Every city has its landmarks - architectural, cultural, gastronomical and 'others'. Trying to classify Olympia Pub [yes, that is what it's actually called, as I got to know last week!!] into any of these pigeon-holes is near-impossible. Oly is famous for its beef steak, cheap booze and as one of my friends would put it, its 'rodent population'. But somehow, none of these things define Oly.
To me, what defines Oly are the people ... any evening, you will find an eclectic mix of individuals occupying the time-tested black leather sofas ... from students to executives; from foreign tourists to filmmakers .... they'll all be there. I have seen (and been part of) friendships struck up at adjacent tables the way only a lethal 'Oly-alcohol' cocktail can conjure. To me, this defines Oly. It is a place which knows very few inhibitions. It is a place I shall miss very very much.
PS: In a way only a video can, this describes an evening at Oly quite well methinks:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQztfIOMJIA [Cultural exchange taken to a whole new level ;)]
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Of Life, Likeness and Local Trains!
One of the reasons I decided to intern in Delhi instead of Mumbai, in my fourth year, was the Mumbai local train phenomenon. During my AZB Bombay internship, I woke up every morning in Mumbai dreading the commute to work. The whole 'standing in less than 0.5 cubic feet of space - smelling a whole array of assorted unsavory 'fragrances' (?) - arriving in office with sweaty clothes' combo didn't do much for me. Even on the days I managed to slip out early from office, the feeling of freedom was sullied by the prospect of the journey back home. It was in Mumbai that I decided that 'I hate local trains'. A couple of days ago, I changed that perspective.
I was travelling with my mom to Kalyani for a wedding. It was bloody hot in the morning .... and the train, while not bursting at its seems, was quite full. Somehow, both my mom and I managed to get seats, although in different places. Now here's the catch - in Mumbai - a seat for three means 'a seat for THREE'. If you aren't one of those three, too bad! In Cal, a seat for three is acknowledged to mean 'a seat for 4'. There’s no rule anywhere which mandates this. It is just the way it is; the way it has been for a long, long time …. This, to me, exemplifies the difference between, at one level, the two local train experiences, and at another, between the two cities.
Close to where I sat, there were a family travelling to Naihati; an HSBC salesperson travelling to Kalyani and an old schoolteacher travelling to Kanchrapara. At Ichhapur, an old couple boarded the train ... and instantly, the old gentleman next to me stood up and said 'Arre ... Bose moshai ... Koto din por dekha ....' It turned out that these two gentlemen had been commuting pretty regularly on this route for close to the last 10 years [trivia picked up by shameless eavesdropping!]. They exchanged stories.... they enquired about each other's families .... and suddenly, the old gentleman next to me asked me 'Aapni kothai jachhen?' I told him ... and he started telling me about a wedding he had attended in Kalyani a few months ago ... One of the ladies from the family travelling with us also pitched in ... about her 'wedding travels' ... Before we knew it, we were all animatedly discussing Bengali weddings, the Kolkata Knight Riders and how Marx would shudder at today's CPI(M) .... It was then that it suddenly hit me .... I was quite LIKING this journey in a filthy local train in cramped quarters on a humid day .... how? why? I don’t know ... maybe it was because the journey was 'humanized' ... for once, I wasn't surrounded by nameless, faceless people on a crowded local train. For once, they were people .... individuals ... whom maybe I would never meet again ... but who, for that journey, were very REAL to me .....
Professor Morrie Schwartz once told Mitch Albom - "The problem, Mitch, is that we don't believe we are as much alike as we are ...". On that train, I understood what he meant ....
I was travelling with my mom to Kalyani for a wedding. It was bloody hot in the morning .... and the train, while not bursting at its seems, was quite full. Somehow, both my mom and I managed to get seats, although in different places. Now here's the catch - in Mumbai - a seat for three means 'a seat for THREE'. If you aren't one of those three, too bad! In Cal, a seat for three is acknowledged to mean 'a seat for 4'. There’s no rule anywhere which mandates this. It is just the way it is; the way it has been for a long, long time …. This, to me, exemplifies the difference between, at one level, the two local train experiences, and at another, between the two cities.
