hyderabad blues


The only way I realize that I have already spent four months in Hyderabad is when I look at my bank statements. My fourth salary is due in the next three days. I still remember how apprehensive I was when I came here for the first time – new job, new place, and new people. But more than the fear of discovering something new I was afraid that probably I could never let go of my past – those days at the college, the atmosphere there, and friends! But somehow, as days passed, things have got pretty settled, and now I wonder if I was at any place other than Hyderabad ever!


Four months and counting and I still have curious relatives asking, “So is everything settled in the new city and all?” Usually I shrug off that question with a cold “Yeah” that translates as ‘find-yourself-a-better-conversation-starter’ not knowing what else to say. I mean, just imagine, how weird will this sound, “I am like 60% settled. The remaining 40% is divided as below. 10% after I get my car, and the next 10% after I find myself a house of my own, and the last 20% when some girl finds me (or the car and the house) interesting enough. Now you see, it is tough to get settled, and the reasons are in the ascending order of their toughness. So as of now, I am doing well.”


May be Facebook can come up with an application that answers this question. I am sure Orkut will copy it soon (By the way, do they do anything else other than copying Facebook?) and then people like me will be spared the horror of answering that stupid question.


The next question that usually follows is “What do you like the most about the city?” “Food, you bet” is usually what I say and then add “Well I do not know but it feels nice in here.” depending on whom I am talking to and how much honest I need to be. So there I was – as in all perfect love affairs – in love with the city and without an iota of reason to do so.


But yesterday as I was driving back from work at 12 in the night, looking forward to a great dinner and lots and lots of sleep after a long day's work, I all of a sudden, found my reason. Now roads in Hyderabad are usually deserted at night (without the horn-blaring traffic they are a delight to ride on) and with no traffic police on the junctions anymore (Night is sleep time in Hyderabad, even for the people who have a night-duty! The automated traffic lights go to sleep intermittently, waking up in between for a couple of minutes and then dozing off again) you would easily find vehicles zooming past at break-neck speeds. And the situation only gets worse in Kothaguda junction. It is usually so crowded during the day, that at night when people find it empty they just cannot do away with the temptation to test the highest speed which their vehicle can withstand and that probably explains the speed at which vehicles change lanes or take U turns.


However, yesterday when I reached the junction, I noticed something strange, something different. The traffic police were not there (of course!), neither was the traffic-light working but still there was no ‘I-go-first’ rush. Vehicles stay put in their place as if controlled by a superior power that had forbidden them from moving. I slowed down my bike, shocked as what possibly could bring this junction to a stop at night. And then I heard it. Somewhere behind me, I could hear the blaring of the siren of an ambulance that was making a dash for the hospital. All the vehicles stood in their place till the ambulance took a left turn and left. Things got restored to normalcy immediately afterwards. Needless to say, mayhem followed.


But for that one uncharacteristic moment - when the junction should still, when vehicles lined one after another silently without the usual fight to race ahead, when the ambulance screeched ahead with someone who needed immediate help in it and not had to find its way through – I saw the spirit of Hyderabad. And guess what? I found my reason. Damn! I love this city!


I believe every city has something that strikes you the most about it. You kind of subconsciously make your own interpretation of the city that you have stayed in. For me, it is the ‘sophistication-is-natural’ attitude of Delhi (people there spend more money on the entrance of the house than the whole house put together!), the ‘romance-in-the-air’ attitude of Kolkata (lots of rain, muddy streets, boat rides across the Hooghly, passionate and talkative people, literature, beautiful girls!), the ‘busy-but-will-still-listen-to-you’ attitude of Mumbai (Take a ride on the local trains from one end to the other. You will know what I mean!), the ‘firmly-believe-in-my-traditions’ attitude of Chennai (add to it the ‘Rajnikanth-is-God’ attitude as well!) and the ‘I-set-my-own-rules’ attitude of Bangalore (every person follows his own set of rules while driving in heavy traffic, kidding!). If I were to say something on the similar lines for Hyderabad it would probably be the: ‘am-neither-sweet-nor-sour, I-am-tangy’ attitude. Ordinary people, ordinary situations, extraordinary response! You see them every day and you see nothing new in them till one fine day they do something so beautiful that you are left looking for words to express yourself! (And when you find them, write a blog!)


