54th Sawai Gandharva - 2006

Disclaimer: This blog has nothing to do with Classical Music. It's a casual view of an evening at the famous Sawai Gandharva Sangeet Mahotsav, Pune, Year 2006.

Sawai Gandharva – If you are an ardent Puneite, this name shouldn’t bring any folds on your forehead. You already know what this is. For others, this is the official definition of the Sawai Gandharva.

Sawai Gandharva: A legendary live show that is being organized every December to showcase the Ultimate Legends of Indian Classical music. Year 54th.

This is the 7th or 8th consecutive year that I have been in the audience of this show. If that constitutes to be of any importance, then I can be considered as one of the Legends of the Sawai Gandharva. But, in here, I am not going to give you a peek at the actual show or the actual onstage performance. Today, I’ll be telling you about the unofficial Sawai Gandharva. The onstage folks are pretty huge in stature, for a timid person like me to comment anything about them. I am going to tell you my experience of just one evening at this show. The date was 8th December 2006.

I’ll start with the reason why I am here…every year. My mother is an excellent classical singer. She is, in fact, a qualified Sangeet Visharad. Thus, Sawai Gandharva is a sort-of guest lecture for all the aspiring as well as interested people. Now, years and years ago, when I used to be an adolescent, my mother never allowed me stay away from home, till late in the night. I used to be at home by max. 10 o’clock. After that, mostly it was either studies or going off to bed. Sawai Gandharva used to be a night show in those days. It used to start at 9 p.m. and then get over at seven in the morning. By nature, I am a nocturnal animal. But this natural instinct is always beyond the understanding of any parent. Especially if you are a Maharashtrian, then being at home by 8 in the evening, adds the ‘He is a very Good Boy’ status to your ‘Curriculum Vitae’. The Sawai Gandharva Sangeet Mahotsav (SGSM) was the only way for me to stay out late in the night. At times, if it wasn’t possible for mom for attend the show, I used to go with my grandfather (my mom’s dad). He too is a regular attendee of the show, but not for the reason for which I used to be there. He, like my mom, is a fan of Pt. Bhimsen Joshi, Pt. Jasraj, Pt. Jeetendra Abhisheki and many such legends of the fantastic Indian Classical Music. My mom never banned me from going to this show. For her, these were the formative years of my ears; may be with a daydream that one fine day she might have a chance to sit in the front row at the SGSM, watching her only son performing with a bevy of the best musicians in India. I did learn the tabla for almost 3 years. As per my Guru, his shishya (i.e. me) was a great player and had the potential to make something in this field. But as per his shishya, it wasn’t his piece of cake. So I left the classes. Thus, the SGSM was my only way to spend the night out, and honestly speaking my mom knew this. My dad used to assist her at times. His knowledge and interest for classical music is lower than mine and way lower than mom’s. Then why did he go there! Well mostly because it used to be late in the night. The venue, the playground of a popular school ‘New English School – Raman Baugh’, is quite far away from our home. So he used to be her physical support and body guard. Sweet husband isn’t he! After reaching there, mom used to make it sure that I sit for a few performances and listen to some good notes, ragas, aalaaps and surrs. But this wasn’t possible after the first 30 minutes. After that, it was my time to enjoy the show, my way. “Give me the money” was my demand, and probably the fees to escort mom. Handing over of a note of fifty rupees, she warned me not to spend the whole of it. I used to assure her with my fingers crossed and then…FREEDOM! The whole night is mine. For the whole night, there are stands which sell Dosas, Pav-bhaji, tea, coffee, Music CD’s, cassettes and many more avenues that lead to the non-classical-music arena of the SGSM. That was my main attraction. Since the past 3 years, the Pune Municipal Corporation has banned night shows. Thus, the SGSM starts at 3 p.m. and gets over by 12. Result…No Change. People still attend it with equal enthusiasm. It’s the love and passion for SGSM that brings them here. And by people, I mean the whole of India as well as the World. This is no exaggeration. Mostly Puneites, but people do come from all over the world just to witness the legendary performances. The magic of The Sawai reigns the hearts of thousands.

Eight Years, the scene is the same. But last night, was something different; different because this time I didn’t have to ask mom for the fifty rupee note. Nothing else has changed for me at least. But today I had decided to approach this very maturely. I went and sat near mom. There are 3 basic ways by which you can watch the show.

