Sunday, February 28, 2010

Pulp Non-Fiction

Caveat: The intention is not to malign the already infamous (for all the exaggerated reasons) green state. Let me assure you that it's not the way of life out here. It was an exception rather than the rule.

Heads Up: Many will find it hard to believe. Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn! It was a near-death experience for a split second for me. If this doesn't go on the blog, nothing ever does.

The longest minute of my life

Chapter 1. The backdrop.

It was 6.30pm and it was dark already. On my Apache, I saw two goods trucks moving parallely straight ahead in the left lane. The lane was blocked and there was not more than three feet of space between them. Honking, I manoevered my black babe through the space to overtake them both.

There they were. We call them 'tribals' - the adivasis. Yes, we are a tribal state and are proud to be one. But what happened today challenged those notions to the core.

Chapter 2. Jai Jharkhand.

There were Nagadas and they were dancing to their beats with traditional weapons - bows and arrows, thick bamboo sticks and other wooden ones - their ancestors used for their defence. The bike overtook a few and they shouted their guts out. There were abuses hurled and directions screamed - to block our way - from the ones behind to the ones ahead.

All I could hear from inside the helmet was "Kahan", "Nikal" and the choicest expletives. I knew at once I had made a horrible mistake.

Someone slapped my helmet real bad. Jhannnnnnnnnn!!! My hearing got impaired for a split second.

Chapter 3. Fear.

It was a long time since I was slapped this bad. Last time I recollect getting a blow this hard was my second year of engineering. I didn't have a helmet then. Today even the helmet couldn't suffice. Chills went down my spine along with the vibrations that followed. The helmet almost came off my head, blocking my vision. The bike lost the balance. Engine ignition still on for a while, it fell down with my right leg slightly trapped underneath.

If there exists a feeling called 'fear' - this was it, for the first time in my life.

All of them, a motley bunch of around 50 fanatics, came onto me from all the directions. The one in the blue (probably) shirt about six feet away was the deadliest. He snatched something lethal from the guy next to him and rushed towards me.

Chapter 4. The second one.

It was a three-feet, realllly thick weapon that seemed like wooden sword - only three times the normal girth.

"Bhaiya, bas nikal raha hun...pata nahi tha..."
"...pata nahi tha, bhaiya..."
"Chhod dijiye bhaiya...please bhaiya...bhaag raha hun..."

I was apologising non-stop - for the apparent sin I had committed. And there it was - the second blow...from behind!!

Chapter 5. THE Experience.

Directly on the back of my head, on the portion without the helmet, it was painful. Fat gayi thi!!

Had it been some other moment I would have given up. But something miraculous took over me. Something. The leg that was seemingly trapped under the bike, gathered courage from nowhere. I caught hold of the bike and stood up. Pressing the self-start button, I started fleeing away when the blue-shirt-guy took a shot with that insanely huge and dangerous weapon on the headlight. Instinctively, I turned the axle of the handle, shifted gears and acclerated. It was as close a shave as one can imagine.

I felt something pointed on back of my shoulders. I was pretty sure it was an arrow's tip. I thought I wouldn't be able to escape. Something really ugly was going to happen. I even thought - that very fraction of a second - that this was it...this was IT!!!

Chapter 6. The Discovery.

I turned around. I didn't see his face. All I saw was a pointed wooden stick - a really long one - whose one end was excruciatingly sharp and the other - lot thicker - was around four feet away (again, probably!) in his hand. It wasn't an arrow for sure but it hurt bad! I acclerated as much as I could.

I fled and the excellent shock absorbers helped through the rocky path. All psyched up, I covered some fifty metres when I turned back. I discovered something. Gaurav, my pillion rider all this time, was not there!!!!!


Chapter 7. The climax.

No expression in this world can ever describe that feeling! It was the worst moment of my life. I was stunned! I had to go back!

