Mid-Day, Mumbai on the Move .... Part IV
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Link to Part I

Link to Part II

Link to Part III

continued from Part IV ....

Any Newspaper is as good as its journalists. Daily Bugle cannot be same without Peter Parker, cannot imagine Daily Planet without Clark Kent and similarly the Mid-Day cannot be same without its people on field. Mid-Day Journalists are no less than super-heroes, hiding behind their glasses, jeans and camera lens. They are real daredevils and their efforts heroic. In past they had expose on topics that even Tarun Tejpal or Aniruddha Bahal or even Deep Throat would not have thought about or dared. They wouldn’t hesitate to disguise in costumes that even the great Mithun couldn’t beet their disguise act in his movie Lucky … No time to love. By the way did any one watch this movie, Lucky … No Time to love; I wonder why the director chooses this title. Must be having a dysfunctional tool, so he must be always thinking … How Lucky he is not to have time to love, other wise his wife would discover his non-functional organ. Can someone tell this dude, that people like him are not Lucky, in most probability his neighbours are … Lucky.

You should be a Mumbaite to understand this newspaper and in-fact I would go a step further; to qualify as a true Mumbaite, you must have your daily dope of Mid-Day.

END

Mid-Day, Mumbai on the Move .... Part IV
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Link to Part I

Link to Part II

continued from Part III ....

Another section of this paper is Hit-List, it is always filled with “Stars” who never get enough space on reel-life, but they hog all the space in half of the edition. From Kim Sharma to the small time babes of Tube-world, they are splashed all over these pages. They try to enlighten us by sharing with us Gyan on their “cosmic” philosophy. There was a story about this bimbo, how she got “turned on” by Gandhi and now she is such devote vegetarian that she has given up on Milk. I think somebody forgot to explain her that Rahul Gandhi only shares his last name with Mahatma, he doesn’t have anything to do with India’s Independence movement. But then who cares about the enlightening words these lasses utter, I would just like to watch those lips move and mute the sound generated. I am sure all the gentlemen here just read these pages to enjoy and ogle at the curves on these bootyful ladies, flowing through their designer outfits.

** I have moved some text out from here, I think it was too strong (and/or offensive), I will be posting it as another post after I am done posting this entire script.

However, the best gems are embedded in Metro edition of the paper. They cover variety of stories from kitty parties in your neighborhood to the ratecard of Sabzi (Vegetables in Hindi) sold at the hawker’s cart parked under the signboard indicating “Hawker free zone”, to how Mr. Parera’s dog peed in Mrs. Patel’s veranda and to how Mr. Subramanium brought a 1985 vintage Maruti 800 from a auction.

.......... To be continued

Mid-Day, Mumbai on the Move .... Part III

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Link to part I

continued from Part II ....

Then there are others, who are so serious about their business, that one would get depressed just by reading the colored advertisement in the newspaper.

Mid-Day is the only hope on this landscape and stands like a blossomed lily in middle of a pond. It is a very refreshing daily which not only features regular national and current affair news, just like any other serious Newspaper (not Fin-Fi or TP variety).

Mid-Day have featured stories on bai (house maid in Marathi or Bombaiya-Hindi) who does Jhado-kapda-burthen (Dusting, laundry and Dishes in Hindi) and her woes, to Bobby darling and his (or hers - depending upon your sexual orientation) date of the week. They have covered the entire characters from all strata of society.

They have been entertaining train-raiders with two page of TimeOut, which has the best comic strips, crosswords, sudoko and daily horoscope. I am such a sucker for predictions by Majorie Ore (and now Shirley Bose), that I usually plan my day accordingly. If she says, “Avoid conflicts at home”, I promptly go to the store buy a piece of jewellery for my wife, than clear up the dishes after dinner, before I even dare to stare at TV. If she says, “Avoid conflicts at work”, I quietly hole up in my cube, refrain from using my Gmail account, surfing Internet or taking tea-breaks. I also avoid grumbling about workload and salary with my boss. For a change I work, not just pretend to work.

