Bath ki baat

It was just a bath. I love having them. I personally believe the bathroom is the most ideal place for [retro + intro] spection. It’s got privacy [ohhh come on, no one’s gonna stick out a spycam in mine], The hot water washes your body of all dirt, akin to the proverbial Ganga washing away your sins, one feels pure wrapped in a towel, almost ready for a new beginning.


My routine was however rudely interrupted by an unforeseen event, an unheard one too in Mumbai. The lights went off. Being all alone at home, it seemed to my petrified mind that the whole ghost community had conspired for a Diwali party right at my place. Home Alone 5 wasn’t going to be as innocent as it’s predecessors.


I contemplated going out of the bathroom. Vividly painted images of RGV’s Bhoot sprang in my mind. I decided that whoever was out there to get me would have to come in and do the honours. I bolted the door tightly just to be sure and continued having a bath as if nothing was wrong.


About ten minutes must have passed by, when I noticed something strange. A cobweb eerily shaped like an eye was staring right at me. I firmly held my hand shower and made a whirling motion with it in the hope that the water would wash the damned cobweb away. The eye probably had cataract coz it got washed away after a few attempts.


It was then that I noticed something stranger. The water was still hot! I turned to look at the geyser, it was red as a signal. I opened the bathroom door to find that the whole world, my house included, was decked up in all it’s Diwali glory. The bathroom bulb had been the culprit.


I got out of the bathroom feeling like a complete ass, an ass who didn’t know whether to laugh or sob. It wasn’t just a bath after all. It had given me a memory to add to my pensieve.

The Fall of "The Wall"

Am I missing out on something? Or is there something Vengsarkar and Co. can see with their ageing eyes which I can’t? [Someone has indeed truly quoted, “Middle age is a time when the narrowness of the waist and the broadness of the mind exchange places”] I was wrong to have thought that after much so-called experience they would have realized that “Form is temporary, class is permanent.”

I have always considered Dravid a notch above Tendulkar, whether it be temperament, team spirit or plain technique. If Tendulkar is God, then the God is selfish. It’s funny to notice how Tendulkar always slows down in the nineties, how he begins hoarding runs like a little squirrel hoarding nuts. Dravid may not cheer up the crowds with huge, sloggy sixes, he might be even branded as a Test Cricketer. But whenever India has needed him, he has been there. Always.

Off the subcontinent, when Indian batsmen struggle to keep pace with the swing and the bounce, it has always been Dravid who has stood, as always, like The Wall he is. He is an invaluable asset who can sweep spinners and pull pacers with equal ease.

When he is about to cut the ball away, the bowlers feel an inexplicable dread, the kind which you know you can’t do anything about, the fielders don’t even bother moving, and when the bat makes contact with the ball, Slam!! The air itself makes way for the ball, whizzing past a horde of fielders who can do nothing more than marvel at this scintillating display of impeccable cricketing technique.

. Having guided the team to victory in overseas matches, his think-tank capabilities would have augured well for the team and the young captain Dhoni. People might argue that even Ganguly was shown the door when he didn’t perform, but what they probably miss out on is that he was given chances for almost two years after which the selectors were left with no choice. On the other hand I think ten bad matches are too less to judge a genius like him.

It’s a pity to see him vying for a place in the team with rookies like Dinesh Karthik and Praveen Kumar. The only people happy with the on-goings would be the Karnataka Cricket Team for which Dravid has slammed a marvelous double century. I hope the BCCI don’t further embarrass a player of his stature.

Hail Dravid!

A year of keeping in Pace with PACE

God certainly must have been drinking cold coffee [for no particular reason] when he said “Jaa Rajat beta, PACE join kar.” And the obedient follower that I was, I obliged. It has been exactly one year since that day [God certainly must have finished his cold coffee by now] and I thank God for firstly creating cold coffee [if it isn’t man-made] and secondly for drinking it.
[Note: If anyone hasn’t heard of an institute named IIT, then please leave this text right here.]


PACE [an acronym for Professional Academy for Competitive Exams, a recent discovery of mine], the very name conjures up an image of a class teeming with students who have a firm belief in themselves, a belief that they can crack the JEE, a belief that they can get through the prestigious gates of the Indian Institute of Technology, a belief that they can become part of brand IIT. I believe that the name PACE has played a pivotal role in its journey of becoming the most reputed coaching institute in Mumbai and soon, in various other parts of India.


