The Ultimate Pot-boiler.

Ok, this certainly is not the best of my posts.It was inspired by this and the sorry state of roads in my home-town Dharwad.This was the best I could come up with after traveling almost the length and breadth of Mumbai for JMET and NMAT(One more post definitely needed for that).Dharwad->Thane->Powai->Koparkhairane->Vashi->CST->Dharwad.That was quite a trip and this post was written during the return journey. This was the best my tired mind could come up with.Have some more posts in the offing on my father's experiences as the returning officer during the upcoming Gram Panchayat and Zilla panchayat elections here. They talk of decentralisation of power and village empowerment, but all that has happened is that the rot has precipitated down to the bottom.Imagine a village being divided not only along caste lines,but also along political lines now.Politics is one of my favourite subjects and I saw how little of that is reflected in this blog.

Returning to the current post, it could have also been titled


The Monk who drove his Ferrari over a pot-hole.
or
Zen and the Art of pot-hole maintenance.
or
Harry-potholer!
or
The Autobiography of an Unknown Pothole
or
The Argumentative Indian Pothole

I don’t exist on paper.(I exist on road, of course!). what I meant to say was that I don’t have an official existence like most of you. The census of 2001 was conducted well before my ‘birth’ and I doubt if I’ll survive till the time the next census is carried out in 2011. Actually, the whole pot-hole community around me has been officially declared . In the dusty files of the Public Works Department consigned to some corner, they have been given the best possible burial a pot-hole can ever imagine. Covered with the supreme quality tar, and then rolled over by the strongest road-roller in the whole region, specifically ‘bought’ for that purpose. That is all ‘for the record’. The actual story is something else. Neither the tar came nor the road-roller. The holes weren’t filled, what were filled though were the beds of the executive engineer who floated the tender, the bank lockers of the contractor and the cup-boards of the minister. The minister actually made money twice. Once, while awarding the contract and the second time a 20% cut in from the same contractor after he began working on the ‘project’. That was two years ago. Some work was indeed done. It was the perfect patch work ever done. It was patchy both in terms of the quality of the work and also that it left lot of patches were still left untouched. Those which were covered up soon opened up and in pothole-speak, they are called ‘ghost-holes’ . The whole colony talks about them in hushed voices. Children pot-holes aren’t allowed to go close to them. That is why the area around those ghost-holes is quite deserted.

In the slum world, I live in what is the real world equivalent of a small locality in a city. there isn’t much of an activity, but once in a while I’m woken up from my slumber by a truck or two running over me carrying heavy goods. It hurts, not only physically but also in the heart. Not only these people run over you but also abuse you with choicest expletives for no fault of yours. It may sound a bit cynical, but we potholes do extract our pound of flesh. The faster these guys run over you, more is the pain they suffer. These humans are so strange. I’ll never be able to understand them. Two days back, this handsome hunk was riding what has been our latest nuisance, the hayabusa. He mutters such obscenities under his breath it spoilt my whole day. And yesterday he comes again, with his friend in the pillion, runs over me again and thanks God for my presence there. The reason?. He gets that ‘close touch’ with his -friend. These humans think that Gods must be crazy, but what they don’t know that it is them who are crazy. Just the other day he was cursing me no end, but at that moment he was glad I was there. I could make that from the gleam in his eyes. I pray to God to give me enough strength and make me grow in size such that the next time he runs over me, he gets such a ‘touch’ he’ll never forget in his life.

I often wonder about my parents. The elder potholes in our colony have taken such care of me that I don’t really miss my parents. But sometimes during the night I wonder if my parents might be among the countless stars in the sky. I dream of leading a quiet, peaceful life with papa pot-hole, mama pot-hole and a lil’ brother pothole until another one of the devils runs over me.

Let me share a secret with you all. We pot-holes are not actually very sure about our gender. Most of us assume our genders. What makes our situation even more piquant is that we are not ‘born’ normally. We come into existence by an , a tiny somewhere ‘evolves’ into a fully-grown pothole. I often wonder about what my name could be. Few days back, a bespectacled engineering student was almost kicked to by his friends when suggested a name for me. ‘Harry Pot-holer’!. His idea didn’t quite appeal to his friends. I guess I know what name I like. A female, the most beautiful I have seen till date, came close to me, slowed down and passed over me with such gentle care that I almost felt like I was in an embrace with her. Then with her soft, silky voice she gave me a name-‘Oeemah’. Yes, my name is Oeemah.

Ok, I guess it’s time to move on. I wish you all the best in this roller-coaster jouney called Life. And remember, no profanities the next time you come across a hurdle(pothole) on the road or in your life. It’s your creation and that your backache is not my headache. Don’t fall down, but recover soon and keep your eyes wide open and reach your destination without any hitches.

