Kash aisa hota...par hua kuch yun

As I was working on a Lotus Notes issue at work, something snapped. "Oh, its just my cuff button that has become undone"... or so I thought. "Oh No, my button actually fell off" Panic Attack!! I took the button and put it in my pocket, knowing very well that now my next job will be to find someone who can stitch it back. I know I know, most people will roll their eyes and maybe say, "...that's so damn easy". Oh Well, this needs a bit of history...


**Flashback with a very weird background score**

I belong to an Army background with my Dad, Grandpa, Uncles, Aunts, all following the Army tradition. Being in Army has its advantages and disadvantages but we will start with advantages that turned out to be my disadvantages later in life. We had a "Helper" for almost everything throughout my Army life. There was this main Helper, who would do all the house chores including getting groceries and canteen ka samaan. There there was a cook who would come occasionally for parties, there was a driver for our jeeps and jongas, there was a dhobi for washing and pressing all the clothes and believe it or not there was also shoe-polish guy who would come to polish Dad's shoes (as in Army shoes tells a lot about person's rank and all, its almost a izzat-ka-sawaal). Rest of the things were taken care by Ma. Anyways, the point is that by the time I graduated from school, I had hardly done any chore myself. Now you would say, "that's not a very nice thing...blah blah" but that's how it was.

After my 12th grade in Dehradoon, I got admission in Engineering college in Karnataka and moved to the hostel and that's where the sayapa (problems in Punjabi) started. My expectations were very low. Kash aisa hota, if someone could wake me up at 6 am with a glass of warm milk, then the bucket in washroom would magically fill up with hot water, the clothes would be ready to wear by the time shower was done, breakfast would be ready on the table, shoe would ofcourse be polished and someone would hand me the tiffin, as I would head to my classes.

But alas, ...par hua kuch yun, my friend would bang at my door saying "uth jaa hero, kab tak karishma ke sapne leta rahega" (Karishma Kapoor was the Priyanka Chopra of that time), warm milk ke jagah subah subah warm gaaliyan sunne ko miltee, the bucket would have to be carried to the washroom and the water would be as cold as Vijay Mallya after the first IPL season, the clothes would be as crushed as Shahid after being dumped by Kareena, breakfast would have to be taken in the Mess with everyone fighting for parathas as Amitabh and SRK fight for TRP ratings, shoes would be as dirty as Salman's jokes in Dus ka Dum and there would be no concept of tiffin.

The moral of the above rant is that with time every chore was learnt albeit the hard way. Now, I can cook my own meals, press my own clothes, do laundry, polish my shoes, prepare my own tiffin etc etc but the one thing that still eludes me is shirt ka button lagana. So, if someone knows how to stitch a button, please contact me with precise instructions in my comment box. Dhanayawad !!

Singing Dakus

Music has no language but it doesn't hurt if it is in your own language. My first memory of music was the Cibaca/Binaca Geetmala that Mom would listen every night with the mesmerizing voice of Ameen Sayani as the host. It was always preceded by almost as haunting voice declaring, "Yeh Akashvani hain, ab aap sunege Ammen Sayani ke saath, Binaca Geetmala", the early Indian version of top ten songs of the week. Me and Mom will sit around our radio, which was as big as some of today's tv sets, and wait for the Geetmala to begin.

My other early musical encounter(s) came through my Dadajee who was a fan of Urdu shayaris and ghazals. He used to write shayari in chaste Urdu as a young man and according to him had written a diary of Urdu couplets. But he failed to grab that diary when leaving Pakistan during the partition (because at that time everyone believed that they will one day return back home) and it was one of his greatest regret that he did. He never wrote shayari again but didn't forget to appreciate the beautiful tradition either. I always shared a very special relationship with my Dadajee, maybe because I was the first son in the family (or that's how my cousins put it across me). One of the many things that my Dadajee passed me was his love for good shayaris and ghazals. He was a big fan of Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan and the moment he would start singing, the whole house would reverberate with wah wahs from Dadajee.