A lot of things have happened since I have been In Hyderabad. Some of them had happened before, some happened for the first time. The wonderful friends I have found here, the new delicacies that I keep discovering, the multiplexes and the pubs that I frequent, the wild days at the company guest-house (for some inexplicably strange reasons, apple juice tastes a lot better and curd filled bowls slip of your hands there) and the still wilder days at my flat are a few mentionable ones. Needless to say there have been many unmentionable ones! But this incident, this particular incident will remain long in my memory – as probably the most beautiful memory that I will cherish from the city!


Unless something really (and more) beautiful happens to me in future, pun intended in case you did not get it!


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wake up s(k)id!


Ever since I know I have loved Bollywood and everything that comes packaged with it – be it the melodramatic family scenes, or the larger-than-life characters, or the physics-defying fight sequences, or the butter-will-not-melt-in-my-mouth dialogues, or the talk-through-the-eyes romance - I simply cannot have enough of it! So while kids who grew up along with me gave me that you-have-not-seen-the-matrix or you-do-not-watch-friends look, I ignored them without giving them a thought. With time, I began watching and appreciating English movies as well, but somehow the charm and thrill of watching the shahrukhs, the salmans, the priyankas, and the amritas still remains intact and my appetite for them have only increased with time.

I watch any Hindi Movie I can lay my hands on or may be can ‘Book My Show’ through and trust me when I say, more often than not, I end up liking them or at least some part of them. However, once in a while, I do come across a movie that astounds me by its sheer simplicity of the plot – a story that we all know, a story that we all share, a story that we can all relate to and yet told in a magical fashion that leaves us craving for more. ‘Wake Up Sid’ perfectly falls into that category.

Meet Siddharth Mehra a.k.a Sid (as he says that’s what his friends call him) as he takes a journey of a lifetime from his carefree, innocence days where in he wears Scooby Doo T-shirts, feeds on pizzas, fools around, sleeps late, fails exams, and pays for all of this using his dad’s credit card. The ways of the rich and the spoilt kid till his father decides to open up the door of his house, throw him out of his cocoon so that the lousy caterpillar, without a life, that went into it would come out as a beautiful butterfly at the end of the journey.

In comes ‘the new city girl’ Aisha who has moved from Calcutta to Bombay to discover herself as a writer and makes sure she tells people “I do not intend to sleep with you” when she asks them out for a walk. She is the complete opposite of Sid – keeps her house clean, makes her food, keeps striving to realize her dreams even though her efforts are continuously being ignored by her new boss who is more interested in taking her for Jazz shows than reading her articles, knows when she falls in love and speaks it out in an unconventional but touching way. Sid meets Aisha, strikes a chord, becomes a friend and lands up in her house when his father throws him out of his own.

What follows is a simple narration of how Sid, the Kid discovers how to make omelets, discovers how to clean up the mess he creates, discovers his passion in photography, discovers the meaning of relationship, discovers love, discovers himself. The movie ends as Sid, the Kid wakes up from his slumber and realizes life is a lot more than what he has seen so far.

What touched me most is the way romance blossoms between the lead pair. I have never believed in ‘you-had-me-at-hello’ love stories. My mind can never fathom how people who barely know each other can fall into love! All that I know (I have very little experience at this) is that love is when you are so used to someone that you feel their absence, love is when you like someone’s imperfections, love is when you know that the person in front is the worst thing that has ever happened to you but you still cannot let him go, love is when you cling onto a hope that no matter whether the person you love likes you or not will come back and you wait for that magical moment to happen. (And if it happens when the Mumbai rains are hitting a turbulent sea, could you ask for more?) And in that respect Wake Up Sid was a revelation. A love story as this is always a pleasure to watch. No wonder Aisha asks Sid in the beginning of the movie, “Kya tum is flat ko ghar bana ne main meri madat karoge?” Irony!

I have a lot of reasons to like Wake Up Sid – I watched a good movie after a long time, a few of my choicest friends turned up, was looking forward to a great lunch at KFC after the movie etc – but if I could tell you just one reason to go and watch the movie it would invariably be this one – If you are planning to have a good two and half hour, I am sure few things come better than this at two hundred bucks! (One hundred for the ticket and one hundred for the popcorn!)



