Valid Excuses For A Pseudo-Break

I would be relatively inactive in blogosphere for the next fifty days. Various reasons are listed down later in the post. Have been fairly disciplined with the rule "at least one post per ten days" , exceptions being a couple of vacations when I was not in Bangalore. The reason for the rule was the observation that most of the blogs that are now dormant were marred with irregularity. Increasing gaps between the posts presaged the imminent death.

Many bloggers face a trade-off between quality and quantity, especially when pressed for time. So do I for the next 7 weeks. "Quality or Quantity?" is the question. I am going to use the management mantra of "Power of And" ; would screw both of them. There would be infrequent filler-posts that which would take less than half an hour to compile as opposed to the usual 2-3 hours and I would tag the posts as Fillers. I am totally non-committal about that though as of now. The bigger loss, however, would be the reduction in communication with fellow bloggers, which is even more critical for blogs that are as young as this. But then, there are reasons for going slow, which are :

1. LSE Exams: I've confessed my love for mathematics in quite a few posts. Economics is another very interesting subject and I would strongly recommend to have at least basic understanding of economics if you are interested to develop a better understanding of the world around you. Economics is not all about money, we have "Finance" for the purpose. Economics (moreover microeconomics) is about choices, how and why we make them. The principle of "diminishing marginal returns" made me trade the ninth hour of my sleep for Yoga everyday. We all know that Yoga/exercise is good for health. However, after reading economics, it sounds foolish not to do so, considering the marginal returns vs marginal costs analysis for one hour of Yoga vs ninth hour of sleep.

I am studying this very interesting course since last three years and have my exams in late May and early June. Blogging has ensured that this year my subjects at LSE haven't received the desired devotion until now and now is the time to compensate for that.

2. IPL: Being a logical Indian male in late twenties, I am supposed to be crazy about cricket and I am predictable here.

The plan is to use the laptop as little as possible for the next few weeks and I know that if at all I log-on to the net on pretext of blogging, all I would do is follow live matches on net. Can't stop myself from predicting a few outcomes though. Last year's winners Rajasthan Royals would not make it to semis this year; neither will Kolkata Knight Riders. I see two new entrants to semis this year: Mumbai & Bangalore. Chennai should make it too. I rank Delhi, Chandigarh & Hyderabad in that very order as probables for the fourth berth in semis.

3. Work Load: Two of my projects are expected to be launched in coming months. That should explain, I reckon. Besides, I've also committed two posts per month to my other blog here and posts there need more time due to the professional nature of the blog.

4. Expected rise in frequency of social gatherings: Almost all of my current friend circle was born between March to May. That includes all the males in our family too: Dad, Bro & me. Usually, none of the males being discussed here have any specail feelings about their B'days and a typical "Happy B'day" phone call goes like this:

The phone rings. B'day boy picks up the phone," Haan bhai. Bol do tum bhi "
Friend : "Kya kar sakte hain yaar. Angrejo ki dee hui bimari hain. Le lo happy b'day"
B'day boy, "Saalon ne mobile bhi banaa diya hain. Dhung se neend bhi nahi ho paayi hain aaj." Friend, "Sahi baat. Kitne thuk jayenge aaj ?"
B'day boy," Dekhte hain yaar, chocolate me tarka sake office ke logo ko to sasta rahega mamla. Tum log bhi thoosne ke mood me ho kya? "
Friend, "Yaar khilaoge to kha lenge, but aaj nahi; weekend pe set karo." B'day boy, "Haan, aaj wise bhi emotionaly drain ho jaate hain free me smile kar kar ke."
Friend, "Chalo thik hain fir. Bataa dena jo bhi ho."
B'day boy, "hmmm."
The call is disconnected.

Life, in this part of the universe, has mostly been simple.

Dilli Ka Thug : Part 1

This is the first anecdote in the series “Tricks of trades” introduced in an earlier post. Part 1 describes the incident while Part 2 would be analyzing it.

