Ever been to Nagothana? No?
Here’s why you should go there...
Nagothana is situated in the Raigad district of Maharashtra, about 2 hours from Mumbai by road. The railway station closest to this holiday town is Pen.
The feel of Nagothana makes you feel relaxed and rejuvenated. One could also describe it as the countryside of the west. The beauty of this place is enhanced by the mountaintops which tower high and lovingly protect the people of Nagothana.
One of the first few observations you’ll make en route to Nagothana is the sudden change of atmosphere; from the smell of car exhaust to the aroma of moist mud, from high rise buildings to low lying hutments and from sites of concrete road and streetlights to those of dried hay and green grass.
Once there, it is easy to find accommodation in hotels near the marketplace or in a rented farmhouse by the riverside. Besides the food market, there are other local markets which sell saris in bright colours, enriched with traditional Indian designs.
For all you sea food lovers, the market offers a wide variety of fresh river fishes to choose from. So you can pick one of the biggest catches and add spice to your meal!
Though there are few recreation options within Nagothana, Alibag is a preferred get-away locale for international and national tourists alike. Alibag is in close proximity to Nagothana. So you can consider hiring a car to reach there.
If you’re planning to escape the madness of the metros and find comfort in the countryside, a retreat to Nagothana is much recommended.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
Confessions of a Blog-a-holic
I owned a blog. It was my personal online diary. I spilled all my emotions into the blog. The only space on the world wide web that was, which I believed, reserved for me was my blog. It bore my name, my characteristics, and my personality. My blog belonged to me!
I always maintained a low profile regarding my blog. I would regularly check my stats to confirm that no one was prying into my life through my blog. The road was all clear!
My diary became more and more popular with me. I would post my every single life detail in it. I would occasionally go back and read my posts and contemplate about who I was!
It was so comforting to know I had a pal who would reflect my thoughts and express them in my own words.
But very soon my blog travelled across borders and people read more about me. They liked my posts and the reasoning which went into writing those. They understood my emotions, my psyche. They heard the cries of a tender heart safely wrapped within a strong body and a tough character.
The more the followers accumulated the less personal my diary became. For few months I even gave up writing. But something within me said, “Aren’t you an inspiration to the many bloggers out there, who will learn the art of writing only if they imitate you?”
Not unlike others, I too started looking at my blog as a piece of art, one that can be appreciated only by those who have fine aesthetic sense and one which will be a classic people will yearn to read.
My pride soon hardened the soft core within me. My writing became much more stylized and my vocabulary more profound. My blog looked less like a blog and more like an online novel.
I hoped to get more audience, more followers and more feedback. Paradoxically, I lost out on my existing audience and followers. I could not comprehend how such a phenomenon could occur. I tried harder each day to make my text more flowery than before, but every time my efforts to restore my lost glory went in vain!
Ultimately, the blog that I earlier nurtured with so much care was left alone to wither away. I stopped writing for it any longer. My enthusiasm for writing had gone. After meeting such a failure who would care to write anyway; and for whom?
Today I’m looking at my redundant blog once again and I’m contemplating about who I was and what became of me!
I always maintained a low profile regarding my blog. I would regularly check my stats to confirm that no one was prying into my life through my blog. The road was all clear!
My diary became more and more popular with me. I would post my every single life detail in it. I would occasionally go back and read my posts and contemplate about who I was!
It was so comforting to know I had a pal who would reflect my thoughts and express them in my own words.
But very soon my blog travelled across borders and people read more about me. They liked my posts and the reasoning which went into writing those. They understood my emotions, my psyche. They heard the cries of a tender heart safely wrapped within a strong body and a tough character.
The more the followers accumulated the less personal my diary became. For few months I even gave up writing. But something within me said, “Aren’t you an inspiration to the many bloggers out there, who will learn the art of writing only if they imitate you?”
Not unlike others, I too started looking at my blog as a piece of art, one that can be appreciated only by those who have fine aesthetic sense and one which will be a classic people will yearn to read.
My pride soon hardened the soft core within me. My writing became much more stylized and my vocabulary more profound. My blog looked less like a blog and more like an online novel.
I hoped to get more audience, more followers and more feedback. Paradoxically, I lost out on my existing audience and followers. I could not comprehend how such a phenomenon could occur. I tried harder each day to make my text more flowery than before, but every time my efforts to restore my lost glory went in vain!
Ultimately, the blog that I earlier nurtured with so much care was left alone to wither away. I stopped writing for it any longer. My enthusiasm for writing had gone. After meeting such a failure who would care to write anyway; and for whom?
Today I’m looking at my redundant blog once again and I’m contemplating about who I was and what became of me!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Ambiguity
“Have I killed him? Have I not?
Have I? Have I not?”
Delnaz was seated on a garden bench murmuring these words to herself, as she plucked the petals of a withered yellow rose.
Delnaz had no idea what to think of herself. Was she schizophrenic? The doctors could not tell; not yet!
Her life story was pretty complicated. She believed she’d killed someone named Karan Agarwal. She was affirmative! She herself reported her crime to the police, in the wee hours of the day. She was frantically running around the police station pleading to the inspectors to arrest her.
She said she’d been having a rendez-vous with Karan since the past 4 months. She even started developing affection for him. Karan usually dropped by her house to say hello! Theirs was a perfect love story to one’s eye. But there lay many dark secrets underneath.
Karan was a fraud. He developed relations with Delnaz to coax her into assisting him in his crimes. He was a smuggler and he needed Delnaz to hoard all the smuggled goods in her house till they were delivered to their destination.
