Indyeeeaaahhhhh!!!!!!!

Pondicherry was the destination for my last weekend getaway– I was tired of Chennai, the rains, language problems and the fact that I know very few people here. The night we reached pondy was quite uneventful – thanks to another of those south Indian film starts turned politician, and Dinesh’s favourite star, Vijaykant’s rally.

Morning broke and we were sound asleep as usual. Getting up and leaving the cozy bed is one of the hardest tasks for me and indeed most leisure loving humans. Our first stop was Auroville beach. Although quite sunny, the beach was full of merry makers. Pondicherry is quite a tourist spot with its beaches and cheap booze – Indians and foreigners alike.

There was a couple from Switzerland there sunbathing not very far from where we were lazing around. They had adopted a ‘one at guard’ policy. The lady took the first turn at ‘sea-dom’. After she was done, her partner followed. And almost instantly, as flies to insects, locals started gathering around the poor lady taking turns to shake hands, talk to her and do anything to get a clear look at her. Ohh!! Did I mention?? She was looking quite gorgeous in all her bikini-clad splendor. The crowd started small. However, in no time it was at least 30 strong. The expression n their faces would lead you to believe that each of them had just conquered Mt. Everest.

My friends and I were really apprehensive. Thankfully, her boyfriend managed a break from his ‘sea’wimming schedule and saw all wasn’t well. He came back and somehow cleared the crowd. I don’t know who is to blame. All I can say is, there are a lot of ‘frusts’ here.

Our weekend tour had come to an end and we were at the bus stop waiting for our bus to turn up. A French group was standing next us – a couple of guys and four females. They were carrying a lot of video equipment and were part of a documentary team. Dipanjan and I were in the midst of one of our intellectual discussions when I heard a scuffle behind me. I turned around to see a man running hard – a polythene bag in hand. In pursuit, were 3 people from the group. My first reaction was “He must have snatched that bag from these people.” I asked one of them to confirm. She said, “He touched my friend…” Thankfully the retard had been caught and was handed over to the police. I saw him pleading to the constable who was clutching the man’s collar in one hand and was landing blows on him using the dreaded ‘lathi’ in the other.

The bus arrived and we boarded. We were seated behind a couple from the group at the bus stop. The bus trundled along and as it hit the highway, the driver switched off the lights. The couple was waiting for the moment. They indulged in the longest make out session ever. Their tongues were intertwined for most of the rest of the journey- a good three and a half hour long. Why I brought this up is because, the same group had an incident at the bus stop which should have reminded them that they are NOT in France. A group of guys sitting next to them were thoroughly enjoying the ‘show’. Moreover, PDA in India is taken as a sign of ‘lack of character’. I don’t say they shouldn’t throw their smooching shoes overboard as soon as they touch Indian shores. However, a public bus is definitely not the place for it.

An age old saying comes to mind which puts everything into perspective – When in Rome, do as the Romans do. The least tourists can do is avoid situations which can hurt sentiments or fuel desires. There have been a lot of cases, in Goa especially, where foreigners have been vandalized. I am not in any way saying that they themselves are to blame for the incidents. However, it does pay to be cautious and self helpful. We, as Indians, have to mature a great deal; at least as far as our acceptance levels are concerned. Until then, the onus is on the law enforcement machinery to make India a SAFE tourist destination. And therin the hope lies bleak!!!

Hell hath no fury, like a woman vote-deprived.!

Most of us are informed. Most of us read the papers. Those of us who don't at least make it a point to catch a glimpse of the head lines read by "eye candy" newscasters (DD news seems so long gone). Whatever be the reason, news is all pervasive. I had seen a number of agitations through media for a number of issues. The dharnas and the marches had no real meaning for me. They were just lines in print. It was one of those dissociative tendencies - it doesn't affect me. I am sorry for the people it does. But am I really!!!!

I was caught not to long back in the midst of a political ego clash. This was the first time a political agitation was directly affecting me. And boy, did i feel the pinch. I realized that regardless of the outcome, it is the innocent people who suffer. I was working in the now "shut down" Singur plant where a whirlwind of events eventually forced Tata Motors to take the Nano project out of West Bengal.

The fight was between two political parties - one ruling WB for the past 30 years and one ready to do anything to gain political mileage to give it a glimmer of hope in the next elections. CPM aquired land for the project in a closed door format and this gave TMC the "loaded gun". They had waited for this opportunity for many years and now they had it. There were many a unwilling land losers in the singur, although greatly outnumbered by the willing ones, and these land losers were used by Mamata Banerji to forward her own agenda.

Continuous disruptions and problems had plagued the project from the very beginning due to the land dispute. However things had started to settle down. Then TMC made an announcement - from 24th august onwards it would lead a dharna to protest for the unwilling land losers case. Incidentally 24th was a sunday. So it was only on Monday that the effects of the dharna were felt by one and all associated with the Tata factory - direct employees as well as employees of contracted complanies. Madam Banerji had settled, laying down her mammoth ass in one of the many cloth shelters erected along the Durgapur Expressway. Along with her came her platoon of brain dead soldiers. And the Durgapur Expressway A.K.A NH-2 was blocked to traffic. A National Highway had been reduced to a inter-para thoroughfare.

The police escorting our buses from the city took no chances. So we were diverted onto the old delhi road so as to avoid the parading hooligans. For a 15 minute journey we had to travel 3 hours or more avoid the dharna and still reach the plant. Total travel time - 5 hrs one way. What added to the agony was the fact that my shop was operating in the A shift. The A shift buses leave the city at 4:30 in the morning. And then the 5 hrs. This 10 hr up and down travel continued for 3 days - mon to wed.

