The Mayan Apocalypse and New Year Resolution

 

Pre-Mayan Apocalypse era:

 

The year-end brings in its wake its own rituals. As we hurtle towards the end-of-year mark, there is a pressure of another kind piling up. To decide on a New Year Resolution (NYR).

 

I am glum right now to the extent of being philosophical. I am talking to me, explaining to myself the clear and critical need for a Goal in a man’s life. I need to get on the NYR gravy-train like yesterday, like real fast. So that I can feel like a complete man.

 

But moment of truth - for those like me, making of NYRs is a very slow burn torturous exercise. I strongly suspect Michael Jackson crooned ‘Man in the Mirror’ in such humbling circumstances – seems he just wasn’t able to decide on a NYR!

 

I have decided to continue to be in totally spiritual yogic mode. Deep diving in my mind, attempting to mint the best resolutions in town. The type that assures me passage to nirvana, raise my development index, make me feel complete (even if I don’t wear Raymond!). You get the drift?

 

I pull some fast ones, from the accumulated wisdom of years. I am eyeball to eyeball with usual NYR choices:
• I am going to start – a/ walking b/ yoga-ing c/ swimming
Hmmm. I need something more me-worthy:
• getting rippling muscles like Arnold Schwarzenegger (but from my paunch to Arnold-esque muscles, the distance seems exactly as far as Mars is from Earth).
• PADI certification for scuba diving (I don’t know but swimming yet, except for managing to cycle my legs on the fringes of the pool).

 

And verb of each of the activities is being considered with liberal usage of far future tense. Mind is galloping, sifting through probable activities, identifying potential goals, and discarding each of them, serially.

 

And then it hits me like a crashing meteor. I have heard about this Mayan prediction, that end of the World is near. In fact back then in their primitive existence, they managed to put an exact date to it – 21-12-2012. It appears a proclamation emerging from someone’s fixation for the binary.

 

A gleeful smile courses through me. Now wouldn’t it be plain idiotic spending the last few days on this God’s Green Earth, under the rigour and discipline of a NYR, when all we should be doing is having fun, spreading love, and executing our bucket list. I start relaxing, suddenly unclutched by burden of NYR. But my years of indoctrination of Corporate kind has brain washed my psyche. I can’t have a Plan A without a Plan B. What if Mayans were wrong, and Humanity does manage to leap across this Mayan pronounced apocalyptic date line. Seems I am after all going to need a NYR

 

I am quickly back to where I started. A intervention of Divine kind and an inspiration of spiritual kind is now needed. 

 

I start speed-considering them sequentially:

 

Trekking for fitness & hobby?
...hmmm, self visualisation of me climbing mountains, and trekking and walking, carrying immense mound of myself breaks me into cold sweat.

 

Foreign holidays twice a year?
...well that can be when I start getting telephone number size salary. Ok, then once a year? With that expense, I may not be able to get to telephone number size salary!

 

Something to do with Punctuality?
...the pain of being tied to the clock, bonded and slaved to its chronological will appears unpleasant proposition for my liberated soul and free will.

 

Doing something Faster
...mbps size speeds and gigabyte size workloads are already tearing apart my body fabric. Cleary that won’t work.

 

Buying something nice and big and shiny
...hmmm. Apple Mac? BMW X1? Penthouse? But that seemed to be going into evolution in reverse for someone wanting to speedkick to evolve into a higher being, replete with verdant Spiritual greens? Apart, telephone number size salary constraints also exist – please refer above.

 

Drink less... Alcohol. Drink more... Water.
...now this one makes my grey cells bit hazy. I mean I can definitely increase water intake, but what's wrong if there is some amount of distilled barley at the bed of it. I am in deep yogic thoughts .... Hmmmm. Apocalypse will be more certain to arise if I give up my barleys and potatoes extract. And at this age, more water could only mean more pee trips. And that involves more walking. And that means... I am embarrassed spelling out even to myself.

 

I am crest fallen. I am unable to find a bespoke NYR - one that fits me as snugly as a kolhapuri chappal. I am now going through a very emotional despondency filled moments, that can rival the PMS-ing cycle.

