The death of an era?

An IITD student/alumnus reading this would understand what this means when I say the BRCA (Board for Recreational and Cultural Activities) trophy has been scrapped this year. That includes THE trophy, all club trophies and awards. Whether this will be a permanent phenomenon or trigger a change in future regulations, only the next few months will tell, but for this year for sure, the game's over.
To be frank, it wasn't entirely unexpected. When I look back at the events of the past year, things have been controversy-marred and awfully unhealthy. The actions of a handful of hostels have turned a fun, recreational, exciting place into an ultracompetitive unsporting fanaticism gradually over the last two yrs, but everything this year was just unpalatable. So today when the profs handed out the non-negotiable verdict, it seemed harsh n sudden, but it was probably the right thing to do. Honestly, RCA has lost its appeal for a lot of us for the sheer point crazy madness that prevails at events these days. The number of events were reduced to reduce pressure, but instead they've made every event a do-or-die affair, in the process killing fun and spirit first. And IITians being IITians, and RCA trophy being the Nobel of IIT stay, things got too competitive too soon. And shamefully, unethical too.
Still, for someone like me who saw the glorious days with twice as many events enjoyed harmoniously each year, for someone like me who inherited the culture of exploring talents , learning by competing and bonding with people genuinely interested in the same things as you, this marks a moment when things at IIT might just change forever hereon, to what we grew up with. There used to be small controversies on and off earlier, but most were hushed, well taken care of and more the exception than the rule. This year, the mud-slinging has been dirty and out in the open. I didn't enjoy one event all year.
I just wanna hope that this action puts things in perspective and at the right place. Let people realise what's really important, and even if the trophy is permanently scrapped (And I hope it takes BSP and BSW trophies along) I am optimistic for a smaller, nicer RCA with people who do things they enjoy, for the sake of the fun and the people, and not for a shiny piece of metal. But alongwith the optimism, there's a tinge of grief at what inevitably looks like the final nail in the coffin for an era.

Phir bhi dil hai hindustani!

No adjective, opinion or judgment could ever be a honest summary for a billion plus people, but there are some characteristics nevertheless that unify the diversity of the people of my country to a large extent into that peculiar thing called Indian-ness. And if one just steps back and critically tries to observe oneself and the world around, one can't help chuckling with one part amusement, one part pride, a little shame and a lot of wonder, although I do agree that one thing we must learn quickly as a society is to laugh at ourselves more often, because until then we wouldn't quit being so defensive and often dismissive of our follies. I quite like the fact that we are mostly vociferous about feelings and sentiments, though a lot of our political class stands erect on just that specialization. We love our democracy like crazy, yet we want the biggest pie of it for ourselves. And of course, as a touchy post by Johann revealed, nothing worth saying is inoffensive to everyone.

So we fight ourselves, kill each other, pull the neighbour down, but also magically manage to unite in face of external threat, perceived or otherwise, warfield or crickefield. Well, well. We are probably one of the most racist societies in the world, priding the brown skin over the black, and worshiping the white, while letting our own kind not touch our food, enter our homes etc. Eccentric. And we are so damn eager to claim ownership on what interests in. So Sonia Gandhi cannot be the Prime Minister of India because of her "foreign origin", but we celebrate the victory of Bobby Jindal or an Indian-origin PM in a little known country with the full pride of belonging. We weep for Kalpana Chawla, but someone living in our country wanting to render his sporting excellence for the service of India is disowned because of his birth documentation. Slumdog Millionaire is only slightly more an Indian film as Forrest Gump or one of those war movies was Vietnamese. Yet we rejoice and cry in happiness when a mostly mediocre film wins the Oscar, mostly due to lobbying. SM was an entertainer made for the American audiences, winning their awards. We never rejoiced so much when Traffic Signal or Chandni Bar showed the gruesome reality of India in a much more realistic fashion. It's almost as if both our pride in Bollywood, and the starkness of the truth of our poverty needs an approval from the West to really start meaning something for us.

Oh well, so long as India wins the upcoming cricket series against New Zealand, I'm proud of us.

