Perfecting the art of writing - ever possible?

PK (calling) : "Hey nice blog post. I just read it"
Me : "Which one?"
PK : "The last on on Gold prices."
Me : "Oh Ok, thanks"
PK : "Listen, when you land get...."

I quickly scramble to read my post - personally, I hadn't liked it only moments after I had published it. It didn't have the flow to it - it was too haphazard, too mechanical is what I had felt only hours after publishing it.

This is where this blog post begins, can I ever write that perfect master piece? Write a masterpeiece, not because my friend should like it or my sister should go crazy about it, just for my satisfaction. Even today after I post a blog, I keep correcting it for ages and ages. At times the corrections take me to the same point from where I had started from but I correct it - recently I ended up improving blogs as old as 2010 - yet I do it. If ever I can't improve the entry, it keeps pestering me throughout the day.

Only thrice in my life have I been completely satistisfied with the articles that I've ever written; for the rest it has been a perennial work in progress. Some do achieve a sense of perfecton after a few years, but rarely on the first go - at best they achieve the 'good' status.

What would be perfection in the world of literature is definitely up for discussion. Even today there are those who love my writing and for them it is perfect, but then there will be those who will loathe it. Perfection in writing would be an entry that will forever sound an entry of that time, that era. An entry that I can relate to in any age and under any circumstances. An entry that is lucidly written and thoughts arraged as beautifully as a peacocks feathers - each feather is a beauty, laced together they produce magic. An entry that would be a good read despite the background of the reader or his upbringing, something that will linger on your mind even after you are done reading it. It may sound too idealistic, but that is the best definition I can think of for the world of literature.

As I sit here waiting for my flight to be scheduled, I keep improving both my blogs. It is fun going through old stuff - more importantly it is satisfying as I am that one step closer to perfection. 

Mommy knows the best...

Recently, gold crashed in a spectacular fashion - apparently the largest fall in a single day! News readers finally got their much needed headline on an otherwise boring day. The best they had had reported for that day was the microphone that hadn't functioned during Mr Manmohan's speech.

Soon these channels, gathered all the analyst that India could conjure in one hour and put them on TV as experts. In a flash we had a debate on the cause of its fall to possible lows that it would reach. Causes ranged from Cyprus defaults to end of marriage season in India! And these 'EXPERTS' expected gold to drop to 20k in the next one month from its highs of 34k. Ofcourse jewelers in Pune had their shops full - some closed it down as their positions had suffered heavy loses. But as far as investments were concerned, gold had suddenly lost its charm.

After a blood bath which went on for a few days, when faith was weakened in the stability of gold, even I began to feel that it may actually reach 20k and that is when I'd buy. But as with all important decisions in life, you should always turn to mum - she knows the best.

My mum has never heard or seen a demand supply curve, doesn't know where Cyprus lies on a map, and the last time she saw TV would be approximately three months ago. Yet she has something that is very hard to get - experience and a sense of how humans work - basically what I mean is that she is awesome, mums always are.


Of course the moment she heard my plan of buying closer to 20k she threw my plan out of the window. She asked me what was the current price and I told it to her. One pause and she said that this was THE time to buy.

In a falling market, buying an asset that has peaked to a almost triple its value is a very very challenging thing. Every sense in your mind is against that idea, but then there is Mum! Out of experience I have learnt not to question Mum's logic for it always comes out to be true. One quick call to dad(as he acts as a risk analyst) and I had a position in Gold in a falling market with no stop loss. Of course for the next few days it kept falling and I keep asking my mum if I should still stay put to which she always said yes.

Surely, soon enough I was looking at a good profit in a very short span of time - the experts had been wrong and Cyprus event had been a dud. It was time to en cash and move out.

Every time such things happen my faith in her only increases. Now as I plan my next investment into a different asset class, its time to again make that all important call home - to Mum :).

The morning drive...

The road is quiet like my song, as my car hums along. The pleasant calm, acting like a soothing balm. The
energy in morning dark, waking the clergy like a lark. Far above in the moon lit sky, I see silhouettes of bats on their way to roost against the star studded sky. The pleasant clam is deafening; as my car cruises along the deserted Paud road long.

Who'd be awake so early in the morning? But then I see a few souls - who stir mornings whole. Poha lovers like me as they gobble and squabble. The signal light which always turns red at my sight lets me wizz past at 80 without a fight in this, the darkest part of the night.

