A Different Quill

One Drink

2011-11-28T20:22:00.001-07:00

One drink to the champ,

Forced in the ring with his hands tied

One drink to the tears unseen,

The ones pride couldn't hide

One drink for the striving lark,

Flying, to an empty nest

One drink to the unhealed wounds

The bleeds, time can't mend

One drink my friends

To those who drink,

One drink to those

Who understand why

- Sanket

About Rock Star ...

2011-11-12T13:24:00.001-07:00

After a lot of anticipation, I saw the movie Rock Star yesterday. I will get to its review in a bit, I first wanted to spend a little time on its music. Before I go on - I must tell you - that this article is for romantic dreamers - if you aren't one of those - then I think you'd find this post hard to relate.

Most of you by now, must have heard the iconic song "Tum Ho" from this film - sung by Mohit Chauhan - I have heard people say its "nice" and "awesome" and "amazing" - But no one has done it justice so far. So - I am going to suggest you an experiment. Heres what you do :-

Imagine the first time you were compulsively attracted to a person. Imagine a real person, not a celebrity. Doesn't matter if you ended up with that person or not - just think of her. You should be able to picture her in your head - what was the hair like, how was the laughter, what did the perfume smell of - color the image with detail. Ok, now put your cynicism and realism aside for a while and go along with me. Imagine a perfect world - where you fall in love with this person through marvellous chemistry and incredibly fun dating. And she has fallen for you just as much. And you leave for an unannounced vacation.

You don't have to worry about money and work - and no one is watching over you two. You don't have to call anyone - or answer to anyone and you have just left. YOU are completely free. Let me spell it out - that means you don't care where you go or how long it takes to get there. It means you don't fret one second over stupid worldly affairs - you don't dampen your adventure with safety - you are free from all constraints. You can make coffee at 4am and go take a bath in the beach - then make crazy, intoxicated love and fall asleep. Or you can be perched atop a mountain with an incredible view with no one else to disturb you. You have the liberty to enjoy each moment with your entire being, with your mind and body fully present. In other words it is the total embodiment of every romantic desire you've ever had. Now hold that image in your head and listen to this song with your eyes closed - on good headphones please!!

If you did it right, it will twist your stomach and almost make you scream. Mohit Chauhan has infused this song with such surreal 'nasha' that you can get drunk just listening to it. It should shake, shudder and ignite your core. This is simply speaking divinity captured on tape.

It is love in the absolute true form. When you want, crave, adore and obsess a person physically, mentally and spiritually. It happens with only a few - and even with those - it happens only once. How exactly does it happen is unknown to me - what I do know - is that this kind of love demands extreme courage in you. It is so powerful that when you first feel its wildness, it will scare the brains out of you. And you will very seriously consider simply running away. This is a force that does not yield to will power or ego or arrogance and pride - nor cares for laws and boundaries. And if you surrender to it - one thing is certain: no matter what the outcome - your life and you as you knew yourself are over! Things will never go back to before - its a unidirectional, irreversible change.

So let me ask you this - when was the last time you kissed and felt it all over - a kiss that stiffed your feet and convulsed your body. Have you ever - after one simple touch of fingers - felt the hair stand up under your sleeve. Or with one glance at a person, simply forgot every single thought in your mind. It is the kind of love that will set your soul on fire and light you from within!

It is that love that Rock Star tries to capture - tries and fails. There are decent movies that become great when made well and then there are great movies like Rock Star that are so poorly made, it drives you nuts. Ranbir Kapoor pulls off his best performance to date and he really deserved a lot more support from the movie. Regardless, this movie will firmly establish him as an actor with some serious gravitas.

Also worthy of undiluted admiration is A. R. Rehman's music - not since Rang De Basanti have songs flown in such quixotical manners. The film will also bring a lot of change for the singer Mohit Chauhan. Unfortunately it means - for the fans of his original self - of Guncha and Sabse Peeche Hum Khade - its an end to substantive music. Now it is pointless populism and him singing incredibly sad, meaningful songs being raped and remixed at concerts - while an idiot and illiterate public go crazy in the crowd.

Mohit Chauhan is to be enjoyed with tear induced whisky in the middle of the night in blissful solitude. His song "Tum Ho" will forever establish his signature. It is one of those songs that no other singer can ever hope to mimic and if and when they do - they'll look like morons. Not since Atif Aslam's tere bin - has a song hit me so hard. Hatts off to him.

This film is mainly of unfinished love. If you are of this crazy and foolhardy population willing to risk all on one coin toss - You might just forgive Rock Star for all its flaws and see it for what it could possibly be trying to say.

Cheers,

- Sanket

Afterthought:: One of the key messages of the movie (which like everything else will be lost) is of how we treat our artists. They are celebrated and adored - but also objectified and abstracted as iconic statues - never humanized. It should give us a pause and make us think. That may be just may be may be - beyond the job of entertaining and performing in films, a star like Kareena Kapoor or Deepika or Ranbir might be a real human being at the end of the day. Capable of the same mistakes we all make, who laughs and cries and falls in love in real life as well. And may be - who they date or don't - or how to define their love - is NONE OF OUR DAMN business.

A few thoughts on amateur astronomy

2011-11-01T22:00:00.001-06:00

Long ago the Greeks called him Zeus – named after the God of the Gods, the king of kings and the master of all. I am talking about Jupiter – the largest planet of our solar system. Jupiter was one the first objects I saw with my telescope. And I have to say that the first experience was profound. I had looked at Saturn before, and its just obviously so pretty, you can see the rings and Titan. But Jupiter is a whole different story altogether.

It is spectacular, uniquely beautiful, awe-inspiring and overwhelmingly majestic. One look and you can tell – this is the king of all planets. When looking through the telescope, you can tell – despite the great distance – that it is a giant planet.

It has shielded us from asteroids and other hazards by attracting them towards him with his massive gravity. Jupiter happens to be just the right size for Earth to sustain its nature, if it were any bigger, its core would have triggered a nuclear fusion making it into another star. Most of our probes to the outer planets and outside of the solar system use Jupiter’s gravitational pull as a sling shot. So, by all standards, we owe a lot to Jupiter – and seeing him through the telescope demands a certain reverence. I guess the Greeks weren’t all that wrong after all!

Alongside Jupiter, I observed its four galilean moons, Io, Europa, Ganymede and Castillo! About four hundred years ago Galileo made the same observation and it changed the world. It is humbling to know that even four centuries ago, there was a scientist so true to his observations, that he risked the wrath of the Roman Church and along with it complete ostracism from society for scientific integrity. Galileo pointed his telescope toward Zeus and saw the four moons revolving around Jupiter! This clearly and observably refuted the notion that the universe revolved around Earth!

Later he sat in a cathedral and deduced from the chandeliers that the period of oscillation was independent of the size of the arc. Then, he refuted another common theory and suggested that heavier and lighter objects hit the earth at the same time. Which took some guts considering that the theory he was refuting was of Aristotle’s!

It is indeed exhilarating to make the same observations as this great father of astronomy. And it reminds us that each time we think we are sure of how the world works – how the universe is structured, we should know that it could all change with one observation! It helps mankind retain perspective when immersed and absorbed in our circles, we begin to think of ourselves beyond nature and above GOD.

A lot of people debate the existence of GOD - of intelligent creation. And many more still wonder if science can prove/disprove the existence of God. I think all of these deliberations are irrelevant. And you only need to take a decent enough telescope to a dark site to understand this.

How you define God is up to each individual. But the existence of God cannot be questioned. Take a telescope and go to a dark site – look at a distant galaxy, or a star forming nebula, look at Jupiter or its four moons and let yourself truly absorb it. Understand the distances involved, understand the physics involved, understand the science of each photon and you will see that for an arrangement of objects so beautiful – there has to be a higher governing power.

So take it from me. Don’t care about what the religious books say or what Stephen Hawkins is typing out – the heavens through a lens will give you a more visceral and indelible spiritual experience than a temple ever will! And in that moment you will realize the Science and Religion to converge and mean the same thing – and any discrepancy between the two will disappear.

Welcome to Astronomy my friends! I assure you – IT WILL CHANGE YOUR WORLD!!

- Sanket

Own a Mac! You'll know.

2011-10-07T18:04:00.003-06:00

My first laptop was a Toshiba Satellite. It was big and bulky and made growling noises when you ran heavy applications or watched movies. I owned this laptop from 2004 to 2007. On my return trip from India in 2007 - the airline employee at the security checkin told me I was way over the weight limit for my carry on luggage. The heaviest thing in my bag was the laptop and I decided to leave it back in India. When I came back to the States, I missed not having my own computer, but I never missed the Toshiba per se.

Some 2 weeks later, I won an in-state tuition waiver and suddenly came in possession of a good chunk of money. It was then that I decided that I would use it to get a new laptop. I was of course only considering windows laptops, dells, anything cheap and reliable. Having grown up in India, I had never heard of an Apple and I had never heard of Steve Jobs. I first encountered Apple, when I bought the iPod shuffle on a thanksgiving deal. It was fundamentally simple and literally spelled out all it could do. On my laptop hunt, I wandered into the university book store which was sporting the new line of Apple products. This was strictly window shopping! After all if an Indian student is supposed to buy a laptop, its going to be a crazy great deal - a cheap laptop and it will be online. This was definitely window shopping.

And then, I held a Macbook! I couldn't describe what was it that I felt. But I instantly connected with it. This was different, this guy had a personality, he didn't copy other people, he didn't compromise to please masses - it was different! I with my Indian upbringing and zero knowledge of Apple or individualism - knew it. It resonated in a place deeper than conscience. And of course, I instantly bought it. With a debit card! Yep - $1300 cash - gone!

And then of course the comments started pouring in. Are you crazy? Have you lost your mind ? You spent $1300 on a laptop ?? Without research? No deals? Do you even know what applications will run on a mac? Oh my GOD!! YOU are so stupid!! What would your parents say ? You really wasted that much money ??? You have no knowledge of linux, you have no knowledge of unix!! You didn't see the first mac, you didn't evolve in the US - YOU have no right to buy a MAC ?? Do you see any other Indian student buying a mac? YOU are nuts!

Yep I was resoundingly disowned by the Indian student community. And yet, I didn't care! I was in love. And that was the first time I had fell in love with an inanimate object. Because somehow, this object wasn't inanimate. It wasn't just a piece of equipment sitting somewhere. Wherever it was kept, it stood out. It was different in the way light bounced off of it. It was different when you were using it. It looked years and ages ahead of all other computers in the store. And it was never about the actual configuration or computing power of the machine! This was my Mac. Let me repeat that - this was MY mac. I looked after it like a parent of a newborn.

The media is awash now about the brilliance of Steve Jobs and complex analysis of what made Apple successful. But for me, all questions were answered in that first meeting with a Macbook. It was unspoken, subtle, deep, profound and almost an instant connection. Simply put - the Macbook had a soul!

I still have that Macbook, I can't fathom selling it. I might give it to another family member to use. But I will always inquire and worry about how IT is being treated. Four years on - even now, if I accidentally bump my Mac on something, I rub the laptop where it hit and say sorry to my Mac!

And that is the best tribute anyone can pay to Steve Jobs!

- Sanket

Mumbai beckons!!

2011-09-28T14:02:00.000-06:00

In a couple of months now, I am going to be back in India. And it has taken me a long four and a half years to get to this trip. My close friends say, I have changed - and they are right. I have - in many ways large and small. India has changed too - in fact drastically so. From what I hear, the thing that hits hard is just how expensive things have become. That fact along with my extended family's illusion that everyone in the US is filthy rich just because they earn in dollars - has made me nervous to say the least.

In the past whenever I have gone back home, I have done so to take a vacation and to recharge. Somehow, this trip feels different. No - I am not going to get A-range marriaged - and I am confident that once the hopefuls have figured out just how D-ranged I am - they too will adopt sanity and give up. No, the difference is that in this trip I have a lot on my mind and a lot of questions about my personal and professional life. As it has so many times before - I am hoping the rocks of Marine Drive will answer my questions in salted whispers.

I will be in Mumbai on Nov 26th. And I plan on visiting each and every one of the 10 places that were attacked three years ago. My friends tell me: "Don't make a big deal out of it" - perhaps they are right in their perspective. But for me that date will remain ingrained - it was the first time that I seriously questioned my belief in India. The events of those three days and the statements made by politicians - left me dazed and disillusioned. I had a thanksgiving break at the time - I had friends over, and other than sit helplessly in front of CNN, there wasn't much else we could do. It was then I realized that one of the most fundamental differences between the developed and the developing - is their value for human life. The contrast was stark and heartbreaking. And it changed something inside me forever. I was convinced that nothing will change the Indian political system and that at the end of the day - the ordinary citizen will remain the cheapest commodity. At the same time, it also crystallized a reality - that we have to try anyway.

Let me admit here that I have no credentials to criticize how India works. And that isn't my intent either. And if you happen to resent my statements, I understand you. I do not myself know what role can I, will I - play in shaping this country of my birth. Except that - my countrymen's judgements aside, I will hold on to this privilege and I can not wait to find out. There have been some that have given me hope. Among them is Parth - a sixteen year old scrappy kid - he has plunged head long into activism and protests - forming online forums and gathering friends to fight for the right causes. When I saw his optimism and zeal, to be honest, I didn't encourage it and in fact through my comments, I raised some pretty cynical and valid objections to his operandi. I am glad to admit - I was proven wrong. Despite popular belief - the youth of India understand their stake in the country and are anything but apathetic.

And so when I go back home, I hope to meet this young man - and I hope he will be considerate enough to guide me.

Also looming large in my mind is the question of marriage. After all, none less than five of my close friends are tying the knot this winter. But to be honest, the gravity of this decision and the weight of this institution seem overwhelming to me. In my experience of meeting people, making friends and falling in love - I have come to appreciate the infinite complexity of what makes us unique - of what defines our personalities. And I have no confidence in claiming to understand a person, despite prolonged acquaintance. To think that people tend to do so based on a one page profile boggles my mind.

It was in Mumbai when I first came to understand love. It was in Mumbai that my vision of romance was nursed and nurtured through infinite movies and soulful music. It was Mumbai that patiently explained to me what holds India together. What drives every one of us. That family playing on Juhu chawpati..... that couple stealing illusionary privacy. I hope the familiar waves of Arabian sea will explain this to me once more. And I hope they will help me reconcile a new and radically different vision of romance.

I keep having these flashbacks - a vestige of the fun times I had in Mumbai as a college student. That friend circle is not only married now, but also has kids. In a depressing way - I know with some finality that my memory of what Mumbai meant will never recur again. Its for the best, you are meant to live in the present and shape your future, living in the past has never helped anyone.

Either way in two months, I will land and buy myself a one month railway pass to CST, stand the door with the wind in my hair and hear what my beloved city has to say.

- Sanket

Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara

2011-07-24T16:11:00.000-06:00

They say sometimes you have to be lost to find your way. I have stayed away from this place for a while now. And it has allowed me to look at ADifferentQuill from a distance. And I realized that in the thirst for being appreciated, I stopped doing on this site what I loved most - writing for the sake of writing itself. Writing became more a means to massage my ego than being happy. So in true spirit of the change, I am going to base this article on a completely unpretentious topic - a movie review!

'Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara' by Zoya Akhtar was a rather surprise delight. For the first time in a long while, I left the theatre feeling happy and light. Comedy films entertain you for a bit, but the laughter dies down later on. Drama films, when good, get you to think about serious issues, but the strain is unsustainable for long periods of time - and you soon tend to put it out of your mind and move on. But this film is different. More than laugh, it makes you smile. And by the end just delivers a simple message - as if saying - "Hey You!, Smile you idiot - you are alive and breathing, be happy for that" And truly celebrates the act of simply being alive.

The jokes are practical and down to earth. The kind of fun you can encounter in real life when you are hanging out with friends. The story is actually a snapshot of 3 lives for a week. Of three close friends meeting for a vacation. All of them are in some way occupied by their problems and baggages. But by the end of it, they realize that sometimes letting go is the best thing you can do to help yourself. The message is nuanced and I am not sure how well it might be received in main stream Indian audience. But the film is technically sound and should do very well none the less.

The direction is simple, sometimes too simple but the photography is breath taking. The film aptly shows the coming of age for Bollywood and in some sense India itself. It has a global presence and theme to it. The shooting is on par with the best of the film industry. Larger than life when needed, it is still grounded enough to actually move you when intended.

The music is exhilarating, fresh and alive in every beat. Guitar is to Spanish music what tabla is to Indian. And in this film, the songs are mostly guitar based. This gives them a simplicity and freshness that is the exact opposite of the audio palette of a semi-classical Indian song. The lyrics are beautiful and Javed Akhtar's poetry is sublime.