 

But the Phoenix in me is determined to rise! On the other side of despondency lies the eureka moment. I am suddenly hit by mine. I am basking in the glory of ‘no-one-ever-thought-it-before’ moment.
Unique!
Totally!!
How about NYR to reduce my carbon foot print! Now I am all for ‘save the environment’ initiative. Green Peace has some very beautiful souls. But like an over pumped tyre going burst, the self-actualisation hits me even faster. Cutting carbon foot print is like starting to walk back towards the point from where we started evolving. It will mean cutting on electricity, and doing activities more of mechanical type, and harnessing the labour in me. That involves pain and suffering of physical or mental kind to SELF. I soon figure that I have got this one so totally wrong. Bubble of euphoria bursts.

 

In following moments, many many more noble deeds and acts are considered. Each one has the potential to transform me into some freshly minted shiny penny. But each are instantly discarded as not fit or desirable for achievement within the circumference of my existence.

 

I have now postponed NYR making. I have fallen back in Mayan comfort of apocalypse-near-us. Mayans were, after all, a primitive tribe, but who managed to schedule arrival of Apocalypse few centuries out. But still, considering the basic and rudimentary tools that they would have worked with, they could have been off the mark of this date by weeks or months or even years. I plan to definitely adopt few resolutions. But only once I am sure that we are gonna survive!

Cheers,
mg
net.mail.in@gmail.com
All views are personal. Intellectual property rights reserved.

Guns N Roses – The Maximum City Concert.

 

 

 

 

Music is in the air. The Heavy Rock variety. Guns N Roses variety, to be more specific. The God of Rock is gonna perform in Maximum City - LIVE. IN THE FLESH. For an entire generation, it is like a concert 15 years in the making.

 

I arrive at the concert locality, hunt for the venue, go through the motions of parking, ticket shicket and what not. Since there is a larger noble purpose that I am on today, I am not going to be bothered by these petty inconveniences. 

 

I join a mile long queue to the admission gates. That’s when I let my body breathe easy. And I start to look around. You suddenly feel you have arrived on a different planet. You are seeing a different civilisation here, and all united in its 'Rock' solid objective. Goatees, black vests, shaved heads, waxed legs, gelled hair, tattooed bodies, pierced body parts, pony tails, mascara-ed eyes, and what nots. It's a heady cocktail of personas, fashion, weird and whacky. This Rock music fraternity could be sighted as far away as from Jupiter. The collective twinkle of their eyes could light up the city tonight. The only connect to Earth seems A 'tea stall on cycle'-wala who is hawking chai n kapee to these urban sophisticates.

 

As the beautiful ochre glow on the horizon starts to retreat behind a curtain of dust, I enter the venue. Find my prime piece of half square feet. A few feet away from the stage. I feel like I am in my temple of Zen from where I will get glimpse of the God and hear Him chant.

 

Giant column of speakers are clearly telling you of what is about to be unleashed. Earthquaking sounds! Giant screen panel on the stage with fast moving images. Psychedelic laser beams of mesmerising hues dancing and twirling all around us to the collective rise and fall of musical strains. Light pods beaming rows of cool white lasers in sky unto eternity.

 

The warm up Opening Act is now on. The mind is drifting fast to Rock Land. I am on auto drive. Foot tapping, body swinging, head shaking in sync with bass guitar, drums, thick metal vocals. The fans continue to fill all around, and behind. Their collective energy seeking a release. In nirvana of rock.

 

The Opening Act lead vocalist just ended a brilliantly performed number. And then he announces he wants to do a dance number! Now this seems to be a looney thought, as swear words immediately fill the air. Some devotees of Rock are ready to get into fist fights with him. I mean we are on serious heavy rock business, mister, and you are talking about dance number. No sacrilege please, we are rock fans. I don’t remember what Opening Act did, it wrapped up quickly after that.

 

There is a certain calm now. Because thunder is expected next. Stage is being given last minute finishing touches by the firang crew. Equipments are being put through final testing that is equal in rigour of next rocket undergoing NASA pre-launch checks.

 

The crowd continues to swell, everyone is surrounded by a sea of rock fans. Some want to ensure that they go through the ritual - of inhaling whatever they want. Columns of aromatic trance inducing smoke here and there is gently riding up on mild winter breeze. Sweet dense heady aromatic fume hits my nostrils. The secondary fume is itself potent enough to uplift me miles high above the ground.

 

While I am seeking fulfilment, at that very moment, the lightning struck, and the earth shook. The symphony of music roared. The blast of music arrived like a deluge sweeping everyone in its wake. The thunder of drums, heavy strains of bass guitar and Axl Rose's signature vocals filled the arena. My Life suddenly seemed to have achieved a higher purpose. Here. Tonight.

