The Lunchbox-- A sumptous meal

www.refreshinglyyours.blogspot.com

Lunchbox is a reflection of the routine urban life and the dry, rather dried up emotions. Oh wait, are they really dried up or just desiccated waiting for the sprinkle of wet showers to rejuvenate  back, bounce back to normalcy!

This is not a review on Lunchbox, but a review of a normal human being strapped into abnormal ways of life.

Why on the earth we tend to trust a total stranger but our own people whom we daily live with! We justify ourselves of all the deeds we do to stay or rather gain happiness only to realize that we are in to a deep pit which leads to anywhere but happiness. This reminds me of the lyrics of the famous gazal sung by late Jagjit Singh – “Tere jahan mein aisa nahi ke pyar na ho, jahan ummid ho uski wahan nahi milta”. Now the story begins with why do we expect from where we expect?

Because, we are just human. We don’t even bother to care for what is served in the menu. Its granted. It has to be there. Big deal. And what when we stop getting it. Ya, that’s when the deal is really big.

So what point do I have to make saying all this. This is all known to everybody reading it.  If you read my previous posts (not many) there is a single bottom line message. Adapt and evolve.

We all want is ME. MY Happiness, MY Children, MY Job, MY Career, MY ambitions, all MY MY MY & Me. There is no space for the YOU. No care for all the above of the YOU, whom we deal with every day in different relations.

Can we adapt to saying, I’m yours, rather than You are mine. Can we adapt to a small change of caring for little more abandoned emotions of the YOU in our life. Some would say, I do it and the YOU in my life don’t even realize. That’s because we don’t make them realize. Those can adapt to make the YOU realize by just stopping doing everything done everyday for that YOU and see the evolution in their life. And yours too….

Packed with emptiness, hollowness and monotony of human life, and nicely wrapped in gestures rather than words, the lunchbox proved to be a sumptuous meal.

Rape of the Republic

The Republic of India: Where the public is repeatedly RAPED; mentally, physically, financially & even morally. Since 62 years of Attaining this major feather in the cap what we have gained through republic is the misuse of democracy and new back doors of escape from the law. OK, this escape is only for the niche rich people not the common man. He is taught the law at every nook & corner of his life.

Yeah we have also achieved a great deal of progress, agreed with the financial development, the rise in GDP and all. But I cant talk about my flexing muscles when my feet is paining me to death. I can’t talk about the % wise growth of the economy when 25% of my population still lives below the poverty line.

What type of republic is this? The blasphemy here tortures the Mango man (read aam aadmi) trying to breathe some fresh air. The railway tracks stinks like the attitude & nakedness of the corrupt politicians. What type of growth are we talking when students and farmers, the base of country performs suicide due to the sheer pressure of existence. Where is the growing economy when law and orders are shattered at the hands of the monkeys sitting in the parliament?

Name a crime that doesn’t happen in India. When a Mango Man knows the whereabouts of the illicit things happening in the surroundings, are the cops unaware of these? Nope. They are stacking the monthly collections for their superiors who in turn feed the hungry asses of the immoral, corrupt, naked politicians at whose stake the motherland is crying.

But, we should still celebrate this day of Republic. We should take a holiday; eat, drink & sleep merrily with family praising the Government for the marvelous PAID LEAVE we get every year and if time permits hoist the national flag too.

Why not, we should celebrate the moral bankruptcy of our attitudes, the death of the myocardial muscles in the emotionless hearts, the coma of the grey matter in our brain (if it exists), the age old saying “Yeh India hai! Yaha aisa hi chalta hai” and finally we should celebrate the forced strip tease (VASTRA HARAN) of our motherland cloth by cloth.

Wish you all a very Happy Raped Republic Day.

The Evolution of Hemlines & Economy....

The Business Insider Hemline Index rose to 26.7% after the New York Fashion Week, concluded last month.

Analysts say that the Hemline index rises when the Hemline gets shorter. 80% of the designers showcased shorter skirt lengths and dresses.

Another research had postulated that the economic growth is inversely proportional to the hemline length and vice versa. It means that the hemline length grow shorter when the economy rises.

What’s the co-relation? 