I took a U-turn. Believe me when I say this: Fifty years down the line, if I shall be proud of myself for anything, it will be for having done this. I was on the verge of peeing in my pants a few seconds back, figuratively, of course. But there was no time to think. The next few seconds brought to my mind all the shit in this world. I imagined everything that could happen to both of us. But I kept on moving. I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I had chickened out then.

And there he was, trying to call me up on his cellphone, safe and secure! He had got off the bike the moment it fell and had the presence of mind enough to get out of the scene. The biggest 'phew!!!!!' ever! Thank you, God! I love you!

Friday, February 26, 2010

Tussi Ja Rahe Ho...

It started at the JLT.

"I'm basically from..."

And we wondered how you guys found the word 'basically' amusing - every single time. Sitting in bunches, "introducing ourselves", singing, dancing, doing what not. The gyaan-rain. The folklores of the Gangoes and the Kakanis. The booze on the terrace. The SIC. Vasudha. Shivi Gupta. The B-nite. (link)

The de-JLT-fication. The dunking. The committees. You never skipped an opportunity to screw our asses. And we loved it!

Ratanjee. No comments! Juniors' nite. Bodhi Tree. Badde. :)

The SIP. One of the most memorable experiences, for all the bad reasons except the discovery of some of the most rocking of you seniors. All we needed then was a shoulder and a pair of ears so that we could just vent ourselves out. And you did more than that. You stayed with us throughout. You gave us rays of hope every morning through the Cactus-Tree's wake-up calls. And you stayed with us till the very rays got lost in the hustle-bustle. And there you were the next morn again!

We returned the favour next. We saw the suits, we saw the smiles and we saw the other side. (Treats pending though - that would always remain so I guess)

The Seniors' Nite. The nakhre. The bouncer-giri. The awards.

The elective gyaan. The placement gyaan. The committee gyaan. The general gyaan.

And then came the great leveller. The XL-IIMC meet. That was unity against a common foe. Rubbing shoulders and holding hands. Our voices in chorus hurling the same expletives - Ek Do Teen Chaar...

Nothing can ever describe this feeling.

We'll miss you!

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Sachin. God.

It happens only in India.
  • Dhoni on strike. Off drive. Misfield at long-off. India is batting and we get an extra run. But everyone goes crazy and hurls the craziest abuses on the fielder.
  • Dhoni on strike. Four. Cries of "Shit", "WTF". Next delivery. Six. Hall on fire. Wrath against Dhoni manifests itself in the form of a huge uproar and banging of tables. "Ek Do Teen Chaar...Dhoni Ki G**** M***".
This is the atmosphere in the Father Enright Mess when 'strike' eludes the little master for what seems like an eternity. We have waited 20 years for this moment. Some bugger from Ranchi can't snatch it away from us.

No one's moving from their places. India's GDP takes a dip. The whole nation is at a standstill. Its only in the last over when he touches the magic figure. The hall erupts. Yes, the wait is over. Gwalior is the new Mecca.

Click on the video to view crazy devotees in their moment of ecstasy

Yet another milestone. Yet another record. The day is not far when cricket will be remembered and addressed as a game this man played.
Don't bowl him bad balls. He hits the good ones for fours." - Michael Kasprowicz

My dad hates him like hell. He isn't quite fond of idolizing people and he knows what this man means to me. For me, he is beyond critiques.

When I was a eight, he was an example of someone who everyone seemed to know and love. Wills World Cup 1996 made me marry cricket. 523 runs in a single ODI tournament. Courtney Walsh couldn't make so many in his life!

When I was ten, he was reliability personified. 9 ODI centuries in 1998. Sharjah. Kangaroos. The tourney is etched in the collective conscience of a nation of fanatics. Indian cricket team ceased to be anything more than a one-man-army.

When I was eleven, he was an example of guts, grit and gumption. The legend stormed the Kenyan side in the 1999 WC by his 140* immediately after he returned from home after the most tragic incident in his life - his father's death. That's fortitude. That's determination.

When I was twelve, he was an idol already. He gave Shane Warne nightmares in 2000. That was what he could do to one of Wisden's five cricketers of the century. And this is what he can do to a server in Bangalore: is down from the moment he brushed past 200.

