WHEN THE NATION WENT BERSERK!

A group of shirtless men gathered in front of my apartment and chanted slogans like 'Chak dey India' and 'F**d ki Pakistan ki'. They even carried beer bottles and were at their peak. Now if you minus the slogans from this celebration, such are similar scenes during the Holi festival which is then referred to as hooliganism. As I looked at those men with blurred eyes while the firecrackers adorned the sky, I couldn't believe what I saw next. All the families including women had come out in their balconies to cheer these men who jumped and wept and hugged and did everything possible to ensure their celebrations rocked Lahore!

Never in my life had I seen such a pleasing sight. What is referred to as hooliganism was being cheered by people from the best of families. What would have been an ugly sight on an ordinary day was looking so serene and justified. I even noticed women wiping the corner of their eyes with their dupattas as their men smiled with blurred eyes. Such is the charm of the game. An Indian victory over arch-rival Pakistan is an occasion where feelings beyond cricket are expressed.

I too blew my vuvuzela as hard as I could and I left for my office as I had a night shift. I had just walked a few steps where I once again met a mob. It was the time for some bhangda celebrations. As a man counted “one-two-three,” deafening drums began the carnival during mid night. Such celebrations are not seen even during Lohri or other festivals. Just to remind you that every third person was a stranger but who gave a damn keeping in mind the extraordinary occasion!

I somehow managed to reach the main road where I was sure I wouldn't find an auto rickshaw just like I didn't find the washer man during the day time. And my predictions were correct. After waiting for almost five minutes I decided to join the celebrations a couple of yards ahead. Now this celebration overshadowed all the others! A man with a gun stood in the middle of the road with his aides surrounding him. They stopped each and every vehicle that passed by and asked the driver or the male member to come out for a minute. The aim was not to loot them but to hug each of them for India’s victory which was followed by a hawaayi firing! The policemen also displayed their dancing skills in several celebrations (without demanding any bribe)

The way everyone went berserk has been the talk of the town and the better celebrations lie ahead. India has moved to the final of a World Cup for the third time and to be straightforward, they are just one win away from what can be referred as ‘the day for many lives.’

For all those people who believe men don’t cry April 02 is ‘the day’. Emotions will come out in a way like never before. While India clash against Sri Lanka at the Wankhede Stadium, no matter what is the result, men will cry for sure. And the way team India is bleeding blue right through this World Cup, folks be ready to bask in the glory of a much anticipated World Cup victory! We are in Mumbai to rewrite the history!

Armaano ko dilon mein sanjo k tum rakhna, kuch aisi wo jashna ki raat hogi,

Sitaare bhi hongey nazaare bhi hogey, us CUP sey hamari jo mulaqaat hogi!

Jai Hind!

'The Wednesday'-Clash of the Titans!

Good Morning guys. It’s here! The much awaited clash between the arch-rivals is here! Even I am aware (read worried) that Mohali has witnessed heavy rains but being a sports lover I am sharing this article ‘today’ itself hoping that the rain Gods don't do injustice to all of us.

It’s the day when the roads would be deserted and the only people found gossiping on roads would be the ones who would have escaped from asylums as I am sure the normal ones would be busy enjoying the game. It’s the day when the Facebook walls will be flooded with patriotic quotes and jokes. It’s the day when the news channels would take a break from their daily (read sensational) bulletins and telecast stories which express feelings beyond cricket and it’s a day when even the bosses would like to sit with their employees and enjoy the thrilling contest. It’s a day when once again people from all religions would gather for a common cause-to cheer for cricket. And why not it’s a special day, it’s ‘the Wednesday!’ India and Pakistan will be facing each other in a World Cup match after 8 years!

While many believe that the corporate world succumbed to the pressure of the much awaited encounter by declaring half days, making adequate arrangements in the offices to satisfy the fans who were in the favour of a national holiday, I reckon it is quite obvious of them to do so. I mean losses worth crores would seem to be peanuts when compared to the satisfaction derived from watching India-Pakistan play together!

Both the teams have been playing exceptional cricket right throughout the tournament. Their determination to lift the trophy is known from the fact that both of them have defeated (read dethroned) Australia in this World Cup. While Pakistan ended the winning streak of the Kangaroos, India went a step further and ruled them out of the World Cup ending their 12 year dominance in the tournament.

I would not be diplomatic in saying it’s another step towards ‘aman ki asha’ It’s not a war but whatever would be the result, riots are sure to follow. The players would meet to fight for their pride. While Pakistan has a point to prove of how well they have performed as a unit under tremendous pressure, India will be looking to prove that they undoubtedly deserve to be the World Champions!

