Pause and Reflect : Priorities

So many things happened in the last few years. Let me try and summarize - two and a half years ago I left my cushy consulting job and relocated to Dubai to join THE ride hailing start-up of the region. Wife (W) moved after a few months. We're settled in many respects. BUT. 

It’s important to reflect - and see if the priorities have changed. Two years ago priorities were different - we had just gotten married, we had minimal savings - and daunting education, car and home loans. We made some big bets early in life (and I’m super proud about it). I'm happy to say that me from two and a half years ago - would say to the current me : You did well, my buoy.  

So what hereafter, what are we chasing? You probably noticed that I said ‘we’ - and not I. I'm speaking both of us (W included).

I'm not trying to say that marriage creates baggage - it basically means that if you’re married, you can have a collective vision for your life together.  

(On a side note - you might notice a slight change in my jargon. I’m probably a lot more corporatish now. Side effects, you see.)

Coming back to “collective” vision : it’s a vision of how the two of us see our life together. So, what are our collective priorities - and how do our individual drives and ambitions help us move towards our collective vision. If marriage is a company, then spouses are its co-founders. The company has a collective mission - and a vision to achieve it, it requires and expects different things from each of the co-founders - based on who's best placed to deliver what. Tag team.

So, coming back to the main point - what is our collective vision? : It’s probably hard to answer in one simple statement, we’re not there yet in terms of clarity. Let me try to break it down into a few important components.

Priority #1 - Be healthy : It’s not like we are obese right now - but we need to get healthier, we need to feel healthier. Better health drives productivity > productivity drives positive outcomes > positive outcomes provide happiness. We can always do with more happiness. Everyone can.  

Priority #2 - Evolve, constantly : We need to become better people in every dimension. In the immediate sense - it probably means that we will use our time effectively to improve ourselves - and enable ourselves to picking up professional challenges of higher complexity and skill . 

Every time we break a barrier -  we will have a moment of intermediate celebration and reflection. Then we’ll move-on to our next challenge. Having clarity of what we will call intermediate success will be the key here. We will define this individually.

Ultimate success is like infinity - you can only approach it, and never reach it. We’re aware that our whole life will be spent in this pursuit. I’m okay with that.   

Priority #3 - Family comes first : We’re blessed with great families. Our parents sacrificed many things to give us the privileges that we got, and are still getting. We will love them and take care of them whenever they need us. Period.

Priority #4 - Secure the future : It will be difficult for us to do justice to priority # 1-3, if we don’t have a way to secure our future. At the moment, I can only think of a financial lens to it - which basically means that we will ensure a certain standard of living for ourselves, always. And for that - we will plan accordingly for calamities, and for the risks we might want to take evolve.   

x

x

I'm aware - that we'll have to make trade-off decisions between these priorities. We will under-index and over-index on a few - the trick will be for us to evaluate ourselves honestly and take steps in the right direction.

We are the CEO of our life - and we’re clear on what we’re going to focus on. Priorities can change in the future, but this seems like a good starting point for the next 5 years.

So, for now - Paused. Reflected. Heading for execution. 

10 days to corporate life – lessons to self

To start with, I have to say that this blog saw some kick ass activity in the last few weeks. I haven’t been posting regularly, so potentially a serial killer is studying me before he makes a move. That aside, I am keen to update my non-existent readers that I lost another 2 kilos – and I am sitting comfortably at 74kgs, as I write this. This again took me 45 days. And man, it was hard. Imagine losing weight in the last few weeks of your MBA.

There’s another thing on my mind these days: my life post the MBA. In exactly 10 days, I’m looking to join my job – and get into a certain routine of doing things. Time constraints will reappear and the art of prioritizing and multitasking will have to be honed.

Clearly (as you know it already) – this is not my first shot at a job. So, I somewhat have an idea of what it takes, and what it shouldn’t take. Being able to do the job well is a key goal, and I am totally looking to achieve it. However, I don’t want to make the same mistakes I made in the previous stint, so I’m thinking hard on how I’m going to run my life hereafter. Basically, I’m looking to list down what I should be focused at so that in case I lose myself once again in the vagaries of life, I can re-visit this blog post to remind myself, what I’m out there to achieve and how.

So here it goes:

#1 Dietary Discipline and Fitness: Well, you probably saw it coming. I’m come to believe strongly in the power of good health. Being fit is important for me. It enhances my self-confidence. It improves my productivity. To many, the word ‘discipline’ is almost irritating; as if it’s the synonym for uncool. I agree with them. It’s the boring way of doing things. You will have to compromise on the fun aspect. But for me, the latent gratification of seeing goal oriented results is much more satisfying than the short term doses on sporadic fun (at least on most days). And honestly, one can strike a balance. It’s not that I have to stop eating or drinking, all I have to do is being conscious of how much of these I’m having, and then see how much I can afford to, given my fitness goals. If you’re reading this, and are not convinced, then watch this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rbVQNTzCh8. Actually discipline goes beyond fitness. It’s about managing your sleep well, paying your bills on time, reading the newspaper everyday, not missing your breakfast, avoiding binge watching. These little things improve your way of life, in a much more important way than you can imagine.