When I was fifteen, he was an example of consistency and living upto the expectations of a billion loons. This man singlehandedly took the Indian side to the WC 2003 finals with 673 runs in 11 matches.

When I was seventeen, he told me what will power is when he returned with full steam after the tennis elbow injury to rule the world again in 2005 by hitting his 35th test century.

When I was eighteen, he showed me how to defy all odds and emerge a winner. He was booed at his home ground and he underwent a painful shoulder surgery. But he rewrote history with a 141* on his comeback debut in 2006.

When I was nineteen, he taught me how to remain unaffected of the criticism,keep the insatiable spirit alive and finally let go of the nerves that made him get out in his nineties seven times in 2007.

He is a living example of humility in the true sense of the word. Rahul Dravid's declaration in Multan, the ball tampering controversy, the Chappell brothers' wrath and even the newspapers calling hin "ENDulkar": he knew how to maintain his composure and let the newer stars balk in the newfound adulation. He saw the likes of Sehwag and Dhoni rise to what they are today. He even recommended Dhoni as the captain to the selectors and we all know he's never wrong. He's the one who is placed in an eternal pressure cooker with the colossal expectation of a one billion people burdening his shoulders everytime he comes to bat. The man has remained in the top for twenty years now. And he's practically unaffected. He's not one of the dime-a-dozen "rockstars" who change in a flash by fifteen-minutes-of-fame. Every single opponent who has had the (mis)fortune of playing against him admires him. And he's as respected, if not more, off the field as on it.

And today when I'm twenty two, he did something that around 2000 cricketers with ODI caps till date can only think of. He made 200 runs and remained unbeaten in a single one-day international!

He is Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. He's God.

Monday, February 22, 2010

C se Chomu!

I just cant stop rolling on the floor laughing!

Here I was living my temporarily miserable life due to the sudden spate of quizzes follwing the XL-IIMC meet and my blog was "attacked", unbelievably poorly though.

The image shows a statistic of the blog visitors around 6pm. 32 visitors were online simultaneously - 31 of them from Calcutta!!!!!!!!!! And then started an incredibly hilarious episode of cribbing by the Chickens. At some moments, I really had my heart out at the sheer ignorance of the JOKArs. At others, I laughed my butt off at their "logic". I really wonder at the filtering process of the IIMs now. :P

XLer or not, visit this post(link) and have the laugh of your life. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease go through all the comments. It'll take time but will be totally worth it. The same cribs again and again - lesser the logic, more the frequency. :D

The highlight was something else though. Somehow, the JOKArs read this post of mine.(link). Here I wrote about how I wanted to go to IIMC of all the IIMs because it was my father's dream. Now the idiots' pea sized brains made them mock me as if I'm making fun of the people out there only because I didnt get through it. A couple of them asked me to prove that I did by putting up the offer letter on the blog. LOL! For the people who mocked me for preferring XL, rest assured I'm having the time of my life out here. Thank God I made this choice. :)

Now, let me stop laughing like a dork first. Hmm. Now. I made fun of the lack of sportsman spirit, you buggers. I never said IIMC is not a premier institute. Or, I never compared it with XL. It was strictly pertaining to the meet. How did that argument-cum-personal-attack come into the picture?

To add insult to your injury, I am terribly sorry for you. This is the offer letter you wanted. (link). And my TR number is in the image itself. Go to your admissions office and, what were the words..."do the honours"!!! More proof? Here it is. (link)To your horror, I actually preferred XL over IIMC. Sorry again! Never thought I would have to prove this, but what the hell and let me be honest, I'm loving it. :D

P.S. For the weak-at-RC folks out there, this is an example of making fun. So please dont start again cribbing about me being a "crybaby"!!! LOL! I posted this because I was forced to :D

P.P.S.: For 'the fingers on the keyboard": I respect the way you put forward your points. :)
The intention is not to malign IIMC at all. Its just that a few people were incredibly illogical.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

C for Crybabies

So close...and yet so far! The two day extravaganza couldn't have got a better conclusion - a photo finish.