Delnaz, though reluctant, was pulled into this gamble. The everyday hellos were actually a means to drop bags full of smuggled items in her house.
She’d become weary of being used. She wanted Karan’s love, not these illegal things he would stack up in her room.
One day when Karan visited her with a new load of smuggled goods, Delnaz pulled out an elephant tusk and stabbed Karan in the stomach.
This is what she confessed to the police.
Upon investigation, the police was left clueless. No body, no ivory tusk and not one bag of smuggled goods. The police interrogated the neigbours if they had seen a particular man frequent Delnaz’s apartment. But each one denied!
The police looked up the criminal records but they didn’t find any record of Karan Agarwal.
So the questions that arose were such:
Did a smuggler names Karan Agarwal exist?
If he did, was this his real identity?
If it was, was it given that he was a smuggler?
If the answers to all these questions were negative, was it wise to believe that Delnaz was Schizophrenic? Or was she just taking the police for a ride?
What was the truth behind this story and the woman?
No one could tell, not yet!
Have I? Have I not?”
Delnaz was seated on a garden bench murmuring these words to herself, as she plucked the petals of a withered yellow rose.
Delnaz had no idea what to think of herself. Was she schizophrenic? The doctors could not tell; not yet!
Her life story was pretty complicated. She believed she’d killed someone named Karan Agarwal. She was affirmative! She herself reported her crime to the police, in the wee hours of the day. She was frantically running around the police station pleading to the inspectors to arrest her.
She said she’d been having a rendez-vous with Karan since the past 4 months. She even started developing affection for him. Karan usually dropped by her house to say hello! Theirs was a perfect love story to one’s eye. But there lay many dark secrets underneath.
Karan was a fraud. He developed relations with Delnaz to coax her into assisting him in his crimes. He was a smuggler and he needed Delnaz to hoard all the smuggled goods in her house till they were delivered to their destination.
Delnaz, though reluctant, was pulled into this gamble. The everyday hellos were actually a means to drop bags full of smuggled items in her house.
She’d become weary of being used. She wanted Karan’s love, not these illegal things he would stack up in her room.
One day when Karan visited her with a new load of smuggled goods, Delnaz pulled out an elephant tusk and stabbed Karan in the stomach.
This is what she confessed to the police.
Upon investigation, the police was left clueless. No body, no ivory tusk and not one bag of smuggled goods. The police interrogated the neigbours if they had seen a particular man frequent Delnaz’s apartment. But each one denied!
The police looked up the criminal records but they didn’t find any record of Karan Agarwal.
So the questions that arose were such:
Did a smuggler names Karan Agarwal exist?
If he did, was this his real identity?
If it was, was it given that he was a smuggler?
If the answers to all these questions were negative, was it wise to believe that Delnaz was Schizophrenic? Or was she just taking the police for a ride?
What was the truth behind this story and the woman?
No one could tell, not yet!
The Many Hues of India
There are a billion Indians and a billion Indias. Each person belongs to his own India. Overtly there’s a shining India versus a slumdog India, a progressive India versus a regressive India, people’s India versus government’s India and lastly an Indian’s India versus a foreigner’s India.
But to every Indian, their India carries a distinct and a different significance. For some, India is all about education, for the others it’s about democracy. It could be about industrialization, urbanization and infrastructure. India might be synonymous to abandoning of dowry or effort to curb female foeticide or something as basic as soil for production.
For me however, India is a land trying to battle all hardships. Yes, India has its problems like poverty and malnutrition. But how often do we give India a leeway for being one of the youngest Independent nations?
We are definitely not as progressive as the USA or any other first world country for that matter; but at least we’re trying!
I do agree that gigantic industries have taken over vast farmlands and have rendered many homeless. But underneath this atrocious act, lies the hard-to-see reality that such industries provide more employment than a farmland can. The very same homeless farmers can find suitable employment in the industries and feed their families healthy meals.
On the flipside, the many loopholes in Indian agricultural development are backfiring on itself. Pathetic technological use in the agricultural sector is leading to severe shortage of food to meet domestic needs. A country that has been known for its agriculture and green revolution since times immemorial has now come to a desperate position of importing food grains to deal with its food inflation.
Making a judgment about a country like India is never the best way to deal with its many complicated intricacies. Just like there are two sides of a coin, there are both pros and cons of India. The weightage that you allot to either determines the India that you belong to!
But to every Indian, their India carries a distinct and a different significance. For some, India is all about education, for the others it’s about democracy. It could be about industrialization, urbanization and infrastructure. India might be synonymous to abandoning of dowry or effort to curb female foeticide or something as basic as soil for production.
For me however, India is a land trying to battle all hardships. Yes, India has its problems like poverty and malnutrition. But how often do we give India a leeway for being one of the youngest Independent nations?
We are definitely not as progressive as the USA or any other first world country for that matter; but at least we’re trying!
I do agree that gigantic industries have taken over vast farmlands and have rendered many homeless. But underneath this atrocious act, lies the hard-to-see reality that such industries provide more employment than a farmland can. The very same homeless farmers can find suitable employment in the industries and feed their families healthy meals.
On the flipside, the many loopholes in Indian agricultural development are backfiring on itself. Pathetic technological use in the agricultural sector is leading to severe shortage of food to meet domestic needs. A country that has been known for its agriculture and green revolution since times immemorial has now come to a desperate position of importing food grains to deal with its food inflation.
