An Immortal Everyday Misery

When I will count those moments which have occurred recently - among them the ones which were entirely unplanned and unexpected - this incident will indeed rank among the higher ones.

11-12-2014, a unusually usual morning for me. Mom wished me Good luck for the day, as she left for her office. Brother and Dad wished me the same too, and I get set for the 10 kilometer journey to my office, like I'd been doing for the last approx 150 days now. I could feel the cold in the bones of my fingers as I rode on, and was pleasantly surprised to see the roads not as packed as they usually are at ~9:30AM. The highway was crossed with unexpected ease and there I was in Noida waiting to complete the remaining 60% of my drive. It wasn't too soon that the storm hit me hard. Like a million dead vehicles clogging the veins of this metropolitan, the roads were nowhere visible. Amidst the cuboidal blocks were minute struggles of motorbikes, cycles and pedestrians grabbing every chance to sliding though the gaps. Though the journey was still enormous like the Pacific to be covered in a lake motorboat. I did think different and broke the law. The right of this road had but a few vehicles, and so I turned about, reached the gap in divider, and shifted to the wrong side till I was close to the junction of action. Few traffic police personnel seem to be struggling with routing the vehicles, while everyone wanted to be the first one to cross. I loved the fact that being on a bike you could somehow swim through the rocks of obstruction, and so I was soon a kilometer ahead of where I could have been if I was in a car. Little did I know that the junction ahead was going to be a reason for a constant reflection for sometime today.

A huge bus standing strong blocking the road I had to follow. And beside it was a jungle of cars and auto-rickshaws, resulting in a blockage that seemed almost impossible to dodge. But then there was a limit to this stack of patience I had, and so I started to hunt for opportunities of slipping through the crevices. Turned here and tilted there, I was soon close to a gap that wanted my gut to decide whether to take the leap. And then I just did. Slowly moving ahead I knew something was about to snap as the gap was a few millimeters short of my bike width, which was increased a bit due to metal protectors on the sides of my front tire.

Then the sound came, and I bit my tongue. The rear of a car on my right had a small scratch and the one on my left had a snapping noise as it's number-plate catapulted a bit but nothing was broken. I looked at my right, expecting a scorn in the rear-view mirror. But like a blast at the back of my head, I heard a particularly eloquent abuse hurled at me from an elderly not so gentleman in the car on my left. This was unexpected. But what was even more unexpected was that he walked to the rear of his car and took a wooden lathi out. I thought to myself - Wow this dude is up to some serious beating business here. At such times, the brain has almost no time to speculate and take a side. So I stood strong (had no space to move anyway!) and waited for the epicenter of this storm to hit. He walked up close and an array of unstoppable verbal filth erupted from his elderly pockmarked mouth. I looked at the bloodshot in his eyes and suddenly felt pity. The humility with which I talked to him would surprise me later on when I give this incident some further deeper thought. I remember myself acting not like I usually do. When the old man was the on the brink of exploding the nerve on his forehead, I smiled faintly and placing my palm on his chest asked him to relax, lest he get himself unwell.

A particularly junior traffic policeman came close and asked the older man to calm down. Though he himself stayed away from the range of his lathi. It was miraculous how such a natural and simple gesture as showing him support resulted in easing down his catastrophic blast. He walked back to his car and waited for the traffic to loosen. He did honk a few times before silently leaving.
For me, it was easy to call him an asshole and move on. But somehow my brain stuck a different cord. This old man, who had just abused me in the most outrageous of ways, was nothing but the face of a common Indian. He's probably wasted so much time stuck in traffic jams that it could be accommodated in a happier mini-life. Every day of these 150 ones while I've been driving from home to office, I noticed vehicles, roads and traffic instructions. But never did I notice the people. I never actually looked at their faces, while I exchanged abuses more than once every couple of days. It was today I realized that life is tough. It's short. And when you spend a chunk of it honking and waiting for hours in unending queues, it's but natural to be painfully dry and pissed off. But then who's to blame? I guess all of us. It's all of us who set certain rules, and then break them. The logic ultimately brings you to the decision - me or us? You can skip a red light and probably reach a few minutes earlier. But imagine when you interpolate this trend to a country of a billion people. From a logical standpoint, when you look at the larger picture, it's a blunder big time. But when done at the individual level, the long term impact isn't visible.

Being an Indian, I have learnt how even earning stomach-full is an everyday struggle for a jaw-dropping huge proportion of people. Can we solve it by coming closer in spirit, holding hands and walking together? Probably. Will we actually do it? I have no clue. I don't think anyone has. Not even the unknown old gentleman who's left a print on the sands of time for me.

A Snapshot of My Times - 3.1 (5th December 2014)

Adobe - Festival of Lights

It was a few months since June (when I moved to Adobe Systems, Noida), and a silent pinch inside my mind reminded me of this ghost of monotony that was soon going to envelop my everyday memory and leave nothing to be remembered.

Festival of Lights is the name given to Diwali celebrations at Adobe. There were different competitions and a round of Tambola at the end. Events were spread out evenly and consisted mostly of activities I had never experienced before. The first time I saw their notification email, it was like a view of an Oasis far away, and me being the desert traveller smiled.

Rangoli and Mehndi on Day 1, and Graffiti, Tambola and Best Dressed Male/Female competition and Photoshoot on Day 2. The first challenge was to get into teams. I ditched a group of my friends for Rangoli and joined a few seniors who had certain prior experience as the 2nd runners up of last year. For Mehndi it was almost a give-up until my friend from HR helped me get a volunteer. Something that remained common above was my NOT mentioning that it's going to be my first such experience in any of these. Marketing myself by showing my ancient sketches was pretty much sufficient :D All set, I was optimistic at least about not screwing up too much.

I was right, partially.

Parallelizing Planning & Execution

To call my experience of Rangoli amazing would be a dire underestimation. It was like asking a Guitarist to play Violin. With movements like rubbing my charcoal on a canvas, it was like natural instinct in play all throughout, and yes we rocked big time.

The 'Om-Ganeshaya-Namah' Project

I made friends. Ordinary people who suddenly became special for me. It was a natural connect, which translated into beautiful memories. We won the third. And I have no clue where I spent my 1000 bucks cash prize.

Tanvi, Utkarsh, Somya, Me, Chani

If Rangoli was the 'Good', mehndi was the 'Ugly'. My homework was extensive. A day before the event, all my traditional friends were busy searching the perfect mehndi design for me to use in the competition the next day. I did overestimate my fine art skills and thought any design was possible. The shortlisting was done and I suggested two choices to Kanchan, the volunteer. An Arabic mehndi pattern was selected, and the competition began. It was past the first few minutes that I realized it's not a child's play - that the Guitar-Violin logic doesn't hold true anymore, and even keeping the hand stable and letting an optimum flow of mehndi needed careful calibration and patience. Kanchan did have skyrocketing expectations thanks to the pattern I was supposed to emboss. Halfway through, I just wanted it to end. It did end, and I felt it wasn't too bad, but her eyes were partly murderous partly on the verge of bursting with tears. Not the best experience, especially when she's mentioned never forgiving and forgetting my 'Spider-Mehndi' :D

Model Credits: 'Khadoos' Kanchan

Graffiti was just random. There was no team, and the one that official existed had all but one members backed out. It was Somya who said 'What the heck' and we went to the 3rd floor balcony where the event was to happen. People with dangerously creative expressions seem to gape on blank canvases, and there we were asking random people to include us in their team. The bakras were finally found and we were all set with freshly collected team members, and having extremely no idea about what to draw. The obvious - keeping 'Adobe' as the theme, we thought of graffiti of characters as seen in fancy Hollywood movies. But Sir, sometimes that Ant hill is a mountain, and so here we were spraying the hell over this innocent white canvas, till it was so ugly a kid with a sensitive belly would have vomited. But then as good coders, we had to hack this into something that just clicked. So the graffiti was entirely overwritten' with black, and the ugly background was beautifully cast into the Adobe symbol. This was an achievement beyond measure, though the judges will never know, as no one in the team has any clue about who gave our Graffiti viva during judgement. Regardless, a taste of Graffiti, with a hint of a lesson - it's okay to be completely crazy, you won't essentially screw everything up. (Just remembered that I don't even know the team members' names!)