I loved the cast, its youthful, uncomplicated and multinational. The kind of global citizens modern Indian youth would aspire to be. Hritik Roshan is subdued but ever present, he is too much of a star to be just a mere part of the story, Abhay Deol is pleasant and grows on you. But the real surprise is Farhan Akhtar - this is an actor who plays well within his own limits, and his rendition of the comedy is the most natural I have encountered on screen in a while. Katrina Kaif does her part well. It is impossible to ignore her when she is in the frame. And in some instances, you really do forget to follow the dialogues, the scenery and be simply in awe of how gorgeous she can be.

The location of Spain has clearly paid off. And for the song of "Senorita" - which is partly spanish, adds beautiful authenticity to the play. You have to give it up for the music director's guts to let a song be in a foreign language - and trust it entirely to the rhythm for the audience to love it. The Senorita song demonstrates aptly the sensuality and pleasure that is inherent in Spain and its singers.

It is a remarkable contrast to the Indian culture. Where often times, in favor of seeking spirituality, pleasure is looked down upon. The Spanish culture on the other hand celebrates pleasures and the people for wanting it. These are a people who are not afraid to ask for extra helpings of ice cream, a more toungy kiss, an extra night with a lover and have a society that won't fault them for wanting it. It makes their poetry extremely sensual and its honest expression, endearingly human.

It complements the film beautifully in its message for asking people to celebrate life. Well - whats new about that ? True, we have heard these cliches for so long, we probably just tune them out by now. But there is something to it. A few years ago I became friends with a person who was genuinely happy. Not that there weren't any problems or sadness - but for the most part, this person was - happy. It got me thinking and I discovered the secret of happy people - they are truly able to live every moment. I know, I know ... what does that even mean - are we to stop our car every time we see a sunset or what ..

Imagine that you are having a dinner party and are cooking for your friends. To indulge yourself, you are having a small cup of ice cream while cooking. And while chopping your veggies, you accidentally cut your finger. Most people will completely focus on the finger and the pain, its overwhelming and begs attention. The happy people I have found - can not only attend to the cut, but also savor the ice cream they were having in the first place. The thing is life seldom serves you ice creams on a plate with no distractions. And most of us when we think of happiness, want that unadulterated, undiluted and undisturbed experience of happiness. The trick is to savor a happy moment regardless of where it occurs. So if you enjoy rain, enjoy rain even when its because you have a flat tire and you are forced to stand on the road. And the people we find are most happy - are the people who are better at this.

They don't lie to themselves or ignore their problems, but they don't trash the good things thoughtlessly either. And there lies the message of the film, so go out and see it and enjoy it. Go for a run, an evening walk, sit by the sea or like in my case, just get over yourself and write!

Cheers,

- Sanket

Shadows

2011-03-23T15:20:00.001-06:00

The flowers have withered,
And their scent is past
The evenings once spirited and bright
Are now shadowed and overcast
Meet me soon, Alas just like them
My smile too is lost ...

- Sanket

Safar

2011-03-04T09:25:00.001-07:00

तपती रेत पर चलते कोसो दूर आ गए है

मंजिल तोह दूर अब घर भी भूल चुके

इस बेरेहेम सफ़र पर हम खुद सिफार हुए है

लेकिन कोई कसक है ओढ़े हुए

शायद मिल जाये एक तालाब, काबिल ऐ प्यास

और उस ही के दर्पन मे तुम्हारी एक झलक भी

- संकेत

Moment of truth

2011-01-28T10:18:00.003-07:00

This conversation we began

I know not where 'd we start

Threads of thought forked in-numerous

Broke down walls
And we talked.

Through evenings and nights and hours unheard

Through tears and anger and ecstasies untold

'Til now that we stand in this net

And wherever I see,

Are tracks of our footsteps

I cant imagine how I travelled alone.

The footsteps are etched,

As tough carved in stone.

They reassure and yet, terrify

For I fear, the winds I once loved

Could erase our marks forever.

Or that you might walk away

And leave my heart severed

We've morphed our likes

To suit one another

And now they are so changed,

Even wanting we can not avert

Alas my friend,

It is the moment of truth

And I have to ask,

Shall we trudge snow and sand

And climb and fall together ?

Or shall you now let go,

And into this earth

Should I disappear ?

- Sanket

Floating Visions

2011-01-24T22:06:00.002-07:00

The earth is soft and cool beneath,

I can feel the blades of grass

Gently pressed under me,

Green, young and slightly moist

Still yet breathing

And I see shifting shadows through closed lids

Playing - capering - laughing

As I nestle my head deeper in her lap

Treasuring and preserving

The warmth under my hair

I follow the act and listen to the shadows

I can hear the merry and begin to smile

A shy, scented drop awakens my skin

And I open my eyes to hold her face

Words elude and sounds fade off

As I marvel a new meaning to beauty

I drink with thirsty eyes

The oval that is my world

Circled lovingly in dark flowing hair

Velvet like silk and soft as silence

Coy and demure

I drink with thirsty eyes

The delicate curve of her neck

Just within reach and yet not

The contours, sensuous and tempting

I nestle my head and smile back

I see myself reflected

In liquid pools of light

See myself anew

Alive and well

Through her eyes

I trace the exquisite lips

Longing their flavor

Craving through parch

I want to lift myself

But the warmth lets not

Oh it is such a strife

Painful yet nurturing

An impish pleasure

A sight devine

I drink with thirsty eyes

And I beg life

If this is a dream

Don't wake me up just yet

- Sanket

A Spring Memory

2011-01-16T22:33:00.005-07:00

It was the fifth of December 2005 and I was flying into the Salt Lake City international airport. It was a cold, dreary afternoon and the next 2 months would come to mark a most crucial and extraordinary time of my life. There are moments that everyone experiences – moments of realization and clarity – rare to come by but instantly recognizable. As the airplane touched the tarmac, I knew I was having one of those moments – and it terrified me. I realized that everyone connected to me – my parents, friends – had done all that they could, to get me to this point – and from here on it was up to me - I was alone – truly and completely alone. It was the first time, I’d felt myself so vulnerable and scared.

After failing to secure tuition funding for the first two semesters at my University, I had accrued a massive debt and when it was clear to me that no financial help was to come, I decided it was time for me to look elsewhere. I looked at the list of universities that had accepted me, but which I had declined. Long conversations with alumni and emails from faculty led me to believe that Utah State University was my best shot at short-term financial security. Like many decisions in life, it was one that wasn’t necessarily the best option – but the one that made most sense under circumstances. I had to live with it – and make my best of it.

The struggles and debates of the past six months played out in my mind as I sat in the window seat – peering distractedly at the changing landscape of eastern United States. To sum up – I had roughly $500 in a bank account and an admission – period. My list of supplies ended there. I didn’t have any money to pay for tuition (9 graduate credits minimum) – hardly any money for rent and certainly none for an emergency. My phone was still active for another month and the 500 would get me through for as much time – as I checked off the short list with a growing sense of foreboding, I felt like a role playing video game character with depleted resources and one life left. Except, there weren’t any replays here. The frigid teen degree air of Utah brought me back to reality. Having grown up in Mumbai – it was the first time I had felt anything remotely so cold. I cursed my ill-fitted clothing and rummaged hastily through the carry-on – wearing every piece of shirt I could find. Twenty minutes later, I was standing outside in the pick up area – awkward looking and with a frozen expression of worry on my countenance.

Utah State University - My Alma Mater - image credit - http://www.ridingandwritingutah.com

I checked myself into a friends place – the local Indian Student Institute was kind enough to board me for a week with some seniors – after an unexciting dinner, I forced myself to sleep – then I woke up – took off 3 shirts – turned up the heat a notch – and went back to sleep again. There was a LOT of work ahead!

The next day, I took a bus to the campus and within an hour was interviewing for a grader’s job in the Computer Science department. I got the job, it paid only $513 a month, but it waived my out of state tuition fee. I thanked the professor dearly and asked the secretary for a signed copy of the job offer and its terms. Next I scanned the student message board for some cheap apartments near campus and another three hours later found myself in the offices of Coldwell bankers signing a lease agreement. I put down the deposit and consciously informed the official that I could only give him a post-dated check for the rent. My grader’s salary wasn’t due until the first of next month and I could only supply the offer letter as credence that the check would go through. The property manager quietly reviewed the paper work and my offer letter – he had no obligation to entertain me – and I nervously waited for his decision. Finally, looking up he extended a hand and gave me the apartment keys. I gingerly pocketed the keys and thanked the man – and offered my bank statement as proof that I really could not afford to pay rent immediately. He assured me that it wasn’t needed and that he believed me. It would be one of the many unexpected acts of kindness from random strangers that I would never forget.

Snowcrest Apartments - Logan Utah

I arranged my belongings in the new space, and ate a bowl of cereal – after a few more minutes of sleep – I sat at the desk and jotted down a study schedule – to earn the tuition waiver and retain my status as a graduate student, I would need to clear three entrance examinations – failure to do so meant expulsion. But I wasn’t going to let it come to that – not now.

Over the next four weeks, I followed a strict regimen – waking up at 8am – going to the library - studying for 4 hours – a sandwich for lunch – an hour of shut eye on the third floor – another four hours of study – coffee – sandwich for dinner – leave the library at 12 and walk back home to sleep. No – they wouldn’t let me sleep at the library. I had asked.

It would be months before I would be able to absorb and truly appreciate the grand vista of natural beauty and snow capped mountains that my library provided. Amidst my studies I talked to the registrars office and drew up a payment schedule for the remainder of my in-state tuition fees. Again my University went out of its way to ensure that I still stayed enrolled in classes as I paid my way through - there aren't many institutions willing to do that.

Some six weeks into my semester, I was told that I had cleared the preliminary requirements and that I was also granted an in-state tuition waiver. I received the news gladly – then went to the local Walmart – bought some groceries and came back home. I left the bags on the kitchen counter – the apartment was empty – none of my two roommates were home. Seizing the opportunity – I quietly slipped into the bathroom and turned on the sink and the shower taps.

Then I sat myself on the bathroom floor – knees to the chest - arms folded and said aloud – ‘hey – you are in your own apartment – you have groceries - you have a steady income and you are doing well in school’ – and then I let myself feel – everything that I had been holding off – the terrifying crushing paralyzing fear – the full weight of my responsibilities – my own expectations – and the doubts of friends and foes – and above all – the overwhelming sense of relief at what was accomplished – and then I broke down – and cried quietly – cathartically – shaking – muffling – rocking back and forth – and then - finally exhausted and completely drained – I patted myself on the back – stood up – and made myself 2 scrambled eggs and toast.

Some couple years later, I ran wild across a green football ground – dressed in black robes – a tassel in my hand and the ecstasy of graduation in my veins – but I didn’t think of the bathroom floor then. I don’t know why I thought of it now. But its good that I did– it needn't kept in – I am OK now that its out. And I smile I say to myself – “Hey that was you – you did it !!“

- Sanket

Conversations with the Mirror

2010-10-11T10:40:00.001-06:00

[Image from - http://www.johncomeaux.com/2006/12/the_path_least_taken.html ]

I washed my face and looked up

Whats worrying you I asked ??

But, you already know - said the reflection

Its been long since I have heard you speak

Speak please and help me now.

Questions - it said - I have questions on my mind

I braced myself and gave a nod

How long since we've seen home?

How long since you last laughed ?

Time has flown fast

And the shadows of worry

Have faded the ambers of your heart.

You are tied now

Tied with chains of responsibilities

You have travelled far and are walking still

But the journey has long stopped

Where is the spark that once shone these eyes

Where is the hope that eclipsed all in flight

Where is the boy - bright and fiery

Sure as an arrow on its mark

I know all that needs to be done

And I know all that you must

But you can not go further on this path

Green pastures and certain meals

Are not for the wolves at heart

Act now and change the course

Or life will flow as it has flown

And we will yet speak once more

And many years would have passed

The journey will in deed draw to its end

And you will have only this mirror

Mourning the regrets of your past

- Sanket

The skies above

2010-10-03T22:53:00.003-06:00

A few days ago, NASA announced that we were going to get to see a 'Harvest Moon'. A 'Harvest Moon', comes only once every four years and a 'Super Harvest Moon' comes only once in a decade. Filled with excitement, I took out my little telescope and aimed it at our bright satellite - It took my breath away! I have seen the moon through a telescope - many times, I have even sat down observing, for hours the moon's contours and compared them with the maps I had. But till that night, I had never seen the moon so bright and so gorgeously luminous. The harvest moon revived, two of my dormant passions in a single night - that for star gazing and that for photography. The former more rewarding than the latter.

[Image used under license agreements from - http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/7/78/Harvest_moon.jpg]

As I sat on the floor of my balcony, blackening my peripherals and breathing evenly to calibrate my instrument, I realized just how much I loved my little telescope. At the time I'd bought it, I had just finished my 10th grade exams, and had saved that entire year's pocket money in the hopes of buying myself a telescope. Finally when the money brimmed enough, I emptied the deposits and bought myself a starter refracting telescope. With the money left, I bought myself tickets to an astronomy show at the Nehru Planetarium and as always, astronomy mesmerized me and lifted my imagination to soaring heights.

There is something so marvelous and so magical about watching celestial objects through a telescope - that in all honesty, I can not hope to capture it in words. If you have never seen the craters of the moon, or the rings of Saturn through a telescope - I beg you to take the time out and try it - just once, it will not fail to enthrall you!

The first time I saw our Moon through my new telescope, it was the monsoon of '98. I had camped for the better part of an hour on the sheltered stairs of our building's terrace in the hope that the rains would stop - and I would get a chance to try out my new toy. Every now and then, I ventured out into the open and impatiently gazed at the sky to check if the cloud cover was dispersing. I hadn't been able to see the Moon - except find a bright spot in the sky veiling the shiny ball.

At last when the rains stopped, I dashed out and dried myself a patch of ground and began to set up my telescope. My sister - a covert optimist - who had been waiting for my word, had already ran up the stairs many times trying to asses the success of my experiment - and along the way - had communicated as many reprimands from my parents for staying up that late. I tried to ignore her while focussing my line of sight on the brightest spot I could find. Every now and then an edge would appear - giving me hopes that I might be able to get a clear window in the clouds - just long enough to fine tune my focal length and render a sharp image.

After a few persevering minutes, the wind finally picked up and the clouds started to dart faster. Every time I got a peek at the moon, I would adjust my telescope a bit more. My sister - realizing that I hadn't heard a word she said, sensed that I was onto something and decided to wait until I erupted with shouts of success.

And then - at last the skies heard my prayers and I found a clearing in the clouds - long enough to follow the moon and explore its surface. It was a crescent moon. While a full moon has its own beauty, it is the crescent moon that gives the best opportunity to see its craters. The view through my eye piece was quite simply magnificent! I played with all the lenses available to me and finally settled on the one giving me the sharpest image. I hurriedly called my sister to take a peek. She was suitably impressed. Then, adopting a big brotherly, knowing tone, I told her to hold steady and study every crater she could feast her eyes on. "Never forget what an amazing site you are getting to see, it was that shadow on the moon that taught us that the world was round"

The night of the Harvest Moon, I realized just how much of that passion had been eroded in the course of normal life! I had forgotten how - just a tiny glimpse of the night sky had the capacity to tell profound stories.

A simple glimpse of the moon has the power to take us millions of years backward in time - and show us how it accumulated the craters on its face. It is also the single most practical image that can give us an appreciation of how big the earth is and it also serves to remind us that while our feet may be planted strongly on the ground - the planet on which we stand - is itself suspended in space like all other heavenly bodies we see.

[Image used from - http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a8/NASA-Apollo8-Dec24-Earthrise.jpg]

The night sky has, for thousands of years - inspired us to dream, it has compelled us to face who we are and judge our place in the Universe. It has led our ancestors to associate stellar patterns with the events of our lives. It has guided lost travelers across vast deserts to their destinations - as surely as it has guided human destiny toward science. In a world so twisted with deliberations over GOD and marred with whose GOD is right , it is actually the closest one can get to the divine.

It reminds us just how infinitesimal we are - and how short-lived are our lives. It reminds us to be grateful for the home we are given and implores us to own our planet. Our little blue planet, our beloved Earth, precious and fragile, beautiful and one of a kind. A marble of dream in a rather violent sky!

- Sanket

Rains!

2010-07-05T17:00:00.011-06:00

I woke up and looked out the window. I looked out the window through half shut eyes and I sighed. It was going to be a difficult day. It was raining outside! As I slowly claimed my conscious, I could hear the faint rumble of clouds and a familiar drizzle outside. Ribbons of liquid stained the glass - twisting the images and distorting my reality. I woke up and stepped out to the patio and let myself be soaked - soaked with wave after wave of cold water. And against my will the water washed away my numbness bringing afresh the longing, love and lust - I had so carefully buried away.

