Facts n Fiction

Trying to find an address in some of the “ chiggy wiggy ” lanes of Borivali (W), I took a halt under the shade of a bus stop to figure out exactly where I was and where I should proceed next. With the little visiting card, on which was the address where I wanted to go, I tried to fan myself for some cool breeze – no use, though. I began to wipe the trickles of my sweat that streamed down from my forehead and went on to kiss my cheeks. After a few “ phews ” and “ haaas ” and " husssh ", I started looking around again. My eyeballs bounced upon an advertisement on one of the wall on the other side of the road. That was the only ad on that wall, the rest just said “ Yethe Mutu Naye ”, “ Yahan Peshaab Karna Mana Hai ”, “ Kripaya Paan Khake Na Thukein ”, “ Stick No Bills ”, and other similar warning messages. No one really cared to read though – three men were standing facing the wall pouring their warm feelings on the warning message that told them not to do so. Coming back to th

The glass windows, Quaked in terror. And the curtains, Curled up in fear. The decibels outside, Ruptured my ear. A noisy, smoky Diwali, Repeats this year. I sat in my patio-like balcony looking outside the glass windows. I had made sure that I had latched them airtight. Yet, they shuddered once in a while. A little time later, the same balcony from where I had enjoyed the golden-orange skies during the sunset, appeared to me like a warfront, an Indo-Pak border where constant firing continued from either side. However, I eventually composed myself to the fact that it is Diwali time, and what I thought of as bullets, bombs, and hand grenades were actually just crackers. I am amused how people enjoy Diwali in such destructive manner – personal, financial, environmental, and social as well. Ahh! Let me confess though, that I too had burst some crackers in my childhood, but soon sanity had blessed me and my father’s wallet. I had given up the act of bursting crackers long back (

All of a sudden I am feeling weary And the life too Has turned little scary May be I just realised Things are just, temporary

From where I started There was no beginning And where I head There appears to be no end Life goes in circle, some say But mine seems like an infinity

“Lakhon hai yahan dilwale, par pyaar nahi milta…” , Am I falling in love again? Yes, may be, at least with the melodies… of our good ol’ Bollywood classics. I don’t know if everyone who comes to a foreign land (an Indian out of India, I mean) feels the same. I have, ever since I came to London, been going ga-ga with Hemant Kumar, tapping on ticks-tocks of O. P. Nayyar, getting melancholic with Rafi, and so on. I have, never in particular liked Kishore Kumar (spare me), and till date Lata is a big NO (except for Luka Chuppi – Rang De Basanti ). As a matter of fact, I never had any musical favourites from the times of the golden age of our Indian cinema (the lustre has only faded now, though movies of today do fake a lot of glitter). I used to listen to anything that played on my small Philips pocket transistor, the custody of which lay in my mom’s hands most of the times during day, and then with dad during the night. Dare, I touch the black box and change the frequency. So, it was

Sunday morning, as usual, I got up lazily after 10AM, that too because of a knock on the door, it was my Manager who had brought Ganpati prasadam for us. It was Ganesh Chaturti – first day of the Ganpati festival. Had it not been for our Manager, we would have got no clue of this, in the foreign land. We then started discussing about how things are there back in India on this particular day, only to be disrupted by our empty tummies shouting for tea and breakfast. Later during the day, we planned a visit to The History Museum. I had had enough of stones, monuments, crystals, animals, birds and so on during previous day’s visit to Oxford. Yet, I accompanied the group thinking it was better than getting bored at home. Going around the glass cases in the museum showcasing stones and crystals seemed like a repetition, my legs were aching already; my eyeballs were almost to fall out looking at the old stones, of which I understood nothing, at one point calcium, lime, potassium appeared

Relishing the sweetness of modaks and festivities of Mumbai in my dreams, I woke up with the alarm clock shouting into my ears at 6.30 AM on the Saturday morning. I was headed to Oxford (yes the Oxford of the much renowned Oxford University) with couple of my other friends. As planned, we started in time and the journey was pleasant – I slept nicely in the car for most part of the journey :-D. We took a nice tour around the town and it was refreshing. The architecture and the landscapes are astonishing – see it, feel it, believe it. I got to see some colleges of fame, the cathedrals and the parks, and got an insight to their history as well – too confusing now, can’t remember most of it, as it was full of Williams, Henrys, Edwards and so on. Took a round of some adjoining museums, I would explicitly cite something about the Pitt Rivers Museum. It houses over 500,000 archaeological and anthropological collections since its foundation in 1884. Looking around the items was an experi