Mar 7, 2006
This entry is a part of @Bloggerheads- The Blogging Competition organised by NMIMS for their Annual Cultural Festival,Euphoria 2006.
My name is Mithun. Yes, that's right, Mithun. A quick perusal of the Oxford dictionary informs you that I share my name with a variety of the milch bovine found in the north eastern parts of India, thankfully, a high yielding variety.
But that's certainly not where I get my name from. Legend says that when I was born and the nurse slapped me, I told her, 'kutti, kameeni, mein tera khoon pee jaaoonga'. As you might have guessed by now, my folks are movie-maniacs. So much so that they named me after the Bollywood superstar of the era that I was born in, with complete disregard to how much their kid would get ribbed throughout his life, especially when the hero of their choice would want to release 52 movies in a year, with names as esoteric as 'Cheetah' and 'Hitler'.
Not that I am complaining. Outside of West Bengal, I am always well known and if you have in your repertoire the entire lyrics of 'Zoobie, Zoobie' and all the moves of 'Disco Dancer', you are bound to be popular, for whatever it is worth.
I have been accused of addressing my teachers at times with the respectful salutation, 'Ae Saala' and once when my mom caught me with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar, I was left scot free because I told her, 'agar pet ki aag ko bhujaana chori hai, to haan haan mein chor hoon'. Things came to a head when, on discovering that my dad also stole cookies, I insisted on getting a tattoo on my wrist saying 'mera baap chor hai'.
Yes, movies are in my DNA.
Sometimes, I wish I was born in the Middle East. Every Friday would be a holiday, you see.
My favourite question in a B-school admission form or a company interview is, 'What are the three most important incidents that changed your life?'. Pat comes my reply, 'Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak', 'Maine Pyar Kiya' and 'Kuch Kuch Hota Hai'.
Not for me all these arty-farty multiplex movies. A love triangle, two dogs and a pigeon, bust and pelvic thrusts, one guy taking out two hundred bare-handedly, ribald jokes, yellow shirts, maroon trousers and blue shades, khaandaani ladaais and double meaning lyrics. Throw in a couple of item numbers and Nadeem Shravan songs with Kader Khan dialogues and this Mithun also 'lungi uthati aur disco dikhaati' on his cloud number nine.
It is a travesty to see the new generation appreciating absolute trash like Mr. and Mrs. Iyer and Hyderabad Blues. I mean, what is the big deal about making real movies with real characters who say and do real things? Don't we see enough of them around us everyday? Within those dark halls with 300 tiered chairs, air conditioning and Dolby sound, lies a hallowed world of sheer make believe; an escapist paradise from the grim reality of everyday mundane existence. Why would anybody in their right minds want to outrage the sanctity of a fantasy world, so pure and pristine, with real life portrayals, is beyond my Technicolor comprehension.
I am at a new cusp in my life: as a marketing graduate, from one of the better b-schools in the country, I have managed to land a decent job with an FMCG biggie. So now, I am all set to leading a life, not in tinsel town but in the world of targets and quarterly results. Depressing, right? Wrong!! Absolutely wrong. Now is my chance to watch all these bollywood big shots sell my soaps on TV, use my hair-oil and promote my toothpaste, while I smile smugly all the way to the bank.
So although if you were to see me now, you would find an inconsolable figure, crying copious tears onto the keyboard. Relax. Don't worry, 'yeh toh khushi ke aasu hain'.
Posted at 08:44 pm by MithunSachdeva
May 24, 2005
Gaze, stare, loose, absorb myself
The universe unfolding under my obstructed view
Take in the magic beyond the windowsill
Millions of shimmering,glittering,dazzling diamonds
Stationary yet moving at the same time
Blinking,unblinking twinkling with luminiscence
Deep deep below in the greenest of valleys
My valley, my mountains, my horizons and my lights
Rubies,emeralds,sapphires and coals
Coming together to take me away
Far away and far back in time, exactly where I want to be
Interminable years and fleeting moments
Like the momentary glow of a firefly
Reminisce, recollect, remember....well,nothing
A tiny beacon in a swirling purple haze
Suspended somewhere there between the yesterdays
Unshackle, break away , watch, watch closely from a distance
Put a period at the end of the drift,atleast a comma
pause, stem the flow, gather yellowing leaves of recollections
Claim your yesterdays and accept your todays
But worship my tommorow, Oh so elusive but still so mine.
