" I can e-speak awn-ly Englis! "

The Indian media never fails to astound me.

A country of over a billion people should certainly be up to the task of providing the newsman with his daily bread; he, however, prefers to dig his nose and claw into some obscure corner, to come up with a piece of what can loosely be referred to as information, and thrusts it in front of the nose of the populace.


I was surfing channels at my leisure yesterday, when i came across a news channel of sufficient repute broadcasting a most interesting programme. The topic of active discussion was a fourteen year old human male specimen who answered to the name of Rajesh Mishra and hailed from the small town of Bilaspur. This young prodigy(or so they claimed) had apparently started speaking farratedaar English(an oft-repeated term that probably means a combination of fluent and fast) all of a sudden, despite having no previous knowledge of the language. And what is more, the gentleman had a distinct amreekan twang to his tongue. It did not take me more than a word out of the kid's mouth to understand that he was either a fraud, or mentally challenged, but definitely not a prodigy. That word happened to be "exactly"(pronounced "egg-jact-ly). What he spoke was grammatically incorrect, incoherent and mostly devoid of any real meaning. However, the news channel kept banging on about how this was a miracle of nature, and how this child should be supported and how fortunate all of us were that this miracle took place in India. The director of ISRO called in and specifically said that he was proud of this young man, and that he would get whatever support required.

Come today afternoon, and the interrogators were singing a different tune. It transpired that this young prodigy gained his amreekan accented English from the movies Total Recall, The Matrix and the like. Hence, the discussion moved to his mental stability, and so on and so forth. In between, our protagonist alluded to certain "profits" he was receiving for coming on the show, owing to which (obviously) the presenter changed the topic immediately.

This exercise took up almost twenty-four hours of valuable air time that could have been devoted to something a lot more useful, or of greater consequence. A lot of people who genuinely require support never get even one hundredth of the kind of air time that Rajesh got. Ten thousand people murdered everyday, thousands of women raped every day, millions of robberies, tonnes of scams... all these are neatly swept under the carpet while people like Rajesh sit comfortably on armchairs on top of them. Stories that need to see the light of day are buried deep underneath the ground, and probably always will be.

Because the public enjoys seeing the unnecessary romanticisation of Rajesh-like people. And the media gives them what they want. A murder or a new scam is just not interesting enough anymore! It has become far too commonplace to generate the same kind of interest as Rajesh! So the people do not protest, hence authorising the media to, in effect, show whatever pieces of refined crap they want to show. A sad state of affairs indeed.

The Rajesh story is probably receiving the undivided attention of "experts" on the news channel as i write... they will probably bake him for breakfast and have the leftovers as hors d'oeuvre before lunch.

Best of luck to them.

Kaup

I have always loved the sea. The rolling waves, the grainy sand, the cool breeze, the occasional fisherman hauling his highly odourous catch at the end of the day... I love it all. And since I reside in the interior(New Delhi), I haven't had much of a chance to visit, revisit and dwell on the splendour of the ocean.

Manipal, however offers promising oppurtunities. With Malpe and Kaup flanking the university town, the ocean is right at my doorstep.

Which is why last Saturday evening found the five of us(Udita, Neelav, Swapnil, Fernon and I) frolicking about in the salty waters at Kaup.

It was a most monotonous and spiritless day, with classes in the morning where our professors demonstrated the very latest methods of boring a class of eighty-odd students to a near-death condition with pinpoint accuracy. After class, as I was planning to catch up on a bit of long-overdue sleep, Udita calls and Operation Kaup begins. Five-thirty finds us at the Manipal bus-stand, boarding a bus to Mangalore(Fernon assures us that Kaup lies somewhere along the way).

The first time I went to Kaup was back in December, and I will never forget my first glimpse of the beach. All one can see is the vast, watery expanse, guarded by big black boulders sticking out of the sand. In the distance is a lighthouse which stands tall and proud, reaching out to touch the sky.

So down to Kaup we went. We had our fun, fooled and kidded around in the water, threw sand in each others faces(and hair), and had a good time. Soon it was dark.
Its surprising, how fast it grows dark on the beach. In a matter of minutes, the yellow sunshine faded to bright red and then to pitch black. With nightfall came lightning and the storm.And then the lighthouse powered on its twin beacons, two huge white rotating rays of light puncturing the darkness of the night. The scene was unreal, surrealistic; it did not belong to the real world, it was right out of a novel. It was quite something to see the huge waves coming at us, and then miraculously shrinking to the level of our knees as they reached the shore.

It was humbling, to look at the waves reach a crescendo, and then mellow down to a slow funeral march and finally die as they reached our knees; so much like life itself. I couldn't help but ponder on how vast the ocean is; how we are nothing more than mere traces, small drops in the big picture.

We couldn't have asked for a more perfect end to our little outing, turning it into quite an adventure. Due to the storm a power failure occured, with no prior warning at all. So we made our way back to the main road, in pitch blackness punctuated at regular intervals by lightning, which produced a great effect indeed. Back on the road, and we find no autos...which was a disaster, because it meant we had to trudge a kilometre on foot, with it raining cats, dogs, monkeys, pythons and the like. Thankfully, we met an auto coming towards us after ten minutes otherwise the whole lot of us would've been down with pneumonia.

The rest of the day was just like any other. We came back, had dinner, and went back... only to lie on our beds and have the images of today flash in front of our eyes...

A Love Poem...With a Difference

As you rest in my arms, close to my heart,
I wish that for eternity we may never break apart.
Through proximity our bodies and souls intertwine,
Through you I speak, through you I shine.

For when I hold you, glorious solace I find,
Pain vanquished, thrown out of my mind.
Anxiety and desolation that stripped me bare,
When beside you I need no longer fear.

