What’s in the name? Some fun, some pain.

What’s in a name? Shakespeare says, ‘a rose by any other name would smell as sweet’. Really, Mr William? Ask me. Every time I go home (one or twice a year) one discussion that I always have with my mom is on my did she name me ‘Kinshuk’  and the associated miseries that I have with this supposedly beautiful and well thought of name, that she decided upon with a lot of pride. She loves my name and feels that those who can’t pronounce it right are the real fools. Well, it’s not that I don’t like the name either, but I would be lying if I say that I am not annoyed with the way a lot of intelligent and learned folks say it grossly incorrectly. And this has been the trend right from the childhood.

The most commonly misused one – ‘Kaushik’. I don’t know how Kinshuk and Kaushik read and sound similar but even the most respected and learned teachers of my school used to call me as Kaushik on several occasions. And those were the days when I also had my Dad’s name included in my full name, so my attendance register name used to be Kinshuk Sharad Awasthi. Now a lot of south Indian teachers literally struggled to call out my name correctly, on occasions they were so confused that took the easiest of the 3 as their lucky pick in calling out my name. So on days I was Kaushik, on others Sharad and on some Awasthi. There were also some horror moments when the otherwise simple reading names like Sharad and Awasthi were also pronounced as Sharda and Aswathi. Such was my plight on those days that if my roll no. was 15 I stood by the time roll no. 13 was called out and shouted ‘Present Maam’ even before the teacher made a horrendous attempt to call out my name incorrectly J.

The royal classico’ – ‘Kanishk’. A generous bunch has also been calling me as Kanishk. Giving me a false sense of hope that somehow I am connected to the good old Kanishka dynasty about which we read about in our history lessons. No clue again, how Kinshuk and Kanishk read and sound similar but probably these people took their history lessons way too seriously or they hardly care about reading my name rightly. Interestingly, when I correct them with the right name, some blatantly say ‘o it’s pretty much the same’.  What a way to grace someone’s name J.

The tongue twister – ‘Kinushk’. Kinushk, as some folks call me, probably feel is better rhyming and more correct than rather awkward Kinshuk. I do try to correct them with the right name though, but they are hardly convinced, firstly with Kinshuk and secondly on why the hell am I named something so complex J.

Ahmedabad fame - ‘Kinsukh (bhai)’. Now I don’t blame those who call me Kinsukh as much, as there are a considerable amount of people who pronounce ‘Sh’ as ‘S(a)’. Though, by that logic too it should be Kinsuk, but the Kinsukh way is probably their way of adding some happiness in my life J.

The king of parrots – ‘Kingshuk’. Howsoever, annoyed I might get with people calling me with all the wrong and weird names but their generosity never ends. Kingshuk, is another prime example, the extra ‘G’ generously adds that touch of royalty and promotes me to a king. But hardly do these people know that ‘Shuk’ also means parrot and their unintentional sense of generosity has makes me the King of Parrots J.

Dubai return – ‘Yusuf’. The biggest struggle I always have is with the marketing and sales folks who call randomly on mobile to sell all those nonsensical schemes and products and to make it worse for me they also make a mockery of my name. More often than not, the moment they call my name incorrectly I hang up saying ‘sorry wrong number’ and I keep doing that till they call out my name correctly. But the most comic incident happened recently when one of these marketing folks called me ‘Yusuf’. I genuinely thought that it’s a wrong no. but after he kept calling me twice thrice and even read out my right mobile no. I inquisitively asked him, ‘Sir how on earth are Kinshuk and Yusuf similar?’ His out of the box response was ‘Sir, they sound similar’. I could do nothing but to marvel on his brilliance J.

And then there is a streak of other awkward names too. I have always felt that people from the west incorrectly calling out Indian names as still understandable. But people from our country doing that, is actually surprising. ‘Kinshuk’ for that matter is still not a very common name and many people struggle to call it out correctly in the first go. But what I always find unacceptable and surprising is how they are not able to even pronounce it correctly after reading it from a piece of paper or from the screen.  Forget that, I have even got email replies where in people couldn’t even correctly copy my name from the email trail below. That is certainly unpardonable and my mom would certainly not take the blame for such laxities J.

I remember how I used to fight with my mom on why didn’t she name me ‘Rocky’, ‘Vicky’ or ‘Jacky’ because as a kid I used to find those names very macho and fancy. On second thoughts now, I feel a rather simple sounding name like ‘Ram’, ‘Shyam’ or ‘Mohan’ would have done the trick too J. Though, as a counterproductive measure, I have resorted to calling myself as Mr Awasthi to people I feel might struggle with Kinshuk. In normal circumstances, I would have done this say 5 or 10 years down the line but with the kind of mockery my name has experienced already, I decided to uncle out a bit too early J.

And now let somebody say, what’s in the name J.

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Post Script – I was equally worried on how my son would struggle to call out my name when he starts speaking. Eventually, when he started speaking few months back and when he actually called out my name, I heard it as ‘Tinshuk’. I was sad but pretty soon realized that he is actually calling me ‘Kinshuk’ the clearest anybody would have ever called out the name. Redemption!

The tricky art of theatrics.

Today we live in a world of superlative competition across all walks of life and there is an aggressive craving for all round visibility thanks to a wide array of communication avenues at disposal. The u

rge to attract attention at any cost has never been so imminent. Though, it may not be malicious on all accounts, it ranges from hilarity to stupidity and even outrageous on some occasions. Theatrics today has become synonymous to shortcut to success, though it’s not always that it translates into a sustained success churning device.

Today, in the world of politics, Modi is treated as the undisputed king of Theatrics. He single handedly brought his party to the power last year through his big ticket political rallies, over the top dream selling and countless power packed theatrical digs at the opposition. This was in total contrast to the modus operandi of the yesteryear stalwarts like Vajpayee and Advani, no wonder he is facing a tough time matching up to the expectations of the people who were expecting quick fire results in lieu of the promises he made in wooing them few months back. So where a well-organized theatrics game plan is good to help you succeed, you need have the meat to back your theatrics to enjoy the sustained trust of the people who helped you succeed. Though, the rules of the game here have changed very fast and it won’t be unfair to say that today Mr Kejriwal has taken over Modi and usurped his crown of King Theatrics J.

In the modern times, sports are not just a medium to show your athletic prowess but they are also a powerful medium to enchant and entertain the audiences. So where a few decades back traits like determination, perseverance and discipline defined one as a successful sportsman, today one has to be entertaining, eye catching and theatrical in addition to the on-field excellence to be the public’s and media’s darling. The Tendulkar’s and Dravids of the 90s who were idolized for their impeccable technique and undisputed conduct have been replaced by the tattoo laden, spiked hair and ear pierced Kohlis and Dhawans of today. Not to say, that the tattoos, earrings and spikes of the latter are a deterrent in their performances but they do characterize the theatrical needs of today’s generations that are equally important as the on field excellence. It’s a different thing that these theatrical props do come under the scrutiny when there on field performances dip J.

