You Are What You Do

"Tom, don't let anybody kid you. It's all personal, every bit of business. Every piece of shit every man has to eat every day of his life is personal. They call it business. OK. But it's personal as hell." - Micheal Corleone


All I have known in my little time on this planet is there is no such thing as personal and professional life. I am what I do. If I study to become a chartered accountant inspite of knowing I would be better at a lot of other things, I forfeit the right to claim that I want to become a writer someday. Thats because I dont know if I will be alive tomorrow. I am what I do today, right now, at this moment.
If I am doing something out of external pressures, societal norms, image concerns, then that is what I am - a scared, cowardly piece of shit. But courage can be acquired, bravery is a product of crisis sometimes. And therein lies hope. That is why so many people keep looking for that one thing they would die for in life. But in the meantime, there are enough things to fight for in life.
I dont want to sell junk food and barbie dolls to school kids simply because I have better access to them than the big brands. I want to take a stand, I want to fight back.
I believe in certain ideals. I have to stand for them - consistently, unequivocally and vociferously. I cant be 2 different people in personal life and professional life. Because its only my choices that will define me. Not what i was born with or what education i got or what family i come from. 
I want fame but at what price? I want money but at what cost?
I am a socialist doing capitalist work
I am a would-be capitalist who will spread socialist ideology
Hehe, I am nothing till i take a leap. I am nothing till i make a choice.
I am just a manager till then. I create nothing, I lead nothing, I DO nothing. 
I just manage - and when did that become so important?
I am worse than the guy who carries cement from one floor to another at a construction site.


I will be a leader, a creator someday
I will inspire and question and fight someday
I will have the courage to defeat the will - not just of the great governments but of my loved ones also.
I am going to be the same person in love, in hatred, in strife, in pain, in poverty, in prosperity, in life, in death.
I will keep promises then: the ones made to my loved ones, my teachers, myself.


And then, on a drunken night out with my friends, I will be able to hold my head high and tell them proudly what i am. Because I am what  I do.


And that Mr. Shahrukh Khan, is a superhero. 
Be very careful what you call a superhero next time. 
Its not a term to be used lightly.

Diwalis

Inspite of having lived in a city that celebrates Diwali so maddeningly, I haven’t spent most of my Diwalis in Bombay. Thats because everything my dad ever does has a decision tree, a cost-benefit analysis and an extreme adherence to logic and prudence. So when he decided that he needs to take his family for a trip atleast once a year, he arrived at Diwali as being ideal – what with it being less crowded than summer holidays, people travelling home rather than for holidays, better weather all round compared to the oppressive summers, good cluster of holidays when the stock market isn’t particularly active. It helped that all holidays were planned 2 months in advance with a detailed itinerary, shopping plan and luggage plan. I even remember one trip before which gave 3 alternative destinations and we were asked to give points out of 5 on various criteria.

But once we were on our way, everything was spontaneous. We forever travelled sleeper class and dad covered up his stinginess by saying he was training both his sons to become ‘rough and tough’- one of the many clichéd English terms that were his favourite.

I say there is no better way to travel this country but by sleeper class train. You could actually feel the smell changing as we move away from coastal Mumbai to interior Maharashtra. You feel how the language changes, how the vada pao slowly transforms into bonda or samosa depending on which direction you were going. You meet such an eclectic mix of people. We travelled with a UP family who rarely talked and a Bengali family who only talked. We travelled with Marwaris who turned towards the wall while eating and Muslims who ate the same thing for every meal – in communion style. We met gujju families who made us feel guilty about the sheer noise people from our community create and Punjabi families who made us feel relieved that atleast we were not that noisy. We heard qawwalis at Ajmer, had pethas at Agra, kapi at Mysore, rabdi at Abu and luchi at Kharagpur. As a kid getting off the train on a random station held the biggest thrill for me and my brother. To find something tasty and pass it on to mom from the train window was a moment of pride for us. We once spent an entire 24 hours in a train bogie in Mughal Sarai because there was some technical fault. We bathed in a public bathroom near the station. I love the rhythm of the train. I  love looking out of the window. It is the most exciting TV screen I have ever come across. I loved finishing tinkles and archies before every subsequent station so the next instalment can be demanded from dad. I loved having exotic fruits whose names i couldn’t even pronounce. And we usually travelled heavy - no, strike that - gujju heavy. So there was always this need to count luggage at every juncture. Why it excited us so much then I have no clue now.