Posted at 07:04 pm by MithunSachdeva
Dec 31, 2004
SIBM:THE FIFTH RANKED MINISKIRT
Its been more than a semester in SIBM(Symbiosis Institute Of Business Management for the uninitiated and IIM alumni),purportedly the 5th best B-school in the whole of India or so a couple of publications would have me believe. It could be 5th or 15th or 500th for all I may care , as long as the corporates believe it and offer us jobs,who the hell am I to question their better judgement?*wide grin*.
Somehow,for some unfathomable reason,the most vivid memory of my short tenure in SIBM has been that of the peons distributing sweets to unsuspecting students on the momentous occasion of their four storey high campus being accorded the 5th rank in India.
Not my first lecture here or the fresher's party with so many miniskirts ,or the i-pat interview , not even the taste of those sweets ( thank God for small mercies).All I remember is the 5th rank and the sweets.Its funny how some of the most inane stuf lodges itself firmly in a rather sticky portion of your memory and all the important stuff like miniskirts is but a fleeting recollection,well actually there was this one miniskirt but...... lets finish this ranking business first.
Why were we ranked 5th of all the places? Afterall there are so many numbers in the number system,anybody going to tambola games at your mom's kittie parties would know that(this is beginning to sound like a damned confession now).I mean why not 1,2 or 3 or even the supposedly lucky number 7?Why 5?Is it because 5 lies neither here nor there but somewhere in between.The more I think about it the more I am convinced that the fault lies with the numbering system more than anything else.
Afterall,with its four full storeys of architecture grandeur and an equal number of permanent faculty.The boundless library bang in the middle of a dirtbike racing track and a computer lab that on last count had more functional chairs than computers, SIBM definitely deserves to be ranked much higher than a tawrdy 5th.So starting next year which is about 12 hours and a few minutes away , we shall have rankings in fractions as well and don't be surprised if your beloved SIBM notches up an enviable rank of 4.9 or even a stupendous 4.89 if they introduce a case study or two in the marketing course curriculum.
Amidst this milieu of bustling optimism there ar one or two things that really bother me.Most striking among these is the suspicious activities of certain shady individuals who inhabit this really dark corner room some of us refer to by the moniker kamra number 13.At the best of times , they can be seen walking really fast across the campus or walking behind some grey or blue suit.These individuals,whom I suspect belong to some underground society seem to thrive in dark rooms performing caballistic rituals to which they give curious names like CRPs and Summers.
I also suspect that in some strange occult sort of a way this very bunch of elusive individuals is behind that integer ranking of 5 and why so many impressive blue and grey suits come to SIBM and run hefty Pizza hut bills at our expense.
It is while looking longingly at another one of those pizza deliveries dissappearing inside tha dark room that the truth finally dawns on me.I suddenly realise how Buddha must've really felt under that tree os his.SIBM might not be a lot of things but it definitely is an institute with a lot of heart and character.Whatever we might lack in resources,we more thn make up for it in effort,look at the inhabitants of Room no.13 if u don't believe me or even the rest of the council for that matter.
So,with my belief finally restored in SIBM and its idiosyncracies , I proudly proclaim that"LESS IS MORE" and a miniskirt is a fine case in point,wottsay people?
Posted at 11:52 am by MithunSachdeva
Sep 7, 2004
WHATEVER COULD GO WRONG ,JUST ISN'T!!!!!!
