And the Award Goes To........

I wanted to write this for a month now. But I stopped myself till the Oscars, not because I was unsure of him, but I wanted the people to believe too that he is a gift to India.
A.R.Rahman, the great musician of India, found his way to Oscars from Slumdog Millionaire and proved that India is way more advance and diverse than the west for its art. I was tiptoed till they announced his name for Best Original Score and Best Original Song, and after he got it, I was happy that India brought two more Oscars home, just to know that Resel Pookutty has already won one.
There were three nominations for the Best Original Song, the other one was of Wall-E. It was prudent that Rahman will take the Golden Lady home because the other song was not up to the standards of what our Indian has created. And when you have two nominations in the same department, you leave no questions unanswered, the winner was all clear from the start, and I think, Thomas Newman also knew it.
In a previous blog, I tipped of an incident when I was in a debate with my friend about Himesh vs Rahman. Well, I reminded him the incident telling him, “ab dekh, kaun kiska baap hai.” And he denied of any such incident.
Later in the news, I was watching Mika giving an interview boasting about his bodyguard, who was a part of Slumdog Millionaire, the hunk in the Javed’s Gang. When asked if he wants to get nominated for Oscar, he said surely. I thought in mind it would take him a new birth to make such sensational music.
The song, Jai-ho, was a song originally for Yuvvraaj, the musical debacle by Subhash Ghai. Maybe Subhash is thinking that the song would have given him a hit, but I think he did the right job, else Rehman would have got only one nomination. And also, I think the song is one of the OK-OK song of Rehman. I never thought it is upto the mark of Oscar, although I thought that O-Saya would definitely win. That is because we. Indians have listened so much of A.R.Rahman that Jai ho doesn’t count in his best songs. I told my mother that if Hollywood listens to the compositions of Rehman, I am sure they are gonna give him the Golden Lady after every song they listen.
For us, A.R.Rahman is a god of music already. I have read and heard interviews of many Indian music composers, and all of them have Rehman in their top rival. This Oscar will give Rahman the global recognition. And it has taken them 20 years to find him out.

The Smoky Art

“And as the camera moves backward to take a long shot, Vishal will go towards the door and open it. Cut. Like the idea?”
As my friend was explaining the shot to the DOP, two cigarettes were consecutively lighted and puffed out. Later in the day, I asked him the reason to finish the two packets of Marlboro in two hours and making three black spots on his lung, he replied as started to open with another packet, “This provides me with an amazing sense of intuition. All this work won’t be possible without the smoke.”
I didn’t say a word after that, as I thought it would be worthless to tell the bad effects of this habit to a person who finishes 4-5 packets in 24 hours. And most of the time, the person smoking knows almost all its ill-effects but a addiction is very hard to leave, when you start believing that it is helping you to pay your bills. I have come across a lot of such persons who smoke to create a new idea. And even more than these times, I have thought how come a smoked mind can create something which needs a lot of assuidity and presence of mind.
Well, to understand the philosophy behind this universal logic, I tried it myself. Although, I am strictly against it knowing its bad effects, I still wanted to puff out of my mouth. Many a times, I have seen my favourite actors burning the cigars and looking damn cool. The cigarette getting lighted, a deep breath inside and off goes the white fumes from the nose and the mouth going up in the air. My childhood friend once asked me to try it in the college, but I refused giving him a long speech on “why not to drink cigarettes”. He stopped me midway and went away. But since, my profession wanted me to do anything I was asked, i was helpless.
The cigarette was lighted and held in front of my mouth. I asked my friend to give it between my fingers, he refused as he said I am still novice to hold it between my fingers. I touched the end with my lips and took a long breath inside and…
“Acccckkkkhh…… Auckkkkkhhhhhh…. Accckkkkhhhh”
It continued for one minute supported by the snickers by my colleagues. My windpipe was choked to the lungs and asking for fresh air. The smoke looks white outside but filled with black inside me. I was yet to settle down when my friend held it again for another shot. I was reluctant but my friend’s utmost confidence held me up. Another puff and some more.
“It will continue for one more shot. Here. Now you are ready to hold it between your fingers.”
I finished the cigarette in few minutes and my breath was back to normal. But as I was finishing, my brain started to feel the heat. I went dizzy for the most of the day and when I returned to my senses, I was in my room. As understood, the three shots scheduled for that day weren’t executed.
As I sat on my chair recollecting my dialogs, i recalled my friend asserting in a group chat.
“Creativity is all the game of our subconscious mind. We tend to think something nicer, bigger and better when we are doing something else. All you need to keep a piece of pencil and paper with yourself to jot down the ideas.”
Then the whole puzzle came clear to me. As the smoke went inside me, it played a unprofessional role in converting my mind from a conscious to sub-conscious state. When you are in a creative field and your work is constantly expecting you to produce new ideas with novelty and uniqueness, you need some external agent to do the work for you. And then you can constantly create marvels. But sometimes your principles come over your profession and you have to choose between the two, I chose my principle.
Next day, there was back to back five shots involving me. I gave my best for all of them and also for the next one month. The film was a huge hit with overall gross breaking all records.
Well, sometimes you just have to believe in yourself than the white roll to be successful.