#2 – Focus on Knowledge: This has been a goal in the previous jobs too. And it worked for me big time. My life shifted directions ever since I latched to the habit of reading newspapers. It makes you a much more aware person. It also makes you much more sociable; suddenly, you just have so much to talk about. There are obviously no concrete goals on how much I’m planning to read, but clearly I’m looking to keep myself up to date with domestic and world events, particularly in business. This would mean being regular with the newspaper, and a few Indian and world magazines.

#3 – Traveling: This one’s a little shaky, because I’m yet to figure out how much my job will require me to travel. In any case, two vacations a year should always be possible. I still have to figure out the details, but luxurious, exotic locations are what I’m after. What I really like about this goal, is that is mingles well with the dietary discipline one. I’m really, really looking forward to completing a few treks.      

#4 – Parents: I’m 27 years old, and I don’t think I’ve yet been able to do anything substantial for my parents. While my family understands that they and I have a different operating frequency, I feel, in my selfish interest, that being able to do something for them will bring some personal gratification. From something as simple as planning a family dinner every month, to buying little things for the house will do the job.

#5 – Get a house first: This I think, is a baniya thing. Of all things I want to buy with my money, a good house is right on the top of my list. With so many loans lurking over my head, to achieve this goal looks a little distant, but nevertheless it’s on the radar. Having one’s own house is the best way to improve one’s standard of living. Isn’t that what we’re all trying to achieve? – Improving our standard of living I mean.

This is an unending list, and I will keep adding on to it from time to time. It’s indeed a hard list to keep up with but I’m going to see how it goes in the next few months. I also hope I’m able to blog more often.

Ho ho ho!

I’m going to start with the usual – so much has changed, since the last time I blogged.

Tersely put, this is a recap so that I can maintain a mental diary of the chronology of important life events. Mind it that the events that I’m going to talk about are going to guide everything in my life: my career progression, my relationship with my parents, my marriage.  

I stepped foot in ISB on the 18^th April 2015. On 5^th December, I got a job offer from a top notch consulting firm, with a fairly plush pay package. Yay! I never thought I would manage so much. I have had such muted expectations from myself that it seems that my luck must be at its highest point that day. Anyways, now that I have the job, I’m just going to pretend that I deserved it.

I got the job in December, and I was done with my placement season. And therefore, I had a lot of time on my hands thereafter. But I basically didn’t do much besides partying, gaining 5 kilos, and screwing up my sixth term. Well worth it, I’d say. But eventually, I was hit by an epiphany about myself: nothing depresses me more in life than to not have a goal to pursue. If there’s no goal, there’s no feeling of accomplishment – there’s no adrenaline rush, there’s nothing to feel bogged down about, and nothing to pick myself up for, like the typical Hindi film hero.

I also realized that I don’t like revealing my goals explicitly to others. I’m a secret achiever, who tries to achieve what he has to, in a rather discrete, non-revealing way. When the goal is achieved, I may just come back to my room, close the door, and say – ‘Yay’ to myself, with a fist clenched, and a sheepish smile on my face. And that would be the end of it, till of course, I give myself something new to chew on.

These days, I have a couple of things that keep my mental bandwidth preoccupied. Good health, is one. I used to be 72 kilos, and still think that I’m not the fittest. Today, I weigh 76. It’s plainly disappointing to think how I let this happen. Anyways, I lost 4 kilos in the last 45 days, and slowly fitting back into the clothes that I had long abandoned. I’m treading a path of dietary discipline, and its making me a happier person. I’m not letting myself be till I get ‘Fit as Fuck’ (FaF) – it’s my personal verbiage.

If you’ve read my blog earlier, you would know that hardly a post goes without mentioning an update on my relationship angle. Since you see no mention, clearly it’s on the backburner. I was told that relationships don’t survive MBAs – definitely not two of them, and most certainly not simultaneously. My relationship survived alright; but it lost a  few of its senses. Pity. 

With a little time at hand

So for a change, today I have some time. It reminds of the days of nothingness, when had less to do but to introspect. Though I never really did any serious introspection. I think, I was just killing time thinking.

Anyways, it's been about four months here, and I'm significantly more uncertain about what I want to do in life, than I was when I came to ISB.