This is ridiculous.Sit like a dumb idiot infront of the computer screen ,lost in thought,drumming my fingers but achieving a sum total of zilch.The whole lab is staring at me and passing knowing glances.Its as if me and Mr. Computer are trying to communicate through thought.Just can't think of a single damned thing to write about.If it goes on like this anymore I might soon have to call my blog a block.
Its a new feeling,this singular lack of imagination and thought.My plan was, if I ever found myself bereft of ideas I would write an essay on Cow for heaven's sake.I am trying to do that and I cannot seem to go beyond moooooo. All this inspite of the fact that I kinda fancy myself as a blogger or rather have lived the lie so long that I have started believing it myself.I mean having a blog is pretty cool and then slyly getting the people to read it is even better but for crying out loud,write something man,write.
It has taken me an exact one month and five days,endless hours of soul searching and exactly two and a half botched attempts at writing something to reach the inadvertent conclusion.There is absolutely nothing to write about.Why in heaven's name was I condemned to this bland world of limitless ennuui.What does one write about when people's idea of an exciting life is to convert oxygen to carbon dioxide,dogs have stopped chasing the postman,cats have stopped crossing the road infront of a marriage procession,mosquitoes take a sabbatical on hot,humid nights especially when there is no electricity.ATMs are working,Networks aren't busy,even Bush is out of Iraq.Where the heck is Mr. Murphy when we need him?What does an honest to God man do to find something he can crib about.
Pssssst,Think I spoke a little too soon.Is that My Pop calling to demand an account of last month's expenses?
Posted at 09:07 pm by MithunSachdeva
Jul 28, 2004
Peeping into the keyhole of time
Papa past performing a one act mime.
Straining my eyes to take a closer look
I see the author destroying the book
Perpetual countenance is a wry smile
Counted amongst the rank and file
Where is the key to the heart shaped box?
Wishing and hoping for equinox
Permanence is degeneration glorified
Sniff of stability drives me paranoid
Silver tongue camouflaging double standards
Finding refuge in a castle of words
Denouncing clarity ,seeking mess
Turbulence not Tranquility
Posted at 02:37 pm by MithunSachdeva
Jul 21, 2004
I am back.Its good to talk to you in the middle of this burgeoning sea of humanity.Things have been happening too damn fast for me man.The mere thought of having nothing to do seems incredulous in hindsight.A couple of months ago the only question that would haunt me is what to do next....and now,ha,now I dream about snatching a few moments when I wouldn't have anything to do and you know what?I ain't cribbing,nope,I have begun to like this condition of perpetual flux coz it leaves no room for idle reflection.
I remember lying listless on the surface of a massive river of aspirations,drifting like flotsam,doing nothing to swim against the tide,too tired to move or feel,just floating.But those are the days even you know nothing about.So lets not even talk about them.Over the years I have learnt to swim or atleast make sure that I never drown and for a long while you were my lifejacket.
Uh oh,This is fast becoming a maudlin exercise in futile lamentation, and to think that all I am trying to say is ,I am happy.Yes, I feel reinvigorated by fatigue.Its good to finally roll up my sleeves and get my hands dirty but I guess I have just been programmed to believe that the more things change the more they remain the same.
May I lose sight in my only good eye of cynicism.
Posted at 05:41 pm by MithunSachdeva
Jul 19, 2004
How have you been brother?Its been a long long time since we talked.Can't really help it man.Much to my surprise ,even I have found some animate objects to communicate with and you know how much I like doing that.Though you were the best listener I ever met,u never said anything.You accepted all my idiosyncracies and inconsistencies without a single word.
You didn't bat an eyelid when I was down in the abyss of my troughs and you never gave me a high five when I was soaring high on my rare crests.
Don't think I am blaming you man because you know I never blame myself.Regrets and retributions donot figure anywhere in my "How to live " list.Dude I will talk to you later.These"animate" beings seem to have a say over every single moment of mine.We will talk more soon.