The match is special as it will see one of the most renowned celebrities who will turn up to witness the epic encounter. While the Indian Prime Minister and his counterpart from Pakistan might be seen discussing (read arguing/compromising) upon a few words to cement their suspended bilateral relations, the cricket fans would have a lot to cheer about on the ground.

The match is also very special as it would be the last World Cup match for many icon cricketers. People could probably see the breezy pace of the Rawalpindi Express for the last time as he has announced his retirement after the World Cup. I am sure the majority of people (ready Everybody) in the stadium would be there just to witness the hundredth century by the master blaster.

So get ready with popcorns and get your favourite food cooked as believe me you would grow extremely lazy once the match kicks off. Hey you crazy fans get your faces painted and test your vuvuzela’s as you’ll enjoy cricket like you have never before. People suffering from heart diseases, should not under any circumstances try to connect with any mode of communication. And those who hate cricket better go off to hibernation for a day.

There is a similarity between the World Cup matches played and the wars fought between the two countries. Pakistan has never been victorious in any of those and let’s hope that the record is intact as both the sides clash in what is expected to be a high-octane mega semi-final clash!

Cheers!

Chak dey!

My Nanaji...

My grandparents run a small school in Gorakhpur. Located on the central Medical College road, it is one of the oldest Hindi medium schools in Gorakhpur. As far as I know, the total number of students in the school never reached 300. Despite the low count, the students who passed out were disciplined and well-behaved. Without a doubt, I can say, that the reason behind that was the principles which had been laid by my Nanaji - who was also the founder of the school.

Nanaji reminded me of Mahatma Gandhi. He led his life on Gandhian principles - which inspired many. He always wore a white Kurta-Lungi and his food matched his lifestyle - simple.

Until sunset, Nanaji spent most of his time inside the school campus – where he had a unique family – a small farm, where he planted vegetables. He also planted mango trees in the farm and looked after the greenery in the campus. It was very rare that vegetables were bought for the market. Every time guests or relatives visited the house; he would invite them to have a look at his farm and then give them vegetables in return. With extreme love and affection, he looked after the flowers and the vegetables - just like parents do for their kids. 

While he barely got angry, he would lose his cool whenever a cricket ball reached his small farm. While the kids ran over the vegetables to fetch the ball in a hurry, he would get furious and yell – “inmein bhi jaan hoti hai.” Sometimes, he even hid the ball in his lungi and pretended as if he had seen nothing. He would return the ball only after the entire team appealed him to do so. He would also warn us not to play shots in that direction. Even he knew that the ball would reach his farm in another 10 minutes but for Nanaji, the happiness of his 14 grandchildren had far more importance than any other thing in the world.

During my school days, he often asked me to read and learn more about politics. Sometimes, he even tried to teach me the basics of politics, which then bounced off my head. I told him about my interest in cricket. He smiled and said, “Politics ki bhi knowledge honi chahiye, bahot kaam aati hai.” When I entered my professional career, I realised that politics was something I got to study and learn. I realised if I had listened to him, he would have taught me and things would have been much easier. Today, when I am into journalism and very much acquainted with politics, I wish he was here and we could have some interesting sessions on politics.

Nanaji always taught us to care for the animals - who are unable to express their feelings. As a part of his daily routine, after having his dinner, he carried chapattis for dogs and cows - who waited for him outside the house to arrive with their meal.

Hatred was something that never existed in his life. Nobody has a clue, about how much of financial help he did for the needy. It was only after he passed away, that we realised it.

In a procession to feed people thirteen days after his death, hundreds of people gathered at the house with tears gushing from their eyes. "He was a great man. We can never forget what he did for me and my family," was something we heard from most of them. The family didn't know how to react when people, who were strangers, came up with similar reactions. He wasn't a celebrity, yet his popularity had no boundaries.

Things are back to routine. There is a gardener who has pledged to look after Nanaji’s family inside the school campus till his last breath. Yet, I am sure; the flowers do not blossom as they did in his presence. There are chapattis cooked especially for dogs and cows - who still get their meals every night. Now, their eyes search for their maseeha and not the food. Nanaji's room is equally well taken well care of. His belongings are neatly kept inside his room. Nanaji's demise has affected the entire family’s appetite. His smiling photograph, neatly framed in his room, is something we all look up to as a source of inspiration. The kids miss his presence, so do elders. Things are back to routine, yet his absence is felt every day.

I am sure if ever God plans to take a break from his daily routine, he will approach my Nanaji asking for a replacement. May his soul rest in peace.

He always had a smile, he didn't carry grudges any...
He was the maseeha of hundreds, he was the saviour for many...

