ODE !

We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World losers and world- forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.

Arthur O’Shaughnessy (1844-81)

These are a few beautiful verses from a poem ‘Ode’ I read recently and have been reading it time and again. Look at the spirit in the poem, it’s marvelous!

Well…really so much has been happening in life of late that it was hard to find time to write about anything in particular. Sometimes, you feel like you cannot catch up with your own life. And this is one of those phases. It is going to pass soon as I will be home shortly and back home, there is not much that happens. I am afraid there is even lesser to think and write about. But it’s gonna be fun, being with family and friends after such a long time…!

Oops ! I just realized what a terrible mistake I made. This phrase ‘home’ can be misleading at times. I used it so casually without even giving it a second thought. Mumbai is so much a home to me. In fact, as days are passing by, I am getting all the more close to it. You feel so much at home when the shopkeepers around start smiling at you and do not hesitate to lend you things when you are broke. Oh, that has happened to me quite often. They all know me now and know what I need. And exactly how much. For instance, the breadwalla round the corner packs a pack of brown bread and half a dozen eggs on mere sight of me. Regardless of whether I have that much of money in my wallet. “You won’t run away without paying me”, is his usual answer.

It’s not just about the amicable vibes you can sense around. It’s also about asserting your own identity. You are what you are. No one here is interested in what you were or where you come from. You decide how you want to be known. You feel like you have grown up all of a sudden. I realized how much I resembled the women in my family when I was haggling with the vegetable vendor for a rupee or two. I would flinch when I saw my mother doing the same…but now it seems such a practical thing to do. After all, every penny counts when one is as broke as me in the latter half of the month.

Sunny 'n' Seamy

race course of Mumbai


This is one profession where you are made to feel at the top of the earth and in the deepest abyss. Yeah, in one moment of journalism you feel like the king of the city (queen, in my case) and you are reduced to dirt on the road in the other. I have been through both of them in the past few days.

The former and the pleasant one came when I attended a press conference in a posh restaurant at the Mahalaksmi race course the other day. A place thronging with the big-wigs of the racing world and some of the reputed journos of the city. I was the only kiddo there, both in terms of age and status. And most people seemed inquisitive to know about the new kid on-the-block. Ha-ha! There were loads of chilled German beer and a variety of other drinks. Not to mention the sumptuous lunch which was a bizarre blend of Indian, Italian, Chinese, Thai etc. cuisines. Imagine having kulchas with croissants! Or matka kulfi with chocolate mousse! But it was great fun…and with all the attention we journos were getting, the event seemed even better.

The sun doesn’t shine everyday in journalism. What I mean to say literally is that we can’t afford to sit in air conditioned rooms at all days. The reality dawns on you only when you face the scorching heat on Mumbai streets. For the sake of attending some politician’s rally, to make matters worse. But that made me realize how detached the youth (myself included) is from the entire political system. How least bothered we are about what makes the utmost difference in our lives! Anyway, I encountered it for a day at least. The cheering supporters ready to smash others under their feet and the poor reporters struggling to get a glimpse of the star of the day! As if it were not bad enough, the cops trying their best to keep the ‘press’ at bay by pushing and brandishing their batons at what seemed the most abhorred section of the society. It is a part of the job, for whatever it’s worth. Ohh…I am already getting a hang of it!!

The Rising Sun !

My bum has been getting lazy of late. This is what happens when your body switches to the vacation mode for a good long three months. Nothing seems convincing enough to get them off your cozy bed on a summer morning when you have the whole day to yourself. Especially when you are living on your own without anyone around to pull you up. But once in a while, if you give up the joys of sleeping till midday, you can be generously rewarded by Mother Nature! This is a picture of sunrise that I captured on a stroll to Gateway. I don’t want to give you the impression that it happened accidentally. It was very much pre planned. All the same, this wouldn’t have been possible had I not left my bed at six this morning. All of this in a bid to prove my roomie wrong who commented last night- “Oh, sunrise! Then, you gotta call the sun to your bedside.”

It being Good Friday today, I went to a church after my photography session got over. They screened a movie on the life of Jesus. The ultimate saga of brutality and suffering! After all, there is only so much that flesh and blood can take in. By the time Jesus was being nailed to the cross, almost everyone in the church was in tears. I sat there tightly shutting my eyes waiting for the horror to pass. The tension that had built up in the atmosphere could be felt.

