That state called Uttar Pradesh

The following is the review of my 40-day stay in Eastern Uttar Pradesh:

Madhu Varma was that chap at school who was awful in History.

I was at the place where sometime in the early 1920s, the police station was set on fire, resulting in the calling off of the Non-Cooperation Movement. I had my market visit in the city most famous for the disputed site which got divided into 3 parts as recently as 7 days back. I lived for a few days in the world's oldest city and visited the town which has a pillar from which the National Emblem of India is inspired from.

'Look, Mrs Devanapalli, now you have to believe me. I did pay attention in a few of your lectures'.

Madhu Varma was that kid who couldn't pack his school bag to save his life.

I had to pack/unpack luggage and change hotel rooms more times than the number of zeros in a quadrillion. I have now become an effective packer with keen sensibilities in optimal space utilization and time reduction.

Look, Ma. I can pack better than even you.

Reaching inaccessible places by travelling in a tractor, listening to village elders discussing politics under a big banyan tree, watching little kids fool around under the not-so-strict supervision of a disgruntled and disinterested school teacher made me feel like the character Mohan in the Bollywood movie, 'Swades'.

But then, it wasn't as romantic as it was shown in the movie. Well, on all the journeys, the passenger next to me was very sleepy and irritatingly, his head kept falling on my shoulder every now and then. And well, the village elders conversed in Bhojpuri and they weren't exactly in awe of the well dressed (ahem!), well educated (ahem! ahem!) city boy and they weren't exactly looking up to him to solve make their problems. And well, I wouldn't have been able to do a better job than the resentful, public school teacher even if I did try.

I've spent countless hours stuck in traffic (Eastern Uttar Pradesh seems like, is home to half the world's population). I have skipped more meals in the last one month than I have over the past one year. I got sick of seeing thousands and thousands of grass-chewing cows and paan-chewing humans.

Also waiting on a railway platform (populated by monkeys) for 12 hours in Azamgarh, travelling in the woeful local buses on woeful roads in Sonbhadra, riding a Bajaj scooter for 200 odd kilometers in heavy rain in Mau & Ballia on my birthday, convincing a group of prostitutes that we (myself and a company sales executive) weren't interested in what they had to offer while passing through the red-light area of Basti weren't exactly pleasant experiences. The power cuts in Gorakhpur, the heat in Deoria and the insects in Mirzapur were all killing.

But then the place had its charm. The crudeness in the language, the sun-burnt faces of the people, the earthen cups of tea.....

I hated Hubli then and I hate it now. Although living in Eastern Uttar Pradesh was quite a struggle, I look back fondly on my time there.

And when my TSE from Varanasi called me up in the evening and asked me about my well- being, I replied in my broken Hindi, 'Yaar, UP ki bahut yaad aata hai'.

Anyway, whatever!

S.O.S.

'My name is Madhu Varma. I am a survivor living in Hubli. I am broadcasting on all AM frequencies. I will be at the Court Circle everyday at mid-day, when the sun is highest in the sky. If you are out there.....if anyone is out there.....anybody.....please'.

My mutual hatred with Bangalore continued as the city kicked me out on the 8th of July 2010. Most unkindly this time. (**** you, Bangalore). A very, very last minute change saw me posted in Hubli instead. And after speaking to my friend who did a bit of research about the place online, I remember thinking "It has an airport. It can't be too bad."

Wikipedia: Hubli is a major city in the state of Karnataka in India.

You live bang in the middle of the place and you go around looking for a bar of Dettol soap. A sympathetic shopkeeper would offer you a soap called 'Det-Mex'. Well, it looks like a Dettol and even the first 3 letters are the same. You would be greedy now, if you wanted anything more.

And if you wanted to pass your time by doing some light reading, you would find all the books you always wanted to read. Second hand books on engineering, commerce and law. A reader's paradise. Wouldn't you agree?

Wikipedia: Hubli is well connected by air, rail and road.

Well, of course. Reaching Hyderabad by air is a simple matter of around 11 hours. You have a quick break at Bangalore or Bombay and arrive at your destination in no time.

