Guitar and Rain Drops!

Read More...

Guitar and Rain Drops

It was the Monsoon of '97. I was crazy then and so was the world. I had read a book by 'Jayanth Naralikar' named 'Presheet' - a novel in Marathi - and probably my first exposure to non-academic marathi literature.

The book talked about two close friends - John and Peter. It inspired me and my friend to immitate them. Now that I think of it, it all seems so crazy that I am actually embarassed to admit I did those things. We named roads differently, we named buildings differently and drew maps of our city and talked in code. It kinda sounded cool. We were John and Peter. Yes! little did we know what life is and how drastically it can change. It was a time when I lived in fantasy and the cruel reality of the world was unknown to me.

I displayed an array and shades of character that I no longer posses. This blog is just a memory to capture the splendor of those moments. The fact that they had no relation with reality makes them ridiculous and yet lends them the virtue of portraying 'what could be' than 'what is'.

I would meet Shrikant at his home. We used to spend time together after tuitions. His home was a ground floor flat - we would usually be alone, his Mom and Dad worked and his brother was in school. So, we would eat whatever was home and then I would ask him to play guitar for me. 'Papa kehte hai' was our favourite tune. And indeed I have never quite got the same elation from that song as I did in those rainy afternoons. Play he would, and I would glance out his balcony and enjoy the beauty of rains!

Rains need no description. I live in snow right now and rains here are messy and dull. People here wouldnot believe that rains could be beautiful and romantic. How an unbeareable hot day could be trasformed magically into a cool moist afternoon. How the music of the rainfall blended with the music of our guitar, resonating our feelings!

Oh yes, I observed beauty in nature. I could sense the softness of the wind as it caressed my face and ruffled my hair. I could talk to a rain drop as it settled on a leaf. I could see life and appreciate all things living. I could understand - that which I no longer .....

We thought of ourselves as Men (we were 16 by the way). We fell in love with different women. He with the girl in first floor window of the opposite building and me with my enemy of last year. Neither of us had any success. Love it was not - but right then it was all ok. Now some nine years later, when I have matured many decades, I am still no closer to figuring out that emotion than I was at silly 16.

Though few virtues and values we understood clearly and they still remain the skeleton that shapes our characters. We understood 'Courage' - being brave and fearless in the face of danger. Though I scarcely knew how rare and dwindling this virtue was! 'Loyalty' - staying and getting beat by a bigger Man when he comes to trash your friend. Though 'Loyalty' doesnt always reciprocate, I knew not. 'Honesty' - not lying even when it can hurt you - and admittiting your failure when you did. Though how bitter it is for people I couldnt fathom. 'Generosity' - lending your book on the day of exam and doing poorly yourself. Though how royal and unaffordable it was I leaned recently.


But right there - that moment - when the guitar and the rain were singing, I experienced these virtues in our friendship. And not a moment goes without me thanking GOD that I could experience that which few people have the fortune of.

Virtues we had and virtues we lost. Many for the world - Few between us. But the more apart we grew in distance - the stronger our friendship became - especially when we realized - there wouldnt be another of the kind. The distance between us grew from hours to weeks, from months to years. Yet there remains an understanding - deep inside our being - that if it were possible in any way we would stand for each other - fearless. And from that comes a strength beyond the expression of words.

Thus is the story - of Sanket and Shrikant - of Guitar and Rain Drops!

Read More...

The desi female.

It is a special class of females, when u say 'desi' (Indian) females. A friend of mine commented that among some things that men universally desired is an American salary and an Indian wife ... I cannot agree more. Indian girls make the best wives - period.

Strong statement ha! Well lets see, they are one of the most beautiful species of their kind - just look at how many Miss world and Miss universe titles India has. Even the most modern of them have a certain level of celibacy, they are fiercely loyal to their partners, they are the strictest, kindest and most qualified moms, they are as good as men when it comes to careers - what else does one need ?

When a guy comes to the US, (without exception) he is looking forward to checking out some hot american chicks, the cleavages - so far seen just on TV are gonna be his treat. In their defense, its all hormone driven - nothing personal. But no matter how much a guy might get 'involved' with an american, when it comes to tying the knot, he will go looking for the trusted desi gal.

