I like to listen to Jagjit Singh.. Ah Nothing can beat the experience of a ’’Woh Kagaz Ki Kashti’’ over a fuming cup of Chennai filter coffee and The Hindu newspaper. It is an out of the world experience. Jagjit Singh’s ghazals are very good stress relievers. You are effectively transported into an alternate universe.. When you come back to the real world you are fully recharged. Trust Jagjit Singh. He delivers.
I am an avid quizzer. I love to set offbeat questions and enjoy the plight of those frustrated souls who are taking my quiz. I love to travel. I have seen more America than India but I want to change that. I believe India has a great Diaspora of exciting places which are not properly marketed. On the other hand I have seen hyped up places in America which do not live up to the expectations. We do have a thing or two to learn from the Americans.
I like writing reviews. I like writing stories. I like to imagine myself in the shoes of my protagonist.. bechara.. He has been handling really wild situations sprung out of my imagination in a rather effective way. I admire him. He is actually a slightly modified Venu Vedam. If I were perfect, if I were what I want to be, I would be him. I can’t beat anyone black and blue, but my protagonist can beat his opponents black, blue and also the various shades of brown. (I admit.. That’s a lift from Sulekha Select!)
All these don’t matter... At the end of the day, these things do not stay in my mind. They are cleaned up. What remains is the confidence that whenever needed I can bring back these things into my life. Sometimes that is pretty much what is needed for me to get on with my life.
About myself… As I said earlier, I am just a grain of sand. Of course I do have a unique DNA but that’s just a useless piece of trivia. It’s of no use to anybody including yours truly. Twenty seven years have passed since I became an actual entity in this world. When I look back over my shoulders I see a normal childhood with packets of interesting things spaced out evenly. I see a troubled college life. I see a kid flunking in Mathematics in plus two. I then see the same kid emerging victorious in the Engineering entrance examination. I see a tense young man boarding a train to Kakinada to join his first job. I see an undecided youth taking a career shift. And I see an Indian learning the practical way that the United States is not Seventh Heaven. It is just another place to live.
I finally see the enlightened gentleman return to India. He knows what his priorities are. He knows where lies his Kohinoor. He is as happy as he can ever get in a place called Chennai in India. The three and a half years in the US did not take him away from India. In fact it helped him get closer to his motherland.
So that is me... Sipping filter coffee in a steel tumbler in the verandah of my house reading the Hindu newspaper and listening to ’’Mere Jawani Dede’’ sung by Jagjit Singh.