And does it live up to its name? This is the question that will be answered in the remainder of this text. Someone very wisely said, “First impressions are often the last impressions.” And I must confess that the first impression one will have of PACE is not exactly impressive. The classrooms are cramped most of the time, except when the supposedly sincere students bunk lectures. But PACE has me convinced by now that it is the cramped classrooms which evoke feelings of umm… team spirit and helpfulness. When one has to sit four, on a bench meant for three with one ass hanging out precariously, one can’t help but feel a certain affinity for the other three on the bench and the class in general who are risking their ass [quite literally] in the pursuit of knowledge.


Young and impressionable minds are emotionally and mentally bombarded with PJ’s [Pathetic/Poor jokes, for the highly reclusive] here, which often results in normally quiet guys bursting out in maniacal laughter leading to the development of something resembling a laughter club.


There comes a time in every student’s life when he/she has two paths to choose, the path of PJ’s and the path of non-PJ’s and I am proud to say that I took the path less trodden, the path of PJ’s. PACE, or more accurately the teachers of PACE have played an integral role [and not differential] in the development of the art of PJ’s often encouraging them to the point of straying away from the topic in question [just like I am doing right now]. I don’t know how Alok Sir, Praveen Sir manage to be legendary exponents of the PJ cult while simultaneously being arguably the best physics teachers in Mumbai. While many are opposed to it, I believe that PJ’s create a healthy atmosphere in the class encouraging creative thinking and discouraging involuntary drooping of eyes [also referred to as dozing]. After a year here, I can say that PACE has proved to all its detractors that first impressions are not the last impressions, that there is more to a book than just its cover.


Regardless of whether or not we get into IIT, all of us will be eternally indebted to PACE, our guru, for providing a wonderful experience which most of us will be unlikely to forget till the end of our lives. PACE has certainly lived up to its name.

P.S: I like cold coffee.

A Tribute To The Humble Vada Pav

Mumbai is synonymous with Bhel Puri and Vada Pav which is available throughout the city in varying degrees of shabbiness. As goes the popular myth, it is the sweat and dirt of our local Vada Pav wallah that grants it the characteristic taste that we have grown to love. Even though it is highly romanticized, the vada pav certainly is a god-send for thrifty college-goers and labourers. Prized at Rs.4 [6 if branded], it is cheap, tasty and filling

Though I have always been one of the exponents of fast food, junk food and its other variants, the stuff available outside my beloved Sathaye College somehow manages to freak me out.

However on occasions when the college canteen starts resembling a local train, I have no option but to venture outside the boundaries of the college to satiate my hunger pangs. It was then that my eye fell upon the cart just opposite the gate. The cart-owner is a resourceful guy who has a wide variety of food of dubious hygiene standards ranging from Sandwiches to my favourite, samosa pav.

That day I decided to order a samosa. He experty pulled out a paper plate, picked up the smallest samosa of the lot and lavishly poured highly diluted green chutney. I could almost hear the green chutney say, “Hi there, my name’s cholera, what’s yours?”

However that didn’t deter me from having a bite into the hot realms of the samosa. I avoided having too much of the green chutney though. Unsurprisingly, inspite of failings the samosa was lip-smacking. As goes the adage, “Never judge a book by its cover.”

This is the reason why I am never going to cease eating the humble vada-pav; the small piece of edible matter that clearly defines the spirit of Mumbai and is staple food for a majority of the inhabitants of the city.

A Myth Called 'Impossible'

Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they have been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It’s an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing!

The universe is replete with instances where seemingly impossible things have been accomplished just due to the perseverance and diligence of seemingly ordinary people.

On the basis of how-to-live-life, the world is divided into two schools of thought. One school thinks that life is a fair, enjoy it. However the fare which they pay for living such a life is pretty high too. Their mantra is ‘Kabhi na kabhi toh marna hi hai, tension kyon lene ka.’ Such a line of thought is tempting only for those who are too lazy to lift their bum off the ‘sofa of life’ and get off to work to etch their names on the indelible sands of time. For folks like these, the improbability of the impossible is too high for their precious time to be wasted upon.

I personally think that such people are a waste; parasites upon the face of the earth who suck upon the milk of our motherland without even bothering to give back something in return. Unfortunately, some of today’s snobbish duuudes are turning out to be exactly as what I have been dreading since long.

It is solely due to the worthy members of the second school of thought that we are able to lead the comfortable lives that we are leading currently. All the inventions and ingenious techniques of living life which all of us use with such disgusting ungratefulness were built keeping in mind that impossible is just a myth; a long-lost grandma tale that is better forgotten considering the credibility of their origins.