.......... To be continued

Link to Part IV of this blog

Mid-Day, Mumbai on the Move .... Part II
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This second post is coming after a gap of 3 days. I had been kept busy at work. So friends here is my next post:

continued from Part I .....

You skip few pages to their business/economic market section, you would be amazed to see how they use Zero, just like I use words – random and un-thoughtful. I recall one report that claimed that IT Professionals with 10-12 years of experience earn something like 3-3.5 million INR in India. 3 million???? When I showed this article to my boss, he hurriedly asked me to come back later. Next, I saw him going into my super-boss’s cabin. Since that day both of them have gone missing. Forget 3 million, now I am working double time to compensate the vacuum created by the dynamic duo and our ultra-super boss have made sure that our Network engineer has blocked access to the online edition of this newspaper, in-fact he is now working with Google to have an special edition for our organization which would filter all search results listing salary survey’s and job sites. I am planning to migrate to China.

Some other time in past they had quoted the US Dollars to Indian Rupee exchange rate at such a value, that many of my colleagues felt a surge of pain in their heart, luckily we had one sensible person among us, who pointed us that we were looking at this Economic Times, a Fin-Fi (Financial Fiction) Daily. Fin-Fi ... that’s a new category of literature they have created. Last I heard, Amratya Sen and Chidambaran have taken this art seriously and working on their new "Book" due to be realized by March next year.

Text Moved out **

** I have moved some text out from here, I think it was too strong (and/or offensive), I will be posting it as another post after I am done posting this entire script.

.......... To be continued

Link to Part III of this blog

Mid-Day, Mumbai on the Move ... Part I

This one again from my humor archieve, it was supposedly written as a script for a 30 minutes stand-up act (If you can believe that).

Now since this is suppose to be a 30 min affair, this would be a loooongg post. I trying to keep this simple by splitting the script in multiple Blogs. This is my first Installment

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Mid-Day, Mumbai on the Move

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There are Newspapers and then there is Mid-Day. I should confess I am addicted to this daily dispatch and I cannot get enough of it. It has traces of dope in each of its pages.

I think Mass-communication and Journalism schools should have a specialization course for reporters aspiring to be become Mid-Day writers.

There is no comparison to Mid-Day for covering World, National and City news. Look at one of the other leading National News Paper in circulation, they too are head-quartered in Mumbai but the only stories they care about are BPO-bashing or alternative sex lifestyle. Now I can understand articles about their sexual orientation and fantasies. But BPO-bashing, come on give these lads some break. After long phone conversations, office romance and pizza parties, they hardly are left with any social life why do you want to give them more misery.

Then if you browse over the Cricket Section of this daily (please notice I am not saying Sports Section, because as Indian I don’t thing any other game can classify as Sports.) you won’t fail to notice an article ridiculing Sachin’s worth as a cricketer, but at the same time printing his picture sipping cola on front page. Then the very next day, you pick up the new edition and they would have a dedicated page for his brilliance in yesterday’s game, this time there would be even more advertisements from Sachin, one selling cola, shoes, cars to one selling hair brush.

.......... To be continued

Link to Part II of this blog

Words

It has been 60 days now, since I have been living in this exile. The only thing that has been connecting our world is Telephone. In such conversation, which doesn't have visual or real feel, suddenly the "Words" become so important. These words are the only vehicle to convey the warmth and care along with other emotions.

These are the times poets can be useful, they have skills to churn verses from simple words. So yesterday I flipped through some of them and I narrated two of them to my wife. I am sharing them with readers here.


English translation (non-poetic words): The word “Hug” has such sweetness, just the expression is enough to realize the warmth.

As explained I have limited skills with words, so sorry no translation provided here.

Indians are not only good with their cuisine, but also the way they present their fare.

Some of these Gastronomically wonderful shops usually charges astronomically high prices. But then are down to earth shops that can be not provide delicious food, yet be easy on your pocket.

