The Amtrak Diaries

Chapter One

One of the most fascinating seasons in North America is fall. Just last month I had traveled to Montréal from New York by train and was mesmerized by the myriad hues of nature. (Its not often that an insensitive bloke like me gets moved by natural beauty – hues interesting to me are usually blondes, brunettes and the rare redheads). At this very moment I am on my way to Ann Arbor, Michigan from Boston changing trains at Albany and Toledo (don’t even ask – I love Indian Railways – my train’s been stuck in the middle of nowhere for the last 40 minutes, a little longer than Ashram Express used to stop for some incomprehensible reason at Rewari outer.)

The view from the train window is a lot different now than it was 6 weeks back (although the coffee’s still as bad). It’s dark and gloomy outside and its just late afternoon. Its been raining, the trees have shed almost all they had, perhaps having realized that they cant fight the cruel winter, which by the way has got me petrified too. (I have ‘Take Away My Pain’ playing on my computer). I on the other hand feel a lot better than I did then - mostly because I took my USMLE step 3 and got it out of the way. There’s a lot to be said for the post exam feeling which I am sure all of us unfortunate enough to have been educated are fortunate enough to have experienced. It’s not all good though. It is a kind of euphoria mixed with a little bit of uncertainty and anxiety about the way the exam actually went down. It’s somewhat of a void.


Chapter Two (and a bit more than I bargained for)

It’s about ten days since I started writing this post and have been traveling like crazy, so I haven’t had time to actually put it up yet. (I know all this is going to sound a bit weird when the post is actually up.) I have, since then experienced a lot more of the Amtrak, Railway stations and the American hinterland. I spent enough time at Union Station, Chicago in just a 2 day trip to the city to know it pretty much inside out. From there my journey to New York was supposed to take around 18 hours and took over 26. Yeah, I know. Ouch. Another Déjà vu of times spent on Indian Railways.

The one thing that totally rocks about Bhartiya Rail is the sort of people one meets in the average second class compartment. In that section of 8 berths one would usually find, to mention a few, an extremely entertaining mix of students, senior citizens and traveling businessmen (In my travels, almost exclusively Punjabi and usually the most frustrated and cynical of the lot, which by default makes their comments the most interesting). Everyone there has an opinion and more than that has an irresistible urge to share it, nay, impress it upon all others present. A group of jats discussing politics can sometimes be funnier than Seinfeld, Frasier and Friends put together, not to mention the language being more colorful than some rap songs labeled ‘Parental Advisory-Explicit Lyrics’. Trains in the US pale in comparison as most people spend their time watching movies on their laptops or are totally tuned into their iPods.

Another interesting thing I found in my recent and as yet unconcluded travels was that these days bumping into fellow residency aspirants traveling for interviews is easier than catching a cold.(I haven’t caught one yet, thankfully, but its almost inevitable in the winters. I do however keep bumping into guys from India, Pakistan and Nepal who are in the same boat as me - figuratively the same boat, literally the same train). In fact I saw an attractive girl traveling from Chicago to Rochester and went up to her and said “Let me guess, you’re interviewing for your residency?” and she stared at me blankly and said that she studied there. Not the best ice breaker ever.

I just completed one leg of my traveling and came back totally exhausted, having visited 5 states in a week! The next leg starts in a couple of days as I head north for my biggest interview yet. I hope the trips are somewhat interesting to keep the Amtrak Diaries alive, and also because I’ve pretty much run out of my stock of movies to watch on the train.

These Romans are Crazy

The last few days have been a bit of a drag as I don't have a lot to do but study for my next exam (yes, there's a Step 3 as well!). During breaks from the incredibly torrid questions on usmleworld I generally turn on the TV and always end up realizing that American TV channels are very similar to Indian channels in one respect - there's usually nothing worth watching on them. A few days back, I was going through my usual routine of changing channels mindlessly, sipping my coffee when I caught the sight of choppers with green hills in the background accompanied by very familiar strains of music. It was a rerun of a TV show I used to love as a kid and brought back memories of the people at the 4077th MASH. From the C.O. Col Potter to the adorable company clerk 'Radar'; 'Hotlips' Hoolahan to the softspoken Father Mulcahy; the unfortunately sane Max Klinger to the almost crazy team of surgeons.

M*A*S*H was one of the few shows that actually at times was so entertaining it stopped me from going to play soccer(that is possibly the biggest compliment a TV show can get out of me). What I realize now is that it wasn't just entertaining , it was also inspiring. I can't really be sure about this but I think it played a part in my choosing medicine as a career, not to mention my wanting to join the armed forces as a doctor (Most of my friends from school might remember my near brush with AFMC). I remember an episode where they're all sitting around singing a song about their own roles at the MASH and the doctors sang "Doctors in the army, they think they're mighty bright, they work on patients through the day and nurses through the night"(Can you blame me for wanting to join AFMC??).

