What to do?

I am sick of people acting aghast when I say I don’t play sports…And I don’t follow sports either… And I am sick of the extended explanation that I have to give to convince people that I am not lying… I mean really, I don’t play sports coz’ I know I suck… and I really do… and I don’t follow sports coz’ if I can’t play then what is the whole point of jumping at someone else making & breaking records! And please! Don’t even give me that nationalist Gyaan that one is supposed to cheer for India when it wins a Gold Cup… And since one must cheer for India it is logical that one must also witness the event for which one is acting so cheerfully! Sorry, boss… I am not 10 anymore… And clearly… India will continue to win/ lose shamelessly irrespective of whether I cheer for her or not…. That is point 1…. The flip side of not playing/watching/taking interest in sports is that it robs me of a very vital and easy topic on which small talk can be done…. Usually the conversation that commences with the line “How pathetic was Sachin’s performance yesterday”, should proceed to how great and awesome Sachin is…. And how beautifully India batted the other day etc. etc. …. Unfortunately though, in my case, the conversation thus begun are ended by me with a “hmmm”, with moi usually looking the other way to hide my shame at the fact that I wasn’t even aware that there was a match, let alone Sachin’s abominable performance…

I am also sick of people acting aghast when I tell them that I don’t really follow Hindi movies… Yes… I have still not seen “Dil Chahta hai”… or “KNPH”… I don’t think I have seen DDLJ fully till date… And I saw Kuch Kuch Hota Hai like some 4 years after its release… But before you brand me a hopelessly pathetic person, I would just like to say the following in my defense… I have made a genuine effort to watch Hindi movies… And what have I ended up watching… for some sad reason or the other… I have been subjected to tortures such as “Rakht”… “Dev D”… “Paa” etc. Not to say that “Black” or “Rang De Basanti” were not fantastic… but they were merely exceptions to the rule… So as a result… I have re-imposed a moratorium on me watching Hindi movies… unless they are recommended by at least 4 people whose opinions matter… So,That robs me of another easy “Small-Talk”-able topic…

I am also sick of people acting aghast when I tell them that I don’t read such books as “2 states” or “5 point someone” or the likes of such books… I am also sick of disappointing them by telling them the kind of books that I read… So that is one less area where small talk can be had!

Lastly I am sick of the exasperated looks on people’s faces when there is nothing left to talk about other than the weather!!! So that a typical conversation is...

Them : Its cold today!

Me: yea... Its very cold today!

Them: It was very cold yesterday also!

Me: I think the day before was the coldest!

Them: yea... See you!

Me: Bye!

What to do? :D

Backlogs!

I feel like reminiscing about the much dreaded backlogs.. I mean, now that college is over and the degree has been "earned", it is easier to talk about Backlogs as a sort of experience that helps one "mature" and develop a "holistic" view of things... But mind it, these very backlogs were the source of much agony & heartbreak when they actually "occured"...


My hypothesis of me getting backlogs is very simple... I had nothing to do with them... They were freak accidents that could have happened to anybody...Only, they happened to me... Weight is given to this hypothesis by the simple fact that I managed to pass most of the subjects where I really dreaded getting a backlog... Take for example Econometrics... or even Economics... or for that matter Financial Management... or even OR... I only got backlogs where I felt I had performed exceedingly well (relative to my knowledge of the subject) or where I thought I'd at least be an "average"...

Case 1: Managerial Accountancy Internals was my first backlog...My first backlog in the history of my educational "career"... I was handed out a backlog when I failed to score the 0.7* average score i.e. 36 or 37... I think I scored 24.. And why, you ask?... Because I had not had a good meal for days, dreading the Man Acc paper... I avenged my hunger by eating up all 0s... So 10,00,000 magically became 10,00,00....So Cost Sheets would obviously be wrong... I made the same mistake in least 3 different questions... I remember begging the prof to somehow pass me so that "ye kalank mere charitra se dhul jaye", but he refused... So thats that... By the way, I scored very well in the Man Acc externals, implying that the fault lay not with understanding, but merely with executing... And anyways.. I turned out to be the Man Acc backlog topper... and it contributed more to my GPA than what would have been the contribution in case of just scraping through in the Internals...

