Yusuf

The Saturday was turning out to be as predictable as it could have been. Rains lashed the city and the clouds seemed to have taken the sky captive while sending the sun to an unending exile. It is exactly the kind of weather you don't wish for on the day of a table tennis tournament, especially if you are participating in one after ages. Quite normally, I lost after a couple of rounds. Refusing to trust logic, I was being too harsh with myself, grumbling and cussing myself. The usual sequence. Drenched and dripping, I boarded an auto to reach the St. Paul's Stag Table Tennis Academy, where I hoped they would let me practice on weekends. The rain pouring down over the vast stretch of the Hussain Sagar lake made an incredible view. Oblivious about the day till then, I gazed outside thinking about a million things, yet nothing in particular. " Ye St. Paul's school kahan hain bhaiya? ", the bearded old auto driver asked me. My reverie was broken. I had agreed to pay him a hundred and fifty bucks, and he did even know where the damned place was. Sighing heavily and wondering just how bad the rest of the day could have been, I informed him I wasn't a local and and that it was his duty to take me to my destination. 

The place was not hard to find. It was located in a well known area in Himayatnagar. As I paid him the fare, 

I suddenly realized my cell phone was missing. Fumbling with my belongings, for some reason, I grew hysterical. Always a schemer and trying keep things within my control is a side of me I have found out over the years. Probably I was just not to ready to let things spiral so much out of control on a single day. Seeing me in such a mess, Yusuf ( the name of the auto driver as I later found out ) tried calming me down. "Pareshan mat hona bhaiya...."Now when I think about it, I think he said it a million times. I asked him politely, summoning all my patience, if I could just sit in his vehicle for a while and search for my phone. He told me to take all the time I needed. Needless to mention, I found my cellphone at the bottom most pit of my kit bag. Relief swept over me. I sat down breathing heavily. I took out a packet of biscuits from my bag and asked Yusuf, if he wanted to had some. He was all for it, and we were sitting inside his vehicle chatting for almost twenty minutes while rain poured outside. He asked me about what I did, then he went on to talk about his time in Saudi Arabia, where he spent a few years when he was young. He told me how he was almost drowning once, and there was not a chance in the world that he would live again, except that Allah saved him. That nothing was truly our own, so naturally worrying is pointless. He duly passed on his experiences about life. And at the end of every sentence of his, he would say," Jo bhi ho jaye, pareshan mat hona bhaiya..". 

The rain subsided after a while and I had to leave. I bid him goodbye and asked him if he had a phone number. He did not. This guy's old school, of course. And off he went. After that I did what I did and during the hour long bus ride back home, I wondered how simple life would be if I could just follow his mantra. My grandma always says, you can find God wherever you want to find God. I think I am slowly beginning to understand what she means. 

Version 2.0

So, I was at St.Xavier's,Kolkata and I was giving this speech on poverty. It was an impeccable speech and I was acknowledged with a rapturous applause once I was done. As I was coming down,a thin man dressed in an over sized coat and a briefcase walked towards me. I excused myself from others and walked to him, excited and upbeat. " Sajal !! Good Speech, but have you ever watched a poor man for more than fifteen minutes? "  Now, I must mention I belonged to a pretty well to do family so I never really had to struggle too much in life for anything. I replied,slightly confused, " No Sir!" He went on, " Have you ever eaten with a poor man?" .." Not really, Sir". " Okay, Sajal tell me, have you ever slept with a poor man?? " Now, beginning to feel a little humiliated I said, " No Sir, I've not." He replied with a few words which would stay with me forever, " Then you know nothing about poverty.Get that thing straight."

I felt as if I was slapped. For a couple of months I left home taking nothing with me, and lived on the streets.I ate and slept with the less privileged.At the end of it, I was a much richer person. You know who that great person was in that over sized coat? It was Amartya Sen.

These were the words of a certain Sajal Sir, who was among our faculty members for my weekend management entrance coaching classes. I was baffled with resemblance this story had with a portion of one of my most favorite novels. Anyhow, It's an unshakable truth. The world would be a much saner place if people were less judgmental about things they haven't done or experienced. Now, that I would be starting version 2.0 ( hopefully new an improved ) of my life finally, as inconsequential as it is, I would try being as neutral and open as I can. As this would be my last post for quite some time I would just sign off sharing a few lines with my non existent readers from one of my favorite novels.

Afraid to look too long into his wife's beautiful eyes, I turned back to Fazil and asked him whether he knew now what he might want to say to my readers if I ever was to write a book set in Kars.

" Nothing. " His voice was determined. When he saw my face fall, he relented." I did think of something, but if you don't like it....." he said. " If you write a book set in Kars and put me in it, I'd like to tell your readers not to believe anything you say about me,anything you say about any of us.No one could understand us from so far away."

" But no one believes everything they read in a novel",I said.