Making a judgment about a country like India is never the best way to deal with its many complicated intricacies. Just like there are two sides of a coin, there are both pros and cons of India. The weightage that you allot to either determines the India that you belong to!
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Projects :O
College projects are almost always detested; and in a course like BMM, one is always seen engrossed in one or the other assignment. Thus, in about a year and something, we've developed a Love-Hate Relationship with our projects.
How much ever we students make believe that college projects are painful and painstaking, at some level of depth we do relish the experience. I can’t say if we enjoy the satisfaction of handling delayed projects or the adrenaline rush we get by involving ourselves in such serious risks, but we’re determined to procrastinate until the last hour.
Recently, I was working on a cinema project with two of my classmates. A wonderful project indeed; but we had very little time in hand. All the OMGs and What the Hell (Ahem*) were abuzz after the project was announced. But with only a weekend to brainstorm and execute the task, everyone donned their thinking caps and got down to serious business.
One aspect which is completely adorable in BMM is the fact that one works for all and all work for one. My group got many of my classmates running (literally running) on campus with a paper heart clenched in their hands.
It was a pleasure shooting, tracking, running, doing all sorts of crazy things for our (and others’) videos. But we did feel time crunch; and it increased with every hour that passed by!
Day 2 was a Sunday; a droopy, drowsy holiday for all except this poor bunch of BMM’ites. (PS: we love self-empathy. It just puts us in a safe Haven of pity and helplessness). My group met again to complete the arrear work of shooting, editing and publishing.
It was comparatively a lighter day, as most of the project work was already completed. We were so excited about the project; we couldn’t stop fantasizing about it. The whole day we were humming the tune of the soundtrack that we put in the video.
Our excitement and anticipation was building. As expected, the other groups were undergoing a similar sense of anxiousness as well! By late evening, many of the videos were uploaded on youtube and facebook. They received many likes and comments.
Though this is quite an encouragement, you still can’t say if the professor will echo the same sentiment.
Well, all said and done, the experience of this project was quite memorable. Unlike certain projects which I really wish to erase from my memory, this is one project which I’ll love to remember and cherish for always.
PS: this project made me realise that a storyteller can also be a director; and a good one at that ;)
How much ever we students make believe that college projects are painful and painstaking, at some level of depth we do relish the experience. I can’t say if we enjoy the satisfaction of handling delayed projects or the adrenaline rush we get by involving ourselves in such serious risks, but we’re determined to procrastinate until the last hour.
Recently, I was working on a cinema project with two of my classmates. A wonderful project indeed; but we had very little time in hand. All the OMGs and What the Hell (Ahem*) were abuzz after the project was announced. But with only a weekend to brainstorm and execute the task, everyone donned their thinking caps and got down to serious business.
One aspect which is completely adorable in BMM is the fact that one works for all and all work for one. My group got many of my classmates running (literally running) on campus with a paper heart clenched in their hands.
It was a pleasure shooting, tracking, running, doing all sorts of crazy things for our (and others’) videos. But we did feel time crunch; and it increased with every hour that passed by!
Day 2 was a Sunday; a droopy, drowsy holiday for all except this poor bunch of BMM’ites. (PS: we love self-empathy. It just puts us in a safe Haven of pity and helplessness). My group met again to complete the arrear work of shooting, editing and publishing.
It was comparatively a lighter day, as most of the project work was already completed. We were so excited about the project; we couldn’t stop fantasizing about it. The whole day we were humming the tune of the soundtrack that we put in the video.
Our excitement and anticipation was building. As expected, the other groups were undergoing a similar sense of anxiousness as well! By late evening, many of the videos were uploaded on youtube and facebook. They received many likes and comments.
Though this is quite an encouragement, you still can’t say if the professor will echo the same sentiment.
Well, all said and done, the experience of this project was quite memorable. Unlike certain projects which I really wish to erase from my memory, this is one project which I’ll love to remember and cherish for always.
PS: this project made me realise that a storyteller can also be a director; and a good one at that ;)
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Love between War
College festivals have risen in importance to become the most recent fad amongst the youth. These festivals give a platform to students to exhibit their talents and prove their worth.
Most of the time however, the quest to show one's superiority becomes a major cause of enmity and inter-collegiate rivalry.
Among all the aggressiveness, there bloomed one love story. Here's how:
In junior college, Aryan and Sanaya were classmates. Though they shared the same classroom, they were always distant from one another.
Aryan was very social. He was the life of a party; and that is why he was always sought after.
Sanaya on the flip side, was very selective in choosing her friends. She loved to spend time with herself and was someone who would not trade her principles for anything in the world.
It was only later that Sanaya learned how to socialise. She made more friends and created more contacts. Aryan was one of them.
Somewhere Sanaya felt affection for him. But she never admitted it; neither to Aryan, nor to herself.
Soon she had to go elsewhere to pursue her Graduation. So she left her junior college (and her crush) with a heavy heart and ventured into a new space to gain new experiences.
Sanaya had lost all hope of seeing Ayan again. But here's where college festivals restored in her the faith that their rendez-vous had not yet met a dead end.
They saw, smiled and spoke to each other many a times during such festivals. But the climax occurred in Sanaya's ex-college itself, where their story had commenced.
The last event on the last day of the festival was about to begin. People were heading to the venue, when suddenly it started pouring heavily. Everyone ran helter skelter, and Sanaya was one of them who ran to seek shelter.
While she ran, she felt someone pull her in the opposite direction. She turned to look at the drenched Aryan holding her arm. Sanaya was perplexed and so were the onlookers. But Aryan slowly and gently swayed Sanaya and the two of them danced like swans on the melody of the fierce rain.