There are just so many options, and if there's anything I've realized about myself, it's that options baffle me. My indecisiveness almost always gets the better of me.

I screwed up the bidding process so badly that I got none of the courses I really wanted to take in the next term. While I feel slightly disappointed about this fuck up, I'm also simultaneously happy that I resorted to fate accompli - that is, I did not get to decide it for myself, and left it on chance. 

There's a limit of how bad it can get - I mean, it's just one term - and I'm hoping all the good guys took better courses anyways - so I'll be in a class which has a lower expectation about its own expectations. So, may be I'll get an A. Or May be not. Don't Know. Don't Care.

The high points of the day though was that I got to meet Ankur Warikoo today. When I meet people like him, it reinvigorates my zealousness; zealousness to do something different, to take risks, to achieve excellence, to be outspoken, to manage myself better - and what not. 

He said, it's important to know which industry one's headed towards. And I sat there thinking : where am I going? what am I pursuing? Consulting or Retail? What am I focusing on? Grades or Experience? Am I getting too comfortable here?

Surviving an MBA

It’s almost hard to believe that it’s been two months at ISB already. And really, what a roller coaster this is. As an alum rightly pointed out in a session yesterday – one won’t necessarily miss these days in the time to come. An MBA at ISB is ‘highway to hell’ – he rightly said.

 

But then, the eventfulness of the last months is hard to ignore. It’s like I squeeze out the eventfulness in the last four years of my life, it’ll probably be equal to the eventfulness I’ve squeezed in the last two months. Shit happens – and then it sorts itself out. By the end of it you’re all stressed and you’d like to burn the burn-out so you party like crazy. That pretty much sums it up.

Honestly speaking, in the first two weeks, I felt my natural self won’t even last in this place. There’s just so much going on around you all the time – and you tend to find yourself around so many great people that it’s almost impossible to be your own un-interesting self. But then like interest rates come down in a growing economy – people’s guard of pretentiousness comes down in a fast paced MBA. And then you feel you’re more like everybody – than you thought you were.

 

Not to say that there aren’t any jerks in your personal life. But then a few phone calls here and there – and you’re sorted. The funny thing is that there isn’t an iota (imaginary) second available to think about it. May be I spent the last four years thinking what I’ll do in life. And maybe I’ll spend this year doing things without thinking them through.

 

Also, I think I’m becoming more and more Punjabi everyday. Not something I’m terribly proud of. At the risk of exposing my bad taste in music, this one's on the jukebox.

 

 

 

Pistanthrophobia

So, I learnt a new word today - Pistanthrophobia. Going by the dictionary - it means the fear of trusting people. It's mostly described as a disorder. I think I suffer from it.

Now, to be brutally honest - I have a hard time trusting people or as some say, letting my guard down. I think I've always been wary of trusting people, but only recently have I seen a spillover of this personality trait in my professional life. 

If you're a stickler for getting the job done, and getting it done well - then you can only delegate stuff to people whom you really tend to trust ; perhaps, people who have as much at stake as yourself. But that doesn't happen always. I mean it's a hierarchy. Some people have more at stake and some have less. And as responsibilities increase, you'll have a hard time believing that you'll be able to get everything done by yourself - if you can't find anybody trustworthy.

It then boils down to inculcating this habit of trusting people first and then giving them opportunities - instead of hoping them to prove their trustworthiness first. And this applies not only in the professional sphere - but also in your personal life. We never completely trust all our friends, do we? It's a little trickier with friends than with colleagues at office. There's no job to get done here. One needs to trust their intent.

I need to draw this to a close now. The only self corrective action that I can think of from this moment of introspection - is to start trusting people more often. Instead of asking: Why should I trust him/her? - I need to ask - Why shouldn't I trust him/her? Life would be incredibly easier(and simple, and less devious) if everyone around yourself could be trusted.

So, if you know me - then I'm going to trust you - I'm going to trust your abilities, I'm going to trust your intent, I'm going to trust your willingness to help - unless of course you give me a reason for doing otherwise.

Notes to Self - I

Just so much has changed since the last time blogged.

I'm a year older. My hairline seems to be receding. I find myself in a long distance relationship. I also have an admit from ISB. So, in about a year's time I'm going to be an MBA. Believe me when I say that I don't, at the slightest, mean to boast.

I don't even know how much I've detested doing an MBA. But shit happens. There are enough motivations outside of yourself that guide your decisions. They're more influential than you would imagine.

I've probably lost my edge in blogging. That's what not being regular at something does to you - you're a dude one day, and another fine day you realize that you're a dud.

I believe the only thing that can make this blog interesting is if I be completely honest about how I see the world. More than three years out of college, and people still tend to think I'm diplomatic when it comes to being bitchy. I don't blame them. I don't really bitch that much - at least not in public. I'm going to change that from now on. May be I'm only going to bitch publicly now.

