The Solitary Buck

A buck exploring his way,
In a vast desert on a sunny day,
Far off, on the horizon,
He see’s it shine.
The shimmer, the luster, of Water, of Wine
Delighted, Excited, He runs towards the drink
Panting, puffing, when he reaches the brink.
The Wine runs further, the Water flows away.
In another direction, he sees them sway.
He wishes to seize, conquer and own it,
With all his determination, passion and grit.
He Runs, Walks, Runs and Stops,
No Water, No Wine, No Champagne pops
He soon finds his mistake,
His thirst, desire, respect at stake.
Leaves the water, forgets the wine.
Stops the Sulks, halts the Whine.
Uses the force, to scoop a new trench,
Digs hard, finds water,
The thirst begins to quench.

The Final Frontier

Written for - Moments 08-09 (mouthpiece of The Rotaract Club of Churchgate) - My last message as a member.

I look back upon my stint at this great institution as I write my last piece as a member. Difficult? Yes! Not because I have little to say, but because I fear, my article will be cut by the editors for its length. Five years have whiffed past just the way a handicapped swimmer in “Splash’04” did. Well, my first project in the Rotaract Club of Churchgate was the most humbling experience for I thanked the Almighty that day for giving me all fours. Equally humbling was my last project, ‘The Last GB”, at Rtr. Prashant Chari’s residence, I thanked the Almighty again for giving me the years that followed. For the uninitiated, the value of five years will surely grow, when I say, Five Years is half a Decade, or even better, a child, just out of school graduates in 5 years to be a man. I hope I have. Ha!

If I was pushed against the wall and asked to recall my most poignant moment in the movement, I would bow out. It would be only unfair to the other moments I’ve had, if I chose one. Also, if I had one, it wouldn’t be really apt to describe it here as you may not relate to the incident or people and therefore, not value the memory as much as it should be. However, with pride and a dash of confidence I can say, what I shall describe right now, is timeless and everyone associated with the club and the movement will relate to, irrespective of the time that has passed since this message has been written. The following feelings are etched in my memory forever, and each time I think of them, my heart fills with nostalgia. Incidentally, the word is formed by Greek words ‘nostos’ – “return home” and ‘algos’ – “pain”. The word couldn’t have been formed any better. It pains to think that I won’t be able to return home like I did in the last 5 years, with contentment and satisfaction filling my heart after a day spent well with the Rockstars.

Seems, I’ve drifted enough. Quickly, coming back to what I was to say. Years change, boards, Presidents and even Ones’ Role in The Mix changes, but what remains is the Feeling. The feeling of rush, anxiety and excitement on the night before a project remains. The sense of joy when the number of people present exceeds the number of people expected, remains. The feeling of anger when a designated duty isn’t done remains. The feeling of helplessness if a judge or a sponsor backs out remains. The feeling of fulfillment, when the project is over and a success remains. Questions asked by the mind are answered effortlessly by the events taking place. Did I expect it to be this way? How did we manage to do that? Is this for real? Each one of them is well taken care of. But for me, above all, what remains and shall remain forever is the ritual, the one that was never missed, in good times or bad. It was all-inclusive, all defining and ubiquitous. Most importantly, all participated in it and missing it was sacrilegious. Neither an individual, nor a President, nor a Director, nor a Member, but One sound resonated, the sound of tapping feet, clapping hands and One voice singing “We Will Rock You!” I know for sure, its nothing else, but just this one feeling that glues each one to this club. Sorry, for excluding you, my non-Churchgateite friend, but only an RCCite can understand the last bit of the aforesaid.

As, the page fills, as I reach closer to the Final Frontier and the editors’ frowns become more apparent, I shall quickly proceed to post my last message in the beloved mouthpiece, “Moments”. My predecessors and batch-mates as well, may have thanked individuals for the great times they spent here but I have no one but The Rotaract Club of Churchgate to be grateful to. For, if it weren’t for the club, it wouldn’t have been the people or the experiences and even the Feelings, which I spoke of. On this note, I would wish the Club all the best for the future and any assistance needed from me as an alumnus, I shall happily oblige. And you, my reader friend, we shall see you around and because, you may take us out of Churchgate but not Churchgate out of us, next time we meet, we can and we will, Rock You.

