Round 3: SNAP
My spies had informed me that this battle involved lotsa female warriors. So I extra-polished my armour and sword the night before. Ahem… precautionary measures you know. But, as I reached the battlefield, the sight was so surreal and confusing that only 2 possibilities could explain what was happening.
A. I had accidentally stepped into a fashion show in progress.
B. I was one of the 20-odd stags in a couples-only pub whose theme for the day was ‘education’ and all the other caribou were locking horns (read: arms) in nervous (read: amorous) excitement.
Luckily the waitress-in-charge seated me at the top-right corner of the room. The only things in my field of view was a flaky white-washed wall and a broken glass window that gave me a bird’s eye view of dirt on the wall of the adjacent building. I say luckily, because, I fought this battle remarkably well.
Expectedly, I got a call from SIBM. I am not surprised. Behind every man's success is a woman... I mean that quite literally... Because if they're out in front of ya, failure is imminent.
Coming Next: NoMATter Required...
Monday, February 23, 2009
Ay! CATaramba!!
Round 2: CAT
As this 150 minute battle began, my insides and my outsides went as calm as a veteran cardiac surgeon’s fingers. You know why? Look below....
Section A... Quantitative Ability.. 25 Qs... 4 Marks per Q... 100 Marks
Section B... Data Interpretation... 25 Qs... 4 Marks per Q... 100 Marks
Section C... Verbal Ability.......... 40 Qs... 4 Marks per Q... 160 Marks
By Toutatis!! Verbal section had 40 solid questions. IIFT be damned, this was gonna be MY CAT! Sure as hell, I cruised through the verbal and quant like the ladybird in the Honda Car ad. But the little girl did not rescue the ladybird. She squished it. Maybe not… but I did hear some squishing sound inside my stomach as I reached the DI section. A strong psychological fear of this section disoriented me and the skilled surgeon had to hack at quite a few arteries using his scalpel. (The jury is out on this one till Jan 9th 2009. I’ll know then if the patient survived. Edit: 16th Feb 2009. The patient is barely alive... We managed to salvage 3 calls out of this operation. SPJain, MDI and IMT.... :-) )
Coming up: Caught SNAP-ping.
As this 150 minute battle began, my insides and my outsides went as calm as a veteran cardiac surgeon’s fingers. You know why? Look below....
Section A... Quantitative Ability.. 25 Qs... 4 Marks per Q... 100 Marks
Section B... Data Interpretation... 25 Qs... 4 Marks per Q... 100 Marks
Section C... Verbal Ability.......... 40 Qs... 4 Marks per Q... 160 Marks
By Toutatis!! Verbal section had 40 solid questions. IIFT be damned, this was gonna be MY CAT! Sure as hell, I cruised through the verbal and quant like the ladybird in the Honda Car ad. But the little girl did not rescue the ladybird. She squished it. Maybe not… but I did hear some squishing sound inside my stomach as I reached the DI section. A strong psychological fear of this section disoriented me and the skilled surgeon had to hack at quite a few arteries using his scalpel. (The jury is out on this one till Jan 9th 2009. I’ll know then if the patient survived. Edit: 16th Feb 2009. The patient is barely alive... We managed to salvage 3 calls out of this operation. SPJain, MDI and IMT.... :-) )
Coming up: Caught SNAP-ping.
Labels:
CAT tales
IIFthar Party
Round 1: IIFT
I was told only bravehearts survive this one. Yet I charged ahead. It was after all the beginning of my crusade. I was young and hot-blooded. I actually smiled when the bell rang and thought, “Let the games begin.” How was I to know?
What followed can be summed up in an oft heard Bush-ism... Shock And Awe.
