July 3: My birthday today

My hair is a moody bunch, with a mind of its own. Like a petulant child, it follows its own whims and fancies. But today, surprisingly, most of it settled down quite well while I combed. Most of it, except one. One strand of hair would not budge. However hard I combed, it kept standing.
A rebel?
I look deeper into the mirror. It is.....a grey hair.
It is my birthday today.And I have got a grey hair.

Will the rebel live?

I look outside the window. The dawn is breaking. The sun is just out on the horizon, but not out of the woods yet. There are clouds surrounding him. The clouds are many, dark and sombre. The sun is alone and outnumbered. The clouds seem adamant on letting the darkness remain, on not allowing any light to pass through, on maintaining the status quo.
The sun is the new kid on the block. He is the gladiator for whom the whole sky is the arena. It is in the sky that he was born, and
it is here he will reach zenith or perish trying, here itself.
It is an engaging battle. At this moment, the clouds seem to have upper hand. The sun looks hesitant and unsure, not of the clouds , but of himself.
I am alone inside the room, or even outside it. The walls of the room appear tall and insurmountable. Like two men at a gathering, trying to avoid each other, but still managing to run into each other and going through forced motion of exchanging pleasantries, the walls of my room meet each other perpendicularly , without any smiles, with stiff lips in straight lines. What do these walls talk about when they meet at the corners? Do they talk about the occupant of the room? Do they sing paeans about him, saying how brave and persistent he has been? Or do they lampoon his efforts, as those of a hopeless romantic?
My room is just on the side of roads. It is still early in the morning and the roads are deserted. They seem wider when they are empty. A journey on road is metaphor for life itself. Sometimes the whole world travels with you, sometimes you travel alone. To stop travelling is to stop living. At this moment, the roads seem without any life, leading to nowhere. The long drawn moments of stillness are punctuated by the very occasional whirring of a motor engine or the seldom appearance of a bicycle. But these moments are few, and the concrete used to pave the roads seems to have frozen to death last night.
I take out an old diary from my drawer. It contains a poem which I wrote a long time back. The poem , titled "Truth", goes something like this:
I am the truth
The slayer of evil
The healer of wounds
The harbinger of hope
The champion of those who try
I am the last man who stood his ground.

I have been decried, been laughed at
But the last laugh was always mine.
I was dusted to the ground in many battles
But the war I always triumphed.
I was threatened and crucified
But every time, I rose Phoenix like.
I was outsmarted, outsprinted
But in the long run, I always won.
Civilizations perished when I was bound and gagged,
but it was my voice which delivered the final blow.

I am the chuckle of an infant
The profundity of a saint.
I am the strongest armor of the soldier
The map and compass of a traveller.
I am the anger of youth
The bugle of revolution.
I am the wisdom of the old
The voice of the conscience.
I am the guilt of a sinner
And the forgiveness of a enemy.
I am the mojo of the dame
The loyalty of the lover.

I am the truth
The slayer of evil
The healer of wounds
I am the last man who stood his ground.


I read the poem and look out of the window once more. The sun seems to have won his battle. The clouds are many and for a while they looked very powerful. But the sun held its ground. And now sunlight is streaming in through the window into my room. Against the majesticity of the sun, the walls of the room appear puny and small. The sunlight has revealed their true colours. It has shown how inconsequential the walls really are.

The sunlight has infused a new breath in the dead concrete of the roads outside. Slowly life is beginning to flow. Cars are zooming at ferocious speeds. Buses are honking. The hustle and bustle of the city is on display in its full splendour.

I look into the mirror once more. The grey hair is still standing tall, still rebelling. It is alone now, but over a period of time, it will be joined by others. These others, who are afraid to take a stand now, will soon realize how inexorable the march towards greatness is, if you have the desire to grow and the courage to suffer alone.

Happy birthday...
May the rebel live a 100 years !

I Know She is Beautiful But....

I know she is beautiful
But I have mountains to climb.
Her smile is like an oasis in a desert
But I have seas to fare
Depth of oceans to measure.

Her eyelids arch like bow of a ship
But there is wind in my sails still.
Her eager virginity invites me
But I have invitations of other kind too.
There are still goals to be chased
An unseen adventure still tempts.

Her hair swings and swirls around her head
Like a flame dancing about a candle.
There is a flame inside me too
which needs guarding against the winds of fate.
Her laughter is bewitching,
her splendid face shining like the moon
But I have stars to reach for
My own firmament to create.

I know she is beautiful
But I have mountains to climb.