Somebody tell me what the f*ck have I done!

Getting into Serious Business!

The League of Unknown Participants

Searching frantically for the best possible Kurta-Pyajamas belonging to anyone in the family, in order to win the Best Dressed Male award, was an unbelievably embarrassing effort in vain. I was soon informed that the award is delivered as per the number of accessories. So you were supposed to look more like a Raamlela Character rather than being gracefully dressed in ethnic wear. So the USP of the day would primarily be posing like struggling Bollywood actors and getting clicked a billion times. The ladies, much in line with expectations, looked like their evolved avatars, hopefully past hours of hard work and labor in self-decoration and mending. The men looked like they took a bath early morning.

The 'Spot-Me!' Challenge picture

Happy days

The Photo-bomb Conspiracy

Revenge! Vengeance! 

Looking back.... :)

Division Speech Evaluation Failure

My mind split into two and debated about whether I should record this not so pleasant memory, but then there were certain hidden pieces of subtle reflection which would have perished with the memory.

A week of Viral infection, lying on the Sofa watching Television till the eye socket pained, sleeping on the coarse sofa itself, swallowing unbelievable quantities of medicine, and cycle repeat. Now that the background for my major excuse is set, let me take to you that morning when my Division level Speech Evaluation Competition was due. I must mention that this follows the emotional mention of my Area level victory, and so obviously the stakes were higher this time. To give up or not was the question, and it was a single fraction of a nanosecond when I said - F*ck this shit, let me go for it.

Covering myself with a painfully large number of clothes, I set off for the route on my bike. It was closer than the Area level venue but still took some bit of searching. My main concentration was not to lose consciousness while I'm on the wheels. Staying alive is (obviously) more important than delivering my Division level speech. On reaching the venue, I mustered a reservoir of strength to speak aloud my name for participation. I knew it was late already, but didn't expect any disturbances as the Area level event has started ages after the stated time. But what was to follow punctured a hole in whatever strength I had been reaping. I was officially replaced by the first runner's up of the Area level event as my Club president had informed a night earlier that 'Karan might  not come tomorrow as he's unwell.' This particular gentleman (let's call him Person X) would be jubilant to hear this news, and so there he stood. I was humble and expected the same from him, but then I noticed the darker web behind the scenes. One of the Officers being this X's close friend didn't lose a chance to kick me out of the event and claim the participation for his dear loving friend. I sensed danger and like Spider sense I knew that if I were to deliver what I was supposed to, I would have to fight for it I didn't though, as higher authority was called and they brought forth the rule book which was to resolve this conflict. When the confusion prevailed, the most senior gentleman was inquired, and without a moment's doubt he spoke in the favour of original participants confirmation, i.e. me. What happens next will break your emotional dam. X cried. Tears in his eyes, his voice cracking like I'd stolen his house, his daughter and robbed him of the treasure of his life. To be honest, it was that moment I thought it giving it to him, but what floated in the back of my mind was the dirty politics X and his Officer friend had played. And so it was another F*ck-This-Shit moment and I was in the Conference hall.

I replaced his position, which was the last among about 7-8 people. This was worst case scenario for me, as I'd not know the competition till the results are out. Looking at their faces, I knew this was it, and that I should push as hard as I can, and then leave it to fate. When the demo speech was delivered, a part of my active processing brain made notes and when I went on stage I knew deep inside this was it and I would be crushed under my own expectations. The speech began well, and I saw the senior-most officer smile, but all what followed was void of each and every component of my otherwise USP - confidence, energy, clarity and definition of content flow, and most of all substantial evaluation points. I spoke a bit too much during participant interviews, and quickly got down of stage on spotting a couple of murderous eyes for overshooting the time limit for empathetic listening to random bullshit.

The climax comes, and I didn't even win the third prize. X atleast got a hug, special mention in the audience and a badge to boast of his leadership skills. Like an elderly gentleman returning to his old age home, I slowly got up with my Jeans bag and walked upstairs to leave. I spotted the lady who was one important reason for me still sitting there. I walked past her. I was difficult to look into her eyes with the Sorry-I-Screwed-Up-Expression. Then almost at the exit, I turned back. Thanking her, we shook hands. Her robotic gesture about 'Good job there' was followed by a warning to my club for better organization. I guess it was good to close chapters and leave.

Thank you Papa Mum and Bhai for not making my self-esteem sink even deeper. When I told them I screwed it up, it was cute to see Mum mint the obvious logic and try to make me feel comfortable in my own skin. Papa and Bhai followed and I suddenly felt that achievement isn't essentially the only path to happiness. Sometimes we should experience this non-glittery-shimmery aspect of happiness when you're just content the way you are, and a hug is infinitely more touching than a facebook dp with a trophy.

Toastmasters Area B2 - Speech Evaluation

11th October 2014
Just before I slept last night, something inside my mind told me that this Saturday deserved more acknowledgement than I had given it. The event was Toastmasters Area Level B2 Speech Evaluation Contest (each area comprises of ~6 clubs), the venue being Interra IT, SEZ Phase 2 Noida. Among my preparations were - carefully saving the map to the location, and watching 3-4 winner videos (some were ancient - dating back 5 years).
I woke up to some disturbance the next morning. 5AM it was I felt drugged. The voice inside my head said 'Go to sleep, man!' but I knew I had to leave home about 2 hour before the event begins as I wasn't well-aware of the area of the route. I stole a few intervals of sleep, then dragged myself out of my bed, opened my wardrobe, fished for my year old college-placement-times shirt and trousers bought when I was in Morgan Stanley, Mumbai (and had to wear formals to office),

