Hobby of the Masses: Music

"I live on music" would be quite of an over statement because it so happens in my case that I exist more because of food and water. But yes sir, I do follow music like anything. In a recent incident when people were being asked about their hobbies, 99.9% answered that their prime hobby was "listening to music". The person asking the question did not seem to be impressed with this "common" hobby; I could, to some extent, make out what was so disappointing about this answer.

A sad but true fact: people around us are inherently lazy. Most people are likely to be either busy or asleep. Being awake is being busy for most of the people, the rest of us struggle with finding what we know as "hobbies". Some people read, some do gardening, some collect stamps, some write, and the remaining (99.9%): we 'listen' to music. I would however like to distinguish myself from the average listener who won't be able to tell you what genre he likes. On being asked about the artist, he will show total ignorance. On being asked about the lyrics, he will show a lack of understanding. On being asked about what actually pleases him about a certain kind of music, he will tell you it's the tempo or the beats without knowing precisely what it means.

I am, on the other hand, a bit more categorical about music. I listen to whatever pleases me and at the same time ensure that I am aware of the details I talked about just now. A friend of mine recently told me that I had a song for every occassion. Quite pestering my voice could be but I did realize after it was brought to my notice that in every conversation I found one song that would apply to the situation. So, I sing till I am tolerated, sometimes joined by others, sometimes stoned by others. 

So what was the whole purpose of writing all this? Let's see, although it may sound a little stupid but music has proved to have a healing touch. It must be taken in, imbibed into the soul. Music must be "listened to" and not "heard of". Music is an expression of a thought, it should be understood like a piece of conversation, like a book read well. If such is the approach to music, I think it well deserves to be called a hobby.    

Maturing With Mumbai

I had the pleasure of being in Mumbai last Sunday after almost a year. Leaving the city at night as I boarded the train back to Vadodara, I had a flashback of the first memories of the city. My first trip to Mumbai was in April 2004 when my sister and I accompanied my father to Mumbai. Living in the northern part of the country, Mumbai had always seemed to fascinate me. So, as the milestones on the road started reading 50,40,30 km and so on, that city popped out of nowhere, and from the car window I saw those huge towering structures, the ones we see in "big" cities. There were luxurious cars on the road, quite fashionable people, youngsters with their girlfriends on their bikes - a scene too fascinating for a boy aged 12 from a city in the so-called North. I went to Mumbai on a few more occasions in the next year, again accompanied by my father. This time I looked to get a glimpse of a film star, not sure if it was really him, but I guess I saw Ritesh Deshmukh somewhere. 

In the year 2006 when the flood hit Mumbai, I happened to be in Panvel for a school camp. As we travelled from Panvel to Mumbai Central in a BEST bus, I had a glimpse of what is called Resilient Mumbai. It was quite an experience to see how the people of a city who remain indifferent even to their neighbours had come out to help when time had called for it. My first visit to South Mumbai happened to come much later in January 2008. It was the day of the Mumbai Marathon and traffic was not allowed on the road, so we walked from CST and reached Marine Drive, sat there for a while, I found the city less crowded for once.

2009-10 was the period when I figured out the city much by myself. I had to make excursions to the city almost after every fortnight in order to take mock tests. Until now I had always come by road, so I did not have any idea about how the transport in the city worked. On one or two occasions I hired a cab or auto rickshaw, and then it was my turn to experience the city's lifeline - the local trains. The more I travelled on my own, the more places I figured out, the more people I met, the better feeler I got. 

Sitting on the Marine Drive under a moonlit sky at 10 PM last Sunday, I realized I now knew the city better. Seeing celebrities or the lustre of the city was no longer important. Fascinations had drowned but the charm of the city remained intact. I could feel that in a subtle way, the city had emboldened me, taught me what reality meant, gave me ambition, and slowly but steadily, imparted a little of what I call wisdom.

Lust For Lokpal: My Stand

I don't think I'll find a day better than this to put forward my view and my stand on the Lokpal Bill and on Annaji, as I feel more patriotic than ever in the run up to the Independence day!

