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Folks, I'm taking a break. It'll be three days.
Now, the joke is: I'm taking books along. Hahaha!
I finally got to see this movie. I feel it was utterly overrated. I dont think murdering your Defence Minister from the back while he's on a morning walk is very cool, whatever the motive is. Just because A kills B and goes to jail, B need not do the same right?
I wouldnt call it a terrorist act as some reviews put it because terrorists kill innocents and they kill to create terror among the masses. It wasnt so in the movie.
Also, the main characters dont show nationalism really. Even before their friend was killed in the crash, many other pilots lost their lives in similar incidents. Where was their nationalism then? They woke up only after their friend was killed. They killed the Defence Minister only to avenge the death of their dear friend.
That way, the movie really summed up the disinterested behaviour of our country's youth in all matters not concerning their friends and family. It has to be a friend or a family member killed in an air crash to wake their butts up from their deep slumber.
The movie has a lot of fun though. It has a lot of feel good quotient. The music is what I liked most.
A website which is down when you need it most.
A broadband connection that gets disconnected without warning.
A mobile phone network that replies after two hours to a cricket score enquiry, well after the match is over and the news bulletins are filed.
An ATM that asks you to return after three hours.
An ATM that forces you to walk a few KM. in hot afternoon sun to draw money at another ATM so that you may have your lunch.
That's what technology is.
We live in a great era. Go celebrate with your outdated mobile phone!
After a gap of six months, I got to move out of the dust and noise of Delhi. My dad and grandpa were here and on the morning of the 23rd, we were on the North – South Corridor, to Agra. I got my first experience of the N-S Corridor, that is talked about so much. It is a four laner, quite impressive I must say considering that this is India, once a land of, they say, snake charmers.
Honorary Driver, Mani ji was pretty good with his driving. He burned off 200 KM in 3 hours flat. On the way to Agra, we checked out the magnificent mausoleum at Sikandra, where Akbar The Great was buried. The story goes that Akbar began the construction of the monument but couldnt see its completion, which was overseen by his son, Jehangir. Much of it was red sandstone. The more luxurious and important parts were constructed with marble. The most striking aspect was the rich artwork everywhere.
I was surprised to see so many deer in the extensive lawns, feeding on the grass and happily living their lives, occasionally throwing a curious glance at the strange beings that have come to see the old buildings near them. Never bring Salman Khan here! The langoors were spending more energy apparently, jumping here and there, begging the tourists for an extra load of peanuts or a banana.
There were many other tombs in the building. Akbar's tomb itself was located in a giant hall, which I guess is present at the centre of the whole complex. The guide there demonstrated the amazing acoustics of the hall.
Back on the highway, when we entered a large town with shabbily constructed houses and dust laden roads, we were wondering what this town's name might be. Mani ji was surprised. "Agra!", he said.
It is one of the shabbiest and filthiest towns I've seen. It attracts thousands of tourists from all over the world everyday. Yet, the first impression that you get of Agra is not commensurate with its standing as a prominent tourist location. Instead, you'd be greeted with cow dung by the road side, houses which look so old that they may collapse at the application of a little pressure with your fore finger, narrow dusty roads, open drainage lines, and litter was everywhere to be seen.
But once we got close to the Taj Mahal complex, the scene took a 180 degree turn. The roads looked much better, lined by thick greenery and it seemed as if we've come to another city entirely.
Security was tight. We had to leave our cellphones outside. We were made to pass through metal detectors and were frisked thoroughly. I wonder why any terrorist would choose to blow up Taj Mahal out of all places. This made my dad observe that they always look at the wrong places for terrorists, which seemed true.
Inside the complex, there were hordes of people, in hundreds, marvelling at one of the most magnificent buildings in the world. There is a great difference between seeing a place in photographs and seeing it in real. One aspect which is clouded in the photographs is the sheer size of the Taj Mahal. It is so big! You have to get close to it and see for yourself to get hold of its sheer size.
