Sunday, 17 February 2008

Star studded stamp paper?

The great leaders who now sit up in the galaxy as stars and planets as children say, are not the stars I refer to. Mahatma Gandhi and Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, true legends who currently have themselves on stamp paper, now seem to have competition with faces that should hide with humiliation at the thought of being placed in the same league as them.

The postal department is proposing to bring out ‘stars’ on stamps. Shahrukh Khan, Sachin Tendulkar and Sania Mirza are the desired few.

First it’s Mahatma Gandhi and his contemporaries, and before we know it, we skip a couple of decades worth of people, and decide to print these young achievers who look like toy cars in front of the former legends who appear as SUVs, placing them side by side.

Sorry, did I miss something, or are we forgetting to consider a few individuals who live/lived in the shadows of an India that shines so bright now? A few to name would be Amartya Sen, Baba Amte and MS Swaminathan.

Youth icons, famous and fan-followed, but are they worthy enough to be printed on paper that will be traveling world over representing our country?

Standing proud at Madame T’s having bagged a couple of awards such as the Padmavibhushan and Padmashree, still appears as a trail of minute ants to reaching the high set standard of being printed on stamp paper.

This whole process being aimed at philately doesn’t say much about our thinking. “Philately is being pushed on the young to promote awareness and national culture” says TOI.

Sania Mirza sitting on a stamp provides us with a great deal of culture? I’ve turned the imaginary stamp in all angles, and I still don’t see it.

Addicted to our taste of pungent curries, we Indians tend to add spice to everything that flies past us, now that list includes our post.

What next? Currency with the face of Aishwarya Rai Bachchan? To promote employment?

Friday, 15 February 2008

Love at levels

14th Feb, Marine Drive, Bombay

A posh villa set off the beach, where the cool breeze enters the bedroom waking her up with drops of sunshine on her face.

9 am (IST): She wakes up and gets into a warm, bubbled tub. *The phone rings*. She picks up the bath receiver.

Husband: Good morning my Honey bun, sugar plum, Happy Valentines Day! How beautiful is my love looking today? I love you baby from the bottom of my heart. I can’t wait to see you.

Wife: I love you too baby, wish you the same. *Hangs up*

Slips on a pair of suede Gucci pants and leaves the room smelling like Versace, flipping on her new diamante glares from Dior.

Walks down a wide spread staircase and sees: The living room decorated with white and red roses. Smiles as the butler leads her to the fine black Audi RS 6 parked the in porch outside.

A chauffer dressed in white, with golden buttons down his chest, drives her to the airport, while she stops on the way picking up a greeting card.

She boards the flight, and flashes her credit card to buy her husband an expensive tie from the on flight shopping card.

14th Feb, Champs Elyesse, Paris

2 pm (CET): Hugs and kisses her husband.

Husband: So glad you made it. I was so held up with work, I put a 100 Crore deal on waiting for you Love.

Wife: *Smiles superfluously*

He hands her a diamond studded brooch over the expensive lunch they have and she gives him the tie and card.

They fly to Tokyo and are right in time for dinner at a posh Sushi bar.
*Goodnight kisses* and Sweet goodbyes.


14th Feb, Bagepalli, Karnataka.

4 am: The flame burns bright as meek fumes of carbon monoxide fill the room, the lean cow is being milked and hot tea is being boiled, tantalizing the room with soothing fresh fragrance. She simultaneously packs dried jowar rotis for her husband as Tiffin.

Husband: Good morning, another tiring day approaches, hope all your love is being put into those rotis you’re rolling.

Wife: Yes my Love, come home early.

Husband smiles, gulps the tea and leaves.

The day goes by, the wife walks two villages to draw water as there is a drought in the village of Bagepalli. She faints on the way back; a few villagers help her get back home. The word is spread and reaches her husband in the fields.

As the sun goes down, the husband rushes home as the sick wife disappointingly awaits her husband with no water in her pots.

Husband: *leaning by the rugged mattress his wife lies on* I heard you fainted today, are you okay now?

Wife: Yes, I went to draw water, because I know you always come home thirsty.

Husband: I don’t need the water, when you speak such sweet words and make loving efforts to comfort me. That’s enough to quench my thirst.

Wife: *Smiles genuinely*

Husband: I got you this rose. 10,000 roses were exported this morning to the city. Something big is happening all I heard was; “A day to give roses” Thought you would like this.

Wife: Thank you. *Puts the rose in her hair as he compliments her.*

They feed each other a salty soup of vegetable peels with dried bread and contently get a good night sleep.


Love is the most beautiful thing that can happen to someone. It can be glamorized and expensive or it could just be an exchange of a few salty sips of soup between two lovers. Special words and actions do it all. It’s just how one makes it special for another, and how the other appreciates the special-ness.

Happy belated Valentines day!