Close to where I sat, there were a family travelling to Naihati; an HSBC salesperson travelling to Kalyani and an old schoolteacher travelling to Kanchrapara. At Ichhapur, an old couple boarded the train ... and instantly, the old gentleman next to me stood up and said 'Arre ... Bose moshai ... Koto din por dekha ....' It turned out that these two gentlemen had been commuting pretty regularly on this route for close to the last 10 years [trivia picked up by shameless eavesdropping!]. They exchanged stories.... they enquired about each other's families .... and suddenly, the old gentleman next to me asked me 'Aapni kothai jachhen?' I told him ... and he started telling me about a wedding he had attended in Kalyani a few months ago ... One of the ladies from the family travelling with us also pitched in ... about her 'wedding travels' ... Before we knew it, we were all animatedly discussing Bengali weddings, the Kolkata Knight Riders and how Marx would shudder at today's CPI(M) .... It was then that it suddenly hit me .... I was quite LIKING this journey in a filthy local train in cramped quarters on a humid day .... how? why? I don’t know ... maybe it was because the journey was 'humanized' ... for once, I wasn't surrounded by nameless, faceless people on a crowded local train. For once, they were people .... individuals ... whom maybe I would never meet again ... but who, for that journey, were very REAL to me .....
Professor Morrie Schwartz once told Mitch Albom - "The problem, Mitch, is that we don't believe we are as much alike as we are ...". On that train, I understood what he meant ....
Sunday, February 10, 2008
The King's lost sword
Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of Nefaria, there were two friends - Dorian and Gray. As one of my friends would put it, they were 'much of a muchness' - both fiercely ambitious, deeply in love with life and supremely self-critical. One day, King Diviso - the fourteenth emperor of Nefaria - declared a race. It entailed twenty-four grueling days of travel - into the Darkness of Lephar, to bring back the King's lost sword. The sword was guarded by the Dragon of Lephar and no man who had ever ventured into the Dragons' cave ever came out alive. The royal proclamation declared that whoever brought back the King's sword would be made the Earl of Deceptaria, the most prosperous province in Nefaria.
When Dorian and Gray heard about this race, they both thought "This is our chance to make our dreams come true." And off they went. Through mountains and tunnels, across river and desert they traveled. On the twenty-third day, at the entrance to Lephar, the contestants camped for the night. There were only three left - Dorian, Gray and a man called Zion. That night, as the three sat huddled around the log-fire, Zion spoke for the first time on the trip. He told Dorian and Gray that he had entered the race so that, as the Earl of Deceptaria, he could raise enough money to save his only son, who was dying of this mysterious new disease called Enova. By the time Zion finished, there were tears in both Dorian's and Gray's eyes. But when Zion asked them to help him win the race, Dorian sadly shook his head and said "Can't do that, friend. Just can't." Gray just nodded. None of the three could sleep that night, and as day was about to break, they were all ready to head off into Lephar.
Around midday, they reached the Dragon's cave. Although the sun was at its zenith, it was pitch dark inside the cave. They cautiously ventured in. Soon, they had lost track of each other. Suddenly, out of the darkness, screams were heard. It was Zion's voice - "Help, please help ... Dorian, Gray, please help ..." There was no answer ... The screams continued for a while, and then ... nothing .... silence ...
After a while, both Dorian and Gray found themselves in the Dragon's ante-chamber. They saw the sword ... and then ... they saw the Dragon ... and an epic battle ensued ... when, finally, the Dragon lay bloodied, both Dorian and Gray were cut and wounded ... and they both looked at each other, realizing that now, they would have to embark on a fight more gruesome than the one they had just been through ... at this moment, Fate stepped in ...