Sledging and scuffling knew no bounds. Tempers ran high. Higher ran the emotions.

The scoreline read 9-9. Football happened to be the decider - penalty shootouts at that. A cliffhanger. A nail-biting sensation. And the JOKArs won it 5-4.

The winners failed to win the hearts though. Cribbing, complaining and crying never seemed to die. Sportsman spirit was something they might never have heard of. The following two examples show how ridiculous they were.

1. Internet. On the field.

Our goalie was injured during the match. The swelling on his wrist had beyond doubt rendered him incapable of performing his duties anymore. As a result, we had to have a different one. The cribbing started. A new rule in football suddenly seemed to be in the air. The goalie change was opposed and how! The game had to be stopped for half an hour because the buggers were checking out the rules on the internet...on the field!!!!!! The official FIFA rules seemed to have no mercy for the cribbers who finally had to accept the rationality.

2. LOL!

Can a group of postgraduate students in management be this pathetic??!!??!! The women's volleyball was stalled for more than an hour. The reason: they wanted the rules to be changed. They wanted to do away with the rotating serve because they had only two who could serve!! The arguments were as hilarious as they could get. Imagine: Indian cricket team captain goes to the umpire and says only two of the eleven can bowl and wants each of them to bowl 25 overs each!! ROFL! The referee had to intervene when the stalemate seemed to last forever. He, logically, refused to pay their "concerns" any heed. The losers didn't even give it a shot and gave us a walk-over!

Losers...who won the trophy but lost the respect!

P.S. Amidst all this high-adrenaline drama, the staging of 'Red Black'(link) happened to kick ass. We rocked the show!!

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

C-Sickness X-humed

Exhume /eks"hju:m/ /eg"zu:m/ verb [T] to dig up for reburial.

Behold. Beware. Its that turn of the fate again. The monsters have woken up from their cocoons. The cobwebs have been gotten rid of. The swords have been sharpened. The soothsayers are wary. The chroniclers are ready. The battlefield is set. All it needs is blood. And there will be blood.

February 19, 2010. The deadliest, the fiercest, and honestly the grooviest battle will commence. Its a 35-year old tradition - the XL-IIMC Sports Meet. For the uninitiated, it is the most awaited event of the year where the only rule is: "There are no rules". Where pinching the bums of the players are as much allowed as flashing the manhood in frustration. Yes, the latter has been the talk-of-the-towns since it happened. A couple of ignorant out-of-line females who dared to challenge the endowment of a young man were proved wrong with immediate evidence by an act of the mighty - "flashing".

For the never-walked-out-of-the-couch, XLRI-Jamshedpur and IIM-Calcutta are two of the most hallowed institutes across the country where we also learn business management. Thanks to the potentially explosive but perennially idle and available grey matter on campus, these are some of the T-shirt quotes that adorned the mighty XLers in the past:
  • Only XLence matters. The rest is IIMmaterial.
  • 3 decades. 2 B-Schools. Both try. One XLs.
  • 60 miles above C level
  • CAL-i-fornication
The list is endless. Well, to be fair to the Chussus, they did try to put their best foot forward. But its just not in them. The poor sods with their slogged and spent asses are already like living zombies. In their crammed schedules that involve 21 hours a day of Microsoft eXceLing, they could come up with slogans like:
  • C is constant. X is unknown.
Awwwww!! Poor souls! All I can compare them is to Ashish Nehra and the look he gives to the batsmen after each wide that he bowls - the look that intends to offend but ends up amusing.

For the IIMC-IIM B meet, the JOKArs did try to go through their colossal database of research papers they're proud of. (We're proud of the colossal database of movies on our server, by the way). And thus they came up with something bordering on Ishant Sharma - a notch above Ashish Nehra.
  • And we thought there could B no worse than XL.
And immediately below was written "IIM Calcutta". Aaarrghhh!!

