Mere Paas ........Baap hai!

I jumped as the phone rang shrilly. It was onal asking for her dad. “ Happy Father’s day dad.” She wished her dumbstruck dad with an expression which you would have if you saw an alien and wouldn’t know what to do or say. He mumbled something incoherently and kept the phone down.

“ what does this mean?”. He was kind of bewildered. He is still trying getting used to all the spate of Days. ( he enquired if there was a mother-in-law day too? I said I will check next time I am in Archies. Bet they do!!)

Again he had one more question. “ will Yugesh call?”

I thought about it. “ When did you recharge his ATM Card?”

“ Day before”

“ well I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

My brother grinned. “ me too.”

Now Yugesh may treat his father as an ATM but I wonder if all his frequent trips to the ATM would remind him of Father's day!Fat chance. when you are hungry and withdrawing money the only picture that comes to mind is that of a chicken as in
" Chicken Biryani".

I can imagine a red faced Yugesh calling angrily. “ I don’t call only when I need money. what about that call when I needed a cover for my ipod? Or when I need a new battery for my mobile? You guys unnecessarily malign me.” Point to be noted.

Well a father has never been given his due. Granted I am not a movie buff, but still I could barely remember one dialogue about father. “ Rishtey main to hum tumhare baap lagte hain.” And only one song , “ Papa kehte hain” maybe because the kid barely ever gets to listen to his papa’s voice. How on earth would he know what are his father’s views?

I was thinking about writing a tribute to my father. But a young reader pointed out that I have almost written all I can about him. Would I have anything new to say? I guess not.

I had only one father and he didn’t have nine lives. So I take his advise and simply print the link to one of my earlier tributes.

hamarichaupal.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-dad-with-love.html

All you young fathers. Don’t crib that your kids neglect you or don’t care for you. doesn’t matter if he lives with you. doesn’t matter if you daily share the same breakfast table. But if you want to connect with him, dont look at his mother; Look at your lap top instead.

No point in trying to talk , spare your breath, instead get on the facebook, use sms , join twitter. Learn the high fives, lol when you want to laugh, try being them. They are not bad kids. Its just that their way of expressing love has changed.

They may not have time to write eulogies like me, but they too care. If you ever get a single sms or twitter mentioning you are kool, take a printout , frame it and keep it on your office table. Your son has given you the biggest compliment. !!!!!!!

For the more sentimental kind of you, Here’s Keith Urban singing “ Song for Dad”

Mithun Da Rocks!

I get recurring nightmares of the shrill and grating Jayanti Natarajan trying to break glass with her screeching. We cant really blame her. she is trying to defend the indefensible. When logic or arguments fail, the only thing left is to try and shout down the voices of reason.

How can any one defend Rajiv Gandhi in the fleeing of Warren Anderson? If the news that it was Ronald Reagen who put pressure on the Indian government is true, then even a five year old can tell you that when the President of America calls he doesn’t speak to the collector of Bhopal.

The average congressman is smart. He knows that the only way to survive is to defend the Palace. Doesnt matter if you sound absurd.Doesnt maater that the reasoning is foolish. You should be heard defending the Family. You will be rewarded.

It could have been funny if only it wasn’t so tragic. So many people’s life was destroyed. Even today many are still suffering. But politicians bank on amnesia. The memory of Indian public is short lived. Confuse them, delay by setting enquiries and consign it to the dustbin. All this ofcourse with the help of a very pliable English media.

Its so pathetic, I have stopped watching the news.

So these days I am trying to look at some of the entertainment on offer. Its been a while.
I miss ‘ Two and a half men’. Hope some day star world brings ‘ still standing’ another very hit show in the USA.May not be as successful as 'Friends' but then friends are made once in a life time.


There are three shows eminently watchable on TV.

While I am no big fan of daily soaps, I am drawn to the irresistible ‘ Balika Badhu’. The story may be weak but it’s the acting. Every one is giving a powerpacked performance. Specially the old lady. Hats off to the director for choosing a cast which is very credible. Not one of them is overacting. A must watch.