The story isn’t much different in the corporate setup. Gone are the days of going to office, doing your job with full gusto and making a mark by your sheer work ethics and discipline. Today, doing ones work is one thing but all the theatrics that keeps you in limelight is another. Invariably, you would find people around you in office who would do anything to show how good they are either by unnecessarily asking mundane questions in already boring meetings or by sending innocuous emails to make their presence felt by copying all the big shots in ‘cc’ or by anyhow and somehow ensuring that there supervisor knows that how late they have been working in the day or even on the weekends. So do these theatrics actually work? Mostly not but unfortunately on some occasions they do J.

If there is one such trade that should have theatrics in its DNA, it has to be CINEMA. But all theatrics and no content can also make any cinema seem very incomplete. For instance, you don’t find much of theatrics in most of Raju Hirani’s flicks or same might even hold good for yesteryear Hrishikesh Mukherjee classics but does it hold good for most of what the likes of Shahrukhs, Salmans or Rohit Shettys of today are churning out these days. The latter are larger than life, full of razzmatazz and superlative theatrics and consequently epic successes in terms of box office collections as well but do they even provide the quality and sense of contentment to its audiences as the former have been doing for so long so efficiently? Alas, no.

Being theatrical might not be as bad as it usually sounds or is made out to be. Presence of theatrics is equally essential too, in fact there is some amount of theatrics needed in all walks of our lives to instill some spark and zeal in our otherwise monotonous lives. As without an ounce of theatrics no boyfriend can woo her girlfriend, no Modi can become the PM and no ABD can be the world's best batsman.  But unless there is a balance and some real content and meat to back the overwhelming theatrics, it will always seems to be an overdose.

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London Diaries 7 | Modi matches up to the Jackson, Madonna & Man U Fever!

Friday the 13^th (Nov 2015) was a much anticipated day for a lot of Indian origin Londoners, it was the day of rendezvous with their vastly popular Prime Minister. The buzz for this event was immense and the build-up and preparations update across the social media made it seem all the more grand. Though, this was at the backdrop of a heavy pounding that Modi’s BJP has recently experienced in the Bihar state elections and also amidst a supposedly orchestrated wave of intolerance in the country, but that political discussion and the debate around the same is for some other day. For now I would focus on the highlights of the event that was mostly driven by a hysteric crowd of nearly 70,000 jubilant fans who braved the chilly weather to be in attendance at the historic Wembley Stadium to be a part of an extravaganza.

The Friendly Banter. They say it all started last year in the US, when Prime Minister Modi met Prime Minister Cameron after Modi’s historic Madisson Square speech. Mr Cameron then, jocularly challenged Mr Modi to replicate this public hysteria in London and dared him to fill the iconic Wembley stadium to capacity. At that point in time, Modi also accepted that challenge, unaware of the challenging times he will have to face in the next 15 odd months. Though, it was a friendly banter between two counterparts but deep down even Modi would have wanted to come out triumphant on this one. And as the day arrived, despite a not so congenial environment back home and with traces of protest out here in London too, it was a pleasant surprise to see the UK’s biggest stadium packed almost to capacity, all set to embrace the most popular ‘chai wala’ from India J.

The Grand setting. I have been to lot of iconic stadiums in the past, mostly to witness a Soccer or a Cricket match in play but Wembley has been by far the grandest of them all. And the scale and quality of preparations that were made for this event made it seem all the more grandiose. The humongous and beautiful ‘rangolis’ depicting the flags of the two countries, the quarter of the stadium ornamented in the tri-color backdrop, a series of beautifully rehearsed and executed cultural performances and the euphoria of 70,000 fans cheering in for their man in a foreign country made it all seem unbelievably magnanimous.

Reverse Intolerance. As were getting ready for the start of the event, we were contemplating on our seating position in the stadium. With lot of friends in attendance, we had the luxury to pick and choose on our seating position. So when I came back from my recce of a possible location in the stadium and briefed my friend (who was in the payment queue of a coffee shop) on the pros and cons of that probable location, we were taken aback with the response of an elderly stranger who was also in the adjacent queue. I came back and told my friend that these seats are better as ‘ Modi jahan khada hoge, wo yahan se better dikhega’. The moment I said this the elderly gentleman snapped back at us saying– ‘Khada hoga?’, ‘khade honge bolo’, ‘Pant Pradhan hain wo desh ke’, ‘khada hoga bolte hain, tameez dekho inki’. We could hardly say a word  to him as we were not only taken aback by this sudden outpour of fury but also by the weight of the word ‘Pant Pradhan’. That wasn’t all, he not only left the queue cursing our supposed rude behaviour against his excellency but he even told about our indecency to his family members who were waiting outside. All we could do was to rush pass them with our heads down in shame and address Mr Modi as ‘Modiji’ and things like ‘Modiji aa gaye hain’, ‘Modiji khade hain’, ‘Modiji kamaal hain’ for the rest of the evening J. It an experience of never before bout of reverse intolerance against Mr Modi J.

Unexpected foreign presence. The crowd in attendance was all Indian, mostly gujju bhais from across the UK but there were few whites as well. We were pretty perplexed by their presence as to what interest do they have in listening and witnessing a leader of some other country. Agreeable, that he is a master orator and keeps the audiences glued with his speeches but even then to dedicate half of your day for a foreign leader was quite an effort. We contemplated on lot of reasons behind their presence but the most probable reason that we all agreed upon was their lure to experience the jam packed Wembley Stadium for free, a tour to which itself costs around 30£ J. Quite a gujju way of making the most of an opportunity J.

The Mutual admiration society. Mr Modi was introduced on the stage by Prime Minister Cameron, who had lot of good things to say about the former, so much so that if he had to vote in India in 2019, it would be a no-brainer as to who will he vote for J. He even borrowed Modi’s ‘Achhe Din’ phrase and played it to the gallery by taking a step further by declaring that under Modi’s leadership, ‘Achhe din zarur aenge’, though the 70,000 crowd went ballistic by this remark, Mr Modi was found blushing in the background J. When Mr Modi took stage he returned the favor by heaping praise on Mr Cameron, it was like a debt paid then and there. But what stood out the most was Mr Cameron staying the entire length of Mr Modi’s speech and acknowledging Modi’s connect with the audiences lot of times. A mutual admiration society they say, may be a potential threat to Modi-Obama bromance too J

The lame jokes. It’s not a hidden fact that Mr Modi is a master orator who plays to the joys of the audiences. Most of the anecdotes or analogies that he leverages in his speech are so interesting that even his detractors are pushed to marvel over them. Though, there were couple of instances where we found his analogies rather lame and boring, one such instance was when he tried connecting the ‘rupee bond’ launch with the UK’s James Bond and Brooke Bond (tea), a fairly bad attempt to link the two cultures. Possibly a rare instance of badly used analogy by the master orator J.