Man in a hurry

“Train towards Dilshad Garden is going to enter the platform number 1. Please stand behind the yellow line.”
That is the one of the numerous announcements made at the Rohini West Metro Station everyday in my long commute. And there is not a single day when I don’t see any person obeying to this simple rule, one of the many rules penned by the Metro staff for the safety of, well, the very own “us”.
Going in a metro is a chore for me when I head towards my college everyday. And from the very beginning it has become the lifeline of Delhi. I still remember on the very first functional day of the Delhi Metro, the newly automatic systems our people have ever seen, got plugged by men rushing in huge numbers, unaware of the world-class commute. And standing behind the yellow line are one of the many ground rules decided by the Metro. And this is the one of the many rules Delhi is delinquent of. I everyday, see a lot of commuters, crossing the yellow line on the platform trying to see whether the train is coming, as if the train would vanish from the tracks and would reappear in the next station. Or the DMRC(Delhi Metro Rail Corporation) has made it so small that you can’t even see it if it is coming or passing by.
The daily commuter is always in a hurry. In such a hurry, that he doesn’t even give a damn on his own life for reaching in his office. He just nudges around to get in first even if he has already spent most of his travelling time sleeping in his couch. Not only in Metro, there is an intersection near my college which remains clogged for the maximum part of the day. Every single vehicle, let it be a cycle, auto rickshaw, cars, motorcycles and even the thelas stop a little to let the other pass. Getting a little space means heaven for them, as if getting 5 centimeter space will make them save 1 hour of their precious time. And this is the scene in almost every busy intersection of the world, be it London, New York, New Delhi. As soon as the light gets green, honking starts from the end of the road. It seems like their honking will produce special types of creatures in the air who will vanish the whole lot of cars in front of him.
Human being is a restless person. He hates time being wasted waiting on the platforms, standing at the signals, or getting his passports ready. He can fight with every bit of him to get in first, and this very attitude brings chaos in the society. And he may never understand that some waits are necessary and worth in the life. And talking of hurry, I am also a captive of this very nature, because I couldn’t stop myself writing this in the middle of my semester exams, when I am supposed to study. 

The 2-Minute Wish

Kriiiiiiiiiiing kriiiiiiing…… Kriiiiiiiiiiiiing kriiiiiiing………
“Hello”
“Is Prateek there?”
“Speaking”
“What happened to your voice?”
“Weather changes.”
“Anyway, Happy Birthday man”
“Thanx”

I never wished my friend like that because I always call on the mobile which has the maximum chances to reach its owner. And like anybody, I don’t start with the wish on the first place. But it is always a fun to call right when the clock strikes midnight. And there is also a point of exuberance when in a crowd you know that you were the first person to get connected with your friend on his birthday, as if that is the only call on which your friendship stands.
The Birthdays are always special. This is the only day no one gets on you, everyone behaves nicely with you. Even your parents don’t get angry on you. So, in short that’s the only day you can probably do whatever you want, whenever you want.
The first call is always special. I remember once I called my friend 15 minutes after midnight, and the very first thing he said after thanks was, “why so late?” I was least expecting this but I managed to explain him my forgetting nature. He didn’t say anything but I again said sorry that day we met. Then he told me that he was even more furious over another friend of my group because he not only forgot but later he just messaged and didn’t call. So, my friend remarked this as “cheap”.
On birthdays, if you don’t call just at midnight, it is very difficult to connect later as the lines go busy. So, you won’t get the line free after 30 minutes or so. I get so happy when my ring reaches within few minutes of 12 AM as if I have got the line for “Kaun Banega Crorepati” (“Who wants to be a millionaire”) contest quiz. And the same happens when it is your birthday. Many friends and relative calling at the same second, some getting connected, others are waiting. Many a times, I can’t listen what the other end is talking about except the wish because the call is constantly interrupted with beeps of the call waiting. Moreover at midnight, my mother, who is not used to such type of practices and is in sound sleep, gets annoyed by such rings. She said, “What’s the matter with your friends calling at midnight? Don’t they sleep?” I asked her to sleep saying that it is my birthday, so my cell is expected to receive such calls. I didn’t tell her that in college, sleeping at midnight is termed as ill-practice.
Calling and receiving birthday wishes in midnight is always a fun. But I ensure that the wish lasts for maximum two minutes, thinking of the endless callers waiting for their call get connected. Atleast they must also know that they are the pretty second to call.

