The last time I checked the stats, it said that Delhi alone boasts of more cars than Mumbai,Calcutta, Chennai combined. If that's the case then how come there are no AutoRickshaws available in the national capital when you need them.
9:30am - I step out of my home without my trusted Kiney. For some reason I had to take an auto today on my way to a friends place.
9:35am - It starts to rain as soon as I am about to reach the Auto stand.
Standing on the road without any tool for shelter, standing next to some wiser-than-me people who were armed with umbrellas, raincoats, newspapers etc I started the hopeful process of sticking my hand out to signal the auto wallas of my interest to take a ride.
9:36am - A dozen autos pass by me and the wiser-than-me gang, with the passengers giving us sorry looks which were at the same time mocking.
9:37am - After being ignored to the hilt I decided to start walking towards a signal hoping for luck to change.
9:40am - I reach the signal. But sadly passenger-less autos did not. Rain picked up speed.
9:41-55am - I am still standing with the wiser-than-me gang, who by that time had also reached the signal.Lazy bums.
9:56 am - I spot an auto coming towards me at a slow pace, which generally means it is empty. I stretch my neck that extra inch and narrow my eyelids for a closer and cleaner view.THE AUTO IS EMPTY! Oh sweet lord! What could go wrong now??!!
9:56:40 am - Things change. Never count you autos before they stop...NEAR YOU.
9:57am - The auto stops. Yes it does. But 20 metres away from me, near one of the wiser-than-me lazy creature who took ages to come here.
9:58 am - My temperature rose as the rain poured down.
9:59 am - Then something miraculous happened. I spotted another empty auto in a space of 3 mins. This time leaving nothing to fate I ran towards it. I am sure the wiser-than-me gang also saw me running. Who is wiser now, eh!!! Lazy bums.
10:00 am - I tell my friend I am going to be a bit late...
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Our borders are unsafe - concluding part
The torture starts....
All lowly people were asked to fill up the amphitheatre and all foreigners were dragged away from the maddening crowd to the safety and comfort of the space offered by the BSF jawans. Packed like sardines it was a sight to witness, but, only from a distance. People falling over each other, pushing the person in front, at the back,on the left, on the right and shouting unpleasant words at evey person who returned the favour. All this while the strong BSf 'jawans' were looking after the foreigners, the set of people whose forefathers were the sole reason why Wagha was a border and why 100 meters from my seat was a different country.
Why were the hordes of people not stopped from entering when the arena was already overflowing with people, ill words, sweat and discomfort still escapes me. HAving finally kicked and shoved a dozen people we sat down thinking what else could happen. What else? Fate had a big plan to ruin our day.
A man from the BSF camp holding a microphone came out from a BSF office like structure and greeted everyone.He did not get the response he desired for obvious reasons, so the guy had to repeat his pleasantries 3 more times asking the exhausted crowd to shout 'jai hind'. I wish i could shout or piss in his ears the fact that ' We don't have a mic in our hands and we haven't placed our asses in comfy chairs for over 2 hours'.
Moving on from the shouting display of tired patriotism, our friend with the mic then came out with two big tricolours which was greeted with, yes, loud cheers! The two flags were then passed on to random people who were asked to run with the flags towards the main gate. Why it was done, I have no clue. Young boys, young girls, old women, old men, school kids, two marathi aunties etc all got a chance to run a lap towards Pakistan with Indian national flag. The BSF jawans were still looking while thousands continued to push, shove, kick, punch.
That was not all.There were large speakers playing patriotic songs from yester years. But I guess the BSF jawans who were looking probably had enough of those numbers. So on came songs by Jazzy B, Sukhbir and some other random cheap flicks.Just perfect for the occasion.
To add to the omnipresent commotion the BSF 'jawans' who were still looking, started selling juices and chips.This had a snowball effect on the hunger stricken and thirsty public. People climbed more on other bodies not hungry for chips. More kicks flew, more anonymous punches were thrown, and the people who were supposed to be stopping all this were the instigators.
For the first time and hopefully the last time I wanted to be on the other side of the border. Where there were just a handfull of wise people who had come to watch the famous ceremony. No crowd problem, no ill mannered talk, nothing at all that would upset you on a joyous and happy day.
Banging our concerns on the BSF 'jawans' was as futile as asking Himesh to use his throat to sing/ shout or whatever. So after the 40th time when the BSF 'jawans' overlooked our pleas to ask people to sit down let alone behave, we decided to embark on another journey - that would lead us out of the arena.
