well............hmmmmmmmmmmm..........waiting to get some time for posting some refreshing thoughts..........

… in gay abandon !

11th June. 2004. Just a week into the vacation. The seven suns had tanned me. All was said and done. Just had a siesta and was nibbling away at my moiety of sandwiches, the bulk being with my brother. Nothing new. My mother’s beneficence always seemed to fall upon on him. Even my laconic revolts resulted in unexpected furore. My voice of concern for my physique seemed nugatory. “You are getting plumper by the day!”. A quick look at my topless torso reaffirmed their concerns. The “wiches” were very soporific. Bed-time. Again.

“It’s getting hotter by the minute”. My trunks soaked and sweat dripping off my forehead. The resultant struggle ensured I was on the floor. Regained my lost senses. Oh! No, not again. Umpteenth power cut of the day. The suave winds were, maybe, too tricky to handle for the electricity department. A phone call to them. And as ever, they were ready with their inscrutable reasons. Some of the choicest curses and abuses to them. Now what? The cool breeze lured me to the terrace. Ah! What a relief from the capacious suffocation. “Bon soir”, wished the sky. But the twilight was besieged by sinister darkness. Ebony clouds had got hold of the debonair Sun. The “asopalav’s” seemed to be dancing with the wind. While the obsequious birds had already surrendered themselves to the realms of nature, with the sun continuing its bootless struggle.

Winds had, by now, crossed every limit of graciousness. They were on a rampage. The aunties were worried about the clothes flying away; it was time for them to tie in the gauntlets in the interiors. Even they, the clothes, were trying to catch up with the gust. The four-legged’s running for cover. The resulting din faded away with the first onslaught of lightning. It was blitzkrieg. The Emperor had arrived. And was He not alone ! One more uproar. The world seemed to be breaking apart under His greatness.

The clouds had won their battle

But the war was yet to begin

The scene was perfectly set

Me being the pauper caught in between

The Sun was woebegone

Grass merrying away in the lawn

The cliffhanger was going to be taut

Or was it going to be just a naught?

The first raindrops touched my face and I remembered something. Why was I wearing the vest? Flung it away. For Him the celebration of exuberance had just begun. And there I was, ready to indulge in the melee. Nature’s diktat got the better side of me. They, the pearl shaped drops, were getting HARSHER. BOLDER. BIGGER. I thought it being for the BETTER!

Ferocious soldiers of the Rain God had engulfed the whole place. Each drop felt distinct. They had completely drenched me, with their mesmerizing pace. I was awed and shocked. Awed by the enormity of natures forces and shocked by the haplessness of us. For still, as far as I could see, not a single soul, except me, was ready to be a witness to the magnificence being displayed. Why such stubbornness, I thought. Many a people, whom I saw, were reluctant to come out in the open and enjoy this closeness exhibited by philanthropic nature. Maybe they thought they were too old to do this. Sheer boorishness! Take it from me; the bliss so received is holier than any of those you might be raving about. Just shed off your inhibitions for once, even your clothes if you want to, for this is the only chance to find out the real “YOU”. Or is it so that you don’t even remember who you really are? Ok, I can tell you that – be human – just follow your instinct. Nothing more. Nothing less.

O! Man, pity on thou

For you can’t be you

For thou is not what you think are you

Thee is what HE made of you

Nature wish’d to kiss thee

SHE wish’d you be with Me !

And the whole of the place was inundated. Streams, full of gusto and mud, ravaged through the streets. Astute children pushing their little boats to wade through chirpy waters, as if cajoling them to make it the farthest. Geriatric grandpa’s and grandma’s coming out of their confinements, finally forsaking their solitariness. Choked silencers and splashing four-wheelers, all seemed in harmony. Except for a hundred- two hundred potholes littered here and there, almost everywhere, everything was picturesque. Oh! So romantic…need I say anything more! Too good to be true. And a rush to the nearest bhajia ki larri with friends got our tastes flowing.

And the night brought with it sleek winds, which were like an icing on the cake. The temerity of the evening had descended. The sky was studded with stars, sparkling and twinkling with luminance. It got reinstated on its own that I too was a part of nature. So make a promise to yourself, from peons to professors, from pupils to principals, that the next time you get a chance to be with nature, then just do it. For nature itself is God. And watch the gamut of emotions you radiate. And here I am, waiting eagerly, once more, to surrender myself to Her … in gay abandon! … Hey, the lights went off again… and now you know what…!!!