Google told me I'd take 26 minutes to reach the destination, but I left 90 minutes early. I was much-expectedly lost on the way, and in the middle of Bharola Village, had to call the Area Governor, who's number I had thankfully saved. His wife picked up and sounded partially asleep, while I was in the middle of nowhere shooting questions about the address, landmark and directions. I was amused to know they were still asleep, and hence my gut told me that they'll begin the event late, and also that my striving-for-punctuality has backfired again. I reached 30 minutes before the event was supposed to begin. As I was parking my bike outside Interra, I met Neeraj Gupta, the Big guy in Toastmasters from Adobe. It was a pleasant surprise. I had heard his name numerous times before, but seeing him there, I realized this event was going to be serious business (possibly involving some Biggies). He accompanied me downstairs to the hall, and we shared about our teams and positions. As soon as we entered the premises, the volunteers rushed to welcome him (and a small welcome for me as well). We signed, I was asked to pay 100 bucks as registration fees (which was a surprise) and asked with a smile to wait in the meeting area. This was going to be a moment of shock for me. 30 minutes to event and not a single participant seemed to have arrived. It was all volunteers and empty chairs waiting for participants. I knew for sure now that I was too early. Although the email specifically said 9AM, I'm sure no one there had taken an oath similar to mine, for being on time.
I grabbed a few snacks and had sat down brainstorming on possible exciting options for passing time, when I met two gentlemen and out of a social-desperation, struck a dialogue. They were much elder to me, and were associated with Toastmasters for pretty long. I'd mention Srinivasan here, who accompanied me as a friend (and didn't make me feel he's about 15 years older to me) all throughout. A Tamilian by origin, he had found both job and love here in Delhi, and so was an almost Delhite by now. Something in him reminded me of Namesh, my friend from HYPY, and so we bonded quite well.
10.30AM, 1.5 hours after the scheduled beginning, the event starts. Two Areas were supposed to have their respective competitions - Area B3 first and B2 second. Each Area had participants for two events - Humorous Speech and Speech Evaluation Contest. In a nutshell, I had to wait for a minimum of 9 speeches and maximum of 11 speeches for my turn. Area B3 had decent performances, and I had an evil spark of confidence when I realised that unless I totally screw it up, it was not difficult to beat that level. I took notes for the Sample speaker for B3, did a quick personal practice, framed certain reusable punchlines and went to the washroom for a good 7 times in 3 hours. Yes, I was nervous. But something inside me felt good in that moment of weakness in the knees and shaking of the hands. I knew this was to be accepted, fought against and conquered. And that there was no other option. I remembered screwing up a debate during my school time, and asked myself why couldn't I just go out there and put the stage on fire with a brilliant piece. Time flew away, and it was our turn now - Area B2. The first humorous speech was Srinivasan's, and he rocked the audience into volumes of laughter and cheer. His topic 'Cleanliness is next to Godliness' was aptly supposed with an extremely humorous example of his wife. The bars were raised, and everyone felt he'd be the chosen one. The speaker who went second did an amazing job and almost matched Srinivasan's level. The competition had just become cut-throat. Another trip to the washroom and I missed Speaker 3's speech. Peeping from outside the hall glass, I inferred the audience was rolling with laughter. This speaker resembled a distorted version of a friend of mine back in Mumbai - Sumit Kotasthane, who is a naturally spontaneous comedian himself. Next was my awaited event, and I was chosen to be the second participant to go (as per a draw). Now based on experience, I've seen people who go second have an advantage over others, especially over the one who goes first. So this made me a bit confident, though I could now have no clue about how the first performance meant, which meant no clue of the results before they would be announced.
It was announced for the Test speaker to begin with his speech. 'Gaurav' I quickly noted down the name. My copy had dedicated sections for rough notes and a sheet for writing those notes in fair. I remember ruthlessly scribbling while my ears were constantly plugged in to his voice - the quality, modulation, content, and occasionally I would look up to notice movement, body language, usage of the stage, and expressions. I noted down how he began, set the theoretical foundation, gave data of both qualitative and quantitative nature, used pauses to emphasize, and went about in a coordinated, organized manner. From watching those sample videos, I already knew that the evaluation itself needs to be like a story. That I needed to make it special, so had preplanned a small bonus - to reuse two insanely comic punches from two Humorous speeches which were given (and I knew well that the audience will recall the punches which will push my speech to a level above, effortlessly). That worked out well. I used the Spartan king Leonidas for enacting how to give an argumentative blow, then hold yourself back for the audience to absorb the impact. Relativity held true and time flew by amazingly fast. The red card was shown (which means I have crossed the upper limit and into the grace period now) and it was then my mind asked me to conclude and shut the hell up. The conclusion was fast, so only those who paid attention had the laugh, but this helped me judge that I was successfully able to atleast preserve the attention of some people out there. As I walked back to my seat, my mind quickly told me what went right and what went wrong. I had completely forgotten to wish the Contest Chair and had begun straight off; in order to cover all points, I had been a bit too fast; not maintain requisite eye contact with the audience; and at the end of it, instead of 'Good job Gaurav', I said 'Good job guys' :P The last one was excruciatingly embarrassing, but I was glad it was over. Though passing time now was a pain.
The judges seemed to take ages for evaluating results. Meanwhile we had interviews of the participants, as customary, and I was asked the story behind what I had mentioned about what inspires me. 'Humility in Perfection' was what I had written. I mentioned Bruce Lee, and this principle being something I'm trying to inculcate in myself. We had a small speech from the Guest, Reet Arora, who spoke on 'Leadership lessons from a Panipuri wala'. Her speech wasn't that content-heavy but the delivery was impeccable. Meanwhile my heart was thumping wild, and my mind was pretty much boiling inside a pressure cooker. It is this moment, a strange voice inside me spoke up and that relaxed me beyond any measure. I opened my copy and wrote down what that voice had said...

I was suddenly transported to a different world. A more peaceful one, where it was okay to fail, but important to learn out of it. I could not wait in peace for the results. Though my brain did not stop crunching probabilistic numerical logic and told me 'Just pray you atleast get the first runner's up trophy :P'. The results were there. Area B3 came first. We cheered for the winners. Though everyone seemed to be waiting for Area B2 results, and so the anxiety in the air increased exponentially. Speech Evaluation results were declared first, and the Runner's up was given to the Sumit-look-alike co-participant. I had expected my name, but now it was clear that either the next name is miraculously going to be mine, or I got disqualified due to speaking over-time, and the judges decided to award the more mature looking lady coming from Statistical Mathematical background for the first position. The announcer consumed a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. I heard some people call out my name in the background. It was the slow motion scene before the blast in an action movie. And the moment arrived sooner than expected and hit harder than I had thought.
Well, simply said, I won.

Walking up to the stage, with a cheering crowd behind, it was difficult to hide my smile that had conquered all available inches on my face. I don't know how many times I thanked the dude who handed me a small Winning trophy and a certificate. I didn't wait long enough for a picture. Hadn't given my cellphone to anyone. I didn't care about the picture actually. The feeling that moment was really nice. It was waking up at 5, driving 15 kms on a dusty road to an unknown place, getting bored as hell, torturous moments of anxiety, hunger and cruel competition paying off. 'Seems you did a good job bro' I told to myself and went back to sit at my seat trying to conceal the blast of happiness inside with a supposedly humble expression on my face.
Unfortunately, Srinivasan didn't win. I felt sad as he was the one who had raised the standards so high. Also, he was the closest I had to a 'friend' there in the crowd of a horde of unknown faces. He tried hard but could not hide that pain. I told him he was a Winner for me, but it was all in vain. He left shortly, just after congratulating the winners and giving me his contact number. Some people came to congratulate me and introduced themselves (finally noticing that I existed!). Others still seemed busy with their own gang. Gaurav (the Test speaker) whom I happened to know a bit well as we chatted during the snacks break, wished me like old college times (Shouting 'Bhai you did it' and hugging like we've just won World War 3). It was a good feeling. Neeraj walked up to me really happy with the fact that Adobe had won. He asked me to catch up in office. I left the premises shortly.
On my way back, I knew which direction to go. But regardless I got lost again. Though this time, it really didn't matter. All what I could think about was how my Mom and Dad would be when I do enact my copyrighted drama about losing badly, just before they discover the trophy and certificate. It made me smile. Warm feeling, it was, to think about making my parents feel proud something I've done. I drove on, about 10 kilometers off route now, but managed to reach a place I could recognize and so, corrected my direction. I drove on at 60 kilometers per hour, the wind softly brushing past my face, and it the peace I felt was one of getting back from a war.
Back at home, my drama didn't work out that well (I've done it so many times, it doesn't work anymore), but they were ecstatic. I felt like a kid again when they hugged me and said 'Kamaal karta hai yaar tu toh' :P

A lot of photographs later, I changed my clothes. The peaking 'high' of victory was wearing off amazingly fast. And it was then I decided to write about before the moment was forgotten among a billion others. At times in life, it's good to wait and appreciate the smaller happiness' that life has to offer, and appreciate the fight that goes behind achieving it. It's cute to be embarrassed at how jumpy you are when something works out. It makes me believe in forgetting about the cloak of etiquette. I'd rather be jumpy, immature and idiotically happy instead :D
Yay!

Happy Karva chauth

For the memories.