 

For the next 3 hours you are hit by wave after wave of pulsating oncoming pure unadulterated rock music, that keeps rising to Anthem-ic proportions. The crowd is in deep trance - punching their hands in the air, the shake of their heads punctuated by each bang of the drum. Bodies swinging as if possessed. It's the fanatical tribal like celebration of Rock music. Powerful color beams and bundles of streaks, kaleidoscopic, pulsating and throbbing, enveloping everyone, booming in unison with the music.

 

The band keeps whipping up the frenzy. Every few moments, crowd is enticed to do sing alongs. The collective pitch of vocals could make Richter scale hit highs. Amidst this, Axl Rose finds time to pronounce dedicating the concert to Mumbai, India and Freddie Mercury. Exactly in that order. More approving and applauding roar from the crowd!

 

I am particularly impressed by Richard Fortus's act on Rhythm Guitar. It is just God-esque. He seems the Adonis who learned to guitar. Red trousers, lithe body, 6 pack abs with layers of taut belly skin, sleeveless open leathers, plenty of tattoos, long hairs flowing on the face. He could move, swing, shake, brood, stare, walk, jump, all while strumming his stringed rig. He keeps hitting the high. His body arced backwards. Guitar thrust out. The left holding the guitar, the right doing things with the strings. The kind of things that sends the crowd roaring. Suddenly his hand will rise in the shape of speeding arc, hitting the strings. And then it falls as swiftly, again hitting the strings.

 

Then there is the animal spirit of drummer. His objective clearly is to hurl exploding sound waves. Fast. Rhythmic. Wild.  The Bass guitarist is producing the noisiest melody, pounding on your ear drums. And Axl Rose’s vocals riding on top of all these. The collective sound is taking us Sky high.

 

Watching these guys perform you now are left with the feeling that playing Guitar or being a Rock Star is the ONLY higher calling in a mortal's life, leaving you seriously questioning your existence. Anything else is just a lowly form of life.

 

By the end, I am drenched in the magic, mystique and music of GNR. Sweet Child of Mine, November Rain, Knocking on Heaven’s Door, Paradise City, Don't Cry and the many many more that were belted out, they were sweet as smell of Roses, and as booming as victory Guns. Insanely fabulous, as someone said! And when the show concluded with the thick columns of paper confetti showered on us, we felt truly blessed.

 

PS: We missed Slash, ex-GNR, his signature hat, black glasses, curly hair. But I am told he is coming to India in February. Now that will be another episode to write about.

 

Cheers,
mg

 

net.mail.in@gmail.com

thoughtsrandomlyorganised.blogspot.in
All views are personal. Intellectual property rights reserved.

Crystal Gazing: Car-Tech!

 

 

I recall this famous spat between Bill Gates and General Motors in which Bill Gates reportedly compared the computer industry with the auto industry and said: "If GM had kept up with the technology like the computer industry has, we would all be driving $25.00 cars that got 1,000 miles to the gallon." On that comment, seems General Motors got back with "OK. But who would want a car that crashes twice a day”!

 

Now, before you want to head out to sue me for attributing those mudslinging statements to respected personalities, let me admit that it is an internet humour.

 

But it does seem that the reality is finally catching up with the humour. With regards to their shiny possessions called cars, the humanity is at the cusp of next evolution. They have driven to an inflection point, at the altar of which the driver... (biological name - homo sapien driverus) is going to have to be sacrificed. For the homo sapien driverus, the coming age will be what ice age was for dinosaurs. And With equal impact – ie their extinction.

 

The car makers have finally woken up to tango with the huge advances in the fields of technology and computing of last decades. And in the emerging scheme of things, it’s the driver that is going to get tossed out...of the car! In the mirror of the future, that reality seems nearer than it actually appears.

 

The machine in the car is raring to claim its liberty from human driving inanities. Google has already put driverless cars on streets of Nevada who have logged in hundreds of thousands of miles without any serious incident. And others are in the fray.

 

There are millions of homo sapien driverus out there waiting to rid themselves of banality that driving can be - painful and time wasting at that. Who wants to be constantly on edge because some blond believes that ‘triple parked’ is fine because there is something called ‘double parked’!  Or because someone’s car is being wobbly and headed straight for yours, because that guy behind the wheels is insanely drunk!

 

When future is that clear, I am wondering about the kind of changes that are about to arrive on the scene. Or shall I say on the road! As far as the physical persona of the car itself is concerned, I reckon it will mutate into a single block of cabin with neat and clean contours and design...more like a luxury room. And the engines will be housed somewhere underneath the Cabin totally unseen unfelt and unnoticed. The mechanical parts will be like a separate platform, but solidly fused with the cabin over it, both fused with massive technology, thus making them an integrated whole.