Perhaps,I need to start bitching about myself first. I'm such a non-sense prick at times. I depend solely on my ability to talk people into things. Things I believe in at that moment, and may not believe in, a few minutes later. I would end up being such a shitty manager. But may be I will change. Or may be I'll just become a lawyer one day.

On the top of my mind these days are relationship hassles. I'm a bit of a prick when it comes to being in a relationship. I'm super insecure, super suspicious, and super paranoid.

I think every boyfriend goes through this dilemma. Nobody wants to sound patronizing - but you just can't stand some stuff. I'm slowly learning the art of being direct. In a long distance relationship - the bandwidth to learn from non-verbal gestures is extremely limited (as you'd imagine).

Are you super insecure about your significant other? Well, don't kid yourself into believing that it's a signature of your affection. It's not. In most cases, it displays your competitive arrogance. Most people like to think of their boyfriends/girlfriends, as their prized possessions - and you fear losing them to others - just like you fear losing your face in public.

I think I'm getting better at dealing with this. Apathy helps. Engage yourself in something. Like I'm engaging myself in writing this. Try to remind yourself that you strive to be a good person first, and then an achiever. Then concepts of happiness and contentment will start creeping in your mind. Finally, you will begin to reason with yourself. And you'll start thinking of something more sensible.

On the jukebox.

Engineering Love : Chapter 1 : Part IX

I’d never smoked earlier, but from trusted sources I’d heard that the mind felt at ease after a fag. This tryst with destiny was coming to an end, I said to myself. Soon Saswati would board the ladies coach on the metro, I’ll say a decent – “Bye” and it shall all be over. She’ll swear not to recognize me again – and every time I approach her to talk in the next four years of my dull B.Tech life, I’d have to remind her that we met on the first day of college, with the typical – “Remember Me” tone. All this ran through my head as I waited for Saswati to emerge from the frisking booth.

After a couple of seconds, she came out with a tinge of laughter on her face. I was so disappointed already with the separation that awaited us that I didn’t bother to ask why she had that smirk. I did realize later though that it was a matter of muted obligation to be curious about a person’s unwarranted change in expression. We took the stairs to reach the platform.

“By the way – where do you put up?” -  She asked. I almost feared this question. And I’ll have to freeze time here to tell you why.

For the next five minutes you’ll be a part of a social experiment. Imagine that somebody came to you and told you that they lived in a place called – “Patparganj”. What comes to your mind about the place?

Since this is monologue - let me guess on your behalf. You probably imagined a stinky lower middle class suburb with ill constructed houses stacked shabbily next to each other. The symmetry in their asymmetry stood out. The in-roads are narrow with sewers running on both sides. Most of the houses had an old Bajaj Chetak parked outside. Exactly one of the houses however had a brand new Maruti Alto parked right outside the gate; the best guess is that some recently married guy got it in his dowry. The plastic sheet on the car has been carefully preserved. And one person in the family always keeps sticking his nose out from the balcony to ensure that the car is unharmed. There’s a wire mesh floating all around the area. Most of the houses have a wire hooked on to the sole electricity pole standing in the lane. At the end of the lane, there stands a parched hand pump that lives to serve as the batsman’s end for the kids playing cricket.

Patparganj, in reality and unlike what the name may suggest, is the hub of all high end group housing societies of East Delhi. And I wouldn't be too far off if I said that it’s decently posh.

“I.P. Extension” – I said. It’s a close and much more respectable alibi that the similarly disgruntled Patparganj junta had resorted to.

“And where would that be?” – She asked.

Now why would a girl be interested in knowing that? – I said to myself.

“It’s the area on the left side of the east Delhi highway” - I answered hoping to put a full stop to her curiosity about my residence.

“You mean – Patparganj, right.”

I opened my mouth just enough to say – “Yep”.

This girl knew the Delhi roads. Impressive.

Engineering Love : Chapter 1 : Part VIII

Both the cigarette and the path had come to an end. It was a rather silent last hundred meters. She must have realised how unmanly I felt walking besides a smoking hot girl – or should I say, a hot girl smoking and not smoking myself. Perhaps she understood the Indian prejudice of men expected to be doing all the wrong things. Or perhaps she didn’t care. I was hoping for the latter. I wanted to keep the chat going.

We were about ten steps away from the metro station. She started looking here and there for a dustbin to throw the tiny leftover cigarette butt. I didn’t want to stop her – but personally, I wouldn’t have rattled myself for throwing that much garbage on the road. In fact by doing that I would take pride in making the jobs of the municipal jamadaars worthwhile.  But no, this girl was persistent.  She couldn’t find a dustbin so she took copy out of her sling bag, tore away a page and wrapped the cigarette butt in it. To be thrown later in a dignified dustbin – I assumed. Either she respected her cigarette too much or she had an environmentalist bone in her body.  

