GIBBERING all the way

Its kind of weird but ever since my birth I always had a feeling that I was suffering from a strange disease and it was only after I watched 'Taare Zamein par' that slowly I had a hunch that may be I was a patient of dyslexia.

Often in my school days and even during my graduations I had problems tying my shoe laces, deciding which way to comb my hair, fumbling with the tooth paste cork, which escalated to a hell lot of things with time.

For the last few years i have realised that attimes i even say things which apparently always end up jumbling together, they just don't make sense, as if they have turned rebel or have taken a pledge of not supporting each other, they become hellbent to turn gibberish. But i have found out a way of dealing them -- i willfully allow them the liberty to turn gibberish, almost ignoring them to the etent that just cease to exist. although i have some limited success with the idea but it has its fall out too as after sometime i find myself all alone, speaking to myself or people wincing at him.

These symptoms doesn't seem to end and oflate it has also drawn a lot of flak and criticism with many people even giving me the tag of a 'bejha fry'(brain-roaster) especially when my words rebel in friendly get-togethers like b'day parties or marriage anniversities.

One more thing which has started troubling me is few days back is that I have developed this habit of stretching a simple sentence into a long sentence and attimes even to a collection of sentences. Once while returning home from office from one of my regular night shifts, I wanted to ask one of my friend to give me a treat but instead of putting it simply, i ended up giving me a description of the mode of communication, the importance of frequent treats and its side affects. By the time i ended what i wanted to say, the poor guy had already lost it and perhaps fearing as what would be my next attempt he didnt even give me the chance to come again and started conversing with someone else.

I have also developed an anomaly of using adjectives and bestowing people with so much praise as attimes it goes over the top and instead of being impressed, it leaves them frowing. I have tried to control it but the more i try the more it seems to slip out of my fingers.

So fed up with this strange disease of mine i have decided to cut short my conversations and deal in just gestures and postures but even that didnt help as some of my female collegues (even men after 'Dostana') raised objections about my body language. They accused me of provocation and attimes using wrong fingers to convey messages.

Once while trying to tell one of my collgue that i will pick her up at 1 o clock, i used my middle finger instead of my index finger and she got a wrong message, she has stopped talking to me soon after that. So being depressed and depleted with the things happening with me and around me, i decided to come to you , make some net friends -- becuase i know there would be atleast some poeple woho would be interested to talk to me here.

-- So, will you be magnanimous enough to spare a few of ur golden, precious and treasurous moments of life with this lonesome lonely friend?

An afternoon in blueline

In a lazy afternoon, when you have barely anything to do and a long journey ahead (even small distance seems long then) and that too in a blueline bus, crowded by all kinds of people who give u a why-don't-u-get-down look as you manage to grab a seat, you don't have any other option but to look outside the window pane.

These 'gentlemen and not so gentlemen' passengers have one thing in common -- they all have their eyes set on those all important seats in the bus, which they envy alike. Often it that pursuit they even try to elbow each other and shove across to grab their space, placing themselves tactically in front of the seats, grabing with both hands the handles of the seats, making sure no one else gets their ass on those seats and attimes that wait stretches beyond the span of one's journey.

With all these happening all around, what you can do apart from turning deaf and blind after all you too want that piece of wood for your bisected piece of flesh. So you shun all morals and ethics and follow your heart and get lost in the humdrum and
cacapony of the world outside the window, only to face another challenge -- keeping your eyes open.

The otherwise monstrous-looking blueline, which lives upto its reputation whenever it touches down the roads of Delhi, spreading its menace in all and sundry, all of a sudden will look like a tortoise which has lost its way. Moving languidly with an amazing irregularity it will stop at all stops, attimes making its own stops where there are none, as you wait for the ordeal to be over.

You inhale the carbonmonoxide and suspended particulars along with oxygen, look at the hungry faces of the roadside kids selling pens if not begging, scan through the rush of an ever-burgeoning crowd at the redlights, the mannequin-like souls standing on the divider, waiting for the vrooming vehicles to pass to cross the road, the birds and scavengers scrambling the litter left outside the VIP mansions, the begger having a nap with his head on his sack, rustic souls enjoying the sun along with the dog lying side-by-side as you get lost in a reverie......