Anna Hazare took the country by storm as he sat on his fast-unto-death to have the Lokpal Bill enacted as soon as possible and to have all the PJ Thomases, A Rajas and Kalmadis brought to book. Fight against corruption began after the emphatic World Cup '11 win by India. Millions joined in, media covered it like anything, status updates flooded the news feeds and pages were made on facebook. Ann-shann became the talk of the town.

When I first heard Anna Hazare was going on the fast, I followed it like I would follow any other piece of news. As people joined in, I grew more inquisitive. On going through the details, I grew against the Lokpal. Why I am against the Lokpal is because it will create a parallel bureaucracy, putting the government and the general public in hassles. Team Anna would put in every effort to prove me wrong by saying that it will be directly accountable to the public but then they must realize every government machinery is indeed, and in ideal conditions, accountable to the people. The idea of Lokpal then becomes cynical and naive. Cynical, because it does not trust the system of administration; naive because nobody can ensure that the Lokpal itself will be corruption-free. If you love your country, the lust for Lokpal will seem unhealthy.

It would be quite appropriate to say that Anna Hazare's integrity is unquestionable but then the government cannot just give in to every angry old man's demand! I would rather like to to see reforms being carried out in what we already have to check corruption. Get the CBI and CVC working to their fullest. Make the government machinery more easily accessible. Enforcement is, after all, more necessary than enactment. And how long, I ask, would we need a law to guide our conscience? Be honest, preach honesty. That's the best you can do for your country. Have faith in the system and in the Constitution that has been designed by learned patriots and freedom fighters. This democracy is as equally yours as Anna Hazare's and as a parliamentarian put it, it faces it's worst peril from the unelected and the unelectable. Choose and vote for the right people, India will prosper. Jai Hind!

The Kolkata Experience

I had not been blogging because of my preoccupations with the work for which I was in Calcutta (Kolkata). This blog post is an account of my experience, keeping the purpose of my visit under cover. Here goes the city, Kolkata or Calcutta whatever you please:

My train entered the Howrah Railway station a few hours later than the actual arrival, which is not really a new thing here in India. I stepped out of the train and after having followed the crowd for a while on the biggest railway station I have seen, I found my own way towards the prepaid taxi booth, hired one of Calcutta's classic Yellow Cab and moved out of the station premises. From the place where I could see the gigantic Howrah Bridge, I could also find myself in a traffic jam. And then started the drizzle as the taxi driver played FM on the radio which would change stations automatically every time the ignition was turned on amid the traffic jam. I reached my place of stay in an hour watching the drizzle, the ruckus in the streets and sights of men at work in a state that has seen virtually no economic growth in the past few years.  After an hour's nap, I moved out to get a feeler, so I walked to wherever my feet took me, tasted food which I was ecstatic to find cheap and tasty at the same time. Came back to my room, slept like a log.

The next day I dedicated to what I call "sight seeing". So I had my backpack ready and the weather Gods seemed happy. It was humid but all in all fine. I used the metro rail service to get to Park Street. Disembarking from the train, I decided to walk in the vicinity and found the Victoria Memorial and other few landmarks. Concrete structures don't really please me but the whole thing was nice. Then I took the city bus, the trams, the cycle rickshaw to reach places I had never heard names of before. 

The next day was the day for work. The thing got over in the evening and the same night I left Calcutta. Now, if you feel this was the worst ever post, especially when all the possible excitement was expected from a travel experience on a blog that is titled "Nomadic" Diaries, here's the best part: On my way back, I wanted to feel the wind in my hand, so I flung my hand out of the train window; someone was done chewing his pan and perhaps he felt the urge to spit it out at the very instant that my hand was out. I, not only felt the wind in my hand, I also felt the pan in my hand! 

Hoping to make altercations in my mood and consequently in the post. Till then,

Move On...

All Hail The Queen

This post has nothing to do with the Elizabeths and the Victorias of England but it deals with something which is a significant part of their lives. When I say significant I refer to the language they speak, the very language which I will use to convey my views.

