his concerts, he had to be turned around to see the tumultuous applause of the audience because hearing nothing, he had begun to weep. I'm referring to one of the greatest musicians mankind has ever seen. I'm talking about Beethoven. And I'm so thankful that Beethoven was possible.
There's so much Iv learnt from his story. The virtues of hard work, passion and most importantly belief come out so beautifully from his life. In fact these are traits which are common in all people who have made the impossible possible. Beethoven was passionate about his music, Bill gates was passionate about computers, Dhirubhai was passionate about success. They all faced obstacles from people who thought they were jerks. But they all believed in themselves and they all did the impossible. Its rightly said, "Courage does not mean the strength to go on, it is going on even when you don't have any strength left."
Its really funny actually. It is man who has created the word impossible and it is man himself who has continuously challenged and gone beyond the boundaries of impossible. As I stand in front of the Adidas billboard I ask myself, have I ever done the impossible, have I even tried doing the impossible? The answer that comes to me is NO. The no is not because I haven't worked hard enough, the no is not because I am not passionate enough, the no is not because I don't believe. The no is because I believe, Impossible is temporary, Impossible is potential, Impossible is nothing.
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