My Dadajee was also a big fan of pair of classical Punjabi Sufi singers, Wadali Brothers (Puranchand and Pyarelal Wadali). For him the world would stop when the brothers would come on tv. Those were the days of Doordarshan and in order to promote Indian arts, there would always be segments of classical dancers and singers. Whenever Wadali brothers would come, me and my brother will run to Dadajee and shout, "Dadajee, Daku aa gayee, Daku". He would leave whatever he was doing and sit infront of the tv with a loud wah wah. We would call the brothers Daku because they had a very rustic look and infact looked like Dacoits to us.

My Dadajee passed away few years back and with time so did my memory of Singing Dakus. On my recent trip to India, as I was shopping through a Mall, my ears caught sound of a familiar voice. It was the sufistic voice of Kailash Kher from his new album and the song was, Saiyaan. The voice was so mesmerizing that I almost followed it with my cousin to the Music World from where it was coming. As I was going through CDs in the sufi section, I caught a glimpse of Singing Dakus and all the memories of My Dadajee came rushing back. I got their "Treasured Moments" CD and it was almost like a piece of memory in a little shiny disc.

After coming to Canada, I downloaded the songs on my iPod and started listening them every evening on my way from work. Apart from all the memories, it was the beautiful tradition of classical Punjabi Sufi folk music, that made me fall in love with their music all over again. Almost every song has a story associated with the rural life of old Punjab (incl. Pakistan side of it), whether its a story of Laila Majnu or Bulle Shah or some other sufi fakir or Guru Nanak. The songs are sung in old traditional Punjabi which has a certain softness to it despite of the harsh but deep throated voices of the singers. Every song is a masterpiece straight out of Punjabi folklore.

Ghoonghat Chak Ve Sajna starts with a beautiful redention of Bulle Shah's poetry with the writer asking a philosiphical question, "Bulle shah kehnde ne, padh padh aap mufazil baneyo, kadhi apne aap nu padiya nayee..." [Bulle Shah says, you have studied and studied and can explain everything, but have you ever read yourself?]. The song is sung very differently from the version sung by Late Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan Sahab. The art of injecting stories within the song makes it very unique.

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Ve Sone Diyan Kangna is another song which is one of my favorites where they render stories about Laila Majnu and poetry of Waaris Shah in a beautiful way. The song is infused with sufi music about love with some amazing lines like, "...Ishq waaliyan de renda sadaa yaar saamne..." [For those in love, the lover always remain in fromt of (eyes)]. Another beautiful way love is expressed is the way they tell the stories from the love story Laila Majnu. One my my favourite story goes like this...

Majnu saab Laila de aashiq saan. Jis vele school jaana tee Laila da naam hee likhde see. "Mere Laila mera rabb hain. Mera mehboob mera khudaah hain." Apne Laila tohn baigaar khudh nu khudh nahin samjheya, Laila nu khuda samjheya. Jis tarah Pir Bulle Shah kehnde ne, "Na tu saada rabb na asee tere bande, naa asee maare marde, jis jannat da tu maan karda, tere jannat vich nayee varde."


Majnu ne apne Laila nu khuda maneya, tee aake phatti tee Laila da naam likh denda hain. Maulvi jee kehnde, kee likh reeya hain. Majnu saab kehnde, kya likhun. Kehte, khuda ka naam likh. Majnu saab kehnde, khuda kaun hain? Maulvi ne kaha jisse La-eh-lah kehte hain. Majnu saab kehte, wohi toh main likh raha hoon. Woh kehta tu toh Laila likhta hain. Kehta nahin, aap La-eh-lah kehte ho main Laila kehta hoon.


Khuda ne khush hoke Mujnu ko inaam deeya aur kaha, Majnu ko bula ke leke aao. Mujnu saab kya jawaab dete hain...


"Farishte jaa kaha Majnu, tujhe Allah bulata hain...
Mujnu saab kehte, kya woh mujhe dekhna chahta hain...
Mujnu unke paas kyun jaaye, Mujnu unke paas kyun jaaye...
Agar Khuda ko zaroorat hain toh Laila bann ke aa jayein..."