My idol was, and continues to be 'Hawkeye' Pierce. An excellent doctor, a real stand up guy, a good son, and of course, a complete wiseass, I realize that thats all I want to be. (He was also somewhat of a ladies' man, but we all know I gave up on that a long time back. Its always good to be realistic!)

Coming back to American TV shows, the first few times that I watched TV here, I was quite concerned to say the least. The fact that the first few shows I caught were Jerry Springer and Maury should explain my concern. Jerry Springer is one crazy show where people bring all their dirty linen, wash it, wring it and leave it out to dry. They argue, debate and fight about their personal matters. On national TV. Very dysfunctional if you ask me. On Maury there were couples who had children with parental disputes and the results of their paternity tests were read out. On national TV. Incredibly insane in my opinion. Then I happened to watch one of those mad ass "judge" shows. Another opportunity for the average American to do his weekly laundry- on TV - and try to get some compensation for it as well.

By now I've learnt not to wander away from the known and safe territory of sitcoms as these crazy things on TV were skewing my opinion on how dysfunctional American society actually is.(Before this I thought The Simpsons were the yardstick for the same, and I dont mean Ashlee and Jessica-although I'm sure they wouldnt be too far behind. In the same token, I would certainly not want people to judge Indian society by the mind bogglingly sappy drivel doled out by Ekkkkta Kapoor and the rest of her K-tribe.)

I feel a lot like Asterix when he taps his head and says "These Romans are crazy".

Viral Fever

I spent the last week battling some unknown forces that had laid siege on my computer. Everytime I tried to run any program even remotely related to the internet (doesn't leave much, barring perhaps MSDOS which I still remember our computer science teacher going through great pains to get into our heads in 7th grade) I got a whole series of windows which popped up (hence their being called "pop-ups"-ingenious I say) and tried to sell me cars, college degrees, antivirus softwares (a conspiracy or just ironic-who can tell?) and also promised to introduce me to some very lovely ladies in my neighborhood. Since I cant afford a car, already have one degree and can't really purchase the next one I'm vying for, would never pay for antivirus softwares (or for that matter for the lovely ladies- my conscience doesnt allow either-its company policy) I found those pop-ups quite trying as you may well imagine.

After trying everything I could I decided to call in the big guns as reinforcements and SOS'd(I think we can redefine SOS from "save our souls" to "save our softwares" in todays age considering we already sold our souls to the devil when we bought pirated software at palika bazar) 2-3 of my IT related friends for help. The first thing all of them said when I told them I might have a virus was "dude, you gotta quit surfing porn!". I could not quite fathom the reason for these allegations which i found utterly baseless(not to mention offensive!) especially because I hadnt been surfing porn(not lately at least!). I wasn't really able to make the correlation between beautiful women in cyberspace and malicious programs on my hard disk. Its seemingly like the layman who knows about HIV and Syphilis never thinks that he's going to get infected till he gets naughty and careless.

Fortunately though my computer seems to be well on the road to recovery and I apparently need to bolster its defenses and be a little more..ahem, discreet about what I do online. As my cousin put it, "No more unprotected internet surfing". He tried his best to give me my lessons about adware, spyware, trojans, worms, viruses and the like(I still cant tell one from the other, but i know they exist) but I will have to leave it as one of those things which I perhaps am not meant to fathom. And at the risk of repeating myself for the zillionth time, I shrug my shoulders, sigh and say that Computers and women are two things i will probably never understand! (Yes, I know women are not "things", and I do not intend to imply that either-I simply allude to their thought processes which I am perhaps not destined to comprehend-so I request the women's libbers out there to please refrain from igniting their lingerie over this.)

Are you Johnnie re?

"Who is John Galt?" - The cry goes round the world once again. Well, not quite the world, but in some people's universes at least. Could this allusion be to the Scottish novelist of the 19th century? I think not. Its the "mystery worker", the "destroyer", the man who changed the world. For the fortunately uninitiated he was a character in Atlas Shrugged(you can check out http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Characters_in_Atlas_Shrugged#John_Galt). I read that book about 5 years back and found it to be a terribly tedious ordeal. Took me close to three months to finish, and a 90 page speech by Mr Galt himself was nothing short of torture. Yet the book had a fascinating concept. In short, it was good but it just wasnt worth the effort involved (what else do you expect from a guy who's read The Hitchikers Guide 5 times in the last two years?!).

Sure, we need John Galt today. The world is such a screwed up place, that we could actually do with several hundreds of 'em, but the point is do we keep going on with our lives and hope John Galt turns up, do we just sit around and wait or do we look for the John Galt within each one of us and the people we know?

There are those who wait for Mr Galt. According to lore, he's not a superhero. Superman, Spiderman, Batman, Phantom, Kriisisshshsh(I'm sure I misspelt it-but i'm sorry hrithik, i dont really care) are superheroes. John Galt is one of us. Could be you, your best friend or your worst enemy.(I've been informed by someone very reliable that its not me, so thats not an option).I firmly believe that Mr Galt doesnt exist but there is a little bit of him in all of us. For those who wait for him, for whatever reason- whether for him to bring them salvation, to be their saviour or to bloody marry them - I wish them all the best. I can only quote lines from Chad Kroegers 'Hero' to tell them how I feel about it..

