The First Time

The first scratch on a brand new car hurts. A lot. Especially when the car is your own. It is as though you're bruised and relegated to a world of pain. What bothers me the most is that my car didn't acquire the said scratch as an outcome of frenzied driving from my end (which I do occasionally, much to the chagrin of other motorists on the roads). It didn't happen 'cause I was speeding the tires off the car or bumped it into a rickshaw (that suddenly changed lanes) or an aggressively-looming-in-your-mirrors BIG, BAD BEST bus. These days, I drive my car to work daily, and ply on the Western-Express highway, Aarey and Andheri-Kurla roads which are plagued with motorists that drive amok, like lunatics. You have to be super-alert during every second of the drive. However, nothing happens then. My drive is event-free and quite smooth. Instead this particular deed was done while turning into a very tight corner in the backyard of my very own building! A turn that I have been taking for the past 7 years! Something I'd perfected and mastered. And now, here I was.... taking a turn that I presumed I was taking appropriately..... and suddenly there's this grating voice. As though someone took a knife and grazed the skin off your knees with it. Savagely and brutally. My insides churned and my eyes shut tightly close. But to what avail? The deed was done and the scratch was there, sneering at me like a stubborn child who's just got its way.

The scratch isn't significant and can hardly be noticed, but its right there.... just like an old lover whose memories won't fade away. I am pretty upset with myself for being so careless, so clumsy. Maybe I'd fix the scratch during the next service for the car. Paint over it a bit and patch it up. But sadly, the dent will remain. Forever.

Should I bite this Apple?

Headed to Croma today to check out the new Apple Macbook Pro (the aluminium unibody, with black keys). I was hypnotized. However, did a double take when I spotted the price tag next to this gorgeous piece of electronic. I mean, the zeroes just didn't stop extending themselves (after the 1, of course). I marvel at Apple. I really do. They always come out with absolute knockouts. Be it the ubiquitous iPod, the widely popular iPhone/iTouch, the stunning iMac or the astonishingly beautiful Macbook. They know how to deliver on aesthetics, leaving the competition far behind on this front. However, the prices attached to these sinful luxuries are designed to deliver a physical blow to you as well. On first sight and operation (I played around with the MBP a bit) you're transported to an electronic paradise - the visuals and design blow you away. But then I notice the price tag alongside and I'm rudely jolted back to miserable reality. Its an astronomical 102,000 bucks! I can buy the new Samsung LED TV (another dazzler) for the same price (I always do this i.e. play the politics of relativity when faced with the prospect of shelling out huge, ridiculous sums of money for something I really don't need). Should I or should I not purchase it? My heart screams 'YES! YES! YES!' while the mind chides me for being a spendthrift lunatic - a prodigal idiot of the highest order. Let me ponder over the merits/demerits of the same. Till then, I'll have to make do with drooling over the pics*:

* Pics courtesy: Leander Kahney of 'Cult of Mac'. I love the last one.

Hope (and a lil' effort from my side!)

The stench was overbearing. The heavens above did not ease the foulness emitted by the landscape - it had poured a few minutes ago, adding considerably to the rancid stink. Used plastic bags greeted your way, you had to play dodge with potholes filled with water, spit, shit & other unimaginables. The local beef-hawker had hung his day's offerings in his ramshackle shop; rabid flies going berserk around them, no doubt adding extra punch to the meat. You stifle the bile rising in your throat which is threatening to break-free of its confines. The stench gratefully subsides, and so does the bile. But then your senses are almost immediately attacked by another vision: a vision choc-a-bloc with humans - men going about their day hawking their wares; women on their way to the plush neighbourhood alongside to work as bais; men plying dilapidated handcarts, old men preparing hot chai, little boys and girls in shabby uniforms scurrying to the municipal school and of course, THE Mumbai-special: faltoo (my friend puts it that way) taporis just sitting, lazing around with mouths agape, and staring at passing people. In this part of the city, everything happens in the public. Occurrence is in the open. There's no hiding, no shame and no privacy. The need for these basic luxuries pales in comparison with the need for basic necessities - roti, kapda aur makaan. For these residents, to procure even these daily requirements is a herculean task - a fight, or lafda in Mumbaiyya lingo.

Our destination: Anjuman-e-Islam College, Bandra. The purpose: the Teach India campaign. The route: A narrow, winding bylane - right in the centre of a growing slum, which incidentally happened to be the longer route to the college. A much shorter and cleaner route existed on S.V. Road, Bandra (West), but perhaps I was destined to go through this raw, punishing landscape. I had always wished to traverse through a slum one day. As they say - Be careful of what you wish for; you might just get it!

Armed with nothing but our volunteer IDs and a humble determination to make a difference to the society - to give back what it has given to us - we entered the auditorium of the college. It was humid and hot, but we were early and hence could choose seats just below a merciful fan. Then people started trickling in, one by one.... and the sight amazed me. Everyone was here - professionals, college students, housewives and even some foreign nationals. From all ranks of the society - rich, middle-class and poor. All of them were sincerely committed to the cause of teaching children - according to me - the noblest service that one could provide to the society. Cause the children of today will shape the future of tomorrow. And what better way than this to shape them - by arming them with education, which is (and should be) a basic necessity but available to only a select few.