[Image used in accordance of copyright regulations - http://commons.wikimedia.org]

Rains have a way with me. I was born and raised in Bombay - where rains are the life of music and music is the life of our bodies. The bond between rains and our rhythms is deeper, more mysterious and more intricate than anyone can fathom. It reflects - in part India's dependence on monsoons and in part its need to create art. Art to express that which we wish but we can't. Over thousands of years of evolution the rain drops have absorbed themselves into our culture. They fuel the breaths of our soul as much as our blood fuels the beats of our heart.

In the west as the countries industrialized and reduced their dependence on seasons so did they lose their connect with nature. In India, that connect survives as a faint but distinct hue in our identity. Hence while people in the west have lost their fascination with rains - in India - they still hold sway.

Years ago the farmers from barren villages gathered and prayed to the skies. They begged and pleaded - they scolded and cajoled the clouds above. To this day the first rains are celebrated with the same relief and joy as those parched voices did upon a barren soil. The rains are an innate part of our films and our songs. Even today they behold and move us - a whispered reminder of a time when masters like Tansen would sing Malhar and command the heavens to cry.

I stand drenched and wet and cold and let myself go. The rains have a mind of their own ....

Rains, Rains -
These rains carry with them many memories and times.

They have a way of entering your hearts
They thrill you and play with your thoughts

Drop per drop they symbolize and encapsulate the elixir of life.

They fall from the sky and unite on the earth.

They are precious they are dear.

They are transient they are immortal.

Some drip as scented pearls from a girl's hair.

Some glisten as beads of sweat in passion.

Some trickle as salted rivulets of sorrow

Some remain untold and veiled behind silent eyes

Some relish, as drinks of pleasure from a lover's lips

While some are drunk as poison in anger, anguish and hurt

Rains, Rains these rains, they have a mind of their own

I am swept clean now, I stand exhausted, spent

The rains have brought me back to life

They are my repent, and they have let me absolve
A part of my past ....

- Sanket

How are you ??

2010-06-27T13:27:00.001-06:00

The phone has messages says the blinking red light

I should probably check - they keep gathering

The laundry is past due - clothes overflowing the basket

Strewn wrinkled worn but not touched

Hunger knocks but I'd rather make coffee

I head to the kitchen and then withdraw hastily

The sink is filled - when was the last time I cooked ?

Oh yeah! That dinner with friends …… a faint memory

I head out to get food

They stare at the world outside

These bugs on my windshield

staring at the world

This world - moving changing

moving on till everythings changed

it is night now - a sunday night

work is tomorrow - I should sleep

yet I am fascinated with the clock

4:05 AM tick tick tick …..

I get into the shower - the water is cold

I shiver and yet, wish to feel it more

Oh it has been so long

The numbness has begin to hurt

I run the water harder

Hoping it drowns the sobs

Monday afternoon and I take a break ..

"Hey! How are you?" says a friend

I didn't notice or may be I refuse to

"Are you ok ?"

"I am fine" - I say

I am staring at the coffee

It is going cold ..

- Sanket

Don't you know!

2010-05-13T23:01:00.000-06:00

Too long have I searched for you

And now there aren't more places to look

Yet I will hold strong,

I remember the promise I made

The promise you took

Through the words of a poem

The colors of a canvas

Through the works of art

And the notes of music

I have sought you

It is all a charade

The anger, the apathy

The laughter and smiles of pain

The ice cold exterior

And the nerves of steel

Though honest I am

I have lied to myself

'Make it through one more day'

Did I not say that yesterday ?

I have lost myself amidst friends

And worked sleepless nights in vain

I have drowned intoxicated

And found myself alone in a crowd

All over again

I remember what I said

Do you not know I lied ?

The wait is unbearable,

The anguish intense

I may not hold strong

Did it never cross your mind

That I might break ?

Too long, it has been too long

I want you to come

I want you to come now

- Sanket

Starlight

2010-05-09T22:56:00.002-06:00

I was walking within my apartment complex the other day - the hour was late and most of the world around me had already retired. The designers of my residence were thoughtful enough to include a long walking trail on the perimeter of our premises. It is aesthetic and wild with many a turn - winding through gorgeous tall trees and surrounded by beautiful foliage. In the day it thrives in the balmy summer air and bird songs while during the night it cultivates a cool breeze and the gentle rustle of tree leaves. A singular section of this trail goes through an open grass land - and on this particular night the sky was so clear that the stars above took my breath away!!! It caused me to pause my walk and lie down - and to think and reflect ....

[Image used in conformation of copy rights - http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/71/M31_Lanoue.png]

I was distracted initially and I had a million things on my mind mostly revolving around my career, responsibilities and personal life - but after a while those thoughts settled and I felt anew a sense of calm - and in the silence of that moment - there was no one and nothing between me and the stars. My breaths deepened and I felt myself intoxicated with awareness, for a brief period of time, we were breathing in complete harmony - me and the night around me.

I have always loved stars, back in school I had managed to save up enough pocket money to buy a little telescope. This tube of lenses was my portal to the universe. Every week, I used to squeeze out some time - and away from the prying eyes of the world, I would escape to a tryst with these diamonds in the sky.

Stars have a unique way of inspiring and humbling the human mind. They have been for centuries. Thousands of years ago, people of almost every civilization looked at the heavens above - at the same very patterns we see today - and tried to connect these revolving lights with the events of their lives. Almost anyone who has held an audience with the stars quickly comes to realize how minuscule human life really is. The sheer scale of the universe is staggering and quite beyond the realms of the most gifted of imaginations. Science itself has been trying mightily to encapsulate and explain the entire universe through one unified theory - from ether to the big bang - from string theory to the membrane, each time we thought we've found the answers - we've discovered - that we couldn't be more wrong. Even though I am a deep rooted and honest to GOD student of science - I find this human urge - 'to explain everything around them' - quite amusing, futile and of late unnecessary.

What we do know is that a long time ago, our Sun and it surrounding planets evolved from the gasses and elements of this universe - first the star and then the planets around it ...... and eventually at one point - Life. Our comprehension and view of the universe has often times been too narrow and revolving only around the time the human species came into prominence on life upon Earth. Too often do we forget - that before us there was another species which ruled - that after us there still might be another creation to flourish and that before any of it we all really were just bubbles of elements boiling in hot lava.

The intervention of that night's silence and its probe into my mind made me realize that often times we choose to dwell solely upon human life - and only our lives at that. We surround ourselves with news and gossip - we argue and laugh amongst our friends - we fall in love and we fight - we hate and we fall in love all over again - we live and we die within and only within this tiny slice of time. While important, I find this view of life rather limited and sorely incomplete.

I believe - failing to realize how minute and inconsequential our existence is - prevents us from understanding the true significance of life - and from admiring the true beauty of creation. Right before my conversation with the stars - I was stuck in a hard place in my life, one where I was perpetually worried that I might live my entire existence without making any significant contribution to the world. The dialogue helped me put all of my anxiety into perspective.

The truth is we were all born out of this universe and when we die - we will all be part of this universe again. This concept was proven by Einstein but very few people choose to see it this way. There was a time in my life when I felt all living creatures were infinitely superior to dead things - like rocks and sand - where as the truth in fact is that the same elements that make all of our planets, make the rock and the same elements make us. We worry about causing the planet damage. Yes, its bad - and we shouldn't pollute - but its bad only for all life on earth - which - in the scheme of things is just a blip in the universe. I guess the point I am trying to drive home is that we make too much of ourselves. We have invested so much time and energy in trying to keep us alive for as long as possible - believing that a human life - rather a human's consciousness of life is the all essential thing to preserve - all the time failing to realize that it is the shortness and unpredictability of life that makes it so beautiful.

As I lay on that cold earth - in total peace - I felt for the first time as being one with the universe. All the problems and uncertainty of my life still remained - but I could clearly hear what the starlight had whispered to me - That millions of years from now, when I would be no more - when Earth might be no more - we will all still, be a part of this universe - and perhaps some day a small boy on the top of a roof on some remote planet will see me as a speck of light - and be delighted once again as I was - this beautiful night.

The only true meaning of life - I have come to believe is in enjoying our existence and feel - in each breath what our senses tell us. To find peace and happiness rooted in the certainty of our mortality and to enjoy this transient bijou we call life. We are after all - simply Starlight!!

- Sanket

Ashes to Ashes Dust to Dust!!

2010-03-05T10:31:00.003-07:00

As the evening grows dark I come to rest at a small pool of water... its character muddied by circumstances. I hold it in my hands, the shifting surface refusing to reflect a pale moon ... and so I seek in the darker depths ........ a glimpse ......... a hint of the moon that once shined so clear ........ a light now missing. I sit down and try to wash the stains of tire the day has brought.... the stains refuse to fade away ..... and I smile at the fact that it wouldn't matter even if they did. To the water I say ... here is laughter - here is love - the flowers once so beautiful - I now offer you withered.

On and on I walk through the night and I reach an old abandoned fort .... I roam its insides ... now dreary quiet ... I chase those empty shadows of silence for the hint of laughter that once echoed and I ask - where did he go? the boy that once capered and galloped, and ran merry in halls of gold.

I walk and stumble till noon past morn .... now seeking again - a drink of water ... a humble drop. I reach an endless barren ... surrounded by a scalded land ... I fall on my knees and dig with bare hands .... in that dry parched earth - I forsake my soul - I bury its grey fabric - a satin once white as snow.

Ashes to ashes - Dust to dust. Behold in its quite sombre - the death of Hope.

- Sanket

30000 Feet above the U.S. of A!!

2009-09-12T21:28:00.013-06:00

On a recent flight, I was pondering over a friend's question. It led me to delve deep and discover anew and hence this article!!

I have always loved heights - and I am never happier than when I am in a plane accelerating for take off. I guess it is to do with being able to see more of the world; a bigger picture. The higher the altitude, the better the picture. It is a time to let go of petty thoughts and elevate yourself. It is a place where it's quiet, where you can seek harmony and where you can be alone. Back home in India, I had a favorite spot on the top of my building where I would retreat to, to think, to dream and to soar above reality. Often times I would get there in the evening and then lie on my back, until all sky was changed and amidst its changing colors I'd get to befriend the stars, once again. And as the eager wind played with my hair, I would just sit back and listen to the city, the myriad of sounds and little specks of light in the distance - windows to the life beyond.

Often times tired of fighting the school, parents and everything in between, it was the one place where I was truly at peace. In retrospect, at the time, it was only the roof top and a teacher that saved me from total ruin. As the city grew quieter in the growing night, I knew I had to go home soon and my thoughts would return to the life at hand. Almost always dejected, I would find inspiration by reminding myself of my mentor's words - "Go to America - Don't stay here. You are meant to go abroad!!" And like the sugar sleep of a cold morning, the rooftop would make me stay five more minutes and beckon me to imagine of possibilities yet to come.

Prophetically enough, it was in the zeniths above North America that I found the azure of my life. What began as a fascination for the west, swelled to a powerful ambition and saw me fly out of my nest, over vast seas and onto foreign shores. Over the years, the U.S. guarded my individuality and revitalized every creative instinct I carried. What began as a temporary abode for my graduate studies grew to be a new home for me.

Deriding my promiscuity and labeling me as a 'Non Returning Indian', an old friend asked me 'What is it about America that anyone going there does not wish to return?' It was a banal question, one that is asked many times, but coming from a close friend, it made me think ... "How could I best explain my affection for America?" And I realized, that often times the true reason why U.S. is so loved is rarely within guess of outsiders.

[ Image used under public license - www.wikipedia.org ]

The appeal of America does not lie in any one aspect of its nature, it is the whole experience and what it implies that makes the U.S. hard to leave. It isn't about it's copious wealth, or the carefree attitude towards sex. Neither is it about convenient infrastructure nor about the standard of living it offers. What people truly treasure about America is different for every person and is hardly ever encapsulated in one characteristic.

As for me, The United States has come to represent the only place on earth where you can be genuinely free and accomplish anything you want solely upon your merit. It has come to represent what a fully vibrant democracy looks like. The true allure of America lies in its core ideas. The belief that every citizen is equal and that every person has a birth right to pursue his/her happiness. It is freedom in the real sense of the term. Freedom to choose ones profession, to choose ones religion, freedom to wear what you want, to speak what you want, to love whom you want and to be yourself in every breath of your life. It lies in the honesty and fairness innate to almost every American. The real allure lies in the desire to be good, to be virtuous and to be rewarded for it. It lies in the certainty that your individual freedom is guarded at all costs and in the relish that your life is preciously valued.

It is a great country, it is a beautiful country. Even from a height of 30000 feet, it betrays a linearity of thought that is hard to miss. It is blessed with a remarkable landscape. Sweeping fields of green and gold that caress the sunshine touching them. Breathtaking mountains and dazzling valleys revealing chaotic fractals of nature's geometry. Vast cities neatly laid out and complex man-made structures complimenting the landscape. Awe-inspiring networks of highways like ever flowing streams of human traffic evincing the nation's foresight. It is a land tended to with love and diligently nursed by its people, people who know they will be loved back. It is a house made into a home.

Day in and day out, it is this endearing warmth that thaws even the most frigid cynicism and makes you hope. Its immigrant origins make it welcome and embrace you. Its patchwork culture gives it a unique sense of humor and makes you smile. Its belief in itself gives you confidence and becomes your strength. And sure enough, like a flawed human being, it can sometimes be imperfect, but its heart is in the right place. It is people as people should be, mankind the way it ought to be. It is the one place its founders sought, the one place aspirations still seek. It makes you shun the unneeded and choose only the best to keep. It is an idea. It is a dream.

You can not understand why people love the U.S. if you are blinded by prejudice. Its an answer not to be sought on the floor with your nose to the ground, its an answer to be found in the transcending heights above.

It is what I'd tell my friend, what I would tell my teacher, if only!!

- Sanket

When time does not.

2009-08-27T14:29:00.001-06:00

There is pain that cannot be known, except by those who already know it. And it is hard to explain. The impact is sudden, the initiation abrupt and its presence violent. Its true nature - shrouded in suffering. And time only heals its symptoms - the venom left for later.

It is a cacophony of screams. And you shut your eyes to blackness, and then it begins...

All of your nightmares and past wounds come alive with malice, and attack at random will without relevance. As you are made to relive every single horror of your past - like you have travelled back in time - like the incidents are happening to you again. Its agony is beyond defiance, and you feel as if you were born and killed and born and killed over and over again. And suddenly you know - what hell feels like.

An experience reserved to be felt only once, you are made to live it again and again. And you begin to recognize what death looks like. The blackness in your eyes shifts, and you realize it is just too dark a shade of red. It is a red you have never seen before.

And you begin to lose track. There is no orientation, no logic, no functionality left untouched, and no sense of time or place, no motive nor purpose, just blinding anguish. You forget hunger, you do not feel awake, you do not feel asleep. There is no veil between you and your pain, no distance, no shield, no excuse nor escape.

It is a pain that penetrates all defenses. Of ego and pride, of apathy and arrogance, of assurance and confidence and pierces right to the core changing that most scared defining element in you; 'How you look at yourself?' It is a pain that changes your soul.

You are left with a distinct before and after memory of yourself, a person and a constellation of characteristics you can never return to. The recovery is not repairing, it is remaking. And it takes its own time with many failures and little to cheer.

And you realize that some wounds never really heal. That you have to find a way to live with them. It is a pain that cannot be known, except by those who already know it. And it is hard to explain.

- Sanket

Childhood Flights !!

2009-08-19T14:42:00.014-06:00

Anyone who is familiar with the story of Mahabharat would recall the 'Warrior Tournament'. After what seemed to be an appropriate training period when Guru Dronacharya thought it was time to test the warriors for their battle skills, he organized an elaborate competition designed to ascertain the best combatant in all of Hastinapur. Karna (the first son of Kunti and an heir of the Sun God himself) was the most superior warrior in all the land, virtually indestructible and naturally gifted with superior skills, he was the assured winner. Except, on the day of the competition the Sun God was veiled in clouds and Karna couldn't get his father's blessings. Frustrated and impatient Karna paced to and fro outside the gates of the arena as the crowds cheered on Arjun and declared him the winner. As the story goes, the Sun God eventually did reveal himself and Karna proceeded to set the record straight.