Usual pot-shots and the public exhilaration. It won’t be an unfair assessment if we say that Modi’s witty remarks against the mighty Gandhi’s during the 2014 general elections was one of the key reasons that helped him gain immense popularity among the masses. And he has always kept up to that tradition of taking pot shots at the opposition leaders, irrespective of the venue, much to the joy of the audiences. This time it was no different, though there were no direct remarks or ‘Shehzaade quips’. But it was done in a way that got the audiences on their feet in total exhilaration, as if they have all been waiting for this all day long.

Cracker of a close. As with any successful speech, Mr Modi’s concluded his speech with a bevy of lucrative announcements and assurances on a bright future under his leadership. The public erupted in joy and his concluding ‘Bharat Mata ki Jai’ chants made the atmosphere overwhelmingly patriotic. But the highlight of his presence was when he took a full lap of the huge stadium and greeted and cheered the public who have waited for hours to soak in the Modi euphoria. The closing fireworks that lit up the London skies were just the perfect icing on the cake that summed up a perfectly composed evening.  

People might have varying views on Modi’s way of functioning and brand his governance as just being theatrical and lacking meat. But if you were in Wembley that day you would have got the real feel of Modi the rockstar. The media back in India has already declared (and so has the recent poll results) that the Modi tsunami is now a thing of past. But the real mood of the Modi in Wembley was aptly captured by a headline of a news channel – After Manchester United, Michael Jackson and Madonna mania, Modi fever grips Wembley. J

Well and truly the biggest Modi show outside of India! An experience worth cherishing for a long time.

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kin…

Those good old days and stupidity…

They say the best days of your life are your childhood days and rightly so. Those days are the best days and you cherish them and envy them for rest of your life for a variety of reasons. One significant reason amongst all, that keeps you longing for them are the funny little imitating bits we all have done as kids and teenagers. Everyone has had their favourites and role models be it actors, sportspersons, artists or elder members of the family that we have always to some extent tried enacting in an attempt to be like them, in whatever capacity possible. And now when we think about it, it all seems so funny and hilarious but definitely worth cherishing. My areas of interest have always been around sports and movies so have been my favourites and my imitating attics during my teenage years, much against my mom’s wishes though who wanted my interests to range in the field of arts J. Here are few of the dramatic and over the top bits I can recall –

I remember during my school days we used to play cricket for around 6-7 hours a day, it used to start in the early morning hours and continued till the time Sun got really unbearable and then resumed again in the evening till it became pitch dark. So  those were the days when my hot favorite happened to be Md Azharuddin. I was a big Azhar fan and he still remains one of my all-time favorites for all his silken batting prowess, style and charisma. Though, it was quite unthinkable to match his wrist work or batting master class on the field, I remember doing a lot of things to be like him otherwise. The batting stance was imbibed on his style, the collars were always up and standing like he used to keep, the walking swagger was impeccably matched to his style and not to forget his stupendous dives and back flip throws to the stumps. Funnily, hardly any back flip throws were on target and those heroic dives on not so grassy grounds only contributed in bruised knees and elbows J. So what, for me he was and will always be one of the first style icons to done the Indian jersey.

Sachin Tendulkar was a default favorite in those days(years/decades) and every kid wanted to be Sachin. For that matter more often than not if you were batting and facing a bowler you ought to think yourself as Sachin. Though, it was a different thing to be tenth of as good as he was but he for sure was the perfect role model. So batting style aside, his groin tucking funny habit also aside and so also lot of his peculiar attics aside, one thing that I picked up from him and to an extent still follow was his coming out and looking towards the sky and paying obeisance to the almighty before embarking on a new innings. I remember I started doing that before going in for any and every important exam by leaving home and coming out and looking for the sun or the skies as a mark of remembering god before getting started with something really serious and important. So apart from 100 other reasons that has made this man as every ones unanimous favorite, this is one bit that I picked from him and continue to do so J.

Shane Warne is another champion that I have always admired and have been a huge fan of, not only for his cricketing genius but also for his larger than life image. He was in true sense a genius, a juggler, a magician and as he calls himself a thorough entertainer. Nobody ever spun it like him and nobody could ever kept us all enchanted and bewitched like him. So yes, in my school days and also while playing with cousins outside our house I also resorted to leg spin, it hardly spun for me to be honest but the bowling action was a ditto. Five strolling walking steps to the stumps, looking straight into batsman eyes, keeping him guessing and rolling over that right arm with an intent to deliver the ball of the century J. Mr Warne you truly rock and will always do.

Movies in India have always been a rage and for kids my age Khans have been ruling the roost since early 90s. Salman and Shahrukh were the ones who invariably used to feature in everybody’s favorite list. SRK wasn’t as much a laughing stock then as he is now, in fact was a rage among the girls. And guys as well did use to copy his mannerism in schools and colleges in wooing their girlfriends. He was my favorite then but thankfully enough, I didn’t do anything as stupid to avoid blushes now J. But I do remember buying his ‘COOL’ locket that he flashed in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, much to the embarrassment of my parents and above all myself J. Something similar happened when Salman killed it by his skating stunts in ‘Patthar ke Phool’, it so deeply impacted me that I took over to skating quite seriously and did reasonably well in learning that too J.

Thinking about such old time memories makes you smile, feel embarrassed and long for those moments so very much. How we wish our lives could still be so simple, uncluttered and driven by such innocuous things as they were then during our childhood and teenage days. Long live such memories and wish we could once again do something as stupid, all over again.

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London Dairies 6 | The Premier League Fiesta.

 Couple of weekends back, I got a pleasant invite from my Uncle to join him for the super Sunday Arsenal vs Manchester United Premier League match at the celebrated Emirates Arsenal stadium. Now this was one such invite that even a half sporting enthusiast won’t think twice before immediately accepting it. I did nothing different. Moreover, it wasn’t an ordinary invite, him being at senior leadership level in his organization, makes him privy to the elitist of clubs, Emirates Business Club box in this case. No wonder, I was surely in for a treat of a lifetime for more than one reasons.

