Life as Lollipop- Part 2

'I love to cry in the rain so that no one can see my tears' - Charlie Chaplin

With a heavy and dismal heart, I pen down the final part. Lot of people have expressed their feelings about part1. Mixed reactions of readers- Too realistic; Boring, Philosophical. Yet some of them told me that they were desperately waiting for second part. I respect the feedback from these individuals who come from all walks of life.

However, thats what precisely is my conviction. Being adamant, I write whatever I feel like, say, talk or think whatever I feel I should. Call it being courageous or going against conviction. In life, courage and conviction are two different entities and give a very unusual way of interpretation. Very uncommon sight, just like a fully clothed Pamela Anderson!

Like I have said, we all are born in this world for a purpose, when the purpose is achieved, we leave heavenly abode. period. I often think of people who are no longer a part of this world and ask myself, what are these guys doing wherever they are? watching us from heaven? Its idiotic to think on these lines, but exciting too!


This may give you a sign of relief or an expression of dismay about the fact that I am not going to write anything more about this Life. The hard candy of the lollipop is the life and gets over post sucking and licking. Only the stick which had the candy mounted on it remains. Thats our life!


Take a look at your life now and then. Your childhood: The day when you peed in your nappies( if you remember that). The day when you knew nothing about money, sex and power. Times when you watched Doordarshan and waited for Chitrahaar or one movie a week( Sunday or Saturday)

Your present: Bombarded with technology, too many channels to choose from. Too busy to laugh-smile over little things of life! Thinking about the next that that you will do after reading this article or worried about a stupid meeting at office. The list goes on. Of course some of you may be thinking "why the fuck did we grew up?"

Before I rest my essay I leave some questions for the reader to ponder. Pause for a moment, think about YOURSELF.Your name and your breath,Your mind and then read on:

Who are you?
What makes you to live?
Why are you scared about death( most of us)?
Ever realized how you will be 10 years from now? ( No, this is not a HR question)

Think! It helps!

Have a great Life ahead!

© All rights reserved with Abhishek Naini. No form of this may be reproduced without prior permission from the author.

Life as a lollipop- Part 1

Tom Hanks puts it beautifully in Forrest Gump- Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get! The intensity of this dialogue is suave yet it guarantees thoughts and questions ahead.

Each day of my life begins on a endless thought provoking questionaire. I try hard to ask and answer myself " Let me get this straight- What's the purpose of life? Why is human born when death is inevitable? What is marriage? religion? Caste and creed? The list is endless and transforms me into a very different Abhishek. I copped out at the thought of writing because I felt it'd be crazy and I'd actually be rubbishing the writeup, but again became reluctant.

Sometime back over a cup of coffee discussion with my friend I learnt that- God designs and designates every individual's role. Call it programming in todays language. Some leave this world sooner the task is completed. Some indulge in mass destruction( 9/11) Some try to adopt discarded children( Mother Teresa) I could possibly go on giving examples to eternity..and Oh Yes! Even now, at this moment, my role is to write this blog and leave the readers to ponder over my assumptions and reality bites ( if it deserves to be true)

I'd put it in a different way. Picture this-I actally had happened to stop at a traffic signal at a crossroads and I saw the world around me- A beggar at the traffic signal Vs Palatial mansion with rich interiors; A daughter of a rich tycoon in a Mercedes Benz Vs Ambulance with its active visual warning and uncertain life inside; A man with his wife and a kid on a bike Vs cart seller hoping to find good business; A film poster with characters tampered, for the purpose of deception Vs a pedestrian. I persuade my mind to think about such people whenever I come across them.

The beggar has a history which no one knows. The mansion is built by masons who dream to build a home for themselves. Post the mainsions completion, the owner wouldn't even remember the name of the masons. The rich daughter in Mercedez is considered as an arrogant and conceited by most of the passerbys. Reason- Perceptions make their way from legacies. There is someone struggling in that ambulance. If I speak logically, everyone who is in the way of that ambulance will be accountable for the life and death of that person. The man with his wife and a kid may be riding a bike that he took as a part of dowry. He must be thinking of buying a car or rather cursing himself on getting married. The characters in that poster perhaps are on cloud 9 knowing that their poster stands tall at a famous crossroad of the city. The pedestrian, clueless about his future walks away maybe he has looked at me and made perceptions or something that you could never figure out whats running in his mind. Reason everyone in this world has a history. Though it may not date back to dinosaurs age (mildly put!)

What is common to all of them? Life and death. they are born the same way and will die the same way. I sometimes try and compile the number of emotions attached to each individual. Does this world realize what is life? We are born, attend school, finish education, make money, try to get rich, marry, complain, compliment, comment, laugh, become old and die a death that is miserable, accidental or natural.