The British ruled India for some 200 years and thus influenced the Indian culture and lifestyle to a great extent. With the Queen’s proclamation in 1858, India became a part of the commonwealth and we were now Her Majesty’s subjects. Telephones and trains were introduced, social reforms were carried out and there was this change in the education system: English was introduced. The resilient Indians had no problem in adopting this language as invasions were not new to us. We had allowed Hindi to evolve from Sanskrit, learnt Urdu and Arabic from the Mughals and had plenty of our own mother tongues. English was something we did not mind, not at all.

Come to the present age, look around you and you’ll find the seemingly illiterate person greeting someone on his phone with a “hello” in English. The next part of his conversation is none of our business but I am sure he will have a few English words which have made their way into Hindi quite easily, in his dialogue. So the bottom-line comes to the fact that we are now quite proficient in a language which claims to be the most widely spoken once the sun rises in the Western part of the globe (Chinese being the rival in the East).

People generally have a tendency to learn something that is special and then brag about it as much as they can. English, unfortunately holds a “special” place among languages in many parts of India, I have experienced. Speaking English has been associated with standards and superiorities. I have often noticed people (and myself too) making blunders in Hindi but then brushing it aside with a proud ignorance of the language but when it comes to errors in English, we feel embarrassed; if we don’t feel so there will of course be someone to initiate that sheepish grin on our face, with his/her remarks. Some do it for fun purpose which is quite okay & entertaining while others do it for the sake of pride. Whereas this mentality is quite common, there is also this outlook in some places which does not care what language it is and with how many errors it is being spoken as long as the meaning (even in partial measures) gets conveyed.

As for my personal opinion, languages were developed and continue to evolve to make communications easier and not to induce complexes and differences. Norms and regulations of a language should be adhered to, so that the meaning does not get mutilated. Knowledge and ignorance of languages do not promote or demote us socially; after all, being ignorant is not so much a shame as being unwilling to learn. Every effort has been made to avoid any grammatical errors in this particular post and I hereby request to bring to my notice, any errors which might have crept in. The title comes from the fact that it must take a lot for a foreign language to occupy such a position in any society or culture, the credit must go to the Queen for the state of English in the Indian society.

“Her Majesty is a pretty nice girl, some day I’m gonna make her mine!” – The Beatles 

Boredom: Principles and Causes

Nomads are not boring people and they generally don't get bored. The constant change keeps breaking the monotony of life and keeps it vibrant. We can always find them with a new story or two. I am bored today. I will dig deep into boredom, just out of boredom. 

Boredom does not actually have a principle, let alone the plural "principles". It is inherent and embedded into the human thought process just like happiness, sadness, anger etc. Boredom involves being a little annoyed, finding nothing to interest you. Even things that would give you ultimate pleasure can look mundane. Let's look at the causes: 

Isolation: You must have lived all your life in the company of people who may be categorized as "interesting". Their physical presence (presence, I believe, is physical only) has occupied your thoughts for a long time but now they have left. You look at stray animals who have a pleasant company, remember the good old days, feel blue and get bored due to this empty, hollow feeling.

Routine: Routine can be interesting and boring at the same time, depending on how we perceive it. Some people work all day, some people do nothing. People who work all day get bored because they lack that element of surprise. People who do nothing are prone to being "disturbed" by those who think they should not be just lying around. This keeps up the element of surprise in their lives. Doing nothing is difficult, achievable but can lead to isolation too as it takes endurance to resist the public demand to work. 

Extra Excitement: Extra excitement is dangerous too. You may have this amazing one day in your life and then the next day feels so boring. I have often heard people being bored a day after a rocking rock concert, a late night party, a fantastic cricket match etc. Extra excitement should not be avoided due to its repercussions, I emphasize here.

Mr. B: We all have a Mr. B in our lives. Mr. B is that not-so awaited person who was born to bore us. There is a Mr. B made for all of us. There could also be a Ms. B but hardly it so happens that men find women boring, I add here that I am an exception to that. I can't deny the presence of a Ms. B. I'll focus on Mr. B however. So, Mr. B will find you however hard you try to avoid him. Mr. B will make sure you get those needed breaks from happiness and feel bored, it's his duty to do so. He will just poke into the fun part of your life. You are listening to your favorite music and he will crack the worst joke (fact, according to him) that offends your sentiments. He will ask you for the title of the book that is entertaining you at the moment and try to make out and tell you some story which he believes could go with the title. He will kill the suspense of a thriller movie. He will just "talk" when you don't want him to. And finally, people who use the mass media (blogs for eg.), like me, are special Mr. Bs, we are born with a greater purpose: that of saving the human race from the routine called "happiness".    