The title of the story was actually coined by a friend, who was too busy giving me that that-was-meant-for-you look in every dialogue of the movie and after, in an attempt to look smarter than what she is! So there we go! No plagiarisms. Due credits given!

I have already set my alarm to the ‘Wake Up Sid’ ring-tone. But I still think I should get to sleep now. Lest even ‘Wake Up Sid’ fails to wake me up. Pun Intended!

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reunion vnit batch 2009




I live in Hyderabad – a city to be one of the worst affected by Swine Flu in India. But I never felt its presence around (neither I nor anyone I know has been affected by it, touchwood) till my Alma Mater, my graduating college, VNIT decided to call off the Convocation for the year 2009 (which incidentally is the year I graduated) owing to the same.

A few days of fuming at the authorities of the College (How the hell can they cancel the Convocation?), trying out things (talk to the Council, talk to the Deans, write mails to the Director), speak for hours giving consolation to each other on the phone followed. And then, as true VNITians we decided to organize one for ourselves (four years in VNIT may or may not make an engineer but will definitely make you an organizer for sure, and a certified one for that matter). So a few folks who have the obsessive, compulsive disorder of organizing things and cannot sit still without it chalked out a small plan. We of course could not call it the Convocation and so called it - what else – the Reunion.

And thus unfolded the saga of my coming back to VNIT, to those hostels whose walls still contain my whimsical drawings, to those mess food and Sunday feasts, to those wide, abandoned roads adorned with green bushes on either side, to those buildings where I have etched my smiles and sorrows, to those hang outs where I have laughed, cried and fought, to those people who have over the time been my closest pals, to those memories that keep lurking here and there in every nook and corner of the campus, frivolously playing hide and seek waiting to catch a sight of my moist eyes, to my college days.


Those two days simply whizzed by I was trying to cling onto them in a hope that I will be able to carry some of them in the albums of memory to come back to when they are no longer there. I failed. The more I tried to cling onto them, the faster they went away leaving me with nothing but few more good moments that I would crave for later.
Those long nonsense talks over a drunken stupor that intoxicates the entire atmosphere with the people who turned up in PP’s, Ripples and Gurmeet Dhaba, those carefree times as we danced to the beats in the Audi and on the Ripples dance floor, those hours wasted at the CCD listening old melodies remixed into their new avatars, those wild talks about every possible love story in the college that our creative minds can conjure, those wild days of living in the hostel, sleeping late and waking up as if there is no tomorrow, that delicious Sunday feast that once used to mark the only high time in the week, those cultural nights at the Audi (it was ‘Freshers’ this time), those infinite strategies that were planned to impress the girls during such nights - it was all there, the way I had left it when I had left my college. Only I had moved - a little far in my life, a little far from all these things, a little far from my college and the charm that it has!

I had my tickets booked for Sunday but those 2400 rupees looked trivial in front of the bargain that I could buy myself another 24 hours if I stayed back one day more. The next day, since I had nothing else to do (people were away with their girl-friends; I need not explain further) I went to the Department all alone and in its silent atmosphere, green lawns, deserted classrooms and empty benches I felt a strange feeling. I felt home!

Before I left, I remember Pradeep saying me, “Click a lot of photographs. I am going to see the reunion through your eyes.” Though I had my camera all the way, I did not click any. In stead I was busy etching them into my memory, as deep as I could so that I would never require a photograph to come back to them. A part of that etching spilled out into this post. As I started my journey back to Hyderabad, I was blank. There was hardly anything that I felt. I knew I was going for a good number of days before I come back again. That suddenly did not seem tough to accept. Because somehow deep within me, I knew for sure: I am coming back!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eXoAL9eL50I&feature=PlayList&p=C0A865E2DE3D4970&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=28

i remember the times...

I remember the times…
I came early only to stand at a distance and watch
You waiting for me, fidgeting with your hair
Frowning because I was late.

I remember the times…
I thought about all the stories to tell
When you were around, whiling time
To see that you-good-for-nothing smile.

I remember the times…
I danced all alone, holding your hand
Practicing every step with care
Wanting it to be perfect the first time.