Everyone of us was sick and tired of the mindless lady who was out to harm her own state's chances at industrialization. However work continued as far as possible. Things got out of hand on Thursday though. The A- shift had just ended. The people were trickling into the 5 buses that were supposed to leave. By 3:30 we were ready to leave and were waiting for the police escort.
It arrived and we started, leaving the mother plant behind and entered the Vendor park.

As the buses exited the vendor park onto the low road connecting the high way to the plant, a crowd started gathering around. Three of the buses had managed to make it onto the Highway with the other two waiting in line. I was seated in one of the two buses. A lone man parked his butt on the highway right before the first bus. But the his "loneliness" got the better of him and he got up afraid the police might react. The three buses sped off wasting no time. However our buses still had to make the U turn to get onto the highway. As we started to do so, a car came blocked our path in total filmy style. Ironically it was a TATA Sumo. And the back was filled with bricks. Along with the car around 50-100 other protesters gathered there, formed a human chain and ensured that the remaining buses could not leave.

From the crowd emerged a man, wearing a dark flowing kurta and sporting long locks and a beard. He started explaining to us the reason and the motivation for their protest. His last line was a stern "Kalke aapnaara ashben na" - which when translated means Don't come tomorrow.
All this while the other bastards were mouthing expletives and threats, which felt all too real at that time. The had a crude weapon with them too - the bricks in the sumo. The police decided to take us back into the plant. The protesters it seems had been given vague orders on the lines of Stop the bus. Two ladies run across the grass patch between the highway and the low road to stop the buses again. I really laughed at that time. It was much needed too.

They were called back by their people and we managed to get back into the plant - to safety. We waited until 8:30 in the evening. The police kept informing us that the situation was no better and it was not safe to leave. People were slowly preparing themselves mentally for the fact that they may not be able to leave at all. However, the gods smiled on us. Lightning illuminated the dark night sky, followed by a deafening roll of thunder. The temperature dropped all too quickly and precipitation began. Rain was pouring down on Singur and on the dimwitted people blocking our passage out. It was one of the densest downpours I've seen. The riot police too had arrived at the scene. The rain in combination with the police had managed to clear a way for us to leave.

The buses began to make rounds to pick up all the employees stranded inside. After making sure that everyone had boarded their respective buses we began to make our way out. The cleared path was just enough for the pass - the police having a torrid time keeping the activists from blocking the road again. As our buses passed through the roadblocked area I breathed a sigh of relief happy to get out. Little did I know that would be the last time I ever went to Singur. The next day onwards Tata stopped all activity there as it was just not safe to continue.

They were patient however, hoping that some sense would somehow come to Mamata Banerji and she would take back this mindless opposition. It did not happen. What ensued was what I feared. The small car plant has been officially shifted out of Bengal. I had taken an immense liking to the plant simply because it was different from any other plant I had been to. It had large green patches, water bodies and mud gracing the roads after rainfall. It was a brand new plant with a brand new car in a brand new segment and that made it all the more likeable. Guess it never was to be...

It dawned on me how sad and pathetic politicking is. The land priced had shot up because of the Tata plant. The land losers had got a good compensation. However, MB had wanted land back - 400 acres of it. The land was not agri-fit anymore. Thousands of tons of concrete had been pumped into it. But she wanted the land. Now the land is there. However, neither is it agricultre-worthy nor is it worth anything. Bottom line, the local people lost the most. The same people she had promised to help when she embarked upon her mission destruction. Even now she maintains the whole episode is an effect of mutual agreement between the government and the Tatas.

I just want her to sit and think!!! and i'm sure she'll say "Oh lord what have I done." At least I hope so!!

Guilty Pleasures!!!!!!

Alcohol - the word evokes many different reactions from different people. Some souls frown at the very mention of the “foul substance” while some feel that social gatherings are incomplete without it. There are still many others who indulge in it in the privacy of their homes either alone or with a few bosom buddies. These are people whom they can “open out to” once the chemical action kicks in. And there are some who are indifferent to it.

As for most engineers who have studied in a residential institute (I’m talking about India), it attains an almost demi-god status. Be it farewell parties, the end of the sem exams or just any other day (there shud be no class the nxt day) alcohol is there to grace the occasion. And in all avatars- some like whisky, some vodka and some swear by good old “Old Monk” rum.

Most of these budding engineers have been brought up in strong valued household, where even the mention of “daaru” is abhorred. These students, who were a part of the first category, slowly but surely shift to somewhere between the second and the fourth types (refer to the 1st Para). As they make their way through college, “daaru” becomes a part of everyday life. I have known people who will prefer alcohol to food, especially when someone else is footing the bill. It is amazing how around 18 years of upbringing can be reversed by just 4 years of hostel life. It becomes a part of insti tradition with seniors (baapu) treating their juniors to it on job treats and other random “aajke khaawao” parties. The cycle continues…

In fact, alcohol is a big part of college culture. The following incident will illustrate the fact:-

Dr. Vijay Mallya in a session at IIM-C was asked by one of the students whether he was spoiling the youth as the “beer baron”. Mallya asked a simple question in reply “Are you from IIM-A or IIM-C?”

The fact is alcohol has made people filthy rich, like the gentleman I mentioned above, and its “country” version has been responsible for a number of deaths. There is no denying the wrongs of alcohol. There is no denying that we people have the ability to judge for ourselves. There is no denying the immensely powerful yet pleasing high one experiences on intoxication.

And there is no denying the fact, that come what may, we will continue to indulge in Guilty Pleasures!!!!!!