These restaurants like to ensure that their guests smile, not only because of the lip-smacking menu, but also by presenting menu card with wicked humor. See these pictures, you would know what to expect on your next trip:

PS: One picture is from streets of Mumbai and other from a hamlet in Bihar.

My Humor-Stabbing days … Part 2

Here is my second installment:

One of the technicians in our technology department was given a task to create an application that would send automated greetings to everyone in organization on important holidays. So after collecting specifications, he must have spend countless hours behind his desk constructing this application. If overtime expense claim is an indicator of someone’s hard work, then he was definitely working real hard.

The day dawned when he had completed his build and it was time for him to test his work and it so happened that the next holiday that would have been Cynco-De-Mayo.

I should say here that I was impressed the way he went through the entire pre-launch task. All the activity that was happening gave me a vibe of being at NASA Huston Site. We checked and re-checked the checklist, called up few folks, got their approval. He checked if the wire were connected, the computer’s temperature, the room temperature, took quick smoke, had a leak and did the entire checklist once again. Than after much deliberation and ensuring that we had been through emergency plan drill that was conducted last week, he clicked on the dreaded button. It must have done something, really fast. He assured me everything had gone according to the plan, results on screen were fine and we were done through test cycle.

All those pre-launch activity had pumped my adrenaline level; I was so excited that I wanted to do a cheering session ala NASA style, all the fist pumping and high-five’ing routines. Since it was just him and me at his desk, with firangs sitting around, I some how manage to curtail by emotions.

Within next few hours, we received a call from one of the senior leaders in organization. The leader expressed his Thanks for greetings, but further stated that the holiday was suppose to be Cynco-De-Mayo and not Sink-De-Mail-O. He went ahead and busted my a** out with his cool temperament.

Our technical friend had triggered a massive mass mailing campaign that had dispatched zillions of Greeting emails to everyone in organization, sinking our mail communication system. So much for a planned test. I have built a small memorial at the test site, a small urn with ashes of the technicians resume.

I now know how exactly Kim Jong felt when his Taepodong missile failed at testing. I am guessing who is working for him.

My Humor-Stabbing days … Part 1

I tried resisting the thought of publishing my homemade jokes here, in a fear of loosing friends. But yet it was hard to overcome, so I have cherry picked few (not that I have been able to write down many). I shall publish them in separate blogs, I hope you enjoy (feedback would be appreciated and also help my ego)

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Untitled

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It was the first day at work for this beautiful girl at this place I use to work. This was her first job. Obviously, each one of us had displayed our chivalry, to this young beautiful lady, the entire morning. We were roaming like knights in shining armour. trying to save this damsel from the evils of world.

During our lunch hour, I happened to share (time) space with this girl and another male co-worker. This was his first encounter with her since her arrival, I am sure he had planned this. I definitely had timed this. I was little bit upset that this bloke was going to invade my territory. I was feeling like a raging like a buck; I just wanted to butt him out from competition.

I am sure same thoughts must be racing in his mind. We were kind of having a kind of non-verbal dual. Finally, the moment of truth arrived, we three of us were sharing the same very table and closet possible chair positions we could get, without violating her airspace.

As we settled down, he must have sensed my intentions, as I was just about to open my mouth to start a conversation. He wanted to take the initiative away from me, beat me to finishing line and he quickly prompted with his best opening line:

Are you Fresh?

"Are you fresh", what an icebreaker. I almost spurted out contents of my mouth, with a WTF expression. The poor girl was red with embarrassment and my challenger was wondering why we had this expressions.

No points for guessing, who was the victorious knight of that dual and I also don’t have to tell you, how he became the theme and went on to become a legend in break-room.

Conversations with my children … Part 3:


All conversations need not be verbal.

Conversations with my children … Part 2:

My son is now 7 year old and he is my Pride. We bond over a game of Racket ball, Scrabble, Playstation, Nintendo, Arcade games, computer games, internet, story books, comic books, fighting, swimming, miniature golf, trips to library, animated movies, watching TV and hassling my wife each time we go escorting her to shopping, with our continues chanting - Are we done?