Let’s roll back & peep in to the Stone-Age era and the laws of attraction then.
Women preferred stronger men with muscular strength to partner with. The reason was security of self and the offspring and proliferation of dominant genes to the next generation. Women attracted stronger men by exposing the hips and the breasts in distinct ways. That became an art and the science of attraction which were then translated in to Laws (eg. Kama Sutra). These laws define the sexual behavior of men and women today.

If applied to the modern world; women, by default, seek security from men which in turn come from power and money, which again are co-related. Shorter Hemlines are again designed to attract men and women choose these men on the basis of their wealth and the socio-economic status to gain.

More the money in the market, more the availability of such men, thus shorter the Hemlines.
Does this really describe how the Hemlines are adapted and evolved down the ages? A topic to be researched more…….

A journey to the Window Seat

Push yaar, Push harder. There is space in push push  push….. The first day I boarded the train I mistook myself in the Maternity home, voice over of a nurse asking someone in labor pain to push harder. Hushhh man! I was just done managing to settle myself on the edge of my shoe on the mercy of the gravitational force and the jerks of the train & PUSH of the fellow commuters waiting for bigger surprises.

Believe me, if you wanna feel limbless (and virtually bodyless) please travel in a Mumbai local train, absolutely any route; central, western or harbor. The only thing that ensure you are alive is your heartbeat. You may love to press the stress ball when in a bad mood (even in a good), but how when you yourself be the one. Lets me instigate the classy journey, where the aim is to achieve the window seat of the second class compartment of the Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus aka CST (name changed from Victoria Terminus but the queen still resides on the top of the UNESCO declared heritage site) bound local train. We have all been through the Western suburbs’ blues; lets take this harbor line as a new experience.

It all starts at Panvel, where the people (read Leopards) in thousands are ready to leap and pounce upon the red monster which arrives like a lousy old man on the station. The window seat here is the princess and all the warriors stamp, clomp, jam, push, dodge and in extreme cases bruise and batter themselves to win her. Ultimately a few destined who really take some stiff measures like boarding the train from the beginning of the platform or boarding from the opposite side of the platform or squeezing some extra time and acquiring the seat from one station behind, Khandeshwar.

 In no time the old lousy man picks up speed and starts running like a 16 year old athlete in Olympics, Dhadag dhadag, dheee, Dhadag dhadag. Now at the next station these peaceful beings are disturbed by the other fellow commuters and their numbers keep on increasing till Belapur-CBD where major intake is swallowed by the monster.  Then sounds like “Ae Thoda andar chalo”, Dhakka maaro na, Arre main latak raha hoon clubbed with abuses (no specific person) are thrown like a fisherman’s net post which the passengers realize that some room should be made till the point that they again realize that there is really no room other than to amalgamate in to each other which in a mean time they do. Then you hear other voices like 1 ya 2 kadam aage chalo.

In the mean time the train reaches Nerul & the triumph moment comes. Someone from the window seat suddenly gets up realizing that he has to alight at Nerul. The man in the aisle of the aisle of the two benches flings his million dollar happy and relieved smile. But the man who was relieved till now has to fight his way towards the door. Abruptly he transforms himself in to the gel character like the one from Monsters V/s aliens and paves his way out to the door bagging some angry verses and abuses like “Saala pehle nahi samajhta kya?” , “Kahan kahan se aa jate hai”, “Abbe pehele soyatha kya” and many more.

Soon Vashi comes with the slogans of andar chalo deep from the bellies. I’ve never heard the inquilab zindabad one that loud. Some one from inside says, “Pehle baburao ko andar lo”. Oh my God and then starts the real time drama that elevates to abuses and then, “Haath toh laga ke dikha”, “Kya Karega tu haath lagae gat oh?”. “Tu kya Karega re” This sentence is repeated by both of them for a couple of times when someone interrupts. By the time its Mankhurd and a considerable amount vacates but at the same time boards in.

Till then the window seats are vacated by the previous occupiers and the smile and pride acquired by the fellow who occupy it is really measureable.  The real climax (read orgasm) is attained at Kurla. With a single thrust people burst out like a million sperms ejaculating at a single go, permitting the stale imprisoned air out with the blow of fresh air in and a relief. This I would call real collective orgasm achieved without sex. WOW. 