That apart, this is another thing that I like about Mumbai. You are not tied to any specific identity here. All religions and cultures melt seamlessly in the melting pot of Mumbai. One is free to experience and experiment. One can queue up to get a glimpse of Lord Ganesha at the Siddhivinayak temple, feel the ultimate bliss at the shrine of Haji Ali and pray to the Christ at any church down the street. Unfortunately, Parsi and Jew temples do not allow anyone but people of their own community. And I have failed to notice a single Gurudwara so far. Then for the non-believers, there are the pagan gods like the mighty sun in the picture above.This truly, is a city of worships !!

Colaba Blues !

Do you see the flashy car in blue in the picture above? Oh…of course, you see it but it’s not about just ‘seeing’. Does it catch your eye and make you exclaim? Or you just write it off as any other car parked in what looks like some part of the city? Well, if you are one of my types, you will probably give the latter reaction. And God forbid, if you are someone like my friend, you will instantly recognize this car as Mazda RX-8. Then I would say, welcome to Colaba because this is where you catch glimpses of such cars very often.

But the sad part of it is that you need to have an eye for cars. Going by my friend’s view, a person like me who cannot tell the difference between the simplest of four-wheelers cannot make the most of staying in such a posh locality. And he who visits me once in a while, keeps a hawk’s eye on the roads looking for cars. Hummer H-2, Nisaan GTR…you name it and he has spotted them all on Colaba streets. The automobile enthusiast doesn’t stop at this. After knowing the name of the car, you got to know that Mazda RX-8 is a sports car with 1.3 litre turbo charged petrol engine with maximum output of 170 PS. And you are left nodding all the while, though it sounds all Greek to your ears! Nevertheless, such friends sometimes make significant additions to your general knowledge. And if you manage to remember a thing or two, you can always flaunt your knowledge in front of your less informed friends.

Car or no car, Colaba anyway rocks!! But not everything in one’s life is rocking at all times. At the job front, my confidence is being hammered constantly and my diffidence is assuming new proportions. With each day, I am realizing the toughness of the choice I have made. The cute guys too are just good to look at, and not of much help. I am struggling to fulfill the achievement motive in me. May be, it will take some time.But whatever it is, This Too Shall Pass!

'Free' Press

When I wrote in my last post that the FIRSTs of my life don’t give me a break, I was serious. Every day is a First something. Yep, today is the first of April but you brainy; I am not referring to that. Today again was something special and that is giving me the impetus to write my second post of this day. Operating out of the assumption that you don’t find the tales of my happening life too boring!

I started off with my summer internship today with a newspaper. With peoples’ growing appetite for news, the decline of the newspaper industry comes to me as a shock! Possibly, the hunger for sensationalism is giving the news channels an edge. Not that I am particularly concerned about it, but the sad state of affairs in newspaper offices looms over my head as potential threat to my career. The simple reason being that I see myself as the sweaty journalist (in Mumbai’s heat) slogging her ass off and not sitting debating in air conditioned studios. There must be some serious problem with my vision that seems to be incorrigible. Anyway, the situation was so bad that I had to swing from one computer to the other before I could find one which would not throw its tantrums at me. As I sighed with relief, one of my colleagues said- “Welcome to the paper. This is the way we work EVERYDAY.” Her words turned in my head as I politely replied-“ And I better get used to it.”

But things weren’t so bad either. My sweet colleagues made up for all the technical inconveniences. Not to mention, the really cute guys who I share my working space with! Trust me, it’s fun working with so many cute and warm (mind you, I am restraining from saying HOT) people around, all sailing in the same boat and sharing laughter as well as grievances. I didn’t find one person in the office who wasn’t lovable, right from the editor to the computer guy.

Well, on the job front, I have started learning right from Day 1. I learnt what it is like when someone bangs the phone in your face saying “No Comments” when I had to call some big shots for a story on the very first day. I learnt many more things that are too journalistic to describe here. And I re-learnt that journalism, for God’s sake is not a cakewalk! Don’t think I am grumbling. I am just trying to assert that When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get Going!