At Good Luck I see the bundles whole, of newspapers which'll soon become sole. A patrolling car gives me a suspicious stare, as I breathe the fresh morning air. In a flash I cross the swaying trees of agriculture college, smiling that the word rhymes with tallage.

I hear a mumble from my sleeping brother, as my car cruises further. I turn and look at his satisfied face, not a worry line shows a trace. Soon my tiny car, is lit by head lights from far. They come closer as I become slower. Long distance buses zoom past me, and all I do is just see. They are like trojan horses of the night, bringing in people without a fight.

Soon I stop and gently tap my brother almost afraid to spoil visage. He wakes up with a start and asks, 'Have we reached?'. I say yes, as he quickly gets out and takes his bags. He looks at me and gives a smile as he turns and disappears in the departure lounge. Thats our brotherly way of good bye. I smile back as my car gives a purr ready for the journey which is now just a blur.

‘No Confidence’ in your system Mr Prime Minister

FMR : Blg 2 to here fr rec dir in nw blg

Reputation Risk is categorized as the most critical risk to any organization; more so if you happen to be a government. That the Indian governance system is messed up and undergoing a painful cleansing process is a fact. The cleaners being the overtly loud and vocal media who at times are also a part of the same corrupted system. The same corrupted media also has people like Zee TV, who seem to have developed a personal grudge against the ruling party. Presumably because their owners were booked by the government. All in all, despite the ulterior motives that media houses have, they are performing the act of highlighting the issues that ail our system. Albeit, in many cases the media houses have exceeded their brief (a.k.a. Barkha Dutt in Radiagate), but that is a discussion for a different post.

Today when the CBI highlighted that the ‘Coal report’ had been vetted by the Law Ministry and the Coal Minister too; it marked a new low for the system. To be honest, its already so low, it can’t go lower any further, but a signed affidavit by the CBI director proved beyond doubt that the CBI was not an independent body but merely an institution left at the disposal of the ruling party. How can a report which was ‘Eyes Only’ for the Supreme Court be vetted by any constitutional body other than the court? How can the CBI fail to mention this in their earlier affidavit? And finally, after all this is done, how can no one be held accountable for such a huge procedural lapse?

For a layman, these may seem very trivial issues and can easily be shrugged off. But from an institutional perspective this marks the lowest an institution can dip to in its day to day operations. It is as if, when a husband asks his wife something, she gets its approved from her neighbor and then tells it to her husband! Infidelity!

There are calls for the Law minister and the Coal Minister to resign; though they would not solve the problem ,I’d say atleast that’d be logical steps in the right direction. However, I am more concerned about Dr Manamohan Singh. Agreed, that he says he is not a politician. Agreed, that he did not commit the crime. Agreed, that he is a puppet prime minister. But at the end of the day he is the captain of the team. All that wrong finally ends up in his hands; he can’t wish it away saying that it was that particular minister or clerk; not me.

Mr Singh may be a great financier and a good man and maybe very lucky too, but it’s time he decides what he stands for. If power is not what he chooses, then he should step down. Simply because there is too much wrong that is being written under him and his name; he cannot wish it away no matter what he says. He is responsible, whether he likes it or not. His inaction is resulting in a brick by brick destruction of the institutions and he has to stop it. If he as a leader can’t, then he has to step down. There is no other way.

Of course, Congress mandarins would want him to continue for his term. If he wishes to do so, we’d have an answer, he is not a financier who unluckily became a PM but a pro politician unable to let go of power he acquired by chance.

A metamorphosis of thy self

It is easy to lose oneself in this fast paced world. With multiple influences and easily available vices, the you of today will be far more different than what you were ten years ago - not just because of time but even as a person. At times, in this materialistic world, you tend to lose yourself. Lose what was instilled in you as a child. Evolving, and inculcating habits which prove too destructive for everyone who care about you. The most dangerous thing is, you become so full of yourself, that these vices can consume you and any efforts by others simply go waste.


Of course, this blog begins with an acceptance, I inculcated two vices over the years. Possibly because I had been on the road for a long time now, and these habits proved beneficial in cases of surviving the wild. Nonetheless, they grew in me - arrogance and selfishness. Hubris and Eritheia - two potent forces that find mention even in Greek folklore.


They say experience is a cruel teacher, first it allows you to make a mistake and then it teaches you. And that is what happened. Again, I'd be lying if I said that the lesson was painless, it was more traumatizing than anything I had ever experienced. Something that leaves a lasting impression - something that makes you reflect and reason and changes you forever. And change it did.