My only concern is that a big post of BSF could not manage a simple show that they are running for so many years. People who had good intentions, people who were unarmed, people who came to have a good time can't be so damn difficult to control. The inefficiency and the lack of management or effort was clearly, brutally exposed that day. And like the typical Indian that I am, I promised myself to make all sorts of phone calls, emails or whatever it takes and come again to this place armed with a VIP pass.
AAAHHHH.....big load off my chest. RANT OVER
All lowly people were asked to fill up the amphitheatre and all foreigners were dragged away from the maddening crowd to the safety and comfort of the space offered by the BSF jawans. Packed like sardines it was a sight to witness, but, only from a distance. People falling over each other, pushing the person in front, at the back,on the left, on the right and shouting unpleasant words at evey person who returned the favour. All this while the strong BSf 'jawans' were looking after the foreigners, the set of people whose forefathers were the sole reason why Wagha was a border and why 100 meters from my seat was a different country.
Why were the hordes of people not stopped from entering when the arena was already overflowing with people, ill words, sweat and discomfort still escapes me. HAving finally kicked and shoved a dozen people we sat down thinking what else could happen. What else? Fate had a big plan to ruin our day.
A man from the BSF camp holding a microphone came out from a BSF office like structure and greeted everyone.He did not get the response he desired for obvious reasons, so the guy had to repeat his pleasantries 3 more times asking the exhausted crowd to shout 'jai hind'. I wish i could shout or piss in his ears the fact that ' We don't have a mic in our hands and we haven't placed our asses in comfy chairs for over 2 hours'.
Moving on from the shouting display of tired patriotism, our friend with the mic then came out with two big tricolours which was greeted with, yes, loud cheers! The two flags were then passed on to random people who were asked to run with the flags towards the main gate. Why it was done, I have no clue. Young boys, young girls, old women, old men, school kids, two marathi aunties etc all got a chance to run a lap towards Pakistan with Indian national flag. The BSF jawans were still looking while thousands continued to push, shove, kick, punch.
That was not all.There were large speakers playing patriotic songs from yester years. But I guess the BSF jawans who were looking probably had enough of those numbers. So on came songs by Jazzy B, Sukhbir and some other random cheap flicks.Just perfect for the occasion.
To add to the omnipresent commotion the BSF 'jawans' who were still looking, started selling juices and chips.This had a snowball effect on the hunger stricken and thirsty public. People climbed more on other bodies not hungry for chips. More kicks flew, more anonymous punches were thrown, and the people who were supposed to be stopping all this were the instigators.
For the first time and hopefully the last time I wanted to be on the other side of the border. Where there were just a handfull of wise people who had come to watch the famous ceremony. No crowd problem, no ill mannered talk, nothing at all that would upset you on a joyous and happy day.
Banging our concerns on the BSF 'jawans' was as futile as asking Himesh to use his throat to sing/ shout or whatever. So after the 40th time when the BSF 'jawans' overlooked our pleas to ask people to sit down let alone behave, we decided to embark on another journey - that would lead us out of the arena.
My only concern is that a big post of BSF could not manage a simple show that they are running for so many years. People who had good intentions, people who were unarmed, people who came to have a good time can't be so damn difficult to control. The inefficiency and the lack of management or effort was clearly, brutally exposed that day. And like the typical Indian that I am, I promised myself to make all sorts of phone calls, emails or whatever it takes and come again to this place armed with a VIP pass.
AAAHHHH.....big load off my chest. RANT OVER
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Our borders are not safe
Run people, pack your bags, apply for immigration visas to Bangladesh, Myanmar or any nearby place where you can quickly escape, because our borders are not safe anymore.
Flashback: 2 weeks ago I went for a short trip to Amritsar. And like all the 20,06,345 tourists that flock the city every weekend, I decided to stop at Wagha border. I can't describe in words my level of excitement at being at a place that has witnessed so much during the course of history. Partition, wars, brotherhood, you name it and that tiny spec of land has got it all. We reached the border around 3 in the afternoon only to realise the gates would open at 4:30. With truckloads of time to kill we decided to murder it the Indian way, by having cold drinks, tea and challi( we call it Bhutta or corn).
