The talk of tolerance....

There are two views for everything. Tolerance helps us to see the other side. Tolerance I feel is the best virtue of the civilized world. There are people who are not like us, they have different ways and also they have different opinions. Their ideals are different so do is their outlook on the life. And this tolerance helps us to put up with these people.

Every day we come across a variety of people. Some of the moronic type (of course we consider them to be of that type) and some of them exhibit tantrums every too often. It is tolerance that only helps us to endure them with patience and without losing out temper.

But sometimes it is very disheartening. At times I get impatient. I let myself into things that I later realize to be very trivial to enter into with 'lost temper". I enter into arguments just to prove that I am right whether I am or not. Even in that process I may feel like moving astray of my original thoughts and perceptions. But I do that just to prove my point. In that burst of fury I create unpleasant acquaintances.

When we are unable to accept the other side of the thought. It creates bad blood. It leads to blows. It is just because we refuse to be just and fair minded. Across centuries thousands of men and women have lost their lives for the shake of difference in opinion in political, religious and social attitudes. And despite being in this modern times when we say that we are educated, we still do not let go of this curse of intolerance.

And apart from that we are strongly infested with dogmatism. It is a belief that one's own attitude and only that attitude is right and one fails to give space to any other belief. This is a fine recipe for anarchy and chaos. Any one who is intolerant cannot be more cursed.

Sipping Tropicana.....

A lot of people like to do that. Well my favourite flavour is “Guava Nectar”. It may rather seem that I am doing some sort of an ad of the drink. Hell no!

After a whole night of emergency duty in medicine ward, nothing could be more refreshing than a pack of that drink. I was there at the canteen overlooking the backyard of the med dept. It was a lot of effort straining the eyes to keep them open. There was nothing in my mind. I was just guessing how long it would be before I hit the bed. It seemed as if the clock has stopped. There was indeed a lot of work left out. Then I heard a bunch of guys of the morning shift murmuring something. I overheard them passing on some raunchy comments on a girl (of course it was not audible to her). I looked at her. And she was worth every bit of all those comments. She had a drink in her hand too. No doubt it was the same Tropicana. She was cooling herself out after that day’s class in her med postings. I couldn’t take my eyes out of the curves that she presented.

“Oops!”

I didn’t know how that escaped out of my mouth. I never do that. I never think that I could be that mean. I looked around. There were no eyes on me. I took a breath of relief. Suddenly the murmurs got louder. Then through the corner of my eye gave another gaze.

She was giving the “profile view”. It was quite natural for her to do that but at least she pretended of being unaware of the thoughts over a guy’s mind. Great lips I thought; drenched in saliva mixed with the “guava nectar”. Am I getting too sleazy? Let me stop this narration over here despite having more in my imagination. There were some more murmurs. The guy’s got louder and bolder. I could have got too, but there was no more energy left in me. I would have stayed there longer had not been there a call to attend to.

I got busy in that day’s work. It was never again in my mind that day. I was fortunate enough to get some time sooner to hit the bed.

It seems that I am writing a dumb description of something that happened that day....Guys drooling over the girls. Well it is just the long prelude of the short event that occurred the day after. I went to the canteen to chill myself off. I saw a girl standing in the same position...having something in her hand. Well it was a drink. I got nearer. It was the same Tropicana... ”guava nectar”.

This shouldn’t be happening. Indeed yesterday I was tired but not to that extent that it would make me hallucinate. I tried to recollect and everything got clear. This girl was also there yesterday and is friends with the first one. She got so impressed with the passes that her friend received that she is standing and doing exactly what she saw her friend doing. Same style, same posture, same attitude and same perhaps everything except the fact that she was not “she”. There was no one, I mean anyone to pin passes at her. But still she was on with her venture...a practice of some sorts.

The day before I was straining to keep my eyes open but now it was like strain to keep the mouth shut. I was like having fits of laughter in my mind but still couldn’t laugh. I just gave an aerobic smile and got one return.

So in the end a little thought of the reality. People copy when they get a chance to do so. But they end up being dumb-heads.

But still I can’t stop laughing and sipping Tropicana. Hahahahhahhahahhahahah.....ummmmhahahha...my tummy is aching.

IPL, Modi, Sunanda, Tharoor, B’wood, BCCI and CBI – Please RGV make a movie.

The hero, the heroine, the villain and an envious storyline are all apt to make a mega-budget, mega-starrer mega-thriller. Well please somebody stop me if I am going over the clouds.

Starting from the day when IPL was conceived it seemed something fishy. It was perhaps made in the lines of other sports leagues across the world (of course sports other than cricket). After some days of the league matches I heard reports of semi-finals and finals. It is obvious that I had never seen the fixtures. Well I could hardly believe when I heard that indeed they are going to happen (the finals). What kind of a league was this when the league winners are not going to hold the trophy? See they are being made to play finals. And then what’s the meaning of this two tier league. This is something that is for the bookies and the betting masters. If the league leaders were to hold the champions trophy then there is nothing more to do for the betting pros.

Well before the tournament began there were a lot of things happening in the backdrop and the backstage. The bidding went through. Celebrities, businessmen and political contacts owned teams. Sometimes I get astonished why the biddings and auctions take place behind the closed doors. Is not that the very concept of closed door activities like this, seem suspicious? Well in this country when the individuals are supposed to declare their assets before activities like elections and before holding important government posts then why these stake holders are kept under wraps.

One edition of the series was held in India and the other edition was taken to South Africa. They were held with all sorts of sleaze, booze and partying! Then the third season happened in India again. It was spring time for everyone until the bidding for two new teams happened. It pulled down skeletons out of like “every closets”. Careers got murdered. Bollywood stars, politicians, CEO’s, ex-cricketers and many more got implicated. The CBI got into action. The income tax officials had a massive pan Indian exercise. No wonder, they are the ones who are there where money lies. It even rocked the parliament. And a few more days and a few more heads and it could be the biggest reality show ever. There is nothing more that the media could ever ask for.

In this hullabaloo, something that got the most coverage was the tryst between Modi, Tharoor and Sunanda. And as the ends of all the three are nearing, Tharoor has lost his job, Sunanda her stakes and Modi is on the verge of quitting. If this is not enough then there is more spice to the drama. With allegations that the matches were fixed, the tournament could not be more cursed. But what are we missing..... Rakhi Sawant! Don’t know how that name pooped out from me.

This is Indian answer to WWE opera.

So where are you RGV, after Phoonk2 you have another script! Get working.

Memories of the broken pot...

There are things that matter you, the same things that are just crap for others. You keep them with you no matter what comes. Days pass, but still those remain with you. You never let go of them. It may be a grand object or it may be something that is too trivial to have any value. But despite that you keep it as your most valued possession. It may be a pen, an old music record, a toy that people would sneer at to see a grown up guy having it, or even a piece of paper with something scribbled on it. Whatever it is, you never part with that. It is so because they evoke memories that you do not want to part with. They make you remember times you really longed for. Times when someone loved you. Times that you could never forget. Times that would put a smile on your face. Times that would make your eyes brim with tears. Times with unforgotten memories, muffled with sweet voices and of smells still tingling your senses and of people you crave for the most. So what's crazy on my part to have a broken pot?