Case 2: Leadership internals... I mean who flunks Leadership?... It was a paper that tested pfaffability and I am certain of my prowess in pfaffing my way through most situations... So the question is, How did I flunk?.. Basically, I was not allowed to sit for one of the evaluations, thanks to me bunking one of the Guest Lectures... Later on, when I begged to be allowed to write the missed evaluation, I was told that I'd have to pay a fine of Rs. 1000... Now, applying for backlog cost Rs 500 ... So, demonstrating the business acumen that had been gained in the last 3 semesters, it was clear that paying the fine would undoubtedly be a "lose-win" scenario, monetarily speaking... I also remember begging and stalking the professor for days at end and the way she treated me, like a stray dog, really disgusted me...And anyways, it is not always about marks... It is about principles... Why should I pay to sit for re-exam for bunking a stoopid guest lecture that was in no way related to this subject?... In any case, flunk I did... And I did re-appear for Leadership internals.. where, once more I turned out to be the topper...

Anyways...My sole 'academic achievement' in College has been topping Backlog exams.

I am yet to use a single principle of Man Acc in my life or for that matter demonstrate the traits of leadership that were identified in the course on Leadership...So, thats that!

Munger Diaries II

Now that the new year has arrived and is comfortably settled... It is time to continue with the adventures in Mungeristan....Let me begin by highlighting some points

1. The national language of Mungeristan is incomprehensible Hindi...This varies from incomprehensibility arising out of addition of Bhojpuri, or in this case Angika words... or from the utterance of hyper pure sanskritized Hindi that was last used in schooldays... Either ways, to my ears, that have gotten used to a variety of apabramhshas...both are equally unintelligible! For starters, can you understand what does a person mean, when he says " Hum achambhit hain ki aapne humey samay nahi diya (does achambhit mean happy/sad/surprised/shocked)... ye atyant durbhagyapoorn hai"... Similary, I have also been lectured on my "Daayitva" and on certain "Vidambanaas"...

2. Geographically speaking, Mungeristan is situated somewhere in the middle of the Himalayas...That is the only way to explain why it is so cold here, when, technically, it is just 400 kms from Kolkata, where, from what I hear, people are still sweating... Biting cold is made worse by super cold winds that keep blowing day in & out.... and add to it the fact that I am now Vitamin D deficient, thanks to the lack of Sunshine for the

last 2 weeks...! It is so cold, that my facebook status message has been "brr brr cold cold" at least 5 times in the last 2 weeks...I have forgotten what it means to have warm fingers and toes... and when was the last time I didn't feel revolted at the thought of having to pee and then wash hands...

3. The national weapon of Mungeristan is a gun called "kattha"... It sells en masse here... People use it for a variety of purposes... It is the most favoured weapon of the kidnapper and the murderer... It also serves the purpose of self reliance in Mungeristan... Mungeristan is the single largest consumer of Katthas produced in Mungeristan...

4. The favorite pastime of people in Mungeristan is climbing towers... They climb towers early in the day and then refuse to climb down for hours at end... Atop the tower, where mobile signals are the clearest, they talk to their beloved.... Last heard, the government of Mungeristan was planning to tax tower climbing...

5. The favorite holiday destination of the citizens of Mungeristan is the city of Mungerabad... Located in the centre of Mungeristan, Mungerabad proudly boasts of 1 legal arms factory and a million illegal ones, 2 restaurants, 81 lakh gau shaalas & 1 movie theatre...The current rage in Mungeristan is the movie "Gayi bhaisaniya paniya me"... Also doing well is the action-thriller movie "Barood"...

Oh and also... I have finally shifted to a place of my own which implies that I am, after almost 6 months of or so, no longer, living out of a suitcase... Can anything else be more delightful!!

Turn back time!

In the history of Aashay-years, this year will be known as 'The one with all the travelling'... A quick run through the year that was-

1. January

 Happy New Year 2009 while huddled around a bonfire with a group of friends on a hill overlooking the Diveagar beach

2. February

 The chuttis & the sneak preview of the Goodbye & farewell season that was soon to come

3. March

 Stupid examinations and the fear of flunking in the final semester… Actually I think I came close to that an lot of times

4. April

 Teary farewells… End of an era…Life without the college… All pervading sadness & a sense of apprehension… Kya hoga next??