For those who understand marathi, there is a serial called ‘ Anubandh’ ( contract)which deals with the complications of surrogacy. A childless couple opt for surrogacy. The serial deals with the complications that come in the life of the childless couple and the girl who accepts to become the surrogate mother because of money. Her boy friend accepts her but is unable to accept the interference of the real father who is drawn to the child. Both the families suffer immensely because of it. It is a very convincing story with very brilliant acting. It can happen to anyone.

Wish the national television could come up with such wonderful serials instead of the annoying soaps with conniving women dressed as peacocks and rich and stupid men.

The third and my favorite show is a dance competition by kids choreographed by some very talented dancers from the senior competition. The kids are simply amazing and some of the choreography is breath taking.

But the icing on the cake is Mithun Da, the star of yesteryears. Whoever said that stars of yesteryears fade gradually. This one seems to be reinventing himself like another star of yesteryears, Anil Kapoor. He is like old wine. Seems to get better with age.

I remember a few years Mithun came with a movie called ‘ Gunda’. A friend from IIT recommended it. Its grown into a cult movie with lots of websites dedicated to it. The ratings as far as I remember in the IMdb was never below 9. It was the whackiest and senseless movie ever made. All the actors speak in couplets with double entendres.

Very few people know that Mithun started his career with a national award in ‘ Mrigya’.
He won the award three times. He later became popular for his dancing.

However , we knew him more as an actor of B grade movies that did more business in the smaller towns and villages.

But his presence in this show changes that.

Just when everyone thought the his career , he comes up with this brilliant show DID where he is the super judge. He is dapper, compassionate, discerning and funny with a very keen eye. I was impressed when the two judges had almost rejected one girl. He differed and said that she is a class. Wait for her in solos. Surely when she came alone, she simply dazzled.

The kids enjoy him as much as he enjoys with the kids.

Sample one below and see the standard. Probably one of the most romantic choreography ever seen. Outstanding.

We must surely thank him for producing such a brilliant show and setting the bar so high.

Way to go Mithun Da.

Football time Folks!

So finally Nadal proved that he is the king of clay. I am very happy for him because he is my favorite player. I not only like his tenacity and fighting spirit but also his humility.

There was a whiff of disappointment too as Leander Paes lost the doubles. A time was when we were happy to see our players reach the quarter finals. But Mahesh and Leander changed that.

A few days back I was chatting with Yugesh and casually asked him what was he doing. Downloading the world cup anthem.

So now the focus is truly and totally on football. Unfortunately the World cup always overlaps my another favorite tournament , the Wimbledon. I always had a hard time keeping awake watching both the tournaments.

My all time favorite was Stefan Edberg. I am yet to see any one so elegant on the grass. I hardly remember a tournament of his which I missed. Tim Henman , another elegant player never played to his potential. we called him Tiger Tim. But all he did was purr like a cat much to our disappointment. But i would still watch him play any day. what elegance! totally sublime.

My mother hated both the tournaments because they were always transmitted at night. we used to have our classes the next day. Luckily we had a very sporting Dad. So we all sneaked into the drawing room and watched these games carefully closing the doors, switching off the lights and keeping the volume to a minimum only to find mother knocking the door with steaming tea.

There were many stand out moments etched in my mind. Maradona and his hand of God. The Colombian player who was shot in his own country because of a self goal which cost their team the loss and so many others.

Later I moved to UK and saw the madness there. football is almost like a religion there. The football players are almost like god. But their fans can be a real pain. Football hooliganism is something that always scared me.

I was on my way to Belfast, Liverpool had reached the finals of the Euro. The police force at the Manchester airport was seen to be believed. there were liverpool shirts everywhere. The police just watced.There were drunken fans everywhere. it looked as if there were riots. Luckily noting untoward happened.

