beingdesh

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  • टेस्ट क्रिकेट का अंत… या शुरुआत?

    आने वाला है क्रिकेट इतिहास का एक अमर क्षण
    जब होने चलते स्वयं के टेस्ट के पूरे दो हज़ार रन,
    १८७७ मैं शुरू हुई थी जो प्रथा
    २०११ मैं क्या हो गयी है इसकी व्यथा.

    अंग्रेजो ने नीव रखी क्रिकेट के खेल की
    खेल खेल मैं उन्होंने फैलाई सभ्यता ब्रिटेन की,
    शुरू मैं था बस यह अंग्रेजो और उनके के गुलामो का टकराव,
    वो क्या जानते थे एक दिन गुलाम ही करेंगे इस खेल का ऐसा बदलाव.

    उन दिनों यह होता था खेल गौरव का, प्रतिष्ठा का
    सज्जनों का और वतन के लिए खेलने वालो का,
    पर जब से आई एक दिवसीय और टी-२० क्रिकेट की बहार,
    बदल ही गया इस खेल का व्यवहार.

    अब लोगो को पसंद है मार पीट कर खेलने वाले बल्लेबाज़
    गेंदबाजों की अस्मत पर गिरी है गाज,
    वो दिन थे जब थरथराते थे गेंदबाजों से बल्लेबाज़ हर क्षण,
    गेंदबाज़ थे की थे वो लंकापति रावण.

    वक्त बदला, तकनीक बदली, मैदान हुए हरे भरे, वेश भूषा हुई रंगीन
    दूरदर्शन ने दर्शको का अनुभव बदला, तो कम कपडे पहनी नर्तकियो ने किया मामला संगीन
    बस कुछ नहीं बदला
    तो वो है क्रिकेट-प्रेमियों के प्रेम, और महानता की परिभाषा.

    महानता के सर्वोच्च उदहारण,
    उम्मीद है लोर्ड्स पर करेंगे अंग्रेजो का हरण,
    भगवान् से मेरी है यही गुज़ारिश
    अपने अवतार के ज़रिये हमेशा करते रहे रनों की बारिश.

  • विस्फोट, तुम फिर आ गए!

    विस्फोट, तुम फिर आ गए!
    जीवन की कीमत तो तुमने समझी नहीं
    कम से कम
    भय की परिभाषा तो समझ लेते.

    मुंबई शहर में लोग हर क्षण है मरते
    ज़िन्दगी की भागदौड़ में दबते कुचलते
    इस भाग दौड़ थकान के बीच
    किसे है समय भयभीत होने का.

    भय है बढती महंगाई का, नौकरी का,
    भय है घर बार का, सब्जी तरकारी का.
    अरे विस्फोट तुमसे हम क्यों डरे
    मुंबई की बारिश की तरह हो तुम, रोज आते जाते,
    रोज की बारिश से
    किसे है समय भयभीत होने का.

    अब ये मन भयभीत नहीं
    यह बस सुन्न हो चुका है, थक चुका है
    एक प्रश्न पूछूँ तुमसे – उत्तर दोगे?
    क्या तुम नहीं थके?

    – अभिषेक देशपांडे ‘देसी’

  • MOVE OVER BIG BROTHER, BHAIYYA IS HERE…..

    [Today I came across this mail, my first group work at SP, with the bestest group I ever worked with at SP. I still recall our first meeting, a gyaani tungi, Lal in don’t care mode with his red-white tshirt, Monik shouting at the top of his voice, and Nitika sitting in a pink top cursing her kismat for being part of this ganwaar group. I have copied the entire assignment here :)]

    Daroga Babu I Love You, Panditji Batai Na Biyah Kab Hoi, Dharti Kahe Pukar Ke … The fact that people go to watch movies with names like these bears testimony to the fact that Bhojpuri movies are here to stay. They started production in the 60s and were thwarted by the more popular love stories and family dramas of Bollywood. Over the years a much more professional Bollywood started moving up the value chain by targeting Urban Audiences and NRIs. Many of the consumers were not able to make this shift thus creating a void. The main reasons were lack of affordability and the cultural gap as perceived by them. The Bhojpuri movie industry jumped at the opportunity and filled in this gap. With its cultural and entertainment value, it projected itself as the perfect substitute for Bollywood cinema. Today, the market for these movies has grown by leaps and bounds. One of the major contributing factors is the migration of labour from Bihar and UP to various states in the country. Therefore, the demand for Bhojpuri movies is almost omnipresent. Using this case we try to ANALYSE the change in demand and the substitution effect for a segment of Bhojpuri audience comprising the rural/small town audience and the migrants.

