A Feeling called Mumbai

I really wanted to write something about the onset of Monsoon, but they can wait (they are waiting): I really can't skip telling you all what happened yesterday, the day India goofed up, so comically, its last match in T-20 World cup 2009. India vs South Africa.

This time, I didn't even turn to Star Cricket. The TV was switched off at ten - exactly the time at which the match started. I'm sure you will agree - what's the point in watching a game India stands no chance of gaining anything from. It's out of the contest - that's that.

But that didn't mean I was not at all interested in the match - my electronically resurrected FM device would provide me with latest score updates! I switched on the radio; reception was exceptionally clear tonight - maybe because of the clear skies (courtesy - delayed Monsoons in Mumbai). Even the choice of songs had exceeded Mumbai FM's usual standards. All new songs from all new movies - man, the songs were great!

The score updates went on as usual. I was happy to notice the undaunted loyalty of Indian supporters, the belief that last two matches were mistakes - this match would prove India's superiority. The scoreboard was also pointing to that fact: end of South Africa's innings - India had succeeded in containing the favorites-of-the-World-Cup to a meager 130 runs in 20 overs. This was unreal, man! Even the skeptic in me started cheering. In my mind I started making up the title and content of the apologetic and encouraging blog I'd be writing the next day (today).

The RJs were jubilant - their words conveying billion Indian's thoughts - 'do not mess with India, we fall and rise like the Phoenix!' Jubilant also were the songs that came my way...

I was in half mind to turn on the TV, but laziness held me back, and I decided to use the cheaper form of entertainment instead to keep myself up-to-date with the score.

Second Innings - the jubilation continues - 50 runs for no loss. One DJ said - '...crushed will those be who challenge India, like South Africa is being crushed now by Indian Tigers...' Another said - '...India is on the verge of retaining its image as the champions again...'

Then suddenly, the frequency of the score updates reduced, and the frequency of the songs increased. I thought - 'Good, I'll enjoy a few songs, and after that I'll hear a developed score, good...'

But then the RJ was back, saying all sorts of rubbish ranging from pressurized situations to breaking up with girlfriends, I was like 'Cut the crap, man! Tell the freaking score!'

As if in reply he said '... and India is being swatted like mosquitoes - the score is 76-5.'

All those rosy images in my mind of a win at last came to an abrupt halt - What the hell! Five down! This is bad!

I desperately waited for the next update, my fingers crossed; only it didn't come - the usual run of three songs got extended to 5 songs in the current channel, as the RJ took his own time to return. I tried changing the channels, only to realise all the other channels had turned on their 'NonStopGaane' or 'LateNightNonStop' feature and the former channel was the only one with an active RJ! That struck me weird - why would the competing FM channels show so much unity in keeping the score from the listeners? It was as if mentioning India's completely shameful and impending defeat was an unspeakable crime, and the RJs were determined to spare the listeners of this agony!

Also, unlike in the previous matches, the FMs were not playing depressing songs in reaction to India loss (that is, if India had lost, I didn't know as yet).

So I quickly turned to Mobile GPRS, and the score stared me in the face -

India 19.3 overs 115-8 Required Runrate 32.00.

I slumped. India had done it again - proved that it was not fit to play against any decent team in this World Cup. I mean, India had shown us that it could neither win batting first, nor chasing. And in chasing it couldn't even chase a small target! This was the limit! I couldn't believe it!

I turned back to FM, although I knew what I was about to hear. Sure enough (I am NOT making this one up):

Channel one - 'Dil hai ki maaaanta nahin.....'

Then I noticed a something strange.

Channel two - 'Falak tak chal saath mere.... Falak tak chal saath chal....'

Channel three - 'Thik hai thik thik, sab kucch thik hai, paas hai sab kucch, rab nazdeek hai....'

Channel four - 'Kaho na Kaho, Yeh aankhen bolti hain, o sanam o sanam....'

Channel five - 'Don't worry, be happy, 'coz every little thing, is gonna be alright!'

This abrupt reversal of the behavior of FM stunned me. Then, I felt relieved that India had at last learned to cope with the unpredictable nature of T-20, and had learned not to expect much of this team, either! I shall not go into blaming anyone this time, one: because I did not see a single ball of this match, two: the Indian team just showed us, that it was beyond blaming....