12-10-2014

Different Nations. Different Faces of REALITY.

http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/pakistan-violates-ceasefire-for-10th-time-in-one-month/article6473085.ece

http://www.dawn.com/news/1136404/indian-troops-resort-to-unprovoked-firing-at-loc-ispr

Kabalarians.com Baba ka Gyan

• Your name of Karan gives you a highly sensitive, idealistic, and intuitive nature.

Yay. I hope that implies something good.

• You could be expressive and creative in the arts, music, or drama. 

Right. Makes 'perfect sense' to be a Computer Engineer working with a Multinational.

• Since you are not inclined to give due consideration to practical and business matters, you could miss out on reaching a level of financial success appropriate for your efforts and abilities. 

Fuck I don't wanna die poor!

• You feel and sense much that you do not fully understand, and you can be deeply influenced through the thoughts of others without realizing just how you are being affected. 

Yeah, thanks for officially called me a emo-wierdo.

• Others are inclined to take advantage of your generosity and friendliness and then, when there is a lack of reciprocation, you can feel despondent and disillusioned. 

Reciprocation! Girls, please read this again.

• Moods are a problem as you can be highly inspired one minute, and the next become quite irritated and annoyed over some ill-timed remark or lack of consideration on the part of someone close to you. 

Sanyaas in the Himalayas is the only way out now.

• You could suffer through nervous breakdowns, as well as disturbing thoughts, which could affect your concentration and memory. 

Can. You. Stop. Freaking. Me. Out. For. God's. Sake.

• Also, disorders in the fluid functions could arise.
  

Okay. Enough of this bullshit.

• Although the name Karan creates the urge to understand others, we emphasize that it causes an emotional intensity that is hard to control. 

That's still insulting.

• This name, when combined with the last name, can frustrate happiness, contentment, and success, as well as cause health weaknesses in the fluid and nervous system.

So bottom-line, I'm an emotional freak with 'fluid' disorders and potential nervous breakdowns. You made my day man.

http://www.kabalarians.com/Male/Karan.htm

^What the fuck was I thinking?

Rachel

She was late by 25 minutes. This was unexpected. So I smiled at myself for being wrong about her. The last time I saw her three months back, she was the 'Mother India' concept personified for me. Ironically it was equally good and bad to know I was wrong.

She'd understand the Mother-India pun if she ever reads this.

Connaught Place has been an amazing place for first (and last) meetings. You both'd be like two souls lost amidst a thousand more, trying to steal a moment or two of existential solace. And so we walked on, equally clueless about where to encapsulate the few billion microseconds of togetherness to follow.

Cafe Coffee Day it was. Tropical Iceberg, Choco Frappe and White Pasta it was. She was wrong again when she said we'd find peace. I wont't tell her this though.

Struggle in the tune of the music in a whirlpool of loud murmur pained my throat. But we talked. I pretended to be busy relishing the pasta as she looked around, and I looked at her, stealing more glances than I should have, and thought about how she existed in pieces of contradictory dipoles - the alpha of mystic philosophy and the omega of ruthless materialism.

I have no clue if she even listened to what erupted off an inexplicable spontaneity of memories of college times - of the story in flesh and blood of a struggle for IIT (BHU) conversion, of finding unexpected first love and endeavouring its preservation amidst difficult times. About faith and the art of war with one's own internal motivation and translated action.

And so I stopped talking. For she was a poem of an incomprehensible figurative art. And my words were dwarfed by the secret monologue of my internal mind...

She'd be like childhood horror stories - the more I read the more lost I'd be. And she'd be long gone before I move past the fundamental premise of the consciousness she is. 

So I let go of the rein snatched from hands of time, and looked at the digital hours and minutes in the supine of my mobile phone screen, simulating our Goodbye as imaginary seconds ticked in incremental silence. It was her resplendence to bent the curve of time and space which stayed behind as she left as an incomplete prose with a perfect expression in the back of your mind, but no material ink to cast a scintillating mysticism of perspective in a framework of comprehensible emotion.

A conspiracy of capturing concluding microseconds before Goodbye rendered me much akin an unprepossessing drug abused. Cocaine overdose I'd say.

The Larger Question

I want to ask you (and myself) one question today.

Is LIFE what happens when you're busy working for money?
Is LIFE what happens when you're busy struggling with people and relationships?
Is LIFE what happens when you're busy proving the world you're worth their attention?

Fuck-No.

Thank you Stefan Sagmeister. For you unknowingly answer this question for me today.

http://www.ted.com/talks/stefan_sagmeister_the_power_of_time_off

Life is about making all those crazy times of striving incredulously hard worthwhile for yourself.
It's for earning shit-loads only to spend that shit-loads back on yourself.
About doing all that you never-freaking-dreamed you'd do.

Stefan talked about integration. He talks about how he hybridization the mainstream European lifestyle of working crazy hard for initial years and then retiring, waiting to die. His modification pulls a quanta of those retirement years and fits them in slots while you're on the 'work and earn' mode.
But how does he sustain? He travels and performs social experiments. This quenches his creative thirst and at the end of his Sabbatical year, he's rejuvenated and recharged for yet another professional-cum-personal sprint.

This inspires. The fact that job is not everything that exists, is reiterated. It is but a part of who you are and who you'll be. Though this does fact expose a powerful extremum of contradiction existing around you and me. I ask myself to where I think I walk towards. To where I aspire myself to be x years from now. An obvious generic answer is success and fulfillment as my end-of-life goals. But the material casting is what still eludes. It is when you come across people like Stefan that you stop avoiding the answers to such questions and reflect on it with eyes closed one morning as you breathe in fresh air in those youthful conscience yet to make it's mark.

I do things. I strive to learn constantly. I dynamic and I evolve consistently. Multidirectionally.
This hurts. I will mostly never be the Stephan Hawking or the Bill Clinton or the Mark Zuckerberg or any other 'the' for that matter. I might live to be an unknown person who makes a small boy on the road or an old man in the metro station smile. I might not be Superman or 'The Chosen One', but be happy to see my parents smile and take pride in my tiny ordinary everyday achievements. I might not be Daniel Radcliffe or George Clooney, but be someone you would like to spend a careless Sunday morning cycling around in the countryside. And with that unstrategized unrestricted spontaneity, I want my life to be integrated in one piece.

Stefan shows how he could connect the dots. He inspires me because in his story I learn that it's always possible to start today.

LIFE is what I will make out of it. Tomorrow. Today. This moment.

A Snapshot of My Times - 2 (23rd September 2014)

Happy Birthday Papa and Tejas

I left office early informing my manager and team mate that it's my brother's and father's birthday the next day. Their ridiculed expression was unexpected and funny at the same time.
Same day afternoon I was given a critical task of collecting my brother's pictures. These were required for certain arrangements made by his friends. This made me open my External Hard Drive and dive into a whirlpool of memories dating back to long gone childhood. As he turned 20, I realized how precious these memories were - times still moving by that we generally take for granted, and which does never return.

I'm sure I must have forced my parents to let me capture the picture above (it used to be inexplicably heavenly handling the camera). Though now I wish there were more such memories I could have captured. Or maybe if I could travel back in time to listen to my father talk about Internal Combustion Engines as I stood close to him holding tools, or buying candy for my tiny brother as I cycled back home on equivalently tiny wheels.

Every time we created a ruckus (we fought a lot - "His glass has more milk!") and didn't stop till Mom lost her patience, we knew we'll be beaten up good time (irrespective of who's fault it was!) when Dad comes back from shop. I remember the horror, and thank both of them for the stick that was a necessary mitigation of unregulated mischief, at times.

Unsurprisingly, the clock hands kept moving slowly, and each year our ages would be incremented by one. And now, 20 years after 23rd September, 1994, my tiny brother is a symbol of strength and positivism for me. My father and mother have made me learn that making life beautiful is a choice.
That every action, every moment, every thought reverberates and touches people who love you.

