http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=bfUhWHJjZHE
Click on the link above to view the video.
Regards,
Vociferous
Saturday, October 11, 2008
COMING SOON
A sweet little anecdote on Durga Divine – The Power Goddess. I’ve deliberately tried to give the title, a very cult status. Through this anecdote, I’ll try my level best to present a picture of what happens during the five day festive occasion. There’s so much to discover from gossiping ladies to swinging singles and romantic liaisons to rumours galore. Let’s see, when can I post it? Because I’m not in the pink of my health. Trying to fight the October heat and chasing a hectic schedule, I would look ahead to fill this space with images of Durga Divine and the marvellous experience of the festive occasion.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
KALKE MAA ASHHCHEY
5th Oct10.30 hrs - Sasthi Puja, Kalparambha
20.00 hrs - Bodhan, Amantran, Adhibas
6th Oct
9.00 hrs - Saptami Puja
7th Oct
8.30 hrs - Ashtami Puja
11.30 hrs - Kumari Puja
00.05 hrs - Sandhi Puja
8th Oct
9.00 hrs - Navami Puja
9th Oct
10.00 hrs - Dashami Puja
15.00 hrs - Bisharjan
Friday, October 03, 2008
CORRUPTION IS PROTECTION
“Corruption? Corruption is government intrusion into market efficiencies in the form of regulations. We have laws against it precisely so we can get away with it. Corruption is our protection. Corruption keeps us safe and warm. Corruption is why you and I are prancing around in here instead of fighting over scraps of meat out in the streets. Corruption is why we win.” blasts the character Danny Dalton enacted by Tim Blake Nelson in the spy thriller ‘Syriana’ released in the year 2005. And it holds so much truth. This he says in context to corrupt practices followed in America.
I think ‘Corruption’ is the most delicious delicacy ever served on a platter called ‘Democracy’. Yes! At least in India, Democracy is nothing more than a frayed platter. Corruption breeds within our day-to-day chores. Its reproductive quality is unparalleled.
So, why am I talking so much about corruption? Simple, I had experienced it in the past and I succumbed to it recently. The point of discussion is the sudden loss of my driving licence. At the first place, I lost it because of my own fault. While it rained incessantly, I chose to wear my windcheater. After having paid the electricity bills, I tucked the receipts, my licence and cash amounting to Rs. 450 in a polythene bag. I was supposed to insert it in the pocket provided in the windcheater. This is exactly where I committed a major mistake of not checking whether I had tucked the polythene bag rightly. I realised my foolish deed only after 15 minutes. I drove back to the same spot where I might have misplaced my licence. To my surprise, I discovered that someone had already made away with the booty. Only the cash might have earned him a fortune for a day or two. But the licence and receipts held little relevance.
Quite frustrated, I started inquiring about the procedures to acquire a duplicate copy of the driving license. Thankfully, I had sufficient Xerox copies of my license safely reserved at home, in my wallet and at all possible places that has something to do with my passion to drive. After almost 15 days of the grand loss, I approached my agent at the RTO. Middle-aged, composed and ever cheering; she asked me to first lodge a complaint at a local police station about the loss. I rediscovered her after having lost track of her for last four years since my first licence was issued.
I hurried at an indescribable pace to the nearby police station to register a complaint. A smart cop whose only responsibility is to issue complaint numbers asked me to first get an affidavit done about the loss of my licence. This particular task made me travel to the nearby court where hundreds of Xerox centres are ready to shell out an affidavit at a cost of Rs. 140 in flat 10 minutes. After I got the affidavit done, I rushed back to the police station. The smart cop scanned the affidavit with his feisty eyes and replied that he cannot register a complaint at his police station. The reason he cited was quite legible. The actual place of loss mentioned in the affidavit did not come under the jurisdiction of the police station he was attached with. The other available option left was to get the complaint registered at the mentioned place in the affidavit.
I had never entered a police station in my life, not at least a local one. The entire ambience was gloomy. On entering the police station there was a dingy room on the right hand side with a cage like structure installed. I suppose this arrangement is usually referred to as a police lockup. Seated in the room were three teenagers who were supposedly beaten up badly the previous night. “Ok” I said to myself as I was facing the harshest reality of life. Not a single cop paid attention to my sudden appearance. It was only after a middle aged cop inquired the reason of my presence that I gathered some courage. I informed him that I had lost my license and was looking ahead to register a complaint. He asked me to hand him over the affidavit. He rose from his chair and walked inside. He inquired for the person who was supposed to register the complaint. To my surprise, the cop; a man reaching closer to his sixtieth year of existence on planet was dozing off somewhere inside. He emerged quite lethargically. His disturbed looks confirmed my doubts that he was least interested in doing some work at that hour of the day. Ok…so after having disrupted his siesta, I expected him to work a little faster. But…no! His fingers refused to follow the rule of the day. The pace was unnerving. His task was interrupted with punctuations of filthy communications.