5. May

And the travelling begins… First on the list: Bhopal, followed by the ultra-awesome Vaishno Devi trip where I realized that climbing up 8 kms can be less painful than riding down 8 kms on a horse… followed by the amazing trip to Sikkim & Darjeeling

6. June

 Travelling continues…Ultra-Royal welcome to ITC… 15 days of luxury at Sonar Bangla, Kolkata… Followed by the First Training Stint at Bangalore

7. July

Feeling of a work life begins to sink in… and let me be frank.. Its not very exciting… First month south of the Vindhyas..

8. August

 Work life continues to drag on… But the arrival of my cousin & his family implies entertainment galore…

9. September

Season of reviews gone horribly wrong… Both at Bangalore & Kolkata… Second stint at Kolkata

10. October

Work life isn’t all that bad… and what do you know… Cigarettes do sell like hot cakes…Trip to Vishakhapatnam & Agartala....Finally become a Phoren Return following the sneaking in of that solitary toe into Bangladesh…

11. November

Back to Munger after summers 2008… Only this time, the shock value is missing…

12. December

 Off to Kolkata and back to Munger…New Year 2010 to be welcomed in Munger!!

Paa... Maa... Tata!

Let me straight the tone of this article straight. Paa is one of the worst movies that I have ever seen... If I were ever to release a list of the worst Hindi movies ever made, Paa would far outrank, such disasters as Ghajini, DevD & even Rakht!...I think of the movie as an experiment gone horribly wrong... After all, a movie about a boy afflicted with a rare disease should have been interesting & different to watch... But No!... the directors of Paa made sure that it was another of those nonsense hindi movies that ruined an awesome concept!

I mean, look at so many Hindi movies, and that is what they do.. They come up with mind blastingly awesome concepts and then ruin them with stupid dialogues, interspersed with idiotic songs & unnecessary pelvic thrusts, known as dancing!... Remember Rock On!?.. It was an awesome idea, and the movie even had brilliant songs but the dialogues... My Gawd!!... Remember Luke Kenny's unforgettable dialogue... "Ye brain tumour mere brain ka ek hissa ban chuka hai"... I mean What the hell is that!...

Remember Ghajini's heroine ( I forget her name) and remember her stupendous theatrical skills??... Every syllable in her dialogue had a matching hand movement, lending the actress a marionette like quality...

And now Paa...

Question no. 1) What in God's name was Jaya Bacchan doing in the beginning of the movie, reading out the names of the charatcters... Did the Bacchans sign a family-pack deal?..If you want the father & the son, then the mother comes at a discounted rate ??

Question no. 2) Which bloody Indian politician has the time to cater to the tantrums of a child?.. Remember Auro refusing to go inside the rashtrapati bhawan becoz usko potty aayi thi!!!... More like the crew couldn't get a permit to shoot inside the Rashtrapati Bhawan!

Question no. 3 ) If a mother knows that her child is sick & sensitive, would she EVER send him away with a stranger to another place??... And if she did, isn't the question "aaj tumne khichdi khaai naa?" a little redundant!...

And to top it all there was the memorable dialogue about "Sperm Lending" that Vidya Balan delivers to AB jr...

All said & done, Vidya Balan looks FANTASTIC in the movie and I think that is the ONLY reason to go see Paa!

And for those, who say that paa wasn't that bad and that I am exaggerating (as usual), I would strongly recommend a movie titled "Lorenzo's Oil" starring Susan Sarandon...

I also managed to see "Rocket Singh" in the last week... It was certainly more entetaining than Paa!!

Engineers Ahoy!

Well, I have always known that I wasn't really great with my technical skills... I mean I knew that my engineering fundaes were shaky at best and only God knows how I passed those horrendous practical exams... But, there has always been the feeling that I could have managed a techincal career... Of COurse I would have to struggle...but then... ho jaata...


Anyways... Thats not the point..An acquaintance called me up yesterday enquiring about the final year project that I had "done" (so to speak) in my final year of Engineering...Now, the strange thing is , I couldn't, though I tried to recollect as hard as I could, remember the project title.It was something to do with Microprocessors... or was it Microwaves... or Micro-minis!!!... By the way, this project was the highlight of my resume till my summers...I still remember going through my final project report before summers began...Awkward, embarrassed and ashamed at the same time, I told the caller that my mind has just blanked out and that the title will come back to me & I will communicate the same... I tried thinking of the project, but my mind refused to accommodate this query.... I tried thinking hard of the group of people I had done my project with... but No... Nothing there as well...