And even if you take the road or the rail, all you need to do is change a station or two at some unheard-off places (which even Google would find difficulty in locating) and before you know it, you are there.

And before I go on singing my praises about Hubli, let me introduce my friend, Bailey. Bailey is a chap of few words but he always reflects my moods perfectly.

Me: This place is getting to me, Bailey. I don't know how much longer I can take this.

Bailey: * Looks half-empty *

Me: It's time for our daily walk, Bailey. Hop on.

Bailey: * Looks half-full *

I keeping replacing Bailey with a new himself everyday,but he never changes.

And when I crib about my stay here over the phone, I most often hear "Come on. It's only till the 20th August".

That's another 27 days, 23 hours, 53 minutes and 36 seconds.

The damn cosmos was created in lesser time. Anyway, whatever.

'My name is Madhu Varma. I am a survivor living in Hubli. I am broadcasting on all AM frequencies. I will be at the Court Circle everyday at mid-day, when the sun is highest in the sky. If you are out there.....if anyone is out there.....anybody.....please'.

S.O.S.

'Psychoness' Continues [10 in 10 Contd...]

Trip Review

Day 1: The pig was the most sighted animal on the journey from Delhi to Jaisalmer. An uncomfortable ride on a camel and a bonfire in the Thar were followed by a few hours of sleep.

Day 2: After sightseeing a couple of forts, we were on our way to the land of Gujarat. The truck drivers in the state had impeccable traffic sense. (Any link with alcohol prohibition, I wonder).

Day 3: The asiatic lion in the Gir National Park didn't seem too pleased to be disturbed during its afternoon siesta. We reached Diu (of Daman & Diu) by evening and explored the entire place.

Day 4: We drove till we got sick and tired. And then, we drove some more. Without going into any details, I would like to say that our stay in Dadra and Nagar Haveli was pleasant.

Day 5: Pictures clicked during the drive through the Western Ghats were a few too many. We were particularly surprised to not find food anywhere at midnight. I mean, it was Goa afterall.

Day 6: Beaches and hippies were to be seen everywhere. The trek up and down a hill for a certain Aguada Fort was very tiring. The view from the top made it worth the effort though.

Day 7: Spending a 2nd day in the same state was inconsistent with the theme of the trip, but we did anyway. And on New Year's eve, while the other 3 were partying, I slept.

Day 8: We were back on the road again and the return journey began. The Mumbai-Pune expressway was delightful, but the same couldn't be said about the roads in Karnataka and Madhya Pradesh which we would cross the next day.

Day 9: Had a couple of hours of sleep in some really shady hotel in Thane. Crossed Gujarat again, but we still couldn't have the elusive 'dhoklas' and 'theplas' (do you even get these there?).

Day 10: The Chittorgarh fort seemed like a place we wouldn't mind living in. Rain, fog and traffic delayed us, but we eventually reached Delhi.

Random observations about the trip:

1) A certain bird by the name of 'Grey Tit' is found in Gir. We passed through a town in Maharashtra known as Lanja. (Lanja means whore in Telugu).

2) The song 'Arambh Hai Prachand' from the movie 'Gulaal' was played the most number of times in the car. It was like the official song of the trip.

3) We used to take 'pee' breaks on the journey (most of which were at my behest). Vamsi would blame these breaks for everything that went wrong and therefore me.

4) The 'daal' in Gujarat is terribly sweet. You get a dish made of 'sev' and 'tamatar' in Rajasthan. It is called 'sev tamatar'. Udayan fell in love with it.

5) Srikanth and me toyed with the idea of building a toll road between India and Japan and charging 1 billion dollars as toll. (Courtesy: no sleep, motion sickness, poor sense of humour)

The car was brought to a stop, the music was turned off and at 5:57 pm on the 4th of January 2009, it finished.

We were physically and mentally exhausted and drained. All the travelling had left us disoriented. So much so that, we felt like stationary things around us were moving. ( You see things moving past you for the past 10 days, your eyes and more importantly your mind gets used to that). We desperately needed some rest. We really, really did.

