An Assignment

Yes, copiers you can copy from here! It was my ‘Written analysis and communication’ class, when my professor gave homework– “Describe last one year of your life in 300 words”. Only 300 words! Not even one word per day. Anyway, here is what I submitted. And I guess this is the only subject where one can put their assignment in their blogs. Here I begin:

 As I look back in my last one year, I find a lot of activities which have given various dimensions to my experience. I was working with TCS where I changed two projects in a year. In parallel I prepared for MBA entrance exams and gave all the exams one by one till December 2011. And not to forget the most interesting week of the year; my elder brother’s marriage in February 2012. Lastly in June, I took admission in IMT. Now, sitting in my desk, in my comfortable AC room, I’m trying to sum up my one year of life in 300 words. Given the life expectancy of an average Indian male i.e. 63.2 years, my biography, if at all, should contain 18960 words, approximately 95 pages! Typical me; Engineer by birth!!

I will describe the most important event, which I call “experience booster” in my life. The last day at my office: I couldn't gauge my ambivalent emotions. As I moved out of main gate with release letter in my hand, a kaleidoscope of all the days I spent here, flashed through my eyes. How can I forget the first day in Lucknow when my RMG told all the new joiners to have good time on bench till project is allocated? How can I forget the first day when I found a girl sitting beside me in office library, who is too cute to ignore? How can I forget the first day when I discovered that the office canteen serves Chicken Biryani in just rupees 40 [Given the current rate of exchange, its less than $1 for you, sir!]?

I looked at my release letter once again. It read “You will be released from the services of the organizations from the close of office hours of 25-May-2012.” I looked at my watch. I still have three and a half hours. Should I go back to office library once again?

“Hey! Why are you so silent?” nudged me out of my thoughts; my two friends Sourabh and Sopan, who were walking by my side.

One thing that is constant in life is change and we must adopt it. My office, apart from giving some technical skills and certificates, added plethora of intangible experiences. I will treasure these assets for lifetime.

[END]

GOOD BYE LUCKNOW!

जब छोड़ चले लखनऊ नगरी,

कहो हाल आदम पर क्या गुजरी ।

                                                          --- शतरंज के खिलाडी (1977) 

[When I left the city of Lucknow,

How can I tell, what I felt.]

                                                          ---Shatranj Ke Khiladi (1977)

I was running fast. Few goons were behind me. I saw a flyover in front of me. It’s Nishatganj flyover (yes! I was running on the streets of Lucknow). I went up to the flyover and jumped from there and landed in front of ‘Umrao’ cinema hall. Keeping the cinema hall to my left, I ran towards ‘Nilgiri’. I was surprised, why streets were so silent. Suddenly my phone rang. Who could it be? Little bit terrified, I picked up the call.

“Hello…Hellooo”.

“Hey duffer, it’s your alarm.” said my roommate while he was brushing his teeth.

“Thank God.” I exclaimed. My laptop was lying beside me wide open. Last night I slept while playing some shooting game in my laptop. Its 7:30 in the morning and today I have to get tatkal reservation to my home. I will be leaving in two days, I guess, for always. And for today; it’s my last day at my office. As I reached my office, I started meeting all my friends. And I had to go for tea with each, as they said, “Chal tere saath aakhiri chai ho jaye! (Let’s have a last cup of tea with you).” I don’t remember how many cups I had but that day must have been a record for me!

My two year stay in Lucknow was very pleasant. This city has modernized itself, keeping its ancient flavour intact. As you enter the railway station, don’t read the name of the station on board; the architecture of the building will tell you that you are in the ‘City of Nawabs’. And then you smile.

                        ज़रा मुशकुराइये, आप लखनऊ में है । 

         The buildings from olden days are not demolished and multi-floor shopping-mall erected; instead they are renovated and decorated. Of course you have malls, but they have not replaced anything. Come to Hazaratganj market area, all branded showrooms inside as you cross those circular palace doors. If you wish to have the old shopping experience, come to Aminabad market area. Here shops are characterized by number of years of their service. Many of them have fifth generation of their owner sitting over the counter. The market is said to be more than 200 years old. And that’s the beauty of this market. Caution: don’t come here if you have sore throat; you have to bargain here a lot! ‘Kulfi’ and ‘Tunday Kabab’ are famous here. You must taste it. Aminabad reminds me of an incident- Once my friend, Rakesh and I was returning from this market, we took the city-transport, a 8-seater auto, we met an old man with two huge bundles of small bangles. Rakesh complained due to inconvenience caused to the leg space by those huge bundles. He replied with smile in poetic style, “Char pal ka rasta hai, bas janab gujar hi jayega! [Few moments of journey, it will just pass sir!]” I felt a good Lukhnawi in him. An old person like him would carry a lot of history on his shoulder, which are a real dearth in books; a history from the perspective of a common man. I started to talk to him about his occupation and life in Lucknow.