Section 1(Reasoning) -- 32 Qs - 0.8 Marks per Q - 25.6 Marks
Section 2(Quant) -------- 27 Qs - 0.7 Marks per Q - 18.9 Marks
Section 3(DI) ------------- 26 Qs - 0.8 Marks per Q - 20.8 Marks
Section 4(RC) ------------ 12 Qs - 0.8 Marks per Q - 9.6 Marks
Section 5(VA) ------------ 23 Qs - 0.7 Marks per Q - 16.1 Marks
Section 6(GK) ------------ 30 Qs - 0.3 Marks per Q - 9 Marks
Tick-tock tick-tock. I could not stop staring at this table on the first page. The numbers… the marks… Even Ishaan Awasti would’ve been proud of the highly synchronized dance numbers that these numbers put up for my benefit. In those 120 mins, I probably bested the swear-word frequency record I set while watching KANK.
Expectedly, I wasn’t shortlisted for the GD/PI… And thank goodness for that!
Coming Next: Ay! CAT-aramba!
I was told only bravehearts survive this one. Yet I charged ahead. It was after all the beginning of my crusade. I was young and hot-blooded. I actually smiled when the bell rang and thought, “Let the games begin.” How was I to know?
What followed can be summed up in an oft heard Bush-ism... Shock And Awe.
Section 1(Reasoning) -- 32 Qs - 0.8 Marks per Q - 25.6 Marks
Section 2(Quant) -------- 27 Qs - 0.7 Marks per Q - 18.9 Marks
Section 3(DI) ------------- 26 Qs - 0.8 Marks per Q - 20.8 Marks
Section 4(RC) ------------ 12 Qs - 0.8 Marks per Q - 9.6 Marks
Section 5(VA) ------------ 23 Qs - 0.7 Marks per Q - 16.1 Marks
Section 6(GK) ------------ 30 Qs - 0.3 Marks per Q - 9 Marks
Tick-tock tick-tock. I could not stop staring at this table on the first page. The numbers… the marks… Even Ishaan Awasti would’ve been proud of the highly synchronized dance numbers that these numbers put up for my benefit. In those 120 mins, I probably bested the swear-word frequency record I set while watching KANK.
Expectedly, I wasn’t shortlisted for the GD/PI… And thank goodness for that!
Coming Next: Ay! CAT-aramba!
Labels:
CAT tales
CATatonia.... (EPISODE I)
As you are all (.i.e. the dozen, patient, long-suffering readers of my blog) fully aware, these days, my posts begin with an apology for my prolonged absence and end with a promise of a comeback. But the coming few posts are definitely gonna make it worth your while. You will all get an exclusive one-on-one with my MBA-aspiring alter-ego who managed to write the 15 million MBA related exams available for public consumption in India.
This year(Strike 3... the year 2008), I wrote IIFT, CAT, XAT, SNAP, NMAT and FMS. But in spite of overwhelming public demand, I skipped JMET. Why? Apparently, the IITs don't appreciate the skill involved in MANAGING 4 years of rave parties, college politics, cultural events and computer games along with a 6 point GPA. They only want 7 pointers. And the consequences? Come on.... everyone knows the potency of an uncontrolled, unchained maggu. Maggus, by definition, love numbers and statistics. So, whether from IIM-A or IIT-B, they ultimately form the number-crunching backbone of Merill Lynch or Lehmnan Bros and successfully engineer(no prizes for guessing).... A GLOBAL RECESSION! Yipee! So... damn the IITs!
Pathetic, I know, and yet so true.
Anyway... I seem to be digressing.... I'll begin with MY CAT-tales...
Coming Next: IIFThar party.
This year(Strike 3... the year 2008), I wrote IIFT, CAT, XAT, SNAP, NMAT and FMS. But in spite of overwhelming public demand, I skipped JMET. Why? Apparently, the IITs don't appreciate the skill involved in MANAGING 4 years of rave parties, college politics, cultural events and computer games along with a 6 point GPA. They only want 7 pointers. And the consequences? Come on.... everyone knows the potency of an uncontrolled, unchained maggu. Maggus, by definition, love numbers and statistics. So, whether from IIM-A or IIT-B, they ultimately form the number-crunching backbone of Merill Lynch or Lehmnan Bros and successfully engineer(no prizes for guessing).... A GLOBAL RECESSION! Yipee! So... damn the IITs!
