The woes of traveling by Hyderabad Metro Rail-Part I

Walk…walk…walk

No sooner did we Hyderabadis revel in the advent of the metro, than we started witnessing its rapid deterioration!
You can refer here to the extreme glee with which I welcomed the metro. Anything that caters to increasing the level of urbane infrastructure in Hyderabad, warms the heart at the prospect of improved standard of living.
After the usual Hyderabad frenzy of initial rush, I took a casual trip one day. My heart was singing as I saw the well-planned infrastructure, the cleanliness, the sparkling newness and the near-empty spaces within and outside the train.
All this experience was short-lived as my new job entailed a commute of 25+ kms to Hi-Tech city. And that’s when I realised what I was getting into.
I figured a combination of routes and travel and finally settled on getting down at Ameerpet and opting for another transport from Ameerpet to Hi-tech city.  I was at peace at finding a routine.
Well, what do you know?!
Traveling by metro is strictly for the physically strong.
Prepare for walking…walking long distances and climbing up and down staircases.
A typical metro station has four entry points...two on each side of the road. On one side is a lift and the other side an escalator plus steep staircases to go up/ down. Climbing all these can be intimidating. Escalators/lifts may not be on the side of the road you want to get off on and therefore climbing down these steep staircases can be gruelling.
Watch out especially for metro stations on SP road, most of which have access only on one side of the road.
The example of Parade Ground station…
While traveling towards Uppal, you come across the first entry to Parade Ground station. And what have you here? A formidable climb up two steep flights of stairs to reach the concourse!
If you want to be smarter the next time and take the second entry point to the station, you walk 300-400 metres further and get to use the lift to go to the concourse. But after reaching the concourse, you keep walking and walking… seems like almost a kilometer… to reach the platform! And I imagine it to be so for all the stations on SP road which have entry point only on one side of the road.
Once you reach the concourse, watch out for all the floor space you need to cover to get to the platform!
At least the train floor is on the level of platform and one needn’t have to labor to get onto the train.
Okay, now here comes the not so funny part….in all stations, 2 of 4 escalators are kept closed ‘to conserve electricity.’ In few of them all 4 escalators are closed, and only lifts are in operation. So, once you get off the train, you need to walk some distance from your coach to reach the lift.
How do I know the pain of walking all these distances?
I had hurt my foot and was working from home for a week. The first day I returned to work, I had someone drop me at the station (very close to my home) and made an effort to get into the train by walking slowly. But when I got off at Ameerpet station and asked for a wheel chair to my waiting cab downstairs, I was asked, 'had you asked for the wheel chair at you starting station? If not, you don’t get it here either.’
Slow walking (and delayed healing as a result) for the next couple of weeks was my only recourse.
Conclusion: Senior citizens, physically challenged…keep away! The metro is not for you.

Vinod Khanna

70 is too young to die, man!
I was a little too young to remember the beginning of Vinod Khanna's journey in movies but I grew up watching him in his different avatars in movies of various genres.
For me personally, there  were and are only three MEN in Hindi cinema: Sunil Dutt,Vinod Khanna and Dharmender. None before and none after qualify to be the quintessential macho man. No 6-pack/8-pack nonsense with these men. These were men, tall, good looking with great, firm bodies: physiques that would set many a heart aflutter. Girls swore by Khanna's handsomeness.
I read recently about a journalist writing about how he never got his due. This is oh-so-wrong! Through my teenage years I remember the close rivalry between Amitabh Bachchan and Vinod Khanna so well. Both were at the peaks of their career. And Vinod Khanna acted in many movies reveling in the fame and adulation they brought. So it is not right to say that he wasn't appreciated. His stardom was perhaps second only to Rajesh Khanna's.
It was then that, breaking crores of hearts, he quit everything to join Osho, his spiritual guru. I remember that so well. We were all so disheartened, unable to understand his decision, about how someone can just throw away everything like that in pursuit of spiritual fulfillment.

What is this handsome hunk doing in the garb of a sanyasi?