In the meanwhile, a friend of mine called up and I asked him if he remembered the project I had done...Although, he couldn't tell me my project, I was surprised to find out that he at least remembers his... Agitated & Embarrassed at the same time, I decided it was time to regain some pride... So, I generally said that although I couldn't remember the project title, I could clearly see the circuit diagram in front of my eyes...You know... how a little showing-off never hurt anyone... Now, in an ideal world, this should have been the end of the conversation and other better thinbgs should have been brought forth for discussion... Alas!... He chose to ask me what the circuit diagram was...

Brimming with fake confidence, I repiled in my boldest voice... There was this chip in the centre.... IC-814!!!...

That is it... A loud guffaw from the other end made me realize the futility of continuing this conversation any further...All hope at regaining lost ground was lost by the utterance of those syllables.. IC-814!

The sad part is I still don't know what my project was... The good part is that I have been able to track down my team members...I probably will harangue them one of these days to remind myself of "My Project"....2 years of MBA have washed away 4 years of Engineering... And that is not to say that I remember anything that was "learnt" during 2 years of MBA!...

What was the old adage again?...

"Engineers forever"!!

The Night II

On this dark chilly night, the air was unusually still... Branches didn't sway, leaves didn't rustle... The air just hung around, weighed down by some invisible force. A faint mist was descending, and in spite of the mist, it kept getting colder. Not unusually cold, for this time of the year, but, still quite cold.

Most of the people of Haverton Street stayed indoors, cuddled up inside their warm blankets & centrally heated appartments. Only the unlucky strayed on the street at this time of the night. Take Mr. Desmond, for instance, he was returning home, having had a particularly harrowing day. His whole day of begging for a few pences & some morsels of bread had come to nothing. He had given up hope at 9 and ambled along the street to his Soup kitchen, which was as crowded as ever. They served him cold soup, and stale bread, and when he couldn't force anymore down his unwilling throat, he got up & left for his tin-shack, where he presumed, he would spend another cold, sleepless & uncomfortable night.

They said, Mr. Desmond was not always like this. Before the great war, he was the owner of Bull Enterprises, the leading tyre manufacturer in the whole of Britain, one of the richest men in the county, rather many counties. But then came the Nazi blitzkrieg, and the sight of burning rubber and his factory reduced to a heap of burning cinders, drove him insane. He left his home and disappeared. Noone knows where he went. everybody assumed that he'd died of grief. But then, twenty years later, he resurfaced. A babbling, old buffoon, who still believed it was the 40s and that the Nazis were coming. He'd warn passers-by to build bomb-proof shelters. He'd claim to have personally begged Hitler to let go of Haverton Street, but Hitler had refused. When his former neighbours and friends could take no more of him, they left him at a psychiatric clinic, but Mr. Desmond escaped. Since then, every day, he wanders the lanes of Haverton Street, begging for money & food and retires in the night to his tin shack at the end of the street.

But tonight, Mr. Desmond was delayed. He walked slowly, like any other man at his age would. And it was unbearably chilly today. He folded his arms around his waist tightly, but that didn't help either. He continued walking slowly, shivering and hurling curses at God under his breath. Suddenly, the sky lighted up. It was not the kind of light that you'd associate with daylight... It was a weird purple green kind of a light that seemed to emanate from the spot where Bull Enterprises had stood some half a century ago and where presently was a shady garage, where the ruffians (kids who used to throw stones at him and call him names) used to hang around.

Desmond assumed he was 'seeing' things and that his mind was playing games with him. He had gotten used to seeing what others couldn't. Like last week, he saw the angel Gabriel, who had come down from the skies to take him to heaven. He had also seen what Paradise looked like and how it was in hell. But the images would go away as soon as had they had become visible, at the blink of an eye.

Usually, Desmond would shrug off these visions. But this time, curiousity got the better of him. He continued to walk down to that old desolate spot, muttering curses under his breath and swearing he'd skin those ruffians alive. The closer he got to the site, the warmer it seemed to get, so much so, when he was right in front of the garage, he started sweating profusely and had to throw his jacket away.