On that note, I conclude hoping that I have been successful in doing my bit. Till the next time, 

"May you live in interesting times!"

-Ancient Chinese Curse

Being April Fool

I was born in April. I celebrate April Fool's Day like my birthday. I cut cake, wish others believing it is their birthday as well. I have not really been a prankster but I have been fooled a lot of times and done foolish things. Although I have grown quite smart now, autorickshaw drivers, fruit sellers and other smarter species continue to fool me, not just in April. I won't go about insulting myself much. This article will proudly boast of things I have experienced which have been quite foolish. Comedy comes from tragedy, here's my side: 

On a bright summer sunny day in Kanpur (just for the effects) I returned from school quite excited. I had been informed about the supposed first summer camp. So, as always (and with a bit more enthusiasm that day) I started telling my elder sisters about what I was told, word by word as I remembered. "Pata hai, summer camp me swimming sikhaane wale hain!", said I beaming with exuberance as if they were paying me to advertise. My sister, I fail to understand how, asked me with some surprise element, "Accha Ankie! Kaha par?". "Paani me", I replied. I had wanted to say "river" but then I just blurted out whatever I felt like.

Then on a not so bright day, the computer needed to be shifted to some other place in the house. I guess I was in second grade then. My father always knew I was intelligent and took keen interest in electric equipments and procedure etc. (reference to the shock incident). So, he asked me to check if the power socket was working. I peeped into the hole, looking for "electric sparks" which I was sure to find in any working electric socket. Sadly it wasn't there, but to my amazement the socket worked like wonder! 

Foolish is as foolish does.

"Think about yourself at least once in your lifetime, otherwise you may miss the best comedy in this world!" 

- William Shakespeare

Where the Civilization Stands Today

Time and again to this nomad inside me, it has occurred to know the whereabouts of the human civilization. I have been bored to think about others as such for I have lot to ponder about myself as of now. In the literal sense, I have often seen the human civilization standing : in queues at the railway stations, bus stops, during admission processes, concerts, cricket matches, football matches, protests, revolts etc. etc. We as humans have always loved standing, be it by force or by choice.

Well this of course is not about the literal standing thing but would certainly need some serious consideration.

Picture: Statues of Ahu Akivi 

Let's see: at the current figure of about 6 billion people inhabiting the earth, we surely outnumber any other mammal species if not insects and rodents. As the population figures have grown, we have seen civilizations emerge and form kingdoms and nations. We have also tried and succeeded to some extent in reclaiming land from the seas. Food production has grown and so has its demand. Unlike some 70 odd years earlier, we now have global economies and open markets. The scope for a world war has certainly reduced and we have nuclear weapons for mass destruction. Science has made the unthinkable quite possible but the population explosion still remains a concern. Population explosion and global warming. Natural calamities can still not be dealt with easily. Time and again these disasters inflict great damages upon us. And then we look at other "human" problems; corruption at its height gives a clear picture of declining honesty levels. We are not really in serious trouble because the good old days have always been good. These days as well would be considered good in the coming years hopefully.

So, although just like other futile posts this too makes no sense, I would like to emphasize that our civilization must be looked upon with greater concern. Of course we have all the time in the world to save tigers, pandas and elephants from vanishing if we can first avert potential dangers that face us. Consider this, we claim to have stepped on the moon and we have got a spacecraft on Mars and yet we stand on the earth which gets crowded as you read on.

"Civilization is the limitless multiplication of unnecessary necessities."
- Mark Twain

If Poetry was Prose

I don't know why but I had to do this. I wanted to write a stupid poem so here it is, test your tolerance:


If poetry was prose 
It would not convey meanings
Neither hard in dealings 
Nor any place for subtle feelings


If poetry was prose
I would have written at length
I would have added some depth
I would need no more strength


If poetry was prose
The number of lines wouldn't matter
Expression would certainly be better
Words would not sound to chatter


If poetry was prose
It wouldn't have the smell of a rose ...