Note: My Nanaji left for heavenly abode on March 7, 2010. This article is dedicated to him on his first death anniversary.

That carrom match...

Carrom has been one of my favourite indoor games. I remember days sitting alone and playing the game. I was very fascinated to see the four pockets galloping the carrom disks one after another. That was the age when losing was something that easily brought tears. Winning either by hook or by crook was the motto.

My sister was my opponent in the game most of the times. The only person who gave me tough competition in the game was one of my cousin sisters-Toshi. The blog is about the most memorable and fascinating carrom match between us. It also involves another character-Pragya, who was 7-8 years old when this match was being played. It’s that age when kids end every sentence with a ‘?’. Pragya was no exception. Almost every sentence of hers had a KNOW. The story follows.

I had no clue what went wrong? Was I playing after too long? Was it the extra powder on the board (an excuse to make me happy)? I admit Toshi was playing her best and winning every match further boosted her confidence. Was it my bad luck…or…was it Pragya? “I can play better than you Suyash bhaiya. You hold the striker in a ajeeb way. Give it to me. I shall show my way of holding it.” Now there was not a percent doubt that it was Pragya who affected my concentration. “Do you know Sony TV will be showing Kuch Kuch Hota hai today. Next week they are coming up with DDLJ. It’s a part of the SRK series for a month. I have told mom to let me watch all of those. I will not study a single page if she doesn’t.” I wish I had a remote to mute her for a couple of hours. Now I noticed Toshi had realized this and she made everything possible to have Pragya sit by her side. I was losing the game…and moreover my patience. “Why don’t you get a haircut Suyash bhaiya. This long hair doesn’t suit you. Or are you a part of the Dhoni trend.” It was enough. I very politely asked her, “Pragya can you leave us for a while? We are playing a game, if you don’t mind can you join us after an hour or so?” “No Pragya, sit by my side,” Toshi said grabbing her hand. “Why should she leave? You are losing the game, so is it her fault?”. “Ummm…Yes, why should I leave? How am I supposed to affect the game? I am sitting on the bed and not the board. How can you 'put the blame on me' (in the famous tone)” Pragya said after which Toshi winked at her and they hi-fived. I simply hate people who hi-five each other on PJ’s!

There I was. Women power started to dominate over my mind. It wasn’t just the game I had to deal with; I also had to deal with the battle against these two tiny sisters of mine. The status of the game was 17-0. Whoever reached 29 points would be the winner. I was close to a whitewash. Toshi knew this was the best chance to win a game against me in this fashion and narrate every second of her victory to all the relatives of how she defeated me 29-0! I am sure she might even narrate strangers she met on the road and mumble it while she was asleep.

Though it was my turn to arrange the board, Toshi did so, as she could not afford to waste a single second. She could smell her victory. We played another game and with absolute perfection she continued to send the coins in the pockets. My shots went too wayward, and now with every coin I missed were followed by giggles of Toshi and Pragya. “Achha tell me something. The cricketers wear helmets and pads. What about their chest?” a typical Pragya question was fired at me. “They do have protection there,” I said wishing if I could bundle her in a bag for a while. “But how do you know that?” “I don’t know anything Pragya! Will you just shut up and go away!!!!” I had completely lost it. Tiny tears rolled down her tiny eyes. Silence prevailed for seconds. “Why are you shouting at me?? What have I done? ” and she started crying. Will she leave now I thought? How could Toshi miss the opportunity to console her lucky charm and she hugged Pragya as a symbol of sympathy (I am sure it was rather an attempt to make sure she didn’t go away). “Achha listen listen, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I am not well. Oh see, how bad you look when you cry.” Both of them did not utter a word. I was too rude I guess. “Ok listen I am sorry again. But please don’t cry. Go and wash your face and ask mausi to prepare a cup of tea for me after which I will take you out for ice cream. Now say cheese??” I had just hit the jackpot!! Without wasting a second she smiled back and rushed for whatever business I had asked her for. I looked back at Toshi who gave me a surprised look. She had won the game by 12 points which enhanced her lead to 27-0! “Just two points away! I am just two points away from winning the match. Tilllyy lee lee!” She danced on the bed as I arranged the board.

In Pragya's absence I won the first game of the match which reduced the lead to 27-11. “Not bad Syu bhai. Don’t think you played well. I thought of gifting you some points as you were so upset!” By the mid of the next game, it had turned into a very serious match. Toshi just needed two points and I needed plenty but something had happened. Toshi’s game went wayward. I won the second game reducing the lead to 27-20. Now it was a close fight. We continued the game in absolute silence and the slightest of missed chances were followed by ‘Shit yaar!’ I won the next two games by one points each reducing the lead to 27-22. We played the next games with ‘either by hook or by crook’ motto! I finally won the game 31-27. Toshi banged her fist on the board out of absolute frustation. “Hota hai, hota hai. Badey badey games mein aisi chhoti chhoti haar jeet to hoti rehti hai,” I said immediately after which I was attacked with a pillow!