I could always feel for Karna - and tried to imagine just how hard it must be for him to wallow in the shadows outside, knowing he could dazzle all if only he was given a chance. Of late I have been feeling exactly like he must have, and I have to confess it is no fun. As most of you would know and agree, inspiration comes from sources unknown and there is no concrete rationale as to why one piece turns out cohesive and sparkling while another is found lacking. For the past month or so, my heavenly deity and the font of all my inspiration has been veiled in the clouds. For I have not been able to write despite try, and indeed it seemed as though the Gods were unhappy and hesitant in their blessings. Alas! I am glad to report the clouds have passed, the sun is shining and God willing, you should see the color return to my words soon.

***********

It was the October of '92, the school semester had ended and I was enjoying my Diwali vacations. If mangoes were the luring attraction of summer, then fire crackers and kites were the pleasures of Diwali. This vacation was especially important to me, for it was my initiation into some serious kite flying. Every year in the months of September to November, the kids in our neighborhood would switch affection and dote upon kite flying as the favorite sport. The month of September used to be particularly difficult to deal with, for just as I returned home from school every day, the sky would fill up with kites of all sizes and colors and make me go into a frenzy of excitement. However, returning home, homework was the first order of business, all sport and play followed later. In retrospect I think, this strategy was extremely detrimental to learning, as I could never concentrate on the boring study at hand and would constantly dream of kites dancing wonderful acrobatics in the sky right above.

The real world, to me was a far more interesting place to discover things. Filled with the most unpredictable surprises and mysterious dangers - it was clearly a school I was more likely to learn from. The education system at the time though, did not tolerate this line of thought and so, for the most part, I rebelled against anyone trying to impose rules and restrictions upon me. Vacations was the only time when I was truly free to learn what I really wanted to learn. I used to fill my mornings with quixotic experiments and record all my findings in a little lab notebook.

Filled with observations of chaotic rhyme, they are fragrant with humor to this date.

1) Concave lens used to concentrate sunlight .... did light fire like the textbook stated .... very useful tool ........ to be used to make a gun for He-Man ...... will defeat Piyush's skeletor. Questions: What other rays can the lens concentrate? Is there really a gun with giant glasses?

2) Stolen sulphuric acid .... grade 8 textbook claims to be extremely dangerous ... hence stolen from lab .... causes bad smell when poured on pencil eraser .... to be used only when alone ...... caused annoying burn .... this must be corrosion. Very nice!

Extremely jealous of all hero figures that the books described, I carved elaborate ambitions of deed and fame and carried purest hopes that the scribblings of my little notebook would make history one day.

Afternoons were occupied with kite training. It is a special class of kites that can bear lanterns into the sky. Locally called 'Kandil Patang', they remain my favorite kites. Usually large in size and considerably more difficult to handle, these kites have an ability to bear astonishing weight. Flying them is a coveted skill and I was to learn it this semester break. However, the right to fly a 'Kandil Patang' had to be earned. It started with a bigger boy showing how to select the right kite, and buy the right 'manja' - string to go with it. Then he would proceed to fly the kite and send it as high as possible - I was to be the spool handler, designated to observe and learn. When the kite reached the right height, it was nothing more than a mere speck in the sky. At this point the bigger boy would let go of the string, and command the trainee to care for the kite until sunset.

I soon learned; 'Kandil Patang's' need a lot of altitude to be able to bear paper lanterns. The lower a kite is, the more vulnerable it is to wind shifts and predator attacks from other kites. 'Kandil Patang's', while great for flying lights, make for a poor fighter kite, clumsy and difficult to maneuver, they are often times easy targets. Because of their altitude, the sharp abrasion line usually used in engagement is out of effective range and as such they are extremely vulnerable to low level attacks. To guard from such a tragedy, we used to usually fly these kites in scathing afternoon heat when no one dared to venture out. Once at the right altitude, the kite was often invisible to its own handler, let alone predators. If deployed properly and diligently cared for, the kite would remain in the sky for days unnoticed, capable of bearing lamps at will. It was the responsibility of the trainee to ensure that the kite remained stable, undetected and safe until sunset.

While initially difficult and a burden, the job of guarding the 'Kandil Patang' did become easier with time. I remember spending endless hours sitting in the nearby shade watching my little speck in the sky, and willing it to stay quiet and calm. As a sport, I used to spray the terrace floor with wheat grain to attract pigeons. At times the warm lazy midday breeze would bring with it tunes of popular songs of the time, 'Dheere Dheere se...' and Kumar Sanu used to be frequent visitors. A reminder of some restless youth anxious over his girl, unable to sleep with unaccounted lust. And every once in a while, pigeons used to take my bait, and I would get to watch magnificent birds of grey, brown and white. I would take this as a sign of luck and smile happily at my friend above, thinking ..... tonight you will hold 12 lanterns - wait and watch!!!

If a trainee successfully guarded the kite until sunset, he would get 30 minutes with the 'Debonair' magazine that the bigger boys had hidden on the water tank above. Also part of the lure, was the assured promise that successfully deploying 12 lanterns was a sure shot claim to fame and was to make the boy irresistibly popular amongst the women. I was too young to understand that women in fact never cared for; who mastered the 'Kandil Patang' and for the most part, were completely oblivious. For the moment, I was content to relish myself upon the nude and semi-nude girls of 'Debonair'.

In this school of choice - I was resoundingly the top student. I successfully burnt a small black spot on Piyush's skeletor and thus claimed victory. I mastered the huge kite and marveled at the dancing lights in sky. I learnt many 'Adult' things from the Debonair and came to love the girls. And when Piyush was cheated out of his 'recreational time' with the magazine, I rejoiced in exacting fitting revenge on the bigger boy that had foxed him. Sulphuric acid (although diluted) was put to good use and the elders learnt to respect the potent terrorist element in little ones.

Like the thousand kites of that evening sky, childhood imagination carried the lanterns of my ambitions and took them higher and high. I remember telling my grandma - that one day like the kite, I will go faaaaar and be just a speck, at which she reprimanded in motherly instinct and prayed - I never leave her side.

On some unfortunate nights, one of the candles used to fall in its paper lamp causing it to catch fire and thus break the string. And we had to endure the sadness of watching our beloved kite fly out of sight. Watching the dancing lights disappear used to be one of the hardest sights for a new trainee who had spent hours guarding his kite. Even the big boys used to show a rare glimpse of compassion in such times and assure us, that the kite was safe and that because it was tended with love it would go to a better place and one day be reunited with us again.

Battling the US recession, I often times feel as if a cruel and uncaring wind has snatched my floating lights. And like I did as a child, I sure hope that one day soon, the wind will cede and I will be reunited again. After all dreams are just like Kites, it is their destiny to fly.

- Sanket

The lonely road

2009-06-28T04:32:00.005-06:00

He walked alone upon the feared road, deserted and discarded,

Toward the forbidden, where the night was black, the day been grey

His footsteps unspeaking, for the sound reached no ear,

His shadow one with the body,
For even the moon dithered to come near

The air stagnant except for a wolf's warn

It grew cold, till all warmth was but a memory

He walked toward hell, he walked to the Satan

He walked without fear, for fear would not stay,
Where hope abandoned

At last he reached his quarry,

In front of him came an abyss

And, into this dark he spoke,
'I come today, to sell my soul

Thus, the Satan was called forth

'Souls are not to be sold, they are fared anew, or taken in a claw, he said

His voice was harsh, though the words, a hiss

'I have made up my mind, and have traveled afar,

Come take my soul, said the man

And so the Satan held his soul,

'This soul is fair, there is much yet left, why do you wish it to sell?

'I sell, for its cost I can't bear, said the man

'Its not enough to despair,

'Virtue is rare, it is not forfeit at will, replied the Satan

At this the man saddened

'There is a sorrow, tears can't shed

'Some shards of memory, don't lose edge with time

'Few echoes do not fade with distance
'Such a person sells his virtue, a soul such as mine , cried the man

'Even if I wanted to, there isn't a wealth that would buy

'For with every moral inside, suffering is certain

'Go back to the living, and forgive your soul - said the Satan

At this the man smiled, a smile upon his own, the most painful smile

'What use is the good, if it can't even fetch a dime - cried he

'Think not this way, said the Satan

'Pain alone can burnish a soul
'And only the worthy are given the pain

'Such a soul does not fetch a price

'For its value, is beyond any price

And so the man walked again
Back from the dark and into the light
Upon him, a new wisdom dawned

He made peace with his pain and embraced hope

The one whose soul won't fetch a price

Priceless was his soul!

- Sanket

Purani Jeans - The Chaos of Engineering.

2009-06-21T20:53:00.010-06:00

Its been five years since I graduated from Father Agnels; my Engineering college. Of recently, there have been talks about a reunion, and so it seemed fit that there be an article on our days in Engineering. This post has been a long time coming, but it took a final push from a fellow classmate for me, to overcome my laziness and pen down my thoughts. Its a challenge to write such a piece. Its very easy to write an entire book on the subject, but to be able to condense it all into one post, thats a tricky needle to thread. So here is my attempt, and it is dedicated to the class of '04. I truly hope you like it.

Engineering is a testing experience for every person who graduates from Mumbai University. But I speak of a very specific one when I write about my batch of '04 from Agnels, Vashi. It is easy and indeed very tempting, to narrate the whole experience as horror stories akin to those of Nazi concentration camps. And it is easier to turn the whole thing into a teacher-bashing exercise that my fellow class mates would throughly enjoy. But deep inside, we know, it wouldn't be right. For, not all teachers in my college were bad. And so, I am not going to dwell on that unpleasant topic, except to say this; as I look back now, I have nothing but pure sympathy for the few teachers who relished in torturing us. Surely any person who derives such sadist pleasure in the abuse of power and wrongful punishment of helpless students - must have had a rather traumatic childhood.

My story begins in the fall of 2000. I was as naive and green as the rain soaked trees of sector-9A Vashi. Like most recent 12th pass-outs, I was hyper-excited and nervous that first day approaching my college campus. As I neared the iron gates, I saw a group of students to my left, they were laughing and looked happy, and I relaxed, thinking .... this doesn't seem too bad after all. It turned out those students were in fact not from my college, they were from our neighbor's. The mood inside campus was far less jovial, with gaunt, haggard looking students wearing a perpetual expression of distress. Their fervent glances pleading a silent warning: 'This is not for everyone, leave while you can!!' Call it 'Destiny' but I stuck to the place, and to - what would be - the best and the worst times of my student life!

Once the course has started, and the formalities done, you quickly begin to realize, you are in this on your own, the only friendly people you have in the world - are your class mates. And it fosters an intense, duty-bound sense of loyalty and friendship, one that is unique to the stream of Engineering. In just one month, you learn the unwritten survival law, that says, "You may not like your class mates personally, but you WILL help them in every way you can!" There are very few people you can relate to, once your training has started, your friends from before wonder, where is it that you go to - to come back so exhausted, and your parents do not recognize the frustrated individual returning home.

As far as I was concerned, the campus was to be my home. It was my social life, it was my academic, it was the place to study and it was the place for fun. In the middle of our chaos, I found a harmony. It was here that I learnt how to speak in front of a crowd and not flinch. It was here that I leant, how to prioritize and make decisions real-time. It was here, that I laid the foundational concepts of my career. It was here, that I learned to endure stress beyond my limits. And it was in this period that I enjoyed my most untroubled sleep.

There is a distinct quality to Engineers; given any situation, they immediately come to realize what is doable and what is not, they make calls without second guess and they handle events as the situation unfolds. It comes to them naturally. Any person can evaluate and take practical measures, except, Engineers do not feel guilty about the compromises they make. It instills a defiant confidence that remains with you for the rest of your life. And, it has saved me many many times.

At a research meeting, when my professor wanted a paper completed - he gathered my lab mates for a meeting and asked "How much time do you guys need?" My American counterparts answered - two weeks, I simply asked "When is it due??" I did not know how much time would I need, but it was the Agnel-instilled confidence that said - It doesn't matter how much time you need - All that matters is how much time you have!

It is hard to encapsulate the essence of my college and the experience I had, mainly because it doesn't lie in academic transcripts or the courses I studied. It doesn't lie in the concepts I absorbed or the ones I didn't. It is amorphous yet potent. It lies in endless cups of hot coffee over the front steps. It lies in the jokes we wrote and the chits we passed - while we sat day-dreaming and distracted in classes of theory. It lies in the time we spent sitting on stairs, 'bird-watching'. It lies in the distinct sound of that dot-matrix printer on the first floor, which was to us, nothing short of beautiful music. It lies in the intoxicating smell of kerosene and xerox copies. It lies in the suffocating air of notes-littered hallways, as we waited our turn for a viva. It lies in the euphoria of watching all required signatures on our submission sheet. It lies in painful aches and cuts from the workshop of first year - to the carpal tunnel from excessive coding. It lies in our convoluted sense of humor and in our tacit arrogance screaming ... "Yes, we did!"

It is the sum of all parts, greater than the entirety.

It is in the enduring qualities I learnt from my class mates. Every single one of whom - taught me something. They were my team, and I was theirs. Our victories were sweeter because we rejoiced together and our sorrows less painful because we suffered together. They were the support and they were the hope, they were the gems and they were the jewels. They formed the identity of my class, and in some way will always remain a part of me.

The class of '04 and the paragons of my memories! With a salute to all, I offer you these. Come, share a glimpse of my class room, the people who formed me....

Some are not so obvious, they are the silent geniuses like Unmesh Kulkarni.

Some are tall, athletic and capable like Sushant Kadam.

Some are whimsical, albeit pervert in their brilliance, like our very own Ajit.

Some are beautiful, compassionate, generous and have it all, like the beloved Sushma.

Some are the heart of a crowd wherever they go, unmistakably Manavi.

Some are fiery and feisty in everything they did, like Roshan and Nadeem.

Some are flamboyant and larger than life, like Maulik.

Some wont say a lot, but perform proudly, like Amol Gawli.

Some are painfully virtuous, like Tushar.

Some have kept me company and made me smile, Pritam and Priyata.

Some are always up to something, like Sandeep Kaul.

Some you just can't miss, like Divya and Richa.

Some are incredibly talented, like Kripa.

Some are touchingly simple, like Apoorva and Harshada.

And some, will give you a run for your money, like Pankaj.

That is Engineering, these are the people, the paragons of my memories and the best parts of me!

- 100026 (Sanket)

- Sanket

How Long ?

2009-06-11T10:53:00.006-06:00

How long will winter last for the young seed

As it dies alive, its spring denied

How long will the storm rage for the bird on edge

Waiting, for its wings to fly

How long should the capers halt before they lose step

As the child grows up and the boy dies

How long should the strings bear stretch

Their tunes mute, craving a master's hand

How long do the corks stay shut, as the wine waits
For a celebration to come by

How long should the secrets search a ear

Before they lose scent, And their mystery spoils

How long do the eyes fight sleep, their lust longing a touch

And desire succumbs to its own cries

How long do the lips hold shut, And silence the screams

Before they forget how to smile

How long should a heart seek love

Before it fills itself with ungiving sand

How long will the winter last, for the frosted seed

Why was its spring denied ??

- Sanket

The First Journey Home

2009-06-07T21:39:00.007-06:00

A close friend of mine left for India today. Its his first trip since he came as a student into the United States, and it has taken him three years. It reminded me of my own, first journey home, and so this post is written as a dedication to my friend, and in the hope of capturing that magic which grips and enthralls the international student upon his virgin flight home.

[Image used in accordance to Terms and Conditions per www.maharashtra.gov.in]

The first voyage, is, in every possible way, a surreal experience and for the most part while its happening, you feel as though you are some place else. The reality is so intense that initially your mind refuses to accept it. Superstitions arise where logic ruled before - and you begin to wonder, Is it possible to ruin your happiness just by thinking about it ? Are you really tempting fate?? This is especially true if you haven't gone home for more than two years and if you have never stayed away from home before. There is a price you pay - when you leave to pursue a career abroad, a sacrifice you make. And its enormity cannot and is not, initially comprehended.

The moment you land, you realize that you have left everyone you knew, you are thousands of miles away, that even a simple phone call has suddenly become complicated. That you are in a continent whose culture and customs, smells and tastes, cost and currency, weather and warmth, and even time is as different from your home as it possibly can be. As you stand at the revolving carousel, hoping your luggage isn't lost, it dawns upon you - that against all instinct, you really did pack your life into suitcases and left the familiar - and you begin to seriously question your sanity. A sickening anxiety starts to grow in you, its shape: undefined, its origins: unknown and its length: uncertain.

After wonders of the first-world have worn off their fascination, after the charm of novelty has become stale in growing stress, the reality of your world sinks into your bones and its parameters stabilize. As you become busy with studies and are sheared beyond normal, as you juggle between a job and academics, between expense and incessant search for fund, you become pragmatic about your ability and even the thoughts of your country become too expensive to afford.

There is a price you pay, a sacrifice you make, and its magnitude cannot be read - at the time you make it.