"Oh, yes, they do believe it," he cried. " If only to see themselves as wise and superior and humanistic,they need to think of us as sweet and funny,and convince themselves that they sympathize with the way we are and even love us. But if you would put in what I have just said, at least your readers will keep a little room for doubt in their minds." 

Sir Alex Ferguson - More than a Manager.

" The most important thing about management is you've got to be able to make decisions that aren't popular, but you know they're right and I think I've done that." -- Sir Alex Ferguson.

I left all the common Football groups on Facebook about a year back for the sole reason it was making me a much more depressed and irritated individual than I actually was.As I glanced at the ticker at one opportune moment today however, I saw some person commenting about Sir Alex Ferguson in one of those groups. It's hard to ignore such things so early in the morning when you don't really understand half the things that go on around you.So I wen't to the actual topic and fucked  my mood up for the entire day.

Anyhow, The topic was if " Sir Alex was the worst loser ever and he would always find excuses when the team lost." in the most disrespectful manner. People as usual were making out like Horny rabbits on this one. Here's the thing, I agree. And more so, I add that sometimes while doing so he actually disrespects the opponents while not giving them their due credit. Even the staunchest United fans would agree to this if they think like a neutral .But before anything lets talk a bit about the English press. I grew up reading Henry Winter's columns on the Telegraph. Here's a few examples apart from the world of Football :

1. Lewis Hamilton. Probably the most overrated Formula One driver ever.

2. Tim Henman. Had he not been British he might have actually gone on to win a Wimbledon. The English press gathered every year during June - July for an annual festival called ' Let's try Screw Tim one more time.'

3. The Ashes, 2005. They glorified the English team so much after getting trounced by Australia every time before that since God knows when, that Andrew Flintoff actually thought he had played enough cricket, Boxing Sounded cool. Yes he was injured and all that, I don't care. And yes, they got raped the next time again. The culprit? I'd probably answer that in the middle of an orgasm.

4. Andy Murray. First of all, he's Scottish ( David Moyes says Hi ! ). Enough respect for what you've done and will do mate, truly amazing. But Bawling like a baby after losing to the King of Wimbledon? Not cool man, not cool. And it showed on him, the hype.I actually pity the English press. They do the same function to hype that a repeater does in Web Technology.Yes, I've been studying a little too.

5. The English Football Team. Can we please talk about Football and not WAG's please? Are you people Gay?

There are many more examples ,but these are the common ones many would relate to.The English press has been the undoing of so many things. And that is exactly where I believe Sir Alex has been a champion. He takes the heat off the players like no manager does. It's a much more difficult task to manage a team in England than people realize.The press can have a crushing effect on the players. SAF has taken the brunt so many times for an insipid United performance. I mean the man is 71 years old, and has been associated with the game for so long, surely he knows which tackle deserves a red card, does not he? People who blame him for that miss the bigger picture. He does it for the lads , the fans. He becomes the villain to shield his players like his family.That is something a non United would never understand. We've had financial constraints, Huge debts, a glaring media ready to pounce on his every mistake, and SAF amid all this has emerged unscathed and ensured the team remains intact.Ten out of ten clubs would have crumbled in such a volatile condition, let alone be competitive.  But SAF has ensured we always came back stronger after losing out. It is never all about him, if it were, he would not have lasted for so long. One of his legacies has been that he has kept the club his top priority,always. He has had problems with stars who were huge fan favorites. Had this happened at any other club, the fans would have turned against their manager a long time back. We United fans don't care what people think of him. If he's a Bastard then he's our Bastard and that I believe is the most important thing. It's insane to manage a club for this long and be successful in a place like England where people get paid to drag you down. And people still keep wondering as to why at this age, he staunchly protects his lads. It's just tiring. Harvard has opened a case study about him because he has violated all managerial laws by now.You don't have to love him, but you sure can respect him. And it has become a word so cheaply thrown around these days in the world of football.

"The memoirs of former manager Frank O'Farrell ( who was in charge of United for a brief period of 18 months ) , All Change at Old Trafford, detail just how badly things went when Sir Matt Busby, supposedly retired." He supposedly said something like this , " A word of advice for the new manager? Well, Sir Alex would ensure he leaves the club in the best possible state for the new manager coming in, unlike the shambolic condition in which Sir Matt handed the club over to me. But I can say one thing,to whoever comes in next, It will not matter who is on the other end of the dug out when the team's winning, but when it starts losing, comparisons with Sir Alex will begin.Be prepared for that." It's a day we all United fans wish never to see. But time will run it's course and we will patiently wait for the new manager to carry our legacy forward, because that is what we do.

City of Joy.

I always wondered, rather foolishly, when I was not so much a kid, as to what took artists so long to finish a piece of art or a writer to finish writing a book.Now, when it takes me so much effort just to type a totally inconsequential piece of shit, as I'm about to do now, you realize why. Anyway, it's just another evening where I have developed a general distaste in doing things which generally keep me busy, so what the hell.