The various NGOs present at the place put forward their causes: what they did, whom they did it for and what they expected of us. The appeal was for nothing opulent or grand. All they wanted was our time. A contribution that we could all easily make - two hours in a week for 3 months. As simple as that. And we pledged to give it to them.

The program hasn't begun yet. Many nitty-gritties have to be ironed out. Many questions have to be answered and many instructions to be given. But I am excited from the onset. I do hope they call me to help. I hope I am given the chance to give back to the society. I hope I am able to do something for those kids who have been deprived of their rights. I hope I am successful.

I know I am sounding like a hopeful Miss India candidate ;) But unlike them beauties with fake smiles plastered across their faces and rehearsed lines to charm the public with, my wishes come directly from my heart, and I am determined to fulfil it! Even if I have to cross a hundred more slums to do it!

From Hell (and still in it)

I make rapid, disorderly zig-zags through the swarm of bustling, harried humans at the one-stop nightmare called Andheri station. I mutter a quick prayer - Thank God I don't suffer from claustrophobia; meanwhile cursing the careless chap who has just stepped on my foot. He is making a desperate dash for the train which is already leaving the platform. Maybe he has an important meeting, or his first job interview, or has an ailing mother at home, or the most important of all - perhaps he has a date with his girlfriend (God save him from the woman's wrath if he reaches late!). But I have no more time for such menial musings. I must make myself scarce, get away from this crazy place that threatens to engulf me, as the hour progresses, with more and more humans. My vision is filled with them - young and old, students and office goers, hawkers and salesmen, beggars and ticket checkers. If you're lucky, you may even spot a few mangled dogs fighting over the day's spoils (most likely leftovers from snack-stalls). You will find them all, astonishingly crammed in one place, running helter-skelter to things, from things, away from things. The time: 9 am - an ungodly & poorly-chosen hour to be at this place - for the influx of commuters reaches its zenith, transforming the station into a jumbo-version of the infamous Virar-local itself. Visualize around 3 Virar locals at their peak-loads emptying themselves on platform number 5 and you've got the number of people occupying Andheri station at any point of time between 9 am-9.30 am. It could set a world record - Between 9 am-9.30 am, this station is easily the densest location in the world (Dadar is another worthy contender, but Andheri beats it). And if you emerge out of it unscathed, unblemished and unaffected by its many severities, you pass the test mate. You are now officially a true, brave citizen of Mumbai.

Its like I'm destined go through this daily nightmare. Andheri has always been the unloved gateway to 'life-out-there' for me. Be it my 12th grade classes, CA classes or my workplace, I've spent a solid 7 years travelling here. I know every nook and corner of the place. Every stall, every kaccha rasta, the hawkers who hawk illegal books/VCDs in shady corners, the Jumbo vada-pav wallahs, the ticket counters, the bright-maroon ATMs, the broken indicators, the ditches and the pan stains. The very mention of Andheri elicits a scowl from me. I hate the place. Passionately. But its also where I gained knowledge, learning, my profession, my livelihood. I hate it but I can't do without it. Life is full of cruel, unforgiving paradoxes. And I'm cursed with a major share of them.

MJ Mojo

As a kid, his was the only 'English' music my parents listened to. I don't think they could've escaped from it if they wanted to; he ruled the 80's, ubiquitous over the radio, TV, newspapers, concerts... you name it. And he appealed to almost all sections of the society, young and old. He invented the 'Pop' culture. So inadvertently, I grew up listening to Michael Jackson. And boy, didn't I just dig his music! Be his crazy outfits, his brilliant dance-moves, the unique 'moonwalk' (I remember a guy who perfected it, everyone thought he was SO cool!), the lavishly-produced music videos and of course, his catchy music.... they were all truly loved by MJ fans worldwide.

My first brush with Western music was 'Bad'. I remember Dad inserting a dainty plastic cassette in the 'tape-recorder', rewinding it (it took so long!) and finally playing it, the 'wooooh-ooohs' and 'aaaa-ooohs' of the superstar resounding in the air (only he got away by uttering those strange exclamations; he would be ostracized in this age if he did that!). Then, I saw him on TV. I thought he was pretty neat, doing that famous moonwalk of his, those aviator glasses and flashy dresses that somehow didn't look garish on him at all (except his trademark crotch-grip... 'cheee!' I used to say). The Way You Make Me Feel, Beat It, Black and White, Remember the Time, They Don't Really Care 'Bout Us, Ghosts..... they were ALL my favorites and could recite them by-heart at one time. He also visited Mumbai in 1996 and I remember how the entire city went gaga over his concert.

But then, it all went downhill for him. Child-abuse accusations, indebtedness, drugs, disease and other maladies become the norm of his life. Personally, I think he suffered more than what he deserved. And this, not cause he's dead and gone. Somewhere, I always felt sorry for him despite his various eccentricities. Pushed into stardom at an early age, tasting stupendous success, being surrounded by thieves claiming to be friends, the glitz and the glamour.... how is a man expected to keep his sanity intact? That's not to defend what he may or may not have done, but he deserved so much more.

But let all this not cloud our judgment of the incredible music he made. Fact remains, MJ was a great entertainer & musician, right up there with the greatest music icons (Elvis, the Beatles etc.) of all time. I'm glad I was witness to the MJ era. He left a void behind with his untimely death, but also left behind a vast treasure of good music behind, and for that we shall always remain grateful! Michael Jackson - R.I.P.