I would be lying and bragging if I say that I am a die-hard football fan and I know it all about the Premier League dynamics and updates. My only involvement in this ‘beautiful game’ is mostly during the World Cups and the Euro Cups tourneys and some odd betting stints on the weekend fixtures in the nearby betting shop. So it isn’t as intense as it is with say Cricket or Tennis but nonetheless being a sports fanatic who wouldn’t relish experiencing the on field euphoria of English Soccer. So with less than 24 hours left for the fiesta to begin I started my preparations for the big match, preparations that would ensure that I make most of this golden opportunity by rightfully indulging in the English Football extravaganza. I did some research on the teams, key players and their recent records, and found out that there is more to Man U then just Rooney and more to Arsenal then Wenger and  Ozil alone J. I did some research on the Emirates Arsenal stadium as well and enlightened myself with history and importance of this stadium in the English Football setup. I also spoke to few of mine die hard Premier League fanatic friends, to get more perspective about the match and also to get a hang of what to expect and who all to look forward to in the match. They were all very excited and upbeat about the whole concept of their friend being a party to this match and there fervour just added on to my excitement J.

As I reached the stadium on the match day, I was prepped up with all the players, teams, stadium and match related facts and figures. There was an imminent buzz around the stadium prominently dominated by the Arsenal fans who were in high spirits cheering and singing for their home team. As I entered the stadia with my uncle through the emirates club entrance it almost felt like we have stepped into a 5 star hotel. There was some time to the start of play and so we were escorted to the club lounge where we were treated with finest of champagnes and wines, followed by a sumptuous meal and a high class hospitality, reason enough to already feel special. We were joined by Uncle’s friends and colleagues in our box, mostly ardent Arsenal fans, who after the customary greetings asked us about our loyalties. When I said I am rooting for Man U, they were a tad disappointed, but were hopeful about my change in loyalties by the half time, when I replied back saying, in India the only Premier League team people mostly know about is Man U and no wonder that becomes our default favorite team J.

As we took our seats, which were easily among the best seats in the house, the stadium was packed to the capacity and the atmosphere was mind-blowingly electric. I have always heard about the crazy English soccer fans and the madness that they bring with them in any high octane match but experiencing it live in the stadium was reminiscent only to a jam packed Wankhede rooting for their boys in the blue jersey. The first half of the game was an absolute treat with Sanchez (double) and Ozil making a mockery of the united defense leaving them three down inside 20 minutes, much to the joy of the 60 odd thousand home supporters. Expectedly so, I was asked about my loyalties during the half time and I had no hesitation in declaring that I am an Arsenal supporter hereafter J.

The second half of the match wasn’t as electric as the first where we kept on waiting for a Rooney goal which was not to be, as gunners kept the pressure on and sailed through to a crushing 3-0 win over the overwhelming pre-match favorites from Old Trafford. The cheering, jeering and singing continued throughout the match and much later as well but more than the game what made the overall experience an unforgettable one was the euphoria and mania among-st the fans for the game and their beloved stars. I am a big Cricket fan and have always felt proud about the passion that we hold for the game in our country, but experiencing the Premier League fiesta from such close quarters made me realize how equally passionate fans out here are for their favorite sport. And even if you aren’t a big football aficionado (like me), given an opportunity one should definitely experience this extravaganza at least once in the lifetime, as the real magic and euphoria can be experienced only by being there in the stands.

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Post Script – They say for any sports fanatic in London, your stay in the city stays incomplete till the time you complete the holy triumvirate of watching a test match at Lords, a Premier League match in the stadium and live on court grand slam action in Wimbledon. The first two spectacles for me are already savored, its target Wimbledon now for the next summer J.

Gabbu Singh Diaries 4 | The Toddler Strikes !

When I was a kid I was a difficult child to parent. This is not something that my parents have told me about but this realization has come in after I have become a parent myself. My mother however, maintains that she has had a really tough time managing and handling a plethora of complaints against me ranging from breaking glasses to breaking heads and running around girls to make the teachers run around me for some mischief or the other in the classroom and for a 100 other reasons. And these complaints were addressed not just from my teachers and friends but also from my friend’s parents, neighbors, close relatives, distant acquaintances and strangers as well. Although with time, the volume and magnitude of these complaints have softened up but I have hardly paid any heed to them until recently when I got the first taste of what my mother has been going through all these years.

It was few weeks back when I went to pick Avyaan from his nursery in the evening and his care taker pounced on me as if she has been waiting for this moment all day long. She started with the routine updates on what all he ate, how much he slept for and what all activities he did during the day and then paused for a bit before saying that I need to tell you something. I was taken aback for a while thinking that have we not paid this month’s fees or much worse, are they closing down the nursery but she dispelled all my doubts and very soon came to the point. She said Avyaan is not even 2 but off late he has been pushing guys aged 4  & 5 years, time and again and they come back crying complaining about him to us. When we try to make him understand that this is not good and you should not do this, he looks at them, laughs out loud, remains idle for some time and then repeats it again. I was clueless on how to react to this 1^st official complaint against him, whether I should laugh on his laughing gesture after manhandling guys much bigger then him, I should say sorry for not being a good parent or I should feel proud about my son being a menace for all the other kids in his group. I chose to stay mum for the moment.

She went on saying that you should keep a check on him at home and teach him to not indulge in such things even if he does it unintentionally, in a way telling me that I have failed as a parent to impart him right mannerisms. I replied with an ‘Okay’. She continued saying, you should ensure a right environment at home so that he stays away from such unparliamentary gimmicks, I took it as, tell it to his mom to stop pushing me and bossing around all the time so that he doesn’t pick such things at home J. Though, I again replied with an ‘Okay’. And lastly she advised me to teach him to not laugh if someone is reprimanding him for something wrong that he had done, now I couldn’t reply to this one as I have myself not been able to manage this all my life J. She mellowed down after her well-rehearsed speech and concluded by saying there is nothing to worry, as these are his transition years and hence these changes are normal, but we just need to be careful not just here but also at home.

As we set out for home, I jocularly told him ‘ you shouldn’t do all this, this is bad habit’. He responded with a wicked laughter to which even I couldn’t stop mine J. But all along our journey back home I was amazed on how dumbstruck I was (very unlike me) ,when his antics were escalated to me. That night I called up my mom, shared the entire story and told her today I realized that what you have been going through all these years attending and addressing heaps of complaints against me. She laughed out loud and said ‘this is just the beginning beta, but good that you realized it on the very first occasion’J. This small but important incident was enough for me to foresee a large number of speechless moments that are lined up for the next few years, added with a measure of self-realization on what my parents would have gone through during my childhood and much later J.