Only after you have spent days and months and years in longing - Only after you have budgeted your phone calls and timed your cravings - Only after you have post dated your tears and hung by a memory, do you come to understand what was asked of you. You do know beforehand, that you are going to miss home. But you do not know that you will miss your best friend's wedding, or your sister's birthdays, movies and music releases or new trains and roadways. You do not conceive that the place you were born and raised in - will move on without you. That the mangoes of summer would bloom and crackers of Diwali would sound - with or without you.

And on some days, some horrible days, news comes that your city was bombed. That Mumbai is on fire, and you can not be there to help. That your loved ones, friends and family, the places you are from, rock, stone and buildings are left vulnerable - and there is nothing you have done, nor can you do, to protect them. How can someone deprive you of the right to defend everything you love and are made of ?? And you realize that - that someone is you - and you marvel at your selfishness and loathe every breath you undeservingly take. You realize you can drown without water and be suffocated even as you live.

But adversity builds character and sacrifice renders reward - and this does hold true, on some magical evening the forces of nature submit, and circumstances relent. The constellations in the sky are aligned just right, and you find that the miracle of miracles, you actually have enough savings to buy a ticket home. And so you make the purchase, eager yet defiant, and you count. Count the months and moments, the nights and minutes and days after painful days and everything inbetween. And you cross your calendar, you cross your fingers, you find a friend - and cross his fingers - and you wait.

And so I did, and I waited on the flight home, willing it to fly faster, land earlier and travel safer than it was supposed to. And on a December night, I heard the most melodious voice - that my plane was going to land. And I fastened my seat belt and pressed my face to the window, and on my cue, the clouds parted to reveal my India beneath - magnificent and majestic. And in that hour of the night, I beheld my city like the lover who turns to bride and through the moist of my eyes I saw those shimmering lights and braced my heart - for the Mumbai I missed, every single night. I surrendered tear after saved tear - and with the friction of those tires on home soil, I earned that - which was rightfully mine.

Home sweet home, you can travel the farthest corners and revel in riches beyond, yet there is no place - absolutely no place that can compare to your home. The first journey back - its special - its magical - its beautiful and its spectacular. It is worthy of the price you paid - of the sacrifice you made. It is afterall home sweet home.
- Sanket

Paper Boat Little

2009-05-28T22:09:00.011-06:00

As a little kid, I never studied in school. I hated tests and exams and never scored. In fact, whenever I used to get a graded test back, I would neatly fold the papers into quarters and twist the corners to make a paper boat! We loved our boats. You could throw away a dozen paper planes with no care nor worry, but a boat had to be watched and helped and nurtured for it to sail the distance.

[Image credit - http://moonmaid.files.wordpress.com/2007/09/paper-boat.jpg ]

Call it a sign from above, but the lower I scored on a test, the better of a boat it would make. For the most part, out of sheer compassion, I never told my parents and teachers where and how did I lose my test scores. My partner in crime, 'Bunty' - the ideal student boy next door, never uttered a word either. We thought it was better this way ...

Within the limited confines of our society compound, was a shallow canal made to drive rain water out of the premises. At the end of the canal, the water went into an underground drain and we never knew what happened of it. Bunty had heard from the old watchman that it all went to the sea. And thats what I believed in, one never questioned the old watchman.

During the months of monsoon, I came home only on weekends, and Bunty and I would beg, borrow and steal all the umbrellas from our homes and neighbors, open them up in my living room and cover them all with bed sheets. This would be our make shift tent. Under the tent is where we dwelled, every once in a while we would surface to civilization and ask my mother for more food. It was a good system and we stuck to it. Occasionally when a neighbor had to venture outside, he would find his umbrella missing and come knocking straight to my house. These were troublesome times, as our neighbors umbrella could very well be in the very middle of our tent establishment, returning it would mean a whole lot of trouble, so we would take out an umbrella from the fringe and ask the uncle to exchange it later.

Every so often, when we were busy enacting our adventures under the tent, we would hear loud thunder and rain drops on tin roofs. And I would grab Bunty's arm and say ... " Suuussh, Listen!! " And as soon as Bunty would hear the rain, his eyes would lit up, and we knew fun times lay ahead. And up the tent would go, sheets pushed apart and we would scramble away out the door! Often times without bothering to wear shoes. We would rush into Bunty's room, grab some old papers, and my test results and run to the water canal. We would take turns to shelter the paper while the other made a boat, and on the count of three set our boats lose in the running water.

As the boats took off, we would follow them eagerly around the building - till they reached the drain grill, the boat to touch the grill first, won. It was simple, it was fair, and it was the most fun I remember. As our skill at boat making grew we got more creative with our canal, and place tree branches and bricks in the canal to make it interesting for our boats to navigate around. When we ran out of things to put in, we used our watchman's shoes! On one occasion, our watchman came in to work wearing rubber flip flops, as we tried to set up our obstacle course, to our delight, the slipper itself went floating all the way to drain grill. Knowing we couldn't use the flip flops for our course, we promptly returned them to the watchman - "These are no good, but your chappal won the competition today!" We offered our sympathies as best as we could. Needless to say, the watchman wasn't impressed.

On one such fun routine, as we set our boats to sail and ran around the building compound, we were particularly thrilled, this was going to be a close race, usually one of our boats used to get stuck on the obstacles, but today, luck seemed to be on our side and both our boats were clearing the hurdles - ever so gracefully. The rain was picking up, too much rain and it could flood the boat and it would never float again. There was only a limited window for our race to take place. As we rounded the last corner - running excitedly towards the finish line, I was positive, my boat would have no trouble clearing the last obstacle. I was right, my boat sailed through, Bunty's got stuck. And as we headed for the finish line, I relaxed and beamed up at Bunty with pride, as if to say .... "Hail the victorious!" Though when I looked, I saw panic in Bunty's eyes, "The drain! The drain isn't covered!! "

I immediately jumped to the ground, clawing in a last ditch effort to save my winner boat, but alas! It was too late, the boat had sailed through into the mysterious drain. As the realization hit me, I looked up at Bunty with moist eyes, "Where does this drain go! Come we might still be able to save the boat"

We did not know where the drain went, we had tried before. But Bunty being the gentleman he was, still followed me outside the building and across the street, to see where the canal might be connected. To our expected dismay we only found one open groove in the ground, this one filled with ugly drain water. Surely our canal did not socialize with such filthy structures. Dejected, with a head hanging low, I returned to the building.

"Don't worry", Bunty said patting my shoulder, "Your boat was brave, I am sure it will find the sea."

"I hope it does." I said, "My paper boat little!!"

"How much did you score on that test ?? "

"7/10 " I answered.

"You really aren't meant to study and score, its unlucky for you!" Bunty concluded.

*******

Often times, when it rains heavy enough, and forms rivers on the road, I am reminded of that day, and of that boat. Shortly after that incident, I lost touch with Bunty, his family moved out of our building. As the wet sprays of water drops hit my face, and the scent of moist soil fills the air, I remember our little game.

There is an innocence to childhood that does not breathe without honesty. No matter what the facts, as kids we had unquestionable faith in what was told. Perhaps its the part of childhood I miss the most.

Come to think of it, aren't all of our lives little paper boats. Fragile - with a ticking life span. Like the canal course, we do not know what hurdle our boat is going to encounter, nor what will come of it when it does. As dejected as I may be at times, I convince myself, I will find the sea. Bunty says so. And Bunty got it from the watchman, you don't question the watchman.

Made of paper, pretty and thin, floating away always, a branch and a spin. See my paper boat ... My paper boat little!!

- Sanket

KARMA ROCKS!!

2009-05-17T21:22:00.008-06:00

I have an affinity toward trouble. In that if I do not get into trouble, trouble finds me ! And in a recent spot of trouble I had to accept help from friends. Be it a place to stay or an airport pick up - I had to rely on friends to get things done. What I found, truly surprised me. Assuming the negative, I was pleasantly proven wrong when my friends insisted upon bestowing me favor after favor. And when I resisted, saying I really could not accept - a friend simply said - "Its what you would do for me". At that, I rested my case, caved in and accepted their generosity - ever so gratefully.

It led me to believe that my good 'Karma' was actually coming to rescue. I am a science person, firmly grounded and rooted in the annals of logic, thus an abstract concept like 'Karma' - remained a purely theoretical idea for me. Until, as I mentioned, I was rescued and was forced to concede the possibility that there might be something more to it. Hence my attempt to encapsulate Karma into a logical albeit flawed theory - and thus this post.

I believe a person's 'Karma' begins the minute he starts to take conscious decisions. Given the ethics of each situation and a person's awareness of them, each action leads to good or bad 'Karma'. Sooner or later, people start to associate you with your choice of actions and what they mean. Call it a 'character-score' (c-score) if you will. Like a credit score that tells how financially reliable a person is, the 'c-score' reflects how trustworthy he is. If you keep a promise made to a friend, that friend bolsters your 'c-score'. If you lie/cheat on a person, your c-score is lowered.

Try to visualize your friends, as you see each face, you will realize you already have an established label to go along with it - trusty, selfish, arrogant, supportive ... etc We may not actually quantify what we think about a person, but we can certainly tell if we trust a person or not. When you go to a bank and ask for a loan, the bank looks at your credit score to determine - what are the chances you will pay back? Similarly, when you approach a friend and ask for a favor, the person intrinsically asks, what are the chances you will repay the favor? If your c-score is good, chances are, more friends will do you favors when you need them. Hence the immediate effects of good Karma.

However, I believe 'Karma' in fact does influence more than how your immediate friends respond. In fact one can safely say, Karma influences your chances of success in almost everything you undertake. Barring the essential ingredients of success: hard work, discipline and dedication, when all factors are accounted for and success hinges on pure luck, it is Karma that affects the outcome. Acting acts as your guardian angel - it knows how good you are as a person, and how much do you really deserve success. When all logical reasons are exhausted, it is Karma that bends the arch of opportunity and gifts you happiness.

Skeptics may find this explanation lacking in proof. I offer no proof, just a theory. Every so often, the outcome we hope for, depends on factors we do not control. It may depend on the whim of a person we do not know, who has the deciding power to grant or deny you. I felt this way when I was nearing the end of my Visa interview. There is no way of telling which way the pieces are going to fall and if you will get what you want. Yet, if you have good 'Karma' - the pieces just might trickle down in the order you are pining for.

Consider for a moment, the entire living human population. You make friends, your friends make friends and so on. Thus, a stranger you meet, might be a stranger to you, in that you haven't personally interacted with this individual yet, but you can rest assured that you have touched this person through a chain/network of people you have built. Like they say, we are all connected to each other. A cliche, more veritable today than one might have thought in the past. Thus when you build good Karma - i.e. behave ethically when there is no immediate gain for you, you influence a whole network of people positively. It might take years and decades to reach back to you. And thus the anonymous old woman I helped cross the road years ago, might trickle down a positive influence that led my Visa officer to grant me my dream. 'Karma', often has latent effects.

Yet, in all fairness, this explanation is a long shot from what one might call 'complete'. Is it ever possible to completely capture the reasons of every bad/good thing happened to you? I think not. May be - we will never know - if our Karma patted us on the back, or bit us in the ass. Still it simply makes sense, to be on the good side of Karma.

It is the all important one percent after you have put in your 99 cents of hard work. A self accurate system of cause and effect - which decides if its your turn or not. At the end of the line, you have to account for everything you have done. Some say, if Karma does not catch up to you in this life time, it will surely do so in the next. Who can wisely contemplate on what happens after death? Is it Karma that decides if we go to heaven or hell? I do not know, and I am certainly not going to die just to find out.

For what its worth, I might add, being a good guy really really sucks, you don't have the luxury to make your choices on what's convenient for you - but rather have to base your choice on what's right - which more often than not - is a harder path to choose. Yet, if you do, and if you believe you have built good Karma, I think it really does come to rescue when you need it the most.

In a roof over my head as shelter against a cruel night, in the warm smile of a friend when I was spent and fortune had turned aside. I have felt the existence of my guardian angel. In that moment when I had closed my eyes, and despite disbelief in prayer, prayed so hard - God please please please, just this one time. I have felt life soften in a dimple and seen Karma, save my Life.

- Sanket

Beauty

2009-05-08T14:30:00.011-06:00

Its amorphous, its abstract, its simple and yet not
It lies in the eyes of the beholder, some say ...
What is Beauty? Who can define ??

In the strange delusions of my mind,
I seek the answers, one step forward and two steps back
I find the answers, or just call them that

And I see Beauty,
In soft sounds of waterfalls,
When water hits itself
From just the right height
Its innocent clarity, powerful and fragile

Or in the muddled light from clouds
Grey and cool, before a rain
Neither evening nor night or day
Just clouds making their way
Yet claiming a piece of time
Making it their own, distinct and aloof
I see Beauty, in clouds of grey

And sometimes it springs, so hard to miss
I seek and find Beauty
In sunlight upon lips of red
Or the scent of wind caressing a waist

As a lover so often can
Walk across a room in flowing grace
And in a moment , the thousand thoughts of your mind
She can make you forget.

When I am sad, it does go away
Yet always comes back like a good friend
In derivations of math, or in notes of music
In the warmth of a touch, Or the wet of a kiss

What is Beauty? Who can define??
No one can tell, Yet its yours to find
If you keep an eye.

- Sanket

Whispers in the dark ..

2009-05-07T11:14:00.012-06:00

Oh Sleep, O dear Sleep
‘Tis been a while, I last heard you talk
I know what happened, I know it’s hard
Dreams lost color, Dreams went mute
My heart longs to hear again
Your whispers in the dark

Oh Sleep, O dear Sleep
So bitter, So sweet
You have been a friend for long
You have heard the screams
The Nightmares, And seen it all

O Sleep so bitter sweet
Do you remember me?
The little boy you cared for
And the sweet lies you told me
I never let know, I knew
I knew they were lies, the truth concealed

Oh Sleep O dear Sleep
Don’t get me wrong,
Would you rather have me pretend
That you never lied
Tell the sheets, I never cried
Truth hurt the day enough
Lest my nights be spared
I needed your lies

Oh Sleep, My dear Sleep
Remember me
I am a Man now, It’s ok
We know it was thrust upon
A rude harsh day without morn
Such a cold winter without the fall

My dear Sleep
Long have you cared me
‘Tis time I repay now
I fell in love and relinquished you
I’m not naïve now
The guard is set and the resolve strong

O Sleep so bitter sweet
Do you believe in God?
Run along and tell him
I call him a myth
With no use nor excuse
I am now my own God

My dearest Sleep
‘Tis the price I pay for a good heart
The bad ones go to hell they say
Why all the worry, Why all the bother
The good ones are punished alive
Enough is Enough

O Sleep, Hear me well
By Heart, Nerve and Sinew
I will bend this Destiny to my Will
And take what is rightfully mine
I deny the Fate, neither aid nor abide

O Sleep, Don’t be alarmed
That my words lose rhyme
Rhythm has many paths
Some walk on built ones
I just choose to build mine

O Sleep, My Dear Sleep
‘Tis been a while, I last heard you talk
Lets hear them again...
Your whispers in the dark

- Sanket

A Monograph on Driving!!

2009-03-26T20:41:00.009-06:00

When I was learning to drive - a friend told me - "Touch the car as you would touch a woman - You will never drive bad!!" Its a piece of advice that I have gingerly treasured. Indeed I have found that when you keep this in mind, your driving becomes a whole lot smoother.

Unfortunately I lost touch with driving after that - and for almost two years did not drive again. Eventually when I got my own car - I had lost the finesse I was once taught. Yet, slowly and surely as I got to know my machine better, the old lessons returned. I had a particularly pleasurable drive today - and I thought of sharing my lessons - hence this post.

First the basics. This has to be your own car, does not have to be a spanking shining BMW, it can be an old honda accord - doesn't make a difference, but the car has to be yours, in that if you damage the car, you should have to pay from your own pocket. I have found, with this monetary connection comes unswerving loyalty and love. Next you need to find a route that you would enjoy driving. This can be an interstate or a country road - through a desert or through hills. I personally prefer canyons and would strongly suggest country roads. The lesser the traffic, the lonelier the road - the better are your chances of a real connection with the surroundings and your car. Next find a playlist of your most favorite songs that will complement your mood for the evening. Those are the basics, after that you just need to find a good 3 hours of time to enjoy your drive.

Pre Drive:- At (t-30 mins) do take your car to a car wash and give it a thorough rinse. Please make sure your car is as clean as it can be. Then take your clean car to the starting point of your chosen route and park on the curb. Ensure that you have selected your opening song - turn the volume of your audio system to a minimum mute and start your car. Apart from the guidance with the steering wheel, driving quality is mostly determined by how well you can control the pressure on your accelerator and brakes - so pay close attention to this aspect. Ensure that your seat is at the right height and position. Once this is done, I prefer to rest my right leg on at least two spots. One with my knee against the mid column and another with my heel on the floor of the car. You should be able to hold your foot parallel, slightly touching the accelerator once you have found the heel spot. This may take a little experimentation because everyones height is different - but with a few lateral trials, you should be able to get your car to this setting.