While today, the cabins are designed to allow for mechanical controls jutting inside the car’s body, that obviously will no longer be necessary. With those sticks and pedals and what not having retreated out, the entire cabin will truly be the passenger’s personal space. And this passenger is a person who is on a set of fast moving enclosure, but nothing to do. What to do next? Answer - keep him occupied.

 

So the next logical thing will be that this guy needs to be entertained, he needs a place to sleep, chat, read, and most importantly..connect.

The windscreen as is known now will morph into a piece de resistance, with embedded Augmented Reality (AR) layers, and will reclaim the dashboard instrumentations as well unto itself. The entertainment cum communication hub will be directly etched into the windscreen. The windscreen will mutate into different types of displays depending on context and requirement. It can show all car vitals (speed, fuel and other meters). You can watch movies and TV. Run a photo slide show. Use it as your computer’s screen. Maps will be embedded into it, with real time navigational abilities. Oh no no, you are never ever going to be lost again! Real time traffic updates. A high speed Internet connection will be available on tap.

Whatever you see through the windscreen can be extrapolated on the screen with AR layers. So moment the India Gate is in view, every detail about it will be populated on the screen. You just gotta speak, and it will obey your commands – start music, show the video, connect to your grocery store and buy provisions, book tickets to your favourite show. Totally voice enabled. And touch too.

 

The entertainment and communication technologies will be tightly integrated. Just imagine.. you can look up a friend on facebook, initiate a call to him right from facebook window, run slide show of his photos; if you notice a nice landscape on a photo, query to know where it is located; do a virtual visit to that place; obviously book your holiday for that place. And all these activities happening through one single window - the windscreen.

The Car’s technology will also have a solid overlay of weather information systems. As the sun will melt into the sky, the headlights, with appropriate level of luminescence will come up on its own. Come rain, hail or sleet, the wiper will activate – again all on its own, and at appropriate wipe speed. Weather warning advisories will flash up.. again on that windscreen. 

 

Seating is going to have to be re-designed. In a manner that it can re-shape in a sleeperette – I guess, planes of today are going to be inspiring on this front. And they – the seats - will be embedded with all sorts of massage presses, knocks and punches to relax your (tired?) body. Mood lighting, limousine kinda facilities, refrigerator, bar, what not.

 

Drunk driving will fade away in oblivion. Rather, drunk while being driven could become popular. I mean on a 1000 mile journey, it could be me, car, and the drink!

 

It will be a marriage worth watching out for – of the mechanical with the binary, while discarding our homo sapien driverus! But then, that march of technology will not be able to stop us from humming the vintage John Denver... Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong, west Virginia, mountain momma, take me home, country roads.

Cheers,

mg

net.mail.in@gmail.com

 

PS: All views are personal. Intellectual property rights reserved.

Juvenile Joys. I wanna be…… Everything at Once

 

‘I wanna be…. I wanna be… Everything at Once’! Now who doesn’t. That’s clearly the demand of the times. I am watching the advert crooning this – my mind declares it to be a slick show par excellence. Microsoft clearly laid out the right trap for me in that Windows 8 ad... snaring me in its sensory experience. The music, the visual, the lyrics… it is creating the right kind of pull in me, pushing the consumer and techie in me to ‘covert’.

It is the Metro Tiles styling in the upcoming Windows 8 that cast some kind of spell on my psyche. This was like an acorn planted in my heart and mind, and bursting to grow out. This was like that morning bus that I could just not miss. Even if un-showered. Because I am thoroughly Metro-ed.

Inspite of Dell’s clear advise – that bordered on defamation - that my laptop is not fit to be upgraded to Windows 8, I am still wanting to be a Man. Strike my own journey. Advise be damned!

The day arrived, Windows 8 arrived too. Right on time, at the appointed hour. I am at the site – the dot com one. The page proclaims ‘A Beautiful Start’ – I nod my head vigorously in agreement.

Click, click… like leaping across 4 steps in one go, I figured that the Rules of the game but ….. they are a changing. From the days of handing down you software via floppies, to CDs, DVDs…well, on the evolution curve, now it’s online. Behind the canary yellow page lies my passage to nirvana - in the intangible shape of a 2 gb download. Now will that deter me to get the newbie from Seattle? I am clearly a man possessed. I don’t doubt the courage in me to download this monster size file, even against the headwinds of download speeds that oozes bandwidth.