Pathetic, I know, and yet so true.
Anyway... I seem to be digressing.... I'll begin with MY CAT-tales...
Coming Next: IIFThar party.
Labels:
CAT tales
Friday, January 02, 2009
Tag-gored
The ever 'vetti' voman(sic) has tagged me on this... So here it goes.
YESTERDAY -->
Your oldest memory
The positively(err.. negatively) horrid smell of a dead dog as I walked to my LKG classroom. Yes... 'Tis true. I have been scarred for life. I will either turn into a serial killer stalking dogs and killing them in solitary corners.... or I will soon form a death metal band and sing about dying, suicide and murder... The band would be so much cooler though.
What were you doing 10 years ago?
1998. A foggy night and a massive wall of of excavated earth, piled 30 feet high and almost 200m long. Yours truly and his friend parked their cycles at the bottom and began the adventurous task of climbing this. They simply wanted to see what was on the other side. This Jack-Sparrow-ish streak still runs in me. So, all the ladies who are attracted to men of adventure, I'm your guy. (tch tch.... how desperate can I get... eh?)
TODAY -->
Your first thought today morning
Brrrr.... It's cold.
Hmm.... Need more sleep.
If you built a time capsule today what would it contain?
I've got different answers for this one.
A. If we're burying the capsule so that its never found: Every SINGLE living creature related to Aaj Tak. If you happen to be one of 'those' kind who actually wants me to explain this... GET INTO THE CAPSULE!
B. If we're burying the capsule to be dug out sometime in the future: A DVD of the movie 'Ultraviolet'. I figure the IIIrd World War would've happened by then and the radioactive food/water would've caused us enough brain and/or eye damage that FINALLY.... finally we'd begin to appreciate this.... this abomination disguised as a movie. Check out this guy's review and this one too. You'll understand reason for my grief.
TOMORROW -->
This year
Sitting across the table from Prannoy Roy giving him an interview on how I saved millions of lives by burying the producers of Aaj Tak in a fictitious time capsule.
What do you see yourself doing 14 years from now?
Showing this blog post to Geeta... my hot personal assistant... especially my answer to the '.... 10 years ago?' question. Psst... She is one of the attracted-to-men-of-adventure types.... wink....(tch tch... still so pathetically desperate... eh?)
YESTERDAY -->
Your oldest memory
The positively(err.. negatively) horrid smell of a dead dog as I walked to my LKG classroom. Yes... 'Tis true. I have been scarred for life. I will either turn into a serial killer stalking dogs and killing them in solitary corners.... or I will soon form a death metal band and sing about dying, suicide and murder... The band would be so much cooler though.
What were you doing 10 years ago?
1998. A foggy night and a massive wall of of excavated earth, piled 30 feet high and almost 200m long. Yours truly and his friend parked their cycles at the bottom and began the adventurous task of climbing this. They simply wanted to see what was on the other side. This Jack-Sparrow-ish streak still runs in me. So, all the ladies who are attracted to men of adventure, I'm your guy. (tch tch.... how desperate can I get... eh?)
TODAY -->
Your first thought today morning
Brrrr.... It's cold.
Hmm.... Need more sleep.
If you built a time capsule today what would it contain?
I've got different answers for this one.
A. If we're burying the capsule so that its never found: Every SINGLE living creature related to Aaj Tak. If you happen to be one of 'those' kind who actually wants me to explain this... GET INTO THE CAPSULE!
B. If we're burying the capsule to be dug out sometime in the future: A DVD of the movie 'Ultraviolet'. I figure the IIIrd World War would've happened by then and the radioactive food/water would've caused us enough brain and/or eye damage that FINALLY.... finally we'd begin to appreciate this.... this abomination disguised as a movie. Check out this guy's review and this one too. You'll understand reason for my grief.