Finally the complaint was registered, which consumed 45 minutes of my otherwise busy schedule. After having scribbled something on a recycled piece of paper, the cop stretched his palm just like a beggar does for soliciting alms. Puzzled…I inquired about what he needed. He bluntly replied, “Money…young man…show me the money!” To which I questioned, “How much sir?” His imaginative reply, “Anything you wish to young man…500, 1000 or 5000 bucks”. I felt like screaming, “Are you out of your mind?” But I maintained my calm and shelled out Rs. 100 instead of the contemplated Rs. 50 note. He would have shot me for getting into that act of bravery. Quite displeased, he reluctantly accepted Rs. 100 and commented that it cannot buy him even a kilogram of mutton. I replied, “Sir, chicken would do for you?” He replied back, “Please leave”. I hurried back to the RTO and handed over all the papers to my agent. She replied, “Now you can leave…” I inquired, “And my licence?” She requested me to hand her over some more money so that she can fasten the process. I bluntly replied, “No…first get me the licence and then you get what you want.” Money paid, formalities done…I eagerly waited for my licence to arrive. I nagged my agent, tempted her with lunch offers, but to no avail. Finally three days back, she informed, “Hey aren’t you coming to get your licence?” I rushed to the RTO. She was standing there like an angel, smiling devilishly. As I was about to take the licence from her hand, she stepped back. I said, “Hey…?” She bluntly asked me to first pay her some extra cash. I pulled out a 100 rupee note and took control of my licence. Somewhere within her, a little bit of conscience prompter her to do one good. As I planned to walk back to my office; she offered me lift in the rickshaw she was driving back in. I discovered that other side of her…which was soft, motherly and caring.
We struck a conversation, which brought to my notice the fact that she too has adapted herself to corruption. On inquiring why? She replied, “Well young man…this is the demand of time. If you aren’t corrupt, you cannot survive.” I agreed with her and as she departed dropping me near my office, she screamed at the peak of her voice, “Don’t lose your licence now because I won’t like you to see greasing filthy palms again…and take care son.”
I hate corruption from the bottom of my heart. But I can’t stay away from it. Because at regular intervals it has protected me and bestowed on me some benefits, which could have been unimaginable without being corrupt. So, long live corruption because one day it would meet its fate just like it did in the movie – V for Vendetta.
My count of corruption:
Cash paid to agent: Rs. 500/-
Affidavit: Rs. 140/-
Bribe to cop: Rs. 100/-
Travelling expense: Rs. 160/-
------------------------------------------------
Total Rs. 900/-
------------------------------------------------
I think ‘Corruption’ is the most delicious delicacy ever served on a platter called ‘Democracy’. Yes! At least in India, Democracy is nothing more than a frayed platter. Corruption breeds within our day-to-day chores. Its reproductive quality is unparalleled.
So, why am I talking so much about corruption? Simple, I had experienced it in the past and I succumbed to it recently. The point of discussion is the sudden loss of my driving licence. At the first place, I lost it because of my own fault. While it rained incessantly, I chose to wear my windcheater. After having paid the electricity bills, I tucked the receipts, my licence and cash amounting to Rs. 450 in a polythene bag. I was supposed to insert it in the pocket provided in the windcheater. This is exactly where I committed a major mistake of not checking whether I had tucked the polythene bag rightly. I realised my foolish deed only after 15 minutes. I drove back to the same spot where I might have misplaced my licence. To my surprise, I discovered that someone had already made away with the booty. Only the cash might have earned him a fortune for a day or two. But the licence and receipts held little relevance.
Quite frustrated, I started inquiring about the procedures to acquire a duplicate copy of the driving license. Thankfully, I had sufficient Xerox copies of my license safely reserved at home, in my wallet and at all possible places that has something to do with my passion to drive. After almost 15 days of the grand loss, I approached my agent at the RTO. Middle-aged, composed and ever cheering; she asked me to first lodge a complaint at a local police station about the loss. I rediscovered her after having lost track of her for last four years since my first licence was issued.
I hurried at an indescribable pace to the nearby police station to register a complaint. A smart cop whose only responsibility is to issue complaint numbers asked me to first get an affidavit done about the loss of my licence. This particular task made me travel to the nearby court where hundreds of Xerox centres are ready to shell out an affidavit at a cost of Rs. 140 in flat 10 minutes. After I got the affidavit done, I rushed back to the police station. The smart cop scanned the affidavit with his feisty eyes and replied that he cannot register a complaint at his police station. The reason he cited was quite legible. The actual place of loss mentioned in the affidavit did not come under the jurisdiction of the police station he was attached with. The other available option left was to get the complaint registered at the mentioned place in the affidavit.