Sanaya stopped and asked Aryan why did he do what he did. Yes, this is exactly what she said. And Aryan simply smiled at her and whispered, "This is to make you realise how much I have loved you, how much I love you and how much I will love you".
Sanaya could do nothing but give a sheepish smile. She was smiling and she was crying; she was talking, yet she was quiet. She quickly embraced Aryan and didn't let go till the applauds of the spectators faded away...
Most of the time however, the quest to show one's superiority becomes a major cause of enmity and inter-collegiate rivalry.
Among all the aggressiveness, there bloomed one love story. Here's how:
In junior college, Aryan and Sanaya were classmates. Though they shared the same classroom, they were always distant from one another.
Aryan was very social. He was the life of a party; and that is why he was always sought after.
Sanaya on the flip side, was very selective in choosing her friends. She loved to spend time with herself and was someone who would not trade her principles for anything in the world.
It was only later that Sanaya learned how to socialise. She made more friends and created more contacts. Aryan was one of them.
Somewhere Sanaya felt affection for him. But she never admitted it; neither to Aryan, nor to herself.
Soon she had to go elsewhere to pursue her Graduation. So she left her junior college (and her crush) with a heavy heart and ventured into a new space to gain new experiences.
Sanaya had lost all hope of seeing Ayan again. But here's where college festivals restored in her the faith that their rendez-vous had not yet met a dead end.
They saw, smiled and spoke to each other many a times during such festivals. But the climax occurred in Sanaya's ex-college itself, where their story had commenced.
The last event on the last day of the festival was about to begin. People were heading to the venue, when suddenly it started pouring heavily. Everyone ran helter skelter, and Sanaya was one of them who ran to seek shelter.
While she ran, she felt someone pull her in the opposite direction. She turned to look at the drenched Aryan holding her arm. Sanaya was perplexed and so were the onlookers. But Aryan slowly and gently swayed Sanaya and the two of them danced like swans on the melody of the fierce rain.
Sanaya stopped and asked Aryan why did he do what he did. Yes, this is exactly what she said. And Aryan simply smiled at her and whispered, "This is to make you realise how much I have loved you, how much I love you and how much I will love you".
Sanaya could do nothing but give a sheepish smile. She was smiling and she was crying; she was talking, yet she was quiet. She quickly embraced Aryan and didn't let go till the applauds of the spectators faded away...
Friday, July 29, 2011
The Week that was
Dear Diary,
Phew! Oh how drained of energy I am!
Anyway, let me take some time out of my super hectic schedule and write to you the events of the past week.
It started last Sunday.
My uncle and his family have come from the US to visit us. They’re not here for long and that’s precisely why all our plans have become a hodgepodge.
I’m literally fishing out an hour or two after college hours to drop by and say Hello.
Our first visit to my Uncle was on Sunday itself. It was a weekend so we were all relaxed and we had lots of time to sit back and indulge in leisurely conversations.
But the dinner plan that we had on Wednesday took a toll on me. I had lectures going on till late afternoon; and with dinner scheduled that evening, there was no point going back home and coming to South Mumbai again. So I stopped by and rested at my Uncle’s residence in Mumbai Central.
Later that day, everyone gathered together and headed to the venue. We went to a terrace restaurant at Lower Parel. It was a beautiful place indeed. We had some real good food there.
Honestly, at this moment, I am tempted to admit that all the hard work of the day did pay off well that night. But indeed I was drained out of energy by then.
The next day at college was difficult. It was another long drawn out day, with a project submission only adding to the existing stress that I had.
And believe me, Thursday was no different :(
In spite of all this, I’m not yet relieved of all obligations. In the next 14 hours, I have another project submission due and then on Saturday, there’s a plan to watch a movie with my folks.
OMG! This reminds me I’m still way too busy to spare any time. I’m sorry buddy... got to go.
Will write to you again next week.
Till then,
Adios.
Phew! Oh how drained of energy I am!
Anyway, let me take some time out of my super hectic schedule and write to you the events of the past week.
It started last Sunday.
My uncle and his family have come from the US to visit us. They’re not here for long and that’s precisely why all our plans have become a hodgepodge.
I’m literally fishing out an hour or two after college hours to drop by and say Hello.
Our first visit to my Uncle was on Sunday itself. It was a weekend so we were all relaxed and we had lots of time to sit back and indulge in leisurely conversations.
But the dinner plan that we had on Wednesday took a toll on me. I had lectures going on till late afternoon; and with dinner scheduled that evening, there was no point going back home and coming to South Mumbai again. So I stopped by and rested at my Uncle’s residence in Mumbai Central.
Later that day, everyone gathered together and headed to the venue. We went to a terrace restaurant at Lower Parel. It was a beautiful place indeed. We had some real good food there.
Honestly, at this moment, I am tempted to admit that all the hard work of the day did pay off well that night. But indeed I was drained out of energy by then.
The next day at college was difficult. It was another long drawn out day, with a project submission only adding to the existing stress that I had.
And believe me, Thursday was no different :(
In spite of all this, I’m not yet relieved of all obligations. In the next 14 hours, I have another project submission due and then on Saturday, there’s a plan to watch a movie with my folks.
OMG! This reminds me I’m still way too busy to spare any time. I’m sorry buddy... got to go.
Will write to you again next week.
Till then,
Adios.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Administering Polaris and Post-Polaris
Polaris preparations had begun even before our new term at SYBMM had begun. But it was almost one month before the festival, that the whole class was roped into the Polaris process. All this left me deciding which event to head or which department leader to assist.