Now such things are part and parcel of every household that is blessed with a toddler. Though, there is general belief that as the child turns 2, it becomes terrible 2 for the parents. Howsoever, cute and lovely and beautiful your child might be but the kind of tantrums he/she throws on account of the terrible two syndrome, the apparent public embarrassment makes him the most difficult child in the world J. Having said that, these memories are the ones that makes your kid all the more dear and  lovable for you J. And also makes you realize on what all your parents have done and been through all their lives.

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Why not, let go the EGO.

Ego. Ego is a noun that more often than not rings negative alarm bells. Although, oxford dictionary defines it as ‘ a person’s sense of self-esteem or self-importance’, which can be as much taken in an assertive vein too but that is hardly how we perceive it as. And there are reasons to it, not just those big ticket arguments or altercations that leads us to talking about the ill-famed ego but even the innocuously silly bits in our day to day life. In fact, these bits contribute more towards our ego driven behavior.

For instance, how often it happens that we stop calling a dear friend of ours just because apparently it was his turn to call us next. We take it so much to our self-esteem that we forego that beautiful relationship just to satiate our senseless ego. And what makes it worse are the conclusions that we derive about that one time dear friend of ours just because he has also not called us back. Whose loss is it anyways? Certainly not just that friend’s.

How often it happens that we are driving our car on a busy road clogged by bumper to bumper traffic and some maniac barges in from behind and wrestles his way cutting past our lane, also forcing us to indulge in an impromptu slug fest with him. And we easily fall into this trap and engage ourselves in that acerbic altercation, with a single point angst that ‘how dare he did that to me’. Now in the hindsight, not quite sure what good can be achieved in those 30 odd seconds gained by brushing past some moron on the road or by getting into a bitter argument just to placate our ego. But in the longer run what we gain through that ego driven action of ours is just a Cipher.

We get into fights of various magnitudes with our family, friends, spouses and girlfriends, mostly on mundane issues. Issues, which we ourselves laugh upon at a later stage. But after every such fight, whosoever be the reason of that fight, we often get stiff and relatively resistant in getting things normal from our end. What stops us from normalizing things or making the first move is nothing but our inflated Ego. Those fights are inevitable and are an essential ingredient of any healthy relationship, but that post-operative ego blocker is the poison that makes things unhealthy.

With the heavy influence of social and electronic media we often get into discussions with our friends on a variety of trending topics ranging from politics to sports to everything. Many a times these discussions turn into arguments and we indulge in a race to prove that our point of view is the right point of view. Irrespective of who is right and who is not, the barrage continues with an unsaid mission of I should be the one delivering the concluding punch. Needless to say, there are no conclusions to these discussions but the ego driven ‘I’ that drives such arguments makes it very sad and murky.

Ego in the wrong vein always hurts and does damage that could be very detrimental and self-inflicting in the longer run. We often get stuck with things as we could not see anything beyond ‘I’ in them and that then becomes the breeding ground of a vicious egoistic behavior. It could be as simple as not liking or acknowledging posts from your friends and families on Facebook for no reason to not talking to your best of your friends because of a silly argument. Only if we could take things easy and on the go, as the word E GO also suggests, we will be a tad more happier in life. As after all, there is more to life than just the I.

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The Great Lord Ram vs The Great King Ravana.

I love reading and if given a choice I could spend my day doing nothing but just reading something of my interest till the moment I sleep. My reading interests range from sports, politics, history, current affairs to mythology, though in the last 2 years it has mostly centered around mythology. As a part of this long streak I happened to read two very contrasting but interesting books on Ramayana, Scion of Ikhsvaku by Amish Tripathi (AT) and Asura – Tale of the Vanquished by Anand Neelkantam (AN).I started with Asura and by the time I completed it, AT’s much awaited book on the Ram series was already up for grabs. So I thought it would be a great idea to start reading  Scion of Ikhsvaku right away as it would be like same story, same plot, two different perspectives, in one the hero being Ram and in the other the fearsome Ravana himself. Absolute delight for any connoisseur of mythology.

It was not the first time that I was reading the work of both these authors. I have read AT’s Ajaya earlier, which was Mahabharata from Suyodhana’s (Duryodhana’s)  perspective, a truly gripping read and also a testament of his rebel like ideology. So ever since, reading Asura was always on the cards. AT on the other hand is one of my favorite modern day authors on Indian mythology (along with Devdutt) and his debut work piece – The Shiva Trilogy is a sheer masterpiece. No wonder the nationwide anticipation for his new book was so immense. Although, Scion of Ikshvaku is just part 1 of the multi series book but AT’s stand on all the main characters is pretty much clear in it. And having read both these books back to back, I couldn’t resist comparing their individual take on the key protagonists of this epic tale. Here’s a snapshot –

Ram

·         AT - AT’s hero, the most righteous and law abiding being to have ever graced the land, a man so right that he could even go against the wishes of his loved ones to keep the sanctity of his Dharma intact. One who considers merit over the age old traditions of caste ranks. And most importantly the one who vowed to have just one wife in the age where it was a fashion to have many. A true Vishnu Avatar, one to be worshiped.

·         AN - AN on the other hand treated him as a skillful warrior who could against the popular belief of righteousness uses trickery as well as he did with Bali and on apparently several occasions to garner support to win back her wife. Someone deeply driven by the shackles of the caste system, who couldn’t even trust his wife for the sake of keeping his own name and image un-tarnished in front of his subjects. Someone popular only because he managed to behead the great and invincible Ravana. But one who let go his wife for that semblance of doubt that a commoner raised on her character.

Sita

·         AT - AT’s other hero(ine), Janaka’s adopted daughter, one who was most determinate and resolute in the worldly pursuit of life. A skillful warrior par excellence whom Ram respected not just for her beauty, simplicity but also for her valor and unmatched righteousness.

·         AN – Ravana’s daughter, the reason for the epic war, as Ravana the father couldn’t stay away from her. Righteous in her own right, one who would not sacrifice her chastity and would wait for his beloved husband till the end of the time even if that calls for suffering all the hardships of the world.

Ravana

·         AT – AT’s villain, the only warrior to have ever defeated the mighty Dasratha in the war. The proud ruler and dweller of the golden land of Lanka. One who was among the most skillful and feared warrior in his own right and who was once embarrassingly forced to go back from Sita’s swayamvar and whose arrogance and foolhardiness led to the fall of his great empire.