    MARGINAL UTILITY/ DEMAND CURVE:

    MU/Demand Curve

    FEATURES:

    1. BOLLYWOOD INDUSTRY:

    A) The market size increases up to the 1990s and there is a decline in 2000+.

    B) There was an increase in emphasis on the high end market as the years went by.

    C) There is a continuous increase in the minimum amount to be spent on a movie by the consumer. Thereby a void has been created by the change in price along with cultural preferences.

    2. BHOJPURI FILM INDUSTRY:

    A) The market size moderately increased upto the late 1980s and then experienced a steep decline in the 1990s.

    B) In the late 1990s and early 2000, the industry rose back in leaps and bounds, thereby successfully capturing the market uncatered or left behind by the Bollywood industry and created its own market place too.

    INDIFFERENCE CURVE ANALYSIS:

    Features

    FEATURES:

    1. IC-1 has a flatter slope implying the preference of the people for Bollywood cinema.

    2. An increase in the price of Bollywood cinema along with the change in the style of film making caused the people to change their preferences to Bhojpuri cinema. They assigned more value to Bhojpuri cinema as compared to Bollywood cinema. This caused the indifference curve (IC-2) to become steeper. This shows that the people allocated more of their income towards Bhojpuri cinema.

    Reference:

    Latika Neelkantan, “The heartland values of Bhojpuri cinema”, Himal SouthAsian, October’2006. [Online]. Available: http://www.himalmag.com/2006/october/special_report.htm [Accessed 27th June, 2008]

    Submitted by GROUP 5

  • Is it the end of the Chai-Biscuit era?

    Today I received an article from a friend of mine, Where did conversation go? No where. It talks about the “about-to-die” habit of having conversations. It also debates whether forms of new media have eclipsed the intimacy of having a one-on-one, or sharing a happy moment together.

    So is it the end of the Chai-Biscuit era? Chai represents much more than to us than a mere beverage, it is a conversation starter, our true friend during a conversation and the tastiest dip for a biscuit. From the addas which are still commonplace in Bengal, to housewives sipping that post-siesta tea, from office tea breaks to evening tea with families, chai has shaped the way Indians converse and share thoughts for a long time.

    So what happened now? When did walking to someone’s home without telling them in advance become a crime, when did talking about things personal and private online become a habit, when did the happiness of connecting with a few and bonding with them transform into the ever increasing desire to have more Facebook friends and Twitter followers, when did the keeping things to oneself become more than a one-off thing, when did our life become private in front of our parents and elders, when was the real smile overshadowed by the fake smileys, when did chatting and messaging steal the look of the face and tinkle of those eyes, and when did we start getting detached from the world, lose our sense of being together to being more individualistic?

    So is it the beginning of a new era, the Coffee-Cookie era? Coffee shops have replaced the meetups at home, 5 Rs. Parle-G has been replaced by 40 Rs. a piece Cookieman cookie, but more than that both of them represent a transition. A transition in habits, triggered by technology, economy and the society as such. It is not bad, its a transition, although its fun to live in nostalgia, these are changes which will shape the future. It is useless to trigger the age old debate of tradition vs. modernity, and it would be ruthless to declare a winner.

    In my world, Coffee exists with Chai, with Parle-G in one pocket, and a Cookie in another.

  • काश ये दिल होता Tupperware का

    हम प्यार करते थे उनसे बेशुमार,
    उनके इश्क मैं हुए थे बीमार
    हमे लगा वो भी है उतनी ही बेक़रार,
    कर बैठे प्यार का इज़हार.

    फिर क्या कहे क्या हुआ
    अच्छे खासे दिल का मालपुआ हुआ,
    दिल तो हमारा था कोमल और नाज़ुक
    पर जब टूटा तो आवाज़ आई जैसे चले कोई चाबुक,
    कांच की तरह टुकड़े हुए उसके हज़ार,
    सारे अरमानो का हुआ मच्छी बाज़ार.

    काश ये दिल न होता कांच जैसा brittle
    और हर बार ना होते इसके टुकड़े little little,
    अगर ये होता Tupperware जैसा मज़बूत
    गिर पड़ संभल कर भी रहता साबुत,
    प्यार की गर्मी और चाहत की सर्दी झेलता
    हर मौसम येह ख़ुशी ख़ुशी खेलता,
    हर सप्ताह नयी नयी गृहणियो के संग पार्टी मनाता
    कुंवारी ना सही, शादीशुदा का ही संग पाता.