These days, many complain of boredom. I have come across so many people. If I understand them correctly, they are surviving not living! Its because we do not adapt to situations that surround us.

End of Part 1

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Caste a vote- From the mouth of a Story Teller

2004, April. Somewhere in a corner cubicle of an esteemed organization:

Abhishek ! Do you want to vote? Do you have the eligibility?

It was 2 pm and just when the office chores seemed to become boring, this question excited me. I turned around. It was my Manager who rather looked damn straight.

Why? I said, then realizing that I had to answer the question. I quickly added; Of course, I am 22 and I do have the eligibility.

Do you want to vote? He asked me again. I raised my eyebrows, Here is the guy who never allowed deviations from work and a certified stickler for timeliness, asking me if I am intrested to leave office to caste a vote. I still deliberately sounded confusing "Do we have the polling booth in our office premises? I wanted to pun this line but failed miserably.

No..if you are intrested you may go cast your vote. My Manager replied. However, you please finish your work. He was quick to add that too. The man is asking me if I have the interest to caste the vote! How ridiculuous? Its my bloody birth right to vote. Now, the last thing I wanted to do was wring his neck and throw him out.

Sure, I'd finish my reports and leave. I said this as if I had a choice. But I was happy though, for the first time I felt like a CITIZEN! I am going to vote!! I rose from my seat.

So... Abhishek who are you going to vote for? My colleagues asked me. Do I need to tell you that? Its either shame on me or the government. I have got the voting rights 4 uears ago But I haven't casted the vote till now. I remembered years ago, my dad's friend warned me never reveal about your vote. I threw this back at them feeling conceited about it. I knew I was just an ordinary guy without any powers, however I just wanted them to make me feel important. Afterall, I am going to vote for the first time. I rose from my seat. So long buddies! I am going to vote. I sounded as if I am going to Rashtrapati Bhawan to take an oath of President of India.

I pulled my bike and started off. It was hot summer afternoon and my bike seat felt like a tandoori. Anything for my first vote. I thought. On my way through deserted road, I saw those colorful banners, policemen showing their presence, RAF personnel sipping tea under a shade, the noise from my engine made me nervous. I sometimes felt as if my vote will decide the election!

"UNIVERSAL ADULT FRANCHISE"...During my school days, I never was able to remember these 3 little but powerful words! However, it didn't take me long to realize that the meaning of these 3 words can be so simple, but yet so powerful. "Right to vote after the age of 18 years". Democracy is for the people, of the people and by the people, I got a bonus mark in every civics paper where I quoted this line.

Maa.. where is my voters ID card? Abhi..you are back..I told you its a holiday today. Little my mom thinks office the way office is meant to be. However, only I knew the reality, else we all do! She managed to find my voters card and was happy to see her son being a part of democracy of this great nation!

I marched towards the polling booth which was put up very close to my home. I glanced at a group of policemen who sat on a wooden bench with their weapons pointing towards the sky. I do not know wht they must have felt after looking at me. I never wanted them to feel that its my maiden voting session. I Somehow thought will paint a rosy picture at the booth. I had anticipated a big queue at the polling booth. Surprisingly, it was deserted. Perhaps the citizens of my colony had already casted their respective votes in the morning.

I entered an old room with walls full of cracks and a dusty flooring. There was a tubelight too but I was confident that it will not work. The ceiling fan made noise as it rotated slowly trying to provide soothing relief for the officials who were present in that room. A man wearing big glasses, was seated across a table. He looked up and said. Aapka ID card dijiye"

The photograph on my voters card was pathetic and somehow I tried my best to convince myself that the photo resembled me. I was embarrassed to give the ID card to him. He then browsed through a paper that had a lengthy list. I wondered how many names it contained..probably some people must have alredy left this world and even their names existed in that list! That's bureaucracy
for you!

I stood there impatiently. Aapko mera naam mila list mein? Abhishek hai mera naam. I asked in a low tone. Haan ..Yeh raha...aapke pitaji kahan hai unhonne nahi daala vote? I was pleasantly surprised when the man asked about my dad. I never thought they'd care about people who did not vote yet. I said " Mere Dad Mumbai mein rehte hain. I muttered. Accha accha...teek hai koi baat nahi. He then marked my name in that list to confirm my attendance. I wondered if that shoddy little paper would be a substantiate evidence of my existence. He then shouted my name to the person sitting next to him as if I was the criminal brought in the courtroom. His voice was deafning.

