offtomoon

57 seconds

2011-11-18T18:18:00.001+05:30

I was late today. After a late night party, my daughter had startedfeeling hunger pangs at 4 O’clock in the morning. Although the feed was bydefault my wife’s responsibility as I was not biologically designed for thesame, my wife made sure that I woke up whenever baby was being fed; either tocalm the baby before she forced herself out of bed, or to burp the baby afterthe feed so that she could hit the pillow as soon as possible. This morning wasone such morning when I had spent a good part of an hour trying to make mythree month old daughter understand that this was not the time to smile and play.It is quite obvious as to how much she understood whatever I was saying becauseby the time I could put her back in her cot it was well past 5 and I was readyto crash into my own cot. The ringing of my alarm thereafter sounded like adistant dream and by the time I woke up, the sun was shining with all it’smight and glory.

I started the bike in a hurry and as always I took the road from BudhwarPark towards Fort Covent School. From a distance I could make out that therewas not much traffic at the Regal junction but the traffic signal had justturned red. As I approached the junction, the first thought that hit my stilltired brain cells was not to stop and just carry on. After all, it was still acouple of minutes before 9 and the traffic cop would not be standing at hisusual post at across the junction. More so, I was in uniform. Suddenly withthis thought, it seemed that all my brains cells went into an overdrive andthey were instantly divided into two groups; one half telling me to go on “Jumpthe light, you are in uniform!”, the other half stopping me, “Don’t jump thelight, you are in uniform!”. Since then, this debate has been raging and hasnot yet ended. My brain cells are very neatly divided on the issue.

In smaller towns of North India, this kind of debate does notoccur. Either there are no signals to be jumped or the traffic cops and thepeople are so helpful that they themselves stop the traffic and let you pass,that too with a salute. The fact that these towns are inhabited by the Army andnot the Navy also helps apart from the fact that an Army officer would rarelybe in his own private vehicle when in uniform.

Being in Mumbai (or for that matter any metro city) is different.Apart from the short bursts of patriotism that the city shows (like the post26/11 week, or during the compulsory screening on the national flag before amovie show), there is not much show of respect for the men in uniform. Peoplehave their own daily worries to take care of and as a result, someone inuniform jumping the light and breaking rules would generally be looked downupon.

But what does our man who just reached the signal think?

One day he would take it as a privilege to be in uniform. Afterall, this is the man on whom the duty of defending and protecting the countryand therefore the national pride has been bestowed upon by none other than TheHonorable President of India. And today, like all days, he is reporting forthat duty. Therefore, what harm has he done if has demanded the slightestcourtesy to be allowed to jump a traffic signal, ever so when there is not muchtraffic and the cop has not reported for duty. Gabbar had also not done anyharm in demanding rations from the villagers of Ramgarh to save them from thehorrors of Gabbar himself.

Another day, at the same time but in a different mood, our manwould be overcome by the other half of his brain cells. Today he would bethinking of possessing the dignified old world charm that was once associatedwith the armed forces. The armed forces man was the most respected man in the village,locality, town and city. He could eat food with a fork and knife, he could roamaround with the confidence of Arnold Schwarzenegger, and he would make girlsfall all over him with his aviators in uniform. He would shoot at the enemyjust as easily as he would help and old lady cross the road. How could such a person,the epitome of ‘Gentleman’, break rules and jump a petty traffic signal? Andfor what, reaching office 57 seconds early? He would rather sit in office foran extra hour or two to finish his work rather than face the ignominy of beinga rule breaker, that too for a mere 57 seconds?

I was running late today and so I moved on, barely giving thethought another second. But the debate would rage again tomorrow when god knowswhich half of my brain cells would dominate. I believe they would remain equallydivided. Which side of the argument are your brain cells on?

Stench in the City

2011-11-13T17:52:00.000+05:30

I loveworking! And I love it even more when I am able to complete certain tasks thatI had set myself to do, on time and with appreciation from my seniors. Todaywas one such day when I had managed to tick off a major task in my to-do listand was waiting to show it to my boss. I was reasonably sure that he wouldappreciate it and this thought was giving me a high. I wore a better set ofclothes today and applied some extra after shave and as I moved out of thebuilding complex onto the streets of Colaba, I was already imagining the mannerin which I would present the work to my boss.

Crossing‘Sea Wind’ on my left, a faint odor hit my nostrils and thirty meters furtherit became stronger and warned me of garbage truck up ahead. As I looked up, thevery familiar and seemingly omnipresent garbage truck run by the BrihanmumbaiMunicipal Corporation loomed in sight. Suddenly, and very sadly, my upbeat moodjust vanished. The stench of the garbage truck and the fact that it did noteven allow me to overtake it, was the last thing I would’ve wanted at thatpoint of time. Here I was, fresh and cheerful, off to my office early in themorning, and in front of me was a foul smelling garbage truck just pissing meoff. Another 100 meters down, I overtook the truck and my nostrils breathedfresh but not before my cheerful spirits had evaporated and my thoughts hadchanged onto more provoking matters.