“Can you believe it - these guys don’t have a garbage bin outside a metro station. Now how ridiculous is that?”

 “I know.” Well clearly, that was the best thing I could have said.

The fifteen minute walk to the metro station had stationed my thoughts completely away from my own life – my otherwise ignominious life. My brain, as if, was taking notes observing her every move. For those fifteen minutes, I’d forgotten who I was in making sure that I did not forget what she was like.

We stepped inside the metro station towards our respective frisking booths. Every time she fizzled out of my line of sight, I feared she might pounce on the opportunity to escape my company. I wouldn’t have minded that. Actually I would have, but compared to her being rude straight on my face and telling me that we’d rather not talk again – I’d have preferred that she left without letting me know. This was indeed the longest conversation I’d had with a girl in a long time. And I wanted to sleep with this thought tonight. Also, I thought this would be closest I would ever get to sleeping with a woman.

I have to time out here to describe what an agony the frisking booth is like. Did you really think it Delhi Police frisked people to search for pointy objects and weapons? Well, let me break your myth. That’s not even remotely their intention. It’s to make you aware of how unfit you were. As soon as you stand on that elevated step – they would, in all certainty, press hard against two spots on your body: first, the love handles and second, the butt. A man’s love handles are not be messed with. They are, quite ironically, the handle to his door of agony – if not given their due respect. I have to say though that the whole frisking business is undoubtedly a good security strategy. Even terrorists wouldn’t like to be man-handled in such a way. I wondered if the women’s frisking was any different.

The News That Wasn't : Ishant blames it on the hair; vows to donate them to Tirupati

In a candid moment, while speaking to the media, Ishant confessed that it was the long hair that crowded his vision while bowling the 48^th over against the Aussies in the match in Mohali. The fast bowler gave away 30 runs in the second last over which clinched the match away from the Indians. Till the 47^th nothing looked to be working for the Aussies. The celebrations in the Indian Camp, although quite mistaken, were on, with the skipper regrouping his team after every over, to decide the venue for the after party. Our sources tell us that the youngsters in the team had not fully concurred with skipper’s choice. Dhoni had looked tense thereafter.

When asked about the details, the bowler volunteered to imitate his run-up for the media and prove his point. “Usually I try to throw the ball very fast randomly on any part of the pitch. I never needed to see where I was bowling. By the laws of probability, I would always bowl some good balls. But in that over, MS, all of a sudden, asked me to pitch it in the right areas. That’s just not how it works with me. Now if you ask an experienced bowler to change his bowling strategy in like 10 minutes; Aisa thodi hota hai yaar. But still I tried.”

Ishant imitated himself rather skilfully to illustrate how as soon as he had to release the ball after the run up, spaghetti in coal sauce type hair would completely block his eyes, which he was so desperately dependent on ; now that he had to see where he was bowling.  When asked what he was going to take back from this match, Ishant said – “One, I’m going to sue our team hairdresser, who is ultimately and totally responsible for our loss today. Two, I’m going to Tirupati to donate my hair for the greater good of mankind and cricket.” When asked if bowling to James Faulkner will give him the hibiby-jibies in the coming matches, Ishant in his signature style rebutted that he didn’t really give a ‘faulk’ about him.  

The 7ft bowler, still seeming to be recovering from shock and paranoia, refused to comment any further. “We’re still having that party. I have to go.” – He is learnt to have said before leaving.

The Girl in Pink Shorts : Part I

If I hadn't seen it for myself, I would not have believed it; a girl wearing pink shorts praying in a temple.

Let me start by illustrating how I came to witness this aberration. My mother has always been a super religious person. So much so, that I can totally see her featuring in God’s 99+ percentilers list ordered by faith and devotion. And call it my ignorance or lack of faith that despite such figures to look up to in my own house, I could never adhere to submitting myself to the lord almighty. The one interesting thing that I learnt was that if you’re not an atheist – then you’re in a state of constant faith flux. You just cannot predict what you’re going to head into; which, in my opinion, may not necessarily be bad thing.

The last couple of months haven’t been the best ones. And in hard times, one necessarily finds oneself vulnerable to new ideas, even faiths. The act of giving religion a chance came as a consequence. In a way, maybe I wanted religion to give me a chance. But whatever.