The roof of the cave started falling in ... and Gray found himself trapped between two boulders ... Dorian tried .... very briefly .... to save him ... but when the boulders didn’t budge an inch, Dorian looked at Gray sadly, took the sword and left ...
A few months later, one fine sunny morning, Dorian, as the new Earl of Deceptaria, embarked on his weekly tour of his province ... As he stopped next to a well, a scarred man came up to his carriage ... Dorian's coachman was about to use the whip on him, when Dorian shouted "Stop. I know this man". It was Gray, but how he had aged in those few months ... He looked up at Dorian and said "I still can't believe you left me there to die. I thought we were friends" ... There was silence for a while, and all that was heard was the horses' breathing ... Then, Dorian looked at Gray and said "What would you have done, if our roles had been reversed?" … And again, there was silence ... As Dorian drove away, the Dragon ... now healed ... smiled...
When Dorian and Gray heard about this race, they both thought "This is our chance to make our dreams come true." And off they went. Through mountains and tunnels, across river and desert they traveled. On the twenty-third day, at the entrance to Lephar, the contestants camped for the night. There were only three left - Dorian, Gray and a man called Zion. That night, as the three sat huddled around the log-fire, Zion spoke for the first time on the trip. He told Dorian and Gray that he had entered the race so that, as the Earl of Deceptaria, he could raise enough money to save his only son, who was dying of this mysterious new disease called Enova. By the time Zion finished, there were tears in both Dorian's and Gray's eyes. But when Zion asked them to help him win the race, Dorian sadly shook his head and said "Can't do that, friend. Just can't." Gray just nodded. None of the three could sleep that night, and as day was about to break, they were all ready to head off into Lephar.
Around midday, they reached the Dragon's cave. Although the sun was at its zenith, it was pitch dark inside the cave. They cautiously ventured in. Soon, they had lost track of each other. Suddenly, out of the darkness, screams were heard. It was Zion's voice - "Help, please help ... Dorian, Gray, please help ..." There was no answer ... The screams continued for a while, and then ... nothing .... silence ...
After a while, both Dorian and Gray found themselves in the Dragon's ante-chamber. They saw the sword ... and then ... they saw the Dragon ... and an epic battle ensued ... when, finally, the Dragon lay bloodied, both Dorian and Gray were cut and wounded ... and they both looked at each other, realizing that now, they would have to embark on a fight more gruesome than the one they had just been through ... at this moment, Fate stepped in ...
The roof of the cave started falling in ... and Gray found himself trapped between two boulders ... Dorian tried .... very briefly .... to save him ... but when the boulders didn’t budge an inch, Dorian looked at Gray sadly, took the sword and left ...
A few months later, one fine sunny morning, Dorian, as the new Earl of Deceptaria, embarked on his weekly tour of his province ... As he stopped next to a well, a scarred man came up to his carriage ... Dorian's coachman was about to use the whip on him, when Dorian shouted "Stop. I know this man". It was Gray, but how he had aged in those few months ... He looked up at Dorian and said "I still can't believe you left me there to die. I thought we were friends" ... There was silence for a while, and all that was heard was the horses' breathing ... Then, Dorian looked at Gray and said "What would you have done, if our roles had been reversed?" … And again, there was silence ... As Dorian drove away, the Dragon ... now healed ... smiled...
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
The politics of memory!!
Hi, all. Since nostalgia seems to be the mood of the season, I thought I'd jump on to the 'Oh-it's been-5-years' bandwagon!! 5 years!! Hmm ... that part is undisputed ... the most of the rest, however, is not ....
At the farewell party, I found that everyone (including moi) had a few memories that had 'stuck' ... be it shifting in to hostel with box, bucket and bidi [oh, well ... box and bucket anyway ...:)] ... or midnights walks to Goutham's after having negotiated the risk of getting impaled ... most of us have had moments which have somehow gotten imprinted on the cerebral hard-disk a bit deeper than others ....
Till here, its all fine ... warm and fuzzy .... But what about the rest?