The pitiable male cherubs can't even come up with foul swearing. That too, has been relegated to the females. Kindly type "IIMC XLRI Swearing Scandal" in the Youtube search box and witness a shameful exhibition of un-feminity.

Well, to each his own. We'll keep on being the ones with the bigger heart. As Anil Kumble once remarked, "Only one team played in the spirit of the game." We'll gladly be that team.

Let the graves be dug. Again. Let the weak be tamed. Again. Let the show begin. Again.

Because...any sport elsewhere needs just one ball!!!

P.S. Yours truly is not in the cricket team. *Gulp*

How I Wish...

- Written, composed and performed by Varun Gupta
Out exclusively on Broken Records
Download Song(link) : Low sound. Kindly use ear/head phones.

How I wish, I could be, in your arms tonight
I just can't, stop the tears, rolling down my eyes
Memories, bothering, of what used to be
Of the love, of the life, that you gave to me
How I want, honestly, I could stay a while
How I wish, I could be, in your arms tonight

बातें वो अनकही, बातें वो अनसुनी, जिनको कहना तो था, पर दबी रह गयीं
कहना चाहूँ मैं उनको अभी जानेजाँ
ख्वाबों का कारवां, जो चला ही नहीं, उड़ना चाहे है वो, एक पल को सही

हाथ ये, छोड़कर, मैं न जाऊं कहीं
How I wish, I could be, in your arms tonight...

Saturday, February 13, 2010

That Bitch!

What do you do...
...when nothing's under control?

How does it feel...
...when you miss it from this close?

Where do you go... find strength in this pain?

Who do you trust...
...when life's a bitch again?

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Arbit! Again!

Read 'Arbit!' here(link)
Image by Dr. Madhukar Shukla, XLRI.

Its the same mood again. Something's wrong. Somewhere. I want to write. And there's nothing. Or, probably, there's too much. This is the third time I'm putting up this caveat in this blog - do not proceed if you do not have time for shit. The placement season is on. Pressures and emotions are high. But if it weren't for pressure, wouldn't a diamond still be coal? There are only five seniors I respect like anything, whom I want to see big in life. They deserve every bit of it. One is still left, waiting to be 'placed' - as if we are commodities waiting to be placed on a FMCG shelf. Better the 'package', more the 'shelf space'. Better the 'brand', more at the 'eye-level'. And that we are - tradable commodities ever-ready to sell ourselves. The whole system is flawed. Do I have a solution? But, if I am not a part of the cure, am I necessarily a part of the disease? Guess I am. Guess everyone is. Committees' elections are approaching. The people are a lot nicer. They need votes. They need friends. Why don't I have friends? Why do people have friends? I've seen 'friendship' stoop real low here. Bitching behind backs is a custom. The better your grades are, the more number of friends you have. Do I need such phonies? Am I alone? Am I lonely? I entered the Yahoo! chat room after ages. Was disgusted by the plethora of bots and despo males. Get a life, you morons, or get a porn CD!!! I don't feel like watching a movie. Is it the same me? Guess no. I've changed. Why can't I be the same person again? Why the heck do I keep on harping the same and crib? Why do I want to be the same? Why can't I accept change to be the only constant and move on? Why do I blog? Why do I have to scribble shit that would make no sense to anyone, whatsoever. And even if it does, can they ever share my frame of reference? Can they see things as I want them to see? They can't. Can I see things like they do? I can't. We're fuckin' normal. That's what we are - trapped in normalcy! I've screwed up this academic year real bad. Can I recover? Do I want to recover? Do I have the balls to put in the effort? Where am I heading? Am I lost? Or, are they lost - the rats in the race? I've started reading random blogs. Lots of them.Trying to relate to more and more strangers - the 'weird' ones. The un-understood ones. I'm loving it. I feel attached to them. Some of them feel like real close ones. Its a shame I cant let them know that. Everything sucks! As someone said: life is like a nigger's left bum - it ain't right and it ain't fair!

Sunday, February 07, 2010

Red. Black.