TAHTS A MITSAKE !

A for Apple. B for Bat. C for Cat. And so on. The spelling of an apple is A-P-P-L-E. Of a bat is B-A-T. Of a cat is C-A-T. And so on. As far as I can remember, we have always been relying on our memory for recalling spellings of words. Earlier I used to think what use is this all of? Is the burning of the midnight oil justified? As maturity took over and innocence became a rarity, it got justified on its own, because you would get a “Very Good” in your notebook (those small ones which we used in primary school, remember them?) if all of your spellings were right, even if you hadn’t the slightest of clue what those meant. That was that. That was then.
Just sometime ago, I chanced to read upon a survey done by, who other than, Cambridge University. And all my hopes came crashing down. Don’t those #$&%@! people have anything else to do? All those formative years of mine that had been spent learning the nuances of alphabets and their bureaucratized usage seemed like an illusion, like an Indian Dream which always crashes, and that too all in a jiffy. Why and what for did such a horrendous thing happen to me! And to me alone. Hey just a second, and a naughty grin covering my face. You, yes, you are also with me. Ah! A sigh of relief. Every intelligent person who did the same thing as I, or maybe every foolish person, was with me! I was not alone. Their survey was a bit perplexing and a bit enigmatic. And this is what they had to say, ”for any word, except in some cases, if the order of alphabets is changed, the first and the last being the same, then also, the reader would experience no difficulty as such in reading those words, because the mind analyses and projects its own image of the word to be read, before it actually is read, on what is being read, and the same applies to paragraphs with such jumbled words”. Satyanaash!!!
So my penchant for perfecting “The Queens Language” turned out to be futile. Otherwise why would have I worried myself to get words like these right – triskaidekaphobia, valetudinarian, asphyxiation, ultracrepidarian…and the list is endless. My heart was weeping from the inside. And it was all due to these treacherous angrezi saabs. But from now onwards no stone was to be left untruned. I mean unturned. Got it? All the “Very Good’s” were just a mirage. So all you poeple out there, don’t watse a mintue of yuor’s in matsering the veraciousness of it. In the end, it’s all going to be vexatious. Let the past be past. To bury the hatchet is not that easy though. But friends, from now, when you have your own children, and I am sure they would be in dozens, don’t ever fret over them if they can’t spell an A-P-P-L-E, for an apple can be A-P-L-P-E, it can even be A-L-P-P-E, and if you can’t get it, damn you! Sorry! But as all of you should know, English is a phunny language, here is a small poem doing rounds on the Internet…

We'll begin with a box and the plural is boxes,
but the plural of ox should be oxen not oxes.

Then one fowl is a goose, but two are called geese,
yet the plural of moose should never be meese.

You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice;
yet the plural of house is houses, not hise.

If the plural of man is always called men,
why shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen?

If I spoke of my foot and show you my feet,
and I give you a boot, would a pair be called a beet?

If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth,
why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth?

Then one may be that, and three would be those,
yet hat in the plural would never be hose.
And the plural of cat is cats, not cose.

We speak of a brother and also of brethren,
but though we say mother, we never say methren.

Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him,
but imagine the feminine, she, shis and shim.

So English, I fancy you will agree,
is the craziest language you ever did see.

Well, having said that, still you can’t deny the veritable fact that English has spread its wings far beyond the reachable. But given the vicissitudes, which one has to go through, one should not be obdurate if there’s a chance to improve upon a language, any language. And yes, you have your own chance to take revenge. Well…almost.
Ok, so everyone’s just dying to be perfect in English, with the connoisseur’s telling us that unless and until we have a very good command over it, we are just a set of gimcracks! Maybe it frightens us at first, but slowly with time, perseverance, and hard work, we become, or almost become, “perfect” in “their” language. Sounds like a cliché? Yes it does. But with “Globalization” being the buzzword, can others be far behind? As far as English is concerned, you get ample chances to learn it. But also French, Latin, and many other languages are finding their use in English. They are being literally borrowed. And this is one of the most impressive and decisive factors, which works in favor of it. English is “open” to newer words, never being obstinate. And even Hindi words have found place in reputable dictionaries, like “bazaar”, “yaar”, and lots more!
So it would be better if you try to grasp small words and phrases of different languages, as this might not only improve your vocabulary, but also using phrases from other languages have become a kind of “in thing”. So here I present you some of the words, which when known to you, will be your pride and neighbor’s envy.