As I thought and roamed with news friends through the Goan forests, Mumbai streets, beaches at home, mountains in Lonavala, I thought and improved. When you are so consumed by something, you take time work out how to go about it. Above all, opinions have already been formed, so it becomes even more challenging.

The first steps were small - helping my neighborhood granny cross the road everyday, giving a thought before I spoke, completing all house chores when I went home so that mum and dad could stay in peace and such other things. It is funny, that ones you start understanding this you start developing an acute sense of such aspects and the opportunity automatically presents itself. Above all, you start internalizing such habits and it becomes a part of your personality.

So whether it was arranging my sisters engagement, helping out an old friend through a bad time or my decision to buy a cell phone for my grandparents - these came not as a part of set algorithm but something that I wanted to do. It came from a source I have now internalized.

And people noticed this change and a few even appreciated it. I guess my greatest moment of joy & satisfaction was when one cynical friend working in a start up came and told me, 'You know what, I don't know what has happened but of late you have changed - and changed for the better'. I couldn't stop smiling for two full days :).

At times I do wonder, had I learned this lesson earlier, would we have been spared the agony. Would I have not lost anyone. Then my attention turns to the smiling Ganapati statue glowing under the lamp, I am reminded of a shloak from the Gita where Krishna is advising Ajruna, 'Everything happens for our own good'.

The Home Coming of this blog...

आयुष्यात मराठीत कधीही काहीही लिहिले नसल्यामुळे आज हा माझा प्रयोग असफल होणार हे निश्चित आहे.

बाराखडी 

परंतु प्रयोग करायचा हेदेखील निश्चित आहे. १० एक ब्लॉग लिहीले की नक्कीच सुधारणा होईल ह्याची मला खात्री आहे. पूर्वी, मराठीत बोलताना माझ्या चुका 'मी मराठी २.० बोलत आहे' अशी गंमत करून लपवत असे, पण इथे ते शक्य नाही, म्हणून कुठेही चूक झाली तर समजून घ्या.

सुरुवात कुठल्या ब्लॉगने करायची, हा माझ्या आयुष्याचा पहिला मोठा प्रश्न. हे म्हणजे बेडमिनटन च्या खेळात, खेळ सोडून रेकेट कुठली वापरायची ह्यावर चर्चा करण्यासारखं झालं. खूप विचार केला पण काही निकाल लागला नाही. शेवटी ठरवलं, लिहून तर बघू, विचार येतील साखरेच्या मागे मुंग्यांसारखे . आधी इंग्रजी साखर होती आता मराठी असेल. पण मुंग्या तर सारख्याच ना! हो आणि वाचणाऱ्यानो, जरा सांभाळून, इथे ज्या उपमा मी वापरीन त्या जरा वेगळ्या वाटू शकतात. त्यामुळे समझायला वेळ लागणं स्वाभाविक आहे.

मुंगयांवरुन माझ्या एक आजी आठवल्या. थोडया वर्षांपूर्वीची गोष्ट आहे. काही कारणांमुळे मी त्यांचाकडे राहायला गेलो. त्या माझ्या २० दिवसांच्या रहिवासात जेवढ्या विनोदास्पद गोष्टी घडल्या तेवढ्या निम्म्या वर्षात नाही घडल्या. त्यातली ही एक गोष्ट.

त्या काळात आजी एकटी राहत असे. तिच्या आयुष्यात फक्त २ प्रश्न. पाहिला म्हणजे "घर साफ कसं ठेवायचं?" आणि दुसरा म्हणजे "खाणं कस संपवायचं ?". तिला जेवल्यावर कुठलाही पदार्थ उरलेला चालत नसे. त्यामुळे रोज दुपारी ती मला फोन करून विचारात असे, 'आज रात्री किती पोळ्या आणि भात खाणार ?'. आता ह्या प्रश्नाचे उत्तर मी दुपारी ३ वाजता सांगणं अवघड असत असे, कारण मलाच माझा अंदाज येत नसे. तरी मी म्हण्याचो 'रात्री मी ४.५ पोळ्या आणि अर्धी वाटी भात खाईन'.