Each and every song makes me appreciate the musical taste of my Dadajee and the wonderful tradition of Punjabi folk music. The album is indeed my treasured moments of the Singing Dakus and all the memories associated with them.

Man Vs Machine - Who will win this race?

It was a beautiful evening and after doing all my chores it was time to relax a bit. I had the evening to myself as my brother had gone to his college, preparing for his impending exams. I prepared my lunch and played the movie, Naya Daur, the Dvd of which I got from the library yesterday. This was the new colored version of the 1957 Dilip Kumar-Vyjayanthimala classic.

My favourite song from the movie, Uden Jab Jab Zulfein tere

The movie was released 10 years after India's independence, when the country was going through a transition phase. India was struggling between the Industrialization of the country vs. the human factor which is the main resource of this vast country. The story like most Indian stories was also about friendship, love, jealousy, family and faith. But like most stories of that era, the movie raised some questions and surprisingly most of those questions are still relevant. The questions about man vs. machine, growing India vs. forgotten India, progress vs. human cost of that progress. As India is growing these questions are becoming more and more important. Questions which cannot be ignored if the progress has to be real.

Uden Jab Jab Zulfein tere in Black and White

Recently there have been lot of news about vegetable hawkers and small store owners threating the new organized retail sector to close down their stores. In some cases they have been successful because the Government is worried about their vote bank. The question is, who is right? Are the big corporations like Reliance ethical in opening vegetable marts across that country, where they can leverage their power to bring down the prices? Or are the vegetable hawkers wrong in closing down these big chains rather than competing with them on equal terms? What about the consumers, do they prefer buying their vegetables after some bargaining and getting some dhania for free or do they prefer to go into air-conditioned shops and buy the freshest vegetables at lowest prices?

The movie is about two friends who get divided by the same girl they fall in love with. The movie takes a dramatic turn when the village which is solely dependent on the forest industry and tongas (horse carts) for taking the passengers of the local train to the villages nearby, encounters machines. In the movie, son of the landlord of that area returns from the city and brings with him machines to replace people in sawmills. Suddenly half of the village is unemployed and the rest of the village, the tonga-wallas, face the same fate when the landlord decides to ply a bus to take train passengers to the village. Protagonist of the movie, Dilip Kumar's character, goes to meet the landlord's son to settle the isue.


Rest of the story surprised me for a very different reason. Second part of the movie was eerily similar to the movie Lagaan. Replace the Britishers in Lagaan with landlord's son, replace the Aamir Khan's Bhuvan with Dilip Kumar's Shankar, replace the cricket match with race between a tonga and the bus, and there you have essentially the same movie. I am surprised that not many reviewers were able to catch the similarity. The scene where Bhuvan accepts the bet is exactly same as Shankar taking the bet from landlord for the race. The climax cricket match with the whole village watching is again eerily similar to climax race between tonga and the bus. Ashutosh should be commended for taking the story and moulding it very smartly. But the credit for the story should goto the original writers and B R Chopra for portraying such a forward-thinking story with the backdrop of rustic village life, which brings me to another related question. Why have the so-called Bollywood moved away from the story of villages.

For a country where 70% of the population is still living in villages, its an irony that only two significant movies, Swades and Lagaan, have been village based in recent times. Is it because 30% of India is now earning more than the 70%? A cinema which had its heart in the villages of India is now catering to the NRI audience while conveniently forgetting the same people that supported it all this while. It seems the progress in Hindi Cinema has left behind the forgotten-ones. The thought makes the movie Naya Daur even more ironic. It seems men (and women) with money, foreign visas and machines have left behind the men with the plough once and for all.

...and a blackout

...the first thing that I noticed was a familiar picture taken by Marlee inside the bookshop, the shot of an older lady reading the book "nudes". My eyes started wandering for a familiar face that I had never met. And there she was, sitting in red against a red background and almost meshing within it except for a beautiful smile that greeted me. I wouldn't lie but there was an initial awkwardness from my side but it all vanished by the time we sat on the couch. We started talking where we had left in our chats, smses and phone conversations. My first impressions of Marlee was that she was a beautiful girl with a certain innocence about her that reflected in her writings too. She gave me a wonderful scarf from her native Assam while I didn't got her anything, not even the damn red roses. After some iced tea, we decided to go for lunch and I left it onto her to decide since Delhi was like a strange dream to me after so many years.