Dressed and Confused(DBCAs)

‘Open 24 hours’. In a fast-moving, never-sleeping,maximum city like Mumbai, one would expect such a thing to be written at a restaurant close to a railway station or more likely at a guest-house. But much to my amusement, I found this written across seemingly firm bosom of a mannequin at a Mega-Mart outlet in the suburban Kandivili. The very next day at my CAT centre I chanced upon this female (ok, a candidate) wearing the same T-shirt. No less than 44 eyes were ogling at her. 18 wore an amused look, 20 were looking at her just like any guy would look at a good-looking girl (maybe the T-shirt was what attracted them towards her, else it’d have been some other girl who’d be the object of their attention). And some 6 wore a seriously menacing look which seemed to say, ‘ok, let’s see what you’ve got madam’. Not that they intended to do anything dangerous, but the ‘bold’ statement the madam wanted to make had had its effect.

Now let’s come to the broader question. Before that let me ask myself one very pertinent question which you as a reader would want to ask me. The question being-‘what problem do I have with people wearing what they want to wear? ‘. At the outset, I’m a liberal and have no problem with people wearing what they are comfortable with. But what never misses out of my mind’s scanner and my watchful eyes is this whole thing of people wearing T-shirts to give out some kind of an attitude or to make a statement. If one is hip, hep, hop and dude/dudette -ish enough to carry him/herself well with the kind of attire he/she is wearing, that’s hardly anybody’s problem. But things tend to get a bit complicated when this segment of confused, wannabe youth wears T-shirts which appears to confuse them even more and with all the attention such T-shirts attract, the feeling of discomfort is quite palpable.

Che Guevera,Jim Morrison must be turning in their graves now. They are the ones seen most on these t-shirts PYTs wear. Yet they remain as foreign as ever. No, I’m not talking of that 8-year old kid who serves us tea near the college gate. He wears a Linkin park T-shirt with LP written in bold letters in fluorescent on a pitch black t-shirt. The shoulders of the T-shirt extend well beyond his elbow. Forget LP, he probably wouldn’t even be aware of Dr.Kalam being the president of India. I’m actually talking about this college-going student with a decent pocket money at his disposal, seven of ten of his ilk have a bike at their disposal too, hanging/chilling out with his friends at the most hip/hop/hep/ happening places in his city/town. You have more probability of finding such a vikas a.k.a viks in a tier 2 town than a city. But I wonder if wearing a black t-shirt with an ‘in your face’ face of Jim Morrison with ‘The Doors’ in glossy bold letters doesn’t exactly make him hip/hep/cool/. Complete the picture with a goatee, long hair, a yo-man with the ‘rock sign’ to boot interspersed with *ucks and screws, you have the DBCA- desi born confused American!

Am I actually saying that the kind of t-shirt one wears is an indication of an identity crisis or something? The point I might want to make is on a shaky ground and the arguments may not be backed by enough convincing arguments. But to me it appears more convincing than having to look and wonder at a female wearing a t-shirt which had –‘ for authorized persons only’ written right across her bosom.

P.S. Did the girl wearing that open 24 hours open t-shirt mean open as a noun or as a verb?

The Sound of Silence

This blog's been silent for a while because I'm tied up with some things and been listening to this song over and over again. Next post sometime around 1st week of December.Exams from tomorrow!

Hello, darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision
That was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
Beneath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed
By the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share...
And no one dare
Disturb the sound of silence.

"Fools," said I, "you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows."
"Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed in the wells of silence.

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming.
And the signs said: "The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls,
And whisper'd in the sound of silence
-The Sound of Silence
Simon and Garfunkel

A 'short' story and 'THE stroke of genius'

Wrote this in a short time, 3 minutes?! During the seminars. Practical exams from Monday and I'm writing this here!! My previous experiences should come in handy and no Ram here for that reassurance you guys,b@$!@^d$!

The 'short' story
His name was R.Ram. He was 5' tall. Like his name, his height was also very short. He used to cut his hair every fortnight, for he liked to keep it short. Hewas a good cricket player. While batting he used to despatch anything short, beyond the ropes. He was a brilliant fielder at short point, short fineleg and short mid-wicket bowling his main weapon was the shortpitched delivery which rose to an awkward height for the batsmen to tackle it. His memory lasted for a very short period, the time he spent in the exam hall was also very short it took a very short time for his teachers to correct his papers and he always fell short of the passing marks.

He was extremely short-tempered. His temper used to flare when his friends used to tease him for 'that thing' being short as well, owing to his short height. He used to get into serious fights over this. But, those fights were also shortlived for he lost due to his short stature deep inside he knew,'it' was indeed short.