1. Be a V.I.P. and grab free passes to the V.I.P. seats. Those are the front row cushioned seats. These people aren’t supposed to pay anything.
2. Pay 1600 rupees and you get to sit on plastic or vinyl chairs. Passes for these are also available, if you have the right contact.
3. Pay 100 rupees and sit, lie down, relax, sleep, snore on the carpet. They call it the ‘Bharatiya Baithak’, meaning the Indian style of sitting i.e. you sit down on the ground with your legs crossed. Why they call it so, is totally oblivious to me. Honestly! I have seen many foreigners who can actually sit that way. Thus the Indianness in this way of sitting is no where to be seen. Except for the loo, there is no distinctive Indian way of sitting. It’s a myth and a secret that the Indian Govt. wants to hide from the world. It shouldn’t be a surprise if they patentize it some day.

Initially, dad had some contact who knew of mom’s passion for classical music. Hence, we used to get the Option 2 passes for free. Then that contact, somehow, faded off and thus the chance to sit on the chairs was also lost. So we decided to buy these passes. But the enthusiasm of Puneites to grab these passes is extremely high. So much so that the outlet where they sell these passes, opens at 9 a.m. in the morning and people queue-up from 1 a.m. And since mom wasn’t aware of this ruthless cut-throat competition, we lost these passes too. The passes were over within a jiffy. Imagine the “60% sale on Sarees” crowd. It’s exactly the same way people throng these outlets!

Thus, mom and I sat down on the ground. There are giant screens that broadcast the show for those who sit far away from the stage. The cameras and the sound team are very professional, exactly the way a cricket match is broadcasted. Maa thought, her good lad would be there by her side throughout the night. But after sitting still for a few moments, I gave up. I had started feeling hungry, thirsty and everything that could happen to an unstable-minded person.

The whole place is absolutely well lit. It’s mostly because people should be able to read the sponsors hoardings and billboards. Right from “Shri Ganesh tutions for standard 5th to 10th” to “Godrej Appliances”, all of them are yelling out their products and services. At one point in time, I even found a hearing-aid advertisement. An old gentleman was carefully noting down the details in his small diary. Wasn’t this the perfect place for him to be! Moving ahead, I decided to have a cup of hot coffee because it’s December and it’s Pune. Now usually if you have to grab a cup of coffee the dialogues are a bit different. Here you have to actually plead and be on you knees to reach the main shop. There are at least 30 people in front of every shop. So you have to push, pull, squeeze yourself, if need be then slaughter, choke or even shoot someone to go ahead. And even if you finally manage to reach the front counter, there are ten hands stretched out in the cashiers face. With an emotionless face, the man or woman on the counter keeps snatching money from each hand and shouts out the order placed by the customer. “1 pav-bhaji, 5 tea, 3 coffee, 2 dosa, no madam we don’t have Expresso, 2 poha, 7 regular thali”, the guy was on fire at that point of time. And in that utter chaos if you get what you ordered, then that has to be flashed as breaking news on “Aaj Tak”. Just then one gentleman flashed a thousand rupee note in front of the cashier. Stylishly (probably because there was a girl besides him), the fellow asked “1 coffee.” I request all of you to please stand and give the cashier a round of applause. The coffee was for six rupees and the “Texas State University” student (at least that’s what his jersey indicated), had taken out a thousand rupee bill. The cashier, in return, just gave a thousand watt smile and said “Sir, change please. I just went out off change.” I felt like going on the stage and announce his name with full honor and respect. The ‘Texas’ fellow returned the money to his pocket and said “Oh shats! Even I don’t have a change man.” Saying so, he returned back to the crowd along with the girl. Nice going dude! You just saved yourself six rupees and your dignity seems to be intact in the girl’s mind. I took out my ten bucks and said “one coffee.” The fellow took the money, and returned back the change. In just a second, I had someone else’s order in my hand and with one hand high up in the air, squeezed my way through the strugglers behind me. With one hand in my pocket I sipped on the coffee just to realize that I had got a hot and sweet “masala milk” cup instead of coffee. I looked back at the crowd and then stared at the menu board hung outside the shop. It said “Coffee – Rs. 6, Masala Milk – Rs. 10.” Believe me, I am a nice guy. I seriously don’t intend to rob anyone. But screeching my way back, just to return four bucks seemed to be an inappropriate idea at that moment.

Still sipping at my cup I kept walking to an audio CD and cassettes stall. The front table was arranged with a huge collection by the best and the legends of Indian classical music. Pt. Jasraj, Pt. Bhimsen Joshi, Sanjeev Abhyankar, Uday Bhavalkar, Malini Rajurkar, Zakir Hussain, Bismillah Khan, Pt. Shivkumar Sharma, Justin Timberlake, Ustad Vilayat Khan, Pt. Hariprasad Chowrasiya…wait a minute. Justin Timberlake! What, Why, How would this fellow be sitting in here. There must have been some sort of spiritual thinking behind the music stall owner’s decision to put this piece of art at this venue. Interestingly, one ‘COOL’ dude had a copy of this CD in his hand and he was checking out the list of songs on the back cover. More interestingly, there was again a cute girl by his side. I picked up a Sanjeev Abhyankar collection and started browsing through its list. It wasn’t a long one, just a couple of ragas, 35 minutes each. The ‘Justin Timberlake’ fan then kept the CD down and he and his girl then glided away to the next stall. The cute girl, before leaving, turned back for a second and looked at my face. We did exchange smiles and then coyly I looked back at Sanjeev’s face on the CD. Classical Singers do have a glow on their face. It’s probably because they are doing something they are passionate about. I bought the CD for mom. She is a huge Sanjeev Abhyankar fan. My parents had met him once after a show. He is known to be calm, poised and very intelligent; a maestro that he is.