So it was the fourth of seven Saturday nights, I had pledged to go the temple to. It’s an ancient and renowned Hanuman temple, right in the heart of Delhi’s colonial imprint - Connaught Place. It’s the kind of temples that makes you feel that for some families visiting a temple is their chance of getting some time together; like the kind of time a family spends on the dinner table, or watching TV together. It’s bonding time for them. A picnic spot so to say.

A place of worship is the most representative sample of a country’s population which is going through one dilemma or another. It cuts through the social status and wealth. I see the vehicles parked outside; you name it and it’s there. Cars range from Tata Nanos to Audi S3s, two wheelers range from 1980 Bajaj Chetak Scooters to brand new Avengers. I saw the parking spread and realised that rich people have problems too. Call me a sadist but I always find it moderately gratifying to know that.

I stood in the queue outside the temple, thinking what am doing in this place, and simultaneously trying to make the best of the visit, by reinvigorating faith, if any, inside me. And despite best efforts God did not fancy my imagination. People did.

A couple of people ahead of me in the queue was a family of four; dad, mom, brother and sister. The parents were a subtle caricature of middle class parents; siblings looked to be in their teens, the girl being elder. Everything about that family was extremely normal except one (as you’d have guessed); the girl wore pink shorts; the kind of shorts that were certainly not more than three fourths of a foot below the waist. By the power of instinct vested in guys towards spotting such anomalies, it caught my attention.

Not particularly the kind of wardrobe that would suit a temple – I thought to myself. By some telepathic sense, I could hear my mental thoughts resonating among a few others. Prejudice makes one think not so well of a girl who misappropriates her wardrobe selection.  

To Be Cont..

Political and Administrative Apathy

On a Sunday Morning , a couple of months back , I wrote to the local MLA, copying the MP regarding laws being broken right behind my house. The only response I received was that of the MLA copying the Police Commissioner of Delhi and the Municipal Commissioner and asking them to take some action. There hasn't been any development thereafter. 

I'd believed, we always had ourselves to blame for being bad citizens; why? First, for being irresponsible about anything that doesn't affect us directly and not informing authorities of violations. Second, for choosing such lazy politicians to represent us. Turns out we only need to blamed for the latter. Because even if you did complain, they can, at best, mask ignorance. 

I'm posting this online, just so that this can be cited if the situation gets worse in the future. At least the politicos can excuse themselves from the 'lack of knowledge' banter.

Perhaps I should write them another mail, apologizing to have even bothered.

Let me remind them : Elections 2014. Ring a bell?

The letter I wrote, enclosed below.

---

To, 

Mr. Naseeb Singh 

Member of Legislative Assembly, 

Vishwas Nagar Constituency, 

Delhi. 

Copy to : 

Mr Sandeep Dikshit 

MP , East Delhi.

Subject: Bringing to your attention the demise and depreciation of public space and infrastructure due illegal encroachments in Vardhman Plaza Market (I.P. Extension).

Dated: 8th June 2013

Respected Sir, 

I am a resident of Paradise Apartments, Plot No. 40, I.P. Extension, which forms a part of your constituency. Adjoining my apartment, is a multistory shopping complex, commonly known as Vardhman Plaza, which happens to be one of the larger public market places in the I.P. Extension area.

In the last one year, there's been severe deterioration to not only the ambiance but also the public infrastructure in and around this market place. This has happened majorly due to the illegal encroachments that have unearthed in recent years, but also, partly, due to the irresponsible behavior of shop keepers towards the maintenance of this market place. As a consequence, the place in itself has become extremely shabby, ill-maintained and unhygienic. 

 

I want to bring to your attention the encroachments made by a few taxi service providers, which keep their entire fleet of vehicles (and their drivers) permanently parked in the space available to general public visiting the market for maneuvering or parking. This can be construed as a private business being run on public premises, which is of course illegal. Most of the these vehicles are washed everyday with water pipes in the very public space they are parked in, and all the water is spilled directly on the road, as if it were a sewer. It is the same road that is used by residents to maneuver from one side of the market to the other. Not to mention the severe wastage of water.

There are also small shacks that have mushroomed as tea stalls in the public space of the market to cater to these taxi stands. I've attached some pictures as evidence to validate my claims. The drivers of these taxi stands are constant bystanders. Any resident, male or female, stands at risk of their lewd remarks.

Apart from the illegal encroachments, the market is itself in a very poor state of maintenance. There is a big garbage collection room right in the middle of market, the surroundings of which are extremely filthy and unclean. Many shop keepers dump their garbage around this place in the open. And this is again, right in the middle of the same road which people use to move from one side of the market to the other. Any person walking on that road is at a health risk due to the unhygienic surroundings.

As a result, the market in itself has become an extremely inhospitable and dirty place. If conditions like this persist, we're not far from the day when the same situation balloons into a security issue. Please find attached with this email photographic evidence to the aforementioned claims.

