Diva in a Dead Place!!!

Recently I was diagnosed with malaria, typhoid and blood infection. And this recently was last august, 2011. During my two week vacation in the hospital I discovered that a nurse is somehow the most fascinating personality at a place which mostly advertises gloomy and depressing faces. 

Amid broken legs, irritated stomachs and smelly bed sheets, the young virgin (seems to be) girl wanders with her flashy bangles, sparkling earrings and echoing sandals. Carrying a smile on her face she cracks a joke or two with the patients who find themselves on their death bed.

She might not be worried about the stalled hospital clock but she is very particular with the shade of her lipstick. Her fashion statement comes out loudly with her nail polishes ranging from light green, dark blue, brown, silver and at times orange with white polka dots. 

She finds her glorious moment while penetrating a drip in a patient’s vein. With half closed eyes, a little nervousness shining on her forehead and a blushing face she behaves as if she is stitching a button on her husband’s shirt on a bright Monday morning. 

With abundant patients around there is hardly any time for a nurse to even breathe but the clever girl can be easily spotted chit-chatting or playing with her hair. 

She is the diva; she is the heartthrob of the place. No doubt she becomes the central character of the wet dreams of many patients. And with so many fantasies lurking around her, why the world is bombarded with porn films featuring a nurse is beyond question. She somehow fits the bill.

But that’s not only about this class that interests me. The stupidity of men has forced this world to go through most destructive of the wars. Wars, in which he got severely injured, lost almost everything he had, or worse, died. It was only during these armed struggles when somebody was needed to take care of the dying men, to get them back in the war territory. And therefore a nurse came for the rescue.

One of the reasons why a nurse is a female in almost every corner of the world is because this profession demands extensive caring and sensitivity. And who has that better than a woman. No one can do it better than them. The century’s old decision to place a female in the boots of a nurse must be taken on the ground that a woman and her fashion is a reason enough for men in tough situations to regain hope and enthusiasm in life.

So recently when I was diagnosed, the only wish of my broken body and a young heart was, that I didn't want to call this diva in a dead place, a ‘sister’.

999

Feel free to criticize....

kissing the sky

We are very sorry to inform you that due to the author’s lazy bum this article which was written for the Republic Day is releasing post the Day of Independence (2012). The author promises you that he won’t get better --Issued in the interest of the readers.

26^th January meant something to our forefathers whereas it’s a totally different concept to us now. The day in its 60’s has just lost its charm.

Things which matter to the generation X-Y-Z (as I call it) are that it’s a holiday which we are confident enough nobody can spoil. A day when malls team up with brands to offer huge discounts kicking off the season of sales. A Border or Chak De can be expected on the television and roads which remain empty most of the day are a spectacle. For the lazy ones like me who cherish sitting and gazing, it is the parade day when our country indulges in the show-off business by proudly displaying all those big missiles we have wasted our money on. I guess it is an effort to keep dreadful countries like Pakistan & China informed that “if you have it, so do we”. So a lot of crap above makes our Republic Day somehow in our own way special because who cares about the age old constitution which has rusted and is dying for a renewal.

The reason why the occasion is special for Mumbaikars (as now I live in Mumbai so I write more about them) is that they have a ritual of flying kites. Like Delhiwallahs have one on the 15^th of August. We countrymen do the similar things but only pick occasions according to our comforts.

Sadly this 26^th being a Saturday was working and work is karma in the dream city. So Mumbaikars celebrated their 26^th January on the 27^th which was a Sunday (I told you about the comfort). And hence 27^th January became the unofficial Republic day in Mumbai. Blue, orange, black, purple, magenta and don’t know what color of kites were dancing in the sky.

Those who are unaware of this game let me share this with you that only after the initial hiccups which gives a feeling that not even a single kite will take off, things get to normal. Spirited people enter the game with a bunch of kites because whether you are a Mumbaikar, a Delhiite or a native of UP, the first kite always dies a silent death in just warming up. I personally have no experience in flying kites but confidently telling this from my years of observing my maternal uncles when they enjoyed the game.  

So on 27^th, some kites outstood and survived for a long time; some after early glory just lived their last and touched the land. 

The kite runners, the ones who participate and the ones who get pleasure in just chasing the kites shouted, booed and danced to the game in the sky. I, as a distant viewer just enjoyed the happiness spread around me. The colourful sky made the colourful Sunday much more colourful and in this way the saga of 65^th republic day was celebrated for two days. 

Well, whatever I have told you is just the first half. The 2^nd half, which even I didn’t know what to write about earlier, is this: The situation was contrary the following day i.e. Monday. While returning home what I saw was nothing less than a punch in the face. All those kites which for a while had become the darling of the sky, got life and celebrated birth, romanced with the wind, entertained the world, sparked-off smiles and brought people to a standstill, were loosely hanging on trees, electricity poles and hoardings. A few of them were torn off, had lost the artistic shape and were lying as if lying on their death-bed. With little hope, few were trying hard to fly along with the wind but failed. These heroes of yesterday which decorated the skies of Mumbai were lifeless and gone with the wind. Their day had passed, their time is over.

