Saturday, December 25, 2010

Wagh Coaching Classes




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Thursday, December 23, 2010

Desi Migration


Desi Migration is the regular seasonal journey undertaken by the desi species of humans. The mass movement may include those made in response to depleting homemade food, changes in weather & daytime, dwindling financial resources or as an alternative to hibernation. But the prime reason for migration can be attributed to emotional upheavals resulting from long distant family relationships.

General Patterns
Most desi populations migrate from the United States to India, either across the Atlantic Ocean with temporary nesting at European or Middle Eastern airports; or across Pacific Ocean with few hour stops in far east countries. The most common pattern occurs during the months of December-January when winter takes its toll on tropical-blooded desis instigating them to migrate to warmer locales. Few species migrate during the months of May to August for internships or to use piled up vacation days. Migrations peak around beginning or late December depending on cheap availability of plane tickets. Frustration resulting from lost or damaged baggage, being serviced by rude unattractive air-hostesses, poor food quality and lack of in-flight entertainment & legroom is a common occurrence.
 
Historical views
The earliest recorded observations of desi migrations were 50 years ago, primarily among the Punjabi and Gujarathi communities. Many authors have penned down their thoughts on the subject. Man Booker Prize winner Kiran Desai highlights the turmoil faced by these Desis in her book 'Inheritance of Loss'. A recent film 'Swades' inspired many of these Desis to stand and applaud in the theaters in sheer pleasure, before retiring to their comfy 24-hour-electricity-water-supplied homes.

Physiology and Control
The physiological behavior of migratory desis is genetically controlled and the ability to orient themselves after crossing several timezones is laudatory. The first signs of excitement are seen just after buying the airplane tickets. All desis have a tendency to argue vehemently about the choice and price of their tickets, marked by a condescending attitude towards the ones who got expensive deals. A month before the migration, one can see a consistent rise in the number of tweets and status updates about the impending journey and a noticeable fall in their conduct with desis who are staying back. Shopping sprees are common with each Desi competing with the rest in buying cheap electronic items, liquor chocolates and novelty products made in China. A sweeping hormonal change equips the desis to expertly pack their limited baggage with their gifts stuffed in socks and clothes to evade the Customs officials. Cheap duty-free alcoholic beverages are bought enroute with an innate desire to impress their near and dear ones.


Mating Season
For many Desis who are in the age bracket 25-35, it is a time to find a mate and bond for life.Courtships are fairly common and essential during the brief period as the females may or may not accompany the male on the journey back. Weddings are primary places to find a suitable mate as both sexes preen themselves elaborately to get attention. Some Desis are obliged to enter into a relationship with a comely female selected by their parents after careful evaluation. Such an arrangement is a unique feature among Desi species and rarely enacted among other humans.
 
Psychological Effects and Adaptations
Once the Desis land in India, a remarkable change occurs in their behavior. They twitch their noses registering disapproval of air around, crackle excessively about pollution or humidity and sigh at the driving conditions. Hygiene is suddenly very important to them, and every piece of garbage on the road is met with a stunned stare. It takes a while for some Desis to stay awake during the day or to touch their anal cavities after the excretion phase. Every mode of communication is heavily accented with a judicious use of American slangs in between native conversations. They do not lose a single opportunity to preach about the luxurious lifestyle in USA, and compensate for their tirades against Indian standard of living by eulogizing mom-made & street food. Their schedules are excruciatingly organized to cater to their social life and any change to the plans is strongly disputed. Their body immunity is surprisingly weak and many fall prey to gastroenteritis or diarrhoea if proper care is not taken. The end of migratory season again brings emotional disturbances among the flock resulting in tears and conflicting desires. Through tearful goodbyes, the Desis begin their return journey with big waistlines and bigger luggage items, fearing the hardships ahead... work-wise and workout-wise.


Note: The author dedicates this article to Wikipedia and its wonderful quest to keep knowledge freely available.

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Thursday, November 25, 2010

Bliss...


Atop a cliff. Facing a vast expanse of land, or water. The deep blue sea shimmers in the golden light scattered by the morning sun. I lie dressed in loose casuals on a thin cotton quilt spread over partly wilted grass, the warm earth massaging the sore muscles and the sunlight nourishing them. My eyes sparkle at the book held open by my fingers, narrating wondrous stories about seen or unseen lands, people, their way of life, their moments of ecstasy or of mind-numbing pain. The first few pages with their corners tucked in, hinting at the way I lead my life, for a few pages are all I could read then. Not anymore.

There is no electronic gadget lying by my side, no insane desire to capture the moment in a digicam or worse, to update my whereabouts to an all encompassing social network. No means or the urge to check gmail for the umpteenth time or to stay abreast with news to beat the stifling competition. No palpitations arising from wading through the peak traffic to work or molesting the keyboard to meet a seemingly impossible deadline. No worrisome thoughts about a dwindling bank account or a distending waistline. Just a tiny fear about the day ending.