In my arms you weep,
In my arms you laugh,
In my arms you shout,
In my arms you sing.

Yet it is not you but I,
who in truth laugh, shout and cry.
Through your taut strings I effuse,
Translate my thoughts into moody blues.

Time passes, the hours fly,
Soon it's time to say goodbye.
Until we meet again tomorrow,
To be reconsumed by bitterness and sorrow.

Lady in White

Here's the song Savya and I wrote in Physics class

As i wallow in unsolicitated boredom,
The Jailor keeps me in my place.
Lost in coherence, lost in uncertainity,
With her i cannot keep up pace.

Listen to me, Lady in white,
Just get right out of my sight.
I can't bear you anymore,
Out, Out, you miserable whore.

As i sit peacefully writing this song,
You swoop down on me before long.
Torn to bits, shredded to pieces,
Thrown down into a bottomless recess.

Listen to me, Lady in white,
Just get right out of my sight.
I can't bear you anymore,
Out, Out, you miserable whore.

The time has come,
my freedom is imminent.
The Lady will leave and the messiah arrive,
and soon in boredom again we shall thrive.

Listen to me, Lady in white,
Just get right out of my sight,
I can't bear you anymore,
Out, Out, you miserable whore.

Abhijit

12.45 pm. It was a bright, hot summers day (yes, in february; manipal weather functions in inexplicable ways), the kind when all you want to do is strip naked and go for a swim, or slip into a pair of shorts and leisurely sprawl out on some beach, sipping a cold drink(or beer, if possible). I was sitting on my roommates bunk (since my own was messy beyond description and i had no inclination whatsoever to clear it up) after an unusually boring half-day when Dutta ran into the room, looking paler and more distressed than i had ever seen him before.

Hey man...bad news...Abhijit's dad just passed away.

For a moment, a split second, i thought it was another instance of the sick humour that Ayushman sometimes delights in. But the expression on his face and the sombrerity of the statement made convinced me otherwise. For a few seconds, i just sat there gaping at Dutta, with my mouth open like a goldfish. Then, it started to sink in.

Abhijit's dad just passed away...

The last said words seemed to linger in my mind, repeating like a stuck gramophone record. And with it came the full realisation...

Abhijit. Next-door neighbour. A rare combination of intelligence and diligence, coupled with a great character and sportsman's spirit. A decent guitarist and singer. A good friend.
He didn't do anything to beget this.

This i'll have to say, he took it like a man. No show of emotion, none at all. Perhaps that was because it didn't really register, or maybe because it sent him into shock, but i'd like to believe that it was a great attempt at self-control. He talked to his TG tonelessly, packed his bags, went to TC and bought a ticket to Calcutta, came back and read the Holy Bible all afternoon and evening. None of us dared to talk about what had happened. The only conversation we made was about how and when would he leave, and when would he come back, and whether or not he needed this-and-that and so on. The real issue remained unapproached.

Later as he boarded the bus that would take him to Bangalore, i pondered on how frail life is; here for this moment, gone the next. We should really make the most of what we have been given, not fool around like we usually do. Who knows what might happen next? Maybe we won't live to see tomorrow's sunrise. If that happens, i should have the satisfaction of knowing that my life served a purpose, made other people's lives better or helped someone to some degree. That purpose is yet not very clear to me; if i should die tomorow, i would have a hard time explaining what i did or what i intended to do that set me apart from the millions and billions of other ordinary people, milling about in the great mass of humanity.

This incident woke me up. The harsh realities of life are not a fairy tale. They do not exist only in other people's lives and in our imagination; they are as much a part of our life as that of our neighbours. From now on i will try to live each day as though it were my last.

How long that'll last, i have no clue.

Tag...I'm it!!!

Great. Finally i'm doing something worthwhile. The operative word being 'worthwhile'.

I'm thinking about...
The fight i witnessed today in the mess. A good example of lunacy, cowardice, bravery and real non-violence at the same instant.
How i would love to perform the Floyd song 'Time' onstage sometime.
and...someone.


I said...
Nothing. Just remained transfixed to the spot. How cowardly.


I am...
Unpredictable. Weak willed. But hopefully someone who doesn't fit into a typecast.


I want to...
Get over with this damned thing as quickly as possible and then play Counter Strike.


I make with my hands...
Workshop models and Engineering Graphics drawings. The latter against my will.


I wish...
I could play like Hendrix. And that i had opted for Physics Hons. after my board. And that i could obliterate this post of the materialistic stuff i have written about. And loads of other things.


I cry...
WAY too much than a young man is expected to.


I hear...
Right now, Dire Straits.


I wonder...
At the breathtakingly scenic natural beauty of Manipal. Exhilarating, humbling and awe-inspiring all at once.


I regret...
A lot of stuff. Including my expertise at the ability to procrastinate and making a certain somebody's life at school a living hell.


I confuse...
Birthdays, and dates in general.


I dance...
Never.


I sing...
Whenever i feel like, without caring about who is listening. And mostly Classic rock.


I am not always...
A good friend to have.


I write...
Rarely. Only when i recieve some unpleasant external or internal stimulus.


I need...
To play Counter Strike. So excuse me, please.

Life

I have a button.
Its green and blue, red and brown,
Or any colour you like.

I have a button.
Its round, square, hexagonal, triangular,
Or any shape you like.

I have a button.

See, how i spin it round,
to and fro, up and down,
always in tune, always in time.

Oh! Its slipped through my outstretched palms and broken,
into a million quavering pieces.
I sit back dejected,
and like a jumbled-up jigsaw,
try to piece it back together.
By golly its hard, but i know i'll get it back.