It doesn’t take an Einstein to achieve the impossible; it doesn’t take Mozart to create a beautiful symphony out of nothingness. In fact it is the hardworking average-intelligent chap who is successful in the long run [though I wouldn’t mind being a genius]. So all you guys who feel that life is a fair, remember this; life is a mirage, when the sun above you is blazing it’ll show you an oasis, it’ll drive you on and on in quest of that elusive oasis, but it is only the one who doesn’t consider ‘impossible’ to be a hindrance who’ll really discover the oasis shimmering away to glory. Impossible is indeed nothing!

The Shiv Sena Chronicles

The recent municipal elections have brought the Shiv Sena back into power. The very news depressed me. The Shiv Sena is one of the few parties which take a strong stand against minorities, unfortunately endearing it to the predominantly Hindu population of India. Their slogan ‘Mee Mumbaikar’ have resulted in almost all Maharashtrians whole-heartedly voting for it. The Shiv Sena is the darling of the common lower middle-class Maharashtrian, who look down upon the Bhaiyya with righteous anger who crowds in the same compartment of the local train, sells vegetables in the same market as him, crowds upon the infrastructure of Mumbai. They think “This is my state. Why should anyone else crowd in my space?” They might be even right to some extent. However what they fail to understand is that such territorial thoughts are engineered and encouraged by political parties like Shiv Sena and BJP which the convert the sanctimonious anger of the people into votes.The Shiv Sena is a magnet for controversies. However I must compliment Bal Thackeray on one thing. His frontal attack on our honorable president APJ Abdul Kalam regarding the pardon of Mohammad Afzal, accused in the Parliament attack of 2001, in front of a packed Shivaji Maidan was a political masterstroke. The news made headlines and Shiv Sena got control of the richest civic corporation of India with funds to the tune of 10000 crore. With just a few sentences Thackeray managed to showcase the Congress as a weak party which goes soft on terrorism. His message was loud and clear ‘Vote for the Shiv Sena if you want your kids to be safe from any threat of terrorism’. The plan worked.The problem with the Shiv Sena is that it defies the very essence of the Indian Constitution, a thing called ‘secularism’. Though I must say that their stand on migration is correct to some extent [since I myself have to safar [suffer] in the local trains everyday]. What I mean to say is that what is legal at a certain point of time may not be beneficial for the larger good. Migration might be legal now, but i think right now every part of Mumbai is screaming for a bill which regulates migration. Mumbai is literally bursting at its seams. Before it bursts like the proverbial balloon, something needs to be done.However I don’t think we have any option but to be a silent spectator as Mumbai is run on the whims and fancies of ex-cartoonist Bal Thackeray. God Save Mumbai.

The H2H Phenomenon

As one of my friends, Saurabh Nagrecha kindly pointed out, I had unwittingly missed out on a whole class of bunkers. Offering my profuse apologies to them, I may say that they are a kind of underground movement slowly gaining momentum in the fringes of the Sathaye campus [if that can be called a campus]. H2H, ‘the perfect place for powerful gaming’; as the board proclaims is just what it alleges to be. The power of the place hits out at you the moment you enter the thankfully air conditioned room. The room reverberates with passionate cries of “Bhe*****, Ma*******, F*** and an assortment of colorful profanities; as avid gamers are hooked on to the 19 inch computer screen. My interview with one of the gamers began something like this. “Pakta nahi kya idhar din bhar?” I ventured cautiously. “Abe pakta hoga tere baap ko. CS hai toh sab kuch hai.” he politely answered my query, referring to the current Gen-X craze, Counter Strike [for the highly computer illiterate]. His eyes hadn’t left the computer screen at all. The computer screen was a decent hypnotist I thought. It could make you say things against your will.“Saala, is baar OC mein ud gaya hoon main. Jyada dimaag mat kha, already khiska hua hai.” He continued. I thought it better to obey him rather than having to explain the purplish patch on my face to mom. At any given point of time, there are at least ten people bickering to get a computer to vent out the frustrations of the day. And at Rs.30 per hour it is certainly not priced at something the average Joe could afford. The owner is certainly laughing all the way to the bank.Another good reason for the owner to smile is that H2H is getting new recruits everyday to fight the virtual battle on the screen, to fill its not-so-empty coffers. I don’t know whether for good or not, but everyone out there, brace yourself for the H2H phenomenon. P.S: H2H stands for Head to Head.