Next comes control over your motor nerves. For you to be able to precisely control pressure, you need your nerves to respond to exacting instructions from your brain - this state is better accomplished if you are relatively stress free and relaxed before you drive. Some breathing techniques might help - but the idea is to be able to control the accelerator and the brake to extremely micro alterations. So do whatever it is you need to do to enable that.

Once you have gotten into your sweet spot and your heel is comfortable, it is time to tune your hearing, there is a reason why I asked the volume to be muted on the audio system. You have to caress your accelerator and learn to identify the engine sound of your car. This is a highly personal attribute, in that very few people other than yourself would be able to communicate with your car via sound. A car's engine sound is your car talking to you - if there is anything wrong - thats what your car is going to use to tell you - so learn to LISTEN to your car.

Ensure that you are in park mode and rev up the engine. You should be able to identify your car's normal heart rate and also its EHR. If you have the cranial room, do pay attention to the various pitches and corresponding RPMs of your car. This will enable you to judge a gear shift or a brake call without actually having to distract yourself from the surroundings. After sufficient practice, this usually gets embedded in your muscle memory and you will be making changes without ever having to think about it. If you are really a perfectionist - test yourself by closing your eyes, listening to the engine and guessing the RPM. I haven't done this - but I know when my car is hitting red without looking.

When this exercise is done correctly, it establishes a supreme communication medium with your car. You can take pride in knowing that when it comes to your car - no one knows it better than you.

When a car is used by one person consistently, it adapts to that person's driving habits. No - this is no technology feature, it is basic mechanics. A person's wheel pressure, lock assurance check force, door checks, mirror and seat handling and in general driving style determine how every moving part of the car will wear and tear - this wear and tear is different for every car and every handler. It determines the health of your car over a long term and it also determines what mileage you can get off a full tank. So, it pays to treat your car well.

Ok, by now you have got to be aching to go. Open your eyes, adjust the windows, the sun roof, check your mirrors and ease the car onto the road.

There is a misconception that I want to address here. Many people think a guy's machismo is determined by how fast he can drive - this is utter bullshit. If you are a believer of this - you are on the wrong page and what I am saying here can not be comprehended by you. I define machismo by how precisely you can control your car - and how quickly can you understand subtle hints. So when you start on your road, do take due notice of the speed limit. A speed limit is no random number, if a road shows a certain speed limit - please be assured there is sound logic and science behind that number. Although you may not be aware of this - A group of engineers had to go through road drawings - determine the curvature of the road, the angle of elevation and determine a critical centrifugal velocity at which your car would be thrown tangential. Those engineers have been kind enough to include a safety buffer and that is how the number on the speed board is arrived at. Not paying attention to this fine piece of engineering is not only physically dangerous and mentally retarded, it is also an insult of pure aesthetics.

Having said that driving below or at the speed limit just because the board says so is equally lame. You need to practice a route to understand how fast you can take a curve - in addition to which you need to account for local law enforcement tolerance and arrive at your own comfort margin. I usually drive 5 miles above the speed limit. It is within engineering safety margins and also within cop endurance levels - in addition if pulled over you can always explain it away as human error. I hate when my deliberate, artistically cognitive derived speed has to labeled 'Human Error' - but trust me it works!!

Alright - so at this point, your car is clean, your tank is full, you are in the right frame of mind - your girl friend is back home - the windows and roof are in sync with the wind - and you are driving at a beautiful speed and you are on your favorite route. But wait - things are about to get better!!

Do take a moment to listen to your engine - if you find five minutes of consistent pattern, you can safely place this sound in the background - please bear in mind that you have to factor in the wind noise ( I am assuming you are driving on a lonely road ) - with that - you can switch on the song and bring up the volume. Again - the volume of a song is direct function of its genre, intent, lyrics and equalizer settings - do not be the stupid brawn that just blears out music. Learn to enjoy the notes - someone spent a lifetime perfecting voice and instrument for you to listen to what you are listening.

All that and more ... when done correctly, driving can be a most sensuous expression of independence and can become a rewarding celebration of ones success.

Zoom Zoom .....

- Sanket

Homosexuality...

2009-03-15T04:36:00.011-06:00

I have a confession to make. I am a former homophobic. Being born and raised in India in a conservative family, homosexuality was a concept that I learned in theory - and quite late in the day at that. Considering the concept purely theoretical, I never really worried about it. That is until I stepped into the United States. Public affection, open talk, gay, lesbian, bisexuals - I was exposed - full on - to a world and a reality that most Indians prefer to sweep under the carpet. Being a straight guy, I had no qualms with two women kissing, but the idea of two men kissing - Eeeeww!! Well - it still makes me avert.

And for the first time in my life - I was biased against something without rationality. The reality of watching two same sex people make out in public was too much for me to digest - and I labeled all homosexuals - 'Weird'. It was one of the rarer occasions when I had decided to circumvent than confront.

There is a lovely tradition at Utah State University. On a pedestal in front of the main campus building - couples gather every once in a while - and under a full moon kiss each other to be pronounced 'Aggies' - or certified - Utah State material. It was here that I actually saw two guys kiss through out the entire length - in part because the whole crowd was cheering madly and in part because I was intrigued. I let go of the weirdness for a moment and tried to analyze what I was seeing - and well - I have to admit - there was no doubt and no mistake - this was a genuine, passionate kiss. And - I - for the life of me - could not understand - 'How can the same sex - evoke such strong and true emotions???' And so I decided to turn around and confront my beliefs.

I became friends with a girl who was openly lesbian. And slowly but surely, I started to dismantle my prejudice asking - what I am sure must have felt like - childish questions. What I learned completely changed my attitude. Other than the fact that they are attracted to the same sex, in every other way - these people were exactly the same. They were equally crazy and vulnerable in love. A break up hurt just as much if not more. They fought over the same issues - They hated Bush. Yep! They were perfectly normal people!! And I have to admit, I felt quite stupid for being so pig-headed about the whole issue.

The flash point for me, however, came when my friend missed work for a few days - I asked around and found out - that her partner was in an accident and that she had been working different hours. Shortly after, I went to see her. She was torn in concern and sheared by stress. Having to take care of her partner and keep up with daily duties, she was exhausted - every single day. And thats when I truly understood the real deal. That love TRULY - does not accept nor abides by any rules. Oh! And it is a beaaautiful thing. The world would be a poorer place if the nature of love was any different.

When we got to talking, she showed me a bunch of hate mail that she had been receiving since she spoke at a Gay/Lesbian function. I read the mail - This guy hated her!! I mean - plain and simple - hated her!! This guy - had probably never met her - or talked to her - and here he was - hating her!! I felt like asking this guy a few abrupt questions - "Do you even know this girl?? How can you hate her??? She is the sweetest thing I have ever met. How can anyone hate her???" And I felt so uncontrollably mad with anger that I totally forgot for a second - that may be a year back - I wouldn't have seen anything wrong with this guy's letter. The realization ashamed me.

And so I decided to write. If anyone reading this article hates homosexuals - or thinks they are weird. Folks please! I completely respect your opinion. But do me a favor - take the time to understand the other point of view - and then decide - if you still hold to your opinion - well thats your choice (And you are a pig - by the way )

They love the same - they care the same - their interpretations and expectations of loyalty are the same - they can lust for a body just as much - they are different only in the way the rest of the world treats them.

There is something to be said about the tendency of human behavior to acquire prejudices when confronted against the norm. Too often than not I have found the core debate over opinions shrouded by religious beliefs and unsubstantiated dogma. Too often have I found people forgetting our very origins. Man evolved through dwelling the caves - and we came out and discovered fire - we invented the wheel and learnt to move - we deciphered the weather and mastered agriculture. In deed Man's existence and definition are inseparably tied to Scientific progress.

Science evolved out of necessity. And religion evolved as a means to control. A tool for common harmony - so that Science can move forward without hinder. Too often have we come to block Science by holding on to religion. Homosexuality when looked at - from a pure scientific view - is as normal as a child being left handed - it is observed in tons of animals other than humans.

In the last century - we have split the atom and spliced the gene. Surely we can come up enough reasoning to understand and embrace homosexuality. Aand sooner rather than later - learn to live in our planet in consideration of all that lives.

I have observed - laws of nature have a reason of their own. It is not our place to deem wrong - what we do not yet understand. No great person ever invented true discoveries on the arrogant pretense that we understand Nature completely. So let us not forget our fundamentals. And if we can not sufficiently qualify to define nature/love - we are certainly not qualified to ill-define it.

So heres an apology and a toast to all homosexuals. May you find it in your hearts to forgive and may you continue spread love - for now more than ever - we all need it. ROCK ON!!

- Sanket

P:S:: Forgive any generalizations folks!! I was just driving home a point.

Flashes of the past!

2009-03-02T17:32:00.004-07:00

A lazy morning, a sky refusing to light up, a vista of clouds hanging low and grey, a wind caressed with moisture ........ and I think of you.

I remember the clink of steel on china, an italian restaurant. My glance as it traced your silhouette opposite me. The glint of evening sun rays on rose red lips. I remember being intoxicated - in part by wine and in part by your beauty.

There are memories one does not divulge easily. This is one of them. But there is a dream more real than memory - remembered not in your mind - but etched in your body. And this is one of them.

My fingers remember the touch of your skin, the strength of that warmth as I held you in a slow still dance. My will still longs the challenge in your smile. Never since has a woman, so tested my heart.

I have fought long and hard and learnt - there are some things you can not erase despite try.

Some things there are - not remembered in your mind. - Sanket

Conscience where art thou??

2009-01-25T20:39:00.003-07:00

A few days back, as the 44th President of the United States addressed America and the world, in his inauguration address he said - "We reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals". The statement was burnt in my mind. It came from a man and a country truly understanding the meaning of democracy. I was awestruck and felt jealous of The United States. As the new President went on about his address, he remembered the founders of America and recited their ideals, crystal clear and undiluted across two centuries and I couldn't help but think of what the Indian Prime Minister had said after the 26/11 attacks and the reforms hence discussed.

In a nationwide press release - the Indian Prime Minister, after being criticized about the country's security said, "Human rights may be infringed upon in the wake of new anti-terror laws" . It deeply upset me - not the statement itself, but that I accepted it as fact. Caught amidst fundamental questions about my pride as an Indian, my country and its origins and about myself as an individual: I have to admit, I couldn't come up with clear answers.

In theory they are both democracies. On the one hand there was America which had successfully overcome its own racial prejudice and had chosen to vote upon logic and hope. And on the other hand was India, where in a national survey (less than a week old) only 46% of the people believed that democracy was the right way to govern with 21% actually saying that a dictatorship would be better.

A nation whose leader called upon its citizens to do their duty and to deliver the gift of freedom to future generations - and a nation whose leader was informing its citizens that he could not protect India's democracy without violating it.

Since then, as I went about my daily chores, there has been a looming question in the back of my mind: "What the hell is wrong with us?? Indians, As a people as a country???" And so I read once more of the Indian independence movement and in doing so traveled back in time....

A time when a child saw his father beaten and cursed by his British master - "thrashed" as the Queen's vocabulary would call it. Beaten to be reminded of the fact, that as Indians, they were slaves to their British ruler. As the father walked the child home, struggling to hide his shame, they walked past signs stating - "Indians and Dogs not allowed".

Even the mere imagination of an enslaved life brought me to tears. How could you live in your own country as slaves??

Even at his little age, the child had an unmistakable sense and an innate understanding - that this was just plain and simply wrong. As he grew over the years, so did his sense of injustice. And along with the child, the nation grew to find itself humiliated beyond tolerance. With each lash the white master sowed seeds of rebellion that were coming to fruit.

The child became a revolutionary, and along his comrades was sentenced to death - a sentence he accepted gladly. Before he was about to be hanged, he was asked - "Why are you doing this?? What is your prize??" and he had replied - "I have a dream - that children of the future would be born free - in a brighter, stronger India". As history has it, he went to the gallows - smiling. Across the nation people burnt their foreign clothes and goods and shunned away from work. A man rose with a message of peace and unified the country to stand strong yet non-violent. People woke up each day to participate in protests - only to be met with lathi charges or sometimes with brutal gunfire. As the day receded, the women tended to the wounds. And the baffled white master, came to find the same people bandaged and ready for fresh assault - day after day. Until he was forced, to question his own conscience. Until a day came when he could stay no more - and India was freed.

I am sorry if I seem to lecture in history - but people have paid with their blood for a freedom, that we today take for free. What Lincoln called - 'The last full measure of devotion". Perhaps, that is the problem with the India of today; we haven't paid the price ourselves but were offered freedom on a silver plate. Hence - the erosion of morals and the all consuming selfish apathy.

In a way - it does make sense. Only when faced with utter adversity and hardship - is one forced to ask himself harsh questions - is forced to establish his identity. Only when forced to, does one ask himself - "What do you stand for and What is it that you believe??"

Only after swallowing scathing swills of guilt is the human conscience nourished.

I hope that the questions we ask of ourselves today shall render us stronger tomorrow.

There is a legend that says - 'A life sacrificed to save another's does not relinquish its soul - that such souls come back to roam the living world as winds and every once in a while come back to life as a new being.

I can only hope it is true. As you feel a wind tomorrow, listen to it, may the voices of our freedom fighters whisper to you across the ages. And may their spirit give you the courage to do the right thing.

Jai Hind,

- Sanket

Letter to the PM

2008-12-09T00:04:00.002-07:00

Dear Prime Minister Dr. Manmohan Singh,

I write to you today as an Indian citizen. I write as a victim of

terrorism and corruption. I write as a citizen who can not write to

anyone else. I write to you as the voice of youth. I turn to you as

the only hope and as the last resort. I have very simple and specific

questions to which none of your fellow politicians seem to give a

straight answer.

1) Ten men walked into the streets of my city and killed hundreds

before they were stopped. I am an ordinary person who never carries a

gun, I am curious to know how should I defend my life when even law

enforcement officers of my city are outgunned by terrorists. I am an

educated person and my assessment of the failures of 26th Nov 2008 is

grim and leaves me no hope. What is perhaps more tragic is that I have

little hope of justice. Yes, I agree India is a huge nation with a

billion people and as many problems, but are you honestly telling me -

that we as Indian citizens have been deprived of our right to live, to

exist?? I am a kind person and do not remember to have harmed anyone

on purpose - I wanted to know at what point did you decide that I have

become expendable??

2) The security failures, administrative lapses and organizational

break downs that enabled 26/11 to happen are not aberrant instances.

They are the cumulative effect of criminal negligence. I want to know

what was the aggregate result of Indian Intelligence and Law

Enforcement efforts while terrorist networks across the world were

developing sophisticated pipelines of money and recruits. What were

the steps you employed to ensure LeT does not acquire money through

fake masks of charity organizations. I want to know what the Indian

government (irrespective of the party in power) was doing as Dawood

Ibrahim created an infrastructure of organized crime. Did you know

that almost every stream of day to day life is infected with this

poison? From the cable internet provider to the builder of a new

multiplex, from a Bollywood Actor to a successful Doctor, everyone

pays money in extortion to the underworld. Even the simple water

bottle sold at a local railway station for the marked up price is

contributing towards seed money for terrorism. And I as a citizen have

no practical avenue to fight back.

3) I thought of filing a case, against all of these people paying the

underworld, but I have learnt that even if all Indian courts stopped

accepting new cases and worked at their current pace, they would take

300 years to clear the backlog before they can hear my voice, and I am

certain I won't live 300 years. I am curious to know what was the

Indian Government doing as it let the judicial system slip into a

paralysis. At this point, I am citizen with no right to justice, which

I guess matters little since, I am told, I don't have a right to live

in the first place.

4) I work hard eight hours a day and all my taxes are deducted before

I see my paycheck. I have to submit a weekly status of my work to my

superiors who monitor the correctness and pace of my work. I wish to

see the status reports of all the demons running my country. Tell me

sir, where can I find them?

5) As a child, I was taught 'Satyameva Jayate' as our motto. Yet, I

have come to find truth as the rarest commodity in the Indian

administration. Tell me sir is the Anti Corruption Bureau going to

deliver, or is altering school textbooks a better option??

I admit that none of the above was possible without a failure on my

part to act. But there is a difference between making mistakes in the

course of being human and between taking responsibilities for granted

and I have never done the latter.