Bonjour – good morning (French)

Bon soir – good evening (French)

Bete noire – a person who is hated or disliked very much (French)

Mea culpa – at or by my own fault, acknowledge one’s mistake (Latin)

Beau monde – world of high society and fashion (French)

Bon apetit – used to indicate delicious meal ready to be eaten, or just wishing someone to enjoy the meal

Bon vivant – someone who seeks pleasure/fun (French)

Nada – nothing (Spanish)

R.S.V.P – a request at the end of a letter, for reply (French)

A la Carte – according to the menu (in restaurants) (French)

Ad absurdum – to the point of absurdity (Latin)

Ad nauseam – to a sickening degree (Latin)

Bona fide – in good faith, genuine (Latin)

Carte blanche – unrestricted power to act on one’s own (French)

De rigueur – strictly required, as by etiquette, fashion, or usage (French)

Faux pas – a social blunder (French)

Nota bene – note well; take notice (Italian)

Quid pro quo – something for something, tit for tat (Latin)

Veni, vidi, vici – I came, I saw, I conquered (Latin)

Vox populi – voice of the people/masses (Latin)

ThreadBare Gems

Plagiarism is definitely one of the most indulged in activity. Though the means, to which one may want to reach through it, may differ drastically, but the underlying subtle aspiration in everyone’s mind is the same : mileage. Existence of variety in the implicit meaning of mileage ratifies the very existence of the word “plagiarism”. Had it not been for variety, trite would have been this place. And keeping that in mind, I unclothe a fetish, idolized by many, with me in the same league.

Well, it all started with a reputed English daily challenging me every day, questioning my cerebral intelligence, and humiliating me more often than not, by a margin, which by any standards could be called the safest. Shots had to be called some day. What else could anyone do with disgrace shoved right in the face, with words like “floccinaucinihilipilification” followed by “pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanokoniosis”. Some more followed in the form of “isthmus” and “annelidous”, though some what short lived were these, the culmination was having a neurotic effect on my mental stability. So, then I decided that for my daily dose of the latest, the boxes, which have been immortalized by the usage of the word idiot before them, are a better means for getting it. So, there I was, sifting through channels, looking for tits and bits on whatever I could and on whatever I wanted to learn about through those wicked papers. But here too, the joy was short lived. The same story repeated itself.

Henceforth starts the story of a man, pilloried by creations of man himself. I started collecting them, that is, the various permutations and combinations of the letters, which were made out to be as words, or were being used as words with no affection towards mankind. And while doing so, many words, worthy of being called gems, were encountered. Some of them epitomizing creativity, while some calling for detestation. Though the majority were in the former category. So, I would like to present some of the gems, which I find worthy to be used in the language, but which, of course, were borrowed from other vernaculars.

Bonjour – good morning (French)

Bon soir – good evening (French)

Bete noire – a person who is hated or disliked very much (French)

Mea culpa – at or by my own fault, acknowledge one’s mistake (Latin)

Beau monde – world of high society and fashion (French)

Bon apetit – used to indicate delicious meal ready to be eaten, or just wishing someone to enjoy the meal (French)

Bon vivant – someone who seeks pleasure/fun (French)

Nada – nothing (Spanish)

R.S.V.P – a request at the end of a letter, for reply (French)

A la Carte – according to the menu (in restaurants) (French)

Ad absurdum – to the point of absurdity (Latin)

Ad nauseam – to a sickening degree (Latin)

Bona fide – in good faith, genuine (Latin)

Carte blanche – unrestricted power to act on one’s own (French)

De rigueur – strictly required, as by etiquette, fashion, or usage (French)

Faux pas – a social blunder (French)

Nota bene – note well; take notice (Italian)

Quid pro quo – something for something, tit for tat (Latin)

Veni, vidi, vici – I came, I saw, I conquered (Latin)

Vox populi – voice of the people/masses (Latin)

But you might be wondering why a person would profess to the world about his hard earned gems. But here is the catch. Well, knowing a word is one thing, and using them profoundly and pronouncing them in a correct manner is quite other. So, envy is still all yours and pride’s all mine. My prerogative!