TOMORROW -->
This year
Sitting across the table from Prannoy Roy giving him an interview on how I saved millions of lives by burying the producers of Aaj Tak in a fictitious time capsule.
What do you see yourself doing 14 years from now?
Showing this blog post to Geeta... my hot personal assistant... especially my answer to the '.... 10 years ago?' question. Psst... She is one of the attracted-to-men-of-adventure types.... wink....(tch tch... still so pathetically desperate... eh?)
Labels:
Tagged
Friday, December 26, 2008
Word Play
I simply loved this one.....
Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.
---- Julius Henry "Groucho" Marx
PS: I am allegedly 'preparing' for the multitude of MBA entrance tests since November 1st. This fiasco will be all over Mid-Jan 2009. The Juvenile will blog big-time after that.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
A future called Radhika
Hi. An old friend of mine wanted me to tell his readers stuff about myself. God knows for what reason! This had better reflect nicely on me Rahul…!! (glares with mock anger).
Ok. My name is Radhika. My friends call me The Radical!! ‘Cause I’m so rebellious like, you know. I wore this black nail polish and black tee, black jeans and black shoes to school once. The whole thing cost about 4000 bucks I guess... but it was worth it. All the teachers were shocked! Hehe. I’ll be finishing my +2 next year . I get good grades most of the time. And I play great basketball. I usually come home late from school ‘cause my mom is sooo busy with the neighbouring aunties. They are involved in some food and old clothing kinda work for underprivileged kids. And every day, mom either goes to that slum or to the salon to get ready for the weekly committee meetings. So, Rani, our 15 year old maid welcomes me home daily. But I don’t really stay long. Come on yaar. There are, like, 3 new restaurants opening every week, and my friends and I are, like the unofficial hangout-critics of my city. Besides, if there’s no new eat-out to visit, we all hang around in Café Mocha and check out guys. Hehe. But I get back home before my dad comes. That’s at about 9 30PM. ‘Cause he’s promised a car for me as soon as I finish my +2 board and I’m maintaining a good impression (wink). That reminds me. My friend crashed her car last Tuesday while I was in it…!! It was, like, oh my god, scary. But very thrilling. Hehe. And so sad, y’know. ‘Cause all my friends used to visit the mall every weekend in that Accent together. Sigh… Anyway, now, her boyfriend has to take us. But hey… I don’t buy stuff, like, every time we go there. I just pick up new shoes or a new cd if I really feel like it. That’s all. Oh ya… Her boyfriend has an iPhone y’know… and I stare at it so much, he probably thinks I’m hitting on him. Hehe. My fone is so old y’know. 1 whole year with an N73M. Kya karein. The troubles of my life. When my mom gets her iPhone 3G, she’s gonna give me her N95. But yuck! I hate second-hands. After shopping last weekend, my dad took us to this new place for dinner, it was a theme restaurant. A jungle safari with flames everywhere and the waiters dressed like Shikaris . They served food in big bowels and we had to drink water from flasks like in a jungle. It was sooo cool. Of course, it was pretty expensive. And the food was weird. I made dad order some takeaway from McD after we came out of there.
