Last Christmas – The Sabbath Celebrations
It was six months to the day since most of what I did was to be where I am right now. I’ve always wanted to visit this crazy country and it has been on the top of my must-travel-to-locations-before-I-die list.
Most roads I’ve been on, most of the thoughts occupying the confines of my head, most of the things that I wanted for myself over the past six months in particular were all to be here.
There’s nowhere else I’d rather be at this moment.
I could think of all the things I would’ve been doing had I not been here. But I can’t visualize them clearly in my head; all of them look hazy.
Naturally.
Even if this visit sucks and is a complete let-down, I can say it was worth it all only because I’ve built it up in my head to be so grand and so majestic that the feeling that you get, the Marlowe-ish sweet fruition of an earthly crown is the sweetest ever.
For what its worth, this is exactly like being with a girl you’ve always wanted to be with in your mind and in your heart, only to know that it is possible that she might, soon after this perfect moment, break your heart into a million pieces and walk away into the sunset, leaving a trail of broken dreams and destroyed castles in the air.
But you would, nonetheless, want to relive this moment in your life over and over again, just to feel the way you do at this precise instant.
I’m glad I count my blessings all the time. I don’t need to get used to doing it out of the blue now.
The grown-up, strongly practical and slightly cynical version of me believes that this perfect bliss can only be achieved by not tying in anyone else’s happiness into my own.
I was standing in the gent’s section of the Western Wall plaza with my head covered, as hundreds of Jews were celebrating the Sabbath in their own way – some of them bobbing their heads as they prayed, while others were dancing around in Horas (circular rings).
One particular gentleman, whose name, I found later was Yakov, was standing at the entrance to the men’s section welcoming everyone to the Wall and wishing them a good Sabbath. His accent was strongly American and I thought he was one of those American Jews who’d made their way to Israel as a means of being able to rekindle their faith. I saw Yakov umpteen times in the old city during the next seven days, and he was a talking point for a brief while during that date I had with the older orthodox girl who I’d asked out for dinner.
I made my way through the chaos to go forth and touch the Wall, not so much because I thought it was a strongly spiritual thing to do, but because I’d seen many others do it and I didn’t want to be left out.
Surprisingly though, even though the evening was cold, the stones in the Wall were warm and inviting. Maybe I was imagining things or romanticizing them, just as we were likely to be temporarily oblivious to our scientific beliefs in the face of what might be considered religious miracles.
I was hoping to get invited to a traditional Sabbath dinner, but that didn’t happen. However, what did happen was that a couple of people who saw me sitting around came and made conversation. One of them was a kind old gentleman whose knowledge of India and of Hindi words and of Bollywood was astounding, considering I wouldn’t have expected him to know all that he did.
He was, on similar lines, seemingly astounded by the repertoire of information I possessed of his country. So there. We were even.
As the crowd kept growing and their chanting and clapping grew in volume, the electric atmosphere made me feel almost as though I was at a rock concert without a sound system.
The excitement faded temporarily, as I found hunger pangs growing and making my stomach rumble. With Christmas a few hours away, the shops in the Christian quarter were blaring carols out of sound systems placed outside and even though the language was strange, the tunes were strangely familiar.
After having had a very interesting dinner at this restaurant named Amigo Emil, I was supposed to go to Bethlehem for the midnight mass at the Manger Square. as I walked along the Via Dolorosa towards the Damascus gate, I remember listening to what I think was an Arabic rendition of “silent night”, as the faint smell of incense wafted through the air.
Bethlehem was my next destination and even though it wasn’t too easy to cross over into Palestinian occupied territory, the fact that it was Christmas time made it relatively smooth.
Next post – Across the Wall in Bethlehem.
The W-file Version of Fun Times with Airport Security
Madman Aadisht had his own take on what I went through and circulated it as part of a bigger email that contains interesting tidbits and snippets of life in general.
Here’s what he had to say.
Hari the Kid had gone to Israel for his winter vacation, where he spent his time looking at cats, getting tattooed, and planting spinach. He also meticulously maintained a journal of his travels.On his way back to India, he had to go through the legendarily gruelling Israeli airport security. When they discovered his detailed journal,they grew suspcious of his motives and subjected him to intensive psychological interrogation. Hari being Hari took this as an opportunity to flirt.
*Heavily Armed Female Soldier*: Are you nervous.
*Hari the Kid*: Yes. I’m always nervous around pretty women.
Although Kodhi believes that at this point the soldier would have blushed or giggled, Hari claims that all she did was to maintain a poker face. I for one am amazed that she did not go for the third option: administer Hari a savage beating.
Blank Slate
The latter approach seems to work better, because the rhyme, the meter and the number of syllables can then be fit in with the riff. The music and words seem to synchronize better this way. But the emphasis is still on what the song will be about before the chords and riffs are put into place.