'Ladkon ne toh band bajadi pant kholkar, Apni ijjat in the hands of DESI GIRLS...

(Not that I claim any Indian is 'dummy' when it comes to cricket, but if by any chance a woman reads this, er, sorry....;-)

Much as I wanted to avoid writing this blog, come Monday morning, I decided I wouldn't feel right if I didn't.

So 4th match for India - after having lost a critical match against the Windies, this upcoming match was being proclaimed a must-win match, which was pretty correct. One loss would ensure India, the champions' quick exit from this T20 world cup 2009. This would be a big win for England, and a huge win for India, as had been rightly put by one of the commentators at the beginning of the match.

I was pretty sure India would win, I mean come on, England was such a thakela team, it had lost from Holland, man. I mean c'mon, yaar!

But the first innings gave us our first misgivings - lots of extras, scarcity of wickets for a long time and worst fielding - yet India had managed to restrict them to 153, the same score India had made against the Windies. After the 1st innings, I was sure India would win though, I mean, they could play just like they did against Windies, right?

How wrong I was - the critical batting order changes, risky inclusions and destruction of the opening batsmen cost India dearly. There were a lot less extras, England seemed to be feilding like pros, saving every run, not to mention boundaries. India, too, seemed to think they could make it in the last few overs - procrastination at its best. Jadeja, the new inclusion, risky, as he had similarly consumed countless balls in the warmup match against NZ, had done the same thing here - sending India scampering for runs in the second part of the second innings.

Then Yuvraj came. The fact that India was quickly losing its edge soon took the backseat, as Yuvy hit a sixer off the first ball, injecting hope into the largest cricketing population in the world.

But few deliveries later, the big man was gone, stumped, so suddenly and cruelly, that it seemed as if Yuvraj had been assassinated right there! Hey ram!

Nothing to worry, MS would have said surely, another Y-man is there to backup. But could Yusuf save the day?

And what should we expect from MS, the wrecker of the previous match?

But India still had hope until the last 4 balls when 15 were required - and that was one moment in T20 history when sixers were absolutely, not partially, called for - 20% of the world's population had one unanimous thought - c'mon Yusuf, give us a sixer!

9 in 2 required, sixer had been delivered, but a delivery too late. Still there is hope - Sidebottom bowls - damn! say a 100 crore Indians - a single!

8 required in 1. Last legal ball was a wide for the English, a wide bowled by Bhajji, which at that point seemed forgivable, only now it seemed, hadn't that extra ball been bowled, hadn't England scored those extra runs, we would have been in a different situation now! (Last ball-India hit a boundary.)

Now was the moment when it was OK to lose hope - and start pointing fingers. But fingers had already been pointed since India's loss to Windies, struggling win against B'desh, and not so convincing win against Irish.

Lets ennumerate who we can blame -

1. Dhoni, for being such a bad captain, batting worst against Windies, and not showing mettle against England. For sending Jadeja up the order, given his habit of consuming balls, rendering them useless. For excluding Ojha and continuing to play Ishant. The former was one of the highest wicket takers, having taken at least one wicket in every previous ball, the latter, not having taken even a few wickets, and being extremely costly. I respect him when I have to, but now is not one of those times. He is going the way all famous cricketers go - his smiling face creeps up in ads, news, gossip, tabloids - all for reasons extra-cricketing.

2. Jadeja, although he took two critical wickets, he must have been trustworthy for having been sent so far up the order for his first World Cup match. All he did was desperately hit the bouncers sent his way, and leave it to fate to decide when he would be dismissed. No doubt, many Indians would have called for his early dismissal as soon as they saw his performance.

3. Ishant Sharma - what the hell is this man doing still in the team, despite of his bad performance in IPL, and the last few matches? And surely Ojha deserved to play!

4. The IPL managers (whoever they are) - for scheduling the IPL, so that there was such a little gap for Indian players to stand and stare. They were whisked away to England so soon! I say, too much is being expected of them!

5. The team as a whole for not being a team at all. Tabloids had noted cracks in the team long ago. But the body language of the players told those who noticed - the Indian team had lost the unity, that had been a critical factor in its win the previous season.