Smell of the Nature’s Gift

It is bit unusual to see the roads getting drenched at the right time of the year in Delhi. More or less, it rains when you least expect it too. Last year, it was during the summers of May and June, when the sun is expected to be at its full rage. Although for Delhi, the situation is different. Even the Meteorological Department of Delhi is unable to track the weather. I have been seeing this for almost two years for now, that the nature is making fun of this department constantly. And the department almost everytime finds a reason for the unheralded change of weather.
It is month of February and just the season when you can the maximum greenery of the year. But as the world temperatures are changing, I least expect this season to be visible enough. Most of the time, it’s the summer and the winter season taking the count to only two out of four.
As I was sitting on my pc working on my Telecommunication project, the air gushed through my window with a lot of dust going into my mouth(I just started to yawn as I was tired pressing keys back2back). Only then, my mother asked me to pick the clothes in the balcony. As I entered in the balcony, I smelled what is, I think, the most sensational, smooth and complete fragrance of my life. The smell of the drenched dust. It is just awesome, that’s because I am unable to define it in words. I decided to pick the clothes and keep them in the room, and I again came back to the balcony to spend some time outside.
As I stood at the corner of my balcony, I took a deep breath and the fragrance filled each single part of my body with energy. It diminished the tire in me, although my eyes were still hurting by the constant exposure of my monitor. I sat down and closed them so that they could also get some relief before getting worked up again. The dust settled down chilling the mercury down. The breeze was rejuvenating.
I love to get wet in rain, but somehow it rains whenever I am in my home. Many a times, it gets cloudy when I am on the road. But as soon as I enter in my house, the water starts falling, as if it somehow gets the idea not to soak me up with even light rainfall. For those who don’t like rain may find it lucky, but for me its very boring. I think rain has a sense of romanticism in it. And since I belong to India, our Hindi Film Industry also believes this. I don’t remember one romantic song which didn’t end up in rain. It may sound pathetic as a lot of water drains up but the formula still works.
I was waiting for the rain to start, my mother called me for dinner and again the wish was left incomplete. As I sat on the table to gulp up the rice, it started raining, quite hard. My mother closed the door I left open hurrily.

Mathematics vs.