But later, when I grew a little older I understood how courageous one needs to be to follow one's heart.
This action, in tandem with Rajesh Khanna's declining stardom, left the field clear for the rise of Amitabh Bachchan and many of his mediocre angry-young-man movies.
He was a young 35-year old in 1982 when he quit films. At an age when people are poised for greater things in life, he so easily gave up everything! After the 5-year hiatus, the comeback was never the same. Five years is a big time in one's career, more so in films where an actor has a limited shelf life. Despite not finding his niche back, he worked and kept working till his death. He is said to be one of the most dignified and professional people on sets.
His death, a little too soon at 70, may not have been painless but at least he lived the life of his choice.

Define Cool!

Image courtesy: Google Images

Vinayaka Chavithi/Ganesh Puja: my angst

After the puja is performed, new clothes worn, sweets eaten, it's time for Ganesh immersion. Went to Durgan Cheruvu the day after puja for the immersion with a grim warning from son: "Bring the plastic covers back. Don't throw them into the lake." The environmentalist that he is! Not that I intended to, anyway. When I went there to immerse my Vinayaka idol, there was something that was heartening and something that was distressing.
What really cheered me was the sight of many idols of mud and clay that would not harm the environment but blend into the lake bed. Yet to see the lakefront teeming with swaying plastic covers, in which the puja material like flowers and leaves were brought, was appalling.
And this was on the very next day of the puja. It's frightening to think how many more covers would be carelessly dumped on the shores in the ensuing days of celebration as more and more people would be bringing the idols for immersion!
I wish there was someone appointed there just to ensure that a bin is provided so that people dump the plastic covers in it.

Another incident that saddened me was the power cut. Hyderabad, which rarely used to have power cuts, has now become like other Metros where there is a huge lacuna between demand and supply. To bridge this gap, the government has resorted to power cuts of three hours a day. I was fervently hoping that at least this day be spared, but it was not. Sharp, at the appointed hour, the power was shutdown :(  I am sure that this would have proved to be a very frustrating experience for all the worshipers in the city. With most of the factories/organizations closed for the holiday, didn't the government have enough to provide uninterrupted power for this day?
To ensure that we were worshiping the right God, and offering the right offerings, we switched on the emergency light to complete the puja.
I hope the next year, these things are taken care of.

Life ephemeral

Yesterday, I woke up with a start in the middle of the night.
Sitting up in bed, I glanced around at the cupboards which held all my possessions...clothes, books, and a whole drawer of trinkets which I hold close to my heart.
This collection seemed so HUGE! Something which needed  four cupboards to hold. Apart from the thought that do I need so much, was also another scary thought-- that once I am no more, people around me would just dump all this. What meaning do these things hold for anyone? Some times I grieve over the breaking of my favorite bangle, sometime a lost ear ring, sometime a dress that gets torn or spoiled. I cannot carry even a fistful of these. I need to leave them all behind.
These words may sound cliched but when this thought runs through your mind, that moment  can be quite overpowering.
Some kind of premonition?  Maybe, I thought, as the next morning, news of passing away of the superstar of Bollywood, Rajesh Khanna, filtered through. The biggest superstar...and the loneliest one. Even as I was around 8-9 years of age, Rajesh Khanna's fame was on wane, with his movies failing one after another. Plus the fact that there wasn't the TV in those days to give us an insight into the celebrities' lives. So there wasn't much I knew about him then, apart from the repeat broadcast of all his hit songs through the radio channels.
In more recent times, the internet provided an insight into the lives of these Bollywood actors...of the destitute lives of actors like Bhagwan who squandered away all their earnings (which was so much more than they ever dreamt of).
To compare,  actors of Rajesh Khanna's age were more prudent with money, not wishing to end up in penury or live their evening years in chawls. He built his estates but again died a poor, lonely life.
Actors this generation have realized the value of balancing work with family and hopefully they'd have had a more fulfilling life. This is so important, because worse than dying of penury, is to die due to loneliness. 
After all, you can't carry even a fistful of all that you possess.

ek kafan ki khatir

‎Bina libaas aye they iss jahan mein... bus ek kafan ki khatir itna safar karna pada..!