Parking: the invincible monster

This is a long overdue story of the famous five who wished one day, to explore the streets of the ancient city of Delhi and undertake a voyage to see glimpses of its heritage, despite all the perils that lay on their way, primarily the monsters of traffic. This is a story of the L, the Doc, the Kiddo, the Psycho and the Munna, and their ever-trustworthy, beautiful Taani partner, aka this. It was a wonderful Saturday morning, and we wished to spend the day merrily around the city, in particular exploring the delights of the Walled City.
It didn't begin so well, and we started an hour later than we intended to, yet we made up for it by treating ourselves to Wimpy's burgers, arguably the best fast-food joint burgers in Delhi, and sang our way along to Red Fort. We braved the nuisance of afternoon traffic monsters with the strength provided to us by the aroma of the Dilli-6, and managed to reach our destination, but then we were faced by a monster so mammoth, fear crept inside our spine.
Parking.
We searched and searched, through the bylanes of Red Fort and Chandni Chowk parking, mindlessly cutting right across 4 lanes from left-most to U-turns, but in vain. The only spot we saw was immediately occupied by an industrious clever entrepeneur cutting down his floor area cost and setting shop there. Then we decided to get to the Chandni Chowk metro parking lot, but when we finally reached the gates of that heaven, we found ourselves caught in a queue outside the gate, for Heaven was full! We couldn't go front or back, and the queue moved very slowly, allowing inflow only when there was some outflow. We waited, and to our utter joy, 15 minutes later, we were allowed in. We celebrated in delight, but before we knew it, Heaven turned into hell. All we could see was darkness all around. Darkness and metal. Rows of cars lined in every possible space everywhere one could see. We got lost in the maze, trying to find beloved Taani a place to wait a few hours, but all in vain. 30 minutes later, we gave up and decided to exit. The exit, just like the entry was a 45 degree slope with cars parked on both sides on the slope of what was originaly a three lane exit from the basement.
As we were trying to make the accent, two cars ahead of us, someone had prized a spot on the slope and was trying to park it in, when he suddenly stopped and walked out, with the car half inside both lanes. On being called, he said, "Aap log 5 minute ruko, main chai pi ke aata hoon".
!!!!!!!
A part of us died there.
Somehow, he was persuaded, we got out and ran for life. We went all the way to Old Delhi Railway station, but the parking was full there as well. The last hope had died. We just made our way back, seeing Red Fort for the third time from the windows of the car in the last two hours.
It was just not meant to be.
The retreat was easier, and Doc was just being helpful when he yelled out at the top of his voice to the motorists struck in a jam on the opposite side of the road, "There IS no parking. Go back!"
We stopped at Darya Ganj to nurture a beaten soul and stomach, then made our way to CP, where to find ourselves some solace, a brilliant idea and some more outrageous lane manoeuvering led us to Jantar Mantar. When we finally parked, Doc with the parking ticketin his hand said with tears of joy: Finally!
So we saw a different beautiful red building, and original destinations have been left as hurdles for another day. Food and drink at CP healed us for the day.

But there was more on that day to follow. Doc took us to watch ek kutte ki emotional kahani, Marley and Me. (Jennifer Aniston is OLD now). While we were pulling our hair in frustration, Doc insisted he loved the movie, and I suspect it was because of the really hot chick sitting right next to him. For the rest of us, the movie sucked out whatever spirit the afternoon had left behind.
And so we retired to the abode, armed with fresh spirits, and even as other comrades joined us for what tured out to be an eventually entertaining night courtesy couple of my really drunk and really funny co-warriors, the day left us with leassons to learn and memories never to forget.

PS If you ever wanna go to Red fort or old delhi, park at a metro station, and take the tube. That is THE only way.
PPS Wenger's at CP is awesome, if you already didn't know.
PPPS If you find a better burger than Wimpy's, let me know.
PPPPS Please do not ask NMG or L their drunk and partially censored adventures of the night. They really don't remember.

Crushed

Mar jaawan..

mar jaawan....tere ishq pe, mar jaawan

Through the looking glass tonight
I saw someone's frozen dreams
For a moment lost in a stranger's eyes
I heard someone's silent screams
I knew from the innocence of her residual smile naive
In some of her dreams my dreams are still alive

soche dil ke aisa kash ho
tujhko ek nazar meri talash ho

So many of us, are loved so much
without us even knowing at all
So many of us, look at our crush
smile, cry, or silently stall
So many of us, wish every night
to wake up in the arms of them or death
So many of us, count on Valentines
how much life owes us, in Love Debt

geeli geeli chaahat ki jaise lat hai yeh
geeli geeli khwahish bhi to behad hai ye

Limits I do not know
Reasons I do not need
I'm but a slave of love
Rules I cannot head
My dreams are my truth
Reality a disjoint fact
that crushes my hopes
hurts at maximum impact
I survive reality still
so I can live my dreams
I'm still in search of love
A beautiful mirage gleams
I suffer your logic
to love my pain
I hide my passion
to save it from disdain
I cry in the darkness
so I smile when it's bright
I know I'm all alone
but that is not my plight

tere ishq pe............mar jaawan

Mostly nothing

Nothing much seems to be happening these days, or maybe it is happening, but I don't feel a lot of it and certainly my life is pretty much in auto-pilot mode. Stress-free, relaxed, eventless. Doing a little bit of something, I've realised, is much harder than dealing with a lot of everything, or with mostly nothing, so I've basically shifted to the latter stance, because pushing yourself to do things for the sake of doing them by yourself is taxing, and I've a huge inertia problem. As I was just telling a friend, we spend most of our lives trying to "utilise" the time that we have, trying to derive outcomes after whatever obligations leave us with.

I, too, do that, and will do that shortly after this interlude, and hence, it is such a boring, repetitive, standard activity, it's almost repulsive. In short, consistent with my regular behavior, I oppose consistent rationality. Life is good. Alone, but good. In some way, it is reminiscent of my days in Sweden. And thus, I can almost sense the wave of change that'd gradually engulf me, yet again, in the next few months. I'm almost looking forward to it. I am tired of being me, at some level. I'm tired of being a certain way, a certain person for certain people. They want to fade away, I wanna let go. Yep.

There is one thing happening in the immediate environment though. I know February is the month of love, but the way people I know are getting married left right and centre, you'd think it's free to hold weddings these days. Three people my batch, who graduated with a Bachelors last May, are either married or gonna be married soon, and that includes the first one from my hostel. Ment, Kanu, Arpz, a cousin, a school friend, a friend's brother, a blog friend are all in the list too. I wish them lotsa happiness and luck. Maybe some day I'd understand why people get married at all. But not for a long while, that's gonna be, if at all.

As of now, I haven't even learnt the meaning or how-to of what another friend maintains is not just the basic step to understanding that, but also a necessity of to survival: To make myself necessary to someone.

Halka sa nasha hai aankhon mein
Hosh magar ab tak khoya nahi hai
Thoda sa dard ghula hai har aansu mein
Khul ke magar ab tak dil roya nahi hai