We decided to go to a Chinese place, Bercos, where I had been before once, long time back. The place was crowded like anything but we managed to find a table for two. I told Marlee to order and almost wished she wouldn't order any kind of dish with silkworms in it (just kidding). Jokes apart, the food was delicious and we were full in no time. Marlee had told me about a Delhi Blogger's Meet that she had been invited to the same day and we decided to join them in the evening. We still had an hour to go, so we decided to goto the Central Park and relax under the winter sun. We called our common and dear friend Mehak from there and it was almost an extension of our chatting sessions together.

Blogger's Meet was in Blue's pub and we walked into some really good music. Marlee met and then introduced me to Lalit, the blogger that had invited her for the meet. There were about 10-15 other bloggers that we had never met online or otherwise. We found a seat at the corner of the table beside a journalist from a national newspaper. We introduced ourselves to few bloggers but were almost feeling out of place as most of them knew each other and were also serious bloggers. It has to be said that Lalit really took very good care of us and in no time we were mingling with bloggers and having the Blogger's meet cake.

It was surprising that couple of bloggers knew me as Seventeen tomatoes but had never commented on my blog and vice-versa. The most surprising part came when one of the bloggers asked me if I knew Harry and I said that I have a cousin named Harry. As it turned out my Bua's son was one of the founders of Delhi's Bloggers Meet. Suddenly everyone was referring me as Harry's cousin. We had couple of drinks and it was almost time for us to leave. We made short videos about blogging and what it meant to us, for the organizers and left. My parents had to pick me up while Marlee's friend had to accompany her. So, we called them at a common place where I introduced my parents to her and then it was time to leave. We had made some plans to meet again but as I said earlier my plans never turn out as planned.

I don't remember when I met Neetie online but its like I have always known her. She used to write poetry but would change her blog-address every time. She would come to my blog once a month and tell me the link to her new blog. With time I was able to convince her to stick to one blog and she eventually did. Suddenly we were chatting everyday and despite of the fact she was very shy, we opened up to each other. It has been a wonderful journey to not only see her grow over time but become a confident and independent girl. Although, with time she almost left blogging and would meet me online once in a blue moon but our friendship remained as strong as it ever was. We would talk about our lives where we had left the last time and the conversation will always flow. I had promised her that I will meet her whenever I would come to India. She would ask me everytime, "Tu kab aa raha hain?" And here I was in India, but again like all my plans, something or the other would come up. First time even though I was in her area since my Bua lives there, it was pretty late when she returned from work and we decided to meet sometime else. Other time she took a holiday to meet me but I had a Doctor's appointment and that plan was canceled too.

It was my last week in Delhi and my Uncle from US was visiting. We once again went to our Bua's place and I called Neetie. She was leaving work and it was late-ish evening. She told me that she will try to see if her cab-driver can drop her near my Bua's place. She called again when she was near our place and told me that she was unable to find our street although she was very near. I told her to wait and I would come to the main road to meet her. As soon as I left, the city blacked out. Here I was, who had no idea about the place, had never met this friend and looking for her without any lights on the streets. I was running from one corner of the street to another, talking to Neetie on phone when she suddenly asked me what I was wearing. I turned back and there she was accompanied by one of her cab-mates who left as soon as I waved her. I crossed the road and met her where she gave me a shy smile. Again after a second of awkwardness we were talking like we knew each other since ages. By the time we reached my Bua's place we were very comfortable with each other. I introduced her to my extended family, including my parents, bua, chachi and even Marshaal, bua's Labrador. This had to be the most awkward way to meet a Blogger, with your whole extended-family in toe. But I was more than impressed with how Neetie handled herself. I could not believe it was the same shy girl who wouldn't even go out of her house for days. It helped that she had met my parents even before she had met me (Post: Meet my parents). We ended up talking mostly about stocks as she is in the stock industry and my Dad has invested in some stocks as well. It was already late and her fiancee was at my Bua's place to pick her up. We bade good-byes and she was away within only half hour of meeting me. Next day she called me and said that never for a second she felt that she was meeting me for the first time and I told her that the feeling was mutual. My only regret was not to attend her wedding which was in two weeks time. Few days back when she showed me her wedding snaps, it was like I was there with her during her happiest hour. As she would always say to me "God Bless !!"