Material affections and afflictions can sometimes propel you with that same intensity like a nitrogen tank lit under the Shuttle Discovery. With a visionary foresight, days in advance I had cleared all my schedule for this day. Night included! It was SOS, Emergency and everything else declared at one go. Days of pain staking preparation (backing up data, prepping the comp, going thru installation guides on net and what not) finally culminated in the successful – though fairly longgg – download. Gold has been struck in the form of 2 gb worth of executable code. And it is waiting to be ‘Run’. I am all pumped up. Your favorite gig in town, and you already have the admission ticket for the front row!

Run, baby run. That’s what I could say and do. Click, click. I am seeing a variety of graphics in action on the screen – it’s like an advancing ticker tape, giving me a blow by blow account of Windows 8 progress of seeping deeper and deeper into my computer - in its CPU, motherboard and all the innards. Mind is simultaneously also roiling with all imagined disasters that can strike. But they turn out to be just that.. imagined.

Moment of joy has arrived. The final re-boot of the system – the last of many anxiety driven ones – and then a colorful page comes out. Heralding the new age. And I am on the right side of it. Imagine - Ferrari delivered, and now you are dying to floor the pedal. Hear its vrrrooom.

As the whizzing and dancing colorful tiles unfold - it’s like my Tech nirvana moment. Next several hours are spent in test driving. Click, tap, type, see, watch, feel immersed, derive joy, discover the nooks and crannies, at times feel overwhelmed. Remember, Microsoft has given a whole new role to the ‘Start’ button as well – a fresh start to Start. Learning that small piece of big change itself is enough to overwhelm any average joe. But when you are adrenalized, what not you can learn. Even in the dead of the night!

Now its few days later since then. The joy has ebbed… but it still keeps coming back in spurts as my Discovery continues. The apps, the interface, and all various other inane things dazzle my sub-slept eyes. I am drilling deeper and deeper into the app store, extracting all that I can. I am perseverance personified. Mind is completely Metro-ed by the whizzing tiles. My daily fix of energy shot came this time has come in a glass filled with Metro.

I am clearly enjoying this journey to be ‘Everything at Once’! Btw, are you adrenalized enough to be Everything at Once?

PS: Any leap of technology-faith you take under the dazzle of my thoughts is at your sole risk of cost and consequences.  I do not warrant you will get the same experience or any experience at all. It is obviously a function of how evolved you are!


Cheers,

mg

net.mail.in@gmail.com

 

PS: All views are personal. Intellectual property rights reserved.

Skyfall. The Movie Review

Skyfall…- cranked out by now 50 year old – Bond franchise… Seems it is desperately trying to re-invent itself, trying to stay relevant, trying to remain successful.

To me this is like the best Daniel James Bond Craig show, and one of the top 007 acts. Right from the word Go. Opening sequence in Istanbul is great to watch.

The moment of pride, in a puerile sense, is when we see Bond driving Indian cars…. I mean Jaguars and Land Rovers…. don’t they belong to Indian owners…!

The climax is biggest un-Bond-esque. No high tech wars, no adrenalising chases. But pure grit. It almost seemed climax fight in 'Ramgadh' of a 'Thakur' surrounded by 'gundés'.

In a social sense also, Bond is re-inventing. The villain has gone gay, hitting at Bond. Great act put by Javier Bardem.

Adele's title song, and the title show. Thumbs up.

However, the producers do seem to run out of yarn to spin… the story keeps developing sideways, backways etc. The movie goes a bit slower (not boring, but, at all). Bond girls are much subdued and seems scarce. There is hardly any vodka martini – shaken or not.

Lastly, looking at Shanghai… there is again this feeling, bad at that, how we as a country is just getting left behind. At one time we used to see lots of America and all that West and used to dream. Now we see lot of China, and dreaming continues. For all that fabulous infrastructure…..



Cheers,

mg

net.mail.in@gmail.com

 

PS: All views are personal. Intellectual property rights reserved.

The Body. The Mind.

 

 

 

 

Early Morning!

 

It is difficult to point out that exact moment when a distant fuzzy bother starts prodding the Mind, like wanting to prise it open. Like the calm surface of water suddenly un-stilled by a driven wind dancing on its surface. The layers of unconsciousness starts melting rapidly, even as Mind starts to don consciousness.