Aap is taraf aayiye. The man sitting next to him finally opened his mouth. When I looked at him I never thought he'd speak. The voting process now began to speed up. I wasnt aware whet else I have to undergo. This man looked at me and asked my to give my hand as if its an engagement ceremony and he'd present me a ring! However, I knew he'd mark my finger with some solution that would remain for 2-3 days. I was excited because I wanted to show my proof of voting to people who never had this Privilege. This little solution does the trick of identification or may be emancipation!

Hmm... Now whats next? I asked myself.. Abhi aap wahan jaaiye aur vote kariye. He said timidly. I saw a very familiar customized compartment built with cloth and iron stand. I saw this in many movies and the ay had actually arrived when I had to go there to caste my vote. There was a voting machine that read 'Assembly elections and Parliament elections. I had read about voting machines in newspapers and how politicians tamper these machines for rigging purpose. For strange reasons, I remembered TN Seshan, once the Chief Election commissioner of India. I thought maybe if that man was in power this would never have happend.

I looked at the voting machine..and I knew who to vote for. I didn't even bother to look at the other "CONTESTANTS". As soon as I pressed the button against the political party name, it gave a loud beep like a burglar alarm!! I then had to caste my vote for the prime minister's seat. While I was doing this process, I thought how tensed those contestants will be and if they realized that I had voted for them, how would they react? Will I be attacked from the other contestants for whom I didn't vote for? I discarded all these when I reazlied that I was exercising my rights as a citizen.

It was finally done. My quest was over! I had casted a vote for the first time. I felt as if I had done a great service to mankind!

© All rights reserved with Abhishek Naini. No form of this may be reproduced without prior permission from the author.

Sangeet Theatre- Farewell to my movie Den

I remember, the first time I saw Sangeet theatre. It was the summer of 1989 when I was travelling in a bus with my Maa. We were going towards Secunderabad Railway station. The bus halted at a place and the bus conductor shouted 'Sangeet' for the benefit of those who'd want to get down. I looked right, and there stood this theatre painted with blue border. I looked up, tried to figure out the name of the theatre, the alphabets which were assorted to form an arc. I looked around and Saw the poster of the film SCARFACE, Al pacino holding a gun and the painted bullets gushing out of it! I presumed the name of the film to be SURFACE. I lived with that assumption for sometime.

Two years later 'Home Alone' arrived in town. My memory tells me this was my first movie in Sangeet. I looked at the Sangeet theatre from outside and wondered, Where on earth is the screen? Which side? Athough, my curiosity was never exposed to anyone. As a kid, I admired Macaulay Culkin, for his guts and intelligence.

Sangeet has always been a special place for the yuppies of Secunderabad. And it all started in early 90s. English movie fever caught up soon. And of course, Watching an English movie was a privilege then. With The most common dress code meant for this ocassion was blue jeans teamed up with T shirt-. To be brand specific, Kaizas or Buffalo Jeans and the T shirt? well! we all knew fido- dido, the character of lehar 7-up that created waves across school and college goers of society. It did just the right thing.

Over years Sangeet had occupied a special place among the Secunderabad fraternity. The colloquial discussions made inside the theatre near the snacks, included the active use of the word 'ya' instead of 'yes'. Urbanization had reached a vantage point. yards away from the theatre, stood 'Fantasy' the premium multi cuisine eatery shack. Popularly known for its tall chairs and Fantasy champagne and fantasy burger, it had eveything that could cater those 15 somethings! However, they were expensive... very expensive priced between Rs 15-25!!!!! ( inflation during early 1990s)

And then there was guy called Sai, the fella at the parking lot who SECRETLY arranged tickets for us. During ticket crisis, the sight of Sai made us feel at ease. Limping across those parked vehicles, he used to vanish and show up after 10 minutes with those bright tickets in hand! Like a Houdini!

The decision to revamp this theatre into a swanky multiplex might sound to be a fair deail for the investors. However, go and ask the young generation of early 90s about Sangeet, most of them would go back to their past. We will never again see the same Sangeet theatre, with moss formed on the walls, pale yellow structure and the title SANGEET perched on top of it, with the blue sky over looking it.

Beethoven. Showdown in little Tokyo, Jurassic park, Free Willy...I lose count the number of movies I saw this theatre. But I will never forget what Sangeet theatre brought to this tinsel town of mine, its a monument that brought friends together, made us socialize despite our simple lifestyle. We were more happy with that 5 rupee chips packet, the seating style, arranging finances for the 25 rupee ticket, never bothered about parking. Each and every moment that transformed us.

Priceless indeed!

© All rights reserved with Abhishek Naini. No form of this may be reproduced without prior permission from the author.