He stood in front of the Garage door and yelled out as loudly as he could " Timmy... You better not be upto something mischievious, else I will go tell your Mommy"... He repeated twice, but got no reply. He knocked at the door, as all gentlemen in his times used to, but there was no reply again. In the meanwhile, it seemed to be getting warmer by the minute. Desmond felt his throat was going dry, it smelled as though tyres were burning... It seemed to be taking him back in time... back to the good old days... when he was the richest man in town... when he had a retinue of 20 servants to look after him... How the passers by would wish him "good Morning Mr. Desmond", they'd say, and he'd tilt his hat in reply...

But his chain of thoughts was broken... There was a horrible screech that broke the silence of the night... The still air, seemed to have regained its life and started blowing... Dark clouds seemed to be flowing across the sky... Thunder kept punctuating the silence of the night. And then suddenly, there was a huge blast in the middle of the Garage and the door that Desmond had been knocking on, a few minutes ago was blasted off its hinges. Desmond was thrown away by the intensity of the explosion and landed some 10 feet away...

-to be continued-

Munger Diaries Season II: The Pilot

I am a self proclaimed lazy bum... There is nothing more I want from life other than a cosy bed, a fluffy pillow and a nice book to read (I also want money, happiness, and world peace, but that is a different issue altogether)... So, imagine my frustration when I was awakened by a phone call at 9:30 AM on a Sunday morning (It is important to highlight the importance of Sunday, because Saturday is no longer a chutti for me) asking me to come to the cricket pitch, for a cricket match- the second of the season...

Now, I am not the sporty types... I have tried my hand at various sports, and for a fact I know that I SUCK at cricket... I mean... I bowl only wides & no-balls.... I can't see a ball that is aimed at the stumps (explaining the bowlers' high success rates against me)... and I can't differentiate between a ball in the sky and a flying eagle... So, imagine my frustration at being invited for a "CRICKET MATCH" on a sunday morning...

I got up and started getting ready hurriedly, when I got another call saying that I was required to "report" for the football match. "Mini Football tournament" is on in Munger, and the mixed manager-worker teams makes for an interesting play....I had already missed the first match, and I had no intention of being labelled a snoot. Imagine my plight, ladies and gentlemen, as on a Sunday morning, I ran to reach in time for a game that I have never played in my life! People say they have 2 left feet for dancing. Well, I have 2 left feet for dancing and for playing football...

Somehow I survived the agony and prevented myself from getting totally humiliated by following a simple strategy. I ran from one end of the field, shouting & yelling, irrespective of the direction in which the ball was kicked. If the ball was hurled at me, I would look away, and pretend that I was not prepared. All that notwithstanding, the team that I was a part of, won in the "Sudden Death" and hence qualified for the Quarters (inspite of me!)

The one lesson I learnt from this was the fact that sometimes, It is not about the "I". The team didn't mind the fact that I couldn't play... they didn't mind if I couldn't pass correctly...(At least they didn't openly!) and most importantly they seemed happy that I showed interest... Probably, it was worth getting up early for that!

From the field, to the pitch. By now the match was underway, and I was not required to partcipate by playing... In any case, I hung around, enjoying the play and wishing even I could play well!

A couple of rounds of the campus in the evening and an hour of tennis later, my body gave up on me... And so, as I type my Sunday-Exploits, every bone in my body, every muscle,artery & vein aches and hurts & agonizes...

But it was worth it...A Sunday well spent in Monghyr! :D

Itihasnaama I: The fall of Kabul

In 1978, as the world watched with dismay, Soviet tanks rolled into Afghanistan, effectively shattering the uneasy peace that had prevailed between the the 2 superpowers since the Cuban Missile Crisis of '62. As President Carter raved and ranted, The Soviets and their Aghan proteges quietly set up a commusit government in one of the most fervently religious nation of the world. The Opposition to the So-called Soviet "Invasion" was initailly muted, at least in Afghanistan, where the masses longed for a durable government that could resolve their problems. The West in the meanwhile had raised its hackles. The quiet and amiable Carter was replaced byu a hwakish, almost dogmatic Reagan, who pledged to stop at nothing, but the destruction of this Evil Empire. The 1980 Moscow Olympics were reduced to a Non-NATO Olympics, with most of US allies choosing to boycott the games. In the meanwhile, the Soviet forces continued to entrench themselves in Afghanistan.