Just then, my classmate and friend who was also the DCP for Admin and Finance for Polaris approached me with a proposition of taking on the responsibility of becoming the Admin Head for Polaris.
One condition which was announced to me right at the start was this that I would have to dedicate all my time to Administration and would have to practically miss all the events which were scheduled for the festival.
I gave this condition a serious thought because missing events was a big compromise to make. But, at the end, my determination to work for our college fest, helped me decide in favour of Admin.
What followed was a big Surprise for me and the rest of the official (and unofficial) Admin team.
With the Admin handling the registrations of participants and most importantly scoring and certificate writing, fulfilling the requirements of Admin was quite a task.
Calling of Contingent Leaders (whose call list was perpetually missing), issuing POPs to participants, collecting-keeping-and-tallying scores, answering queries, learning the schedule for the day, were all under Admin.
Oh yes, not to miss Crowd Control, which was a shared responsibility between Security and Admin and which is something why I lost my voice. :(
However, amidst all the commotion, the noise, the cheering, the frenzy, the coordination and communication barriers, the walky talkie conversations and a lot more, there was a spirit to make Polaris larger than life. And this is exactly what drove the Admin to do everything within their capacity to work under pressure and yet appear cordial and approachable.
Polaris and Janice have helped me fall in love with what I did. I admit that I went berserk during the fest with all the work that was pending. But when the results were announced, I felt a sense of relief and satisfaction. I knew, somewhere at the back of my mind, that those results were a consequence of the number game that we played as Admin, all through the final day of Polaris.
Those three days gave me an opportunity to become friendly with our FYs, socialise with people from other colleges, re-connect with long lost friends, have a party with my current college friends and do so much more, while I was heading the Administration Department for Polaris 2011.
Just then, my classmate and friend who was also the DCP for Admin and Finance for Polaris approached me with a proposition of taking on the responsibility of becoming the Admin Head for Polaris.
One condition which was announced to me right at the start was this that I would have to dedicate all my time to Administration and would have to practically miss all the events which were scheduled for the festival.
I gave this condition a serious thought because missing events was a big compromise to make. But, at the end, my determination to work for our college fest, helped me decide in favour of Admin.
What followed was a big Surprise for me and the rest of the official (and unofficial) Admin team.
With the Admin handling the registrations of participants and most importantly scoring and certificate writing, fulfilling the requirements of Admin was quite a task.
Calling of Contingent Leaders (whose call list was perpetually missing), issuing POPs to participants, collecting-keeping-and-tallying scores, answering queries, learning the schedule for the day, were all under Admin.
Oh yes, not to miss Crowd Control, which was a shared responsibility between Security and Admin and which is something why I lost my voice. :(
However, amidst all the commotion, the noise, the cheering, the frenzy, the coordination and communication barriers, the walky talkie conversations and a lot more, there was a spirit to make Polaris larger than life. And this is exactly what drove the Admin to do everything within their capacity to work under pressure and yet appear cordial and approachable.
Polaris and Janice have helped me fall in love with what I did. I admit that I went berserk during the fest with all the work that was pending. But when the results were announced, I felt a sense of relief and satisfaction. I knew, somewhere at the back of my mind, that those results were a consequence of the number game that we played as Admin, all through the final day of Polaris.
Those three days gave me an opportunity to become friendly with our FYs, socialise with people from other colleges, re-connect with long lost friends, have a party with my current college friends and do so much more, while I was heading the Administration Department for Polaris 2011.
To push when you write
How often do we challenge our thoughts? How often do we push our boundaries of creativity? Do we ever let our creative juices flow?
These questions seem like pittance when you’re not into the field of media. But if you’re aspiring to make a career in mass media (in all its forms), effective writing must lie at the very core of your talents. It serves as the nucleus for your future.
When I started out with leisure writing, I had limited versatility. But after a year of studying media, its fundamentals and writing skills, my mind has opened up to a lot of other styles and forms of writing.
Writing one piece of literature in different styles gives a different feel to the story. Every genre of literature has a different element which adds its own special uniqueness to a given story.
One of my missions now is to push my creative boundaries and try new styles of literature.
Though studying literature or writing a novel seem to be far off goals for me at the moment, I have realized the power of words, the impact it makes on your soul and the impression it leaves in your mind.
Another revelation that BMM has made is quite contrary to the popular belief that flowery language is the only tool of popular writing. To my surprise, lectures in creativity have established how words of everyday use, when placed together wisely, make a statement that creates an everlasting memory.
A simple example of the same is from the renowned novel Love Story by Erich Segal. What makes people remember the novel is a simple quote which reads like this, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”
Bearing in mind the teachings of creative writing, I ventured to attempt brevity. A topic like this can be discussed much at length. But I hope and pray that my select words have told a tale that will leave some impression on your minds.
I hope and pray that my attempt at brevity is not a futile one. :)
These questions seem like pittance when you’re not into the field of media. But if you’re aspiring to make a career in mass media (in all its forms), effective writing must lie at the very core of your talents. It serves as the nucleus for your future.
When I started out with leisure writing, I had limited versatility. But after a year of studying media, its fundamentals and writing skills, my mind has opened up to a lot of other styles and forms of writing.
Writing one piece of literature in different styles gives a different feel to the story. Every genre of literature has a different element which adds its own special uniqueness to a given story.
One of my missions now is to push my creative boundaries and try new styles of literature.
Though studying literature or writing a novel seem to be far off goals for me at the moment, I have realized the power of words, the impact it makes on your soul and the impression it leaves in your mind.