When he was 18,he wanted a girlfriend. He wanted only a short term relationship. His wait was shortlived, for he found an equally short female. Their short relationship came to an end and they went separate ways.

While on a short walk, he came under a truck. He died on the spot. A short article tucked away in some corner on an obscure local newspaper made a mention of his death. His funeral also was very short, for he had no mourners.

The stroke of genius

This occurred to me while I was peeing in the 'hygienic', germ free, hazy(due to just then sprayed DDT to keep away the mosquitoes) bathroom. No, it was not in the bathroom. My next best idea will occur to me when I'll be peeing. This actually occurred to me while I was almost killed by an OPEL CORSA number GJ-5 PJ 5456!!. I know my death will come while crossing the road.

Pong was with me then. I asked him,"What's the most (ab)used line in personality contests?". Personality contests!, well there's another post waiting to be written on that, which again reminds me of Ram!. And Pong had some/no clue.It was 'IITIAM' or I think therefore I am. Poor Descartes must be turning in his grave! Then I told Pong something which would've made Descartes roll over 142 times in his grave. I told him-"My parents thought, therefore I am!". To which Pong replied-"My parents didn't think, therefore I am!" No offences Pong, but!!!:))

P.S Now you decide who's the bigger genius!!

Update 1: I stand vindicated in writing the previous post. We still haven't received the prize. And heard the prize money will be cut down.
Update 2: If you haven't watched Yahaan, hang yourself and ask your bhoot to watch it.Minissha(s,with that extra s)is so cute, ooeeemaa.

Nikhil ko thoda gussa kyon aata hai!!!

The test went o.k., for I had not studied at all.Then I come out of the test wondering why the hell were my classmates so tense about the test. And I'm not 'peeved' at all today, have calmed down.But since the following post was written yesterday with yours truly, squint in one eye due to the stye stressing his eyes to write it, and I didn't want it to go waste.


Nikhil ko thoda gussa kyon aata hai!!!

I'm really peeved today and Harsha has even a bigger reason to be peeved.There was an auto-fest in our college. so what? there was an auto-quiz in the autofest. so ? Me and Harsha won the quiz. ok,so? Dilip Chhabria was the chief guest.So? Winnners of all other events got to receive their prizes from the man himself or atleast had a photo receiving the prize with him in the background. So, my whine(call that if you may want it to) is that while others got to receive the prizes from him, why were we left out?


I don't know if that was deliberate on the part of the organisers to have conveniently run out of empty envelopes or was it because quizzing was considered too frivolous to be part of such an 'august' gathering. We didn't want the 'here-come-the-great-quizzers-of-all-time' kind of reception and the huge cheer and the hooting that usually follows when anyone among our group is on the stage. Have crossed that stage now! It's ok even if nobody reads this post! I hardly look for appreciation from all and sundry. But having come up with some seriously brilliant answers(no self adulation here, me and Harsha did come up some good ones-firewall,left hand drive to right hand drive, on bulldozer,Murphy,stuttgart and the horse connection- that won the quiz for us),I thought we deserved atleast some 1.2434 seconds on the stage for this quiz. That feeling of exalted elation on having worked out the Murphy question and the firewall one was something inexplicable, something which you won't understand unless you are a quizzer!Jumping out of the chair, the hi-five and the disbelief wondering what stroke of genius had struck us.I'm kinda hyper, so me doing it is ok, but when I see my brother in arms 'Power-e- illa!!' Harsha doing it, it's an unmistakable indication of us having done something really out of the ordinary.

In the end, I made a perfect jack-ass of myself when I asked one of the conveners if we are receiving the prizes, and then an announcement of the winners of the quiz is made after the vote of thanks! Couldn't have got more jack-assish than this, could I?! This post could have been laced with much more sarcasm if people whom we didn't know or we were not familiar with, had done this. But it does hurt when people who are close to you conveniently forget things.

Well, I've participated in all the quizzes conducted in the college and have qualified for the finals of almost all of them and won quite a few of them as well. But this wasn't just another quiz. You invite a profesional quiz-master, paying him a decent amount of cash. Initially, I was skeptic if he seriously deserved such a sum. But after the quiz, we have every reason to believe that he deserved all of it for the effort he put in to make the quiz interesting and at the same time putting in real good questions. I wouldn't be having any grouse if this was again one of those 'just another quiz' we have in the college.I haven't even bothered to get the certificates and prizes of those. The whole point here being, quizzing is seriously considered trivial and is given the go-by.