“In India, I found a race of mortals living upon the Earth, but not adhering to it, inhabiting cities, but not being fixed to them, possessing everything, but possessed by nothing” ---- Apollonius Tyanaeus
“Apparently, that race is now host to a parasite called Artifice. Hosts die. Gradually.” ---- Rahul
Ok. My name is Radhika. My friends call me The Radical!! ‘Cause I’m so rebellious like, you know. I wore this black nail polish and black tee, black jeans and black shoes to school once. The whole thing cost about 4000 bucks I guess... but it was worth it. All the teachers were shocked! Hehe. I’ll be finishing my +2 next year . I get good grades most of the time. And I play great basketball. I usually come home late from school ‘cause my mom is sooo busy with the neighbouring aunties. They are involved in some food and old clothing kinda work for underprivileged kids. And every day, mom either goes to that slum or to the salon to get ready for the weekly committee meetings. So, Rani, our 15 year old maid welcomes me home daily. But I don’t really stay long. Come on yaar. There are, like, 3 new restaurants opening every week, and my friends and I are, like the unofficial hangout-critics of my city. Besides, if there’s no new eat-out to visit, we all hang around in Café Mocha and check out guys. Hehe. But I get back home before my dad comes. That’s at about 9 30PM. ‘Cause he’s promised a car for me as soon as I finish my +2 board and I’m maintaining a good impression (wink). That reminds me. My friend crashed her car last Tuesday while I was in it…!! It was, like, oh my god, scary. But very thrilling. Hehe. And so sad, y’know. ‘Cause all my friends used to visit the mall every weekend in that Accent together. Sigh… Anyway, now, her boyfriend has to take us. But hey… I don’t buy stuff, like, every time we go there. I just pick up new shoes or a new cd if I really feel like it. That’s all. Oh ya… Her boyfriend has an iPhone y’know… and I stare at it so much, he probably thinks I’m hitting on him. Hehe. My fone is so old y’know. 1 whole year with an N73M. Kya karein. The troubles of my life. When my mom gets her iPhone 3G, she’s gonna give me her N95. But yuck! I hate second-hands. After shopping last weekend, my dad took us to this new place for dinner, it was a theme restaurant. A jungle safari with flames everywhere and the waiters dressed like Shikaris . They served food in big bowels and we had to drink water from flasks like in a jungle. It was sooo cool. Of course, it was pretty expensive. And the food was weird. I made dad order some takeaway from McD after we came out of there.
“In India, I found a race of mortals living upon the Earth, but not adhering to it, inhabiting cities, but not being fixed to them, possessing everything, but possessed by nothing” ---- Apollonius Tyanaeus
“Apparently, that race is now host to a parasite called Artifice. Hosts die. Gradually.” ---- Rahul
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Reservation for 'humble servants' of the nation?
The most unbelievable sight that the author of this blog saw while travelling on a bus in the East Godavari district in Andhra Pradesh, India.
Friday, October 03, 2008
Strangers
I wrote this a long time ago. In college. Ancient history. A sadist was ingraining thermodynamics into a bunch of anti-pyretic students. And I suffered a stroke of inspiration(Read: destitution). If you had been there, you’ll understand the reason why the story is so morbid.
STRANGERS
She sat on the bench on Platform number 5. She knew that her future was hopeless. She loathed the very nature of what she was about to do. It seemed so unnecessary, such a waste of… well… everything. Her wristwatch glowed 2:15 AM. The overhead speaker blared out an announcement. “Your attention please. Train No. 2301, Chandigarh Delhi passenger will arrive on platform number 5 at 2:40 AM.” She looked at the speaker sadly. She was never going to be on that train. She relished that fact. She opened her handbag and took out a pack of chewing gum and put one in her mouth. She waited.
A group of teenagers, probably DU students descended the over-bridge, singing and swearing. They looked at her. Not because she was attractive. Not because she looked pale and strangely serene. No. She was both. But they looked because she was the only human in sight on the platform. Then they walked past her and set down their luggage some distance away. It was the night of Thursday, Feb 29. A weekday that guarantees uncongested trains and platforms. 10 minutes later, a few families arrived. She looked at everyone arriving through narrowed eyes. Like a lioness stalking a herd. Or a gazelle looking at a pride. It was 2:27 AM.