I am willing if not eager to do anything it takes to help you solve

these problems. I kindly ask you to communicate your challenges openly

and honestly to the Indian people. I urge you to ask the entire nation

to join hands to help.

I come to you in desperation. I come to you with outstretched hands.

Please, please tell me what should I do, and how can I help. Sir, you

have the entire youth of a nation at your beckoning and we are

stretching out a hand, will you meet us half way and lead us on, or

shall we tell others - we have failed - shall we say - "No we can't??"

I honestly believe "Saare Jahan se Achha Hindustan Humara", I believe

in my India - do you??

Sincerely,

- Sanket

Answer Me!!

2008-11-29T08:33:00.003-07:00

India has had a terrorism problem for quite a while. After the '98 Kargil conflict - the government has had a border safety assessment report since that time - in light of the recent attacks and the fact that terrorists entered Mumbai via the western shore on boats - makes me think nothing on that report was acted upon. The government of India needs to explain why border security was not taken seriously - given the knowledge of all loop-holes. Forming committees and ordering reports is utterly useless if they are not acted upon.

We are demanding complete transparency in government policies and steps taken. Accountability is not the public's luxury - it is their right. Every politician, every law enforcement officer, administrative official and citizen for that matter has to be accountable to one another. We have to believe we can rise as a people and hold ourselves to higher standards - instead of the better of 'who cares'.

We demand a monthly address to the nation. As a leader Prime Minister Manmohan Singh has to keep the morale of law enforcement around India on a steady high. This is no easy task, public morale like a plant needs fodder - and needs regular maintenance - as well as the knowledge that the efforts of people are appreciated and are paying off.

We need a status report - every month on what has happened on the investigation. We demand a disciplined and systematic investigation. Oh! And my dear respected Prime Minister - Mr. Manmohan Singh - lets

make one thing clear - we are not waiting for 13 years to get our convictions on this case. Oh - no Sir - this is a question on your competitiveness - you have to come clean.

To the citizens, I ask - that you do not forget this incident as soon as the trains start running. In this regard I ask that you join me in a simple first step. I call it - the 'One letter a week' program. In which we put our concerns on paper. If after writing the first one - you get too tired - just keep xerox copies of your first letter. However, every week - you have to pledge to send one letter to the centre. Mumbai is a city of 19million plus - I assume - we should get

at least 19000 letters each week. The idea is to keep the inflow steady. To send a message to every involved official - we are not going to let this go. We will put in place a mutual monitoring system - pick a friend - who keeps you motivated to ensure you have sent your weekly letter - and vice versa. We have a long way to go people - but

why not take this simple step and get for ourselves a start.

Jaago India - Jaaago!!

- Sanket

Latest Update : We have an address where we can send the letters to :

Prime Minister's Office
South Block, Raisina Hill,
New Delhi,
India-110 011.
Telephone: 91-11-23012312.
Fax: 91-11-23019545 / 91-11-23016857.

Home is burning!!!

2008-11-27T12:19:00.014-07:00

Hi,

I was born in a Mumbai hospital in 1982. I have lived my entire life in Mumbai. It is my home. About 25 hours ago my city was a victim to coordinated terrorist attacks at ten popular locations. A tragedy that has left over 100 dead and 300 plus injured - some of them critically. They came with AK-47s and grenades with an aim to die and to take with them as many as possible. Except - they are going to very different places. Immediately after I heard of the attacks, I called my friends back home to check if they were fine. They were going about their usual day and upon hearing of the attacks, they rushed into the conflict regions and hospitals to offer help and to donate blood. Rushed into... The streets of heaven are too crowded with angels tonight. They are my friends, innocent Mumbaikars, law enforcement officers and my kin.

Have I told you how beautiful Mumbai is? It is an island city on the west coast of India. It is the biggest, most glamorous and the richest city in India. But you can read all that there is about Mumbai and still never quite grasp its essence. To know Mumbai truly, you need to have lived there for a long time - lived through its pain and joys, through its struggles and its triumphs. For those who are born in Mumbai, it is not just their city. Mumbai is the skeletal framework of your personality. It is an inherent part of who you are and what you become to be. It is reflected in the way you frame your words, it is reflected in the way - you tackle challenges, it is reflected in the way you smile and it is reflected on how soon you stand back - if you were to fall. Mumbai is the land of dreams - it is where thousands of people come every week to seek their fortunes. It is the commercial - cultural and entertainment capital of India. It is a city that never sleeps. It is a city of lights.

There is a pride we take in Mumbai that comes from deep love - that comes from looking forward to the future - that comes from the glow of a million dreams and that stems from Mumbai's sky-high ambitions. There is a spirit in its wind - a music to its sound - there is a rhythm in its crowd and a thrill in its pace. In Mumbai - you never stop - bombs - floods - strikes - riots - when its done - you step out - you check your watch - you check the next train - and you move on - you NEVER stop. What would begin for you as a mindless ritual - soon becomes the most wise course of action - and one of the most profound truths of life - that no matter what the set backs, moving forward is the only sensible thing to do. That work indeed is the best antidote to sorrow.

I was too young when the city was attacked in December '93 - too young to understand what was going on. My parents kept me safe in the house. In a sense it is these ordinary families that keep Mumbai running. Sticking to a most simple code - my parents insisted, I always complete my homework - that I always play fair - and make friends no matter what the persons religion. I am a Hindu - I was educated in a Catholic school and have had plenty of close friends -Muslims and Christians alike. I grew up celebrating Diwali, Christmas and Eid with equal enthusiasm. And so I do not understand why would someone want to hurt such an admirable people on the basis of religion.

Over the years, Mumbai nurtured me - made my career possible and exposed me to information and experiences, without which - I can not imagine life as it is. On days when things did not go my way and life seemed miserable, I would retreat to Marine Drive - and sit by the sea - listening to the certainty of its waves until daylight faded away and I could see city lights gleaming over the water. And so the city has known me - more intimately than any person - Mumbai - has been my best friend and confidant. And it has never failed to lift my spirits. Slowly but surely as I would stand at the train door of the last north bound local - the rhythmic sound of train wheels and track changes - would work its healing powers and restore me - for another day to fight.

In the phone conversations I have had over the past few hours, as me and my friends have tried to comfort each other - there has been a uniform sentiment of being fed up with violent conflicts. Alas! If only the world were a perfect place. But its not. And so long as Mumbai remains India's crown jewel - it will with equal certainty stay a prime target. A friend asked - what CAN we do? To which I said, keep doing what you are doing. Except do it a little better - work a bit harder. There is an infinite capacity in the will of a people. And Mumbai has proven its will many times. It is this 'Never Let Go' spirit that gets imbibed in each individual - and so when a person leaves Mumbai, he carries with him an inner strength - that is capable of seeing him through the most difficult of times.

You see a girl or a young woman - free in her spirit and confident in her smile. A girl who knows the lyrics of 'Vande Mataram' as surely as 'Hips don't lie' - she is signature Mumbai. And so, to the women of Mumbai I say

"I admire your gumption. I adore and enormously respect your values. I think you are the loveliest that India has to offer and I am one hundred percent fida on your beauty. I will probably marry one of you - I would be honored to. When this ordeal has subsided - as you step out your house - dress a little prettier - and smile a little more eager. Despite the grief - I need to see your face calm - despite the scars, I need to see your smile. There is nothing that hits the morale of a people more - than to see its women in worry. And so, I need you to stand stronger - aim higher and voice your opinions louder.

You see a man confident and smart. A person who excels under pressure - and achieves his goals in a certain but casual assurance. Chances are he is from Mumbai. To the spunkiest of the youth, to the alpha males of my country, my brothers, I say ..

"I owe you everything. From educating me with that first Blue Film to making me hardy through street fights. I will never forget the lessons you have taught nor be cavalier in keeping your pride. I can feel the pain in your pulse and my blood boils along side yours at the atrocities of yesterday. Yet, when you get to work, I need you to focus better than ever before. As you walk outside on a new morning, I need you to walk a little straighter, speak a little calmer yet remain eternally on fire - to get things done - that need to get done. I am confident in your intent and I am inspired by your actions.

To the mindless, irrational terrorists, I say ..

"You may have trained in the most extreme hatred of Jihad - and I know you are prepared to die. Yet - I assure you - to night my hatred for your ideology will stand any weapon you can throw at me. I promise you - you will never succeed - I want to inform you - I am more fearless than I was before. I want to tell you - I will never ever back down. And lastly I am not ready to die - unless I have killed the very ideas you stand for. That I will accept any consequences of my actions against you - that I will fight this fight with intelligence and a commitment that you can never dream of. That you will find the most ordinary person in my country - your worst enemy.

To the brave NSG and cops who are battling the odds - there is nothing I can say - that will be enough.

'I am forever indebted to your sacrifice. You have my most sincere reverence and that I applaud your courage. That I will think of you whenever I think of the nobel - and I promise you - your names will never be forgotten.

To the brave hearts that were forever lost ... 'Rest in peace my friends.

The streets of heaven are too crowded with angels tonight......

Sincerely,

- Sanket

'Bombay is a bird of gold.' A man living in a slum, without water,
without toilets, was telling me why he came here, why people continue
to come here. In the Bayview Bar of the Oberoi Hotel you can order a
bottle of Dom Pérignon for one and a half times the average annual
income, this in a city where forty per cent of the houses lack safe
drinking water. Another man put it differently: 'Nobody starves to
death in Mumbai.' He was being very literal. People are still starving
to death in other parts of India. In Bombay, there are several hundred
slimming clinics. According to a dietician who operates one of them,
fashionable models are on the verge of anorexia. This is how
Bombayites know they've parted company with the rest of India. 'In any
class of society in Bombay,' explains the dietician, 'there are more
people wanting to lose weight than put on weight.'

Bombay is the biggest, fastest, richest city in India. It is Bombay
that Krishna could have been describing in the Tenth Canto of the
Bhagavad Gita, when the god manifests himself in all his fullness:

I am all-destroying death
And the origin of things that are yet to be . . .
I am the gambling of rogues;
the splendour of the splendid.

It is a MAXIMUM CITY.

Excerpt from Maximum City - by Suketu Mehta.

Rhythms of Mohabbatein!

2008-10-31T19:00:00.013-06:00

Have you ever been hypnotized? Been so caught by a phenomenon that you lost the sense of time or place and forgot your troubles and worries? I was! Quite recently in fact. It was the day before Diwali and my local TSC Ballroom was electrified with the anticipation of the event. Students decorating, staff organizing, volunteers in their dance practices, people preparing presentations - it was what had come to be, the best part of college life in the U.S. - a chance to represent India. As for me, I was busy pacing to and fro - talking - trying to get a sense of what would hold the crowd, I was to be the Master of Ceremonies, and as always it turned out to be a little more stressful than I had hoped it would be. But in the midst of this chaos, I was happily distracted by a dance practice on stage. The music playing, had a long history with me - and so I was riveted instantly! It turned out two of my close friends, Poonam and Arti were practicing a fusion dance for the 'Rhythms of Mohabbatein' - it is a brilliant piece of music - but for the moment - my attention was on the dance moves.

There is a way to do things, and then, there is a way things are meant to be done. If you saw Poonam and Arti dance, you would know it’s the latter. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, and their choice of dance steps was in impeccable resonance with the music. The 'Rhythms of Mohabbatein' is a most unique melody, in that it combines classical Indian and Western music to form competitive polarized expressions. If observed closely, one will notice that the Indian classical dance moves and the musical instruments used - portray a myriad of traditional Indian values. Even at the peak of passion, the dance moves and the music display a reserve and dignity - that is unique to Indian heritage. The Western dance steps on the other hand, are of a more free form, self enjoyment and celebration being the key expression in them, they portray a freedom of expression and a freedom of choice, that one has come to associate the west with. What intrigued me most was the fact that even though their dance moves were the same, their expressions gave a most transparent glimpse into the personalities they were in real life.

When Arti dances, the expressions display an unparalleled concentration, her movements full of grace. You see the beauty of controlled discipline and immense hard work in her dance. This is a person who takes diligent care and effort in the perfect execution of her steps. Her smile radiating sincere innocence and a refreshing sweetness that cannot leave you untouched. Arti loves to dance! You do not see her kind of commitment unless the person has a deep love of art. It is very easy to see that she would put the same kind of care and fidelity in all facets of life.

Poonam's dance on the other hand flows in stages. At first, her steps are correct but her expressions betray a distant focus, this until she breathes in the music - and then the change is evident. Her movements pick up a zing and her expressions are accented with mischief. Then you know - this is full on - signature Poonam. She goes into a world of her own, the crowd irrelevant, the worries cast aside and her muscles respond off their own accord. She is free - Bold and Beautiful! And then she dances with a carefree assurance that stems from genuine confidence. This is a person - who knows she is gorgeous. Her aura challenging you as if to ask - 'Can you handle it??'

In unison they are sight you cannot afford to miss. Every aspect of their dance speaks volumes. There is joy and there is elegance, there is poise and there is arrogance, there is a mischief and then, there is also innocence. It is a personification of youth and a celebration of being alive. Watching them energizes you - makes you eager to face life. As I stood there mesmerized by the act, my friend Sameer commented - "Dance is in their blood!! You can feel it."

Indeed it is! It is dance the way dancing is meant to be. There is a power to its beauty you cannot imitate and an honesty in its voice you can never fake. And when all the pieces fall in place, they create a mysterious force- That - is what hypnotizes you. And so this piece is dedicated to Poonam and Arti, may the gods of youth continue to shed upon them their magnificent glory. And may we be gifted with their endearing benevolence - in many dances yet to see!

- Sanket

Questions unasked ..

2008-10-08T11:28:00.003-06:00

Will you hear the story of a man

The man who once set on a search

He searched for water in an unforgiving land

Through relentless heat, In an endless desert

Till he saw mirages in vain, Mirages on the searing sand

Will you hear the tale of a beast

Tied by a chain to a rock at birth

He tried to escape but fell at each try

Till he forgot the sound of wind and mirth and joy

A beast he grew to be, Yet convinced once more to try

Will you listen to the whispers of a child

Left in a stormy sea to find his own

Without a guide and without an oar

Listen to the whispers of that child

A child he remained, no more

Will you understand when I ask you

Can you see the child my friend

Beyond the harsh black of the mans eyes

Can you hear the beast in his spirit

Hear the heaves and cries he tries to hide

Will you quench the thirst of that man

The man who gave up hope

But could not give up his pride

An unknown destination he seeks

A quest through pain, on a faltering stride

Will you believe me my love

That I searched for you day and night

Alas! I am now a lost man, Lost on the desert sand

Will you lend a hand or let it be

Will I be forever lost, Or will you find me?

- Sanket

Pinocchio's Nose

2008-09-14T18:55:00.007-06:00

It had been some time, since Pinocchio had become a real boy. And while initially he rejoiced in finding new life, soon enough life's troubles got to him. And so it came to be - that one night as Pinocchio sat desolate and alone staring at the sky, he caved in and summoned the Blue Fairy one more time...

"Star shine star bright, the first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish, I might - have the wish I wish tonight!" And sure enough, a blue star glowed all the more blue and through a sliver of light appeared the Blue Fairy!

"Tell me boy" - she said "Why do you look so sad??"

"I don't like being a real boy" he said.

'There 's too much lie and deceit in people. And I find myself hurting again and again. I wish I went back to being just a wooden puppet - and never felt anything - never knew pain..'

The fair lady smiled at his appeal and waved her wand, she turned him into a wooden boy and bent down and ruffled his hair, then waved her wand again to turn him back alive.

And blew a soft breeze to straighten his hair, restore them back to once they were - once again.

"Tell me boy, would you rather be a puppet - or once more be a real boy!"

Pinocchio remained silent for a while. And pondered hard in his little mind,

'Sure enough, I'd felt no pain. It would be nice not to feel pain.

'Ah! - another voice countered. 'But the fair lady's touch you fancy! If you were not real, you would miss a thing as beautiful as that. Miss the touch, you so fancy!

Alas, resigned, Pinocchio answered 'No, my lady, I wish to remain a real boy. But I want you to grant me one gift back....

'And what is that my boy? - the blue fairy asked.

'I want my nose to grow when I lie or do anything bad. But not just mine, I wish everyone had a nose like mine that would grow and shrink with the deeds of the man.

The Blue fairy smiled again..

'Strange it is, that you see a gift in what I once punished you with - This I will grant you - Pinocchio my boy. From now on your nose will grow and shrink with every lie!

And so Pinocchio slept relieved. He thought, at least the world you be simpler. Oh! Yes - it definitely would be. For once a person's face, would tell you all there is to be. He would no longer be lied to, And never would have to face deceit. At last, a person would be only as beautiful as he deserves to be!

