23 Days in Mumbai

Ever since I landed in this City of Dreams, my conscience got escalated to a new level of the realization that every single breath carries with it. The single breath in a way represents the sand in ones unique hourglass and finite quantifiable grains. As history stands, the one who’s ever succeeded in mastering the trickle of this sand algorithm holds a place in the city’s affluent bastions. The place respects competition and has bound more than 20 million by the single thread of its spirit.

Traversing on the snake roads across Sahayadri ranges, with windmills on the top and rain-washed greens on the landscape, I was cheerful when I encountered this signboard. After many days of feeling illiterate in Kannada dominated streets, I saw something which I could read and connect to. Written in Devnagari, it was a Marathi word “thamba” that made me aware, that we were very much into Maharashtra. Witnessing how the darkness lighted tunnels came and lasted for short anxious periods, we were moving across the beautiful place called Satara City, dwelling amidst lush green mountains under scenic cloud cover. On the roadside, I remember the sight of the bushes coming out of a car's skeleton dumped in front of a garage, saying that even this expensive smoke spraying creation could not withstand nature from turning it green.

Out of my particular interest in history of royals, I was wondering how once these rivers and mountains framed borders, and how I had just moved from a region once ruled by Tipu Sultan, into the strongholds of Chattrapati Shivaji. And along with several other things, how these two had a common enemy- the British. And that reminded me of a couple of news articles, of which one was about a document some British agency had created, listing the best Generals they had fought in the last century, and Tipu Sultan had his well deserved name there. The other was about bringing back a sword, named as Jagdamba Sword of Shivaji Maharaja that is well adorned in the Royal Collection Trust in London. I hadn't pondered enough over these antediluvian memoirs when I noticed the skyscrapers popping up in the direction of our travel. The sight of concrete bought me back into the vertical realities of this spherical world.

Occupied by the notion of wild jungles en route getting replaced by concrete jungles, I looked around my new work city. I knew the purpose behind my deputation to Mumbai and that of course dealt nothing with forests or climate of the place, but somewhere I had started missing the airs of Bangalore.

Soon started a life in the new city and sooner started the office and it’s been like flash of time to day 23. No doubt the treadmill keeps me running, but I have started enjoying it too. And that’s the trait of adjustment our evolutionary ancestors have bestowed upon us and how well have we learnt to live by it.

EN ROUTE ... .. .

As the sun shines with the chirrup of birds and the whisper of a breeze, the road gets crowded by its rolling natives and life accelerates. The flyover has lost the relevance of its name, and trees are choked from passive smoke. And we march to match the rhythm of the thinnest hand in a clock. 

The cab crawls on the road, and traffic police’s clarion call citing family’s wait seems ironic. With smoke and fumes all over, the flowers and incense sticks are stacked nicely. At Ganesha temple the devotees are having handful offerings, rushing across men and women at the gate ignoring bare stretched hands. For them rounds of pleading yield that jingling coin, which brings the smile in the eyes and habit on the lips. Nearby is the Hindustan Aeronautics Limited campus, with tricolour fluttering on its top representing an idea that unites us all. And past few high-end hotels and hospitals, I reach office and the work begins. 

This 15 km journey, which takes nearly an hour or more to complete is a colourful display of life; the way life dances on the streets with shackles of money tied at its every step. And en route, reminds me of these famous lines by Whitman, 

“I carry my old delicious burdens, 

I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go, 

I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them, 

I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.” 

Happy Independence Day

“At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom. A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when an age ends, and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance.

To India, our much-loved motherland, the ancient, the eternal and the ever-new, we pay our reverent homage and we bind ourselves afresh to her service.”

-Pandit Nehru on eve of first Independence Day.

The words of Pandit Nehru, though 65 year old now, seem to be so dynamic and relevant today. They also tell us the timelessness of our nation and demand commitment to our motherland.

In this post, I, from my own brief experience, will share the unique diversity that I witnessed across the nation.