A man walked down the over-bridge. He was limping a little on his right foot. But he was not in pain. His eyes glowed like coal-fire. His eyes caught hers for a second. She was staring at him. Her eyes showed a flicker of recognition. Or was it satisfaction? He walked towards her. When he was 10 feet away from her, she got up and went over to the water fountain. He didn’t stop. He walked up to her bench and sat down. He stared at her as she washed her hands and drank, the water gulps visible in her throat. It was 2:32 AM. She finished and looked at her watch. ‘8 minutes to go’ she thought. He continued to stare at her as she walked over to the bench and sat on it. She did not glance at him even for a second. After 5 minutes the train started arriving. He looked over her head at the engine light and then asked her “Hi… Is that the Chandigarh passenger?” She gave a little smile and thought “This is it. He’s the one.” He smiled back curious at her smile. It was 2:38AM. With rapid movement, she took at knife out of her bag and slashed it across his shoulder and neck. He howled and jerked away. People turned to look at them. She stood up, lifted the knife over her head and using both hands, brought it down right into his chest, over his heart. He screamed. There engine blew its horn. No one heard him. But, they felt his scream. She looked at them and said something. The railway announcement drowned her out. The shell-shocked teenagers came to life and started to run towards her, towards the approaching train. She still looked attractive, with the bloodied knife in hand and grotesque. As the engine came closer, they slowed down to shield their eyes from the engine’s glaring light. When the engine passed them and they opened their eyes, she was gone. The train stopped. They looked into the compartments. They could not find either her or the man’s body. It was 2:40 AM.
Both were found later. On the track, under the train. No motive was discovered. She and the man were strangers. Strangers in this strange world.
STRANGERS
She sat on the bench on Platform number 5. She knew that her future was hopeless. She loathed the very nature of what she was about to do. It seemed so unnecessary, such a waste of… well… everything. Her wristwatch glowed 2:15 AM. The overhead speaker blared out an announcement. “Your attention please. Train No. 2301, Chandigarh Delhi passenger will arrive on platform number 5 at 2:40 AM.” She looked at the speaker sadly. She was never going to be on that train. She relished that fact. She opened her handbag and took out a pack of chewing gum and put one in her mouth. She waited.
A group of teenagers, probably DU students descended the over-bridge, singing and swearing. They looked at her. Not because she was attractive. Not because she looked pale and strangely serene. No. She was both. But they looked because she was the only human in sight on the platform. Then they walked past her and set down their luggage some distance away. It was the night of Thursday, Feb 29. A weekday that guarantees uncongested trains and platforms. 10 minutes later, a few families arrived. She looked at everyone arriving through narrowed eyes. Like a lioness stalking a herd. Or a gazelle looking at a pride. It was 2:27 AM.
A man walked down the over-bridge. He was limping a little on his right foot. But he was not in pain. His eyes glowed like coal-fire. His eyes caught hers for a second. She was staring at him. Her eyes showed a flicker of recognition. Or was it satisfaction? He walked towards her. When he was 10 feet away from her, she got up and went over to the water fountain. He didn’t stop. He walked up to her bench and sat down. He stared at her as she washed her hands and drank, the water gulps visible in her throat. It was 2:32 AM. She finished and looked at her watch. ‘8 minutes to go’ she thought. He continued to stare at her as she walked over to the bench and sat on it. She did not glance at him even for a second. After 5 minutes the train started arriving. He looked over her head at the engine light and then asked her “Hi… Is that the Chandigarh passenger?” She gave a little smile and thought “This is it. He’s the one.” He smiled back curious at her smile. It was 2:38AM. With rapid movement, she took at knife out of her bag and slashed it across his shoulder and neck. He howled and jerked away. People turned to look at them. She stood up, lifted the knife over her head and using both hands, brought it down right into his chest, over his heart. He screamed. There engine blew its horn. No one heard him. But, they felt his scream. She looked at them and said something. The railway announcement drowned her out. The shell-shocked teenagers came to life and started to run towards her, towards the approaching train. She still looked attractive, with the bloodied knife in hand and grotesque. As the engine came closer, they slowed down to shield their eyes from the engine’s glaring light. When the engine passed them and they opened their eyes, she was gone. The train stopped. They looked into the compartments. They could not find either her or the man’s body. It was 2:40 AM.