Now the ones who are left behind slowly make their way to the window seat as station by station passes and the train reaches Wadala. Post that life is simple. By the time Sandhurst road approaches the desire for the window seat is gone and that for the footboard increases. Finally again the monster plays an old man act of walking to the stations and the remaining sperms are disbursed in the second minor explosion.

So any new comer who is planning to travel by this route, prepare yourself for the jiggity ride, adapt yourselves and evolve to the Window Seat phenomenon.

Happy Journey…………………….

Iss-Q mein jeena

I saw my friendly neighbor’s son, Raghu, every day queuing up for the bus at the depot. By now the whole staff at the depot knew him well with his first, middle and last name, with the details of his curriculum and a lot of stuff. I always wondered and thought why Raghu is so dumb! When everyone knows him there why did he lined up early morning for the bus when he can just say hi to the fellow in the uniform and avail any seat he want anytime. One day I decided to spare some time and have a nice discussion to teach this lad how ‘Jugaad” works in India.

On the following Sunday, I called up Raghu for breakfast to give him some “gyan” about how much “Jugaadu” he should and can be. Here is the conversation below:

Hey Raghu, Good Morning! You are very punctual dude.

Thanks dada.

So dude, howz college? How do you manage time attending all the stuff including your GF yaar?

Oh, that’s not that tough you know! Just a matter of prioritizing your priorities.

Raghu, I see you arrive every morning punctually at the bus depot. Why do you need to come early, wait in the queue when you have such good relations with the staff in there! Dude, learn to use the JUGAAD formula. This is what gonna help you in the long run. This world works on it. Time is equal to money in this city.

He listened to all the GYAN I was pouring with gleaming eyes.

Then he came up. Dada, your Generation till now has been running the jugaad formula, bestowing favors to the known ones and pushing a plate of Hard Times to the unknown or the ones who is not related or concerned to the authorities showering favors. Have you ever realized that all the Human beings have same needs, irrespective of their PR status and their relation building skills? Where does it lead to?

Lemme tell you where does it lead!

It leads to the chunk of corrupt masses, the one who exchange favors, blending and molding the laws.

It leads to shower of wants to the unwanted and deprival of needs of the needy. It leads to imbalance, injustice in the society.

It leads to hatred from the ones who don’t have this heck of a jugaad to the one who has a jugaad.

It leads the future generation to develop a skill called Jugaad even there where its unnecessary.

It leads to lazy, unscrupulous generation which has been the basement of all the scams.

It leads to thoughts being put up to legalize corruption with the saying, “Yahan toh Aisa Hi Chalta Hai”.

It leads to spoiling the habit of hard work which should be imbibed in the youth.

I can skip the lines and the queues to save a few minutes in the day, but do I really utilize those for some fruitful work, atleast for myself! What do I really do saving the time from the queue? Spoil my habit of being a good citizen and then setting examples for the people behind me to do Jugaad with the staff which in turn starts expecting some CHAI PANI for people to skip the queue!

Dada I don’t want myself to be grinded in these wheels of corruption. Atleast if I start now, my future generation would be free from it. I really don’t need your Jugaad!

Zip mouthed, spell bound, stunned, etc. Nay, these words can’t express my expressions at the time. But one thing was for sure; I knew what my new year resolution should be.

His formula “Iss-Q mein jeena, Iss-Q mein marna” was far much better than my Jugaad. I regained the memory of the song from Mughal-e-Azam……..

An Autobiography of a pothole

Screech….. Peeeeep. Peeep peeep peeeeeeeeeeeeep. Hoonnnnnnnkkk. Pwom pwom..

Oh, do you hear these lovely sounds! Yeah, they come from the western express highway. How do I know? Oh come on, Are you kinda kidding me! How do I know? I’m a pot hole in the mid of Western Express Highway. Well, you wanna know my story?

The riders and the drivers are not scared of the pot-bellied traffic cop as they are of the Pot hole. Each and every one has to slow down, bow to me and pay honor, lest they had it. I’m proud rouge who has brutally murdered 23 people, fractured 70 limbs, dislocated 10 shoulders; oh sorry lost the count of the spinal cord injuries. Generally, growth is phenomenon which happens due to consumption of stuff. Mine is different. I grow due to deterioration of myself. My edges swell when I’m hit by the vehicles. I love rapes to be performed upon me, cos that helps me rape people in return. Yup that’s my passion.