But we didn't take rest. Keeping true to the spirit of the trip, the 4 psychos went for '3 idiots' that evening.

Anyway, whatever.

10 in 10

THE PSYCHO TRIP

Mode of Transport: Road

Distance: 5934 kms

Days: 10

States: Delhi, Haryana, Rajasthan, Gujarat, Maharashtra, Goa, Karnataka, Madhya Pradesh (8)

Union Territories: Daman & Diu, Dadra & Nagar Haveli (2)

The Psychos:

1) VAMSI

2) UDAYAN

3) SRIKANTH

4) MADHU

'I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain'.

Not really. It was the start of a really, really long journey alright. And the conclusion was most certainly uncertain. But I am not too sure about the excitement part. And I had my reasons. Well, I didn't get a wink of sleep for the previous 21 hours, was tired as hell and it was bloody cold.

After the last of the bags were loaded into the boot of the 'White Diamond' (that's what we named Vamsi's Swift for the trip), we were good to go. We got into the car.

Srikanth was contemplating adding more places into the already watertight schedule. (Srikanth is never ever satisfied).

Vamsi was complaining about my excessive luggage. (Despite our long association, my idiosyncrasies still continue to deeply annoy as well as amuse Vamsi).

Udayan was charged up and raring to go. (Although he doesn't accept it, we feel that it doesn't take too much to get Udayan enthusiastic).

I was cribbing about how I didn't get a wink of sleep for the previous 21 hours and how I was tired as hell and how it was bloody cold. (Cribbing comes as naturally as sleep to me).

It was classic us.

The thought of going on a trip originated as early as October. Consulting with travel agents, googling of places, toying with maps, flipping through holiday guides were some of the activities which went into the planning. Ideas as frivolous as driving down to Thailand and as normal as holidaying in Rajasthan were extensively explored with feasibility analyses (an extremely high level of tolerance was afforded) and detailed estimates of time and resources. Trekking in Uttaranchal, skiing in Himachal Pradesh, relaxing in Kerala, exploring the North East were all considered in isolation and in various combinations. Countless hours of discussions didn't get us any closer in finalising the trip. Everyone had a different agenda, a different set of conditions and constraints, different preferences. What we had in common - impatience, inflated egos and insanity (what we would like to call 'psychoness'). We weren't even sure of whether we would go on a trip till the last minute, let alone where would we be going and what we would be doing.

The car was brought to life, the music was blasted on and at 4:19 am on the 25th of December 2009, it began.

To be continued.....................

'Peeche Aao'

DELETED POST 1

A couple of posts were deleted earlier. One of them (the one below) was available in draft and is being republished in original. (First published in late 2009)
 
10-0. It is the scoreline of a football match I was involved in last weekend. Although it seems exaggerated, it is not. And what might seem even more phony, this wasn't the first time I had the fortune or misfortune of playing in football games with such ridiculously one-sided score lines.

*Winding back the clock*

Name: Madhu Varma

Position: Center Forward/Trequartista

Role: Captain

Team: Goka Juniors

Well, that was me and my team back in my engineering days. And while the rest of the students were doing whatever they were doing in the afternoons (typically attending lectures), the members of Goka Juniors would be crazily running around a ball (an exercise which vaguely resembled what the Americans refer to as soccer) in a woefully inadequate rectangular piece of land, which by the way was supposed to be the playground. Braving the weather, risking rebuke, we would religiously play the game, with a dedication and passion one would associate with an Olympic Gold Medal winning team.

The 'blood and sweat and tears'

[blood: I perennially fell down while playing and hurt myself.

sweat: We played football. So obviously we sweated.

tears: Well, I suppose I am getting a little carried away.]

we put in, would gain relevance when we participated in tournaments and played against opposition teams. This was the time when all of our investment (time and pressure) would be put to test.