I breathe in a cornucopia of fragrances. Is it the wild purple flower growing undeterred in face of the open sea breeze? Or is it the richness of damp soil in the shade of the tropical trees? Or may be it is the hot tandoori chicken resting in the food basket by my feet, ringing bells for the impending lunch hour. As my mind goes in overdrive trying a locate the source of my delight, a hand slides on my chest pulling me closer and I smile. 'Ahh, her Jasmine perfume, that must be it...' I give in to the tug and fall supine in the shade of the most beautiful (if that word could ever do justice to the creation) woman I know. Her piercing eyes bore into mine blasting open every door to my soul, her soft tresses tickling my abnormally large ears and her serene voice pouring honey down them... "Time for lunch sweetheart?" I can't help, but say, "Give me a minute honey, I got a task to finish..." as I pull her closer to soak in her glow that makes the sun burn fiercer, in spite....




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Monday, October 11, 2010

Naruto Shippuden Shippuden...



Koi nahi hai kamre mein,
Kya haseen mila hai pal...
Aaj Naruto dekhne do,
Kaam baaki karenge kal...

Jao baba jao,
Guilty na feel karaao..
Sushi leke aao,
Milke khaaye hum aur tum...

Naruto Shippuden Shippuden... Naruto Shippuden Shippuden..
Naruto Shippuden Shippuden... Naruto Shippuden Shippuden..

Sakura kahe, Sasuke lauta do,
Is tarah se na mujhko saza do...
Naruto kahe, Jaane bhi do na,
Hai kasam tumhe yun zid karo na...
Kaisi yeh majboori, Kakashi pe ye jimmedari...
Kab ye hogi poori, na usko ye maloom...


Naruto Shippuden Shippuden... Naruto Shippuden Shippuden..
Naruto Shippuden Shippuden... Naruto Shippuden Shippuden..

Na pakao tum, Granma Tsunade,
Akatsuki hai gum, Jinchuriki dabaa ke...
Orochimaru ko maarne ki ab hai baari,
Team Kakashi ne ki hai sab tayari...
Baaton hi baaton mei, pal guzar na jaaye,
Aao milke dono mitaaye Konoha ka jurm!


Naruto Shippuden Shippuden... Naruto Shippuden Shippuden..
Naruto Shippuden Shippuden... Naruto Shippuden Shippuden..


Disclaimer: Please excuse the lyricist for ruining your image of 'Dilbar Shikadum'. Joblessness has its toll on the best of minds...

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Wednesday, October 6, 2010

BE A MARDDD... Do the Right Thing!


This post is in active response to the recently circulating video, or in the words of the video-makers, a public service message issued in the interest of all indian males [Link]. It is definitely no more than a publicity gimmick by 'Haywards 5000' to instigate the "true men" into buying their product and I wouldn't have ordinarily cared to object to its meaningless sermons. But somehow it has generated such a positive response from the online community, especially women, that I drew myself up from my slouch and put my fingers to the keyboard.

First of all, let us keep aside the fact that the message comes from an actor with such an indelible past criminal record and non-exemplary marital life; that a movie on 'Gandhigiri' and few instances of social service deem insufficient to balance the equation. An interesting point to ponder over though would be that the same Gandhian ideals of self-sufficiency and ahimsa which our dear Munna promotes in LRM, run tangential to the ideals put forth in the video.

Contesting each and every point would be too much of a task to my lazy Leonine ass, so I will just skim through a few notable ones. Kindly refrain from linking the points I butcher to my own personal way of life, as they may or may not resemble my pet peeves. So here I go...

1. Self-grooming: Yes, women do invest a huge chunk of their time getting their body hair ripped off the skin, patching the darker areas with makeup and trying to achieve that elusive body structure with limit tending to 36-24-36 (last I heard). But isn't it all done so as to present themselves as a superior female specimen to the male species and to usher in a feeling of self-confidence (though illusory)? And can she not expect a non-smelly and a less woolly male body in return? Talking about Indian males, haven't we all brought up on a culture that portrays every God with long hair and wearing fancy jewellery (read armlets, necklaces and earrings)?

2. Nurturing young ones: Zoologically, women were the naturally chosen primates to look after the offsprings while men hunt for the family. But civilization played its hand into turning those mothers into working women with ambitions and relegating those dynamic male hunters to static desk jobs. So is it so wrong of men to take care of babies considering the feminist idealogy of equal rights for women in every field?

3. Cooking & Dancing: Engaging in artistic pursuits, be it cooking, dancing or painting, has more to do with the hemispherical balance in the brain rather than a testament to the testosterone/estrogen levels in a human body. Announcing such activities as a female domain is as good as mocking the legendary men who enroll in such professions.