I remember the times…
We fought like the kids on the road
Teased each other with everything we know
Cursing and swearing as we went back home.

I remember the times…
You told me you could never love that guy
A false sense of satisfaction washing my heart
As you held my hand and did cry.

I remember the times…
He walked into your life, and asked for you
You looked into my eyes, sought my advice
And then walked out of mine.

I remember the times…
You came clean with all your lies
You lowered your eyes.
You kissed me and said the worst of all goodbyes.


People often ask me “Why do you all your poems have to be on unsuccessful love stories?”

Personally I have never come across a girl I would die for. I see a new love story in every girl I meet. (Kidding!)

But more often than not, I come across people who have loved and failed, loved and lived, loved and failed and lived. This poem is for one such guy, with a story that he narrated to me in detail. (Okay he was drunk! What difference does it make?)

Anyways, people who love and succeed have a story to tell! Don’t they? And so I believe, poems are meant for people who have loved and failed!!



there you go!

A lot of people have been sending me this set of questions of late. And though, I should answer each of them in ideal case , I now find it a bit weary to answer the same questions over and over again.

So here is what I do. I post the answers to the questions as I answered them for the first time. (I copy it from a saved word document. I sometimes wonder how easy life is with Microsoft Office.) Most of the answers still remain the same. As for the others (which keep changing) I will definitely update you as and when required.

(We call it 'Re-usability' in the software world. But I would allow you to call it 'Laziness'!)


WHAT IS YOUR FULL NAME?

Shreetam Subhrankar


WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO?

Masakalli from Delhi 6... the beats in the song are awesome


THE LAST THING YOU ATE

Choco Chips Ice cream


IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?

Black - It takes in everything, but remains what it is! (A great feature for people who are horrible with crayons)


HOW IS THE WEATHER RIGHT NOW?

Mildly warm... inducing lots and lots of sleepiness


LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE

My mom


FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX

Expressions... if that is perfect, you automatically appear sexy


DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT YOU THIS MAIL?

I love talking to her a lot... I find her very impressive to talk to


FAVORITE SPORTS

I am the sport ... Let's Play.


HAIR COLOR

Black


WEAR CONTACTS

No.


WEAR SPECS

Yes


FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR

Everyday


FAVORITE RELAXATION SPOT

My bed and a nice novel...


ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT?

Yes... I am not exactly shy. I am not very good at initiating conversation and that I guess explains.


SUMMER OR WINTER

I am tempted to say Rainy... but let's play according to the rules... summer for the vacation and winter for the laziness...


HUGS OR KISSES

Depends who the person in front is...


RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE NIGHT STANDS

Relationships... Even a one night stand is a relationship. However relationship is a lot more than that.


CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA

Chocolate


DO YOU WANT YOUR FRIENDS TO WRITE BACK

Yes...


WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND?

Someone who thinks I am worth talking to of course!!


WHO IS LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND?

All others - read the answer above.


LIVING ARRANGEMENTS

You set the rules for yourself always... so I guess you can live in any conditions.


WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?

That thing called love... Tuhin A. Sinha... Its okay... read it only if you have lots of time to kill...


WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?

My Mouse of course, a techno-tip pen and fragments of what once was a cd !!


WHAT DID YOU DO LAST NIGHT?

was designing the cover page of the magazine... then was doing my assignment... and then watched the last part of LOTR 3 and then slept of course!!


CAN YOU TOUCH YOUR NOSE WITH YOUR TONGUE?

No


WHAT INSPIRES YOU?

Anything in which I can find traces of whimsical art...


BUTTERED, PLAIN OR SALTED POPCORN

Salted


FAVORITE FLOWERS

White roses... specially a bouquet of them


FAVORITE ANIMAL

Dogs


WHAT IS YOUR BIRTH DATE?

14th March


TODAY'S DATE

12th March 2009


WHO SENT U THIS MAIL?

Suvra




moving on

Then I thought, “May be, not now!”

And we moved on.


Years later, we met

Smiled at the days gone,

Held each other and cried.

Quarreled, Teased, Bitched

Talked non sense

Smiled again!


I thought, “May be, now!”

But still, we moved on!


I wish we had given it a try

I wish you had read my thoughts

I wish the moment had stopped.