Technology can be a great source of irritation sometimes. People were more involved in taking photographs than seeing the thing they've come to see!
Tourists had to leave their footwear outside. Somebody conceived a brilliant idea, however: cover your shoes with some cloth or a polythene cover. Simple! All it takes is five bucks for the man. Easy money for him. By even the most conservative estimate (100 customers a day at Rs. 5 each), this man must earn about 15,000 bucks a month! No math, no phone calls, no paper work, no C++ or Java, no formal dressing, no English speaking skills, no ass licking! And the Prakashes and the Brindas still cry sollu over liberalization and its apparent (but false) effect of job losses. If you want to make money, even at all odds, you can. This is an excellent example.
The whole place was marble and only marble! From a distance, it shines brilliantly in the sun. When you get close to it, however, you can understand the argument that pollution is damaging its beauty. It has a shade of light brown, almost absent but definitely noticeable.
The perfect symmetry everywhere was amazing, interrupted only by Shah Jahan's tomb inside the mausoleum, beside the tomb of Mumtaj Mahal. Nobody was allowed to enter the circle and touch the tomb. The actual crypt, they say, lies under the marble slabs which go for tombs. Its door was locked. I was baffled to see people throwing money through the gate. The interior of the mausoleum was heavily decorated in floral designs. There was a script running down and across the walls, I guess in Persian, maybe Quranic verses.
The minarets are quite impressive. You cant stop wondering how they could build such tall buildings four centuries ago. River Yamuna flows slowly and silently along the eastern side of the Taj Mahal. It was afternoon and it was pretty hot but once we entered the shadow on the eastern side, the marble felt so nice and cool.
There were so many lovers to be seen. Some beautiful and some ugly but all bound by that beautiful thing called love. There were many more singles to be seen. Apparently, the monument of love that they have come to see had an extrasensory effect on them. Those naughty glances were exchanged between members of the two sexes more frequently than usual. Everyone was caught in the aura of the Taj it seemed.
We had to walk around so much that our legs began to ache. We took one last look at the big beauty and bid goodbye. The next place to see was the Red Fort. The inscription on the stone slab there says, "It is the most important fort of India". Just outside, however, one can smell that characteristic odour of the Musi in Hyderabad. It was shocking to see so much filth and litter lying in the moat. Shame!
Red Fort is as big as an entire village… so many rooms, so many halls. It was the same red stone everywhere. Rich artwork again. One surprising aspect of all these buildings is that one rarely sees any metal. They're made entirely of red stone, interrupted here and there by marble.
Back on the highway, we were confronted with a traffic jam in a village, just a few KM. from Agra. Mani ji's enquiry had revealed that a Toyota Qualis had hit a tractor, whose driver fell out and came under the wheels of the Qualis. Angry villagers began to protest and blocked the road. The police were unsuccessful in getting them off the road. Some local politician had to come to pacify them!
Whoever came, he came pretty early and traffic began to move, to the relief of everyone because it was already 6 PM. and we had to see Mathura too on the way. Mathura was no different from Agra in its aesthetic quotient. It was the same – dirt, dust, litter.
We checked out only one place at Mathura – Sri Krishna's birthplace. It was the same security procedure again. This time, we had to leave our cameras also behind.
It was enchanting to be where dear Mr. Krishna was born. I was quite eager to check out the Gopikas and I wasnt disappointed.
The inside of the temple was splendid. The most beautiful thing was the sanctum sanctorum. The statues of Mr. Krishna and Ms. Radha, decorated liberally with jewels, shone brilliantly. The light that reflected off them made holes in my heart, entered its deepest corners and illuminated it. My mind, however, refused to side with my heart initially. I went away to circumambulate around the sanctum sanctorum. The walls contained pictures of all the numerous forms of Lord Vishnu. In the middle, I encountered the picture of Bharat Mata and this time, my mind gladly accepted to go with my heart and I gave Her a long namaskaar.