For the Heart, By the Heart, To the Heart

The human heart is four chambered, no wonder it gets broken. It has a terrible shape to add to the vulnerabilities and in size is only as big as the person's fist. People blame it on excess consumption of oil and fats that deteriorates the functioning of the heart, I blame it on the poets and lyricists. Having become a subject of all depressions, miseries and love songs, it is tired. They say love is a drug and then they subject their hearts to such dangerous things. If you think it's easy being a heart try doing what it does everyday. What the heart can do you can't even dream of ... how many times have you pumped blood, and managed its delivery all over the human body!

Even philosophers love the heart so much. How easy it is for them to preach 'follow your heart' and be praised for the advice of a lifetime! Nobody asked cardiologists what they have to say about the heart unless some malfunctioning was found in the same. Anyway, if you'd know, the word "awesome" was ruled out of the dictionary for its over-usage but still continues to be harnessed. One day I hope humans will become cyborgs and the heart will be left alone. In case I have not been clear on the "over-usage" thing, let me illustrate: 

A boy named Lakshya studied with me in my class during my primary education years. Lakshya was very normal - normal lifestyle, normal hairstyle, normal eating-style, normal dressing style ... abnormal name. Not that his name was bad but if you might have figured out by now, it's easier saying Lux than Lakshya, so what if it's a popular soap brand. So we had a soap brand in our class. Poor kid was so disturbed, he changed his school but before that, he changed his name to something else, very insignificant compared to Lux.

Moral of the story is not that we shouldn't be teasing boys with unconventional names (or perhaps that could as well be one of the morals), it's about the over usage that we subject things to. 

Every love song will have a worthless mention of a heart. Before you say "I love you with all my heart", try seeking permission from your heart; it won't allow you, it won't stop you. It'll do just what it ought to : pump blood. People might perhaps one day start associating intestines with love - large intestine for friends, small for the beloved. I won't mention the heart again.

This is the last paragraph and it's going to be short, you may heave a sigh of relief. What has turned out is instant : no thought process, no nothing, very much like other blog posts that were written out of insomniac compulsions. If you're bored and you know it, clap your hands (and pretend to be an idiot for a while, it won't kill you). And for the quote, here's from "The Scientist" by Coldplay : 

Questions of science, science & progress do not speak as loud as my heart!  

Facebook, Cell Phones and the Like

I was once sitting outside the college canteen when this idea struck me. As I sat alone in one of the corners with some music playing on my earphones and surfing through Facebook, a classmate of mine came and sat beside me. I hadn’t known him very well but we knew each other just as classmates. After having acknowledged each other, we got busy with our respective cell phones. I had a call on my hands-free and I said “hello”. Having heard me and assuming that it was for him, he greeted me back and then he felt embarrassed. It was something new for me. At the school we were not allowed to carry cell phones with us and that had positive results, nobody sat alone. Groups of students huddled up to have fun, remaining uninterrupted by cell phone message beeps, calls and other disturbances. 

I am neither against technology nor its implications but it strikes me and I believe it should strike everyone to see how social interactions have dwindled to silent texts and smileys. A psychological study that I came across after a few days of the aforesaid incident had my mind thinking over and over. According to the study, human interactions remain “incomplete” if there’s no face to face contact. To get a message conveyed complete in all respects, we need to have an eye contact. The more we interact virtually, the more we hollow ourselves from within. The electronic chats that we engage in, entertain us for the time being but in the long run spell despair because of a talk that has remained incomplete somewhere. An empty feeling in the mind is generated.

There’s nothing wrong in making acquaintances in the virtual world but an attempt to remain indifferent to the influence is required. Since the probability of meeting these people is very low, a detachment is necessary. Think about it, when was the last time that you talked to someone ‘real’ without having been interrupted by your gadget?

"So if you have a minute why don’t we go, talk about it somewhere only we know. This could be the end of everything, so why don’t we go… Somewhere Only We Know" - Keane 

Sit-a-While

On the way to my village by road is a place of mythological significance, Valmikinagar. Valmikinagar is said to be the place where Sita, after being ousted from Ayodhya, lived with Maharshi Valmiki, the sage who wrote the Ramayana. It is now a place with dense forests and a few hutments can be observed in fringes in the middle of these jungles. The story told hereby, takes place in one of these houses.