It is the most dreaded subject of our generation and will be the most in the coming years. But it never haunted me in my life. I always loved to solve each and every question of the subject and dreaded almost every existing subject except that, specially literature. I have always been the poorest in literature, and you can understand if you have read my first blog. And Hindi was the worst. I know its not good to disrespect my national language, and with full respect, the Ka, Kha, Ga… language scared the hell out of me. And in a way, it is normal as I am a Bengali, so I am not used to this type of language in my home.
I am a teacher. I teach students. It is a good time pass, a good pocket money and the foremost, it gives me a lot of satisfaction when I spread my learnings to someone. But I also get the most angry when someone says that Mathematics is the most worst subject of the education. Till today, I have met only enumerable students who experience the same passion as I do when I get a new question of Maths. I think that Mathematics is the most easiest because all it requires is to remember the 10 numbers and the simplest sign, + and -, nothing more. Even the basic English has 26 alphabets and god knows how many in Hindi.
Everything in Maths started with just these few numbers and the two basic signs. And the reason it is easy is that it is constant, never increasing like Literature. I mean to say, every day there are numerous words getting invented in English, all more or less similar to the main word. And still it is not stopping to increase its word-list. I was reading a book for English Vocabulary, and I had a word list of 2500 words, starting with High Frequency words, Medium Frequency words, and Low Frequency words. As I went through all the words summing up the count, I saw some more words waiting for me. And it included all the words of other languages adapted by English and it included Spanish, French, German, and Yiddish. The last one of which I am still unaware of. In short, it is a never ending affair.
But Maths has an ending. It has a very limited use, not extendable like any other subject. It is required just to the extent till science requires it. And I am saying this statement because in higher classes, just like me, you have no subject like Mathematics. It is only limited to class 14th(12+2). And by that stage, you learn almost all the mathematical tools and concepts.
And after I have discussed this with many of my students and watching them attempt easy problems and getting headache, I realized that most of the students dislike it because it needs certain kind of efforts from your side with zero mugging up. A person can only memorize the formula of a question but after that, Mathematics is purely about your skills of understanding. And a Mathematics question can’t be solved by just watching the question, until you are Albert Einstein or Rohit of Koi Mil Gaya(remember the 10th grade question he solved watching, although I also solved it in my mind after 4 years). You need to write and make an effort to solve it, use your pen and apply it on your page to solve a question without thinking whether it is heading on the right road.
So, any of you students who are still going to face the Maths paper, make an effort from your side to solve the problem without thinking whether you will correctly do it or not. Because, when you are practicing it, in your home or in you class, there is always a scope of redoing it. And my teacher once rightly said, “Even if you solve a question after the 100th attempt, you are on the more profitable side than the person solving on the 1st attempt, because now you know 99 ways of How to not solve it”.

The Art of Driving

Nowadays, I m learning to drive the CAR. Ya, In bold letters, because once upon a time, it scared the hell out of me. My first day on the driver seat was in class 12th, when my father was teaching my sister to drive. My mother asked him to teach me side by side. Well, only then I understood, there is a lot of difference between theory and practical. I was very good with the theory of the car, three pedals, Accelerator, Brakes, Clutch, the famous A,B,C of a car. And I knew how the reverse works. Atleast, I m very good in physics. My mother was also happy to see that as he knew I will able to drive the best, so she told dad to include me too in his class with sister. When she learnt, I used to laugh in the back seat on his driving and my father scolding her.
So, one day, he asked me to come on the driver seat. I was very excited. I almost knew everything about the car, ABC of the car, 5 gears and a reverse with exact positions of each, indicators, and lights. So, as I sat on the driver seat, and was going to send the spark to the engine,
Wham!! “Who will buckle up the seat belt?” As told, I buckled it up.
Wham!! “Who will the check the gears? Never start a car in gear” Fine, I am doing that too.
Finally, his orders ceased and I started the car. Pressed the clutch and put it in first gear and then the wheels started to rotate and
One, two, three and stop.
“What happened?” “You left the clutch very fast, you need to declutch your first gear too slowly.”

Well, after that I heard a lot of sentences, some of them I don’t remember too. And in later days, I used to get a tight slap on my feet when something went wrong. It was the month of May, so I used to drip with sweat. Finally, after ten days, I left driving. And gave the excuse that I will learn it after my board exams.
But it never happened. Only after three years, when my sister shifted, and my father transferred, my car was left abandoned, its sky blue color getting brown with dirt. My parents asked me to drive the car and learn how to drive. Even I didn’t have any need for it, as I was happy with my legs walking down the streets and my college was easily accessible by metro, watching the car deteriorate attracted me to drive it. So, finally with my father, I started driving, again. But this time, it was different. I was aware of all the basic knowledge and with three years passed, my father was more cool and encouraged me if I did mistake with proper explanation of each mistake. So, I learnt my driving fast. Atleast, nowadays, I can take it out of the parking lot, go in busy roads and come back and keep it in its original position. But as seen, it would take me another year to drive like my father. I sometimes joke that he should have been in the F1 circuit driving Maclaren and competing with Schumacher, rather than the local truck drivers and Safari owners.
The car driving is really an art to learn. Normal driving on the roads, reversing is easy, but making it run smoothly, shifting the gears at just the right times, making the parts live longer needs much more than just driving. You have to understand its language, the sounds it makes and then only you can enjoy sitting beside the driver and enjoy the ride.
My father says, “The car will tell you everything, you just hhave to listen it, and then you will see you don’t even need to press the C pedal.” Those who don’t believe this, let me tell you, I have experienced it, although coincidently.