 

And now it needs the tangible Body. It starts to transmit the contagion of action, bother and stress into the already tired, bothered and stressed Body. The Body struggles, yearning more of sleep, lusting for some more rest. But the Mind won’t stop. It continues to breach the receding sleep. Cutting off the Body’s entire sense of peace and relaxation.

 

The Body knows this struggle panning out at each dawn. The Body utterly wanting to wrest the sleep, and the Mind knowing that it needs, by hook or crook, the crutch of the Body.

 

The Body knows it has to submit unto the supremacy of the Mind, even when it desperately wishes delaying that moment. It almost cries out, and demands stillness and peace, till it has completely bathed in restful freshness, and banished the last of the strands of tiring-ness. The Mind but continues its relentless tapping into its every neuron and synapse, and in turn commanding and summoning the Body parts into action.

 

Under the constant prick of Mind, the Body pulls out of the bed in act of final surrender. Though it knows it is withering under the constant pressure of round the clock, unceasing, high pace activity demanded of it – at social, moral, physical levels.

 

It is dreading the approaching day, that will throw it into the chaos – its ride into the day’s’ enterprise, loatheful, despised enterprise of routine and non-routine, of more rote and bit of novelty.

 

The Body knows it just does not want to take more of this frenzy of daily chaos and another long long day, by whose end will leave it utterly spent, its vitality further ravaged. But the Mind won’t stop. It continues to unleash the illusion at the Body of unrelenting hope, and infinite energy, thus enticing it into constant action.

 

The helpless Body, tricked by its ‘own’, for now feels the illusionary gush of energy. It's mesmerised hearing ‘its a brand new day’, ‘rise and shine’, and some such delusionary but constantly repeated messages.

 

Guess the morning is finally here. The surrender of a tired Body, rudely awoken, is complete to the pillage by the Mind in the mesmerising name of possible accomplishment achievement and ambition.

 

Through the day, the Body slaves to each will, desire and instruction of the Mind.

 

And now when the day has ended, the Body is tired. Very tired. More tired than it ever was. It ever could be. But the Mind continues to be zestful. And filled with raw energy. It was a successful another day, exploiting the Body, accomplishing some more.

 

The Body knows, this struggle will continue. Each day! It has to surrender to the will of the Mind. Each day! But it also knows, that the Win will be eventually its. In its final shutdown! And then the Mind will not be able to shake it into any further action. That will be the final submission. Of the Mind. Unto the Body.

 

Till then, the Body dreams. To just survive. The living.



Cheers,

mg

net.mail.in@gmail.com

 

PS: All views are personal. Intellectual property rights reserved.

 

 

Happie Diwalie

Happie Diwalie! - Those 2 words uttered or heard a zillion times by us.

Beginning a few weeks before Diwali, the contagion of Happie Diwalie just hangs there in the air – along with the thick wintry smog. Ready to descend, and infect. It starts its climb down pretty innocuously. The early wave of Happie Diwalie-s are a music to the ear. They ring a magical mystique, like the enveloping winter around us. You start looking forward to the happiness of times, gifts (incoming, ofcourse), holidays and break from office (and boss!). Magical mood. Glitzy lighting. Inviting malls. Relaxing moments.

But what goes up comes down. The magic starts wearing off faster than next rocket to the Moon. And then it starts getting heavy, it starts getting tiring. And at times…it starts also getting awkward. Some phone calls are exclusively dedicated to Happie Diwalie you. After 20 seconds spent in enthusiastic happie-Diwalie-ing, discussion suddenly becomes awkward, not knowing where to meander. How to now navigate the conversation or worse, how to end it?!

I end up so Happie-Diwalie-ed, that my mind is going ‘Happie Diwalie’ deaf. Happie Diwalie is raining from all directions. This is much much more of happiness than I can handle in my life time.
 

And in the midst of all this, the Happie Diwalie contagion of a different type starts spreading, pretty rapidly at that – everyone and anyone seeing you hits you with that. So much so that soon you feel abused exploited or fleeced, sometimes all 3, all in the name of Happie Diwalie. Naturally my body now squirms at any sound waves that even remotely sound Happie Diwalie.

The contagion leads to Happie Diwalie starting to morph into a monetary currency, stronger than any other currency of the world. Now this Happie Diwali Monetary Union – HDMU – starts happening just before Diwali, and continues till 2-3 days post Diwali. Lets see some of the examples in action.
 