Another time I was mistaken by some rowdy fans in a hotel for the manager and showered abuses. Not their fault though. who wears a suit on a weekend. But i was coming from an event. However they soon redeemed themselves by offering me a pint of beer. A tempting offer but one look at them, i decided to take a rain check!

once as I was buying my train ticket from London to Manchester , the garrulous officer asked me which team I supported. I was smart by now. Chelsea I said. “ Good. If you had said Man united I would have charged you two pounds more.” He said. “ well so its true what I heard.” I said. “ that Chelsea fans are stupid. How did you expect me to live in Manchester and not support my home team.” I smiled wickedly. He pretended as if he was taking my picture. “ Beware the next time.” He laughed.

This time my money is on England ( Oh yes! Rooney , Gerrard , Lampard could be any better! ), Brazil, Spain and Argentina. England team has, Like Tim Henman , has always underperformed on the big stage. Hope this time they banish the ghosts.

I love Shakira. But waka waka is a let down. Agreed her signature hip shakes are there. but the song lacks vigour.


Using the Football analogy , I feel we were kicked hard by the Union Carbide.
I bow down with shame at the worst capitulation by the Indian Government in the Bhopal Gas tragedy. Its worse than freeing Quatrocchi. How low can this government go?

While a lot of bloggers are freely using President Obama’s “ Kick their ass” generously, they fail to understand that its his ass if he fails to kick the BPs. Can we say the same thing about Manmohan Singh’s?

My Thoughts go out to the poor people of Bhopal.

A spark neglected ...

2am. There is a short circuit. The sparks burn the paper plates and cups in the chat market which in turn account for the cylinder blast. Within a few hours the Victoria market, the largest books and stationary market in Gwalior is burnt to char. Sad indeed. Along with the loss to the property, we have lost a great Monument. The Victoria market was built in 1905. It carried a lot of history. The duke of wales gave his first press conference from this building.

The collector has declared that the building is now unfit for use and shall be developed as a heritage building.A very sensible move.It is indeed a heritage building.

But something has to be done to rehabilitate the shops as soon as possible.I am sure with the new school session, there is going to be a shortage of books, notebooks and other stationary.

I remember going to the Victoria market as a school boy. No visit was complete without the mandatory aloo tikiya. It wasn’t just a gastronomical delight. It was a visual delight too as the cook expertly fried many tikias at a time and when ready used to throw it high in the air and catch it in the leafy dona. I grew up watching it with a mischievous prayer to see him miss the target. But it never missed. He too smiled at us when he saw us. we used to try diverting his attention. But the guy was a pro.

After the chat we drank thick mango shake. I still feel that apart from Haji Ali in Mumbai, no other place could serve such thick and tasty shakes. The taste of the shake was enhanced by the dollop of cream on it. Those were the carefree days when calorie count was not in our dictionary.

It was only after we were full did we enter the market. The book shopping took lesser time than the eating. The same shopkeeper had supplied me books from my school till the engineering. The guys in the market were smart. They had all the books for various branches neatly stacked. I can bet that the shopkeeper’s knowledge of the authors and the books matched the professors. All you had to tell them was your professor’s name and he would come out with the books. If you were short of money, never mind. Take the book and pay later.

But by second year, Nayi sarak in New Delhi replaced our old fashioned Victoria market. It wasn’t that the books weren’t available. It was just an excuse for us to go and have fun in the glamorous and attractive capital.

So the chaat was replaced by the succulent stuffed malai parathas of the parathe wale in chandni chowk or fish pakoras in karim hotel in jama masjid , old delhi for lunch and a milk shake in the nirulas in CP.

Later when my dad expired, I came to know that it was the one place to get everything required for the thirteenth ceremony.

I was walking out straight from the pooja and was wearing a dhoti and a shawl. My head tonsured. As I walked through the narrow lanes inside the market, people mistook me for a swami. Folded hands, bent heads, we were given way. My friend whispered that if ever I was jobless, this could be an alternate source.It may seem an insensitive remark. But my friend is one of the most caring guys in the world.It was his way of alleviating the pain and diverting attention.

There was a small cloth market right at the entrance.Even it has been charred beyond recognition.

All these memories remind me of the glory of that forgotten market. I feel guilty. Its been almost a decade since I visited it. Now street eating is almost scandalous. I have left college long back.Besides, the shopping malls in our area has made bada almost redundant.