Both were found later. On the track, under the train. No motive was discovered. She and the man were strangers. Strangers in this strange world.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Citizen Kaun?
August 15th 1947. Independence Day. It means different things to different people. Just like the word independence.
One weird guy woke up at midnight, bought a entry ticket to the Red Fort, climbed to the top and said things like “Long years ago, we made a tryst with destiny…. blah blah… and India discovers herself again.” Another guy, a kid, wore a white shirt with blue flaps (Edison House rules!), white shorts and white shoes and tried to imitate the Travolta-in-Greece like IDIOT* in front of him. Of course, I have to narcissistically conclude with me (R@hul) in the present (2008). I woke up late, to the cochlea-annihilating ring of a phone, picked it up and what I heard made my eyes as wide as saucers and my lips as curved as The Joker’s(viz. Heath Ledger’s).
No. I didn’t win a 10 day 11 night vacation on Star Cruises. But close enough. It is thus…. Once upon my grandpa’s age ago, a man had fought against an authority (which liked evening tea, biscuits and cricket – The British) with his silent protest. He won his war on August 15th 1947. 61 years later, on the same day this year, I won my 22 year struggle against a similar albeit tougher authority (which also liked free chai, free biscuits and cricket matches – The Govt of India). Hear me out completely. I have finally…. sniff… (author wipes his tear-stained cheeks on his left sleeve)….. I have finally been recognized as a citizen of India!!!
Folks… Of all its children till date, I am Mother India’s most-unwanted. My existence has been as graciously acknowledged as Bush accepted that he f***ed up in Afghanistan. I’m not exaggerating. Even as careful a document handler as my ex-banker mom accepts that my Birth Certificate was probably made of paper recycled from rejected cow feed. I knew then… My road to universal adult franchise would be exactly like the stretch from Borivali to Bandra after a Mumbai monsoon. It was no cake-walk getting a 2 wheeler driver’s license. Read THIS to understand why. To get my PAN card, I had to secretly get an engineering degree and then join a famous IT company and stash my PAN card application amongst 30 other regular normal children of India. Only then was it overlooked by the that white dhoti-ed, betel-red lipped, topi wearing Govt.And my passport… oh boy…!! Remember Zidane’s face after 2006 World Cup final? I’ve had that expression for the past 2 years. I hold the Guinness for filling the max number of valid passport applications (four) with different addresses within the shortest time (2 years) and still not having a valid passport till date. As a veteran, I can tell you that filling up the form is the easy part. Then comes the exhaustive list of documents to be enclosed with the application (including the dreaded address proof). Due to a banjara lifestyle, I never held an address valid for more than a year. Govt of India insists that this translates to me into a passport-unworthy criminal. In any case, the A.P state EAMCET-like choice (answer 2 Qs out of 8 and pass) of documents was of no use. I had to choose one mandatory document out of the 14 and the only thing I was eligible for in this life or the next was the Voter ID card (EPIC). I applied for the “Free home delivery EPIC by Govt of AP” card... 2 months passed… 6 months. No sign of the EPIC or the Govt of AP on my doorstep. Then, one day… on our I-Day, I got the call. My sister’s passport-procurement agent (another story there) discovered my rotting EPIC in a moist-walled, 0-watt bulb-ed narrow corridor in (guess where?) a Mandal Revenue Office!!!
Irony No – 1: Rahul has no intentions of leaving Mother India in spite of her step-motherly treatment.
Irony No – 2: The entire passport fiasco is being borne by Rahul just so that he can write GMAT and join… the ISB in Hyderabad. Multiple irony there.
Irony No – 3: And the grand finale….. Rahul’s EPIC was intended as documentary evidence that he was born, alive and living at a certain address. It should suffice to say that the legendary Murphy himself typed the address on Rahul’s EPIC.
* Don’t assume I use the word IDIOT lightly. I’m pretty sure this kid was born deaf and had no idea what the school drummer’s function was. This damned anti-Achilles was also born with high density carbon-steel plated heels which tried to murder my legs every year during the march past.