I wish I had met some more bloggers but am sure there will be a time and place for each one of them. I am just thankful that all my blogger friend's made me feel so welcome back home. I can't wait to be back among them soon but this time there will be no plans.

A tale of a rose, a blackout and lots of tring trings (and a sms)...

I was looking forward to the trip of India for more than one reasons and one of that was to meet some bloggers. Blogging for me started as a way to share my reviews on books and led me to some wonderful friendships. Best thing about these friendships were that these were very different from my "real-life" friendships. I had made quite special friendships all over India during my growing years. My Dad's regular postings made sure that we moved every 2-3 years and I would have to start making those friendships all over again. Most of those friendships would start by scanning the new classroom and looking for kids who had a certain look, whether because they looked studious or helpful or sons/daughters of Army officers. As it turned out, blogging was different. I started visiting blogs based on thoughts/writings of people rather than a "certain" look. And, so I had made friends from all over the world, from every imaginable religious/social/economic/regional background. I made friends with people (mostly gals...ok I confess) that I wouldn't had made even if we were studying in the same school/classroom. This fact made my trip all the more exciting.

I started getting calls on my parents cellphone even before I landed in India (you know who you are...lol). I got calls from almost all my friends during the trip and even if some of them missed to call me, I knew that they only had good wishes for me. I also received few very surprising and wonderful smses from across the border. All these gestures made bloggers all the more real to me. It also made my trip back home very welcoming.

I had made lots of plans before leaving for India and this trip taught me that not all plans come to fruition. My trip to Bangalore/Hyderabad was canceled after my Didi decided to come to Delhi instead and my parents didn't wanted me to go away as it was already a very short trip. I know some of the bloggers from those cities had made some plans and am really sorry for not making that happen. There is always next time but the next time there won't be any premature planning. And then there were some local plans in Delhi that led me to believe that there is always time and place for everything. Myself and one of my first blogger friend, Payal, made atleast 2-3 plans to meet after landing in Delhi but something or the other came up and so it was not meant to be on this trip. It would have been a pleasure to meet her and will be a pleasure when we meet someday later.

Now this trip was not only about disappointments. There were more than a couple of bloggers that I was able to meet during the trip. Surprisingly, I met some bloggers that I had never planned to meet or for that matter knew them through blogs. As I said before, there is a time and place for everything.

My first meet was with a smart, sexy and intelligent girl from North East part of our country, Marlee. I met Marlee through Mehak's blog and somehow found a certain innocence in her posts and comments. There was something refreshing about those everyday posts and we became friends pretty soon. It wasn't long before we started chatting and at one time were sending smses from our breaks at work almost everyday. Even though we have such different personalities, we actually had few little things in common, whether it was some yaadein about Shillong or our sense of humor (although mine is way better than hers).

Marlee had once told me about her favourite bookshop and so we decided to meet there itself as we both love reading. As we were deciding where to meet and all, I joked with her that you can recognize me because mere haath main ek laal gulab hoga. For some reason she found it hilarious and warned me not to meet her if that will be the case. Anyways, the place was decided and I was there few minutes early (its a better way to say that she was late by few minutes). So, I thought to go around CP and actually look for that one rose but to my disappointment there were no flower shops near that bookshop. I was able to find a really cheesy plastic rose from a street vendor but the guy selling won't sell me one piece but wanted me to take the whole damn guldasta. I knew that one rose will give me a kick in the rear but the whole guldasta will make Marlee one of the Charlie's Angel's and myself the innocent villian. So, I didn't buy it but this whole process had made me late by few minutes and had to rush to the bookshop. Now like an idiot I was waiting for her outside the shop while she was sitting inside, in the comfort of the place. It took us 2 cell calls to figure out where we were. And so I went inside the bookshop in anticipation of meeting my first blogger friend.