अर्थात,जर संध्याकाळी मी बाहेर भेळ, बर्गर किंवा पिझ्झा खाल्ला तर ४.५  पोळ्या आणि अर्धी वाटी भात खात माझं पोट फुटायला यायच, पण आजीला सांगितले असल्यामुळे दुसरा पर्याय नव्हता . हो,आणि जर मी कुठलीही गोष्ट एक कणही  उरवला  तर आजी पुढचे ५ दिवस त्या उरलेल्या अर्ध्या पोळी आणि   भाताविषयी कटकट करायची. ह्या कारणामुळे माझे त्या काळात ४ किलो वजन वाढले!

अचानक एक दिवस माझी बदली झाली, आणि मी ठरवलं 'आजीकडे राहण्यापेक्षा मावशीकडे राहणे सोईस्कर होईल, कारण तिचे घर माझ्या नव्या ऑफिसजवळ होते'. जेव्हा मी माझ्या आजीला ही बातमी सांगितली तेव्हा तिची प्रतिक्रिया गमतीदार होती.

मी : " आजी, माझी बदली झाली आहे. आता मला दादरच्या ऑफिसमध्ये जायचं आहे"

आजी (टी.व्ही बघत) : " ठीक आहे "

मी : " आजी, मी विचार करत होतो की मी मवशीकडे जाऊन राहीन कारण तिच घर ऑफिसजवळ आहे "

आजी (अचानक उठली आणि टी. व्ही.  बंद केला आणि मोठे डोळे करून): "पण मग तू आणलेल्या ०.५ किलो बटर, उरलेला ब्रेंड आणि ४ लाडूंचे काय? "

मला एक दोन मिनिटे आजी काय म्हणाली ते कळलेच नाही.  जेव्हा मला तिच्या भावना पोचल्या तेव्हा मी पोट धरून हसायला लागलो. आजीला आजपर्यंत कळलेले नाही की मी त्या दिवशी एवढा का हसलो.

हसत हसत मी म्हणालो : "आहो, मी घेऊन जाईन ते सगळे मावशीकडे"

दुसऱ्या दिवशी मी चर्चगेट च्या लोकल मध्ये बसून ०.५ किलो बटर, उरलेला ब्रेड आणि ४ लाडू घेऊन मावशीकडे गेलो.

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मला माझेच एवढे  कौतुक वाटतंय मराठीत ब्लॉग लिहिल्याबद्दल की  मी स्वतः हा ब्लॉग सारखा वाचतोय आणि आनंद माणतोय. माझा मराठीतला शब्दकोश सीमित असल्यामुळे, उच्च स्तरच मराठी ब्लॉग लिहिणं आयुष्यात शक्य (कदाचित) कधीही होणार नाही, पण मी प्रयत्न करणार. आणि जर मला एवढा आनंद झाला, माझा मराठीतला ब्लॉग वाचून, तर माझ्या आई, बाबा, आजी, मावशी, आझोबा, इत्यादी लोकांना तर खूप जास्त आनंद होणार ते नक्की आहे.

लोकांनी कितीही चुका काढल्या तरी मी म्हणीन कि फक्त मराठी मधे लिहिण्याचा आनंदानीच प्रयोग सफळ झाला.

The story that begins with a sacrifice...

Imagine a world where you meet a person for 4 hours and decide that you are to spend the next 40 years with him! A world where everyone, right from your parents to the doorkeeper has a say on whether the
person is right or not! A world where you decide more based on what the parents do than on what the person does. A world which takes for a fact that marriages are made in heaven, so it doesn't matter whom you marry anyways. You'd assume it to be a crazy world; yet it ain't in most cases.

Of course I am part of this world and this is how the story unfolded on one fine Sunday morning. 'She has said yes', said my excited maushi! Looking at her excitement, it seemed as if my maushi was the one getting married herself :). She quickly called my grandparents, her sisters and everyone she could find a number for!

The first in action were the grandparents, always fighting against time to see the next wedding. These were the instructions my grandmother gave when my aunt called her; they were as if she had been waiting for the call for the last 80 years!
'Great!!! Ok, do one thing, can you ask Sarita to get my blue saree. I will also get my bangles from the locker. We need to book tickets too; I'll come atleast a month earlier. We need to make laddu's so I will prepare the flour and get it along. We also need to gift something to them, nothing big but something good. Also, can you make sure that ... ' and she went on and on.

Next in line were all the maids and every other tom dick and harry who ever had come in contact with the groom and the bride. They wanted to see the photos, what they did, where they worked, how they looked, who they were and God knows what! Ah the curiosity.