As I said before, I am a regular at the SGSM. By now, I can easily make out the real followers of classical music and the fakers. Here’s how even you can detect them. First of all, they all look the same. So what’s the trick! A true Sawaian will never leave his seat, come what may. Except for an occasional cup of tea or some light snack or for a natures call, these people stay glued to their place till the end of the show. If they don’t get a place near the stage or near one of the screens, they sit around the speakers. Sawai Gandharva is about listening. Even if you don’t get to see the artiste, doesn’t matter. These people even keep cassette recorders near the speaker set so that they can listen to their favorites, till eternity. They don’t like anyone disturbing them so most of them will be found highly engrossed. Not a word. Not a movement unless their body gets uncomfortable in one position.

Now for the fakers: Now don’t you dare call me a phony. I have admitted my reasons to be here. And it’s not that I am totally ignorant to classical music. I don’t have the depth, the discipline and the maturity (in music only) to learn something of such a high altitude. But I do like instrumental music. I remember, when I was a kid, Pt. Hariprasad Chowrasiya had performed at the SGSM. He was so ultimate that I had decided to learn the flute at that very moment. I had even daydreamt about performing at the Sawai Gandharva and the Pune Festival. But then Pt. Shivkumar Sharma spelt his magic on the Santoor and thus changed by dream. Every year, except for this year, I have lived the lives of these legends in my dreams. I even used to have a National Award and probably few Grammy’s on my teakwood showcase. Talking about finding the wanna-be followers of classical music. These people will be seen gathering in groups and sharing some sort of baseless, hopeless, senseless, non-musical joke with their pals. They notice the moon, the chill in the air, the tasteless pav-bhaji, the pretty girls around, the pathetic guys with the pretty girls. I even saw a few people, discussing business over their mobile. Some of them have the guts to be in the crowd and stretch out totally. Some of them even snore. An occasional loud note of the tabla wakes them up. They then change their position, wipe their wet mouth and keep their vocal performance going.

There’s one more thing about this show. You get to see many good-looking, marriage-material girls in here. This does not mean that girls who don’t attend the show or don’t like classical music aren’t actually marriage material. (I am a bachelor. I have to play it safe guys.) But the girls who come for SGSM are very homely, simple girls. No happening babes roam around this campus. Classical music is a boring subject for many people. Believe me guys, you see Pt. Jasraj performing live in here, and you’ll know what Goddess Saraswati looks like. You can actually feel your mind steadying. Your heart beats consistently. I am a layman in this area but even I have experienced it.

The night kept flowing perfectly. The air was very cool. Maestros exhibited the best of their performances. I don’t understand classical music much but I must admit I love to be here. Music is something that runs through my blood. It comes to me as an instinct. Sawai Gandharva is something that my childhood has experienced. There are bygone memories of immature childish nights. The place has never changed and that is its best part. Simplicity, divineness, a spiritual experience and an experience of a life time; that’s ‘Sawai Gandharva’ for me. Ok that was an utter bluff. I still feel the cute girl doesn’t go with the ‘Justin Timberlake’ guy, but can’t help it. All I did was smile back at her. All she did was turn her head to the guy and walk away. I returned back to the same stall, to get a Pav-bhaji and to return his 4 rupees back.

When souls drift - Part 7

The whole narration was a huge secret unfolded before Sanjeev. He was dumbfounded. Tears rolled down his eyes. Raj slowly approached the cold man and sat on the floor in front of him. He held Sanjeev’s hands in his and looking straight in his eyes said “Sanjeev, I know this has been a great shock for you too. For 25 years I lived a lavish and stylish life and I know what both of you must have been through. I had captured your right till now. I want to give all that you deserve. I know Savitriji had told you that your father had died just after your birth. Even dad knew this. She was a very brave lady. But now that both of them are no more with us, we can come together and be a family. Can’t we? Please Sanjeev…please forgive dad…please…pl….”and then both of them burst out in tears.