See ya Bro
Posted at 12:41 pm by MithunSachdeva
Jun 1, 2004
Well well well.This is rather unusual.I feel like writing something today and isn't it befitting
that I would want to write about everyone's favourite author(I BEG TO DIFFER),the ubiquitous and
inimitable Ayn Rand herself.Right at the very beginning of my extremely erratic blog career I had
written my inadequate take on Fountaindead oops The Fountainhead.At that time I was informed
in unequivocal terms about my intellectual inadequacies and subjected to everything from sheer
pity to caustic derision.I guess it was my defensiveness that prompted such extreme reactions
from the discerning populace of the Blog world.
Well,here I am yet again,goaded or almost pumelled into writing another incisive nee inadequate
take on Atlas Shrugged.I have to admit that Ms Rand shall never let one rest in peace for long,
she has an uncanny gift of evoking strong reactions from one and all.In any case ,please donot
excuse the "blasphemy".
I have read about 200 pages of the book and its absolutely unputdownable.I can't stop thinking
about the damned thing and that is my biggest grouse with Ms Rand,She makes me think.Think long,think hard and most of the thoughts make me uncomfortable to the point of distraction.It feels
as if I am pulling off gauze tape from every single sore on the human psyche and every sore reeks
of an unmistakable stench,the stench of truth.Seems as if right from the beginning man has been
sweeping small scraps of paper under the carpet and Ms Rand just went ahead and burnt the carpet.It is second nature for her to catch the reader by the shoulders and shake him like a rag doll
till he can't help but notice a few very uncomfortable facts.Those that had been staring at him
all along but were conveniently ignored because of the obvious fear and pain they brought in
Ayn Rand is the greatest exponent of the HUMAN SPIRIT and extolls all that is heroic in the Human
Nature,but there is a catch.She extolls only that is heroic in the Human Nature.So much so that
in retrospect ,every compromise made or every lie told feels like a sharp needle through your
heart.Every answer copied,every excuse made,every single moment of sloth and every fact accepted
unquestioningly is a painful reminder of your own inadequacies.Ms Rand probably didn't realise
that her very words which were meant to bolster a sagging human spirit could so easily destroy a
perfectly robust one.What frightens me more is that she probably did.How many of us can claim or
will claim to have reached our pinnacles of achievement without a single compromise and living
upto the exacting standards set by Ms Rand?
Show me a thousand 16 year old kids with an Ayn rand in hand and I will show you 999 25 year old
nervous wrecks.That one single exception is probably a price worth paying for,being common is
probably a malaise,going through life without a mission is probably the biggest crime,God's
children are not all equal is probably a small technicality and would you believe me if I say
that I rejoice while I say all that I have said?Who do I turn to for answers?Afterall
who is John Galt?
Posted at 01:20 pm by MithunSachdeva
Apr 19, 2004
TEN THINGS I HAVE TO DO BEFORE I DIE
1.Have Sex with ummmmmmmm....(think guys think)
2.Have a cute chubby baby girl(preferably a female of the human species and not as an immediate
consequence of point number 1)
3.Meet Sachin Tendulkar(nothing in the parenthesis here)
4.Build a wall,like a mason,brick by brick.
5.Pull Priety Zinta's cheeks
6.Get an autographed copy of God Of Small Things after having lunch with Ms Roy(I like to think of her as Miss,whatever anyone else might say).
7.Watch a game of NBA live(preferably Allen Iverson and/or Tracy Mcgrady).
8.Take my ma to anyone place of her choice.
9.Goto Pakistan,check out the place where my pa grew up.
10.Think of ten new things everytime i finish the previous ten.
P.S:Not necessarily in this order.
Posted at 06:12 pm by MithunSachdeva
Apr 16, 2004
hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah hallelujah
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,ISLAMABAD HAS BEEN VANQUISHED.HERE WE COME CANBERRA.........PAKISTAN KI MAA MAR GAYI.CHAK DE PHATTE
Posted at 03:48 pm by MithunSachdeva