Now I think, “May be, then!”

But all we ever did was move on!



Random thoughts. Just like that...

the last lecture - a review


It was just another foray into the world of ‘Crossword’ at the GVK Mall at Hyderabad when ‘The Last Lecture’ caught my eyes. Considering my fancy for book stores and the time I spend there (the rest of the mall does not excite me as much as that little corner besides the book shelves) it is not unnatural for me to pick up a book at random, just because I like the cover-page or the title of the book. But this time it was not so. I had heard about the author, I had seen the video of the lecture that had inspired the book but somehow I never took those into account while buying the book. I had an inner feeling saying that this is one of the best that it can get. And Randy Pausch, in all of his two hundred and six pages, and a story that is so common in its existence in our day-to-day life that it almost goes unnoticed not only unconventionally tells us something that we all forget as we grow up but also presents the beautiful world of dreams and seeing them fulfilled – for yourself as well as for others!

It is uncharacteristic for someone to speak about ‘Reliving Their Childhood Dreams’ on their last lecture, literally so. But when Randy Pausch, a professor in Department of Computer Science (another reason to have a special liking to the book) in Carnegie Mellon learns that he has his days numbered on this planet he decides to give his last lecture, as is the tradition, but he also decides he would speak nothing about his cancer, nothing about his impending death, nothing about how unjust life had been to him, nothing about all the wrongs that he has been met out with. Rather he would speak about the beautiful world of dreams, the euphoria of seeing them achieved, all the good things life has showered him with and how he did live a life that he would trade for no one else’s.

And so he relates incidents from his life, handpicked with care where he outlines all the innocent dreams that he saw in his childhood (I could relate to all the dreams. I wanted to touch the sky. I wanted to be a cricketer. I wanted to play the mouth organ. I wanted to be Harry Potter. I wanted to win trophies. I wanted to write a book. I am sure you will relate to them as well) and how he has achieved them one at a time – failing in his tries but never failing to try. And in the magic that he weaves as he narrates them, he creates a world where you suddenly begin to believe that nothing, I repeat nothing, is unachievable - no matter how weird they are, no matter how tough they are! As Randy puts it in his masterpiece,” The Brick walls are not there to keep you away from your dreams. They are there to see how badly you want your dreams to be fulfilled. They are there to keep the others away from your dream.”

The book only gets better and better as Randy enumerates how he moved from seeing his dreams fulfilled to fulfilling other’s dreams. Of the many wonderful things that he was part of in his life, some that he just got into, some that he started himself, some that he will leave behind as his legacy. It is in here you start understanding the real Randy Pausch – he knows he will not be around after sometime and that he is doing all he can to get things settled before he says goodbye but you tend to believe that a part of him just craves to stay behind – among his students at ETC, in his project ALICE, with his wife JAI, for his kids who are too young to realize what is happening to him and not too old to remember him completely after he is gone.

The lecture was scheduled on the eve of his wife’s birthday – his last one. And so just before concluding the lecture he asks her to cut the cake and the audience erupts singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her. Jai walks up to Randy and whispers in his ear “Please don’t die”. And as she does so, I have a strong urge to tell him the same thing.

I consciously did not spell out the details of the book – I want you to read it and listen to Randy as he takes you through it. And as he does so, relive all those experiences that I did. I do not think anyone can be better than him at this as I have already mentioned in the starting of the review. This is kind of the best that it can get. Only it was the last for Randy!

A must read for everyone. Highly recommended.

For people who have already read it: -

So did you figure out the “head fake”?

Well the last lecture was not last at all. I read it a year after Randy died and still found it relevant enough. I am sure so will many in times to come. So it was just last for Randy. For many, it will be the beginning.

And did you figure out the second “head fake”?

This article was not for you. It was for me. I could not have lived without writing something after reading a book of that kind. It is just so phenomenal. (Remember – My childhood dream, my unfinished childhood dream is to write a book someday. So here I come Randy!)

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Shreetam Subhrankar
Moody, Passionate, Workaholic, Chatter Box, Computer Freak, Loves Reading, Aspiring Writer, Movie Buff, Photography Enthusiast, Plays Badminton and the Harmonica,Admires Whimsical Art. Loves to pen thoughts into words.
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