And imagine, the train journey was just the beginning. We never booked a hotel in any of the places. Because dad believed you get the best price when you go there and bargain. So at numerous train stations, bus depots, city squares, mom and us two kids waited while dad heckled with atleast 10 hotels before settling for one. And while he was gone, he would leave me in-charge – of the luggage, the lady and the kid – so cool! And holidays never meant chilling in one place. It meant lots of sight-seeing. Once at Khajuraho, I snuck into the adult part of the sight-seeing. Another time at Munnar, I we kids went to a special sight-seeing in the night with the hotel owners kid – a haunted house in a lonely lane next to the hotel. There were millions and millions of walks because dad and mom are crazy about walks. Walks on hills, next to rivers, mall roads, villages, slums, everything.

And the food. Imagine finding the most awesome dosas in the middle of a jungle in Nepal. Imagine dying of hunger after a day long travel and the bus turning a bend to discover a highway dhaba in Punjab who served the most awesome Chhole Bhature ever. Imagine gorging on so many rasgullas in Kolkatta that you fall sick by the time you reach Darjeeling. Imagine biting into an aloo paratha unashamedly laden with oodles of butter in a luxury resort in Thekkady, Kerala. Imagine enjoying the most awesome puri bhaji at a peasant's house in Gaya.

And every place had a story, a reference point for mom and dad. Mom always told us about which film a particular place was shown in. So she would talk about Gulzar and Hrishikesh Mukherjee and Vijay Anand. About comedies, romances and mysteries. Dad would try to wear local attire, talk in local dialects and woo mom with local songs. And there were a million sound and light shows, forts, temples, mosques, step-wells, markets – each fascinating in its own way. Infact, one of the most fascinating experiences I have ever had was when once we were victims of a bus robbery by dacoits in rural Bihar - more on that some other time.

And my younger brother was a pain. He would want to go to a zoo in every goddamn city/town/village we ever visited and being the favourite in the family he would have his way. Have never seen my dad happier than when he is fast asleep in his lap on those long bus rides. Dont know if its because he was with him or because he was finally asleep :p As he grew older, his need to be cooler directly conflicted with my need to have more pics clicked where I could have my arm around him. Every trip was an adventure for him; every latest trip became his “best trip ever”.

I just think this country can be understood only by travelling it extensively. For all that unites it and divides it will be clear to you once you see it.

Jo apni aankhon mein
Hairaniyan leke chal rahe ho
Toh zinda ho tum

- ZNMD

I wish there will be a time when I will live like this again. I will pass on the joy that my parents have given to me. I wish I won’t be just planning trips to Goa and Andaman and Spain and Ireland. I wish I will be going for them again soon.

Year – 1999

Location – Somewhere close to Manali, along the river Beas

Mom told me about a song that still fills me with longing on a busy office day with my boss breathing fire. A song that fills me with nostalgia and hope and sadness. Written by Gulzar

Barfili sardiyon mein kisi bhi pahaad par

Waadi mein gunjti hui, khamoshiyaan soone

Aankhon mein bheege bheege se lamhe liye huye

Dil dhundta hai, fir wahi fursat ke raat din

Baithe rahe tasavur-e-jaana kiye huye

The India Story

Do you believe in the India story?

That’s a no-brainer. Of course I do.

Every penny of my savings is invested in that story.

The Story that shall overtake the Greatest Story Ever Told

Inspite of Hindus who hate the Muslims

Inspite of Brahmins who hate the Shudras

Inspite of Manmohan without a spine

Inspite of NaMo without a fear

Inspite of a gaping hole between the haves and have-nots

Inspite of a gaping hole dug for coal, unearthing naxals too

Inspite of being spoilt for choice between lesser of the evils

Inspite of being spoilt for choice between elitism and elitism

So what if I like neither the Congress nor the BJP

So what if I like neither Anna nor Sonia

So what if I am petrified of bomb blasts

So what if I am indifferent to bomb blasts

So what if the only way to peace is through fear

So what if the only way to justice is through bribes

So what if South doesnt like North

So what if Kannada doesnt like Tamil

Do I believe in the India story, you ask?

That’s a no-brainer. Of course I do.