Once a Bombaiitte always one... I have heard this more than N no. of times from various people and believed it from the depths of my heart. Yet, when time and again I am asked why is Bombay so special or different, I flounder to answer.
I fail to explain to people the romance of the touch generated from being cramped up in a train full of sweaty people; bodies brushing violently, bad breath causing havoc to your internals and maintaining the Maharaja smile as if this was the first perfect date of your life. I cannot explain why the pani-puris taste better in an inverse ratio to the cleanliness of the Bhaaiyya. Jostling under the burning sun, waging wars on the cricket battlefield for vada-pav and coke is un-understandable according to most normal logical reasonings.
So what exactly is this Bombay Spirit.. Is it only visible in face of a calamity? Is there something real thats kind of quanitfiable? Time and again, I read this phrase and get thinking....
And always the answers have been euphorically the same. Bombay has a different existence and it gets mixed in a lil bit with blood streams of evry individual tht stays here.. Longer the stay greater the influence... This is one city that teaches you the real value of life; not necessarily living. Every life that belongs to kith and kin is treasured and every thing else is expendable depending on the situation. Losses are mourned over but only till the time that they dont mix with your money-minting capabilities. There is a price tag attached to evry action, every person and happiness though not necessarily measurable is supposed to be a good enough ROI.
Thus, any and every individual lives in Bombay on the following principles.
I would try to be happy, enjoy my life and do what I please. If my family and friends are involved in this the happiness quotient is trigerred a bit further. All strangers by default are friends bonded by the sameness of the trains or buses. If they are in discomfort I would try to be nice to them; only if I dont sacrifice a larger chunk of my share of niceness and happiness. If the dangers are catastrophic or calamatic, then I wouldn't mind reducing my nicety to a bare minimum. I would compete and strive for greatness by hook or crook; only as long as others can avail the same degrees of crookedness. I would, at large partake in all religious activities with equal fervor; one as it lets me hang my hair down, simultaneously increasing my happiness quotient and also keep the economy bustling; again increasing happiness for quite a few businesses and business-people.
ALL in ALL... this is the essence of the BOMBAY spirit as I have known till date...
We love happiness and would go an extra mile to achieve that. We realize that true happiness stems from the fact that most if not all are happy and we strive for that as well. We are not super-humans and we are hurt too; but lying low and spreading melancholy would just enhance the spectre of gloom and hence we put a brave front to adversity.
Being HAPPY is being a Bombaiitte....
As rightly said: "Jara haske jara bachke.. ye hai bumbai meri jaan"...........
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Nightmares come true....
Tuesday was like any other normal, mundane ultra boring workday; the likes of which I have endured countless times for the past 2-3 yrs. Traffic on the roads made me recollect my worst nightmares of being trapped in bottomless pits and staying put till eternity gobbles me away.
Finally, after yomen struggle and tugs and pulls, I landed at work... the dress looking evry bit as tattered as a crumpled love letter which the heart-broken lover couldn't tear apart cos it had his sweetheart's name. Hair disshelved; I turned on my PC hoping there was no work slated for the day so that I could go catch the Pak-SL match. However, by now, i should have realized that I am not the one chosen for small favors.
Work and crappy one at that was queued up. It was gonna be a long day. I started, grudingly sifting through files and updating the documents, gathering metrics and doing whatnot rushing through my work. Combined breakfast with lunch to avoid time wastage and kept an eye on the watch as the sun started it journey back to Darkness center. 7:15 was the last shuttle and I was not going to risk it. I had already paid the price for being too dedicated to the job the other night, shelling 200 bucks to get home.
Thats when the mail trickled in. One of my worst fears was unfolding thru those black letters. The VOLVO that carried me daily... riding more its luck than the wheels, teasing death not only for us but also the roadside commuters had finally cracked under pressure. What was always a what if kinda fear was finally a dark reality.
The mail read: 2 dead and 20 injured in a VOLVO bus crash at HAL. Irate mob burns down the bus. The road is closed.
Mob fury had reared it ugly head following this incident. Commuters were stranded on either sides of the city and a normal journey that takes 45 minutes was excruciatingly slowed down to a 2 hr experience. Poor commuters nd people on the road were subject to inconvinience for someone whose life -mantra might hv insipred folks @ Need for Speed (NFS) center. My travelling nightmare ws no more just tht...