I had never entered a police station in my life, not at least a local one. The entire ambience was gloomy. On entering the police station there was a dingy room on the right hand side with a cage like structure installed. I suppose this arrangement is usually referred to as a police lockup. Seated in the room were three teenagers who were supposedly beaten up badly the previous night. “Ok” I said to myself as I was facing the harshest reality of life. Not a single cop paid attention to my sudden appearance. It was only after a middle aged cop inquired the reason of my presence that I gathered some courage. I informed him that I had lost my license and was looking ahead to register a complaint. He asked me to hand him over the affidavit. He rose from his chair and walked inside. He inquired for the person who was supposed to register the complaint. To my surprise, the cop; a man reaching closer to his sixtieth year of existence on planet was dozing off somewhere inside. He emerged quite lethargically. His disturbed looks confirmed my doubts that he was least interested in doing some work at that hour of the day. Ok…so after having disrupted his siesta, I expected him to work a little faster. But…no! His fingers refused to follow the rule of the day. The pace was unnerving. His task was interrupted with punctuations of filthy communications.
Finally the complaint was registered, which consumed 45 minutes of my otherwise busy schedule. After having scribbled something on a recycled piece of paper, the cop stretched his palm just like a beggar does for soliciting alms. Puzzled…I inquired about what he needed. He bluntly replied, “Money…young man…show me the money!” To which I questioned, “How much sir?” His imaginative reply, “Anything you wish to young man…500, 1000 or 5000 bucks”. I felt like screaming, “Are you out of your mind?” But I maintained my calm and shelled out Rs. 100 instead of the contemplated Rs. 50 note. He would have shot me for getting into that act of bravery. Quite displeased, he reluctantly accepted Rs. 100 and commented that it cannot buy him even a kilogram of mutton. I replied, “Sir, chicken would do for you?” He replied back, “Please leave”. I hurried back to the RTO and handed over all the papers to my agent. She replied, “Now you can leave…” I inquired, “And my licence?” She requested me to hand her over some more money so that she can fasten the process. I bluntly replied, “No…first get me the licence and then you get what you want.” Money paid, formalities done…I eagerly waited for my licence to arrive. I nagged my agent, tempted her with lunch offers, but to no avail. Finally three days back, she informed, “Hey aren’t you coming to get your licence?” I rushed to the RTO. She was standing there like an angel, smiling devilishly. As I was about to take the licence from her hand, she stepped back. I said, “Hey…?” She bluntly asked me to first pay her some extra cash. I pulled out a 100 rupee note and took control of my licence. Somewhere within her, a little bit of conscience prompter her to do one good. As I planned to walk back to my office; she offered me lift in the rickshaw she was driving back in. I discovered that other side of her…which was soft, motherly and caring.
We struck a conversation, which brought to my notice the fact that she too has adapted herself to corruption. On inquiring why? She replied, “Well young man…this is the demand of time. If you aren’t corrupt, you cannot survive.” I agreed with her and as she departed dropping me near my office, she screamed at the peak of her voice, “Don’t lose your licence now because I won’t like you to see greasing filthy palms again…and take care son.”
I hate corruption from the bottom of my heart. But I can’t stay away from it. Because at regular intervals it has protected me and bestowed on me some benefits, which could have been unimaginable without being corrupt. So, long live corruption because one day it would meet its fate just like it did in the movie – V for Vendetta.
My count of corruption:
Cash paid to agent: Rs. 500/-
Affidavit: Rs. 140/-
Bribe to cop: Rs. 100/-
Travelling expense: Rs. 160/-
------------------------------------------------
Total Rs. 900/-
------------------------------------------------
ON OCTOBER 2, 2008
Durga Puja Preparations:
Housekeeping
Done away with junk, old newspapers, magazines and other papers
Application of Henna to my salted and peppered hair
Thinking of availing leave on October 7 & 8
Bike:
Maintenance done after eight months
Filled with 3.74 litres of petrol
Tyres hard with air
She looks sexy again
Celebrations:
Gandhi Jayanti – Mahatma Gandhi’s birthday
Every news channel carried extensive bytes on the ‘Mahatma’
Movies shown: My all time favourite – ‘Gandhi’ and the adorable ‘Lage Raho Munnabhai’
Lal Bahadur Shastri’s birthday – Forgotten and Ignored
Visits:
Local Gaon Devi temple after a long time
Goddess Kali’s abode in colony after a long time
Encounter:
One of my best friend going on a long drive with her handsome hubby and cute son
Phone Calls:
My childhood friend and one of my best colleagues from earlier office
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