By then Pragya returned with a cup of tea, more than half of which was spilled in her journey from the kitchen. She wore a new frock and had a neatly combed pony which did not exist a while ago. “See Pragya I won the match!!” I said while she still concentrated in balancing the tray. “Aww Toshi Di, aap haar gayin kya?” Toshi did not utter word. “Ek toh waise he behcaari haari huyi hai tum aur jaley par namak chhidak rahi ho?” I said and could hear Toshi cursing me as me and Pragya left for the Ice-cream deal!

“Once we reach home, will you play a carrom match with me?” she asked anticipating a definite why-not from me. I was too tired for another carrom match. I looked at her, her eyes were still moist. I could not take another chance, so I agreed. “You know whomever I ask for to play carrom, never says no. I have improved my game. You know Suyash Bhaiya when I am alone I practice a lot. I clean the entire board in 1 hour 20 minutes, you know. I am a bit bad at rewind na, so I pick some of the disks which are left. I know that is not right but I shall improve. I will also show you how I hold the striker, it will help your game. And you know… ” she continued to bless me with her extraordinary carrom skills and gave a damn if I at all was interested.

TIME TO PEN-2010!

Last week of December 2009 and first two weeks of January 2010 were some of the best days of my life. I had resigned in my previous organization in the last week of 2009. Getting up late in the morning, meanwhile watching my room mates leaving for their respective offices, cursing me while I winked at them from my quilt, ahh, I couldn't have asked for more. Dilli ki sardi was at its peak at that time and I really enjoyed those 15-20 days being deliberately unemployed.

Being Jobless in the initial weeks of 2010, I utilised the time and something special happened. Something I had always wanted to. 2010 was a year when I finally fell in love with my blog. It’s a different feeling looking at my blog and read the feedback for each of my articles. It was through my blog that I came closer to many people. It's my black board where I share my feelings.

2009 was a year when I decided to filter my group of friends, some from school days, some from college days. It was not that easy for me as some of them were really close to me but they had a mask, which made me think I would not do justice to myself if I still categorized them under ‘Friends’. So I thought to give a try to this filtration process. The results were amazing. It was a step that I would be proud of, throughout my life. I suggested some of my friends to adopt the same formula who were struggling with such relationships. 2010 was a shocker as well as I had some people back into my life. People who were very close to me, and disappeared all of a sudden and people whom I thought I would never have in my life again. Meanwhile Facebook continued to 'search frenz' and I reunited with some of them after 10-15 years! Thanx Mr ZucKerberg. We all have discovered that it’s an addiction, but I guess it’s too late to discover that.

2010 was a year when I travelled the most. The 'Whoa-Goa' trip with my amazing amigoz, the trip to Hyderabad and trips to undiscovered places in saddi Dilli were memorable experiences. In spite of all these, I could not match up with the number of trips my sister had during the year. She boasts to be a HR Manager with a top notch BPO firm, but I often wonder if she is a full time worker at a travel magazine. She wishes me Happy New Year from a different place in India, Christmas from a different place and before the year ends she is in the air for her next destination. I won’t lie on the second day of a New Year, so I definitely feel jealous.

2010 would also be remembered as a year when I attended the most number of wedding ceremonies. My friends, most of which were girls, got married. I just don't remember the faces of their grooms, but I can exactly draw and describe the food that was served, not to forget the desserts!

2010 was a year when I was associated with one organization. My initial unemployed status ended at a news agency. An organization where once again I met the most khurafaati bunch of people. I never do it deliberately guys, trust me, but whichever organization I join, I have the most khurafaati bunch of people as my friends! With this rate, I am sure I will soon have an army that would threaten the world!

2010 saw India organizing the Commonwealth Games (successfully some might say, which is debatable). But whatever it was, being a sports lover it was GRAND for me! Critics might react over this word again, but the opening and the closing ceremonies said it all. 2010 has a much much much importance for me. CRICKET WORLD CUP 2011! I truly believe that the Indian players should play their heart out and gift the trophy to a man who according to me is still playing cricket just in order to repeat the honours for his country after 1983-Sachin Tendulkar!

2010 was again a memorable year. I would remember it more for the gains and less for the losses. I would like to thank all those who were with me throughout this year. Thanx for being such a lovely company and I look forward to the same in 2011.