Another revelation that BMM has made is quite contrary to the popular belief that flowery language is the only tool of popular writing. To my surprise, lectures in creativity have established how words of everyday use, when placed together wisely, make a statement that creates an everlasting memory.
A simple example of the same is from the renowned novel Love Story by Erich Segal. What makes people remember the novel is a simple quote which reads like this, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”
Bearing in mind the teachings of creative writing, I ventured to attempt brevity. A topic like this can be discussed much at length. But I hope and pray that my select words have told a tale that will leave some impression on your minds.
I hope and pray that my attempt at brevity is not a futile one. :)
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Polaris Parade
Image Courtesy: Riya Ma'am
The HOD of our BMM course Mr. Sudhakar Solomon Raj came up with a novel idea of organizing a carnival parade for promoting our BMM fest Polaris. This was an idea which attracted a lot of anticipation as well as anxiety!
A promotional parade was held never before, neither in Wilson College nor in any other College in Mumbai. Though this idea was very unique, we were sure that we would have to do a lot of follow ups.
The precursor for organizing such an event was acquiring permission from the Mumbai Police. With the agenda of the procession being that of walking a distance of 1 km on Marine Drive (the busiest and the most happening drive way here), the task of acquiring the permission appeared pretty daunting!
But with the efforts of the Security Head of the event, we managed to get the Go Signal for the Parade, which was held in the early hours of a lazy monsoon Sunday.
Another concern for us was the rain; the unpredictable force of nature which is only under the control of rain God Indra. And that was not just our concern. The participating contingents were also skeptical about the rains and what it would do to their props.
We could never answer them when they would ask, "What if it rains?" But when it did rain during the parade, neither one of us seemed to be disappointed. On the contrary, our excitement of dancing in the rain added to the gusto of the carnival parade.
The Wilson College Gymkhana was our final destination. The long walk and all the chanting and cheering left us a little drained of energy. But what could have been a better way of rejuvenating than a session of singing and dancing!
Many students from our college volunteered to entertain the participants with singing, beat boxing, rapping, dancing, etc.
The winners of the promotional event were declared soon after. This was followed by a round of lip smacking samosas for every participant and volunteer.
At the end of it all, we can proudly say that the parade which happened was a grandiose affair. For as much as we enjoyed it, so did the 12 participating contingents.
The carnival party of Polaris 2011 had so begun!
A promotional parade was held never before, neither in Wilson College nor in any other College in Mumbai. Though this idea was very unique, we were sure that we would have to do a lot of follow ups.
The precursor for organizing such an event was acquiring permission from the Mumbai Police. With the agenda of the procession being that of walking a distance of 1 km on Marine Drive (the busiest and the most happening drive way here), the task of acquiring the permission appeared pretty daunting!
But with the efforts of the Security Head of the event, we managed to get the Go Signal for the Parade, which was held in the early hours of a lazy monsoon Sunday.
Another concern for us was the rain; the unpredictable force of nature which is only under the control of rain God Indra. And that was not just our concern. The participating contingents were also skeptical about the rains and what it would do to their props.
We could never answer them when they would ask, "What if it rains?" But when it did rain during the parade, neither one of us seemed to be disappointed. On the contrary, our excitement of dancing in the rain added to the gusto of the carnival parade.
The Wilson College Gymkhana was our final destination. The long walk and all the chanting and cheering left us a little drained of energy. But what could have been a better way of rejuvenating than a session of singing and dancing!
Many students from our college volunteered to entertain the participants with singing, beat boxing, rapping, dancing, etc.
The winners of the promotional event were declared soon after. This was followed by a round of lip smacking samosas for every participant and volunteer.
At the end of it all, we can proudly say that the parade which happened was a grandiose affair. For as much as we enjoyed it, so did the 12 participating contingents.
The carnival party of Polaris 2011 had so begun!
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Reality (really?) shows:
It started with Big Boss and has now taken the shape of innumerable shows. Reality television has gone from being 'life on screen' to 'melodrama on screen'.
This one novel idea has revolutionized the silver screen and how people view it.
But have reality shows been able to sustain their basic premise of conveying the true picture?
In a race to acquire high TRPs, religiously loyal audiences and slots in the Television prime time, reality shows have resorted to various attention grabbing stunts. Fake controversies, inconsiderate and unapologetic judges and intervention in people’s personal space are just a few to mention.
Names of few reality shows that have had a history of performing cheap gimmicks are Big Boss, Indian Idol and Emotional Attyachaar. These shows do almost anything to grab those eye balls; and it’s not surprising that they are immensely popular with the Indian audiences.
'Selling Serials' has now become the name of the game. The so-called reality shows package themselves so well, that it becomes almost impossible not to be addicted to them.
Reality shows are not only changing the nature of television, they’re also changing the nature of themselves.
This one novel idea has revolutionized the silver screen and how people view it.
But have reality shows been able to sustain their basic premise of conveying the true picture?
In a race to acquire high TRPs, religiously loyal audiences and slots in the Television prime time, reality shows have resorted to various attention grabbing stunts. Fake controversies, inconsiderate and unapologetic judges and intervention in people’s personal space are just a few to mention.
Names of few reality shows that have had a history of performing cheap gimmicks are Big Boss, Indian Idol and Emotional Attyachaar. These shows do almost anything to grab those eye balls; and it’s not surprising that they are immensely popular with the Indian audiences.
'Selling Serials' has now become the name of the game. The so-called reality shows package themselves so well, that it becomes almost impossible not to be addicted to them.