Yours In Rotaract

M

Recession Anyone?

Written for - 'Moments 08-09' (mouthpiece of The Rotaract Club of Churchgate, Mumbai, India)

How often have we heard the word “Recession” over the last some months? I think if we skipped a breath each time we heard or read this word, we would have long died of breathlessness. Unfortunately, or otherwise, that is not to be so. However, off late, it has become nauseatingly painful to hear this from the mouths of anyone and everyone. An eyesore when you read it in magazines or publications those have nothing to do with economics, neither the world’s nor their own. Columnists who have been writing about who’s doing who in the film world have been forming opinions on this economic phenomenon too. It’s a fashion that has overstayed its welcome. Being Recession-aware or flaunting your latest recession jargon or its brothers like downturn or meltdown to every living or non-living creature or objects you interact with in your daily life has become as important as life itself.

I’m no economist, nor a financial whiz, but know well enough that it hasn’t hit India as much as the other parts of the world, and certainly not hit the people who talk about it. For instance, the other day, I shouted at my milkman for the deteriorating quality of milk I was being subjected to every morning, and he replied with a straight face, “Saab, Ricision Hai” (pronounced like decision). No, I’m not stereotyping milkmen or mocking them either, but this one, who seemed all of 18 and had a cow and a buffalo as assets was really amusing. Just wondering whether he took the “Death of the Bull” a little way too seriously. I don’t even doubt his interest in the financial assessment of the world or his being affected by it, but without a wrinkle of doubt in my head I can say, his economic-skills were as good as my milk-delivering skills. Touché!

Enough said about the milkman! The fever has caught the cross section of the society, while the milkman was at one extreme, my “ultra modern, yet dyslexic” friend happens to be on the other side. While his/her (trying to keep identities anonymous) knowledge about statistics or figures is limited to a “50% off” signboard outside high-end apparel brands, the recession seems to have hit her/him too (changed the order of genders so that you can’t guess…ha!). Yeah, so while we were walking outside a store in a plush mall, the person shoots, “Recession is really bad man, there are so many Sales everywhere, yet I can’t afford to buy any!” Well, seems alright to a person who has been hit by recession by either being in the financial sector, or having suffered a huge loss in the equity markets or thereabouts. But this one comes from a person who possesses enough to buy a whole shop or two at least. He/she possesses 3 luxury cars and had spent “paltry” Rs. 15000 at a restaurant for dinner the night before, and it were a regular affair. Yet again, I do not deny the possibility of him/her having suffered some loss in the meltdown, but come to think of it, how would you justify not having money for buying a Rs. 500 worth Top/Tee-shirt and blow up a fortune at discos and pubs and still whine about “recession”.

Yeah! I know, strange people and stranger their ways. However, Why am I discussing this at this platform? Well, the other day I was speaking to a fellow member about the financial situation of our movement and I was given a (you guessed it right), “bad time, recession!” response. For the fellow mates (irrespective of the clubs you’ll belong to), honestly, we’ve always been ranting and raving about the financial position of our clubs. For the uninitiated, before the recession, there was a great economic boom worldwide, and I’m over a 100% sure, no one in the movement made any hay in the boom time. So, while you couldn’t make the most in the boom, you got no right to whine over the slowdown either. For my jargon lovers, well, the green-shoots are showing up. And for those, like me, who are stuck in the middle of the extremes, I can only hope and pray for a device that denies permission of certain words to enter ones ears and the eyes. The above were just a few cases of the many I come across almost on an hourly basis (No! not trying to flaunt my people skills). But honestly, just one question, please don’t tell me, but tell yourself, “How much do you think have you been actually affected by it?”