    पर क्या करे यही है कुदरत का न्याय,
    Tupperware के दिल का कभी ना खुल सकेगा अध्याय… कभी ना खुल सकेगा अध्याय.

    Dedicated to all the losers in the world :)…

  • हैदराबादी प्रेम कहानी… जो हो ना सकी

    महिना था फरवरी का,
    समय था वोह अफरा तफरी का
    Placement का चल रहा था त्यौहार,
    क्योकि आजकल वही तो रह गया है प्रबंधन शिक्षा का सार.

    मैं बैठा था interview कक्ष मैं, सवालों से जूझता
    कभी हँसता, कभी लडखडाता
    अचानक मुझसे पुछा गया,
    आप लगते है कहानीकार
    हम देखना चाहते है आपके विचार.

    मैंने उठायी कागज़ कलम,
    सोचा प्रस्तुत करू हास्य रस, या फिर थोडा गम
    विचारों की धारा बहने लगी
    मेरी इस नौकरी को प्राप्त करने और हैदराबाद जाने की इच्छा बढ़ी.

    बिरयानी की आई महक,
    मन न जाने क्यों मेरा गया चहक
    चिरंजीवी का आया विचार,
    तेलुगु सिनेमा की जय जयकार
    वोह चावल का ढेर, पप्पू के संग,
    गोंगुरा का अचार जमाएगा रंग*
    चार मीनार की वोह गलिया,
    जहा पकेगा इश्क का दलिया
    पर इश्क के लिए तो चाहिए लड़की,
    तेलुगु सीखे बिना छाएगी कडकी
    सोचा मैंने यह सब करूँगा,
    तेलुगु सीख, लड़की पटा कर, शादी करूँगा.

    कुछ वक्त पश्चात आई यह खबर,
    मिली नौकरी छायी ख़ुशी इस कदर
    पर फिर मैं रहा गया मुंबई नगरी,
    न गया हैदराबाद न छायी प्यार की बदरी.

    आज विचार आया की काश कुछ ऐसा होता,
    मुह मैं डबल का मीठा और संग साथी अनूठा होता
    मुंबई की गलिया नाप नाप कर मैं हु थका
    यह था मेरा अनोका रिश्ता, जो हो न सका… हो न सका.

    * Pappu is thickish daal served usually in Andhra meals. Gongura is a super tasty pickle served along with rice and pappu and sambhar and the crispy veggies in an awesome andhra meal.

    This poem is dedicated to the wonderful lady who made me write this story in interview and all the awesome Hyderabadi/Andhra people.

  • टमाटर की व्यथा: Ketchup बनू या कटरीना का Body Wash

    गुमसुम गुमसुम…
    लाल लाल, नरम नरम,
    इस टमाटर मैं है बड़ा दम.

    जब टमाटर ketchup बन जाता,
    हर टेबल की यह शोभा बढाता.

    पकोड़े हो या पिज़्ज़ा, समोसा हो या आमलेट,
    टमाटर है कुदरत की एक भेंट.

    पर जब इंसान को हक है अपना जीवन जीने का,
    तो क्या टमाटर को हक नहीं अपनी राह चुनने का?

    किस्मत मैं था उसके की ketchup बन जाऊ,
    बच्चो बड़ो सबके दिल मैं समाऊ.

    पर उसे क्या पता था की वोह बन सकता है body wash कटरीना का,
    उस कोमल बदन पर छीटा गुलाब का.

    शीला की जवानी, टमाटर की रवानी,
    टमाटर लिखे प्यार की एक नयी कहानी.

    सलमान, रणबीर है किस खेत की मूली,
    जब खुद टमाटर खेले लाल रंग की होली.

    कटरीना भी हुई दीवानी,
    टमाटर की थी यही अनोखी कहानी.

    – अभिषेक देशपांडे ‘देसी’

    Refer:

    Ek Junoon- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KSsSM2IR2LY

    Inspirations: Rosesh Sarabhai

  • Rattu ka Dabba

    He could feel a few giggles right behind his back, he knew it was gone. Again!

    As Rattu turned back and put his hand into his bag’s tiffin box pocket, he felt plastic and not the usual steel, infact before the lunch break this is all Rattu did with his tiffin, as he always scared to eat it before lunch. He kept feeling his steel lunch box between the classes, and almost every day, he would find someone else’s tiffin box in his bag. A yellow colored plastic one, from the one for him (as declared by all his friends). His dabba was always swapped with his supposedly the one’s dabba which usually resulted in uncountable hours of leg pulling (aahhh…who would touch those beastly legs, like Wodehouse said long time ago) and Rattu going mad throwing his Milton water bottle all over his friends.

