Saturday, 21 July 2012

FYI


Rains. Do you know realize how
this perpetual wetness irritates me, takes so
much out of me? No more drizzles for me, or those
flashing lightening with huge sound affects affairs,
I have had enough, really.


What would it take for us to kill
the drama between you and me?  This professing of
love; night after night; and letting it go. Every
morning? Would people buy tickets to see our hearts
break? Wait in lines for lines, where I


tell you, ‘this is the end of the road.’ And, you
tell me that I was always on the wrong road, that
it was not the safe road that led to you. And then I say (They
cut what I say actually, and go for an advert-man’s gotta
make money).  And then I do not say…


Silence. Yours’, and mine. And one day, this story will
be told.
To different people.

Monday, 9 July 2012

The End


Did you know, this morning I woke
up with a feeling that you had ignored me all my life, even when
you did not know me. You did not really care, and now
you…and now you. And now,
somebody had got to pick up the pieces. It would be
funny, if it were not tragic. But then, everyone
found humor in every Chaplin fall. I will
not be as classy, but you get the idea. Tomorrow
I will leave, and you will come to terms with it, as
will I. Did you care that Batman almost died, and that
silences stretched beyond what we thought possible, and that
the usual things we complained about would, in the end, turn
out to define us? I missed you thrice, in the silence of the night; I
woke up, and called out your name and found silence. I am gone, and
this is the first time you will deal with my absence. How? I
do not know, and, if you ask me, I don’t really
care. There has been a corrosion of love; this soul
no longer cares, and Fare You Well.

Friday, 29 June 2012

Just...


This is an abandoned town, ever since.
The statues are silent, and sun is cut up
in pieces and music is lost, and evenings
come and go, ever since you put down that phone.
People call and ask, what do I think
of this thing, and that…stuffy rooms and tepid
tea and vacuous smiles. I imagine you in the kitchen,
the sound of spoon against tumbler cutting
deep scars in the silence. This is morning,
and my wrists carry evidence of every time
you left. Outside the window, oppressive heat accretes.
Tomorrow, it will rain.

Saturday, 23 June 2012

Oh Airports, You Damned Nuisances


Dear Mr. Bestselling Novelist,

I was thoroughly illuminated by your post on the stupidity that goes on in Indian airports. Brilliant analysis and clever solutions, and I am grateful to you for offering them. But as a well educated, logical person like you would accept that the best solutions have all one thing in common- they are feasible. So let us see how your solutions measure up to small feasibility tests. Let us start with the most obvious one first:

The Printed Out Ticket Nuisance: Let me start by agreeing with you that printed tickets are troublesome to carry around. You have to run around looking for printouts, you have to remember to carry them, if are on a multi-city trip, you have to hunt through sheaves of tickets to find out the right one, and you are not being very eco-friendly. But should we do away with them totally? Printed tickets are convenient for the guy who checks them. There do not have to be phones passing from hand to hand, there is no time wasted in searching for tickets every time a back button is pressed accidentally (it happens all the time, remember, even with highly tech savvy people) , there is no stress on the guy checking the tickets to familiarize himself with different kinds of screens-an A4 sized paper is a uniform screen. And let us face it, an A4 size document, or even half of it. And the relevant parts- your name, the name of the airline you are flying, the number of your flight, date of your flight, departure time usually do cover almost half the page- this can be remedied and standard formats set, but till then, think of the poor chap who is supposed to check all this on your 3 inch blackberry screen. Hell, I dare you to do it on the smartphone you use day-in day-out, in a time faster than the time it takes for him to process all that information from a piece of paper. Another small point- phones pass on from hand to hand, they drop sometimes. When they drop, sometimes they break. Who pays for such incidences? In 2010-11, nearly 30million people passed through Mumbai airport alone. That is a hell of a lot of phones to check. Can you imagine the level of damages that will need to be paid, and the suits that will be filed if even a fraction of a fraction of those simple phone-dropping-and-breaking mishaps happen? (We are, of course, in even considering this line of thought, going by the assumption that those 30 million people were all owners of smart phones capable of showing e-tickets on their screens. Pretty big assumption, don't you think?)

So, the point, Mr. Bestselling Novelist, isn’t that the terrorist is going to make a spelling mistake. It is to check if a ticket is valid, and the person carrying that ticket is the person for whom the ticket was issued. You would agree that it is required, and I would say that yes, when available, phones ‘should’ be allowed as display devices for tickets. But your argument to do away with the paper entirely? Oh well…

The Baggage Tag: That big-bag, small-bag example, bwahahahaha! Thank you for making my day.

The Food: I agree with your point about the snack shop. It is inconvenient, it would be best if we could order food on the ground. The airlines do take food orders, on the ground, you know. Or during ticket booking. 

The Missing Runways: This is a very interesting one. I like where you are going with your argument, here. Aircraft land on runways, too many aircrafts take too long to land during peak hours because runways are not clear. Ergo, we need more runways. Preferably, one for every aircraft that lands at an airport. I know this is an absurd, overly simplistic distortion of your line of thought. But who started it?  I am sure Occam’s bones are shrivelling in whatever crypt they lie in. 

There is a word in English, called optimization. It is a heavily overused word in business circles, and causes lots of sniggers, but you know what, it makes a hell of a lot of sense to optimize. Here is why: You can make more and more runways. But they require something to make. Got it right the first time- they need resources to make. You know, land, money, labour- the kind of stuff that is not in infinite supply. And it doesn’t really stop here. Aircraft do not live on runways. They live in hangars. People do not get out at runways, they get out at terminals. So, things like more terminals, more access roads, more buses to ferry people, more people to tinker around all the aircrafts that are on the ground. And, most cussedly, more ground itself. Land. Very limited. And the worst part is, your resource requirement is not over once you have them. You have to pay to maintain them in working order. So, while it would be nice to have those extra 20 minutes to tweet if I land earlier due to absence of air traffic congestion, it might not be the best use of resources.