Sanjeev kept his hands on Raj’s head and caressed his younger brother. Controlling his tears he finally spoke up “Rajendra…I know and I can understand what you must be going through. All my life I missed my dad’s presence. Ironically, whenever I read anything about Mr. Vikramraj Sardesai, all I could do was to idolize him. And strangely mom never stopped me. I have seen poverty and the pains that maa took to bring her only son up. All my life I crave for everything. But sorry Raj…I can’t come with you and neither can I take anything from you. There are two reasons to this. Maa always lived in honor. I needed a father’s name and she did give it to me…Ganesh…probably because she had totall faith in this God. Sanjeev Ganesh Joshi. That’s my identity.” saying so Sanjeev became silent.

Staring deeply in his brother’s eyes Raj stated “I can understand Sanjeev... I too respect maa very much…but…anyways…and what is the second reason?”

Very steadily and calmly Sanjeev he got up from the chair and opened the showcase. Raj was still sitting on the floor, his eyes following his brother. Sanjeev then handed over a small family photograph to Raj. From the first look itself anybody could make out that this was Sanjeev’s family. A smiling and contented family; a small baby in the arms of its mother and Sanjeev smiling besides them.

“It’s my nephew or niece?” Raj felt a great sense of pride and happiness inside him. This joy was much better than the grief of losing his father. He could see a new family bonding.

“Oh, it’s a boy. We took this picture an year ago.” Sanjeev replied with a smile.

“So where are they? I want them too.” Raj became a little impatient and a lot excited.

“I know Raj I am being selfish right now. I won’t ask for a promise or any sort of commitment. It’s utterly your choice. I won’t be able to come with you but if it is possible, please take my family along with you. Anjali, my wife and my son Abhay, both don’t stay with me. They……they stay with her parents. We meet everyday but then they leave in the afternoon.” Sanjeev was hesitant yet very clear in his talk. He was crying again.

“But why? Is there some sort of a dispute or something? Could I help you out? Sanjeev, I crave for a family. This is the best gift for me. And even you people deserve all the joys, don’t you! Please…what is it…” Raj was literally begging before his helpless brother.

“It’s not a family issue Raj. It can never be. Anjali is too good a person to break anyone’s heart. It is me who asked them to leave this place. I had to Raj, I had to.”

Raj thought this was a total repetition of what his father had done to Savitri. He almost yelled at Sanjeev “But Why…”

Sanjeev calmly looked in his younger brother’s eyes and said “After 30 years…my cancer surfaced Raj! Maximum 5 months. I don’t my son to go through all this. I literally forced Anjali out of this place. The treatment won’t be any good and I don’t want my family to pay for it after I am gone.”

A month later

Raj introduced Anjali and Abhay to their home. Sanjeev was admitted to one of the largest hospitals in city. Raj was trying his level best to save his brother but to no avail. They all knew their destiny. They all knew they lost a lot but they gained something out of it. Something and someone!

The End

When souls drift - Part 6

This was it; the ultimate blow on Sanjeev’s mind. The respect and honor for Raj suddenly diminished and all of a sudden he stood up. His forehead and eyes narrowed and staring at Raj all that he could his say was “What the…!”

“Relax…please relax and sit down Sanjeev. I know this is too much for you but please let me complete the whole story. And please do not interrupt before I finish. Please sit down.”

The perspiring Sanjeev sat back slowly and went silent. Raj’s request to remain silent till he finishes was unnecessary for him. He was already speechless.

Raj continued with a huge sigh. “29 years ago, our father Vikramraj married Savitriji i.e. your mother...in fact…our mother. This was a love marriage. Savitriji came from a very poor family i.e. the Joshi’s from Ratnagiri. Our grandfather and the entire Sardesai family were strictly against this love-story. Luckily dad had a nice hold on his family and thus no one had the guts to fire against him. Eventually mom settled down in the family.”

Up till now Sanjeev had at least a slight doubt that there was a huge misunderstanding. But the details given by Raj registered the assurance that this utterly true. Sanjeev’s mom was indeed Savitri who hailed from Ratnagiri. He heaved a huge sigh and tried to concentrate more on Raj’s every word. This was getting exciting every moment.

