Captains log

Visit my new blog -

Maverick The Story Teller

If you are here...don't feel shy to say hi!!

well life start with strangers..that is the principle of life..each electron.proton.neutron is a stranger to each other but they still exist as an atom...


*PS - All views here are my own and personal views.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Kingfisher - the king of good times

" many beers will you have"?? I asked my friend Nitin...

"2 cans for me"...Nitin replied...

"Give me 4 cans..Kingfisher strong".. i said to the shopkeeper..we had bought the snacks to eat along..Nitin grabbed a few smokes..and we headed to our abode...the balcony outside the bedroom in my apartment...

I arranged two chairs in the balcony.. Nitin got the smokes and lighter..i placed the beer cans on the window shelf and we sat down..there was a slight breeze about...

"The weather is nice today" said Nitin lighting up his smoke..."Gimme a can dude"..he said..

I handed him a can and took one for myself..we opened the cans and toasted to our friendship..the beer wasnt chilled as it was in the open for sometime..but then who cared..

"Do you remember the Ranikhet trip"..Nitin said...and i said.."yeah......."

and the night went on and we just talked about the good old school days...

This was our routine..on the Friday/Sat night that Nitin came to my town from Mumbai..we would have our diner..then go the booze shop..get our beer..Nitin would get his smokes and then we would head back to the flat..go to the balcony..arrange two chairs...sit our cans of beer our feet on the railing...look at the greenery engulfing the balcony and chat about our school days...

Cheers guys!!

Lazy Sunday!!

It's a lazy Sunday today..

I am reading Johnny gone down and listening to Nachna Onda Nei (simply love this song)

howz your sunday coming along?

Saturday, August 14, 2010

PM And The Speech-Writer - TOI

PM And The Speech-Writer…

Surely freedom’s not just another word on Independence Day? Chetan Bhagat

On August 14, 2010, inside a quiet, leafy, guarded bungalow on Race Course Road, a stressed old man shifted uncomfortably on his sofa. A young man next to him offered solace.

“You’ll be fine. You’ve done it before. It’s only the Independence Day,” the young man said as he stacked sheets of paper.

“Do i have to give a speech?” the old man said, “I hate to talk.”

“But you are the prime minister,” the young man said, “And i am here, your speech-writer. Why worry?”

The PM remained uncomfortable. He looked at his phone. No calls or messages from high command. Without direction, life was extra hard.

The writer continued, “It’s mostly school kids who attend. There is no Q&A at the end. Unfurl the flag, stand for the national anthem, take the gun salute, read the speech – it is standard stuff.”

“Everyone gets a holiday on Independence Day,” the PM said, “why can’t i?”

The speech-writer was speechless. He changed the topic.

“Should we talk about the content?” the writer said, “what do you want to focus on?”

“I don’t know. What do you suggest?” the PM said. “Is there anything worth talking about?”

The speech-writer paused to look at the PM in disbelief before he spoke again: “So much has happened. Just in the past months.”

“Like what?” the PM said. “Like the Bhopal verdict – no real punishment.” “Yes, but i don’t have to talk about that,” the PM said, “that story has died.” “Along with the thousands,” the writer mumbled. “What?” the PM said. “Nothing. How about the crazy inflation? People are truly sick of it,” the writer said. “Really?” the PM said. “Really what? That there is inflation or people are sick of it?” the writer said. “Both i guess. I never buy anything. People do it for me. And i can’t talk about inflation. It’s too sensitive an issue.”

“But it affects your people,” the writer said. “Next,” the PM said. “Corruption? Look at the Commonwealth Games – full of murkiness. Why don’t you resolve to bring the criminals to book.” “Criminals who?” the PM said. “The politicians and officials who did it,” the writer said. “But they are important people,” the PM said. “They’ve broken the law. Isn’t the law the same for everyone?” the writer said. “It is?” the PM said. The writer could only raise his eyebrows in response. “It can’t be the same law. Have you ever seen any high-profile official in jail for corruption?” the PM said. “Any?” The writer shook his head. “I don’t like to make false promises,” the PM said. “Of course,” the writer said and cleared his throat, “how about Kashmir? Violence has flared up there. Or maybe we can combine it with the Naxalite disturbance and talk about internal strife?” “Talk what?” the PM said, “why do people like to talk? Why?” “Talk to show you care,” the writer said, “and talk about solving the issues, of course.” “Is that my job?” the PM said. “You are the prime minister. The most powerful person in the country. You can make things happen,” the writer said. “Stop making fun of me,” the PM said, “other topics?”

“India-Pakistan relations,” the writer said.

“I am not allowed to talk about that,” the PM said.

“Not allowed?” the writer said, confused on who could disallow the PM. The PM raised one eyebrow to the framed pictures on the wall above. The writer saw the person the PM was referring to. Both exchanged half smiles.

“It’s OK. I am used to it now,” the PM said.

The writer stretched his arms out. “I’m out of ideas. You guide me, sir. We don’t have that much time.” “General topics,” the PM said, “just make it broad enough that there is no controversy. But not so boring that the guards and kids go to sleep,” the PM said.

The writer bit his upper lip to mull over the PM’s suggestion.

“Like i’ll tell you,” the PM explained, “talk about poverty – reducing it, of course. And education. And stuff like we won’t tolerate injustice and inequality. Oh, and use the word superpower a couple of times – just don’t mention a specific issue or put a real opinion.”

The writer nodded slowly as he absorbed the instructions.

“OK, sir, in that case, all i have to do is look at last few years’ speeches and cut-and-paste to make a new one.”

The PM’s eyes opened wide as he shook his head. “Don’t!” he said, using his rare loud voice, “don’t do that. The TV channels catch on to the cut-and-paste. Who’s that feisty TV anchor?”

“Barkha Dutt?” the writer said.

“Yeah, her. She’ll rip it apart. Not to mention that Rajdeep Sardesai and Arnab Goswami and Deepak Chaurasia. They track all the copy-paste stuff, they’ll talk non-stop about it,” the PM said.

“OK, OK, won’t refer to the past speeches,” the writer said.

“No you can. Just make sure it is from speeches at least 20 years ago, before these anchors started work.”

“Oh, OK,” the writer said, “the content is the same anyway. Fine sir, you’ll have it in two hours.”

The writer stood up to leave. The PM escorted him to the door.

“You are a quick learner, i wish you all the success in life,” the PM said.

“Thank you sir. I wish you... well, what can i wish you? You have everything.”

“Wish me freedom, real freedom,” the PM said, looking at the writer in his eyes as the door shut between them.

The writer is a best-selling novelist.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

The western ghats

It has been a while since i have posted anything. Well here i am again writing about my recent trip on the Mumbai Pune expressway.

The best time to cross the Western ghats is during the monsoon season. It is just the most amazing scenic view that one can imagine, lush green mountains, small waterfalls on every mountain or atleast on most of them, clouds and mist kissing your vehicle and you passing through them and the omni present rain in the form of drizzle or downpour. Isnt this all so amazing!!

Well i had to go to Pune from Mumbai for work reasons and i preferred to travel by the expressway. The expressway cuts across the western ghats to reach Pune. The western ghats start from Khopoli and end after Lonawala. The total stretch would be around 30 odd kilometres but it is an amazing stretch. Valleys, mountains, waterfalls, tunnels, lakes in the distance, greenery, all of it in abundance. When it is about to rain the clouds descend to the ghats and the view at that time is absolutely magical and very romantic too. You would love to be sitting there on the hillside and all of a sudden the clouds would engulf you (trust me it is not scary).

Here are some pics which i took on my way to Pune.

Hope you guys enjoy the pics :)