My 100-page book

I was in the womb
my book clutched in my hands
smiling and playing in that cozy world.
I came out to meet a bright April sun.
My book still clutched tight in my tiny fist.
The pages all white and beautiful.
The magic book of life
in which, I can only write and never erase.

Father plucked the book from my hand
saying I am too young to begin.
He wrote for me as I lay
smiling and trusting.
Write beautiful things, father
for I know not how to write yet.

I shyly put down a line
after the first five pages,
looked at father and smiled.
Father, see! I wrote my first line.

No! No! No!
He said.
You are too young to begin.
Let me do it for you.

But father, I know how to write,
please let me.
He crossed out the line written by me
and put down his own.
Please keep my book beautiful, father.
For, I want to be beautiful.

After twelve pages, mother wrote in my book too.
Two sets of incongruous writings in the book now,
several of mine struck through.
Father, see how shoddy the book looks!
Please let me write in my book, father.

No! No! No!
he said.
You are still too young to write.
Let me do it for you.

And my book of life had father's and mother's lines.
As those lines got more frequent,
mine got more sporadic.

After twenty pages,
father said, I could write.
Whoopee!
I eagerly picked up my pen to start.
I want to write my book in a beautiful hand, father. 
But, my pen wobbles over the deep furrows
made by your writings in the previous pages!

As I turn each page eagerly
hoping to find a page free of these deep grooves,
I see that every page I turn has your imprint.
I am not able to write in my book, father.

Written by and copyrighted to vsubha

sad-sad :(

Remember those sad-sad heroines of the 50s Indian movies wearing a black cotton saree and a contrasting blouse with patches stitched on both carrying a bundle of clothes at her side loitering around aimlessly with a sad-sad face and singing sad-sad songs...Zindgai dene wale sun ja teri duniya se dil bhar gaya...Teri duniya mein jeene se yeh behther hai... and other such songs?
I feel like that today :( par kyun?

Mumbai Life Cycle

 

DIFFERENT STROKES

I was watching the re-run of Different Strokes after many years.

When I first watched this sitcom around 1992-93 (or maybe later, I don’t remember), TV was still evolving and every show was exciting to watch. There was a plethora of shows that I would watch with my young son…Small Wonder, I dream of Genie, Bewitched, Silver Spoons... At home, we still speak the language used in the shows; we were that into those early days’ shows.
This sitcom starred Gary Coleman as Arnold Jackson and Todd Bridges as his older brother, Willis. They played two African-American children from a poor Harlem neighborhood whose deceased mother previously worked for a rich white widower, Philip Drummond (Conrad Bain), who eventually adopted them. They lived in a penthouse with Mr. Drummond and his daughter Kimberly (Dana Plato).
One of the themes that predominantly ran through the sitcom was a voice that spoke against discrimination of color which was perhaps a prominent issue those days. These lines which sum up the theme in the sitcom continue to fascinate me:

Now, the world don't move to the beat of just one drum,
What might be right for you may not be right for some…
Everybody's got a special kind of story
Everybody finds a way to shine,
It don't matter that you got not a lot
So what,
They'll have theirs, and you'll have yours, and I'll have mine.
And together we'll be fine....

The sitcom taught people to respect one another and live in harmony. Excellent parenting skills exhibited by Philips Drummond also found resonance in people who watched it — the way he handled the three kids, respecting their feelings — loving but not over indulgent, firm but not overbearing, giving each child his due.