One of the themes we were exploring was of people in their 20s trying to get together and see if they feel the same way about their approach to relationships as they did when they were in one the first time around. Something was written to that effect and it will, I hope, soon evolve into song.
Blank slates.
Start writing.
Something familiar, many things new.
Some cute and reassuring, some others with a darker hue.
Fraught between uncomfortable nonchalance and the burden of over-analysis, I find myself feeling the butterflies once again.
When we do get around to making complete songs, you’ll hear of it. Word.
Delhi Diary – The Republic Day Parade
Ever since I had a chance to live and work up North, one of the things I’ve wanted to do before I make the inevitable move back to South India was to witness the Republic Day parade live. I managed to do just that on Wednesday, thanks to a colleague of mine who was able to scrounge VIP passes. These seats were among the best in the house, next only to those occupied by the President and Prime Minister, and of course, the security guards at Rajpath who had a ring side view of proceedings.
Having seen the Republic Day parade on at least five occasions on TV, I’ve always thought of this as the one strong demonstration celebrating India at its best.
Sure, it has been used as a vehicle for different political regimes to send out strong signals. On some occasions, our defence forces have taken up a strong percentage of air time, and on others, we’ve resorted to a more cultural as opposed to defence-oriented display. The content and composition of the parade has always been a function of the political climate in and around home.
It has also been used, very explicitly, as a propaganda tool for the government to blow its trumpet and rightfully so, especially with the kind of airtime that it can get on such occasions, both within the country as well as internationally.
Waking up early on one of the three public holidays is a bitch. Having gotten ready by half past six, a bunch of us left Gurgaon at a quarter past seven to head to the designated parking spot just off Rajpath. The heavy security in place was reassuring to some extent and compensated for all the inconvenience faced in terms of questions thrown at us and the detours we had to take to finally get onto Akbar Road. Lutyens’ Delhi, I will always maintain, is the best Delhi.
Having arrived early at the venue, we discovered that we’d got great seats at an elevation that gave us a full view of the parade and a panoramic sweep of about 135 degrees, as a result of which we were able to witness first hand how the various defence contingents, cultural floats and performing artists would be performing at their peak in front of the Head of State.
A wait for ninety minutes, from half past eight till almost ten when the parade began in earnest didn’t seem that long, honestly, because as I sat watching the seats fill up and heard the flowery, cheesy commentary, I could only think of how this was the ground zero location for the most patriotic of displays.
All of Rajpath was empty, save for the occasional motorcade passing through to India Gate. The PM laid the ceremonial wreath on the Amar Jawan Jyoti, and live commentary for the same was provided to those of us who were too far away to witness it. Once that part of the ceremony was over, the PM, the President and the chief guest for the function were all seated and the parade began.
I didn’t take notes during the parade, so only bullet points follow. I wish I’d had something more concise and structured to put through, but that, given how all of this was on TV, would be a tad boring.
- It pays to be Pratibha Devisingh Patil. The fanfare with which her entourage arrived made one of my buddies want to be the President as well. The 61st cavalry regiment and the motorcade that escorted her, combined with the security detail was just awesome to behold.
- When this buddy of mine becomes President, he’s promised to let us bring in alcohol so that we can get tipsy while witnessing the country’s military might and cultural prowess. No better way, I say.
- My throat had been screwed beyond redemption and I was therefore unable to sing the National Anthem with gusto as I’d have liked. Such irony, considering I’m absolutely comfortable singing it anytime, any place. It was played twice, to mark the arrival and departure of the President.
- The twenty one gun salute to welcome the President was louder than what I thought live ammunition sounded like. I’m still not sure what guns were fired.
- There were a few sections of the armed forces parade that involved animals – horses and later on, camels to be more specific. Following each of these was a bunch of people clad in orange and blue jumpsuits to pick up after these animals. If only all our roads were as clean all the time.
- The start of the parade with four low-flying Dhruv helicopters, two of which were showering petals all along was fantastic. As were the various defence forces’ displays thereafter.
- The T90 tanks, three of them rumbled down Rajpath and at the precise moment that the first one passed by the President’s seat, it swung its gun turret smartly to the right and all three of them lowered their guns simultaneously to salute the President. It was like poetry in motion.
- All the marching contingents were smartly decked and had rifles in their right hands. The baton twirlers twirled their batons and caught them after throwing them up and the marching bands of Rajpath played many a fine tune.
- All in all, the armed forces contingents were very awe inspiring and it made one proud to see that we’ve got such a splendid defence setup, even if the legislative part of our establishment leaves a lot to be desired on most occasions.
- The cultural tableaux were quite cool too and the Maharashtrian float was by far the awesomest, with the women making the lavni dance seem full on sexy. That was the cultural float for which I clapped the hardest. Obviously.