I promise today, to make you all proud of me. I promise amazing times, infinite laughter and tears of happiness. I promise love, respect and reverence that still wouldn't match a fraction of what you mean to me.

Thank you Papa, Mum and Bhai.

--

Bike - 13000 kms

September 9, 2010 it was. My surprise gift was finalized after days of research and test rides by me. A final ride by my father confirmed my 19thBirthday+FirstYearRank1 gift to be a White Honda CBTwister. Today as I took a right towards the road to my office, watching the speedometer made me smile and reflect back on completing 13,000 kms in these four years. I remember the first day when I rode it from the Honda store close to IP Sigra Mall in Varanasi to my Second year hostel - C.V.Raman at IIT (BHU); how my friends, strangers, random chicks would look up in awe, while some would congratulate me with evident envy visible in the eyes, others would be happy about all those late night ghat trips together that were possible now. Once a week I spent an hour carefully washing and wiping dust marks. After polishing with a select premium polish given by Dad, I left it to dry before taking it out for a round. It felt like riding a White Unicorn, as it smelt in ecstasy of fresh polish, and shone like a gigantic precious gem.
Of when I'd take my girl out for long drives in and outside college, we'd ride to the Agriculture Farm, Assi Ghat, JHV Mall for movies, Godowlia for the Ganga Aarti, and at times just drive to the small temple behind Vishwakarma hostel, which was practically walk-able from the GSMC Girls' hostel.
Of when I'd drive to University Admin to retrieve No Objection for protest march, and to the city District Magistrate for his permission, fighting for a dream - the conversion of my college into an IIT.
Of when I'd drive late night to Assi ghat, and sit with Nitish or Baranwal or Yogendra, talking about life after breakup. Speculating about how to ask the hottest girls in campus for dates (which never happened), or the next movie to watch in the cheap early morning show at IP Vijaya, or when initial days of CouchSurfing we'd literally go flirting international.
Of when I'd drive to the placement office in final year. Rejection after rejection, I'd still drive on again with hopes alive, till when I rode on shouting at the top of my voice in jubilation - the day of finally knowing where I'd start my career.
Of when I came back from Mumbai, to see it scarred, but still as beautiful as the first day I felt the breeze when I rode it on the empty University Outer Circle road. I washed it with the same zeal, although it had a few marks which won't wipe off.
Of when I look back today and feel amazing to have you as a part of my life. Let's drive on.

--

PostMessage() appTimer finalization

It happened in a second's brilliance. Like a moment of Wow, this particular thought filled my conscience and made me propose a plan to my teammate, who's a Senior Scientist at my workplace. This individual brainstorming was a result of a mini team project that arose out of a functionality break in our Performance check infrastructure. In simpler terms, it was something to be fixed, and I was fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to get the opportunity to fix it.
A suggested hypothesis, few code changes, and grueling experiment results later, I sat on my desk typing ferociously, too curious to share my observations. The blast of achievement inside reflected in those words of congratulations for my work the day we all put a stamp of finalization on my work. This was something I am not used to, as a usual day goes by amidst sour dialogue with team seniors - the essential nature of Performance Engineering. I, being a thorough Non-Geek, was still busy climbing the steep learning curve, when results were ruthlessly demanded.
Regardless of sullen times, that day was special. It was a moment of disbelief to accept that my first project approached completion. It was a moment of appreciation for all speculations that didn't stab in the back. It was a moment of pride to hear them clap with acknowledgement.

A Snapshot of My Times - 1 (13th September 2014)

Before my reader speculates the story behind this almost-absurd title, I'll take you with me to the root of it.

A sudden pang of painful realization hit me today morning as I walking in the fresh morning air feeling effortlessly wonderful. Life is just moving by CRAZY FAST. You're a day older every morning. And you almost never realize how it adds on to our whole life. I thought about myself - there are only 17,163 days left for my 70th birthday. And I spent my entire day yesterday working on my Office computer, playing a bit of basketball, and trying to avoid the distraction called 'girls' in office. Phew.

Coming back to my point - life disappearing in front of your eyes is horrible. But it becomes more of a disastrous crisis if you're a writer. Or at least someone like me who loves to cast experiences, memories, revelations in words. THIS is why I kick start my 'A Snapshot of My Times' today, without further ado. Hope the reader can bear with my tiny moments of happiness, learning, failure, and reflection. If not, please comment below whatever you could have done instead of reading my blog. :P

So here we go.

13th September 2014

1. Turning 23 was cute. I had almost forgotten times of my childhood, when I was made to feel like the Royal Emperor. All silly mistakes could be overlooked (because it was 'my day!'), amazing chicken would be prepared, the house was decorated, friends invited over to the cake cutting ceremony, and it I was ECSTATIC when it came to unwrapping gifts to quench my mounting curiosity.

As the digital clock in my cellphone hit 12 midnight, 09-09-2014, I felt a hollow enveloping silence pushing me on verge of sleep. My oblivion for 'parental machinations' was hit with a thunder when Mum and Dad stormed in and hugged me as if I was a baby. I had forgotten innocent childhood love of this form, and so couldn't help smiling to realize that I was still a young boy in spirit for them. This was after five years that I got an opportunity to spend my birthday with family. I cut the cake, lots of pictures were click, with each of them having all of us - Mum, Dad, Brother and me, packed together in an embrace. I felt how special it was to be back, to forget for a moment the war raging outside, the battle of everyday life. It was the 'my day' feeling enveloping me all over again!

Having deleted my Facebook and WhatsApp, I had but a little expectations of being wished by friends. My mind was divided in pessimism between two fronts - of calling them later and playfully blaming them for not wishing me, and a wriggling feeling inside me if there WERE any people I could call my 'friends'. Amidst such useless reflections, a few people who called me up to wish brought me back to realizing how special it was to connect with people in all humility and honesty. When borders ceased to exist between us and life went spontaneously seamless. I know it is unfair for so many others who just could not wish, but you people will be the shining gems of my life. Thanks for that. Plus, I will strive harder now to remember DOBs.

With so much going around in my mind, the day just passed as if it never had come. A cake was cut in my office, and for a change I saw everyone smile. Colleagues were more sympathetic than usual, and I was not grilled for not being able to contribute anything substantial that day.

2. Winning the Toastmasters Speech Evaluation Club contest was a pleasant surprise. Honestly. I know I can talk wonderfully well at times, but I can screw it too, so there's never a certainty. Plus, it is SO EASY for me to just go haywire and lose focus when I'm talking. It's silly, but I constantly need to realign myself like a flight en-route its destination. Five participants stood against each other. Two experienced club members, and the rest three of us new joinees. A chit draw later, I was chosen to be the first speaker. Now out of my vocal literary experience, I know going first can be a bit unlucky. The judges are most interested, most critical and so the harshest while evaluation. Also, the audience responds to every glitch as if it was a blunder. Going second/third generally works out for me, more if the speaker before me did a horrible job. But well, the decision was made, and so it was Do or Die for me. I remembered how my mind was troubled last night - my childhood friend's father had come across a grave accident, and was in a critical condition. Upon being informed, I had immediately decided to visit my friend in the hospital. As my father got ready, I quickly watched an exemplary performance of Speech evaluation on Youtube, and THAT was all I could afford to prepare. We returned at midnight, and I was too tired and resigned to have any concrete practice. So when I stood there and the competition began, I knew I needed to give it my best shot and forget about the results (Easier said than done!). Five speeches later, the results were announced, and I was selected for the Area level competition, standing first among the five evaluations. Going first wasn't so bad after all, as I was lucky enough to listen to all speakers, and so could contrast what I lacked, and what I could polish more as my strength. I tried to maintain my calm and be humble when people congratulated me, but that smile of victory betrayed me. I was exploding in jubilation inside. "But this is just the beginning" I told my crazy self, asking him to calm down and at least act humble. Slowly the almost-orgasmic emotion settled down, and I was back to work, remembering that there's of course a LONG way to go.