(to be contd.)

...the bad and the ugly

Every country has flaws but sometimes we become oblivious to them. Its when we go out of our environment that we notice those flaws more prominently but on the other hand we also notice flaws of the new environment when compared to the older one. The bad and the ugly side of India is not to put it down or glorify its flaws but its an observation from the outside by an NRI (Non Required Indian, ofcourse) ...

On my way to India, I was sitting next to a South Korean girl and after the initial awkwardness we started talking. She was going to India for the first time with few of her friends who were sitting on the other aisle. She took out her guidebook and started asking me about places to visit. I like a home-sick NRI started glorifying India like its the only heaven on earth and angels will come to take these South Koreans on tour of their lifetime. That was until my plane landed at Indira Gandhi Airport and I entered the immigration area. The first words on coming out was WTF (not the words I had originally thought while listening to music of Swades on the way). I had never seen so much confusion in my lifetime. There was construction going on for the new airport and so the one that was operational was as bad as it could get. There was dust everywhere and no one to help the way out. I had to help an old couple fill up the immigration form as there was no help offered by the airport staff. There was so much confusion at the baggage area that my only hope was that my baggage will come out fine. But like everything in India, amidst all the confusion everything turns out just fine and so did my baggage. As I was leaving the airport to look for my parents my thoughts went for those simple South Koreans and what must have been there first thoughts of "Incredible India".

The new airport plan for Delhi - the faster it comes to fruition the better.

The other bad part was encountered as I left the airport and that was our Dilli ka traffic. Ok, I will agree that every NRI gets a road-shock with our traffic, no matter if the same person would have been zooming through the same traffic 7 years back like he owned those roads. For me it was crossing the roads which was an hassle in itself. I remember the first day we went to the Great India Mall and we had to cross the road to goto the Gurudwara on the opposite side. It took me and Mom close to half hour to cross a damn road while people were crossing the road like they were all on suicide watch. Despite the Metro, traffic is bad enough but its the traffic sense of Delhites that makes it worse. People cross the red-lights like they don't exist and horn is used more than steering wheels while driving. I dreaded going out only for one reason and that was the traffic. It takes ages to go from one place to another and the pollution can make any sane person insane within 10 kms range. I think roads can be improved, transportation can be improved, pollution can be checked but how can we improve the traffic sense of millions of people.

The traffic is everywhere except where it should be.

Among all this confusion the most funny part was that couple of fully-functional flyovers were closed because the authorities were unable to find a bloody neta to inaugurate it. I dread the day when Nano will hit the road because where are the roads? According to a report if all the cars on Delhi start running there will be only 450 meters of road left in Delhi. Atleast that will fit few Nanos.

Ok, I haven't come to the ugly part yet. I wouldn't say there were any "really" ugly parts to my trip but there were a couple of incidents that bordered on ugliness. The first incident does not reflect majority of Indians or for that matter Delhites but it was still an ugly incident to go through. We were waiting for our red light on the way to Faridabad and like almost every red-light there were poor kids begging for money. One of the kid went to couple of guys sitting on their bikes and asked "Bhaiya, kuch paise de do, mere behen ke shaadi hain". The guys starting laughing mockingly and replied back, "Abey tere behen ke shaadi bhi ho jayegi, chinta kyun karta hain" and then had a hearty laugh. For me it was the most disgusting incident to witness on the whole trip. I can imagine that it is not fiscally possible to give money to every person asking on the streets but who gives right to people to pass judgments on someone's poverty and that too in such a sarcastic cruel manner.

I had a pretty long conversation with my cousin who was visiting from US about something relating to above when we were passing through McDonald's and she bought couple of Mac burgers for some kids selling roses outside. I argued that its all good to buy stuff for these kids but most people living in India would say that NRIs come here once every blue moon, throw some pennies at the poor and then go away to their "good" life but we have to face them at every street corner everyday. I don't think we came to any conclusion but the fact that if that kid can eat good food one night then what's the harm.