Then comes the marketing piece, once it is decided, you need to find something great about the other person or his family. Something like, 'Oh that persons granddad was a national champion!'. I never figured how what his granddad did or achieved would impact the present life of a person, but we need to show off. More importantly, we need to ensure everyone believes that the other person is good.

In all this chaos, the bride and the groom keep wondering, is this decision right? Irony is, such decisions are never right or wrong, you need to make them right (or wrong). Good thing is, most of the times most people work to make them right and I guess doing the whole deal again would be simply too much of a pain so might as well stick to it first time round. :)


It sounds too easy to be true when you first look at it. It is not.It all works because of a sacrifices which goes un noticed. Sacrifices by the girl. Over the years she has been programmed/prepared to give up everything when she gets married. In most cases the 4 hours do not tell her what to expect but the pressure simply becomes too much and she says a yes. So, the 'Yes' in itself is the first sacrifice that she makes. Then she slowly realizes that what she thought was not what actually was. And so begins her list of sacrifices, the guy meanwhile just notices a minor blip in his life.

I find this completely unfair and have tried to work out a plausible alternative. There are a few; each one crazier than the first. All I hope for is that I manage to keep the list of sacrifices for my partner as small as possible whenever I get the opportunity.

Now as I sit here, going through my maushi's excel of the things to do, I look at my sister and smile. Only we know what actually is going though our minds.

May Einstein was right, 'God does not play dice with the universe', I'd just like to add my own opinion to it, 'God does not play dice with the universe, but humans definitely do with their lives' :)

Dobby's jogging dreams...

‘Aeee Thamb’ came her shriek from behind.

I smiled and stopped jogging as I heard her pattering feet behind me. I turned around slowly, removing my headphones and there she stood; a complete bundle of anger. Hands on her hips and face contorted to a frown.

‘Tu kal ka nahi aala’ she shouted. ‘Me ‘baby’ la anla hota tula bhetayala’!

I walked to a bench nearby and sat on it and gestured her to come over. She stomped towards me, hands still on her hip but her face more placated now. I smiled at her and said, ‘Aga bus tar ithe’.

‘Nahi! Me nahi basnar’, she shrieked shaking her head vigorously.

‘Tujya karta me aaz dairy milk aanli aahe!’, saying so I pulled out the dairy milk I had brought for her.

She didn’t say a word and sat besides me, her legs hanging in air and pointed to a point on the bench , ‘Ithe thev!’

Ah the drama queen as always.

Just then her mum came; jogging tracks and shoes and a tight pony. Fit and fine as ever.

‘Hello, how are you today. She has been waiting to meet you since yesterday’, she said gesturing towards her daughter who was now busy eating the dairy milk and making a mess of things.

‘I had to meet someone so didn’t come over yesterday.’

‘Arrey thike. Can you sit with her for sometime as I take a round’ she asked handing me a napkin.

‘Sure. No issues’, I said and turned to her.

‘So, kay kela shalet kal?’ I asked her wiping off her face.

‘Kal almala nursery rhyme shikavali. Tyat….’, she began her tirade on how her life had been for the last 7 years that she had existed on the planet. She always had so much to tell me. It always is relaxing to listen to her babble; nothing artificial, true facts and innocence. A life that revolves around sharpners, pencils, nursery rhymes and erasers.

It was by fate that I had met her. It was more of, crashed into her poor tiny self. She had literally run into me while chasing a ball and cried after the fall. Cried for 1 minute and dramatized the rest 4 minutes. The drama queen.

She had enjoyed every bit of attention I'd given her after the crash. Making more noise everytime my attention waned. Every time she wailed, I got more conscious as people stared at me and I tried harder to placate her. You can't tell a 7 year old that it wasn't your fault! Finally the magic trick had been an eclairs that I had in my pocket. The sight of it had turned the tables and she had become my ardent follower. 

From that day onwards my exploitation had begun. Now every time I go to jog, she is waiting for her 'Eclairs'. Ofcourse each eclair is worth every penny given the joy it gives her.

'and so now I always eat it.', saying so she concluded her babble. I looked at her chocolate covered face and gave a chuckle.Even the cadbury was worth it I said to myself.

Just as I was about to say something my alarm rang. I woke up with a start and gave a wry smile; it had been just a dream. I looked at the clock, it was 06:45 AM; time to get ready for my morning exercise. With one last look at my pillow, I got up, tidied my bed, folded my shawl and headed to freshen up. Today promised to be a good day.