My building watchman is generally in a slumped, unattentive, i care not shape most of the time. But you see that the Diwali contagion is infecting him. This drowsy guy is suddenly all attentive, crisply attired. I am walking out of the building Gate, when he – out of nowhere – thrusts a military grade salute in my direction, with a large beaming smile. Happie Diwalie sir. Having now been Happie Diwalie-ed, I am supposed to read the subtext and dole out monetary welfare.

Then there is this whole army of your solid support ecosystem – cook, dhobi, driver, bai. In this wonderful eco-system, one unit of Happie Diwalie is equivalent to a certain salary (read: bonus). So you gotta be ready to be Happie Diwalie-d by each one of them, and in turn, must dish out its monetary equivalent.

Happie Diwalie bombs could unexpectedly land at you from unsuspecting quarters – from this denizens of ‘I-don’t-know-you-but-still-Happy-Diwali-to-you’ part. My misfortune, that I had to visit a friend in the nearby building. I crossed the path of the building security guy. I guess my body odour put his olfactories on fire. He immediately sensed Happie Diwalie contagion in the air. Happie Diwalie, sir, landed the bomb on me. And then his eyes clearly challenged me – ‘Happie Diwalie bola na. Ab toh nikalo’!. The undertone of expectation was louder than the Happie Diwalie itself.

The significance of Happie Diwalie-ing with certain set of people lies in just verbally belching it out as a tool of extortion. Emotions be damned! I mean, money has no emotions –right? Or color for that matter! My car wash guy lands up at my door this morning. He is generally a quiet poker faced character. In most unenthusiastic tone, he demands my car keys. Today was no different in that sense. The moment I opened the door, there he was, promptly Happie Diwalie-ing me. In his usual dry, wry and humourless tone. It was demanding, bordering on extortion. Yes boss, I understand. Happie Diwalie = your bonus. Amen!

I hear India’s economy has pre-dominantly become a Service economy. Believe me, Happie Diwalie has a sizzling future in this. Any service laced with Happie Diwalie is tinged with slightly better quality. Keeping the bagful of provisions in my car (vs dumped all the time), it was impossible to not be hit by Happie Diwalie contagion of the shop helper. I could arrest that contagion from infecting further only after a mini bakhsheesh.

I am convinced Happie Diwalie can add lot of zing to our financial and other systems. I expect following to emerge shortly:

• Service tax on each unit of Happie Diwalie. And so, why should Income Tax be left behind? However, if you can prove that you received less than 20 units of Happie Diwalie, you are entitled to tax relief (I mean you seem to ‘’Below Happie Diwalie Line’).
• New horns for vehicles are under testing for introduction next year, to be obtained via a live USB update. Once enabled, when you honk, it actually will say Happie Diwalie, followed by a simulated cracker burst. This is expected to directly help in reducing road rage incidents, by Happie Diwalie-ing everyone.
• Govt is working on a GHDP (Gross Happie Diwalie Product) metric, on the lines of GDP. GHDP is expected to more closely tell the health of economy, and is likely to become the pre-dominant indicator of economy’s health. Stock exchanges are likely to introduce derivatives and other products linked to GHDP.
• To celebrate the fact that Indians are one of the largest Facebook fan, Facebook is planning to introduce ‘Appy-Dwali’ buttons. No need to type. Happie Diwalie anyone by just a click. Anyone getting Happie Diwalie-ed 10,000 times or more, gets a dinner with Mrs and Mr Zuckerberg, and ‘Angry Happie Diwalie Birds’ pack free.
• Bhai calling to wish you Happie Diwalie!

Possibilities are immense.

By the way, did I tell you? Happie Diwalie!

Cheers,

Manish

net.mail.in@gmail.com

 

PS: All views are personal. Intellectual property rights reserved.

 

Silence. Action.

It’s a different day today! So different! I feel that in my pulse, and I feel that in the absence of the activity around me. As far as I see, there is a blue expanse of sky but that appears dull. The air around me seems still. I see few souls, scattered, few and far between. Some probably venturing out only because the task they have set out to do cannot be postponed. 

The stillness and ceasing can sometime signify liberation. But is this a feeling of liberation for me? My usual life is characterised by the constant hum of activity all around me. My psyche is deeply etched with seeing the constancy of action and motion, pivoted on me and around me. During all the sun lit hours, and most of the hours dark. Day after day, each day.

Today I am suddenly emptied of all the movement and sound, which defines my ambient silhouette. The void has descended on me all around. The high pitch action that goes around me un-stoppably has suddenly vanished. I have been stripped of the chaos, my arteries and veins emptied of the vitality. The inactivity around is deafening.