Just like these moments that have inadvertently 'stuck' are there not moments which have, very conscously, been 'un-stuck'? At the risk of sounding like a moist towel, I'd say in our own private ways, we remember NUJS in more ways than what we would care to talk about at parties. And if these memories do exist, what is changing? We are leaving college, sure ... but just because we are leaving college, will our memories change? Fade ... yes ... change .. maybe, not ...
The whole point of this post, however, has been lost in my incoherent rambling. The point is ... or at least I think it is ... that surprisingly little will change ... sure, our entire pattern of life will be overturned ... rsponsibilities shall change ... but at the end of the day ... is that who we are? Does what time we wake up in the morning or when the next deadline is, really define us? I think it doesn't. I think very little will change, because we still are who we were 5 years ago ... and we'll remain the same ... Perceptions, attitudes and circumstances change - the core remains the same ... I think we are who we choose to be, and we remember what we choose to remember. So, the question really is, what do you want to remember?
At the farewell party, I found that everyone (including moi) had a few memories that had 'stuck' ... be it shifting in to hostel with box, bucket and bidi [oh, well ... box and bucket anyway ...:)] ... or midnights walks to Goutham's after having negotiated the risk of getting impaled ... most of us have had moments which have somehow gotten imprinted on the cerebral hard-disk a bit deeper than others ....
Till here, its all fine ... warm and fuzzy .... But what about the rest?
Just like these moments that have inadvertently 'stuck' are there not moments which have, very conscously, been 'un-stuck'? At the risk of sounding like a moist towel, I'd say in our own private ways, we remember NUJS in more ways than what we would care to talk about at parties. And if these memories do exist, what is changing? We are leaving college, sure ... but just because we are leaving college, will our memories change? Fade ... yes ... change .. maybe, not ...
The whole point of this post, however, has been lost in my incoherent rambling. The point is ... or at least I think it is ... that surprisingly little will change ... sure, our entire pattern of life will be overturned ... rsponsibilities shall change ... but at the end of the day ... is that who we are? Does what time we wake up in the morning or when the next deadline is, really define us? I think it doesn't. I think very little will change, because we still are who we were 5 years ago ... and we'll remain the same ... Perceptions, attitudes and circumstances change - the core remains the same ... I think we are who we choose to be, and we remember what we choose to remember. So, the question really is, what do you want to remember?
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Closer than you think!!
There are very few things that amaze me more than our changing perceptions of what we want from life. One minute, we want something .... the next, we get it ..... a moment after that, we are happy ... and the next, we are back to the soup-table asking "Sir, can I have some more?".
And it doesn't end there ... even when we are asking for that 'something more', we (or at least I) am mostly wondering "Do I really want this?" ... Asking questions is never bad, or so I believe ... but in this case, I cant help but feel that I am asking this question because of the wrong reasons ... I am not asking from the point of view of "As in, do I really need this?"; rather I am thinking "Can I get something better?" There's something wrong with that maybe, but I'm not sure what exactly ...
Be that as it may, we still go on ... like some futuristic guinea-pigs in an Aldous Huxley novel - ourselves the subjects (victims?) of the new experiments that we conjure up to torment ourselves ... knowing this, but thinking "Can't I think of something better?" ..... Scary ......
And it doesn't end there ... even when we are asking for that 'something more', we (or at least I) am mostly wondering "Do I really want this?" ... Asking questions is never bad, or so I believe ... but in this case, I cant help but feel that I am asking this question because of the wrong reasons ... I am not asking from the point of view of "As in, do I really need this?"; rather I am thinking "Can I get something better?" There's something wrong with that maybe, but I'm not sure what exactly ...
Be that as it may, we still go on ... like some futuristic guinea-pigs in an Aldous Huxley novel - ourselves the subjects (victims?) of the new experiments that we conjure up to torment ourselves ... knowing this, but thinking "Can't I think of something better?" ..... Scary ......
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