The authority has offered some compensation to the beleaguered shopkeepers.I am not sure if it is enough. But a large part of the history of the city has burnt to ashes yesterday. The loss is incalculable. Bada will lose some of its majesty. Wish I had taken some photographs.

I remind myself. I must visit the forgotten parts of the city at least once again.

In the French open season, the Congress plays' The Italian open'

Never mind it’s the French Open. Never mind that it’s the most open of open tournament. All the top guns are out. Federer out, Djokovic out, Henin, the William sister, Sharapova out. Should be the most exciting open.

Not really when more exciting things are happening back home. It is the Italian open. And when we say Italian , mama mia only one name comes to mind.

First the rules. There are no rules. And no upsets. The star has to win anyway. She doesn’t even have to play. She gets to watch the game, referee and clap while her ball boys run around picking balls which really should be hanging somewhere else!

What’s interesting about it? Well! the way the game is played and how the unforced and forced errors are declared as winners. We dumb people have to just switch on our ACs, push back our chairs, grab our pop corns and applaud every winner.

You heard of Rajneeti. I mean the movie. Ninety percent yes. And the red saree? Ninety percent no. The lucky ones are people like me who read Shobhaa De’s Blog regularly. (Its a Book, a novel in fact, in spanish on .....yes you guessed right! Sonia Gandhi)
She had visited Italy last month and already warned all to grab their copies before it was banned. What a star! She deserves more respect than all the sting operators combined!

Enough of Rajneeti. Every one knows about the arm twisting and the way some words were censored. Shouldn’t the chairman of the censor board, the dimpled Sharmila Tagore go back to acting since she really doesn’t have to do much anyway. Are we really proud of our democracy? wouldn’t be a good investment to send tickets of ‘ The Queen’ to all these kill joys and educate them about the meaning of freedom of speech. Often friends accuse me of being partial to the English people. Here’s one reason why. This movie was not only released without a fuss in the UK but also went on to win critical acclaim and awards with the Buckingham Palace maintaining a dignified silence. no such luck here.

Well I guess that is too much of an ask for us poor brown, uneducated souls. We deserve to be censored.

Javier Moro is one happy man. His ‘ Red saree’ will soon be laughing its way to the bank thanks to the bulls in the party who charge when they see RED! In total honesty, it was a book, if the congress was smart, to leave it alone. There was nothing earth shaking in it. http://www.javiermoro.com/images/pdf_sari/The_Red_Saree.pdf

The Gandhis have more skeletons in their cupboards.


But it was bad publicity. It was highly embarrassing to hear Javier comment on the democracy in India. It’s a shame indeed. The Congress really does no favor to itself or the country by such stupid paranoia. India is a far more solid democracy than the perception created by such mindless acts.

We shall definitely have a new winner in the women’s singles in the French open. Raphael Nadal is still standing there between Robert Soderling and the crown.

But no such luck here. The only loosers are poor we. From the days of the ‘ andhi’ and ‘ kissa kursi ka’ things have changed much. have they?

Sex, sleaze and Godmen.

I was on the net around midnight when this message flashed on the news. “ Sri Sri Ravi Shankar escapes bid on life.” I felt at least there was one swami who followed his own preachings. The heading should have been “ Swamy follows his own art of living!”

But the genial swamy is not above a little showmanship. He said he forgave the gunman and invited him to his ashram only to embarrass himself when the DGP announced that the gun was shot not at him but between two rival camps. The gun was fired even after the convoy had left.

But seriously why should anyone want to kill a god man who says he is trying to bring happiness on people’s lives. If you don’t want to smile just go in a corner and sulk. Killing is definitely not an option.

But there is something about these swamis that they attract a lot of glamour, money and sex and finally get trapped in their own fame and get shot at. Remember the attempt on Sathya Sai Baba a few years back.