    But Rattu really liked what Vaifav Ghar usually did with his tiffin, mostly an omlette sandwich, it was always munched during the history period. Ghar used to stand as our history teacher looked somewhere else, showed the omlette bread to everyone, used to take a bow towards our history teacher and start hogging. Everyone giggled as the teacher talked about 3 points for 3 marks, 6 points for 6 marks and so on.

    Lunch break was always a nice time, there were different kinds of people, firstly the looteras. Loot lo iska dabba they said, and started running behind the ones with their dabbas intact. There was always a gang for whom lunch breaks meant playing leg cricket, it had been going on from very junior sections till almost Class 12th.

    As everyone did this Rattu with his group of friends usually used to enjoy our dabbas, saving them from the looteras on the open terrace. The paratha subjis, maggis, sandwiches, idlis, all of them being shared over general chit chat of cricket, entrances, studies, girls, new possible couples, boring classes, good classes, the smell from chemistry lab etc etc.

    Although there was always one weird thing about the lunch break, the girls were always quite. They used to finish off their dabbas, quietly, nicely sharing the stuff among themselves and then go back to the class mostly. Very peaceful. And unlike the boys they never had yellow oil stains on their uniforms.

    Talking of stains almost every bag had a very oily patch in the area where lunch box was kept. Speaks volumes about our Parathas, Subjis and Achaars.

    And then there was the case of Dabba not brought, which was then given to Dutta Bhaiya on the school gate later by the parents, and delivered in between a classroom by Dashrath Bhaiya.

    Rattu’s school never had a canteen once which was closed after cockroaches were found instead of aloo inside samosa.

    Post lunch break was the time for a nap, a slight nap. It was a deadly period to take for a teacher I assume. Much more challenging than anything to keep students awake at that time. Somehow Rattu never fell asleep in school, never ever, even after a nice lunch break. School was always so much fun.

    And so were the Dabbas.

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    Do you have any memories associated with school lunch box?

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  • Positive thoughts?

    Life has been a bit off colour lately, as if what happened last month wasn’t enough here I am at home, for the past two weeks, eating boiled food and fruits and sleeping like kumbhakaran throughout the day. In the past few days I have developed love for idlis and extreme hatred for daliya, spinach, hospital and medicines. In a lazy weak format, deprived of all the chutputa food and chutputy bakar in the world here is a man just lying in his room, and bored. And uff, this needle on my hand bugs me.

    Given I sleep so much I am having my fair share of dreams, and they have been mostly horrifying. From playing with my worst fears and flirting with my weirdest nightmares they have ensured that I don’t sleep that soundly. To fight with them, I go on kickstart my own train of thoughts, those lovely memories which have kept me happy over the past few years now.

    So everytime I wake up from a bad thought here is what I do, I close my eyes, take a deep breath and think of:

    Omlettes: Of the lovely ones I had in Goa, or on that Trihun trek (with a chai sipper, choc eater, and great driver), ones which are so videshi with minimal spices and loads of cheese, ones with all the masala tones of green chilies and kanda. World’s best anda bhurji at Andheri station, or that decent one which I used to have at SP mess to help me go through with the food, or the egg biryani be at Raj Palace, or be it at Paradise Hyderabad. And those lovely Gadar Andes I cooked along with Abhishek at Gurgaon with loads of Jeera.

    Indori Food: Well I have talked about it so many times, but aloo ki kachori at lal balti/GSITS, poha/jalebi anywhere, sawariya ki sabudana khichdi, namkeen (double laung), Sarafa ki galiyo main Jaleba, shikanji, vijay chaat house ki batla patties, joshiji ke dahi vade, bhutte ka kis, garadu, gurukripa main bhojan, aur ghar pe mangode aur daal baafle. Did I mention mawa baati, shikanji and ASPI? Indore mahaan hai.

    Lazy trips: With mostly nothing to do apart from changing CDs in car, pepping up the greatest driver in the world by offering him cans of Red Bull, eating dhaba food, enjoying the scenery, talking to other car-mates. Jannat.

    Dosa: I have never tasted Dosas better than Bangalore or Korba’s Indian Coffee House. Both of them stand out. Bangalore’s Vidhyarthi Bhavan being my favorite, enjoyed with Atishay Bhaiyas khilkhilati hasi and Ananda’s coffee gulping on the day when India beat Aussies at Perth post the monkeygate match. Or the World beater Benne Dosa or Paddu served at that small shop on the way to Basvangudi, or staple on treats (just 11 rs back then) of which I had 11 in Davangare once.