Until

Until my heart explodes in my chest
Until they tie my arms and cut my legs
Until there is a drop of blood in my veins
Until I have not given my absolute best.
Until my spirit is broken and my mind chained
Until my back is crushed and my soul pained


Until the sun stops burning
and with it, stops burning the fire inside
Until my feet start bleeding
and not even then, from the thorns in my side
Until my maker comes to meet me
and tells me "Enough"
Until my hands get blisters
from the rope which, for others, was so rough

Until they take back the verdict which they gave
Until the seas clear and the mountains cave
Until a bolt from the skies strikes me dead
Until there is a gorge behind and a wall ahead
Until I have achieved pure joy and absolute victory
Until there is nothing more to claim , not even more glory
Until the bell tolls for me and my time is up
I am not going to give up
: Vishal Anand

(This post is dedicated to Malala Yousafzai ,a school girl activist in Pakistan ,who was shot at by Taliban for promoting education for girls in the country.)

Rahul Dravid : A tribute

" I believe there's a hero in all of us, that keeps us honest, gives us strength, makes us noble, and finally allows us to die with pride"
-May Parker, Spiderman 2
The then Finance Minister of India , Dr. Manmohan Singh,announced the New Economic policy in 1991. The jury is still out on how Dr. manmohan Singh would be judged by historians further downstream in time, but that, that single moment is an epoch, is a widely acknowledged and heralded fact.
Soon the winds of change started blowing on the Indian horizon. The neighbourhood grocery and tailor shop were replaced by glitzy shopping malls. Sarkari naukari, which had hitherto been looked upon as a status enhancer and synbol of stability ,quickly became untouchable as private firms started offering salary cheques which had as amny zeroes as in the latest scam unearthed. Food chains started delivering pizzas within 30 minutes. The plastic money became as ubiquitous as the plastic bag. In fact, the list of phenomena that were created as byproduct of liberalization is long: Shahrukh khan, Facebook , IPL and of course the great Indian Middle class.

There is a thing with the middle class. To thrive , it needs intermittent doses of heroism and rolemodels. It was the same with the Indian middle class . And the forces of market economy got the wind of this yearning for heroism in no time. Like wolves hunting in a pack, sniffing their prey from far and then going for the kill, the entertainment channels, in cahoots with the media, built up larger than life images of these superstars and presented them to us gift wrapped in glossy papers with pink ribbons with a best wishes card to boot.
Everyone , from bollywood actors to politicians, from reality TV stars to regular TV stars , to actors who thought they could sing to singers who thought they could act, has had his fifteen minutes of fame

But no amount of clamorous cacophony blaring from the TV set in drawing rooms across the country can drown out one fact: that there is a difference between a celebrity and a winner , there is a difference between success and purpose, between pleasure and joy and between a superstar and legend.
And that difference is Rahul Dravid.
The word legend was not invented to be splattered across the billboards and newspaper headlines for everyone and anyone.It was invented to denote something more special, something purer.
But going by the strictest definition,the word sits very lightly on the broad shoulders of Rahul dravid.
Rahul Dravid is not a creation of the market economy or the media.He does not play cricket for the money or for selling colas. He is a legend cast in stone, as hard as they come.
To delineate Dravid's batting a little more , we have to think with the larger perspective of life.One has to shun cricket's technical jargon, which makes simple things complex , and English poetry, which makes complex things simple and romantic. A fitting tribute to the man must take recourse to something more intellectual, like the man himself , something like philosophy, religion and spirituality.
One of the doctrines of Hindu religion says that the world around us is fake, it is maaya and the purpose of the life is to realize the truth, to attain salvation . And the ways of attaining salvation is termed as yoga.
If cricket is a religion in India, then the pitch is like a temple for Dravid and he is its most holy saint. Batting for him is his yoga , it is his quest to find meaning in life, his route to realize the truth, to attain salvation.
One of the four noble truths that Buddha taught, was that Life is suffering. In fact in his acclaimed bok, The Road Less traveled ,M Scott Peck says ," one of the measures -and perhaps the best measure- of a person's greatness is his capacity for suffering". May be M Scott Peck never saw Dravid playing, but if he had , I am pretty sure that he would have stood up and taken his hat off and said "This is the man I was talking about"
To borrow and murder a kid's metaphor, Dravid is the Batman of Indian Cricket, a superhero without any superpowers.
Dravid recently completed his 34th test century and there was hardly any celebrations in the media.Sooner than later , Sachin Tendulkar will get his 100th International century and the media will celebrate it like it is the biggest spectacle in human history since the Moon landing.
That has been the fate of Rahul Darvid, away from the arclights, away from the frenzy, practising and practising hard , when no one is watching , when no one is cheering.
But this blog is not about comparing Sachin with Dravid, on commenting about how under rated Rahul is in the pantheons of greats.This blog is a token of tribute, an ode to, to again borrow and murder what can only be described as kid's metaphor, the Wall of Indian Cricket, on his completing the 34th Century.
Whenever you are faced with doubts, whenever you feel that the going has got tough, whenever you feel that life has given you the rough end of the stick, don't lose hope, go to a quiet and solitary place ,meditate and look inside you. You will feel that there is someone who is giving you the courage to stand for your own truth, someone who is telling you not to give up, not to blink first.
If you look deep inside you, you will find that there is a hero inside you.
That is , if you look deep inside , you will find a Rahul Dravid Inside you.