- Some of the floats were damn corny and it was evident that there was much drama exhibited by those atop it, which could’ve quite frankly been done away with.
- The kids in the open top jeeps that won bravery awards were loudly applauded as well. It is a weird feeling to know and acknowledge that for these few instances of reported bravery, there are hundreds more that go unnoticed and unacknowledged.
- The defining moment of the parade for me was the lone motorbike daredevil who began the daredevil display. He stood ramrod straight on the bike as it came along smoothly down Rajpath and turned smartly to the right to salute the Presidential box after which he then continued to stand at attention as the bike moved along. It wasn’t as jaw dropping a display as the subsequent motorbike stunts were, but the class and the panache with which this lone standing biker executed his moves made it the most memorable of all displays.
- The fly-by with the Sukhoi 30s doing their thing was quite thrilling too and the parade ended with the departure of the President from the grounds, along with the release of balloons in orange, white and green all along Rajpath to earmark the end of the parade.
It is funny that the parade seemed so much shorter and so much more engaging this time around. I’ve always remembered it as being quite long and sometimes quite lengthy to the point of driving me to boredom. Was it because it was shortened this time around compared to the previous versions? Or was it because of the fact that one’s physical presence at the actual parade as opposed to the option of being able to switch channels made it more compelling to witness?
I don’t know for sure, but what I do know is that it was an honour and a privilege to witness the Republic Day parade in full glory and splendour as it happened, live. No other scheduled display of patriotism comes as close.
Jai Hind.
The Story of the Lost Boarding Pass
I am sitting at the Hyderabad airport and mooching off on the Tata Indicom free wi-fi to fondly recollect yet another airport adventure. Every trip to an airport seems to bring with it some or the other set of incidents that make me yearn for the uneventful life during momentary lapses of reason.
This time around, I was scheduled to head to the ISB campus at Hyderabad in order to talk to the class of 2011 regarding exploring opportunities for the firm I am currently working for. As a result, I was to head to Terminal 3 of the IGI airport in Delhi on Monday afternoon, to reach Hyderabad early that evening.
I checked in my baggage (traveling light when you’re carrying a suit is just not possible) and then proceeded to security check after picking up my boarding pass. I normally throw my paper ticket away as soon as I am done with collecting my boarding pass, but this time around, I instinctively put the ticket in my backpack and went to the food court area in the departure section.
After a visit to the washroom, I discovered that I’d lost my boarding pass. The set of incidents that made my exit from Israel memorable were playing on in my mind, and it will take time for me to be fully calm and composed at airports. The loss of the boarding pass didn’t really help matters. I then violated the golden rule that I’d set for myself after the Ben Gurion airport interrogation incident of never running at the airport.
The non-disposed print out of my e-ticket came in handy as I sprinted towards the departure gate in order to get a duplicate. Out of breath, ticket in hand with the seat number memorized, I would’ve been shot at during some other occasion in some other airport, but here, the Kingfisher staff was helpful, friendly and obliging to a point where I was surprised beyond words.
The food and the in-flight entertainment also made up for the initial shock as I prepared myself for another 24 hours at the beautiful ISB campus that I have now grown to miss beyond mere words.
Most people pray for a safe flight to their destination. I’m reduced to praying for an uneventful and normal time until the darn flight actually takes off.
2010: The year that was – Part 1
I’d written a post at the start of last year to document personal milestones / accomplishments / fun things that took place in my life in 2009 and when I look back on it, I realize that the content in that post brings back memories of times that have been relegated to the back of my head, primarily due to other, more immediate things that seem to have taken up space instead.
However, it is nice to occasionally meander around in the recesses of one’s mind to dig up and unearth things that would otherwise be remembered only through memory triggers.
January 2010:
- Another new year’s eve in Mysore at home and as good a start to the year as any.
- Went to IIT Madras for the second time in as many years, this time to have an exclusive interview with Hammerfall. Hammerfall is a fun band whose sound I’d describe as entry level power metal and even though they didn’t hold a candle to Opeth in 2009, the time spent in IIT Madras was fun.
- On a side note, even though I still have the Hammerfall interview recording, the story never saw the light of day at RSJ. Just as well.
- On a lighter note, placements began in full earnest on the ISB campus. I volunteered as a control room coordinator and later on as the point of contact for a few companies including AT Kearney on day 1 and saw all the high GPA studs in my batch juggling between various consulting job offers. This was pressure at its extreme and as sour-grapish as it might sound, I was, in retrospect glad not to have been wearing a suit and making life-changing decisions regarding which job to take. My simple little brain that might’ve exploded in such a situation.
February 2010:
- The pranks on campus continued, as did the extreme debauchery. The class of 2010 hung on in quiet desperation at the prospect of securing employment and breaking away from the vicious circle of the placement rigmarole.