Me: “Aur chacha, kahan le ja rahe hai iin churio ko? [Uncle, where are you taking these bangles?]”

Bangle man (BM): “Bas, bechne ja rahe hai. [For selling purpose.]”

Me: “Raat ke sarhe saat baje kahan bechenge? [At 7:30 in the evening?]”

BM: “Isse hum thook mei kharid kar la rahe hai seth k paas se, kal se bechne lagange. [I have bought it in wholesale, I will start selling from tomorrow.]”

Me: “Kahan bechte hai isse? Kisi dukandar ko ya aapki apni dukan hai? [Whom do you sell? To any shopkeeper, or you have your own shop?]”

BM: “Apni ek choti si dukan hai Chinhat (a place in Lucknow) mei, par hum ghar ghar ja kar bhi bechte hai. Aap lenge apne ghar ke liye, Koi behan ya bhatiji ho toh? [I have a small shop at Chinhat (a place in Lucknow), but I also sell at doorsteps. Would you take some for your home? For your sister or niece?]”

Me: “Arre nahi nahi, yahan mera koi nahi hai. [No, no. I don’t have anyone here.]”

BM: “Janab Dekhiye toh. Aap na kharidiye, par isski khubsoorti toh dekhiye, agar aapko accha lage tarif kar dijiyega, yehi meri kamai hai. [Just have a look. Don’t buy but look at the beauty. If you like it, just admire it, that is my wage.]”

Hmm. He was a veteran salesman. We could not say no; but we didn’t say yes either. But without looking for our response, he started unpacking his bundle. Then he took out beautiful bangles of various colors viz. blue, red, green and pink. Golden streaks were put on the bangles, which displayed a beautiful sparkle when any street light fell on it. I noticed the sizes of bangles; its diameter was not more than one and a half inch.

I inquired, “Ye churia kuch jyada hi choti  nahi hai? [Isn’t the size of bangles too small?]”

He answered, “Ye bachchiyon ke liye hai. Wo din gaye jab larkiya humse churia kharidti thi. Aab wo bare-bare dukano mei jati hai. [These are for kids. Gone are those days, when girls used to buy from us. Now they go to bigger shops]”

‘Yes, they do deject bangles now. But the day Armani shall launch its new apparels-the bangles, it shall be in vogue again. And it would be bought with admiration in much-much higher price.’ I murmured to myself.

He continued, “Aaj ke jamane mei churi walon ki kadra nahi hai, par pahle, hum jis jagah ruk jate wahan churiyan hatho hath bik jati. Waise hamari churia kafi mazboot hai, aap lijie aur sidhi kar ke dabaiye. Ye nahi tutegi. [Nowadays we are not welcome against those good olden days when we used to sell in the doorstep. Wherever we stopped, bangles would sell in an instant. By the way, my bangles are very strong, take it and try to squeeze it keeping it vertical, it won’t break.]”

I replied, “Kyun nahi tut sakta hai, ye toh bas kaanch ki churia hai. Aur agar tut gaya toh? [Why can’t it break it’s just a bangle made up of glass. What if it breaks?]”

He said, “Ye nahi tutegi, aur agar tut bhi jaye to wo mera hi nuksaan hai. [It won’t break. Even if it breaks, it’s my loss.]”

I choose five bangles; all blue colored, and put it vertically between my two palms. I put pressure of medium magnitude. It remained still. I put some more pressure. It withstood that. I analyzed scientifically that how come it is withstanding a good amount of pressure. Keeping the bangle vertically we are providing only centripetal force and owing to its small size it becomes tougher to break. But there has to be some limit; I mean it can’t withstand the weight of a bulldozer whatsoever be its orientation. I was little bit reluctant to put severe pressure on it fearing if it broke it would hurt my hands badly. I gave up saying ‘it’s really tough.’ Suddenly Rakesh, unable to conceive the notion that bangles can be such tough, took it from me. He pressed it hard, then harder. It was clearly visible on his countenance. And finally it broke!