I've been travelling to the City of Joy on weekends for almost 6 months now. A lot of travelling alone and listening to country music ( Well, I did listen to an occasional Mohit Chauhan too, but country really goes with the mood here...:D ) while on the highway a midst the setting sun where I thought about everything from Romance to Global Warming . Another harrowing trip back home on the Coalfield Express.3 straight hours outside it's toilet.A brilliant and enriching few months of Table Tennis with my coach, and one of my college seniors, for a few months in a club at Howrah.I am not much of the 'Lets hang out' type unless it's really close people,and I have been fortunate enough to have few of them in Kolkata right now.So rare quality time,was spent there too. An almost fatal fall from an Auto while rushing back from practice to the Howrah station for The Last Train Home( the song is on repeat now).Watching Priyanka Chopra from close while she was shooting some oh, what the hell movie.And my CAT classes, where I did make a few friends and went in hungover,more than once.I have had some brilliant teachers, but more on that on my next post.I did go visit a few landmarks on my own but limited cash forced me to curb my roamer instincts.That situation, should relatively improve in the next few months though.

And there has been so many other diverse incidents as well, most of which I cannot recall.Somehow, people always associate the Bong Nostalgia with Kolkata. I always thought it was a bit unfair and though there are so many things that really are mindless and baffling about the city and it's people, it really is a city with heart.Though,if God ever gave me a choice to choose my birth town for my next 50 lives, I would go on and choose Asansol each time over Kolkata. Asansol has taught me things and has made me more complete as an individual than Kolkata ever could have.I can say that confidently now.On my 51st choice though, I would probably opt for Manchester, England or Anshan City, China.Time flies.I have never really been a big career planner.When I started off on my weekend trips, I thought it would never end.But it has, and as always,I have found out a few more of the infinite dimensions of life.That is how,however,I would like to judge myself.The problem often does not lie in the fact that we don't get what we want.At some level,mostly,we get exactly what we want.That's where we lose the plot.  

Confession.

My late grandfather was an armchair palmist. When I was a kid, on my mom's persistence he would always take my right hand to try predict my future, and I would sit, dreamy eyed, listening to him, though I thought he was lousy at the whole palmistry thing, big time.I don't remember much, but my mom always decided enough was enough when he started predicting every time without fail that I would have multiple marriages.

Now when I come to think about it, I realise maybe he wasn't that bad at it as I thought he was.I really do have a thing for women who are taken. Now, that is common all right, But there's a catch somewhere I'm not sure of. That is worrying. But inherently I know there are many, many like me, if they are being honest with themselves!

Nick Vujicic

" I love life. You know so many people come and say, How come you smile so much? And I'm like, well , it's a long story. " ( grins )


It has been difficult 8 months. A lot of self introspection, getting back a few good habits after four undergraduate years is what it has all been about. Waiting so long to get started with your professional career is an un-envious situation to be in though. But I'm a lot calmer now.

I realised how unthankful I've been after watching this clip. Of course it's not the first motivational piece I've come across, but I felt I should post this here just for me to refer back. We are all blessed, there is no such thing as optimism and pessimism in daily life, a friend of mine once said, he was right, it's much more than daily life. We have to lead our life as it comes, get into phases, come out of phases and be thankful and smile. Disappointments , Success mean something, but we're too insignificant in this universe individually to think it's beyond that. It's like Joseph Heller pointed out in his satirical War novel Catch-22 about a man's reflection moments before his death -- " In the end it's all about a city and a woman."

Slow Death

As a kid, I was always fascinated by the mason's work. I grew up in a sub - urban neighbourhood before shifting to our apartment before high school.As a result,I would always have constructions going on all around my place.So, a better part of my childhood was spent playing ' Chor Police' with our toy guns in those ' under construction ' houses.I would often stand and marvel at the Chief mason's or as is referred in Bengali, the Rajmistry's work. The way they took the cement mixture and applied it around bricks, and then used their skill to finish up the curves so immaculately,always fascinated me.I had absolutely no doubt back then, that one day I would grow up to be a Rajmistry.

Then of course, the stupid thing called growing up happens.As it happened, I went to our apartment's rooftop yesterday to catch some sun. A building is under construction right beside our apartment.I never really paid much attention to it.Few people were working there,finishing up the sunshade of a room on the 3rd floor.I stood and watched for a moment.No, don't 'awwww' me.I wasn't gripped by nostalgia.I just wondered how unremarkable their work and life was, to the whole world.I,myself, respect and value everything they do, but sadly, I wan't marvelled.Then, of course, with a shrug,I walked away.

I immediately recalled the last scene in the movie ' Hurtlocker ', where Jeremy Renner, the war Vet explained to his infant kid.I don't remember the exact words.But the whole gist of it went something like this -- " As a kid, you may love a lot of things, but as you grow up, a lot of those things don't seem so special any more, and when you are of my age, maybe it's just one or two things that's left." The kid did not understand a word, and how would he,because if he did,a part of him would die.