The Equation Called Life

Mathematics is one of the purest interpretations of human intelligence. And human intelligence is an inseparably integral facet of human existence. Hence mathematics, even in its most basic metaphysical form, abstracts the foundations of human existence.

I remember being introduced to the beautiful world of calculus at age of 15. It was suddenly bewildering to shatter the discrete bounds of known mathematical logic, and form a ‘naturally intuitive’ way of appreciating the larger picture. This was a realization of negative infinity on one side, and positive infinity on the other. A few days back, as I was walking bare-footed on wet morning grass in a garden alongside my home, this innocent appreciation unexpectedly exploded into a moment of an almost-enlightenment.

I saw life in Math and Math in life - Isn’t life but a Mathematical problem? It starts in childhood - with understanding various symbols associated with the problem. Identifying and isolating the constants and variables; appreciating the power that operations like addition, subtraction, multiplication, division possess; their impact to the foundations of the equation. We appreciate the constancy of action-reaction – that if you add ‘x’, an equal amount gets subtracted as well, and the equation never changes.

We grow up, and as teenagers we stop just-looking at the equation, but begin our journey to find answers – the Solution of the mathematical problem cast in an equation. We learn strategies, apply them, win or fail to simplify the equation, and evolve gradually. There are times when an approach strikes the bull’s eye, and you’re filled with jubilation – the equation suddenly feels much straightened out than before. And then there are moments when you’ve complicated it so much, you’re almost on the verge of giving up. It might have been because of a bad strategy, a wrong move, or focusing on the insignificant variables ignoring the primary weighty ones. Regardless, the process is dynamic, and so life keeps moving ahead.

And then comes that revelation – your equation doesn’t exist in isolation. You connect with people whose problem looks similar to yours, with similar solutions, or similar approaches towards the solution. Maybe you even end up with someone whose equation has the same ‘roots’. With these people, like magic you see both equations unwinding and simplifying with mysterious spontaneity. Life would suddenly appear much simpler and happy, with the best part that you didn’t need any forced effort for it. On the other hand, with few others your effort for a common solution seems to go round and round till you reach a point where there is no solution. You explicitly cast common variables to – Not Defined, and though at later stages this step might probably simplify your problem, there is equal probability of it making the path terribly complicated. In any case, throughout this journey you keep learning what to do and what not to do. This makes you short-circuit strategies in your mind, which is good and bad at the same time. You apply learning, but restrict creativity and appreciation of newness. It isn’t strange then to digest the fact that a lot of elderly gentlemen always go ‘Ek tha humaara samay jab <Include random-most comparisons here>’.

With advancing steps towards simplification, you come across moments when you have to consider certain Assumptions in order to simplify the equation more. These assumptions, at times, work out perfectly. But if proved false later on, they have the capacity to screw up your whole strategy. Additionally, in an urge to reach the conclusion faster, we short-circuit assumption phases with overwhelming spontaneity. Hence, we form presumptions about people, places, situation, time, etc. This does not need too much of mental capacity, as we become champions of prejudice, that is most clearly missing in children. But even the 6^th grader knows Math is not supposed to be done that way.

So what do we have to learn from Math that can make our lives simpler and happier? First, it’s okay to fail today, but incessant continuity is the key which defines whether you ‘slowly and steadily’ reach the solution or perish trying to. Unsolved problems are ugly. So does become the lives of those who just give up.  Second, a lot of times the perfect way-to-things strikes you purely by chance. Imagine the probability of the person who invented the concept of probability actually finding it probable to invent probability. I bet all innovations are children of this mystic Aah-moment, and so it’s okay to keep walking on, knowing with positive gut that one day soon your ‘Aah’ will hit you and transform your life – another step towards the solution. Third, unless your assumption is calculated, you are destined to be deadlocked and get back to amend your assumption. So being open to creatively, to newness of life, to everything that exists ready to be absorbed, is a way to walk the journey with a smile, and a hope that one day when you put down your pen, it is not to follow the easy path and give up, but to end your bare-footed walk on the rocky bed of thorns and bushes; to place below the equation a golden mark that’ll sparkle as a ‘Q.E.D.’

*Q.E.D. Quod erat demonstrandum – which had to be demonstrated 

Censuring Natural Myths

I don’t know the exact moment when this thought struck me. Maybe it was while saying Goodbye to Papa as he rode left from CISF towards Bareilly, slowly waving his hand with words of blessings ‘May you be successful’. I suddenly felt lost as I took a calculated right turn and drove on towards my office in Noida.

My eyes were on the roads, a part of my brain speculating best ways to dodge traffic and reach office faster, but my mind was entirely consumed by a notion so spontaneous, it infected every quantum of my conscience in that time bracket – an ‘Aha’ moment indeed.

The notion of certain natural myths we accept as a part of universal truth.

‘I’ am not one. But many.

Our lives are intertwined so complicatedly, it blinds us to how delicately each action, each moment binds us to an action-reaction couple with every single entity around us. In theory “I live for myself”. But this is like the ideal gas equation – so restricted by assumptions that it never can be true. Like ripples on surface of water, our life is always in dynamic equilibrium. Vibrations of my ripples impact my parents, siblings, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and enemies; in fact even those I might not even know. And but obviously theirs impact mine equally symmetrically. The intensity and nature of this impact varies. But this is what stands to define ‘Life’ at any single point in time. I visualize this as mad commotion on a water surface hit by small and big stones, each ripples an event, and each intersection of crests and troughs that mutual action-reaction impact on multiple distinct lives. This lack of constant, and persistence of disturbances in space and time gives birth to the concept of being alive – something that no science can ever perfectly mathematically model.

The x=t isn’t Infinite.

I confess being fooled by this subtle fallacy everyday - the fact that I’m going to live forever. Even when I do realize the naivety of my agreement, I face a failure to relate exactly to the concept of ‘Not being alive anymore’. The culprit is an apparent ‘slowness’ of time and the fact that we rarely look at the mirror and realize we’re a day, a month, a year, a decade older. The fact that yesterday and tomorrow seem so indistinguishable makes us extrapolate the similarity and forget to notice how our physical and mental contours entirely transform between any two points of time. Hence from when I was a kid learning to eat and speak and walk, to when I was leading conferences, travelling miles across states, and solving complex calculus - scarcely seem contained in one single life. But such is the beauty of time.

‘Infinity’ would never exist for me, not for my loved ones, not for you, not for anyone – is a painful disillusionment.

‘I will do X one day’ will never happen.

I often have unplanned talks with myself. These talks mostly concern what I’m doing and what I want to be doing. And seemingly, it is so easy to fool the heart and say “That day will come.” And so life moves on. And so life did move on when I was 12 and wanted to play infinite Tekken-3 matches, and told myself ONE DAY I’ll install a full console machine at my home when I’m grown up and earning. Life did move on when I entered college and told myself ONE DAY I will be so filthy rich, I’ll ask my mom and dad to stop working crazy hard (as they have been doing all their life), gift mom exquisite gold jewelry, dad a beastly Harley, and surprise them with exotic vacations. It is still moving on today as I sit in my cabin working on product optimization, thinking ONE DAY I’ll pack my travel bag and leave for a substantially unplanned world tour, far away from the ecosystem I’ve naturally adapted to.