6. Again the team for depending too much on Yuvraj: give the guy a break! Just because he is well-built and can hit, doesn't mean you can let you guard down when the first batsmen get out! 'Don't worry, Yuvy's there' - this mentality should have been the spectators', not of the players'! What are Gambhir, Dhoni, Raina, Rohit doing? Atleast take a leaf out of Singh's book and bat well for God's sake! Yuvraj cannot be depended upon every time to save the day because - face it - he is human after all!

This time I didn't even wait to watch the ball hit the ropes after the unnecessary last ball boundary. The FM was on soon after, as I lay cursing in my bed. India was definitely out - it had finally sunk in.

Channel 1- 'Toh lut gayeee! Haan lut gayeee...'
Channel 2- 'I'm never gonna forgive Dhoni... Enjoy these tracks... 'Kaisa silaa diya, yeh wafaa ka kaisa silaa diya....'
Channel 3- ... ....

I turned to the screen of my FM device, there was written - 'Battery Over. Recharge. ByeBye.'

At last my FM had decided, I didn't need to hear such depressive tracks. It committed suicide.

India versus South Africa, anyone?

(By now, you will have said, when did the dummy start writing 'for dummies' blogs? Sure, sure...:-)

The famous adage 'Roti, Kapda aur Makaan' as the most basic needs of an Indian citizen, applies for the guys who have run away from their homes in the far-removed dark corners of India, and have arrived in this Dream City, and find that they neither have food, clothes nor a shelter. But that part of Mumbai is yet to be revealed to me. As far as I know, the people I see on the streets need 'Roti, Kapda and F.M.'

Frequency Modulated, as the educated of you would say, but who cares, as long as you have earphones, an FM-enabled phone in your pocket and rocking music in your ears... That is what FM means in Mumbai.

I have walked many walks in the busy locality in my neighbourhood, and have seen many interesting sights, but nothing I have noticed is more worthy of mention here than this: people moving onwards, their faces resolute with some unknown goal, but fast tightened to their shirts, snaking upwards from their pockets a black wire, which bifurcates at some point in two, and empties right into the two ears. Almost 80% of the people I see on the path - kid, adult and elderly - provide the same sight - and it did not take me long to know that they were all enjoying what was the most relished form of entertainment that had gripped metroes in India - the FM.


The age when radio meant a black box, extensible antennae, a struggle for reception and some loons reading the news - is gone - in this new world of virtual entertainment, FM has long since been declared the 'next big thing'. Plug and play, and listen to the newest music, cackle at the funniest jokes and munch on delicious gossip - that is FM.

Suno Sunao Life Banao, Bajate Raho, It's Hot - these have become the new mottos of Mumbai - where every other person is listening to one of the many channels which provide unending entertainment in FM. And the channels are owned by hot-shot companies like Relaince, TOI and RED to name a few...

It is not that I heard of this phenomenon here for the first time. Where I lived, Bhubaneswar, there was FM too, but not in this magnitude. The popularity and spiciness of FM there was nothing compared to what it was here. There only the hip-hop Gen-next (an infant species, there) enjoyed FM, but here in Mumbai, age no bar!

I wasted no time in buying an FM enabled device and immediately plugged in to the exciting world of FM, there was a channel where everything was Hot, another which wanted you to Play on and on, another which claimed to be 'for' the fast new generation, another that claimed to make you life always worthwhile and so on. Two songs later, you get to hear the latest news and gossip from the RJs - they're not bad - and every other song you get to hear a new funny feature like : Ghanta Singh who calls up real-life people and tortures them with his funny and silly questions, Pappudia which makes caricatures of Bollywood biggies, and so on. At night a few channels turned on the Love theme where a self-proclaimed LOVE GURU would help Mumbaikaars with their love problems in a digitally altered omnipotent 'bhavishyabani' type of voice, a channel would bring the songs of the yesteryear back to you, and if you didn't like any of that, just turn on the channel where English songs are played day and night! And on Saturday, more than one channel provide you with non-stop crazy remixes of the greatest hits by famed DJs!


But who would turn to FM Rainbow, the last-ditch effort of Akashvani to hook in some listeners?

Twenty-20 World Cup 2009 - the phenomenon that has been long awaited by India all over. 2007 champions India will never let the cup go to hands of anyone else!

Or at least that is what the advertisements in the FMs called for; with the background music of soldiers marching and victory bells ringing; this particular ad caught my, er, ears. Filled with national pride, I followed the matches, either on the telly, or (if I was forced to shut it down due to the lateness of the hour) on the FM - India win the first two matches, but what is this?