One weird guy woke up at midnight, bought a entry ticket to the Red Fort, climbed to the top and said things like “Long years ago, we made a tryst with destiny…. blah blah… and India discovers herself again.” Another guy, a kid, wore a white shirt with blue flaps (Edison House rules!), white shorts and white shoes and tried to imitate the Travolta-in-Greece like IDIOT* in front of him. Of course, I have to narcissistically conclude with me (R@hul) in the present (2008). I woke up late, to the cochlea-annihilating ring of a phone, picked it up and what I heard made my eyes as wide as saucers and my lips as curved as The Joker’s(viz. Heath Ledger’s).
No. I didn’t win a 10 day 11 night vacation on Star Cruises. But close enough. It is thus…. Once upon my grandpa’s age ago, a man had fought against an authority (which liked evening tea, biscuits and cricket – The British) with his silent protest. He won his war on August 15th 1947. 61 years later, on the same day this year, I won my 22 year struggle against a similar albeit tougher authority (which also liked free chai, free biscuits and cricket matches – The Govt of India). Hear me out completely. I have finally…. sniff… (author wipes his tear-stained cheeks on his left sleeve)….. I have finally been recognized as a citizen of India!!!
Folks… Of all its children till date, I am Mother India’s most-unwanted. My existence has been as graciously acknowledged as Bush accepted that he f***ed up in Afghanistan. I’m not exaggerating. Even as careful a document handler as my ex-banker mom accepts that my Birth Certificate was probably made of paper recycled from rejected cow feed. I knew then… My road to universal adult franchise would be exactly like the stretch from Borivali to Bandra after a Mumbai monsoon. It was no cake-walk getting a 2 wheeler driver’s license. Read THIS to understand why. To get my PAN card, I had to secretly get an engineering degree and then join a famous IT company and stash my PAN card application amongst 30 other regular normal children of India. Only then was it overlooked by the that white dhoti-ed, betel-red lipped, topi wearing Govt.And my passport… oh boy…!! Remember Zidane’s face after 2006 World Cup final? I’ve had that expression for the past 2 years. I hold the Guinness for filling the max number of valid passport applications (four) with different addresses within the shortest time (2 years) and still not having a valid passport till date. As a veteran, I can tell you that filling up the form is the easy part. Then comes the exhaustive list of documents to be enclosed with the application (including the dreaded address proof). Due to a banjara lifestyle, I never held an address valid for more than a year. Govt of India insists that this translates to me into a passport-unworthy criminal. In any case, the A.P state EAMCET-like choice (answer 2 Qs out of 8 and pass) of documents was of no use. I had to choose one mandatory document out of the 14 and the only thing I was eligible for in this life or the next was the Voter ID card (EPIC). I applied for the “Free home delivery EPIC by Govt of AP” card... 2 months passed… 6 months. No sign of the EPIC or the Govt of AP on my doorstep. Then, one day… on our I-Day, I got the call. My sister’s passport-procurement agent (another story there) discovered my rotting EPIC in a moist-walled, 0-watt bulb-ed narrow corridor in (guess where?) a Mandal Revenue Office!!!
Irony No – 1: Rahul has no intentions of leaving Mother India in spite of her step-motherly treatment.
Irony No – 2: The entire passport fiasco is being borne by Rahul just so that he can write GMAT and join… the ISB in Hyderabad. Multiple irony there.
Irony No – 3: And the grand finale….. Rahul’s EPIC was intended as documentary evidence that he was born, alive and living at a certain address. It should suffice to say that the legendary Murphy himself typed the address on Rahul’s EPIC.
* Don’t assume I use the word IDIOT lightly. I’m pretty sure this kid was born deaf and had no idea what the school drummer’s function was. This damned anti-Achilles was also born with high density carbon-steel plated heels which tried to murder my legs every year during the march past.
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