But the poor old man very cleverly turned his failure into a note of Rakesh’s admiration, “Bhai itni jor lagaoge toh sarkare hill jayengi; ye churian kya cheez hai! [So much force can even shake the government, what to say about these bangles.]”

Inside me I felt little bit guilty, that he incurred a loss due to us. I thought of paying him but stopped. Won’t it hurt his ego? We have already shaken his faith over his bangles; his much faithful, age old love, his bangles. I was in dilemma, struck between my guilt and his ego. Suddenly he offered each of us few bangles, blue bangles.

I protested, “Hamne pehle hi aapka kafi nuksaan kar diya hai. Waise bhi mera pariwar yahan nahi rehta hai aur na hi mai aas-paros ke kisi bachche ko janta hun. [We have already done a loss to you. Further none of my family member is here. And even I don’t know any kid in my neighborhood.]”

He said, “Tohfa hai. Bas rakh lijiye. [It’s a gift. Just keep it.]”

“Nishatganj, Nishatganj, anyone Nishatganj.” The driver shouted looking at passengers. Our stop had come. He was going to Chinhat. We need to visit the Royal Enfield showroom in Nishatganj. We just said ‘thank you’ and got down. As I was paying my fare, an idea struck me. I paid the complete fair of the bangle man to the driver and instructed him not to take any fare from him. Obviously I didn’t tell this to the bangle man.

This is the spirit of what I am taking about; a spirit to respect, a spirit to admire, a spirit to live happy, a spirit to lead a good life. Lucknow is a city of good gesture. It has taught me a good deal of life. This one of the moment took so long narration, I have lots of moment from Lucknow to treasure. That’s why this city is called “The Golden City Of East”. Needless to say I will miss Lucknow a lot.

[Published in पंचक्रोशी ( panchkroshi), Smarika 2013, on occasion of visamwaad saptam, the annual meet of sarjana-vitaan cum literature workshop]

The Artist

I can surely say about this movie: 'Expressions at its best'. It is a must watch for those who love theatre. The story takes you to 1927 to 1932. The perfection of direction is such that you will feel yourself to be at that era. All the actors, rather artists were such as if they were imported from that period to act in the movie. So are the film; silent (with background music) and black and white. It portrays the story of an artist (George Valentin) of silent film who ignores and under evaluates the importance of onset of talkies film. He enjoys the idea that talking in the movie is a distraction for the artist as well as audience. While dissenting to his film producer’s opinion, he says with anger (via Title cards) “Go make your talking movies. I am going to make them a beautiful film.” For him beauty lies in the expression of an artist rather than voice. On the other hand, a lady (Peppy Miller), once his fan, rises to become popular actor in the talkies film. The first sound, apart from the background music, comes when George Valentin is in his dressing room and his glass makes a sound when he puts it on the table. No title cards, we actually hear this. He is astonished with the sound, so taps it again. The same sound repeated. He gets up from chair, the chair makes a sound. George is worried. He says something to dog, no sound comes of his mouth but the dog starts barking, and yes we could hear that too. He noticed that everything has started talking and he is still mute. Of course this scene was in his dream, but the dream bothered him as it showed how he would be left behind time. The romantic comedy drama continues with the fall of his idea of dejecting talkies and his career. In the mean time his romance strengthens with Peppy Miller. Later at the end she helps him to get out of depression of his failure and persuades him to enter the talkies. The only dialogue from the protagonist George Valentin is heard at the last scene when he gives a performance and director requests him for once more. He replies with a deep French accent “With Pleasure!”

It is amazing that a movie with almost no voice can be so profound. A speechless movie leaves you speechless! As the movie progresses you will feel that you have gone to past. If you are a keen observer, you would notice how meticulously sets, dress and other ephemeras have been chosen to represent it of 30’s. Even the least noticed things like the font of written English, handbag the actress carries, the shape of the bottle of liquor, design on the headboard of bed, be it anything they justify their presence. The director Michel Hazanavicius has done his homework well, that’s for sure! It’s a completely different movie. Go for a change!