What is the true mark of a man then? I would like to believe that it is standing strong in face of dire circumstances protecting a weaker soul or a minority from the unjust onslaught of the self-righteous majority. May be it doesn't end at the ability of providing the sperm, but goes on to have the endurance to nurture the growth of that sperm into a fine human being. Or probably it has something to do with putting those gym-tuned biceps to better use in helping someone than bullying and exercising dominance over the less fortunate. And maybe... maybe the men & women eulogizing the video for what it's worth, need to recognize and boycott the misplaced ideals.

But what the heck, how would I know? I am just another man who gets orgasmic by cooking the food he loves to devour and grows his hair long enough to make his abnormally large ears disappear...


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Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Two wheels & a free spirit


My furnace-like home threatened to roast me like a stuffed turkey on one fine hot Jersey day. I picked up Jay's steely Schwinn in one spontaneous thrust & climbed down the block to rouse my lethargic spirit. Setting my Woodland feet to pedals, I rode out under the stark sunlight racing to the shadows of Johnson Park. Down the Cedar slope, towards the River Road signal, I let the wind caress my shamefully short hair as I closed my eyes to get that fleeting I-am-the-King-of-the-World feeling...

We are at the friendly neighborhood rental bike shop at Kastur Park. Papa chooses a medium size blue bike for me. I run my hand over the dotted handle & ring the shiny bell in delight. My brother sniggers at my impatience as he pets his new brown Atlas Fireshadow. We set off the road to the open ground near Ganpati mandir. It is one of my bicycle lessons. One foot on the pedal, one heave at the handle and I launch myself into the weed ridden, occasional dog-poo infested field uttering a cry of victory; only to notice my dad holding on tight, to the back of my seat. I assure him of my confidence and he lets go. I pedal in circles & eights with my brother crisscrossing my bold advances. Proud of my achievement, I beg Papa to let me ride the new larger-than-my-perky-self Atlas. Smiling at my cluck-clucking brother, Dad gives in. I hastily clamber upon the shiny Fireshadow to check my limb-to-pedal reach. I start wheeling voraciously with Papa running along, his one hand on shirt pocket to save the chillars from popping out. A yard, and a ten; I get myself freed from the clutches of my concerned father, riding into thin air. The sheer joy of speeding under a cotton-laden blue sky & on a wide open land in otherwise cluttered Mumbai breathes life into my pounding heart. I glance behind to see a diminishing figure & try to maneuver a turn to ride into the arms of a proud father. Abrupt decision, shaky hands and fickle gravel shred my calculations and I tilt over to one side hitting the ground with a resounding clunk. As I lie rubbing my wound, I see him, sprinting towards me, coins spilling over....




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Monday, July 5, 2010

The mind that colors the cradle...

Racism is tricky business. There is a whole gray area between comments that are racist and ones which aren't, and it can be quite a task to separate the husk from the grains. At one time, you may withhold a statement as a truism, only to be later assailed by some thought or incident which negates your basic premise.

For instance, there was a time when I used to take offense at someone calling an Indian brown, or an Asian yellow, or an Afro-American black. The basic premise lay in the fact that one considered white as the supreme color, the color of nobility & a color used by dictators & colonialists alike to proclaim their dominance over others. But on deeper contemplation, I realized that we Indians sure have our own nomenclature for the different races; Desi, makku, kallu, chinki ruling the roost. Are we being racist as well then? Or is it just a matter of convenience to refer to a certain group to delineate an image of such a person while narrating an incident? To think of it, refering to someone by their continental origin, say Asian or Indian, does not conjure the right image in terms of looks as well as could be an affront for fellow men from less-population-percent countries. Calling an Indian a Pakistani; or a Korean Chinese might be bigger of an insult than calling them brown or yellow.

Social norms change, so do the languages; but what truly distinguishes a racist from the not-racist is probably the tone of the comment, its literal meaning or pure actions perpetuated in its name. So you may call me brown or you may call me black, but you will find a punch flying at your face if you add a 'fag' or 'fat' to that...

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Thursday, April 29, 2010

Thank You

Dear Recruiter,

Thank you for your disinterest in my qualifications for the Software Engineer position at your company. I carefully reviewed your background and experience, and I regret to inform you that I am unable to accept your rejection letter at this time.

This year, I have been inundated with offers of rejection from candidates spanning a wide range of software and financial firms. I strive hard to find the right company to suit my profile. At this time, I would not be pursuing your offer of rejection, but I would like to keep you in mind for future career pursuits in case I need to quit your company for a higher paying job.

I am looking forward to see you at work. I encourage you to stay updated on my career pursuits by visiting http://www.eden.rutgers.edu/~swagh/need-for-money/

Regards,
Siddharth Wagh

Replies to this message are undeliverable and will not reach me. Please do not reply


===================================
Disclaimer: Though the above concept is not my own, the sentiments most certainly are...

