Lata Maange "woh" kar

The voice that brought tears to Nehru's eyes now speaks the language of irrationality. Is it just senile dementia or is it celebrity tantrums at its best. The lady who crooned "Ae mere watan ke logon, zaraa aankh mein bharlo paani. Jo shaheed hue hain unki, zaraa yaad karo qurbaani", has no intention of making a "qurbaani" (just trying to see her perspective - though I wouldn't call it sacrifice!).

The civic body responsible for infrastructure concludes that it is important to have a flyover in an area where traffic problems are as certain as your visit to the shit-pot every morning. It could have been anywhere in this vehicle-infested-suffering-from-uncontrolled-traffic city. Now it so happens that the area earmarked for the flyover happens to run past the home of the lady whose voice is synonymous with music, melody, soul. And she responds with a cacophony expected by none ( I guess). Demands of not going ahead with the proposal of constructing the flyover or facing the consequences - she would leave the city. Childish? Immature? or is it just the desire to play bully? Maybe she didn't get to do it as she grew up (I'd like to think otherwise though, maybe a certain younger sister would concur). I think she's pushing 75 and I thought people get wiser with age. This situation was a no-brainer and for an almost 75 year old to react in such a manner was almost ridiculous. Add to that her financial ability to buy a house almost anywhere in the world and you ask, why o why?

I normally don't talk about how fast someone would kick the bucket, but I think I'll make an exception. Why would you want to create such a ruckus with one foot in the grave?! You know you aren't going to be around maybe 5, or 10, or 15 years from now. Shouldn't you be considerate enough to think of how much the traffic problem could escalate in that much time if these remedial measures aren't taken now. People will remember you for the good you do, not for the obstacles you create. Celebrities could actually use their status for the larger good of society. I honestly don't know if she has ever done anything for the benefit of society. It's alright if she hasn't too. Seriously. But at least try not to get in the way of people trying to do their job. And what's with the threat? Leave the city? It's not like she's going to take all the oxygen in the air with her. It actually would be sad if the Government takes a step back to give in to such an irrational demand, albeit from such a well known personality.

I'm actually unsure whether the Government would rather bend backwards to placate one stubborn individual or do something thats critical for smooth traffic in a crowded area of the city. Actually I have this inner voice (that's been speaking a lot these days :) ; ref: previous post) that tells me that it's the individuals tantrums that shall get attention. After all, when it comes to such issues its only the strings that can be pulled that matter. And old as she may be, there are a lot of strings that this woman can pull. Besides, there are a number of sycophantic idiots who wouldn't mind carrying people and vehicles across the stretch in front of her home so that the noise and honking does not disturb her, who are in places of power. And these people will definitely ensure this dust that she has manged to rake up does not settle without a favourable result. For her, that is.

I wish her peace. In hell. Where the foundations of the flyover that shall be built (there will come a time, when it will get built) shall reverbate with the abuses that people who are travelling on the flyover hurl at each other. And each of those abuses shall be magnfied tenfold with a name suffixed to it - Lata Mangeshkar.

Of God and man

If cricket is a religion, Sachin is GOD.
And I would be lying if I said I didn't worship him. From the desert storm the Aussies faced in Sharjah in 1998, to the sound, resilient knock after the passing away of a loved one - albeit against Kenya in 1999 World Cup, to the blitzkrieg against Shoaib and co. at Centurion in the 2003 World Cup, each of these moments has a special place in my memory, just as it would for any Sachin fan.

The brilliance is there no doubt. But it wasn't praises all the way right from the start. An average debut in 1989 versus Pakistan at Karachi. A decent first couple of years in his Test career. Among the lot of cricketers who took the most number of matches to get his first century in ODIs. And then to the current status of more than 10000 Test runs and 50 International hundreds. Somewhere along this journey, there was a transition. This man went from being mortal to being God.

To err is human, to never err divine. The one BIG problem with being God. NO room for error. If you are proclaimed Hero/ Leader/ King / Emperor, you are still human and are permitted mistakes. It also gives your subjects an opportunity to raise their voice, revolt, plan a mutiny, or even overthrow their king for that matter. A Maharaja of Indian cricket we know would definitely second this belief. This is where I think we as fans, and the media, need to see that thin line of difference. The difference between being a Hero and being God. Heroes go down in blazes of glory, Heroes become martyrs, Heroes sometimes fail when the odds are heavily stacked against them, there is an "end" so to speak in such references. None so, when it comes to God.

Sachin was booed of Wankhede. It was almost like Lord Ganesh being unseated from Siddhivinayak, Lord Venkateshwara Balaji being unseated from Tirupati, Lord Krishna being unseated from an ISKON temple, Lord.... so on.. I hope you get the drift. Sheer blasphemy. The only reason, Sachin is GOD. This where I probably have started (please note the "probably", that is the only written indicator I can give to the tremendous conflict of belief that I am facing as I write this) questioning, whether we need to reasses how we and the media go about making Gods out of human beings. Maybe if we just let them be our heroes, their names won't be tarnished and such acts of blasphemy shall never be committed again. I for one, would not condone such acts. And such acts against Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. Never.

Even as I sign off after having made what I hope is a strong attempt at striking a "practical" chord, I hear this voice from within that says, "Forgive him God, for he knows not what he is doing."It needs no telling, which God I am referring to.

Bus. Bas Ho Gaya!