The Soviets had understood the Afghan Occupation as a brief event that would not exceed a couple of years at the most. However, the Communist regime in Kabul failed to win the hearts and minds of the people, most of whom lived in the interior and were too religious to concur with the blasphemous mutterings of the Kabul government. This meant that the government at Kabul was reduced to being a Kabul government only, its writ ran nowhere outside Kabul and a few other important cities. Its land re-distribution scheme (the cornerstone of any Communist regime) ran into stiff resistance. Its liberal attitude towards women was deemed Un-Islamic by the mullahs, and its over-dependence on Moscow meant that it could never give an appearnce of a sovereign administration.

Thousands and Thousands of Afghans poured into Pakistan to flee the Communists. Overnight, Pakistan was transformed from "A state on India's western border" to a "Frontline State in the War against the Soviets". The feverishly religious President Zia helped finance an assortment of Masjids and rabid Mullahs who spewed Venom against the Godless Soviets. American money and strategy only helped the cause. By the beginning of the 80s, a small contingent of Soviet-hating Afghans, empowered by their faith in Allah and American Weaponry were ready to the take the Infidel in Afghanistan itself.

The Mujhaheddin strategy of Guerrila Warfare against a more numerous and a more militarily endowed enemy worked wonders. It bled the Soviets, hampered the Soldiers' morale and introduced the fear of death in the otherwise invincible Soviet forces. Armed with Bazookas and Rocket Launchers, Soviet military Convoys snaking through the desolate Afghan landscape became an easy taget for the so-called "Afghan Resistance". The Soviets hit back whenever they could, with dazzling accuracy, but these successes were far too few and too rare to be of of any help. Gradually, the Soviets abandoned the countryside, prefering instead to hold on to the fortified Towns & Provincial Capitals, thereby spawning a series of Warlords who ruled the countryside like dictators. The Warlords fought the Soviets in the day and each other in the night, but with the American Dollar tap running un-hindered, they could manage just fine..

By the mid-80s, The Soviets had come to realize that Afganistan was their Vietnam, and began deivising plans to extricate themselves from the mess they were in... however, Afghanistan had by now become a QUicksand, with multiple personalities, multiple parties and multiple interests.The more the Soviets tried to withdraw, the more they found themselves sinking in. The Mujhaheddin continued to expand and the Soviets continued to retreat. By 1987, with Gorabchev at the helm in Moscow and the suave, more pragmatic Najibullah clinging on to power in kabul, a deal was reached. The Soviets would withdraw from Afghanistan and the Afghan people would be free to decide their destiny. That destiny was in fact being scripted with American Dollars in Pakistan. The Pak-Sponsored Mujhaheddin , loyal to Islamabad's cause would form the next government in kabul. Shady characters such as Gulbuddin Hekamtiyar, Col. Abdul Rasheed Dostum etc etc. came to form the centre of the New-Afghan Politics. This, combined with the general disinterest in Afghanistan with the fall of the Soviet Union, meant that the general condition of the Afghan people became dire.

The daily in-fighting in Mujhaheddin government, street fights and the general chaos and lawlessness gave birth to a disciplined army of Islamists, calling themselves the Taliban. They were completely devoted to the cause of Islam and despised the anrachy and lawlessness that the Mujhaheddin had wrought upon the Afghan state. Like the Mujhaheddin, they had fought the Soviets with American arms and weaponry, but unlike them, they had not yet been polluted by power. In 1996, the citizens of Kabul came out dancing in the streets to welcome the Taliban. Soon, they set out to right the wrongs of the past. Najibullah was hanged, Soviet-loyalists were either killed or put behind bars. Kabul's liberalism didn't go down too well with the Taliban. Off went the women inside their homes and on came the beards. The Taliban ruled with an iron-fist for almost 5 years, till the time they decided to take on their creators-The US.

Afghanistan is probably the only country in the world that has fought both the superpowers. They succeeded in humbling the Soviets, and if the current situation is anything to go by, Americans may very well be the next.

Amar Sonar Mamta Di!

So far my stay in the city of joy has been quite uneventful... The induction seems to be dragging on and the initial euphoria related to market visits and observing sales has been replaced by a sense of monotony...However, everything changed on the evening of the 18th of October. When I was leaving the guest house to board my flight that day, little did I know, I was unwittingly landing up in a never-happened to me before adventure, an adventure, that left me gasping for breath in the end.

