Raising the Bar!

There is a phenomenon that utterly sickens me -- I donot like nor accept it when people blame incompetent behaviour on human nature.

" Ofcourse he is jealous - its HUMAN! "
" Ofcourse he lied, he is HUMAN! "
" Dont always expect a logical explanation, he is HUMAN!"
" Ofcourse he made a mistake, give him a break, he's just HUMAN!"
" Yes, he is afraid, he got scared, he is HUMAN! "


As I percieve it people who say these things can blame almost any imperfection to being HUMAN.

I lack words that can adequately describe how much I hate this kind.

Yes, a majority of people are prone to errors and flaws in character, in the course of being human. A simple reason being, choosing the right path often hurts and its natural instinct to avoid being hurt.

But by saying that its ok in the event of being human, I believe people often depricate the definition of humanity to encompass sub standard behaviour.

And if the very definition against which you measure yourself is flawed, there can be no hope of improvement. So I say - to all those idiot suckers who blame all that is wrong with them on being humans - that stop it right now - say its your mistake - its not justified in general to make mistakes just because you are a Human - if you make a mistake - you appologise and make darn sure that you dont do it again. And people who cannot improve in one attempt should exclude themselves from the Learning species of humanity. Because - refusing to learn is inherently contradicting with the way nature intended us to be.


And now that everyone thinks I hate people in general, let me assure the reader that I donot.

I think being HUMAN is a great thing and should be treasured, that being HUMAN is being honest, is being capable of accepting mistakes and learning from them, is being competetive with the aim of a better evolution of the whole, is being ambitious to make a difference to the place you live in, is taking the right course no matter how hard it is inorder to forge a more resilient character, is valuing life and tolerating the essential but less blessed living creatures in the world.

Ya! not practical right! But its the way it should be - not the way it is.

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The Water Window

It was a Saturday, he had come home early today. It was his weekly romantic escapade. At 31 he was as smart and successful as any man his profession could boast of. It always seemed strange to him that he called his New York appartment a home. For as long as he could remember, he had always spent more time at the office and the gym than at his 'home'.

His appartment was more expensively kept than a palace. He loved heights, when they had married, he had waited five years to afford this place. It was a top-floor appartment with one of the best views of New York. He had moved to New York despite his better half, but once he had furnished the place and brought her in, she fell in love with their new home. In exchange she had made him promise week ends .......... he usually was able to spend one of the promised four. He knew, they would soon have an argument over this, still, he hoped he could convince her to hold the ship for another four years. Champagne and flowers had usually done the trick for him, he hoped it worked today.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden drop in temperature from his shower. He cursed the fact that no matter how well kept an appartment was, there was only so much time one could have running hot water. He jumped out and dried himself hastily and then to the delight of his boyish mind, he heard the door open. Ha! She was home.



Posed in nothing but his bath robe, he waited in ambush. She was usually alert and immune to such tricks, but today even she wouldnt have expected him so early. She always went to the water window first - to look at the city spread out beneath. As she stood gazing at the tiny specks of people and long shafts of light, he put an arm around her waist gently. With surprise and wonder she turned only to find herself lost in a deep kiss.

Their love making was always like this, sensual to violent in a few seconds. Lack of company had made sure that the passion between them was ever flamable. He loved her dirty and sweaty from work. In the course of their young marriage, he had spent most money over reimbursing her torn suits.

Eventually they slowed down, lying on each other spent and content. She wouldnt allow him to dress, she liked hearing his day by just lying on him, listening to his accelerated heart beat. Oh! How she loved him.

She knew there would be flowers, a great drink and probably an honest hand made dinner waiting for her. Apart from his iron character, it was his skill at boyish surprise that held her from arguing about the increased number of work hours he was putting in. She knew he wouldnt win, if he was any less accomplished, she would complain about that too.

Commanding him to stay as he was, she ran to the stereo to put on her favourite song. He knew, his mission was half accomplished, she would come back and listen to this song over and over again, holding him close, not permitting a spoken word.

Eventually she let him free ....... he came back after the table was set and held her again, not grabbing her, but holding her instead .. .. and as they stood looking through the glass window, he thought of how much he had achieved and how much more he wanted to. And the city beneath stood witness to their love and to his ambition.

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Guitar and Rain Drops!

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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!

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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!

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