Knowing fully well that they are gonna marry an indian in the end its natural most guys prefer desis as girl-friends too. Here in Campus Walk, I can testify that anything remotely female is analyzed throughly.

Hey! theres this new girl comming in fall - name is xyz. Oh ya? physical stats? single? dept? funding? which part of india? roomies? closest senior girl to her? behaviour reports? . I must emphasize though that all these questions are seeked while maintaining highest respect for the woman.

As you make friends and get to know them, many people succeed as u may put it in finding their partners. In this unloving land where everyone leads a half life, they are your diet of indianess.

Hungry? not in a mood to cook? call the lovely gal u know and just request her to make something for u - tasty amazing food - guaranteed. Missing ur mom? cant tell that to a guy - u will be mocked - call up that lovely gal. Academic help? wanna brighten the party? - call them.

There are few other gestures in this world that can gain u the kind of love and respect that a girl gets when she cooks for this idiot friend of hers. And most of the desi gals have done this at some time - hence most of them are highly adored by atleast a bunch of guys.

And when u see the guy - missing his mom - healed, the guy - hungry - no cooking - satisfied, returning home to sleep, perhaps u will understand that no matter how fair an american is, no matter what her bra size is, she can never be picked for marriage.

So I say - DESI girls rock - not from the heart - but from the stomach!

Read More...

The video coach!

Take any college going kid from Mumbai, guy or gal, doesnt matter, he/she will definetly know what a 'Video Coach' is. Chances are everyone will have a story to tell when it comes to the 'Video Coach'.

A lot of experienced people also make mistakes when it comes to defining this term. The 'Video Coach' is the first class mens compartment adjacent to the ladies first class.

Blessed with enormous special features, this is a unique compartment in the entire train. In that a person standing or sitting in this compartment can have an unobstructed view of the girls compartment. I have the utmost respect and admiration towards the Indian goverment and esp Indian Railways for keeping the partition between these two compartments to a minimum. Indeed the wall separating the mens and the womens first class compartment is built only half way, leaving the other half open for men to watch and admire their favourite girls.

The entire gamut of behaviour patterns associated with the 'Video Coach' might infact make an excellent topic for someones PhD dissertation. I am however not blessed with such luck and hence I intend to confine the discussion to my experiences alone.

The VC is perhaps of most importance to FYJC male students. Being born and brought up in a conservative society and a strict school environment, these pathetic souls are finally let out of the cage in their 11th (junior college). It is socially acceptable for an FYJC male student to make female friends. Parents tend to permit opposite sex phone calls,kids though know enough to camouflage their conversations in academics and predecided communication codes.

Guys and gals of FYJC are literally just hormone containers. There is nothing much in their brains other than this strange attraction to the opposite sex that nature so suddenly entrusts them with.

And thus the VC becomes a persons favourite part of the day. Often u would notice a certain cute looking girl catching the same train day after day. It is common for people to adjust their travel times inorder to get the same train as that of their VC crush. And thus before u know the games begin. 'Hey look that guy constantly looks at me!' - the yellow salwar kameez tells her friend, her friend also peers into the male compartment to verify the statement - 'Ya! he is' - 'Sahi hai! dikhne mein bura nahi hai! Is he from our college?' - 'Shut up!' .

Meanwhile all this seemingly tacit excercise is carefully noticed by the guy and his friend. 'Yaar! shit! she knows', the guy retorts, fearing if his true love and emotions were misunderstood. His friend corrects - 'Abbe accha hai na, usko malum hai toh!' .

Then this game is played with more caution and each day there is something new in this whole new domain of eye-eye communication and young romance. When in class, or when eating dinner with his family the guy thinks about what his VC crush did that day. The way her hair looked, the way she glanced at him and then cracked some joke with her friend, her dress, her hair clip, her new college bag - everything. And so the guy engages in virtual dates and romantic conversations with his VC crush while his parents start wondering why their scholarly son looks dazed every day.

Then the rythm breaks and u dont see her in the regular spot. Poor guy - there is nothing productive that the guy can do that day - its a bad day at work - I dont know what happened to my VC crush!

Then one fine day when enough to and fro journeys have passed, the guy approaches and talks to the girl - at the platform or in the college. U in FYJC in kerkar right? me too ( ofcourse u are! what stupid way to start a conversation, u have been watching each other for 2 months now) And so the first loves begin, albeit shakily.