Does any human ever like the concept of being fooled? Ironically that’s what we do to ourselves all the time. Though, interestingly, and painfully so, the picture isn’t entirely black or white. Such transitory dreams may mostly never convert to reality, but they keep something alive which is like fuel to our engine – Hope. It’s but unrealistic to assume everything we launch forth towards will become true. So for those who enjoy the odyssey, life is a gift. It’s that gift which makes powerful phenomenon like ‘tears of happiness’ possible, even if we’d never actually reach the destination we planned for. So at the end of my short stay on Earth, it is these moments of subtle permanence that I expect to relive in memories with eyes closed and cracked lips smiling. An endless list of God-fatherly times to the most notorious secrets which’ll perish with me.

I brought my bike to a stop in the underground parking area. Then slowly looked around. Cars were carefully parked everywhere; some had drivers sitting inside with mysterious expressions. I walked towards the entry door. Just before stepping on the stairs, I paused and looked behind. Amid the black and grey and deep blue herd of cars, my white Twister shone like a majestic unicorn.The parking guard looked at me suspiciously as a stood a minute longer than usual. Everything around me was the same. Everything but me.

This too, shall pass!

"I am here in this moment, speaking of my life, experiences and learning, not to boast of myself, but just to relive those memories with beautiful friends, and maybe my stories will help rekindle that spark in you." He said with a smile and subtly calm wetness in his eyes.

Snehal

She walked hastily towards me, past Palika Gate No. 2 where I stood waiting for her with a smile. It was good to see an old friend. As she slammed me for being pseudo-Delhite (I didn't know the way to Jantar Mantar from Connaught Place :P) her radiance was inducing mystic energy into my system already. The physically-feeble-appearing Snehal carried a bag almost as heavy as her (Sorry Snehal :D) and so I couldn't help offering my help to carry it. On being shunted badly for such a request, I got to realize I meeting a solo-traveler-cum-adventurer! She spoke about her treks, about gruesome traveling to and fro an office on the city outskirts, yet I couldn't help myself from being amazed by that energy she carried. Searching for a snack, we took a round of CP, stood undecided outside McD for a while, but then just grabbed Uncle Chips and Pulpy Orange, walked towards the park, sitting down near a flock of pigeons, slowly turning pages of the book of our life. She talked about inspiration, about how one year back a spark inside her got ignited and she was living a dream already. I couldn't help but admire a brilliance cast on her face as she narrated her adventures, and flaunted childish curiosity for the upcoming ones. And when it was time for me to leave, I knew I'd come back that afternoon to bid her goodbye. That afternoon she gifted me a grateful smile, and she left in the auto with the last words "Take care".

Ishan

Post a just-like-old-times bro hug, he sat on my left with a wide smile. I took my seat in Block M Cafe Coffee Day at Connaught Place, watching these three notoriously engaged in private conversations already. It felt different, like meeting your childhood friends after a long time. Ishan interrogated me about how life's been, and on my answering about it being majorly "Work, Travel, Home", seemed excessively dissatisfied. He joked that either I was being too secretive, or he was not meeting the same Karan Bajaj he knew one year back. His words suddenly made me travel back in time to June 2013, and play my life in fast-forward to relive a year of multiple transformational journeys. I couldn't revert to him with logic sufficient, and yet again Ishan had jokingly said something so profound it left me reflecting and speechless. I could feel impact on him too, but the blast of life in him is just too overwhelming to extinguish, and that pulled me out from trance as we chortled secretly about indirect references to women. I could see a fighter built-in inside who'd refused to be corrupted by the system. I saw him cling to any sign of positivity around and flourish in it's local satisfaction, breaking bounds. Snehal left, and as we walked on the streets relishing the 'view', Ishan spotted the Oxford Bookstore, and upon his request we decided to visit it. An amazing new world welcomed me as I stood lost for words at such brilliance of wisdom cast in those books delicately exhibited in the shelves. Innermost desires awaken, I wanted to spend days living-breathing there lost in extracts of a million lives. As we walked along, Ishan talked about books as if they were components of his own experiences. And just then with a smile, I felt the fire of passion alight brighter in his eyes.

Himanshu

It is but difficult to digest that this commonplace looking young man sitting on your right encapsulates within him experiences that will render you speechless. That when he'd speak, each word leaves impression on the sands of your conscience, and it sounds more like the sharing an elder brother does with his young man about to enter the real ruthlessness of the world out there. Himanshu (better know to the world as 'Kalia Sir') sat without much to say, but with sharp attention to our words. It is impossible for him to speak senseless and say abstractly irrelevant material. So when he talks about dreams, passion, self-discovery, existentiality, love, failure, friendship, miracles, life, it's raw chunks of his own life and not the theory they teach in Value Education. We walked out of Cafe Coffee Day, the camera captured awesome times in pixels, and as Snehal left waving us bye, Kalia Sir gallantly blurted out "Now it's just us Laundas!" and we all broke into a much needed laughter. As he shared excerpts, I wanted to listen more, but it was when we sat by a stone boundary of small plantations by the road that old times came with their might and flooded our present. In memories Himanshu traveled back in time and place with people who made us believe in an inherent miraculous goodness. About times he'd be in pain, an incomparable loss, but the achievement of growing ahead, and an exemplary sharpness about the purpose and direction of his life now. Though I might never remember any of those names, but I'd always remember the emotion decorated on his face as he relived a memory one more time. We told him to write a book. To share these experiences with the world out there. What if a random disturbed young man derives inspiration from his experiences sharing. Or if people like Snehal life their dreams every day. After a while I heard his voice break the silence - "I am here in this moment, speaking of my life, experiences and learning, not to boast of myself, but just to relive those memories with beautiful friends, and maybe my stories will help rekindle that spark in you." He said with a smile and subtly calm wetness in his eyes.

                                                  Snehal, Ishan and Himanshu (PC: Me!)

Look Up!

Look Up by James Ellis.

An Internal Rejuvenation - Gramya Manthan '14

It was Sunday night when I felt my feet touch the Earth at Ghaziabad Junction, though my consciousness still floated freely some remotely 500km away, in a small unknown institute called Indus.

