Day 0 - At RCVP Noronha Academy of Administration and Management, Bhopal

"It is not for the sake of a ribboned coat,
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame;
But the captain's hand on his shoulder smote,
Play up, play up and play the game" - Vitae Lampada

It is 11:30pm, Sunday, the 1st September, 2013. I have checked into my room and after a refreshing shower, have unpacked most of my stuff. Tomorrow the training starts. For now, I have spread the bedspread over starched bed linen, have hung the suits and arranged the formal clothes in the cupboard, set my laptop conveniently on the table near the large window. From this window of Room No. 40, I can see the adjacent temple and the road that is butting it.

I have been allocated Indian Information Service, and from 10am tomorrow, I'd be commencing my training. I hope to do well. More than that, I hope to embark on the journey of becoming a better person. A challenging, confusing journey it seems as of now.

The feeling is almost of going from primary school to secondary school for the first time. You've covered your textbooks with brown sheet, you've pasted labels on it and have written your name and subjects with a newly bought fountain pen. The uniform is ready (pants for the first time!). The smell of new things lingers in the air. New books, new clothes, new schoolbag. Well, it is a bit like that now. The only advantage of being older than a sixth grader is that I can contextualise these feelings and give them some names. There is anticipation, apprehension and nervousness. Well, ready or not, the journey has begun. Let us see how things turn out. With an open mind and an embracing heart, I sign off :)

Peaks and Troughs

"Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play;
Belinda smiled and all the world was gay." - Alexander Pope

The sea water collectively moved gathering speed, as if to break into a charge, the blue water turning into a frothy white wave. And then it calmed down, spent its energy in trying to overwhelm a retreating wave, dissolved into a smaller muddy mixture which then retreated back to the sea. Meanwhile, the next layer was collecting its horde of water droplets and forming another wave. As he sat there, more sober today and a bit obstinate, the waves formed, crashed and dissolved over and over again. Each time rising with hope, riding with grace and fizzling out in the end. The beach was lively, the breeze was gentle, the evening sun mild.

How was he doing? he wondered. He was 51 years old now and these questions kept bothering him nowadays. He was doing alright. Like the Bay of Bengal before him. Not very tempestuous, not really roaring out but adequately supplied with life, sufficiently providing to others and with a generous, inviting attitude towards social exchange.

How was his life going? Well, it was dynamic, much like the shore. And it was repetitive, much like the waves. Yes, there was a pattern emerging, contentment and curiosity, satisfaction and moral debate, all taking turns. It was repetitive and yet dynamic. Yes, much like the sea. Much like life.

What was he becoming? Trying to make a beach out of the seaside, really. Trying to erode the sharp boulders and smoothen the rough edges. Trying to row past the superficial distractions and get to the calmer, deeper side of things. And trying his best to avoid cyclones.

It was all contained in the beach, the story of his life was there. Playing out itself in abstract form, wave after wave, showing him the way it works. The beginning, the journey and the end. He had succeeded at some of his efforts, like the wave that managed to reach out to him, to just touch his feet before lapsing out, at other times his efforts had failed, like the baby wave that got smothered even before it could pan out, take shape and put up a fight.

But come now, come, come, what does it matter? When there is always the eternal bond between the breeze and the water that makes the waves a perpetual reality. What does it matter, when he is sitting there besides the love of his life, feeling the water and feeling the breeze and watching before him the dancing waves play out for them the story of their life, full of peaks and troughs, full of missed chances and fulfilled opportunities, driven by the bond that makes the world go round.

PseudoSacroPsychoSanct babble!

Here I am, sitting in the good old Anna Centenary Library again. I have been posted to a village called Sirwar, near Raichur, in Karnataka for my 3rd branch training. I have taken the week off and am trying to get back in touch with studying. In the mainframe of my mind, from the far left corner, economic survey is staring back at me with apathy. In the centre, the incredibly hot and arid village of Sirwar is looming before me, right beside the economic survey. To the right, nudging Sirwar and Survey coercively is a face - the learned, judging, no-bullshit face of Dr. Purushottam Agarwal - the man who presided over my half-an-hour long Civil Service interview.

Future beckons, it has been beckoning for quite a few months now. Destiny awaits, without hurry and with no hesitation. And life moves forward. Ever so coolly. Ever so unfailingly. All the decisions that have to be taken are coming close with their own deadlines to a not-yet-ready/just-getting-ready mind, just like our underdeveloped/developing country's dozens of flagship programs.

I'm standing, yet again, at crossroads of life. I have to, yet again, make a decision. It seems I keep coming at crossroads every three months in my life. The question is - am I progressing or am I just running in circles?  Fuck it, I'm okay with crossroads nowadays.

What do I feel now? I feel at peace but there is also a can't-be-bothered feeling. Solace is there, yes, but not certainty. Rest is there, but I don't feel any leisure. There is fun but no madness. There is hunger, but no craving. Appy is there, but there is no fizz.

The date of results is coming close, so is the date of the next preliminary exam.

There is this blanket of numbing relaxation I feel and I'm not sure if it is complacency or weariness. Or something else. But I feel love, for the people around me. I feel satisfied about the way things are unwinding or winding up. And I'm blogging, just for the sake of blogging, just to put my thoughts out there, in the chaotic temporariness and small permanence of the blogosphere. 

On my inebriated psychological behalf,
I'm secretly whispering my sign off,
With a careless, tranquil high,
and a comatose, chilled Goodbye. 

Talaash: The Answer Lies Within (2012)

The film opens with footages from around Bombay. Bombay, crowded, colourful, with a dizzying variety of lives, myriad hues of reality and endless possible alternatives of perception. Night in Bombay. Adult DVD stores, people breathing-in marijuana, call girls lounging and throwing glances in street corners. Night stretches into midnight. The stretch of seafront caught in the camera is empty except for two homeless guys and their dog. The footpath adjacent to the seafront is clean and flooded by the amber streetlights of the night. A hawker cycles his way back home. Suddenly, the dog senses danger, howls and jogs off. In comes a car at high speed, breaks without necessity, turns and dives headlong into the sea. The homeless guys and the hawker gape in astonishment. A freak accident in the middle of a road devoid of any other vehicle. Morning takes over from midnight. Inspector Shekhawat (Aamir Khan) arrives to take charge of the case. Talaash, a neo-noir set in the streets of Mumbai is a grippy, engaging tale told in a neat, aamirkhanlike fashion.

Inspector Shekhawat (Aamir Khan) is a man with apparently a good career record and belief in values. He handles cases and people with good sense and respect. When he takes up the case of the accident of Arman Kapoor (a film actor) and plunges into questions of why and why-not, his personal tragedy of losing his son in a picnic mishap haunts him. In comes Kareena, a call-girl, who helps him out with clues to the case and listens to his sorrow of losing his son. One lead takes him to another until things start connecting and making sense.

The movie ends with the Inspector solving the case and coming to terms with his personal loss. Kareena Kapoor and Rani Mukherjee deliver good performances, Shernaz Patel as the neighbour with an occult gift has done a commendable job. The story is etched in realism even though the mystical part of life after death is integral to its storyline. The film is a taut psychological thriller with profound social angles between the lines. It is engrossing and satisfying.

8/10