I DRAW

Discipline and the Fest Culture in IIT Kgp

If all men are born equal,what makes certain men more equal than others?Why do certain people traverse the vast firmament of life soaring like eagles in azure ,cloudless sky,while others lead a penguin like existence which is singularly monochromatic,mired in mediocrity and dwarfed by those around them.
Questions like these have haunted humanity since eternity .Ever since man had started to dream,some have dared to follow their dreams and ever since some had hared to follow their dreams they have encountered question which have tested our knowledge and exposed our limitations.Books have been written ,sermons have been preached ,even religions have been theologised to answer the unanswerable.In short,what everyone,from the the schoolkid with virgin dreams in his eyes ,to the tired veteran wants to know is,"WHY DO CERTAIN MEN SUCCEED WHILE OTHERS FAIL?"
Answers are a plenty.Some call it talent others call it destiny .Still others blame it on God>Then there is Karma,the Middle Path and what not. From religion to science to philosophy everyone is on the quest to holy grail
But according to me ,the one common ingredient of all the success stories around is Discipline.Discipline is the bedrock on which success is built .Nothing can be accomplished without discipline With discipline you can accomplish anything .Discipline is the cutting edge between success and failure,the signature tune of almost all success stories around us.
The process of inculcating discipline in a person starts young.Discipline must be inculcated in early childhood.To inculcate discipline the foremost thing which one requires is role model.In early childhood ,a child's role models are his parents.As he outgrows the cocoon of childhood and steps into early adolescence ,his sphere of interaction enlarges .He looks outside the family for the answers to the questions that life asks of him.The hallowed position which his parents occupied in the nooks of his psyche begins to get blurred and he searches for new role models It is this quest which leads him to hero-worship sport stars ,film stars,freedom fighters,political leaders etc.What they do is imitated,what they say is gospel for the youth.If a child sees his role models day in and day out behave with self discipline,restraint,dignity and a capacity to order their livest hen the child will come to believe in the deepest fibers of his being that this is the way to live .
It is not a coincidence that the most developed societies in the world have disciplined role models.USA the most developed nation in the world also has the largest medal tally in the Olympics Something similar can be said about China,Australia etc.
Thus,it can be said ,with a fair degree of conviction,that to make a society progressive ,the role of disciplined role models is a must.
Cut to IIT Kharagpur, my Alma mater .When a student enters the hallowed corridors of IIT Kharagpur for the first time(in his first year),there are many avenues which beckon to him.he may choose to excel at academics and/or different kinds of sports.He may also choose to dip his toe into music,dance ,robotics,literature,dramatics etc.All the avenues require a lot of hard work and discipline.But there is one more uncharted avenue.Like a forbidden fruit,an object of both lust and loathing,it attracts students in hordes.And that avenue is the avenue of different fests held in the campus.
This avenue also promises much glory to its seekers and and suitors.
But the jury is still out on the the cheers and tears the fests bring to the life of an average KGPian .On one side of spectrum lies the frolic of four fun filled days of razzmatazz and revelry .And on the other hand there is just too much bath water surrounding the baby.Because on the other side we have:
-Corruption:Fest culture is the harbinger of corruption in the student life at the IIT Kgp.The fest related people are the at the forefront of most of the Machiavellian dealings in IIT Kharagpur: be it politics for the Gymkhana Posts or something else.Even the way a fest is organized raises a lot of eyebrows every year.
-Bad Grades:Fest culture destroys many individuals.The fest is a difficult tiger to ride.In fact ,in majority of the cases, issues like bad grades and declining CGPA are the fait accompli of the fest culture.The fests act as a perfume through which these students try to douse the stink of bad grades and declining GPAs.
-Identity Crisis:Most of the people join the fest not because they have a passion for it but because they seek an identity in the institute.They lose this identity when they pass out.Thus these people search for new identities and they become dependent on these identities.These passively dependent people neither have the will power nor the courage to create something of their own.Throughout their lives it does not matter whom they are dependent on, unless there is just someone.
-Misplaced Role models:The third and the most disastrous consequence of the fest culture is the sprouting of undisciplined role models.As has been already discussed,disciplined role models are needed to make a society progressive.But are the role models given by fest culture disciplined?
No they are not.The role models which fest culture pops up are undisciplined ,mostly corrupt and suffer from a deep identity crisis.The freshers look up to these role models and try to follow in their footsteps.Thus a vicious cycle is sparked ,in which undisciplined role models inspire another generation of freshers to be undisciplined , leading to the degradation of the society as a whole.