West Indies won the third match, much to my worst fears: I turned off the TV resentfully, cursing. I turned on the FM to lighten up.


Channel One - 'What to tell you guys - I'll give it to you straight - Har gaye yaar, kya karein...'
Channel Two - '...lost the match, what a shame... listen to these tracks.... Beeeteeey Lamheeeee...'
Channel Three - 'Kahin to Hogi Woh...Duniyaaa...'

Channel Four - 'Jaane Kahaan Gaye woh Din...'

Channel Five - 'Locked up... They won't let me out...'


Depressed and infuriated I pushed the Change button forcefully. No change in tone. When did FM start reflecting India's resentfulness? It was like FM was mourning India's loss too... (But then, the songs are selected by us humans...)

That remains the only time FM let me down. C'mon yaar... Harey to Harey, ab yeh dukhi gaane kyun?

When I first came to Mumbai and did not know what to do, I discovered some yet-untapped aspects of my soul, and I came to realize - when you decide to do nothing, you just can't!

You see when I completed my hectic year back in KGP, I had my first 'Enough is enuff' moment, and said to myself 'I'm gonna do nothing but sleep for 15 hours and watch movies for the rest of the time.' Nevertheless I took with me various software pertaining to web-designing, photo editing and all those now-in-demand software, knowledge of which gives you an edge over others in matter of CVs. I had also taken tutorials of these software, feeling at the back of my head, these gigabytes are gonna be wasted and I'm gonna regret it.

For the first week, I did what I had promised, except for a small change. I watched movies for 15 hours and slept for the rest of the time. My affinity for the telly had waned and so had my affection for the newspaper. Now that second part was painfully a very not-proud-of-it fact. You see, I did not know until later that what I really aspired to be was a person of power - and to be a person of power in India (legally) you had one option - pass in the UPSC exams - and enjoy the rest of you life.

But passing UPSC exams were not as a piece o' cake as qualifying for IITs (not that I'm saying IITJEE is a piece of cake, a piece of molded bread would have been a better term). Chances were one in every ten thousand.

But I speak as if I'm about to give the exam tomorrow, or so I reasoned with my parents when they reprimanded me for not reading the news, when they spoke as if I was about to give the UPSC exams tomorrow. I furthur argued (nonchalantly to say the least) I had earned my time of zen and peace and I'm not gonna waste it.

I'm a prick.

How and when I started reading newspapers I don't know but I'm pretty sure it corresponded with the time that I realized what a prick I was.

Now in Mumbai, the magnanimous city that it is, when you read the Times Of India, you are faced with 4 different sets of paper each day-Times of India, Bombay Times, Mumbai Mirror, Economic Times. On Sundays you get another supplement called Times Life. It kinda made your day, reading these papers, in the context that you'd have to spend the whole day to get all the news and other stuff. At first I just skimmed over the main-pages, read the cartoon strips, and the editorial, as I used to when I was younger. But as the summer grew older, I started reading every page - world news, sports news, politics, Mumbai, Page 3 - nothing went unnoticed and unappreciated by my eyes. I discovered that there were at least three comic strips on any given day, at least two sets of movie reviews of the same current movies, and atleast two columns of any major news in the city - one in the main-paper and the second in Mumbai Mirror.

The elections had also happened recently, and I, infused with an hitherto-undiscovered curiosity-in-politics started following every detail, and when Congress won, leading to forming of a stable government, I appreciated it, rather than saying 'same old, same old.'

I also started reading internet news- my homepage became Google News and I came to know of news long before it reached the news-stands, of course that is the advantage of electronic media.

But when I foraged into another form of electronic media, I was impeded, and disappointed. The telly news channels were pathetic. One particular, India TV, was like a channel for reruns of reality shows with more detail and analysis than the shows themselves, a channel version of Page 3, and a channel devoted to Breaking 'news' - Ghost in South Carolina, Sai Baba saves a kid, Man cycling on water and all those impertinent captions that invited the gullible Indian mind. Seriously, where news came into the play was beyond me.

Although I discovered one channel that was terrific - Times Now, again from Times of India. Man, this was news analysis at its best. I remained hooked whenever I came across it on my not-so-frequent high-speed channel surfing.