When you open your eyes, you find yourself amidst a new set of 'gentlemen and not so gentlemen' passengers but equally hungry for that seat that you have been occupying for so long and before you could realise what had happened to you, you see your bus
stop nearing and infront of you a pool of humans. Soon you too join the party and indulge in some ignobly act, hostling and shoving your way through the crowd, out of the bus, mumbling to yourself of never boarding a bus again, only to ride it again in the evening on your way back.

A week spent in Ahmedabad

Until last week, I have been living my life within a radius of 15 kms, which included my two crammed room--I call it my apartment--, my office and some of the posh shopping areas and theatres where I flocked around during my off days or leisure hours, ofcourse if I was not lumbering in my bed. So when I got a chance to fly to Ahmedabad for a week -- my first outstation assignment -- I was pretty excited because one it was the first time I was moving out of the confines of Delhi
and secondly it gave me the opportunity to cover and interact with some of the international cricketers whom I adored since my childhood.

The first purpose was served, the second was a heart-break though. Anyways that's a different story. It was not the sort of vacation which i was looking for but i had no qualms because it wasn't a vacation after all. The ideal outing would have been
off to a solitude place in some corner of India, with all connections cut off from the outer world, no cell phones, no internet connection and no extra luggages. The only companian -- your silence. However, this outing wasn't bad either.

I had some apprehensions about the place i would be staying, the food and the people especially because the city had its past maligned by incidents of religious violence. I also was little nervous about the sort of work I would have to put in to live up to the expectations of my boss, since I was knew to the organisation.

I reached the city within 2 o clock and was off to my hotel, Lemon Tree. It was started from last month only and I bet it was beautiful. I had never stayed in a five star hotel before and it was a nice little experience for me. Initially I even didnt know what to order for diner and lunch as i wasn't aware of the different dishes that were written in the menu but as time passed by I eventually grew in confidence and managed it pretty well at the end i should say.

The first impression that i had once I landed here was that it was a good clean city with nicely pitched roads and a smooth traffic, ofcourse compared to the overcrowed roads of the capital. There was this esssence of a entirely different flavour, in terms of the language they spoke, the way they looked and the way they behaved.
people were honest and helpful, they spoke with utter respect which was missing in a place like Delhi. They were soft and approacable.

I remember during one of my trips to a place of visit, an autorickshaw driver returned me a Rs 10 note because the meter showed it was Rs 30, whereas before embarking on his auto, he had asked Rs 40 from me. This was a simple gesture but
it reflected the general psychology and integrity of the denizens of this city.


The city did not have the pictureque scenery of Meghalaya or the simmering lakes of Kerela or the glittering sands of Rajasthan but it had a unique culture and a lifestyle of its own. There were not much places to visit as the city was adorned
with shopping malls with a few temples and historical places thrown here and there. But because of my hectic schedule I could not manage to visit these places, apart from a couple of visits, which included 'Sabarmati Ashram', where Mahatma Gandhi
resided and ISkCON temple.

While Sarabmati was a beautiful experience as it gave me a lot of opportunities to test my photographic skills, apart from walking down the memory lanes of the past, ISKCON was a disaster as it was no were near the one that was installed in Delhi.


But apart from visiting these places, one thing that stood out in my eyes was the traditional cuisines of these place. Adorned with a slew of resturants and eateries in every nook and corner of the city, Ahmedabad seemed to be a perfect place for
the foodies and gourmets. Although, I could not taste all the sumptuous dishes that the city provides, I did taste the traditional Gujrati thali and that too at one of the best restuarant, 'Gordhan thal', located in Sarkhej-Gandhinagar highway.

This restuarant has a history of its own and is considered to be a must place for the gourmet, who want to have a taste of Ahmedabad. Adorned with some traditional Rajasthani interiors, traditional swords and equipments hanging on the walls, this
place gives an idea of the history of the place.

There was also a Law Garden, which I could not make because it opens only in the evening and I had my evenings occupied because of my assignments. There is also a Khau Gali in the area which is hotspot for the foodies churning out street food
delicacies.

I also wanted to visit the original Aksardham temple but could not squeeze in the time. The ICL matches were getting interesting and important with each day, leaving me with much less time. Soon one week elapsed and it was time for us to leave. The third final was over on Sunday night and we had to leave early morning the next day.

On the morning, as we left for the airports, my insomniac eyes tried to take in as much as possible as I breathed in with a promise to come back once again.