Bringing back the blog to its purpose, the incident I am about to describe here happened on a lazy Saturday evening. We had camped right in our family room in front of television set watching one of his favorite TV programme. It was a usual commercial break and a public service message was being aired. The message was addressed to children, in an attempt to educate them to dangerous of tobacco consumption.

So my parental instinct took over and started by posing a question to the young man.

Myself: Did you understand what that man just trying to say on TV?
My Son: Yes.
Myself: So what do u think about using tobacco and smoking?
My Son: Its bad, I would be in trouble with Mrs. Jackson, she wont like it. (Mrs. Jackson is principal at the School, where he completed his first grade).
Myself: That’s good, but there are other things too, which are harmful. (I tried to earn a brownie point here).
Myself: Do you know even alcohol is bad too? (Signs of Foot-in-Mouth syndrome)
My Son: (pause) What is that thing, you drink when your friends come over?

At that moment, I saw three expressions. One on my son’s face, which was a mix of innocence and mischief. The second on my wife’s face that was a mix of “anger”, “don’t look at me” and “you and your big mouth” and lastly mine slightly red and “embarrassed” face. I still have those expressions embossed in my mind.
Watch your tongue around kids.

Conversations with my children … Part 1

My 18month old daughter is sweetest thing in my life; she is joy of my life. Of course she is daddy’s pet and we call her Cookie.

I enjoy talking with her, even if sometimes I can’t understand what she wants to convey. I guess all parents who have been through this phase of parenthood would relate my emotions about talking to their toddler.

This particular conversation happened with her over a recent long distance telephonic conversation with my daughter. She was at my parent’s house with my wife, two sisters, parents and my sister’s husband around.

She speaks in a language only my wife and me can interpret. So for benefit readers, I have translated her words in simplified English. However, there are words, which I have not yet deciphered or I haven’t found an equivalent expression in any modern language spoken by adults.

Myself: Hello.
Cookie: Hello Daddy, Hello Daddy, Helloooo Daddy…
Myself: I can hear you sweetheart. How are you?
Cookie: Hello, Hello, Hello…
Myself: Hello darling…
Cookie: (some long speech of un-deciphered words)
Myself: How does Cookie sing?
Cookie: la.la.la.
Myself: Very nice!!! Now tell me how does a Humba (That’s my way of describing cow to my kids) talk?
Cookie: Humba.Humba (believe it or not that’s how Cows Moo in Marathi)
Myself: Good!!! Now tell me how does a Bhoo.Bhoo (That’s my way of describing dog to my kids) talk?
Cookie: bhoo.bhoo (believe it or not that’s how Dogs speak in Marathi)
Myself: Good!!! Now tell me how does a Cat (my creativity with names ended with dog) talk?
Cookie: Cat.Cat
Everyone: (Laughter)

Ten times out of ten, I bet she would have meowed to the same question, yet on this occasion she actually said “Cat.Cat”. She tricked me, she had it all figured! She has her daddy wrapped around her little fingers and she never fails to amaze me.

I get knocked down … but I get up again … You are NEVER Going to keep me down.

Like every anxious Mumbaite, staying outside Mumbai, I too had spend hours on phone, making sure my loved ones back home were safe.

I had rather interesting conversation with my father, who gave me a glimpse to the City’s attitude, I don’t have a transcript of the conversation and so I would just summarize it.

Few things he said to me:

1. He believes that the administration is so corrupt and rotten, that the terrorist must have feed the officials and kept them around while planning the whole thing. He cited the examples of Telgi Scam and 1993 blasts. Read the book Black Friday, you will understand how the administration and politicians were actually used to carry out 1993 event. He also asked me to look at Ghatkopar Blasts of 2003, how administration staged (or purposely goofed) the entire “Blast Accussed” drama.
2. He than said the city exists not because of its administration, but due to the citizens living here. He mentioned except for few minor rumors and confusion, fear is the last emotion you would see on Mumbaite’s face. He was all set on 7/12 morning to go do his daily business and so where millions of others. He pointed me to Stock Market just day after from the horrible incident it had gained 300 points.