- I interviewed with a whole bunch of firms – I’ve honestly lost count. But the classic blooper moments I underwent still make me smile to this day. One of those was when I showed up half asleep at an interview and after one round, was made to interact with the CEO despite not having worked on a preliminary assignment that was required to be completed as part of their selection procedure. Chutzpah alone didn’t work and I didn’t get the job, though far more dedicated and deserving people did.
- The other interview that makes me facepalm myself was one where I was asked to draw the Porter’s 5 forces diagram on the board. I blanked, forgot and made a mess of the whole thing. The interviewer and I shared a good laugh about it at the end of it all. You remember more of what you missed than of the one shot that hit the target.
- I’d had too much mirinda just before another interview and let out a loud burp while in conversation. Turns out, the recruiters weren’t too sanguine about my prospects in their firm as a result of my orange tongue and teeth. The burp, I suppose, had nothing to do with it.
- Rock in India had Backstreet Boys and Richard Marx perform. The less said about this, the better.
- I finally signed out of the placement process when a business research firm based in Gurgaon (yes, based in and not based out of) decided to give me a job. I didn’t really have to jump through hoops to get the job, but I was convinced in my head back then that this was what I needed to act as a springboard for the next stage of my life.
- I was out of placements, but friends were still in the hunt. They celebrated with me and I tried my best to egg them on as they continued along in the process. Intense pressure and relief, turns out, have similar cathartic vents and the debauchery and the escapades that ensued continued unabated.
March 2010:
- The number of companies arriving on campus for placements thinned down until there was but a mere trickle.
- People gave up and decided to make the most of life and times on campus and March 2010 became one of the most fun months ever.
- The countless instances of hanging out with friends in different circles and indulging in everything except studying seemed to compensate more than amply for all the studying that was done in the initial part of the course (by the high achievers, of course).
- Unexpected visitors from Madras ushered in fond, if transient memories.
- The last full month on the ISB campus saw as much mayhem and chaos as did the previous eleven, so no changes there.
April 2010:
- The ISB rock band, Conjoint, performed its Swansong show for a full three hours in the last couple of days before graduation. We played so much that people gave up and went to sleep before it was done. Turns out, we took their chants of “once more” in our previous shows a little too much to heart. The rock band and all the friends I made that were part of it made B-school special in ways that I can’t describe.
- Got the torchbearer award – this added another cute bullet point to a resume that otherwise seemed average in comparison with those that my illustrious contemporaries sported. Humbling as B-school turned out to be, I learnt that we all have our place under the sun.
- Graduation happened three days before I turned 27. My folks were there. I could, for the first time, know for certain that they were proud of their kid, in just the same way as 570 other sets of families that showed up were for the achievements of their wards.
- My trusty backpack followed me to the graduation ceremony as well and the reason why it was with me is an interesting story in itself, to be told when I don’t have enough to write about, try as hard as I’d like to.
- Spent my birthday in my favourite place in the world at home in Mysore. Did nothing of note and thats what made it special.
- Returned to Hyderabad on the 10th of April for orientation week of the class of 2011. The most memorable thing, aside from the immense fun that it provided was making the entire class keep the faith.
- Left for Gurgaon on the 18th of April and that was when I realized how much South India rocks. I yearn to return, but I will do my time here before I earn my passage back down south.
- The April heat was negated by the fun times had in the first few days at work and the fun times had with the Prince of Gurgaon, Samridh.
May 2010:
- Two trips to Bangalore happened within a fortnight, the first was to attend Krithik’s wedding. The second one was a longer stint that ran through for an entire week and a half and began with the Simian wedding.
- Monkee was expected to get married earlier than most of us, but when it actually happened, one could hear the clock ticking as a countdown to the impending end of bachelorhood, were the stakeholders in my life keen on ending my solo reverie. Turns out, they hadn’t even thought about it. Phew.
- An air-conditioner and a TV (brought on EMI despite having liquidity) in Gurgaon turned out to be the blessing that reinforced my faith in modern technology. Not exactly spartan living, but not conspicuous consumption either.
- The heat made me pray for winters. The cold in the winter (briefly) made me pray for summer. When its hot, he wants it cold and when its cold, he wants it hot.
- Very little time was spent in the office thanks to a plethora of paid leaves taken and as will be seen in part 2 of this series, it came back to bit me hard in the gluteal region.
June 2010:
- And then there were four.
- Another trip to Mysore, the third one in two months was undertaken. The only bright spot in an otherwise bad month.
- More people from the ISB class of 2010 kept streaming in into Gurgaon, making this place better and more live-able.
- Blackberry messenger, as it turned out, was the de facto mode of staying in touch and this piece of software can take credit for some of the nice things that happened in June 2010.
To be continued…..