DRACULA (Dramatics And Cultural Association) presents Red. Black. as the Public Production 2010.

Here's the trailer. I'm playing Sudesh. [My pic at 00:58] :P

February 20th, 2010. Tata Auditorium, XLRI Jamshedpur.

Saturday, February 06, 2010


बिलखती आई वो मेरे पास
चीथड़ो में मुरझी हुई
टूटी चप्पलें पहनी थी उसने
रूखे बालों में तेल नहीं
"भैया, पापा फिर पी के आये हैं."

हस्सो कहते हैं सब उसको
प्यारी सी परी सी है
दो सौ वाट के बल्ब सी आँखें
जिनमें अब नमी सी है
"भैया, तू कुछ करता क्यूँ नहीं?"

तीन छोड़ के घर है उसका
दौड़ती वह आई है
खिलखिला के हंसती थी जो
आज उदासी छाई है
"भैया, पापा ने मम्मी को फिर मारा."

कहानियां सुनती है मुझसे
निरी सारी खुदाई की
राम की और रावण की
अच्छाई और बुराई की

"भैया, रावण को मारो ना."

Thursday, February 04, 2010

Tinted Glass

- Written, composed and performed by Varun Gupta
Out exclusively on Broken Records
Download Song (link). Low sound. Kindly use ear/head phones.

There'll be moments, it'll be hard to love each other
There'll be times, we won't look into the eyes
There'll be things, we would say on the face
Everything would seem like one big lie

There'll be places, we would die to run off to
There'll be people, and ready shoulders
There'll be pain, (yes, there will be!) it'll seem we've had enough
We'll ask ourselves: could it be any worse

At that time baby, we'll need to hang in
Do what we do the best, Just keep believing
Believe in the promises, we made to each other
Got lost in the mists of time, and fake covers
Believe in ourselves, believe in our love
Believe in the fate and what it has for us
Believe in the God, believe in His plans
Believe in the list that we made of 'We Can's

I know I know, its a big risk we're taking
But you know what, we might not want to have the doubts
And make sure that, we read nothing between the lines
We sure could stop seeing through that tinted glass

We'll see for ourselves, life is not all that tough
When someone picks us up, when we fall down
When there's someone, we can trust with our lives
Who'll hold our hand (when we have) to cross the road

Chorus fades.

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

Unfortunately. Unintentionally. Unconditionally.

Presenting some of the masterpieces that disappeared in the mists of time. Intended to be epitomes of seriousness, these somehow lost track and landed on the other side of the spectrum. Do not dare to insult any of these by leaving them midway. Each one is a supreme example of journalism/art/cinema and has set honorable benchmarks.

The first on the roll is the most sincere television news correspondent in the world. "Never Say Die" is the motto he swears by. Perseverance and perspiration are his virtues who has never learned to give up. Go, Chand Nawab bhaijaan!

Next is the Indian Superman. Its an almost six-minute video but trust me, every second of the video is worth the time. The abstruse lyrics will scream volumes:

"Tuu mera Superman, Tuu meri lady. Ho gaya hai apna pyar already!!!!!"

As always, the cherry at last. No words. Winner of three Grammies and two Golden Globes. If you haven't watched it till the end, well, your loss!!!!!!!!!

Monday, February 01, 2010

No Sign Of You

- Written, composed and performed by Varun Gupta
Out exclusively on Broken Records.
Download Song (link) [Low volume. Use head/ear phones]


Its been two hours, you said you will be here.
I booked for two, on this roof top.
The candle flames dance with the breeze...

Its a starry night, critters singing sweet.
The guitar's tuned. There is no one around.
The table cloth's wet with the mist...

I have loosened the knot of your favourite tie I'm wearing only for you...
Your cell phone's switched off, I've tried a hundred times, there's still no sign of you...

Baby, miss you. I really miss you.
I miss the way you laugh at my silly jokes;
I miss the way you make me feel.
I miss the silences, endless, when eyes do the talking.
Baby, miss you. I really miss you...