My best days are the monsoon. I love rains. The more rains, the more I grow and more I can rape the population. I hid under the water, muddy dark water, who likes to accumulate in me and stay as my companion; and in disguise of the road, people hit hard on me. Ah, what a pleasure! My father never wanted to produce me. He never wanted a brutal child like me. But fate had a different will. 

How did I fucking come here? You wanna know? Well, you really wanna know? Okay, pay attention then.

Pot holes in Mumbai are generally created before they create a road. My Father, the Great Western Express highway told me this before my birth. My father was born outta the great efforts of the laborers, contractors, corporators, Municipal officers and the Commissioner as well many gluttonous politicians in the city. The whole patch of the concrete and tar and sand and mortar and what not, congregated to form a uniformed leveled stretch connecting the Suburbs of the Western Mumbai. Now these smart asses, under the leveled uniformed road hatched a big plot to vex up the millions of rupees under the name of maintenance. The hollow fillings, the low quality raw material and cheap other stuff could not help my father to survive the constant rape the vehicles on the road performed on him.

And I was born due to the negligence & ignorance of you fucking morons who is reading this stuff, who call themselves the citizen of the country and the voters of the constitution, the so called elite educated people, whose minds have never gotta time to think of the serious injuries and death I caused due to no fault of mine. Bloody curses and slangs are thrown at me for no fault of mine. None of you ever wanted to know the quality of the cement and concrete used to make my father. Fuck RTI.

Yes, it’s my fault to cause mishaps & accidents, I know. But I didn’t apply for the job, neither did I apply to be produced in the first hand, why curse me? These gluttons first make me rape you, and then they rape your wallet, your rights and your peace of mind and keep on doing this by filling me with the temporary sand or patches of black tar. Do they think I’m a fool?

I'm already famous enough to create landmarks now. People guide others in this way, " Take a left to that big pot hole on the corner of the signal".  I’ll adapt and evolve to every step taken to fill or patch me. I know how to do that! I’m invincible (atleast in Mumbai). 

The Loss of Inter-dependence

We as children are born dependent. Dependent on our parents! Gradually our parents teach us to be independent. Our Walk, behavior, talk, actions, all carries the independence we have absorbed from our surroundings. Our youths are trained to be independent; stand on their own feet (may be hands too). The race to become independent is growing and so is the individual ego.

But the point to ponder is, are we really INDEPENDENT? Were we ever? And will we be ever? Or is it our perception due to our ego that we are independent?

Can we stitch our own clothes? K, we can clean our own toilets, but can we build one? May be we can cook our food, but can we grow our own food? Can we make love to ourselves?

Your classmate in class II gave you a pencil to write in between the notes session when you broke one, remember and then you became good friends (till your independent egos clashed).

As we grow up & get matured we realize that, beyond the level of being independent, there is something called inter-dependence. We all are INTER-DEPENDENT! We have been subtly taught this in school, at home, with friends, the importance of Sharing, but we lost it as we became more and more independent. We have lost the ability to look beyond our ego and ask for things to share. We all want to be self-equipped, self -sustaining units to go on a long run and as a solution we accumulate wealth and keep on doing it failing to understand that money is not the solution for all our needs.

Our perception towards independence is so strongly synonymous to collection of wealth that we have started overlooking the small but simple phenomenon of asking things. Asking is perceived equivalent to begging due to our inflated egos. But we never fail to say that “I didn’t give cos he didn’t ask”. So we have stopped giving too.

Doesn’t the same apply in our daily relations? We don’t ask for love neither give it back, gradually leading to creating a drift in our relations. Nuclear families, divorced families, Micro-nuclear families (consist only of a single person with spouse staying 2 blocks ahead but not together meeting only at night) are the gifts of our independence.

Inter-dependence come only when we truly believe that our need is sourced by someone else and the vice-versa. Our ancestors were never independent. Their barter system was and is a sheer good example of inter-dependence. Weren’t they happy being inter-dependent than we are being independent?