·         AN – AN’s hero, tad high headed, maverick but the most intelligent and valiant warrior of his times. One whose intentions were never to kidnap Sita just for his sister’s revenge but more so for the love and longing for his beloved daughter (Sita). One who was against the shackles of caste rankings and only believed in merit and who once accepted his wife despite her being raped and molested by a raging mob, unlike the supposed Vishnu Avatar of that time.

The tale itself

·         AT – AT’s weaves his tale in the traditional way, around the heroics and righteousness of Ram. And how despite all the hardships since early age, he manages to keep his dharma intact and pursues the real goal of Vishnu avatar in the most clinical manner. AT also devotes lot of airtime to Sita and her perspective to the finer details of life and beautifully exemplifies on how she was also as righteous and law abiding as her husband. With more parts of the book to follow, I am sure AT would keep it as engaging as he has always managed to.

·         AN – Being a rebel, AN focusses on Ravana’s side of story, on how he goes on to become the most successful and feared ruler of his time, rather than just bringing him into light only after Surpnakha’s episode. The manner in which AN has narrated Ravana’s daughter’s (Sita) tale and the emotional bond he had for her is truly moving. And the emphasis he has laid on Ravana’s broad minded approach in dealing with the societal nitty-gritty is worth a second read.

From the recommendation standpoint one should read both these books, though the purists would enjoy only AT’s version not just for his traditional approach of handling the epic tale but also for his more eloquent and engaging style of writing. For those with an appetite for experimentation and exploring new ideas, Asura makes for a sure shot read. In my opinion, it would be unfair to do a one on one comparison between the two books and pick one but I can say with a lot of conviction that Asura (the Ravanas version of the epic) is much more believable than AN’s other work Ajaya (Mahabharats from Suyodhana’s (Duryodhana’s) perspective).

Next up is Palace of Illusions by Divakaruni - Draupadi's version of Mahabharata. Exciting times ahead:).

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Afterthought – My father who has been a voracious reader of these mythological tales and who has also inspired and invoked my taste into this wonderful stream, finds these new age style of retelling our epics by either depicting our Gods as commoners or glorifying the anti-heroes, as objectionable, shameful and money making gimmicks, through sensationalism. I have often had this discussion with him and my point of view has always been slightly deferring. I feel these are all the interpretations of the author as much as the centuries old traditional tales have been the interpretations of the Sage Valmikis and Vyasas of the world. With all due respect to the them, as long as these epics are keeping us mesmerized and not demeaning our beliefs it shouldn’t really matter which interpretations are popular and which ones aren’t J.

The ever so exciting, Birthday Bonanza !

Birthdays are arguably the most anticipated days on the year. However, with age people do tend to tag them as just another day, but that’s mostly pretense J. I can’t imagine anyone not being excited about his/her birthday, irrespective of the age. When we are kids our parents make it special by doing everything they can, when we are in college our friends and girls friends turn the day into an event, after marriage our spouses make us feel special (at least for the first few years J) on this day by planning some lovely surprises, though as parenthood arrives the story changes and we get involved in planning the same for our kids. And thereafter, it gradually becomes just another day J.

But there are many things about the birthdays that make it the most special day of the year and whose memories are itched deep in our hearts.

The school times euphoria. By far the best birthday memories that I have are from my school days. I still remember how we used to plan for our birthdays well in advance and this used to be that one day where we really felt like the kings and queens of the world. That used to be that one day where we were allowed to not wear the uniform and new clothes were bought for the day. The entire class used to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ for you and then you go on to distribute chocolates to everyone in the class, (our special friends always getting some extra candies). Then our best friend was selected to escort us to every classroom in the school to help us give chocolates to every teacher around. The evenings were marked with the big ticket party at home which were orchestrated by mom and dad. Mom being busy in baking cake, icing them with our favorite cream and topping it with multi-colored gems and Dad taking some time off from the work to blow up those balloons and decorate the house with the festivity props. The excitement used to continue till the time all our beloved friends have left our house and we finally get our hands on those exciting gift wrapped boxes. So much for an exciting b ’day celebration which can’t be bettered in any which way J.

The college b’ day bonanza. Having lived in the hostel with scores of amazing friends, I will always cherish my b ’days in college too. Though, every time it started with the ritual of a thorough unwarranted massage aka b’ day bums where dozens of your friends toss you up and down and fulfill their FIFA skills with full gusto. The day ahead used to be characterized by those special surprises from your close friends and girlfriends. And the dinner used to be  reserved with your chosen set of special friends whom you can accommodate in your limited budget and treat them well with a sumptuous meal, about which you can brag for the rest of the year and also earn the right to taunt the ones who try and evade from doing the same on their birthdays J. A day, a celebration that can only be met with the same set of friends in the very same setting J.

The 30+ Drama. Now as we grow older and move towards the more sedate way of celebrating birthdays, which are marked by cutting a cake at midnight, followed by an exquisite dinner next day with a select set of friends or relatives. The key highlight revolves around receiving wishes throughout the day over the phone or on Facebook. But a common and a hilarious sight happens when someone turns 30, especially with the gals. They sound so sad and dull by the very thought of having turned 30 as if till the day before they were not 29 but 21 instead and all the guys were literally swooning over them. And when you wish them for the day they will invariably go on ranting, ‘ I am not even happy now, I don’t like my b’ days anymore,  and can you believe it,  I am 30 now!!!’ For god’s sake someone tell  them ‘Sister, we very well believe it, you please get a life, as not many care whether you are 30 or 24. Say thank you and tell us where the party is J’.

The gift hesitancy. Kids love being gifted something on their birthdays, so does every school or college goer. But as we grow old (and unwise), we tend to shy away from being gifted something on our birthdays. And this happens more so with our parents, the common plea being please don’t get anything for us, as we have everything and if we need anything we will tell you. And that anything never comes. But trust me, be it a kid or be it our grandparents, howsoever obstinate they may be about not being gifted anything, look at the smile and the happiness on their faces, even when you gift them the smallest of things. It’s truly priceless! There is no one literally no one in this world, (barring those Himalayan saints may be) who would not feel good about being gifted something. And birthday gifts especially are the most sought after and cherished gifts of the year. So for those who really want to spread some real happiness in the world, my birthday falls on 4^th of Feb every single year J.

As we age, we tend to underrate the importance of our birthdays, or at least we pretend to do so in front of others. May be because we feel not many actually care for our birthdays now or we have turned too old to celebrate it that the way we used to once. But deep down, this is one day that everyone waits for the entire year. You are genuinely happy on this day and you inherently feel special on this day even if nothing special is planned for the day. But unless you celebrate your own b’ day with some fervor, even if it calls for proactively throwing a b ‘day dinner for your close friends, how can you expect someone else to make it special for you. A birthday should always be celebrated in the same vein as it was being celebrated when we were kids, if not literally then at least in the same spirit. Only then it will continue to be a bonanza day every year.