Theearly morning encounter with the garbage truck brought into my mind the onethought that seems to engulf me whenever I am driving in Mumbai; why can’tMumbai manage it’s traffic and roads like Delhi? Garbage collection in Delhi isdone in the night hours when it does not affect the usual traffic of the cityand definitely does not inconvenience people travelling to office with thestench. BMC might have GPS tracked it’s garbage trucks to show the tech-savvysystem, but it does not help if the system design itself puts people toinconvenience.

Thegarbage incidence is just one example to confirm my belief that traffic ismanaged much better in Delhi than in Mumbai. Delhi, even before he commonwealthgames changed it’s landscape, has always had better quality broader roads thanany roads in Mumbai. Some Delhi roads which are not as trafficked and criticalas the ring road are broader and faster than the Eastern and Western ExpressHighways which are so very critical to the traffic of Mumbai. Delhi startedwork on making the ring road a non-stop road with flyovers covering all majorintersections much before Mumbai started work on the Bandra-Worli sea linkwhich has been touted as the biggest infrastructure project for the city tilldate.

Ivisited Delhi last month on a short leave. As I drove out of the spanking newT3 terminal of the airport in my father-in-law’s new I20, the first thing Inoticed was the massive amount of space all around. Mumbai always has aclaustrophobic feeling all around and that is why people keep flocking toMarine Drive and Gateway of India all the time. Everywhere, on every road, itseems like people are just crowding over each other, with cars buses, autorickshaws jostling for space all the time. Narrow roads are surrounded by tallbuildings that seem to overpower you with their sheer size. In Delhi terms, itseems like one is in Chandni Chowk all the time. Delhi on the other hand has afeeling of freshness to it. move out of the airport into the open and wideroads of the Gurgaon expressway, land straight into the Dhaula Kuan Chowk withit’s open green spaces, and cross over the SP Marg into the tree lined,roundabout laced avenues of Chanakya Puri. There is a sense of space allaround, and with space comes freshness.

Mumbaiand Delhi are like two cousins, with similar parentage but totally differentpersonalities and outlook towards life. Both are old cities with greathistorical values, both had a very strong British influence, both are powerful,one financially, and the other politically, and both have a great snob valueattached to their southern parts. The differences though are due to a whole lotof factors. Mumbai is the capital city of a government whose primary task is tolook after a very large state apart from the relatively smaller nuances of thecity. Delhi is in itself a state where the government is completely focused onthe city which is the whole state in itself. More so, being the politicalcapital and having access to the central government also help in no smallmeasure. Space in Mumbai has always been at a premium. From seven islands init’s early days, to the present size today, the city has never had space togrow into. Recent expansions into the northern suburbs and into Navi Mumbaihave not been able to keep pace with the expanding needs. Delhi, beingcircular, and surrounded by villages and agricultural land, always had spaceall around to expand much like the bodies and waist sizes of most of it’sPunjabi residents.

Itmight seem my partiality towards Delhi stems from the fact that I despitehaving stayed away from Delhi since the past 16 years still remain a hardcoreDelhiite at heart. After all, one thing which is undoubtedly common to bothcities is the mutual hatred or to put it mildly, dislike for each other. Delhiitesand mumbaikars can never see eye to eye on a plethora of issues ranging fromthe way Pani Puris are made to the manner in which people dress up. But, if Ihave to face or rather smell, the garbage truck first thing in the morning, Iwould rather stay in Delhi than Mumbai.

Nature's most colorful creation!

2011-09-11T14:27:00.000+05:30

A flower, sometimes known as a bloom or blossom, is the reproductive structure found in flowering plants (plants of the division Magnoliophyta, also called angiosperms). The biological function of a flower is to effect reproduction, .... -- Wikipedia --

Very very technical!!!! That is what I would say to the definition of Flower as Wikipedia puts it.

What would be my definition of a flower? Simply, Nature's most colorful creation.

Look around you, what adds color to the surroundings? Natural things I mean, don't look at the colors of the umbrellas around you, or colors of people's clothes (which can be quite drab and boring at times). The most colorful creation of Mother Nature are flowers. One can see all kinds of hues, colors, shades, and combinations of colors in flowers.

And what would you do when you see flowers? I try to capture their beauty in my camera and try to share it with my friends.

Here are some of my first attempts at photographs of flowers that I clicked in various parts of the country. Enjoy!

A study in contrast ... Golden yellow and the Magnificent Blue!

Made for each other, pink and red!

The Ubiquitous yet Unassuming, MariGOLD!

Pristine White

Orchids, never knew they came in this variety!

Another kind of Orchid I didn't know existed.

I can go on about the kind of Orchids I had never seen!

Spotless White!

Finally, one of more commonly encountered Orchid!

Soft, tender, mellow, the modest bushy Bougainvillea

Mountain Lily, Joshimath, Uttarakhand

Masquerading

Mellow Yellow!

Golden yellow of the Poppy

Flower? Masquerading again!

Royal, bright Violets

Color of the arid lands, Bougainvillea!

Bright and sunny

Large hearted!

Soft, baby pink!