“After you were born, mom was diagnosed with some sort of cancer that shook the whole family. The doctors even said that they fear this had infected the baby too i.e. you. Vikramraj Sardesai, a young and shallow man couldn’t take this and instead of being with his son and wife he started to ignore them. He was so much affected by this sudden catastrophe that he didn’t even care to ask the doctors about the chances of your and maa’s survival. Eventually, mom was shifted to a hospital ward and later the family, including her husband, stopped visiting the hospital. Dad told me all this a day before he died. The pain of ignorance was more killing than the actual pain of the disease and its treatment. Lucky for her, that the fees of the hospital weren’t stopped. You were still a baby and till a year or so she was in the hospital. Miraculously, she was saved. The heavy treatment had taken away the entire beauty of the innocent woman. After the treatment she knew she wouldn’t be accepted by her shallow and mean husband. She wrote a letter to him and left the hospital without intimating anyone about her destination. Probably she herself wasn’t aware of it. No one knew and no one from the Sardesais cared to trace both of you. After 4 years, dad married his family’s choice…Kalyani…my mother. We were very happy till mom passed away a few months ago and utterly shocked by this, dad had a massive heart-attack. The cardiac arrest took him to the ICU where he had been admitted since the past 2 months. Last Monday he passed away, but the entire incident made him repent deeply. At times I had seen him weeping like a baby. We thought it was because he missed and loved mom too much. But this was just one reason. Last Sunday he asked the doctors to meet me urgently. He told me everything and then gave me your address. He wanted to say sorry to Savitriji…wanted to say sorry to both of you. But when he learnt that maa had passed away an year ago, he knew it was too late.”

When souls drift - Part 5

Slightly bent with a high level of nervousness he turned to Raj and said “Would you like…aaaa...would you like to have some water?”

All of a sudden Raj’s cheeks and chin started shaking. His eyes turned red and all of a sudden he broke down again. By this time Sanjeev was intensely shocked by this new scene before him. He could not understand the way to handle this scenario. Sanjeev was almost trying to calm his heartbeats when all of a sudden Raj bent down and touched his feet.

“What…Mr. Rajendra…please, what are you doing…please get up…sit here” trying his level best Sanjeev was pacifying the young man. He made Raj sit on the couch and ran inside to fetch a glass of water. The earthen pot was almost empty but Sanjeev could get at least a glass for the man in grief. While Raj gulped down every drop, Sanjeev stood by his side and patted him on his back.

“Thanks…Sanjeev, can I get a cup of coffee…please!”
The duo then sat in front of each other; Raj sat on the couch while Sanjeev sat on a creeky black steel chair. Sanjeev had now worn a shirt and a trouser. The old pajama and the torn yellow baniyan were shed-off and lay strewn on the bedroom floor inside.

After a full 30 minutes of speechless atmosphere, Raj looked at the totally puzzled Sanjeev. The poor fellow wanted to ask Raj the reason of his arrival but in no way had he the guts to say so. The suspense was killing him. All sorts of negative questions ran through his mind. But in know way could he figure out absolutely anything.

Raj broke the silence.

“Sanjeev…the day before Mr. Vijayraj Sardesai i.e. my father passed away.”

“Yes I know that. I mean…the whole world was shocked. He was really a great man. You must be really grieved by his absence.” Raj tried to be as consoling as possible.

Raj continued “I know…he was a great man! Tell me something Sanjeev. Did you ever meet him…ever…even once? In the last 30 years of your life, has he ever been anywhere near you or your family?”

Sanjeev nodded in negation and continued “Please sir…please tell me what’s the matter? If unknowingly I have committed a mistake then please tell me. You are almost killing me. I am a small person Mr. Rajendra. I mean why would he want to meet me? I work as an accountant in the bank. Even if he ever visited our bank, he would have surely met the Manager or someone above him. Why would such great man ever meet me?”

Raj gave a sharp look at the nervous fellow and continued “Why! Strange that you are asking this question Sanjeev! Strange that Vikramraj Sardesai’s elder son is asking this.”

When souls drift - Part 4

The man who had gone inside to get Sanjeev then came out holding the hands of a young man in his early thirties. Looking at Raj, this man too rejoiced in utter surprise and joined his hands to welcome the celebrity.

“Oh Mr. Sardesai! I…I mean… you… what… please… please…come in. What a surprise!” the nervous fellow couldn’t say anything more than this.

“Sanjeev…Sanjeev Joshi, from the State Bank of India?” Raj wanted to be sure he was meeting the right person.

“Yes…I am Sanjeev Joshi. Please come in Sir, please sit here.” The nervousness continued.

Raj, without saying a word, kept on staring at the Sanjeev. Both the men were very astonished on seeing Rajendra Sardesai in front of them. Raj totally ignored the other fellow and sat on the couch, still looking at Sanjeev’s astonished face. He now breathed heavily and shook inside his suit.

“Sanju…wait I’ll call Rohan. Sir, Rohan is my son. 15 years old…Sir. My family would love to meet you...Sir” Sanjeev’s neighbor was about to step out of the house.

“Excuse me…wait…Mister…!” Raj stopped the excited man.

“Prakash Sharma…Sir” the man introduced himself.

“Mr. Sharma, I am really honored by your respect, but you see I have come to meet Sanjeev here. I would surely love to meet your family but…” looking hesitantly at Sanjeev he said “…but could you please…please leave us alone for some time. It’s very important.”