There is another thing: the problem is congestion, not lack of capacity. (I understand that there might be a lack of capacity, but to make that claim requires much more analysis of data and more detailed thought in how the resources available can be best utilized). So, congestion. That is a problem that can be reduced by some smarter thinking instead? Maybe more flights in the off peak hours would help? I know airlines wouldn’t like it initially, passengers wouldn’t like it initially, but none of them like the congestion either. And you are talking about running an airport, not winning an election.
I will leave it here, but I would like to make a disclaimer: the point I was trying to make above was not about your arguments, your complaints and the validity or non-validity of them. My point was about the thought process that needs to go behind solutions that we propose. The most simplistic way might not always be the smartest, and what mostly seems like an inconvenience forced upon us, might sometimes have good reasons.

And one last thing: If millions of people were going  to read what I write, then I would put some thought behind what I wrote, so that I did not end with my foot in my mouth too often.

Thanks and love and all that.

Sunday, 10 June 2012

Muted


There is something
intended to be lost, something
which keeps coming back- look at him
standing in the French window- he is drinking coffee,
determined to face tomorrow with a
fierce optimism. That was last night. He
is not wondering, what happened where did
it all fall apart-mice and men, where
did they fail? It has been raining everyday
and mud and slush and an all-pervading
grimness are all around. He would like some snow-
he has never seen snow. He wonders what it
feels like- if he turns the air-conditioner down to the
coldest it can get, and tear apart pillows, imagine
cotton balls as feathers- would it be the same? Probably
not. Not all white, drifting things are snow. Not
all clocks signify time. Not all time is life. His phone
has not rung for eleven days now. It is well. He
does not know what to say in answer-
to anything.

Monday, 4 June 2012

Driving Mad


Given a choice of which vehicle I would want to drive the most, ten times out of ten, I would pick the truck. And no, I would not go for the itsy-bitsy Tata Ace kinds or the sorry-ass soapboxish SUV like things the Americans call trucks or even those pathetic 9-ton lorry things. NO SIR, you can have your ‘last mile connectivity’ and roll weed in it and dip it rabbit’s urine and pray that smoking it will grant you the sagacity of Our Dear Leader. Not for me any of this pansy nonsense.  When I say truck, I mean TRUCK. I want a large 20 ton truck or one of those mammoth container transports or, even better, one of those car transport things.

My reasons are simple. The romance of lugging a mammoth beast thousands of kilometers around the country, night after night, going smoothly on well laid highways watching the beautiful rolling vistas of our hinterland rollingly vist by me in the pale moonlight of the night; hearing nothing but the roar of the engine and swish of tyre on asphalt; and the glorious joy of the lilting voices of Bhojpuri and Haryanvi singers wanting to explore delicately the tender parts of their beloved and seeking to burn themselves in the fires of love emanating from her short skirt; and the occasional friendly exploration of the genealogy of a colleague over a wrong-sided overtake…No, not really.

I think it is time to let it out now. I do not drive. I mean that in the sense I cannot tell that of those three pedal-like things on the driving side floor of the car, which one makes the car go faster, which one slows it down, and which one makes it go out of its mind like a Nana Patekar dancing with Malaika Arora Khan. In addition, I am very very scared of the possibility of damaging my car in the way that I am afraid of being the one careless owner of the car Douglas Adams said had three very careful owners and one recklessly careless one. And last, but not the least, I am patently terrified by the utter irrationality of driving a car in face of the fact that given the speeds people drive at there is a very good chance that a lot of cars could, at any given point in time, be occupying the same geographical and temporal space. As that is rationally impossible, and yet, seems to happen with an alarming frequency, I choose not to drive. Also, I do not drive sounds a hell of a lot better than I do not know how to drive when you are thirty years old. All of which should probably explain a lot about why I want to drive a truck and not some itsy bitsy thing.

There are other reasons. Truck drivers do not have to worry about other people breaking traffic rules around them. In fact, you will find that drivers of pesky little vehicles like cars and SUVs, who are normally as arrogant as Shahrukh Khan at a Wankhede Stadium, suddenly hide their tails between their legs and keep at their best behavior whenever a truck is around, much like a truant student around the headmaster.

Another thing about traffic laws and rules and etiquettes. The Indian populace accords the same importance to traffic laws and etiquette that it does to intellectual property rights. That is, we as a people do not acknowledge the existence of such things. But let us see you misbehave or overtake a truck from the wrong side, you!
Another reason- how you drive when a truck is around in the lane next to you is a measure of the kind of man you are. I mean I am not particularly a coward, but let me tell you this: I once had the good fortune of being driven on the Mumbai-Pune expressway by a colleague, and we did a stretch where we drove for almost a kilometer with a truck on either side. I am telling you boss, my balls were trying to seek asylum somewhere in the vicinity of my liver. I would happily choose an evening with Kareena Kapoor over a repeat of that experience, anyday. Imagine, OTOH, had I been one of the truck drivers at that particular moment. Just the very thought makes a warm glow go through my insides.

 And I see a kind of romance in truck accidents. Let us take a trailor which has jack-knifed on the expressway. Goodluck trying to find your way out of that jam. I call it a way of getting back at the world- my day is ruined, why should yours' be any better? You call it a damn nuisance, boss. I call it poetic justice!

Which is why I say: Let us all drive trucks.