One way to adapt & inculcate inter-dependence in us is to follow the TATA SKY ad, “POOCHNE MEIN KYA JAATA HAI”! The only way we can evolve to be good human being is to realize that we are inter-dependent.

Anyone has a scale?

I was going through the old stuff lying in my store room and suddenly came across a school group photograph taken in my 4th standard. Then what! Nostalgia unlimited!!

My 4th standard class teacher had a particular habit of punishing students for whatever reasons they went wrong. The punishment was terrible. She hit on the knuckles, fist closed, with the wooden scale in vertical position. The pain was unbearable.

But the wrath never went on her. She never carried a scale! She borrowed it from the students, sometimes not even returning it! She announced, “Who has a scale?” And multiple hands dug in to their bags to produce the weapon of HAND DESTRUCTION, teacher take mine, take mine. The wrath was upon those people. The one who gave it got a come-outside-the-class-after-school-and-will-thrash-you look. Sometimes I was also the one who gave the scale.

Why did we do that?
Was it the pride of having a scale?
Was it the revenge of getting less marks than the fellow being?
Was it just ignorance to the pain of others?
Or was it to prove I’m-the-smartest-ass-around phenomenon?

Well, the answer might be a mix of all above, but astonishingly, this was the initiation of the RAT RACE. Don’t we still do the same thing? Try to create funny problems for our colleagues in the workplace with no visible gains. The idea is to gain pleasure from the problems of others, the elimination of the species by making the species weak. Put people in unwanted pressure situations, in a due course of time they are fed up and surrender paving a way for the one who initiated the trouble. And mind it if the chap is smarter the vice-versa happens. “Life is a Race” as quoted by Viru Sahasrabuddhe from THE 3 IDIOTS.

Fine, who gains? None. Cos the promotion you were eying for is filled by the external candidate (an example). What’s the use trying to win such a race? Even if you win you are still a rat.

Is it always important to eliminate others for survival? Are we humans evolved to be humans so that we can still fight for the mere survival as a selfish deed? Can’t this be the solution? Working together, trying to understand, empathize your fellow beings, working for a common cause and gain an extra edge over the team effort.

So does it make sense, when the boss next time asks you for the Scale evolve out with the chart and graph of the performance of the team and not just yourselves? Does anyone have a SCALE?

Make a Sunny Brand. (And I don’t mean Leone!)

When I was a kid, my mother told me a story, a quarrel between Wind and the Sun. Let’s recap the story in short to know what this whole discussion is about.

Wind once initiated a quarrel with Sun and challenged him that he is stronger than the Sun. Sun came out with an idea. He said, ”Brother, can you see that man on the earth covering himself with a blanket? One who pulls the blanket from him with our powers will be the winner”.
It was dawn and the wind started blowing making the atmosphere cool. The man held his blanket tight. The wind blew harder and the man’s grip over the blanket grew tighter. Agitated the wind converted into a storm but the victory seemed to be far away. Wind gave up.

Post dawn the Sun started rising, giving its warmth to the world. The temperature soon started soaring. The man realized that he was feeling hot and therefore he took off the blanket from his head carried it on his arms. By mid noon, the man searched for a shade and at last threw the blanket down and rested below a tree. Of course the Sun won.

How? The natural phenomenon that affects the physical patterns of an individual also affects the character of an individual as well as a brand. Say now the Wind in a hurry to achieve success went on a crash campaign, blowing constantly. Doesn’t it sound similar with brands, unceasingly hammering the psyche of the masses. Such brands do gain sales, but no respect. People are forced to buy due to constant advertising, but in due course of time lose interest due to lack of the perceived experience in the mind. And believe me no brand can constantly afford to spend huge.

The wind applied force. More a brand applies excessive force, more the reluctance of the customer. See the Sun on the other hand. He gradually gave the warmth. Constantly rising the temperature, to an extent that the man was convinced that the blanket has to be thrown down. Brands looking for a long term relation with the consumer apply the same technique of back-of-the-mind communication in a subtle way. Thus they earn respect for not forcing the consumer to buy but convincing them with facts and related experiences.
So lets adapt this quality of the SUN to evolve with winning brands to last for a lifetime.