P.S – Have written this with due respect to all, who have been seriously affected by it by either losing jobs or enough money to affect their lifestyles. I understand the gravity of the situation and therefore write to help you understand it too. Recession isn’t just a passing fad or the “in” thing mates. However, I also urge you to consume a little more milk than usual for our milkmen’s sake.

Material World

As a matter of fact,

We be immaterial to,

Those who don’t matter,

Material, to those who do.

As a matter of concern,

Matters with those that don’t matter,

Matter to us,

In spite of those who don’t matter,

Know nothing that matters.

However, in a matter of time,

All shall eventually know,

Matters with those that matter,

Shouldn’t matter, as

Those who matter,

Know what matters.

Friends?

There were once two men,
One went to a Temple,
The other, a Dargah,
They both had dogs,
One owned a Pug,
The other, a Chihuahua
They went for walks at the same park,
Their dogs often shared a friendly bark.
Days, Months and Years,
They shared barks, wags and tears
While, the owners still showed indifference,
Their dogs became best of friends.

The Last Laddoo

It’s funny to imagine the limit of one’s ability to refrain from, leave alone spending, even thinking of spending a penny or a paisa to be more local. I always thought of extreme cases, but every time a new thought creates another record of sorts in my imagination. This one surely takes the cake, rather, the Laddoo.

There was an elderly couple in the village of, lets call it, Moneypur, and they stayed in conditions worse than Tsunami victims and did nothing that would result in them removing money from their pockets. They would eat what they made once a week and eat without plates to save the cost of washing them. Once, they wished to make laddoos for they’d eaten them last on the day of their wedding. They’d forgotten what they tasted like. The man got all the ingredients. He locked the main door for the fear of aromas going to the neighborhood. He told his wife to make not more than two, one for each.

However, miscalculations were bound to happen due to lack of practice of making laddoos. It resulted in three laddoos. The Great War now began for the third laddoo. The man had his right to eat it as he got the ingredients whereas the lady argued that she had made them. Over a long argument, they decided not to talk to each other and the one who breaks his silence first will lose and the other person will get the last laddoo.

The night passed, the next day was gradually moving towards the end, both of them lying down in pin-drop silence with a bowl of three laddoos between them. Night arrived and departed, neighbors got suspicious. The doors locked, windows shut, no sound of life inside. The neighbors broke open the door. The duo was still silent for the fear of losing a laddoo. The neighbors thought the couple had died and took them to the cremation grounds. Throughout the process neither the man, nor the woman, moved, opened their eyes or spoke a word. No, both of them wanted that last extra laddoo.

The neighbors thought of burning them in the same pyre. Thought they’d like to burn by saving the cost of an extra pyre. The pyre was lit and flames started touching their feet. Unable to bear anymore, the man shouted, “Ok, Fine, You win, have the laddoo”. Everyone in the crematorium jumped in their place and was shocked out of their wits to see them alive. The couple however, gathered the courage and told their story to the neighbors. The people wanted to kill them for this, but murder was a crime that time. Everyone else walked towards their homes tired and angry whereas the couple was running towards their house to relish the laddoos. They reached their house to find crumbs of the sweet fallen on the ground and a stray dog relishing from the bowl.

Oh Damn! Isn’t that your reaction now? Come to think of it, don’t you think you know someone like this in your surroundings? That chachi/uncle/budhau or your friend abc? Or wait! Is it that you feel, “How the hell does he know so much about me?” ….well, may be, may be not.

Courage

The best, if you wish to be
There surely, is no certain key
But you can increase your stakes
If you accept your mistakes
For, to give an apology
You need not be a prodigy
In their ego, those who remain cocooned
Sooner or later, they do get marooned
Maybe, you never be the same again
Nor share that proximity
But on the inside
Your eyes shall moisten
For it takes courage
To stand up and speak
But much more it takes
To sit down and listen