Saturday, 9 February 2008

Brain Dump.

You've met me, its time you meet my alter ego. He’s Dave. He begged me to put up some of his thoughts. It might just not get across to you too well. Its just this thing we have going on.

Over to you Dave.

Mood: Fractured

Still. The land is still. Not a soul stirs. All is stoic. Lifeless is the trend. The dancing silence in the air plays a constant drill, jarring in my ears with the quiet insignificance.

My mind ponders along the coast of my sea-bedded thoughts, where motives play fierce waves that resemble those of running horses. The gush and force hit the softness in the sand leaving a trail of wet clumps and dry moulds.

Into the den, the hearth of my mind space sits a beaute of a silhouette in a vintage posture feeling the kindling fire fill the chamber of introspection.


The sullen media of breath was intervened by the constant distraction of a mental bulb.

blink on. blink off. blink on. blink off.

An idea so bright, incandescent, yet so inconsistent. The inconsistent consistency of my musings caused a strange reincarnation of a very significant insignificance.

blink on. blink off. blink on. blink off.

Wednesday, 6 February 2008

Daily delayed deadlines and other depressors

Bangalore: The city seems to be on full transformation. Cutting down of trees, to sprouting bridges, all happening simultaneously is a curse to busy Bangalore residers.

Although broken promises hurt the most, no north Bangalorean is unaware of it. The sights and sounds on the busiest road this side of town are more than an inconvenience to daily travelers.

The BBMP initiated a project at the Cauvery Theatre junction of a new-to-town structure called the ‘magic box underpass’ it is a device that has been applied previously in Malaysia. It’s cost effective and uses pre-casted blocks. Most importantly, the construction is not too time taking.

This 65m underpass was proposed with a head turning completion period of 72 hours. The anticipated date flew by in no time and now it’s almost gone into a month, still being incomplete. Everyday the date is extended. If not 72 hours, it would be nice to see it completed by 72 days at least.

The other day, I decided to go pay a visit to the Bob’s of Bangalore. Apart from the ongoing details of work at the construction site, a few other sights moved me to writing this post.

What I saw:

The Construction workers

Dressed in cheap shirts and trousers, and a few bare feet didn’t say much about how developed we are as a country. Working with and under heavy and dangerous machinery such as cranes not a single man at work out there had a construction hat on. What ever happened to the whole scene of yellow bobbing heads at work? This could be highly detrimental for these unequipped workers.

If the underpass is to be built within a tight interlude 72 hours, we can’t have only seven men accomplishing it. The sight was crowded. Not with construction workers but with policemen and city gazers.

Mobile phones: I really didn’t think I would ever see this happening. Out of the above mentioned 7 workers, 3 would be conversing on a mobile phone. Dhiru Bhai Ambani surely did a great job of providing literally everyone with a mobile phone, but everything has a catch to it remember?

The sprit of the onlookers

I happened to over hear a conversation between a cop and a passer-by and my heart raced with poignant patriotism but I decided to keep quiet and now I regret it.

Middle class worker: 72 hour long joke sir, don’t you think?

Cop: *laughs* I would be surprised if our Indians can plan it out in the span on 72 hours, let alone building it.

Middle Class worker: We’re truly unfit and lack skills, no one works properly, its pointless watching Indian blood at work, let’s just pray that after it’s done it doesn’t collapse over our bones.

Ouch. Then why claim, ‘East or west India is the best?’

Tuesday, 5 February 2008

A tough blue choice

2008 has something really exciting for the US of A. The presidential elections, an event that no other can supersede.

The Blues are in a fix and the Reds seem to lag behind.

The democrats have a choice of their all time favourite prejudices- Barack Obama, an African American and Hilary Clinton- A nightmare of a male chauvinist. Really left feeling ‘blue’ are we?

On the other side the Republican boys, John McCain, Mitt Romney and Mike Huckabee seem to have created a lower league for themselves almost as if they’re allergic to newspapers already. Buck up boys.

Who will the Americans choose? A woman? Or a black? It’s a tough race, a hard competition. As for the current status on the polls, Hilary has her loyal support of white males, women and union members. As for Obama, he has managed to cut across race and gender and appeal young voters.

Obama, my personal favourite seems to have an upper hand over here. He’s young, influential and not really ‘black’. Sounds like rubbish to you? Well, it’s like this- His father is African and not black American and this disparity apparently makes the white Americans deal with them differently. However, in the end it’s all about what you see- Colour.

‘Obama, the first black president of the United States’ – A headline quite likely to be seen by this coming November.

With his concept of the ‘boomer’ generation (who sapped USA into wars at one time), he sculpts Hilary to be just ‘so yesterday’.

In this race v/s gender contest, is it going to be the ‘First’ lady returns or a ‘black’ to the ‘White’ House? Let’s wait and watch, until then, all hail irony!