As I finish this article and go to bed,
I wish you all, have a rocking year ahead!!

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(¯`’★♫♪•♥ WISHING YOU ALL A HAPPY NEW YEAR ♥ •♫♪★’´¯) ●●●▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬●●●

तो क्या बात होती ...

दिखावे की दुनिया में चेहरों के ऊपर
मुखौटे ना होते, तो क्या बात होती

वो झरने, जो चुपचाप संगीत गाते
जो वो बोल पाते, तो क्या बात होती

वो मिटटी से लगाव, वो कागज़ की नाव
वो पल लौट आते, तो क्या बात होती

सामने जो बनते हैं, मेरे चहेते
पीठ पीछे ना बदलें, तो क्या बात होती

दो पल के लिए, सब हाथ थाम लेते
ज़िन्दगी भर निभाएं, तो क्या बात होती

सांस चलने तक सब , साथ हैं मुस्कुराते
कोई मरने पर रोये, तो क्या बात होती...

MOM= Magicians Of Many!

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One of my dear friend recently went through a major surgery. The doctors had advised her rest of close to 3-4 months. She was disheartened as she was almost settled in her company performing pretty well. A loss of four months was too much to afford. But miracles do happen. She rang me up a month later and much to my surprise, she was calling me from her office! I asked her how it all happened and she said, “Suyash even I never thought I would be fit so soon, but it happened, and I would give 100% credit to my mummy, I myself don’t have a clue as to how did she do this, I love her sooo much!

I got all my answers. 'Mummy' is the word and we all love our moms, don’t we? I mean the doctor had prescribed her a rest of four months and her mother even denied the law of rest? They all are magicians aren’t they? With perfect timing, they are masters of handling any kind of situation.

How many times do we sleep and when it suddenly gets cold, she is the one to wrap us with warm quilts. As if she is awake all night, watching her child sleep. Just a couple of sneezes and she would come up with ‘n’ number of solutions.

I was the ‘first boy child’ of my family. I don’t exactly remember but my Mummy, my Masi’s remind me of days when I used to get up early in the morning before anybody else got up, my hair touching my shoulders and my mom running behind me to catch her semi nude son before he goes all naked! It was difficult for her to catch me, as I guess I used to be in huge rush being semi nude. She would finally pick me up, love me moreover dress me and then leave for household works. No matter I was right or wrong, she was always, always by ‘my’ side, against the whole world.

I am 25 now, but her expressions haven’t changed yet. Whenever I go back home, she loves me the same way, the only difference being that she doesn’t have to dress me anymore. It’s just that we get too conscious when our mothers try to be too caring or loving as we believe we are grownups. The only time when we become kids again is when we fall sick. We get ample of time to think of days when our mothers spent sleepless nights just because we are ill, all without any complain.

I would like to tell all of my friends that during my childhood days I was addicted to sleep with a hand on my mummy’s tummy. This ‘one-hand-on-mummy's-tummy’ theory acted like sleeping pills for me. My younger cousin brothers, Sakshu and Bittu can’t sleep unless and until they have a part of my Masi’s hair in their hands! I mean, why only moms? Dads have better tummies I guess (not that soft ones' I agree), but I haven’t heard a case where a child is addicted to his/her dad’s tummy (may be because they snore too much), or may be holding a part of the dad’s moustache (may be because it hurts).

“Did you eat your breakfast? What did you have in your lunch? Beta, is there a possibility of coming home for a few days? Should I send some laddoos this time, you like home made mango pickles na? It’s too cold out there, did you purchase some warm clothes? How is everything going? In case if you need anything don’t hesitate, you can just ask for it.” These are questions that tend to irritate us sometimes, just because often we are unable to understand the love and emotion that is attached with each and every question. We get irritated of answering the same questions, ignoring the fact that our moms wouldn’t be able to sleep if even one of them is left unanswered.

We consider ourselves to be mature enough to handle ourselves. There is a change in the attitude, but mothers never change. No matter how old we grow, they still see the kid whom she gave birth to, the kid whom she fed every day, the kid whom she clinched and slept. All I want to say is lets be kids once again for our moms, at least let us not deprive them of the way they want to love and care for us, and I guess this is the least we can do to them (but the best as well) as compared to the selfless love and care they have blessed us with.

These lines are not written by me but they summarize my entire article in just four lines-

Sakht raaston mein bhi asaan safar lagta hai, ye mujhey meri maan ki duaaon ka asar lagta hai

Kitni raaton sey meri maan nahi soyi, bas ik baar maine kaha tha ‘maan mujhey andhere sey dar lagta hai’...