Did someone from foreign media have an opinion that we are Rude? Gratitude for us is not just expression found in spoken words, but action and deeds we do, just browse newspapers and look around.

So to those who thought you can knock us down, kiss my a**. We are very much alive and kicking. We are not going to let you enjoy your sadistic pleasure.

Mumbai would rather sing….
I get knocked down … but I get up again … You are NEVER Going to keep me down.

Proud to be a Mumbaite, Salaam Bombay!

NOTE: This blog is in no way trying to underplay the horrible event and grief of people. We should all demand that the families who lost there loved ones are given justice. The traitors should be served justice. The enemy, who tried to hurt the nation, should be destroyed.

Typecasting and Profiling

One must have heard so many stories about someone getting profiled and there would be others who might have gone through the experience at international airports. Stories have been told so many times that we ourselves have kind of created a profile of immigration and security officials of foreign lands.

I would like to extend here, to one of the blog posted by Shekar Kapur. His blog recollects an incident at a US airport.

http://www.shekharkapur.com/blog/archives/2005/12/us_immigration.htm

You would notice how he himself typecasts the officials and very conscious about everyone around, to such an extent that he initially believes all airport officials are monitoring his moments.

Thus, I believe Typecasting and Profiling are among the few of basic traits in human and come as standard configuration. Some are knowledgeable enough to suppress (or override) and others ignorant (or arrogant) to express.

A Forgotten Rear View Mirror:

In my earlier blog I had missed a hidden mirror, which I fear to look into, and I usually don’t look at. It lies in the forgotten corner of my brain.

But after reading today mornings news, it jumped right in front of me. The horror of 1993 and events after that, seems to be happening again.

Our City Bleeds, Our People Weep, Our Leaders Lost, Our Enemies Laugh ... Our Heart Aches.

Move over Seinfeld, here comes Prince of Stand-up comedy…

Before I took to this blog writing, I must have taken at least dozen stabs at writing humor, no prizes for guessing what happened eventually. You must have got hints from my earlier blog posts here, I can hardly spell humor, forget writing comedy. Being funny is not being comic. Stupid people (me included) can be funny at time...but it is not an indicator of any comic talent, we are just goofballs.

In my opinion, comedy is the most difficult aspect of writing and the challenge increases manifold if you want to reach to a larger global audience. Originality and Delivery of humor is an art, which some individuals possess and very few have mastered this art form.

The comedy artists I like are ones who have the ear to pick up words, incidents and experiences from daily life and than apply them to situations where they reflect reality in shades of humor without being offensive. One such artist I have discovered is Russell Peters. He was the number one cause of my humor-stabbing fever. I should emphasis here that, I have been since cured. So relax I wont be attempting or throwing PJs here

For those who have not heard about Russell Peters and/or his work, the name may sound "Anglo", but fellow desi-friends this dude is 100% Desi, he migrated along with his parents to Canada from Calcutta, when he was a toddler and today he is one of the most respected Canadian artist. We all can pump our chest…Desi Pride.

His comedy is based on his ethnic roots and his experience as a new migrant in a pre-dominantly white neighborhood and growing among black kids/friends, yet his humor is accessible to a global audience. Everyone can understand his routines and style. No wonder his raising popularity in Canada (and Internet) has drawn Hollywood producers to his doorsteps.

Here are links to few of Russell’s videos, which some good soul has posted on YouTube. It does give a glimpse of brilliance this artist possesses. I wont be surprised if he reaches new heights in Hollywood.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wi2nHwuCs6w&search=Peter%20Russells

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tp5mr-bxFeI&search=Peter%20Russells

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xzKHQX59Wso&search=Peter%20Russells

So move over Seinfeld, Prince of Stand up comedy is here to stay!!