I felt much better. Once I was back in the front of the statues, however, I looked at them again and remembered Mr. Krishna's eternal words: "Whosoever comes to me, in whatsoever form, I reach him. All people are struggling in paths, which in the end, lead to Me." I thought, "I'm not a chimpanzee, am I? Am I not one of these 'people'?" Well, my heart for once defeated my mind and I found myself praying!
Ahem! Q#T^$%&^*^ whatever… anyway, we had chai outside and got back on the highway. We had dinner at a road side dhaba. Fortunately, they served some much needed beer 
The chilled, frothing beer soothed my mind and cajoled my worked up, rusted knees and put the pain to sleep. The smooth high engendered some interesting conversation and I realized it has been quite a while since I had such a conversation with my family members!
It was 12.30 PM when we got back to the hotel in Delhi. We bid goodbye to Mr. Mani ji and shook hands with him. I came back to my room and within an hour I was in dreamland. I had some tight sleep thanks to my tired limbs.
Hmmm… and so ended a day in this man's life.
—
Now, I've seen the Taj Mahal myself but not in detail because I was there for only about an hour and a half. So it was difficult to investigate the theory that the Taj Mahal was a medieval Shiva temple. When I heard it first, I thought it was ridiculous. I still do think so but I do have my mind open to any truth that might come out.
Also, people must remember that it is just an old building. It is better if we just move on with our lives. If the theory is indeed true, we must accept the truth and even then, move on with our lives. It is just a historical issue. After all, it is not going to improve our Human Development Index, is it?
Nevertheless, there are some people in India, who would love to exploit such issues to create violence and disorder for political gains. What better examples than the Advanis and the Togadias! If they hijack this issue, it can be bad for the country.
Sonia Gandhi reminds me of Muhammad bin Tughlaq. She also reminds me of that fabled guy who saws the tree branch on which he's sitting. Finally, she reminds me of Erragadda Mental Hospital.
"It's big, and white."
Let's see…
In war, shit happens and shit also happens to those who care least. Like to Eman Waleed's family, "one morning in Haditha". Shall we blame Bush or the terrorists?
When your father and grand father come to see you after six months, you'd be excited that you too will get to see them after a long time. Well, I am excited too. It's been a while but somewhere in the depths, there is this feeling of… hmmm, let's say fear. Feels strange.
Last March, I remember, when we were struggling to get sponsors for Surge 2005, Naren used to hold a copy of The Times of India aloft, gawk at the page long advertisements and muse about going to IIPM for sponsorship. That time, it was just a joke. But what happened seven months later could prove we missed out on some big money!
Well, it's pretty late. This whole thing happened about six months ago. I stumbled on it a few hours back. You know, I've been telling people on YIM that I havent seen a movie in the last six months, followed by a "sad" smiley. This stuff really covers up that deficit many times over.
This is tremendous. Few movies will provide the thrills that this issue can. So, go ahead and enjoy! Follow all the links for maximum benefit. The legal notice that Gaurav got was particulary hilarious.
In relation, I've been buying a particular magazine called "Business & Economy". The cover page and the issues they covered seemed attractive but some of their stuff has been plain ridiculous. After you read, you feel as if the Prime Minister and the President are sleeping. The fact that the magazine's chief editor looked more like a Page 3 type, with designer specs, designer tie, designer watch, designer suit, while arguing for the country's poor, made me even more suspicious.
By fortuitous coincidence, I discovered that the chief editor of this magazine, "Prof." Arindam Chaudhuri, is the villain of the IIPM story. So, today, feeling cheated, I shall burn all the three editions of that magazine that I have. And I shall rejoice seeing the ashes fly.
PS: I know my making it look as a source for entertainment doesnt seem to be a cool thing to do. But what the hell, it happened six months back!
PS2: I wonder what IIPM's and "Prof." A. Chaudhari's state is today.
PS3: My middle finger to "Prof." A. Chaudhari and IIPM.
You think world oil production has passed its peak? David Friedman thinks otherwise.
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