Being at a place of such importance comes with a price. In our case it was the exorbitantly over priced bhutta. Not willing to pay 20 bucks for a bonsai looking piece of corn I decided to use the cunning emotional Indian inside me. 5 mins of blabbing to the man selling corn how it is my privilege to buy corn from the last corn seller of India. He finally did with my persuasion what I did with his corn, he bought it.
Oh and by the way you will have to bear with the whole story to reach the part where I reveal how our borders are not safe.
The next thing to battle before you enter the gates are street vendors selling VCD/DVD of the famous hoisting of the flag ceremony at Wagha border. The poor guys are blessed with just a 10 second memory. What else explains the fact that the same vendor you refused 3 mins ago comes again and again and again to sell you a CD. His lame attempts to hard sell us his product reminded me of my own job where people try to sell their ideas. So, relatively the CD guy was sweeter than most hard skinned people in advertising.
So finally the clock struck 4:30 and the gates were opened to all innocent people and foreigners who after a few hours would think of themselves as slaughter lambs. Everybody was rushing in towards the amphitheatre carrying their wailing kids, water bottles, food packets, bags and litres of sweat mixed with excitement.
After I was frisked thoroughly by BSF personnel at three different levels, I was really impressed by their efficiency. How painfully and frustratingly I would have to eat my thoughts and crush my instant admiration for them later.
Torture begins......to be continued
Flashback: 2 weeks ago I went for a short trip to Amritsar. And like all the 20,06,345 tourists that flock the city every weekend, I decided to stop at Wagha border. I can't describe in words my level of excitement at being at a place that has witnessed so much during the course of history. Partition, wars, brotherhood, you name it and that tiny spec of land has got it all. We reached the border around 3 in the afternoon only to realise the gates would open at 4:30. With truckloads of time to kill we decided to murder it the Indian way, by having cold drinks, tea and challi( we call it Bhutta or corn).
Being at a place of such importance comes with a price. In our case it was the exorbitantly over priced bhutta. Not willing to pay 20 bucks for a bonsai looking piece of corn I decided to use the cunning emotional Indian inside me. 5 mins of blabbing to the man selling corn how it is my privilege to buy corn from the last corn seller of India. He finally did with my persuasion what I did with his corn, he bought it.
Oh and by the way you will have to bear with the whole story to reach the part where I reveal how our borders are not safe.
The next thing to battle before you enter the gates are street vendors selling VCD/DVD of the famous hoisting of the flag ceremony at Wagha border. The poor guys are blessed with just a 10 second memory. What else explains the fact that the same vendor you refused 3 mins ago comes again and again and again to sell you a CD. His lame attempts to hard sell us his product reminded me of my own job where people try to sell their ideas. So, relatively the CD guy was sweeter than most hard skinned people in advertising.
So finally the clock struck 4:30 and the gates were opened to all innocent people and foreigners who after a few hours would think of themselves as slaughter lambs. Everybody was rushing in towards the amphitheatre carrying their wailing kids, water bottles, food packets, bags and litres of sweat mixed with excitement.
After I was frisked thoroughly by BSF personnel at three different levels, I was really impressed by their efficiency. How painfully and frustratingly I would have to eat my thoughts and crush my instant admiration for them later.
Torture begins......to be continued
NO - Me better
Finally the day has arrived when this 3 month old blog loses its virginity!! After pestering myself obsessively in my mind, going through countless guilt attacks of occupying cyber space and not doing anything fruitful with it, I have won the battle against my laziness to put pen to paper ( You know what I mean).
Along with the mental pressure that comes with writing a useless & aimless blog, comes greater anticipation of how people will react to my thoughts. Just thinking about torturous eyes of people who are equally jobless scanning away my posts will continue to haunt me. I might also pretend to put up a brave front and contradict myself by saying that I don't give a flying monkey's arse to what people think. But, that's not true, because I give a damn.
One rule that I should define at the beginning is that critical comments are not welcome. If you have a problem with my post - keep it to yourself or just sugar coat it nicely. For all those who have taken offence already, I am just kidding!
I am someone who thinks of himself as a jack of all trades and master of none/some!! I have an ego bigger than most big things in the world. Pamela anderson are you listening? Although, it is not something I am proud of, rather it is something I wish I could cut off like a good for nothing body part.
Attaching myself to things/people easily remain one of my biggest flaws along with thinking about issues bothering me over and over again. I can give the term overthinker a valid reason to commit suicide.
So that was a 'little' briefer on what I wanted to say or rather wanted you to read about me.
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