I strongly urge you to visit to area and assess the situation yourself, and accordingly ask the accountable authority to look into this matter.

Also, I would appreciate if your office can send me a confirmation to have received this email. I'm using the email address very kindly communicated to me by Mr. Abhilek Bhardwaj, when I called up your office.

Best Regards, 

Engineering Love : Chapter 1 : Part VII

Rest of the hundred meters to the metro station went about in silence. Perhaps she'd realized that I was uncomfortable seeing her smoke. Quite honestly, I wasn't uncomfortable seeing her smoke. I was uncomfortable seeing so many people staring at us, who perhaps saw a girl smoking as a criminal offence. You can't expect any better from a Najafgarh village, I said to myself. I could have acted all saintly and apprised her of my reservations but stayed shut for two reasons. 

First, she was probably self aware. And if she didn't give a damn about it herself, I wasn't going to play Mr. daddy - even if I fitted the persona. 

Second is a rather painful memory from school days. This memory was of an era in which I last remember thinking of myself as slightly cool. This was also the era of accomplishing puberty. It was also the era of discovering the importance of porn in one's life. The era of having serious (c)rushes.The era of sixties in maths and eighties in English. The era of hiding report cards; the era before the tryst to become an engineer even began. 

It was a friend's birthday party. And since I was perceived slightly cool then, I was invited to all the cool birthday parties. So were all the cool girls. The plan was to reach the venue directly from school, change into something more birthday like, and get on with the proceedings. There was a particularly hot girl in the group, who changed into something that took her hotness to infinite levels. It was black top with a net that tucked the bosom together. And my god wasn't she looking amazing. So much so, that if she had the carnal desires just for me in this world, and if at the same time, we were also locked up in a room indefinitely, I would faint out of sheer breathlessness. You would look at her and imagine a sex goddess kicking your balls to ignite the furnace of testosterone production. And then think of all male reproductive organs salivating together as a consequence. 

What she wore wasn't particularly revealing at the outset. But if one was hard working and had the right (wrong) intent, one could get the view. I had it a couple of times myself. Most of us guys had had. But then when the sight had lost its novelty, my intrepid brain sought a plan to make her an accomplice. I knew she was way out of my league, but if you got closer to the queen bee, you're definitely more acquainted with bee hive. 

With a saint like demeanor I approached her. When I thought I had the space, I whispered to her in a hush voice : ' I think your dress is a little too revealing. You should change you know.'  She looked at me in disbelief. And then she looked at her breasts. I looked at her breasts too and then she looked at me again, this time a little enraged. She obviously hadn't taken it in the right spirit, but didn't say anything then. I realised a girl who'd just about entered her teens, felt as accomplished of her breasts, as a guy felt of being able to masturbate. Perhaps she'd bought the dress a while back, when there was hardly any seismic activity on her body. I didn't have the guts to make eye contact with her again. The next day when I went to school, the word was out : 'He's such a pervert, he was looking at my boobs all the time.' 

So much for getting all pally with the queen bee. Never give a hot girl an honest advice, I thought to myself.

As much as wanted to tell Saswati that she shouldn't smoke so blatantly in public, I restrained myself. I couldn't risk her not taking it in the right spirit. Because if she didn't , I didn't know whom I would talk to tomorrow.

Engineering Love : Chapter 1 : Part VI

I knew it even before I could turn around and confirm my hunch. It was her. And then I felt what I used to call the 'matrix moment'. Everything paused went into slow motion while I introspected about what I was seeing. She was as drenched in sweat as I was. 

I couldn't help following the trail of a drop that started from her forehead, making way through the dimples of her cheeks, flowing freely along her neck.  It came to me as a realization that the last words spoken before the world lost speed was a question; one that was directed at me.

'I don't know', I said. 'Of course you do', my alter ego said to myself. 'I think we are', she replied. ' I know you are. I've been looking at you since morning ', I said to myself. 

'Well, I am Saswati. You're the guy who fainted, aren't you. You feel alright now? Quite a stunt you pulled there.' Half embarrassed, I could only say - 'Yeah, I'm okay.' I was so away from the rules of social engagement that I missed introducing myself completely. She had to explicitly ask for it - ' And you would be?'. 'Shankar', I answered.

'I'm assuming you're walking towards the metro station'. 

'I am.'

'Good. I could do with some company.' 

Before any of us could realize, we'd aligned our pace, and it seemed as if we were walking together. 

'Sorry for the 'uncle' thing in the morning. I realized later when I saw you in the class.'

'Oh that's fine. It's not your fault really.'  I was so glad that this necessary part of our conversation was out of the way.