The last ugly part of the trip was where it all started, the departure lounge of the airport. Its sad but there was more security in Malls than at the airport and there must be atleast million people leaving that day. It was so bad that I couldn't even properly say bye to my family. Inside the airport was craziness personified. Although, I was at airport 3 hours before my flight, I barely made it few minutes before. A British lady almost had a nervous breakdown with the kinda of rush and heat. The ugliest part was one American white guy paying bribe to get infront of the line and airport official allowing him with a certain casualness. The first thing I did after the security check-in was to call my parents and warn them not to go outside India till the new airport is built. I was huffing and puffing by the time I reached my flight and was considering it a miracle that was able to board the flight in one piece, which was thankfully 1/2 hour late because of a snow-storm in China.

Even after all this there is something about India that makes you miss it the moment your flight takes the wings. All the bad and ugliness seem very minuscule compared to all the love and affection you get from your own people. I am already missing it and looking forward to my next trip....errr...after the new airport is fully functional.

P.S: Hindustan Times article regarding more counters, entry gates at Delhi Int'l Airport soon...

Good, Bad and the Ugly...

A trip to India is always special as you come across the irony of the country where good, bad and the ugly co-exist with a scary understanding between each other. The special part about my trip was that there was far much good, far less bad and patches of ugliness. The immortal line from Rang De Basanti seems to be coming true, "Koi country perfect nahin hoti, usee perfect banana padhta hain". I hope in this effort of making the country perfect, we don't forget some of the imperfections that make the country all the more special.

The Good(s)

One thing that has transformed Delhi forever is the start of Metro. For me, Metro is a 21st century miracle almost comparable to building Taj Mahal in the 17th century. It may seem like an exaggeration but the truth is that Metro has put Delhi ahead of any other city in India atleast when it comes to transportation. The miracle is the speed, the smoothness and the efficiency, with which the whole operation is running. Infact, when the whole debate about Bharat Ratna was going in India, the first person that came to my mind was Elattuvalapil Sreedharan, the man behind the miracle called Metro. My experience on the Metro was great. I always wanted to take a ride even though have been on countless similar subways because c'mon this is Delhi's Metro, it has to be special. I loved the security, the efficient and unique ticketing system, the frequency of service and cleanliness of the place. Hats off to everyone responsible for making it possible!!

Metro Station entrance at CP

Although, there are Malls everywhere you look around, it was good to see that Mom and Pop shops are still running and fighting back with gusto. My Mom still feels more at home at a kirane ke dukaan than a swanky shop in a Mall. I think she still prefers bargaining than going through the impersonal store with prices written in stone for everything. I also felt more at home taking Mom to the nearby dukaan to buy aata and seeing the dukaanwaala bhaiya starting with, "Namaste Aunty jee" rather than a scantly clad girl asking "How can I help you Maam?"

My Mom's favorite shop for chunnis in Karol Bagh

My automobile genes got a huge kick on this trip while checking out all the new car models. Its just a coincidence that Auto Expo started as soon as I landed in Delhi. By far, my best vehicle on Indian roads was Mahindra's Scorpion (and it has nothing to do with similarity to my zodiac sign). The hype around Nano (or lakhtakiya car) was another interesting part of my trip. I liked the innovativeness of our channels to show the Nano to the world with catchy titles like, "Nano se naina mil gayee". Although, Nano maybe ready for Indian roads but are Indian roads ready for a Nano, that's a million dollar question for future.

The Great India Mall (ironically with all the American brands inside)

There were thousand other day to day good things about India including the sumptuous food items, family and friends around, a sense of belonging and so on, but those vary from person to person and frankly doesn't make India unique. Its the way India is trying to find its own self that makes India unique. Indian identity which may seem getting lost in the Malls is still found in the bylanes of places like Chandani Chowk. India is not only alive but thriving and ready to sore only if it is able to curtail the few bad and ugly things around it but we will talk about that some time later. For now, let's celebrate the goodness of the place that still feels home, India.