I am not used to seeing the fires of the industry in me ever put out or its intensity ever lowered, not for the highest and not for the mightiest, not for time and not for tide.

But today is a different day. I am shrouded in the silence of the mourning of my beloved for whom I was beloved. Let me mourn, and let me reminisce. I am not in hurry to go back to the routine. I wish to be still. Go through this catharsis. Heal my bruised spirit. But I know this is the transient me. For tomorrow, I have to stand back on my feet again. And I will. I can stop for a while, but I cannot sleep. For I have to carry the hopes, dreams and enterprise of my citizenry. Of the Alive and the Living. The motor of business will be re-kindled soon. For that is my nature. For that is just me – Mumbai.

 

 

[This article was written when Mumbai went silent, following death of Mr Balasaheb Thakeray.]

mg

net.mail.in@gmail.com

PS: All views are personal. Intellectual property rights reserved.

Les Elections US-Aroma of Rom-Ama

What is it about the US that makes us maha-curious and gets us all (or rather lots us of all) 'sit up back straight and take notice of it all'?

I had been 'closely' following the US elections. Nah, not at a psephological or diplomatic scale, but more as a curious guy. I was just trying to soak in everything that the election machinery was churning out, with a certain attachment to Obama. I followed the President - in a manner of speaking.

I watched his 1st Presidential debate (post facto) to understand why he turned out to be the loser that he was called, and thus also falling short on my very high expectations from him. And I watched the 3rd Presidential debate (almost live) when he made Romney look utterly out of leagues - a Romney who was thoroughly lectured on depleted quantities of 'bayonets and horses' in US defence apparatus.  And by the way, my resolve to watch the 2nd debate is still strong, but I guess not relevant anymore.

But let me be honest. Mumbai's commute times can force people to adopt such totally whacky and at times alien hobbies and interests  (imagine mentioning that in an interview -  hmm, Sir, i watch presidential debates in my free time).

My rising mania mimicked the rising swing of needle registering an evolving earthquake. I had to follow this election arm in arm with Rom-Ama. I was clued in as to when the election din would die, when would the ballot casting end, and when were the results likely to start puttering out. The election drama was like I am hooked onto the substance. I continued to inhale this drag, and it continued to rocket me high.

On my hour plus morning commute today, since I knew that results are likely to be headlined soon, unless Rom-Ama's fate would get tangled in the deathly painful 'too close to call' crap, I wanted to witness live the historical moment. Out came the iPad, gunning down on fibre optic paths at Mbps speed, and the screen lit up with live CNN IBN. I was totally adrenalized, watching the speedy 2 way slicing of 509 seats between Rom-Ama. The result was evolving at dramatic speed, and kept jumping sides to give it a nail biting finish. And suddenly, like a crescendo, it leaped beyond that winning 270 mark for Mr Obama. I guess, it came as swiftly as Sandy. Or may be Sandy brought that swiftly for Obama.

I can let you in on the secret that I am an Obama fan. And his renewed tenancy of White House for another 4 years brought a sense of personal joy, which was insane, inexplicable and irrational.  I mean, from his perspective, here I am. An ordinary mortal from a distant alien land, and yet feeling such juvenile joy. I guess, Dil Toh Bachha Hai Ji.

Madness continued on return commute. If it was his declaration of victory in the morning, in the evening, it was President's acceptance speech and the sight and sound drama that accompanies it. If it was Rajdeep Sardesai in the morning, it was Prannoy Roy in the evening.  The Family on a show, celebratory confetti descending like stars, adrenalised crowd, euphoric mood, and this alternately stirring and trance inducing oratory - I am like totally glued. Today is not the day to whine for and curse Mumbai roads.

My inexplicable sense of closely following Rom-Ama tour-de-election is vindicated when I flick on News channels. It's US and Rom-Ama and their election and their win and their loss all the way. Each channel had tried to out tie other by allying with leading US networks. There is even an insane claim of dashing to 'i declared the result 1st' finish line. On the shows are some serious heavy weights discussing seriously the weighty dimensions of India US relationship and the consequences and fall out of election and Obama's return - at micron level detailing. I lapped up most of it, though in the process edging out 'bade ache lagte hai' and earning wife glares.

I guess tomorrow will give me enough fodder to keep my this whacky passion going, and my Mbps blazing.

Cheers,

mg

net.mail.in@gmail.com

 

PS: All views are personal. Intellectual property rights reserved.