Reality shows are not only changing the nature of television, they’re also changing the nature of themselves.
7 years between you and me
“You’ve been here for long, you’ve seen me grow. You’ve fought at times but your love, you’ve always shown.
Sometimes you offered a candy and sometimes you gave me a kiss. You’re delightful, my precious sis.”
Yes, physically there is a seven year age gap between my sis and me. But emotionally we’re one and the same.
My sister Rizwana is the life of our party. By party I mean all the crazy times we’ve spent together doing things like dancing late at night on Bollywood songs, giving wacky nicknames to each other et al.
When we’re together, the age difference seems to just vanish. And there is no way we can figure out whether it’s her who is the fun loving one or it is me who is the matured one.
Because for as much as we have fun, we also lament our sentiments on issues that affect us and discuss them for hours together.
It’s such a pleasure for me to see my sis after a long, tiring day at college. She always greets me at the door with her beautiful smile and her adorable voice calling out my name.
At times when we’re both heading home at approximately the same time from our respective railway stations, one of us makes it a point to meet the other in the same ladies compartment.
On such occasions, we make several calls to decide exactly which part of the platform to wait at and which one of the two compartments to get into.
This might sound absurd and it won’t be surprising even if it does. But small and simple events like these have created a memory that is so fresh and pure that no force in the world can erase it from our minds.
My sister is 25 and in a couple of years she’ll get married. She’ll go to her new home and develop new fond memories with her relatives.
But just like time has been unable to distance us, I’m confident that even physical space will fail at this Herculean task
This is a little something that I dedicate to my joyous, fun filled, restless and energetic sis.
Thanks for all these precious memories,
Writer of
7 years between you and me.
Sometimes you offered a candy and sometimes you gave me a kiss. You’re delightful, my precious sis.”
Yes, physically there is a seven year age gap between my sis and me. But emotionally we’re one and the same.
My sister Rizwana is the life of our party. By party I mean all the crazy times we’ve spent together doing things like dancing late at night on Bollywood songs, giving wacky nicknames to each other et al.
When we’re together, the age difference seems to just vanish. And there is no way we can figure out whether it’s her who is the fun loving one or it is me who is the matured one.
Because for as much as we have fun, we also lament our sentiments on issues that affect us and discuss them for hours together.
It’s such a pleasure for me to see my sis after a long, tiring day at college. She always greets me at the door with her beautiful smile and her adorable voice calling out my name.
At times when we’re both heading home at approximately the same time from our respective railway stations, one of us makes it a point to meet the other in the same ladies compartment.
On such occasions, we make several calls to decide exactly which part of the platform to wait at and which one of the two compartments to get into.
This might sound absurd and it won’t be surprising even if it does. But small and simple events like these have created a memory that is so fresh and pure that no force in the world can erase it from our minds.
My sister is 25 and in a couple of years she’ll get married. She’ll go to her new home and develop new fond memories with her relatives.
But just like time has been unable to distance us, I’m confident that even physical space will fail at this Herculean task
This is a little something that I dedicate to my joyous, fun filled, restless and energetic sis.
Thanks for all these precious memories,
Writer of
7 years between you and me.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Mumbai Nagri(k)
Image via Enchanting Challenge
A day in the life of India, the initiative of TOI, has a sub-title which reads 'celebrate a circus called India!' This celebration of wackiness is very prominent in our city of dreams.
Mumbai is a circus and we’re the jokers whose tricks, at times, are not even funny!
One day of keen observation and you know how different each one is and how diverse they make this metropolis. The most absurd things happen right before your eyes and all you do is giggle it out and move on!
On 27th June, I was heading to college, walking on Marine Drive. I saw a well-shirted man plucking flowers from a mogra bush near the station exit. And I wondered, “Dude, are you going to make a gajra out of this?”
“How petty people can get,” I exclaim.
But somewhere at the back of your mind you do remember that sometime as a kid or during an impromptu proposal, you’ve plucked flowers as well.
Never mind that! Talking about something I’ve personally not tried and hopefully never will; spitting. Be it your saliva, phlegm or the pan residue, it’s the yuckiest thing you get to see, even in the so-called sophisticated city of Mumbai.
Vendors spit their pan on freshly painted building walls and commuters just take the liberty to use the tracks for this purpose.
Oh! This reminds me that railway tracks have a dual purpose. One of being spitted and shitted on and the other of serving as a trash can for billions of Mumbaiites.
Also the law of the land states that it’s a shame to not be able to give correct directions to helpless new comers. Even a pedestrian, living miles away, is expected to direct you to the right destination; though the popular culture here is to ask shopkeepers, policemen and watchmen for directions.
If you’re misguided, you look back and speak ill about the person or probably even blurt out swear words.
But what’s special about Mumbai is that even in our hectic schedules; during times when we run to catch a moving train or walk straight to cashier to withdraw money, we take some time out to notice others and in little ways connect with them and their habits.
There are many things that we do differently and yet so many things that we don’t do differently. The life of Mumbai is difficult to explain. So just sit back and celebrate a circus called... Mumbai! :)
Monday, June 27, 2011
I'm Adopted!
In the confines of the ICU, my ailing father laid on his deathbed. He clenched my wrist as tight as he could and whispered to me something that I was unaware of for seven years of my life.
He said, “Son, before I go, I want you to know you’re adopted.” And then... Silence!