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Khel Mandala (The game is set…)






















The song (YouTube link): Khel Mandala
Tujhya paayarishi kuni saan thor nhai
Saad sunya kaaljachi tujhya kaani jaai
All are equal at your doorstep...
Only you can listen to the elegy of a lonely heart
Hey.. Tari deva sara na yo bhog kasha pai
Haravali waat disha andharalya dhaai
Then why doesn't the suffering end, my Lord?
The path is lost, darkness engulfs all directions..
Bavaaloon udhalato jeev maaya baapaa
Vanvaayo oori petla...
Fear grips and ravages me, O father…
There is a forest-fire raging in my heart
Khel Mandala, Khel Mandala…
khel mandala, Deva… Khel Mandala!
The game is set, O Lord, the game is set...
Sandaliga reetbhat ghetla vasa tujha
Tuch vaat dakhiv ga khel mandala
Daavi deva pail paar paathishi tu raha ubha
Yo tujhyach umbaryat khel mandala
We have forsaken all traditions and took your oath
You have to show us the way, for the game is now set..
Stand by us in all circumstances, O God...
For we have set the game in your courtyard...


Hey… Usavala ganagot saara, Aadhar kunacha nhai
Bhegaalalya bhooi pari jeena angaar jeevala jaali
The fabric of my relationships is all unwoven, there is no one I can rely on...
Flaming hot coals burn my body, as if the sun scalds the barren cracked earth
Bala de zhunjaayala kirpechi dhaal de
Inaveeti pancha praan, jeevarhat taal de
Give me the strength to fight, and the shield of compassion…
I ask for mercy, please give me the rhythm of your soul
Karapala raan deva, Jalala shivaar
tari nhai dheer sandala... Khel mandala...
The forest has burnt to ashes, and the farm is ablaze...
Even then I haven't lost hope, my Lord, for the game is set...

Music: Ajay-Atul

Lyrics: Guru Thakur

Translation: Myself

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Kilmer & me...

It's been an year since we started seeing each other. We are 5 'dates' down now...

She says '"I am fast on turns" and then cries about me being too slow and hesitant...

She says "Your hands are all over the place!" and then reverts back to "Your hands are stiff on the wheel"

She asks me if I have ever done this before, and then reprimands me for being too reckless...

She wants me to signal my next move and then cribs about me not waiting on a green...

She ridicules me for not being "smooth" and hates it if I 'weave' through the path...

She whines about me using "extra-protection" (read: handbrake) and wants me to read the signs (on her moronic face, ya!) ...


ARE WE HAVING SEX OR AM I LEARNING TO DRIVE, YOU BITCH !!

IT'S OFFICIAL! I AM BREAKING UP WITH YOU, KILMER!!

Saturday, January 16, 2010

The Irony of "Chudiya pehen lo"

This post finds its voice in an anecdote that Atul (of the RDB/ChandniBar/Devrai fame) shared in a casual discussion to promote his latest film 'Natarang'. When asked about the metamorphosis he went through while portraying an effeminate Nachya, he talked about general public's narrow-minded outlook towards such characters. He had come across an opposition party leader who suggested that the incumbent government wear bangles (chudiyan pehen lo) owing to its seemingly abominable performance. The mere fact that even in today's modern Indian society, the use of such phrases disparaging a women or relegating her an inferior position, is a matter of pure disgrace.

I couldn't agree more. There are countless times when men are constantly reminded by their spouses or elders to wear bangles for being passive in a situation demanding an aggressive approach. "Bangdya bhar" or "Chudiyan pehen lo" being the precursors of the various women centric abuses, highlight the idea that women, in essence, are inferior to men. A man having effeminate traits is ridiculed more passionately than a woman being "tom-boyish". In fact, she even might be praised for an act of courage (considered a manly trait) but a sensitive man is mostly relegated the title of a 'baailya' (womanish). The seemingly innocuous remarks show a deep rooted sentiment within a person of women being hapless, cowardly or passive.

In a society where 'bitch' rules as a foul word as against 'dog' OR where women expect men to be chivalrous by opening doors for them, offering them their 'rightful' seat in a crowded bus OR where a woman having multiple affairs is a 'slut' (negative connotation) as against a similar man being a 'casanova' (positive connotation) ; it is not surprising that such a sentiment exists. But acknowledging that such a divide is shameful and working towards reducing such instances, is a task that needs to see the light of the day. This isn't just a tribute towards the strong women who molded me as a person I am today, who washed my dirty dishes and clothes while I ran amok with friends or who offered me a larger share of any foodstuff I liked. It is a humble acceptance of the fact that for men and women to be termed as equal, such prejudices need to be done away with... forever.

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