Here’s wishing a very joyous and a happy birthday to everyone who’s celebrating their b’ days today, tomorrow and days after!

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Gabbu Singh Diaries 3 | The nervy movie hall debut.

They say your life changes once you are married. But now when I look at it I feel even the married life was pretty much in control, it actually changed after the parenthood arrived. So it won’t be an exaggeration if I classify my life in pre Avyaan era and Only Avyaan era J. So in the pre Avyaan era where we could eat where ever we wanted without much planning and without those unwanted stares, where we could travel where ever we wished to without planning for the weather and step free access (for prams) and we could watch literally every movie that got released without planning in advance for it, life has all of a sudden become an un-ending planning workshop J. So by now we have mastered the art of (or got attuned to J) traveling and eating out to near perfection but until recently going out for a movie has been a big monkey on our backs. Not that Avyaan has ever created a havoc in the cinema hall, it’s just that we couldn’t ever muster the courage to go to one with him.

Now before I share Avyaan’s debut movie watching experience, it’s important I get comfortable. And with that I mean I formally introduce to you Mr Gabbu Singh. Now that’s what people who know him call him, hardly anyone addresses him as Avyaan but of course for his nursery folks J. Now, how he got this name is even more interesting. So when we were expecting his arrival, his mom used to watch a very irritating sop on TV where in the lead actress called her toddler as ‘Taabar’(a rajasthani way of addressing ones baby), I somehow always heard it as Dabar and found it very funny. And I used to tease her by calling our soon to be born baby as Dabar, somewhere I found Dabar as very macho and emphatic too, as it reminded me of those villains of the 70s & 80s movies J. Now once he arrived Dabar became Dabbu but then we found that as slightly un-cool, so we changed it to Gabbu, that also went well with his then demeanour. And since then it has been Gabbu, though people use other variants like Gabar, Gabban and Gabbi as well. But I call him as Gabbu Singh, I feel it goes well with how he marshals our lives J. Though, I am sure in the years to come he won’t enjoy his girlfriend’s calling him Gabbu and he will come back complaining but by then we will probably prepare ourselves with a strong explanation for it J.

So we have been pondering upon this idea of going to a movie with Gabbu Singh from a very long time. We couldn’t manage it in Pune, Delhi or London considering ourselves as unprepared for it and mainly due to a disagreement on the fact that who will come out and let go his/her movie in case he starts his own movie inside the hall. Another reason for this delay was that I was also very particular on which movie should be his first ever movie, as that’s not going to change then. So when we were at my native couple of weeks back, the opportunity presented itself when my Dad brought this idea up of watching ‘Dil Dhadakne Do’ in  a recently opened multiplex in the town. I thought it to be a perfect mix as not only it would be a good debut movie for Gabbu Singh but with Mom, Dad and Bro around we will have enough hands to manage the unwarranted movie too J.

But as the show time neared it was evidently clear that nobody was keen to let me watch the movie with ease by taking Gabbu Singh’s ownership in the hall. Mom and Dad were busy discussing about the impending family function, bro was busy with his friends, Mrs was super excited for her movie date after a long time and I was super nervous thinking about the ordeal ahead. So where everyone was busy deciding on which popcorn and sandwich variants to select from, I was busy looking for places in the lounge outside where I would be keeping Gabbu Singh busy while everyone else would be glued to the movie inside the hall. As we entered our audi he was apparently very happy to see a huge screen and a bevy of people inside. His excitement while watching the trailers of the new movies before the show was a real treat to watch for. I hardly focused on them as my entire focus was on him and his moves, and I was relieved with his reactions but also had a sense of concern that this on screen razzmatazz and pace will end soon as the movie begins. To my surprise he continued to stay silent for next hour too with his focus still being on the big screen but there after he started getting restless and that in turn got his dad all the more restless. I somehow tried keeping him engaged for next 10 odd minutes but beyond that he has had enough. I got off my seat to take him out for what I have dreading for from a long time but to my good fortune it was the Intermission time as well. There was a sense of relief and achievement that half the battle has been won J.

Post interval Gabbu Singh was hardly interested in watching the movie. And I understood that the real movie for me starts now, I started showing him his nursery rhymes and pretty soon ‘Old Mac Donald had a farm..’ was buzzing in the background, embarrassingly that did invite some unwanted glares too. But even those rhymes couldn’t keep him interested for too long and he was in his full elements very soon. His mother then realized that he is sleepy and I handed him over to her so that she could make him sleep. He was asleep in next 10 minutes and that helped me settle my nerves too, though every movement he made even while sleeping got me on the edge of my seat. But thankfully there was no unwanted action from Gabbu Singh till the end of the show. And I was apparently happy that it went through without much trouble and it got managed pretty well. Though, it’s a different matter that I could hardly focus on the movie or even comment on how actually the movie was J. But never did i knew that it will be such an important parenting milestone to clock.

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Afterthought – Gabbu Singh’s mom gave me a reality check after the show, that there is no reason to be so happy about this rather uneventful movie outing as the newness of the entire setup kept him engrossed and not my impeccable managing skills. And according to her, the real fun would be in the next visit to the hall J.

Being happy is fun and rather simple!

Being happy is the most beautiful virtue in life. Howsoever, beautiful it might seem it isn’t that easy to attain true happiness. At times we find it too tough to accept and on others we are just too afraid to be a part of the change that is needed to attain that illusive bout of happiness.

But what is true happiness or the rather enigmatic art of being happy? Is it always about weighing things in terms of its monetary value or the materialistic pleasure it provides? On most occasions, YES! Who wouldn’t love buying a fancy pair of shades or an expensive jacket and flaunting it all around in anticipation of few compliments. Those really are some happy moments. But these are not the only occasions that provide you true happiness, in other words  you don’t have to lean on the materialistic and expensive modes to derives true happiness in life. Howsoever, bookish, saintly and preachy it might sound everybody can relate to it in their lives in some form or the other. I did so too very recently and was rather ecstatic with the experience.

I was in Pune last week staying with one of my very close friends, by the grace of the god both of us doing reasonably well to treat each other with a sumptuous fancy meal in any of the top most restaurants in the city. What we instead planned and executed was a trip down to one of the not so famous street side joints to relish a portion of authentic  Maharashtrian ‘Misal Pav’ delicacy. And we were so delighted, satiated and happy post that session that we are still thanking each other for that plan and still raving on the happiness that brought to both of us. I seriously doubt whether that fancy lunch in an upmarket restaurant would have had such a long lasting ‘happy’ impact on two of us.