There are times when travel excites you, there are times when travel is just something you got to do, there are times when you just don't want to travel, there are times when you hate having to go through the entire travel experience, there are times when you absolutely, most certainly loathe the very idea of having to travel and then there is that brand of travel that evokes a feeling thats hard to describe. I'll give it a shot. A daily trip home from my place of work (Powai) to home.

To experience this particular brand of travel you would need to ensure that you are at the place of commencement of journey (Powai Vihar Bus Stop) at anytime between 7pm and 830pm, give and take 15 minutes. Anything more than that and your experience is likely to be a diluted one. So be there or be spared.

Powai Vihar Bus Stop. Dark place. One pole for a bus stop. The headlights of oncoming traffic and the neon glow of the "Ajahara" glowsign being the only sources of light. "Ajahara" probably has installed so many pest repellant machines that they have ensured that every possible species of insect in its vicinity crosses the road and makes itself at home precisely at the bus stop. Its a different story altogether that you will hardly ever find any human presence in that shop other than the employees. (Maybe they gotta rethink what they've installed as repellant).

The Beginning
Buses that pass you at this hour could be classified on the basis of the number of people they have on the footboard. (Step-People Classification) 3-3: 3 people on the 3rd step. 3-1: 1 person on the 3rd step. 2-2 : 2 people on the second step. Given my upbringing and safety guidelines spelt out from home, I do not attempt to go for anything greater than a 2-2. This situation is made even more complex by the number of people you have waiting at the bus stop. For eg: when there are four people at the bus stop attempting to board the same bus as you a 2-2 bus will immediately become a 3-3 if all four get to the bus before you, and it becomes unboardable (oh, did I forget to mention there is no such thing as a queue). So you just wait and watch. Fortunately, almost all buses heading to Mulund from Andheri (thats where I get off, the last stop) pass through Powai Vihar, so I have quite a few buses to choose from. Actually, it gives a large number of buses to just not attempt boarding.

The Journey
After letting go about 5-6 buses over a period of 15-20 pest-stricken, mosquito-bitten minutes frustration sets in. This, with having to scratch at a bite on your back and the area of leg just above your sock which one sickly mosquito has managed to fly upto and suck, both at the same time. Life is about tough choices they say, and I make this choice every single day of finally picking a 2-1 bus, that lets you have this momentary joy of knowing that "Ah! I'm on my way home". The first 2-3 minutes are alright. You are practically outside the bus, the wind in your face and it reeaches the curve that marks the beginning of the IIT campus. For those who came in late (God bless Lee Falk), IIT is HUGE, the entire stretch of road from the right turn after the Hiranandani right until the right you take to start the descent on the Gandhi Nagar slope runs along the IIT campus wall. This stretch is one of those historic stretches in bus journey folk lore and I'm sure every IT engineer worth his salt who has travelled from SEEPZ to Mulund on his way home and has encountered this stretch would agree.

It's here that the next-to-undescribable experience begins. You've managed to move up the steps and are now in the aisle at the rear end of the bus. You buy your ticket (I am still trying to find reason, as to what I'm paying for), and the musical rendition of the bus conductors favourite song, begins to play in an loop (this goes on for what actually seems like infinity). "Madhle chala pudhe..Chala madhle pudhe" intermittent musical accompaniment with the banging of his ticket checking instrument on the roof of the bus, on the bus seats, on the door frame, on the window, on his ticket box.. You Name It!! "Madhle chala pudhe.. Chala madhle pudhe".. As you move along the aisle the "trip" begins. Three rows of people with arms raised, bags slung over shoulders, leaning all over each other,coupled with the rocking Mumbai weather has everyones sweat gands working overtime. The vehicles too seem to have taken it upon themselves to prove their dominance over the human race with the exhausts of vehicles spitting out every single gas known to man, this ensuring the sweat glands respond even more vehemently. The dust and dirt on the roads of Mumbai that are part of this complete symphony need no mention.

The air is completely filled with a complex mixture of everything that all of the above have spewed. Inhale and experience! It makes your nasal hair stand on end, then double up and fall over and then you can almost hear it wish that it had germinated in the safer confines of your armpit than be exposed to the savage death gases that it was responsible for filtering to keep you alive. Thank you, Nasal Hair!! Snorters, Dopers, Smokers... Try this for a change. I can't say its any less harmful (we'll know when we've done an examination of my lungs a few years from now), but it takes you to another level. You gradually learn to play God, 'coz if forgiving is divine, then I AM GOD. Smelly folks, honking folks, leaning folks, screaming folks.. I've forgiven them all. You are destined to travel this stretch of about a km or a bit more for nothing less than 15 whole minutes, that too if you are reasonably lucky. On any other day, its a sure shot 25. Liberating.

The Arrival
Once you cross Gandhi Nagar, the conductors rhyme actually seems to start working and people move. By the time the bus reaches Kanjur Station you finally are able to see the lights on the road outside the bus. The air gradually begins to clear and the driver finally gets to move the bus into gears that probably were itching to get into action. With the bus picking up speed, the wind clearing out the gas chamber that was, the levels of oxygen pick up and its actually a new high altogether. God is kind. The arrival of Bhandup station quite often results in you getting a place to rest your a**. Thats when the feeling of what you have just fought and won begins to sink in. Victory is sweet. "Mulund Check Naka" announces the conductor and you step out of the bus with your chest stuck out.

You've won the battle won.You've saved the day.And you most certainly will live to fight another day.