This statement shook both the neighbors. Sharma was stunned that a man like Rajendra Sardesai had something important to share with a middle-class man like Sanjeev Joshi. On the other hand, Sanjeev was not only shocked but a bit intimidated. The enthusiasm was suddenly crushed and the trio went silent for a few seconds.

“Sure Sir…I will leave, but please don’t go without meeting me and my family Sir. It’s not everyday that people like us get to meet a personality like you…Sir.” Prakash almost bent on his knees as if he could fall at Raj’s feet any moment. A slight wave at Sanjeev and Mr. Sharma hurried out of the door.

Raj looked at Sanjeev and said “Could we please close the door!”

“Oh yes sure, sure!” Sanjeev hurriedly shut the main door. By now he was literally perspiring with fear and excitement.

When souls drift - Part 3

A sigh mixed the sound of the rain water; a sigh which reflected excitement and a lot of nervousness. He looked at the stairs and started ascending them slowly towards the third floor. A gulp went down his throat as he ascended each step at a time. He was very mechanical in his walk. Occasional sounds of the T.V. came from closed off-white doors. Some old woman was chatting in her neighbor’s living room. Looking at the drenched Raj she stopped her unnecessary and useless discussion and after a brief glance at him continued with it. Raj ignored everyone and slowly reached the third floor. Clad in an off-white baniyan and a blue checkered lungi a middle aged man was wiping his feet to a foot rug.

“Whom do you want?” he inquired the puzzled and stressed out Raj.

Moving his hands over his head, Raj tried to comb his wet hair with his two palms. Looking at the gentleman he said “Sanjeev…Sanjeev Joshi”.

“Aren’t you…Rajendra Sardesai!” the innocent fellow went ecstatic. He vigorously shook hands with the highly successful businessman. Raj saw a huge fan in the man’s eyes.

“Could you please tell me where Sanjeev lives?”

“Here, this way, come sir…please come…Sanjuuuu…a Sanjuuuuu…Sanjuuuuuu” the fellow welcomed Raj as if he were his own guest.

Raj removed his shoes and placed tried to place them on the shoe rack. The old wooden rack was already filled with shoes, an old rug, some toy, a small plant in a very filthy pot. He kept his shoes near the rack and looked at the living room of Sanjeev Joshi’s small home. The walls were very light blue in color. A small effigy of the laughing Buddha faced the door. An old showcase was placed in the corner of the room. A mattress lay on the floor with a few corners all torn out. A brown couch faced the television. The room had two doors, one showing the balcony and the other showing the kitchen. A very inexpensive poster of Aishwarya Rai was stuck on one of the walls. The entire look narrated the simplest life possible for Raj. His bathroom would be more expensive than the whole 750 sq. feet block that Sanjeev Joshi lived in.

When souls drift - Part 2

It was raining heavily in both the places; outside the car and inside Raj. He sped as if he was eager to meet his death in a road accident. The tires screeched and so did his heart. Calmly he looked at the newspaper which was lying on the adjacent seat. The car came to a sudden halt in such a way that a huge truck almost crashed into it. Unperturbed by the other vehicles passing by, Raj looked at his father’s picture in the headlines of ‘The Times Of India’. All he asked looking at the picture was “Why dad…why! Why did you do this?”

Without caring about the torrential rains he stepped out of the car. His lavish clothes were drenched in no time. In the rains it is always easy to cry like a baby. No one to notice; except you!

“Excuse me…” He asked this to a passerby who was in a great hurry to reach his home. Even after holding the umbrella, the old man was drenched in the rainwater.

“Where is Shantikunj Apartment?”

The old fellow pointed to an old building across the street and walked away. Even after being such a huge celebrity, his entire appearance covered his true identity. The old man’s mind did try to travel back in time and was trying to figure out the identity of the handsome yet worn-out face. He gave up in a few seconds and hurried in the opposite direction. Raj was totally unaware of whatever place he was in. Never ever, in his entire life, had he seen this part of the city. The roads had seen tar at least 5 years ago. Grocery shops, fruit vendors, vegetable stalls, cattle and numerous parked two wheelers completed the whole

scene. Raj’s Mercedes had become an issue of great wonder for all the vagabonds of the alley. He himself looked like a total misplaced thing in the small world of that middle class geography. The road had very few vehicles. He crossed the road and entered the creaky gates of the “Shantikunj Apt.”.