As everyone will agree, first love cuts deepest. And so the VC takes a special sensitive corner of a persons heart.

As you grow older, the eye games and amateur day dreaming ceases but the VC continues to be a boiling pot - always humid with sexual attraction. The guy goes from FYJC to Engineering, then onto a job, but the VC remains the same, the concept stays the same.

A few lucky people have the privlege of bringing their VC crush into the mens compartment and get her to travel with him while going to study. Obviously, they have talked and have agreed to being a couple.

Strange accidents are not alien to the VC. Someones parent catching someone while checking out a nice gal, Some family relative noticing u travelling with a girl to college everyday and so on....

One incident that comes to mind is from my own FYJC year. I knew two friends who would board the train at Mulund. I had spoken with them earlier. So, on seeing them in the train, I tried to grab their attention by waving around. As it turned out, both girls were busy in their own worlds and had no idea that I was waving waiting for an answer. Meanwhile fellow passengers and other people standing besides me were staring as if I was some 3rd grade loafer trying to harrass those pretty girls. Luckily for me, I did grab their attention in time and was acknowledged too.

Then there are lunch groups, groups playing trian games etc. And thus the VC continues to be an intergral part of the guys life.

Read More...

6 PM

I believe every hour of the waking day has a character. An early morning 7 signifies fresh start, a bright entusiasm for work. An afternoon 2pm signifies a slow paced after lunch hour. A 9pm might suggest dinner. An 11pm could mean great sex.

But one of the most colorful hours is the 6pm hour. Prime time as we call it.

6PM is a really special time for a lot of reasons. Its when u have finished the work for that day and are relaxed. Its time when u can do what u like.

Its blessed with special features. Its when the sun light is soft and loving on your face. Trees, leaves, buildings, glass panes, standing water, everything is turned into a beautiful piece of work to enjoy by a touch of the 6PM sunlight. Its when the wind is cool, strong but pleasent. When u really enjoy the senses. When the wind doesnt howl in your ears but talks to u instead. Its when the birds decide to let loose, when they sing and fly free making a sight to see.

Its the most common hour on class chits. 'Meet me for coffee, 6pm, this place, keep your hair straight I love it that way.'

'Movie, college theatre, tickets done, 6PM'.

'Tennis, college court, 6PM'

'Shopping , planet M, 6PM'

Its when the city is at its best behaviour. Its the date hour.

Here in Jacksonville, I usually go for a long walk at 6PM. I walk the grass lands, under the trees and into the open. I can see the houses and the small lakes infront of them take on a different character. I can see the sky clear and colourful, changing and beautiful streched out above me, from horizon to horizon, embracing me.

Its a time and atmosphere when thoughts flow without restrictions.

When the mind wants to take flight, ride the wings of merry birds, race the wind, go high in the air and swirl with pleasure, then come down with a swish and glide elegantly, reach a green untouched strech of land and kiss the grass, then loose itself in the grass, nudging its blades ever so lovingly.

Its a time when I sit alone and think over many things. Its a time when I notice and observe the most. When I understand the subtle.


And then u want to share that experience with her. U want her by ur side, u want to see the light in her eyes, u want to just sit there and watch her endlessly.

Because the golden light makes her smooth skin glow, the glow enhanced by the sweet smell of her body. U want to see her hair dance in the breeze, u watch with wonder when they fall on her face and play with her mischieviously.

Its when she looks complete and happy. Its when your body doesnt crave her but enjoys her presence. And when she holds ur hand you feel you are invincible, you see life in its true color. You rule the world. You dont shy from challenges anymore cos u know her hand will hold u, should the weather turn bad.

And then suddenly I realise that there isnt anyone sitting besides me. That it was all an illusion. And then u feel a strange vaccum inside of u. It doesnt hurt you enough to cry but just leaves u blank. Then I think of the problems at hand and turn to face them.

But as I leave the grass fields and go back home, I ask the setting sun, when will I see her, where is she, will she ever meet me?, will she like me. I tell the sun to ask her to come sooner. And with each day I give part of my hope away. I show whats left and ask the sun, how many more before it finishes.

No answers come. And so at 6PM I ask these questions .... only 6PM can do that!

Read More...