I sit in my seat besides the stretcher, still and stunned. My eyes shoot up instantaneously to look at the woman whom I’d called mother all my life. My glance pierces into her eyes. She turns around and weeps alone, without a shoulder to cry on… without 'my' shoulder to cry on!
That night was dark and lonely. I walked to my mother’s room and asked, “Where are my parents? Who are they?”
She looked straight at me and without blinking her eyes she said, “Your parents are dead and so is my husband! It’s just the two of us left to live.”
I walked back to my room expressionless, just like a zombie!
In my bed, I ran over everything over and over again. I lamented, “I’m an orphan. As an orphan, how would my life be?
My home would be the orphanage. My school would be my workplace. The hands that made clay castles would have made clay pots.
Even though it’s difficult for me to come to terms with reality, I should be grateful to my caretakers. For they raised me as their own; in the lap of their luxury I have grown!”
Early next morning, I served bed tea to my mom. Her face lit up instantly and within a fraction of a second, we broke into a tight embrace.
My mother is my family. And this truth is bigger than any truth for me.
Love You Mother...
He said, “Son, before I go, I want you to know you’re adopted.” And then... Silence!
I sit in my seat besides the stretcher, still and stunned. My eyes shoot up instantaneously to look at the woman whom I’d called mother all my life. My glance pierces into her eyes. She turns around and weeps alone, without a shoulder to cry on… without 'my' shoulder to cry on!
That night was dark and lonely. I walked to my mother’s room and asked, “Where are my parents? Who are they?”
She looked straight at me and without blinking her eyes she said, “Your parents are dead and so is my husband! It’s just the two of us left to live.”
I walked back to my room expressionless, just like a zombie!
In my bed, I ran over everything over and over again. I lamented, “I’m an orphan. As an orphan, how would my life be?
My home would be the orphanage. My school would be my workplace. The hands that made clay castles would have made clay pots.
Even though it’s difficult for me to come to terms with reality, I should be grateful to my caretakers. For they raised me as their own; in the lap of their luxury I have grown!”
Early next morning, I served bed tea to my mom. Her face lit up instantly and within a fraction of a second, we broke into a tight embrace.
My mother is my family. And this truth is bigger than any truth for me.
Love You Mother...
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Aamir under the scanner
The much talked about Delhi Belly song did create a lot of controversy recently. The inappropriate language used in the song is claimed to be unfit for young and naive audiences. This left most of the public and the film industry exasperated!
History has it that Aamir Khan is very particular about his movies and strives greatly to acquire precision in his work. We only wonder how Delhi Belly, under the 'Aamir Khan Production' banner, became a victim to much controversy.
The damage having been done, we would expect an apology or an antidote from the filmmaker. However, to every one's utter bewilderment, Aamir and co. decided to broadcast a clip which starts with a statutory warning and ends up at a note which makes people go more berserk than before.
The point is not about taking a stand for or against this promotional ad! It may increase all probabilities of audiences buying 'first day, first show' tickets. However, the questions that arise are: whether public opinion is insignificant in the eyes of cinema, whether the love for bold movies is turning into an obsession or is it simply that popular filmmakers like Aamir Khan are over confident and believe they are infallible.
Taking a cue from past incidents like banner tearing for Billu Barber, Delhi Belly should have made a wiser move to pacify the audience, who are the ones who decide how successful movies are at the box office.
Here's the Advertisement
History has it that Aamir Khan is very particular about his movies and strives greatly to acquire precision in his work. We only wonder how Delhi Belly, under the 'Aamir Khan Production' banner, became a victim to much controversy.
The damage having been done, we would expect an apology or an antidote from the filmmaker. However, to every one's utter bewilderment, Aamir and co. decided to broadcast a clip which starts with a statutory warning and ends up at a note which makes people go more berserk than before.
The point is not about taking a stand for or against this promotional ad! It may increase all probabilities of audiences buying 'first day, first show' tickets. However, the questions that arise are: whether public opinion is insignificant in the eyes of cinema, whether the love for bold movies is turning into an obsession or is it simply that popular filmmakers like Aamir Khan are over confident and believe they are infallible.
Taking a cue from past incidents like banner tearing for Billu Barber, Delhi Belly should have made a wiser move to pacify the audience, who are the ones who decide how successful movies are at the box office.
Here's the Advertisement
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Carnival Calling...
Hop On the Bandwagon;
Cheer and Scream
and Shout your lungs out!
Don't whisper and murmur,
Make yourself be heard
Loud and Clear!
Dance like there is no tomorrow,
Leave behind all worry
Forget all sorrow!
Polaris 2011 awaits;
You'll be part of a Carnival
Once inside The Wilson College gates!
Sense the pulse
and feel the heat
Shake a leg
and rock to the beat
Ten years of glory,
Taking it forward
yet another time
Waiting for spell binding performances
of theatre and mime
Look beyond the obvious,
There’s much more to Polaris
than you anticipate
There are friends you’ll make
and memories you’ll rejoice
All this...
only if you participate
Cheer and Scream
and Shout your lungs out!
Don't whisper and murmur,
Make yourself be heard
Loud and Clear!
Dance like there is no tomorrow,
Leave behind all worry
Forget all sorrow!
Polaris 2011 awaits;
You'll be part of a Carnival
Once inside The Wilson College gates!
Sense the pulse
and feel the heat
Shake a leg
and rock to the beat
Ten years of glory,
Taking it forward
yet another time
Waiting for spell binding performances
of theatre and mime
Look beyond the obvious,
There’s much more to Polaris
than you anticipate
There are friends you’ll make
and memories you’ll rejoice
All this...
only if you participate
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