The rusty board on the building could barely tell the location of its residents. Raj narrowed his eyes and in the heavy rains his eyes started descending the list of people. Suddenly at the third floor he fixated on a name and muttered to himself,

“Flat number 16…A-Wing…Sanjeev Joshi”

When souls drift - Part I

“Vikramraj Sardesai”! He calmly moved his fingers over the small plate that bore this name and which was nailed to the beautiful gold frame. The elegant and dynamic Vikramraj looked handsome even at the age of 52 and this photograph was a proof of that man’s stature and personality. His father was a great man, he knew it, and all that he could think of at that point in time, was every single moment that he had spent with him; especially before his father breathed his last. Wiping off the tears he picked up the heavy photo-frame and hung it on the wall of his swanky cabin. Very calmly he then lit the diya kept on the brown teak plank in front of the huge frame. The fragrance of the agarbatti mixed with that of the garland, then filled the entire room. Clasping his hands tightly he kept on staring at his father’s eyes and all of a sudden burst out in tears. “Rajendra Sardesai” – Age-26, Times-Businessman of the Year and a huge corporate celebrity was finally crying his heart out after avoiding the shutterbugs that wanted to cover his father’s funeral. Out of all the moments, the only ones to run through his mind were the last few hours that he had spent with his father in the ICU. His father had talked for 15 minutes before the cardiogram went totally silent. Vikramraj was an idol for generations and Rajendra (Raj) was his biggest admirer. A huge secret was let out in those 15 minutes; a secret that made a sharp impact on his father’s image. With a final shaky sigh he raised his head and after a brief glance at his father’s portrait he turned back and left the room. The entire staff was about to leave for the day. Without caring about anyone’s good-byes & greetings he just trotted out of the office and towards the parking lot.

‘Bahadur’, his driver had just lit his cigarette and was resting his back against the black shining Mercedes. Raj suddenly appeared before him, and startled by this sudden appearance of the big boss, the man nervously dropped the cigarette. Looking at the red eyes, the driver went speechless and doddering with utter fear he simply dropped the cigarette. He had done nothing wrong; even he knew it. But the sheer presence of his ‘Chote Sahib’ took the hell out of him. A few seconds went very silent. Raj looked at the fallen cigarette and bent down to pick it up. Bahadur stepped back a bit. Raj held the cigarette in front of him. It was still burning.

“Take this…there’s nothing to fear about” he assured Bahadur with utter coldness in his voice.

Shaking and still not sure about what he was doing, Bahadur simply took the half-crippled, half –lit nicotine stick.

“Keys” Raj asked with a raised hand.

“I…I…I am sorry Sahib! I won’t smoke again. This won’t happen ever again.” Bahadur was almost on his feet.

“I said Relax! Just give me the car keys. I would be driving the car myself today. There’s nothing to worry about.” Raj said this with a very shaky voice. The redness of his eyes had grown now.

“Sahib…you relax sahib…Tell me where we have to go. I’ll take you there. You don’t seem to be in…”

“Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyssssssss” Raj yelled so harshly that the entire parking lot echoed with his voice. A few other people, who were leaving for the day, started looking at the two men; as if Bahadur was being fired by his boss. Stunned by this sudden hysteric verbal attack, Bahadur stumbled to get the keys out of his pocket and handed them over to Raj. Ina few minutes, the black machine raced out of the parking lot.

When Rome was burning...

Just imagine a colony of ants. One fine day an ant finds a large sack of sugar. She traces her way back to the colony and intimates the whole lot about this new found food stock. The entire colony gets together to collects every single grain of sugar until the sack is totally empty. This process goes on for a month till the sack was half its original weight. One morning the owner of the sack came to know about this so he started killing the ants with his foot. He tried every way to eradicate the whole lot of ants, but to no avail. Despite their fellow ants got killed, the other ants had to work because without this their survival was impossible.

Mumbai is the sack, the ants are the mumbaikars. I am an ardent Puneite and have been in Mumbai since the past 1.5 years. The place is a huge mess and we can do nothing about it. Mumbai, in spite of being one the most active and prosperous cosmo city in the world, is the most unorganized city in the whole world. People in here live for a single purpose and that is to 'live'. The poor are used by the richest as a political edge and the middleclass doesn't care cause he doesn't have the purpose to care. Why would anyone do anything about a neighbor's burning house when his own home is on fire?

The software industry has a huge money-market with less work to do. Today a billable resource (i.e. The Great ME) is writing this mail. Such mails can only trigger a nice way to waste as much time as we want with the boss appraising you as a best employee.

We are the modern ‘Neros’ of the new Roman empire and all of us are fiddling when actually are Rome is burning.