# A typical scene after a match in the tournament#

Uday and me are laughing like maniacs for no apparent reason. Reddy is shaking his head in disgust. Varma is giving the post-match analysis to Srikanth, who is ruing everything that happened before and during the game. Aashish and Rishi are frowning. Muddam and Putchu have blank expressions on their faces and seem disinterested about life. Bharan is looking around for food. Vamsi is wondering, what just happened, while Rahul is abusing him and everyone else.

The scoreline: Goka Juniors 1-11 Opposition

* Winding the clock to the present *

MDI 10-0 FMS. I am finding it quite difficult to digest the score. The scoreline has an all too familiar feel to it, but for the first time I am not on the wrong end of it. I am on the winning side which mauled the opposition and not the other way around.

Those who watched the game were quite amused to find me celebrating during the game as if I scored the winning goal in the World Cup finals. And I celebrated like that 3 times. The home spectators found it hilarious and the away ones found it condescending. But then, they didn't know how much the hat-trick and the victory meant to me. But then, they didn't know about Goka Juniors.

Acknowledgements:

->The MDI football team. Especially Tushar (for sharing my penchant for crazy, peculiar goal celebrations) and Ikam (for the countless times he set me up, only for me to incredibly miss the simplest of sitters).

.

The hat-trick is dedicated to:

To my beloved Goka Juniors, the best footballing team ever. And to 'Peeche Aao', of course.

Note:

*To those who aren't aware, Boca Juniors is a world famous Argentine football club team. And the first half of the first word of the name of my engineering college is Goka. So that's how the name of our team, Goka Juniors came about. (How original and creative!)

*During the matches, our defenders never used to let Adnan (who played the position of defensive midfielder) go up. Whenever he would venture a little forward, they would shout to him, 'Peeche Aao'. And that used to irritate Adnan a lot and was a source of silly humour for the rest of us. It is difficult for the readers to appreciate this, but take my word for it. It used to be really, really comical.

.

Anyway, whatever.

IL CORVO

Contrary to what it seems like, the pigeon is not my favourite bird. I was gleefully fascinated by its ways in Europe and more particularly so in London, but that wasn't enough for usurping the top position which was, is and will always be occupied by the crow (the common raven). So, there wasn't an iota of doubt as to what I would name the second beast in my life (the first one being Adolf).


'IL CORVO'


Well, getting it wasn't exactly the easiest of things. If there was one thing, my mom would never let me have, it was this. Convincing her that I wasn't going to get killed by the 'monster' was awfully difficult and is arguably my greatest achievement ever. It is amazing what time and pressure can do. And a whole lot of cribbing, of course. This entire episode has given me so much confidence that I now feel that I can even convince the British to stop employing the word 'royal'. (I would never do that, of course. All I am saying is that, I beleive I could do so, if i wanted to).


Everyone I have spoken to regarding it, have tried to reason with me and appeal to my rationality. And when I didn't change my stance, the conversations typically ended with me being labelled, senseless and/or crazy. (A certain few were too polite and called me brave instead). If there ever was one thing for which I was unwilling to listen to absolutely anyone, it was this. Like they say, I was as 'obstinate as a mule'.


Taking a slightly different approach, Praveen made me feel inadequate to have the 'monster'. He said, one had to be bulky, wear white 'khaddar' clothes and be adorned with thick gold chains, bracelets and the like to deserve it. I appreciated his humour, but there was no way, I was appreciating his point of view.


So, as I paced around in the hall restlessly, the phone rang and this time it wasn't a friend who just called up to say 'What's up?'. As I went down the lift, all the trouble I had gone through over the past few weeks to have it, flashed in my mind. The endless hours of dreaming, arguing, defending, selling and convincing had finally borne fruit and here was I asking myself,
'IS IT WORTH IT?'.


At 21:01 on the 24th of September 2009, I laid my eyes on it for the first time. It was darker than the night. As deadly as sin. Royal and regal.
I brought it to life. 'Thump..Thump..Thump..Thump..Thump..'


TOTALLY.


Anyway, whatever.