HERO

WELL, THATS WHAT EXACTLY I AM FEELING LIKE : A HERO OR MORE PRECISELY THE HERO . BECAUSE I JUST FORMATTED MY HARD DISK AND THAT WITHOUT ANYONE'S HELP !!! HEY I DESERVE ATLEAST SOME PATS ON MY BACK. OK , OK, THAT'S ENOUGH. IT TOOK REAL GUTS FOR ME TO DO THAT. I WAS FIRST FEARING WHETHERE ALL WOULD GO RIGHT, BUT IT REALLY HELPED ME IMMENSELY AND MUST SAY THAT IT HAS BOOSTED MY CONFIDENCE TO A GREAT HIGH! WELL EVERYONE OUT THERE WHO HAVE NEVER TRIED OUT, I CAN ASSURE YOU JUST GO FOR IT, IT'S AS EASY AS ANYTHING. AND IF NEED BE DON'T HESITATE TO ASK QUESTIONS AT nikhilthemacho@indiatimes.com. SO THAT'S ALL FOLKS, BYE !

… in gay abandon !

11^th June. 2004. Just a week into the vacation. The seven suns had tanned me. All was said and done. Just had a siesta and was nibbling away at my moiety of sandwiches, the bulk being with my brother. Nothing new. My mother’s beneficence always seemed to fall upon on him. Even my laconic revolts resulted in unexpected furore. My voice of concern for my physique seemed nugatory. “You are getting plumper by the day!”. A quick look at my topless torso reaffirmed their concerns. The “wiches” were very soporific. Bed-time. Again.

“It’s getting hotter by the minute”. My trunks soaked and sweat dripping off my forehead. The resultant struggle ensured I was on the floor. Regained my lost senses. Oh! No, not again. Umpteenth power cut of the day. The suave winds were, maybe, too tricky to handle for the electricity department. A phone call to them. And as ever, they were ready with their inscrutable reasons. Some of the choicest curses and abuses to them. Now what? The cool breeze lured me to the terrace. Ah! What a relief from the capacious suffocation. “Bon soir”, wished the sky. But the twilight was besieged by sinister darkness. Ebony clouds had got hold of the debonair Sun. The “asopalav’s” seemed to be dancing with the wind. While the obsequious birds had already surrendered themselves to the realms of nature, with the sun continuing its bootless struggle.

Winds had, by now, crossed every limit of graciousness. They were on a rampage. The aunties were worried about the clothes flying away; it was time for them to tie in the gauntlets in the interiors. Even they, the clothes, were trying to catch up with the gust. The four-legged’s running for cover. The resulting din faded away with the first onslaught of lightning. It was blitzkrieg. The Emperor had arrived. And was He not alone ! One more uproar. The world seemed to be breaking apart under His greatness.

The clouds had won their battle

But the war was yet to begin

The scene was perfectly set

Me being the pauper caught in between

The Sun was woebegone

Grass merrying away in the lawn

The cliffhanger was going to be taut

Or was it going to be just a naught?

The first raindrops touched my face and I remembered something. Why was I wearing the vest? Flung it away. For Him the celebration of exuberance had just begun. And there I was, ready to indulge in the melee. Nature’s diktat got the better side of me. They, the pearl shaped drops, were getting HARSHER. BOLDER. BIGGER. I thought it being for the BETTER!

Ferocious soldiers of the Rain God had engulfed the whole place. Each drop felt distinct. They had completely drenched me, with their mesmerizing pace. I was awed and shocked. Awed by the enormity of natures forces and shocked by the haplessness of us. For still, as far as I could see, not a single soul, except me, was ready to be a witness to the magnificence being displayed. Why such stubbornness, I thought. Many a people, whom I saw, were reluctant to come out in the open and enjoy this closeness exhibited by philanthropic nature. Maybe they thought they were too old to do this. Sheer boorishness! Take it from me; the bliss so received is holier than any of those you might be raving about. Just shed off your inhibitions for once, even your clothes if you want to, for this is the only chance to find out the real “YOU”. Or is it so that you don’t even remember who you really are? Ok, I can tell you that – be human – just follow your instinct. Nothing more. Nothing less.