The next forty meters went about in silence. Not that I wasn't thinking about how I could keep the conversation going, I was conscious instead that my speaking anything would only make the day more weird. 

'So how'd you like the college?', she asked.

'Can't say much about the college. The clinic is smelly.' 

'I found the people in our class quite dumb you know. And the seniors more so.' 

I could see a connection in our thoughts. The more she talked, the more I saw her being more like a guy than a girl. Talking to her seemed so effortless.

'Care for a smoke?', she asked. I stood a bit befuddled. 

'No..me..naah. I don't'. She nodded and bought herself one from a pan shop on the way. Call it my Indian prejudice, but smoking is the last thing you expect of a girl all of eighteen. The way she lit it up surprised me and pan-wala equally. This girl was a pro. 

I started to fear that I was in bad company. Already.

Engineering Love Chapter 1 : Part V

I stood lifelessly on the bed thinking if there was any possibility of turning this around. A morbid clock on the wall hinted that I'd been sleeping for four hours. If a child were unconscious for four hours in school, the authorities would call up the parents, parents of parents, next to kin and the neighbors, and not necessarily in the same order. Colleges were more casual about it. No phone calls really. They were glad though that I'd woken up. 

The only possible silver lining out of the whole fiasco though was that there were no more classes to attend for the day. It was time to go straight back home. I was relieved that the ignominy of facing all any object living or dead, who/which saw me faint in the class, was avoided. 

With a hurried sense of unbelongingness to the clinic, I picked up my bag, gave a conceited glance to the nurse and walked straight out. No pleasantries exchanged.

The walk back to the metro station seemed much longer than the walk in. I had never earlier been in a position to sympathize with myself this much. Never had I felt so deranged about how I was supposed to face people the next day. As much I felt urge to talk to somebody about it, I also felt the helplessness of having only Sumit to hear me out. I cannot talk to him about it - I said to myself. I knew he would just rub it in further.

I walked with my head down, kicking the minutest stone on my way. I was conscious that she still lingered in my neural networks.

'Saswati' - I recalled. Now that I knew the name, I couldn't but help build a perception about her. 

She belonged to a middle class family. Her dad must be a mid level employee in some government organization. Mom - a teacher in a government school. She must one of the three daughters that the family has. She's perhaps the eldest, even the brightest. And now that she's made it to NSIT, she's the one last hope of her parents that she earns her dowry all by herself. Never had she managed to strike an independent conversation with a member of the opposite sex, unless it was strictly academic.

I had her all scoped out. At least I thought I did. Although this was all mindless extrapolation. I truly wanted to believe that there was more to her than that. For all I knew she could've been a sex goddess put simply. All boys like to think of an alternate persona of the women they persistently think about. It's an extremely entertaining possibility to believe that there's more to a girl that meets the eye.

And while I was still imagining the extraordinary and in all probability, the improbable, a familiar female voice called out from behind - 'Hey, aren't we in the same class?' 

Engineering Love Chapter 1 : Part IV

The very next moment a dark, geeky looking man entered swiftly into the classroom. Barely two steps inside, he turned back and closed the door. He shouted from the inside - 'Those who were standing outside shall remain outside for the rest of my class'. I would have loved to see their expressions, but alas I was inside. My sense of pride reinvigorated me.

'I am Professor B.K. Mishra and I will teach you mathematics. Now if everybody can stand up and introduce themselves. I would like to know your name, the city you hail from, and your marks in mathematics in the board exam.'  You could see the curiosity in his eyes. He was eager to form a judgement. Eager to pick the eagles.

He pointed to the only girl he could find sitting in the classroom - ' We can start from you'. The girl, caught a little off guard, stood up - 'Yes sir. Okay sir. Saswati. Delhi. 99.' The professor looked satisfied. She'd set the format for everybody. It was rather convenient blurting out three things in three words, that you wouldn't not know about yourself unless you were retarded. 

The class introduced themselves one after the other, till it finally came to me. Although it was just three words, I was a bit nervous. After all this was my first formal introduction in any place of significance. Opinions were being formed. May be I was just over thinking. I put myself together to stand up and introduce myself.

A body like mine made standing up look like a conspicuous piece of exercise. By the time I managed to transfer my weight from the chair to my feet, I had already won the pinching glare of the entire class. Of all the faces, there was one that unnerved me the most. She looked right at me, expressionless. May be she didn't recollect. Or may be she did.

My throat dried up. Infinite parallel thoughts started running inside my head. So consumed I was by my embarrassment that I totally forgot the reason for which I stood up in the first place. The professor looked at me with keen eyes.

I recollected only so much when I woke up in the medical room. I could overhear some students talking about the really fat guy who fainted in class today. Okay, at least everybody knew me now - I said to myself.