Quizzing is something which is more than a passion for me, and for Harsha as well. We've been partners in crime of having spent countless nights searching for silly trivia, talking for long hours about things which are of no concern to us at all, discussing things that would probably be of no use at all. Yet there's some inexplicable pleasure in knowing things which generally shouldn't be bothering us.There's a long long post waiting to be written about our quizzing exloits, the highs, the lows, the serious arguments almost leading to us not talking to each other for days!!, the 'sorry macha' for the wrong answer,University Challenge,CERN not getting us to the Mindbend quiz finals. Well,the list is endless. Our styles are complimentary,he's the quiet,reserved one while I'm the vociferous,noisy one.I've mellowed down though now,I guess. Our areas of interest are also complimentary. The best thing being , there's some sort of unstated understanding between us. All we do before a quiz is just inform each other of the timings and that 'connection' is somehow established during the course of the quiz.


I spend so much time on IMDB and Wikipedia, that if they would've been females, I'd be surely proposing to both of them.(Too difficult to choose, you see!). I think I know a thing or two about quizzing, for my quizzing credentials are decent enough and my knowledge of what I consider to be my strong areas- business,advertising, brands,politics, origins of names of brands and bands,bollywood and word etymologies, is also quite adequate. Rajiv Gandhi was offered the role played by the Big B in Bombay to Goa, imagine what'd have happened if he had accepted and played that role!!I'd have probably written this some 2145 times on my blog that I'd be better off studying Operating Systems,DBMS,Computer Networks than 'wasting' my time on 'silly' things like quizzing,blogging,debating. But that's ok now I guess.There's an O.S. test tomorrow. I was the only dumb-ass from my class(apart from Mrinabh!) running around quizzing,doing this and that.I have no idea of what I'm going to do in the test.I don't believe in doing things just because they are meant to be done. That might sound outlandish and arrogant,but that's what sets me apart from others.Hopefully,will continue blogging regularly from now on.

pre-P.s. In case you are still wondering why such a hue and cry over such an inconsequential thing as quizzing, sorry for you. That's something only a quizzer can understand.



What had i been doing all these days/what's been happening with me. not in chronological order.

1.Went to garba at the A.C dome, couldn't make it to the inDoor stadium.Garba rocks!Sad it's my last time.
2.Came third in an India Quiz, quite good considering mythology and stuff isn't our forte.
2.5 Was a witness to two farces called 'quizzes'. Schools have better stuff.One had a good-looking dumb female reading out questions correctly, the other had a ugly looking,boisterous male reading out questions incorrectly.
3.Won the debate with Hitesh at PT. It was great.We won according to the judges-'on account of better co-ordination'
4.Elections were held in the college. Internet and orkut became the latest weapon of mud-slinging.I was not involed. Mama became the GS and Hitesh, the CS. Some people had their faces deep in mud during the whole mud-slinging thing and it was sad.
5.Kashish- the official welcome for the first-yearites. Lacklustre and boring. Pandit's dance had many males and females drooling. No song dedicated to final yearites. So, we played senti-senti.Details of that to follow in coming posts.
6.Conducted a general quiz. My coming of age as a quizzer, I believe. It had no question from QFI,Quiznet or Kcircle.Fell in love with wikipedia and imdb during this.
7. My seminar on 'IT in rural development' went real well. That might just inspire to listen to 'the call of my heart' and do something for the community.
8.Sugar and Spice had 50% on the total bill.Treated people there.
9.Sugar and Spice had 'buy a burger and get the same free'. Got a treat there.Stomach upset followed
10.Listened to 'High Hopes' some 12084 times and 'Naam ada likhna' 32456 times.
11.The stye in my eye has been bothering me no ends and with that recurring headache with the viral infection doing the rounds in the college, I look like shukracharya, with one eye almost closed and also look like a prison escapee with the dishevelled hair and the strange look with one eye closed.
12. Harsha got placed in Godrej.ALL OF US ARE PLACED NOW.IBM,Cognizant, Wipro,Godrej,Sterlite beware!
12.25Haven't cut my hair for about three months now. Plans are to grow it even longer.Not finding a decent reason to cut my hair.
12.5 Watched around 20 movies.
13.Parents,sister,aunt and kid cousins had come to visit me.Took them around in the college.Surat is one hell of a place for textile-shopping.It can make you go insane.They were happy to know that I'm quite well-known in the college!
14.Yours truly along with Jayanth and Pragnya, as bloggers made it to the papers. TOI actually, its South Gujarat Edition.will take a photo of that and post.
15.Missed the treasure hunt as I was with my folks. Skunk said I din't really miss it!Me and Bharath have won it twice in the last three years.
16. Did the 'Bollywood Auto quiz!' for this Autofest.It's a real good one. Will post here if public demands.
17.Exhausted SMS worth Rs. 2000 in 20 days!Airtel Guj has this offer- sms worth 2000 for 100Rs.Have rechaged again if you want to be pestered with my PJs and live accounts of my labs,seminars and submissions, send me your number!
18.Followed thisregularly.What's your take on that?