O! Man, pity on thou

For you can’t be you

For thou is not what you think are you

Thee is what HE made of you

Nature wish’d to kiss thee

SHE wish’d you be with Me !

And the whole of the place was inundated. Streams, full of gusto and mud, ravaged through the streets. Astute children pushing their little boats to wade through chirpy waters, as if cajoling them to make it the farthest. Geriatric grandpa’s and grandma’s coming out of their confinements, finally forsaking their solitariness. Choked silencers and splashing four-wheelers, all seemed in harmony. Except for a hundred- two hundred potholes littered here and there, almost everywhere, everything was picturesque. Oh! So romantic…need I say anything more! Too good to be true. And a rush to the nearest bhajia ki larri with friends got our tastes flowing.

And the night brought with it sleek winds, which were like an icing on the cake. The temerity of the evening had descended. The sky was studded with stars, sparkling and twinkling with luminance. It got reinstated on its own that I too was a part of nature. So make a promise to yourself, from peons to professors, from pupils to principals, that the next time you get a chance to be with nature, then just do it. For nature itself is God. And watch the gamut of emotions you radiate. And here I am, waiting eagerly, once more, to surrender myself to Her … in gay abandon! … Hey, the lights went off again… and now you know what…!!!

Jai Mata Ki

They say that a visit to a religious place can never be planned before hand. So true. I was just whiling away my time, sifting through channels and some morning jog. My Delhiite cousins called me up and I got jitters just by listening to the itinerary. And what more, I was a part of it. To make it more complicated the ticket couldn’t make it to the “confirmed list” and a last minute hassle ensured I could be on my way without sleeping between shoes and cockroaches. My father’s intimacy with the railway officials helped me. Some good fellow passengers guaranteed I wouldn’t feel lonely and would have a good time with them, though their discussions were the most boring I ever had involved myself in. “Delhi Jn.” read the board and it was time to hop off the coach. Hugs and kisses and embraces with my other siblings, can it get more melodramatic than that? Though the emotions were realistic. Three days full of uninhibited shopping, discotheques, malls, and masti. A ride in the “Metro” was worth remembering and deserves a mention. The youngsters were very much confident of themselves, and some off the rack jobs, which could fill their pockets, were a rage there, unlike here. Call center jobs were the most sought after, even my cousins were in the BPO industry, but they presented a grim picture. Though the coveted accent is of the utmost priority, it makes you dumb, sitting and answering calls doesn’t use up your grey cells. Its blunting the youth with all night shifts and snoring day times. And you are still raving about that friend of yours whose working in a call center! Move on.

Then came the day of our departure for the mountains, and if you are still guessing, we were going for darshan of Vaishno Devi. Eight people, excluding the chauffeur, packed in a Qualis, not because of their respective proportions but because of the bulk of the baggage. Four young guys, including me of course, crammed at the end. The voyage was the most lovely I had ever had, the cramps notwithstanding, antakshari with half baked songs, leg pulling, not in literal sense, cold drinks splashed over at each others faces and that too at over hundred miles per hour! You had to be there to feel that. “We had a blast”. Though some pangs of guilt did visit me, as it didn’t seem as if we were going on a religious trip. Delhi-Haryana-Punjab-Jammu was the order. The dhabas in sadda Punjab were the most impressive, very clean and impeccably neat. The check posts, as we entered Jammu, were at every other kilometer. The weather wasn’t shivering but still quite chilly. And slowly we were in innards of the Himalayan ranges. The curvaceous roads were no less than a conundrum, and their treacherousness was very well heard of. With steep falls on the both the sides of the narrow roads, we were left gasping for more. The scenic beauty is beyond words. The turns made us jostle for little more space and it was all the more pleasurable with cousins.