Finally, after yomen struggle and tugs and pulls, I landed at work... the dress looking evry bit as tattered as a crumpled love letter which the heart-broken lover couldn't tear apart cos it had his sweetheart's name. Hair disshelved; I turned on my PC hoping there was no work slated for the day so that I could go catch the Pak-SL match. However, by now, i should have realized that I am not the one chosen for small favors.
Work and crappy one at that was queued up. It was gonna be a long day. I started, grudingly sifting through files and updating the documents, gathering metrics and doing whatnot rushing through my work. Combined breakfast with lunch to avoid time wastage and kept an eye on the watch as the sun started it journey back to Darkness center. 7:15 was the last shuttle and I was not going to risk it. I had already paid the price for being too dedicated to the job the other night, shelling 200 bucks to get home.
Thats when the mail trickled in. One of my worst fears was unfolding thru those black letters. The VOLVO that carried me daily... riding more its luck than the wheels, teasing death not only for us but also the roadside commuters had finally cracked under pressure. What was always a what if kinda fear was finally a dark reality.
The mail read: 2 dead and 20 injured in a VOLVO bus crash at HAL. Irate mob burns down the bus. The road is closed.
Mob fury had reared it ugly head following this incident. Commuters were stranded on either sides of the city and a normal journey that takes 45 minutes was excruciatingly slowed down to a 2 hr experience. Poor commuters nd people on the road were subject to inconvinience for someone whose life -mantra might hv insipred folks @ Need for Speed (NFS) center. My travelling nightmare ws no more just tht...
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Sleepy as Hell
I am so terribly sleepy that I may drop dead on the keyboard. Well, if you smarties out there are gonna suggest that I take a break or sneak a nap, you are getting a snare from me... Cause it would mean that you folks take me to be a dimwit who wouldnt have identified this most commonest of solutions and implemented it by now.
The problem is my boss doesnt sleep at work and consequently we assume we are not allowed either. Moreover, he inherits this Gandhian activity of walking long distances, especially after lunch thereby killing the iota of chance we may have had to catch a few winks.
Coming to think of it: Why does it always happen after lunch? I have always maintained that I dont hog. Kisika Chutta Kisiki Daulat syndrome u see... OK, I pig out on food but then on weekends when I am with friends I dont feel sleepy. Why does thus disaster strike only on weekdays then? GO figure...
Again the tastier the food the greater the urgency and urge to sleep. Wonder if theres any scope for a PhD to establish the hypothesis and relativity between tasty food and sleep... Also find the co-relation between unavailability of sleep when you really yearn for it. We can make it wholesome by adding components like global application of this phenomena.
OK, here are the queries tht can b explained:
Why does sleep strike more hard after lunch than dinner?
Who tells the brain that the tummy just had lunch and not dinner?
How does this sleep strike harder when its more tougher to get it?
What is the best way to prevent the happening of this occurence; especially if you are sure that the boss is gonna b strolling ard?
When shall we overcome our submission to this force of nature?
Am I done with the 5 Y's... Have I kept writing through my boss' trips to my cubicle....
I guess I did...
Till tomorrow; when the pangs of food strike me again and the snakes of sleep girdle ard my eyes.. Khuda Hafiz....
The problem is my boss doesnt sleep at work and consequently we assume we are not allowed either. Moreover, he inherits this Gandhian activity of walking long distances, especially after lunch thereby killing the iota of chance we may have had to catch a few winks.
Coming to think of it: Why does it always happen after lunch? I have always maintained that I dont hog. Kisika Chutta Kisiki Daulat syndrome u see... OK, I pig out on food but then on weekends when I am with friends I dont feel sleepy. Why does thus disaster strike only on weekdays then? GO figure...
Again the tastier the food the greater the urgency and urge to sleep. Wonder if theres any scope for a PhD to establish the hypothesis and relativity between tasty food and sleep... Also find the co-relation between unavailability of sleep when you really yearn for it. We can make it wholesome by adding components like global application of this phenomena.
OK, here are the queries tht can b explained:
Why does sleep strike more hard after lunch than dinner?
Who tells the brain that the tummy just had lunch and not dinner?
How does this sleep strike harder when its more tougher to get it?
What is the best way to prevent the happening of this occurence; especially if you are sure that the boss is gonna b strolling ard?
When shall we overcome our submission to this force of nature?
Am I done with the 5 Y's... Have I kept writing through my boss' trips to my cubicle....
I guess I did...
Till tomorrow; when the pangs of food strike me again and the snakes of sleep girdle ard my eyes.. Khuda Hafiz....
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