(to be continued)
(Today is opening day of Spring Fest)

Skin Care for Men

In our country,the land of the Apsaras and the Ajanta temples,beauty is skin deep.So much so that even the venerable Gods have been shown biased towards those with a melanin advantage.Folklore has it that Lord Krishna , in a fit of post pubertal adolescent jealousy ,asked his mother,"Radha Kyu gori , mai kyu kaala?
And he did not get any answer . For thousands of years as he traversed the vastness of eternity ,riding the wheels of incarnations and reincarnations,he did not find any answer.Even the Bhagwad Gita which delves so deeply into a man's Karma and Dharma is silent on his Charma.

But today we have an answer,..... in fact many of them.The answer is Pond's, Nivea or Garnier.Or Lakme,Lotus,Himalya. For every skin type.To suit every budget.
Before the advent of metro sexuality,the Indian male had always been given the step motherly treatment by the sundry manufacturers of creams ,lotions and other skin care products.Except for the odd after shave ,the defenseless male skin had to bear the brunt of acne,burns pimples,scars,dirt oil ,on its own.In the great undivided Indian Family beauty tips and secrets were passed onto the daughters on a platter while son fought lonely battles under the scorching sun on football field and cricket fields , mired in dirt and dust.
Thus,to right a historic wrong ,my yearning for justice led me to where all the searches begin these days :on the Google.
One fine morning ,humming with hope,but donning a mask of nonchalance to smother the excitement ,which ran riot in my veins,I typed in "skin Care for Men"on the Google homepage.
And voila 328000 results.I was stupefied That was my taste of the vastness of the skin care firmament I sipped some coffee from the pot on the table to regain my equanimity.
I was certainly not in the mood to wallow into the labyrinth of 328000 results . I just wanted to dip my toe deep enough to know how cold the water is.after all I was just a novice, at the cusp of something exciting.
My campaign for a fair skin needed some refinement.So to narrow my search further , I keyed in "Facial skin care for men"The search narrowed , but only just:199,000 results.That was still 198999 results too many!
So enough of toe dipping,I thought,it was time to take the plunge
The first web link which I clicked on read:"Men skin care,How to treat enlarged pores".I do not have enlarged pores .At least not above the neck.But my curiosity,which was guiding my campaign, the way a walking stick guides a blind man,will have none of it ,and I was forced to read further .The link contained ,material that read like this:
"Men have oilier skin so the skin care experts insist that the only cure to smooth and beautiful skin is through the care over 20000 pores in the face .Each pore needs to be cleansed ,unclogged and cared for using effective skin facial care for men"
and On and on it went.
The next link I visited was something called ehow .com . The article was in the name of a video post and was titled :"Facial Skin Care for Men "
video transcript went something like this:
Facial skin care for men is pretty simple. You just want to make sure to find simple products to use; something that you know you are going to use everyday. I would start off with a basic cleanser for your skin type and then also sunscreen and moisturizer. Now they come out with a moisturizer with sunscreen in it and that is what I would highly suggest for men. You guys don’t want anything fluffy, just simple basic products.and blah ..blah .....and so it went"


Sauntering through similar webpages ,my attention was arrested by something on the right hand side of the monitor.As I turned right ,something swam into my line of vision:"Sponsored Link ,"it said"Make up for men", It said in bold Blue.I read further to understand that these people have created some kind of a "men pen " which is a kind of roll on make up tool which can conceal your moles,scars,acne ,pimples etc. I was ,needless to say, quite amused to note that the Adam's Race can now compete favourably with The X chromosome carriers
So after snaking my way through scores of such articles, I attained enlightenment.
Thus in my infinite wisdom and sagacity,I have prepared myself a home grown self help manual for skin care for men .The contents of which are :

Cleanser: As a first step cleanse your skin thoroughly with a soap free cleanser. The cleanser will remove the oil and dirt from your skin and unclog the pores.Pat dry with a towel

Scrub:Daily use of a scrub will remove the dead cells around your pores .it will also reveal the smoother ,fresher skin

Toner: Male skin is much more exposed to environmental pollutants than female .so using a toner helps .Toner nourishes male face and improves skin elasticity .Toner also tightens facial pore,removes residue and remaining grime

Moisturizers:Male facial skin is thicker and oilier than a woman's .so it need a special moisturizers to hydrate, protect and reduce fine lines and dry skin

Thus armed with this knowledge I found myself a changed man.I buzzed off straight to the Tech market at the IIT Kharagpur and bought myself a cleanser, a scrub,a toner and a moisturizer.
which in total cost me Rs 500

Beauty ,after all is not only skin deep.It is also as deep as one's pockets