Two days at Gramya Manthan* did rotate my world by a complete 180 degree, transporting me back in time to make me stand on the same fields where I met my evidential existentiality, unencompassed passion for creation, deep volcanic love, and a fire, of which the last remains made me board a train to Kanpur the next day of my Mumbai to Delhi flight.
New faces decorated with expressions virgin and hungry, with that fresh light of curiosity sparkling in those eyes did make me feel newborn-like. The stark contrast of veteran Youth Alliance made me appreciate the design behind the event - a carefully crafted, evolving journey towards a mysterious promise of self-actualization. But then that interpretation eludes the personal experiential by-products.
With senses enveloped in anxiety, as I stepped out of Mahabodhi Express on the Friday night, I knew this small odyssey will bring back impossible memories. And as I stood there by the station gate, waiting for my volunteer friend's company, I realized my hypothesis would indeed be most accurate. I captured those lights which claimed my destination to be Kanpur, and our smiles with my friend finally met me. A quick upload was just what I needed to let other alumni-counterparts know what they missed. It suddenly felt promisingly carefree again, as our auto rickshaw sped furiously past local civilization, just outside the gates of Pathar College, which strangely reminded me of my Banaras Hindu University gates. Scurrying in the narrow lanes of the University, our vehicle reached Swaminathan Auditorium, and as I got down I felt eyes, that I guess to be new participants', squinting in the dark far away, curious as they were to know their companions for the next 9 days. But for then I walked ahead, so as to meet and thank that army of volunteers behind the scenes - my friends who were the architects and designers behind this huge to-be-experience.
It was soon felt how peculiar Gramya Manthan as a program will be, as we all succumbed to a down-to-earth feast. Literally did I mean so by down to earth, as when we sat down on roughly cut stone tiles, I saw the beaming delight in those new eyes for they seemed to be welcoming a change already. Amid modestly edible dal, rice, chapatis and aalo, we ate compassionately, in that ecstasy of being but strangers to all, yet belonging to that moment almost like a family.
Post dinner, an internet-free loosely careless ecosystem shaped up as we all sat in a circle on the garden grass, and beautiful sub-sonic vibrations phenomenalized not much to talk, but too much to be shared. I knew I'd hate myself for it, but I did speak on. I spoke of stories, of why life was beautiful when questioned and tortured, and snapshots of Gramya Manthan '13 which flashed back in my mind as times that almost did not exist, yet those deeply engraved scars on my being reminded me that they surely did.
Promising enthusiastic Young men and ladies with enigma in those beautiful eyes surrounded me, and the beast inside me wanted to savor the knowledge and logic behind those smiling faces. My mind humbly reminded me that our times of GM'13 were gone, and all I could do was touch a few lives and enroll a few as to-be-remembered companions. And so I looked forward to walking up Saturday morning to taste my bit of the delicious experiential recipe that lay ahead.
The sky was blue in the most beautiful hue, and as untouched freshness of that air filled each molecule of what constitutes me, standing on the rooftop, I spread my arms to encompass the beauty that nature gifts us every morning. I felt like a carefree young boy, slowly walking around with eyes eager to watch and never forget those passing moments. This was my day of conquest, conquest over negatives that I had been pinning on myself for those 365 days of past. It was my day of embracing life with a smile of difference and hope.
As I walked downstairs, I saw three souls walk out of their caves, my to-be-friends-and-more, and we joined in common cherish to welcome the beauty of the morning. We walked on, capturing the serenity of tall old tress with branches hugging the road like a grandfather's embrace. The birds were in ecstasy and sang their love for sweet droplets of rain, and their soon to being one with the thirsty Earth below. A water tank reminded me of a persisting crave - a meaningless adventure I wanted to strike off my to-do. Climbing up the stairs seemed to humbly assist the disposal of my acrophobia. I was somehow blind to the view which my companions appreciated, but my eyes beamed with cheer on reaching the top of incomprehensible accomplishment. This was but one freedom - the freedom of open experience. Counting the stairs, math helped us approximate how high we just climbed, but no estimates of how high our spirits did flow.
As I walked beside her, I talked about various romances of life, and her curious eyes seemed to absorb the essence in it's entirety. She was young and untouched by scars, but her stories reminded me of mine. Peacocks, unsuccessful-climb-up-old-trees, ancient ponds, droplets of future rain, and her footsteps, which we counted for quantitative enlightenment up to the 1.5 kms we walked, yet without evaluation of how much we subconsciously traveled.
Back in our camp, my camera captured young innocent smiles, and the hard work of our veterans which that inner eye could comprehend. We sat in circles, all but equals, and talked about the power that individual consciousness generates. Faith, Listening, Empathy,  Dreams, Design, Transformation - Internal and Worldly, Perspective, Discontentment for Progression and appreciating the Roots of our existence.
It was soon that we bid adieu to those beautiful grounds, to travel to the transformational lands of Indus, which for me was revisiting a bright star I would never wish to move on from. We sat together far away from that silence humming with tiny scattered sparks of activity in the bus. I made her let her hair loose, so she could feel cold breeze rapture past embracing each strand of her beautiful hair. She made me sing, husky as it would be in her words, and we laughed in convulsion of cheerful pleasure exploding inside.
The night did come, and as Indus flashed in it's permanence, those walls hiding aging mysteries of numerous stories, origin of some of which lay deep within me. The night to come was to carve another mark in memory, and like dodging laser-like censor of vision, we stole our way through unknown terrain, only to reach a peak from where stars so appeared just within our fingers' reach. We drew shapes up in the night sky coloured with moonlight shining bright, nicknamed the mighty interstellar beasts of Moon and Morning Sun, secretly traced the trajectories of dark and light clouds, and did stretch the bandwidth of mental existence, partly by words, partly by experiences.
The sun rose high, and I was to say Goodbye. Goodbye to those spirits who melted into mine and bound well to be friends and brothers. Goodbye to the amazing enthusiasm of a minuscule perspective-shift that Youth Alliance instilled. Goodbye to so many pending adventures, instances of which GM'13 made me live, but which had aged old in my memories now, to be catalyzed by stories of this new generation of Change agents.

*Gramya Manthan is a Self-Reflection-cum-Rural-Immersion program set in Rural Kanpur.
http://youthallianceofindia.org/gramya-manthan/

I, Fulfilled.

1. A bed of fresh morning Roses
2. That Seagull by the Horizon far away
3. Infant bricks and mortar
4. Conquest of the Holy Ganges

5. An Existential odyssey up the Mighty Himalayas
6. Seduction in her sister's beautiful eyes

7. Unassailable exotic castle without walls
8. Tiny feet in Father's shoes
9. The Wise old King's last battle
10. Reflections on the Sands of Forgotten time

SportsVilla - Notes from the Diary

The initiative I am a part of envisions a healthier society where Sports are a part of life for every individual and family. My motivation for participation in InterSeliger are the Forum’s objectives – Empowerment/Engagement of global youth, Cooperation in social/political/economic aspects, Networking with domain speclialists/experts, Understanding global business/scientific/cultural/media/organizational trends, Providing comprehensive support and channelization for idea-materialization – which resonate perfectly towards catalyzing our growth for making this vision of ours become a reality.

In India, where Sports Industry is one of the most disorganized sectors, Sports as a part of everyday life for a common Indian is a romantic fantasy, let alone be a permanent career choice. With such huge potential and limitless talent in the people of my country, it is but unfortunate that even after 65 years of Independence, we have just produced a handful of legendary Sportsmen. Meanwhile the ordinary man still struggles for survival without the basic-most of needs, while living an unhealthy stressful lifestyle. This is a major contributor in lowering down life expectancy, hindering our fight against number of ailments – physical and mental, and decreasing the happiness-cum-satisfaction quotient of people in general.

Here, I see an opportunity for change. With initial efforts towards increasing availability of Sports facilities to one and all, our long term aim is to cause a shift in mindset – a Sportsolution (Revolution in Sports) not just for the people of my nation, but for every human who seeks a healthier lifestyle. My expectations from InterSeliger in terms of knowledge and expertise are directed towards making this transformation a reality. Broadly, Growth and Sustainable development, along and Innovation and Enterprise, would be the foundation stones of our initiative. With bidirectional experience sharing, I do wish to get inspired, and maybe inspire some others on the way.

Globalized world of Tomorrow - InterSeliger

The world of today is technologically borderless. We live in a well-connected civilization where physical territorial boundaries are incapable of binding information, knowledge and learning. This enables us to efficiently communicate to a vastly more diverse, rich and global community. InterSeliger does go one step ahead and catalyzes this connectedness of a global society but giving us an opportunity to network with some of the most exceptional young people on the planet, about to transform the way we live life. Any agent of change would want positive transformation to touch as many lives as possible, and the multiculturalism of InterSeliger brings us all closer to that goal. Not only by helping us share our ideas, vision and passion, but also by giving us a glimpse in the wonderful work other young passionate people are involved with all around the world.

Issues like high economic poverty, hunger, high mortality rates, unsafe water supplies, poor education systems, corrupt governments, war and poor sanitation, among many others, can be fought only with collaborative ideation followed by action. Unless the youth of today holds hands and comes together in collective action, escaping such ‘poverty traps’ will not be sustainably possible. This makes me see immense potential in the platform that InterSeliger provides, where together under one roof, we share our vision for a better future, brainstorm, indulge in rapid prototyping, critically evaluate, accept, and become contributors to others’ visions, while enrolling many others in ours.

Globalization is the revolution of today. And the tomorrow I see, is a better future built on top of collaborative action. While technology assists communication, platforms like InterSeliger will actually ‘connect’ us together to be a part of the same odyssey.