Happy Birthday Rosette

Roads go ever ever on,

Over rock and under tree,

By caves where never sun has shone,

By streams that never find the sea:

Over rain by winter sown,

And through the merry flowers of June,

Over grass and over stone,

And under mountains in the moon.

One year. They say one travels far in one year. Who would have guessed, it would have been ten thousand miles! Today marks the first birthday. The first of many more to come. Together, we've roamed the country side, and visited cities. We've spent hours together, alone, and in the company of friends. Life in itself became a lot easier to live once we got to be friends. A small bump along the road, but a few days and all was forgotten. Today, I say Happy Birthday.

A very Happy Birthday Rosette!

The long and winding road
That leads from your door
Will never disappear

The Connected Professional

We live in a world surrounded by the ever present network. No matter where you go, the network is there to keep you company. At work, one is always tethered to the network, wireless though it may be. There is always the flow of emails, calls, online discussions, meetings, and calendar alerts. Sometimes, however, one wonders if we take it too far.

Just the other day, a guy standing in the urinal stall next to me, was doing his business, and his business. He was on a conference call. I just hope he remembered to keep it on mute! I've also seen a guy come out of the closed stalls to wash his hands, while holding his laptop.

Are we so used to being connected that even when when we have to go, we still cant let go? Or is there something more disturbing going on? For now, I just hope for a new policy.

The Bombay Connection

Its a city which boasts a population of 20 million people. That's about 2 thousandths of the world's total populace. Twenty million faces to choose from in nearly 7 billion. Yet, no matter where you go, you always see someone familiar. Its a little unnerving if you think about it.

The connections can be astounding. The more time spent dwelling on the intertwining threads and the more bewildered one can become. Just the other day, I met a person who went to high school with my friend from grad school, a friend of his from undergrad, was my classmate at school, and he works with a classmate of mine from grad school. All from Bombay!

What is it about this city? I've heard so many people complain that we Bombay folk are everywhere. At every turn, you'll meet someone from some part of the city. Its like a tie that binds, and draws us together.

If Music be the Food of Life....

.... then rock on

It all started quite simply over dinner. A conversation of upcoming events and things to do. That's when I learned of the BFD.




The Saturday began like any weekend should, slow and relaxed. After a few basic chores, it was time to get ready and head out to Shoreline Amphitheater. A quick stop at a friend's place, meet her friends, and we head out to grab a bite before the concert.

Eating brunch, a text arrives from another friend, who announces that parking is hell, and the Airborne Toxic Event will go on very very soon. A mad rush to finish, and then a final dash as we reach the amphitheater, allowed us to just make the start of the ATE. What followed next was a day full of live music.

Before I get into the lineup, one band that I will always remember. Mute Math. The last part of their set involved the drummer just taking the lead. All the bands music was centered around the drummer. He even got up and climbed part of the stage to play the "drums" on the metal poles that held up the stage. He then jumped into a mosh pit with his drum, and was well supported by the crowd as he played his drums. That drummer really stole the show :-)

As for the lineup of what I heard...
• Airborne Toxic Event
• Mute Math
• Metric
• Rebelution
• Alkaline Trio
• Taking Back Sunday
• Dead Confederate
• Yeah Yeah Yeahs
• 311 &
• The Offspring

Some of the music of these artists can be found here. All lovely music. Most of which I had never heard before, but will be sure to hear again.

Sitting in the bay, one is often made to forget where you actually are. All around, one sees shops, restaurants and people who will conveniently make it appear that you are back in India. The grocery stores, the chaat houses, the fusion restaurants, the floating languages, the constant cricket, everywhere you look there is something to remind u of India.

But this is not India. It takes a trip to India to figure that out. It takes a trip to Bombay to realize what you remember is not India, its Bombay. The smell of salt. Humidity which makes u sweat as soon as you shower. The walks by the sea. Watching the sun disappear into the vast expanse of blue.

Then there are the delicacies. The Chinese food here is simply amazing. In spite of the gazillion south Indian restaurants in the bay, one always misses Spring Dosa! Fresh lime soda, is another treat yet to be exported.

Sitting here and looking there, at the bay, one wonders, what is it that I reminisce about. Is it India, or is it the city that I came from?

Sunset and the Sea

He would always visit whenever he could. Every evening, he would steal out of the house, and make his way to her. He would walk besides her, silently. Sometimes he would listen to his music, other times it was just her crashing into the world around. He was always in awe. The moon had a crazy influence on her. Depending on the time, there would be a steady breeze as they walked, or there would be a deep calm in the air.

It's been a while since he walked next to her. Yesterday he sat and just watched. Finally, after two years he saw a complete sunset. The sun slowly reached down to her surface, and she swallowed him whole in a span of minutes.

Disenfranchised

It is considered to be one of the biggest undertakings in the world. Seven hundred million people come together to make a decision. A decision that drives one of the greatest gatherings of humans on this planet. Five days spread across a month, resulting in a select few people chosen to rule and govern the second most populous country here on Earth.

It has been five years since the last such exercise. Five years in which a jumble of people with mixed ideologies, and different sets of promises fought together for their way of doing things. Given recent scenarios, five years, although the stipulated term, was indeed a long time.

Normally, such events pass by the average person, as he looks on with apathy at the state of affairs, and has no hope of inducing change. Normally, the choice is between a rock and a hard place. Normally, this choice just doesn't make sense. This time around, there was a drive. A desire. Something had shaken the people, and there was a determination in participating in this electoral ballet.

I too had decided to help in making this decision. This being the second time in casting the ballot, and the first one having gone smoothly, I expected no trouble at all. As usual, this country decided to surprise me. Much to my dismay, and frustration, my name had been deleted from the voter's list. More so, I was not the only one who suffered such a shock. Half the buildings in the colony where I live, suffered this same fate. Don't get me wrong. My name was present on the annexure, but, it was also graced by a mark in red, deleted. A reason could not be determined. A complaint was lodged to the overseer of the elections in the area, no less. Yet there was nothing to be done. Reading a news report later, it seems this will be rectified in time for the local elections in a few months time.

A day after this exercise, the media is afloat with shock and dismay. "The city which was angry at its treatment, sleeps when it matters", they say. "A long weekend, coupled with a heat wave, keeps city slickers away", says another. When rural India sends 60% of its population to the polls, there is no excuse that a city as educated as this one, should send only 40%. Even the celebrities were in a state of shock. They had flown back to the city to cast their ballots, and yet the common man had let them down.

If only, there were a voice stronger than the individual common man. This voice would let it be known, that an interesting play with lists of names could very well be the cause of a low turnout.