It all began on the evening of the 18th, I returned early from office to pack up my stuff and leave for the airport straightaway. The original plan went thus-

1. Leave office at 3:45
2. Reach Guest House by 4
3. Pack, Relax, Sleep, Eat till 5:30
4. Leave for airport at 5:30
5. Stop at Ulta Danga wala Haldiram to shop for sweets
6. Reach airport by 7-7:15
7. Board the 7 50 flight and reach Dilli by 10
However, as my luck and Mamta Di would have it, that was not meant to be. Here is the sequence of events that happened that left me shivering and shuddering!!
1. Left Office at 3 30, reached guest house at 3:45
2. Decided to shop for sweets at Garihat itself (Had been bored sick of cribbing about Haldiram sweets, which incidentally are available anywhere in the country)
3. Returned to Guesthouse by 4:30
4. Packed and left the Guesthouse at 5:15 to pick up sweets from Haldiram only
5. At 5:30, the taxi comes to a grinding halt at a place around 3 kms from the Guesthouse, I don't even bother looking outside, assuming that it is an evening trafiic jam
6. 5 minutes later, as curiousity gets the better of me, I realize that its a "Chokka Jam" by Mamtadi, who is (as usual) prtesting about something
7. Its almost 6 now, when the whole picture becomes clear... Mamta Di, in her infinite wisdom, has decided to blockade all routes to and from airport and Howrah station. So, there is NO detour possible. My driver makes it a point to tell me " Agar aapki kismat acchi hogi toh aapko flight mil jayegi"
8. Nervous, I call up IndiGo people, planning to get the ticket cancelled and book an early morning flight, however, cancellatiojns shut 2 hours before departure, so I would end up losing money anyway!!
9. At 6:20 ,As I fret and fidget inside my car, I realize that something drastic needs to be done, if I am to have a chance of making it to the airport in time.
10. I take my luggage, and Off I am... Walking amidst the traffic... I would have walked some 2-3 kilometers, when I flagged down a rikshaw who drops me another2 kms ahead. By now, it is 6:50, 1 hour for my flight. I am now, around 30 mins away from the airport.
11. At this time, the traffic suddenly starts moving, someone in that perambulating mass of humanity yells that the Chokka Jam has been lifted. I flag down a taxi, and soon we are away!
12. Not for long though, 10 mins into the taxi ride and the Taxi comes to a grinding halt, once more. Now the Chokka Jam has been replaced by Traffic Jam, as all cabs try to jostle with each other in their rush to reach the airport.
13. At 7:20, we start again, taking the longer New Rajarhat route, which would be traffic free. It is a fast drive indeed, and as I start to settle down to the idea, that i will make it, the car stops once more. It is 7:30 now and we are hardly 10 minutes drive away from the airport.
14. As far as the eye can see, there are vehicles, of every type and colour with people inside them fretting and worrying, the drivers honking incessantly and peeping out of their windows to inform their passengers that it will be a while before they can "make a move"
15. Desperate, I call up IndiGo people again, begging them to "Hold the flight". Thankfully, I am informed that the flight will take off 10 mins later. That gives me a total of 20 mins to reach the airport.
16. The traffic crawls at a snail's pace. The whole plan of buying sweets has since long been abandoned. I am sitting in the car, praying, seating... Just hoping to make it in time, somehow.... Diwali away from home is not my idea of fun....
17. the car moves, slowly.... but steadily and I am at the airport at 7:55! My baggage is not checked and the boarding pass is issued in a matter of seconds...I am rushed to the security check, where I deposit my cell and my laptop in that dabba
18. By the time I am through with the check and go to reclaim my belongings, I realize that my cell is missing... someone else has picked it up (willfully most probably)...
19. I am now totally depressed... this is like the worst trip in the history of bad trips... I keep calling my no. (which I don't remember, so I had to first ask my folks what my number was!) which doesn't get answered...
20. Cursing, swearing and hating myself, I board the plane, dump my luggage, when I suddenly hear an old gentleman tellling someone over the phone that he has taken someone else's phone... I rush to him and ask him to hand my phone over... It turns out that he has returned the phone to the Ground team...
21. I rush out of the plane, with the Air Hostess trying to block me (the first time ever that I have elbowed an air hostess!) screaming "My phone"... " My phone"... Snatch it out of a ground crew member who is standing some distance away.... Flash my photo in front of him because he refused to buy the argumen that it indeed was my phone... and rush back into the plane!...
I am off the ground in 2 minutes!