    Aloo Parathas: I fell in love with them in Shimla, they were like Sharmila Tagore of Aradhna, young, hot, shiny with all the makkhan on them, I was like Kaka eager to fall in Love and make the haseen galti of munching those daily morning before I started my day. For one and half month everything in Shimla bored us, Aloo Parathas were our only hope. I tasted the ones at Moolchand once, and for me the taste is still there on some part of my tounge.

    Naturals: More than ice cream Natural’s was a remedial place, I used to take hopeless friends there, enjoy the first cup listening to them (grunts which I mostly ignored) and the second talking crap to them (which I enjoyed). There was seldom the third one (with just one exception with whom chances of fourth came up) but I loved the place. 28 Rs. bought them a malai or a tender coconut and more than that peace of their mind. Lokhandwaala one with its shoftu couch was better.

    These were a few positive thoughts, I need more, help me. Maybe I think its just the overdose of spinach and lauki speaking here…

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    If down, how do you get back to thinking positively?

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  • Ahhh… we won it!?

    It was a weird feeling, a never before kind of experience, roaming around near Shivaji Park at night, thousands of people of all kinds on street. I think it was their presence on streets, rather than of actually watching it on TV, or talking to a 100 friends on phone, or messaging a thousand, or going through all those updates on facebook, or those ever so vocal news channels which made me believe. Did we win it for sure?

    Infact what happened felt more like a dream for a considerable period of time. It started when we were floating in the beautiful surroundings of Kerala, and while attending my friend’s wedding we missed the Bangladesh one. But that was supposed to be won, no major worries there.

    Then came my Bangalore trip, and watching one of the most amazing matches of the world cup at Chennaswamy, with one of the biggest cricket fan I know (my school friend who watches blind cricket and also followed all the ICL matches), and 2 mahaan DAIICTians whose love for cricket is unparalleled. Sitting between them I was the most pessimistic one during the match. But the dream went on, Sachin had scored a century, and for a moment I actually thought this is it. Now I would be able to tell my kids that I saw Sachin make a World Cup century, that I could jump of the Chennaswamy stand and still float in air, and that the food at cricket stadiums sucks.

    Then there was the South African encounter with the person with whom I had scene the ever so forgettable India Bangladesh encounter in 2007. We tried to not do anything we had done that day, still we lost.

    Then there were the minnows, simple boring encounters where Yuvraj was having fun and generally I was getting bored.

    Holi came and also came with it the West Indies encounter. We were beyond repair that day, and for the entire day I just saw weird visualizations of a cricket match, by the end of it I just knew. We had won. Australia they were saying was up next. Australia. Scared.

    The next three encounters can easily be the three best days of every Indian’s life. The pessimistic me gave hope when Dhoni got out, only to catch a glimpse of the match Filmy style on roads with crowd as I walked back from office to home. By the time I was home Raina was hitting Lee out of the park. We had won. Still it was difficult to digest all this, now it was happening a bit too quick.

    Pakistan it was, and I was nervous. Very very nervous. I had a meeting till 1 AM a day before, went back home, came to office at 8 AM, did all the follow-up and basically immersed myself in too much work so that I don’t think of the match. In between 100s of options of watching it here or there, it was going to be the huge office screen where I would watch it. And when Umar Gul started running in towards Sehwag, I was shivering. It was just too much tension. Sachin’s scratchy knock, Pakistan’s pathetic fielding, Umar Gul being thankfully off colour, and awesomest bowling by Ajmal stood out. By far a much more superior side than us in terms of bowling. After Hafeez got out playing a very very stupid shout I knew we will win it, till Umran Akmal (whom I think will become the next Pak captain, anyone who survives for 2-3 years becomes the captain there, anyway, awesome player) started smashing us but somehow finally despite Misbah last minute hitting it was comfortably won.

    And then there was the Final, so much has been written about it already, but I felt Jayawardane’s knock was truly amazing. Low risk high return innings, especially one shot he played from outside the off stump towards fine leg was truly amazing. Gambhir and Dhoni were really good on the night. And we ended up burning tonnes of aggarbattis to satisfy our superstitious selfs.

    So this World Cup ended, and I was truly happy, but still it was much different from the 1996 one. We were kids back then, there were not many Deepikas and Katrinas in the stand, we could see cricketers though, we were never bleeding blue, our blood was red back then, we discussed cricket, we discussed the stats, never the number of drinks which we had in each game, people always thought of cricket as a family affair, never a reason to party and so many things.

    But we used to, we still, and we will always discuss Sachin.

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    What are your memories of Cricket World Cup 2011?

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