Starting from the place of Sri Aurobindo, a freedom fighter who turned into a seeker of Divine, and who also shares his birthday with India. Pondicherry, once a French colony, is a place on the coast of Bay of Bengal. As a child, I spent my early days here, and from then on, I have been a regular visitor to this place. The place inherits French culture that could easily be noticed once you are on the streets, from buildings having typically large French windows and landmarks named as Rue Saint Louis, Roman Roland Library, etc. These French threads got finely weaved within the local fabric and present a unique texture. The people here have the choice to decide to be governed either by French Constitution or Indian Constitution, as per the treaty between France and India that resulted into its annexation by India. Nearby is a yet another amazing place, Auroville- the Universal City. This place is built on the idea of human unity, where men and women from all countries can live in harmony above all creeds, politics and nationality. The place has Matrimandir, which is not a temple, rather a shrine of Universe Mother and soul of Auroville. The place symbolises living embodiment of the human unity.

From south, I take you to the central India, where I have spent most of my life till date. Bhopal is the place and as mentioned in the previous posts, is very special to me. The city built on the terrain marked with hillocks and lakes, is a place that soothes life. Having risen from one of the worst industrial tragedies, the place lives by its never dying spirit. The people from almost every part of the country live here and make it complete in every sense. This city works all day and importantly, sleeps peacefully at night.

Moving up in the north is the historic city of Gwalior. This place has held an important position in national affairs ever since Agra became the stronghold of Mughals. This place has produced legends like Maan Singh Tomar, the classical maestro Tansen and in modern times, our former PM Atal Bihari Vajpayee. Having climatic conditions where mercury, in a year, traverses almost 45 degrees on the scale, the place exhibits the implicit adaptability of human race. Under the influence of adjoining areas and pulsated growth, the place is a mix of urban and rural ingredients.

And finally, its Bengaluru. Though I am new to this place, I have learnt a little about it. Firstly, this place is a climatic paradise. The fast pace of life has only added to the spirit with which Bangalore lives. It has all the components that make it a dazzling place on the face of Earth. In spite of being the capital city of Karnataka, this place is quite different from rest of the state in terms of the growth that it has witnessed. This Indian IT hub grows with every passing second and adds hues to its vibrant canvas.

All these places that I mentioned here have a common thread of unity that binds them together into this great nation India. On the occasion of 66^th Independence Day, through this post, I shared the tiny glimpse of diversity that I  witnessed about our motherland, that truly makes it Incredible India.

Jai Hind !!   

Transition !!!

It was a cloudy morning; rains had just kissed Bhopal and I was readying myself to board Karnataka Sampark Kranti, which indeed was all set to bring Kranti in my life. I had booked a waitlisted ticket for myself and papa, that after series of jugaads got converted into RAC and W/L 001. And we had our half berth between us with space underneath for luggage, that was in no way sufficient to house all the bags. Interestingly, those bags were packed over a period of 4 days of which first three and half days amounted to at most 5% packing. The train was set to depart at 1616 hrs and after rushing through that remaining 95% of packing, we were at Bhopal railway station well on time.

After 4 years, it was again that same moment when I was all set for a new place but all my being still unwilling to leave Bhopal. Yes, it’s this place Bhopal-the very special place in my life. Last time I was moving to Gwalior and now it is Bangalore- one of the most dazzling places on the globe. The clouds were pouring heavily; and amidst the noise of rain, train and people, I got on board. With no confirmed tickets, the journey that seemed tough turned out the other way around.

And after 27 hours, moving across 4 states, we were at Bengaluru, and next morning I joined my first job. The joining formalities went long till 7 in the evening and then I shifted into allotted accommodation. The next day was formal inauguration, in which I, along with 150 more trainees, plunged into the corporate world.

Since my inception into the company, I wanted to write this blog to mark my first day at job but schedules, tasks, evaluations took precedence. But today, when I have received my first salary, I am not gonna miss this chance to make this inaugural blog mark an important day. 

The time from joining to receiving the first salary flew like the shooting star’s span and now every morning seems like too eager to turn up, shrinking reverie to minimal. But amidst all these schedules, tasks and assessments, the truth lies in this subtlety, that being busy is just the matter of priorities and nothing else. We always have time for those who matter and things we care for. Our brain always sets up the priority list in exact same order. Interestingly, sometimes we do it unknowingly and sometimes knowingly.