Wake up he did next day, and went on about his little day. Confident and perky in his step. A friend he met, Danny was his name, they had promised each other to buy new shoes - and exactly the same shoes - and wear it to school on the same day!

But when he saw his friend's shoes, they were old.

'Ah! You have broken your promise. You did not get your shoes. - he said.

And Danny replied - 'No, I did go to the shop. I did not like the new shoes. No I did not!

And sure enough as Pinocchio had wanted, Danny's nose grew larger even as he saw.

'Oh! Danny. Let it be, I shall go on with my day without a friend - without thee!

And so Pinocchio went on. And every person he met, he expected him to lie. And he rejoiced in joy as he saw their noses a tad too big, Oh yes, a tad too large...

A good friend the Blue Fairy has been. He thought! 'I have to thank her.

And so he called her again. And asked from the blue star, a favor once again.

Once again through a sliver of blue light, the Blue Fairy came alive..

'Finally, you look happy my boy! - Tell me how was your day??

'Oh, I called to thank you - my fair lady. Everyones nose has grown long!! - he said.

'Really! - The fairy said.

'To annoy you then, I should tell you, they are really not. I set them straight, not a tad too long, not a tad too large!

Downcast and with a broken heart, Pinocchio asked

'Must you lie too. Why set them straight. Why not keep them large??

'For all is not as it seems my boy. - she said.

'Did you know Danny's mother is sick. And with no money, the shoes, he could not buy. Walked he did all the way to the shop. And then kept the money to tend to his mother. Buy shoes - he did not. Though tears in his eyes, there were to be. I loved him more, for what he did. Yes, he lied to you. But out of shame and not deceit. Had you bothered to ask, a good friend you might have been..

Awful and ashamed Pinnochio felt. 'Oh! such a bad friend he was!

'You seem to have noticed everyone's nose. You did not check yours? Did you not? - The fair lady asked.

'No, my lady I did not. - he said. And saw with shock, his own nose, had grown so long, Oh so large.

'My lady, I did not do any wrong. I did not know Danny's mother was sick. How could I have known he did not deceive??? Tell me - why only my nose has grown large!!

'An unfair punishment it would have been. For no one but you knew their lies decide their faces to be...

'And while you did not know about Danny. You should have asked.

Instead you rejoiced in everyone's misery and delighted in their fall.

Vengeance, is never a virtue. It shall never be. It never was!

And so Pinocchio went silent. He did not know what to do..

'Is there no one perfect. No one good - including me?? - he asked.

'No, my dear - The lady answered.

'You must take heart! Like you have realized if everyone tries to be..

'Though no man is perfect. Mankind might just be!

'I do not think that will be so. - said Pinocchio - still unconvinced. More than a little hurt and trying not to show - his tears to be.

At last, the lady softened and felt tender for he was, but a boy!

'Like the fingers of your hand - she said

'No one is powerful. But together as a hand, they are.

Each one has its own purpose.

Together you can build the world as it should be!

Then with a wave of her wand, she made Pinocchio's nose shrink back.

Alas! A bit relieved he felt. He wasn't a bad boy, Not a bad boy after all......

'And sure I can make you of wood again. And sure you would never feel pain. But life as you have learned is strange and you will miss out on joy as well.

'You are wise my lady. You know it all. But I get fooled by people's words and promises. And believe them to be virtuous as they claim to be. I have been hurt many times. Only because I chose to believe! - Pinocchio exclaimed.

'In that you are right my boy. You should choose your friends carefully. But do not judge people bad - just so quickly. Do not assume the worst without finding the truth. The truth is often different - do not judge them - so hastily - the fair lady replied.

'What about the pretty girls! - Pinocchio asked. Determined he was - to learn all answers tonight. Know all that there was.

'They seduce me with their smile. And then cast me aside.

I feel used and stupid.

Why gift them with beauty? Or why not make them beautiful inside?

The fairy laughed - at the boy's dilemma. But was kind enough to reply..

'If all gifts were given to one.

Wouldn't that be unwise??

And I could warn you of getting hurt.

But then, you wouldn't dare or venture outside!

'Though deceptive it might be,

You have to admit

There is art to seducing..

And a pleasure in been seduced by.

Without tasting the aura of beauty

Its a pleasure, too good to miss

A pleasure you should not deny.

'Find the good in people.

And live a day to its fullest.

For a day once gone, is a day gone by

Indeed there is some good in every person

Waiting to be found, Hidden until discovered by..

'You must choose your people

To love and to stand by,

A part of the earth to call your own

Your own little patch of sky

'This and many lessons there are to life.

And I could tell you all tonight

But the essence of living is to find your own way

Dream a new dream, every single night!

And with that the Blue Fairy glowed even more beautiful. Too charming and lovely to behold she was. She kissed Pinocchio on his head. And turned to a star once again.

A Blue star in the sky she was. Shining bright. A fair blue light! - Sanket

Seagull!

2008-08-31T15:56:00.011-06:00

I've wandered far and wandered wide,
I've shunned and cared, And loved and hated,
And treasured a love, Only to cast it aside

Alas! my search is sour
And my footsteps lead me back...
Though dark is the night and late is the hour
Sometimes you've to be lost
And be lost to find your way back..

Like a seagull seeking a horizon
Across seas vast, And large beyond par!
In this ever changing world, In an ever changing sky
I search my beacon, I seek a North star.

On halting steps and impatient breaths, I come
Come to rest a night, One moment, One pause
I cease the thought, Of worries there might
To tend my wounds, My scars my cause...

Through rain and storm I sleep
Till a sun rises, with clearer skies
And winds calling promises to keep..
Of smiles and joys, And buoyant bird cries

And so I rise again, And fill myself with hope
I say I am healed, I say I am fine
I forget the pain of a past to mourn, A past to cope
I say I am healed and I say I am fine
Though some wounds there remain
I know they will heed, Heal in their own time...

Yes, I'm healed. Yes, I am fine.
I've lived another day, Another day to fight
Like a seagull with stretched wings
To face winds with will, And storms with might

- Sanket

Deepawali!

2008-07-27T22:04:00.003-06:00

I have a habit of finding secluded places – mostly hill tops – places where you get a good view of your surroundings beneath. As far as I can remember, I have always found this haven – wherever I have lived. Me and my friends used to call it – ‘The Spot’ - a place where we used to come to – to get away from the troubles of the world for a while. It is this place that I chose to write this article at …. For today’s article demands complete solidarity. It is upon a subject I hold very close to my heart – ‘Deepawali’.

I was asked to introduce the festival of ‘Deepawali’ once, when I was hosting our annual event. But under the pressure of time and existing circumstances, I could not express myself as fully as I would have liked..

[Image Credit : http://holidays.vgreets.com/Diwali/Diyas/diyas1.jpg]

It used to begin with the end of our middle semester at school. The beauty about being in a catholic school was that we used to get two long holidays in addition to the summer vacation: Diwali and Christmas!! Around October, the school would conduct its semester examination, which used to be followed by three weeks of vacation – encompassing the Diwali festival.. It was the most fun I remember having, as a child and was no less anticipated than the mangoes of summer…

Hardly being able to concentrate on the last exam, we used to run out the minute the last bell rang .. all kids would fall out with an ear shattering cheer. The last day of exams – had a tradition associated with it .. we used to come home and collect all of our used notebooks and strip the cardboard off them.. we would use these to make play mansions and kingdoms of ‘He-man’ and ‘Skeletor’.

On my way back home, I used to stop at the local ‘Garni’ – the guy used to ground flour for a living, but he also had a most exciting side business – that of selling kites and ‘manja’ – it used to be the best in town.

Every semester end, I would exchange all my savings for the finest kites and manja he could offer. Flying kites was a most popular game after school hours.. As Diwali used to come closer, the kite-flying would continue into late evenings and eventually nights. Using the day light as best as possible, we would pitch our best kites, as far off as we could – these were ‘Kandil-Patangs’ - or ‘Lantern-Kites’ – and they were off-limits to others for competition – in that you could not attack a ‘Kandil-Patang’ – anyone who used to break this most sacred code would pay for it – with his teeth – the more the loss – the more was the number of missing tooth.

At sunset, we used to light our set of paper-lanterns, sometimes as many as a dozen. This was a tricky business, since an incorrectly lit lantern could catch fire mid air – burning itself and severing the string with it – leading to a total loss. Hence the candles within had to be of perfect height and be placed in the exact center. The lantern would then be tied to the lead string and sent aloft … this needed a steady pair of hands an excellent wind-judgment..

When done correctly though, it was all worth it. Under the blanket of night and in the cover of darkness, all that was visible from the ground was a series of lanterns – magically floating in the sky … Just one of many sights to behold during those splendid nights…

Everything in Diwali used to be brighter, more colorful and in every way better than it was before. The television channels used to be punctuated with ads of ‘Nerolac Paints’ – exuding with vibrant colors, lively music and catchy tunes, they used to be the ‘peacock’s cry’ signaling the arrival of our most beloved – festival of lights – ‘Deepwali’!

On the first dawn of ‘Diwali’ – I would rise early with my dad and my little sister – this was a hard task for us kids – for we used to stay up late into the night talking about what this year’s diwali would bring. After dinner, I would tell my sister tales of my adventures, which fort was the best in town, which kid was rumored to have the fanciest fire-crackers and who had the most kite wins of the season – often times exaggerated – usually a little dishonest and awarding me more than my share of credit. My sister would promptly listen to all of my stories with rapt attention. Intruding questions and scrutiny were strongly discouraged – and so long as she stuck to the rules, our proceedings would be peaceful.

The first dawn was always the morning of a ritual bath. Which used to be always a most boring and suffocating time for us – for we would be dying to get out our fire-crackers and be the first to break the silence of the morn… the only saving aspect of the morning bath was the use of specially – reserved scented soaps – saved exclusively for the days of Diwali. As I would take that first bath, my heart would always be torn in two, one half wanting to get out and start the fireworks – the other wanting to stay in the cozy warmth of that beautiful soap-scent…

Dressed in newly bought colorful clothes – I used to prepare myself rigorously – like a soldier going out to war. One pocket filled with sparkles – the other with a matchstick box and a cheap candle, an armed toy fire-gun in my belt and a cardboard box of that days fireworks. Being the elder sibling, it was my duty to ensure that my kid sister not get any physical harm – and that she enjoy Diwali safely.

Placing the firework strategically, I used to warn her and then go out to light the firework, she always had her little fingers stuffed in her ears – long before I lit the fuse - and the minute she saw the firework lit, she would cry out – “Dada – dhaav!” – "Run!! – its lit" – it always used to strike me – funny – and I would want to tell her – “I was to one to light it – I know its lit!!” – but I would never snap at her – I could see the worry in her eyes – and I would come back to her – and stand with open ears – bracing for the sound – but never letting my face show - that at times, even I was afraid. And she would watch me with wondrous admiration – often times forgetting to see the actual firework explode.

At night – after I put her to bed, I would often come to the roof of our building. On a diwali night, it used to offer a most spectacular view of the city..

And you could see every house – from every building – until the very ends of the horizon – lit with lanterns and diyas – each street glittering like a spike of burning flame – streaks across the sky from rockets fired late into the night and hear distant echoes of people and their merriment – still unfinished.. and the city would look as lovely as a bride on her wedding night…

Its been a long four years, since my eyes have held Mumbai in that glory – since I have silvered my hands in gunpowder – a long time since I have cut my fingers flying kites – or have lost myself in that divine music – which only a Diwali night can offer..

My friends often ask me – what do you miss about Mumbai ?? I can never fully tell – except to say this – ‘When I stand upon a hill here – in the United States – I see massive highways – and street lights – but hear only the rhythmic swish of fast tires – rubber on concrete and an occasional police siren, in Mumbai you would hear a cacophony of sounds, of people fighting, of vehicles honking, of your neighbor’s TV blaring some soap opera title and a distant horn of night railways – you would hear the city talk. What do I miss about Mumbai ?? I miss her voice, I miss how she looked on a Diwali night!!
– Sanket

Regret

2008-07-08T13:29:00.005-06:00

A promise I was asked

And a promise I did make
It changed things a lot
And many decisions I was to take

Would I make the same promise?
Or will I refrain?
Will I do it the same and just the same
Do it all, All over again?

The struggles I do accept
And the pain I do agree
Its the price I paid
For my soul to breathe free

If love is the cost of freedom
Then so it shall be
No one shall rob it, Nor shall one protect
My freedom was my own
And mine alone to defend

Would I make the same choice?
Or will I refrain?
Will I do it the same and just the same
Do it all, All over again?

There were mistakes, there had to be
Success was sweet
But it was failure that taught
That the ones to forge a character
Are the falls not caught

I trusted and was betrayed
It led me to conflict - led me to strife
I loved and was burnt
It unknowingly shaped - the contours of my life

Would I make the same choice?
Or will I refrain?
Will I do it the same and just the same
Do it all, All over again?

I think I will, for it was worth it
For one smile of her eyes Or one kiss of her lips
I would happily take eternal agony
For a touch of her hair on my fingertips

I think I will, for it was worth it
For a fair lady once asked of a little boy
Promise me will you, That you will
"Listen to what your heart says
And have the courage to follow it"
And I had promised
"Yes, my lady - I will"

- Sanket

The Gordian Knot!

2008-06-29T19:19:00.007-06:00

I think from the time Man came to his senses, he has despised the idea of death. Once, we became the only species to bond for lifetime, the thought of losing a person, of losing yourself and not being able to be with your loved ones - became despicable. Since that time, Man has always tried to immortalize himself, the very perception of 'Human Greatness' - has been to survive and be remembered long beyond his living years...

And so this piece is written in the quest of ... "What really makes people Great??"

Consider Leonardo da Vinci, a great philosopher of his time, who was as much an artist as he was an Engineer. Be it complex weapons, that helped shape the history of the world, or his lasting paintings, or his technical drawings and observations on human anatomy - that even today inspire new designs .... In a time when the topmost brains of the world can not foresee beyond 10 years of human evolution, Leonardo invented concepts that were almost FIVE centuries ahead of his time..

The modern father of science, Sir Isaac Newton, who instead of eating the apple that fell on his head, was great enough to define gravity, who created 'Calculus' and laid the mathematical foundation of scientific development for the next century.... Or the great Albert Einstein, who saw things that few people can understand even today, and certainly no one did in his lifetime ...

In a recent article, I read, the author of "Five Point Someone" - Chetan Bhagat was described as a great writer .. frankly it made me laugh ... I think greatness in literature is Shakespeare ... whose work has survived irrespective of modern thought ... of words that strike the core of mankind and nature and which remain true no mater what the era. ....

Or Mr. Samuel Clemens - more popularly known as our beloved "Mark Twain" .... whose words are as innocent and humorous today, as they were when written...

Perhaps the one figure most associated with "Greatness" - is one that has the very adjective as part of his name .... "Alexander the Great!" Upon his birth, the oracles foretold - that he would once rule all the world - travel far - and wide - and achieve what no man ever had!

[Image credit :- http://www.maa.org/devlin/GordianKnot.jpg ]

The rest is history ..... they say - He came - he saw - he conquered ... As I studied history, an incident that remained with me the most ... was when he reached Telmissus - and encountered - 'The Gordian Knot' - a prophecy stated - that the one to untie the knot - will rule all of Asia ..

Since its conception, the Gordian knot had found no living being, capable of untying it. When after struggling hard - Alexander couldn't find a solution, he took out his sword and cut the knot in half! By standers exclaimed - "Hey - thats against the rules!" - to which Alexander - so regally replied - "I am Alexander the Great - I make my own rules!!" - he did go on to rule Asia - thus fulfilling the prophecy ....

A keen observer will note that - the deeds of these men - did survive long beyond their life times ... I think what makes great people great - is that - they don't fear dreaming big - like Alexander - they are not afraid of breaking rules - of doing what it takes to achieve their goals - and when called into action - they walk boldly forward and claim their Destiny!! ... That is greatness!

Although, nature might have intended - death - to be its cleaning agent - one that assured - new genes would survive - ensuring a stronger future.... and while man's battle against this very design might be ill advised - I am happy - that it at least produced such great men - whose deeds defined life - for ages to come ....

It makes me wonder .... in a thousand years from now .. if the human race survives - who will they know - to be 'Great' from our generation - or has the time for great deeds past us. Are we going to be a generation that did nothing more than watch "Youtube" - and gossiped online - or do we still have that germ of desire - that can drive us to great deeds - do we still have a lust for "Immortality" ???

What it must be - to be taught - by the great Aristotle himself - to have such a great destiny - to fulfill ??

What must it be - to live in the time of Alexander - or in the time of Hector - the defender of Troy! - of Achilles - the son of Zeus himself!!!

- Sanket