On a cold winter night in Gurgaon around five years ago, my office cab stopped near the apartment I stayed in with friends. The driver passed me the register to put an entry for the trip. All this while, my eyes were fixated on a poor family sitting below the street lamp : two men, two women and five children out of which two were in their mothers’ laps; the children were crying and didn’t have any winter clothes to cover their body with. The family didn’t look like beggars though; they appeared to be villagers. I signed the register and got down the cab; the wind was quite chilly that December and I felt guilty wrapped in my oversized leather jacket which, friends now tell me, used to make me look like a goat in sheep’s wool.

As I walked towards the apartment, the elder amongst the two men (must have been around 35) asked me in broken Hindi whether I understand Marathi to which I replied in affirmative. He thanked Devi for that and then told me in Marathi that they were from a village in Nasik and that they were visiting a Devi’s temple when someone fooled them in train and took all their suitcases & money. A young one in his mother’s lap started yelling harder to which the man responded by shouting at his wife to keep the baby quite. I asked him whether they’ve had any food and learnt that the kind-hearted shopkeeper on the other side of the road gave them a packet of bread which, I suspected, must have been stale. Police just took their report, but didn’t help any further.

By this time I was feeling really sad for them and wondered with anger about the wicked ways of the world. These simpletons had come to visit a temple (the only form of tourism known to most of the Indian villagers) and someone was wily enough to put these men with women and little children in such a sorry state. On further enquiry, he told me that there’s a train tomorrow morning and he would forever be indebted to me if I could lend him 500 Rupees for the tickets. He had a lump in his throat as he said this, his eyes were watery and hands joined together. I put a hand on his shoulder to give him some comfort and nodded in agreement.

We both then walked towards the ATM. I was feeling quite proud of myself and magnanimous by now. I thought that I have lost count of how many thousands are there in my bank account, and what a great deal of difference just one of them would make to this bloke’s life. What good a man’s life is if it couldn’t help the ones in need: my conscience gladly told my mind to which a compassionate heart agreed heartily. I gave him 1000 Rupees to cover the tickets and buy some warm clothes and food for them. The man said that he doesn’t regret missing on the visit to temple as he met his God in me. I dismissed this foolish flattery with great disdain.

While on our way back from ATM to the place where his family was waiting, he noted down my address to which he would send the Money Order after reaching his village even before he drinks a drop of water. He was glad to meet a Marathi-manoos is such distress. I sort of scolded him for thinking that only a Marathi man would help him; I would have helped him even if he wasn’t Marathi (I really was getting too filmy by now). He asked the children to touch my feet when we reached there but I jumped back and then bid adieu to the family wishing them luck and instructing to not to trust anyone so easily now in the train.

"Abe badaa late ho gaya ! Kahaan fuss gaya tha saale. Aadhe ghante se wait kar rahen hain. Chal dinner karte hain fatafat. " one of my friends greeted me as I eneterd the flat.

"Kuch nahi yaar! Wo gaadi waala pahle Sector 7 le gayaa tha ; ladki thi saath me to uska last drop nahi ho sakta tha" I said in a resigned voice.

Some lewd comments followed about how that girl must have molested me throughout the trip; they blamed the winter for her high libido.

We sat down to have the dinner. Two of my friends started the routine bickering about the food which I interrupted with a lecture on how so many people die of hunger and that we should be grateful for having this food and a comfortable life.

"Mujhe lagta hain ek nahi 2-2 ladkiyan thi iske saath" was a very well received response.

Weeks past by and no Money order came. I was hurt. When I decided to give that guy the money, I didn’t have any intentions of getting it back. “He shouldn’t have promised to return the money while we were walking back from the ATM. I had never asked for it. Anyways, good that I helped the families reach home. Neki kar, dariya me daal” were my thoughts. I didn’t tell about the episode to anyone.

About six months later on a humid evening when I was taking a walk around my apartment, I heard a voice a few feet away: “Aapko Marathi samajhti hain kya saab?”