Enough bragging about my new-found talent as a news-watcher (that's a talent isn't it?): had finished my cache of movies in the first few weeks and was faced with two solid months and no idea what to do.

It was then that I opened up a dusty folder named 'Study Material' (in my laptop), with a look of what-the-hell on my face ('study'?) and saw with wonder another folder Maya animation tutorials. I felt my mouth hang out open when I opened a pdf file sized 6 megabytes, which explained the many nuances of Maya animating software (Google it, gormless) and contained five step-by-step instructions to create five short films. I mean, this was the thing I was searching for - expletive instructions on how to make my own movie - without cast, crew, spot-boys or producers!

I opened the .exe file named 'Maya 8.5' and felt a familiar sense of unfamiliarity as I saw the various toolboxes and menu items pop up on my screen, but this feeling would be dispelled soon as I had the perfect tool of understanding, my very own '3D animation for dummies'!

I look forward to making my own movie - my very own Wall-E, Kung-Fu Panda!

YIPPEE!














(A spaceship I created using Maya 3D modeling)











(My amateur attempt at character animation and environment modeling, can you notice the camel balancing a ball, in front of a marble-textured stage, on a tiled floor and behind a pool of water?)














(My second ship, built with different methods...)












(My scene of a few planets, the scene of my Star Wars...Only thing I did was the textures...)

The final objective test of the year was over, and the moment had finally come when I could say that I had completed twenty percent of my journey as an IITian. Others say-'I am 25%
engineer' or 'I am 20% scientist', but I disagree. After all, this was only the first-year, and we have hardly started studying courses that actually pertain to our branch....

Anyway I return to my room, to start my preparations to leave KGP. It had been an eventful year for me here. Though I had mostly turned away from the extra-curricular after a shockingly low GPA of 7.25, I cannot quite say that I had spent my 2nd semester as a goody nerd 'maggu', which is what one has to be, unfortunately to get a respectable GPA of more than 8.5. I was sure that I had done better than the last semester (or at least could say that I was about get better grades than what was assigned to me) but who was to say that God would not send down a bolt from the blue, and get me all red over my not-so-golden gradesheet.

Enough of that; moving on. I came to my room, and spent the next few days alternatively packing my many belongings and packing up my 160 GB hard drive with goodies-softwares, their tutorials, movies, songs and all those stuff that one requires to survive. Once I was loaded and locked I set out on an epic journey to the Civilised West from the Wild East, a journey that would take an not-so-adventurous young man to his destiny-a well earned three month break from academic life, where one was free to pursue a course of life as one wished, as one always wanted...

And where exactly was one going?

Mumbai-largest, populous, popular and glamourous, with its lights, big buildings and fantastic hang-out spots, seemed too far away from here, IITKGP, which was everything I have mentioned about Mumbai, but in a not-so-awesome way, which can't be explained...

I have come along way since I used to be small, innocent and, possibly, likeable. And now, I was at a juncture of my life when people take one look at me and mutter with a frown, 'Teenagers!' Being a target of stereotypes was something we teenagers had come terms to with our own way-ignorance.

I sensed my fellow passengers' trepidition when I sat down at my seat. As if I would jump at their luggage and start shredding their valuable into little pieces in front of their eyes. Just one-an old lady struck up a converstion with me.

'Where are you headed?'

'Mumbai', I was honest to say the least.

'You are in shipping business here?'

I was taken aback at that question, but cottoned on soon, having faced with similar absurd questions before.

'No, I am at IIT Kharagpur, first year, actually.'

I didn't look around at the others, though I was aware of their eyes on me - I had learned a long time ago how to avoid being a conversation about how IITs would lose their sheen soon, and how IITians were contributing to brain drain.

'Excuse me.' I said and climbed up to the top berth. It was 10:00 PM anyway.

Seat No. (something) , Third A.C. coach, A2, Geetanjali Express -my address for the next 36 hours. Well I had a few friends on the same coach, but I had decided to spend my time on the train doing one thing I was quite good at-sleeping. Being awakened unceremoniously by the men-in-red-uniforms-who-served-food-on-a-train was probably the worst part of the journey, followed closely by the quality of the food they served.

The 'epic' journey came to an end, just like all bad things do (yeah, they do!), and I set foot in the station floor, breathed in the station air, and immediately coughed: change was in the air. Change is good, but it'll take time to befriend it.