Katara. That’s the place everyone stops at and takes rest, before starting the journey upwards. So did we. An hour long quest for the perfect hotel was very irritating, as we were very much willing to have some sleep. The eclectic view from the room was very much inspiring. But the ambitious buzurgs of the family thought otherwise, and with just two hours of sleep and at three in the afternoon we were at the feet of the great rise. Didn’t seem very tough. And we embarked on the holy yatra. We had to forfeit our mobiles and other leather items, as they are not allowed there. Literally every nook and corner had a shop, whether be it a cassette shop featuring songs of bhakti by Late Gulshan Kumar, or various items used in puja, and others offering you food, cold drinks, pictures of Devi, and what not. The faces of the people coming down were very pale and unimpressive. They were jaded and worn out. Their legs shivering with pain. I thought, “they couldn’t even do this much!” Numerous small rests dotted our cruise. Geriatrics were using the services of “pitthu’s”. Actually they are porters who take you to the top and bring you down, on a chair-like bed, or maybe a bed-like chair, and charge you for that. Our whole group of eight got divided into three small groups on its own, each one taking its own time and course. One of my cousins decided it must be done bare footedly. What a courageous guy! Pilgrims chanted throughout the travel. The meaning was not to be interpreted, as it wasn’t meant for those who use logic even in religious matters, not that religion is illogical…maybe the argument is endless, and atheists may even revel in it, nevertheless here it is…though it doesn’t make much sense…

Aage waale
Jai mata ki!
Piche waale
Jai mata ki!
Upar waale
Jai mata ki!
Niche waale
Jai mata ki!
Zor se bolo
Jai mata ki!
Zor se bolo
Jai mata ki!
Jai mata ki
Jai mata ki!

Roughly three hours after the start, we reached Ardhkumari. And the clouds were already at our feet. That’s the place where the Garbhjoon cave is, along with a temple. People were vying to get into the queue for the cave. The rush was maddening. But unfortunately we decided not to enter the cave, as it would have taken another seven-eight hours just to get to the entrance, though we did visit the temple. Some light snacks got us energized. Now, after Ardhkumari, the path was steeper and cleaner, as the shops were less. I hadn’t dared to climb the stairs, as the alternative route was long but not very tiring. It was time to do the adventurous. The stairs were taxing, but also took less time. The view was getting broader and more fabulous as we scaled newer heights. The camera was used five…ten…fifteen times, maybe I lost the count. The small place Katara, looked exceptionally beautiful in the night, with only the lights gleaming in the dark, as if sparkling diamonds were splattered on a black satin cloth. We were getting more exhausted with each step. The final destination was so near, yet so far. As we got closer, should I say higher, around 0.75 kilometers from the top, that’s what the sign read, the clouds encircled us, and wow! What an experience to reckon, as we couldn’t even see ten feet ahead, and we were walking in the clouds, with the clouds! And then rain, torrential rain, poured on us. It was icy. Still we marched ahead with the final goal very clear in our minds.

Half past one in the morning, and we reached the mandir. A bath there and new clothes had to be worn before darshan. But the water froze us. Shivering with cold, after getting ready, we got for what we had come. Vaishno Devi bestowed upon us heavenly blessings. And we all were enlightened. Some rest followed it. But something indeed peculiar was on its way. After a very short stint of three hours with sleep, I found to my horror that my shoes were not there! A frantic search didn’t yield anything. So there I was joining my elder cousin in the barefoot league. Maybe it was Devi’s wish I undertake the journey that way. The descend was very charming, as it was done in the morning, with beauteous, lush green mountains everywhere. And an entertaining, yet warm company of snails, crossing our paths here and there. Now it was time to undertake it through the steps. And they are no less than two thousand, yeah you read it right. From bottom to top, its twelve kilometers, and that’s just half the side. We wished to go to even Bhaironvji, but due to some grave mistakes by our elders, like not taking adequate rests in between, had crippled us, and the journey beyond, which is around three kilometers upwards from Vaishno Devi’s mandir, wasn’t imaginable. It’s said that without darshan of Bhaironvji, no yatra is complete. But there we were. Still, no regrets, we would do it next time.

And finally we reached the bottom, I remembered the faces of people I had encountered while on the way up, I was so wrong in judging them. Barefoot cousin’s legs were all swollen up, mine were on the verge of being so. The journey probably had made us older by some years, but spiritually, we were invigorated. True to the spirit of Mata, bolo Jai Mata Ki! JAI MATA KI!