PS: Genre of comedy I enjoy is, Observational Comic. I am also a fan of these artists; Jerry Seinfeld and Carlos Mencia.

Phir bhi dil hai Hindustani.

Only a true Mumbaite can appreciate the importance of Mid-Day a daily news dispatch.

Here is one jewel from July 10th 2006 edition, found on page # 3.

Imaandar badmash

Do you call this honesty? A friend recounts that recently she approached a vendor selling mineral water at a booth.She asked him if it was genuine and safe. He seemed to take offence and said that all bottles were genuine and there was no problem.The lady reconfirmed and then pointed to her one-and-a-half-year-old daughter. "Bachchi ke liye hai (It is for the child),"she told the man in question. Then his conscience spoke up. "Oh no, no, why don't you buy it from the other stall?" he said sheepishly.Like the lines in the song go: "Naye packet mein cheezein bechein poorani, phir bhi dil hai Hindustani".

Do I have to say anything more?

Not that I have many readers visiting my blog, but I thought I should clarify the selection of word "dOne" for my Blog identity.

On first cursory glance, it may sound like a crazy idea and probably represents little. However, I have contemplated lot over choice of word to represent my online identity and I think it is my obligation to record the thought process.

We as individuals have no choice or influence over the name tagged to us. A word, which we have to carry in our lifetime and even after that.

Parents try to capture their expectations and desire from their offspring; in the name they christen their child, while the child tries to search his/her identity within it. I also believe that this very Given Name influences some aspect of our character. Of course, as one attends maturity, he/she has a choice of re-inventing himself/herself with a new name, but it definitely gets embedded somewhere within the being.

Coming back to my choice of word "dOne".

First, the word needs to be understood by breaking it as "d" and "One". Also, please note here that "d" is in lower case.

"d" represents me and my given name in real life. It also represents three dimensions of my life Direction, Deliverance and Devotion.

Direction is my path in search of knowledge and an English translation of my daughter's given name. Deliverance is what I wish to attain by completing my karma and liberating this soul, this word is an English translation of my son's given name. Finally the last D is for promise of dedicated Devotion to my family, which also happens to be an English translation of my wife's rechristen given name.

The reason that the first character in the name is deliberately kept in lower case is because I want it remind me about importance of being humble. Also it has to be smaller than the next part of word ... "One" and you would understand reason in next paragraph.

The second part of name "One" represents the number of unity and integrity. It is also refers to the One ... His Almighty, we all call him with different names (and that is why the "d" has to be smaller or lower case)

Lastly, you can read the word just the way it is supposed to be read in English language, a verb that means past participation and a representation of my desire to participate in all good and righteous things in this lifespan.

Thus friends, I would like to be indentified as "dOne" in Digital world. However I wouldn't trade my real name for any other name, because that name is beautiful and also part of my ego.

The only real thing one owns in reality (and which no one can take away from you) is.... your own name and I am keeping mine.

Someone please cage this (I don’t want offend PITA activist by saying shoot) Tiger!!

If you happen to be in Mumbai or still in touch with happenings of city, most probably you would be disturbed with latest news from city. Some tiger cubs who believe that a certain Maratha warriors blood flows through their vein, have lost their senses and unleashed yet another assault on hard working citizens of society and what a cause they have found to show their chivalry.

These PITA Activist, Tiger cubs or sons of the great Maratha warrior ,whatever you want to call them, are the one who have contributed a lot to the "curse" on this city and state by throwing good governance book out into a thrash-bin, stalling development projects and promoting farce in name of selling free space and introducing a thoughtless and ill-conceived SRD programme. Apart from this they have invested in hate-based politics and now has harvested on rich crop of goons.

I am not surprised that, after the city and its administration controlled by these Tigers, was washed down in last weeks monsoon shower, have now witnessed desecration to a statue of their Supreme Deity’s “Ardhangini”, impeccable timing isn’t it?