Similarly, couple of days later when I walked down the stairs from my Nani’s apartment, I saw couple of teenagers (may be 15- 16 years old) playing cricket in the society campus. I stood there for a while watching them play, remembering my own teenage days where I used to do the same for hours with my friends and cousins. I was a bit hesitant in asking those kids about that favor but that sense of nostalgia urged me to request those guys to let me play an over or two with them, my teenage experience helped me do it in a rather friendly way. I requested them for an over with the bat and also with the ball, only in an attempt to not seem like that grumpy and irritating uncle who is only keen on batting and pushing away thereafter. In the hindsight, I am happy I shed past my hesitation and indulged in those 10 minutes of ‘surreal gali cricket experience’. It indeed was a happy moment and the one that will keep me happy for a some time.

And there are many such priceless and happy moments waiting to be explored but we resist, fearing the change that they would bring in with them. For instance, I am a big foodie (chatora, as the true connoisseurs of street side food might call) and I find it very hard to resist the temptation of feasting on anything supposedly unhealthy or junk and if you are a fitness freak as well and keep a tab on your calorie intake than it’s a real nightmare to strike a balance in this. But the real happiness is in binging on those extra samosas and kachoris without worrying about the unwanted calories and in true sense once you actually gulp them in, the pleasure that you experience from it is surreal J.

The same happy moment realization happens when you laze around with your best friends over a grand slam tennis match or a high voltage Cricket clash. Or for that matter when you park aside your four wheeler and take on the streets on a two wheeler. Happiness is in skipping an important office meeting to get on a useless discussion with your close pal. And in letting go an age old grudge with your once best friend and in many such small things that are so priceless that you can only understand by experiencing them.

After all being happy is everyone’s personal choice, only if we can learn to not attach a very heavy price tag to attain happiness.

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Gabbu Singh Diaries 2 | A tale of two lost shoes!

We all know that for ages now women’s craze for shopping is a matter of global concern. Boy friends are worried about their girlfriends obsession to shop, husbands have their wives to worry about too and women for that matter are worried about what other women they know have already shopped J. My lawful wife also has this obsession to some degree, though off late it tends more towards shopping for her beloved son. As a matter of fact our household has more clothes for Avyaan then what probably our rest of family line would have in aggregate. She says I shouldn't comment on it as she would shop whatever and howsoever she wants to for her beloved son. Yes, beloved, at times I feel if I was just half as beloved as he is I would have been a leading cloth merchant in UK J. So every time we go out, shopping for Avyaan is the only constant, all other variables are aligned based on this. So now he has a bevy of jackets and shoes that a man of any age would envy him for.

And of his humongous wardrobe he puts on something new every day and merrily goes to his nursery. Either of us drop him to his nursery on his pram which is a 15 minutes’ walk from our place. Recently, the loving mother bought him a pair of beautiful shoes (I wish they had it for my size too) which he put on the very next day and went to his nursery. Even his care taker ma’am acknowledged his lovely pair of shoes, only to make me feel all the more jealous. That evening I had an important submission and I was in back to back meetings, hence I asked my wife to bring him back home that evening. She did so but after coming back she gave me the bad news that he has dropped one of his shoes somewhere on the road and I should immediately set out towards his nursery to look for the lost pair, as she was too tired to go back. I knew the criticality of the situation and the repercussions of my not going out immediately too. But it wasn't an easy task to manage the business stakeholders and asking them for a half an hour break hours before an important submission. But her restlessness made matters alarming and I somehow negotiated for some time and  rushed out looking for the lost shoe. I was pretty confident that I will get hold of the shoe as what would someone do with a single shoe. But as I approached his nursery, I was evidently nervous as there was no trace of the shoe anywhere and she was calling me again and again but I didn't answer it as I had nothing good to share.

As I came back come empty handed, the dejection and the pale on my face was akin to what I probably had when I once flunked in my engineering exams. So by now even Delhi and Chhattisgarh were aware of this probable colossal loss, but they were all hoping that I will bring home the good news and wade off their anxiety. But I failed, failed miserably and as I delivered the bad news, a sense of sadness loomed over the Awasthi household. The only remaining hope was finding the lost shoe in his nursery next morning, but even that was not to be as the shoe was lost on the road. The house lady took some time to get in terms with this loss but that didn't deter her shopping spirits, rather only catalyzed it J. And as we were coming to terms with this incident and we were tying his shoes laces a tad more tightly the act got repeated. And this time it happened when I was taking him to the nursery in the morning. As I was dropping him, I realized he has once again done it and only one of his feet had a shoe on it. I was appalled, I asked him what do you man, how do you manage it? In his response, he just flashed a naughty smile, as if it was all pretty much planned and intentional. I couldn't stop myself from laughing but I was well aware of the nightmare to follow.

To keep a cool head and have a single minded focus on the shoe search while coming back home, I decided to not share this horrifying news with her. This time around I was pretty confident of finding the shoe as I was about to traverse the same route almost immediately. Much to my dismay the result was still the same and I was cursing the people of this country like anything. I was wondering what the hell do they do by picking up single pair of shoe! The only weird thought that was constantly crossing my mind was that somehow this shoe should be of the opposite feet of the previously lost shoe J. Not that I intended to ask Avyaan to put on two differently paired shoes but it was the only sense of good luck I was hoping from these outrageous streak of events. Unfortunately, it happened to be the same shoe but then it hardly mattered. As I shared this news with her, she was furious and a familiar sense of sorrow dawned yet again. So while Avyaan was playing in his nursery barefooted, wify was yet again busy in browsing for new pair of shoes, I was amazed with this rather uncanny streak of events and the psyche of the rag pickers of London.

As I was going to pick him up the same evening I was amazed to witness something extraordinary. Somebody had carefully placed a single shoe well beneath a traffic light post, it was the very shoe that had broken many hearts few hours back. The very moment all those rag picker thoughts faded away and my respect for the meticulous and honest people of London increased leaps and bounds J. I was raring to grab the shoe instantly but I held back waiting for the traffic light to go green, so that people waiting at the signal don’t mistake me for a white collared rag picker J. Moments later I gleefully caught hold of the shoe and instantly called up the worried mother to share this glorious news. The amazement in my voice while delivering the news was same as it would have been when I passed my engineering with Honors. The Awasthi household was once again in laughter and soon enough the joy precipitated to other familiar parts of India too J.

We don’t know how many more shoes our bwoy will successfully manage in dropping off but all I repent for at this stage is how I wish I knew this smart art of dropping my shoes at that age, I would also have had a new one every few days J.

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