Trying not to be preachy here the only way I see it is that metaphorically, life resembles a kite. Destiny gives only one chance to see the greatest show on earth. So either we do what we want to do, we love what we want to love or we just follow the crowd. It is our moment to carpe diem. So before our 26^th January is over, let’s wake up.

999

Feel free to Criticize!!!

The author wrote the article on the night of 27^th January, 12

Thinking Cap: The Journey

Looking back at my 2 years of blogging, the only thing I can say to bloggers out there is that editing is more important than writing itself.

To entertain your reading buds I have come up with a special edition. This post is a tribute to ‘Thinking Cap (TC)’ as it matures and finishes 2 successful years. Nobody has a slightest of idea how it was born except for a few. So to celebrate the second anniversary of TC, I want to share the story of how I lost my virginity and got pregnant with writing and gave birth to Thinking Cap. Here it goes!!

During my graduation I was a poor chap in the English language. In an effort to improve I adopted an innovative method of exchanging ‘letters in English’ with my pal Keshav Jha; a dark guy from Jharkhand who was in the same boat as me. Our letters fantasised about career, girls, dreams, money, gossip, movies etc.

Opportunity struck while I was seduced by writing. One of our professors asked us to write for the college magazine, though he had the least of expectations from us. And it was my chance to debut, to emerge. I ended up penning down an article on Delhi Metro.

The article in the magazine along with my black & white passport-size photo was convincing enough that creativity gives me a high. And so began my journey to be creative, to be a writer. I started with hard-hitting editorials like She, Where Struggle Never Ends and Idle Hands. The inspiration behind was the cult newspaper, “The Indian Express”. Initially every article costed me a month as I was obsessed with vocabulary and a fine finishing. Above all I was slow. Keshav and his school friend Akanksha Jha read all the crap I wrote and were the pillars of my fragile confidence. In fact Akanksha always had the expectations in those days that I should write for a newspaper or a magazine. 

So how TC came into the picture? Well, the thought to start a blog was never there in my mind as I was highly hopeful that some magazine will publish my work someday. But destiny never leaves you. It was at one of the Delhi University’s bus stand when my tech-savvy friend Neeraj, sold the idea of blogging to me. I loved it because it was free. So on 8^th Feb, 2010 over-night on e-blogger ‘Thinking Cap’ was born. A strange number 999, being lucky for me for donkey’s years became my URL.   

Year 2010 was when the world was super-excited about blogging. Every day we’d have thousands of new blogs popping up. So to make a place for Thinking Cap I exploited Facebook, the social sensation during those days. By constantly bugging people with the blog updates, tagging their names or messaging them I gathered the requisite crowd.  

The blog made its mark with “Suicide Note” which talked about a man’s fantasies to face death. It became the darling of the blog and introduced me to the world of sarcasm and humor. The achievement didn’t die there and was followed by another crazy piece called “Eaters Comma”. TC was admired for being true to heart. “Sons of the Soil”, a conversation between a Hindu and a Muslim at the JFK Airport broke all the records and established this blog as a real thinker.

Readers like Sukanya, Nidhi Bindal, Sabyasachi, Keshav, Neeraj, Ankit, Nidhi Khanna, Riddhi, Akanksha, Ankita Bali, Gurleen, Shyam, Ashna Banga were the frequent visitors. In fact Deepa Kashay of Bhopal became my friend after reading the blog whom I haven't even met. They are TC’s biggest admirers and critic. “Without you I am nothing”

My writing got better after a year and I published articles like Dream India, Different smells of my life, A complete Nonsense and The actor in the negative role etc. Every article was a take on the society and left a high impression. TC turned out to be a gold reserve when impressed with it I was offered to write for an amateur production house. The association went for a year. I wrote 3 episodes of a tele-series, 2 short films, and a reality show plot. Unfortunately, apart from the reality show nothing got executed but that phase gave a new direction to my career. I dropped the idea of MBA and decided to be in media.

Experimentation continued and I began writing film reviews. I wrote around ninety of them as I wanted to start a film review blog too; which could never happen though. But writing scripts gave me the confidence to make short-films and I made my first called “Silent Songs”.

Print outs of TC accompanied me in my interviews at SIMC (Pune), ACJ (Chennai), St Xavier’s, Bombay. When I got the admission in Xavier’s Bombay, life took a turn. I developed keen interest in writing poetry, shaayri and copy for ads. I even interned as a copywriter and intend to do this in future too. I also wrote another short film. Sadly, I could give no time to Thinking Cap where everything started.

Thinking cap has given me readers which I love the most. It has given me confidence to write, a hobby which was a passion and then an obsession and which will be my profession. Whatever I’ll do in my life it will be creative and will be related to writing. In a nutshell how can I not say “Thank You Thinking Cap; you have launched me”. 

Yours Truly

999

Photo Courtesy: Ambrish Patil, Dhavalya Kalem &Ankit Saxena. 

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