I usually end my posts with the 'Anyway, whatever' or ta da (or some other version of it). Since the 'Anyway, whatever' is done with, the reader can put himself or herself out of his or her misery at this point, by navigating away from this post and doing something else or something better. (Anything would be better than reading this rubbish, so essentially there is no difference between 'something else' and 'something better').


But in case, you have read up to this point, you might as well read the next few sentences and waste a little more of your time.


As a certain someone asked me, "Why did you get a bike? You don't even know how to ride it?".
I replied,
" It doesn't matter that I don't know how to ride.
And for the sake of everything under the sun, it is not a bike.
It is a motorcycle. It is a Bullet. It is a Royal Enfield Bullet Electra 5S.
It is. My 'IL CORVO'. "

Anything and Everything under the Sun

The following conversation, (which took place at a devilish time of half past 7 in the morning the other day) has been replicated (as much as possible) as it actually panned out. Minor alterations may have been made, taking the sensitivity of the readers into account.


Index
*.......* : Action
#........# : Comment


Udayan: Wake up, you bastard!

Me: Huh!

Udayan: *Whacks me with a pillow.*

Me: Mother fucker!

Udayan: Wake up. How much time will you sleep for?

Me: Dude, I just slept for like 8 fuckin hours. And I got up a couple of times in between.

Udayan: Fuck you! You sleep like a pig everyday and then you crib.

#We associate pig with gluttony, greed, sloth and every other vice, since it is convenient#

Me: Fuck you! *Wakes up with a groan and curses everything under the sun.*

.........................

.........................

Udayan: Dude, I was just wondering as to why people celebrate birthdays.

Me: #Comment deleted due to its inappropriateness.#

Udayan: I mean, with every passing year one only gets closer to death। So the birthday isn't
actually an occasion to celebrate.

# A brief note on the author at this point would help the reader better appreciate the rest of the conversation. I have an annoying habit of countering opinions (and sometimes even plain facts), just for the heck of it. The low general awareness necessitates me to come up with unconventional (or ridiculous, according to most people I know) arguments all the time.#

Me: Screw the ‘celebrations’ part. But well, I am not too sure about the ‘getting closer to dying with every birthday’ part.

Udayan: What are you blabbering? Let’s say one has a life time of 70 years. Isn’t he closer to 70 when he is 40 than when he is when he is 39.

Me: Dude, but it is not decided beforehand as to how long one is going to live.

#I don’t believe in destiny, fate and other gay stuff like that.#

Udayan: Let us not get into whether it is pre-decided or not. Irrespective of everything, one is nearing the end as time passes.

Me: Not necessarily. Doesn’t the passing of every year alter one’s chances of further survival?Isn’t the time one has survived till date a factor which influences how much longer he would live for?

Udayan: Dude, cut the crap. *Shakes his head in disgust.*

Me: The probility of one living till the age of 70 when he is 40 is different from the probability of his living till the age of 70 when he is 39. The fact that he survived for another year should increase his chances of living till 70.

#The usage of the word ‘probability’ elicited laughter from both parties as we reminisced the idiosyncrasies of that wierdly strange professor who lectured us on probability during our 11th and 12th standard years.#

Udayan: I will slit your throat open right now and then we will see how probability works.

Me: Whatever. Fuck you!

Udayan: Fuck you! *Goes to the wash room.*

Me: *Lies down on the bed again and curses everything under the sun.*



The following are certain things I wanted to report:

1) Luthra is on a roll in snooker. He recently thrashed my opponent (who, if you remember from the earlier post, thrashed me) by a margin of 40 odd points with 3 balls remaining. This makes me look even worse. Bloody relativity.

2) Keshav is carrying 4 mobile phones with him these days. When I asked him, ‘But, why?’, he replied that using 4 phones would give him expertise in multitasking. I shall refrain from commenting on this.

3) And finally and most importantly, Atul ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck-for-anything-under-the-sun’ Jain has secured arguably the best internship of the MDI PGPIM 08 batch. His status message on Google Talk now reads as ‘CITI NEVER SLEEPS’. Killer!


Anyway, whatever.