I find this whole swamy business in India very interesting and have done quite some research. It is interesting. They all attain fame, loads of money and live the life of a movie star. Somewhere they become trapped in their own aura and feel they are invincible. I mention only three. All these three are/were larger than life figures, have a very loyal and huge following. The strange part is that all have the following of very intelligent and highly educated followers. But when it comes to their respective swamis all rationality and commonsense goes for a toss. They act like dumb sheep.

Acharya Rajneesh, Sathya sai Baba and now Sri Sri Ravi Shankar ( the second sri is ostensibly to separate himself from the renowned sitarist). Each are such larger than life pictures , that they deserve a separate post each.

“ Sex to Salvation”. That was how I knew Acharya Rajneesh. He had more Rolls Royce than we could count. We were college students and sex definitely was a glue. But he was different. He made spiritualism interesting.He was the most flamboyant of the three and had a lot of foreigners as his disciples. The introduction of Sex in the drawing rooms discussions in the 70s was unheard of. He had very revolutionary ideas. Somehow it sounded very convincing from his mouth. His theory of libertine permissiveness immediately attracted the west and consequently became a big hit there. The young generation in India also was attracted. Sadly, As expected, his ashrams became havens for drugs and fre sex and soon became a big nusicance . BBC has done a beautiful documentary on this unique phenomenon. A must watch.

At the height of his fame, India today did a cover story on Sathya sai Baba, “ The test of Faith/ A god Accused. He was accused of being a psychopathic paedophile and there were shocking stories of serial abuses. But he had very powerful followers- Presidents, Prime Ministers, Civil servants. So expectedly this story was brushed under the carpet. He was said to bring out vibhuti, and rolex watches out of thin air which a prominent magician tried to prove as mere trick. But his blind followers never ever tried to analyse and nothing really stuck.

But he also does a lot social service. A 250 crore water project was a commendable job where even the government had failed. He also provides free heart surgeries in his hospitals. As a child I did attend a few of his bhajans and seen the frenzy and madness that went through the crowd. However, if he was really innocent, he should have come clean. India today is a reputed magazine and they had done their homework thoroughly. What followed from his followers were plain gibberish which couldn’t even be called rejoinders. If faith can turn people such, I am better off without it!

Now coming to Sri Sri Ravi Shankar. I find him the cleanest of all. His right hand men are from the IIT. I have exchanged emails with them and found them very warm and open. I read their blog regularly and it makes a very interesting read. They are not preachy, talk the youngsters’ lingo and are quite entertaining. They invited me to the ashram. I really liked them for their sense of humor. When I accepted his invitation and said that I would like to visit them once, he remarked that you can’t. and then with a smile , he added that people keep visiting again and again.

Maybe I shall visit them. only out of sheer curiosity though.

I write this post in the airconditioned comfort of the train, plugging the laptop into the power socket in the train. our trains have gone such a transformation.

The Kolkata municipal elections have been dubbed as their semifinals. I pray to god that Mamta Banerjee wins both the semi and finals. At least that way we shall have a whole time Railways Minister.

Our gain maybe Bengal’s Loss. But Bengal is doomed anyway. A choice between the communists and the TMC is hardly any choice!

The last of the wedding Trilogy.

The three days went in a blur. There was a steady procession of colorful events with barely a breathing space in between. Dev dauk, seemanti, mangalashtak pheww. I had promised Ruchika that I would write a post daily. But each day I slept only at the crack of the dawn with barely enough energy to crash on the bed.

All that is left now is me, dada and bhabhi and a huge silence. All the guests have left. There is this one unwanted one left , fatigue. We are simply tired. Mentally as well as physically. Yugesh and I readily agreed that we are lucky that there is just one girl. If we had another one, he would have excused himself because of some unavoidable exam and I would have wringed my hands in helplessness citing some ticketing problem.

Today the gate of the house opens signaling the arrival of only contractors coming to collect the payment. No other visitor. We are busy cleaning. There are gifts everywhere.
We had named the wedding as ‘operation silk’. We wanted it to go as smoothly as possible.Sister did a remarkable job anticipating the rush of events. She had neatly packed and labeled each gift and then packed in gunny bags according to clans and cities. I was only left the job of a porter. As each guest left all we had to do was look at his name and the no. and hand it over to him.
She and brother had even got the whole plan of the rooms with the allotments ready. Hence there was no commotion at any given point of time. The entire event took place as smooth as ,ah well , silk.