Now for next few months we would be consumed trying to defend our belongings and ourselves over such “Enormous” event and the administration office will wash their hands of their responsibilities of providing good governance, administration and facilities to city.

The only place where I want to see this species of Tiger is in fossils.

!!Jay Maharashtra?

Note: PITA is an intentionally used word and an acronym for “Pain In The A**”, should not be mistaken for PETA. PETA is trully a dedicated animal welfare organisation and right now they are busy taking care of many common mongrels found on streets of suburban Mumbai.

*** 7/10 UPDATE : Comic strip added, courtsey Mid-Day.com

World cup Finals and when Gods err.

I adhered to my religion and tradition of masculinity by watching the Sunday finals of 2006 Football world cup today.

I should admit I was disappointed thrice in this world cup, first when Brazil was knocked out, second to the fact that the fate of cup was decided over penalty kicks, lastly and more importantly when Gods erred.

Its a shame to see the Gods of football failing to raise on occasion and lift the spirit of a great sport. A nasty argument by Rooneey in quarter final game and then vicious head butt by Zidane in finals were of poor show, taste and timing, which change fate for their followers. So these incident confirms the fact that Gods err too. However it doesn't imply that we should stop looking upto them for inspiration and knowledge. They still remain the Supreme beings and we are mere mortals.

Overall a so-so world cup nothing much to talk about. I would be drowning my disappointment in some scotch, but since there is no French Kiss for the cup and that Fabio Cannavaro achieves his "Chankya Pratignya" and rightly deserved a hair cut in the mid-field, I promise to have one peg less and also plan to treat myself to some Italian fare.

Looking forward to 2010

Avere divertimento!!!

Rear View Mirror.

Automobiles have these mounted, so that you can safely change lanes or even sometimes to glance at "things" for a second passing look.

To think of it even our brains too have rear view mirrors, Experience and Memory. Experience ... which we call upon to attend challenges in life and Memories ... by which we relish about the good time of by-gone days.

And I did spend looking at the reflections in rear view mirror of memory and savored the reminiscences of good ol-days. And the cause for my nostalgic mood were blogs written by a friend. The way I hit her blogs were purely coincedental, I had lost these treasures of friendship to time and blogspot worked as a portkey, transporting them back to present. I enjoyed every bit of this nostalgic trip down the memory-lane and I am glad I was able to dust off my treasure chest.

Note: The picture on this blog always reminds me to spend a pausing moment or two, to reflect on yester-years. Also, believe it or not my Son captured this frame when he was 5 (he is 7 now) on one of the road trip, not sure if he intended it, but never the less I think the result is impressive.

I am having a temporary “Sanayas” from my family duties, it is not that I am not enjoying my bachelor days, but this like everything; do has a price tag.

How I wish my wife would be around. Without her here, life seems to be such a drag. I miss my weekend relaxing my laze a** on the couch while casually surfing the TV channel faster than speed of light, sipping through a lime spiked Corona and then escorting my wife to mall and weekly grocery shopping. The late afternoons with kids in park and for long walks and finally retiring in evening over a wonderful dinner and some intimate moments after kids are in fairyland.

But, instead of the bliss of being with family, I am trying to search a matching pair of socks in a pile of un-sorted clothes. Struggling to put together a grocery list. Spending weekends doing laundry, ironing and cleaning this pigeonhole called apartment. Waking up late each morning and scrabbling to put together a breakfast and packing something for lunch. Yeah... Life could have been so better.

Now that is one way of looking at life, but within this chaos I find some consolation, I can smile over the fact that I don't have to do my bedding each day, after I wake up in morning. I don't have to clean dishes everyday. I can stay in front of TV as long as I want. I don't have to watch SSO (Silly Soap Operas) or STS (Silly Talk shows). I don’t have worry about keeping things neatly nor do I have to act that I am trying to do it. Life is so simple.... So simple that I can relate to those sages in Himalayas or is it like caveman. There is sense of being liberated soul, but there is also a feeling of a miserable creature trying to survive each passing day.