The Man, The Machine, The Material - Part 2(conclude)

The problem with my generation is a need of instancy. The 'Right Here, Right Now' attitude is
fantastic at times. It gives an attitude of 'I will win' constantly. But this also gives the
attitude of 'I have to win'. A small loss is then seen as a personal disgrace. Thus, if the
failures sustain, a person starts losing faith and confidence in himslef. This chnages his
personality to an extent that he starts seeing himself as a thorough loser. I have seen people
who have immense potential in them but they can't judge it. Even if you show them the light they keep looking at their dark shadow. The point of saying all this is that only at this point of
their life are people very humble, very considerate, very vulnerable. People pity them and that
acts as buffer to their broken self-esteem. The moment a person gains that confidence, he starts aiming at small successes. Life finally seems to have some meaning for him. It's like a small sparkle of fire in the hay. People who care to make the sparkle a huge inferno keep on adding hay to it. The fire starts building up and when it is in its full self, it starts feeling its own strength. It feels the heat & light it is spreading. Uptil this time it is perfectly fine for the fire to feel like the Sun himself. But what it forgets is the hay on which it was raised. Sooner or later it will need more of it to grow its flares. And this is possible only if the fire didn't forget to warm the hands that helped it to reach till here. Synonymous to this is our attitude. There's no crime or sin in growing and reaching new heights. What one must remember is that it is better to grow big than to fly high. The destination to the top is achieved in any case, whether you grow big or you fly high. The difference is the contact with the ground. I know guys/gals who feel that stress occurs due to involvement in any relationship. Agreed, in fact I support the fact that too much involvement in anyone or anything does bind your growth. But that doesn't support to shrug off ones responsibilities towards a relationship. We all come across "friends" who love to have a nice time with you in the rain. Ask some of them to come for a necessary walk in the afternoon. The ones who don't hesitate a bit are the friends. The others, I would say, are just acquaintances.
I know that many of you might question "What's wrong in being practical in Life!" Practicality
should never be replaced with selfishness or self-centredness. We all owe a lot to the society and people surrounding us. The only action is to stretch out your hand. And when you do so, keep in mind that you are not supposed to blow your own trumpet and tell the world how big your heart is. combining both the parts I might have said what the world has already said a million times. The problem is a million other hear this but not listen to it.

The Man, The Machine, The Material - Part - I

Hello World! This is my first ever blog and I thank you very much for being here.My views and my ideas! Well, everyone thinks highly of his mindset, his views, and his ideologies. Nothing wrong in it cause that's the most effective way to boost your own self-esteem. If I think high of ever little thing I do, I naturally give that sense of 'I' to self. But there's something deep to this thought. Questions arise and fall. Senses are touched and even before I think of "Achievement", the first question pops up, "Where am I going and without whom?".

Today's world is literally getting smaller and smaller. People communicate without any bounds.
The physical self of a human being is the only communication limit that the world holds. Even
that will be solved sooner or later. The globalisation hurricane worked as good old 'Santa Claus'
for millions of people all around the world. New employment oppoertunities opened up. Dreams
started taking shape into reality. Money became a secondary need for billions. The 'achievement' feeling which used to be a pensioner's dream started being a teenager's reality. Now the bar of fulfilment was raised from 'Power' to 'Prestige', from 'money' to 'material', from 'success' to 'I'.... 'I', the eternal signature of EGO.

I belong to this clan of young enthusiasts who have many many things to give, but not share.
Young minds start thinking about making a separate identity as soon as possible. But for us
separate identity doesnot mean making a mark. It means separating from that clan of loved ones who gave their whole life just to make us stand. These not only include our parents, but even those people, such as our friends, who unfortunately couldn't make it upto that level which makes us proud to be what we are today. I have seen/met people who feel that their monetary
'assistance' to their family is limited till their parents retire and have their provident funds,
Life Insurances in their hands. Ironically, the same parents support this view. The moment a
child (boy or girl) crosses 18 he is seen hearing statements such as "We want him/her to be
independent. After that they can take care of their family. It's okay if our child doesn't hand
over a single penny after settling down. all that we want is his/her happiness." This thought
itself is very serene. The emotions are pure. But now the idea has been seeded. "Just a few years and I'll be free!" and what does freedom mean! It means gathering of all those wants that have always been a dream. Our parents, family, "TRUE" friends hold credit to what we are. Their dreams seem to be hindrances to our materuialistic attitude. The Ego springs up. "I" work hard. "I" am making money. "I" need this right away. Snazzy outfits, latest gadgets, Overseas attractions, a duplex, a classy car; all are dreams, not needs. This realisation never comes up and when it probably does, its time to say Good Bye to that one person who waited, not for your classy car drive, but a few moments of warmth. They might gossip, they might quarrel, they might love, they might laugh, cry, sigh. What's important for them is that they are heard. The most expensive bottle of wine isn't what your old friends expect from you. They expect that hand over their shoulder, a hearty laugh in the alley and a cup of tea that might have cost you just a few pennies. In all these relationships, the material doesn't matter, but you do...