I had been vacationing at my native place once during the summers which was quite a routine for me. As a city dweller, the serene country side can do wonders to your tired soul. Being a part of a Zamindar family, I was one day asked to go to the nearby town and look into some matter pertaining to the land. I agreed without hesitation as it wasn’t going to be a hard ordeal. It was certainly a matter of an hour or so but as destiny would have had it, it took more than the time it should have taken. It was getting dark and hence it was decided that we should be heading back to the village, only to come back the next day again. I was reluctant but not being fully aware of the repercussions, I decided to obey the advice of the person who had accompanied me. So we set out in the jeep. 

Within an hour of our journey, we were on the road through the jungles of Valmikinagar. As I tried to focus on the beauty of these old yet strong trunks of the trees that were silhouetted by the full moon’s glare behind them, the jeep started showing signs of a breakdown. And among the hooting of the owls and the sullen silence of the night, there we were standing next to the jeep, a grey smoke emerging out of the engine. The driver went in search of water while my wise accomplice who knew we could not fix it that night, asked me to accompany him to find a shelter in one of the huts. We happened to find one decent two storeyed house among a group of about six or seven hutments. My accomplice first introduced himself to the owner of the house and then pointing towards me, he told the owner that I’m the son of the Zamindar in my village, after which the owner was quite pleased to have us as his guests for the night. A decent meal was served to us and after a light chat about the work that I had gone for, we all retired to our beds. I was given a bed in one of the rooms on the second floor which used to remain empty most of the time. I fell deep asleep as soon as I lay on the bed.

At 3 in the morning, my eyes opened to a sound. I checked my cell phone for the time, and to illuminate the room a little to find out if everything was fine. As I turned to the right flashing my phone, a woman had appeared dressed half as a saint and half as a woman belonging to the royalty. After having been back to my senses from the sudden horror, I tried to sit up in my bed and greet the woman and ask for the purpose of her visit at this hour. I couldn’t. I was fixed at my spot and this woman came and sat at one corner of the bed. Then she started pressing my feet. I could not feel the touch but I sure could behold the sight. And then came a song from her unmoving lips, a sound so shrill it could literally crack window panes, but it didn’t. It was a melody. So I lay there in juxtaposition of the bed and the woman, trying helplessly to move, to save my life if it were meant to end now. I could not do anything, I knew it somehow. Around 5:30 in the morning, the sun’s first rays came into the room. And there was another sound; I took a look at my cell phone again, got a confirmation of the time. The woman stood up, smiled and walked out. I got out of my bed, tried to pretend as if nothing had happened. When I went down, the owner of the house looked at me as if he knew what had happened that night; he asked me if I had any strange dreams. It was not a dream. I don’t remember them so clearly… 

The Story of the Overhaul

My blog "Nomadic Diaries" (formerly, nomadic aspirations) had been lying dead for quite a time. As the blog description reads, I hoped my mind would find it a frequent visiting destination which did not come up as expected. A few posts out of anxiety and then I remained still without reason. I know I've been lost and begging for more.  

Talking about the overhaul, the biggest observable change would of course be the name. I reflected upon the name only to find out that I have almost settled with the "aspiration" part of my life. Nomadic Diaries comes up as my posts would continue to be my views, this time with a little more insight into issues and entertainment. To be writing essays, critiques or analyses is not my idea of blogging and hence to suddenly shift over to these would be quite a task for me. I will, however, go into matters that I find worth talking about and this time I hope these are matters which would be supported by readers (whatever fraction I can gather). Overhaul, yes I have gone through the physical appearance and layouts as well. I must admit that a friend's blog which he calls The Pucca Critic has been quite inspirational for me to go ahead with the changes in appearance. But my blog still remains simple in outlook and I hope to catch on gradually. 

Not with this post that I'll hit the panic button but I will certainly try to pursue blogging a little more seriously. Till the next time (soon, i.e.), it's a goodbye. 

"I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some..." - Jason Mraz