Nostalgia swept over me as I watched, “What are you talking about?” mouthed by Arnold Jackson.
I wish (like in those days) I had stopped at this. But the compelling urge to ‘Google’ everything spoiled the fun for me.
First, I was quite surprised to know that the show was made in the late 70s & early 80s! That would make the 3 kids my age now! They aren’t even close to being the cute kids or the gawky teenagers that I had imagined them to be!
And this was only the beginning of a series of disappointments! What the Internet further revealed to me was more dismaying.
Both Todd Bridges and Gary Coleman’s various misdemeanors have led to their being arrested on several occasions. Todd Bridges also has a history of drug abuse.
Dana Plato’s story is even worse. An early pregnancy and drugs were rumored to be the reason for easing her character out of the show. She died presumably of a drug overdose when she was just 34!
All the three could never ever live up to the success of Different Strokes.
Somewhere the magic is gone with the harsh realities of what happened to these child stars when they got rich and famous too early in life; when the values they mouth in the sitcoms don’t percolate to their real lives; when peer pressure led to a failed life.
For 8 long years the effusive environment created in the Drummond household infused optimism in the people watching it. Yet, it is ironical that the very people who helped others to live failed so miserably in their own.




Acknowledgment:
Picture 1 taken from www.sitcomsonline.com
Picture 2 taken from www.tvsquad.com

The Satyam Saga

On the 7th of January there seemed a major earthquake in life what with the Satyam MD confessing to a huge fraud! The head spun at the magnitude of the scam! It gave an almost orgasmic feeling…a kind of feeling one gets at viewing accidents …the gore that holds one captive…I was struck to the TV the entire day…unable to move; work forgotten at home…
And then, it started... all the skeletons tumbling out from the closet….as they dug deeper.
Rumors, speculations ruled the TV…people calling me seemingly sympathizing but obviously gloating over the possibility of a damned job.
Inside Satyam, there was desolation, a sense of anger aimed against Raju…but very very surprisingly, lot of support for Raju as well…some deep sense of dedication..to try and shield Raju from lot of allegations leveled at him…though most of them were right.
From senior leadership, there were mails and calls of assurances everyday, posting and updating on what was happening and at the same time asking us to keep our chin up. I could see the fear in people's eyes at the prospect of not getting the next month's salary ...people who have splurged money on luxuries who are upto their eyes in mortgages. One of my youngest team members who had just splurged on a Swift(5.5 laks) was worried about how to pay back.
Meanwhile the temptation of the client wooing us with a job…I have seen everything that could possibly happen in the corporate world…
The Directors were thrown out to be replaced by the Govt. appointed ones. These directors seem to have unearthed more dirt! The Satyam Social service (108 Service) too didn’t remain untouched. Aspersions are cast as they dug more dirt. Apart from that, the facts known to people are presented on the TV as though just discovered just to enhance the enormity of the offense.
We as employees aren’t sure of what’s happening, especially as each day unravels a new story. I will keep posting about each day's development esp. from an insider's perspective.

This is not me

While I read other bloggers today, it hit me hard on my face. I am again being cautious, careful...this is a charade...always worrying about what people think...letting on only this much and not more...there’s more to me than this…much more.
I choose to expose only the beautiful side.
I feel a fake!

Disbelief !

How transient has life become! The atrocious killings in Bombay...
Why do people kill? When I get scared even to look at blood…how can they stand that much violence, shooting, sight of blood, fear…how can they do it...
Even causing a word of hurt haunts me for days together and then causing so much physical destruction…killing so many people…why?
When I see some programs on TV or watch some films, I cry when I see the beautiful feelings of love and sharing. When love can give so much joy, why resort to hatred? What does one get from it?
What must be going on in the minds of those people who were perhaps prepared to die knowing that there's no redemption from that act...they must have known full well that they couldn’t come out alive. How strong must be their convictions! How else do they get the nerve to do what they did?

A Void

Did you ever get this feeling that you are there on the edge of this precipice....standing there and completely at a loss of where to go....
When a child, there’s so much to explore...to touch, to feel...to ask questions, to know, to explore everything waiting to be discovered...
Its then that we are told that that’s good or bad or dangerous. Slowly the curiosity is tempered, tamed ...the wild urges chastened and then I become one with you all and remain mute, immune and impotent to the beauty of the world around me...am left with a feeling of ‘been there, seen that, what else?'
Where do I go from here? Life seems to have nothing to offer any more.