Now we shall have to do the same with the gifts that we have received. They are overflowing.

As I was sitting in my room checking and replying to my long pending emails ( seventy hours! Well that’s the maximum they have ever been left unanswered.), I hear drums. The hijras , the eunuchs have come to collect their dues. My brother seems to be in a hurry to see them off. He hastily pays them whatever they asked. There are two groups of eunuchs in Bhopal , the somwar and the mangalwar. The don’t encroach on each other’s territory. In the north it is considered auspicious for the eunuchs to sing and dance in a newly wedded’s house. It brings in fertility. Ironic.

The newly wed couple have left for goa to seek the blessings of our kuldevta. Mangeshi, is the god of our clan.

Yugesh has left for Hyderabad. He is doing his internship there. He called up grinning wickedly that it feels like home. He always loved Hyderabad for the rich and diverse culinary varieties. For him home is where the good food is. What a sensitive boy! His charming friend had left a day before. Bhabhi still carried the hangover of the wedding and requested him to look after Yugesh. A red faced Yugesh commented, “ Mom ! he is my room mate not my senior. Looks like you are still in the bidaai frame of mind. I am not onal .”

A marriage is not just the union of two individuals but that of two families. We are fortunate. She has married into one of the most warm hearted and loving family. I judge people according to the etiquettes they display. I must say the entire baraatis displayed such remarkable good manners , we were simply bowled. A relative joked that they not only stole our girl but also our heart.
The youngsters made full use of the dance floor and the DJ. I too was dragged by them. But my embarrassing steps saw me out equally abruptly. No one's loss.

I made a lot of young friends. I see a lot of new adds in orkut and facebook.

There were some poignant moments. Although we are programmed not to display much emotions in public, I do feel a lump in the throat or a solitary tear does find its way out. My most difficult moment was when after the wedding solemnized and she sat with her new family for lunch and we go and fold our hands and request her as Mrs. Bhandare to begin lunch. I just stared numbly. When did my baby grow. Where is that roly poly bundle of energy wanting to visit the zoo everyday. What do I with the memories of taking her in a ‘tempo’ , that cramped elder brother of an autorickshaw, because she felt that it was a better vehicle than our car and eating in front of the lion’s den was more fun than eating on the dining table. Where is the girl who made such a scene when the frock brought on her birthday didn’t twirl and we had to immediately go and exchange it. Now who will roll her eyes in horror at her chachu's ignorance of movies.

But they make a charming couple. Rohan, dapper in his suit, has a very infectious and easy smile matched by onals. They are a treat for sore eyes. I cant get enough of them and so I check with them every half an hour if they want some water. I shouldn’t have worried. The young turks were always there.

The father in law came to me many times and assured me that things were going fine and not to worry. We shall adjust. We are family. Wow. What did we do in life to be blessed with such wonderful people. This is one of my favorite moments.
Ruchika, you were never missed. Because you were always there. Please educate me though. Two weeks in USA and yet you managed to call exactly when the wedding was solemnized. HOW? I always find the lines busy when I really need them. You are a doughty girl. Keep it up. Onal will always miss your exuberant presence.

when we visited Indore for their reception, i was told that many had saved mementos from them wedding.cards, the tiny cute pots with akshata to bless the newly weds with. why doesnt such ideas come to me. i get hold of a few cards from both families. nothing else!

The whole wedding is moving in front of my eyes like a kaleidoscope. But expressions fail me as my hands freeze on the keyboard. maybe I am overcome partly by fatigue and partly by emotions.
There are some moments that no camera can capture , no pen can ink.
They are there cocooned in the deepest crevices of my heart. But words fail me.
When emotions come in flood, the words are lost somewhere. Coherence goes out for a toss. And what we get is a rag tag post like this one.