"And they say that a hero can save us.
I'm not gonna stand here and wait.
I'll hold on to the wings of the eagles.
Watch as we all fly away.
Now that the world isn't ending, it's love that I'm sending to you.
It isn't the love of a hero, that's why I fear it won't do."

Statement of....Purpose??

I sincerely apologize for my last post (its not there anymore, so this apology is only there for those who were (un)fortunate enough to have read it). It was very uncharacteristic of me and was due to a momentary lapse of reason - as i told the person responsible for the whole post - my immense intellect has been clouded by emotion the last few days-not sure if she got the sarcasm. Despite my requests, I still received a few sympathetic messages and am grateful for the concern expressed by everyone. I'm doing fine now (wasnt doing too badly then, but tostitos, coke and ice cream are never good for health) and very much back on my feet.

I spent a month in Boston doing an observership at a hospital where I was pleasantly surprised by how friendly everyone was. I had expected I would stick out like a sore thumb(which i might have done, but i didnt really feel it). There were residents from all over the world and the time i spent there was as much a geography lesson as a medicine experience. It actually looks kind of like an advert for UCB. I guess something thats only possible in the US.

After a flurry of recommendations, personal statements, common application forms and endless lists of residency programs suddenly all is quiet. D-day, 1st September (yeah, Happy Birthday SPS) has come and gone. I survived it, as did I guess just about everyone else in the race for a residency spot in the US of A. Now begins a long and painful wait for programs to invite us for interview calls. Everyday that goes by without any word from them - neither rejecting, nor inviting, is full of an eerie sort of silence - emptiness, a void. It is this factor which over the next month or so will decide whether a day was good or bad. Or ugly (hope I don’t have any of those).

I seem to have become somewhat of an authority on personal statements. Having nearly lost my mind writing my own(which by the way I myself didnt think was too great), I subsequently had to write/edit/repair (for want of a better word-because I have seen some really bad ones too!) close to ten others (5 of them being variants of the same one as a friend of mine was applying to 5 branches- i hear there's a 6th one in the mix as well now! I could participate in the recitation tests I used to dread as a kid with one of her PS’s.). My spectrum expanded a couple of days back as I actually wrote out a PS for a friend applying for a fellowship in Cardiology and have already been warned by another who will be applying to B schools that I'll have to write his too!

"Statement Of Purpose" - These words have been echoing in my head for the last few weeks as I needed to sum up all the ambitions, desires, achievements of a lifetime(thus far, at least) in a solitary page to apply for a residency program. The problem is not one of plenty and of squeezing in stuff into those few hundred words, but rather how to write a statement of purpose when i believe I have the most purposeless existence known to mankind. I like to eat, sleep, play, read, write. All very fine pursuits, but somewhat lacking purpose. I figured all this wouldnt look too good on my application, so I had to be a little creative and mention something or the other about "helping humanity", "intellectual pursuits", and "career goals". Made me feel not unlike a Miss India contestant( "My idol is Mother Teresa..." - when actually its Rakhi Sawant or Isha Koppikar.)

It's virtually impossible to avoid these cliches when writing a Personal Statement, and that is precisely the problem I was facing. How do I make myself look different yet make it seem like I'm every PD's dream, while just about everyone else is doing the same, barring those who hired one website or another to do their dirty work for them. (I can do a better job than most-at half the price-anyone interested?)Its a mystery to me as to what they want in a Personal statement. They want some emotion, some passion in it, but don’t want it to be over the top. They also need you to be politically very correct, which of course poses a huge problem for someone like me.

So kids, if any of you ever need any help writing a personal statement, please dont hesitate to go elsewhere because i have had more than my fair share of them. If you're willing to pay, however, that is a different matter altogether.

A Yankee Doodle

"Bring me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free.." says the inscription on the statue of liberty. Who can turn down such an invitation? Well, so here I am. Tired from a year of studying for my USMLEs, broke from having paid my exam fees, and definitely a huddled mass yearning to be free! (a considerably larger mass than i ever envisaged myself to be, but a huddled mass, nevertheless)

America. Amrika. The US of A. The land of opportunity. The land of the free. The home of great people like Thomas Jefferson, George Washington, Henry Ford, Donald Trump, Walt Disney, George W Bush, Paris Hilton and Angelina Jolie. The land of which I have read about in all sorts of places from history books to Archie comics. The country whose TV programs(rejected, delayed, old, rerun-whatever) we have been watching since Mr Murdoch conquered India. The place where Ross met Rachel, and where Kramer always got Jerry into trouble.

This was my first ever trip abroad and hence I had a lot of fears, some justified, and a lot of them quite unwarranted. The foremost among the latter being that I would feel like a village idiot, a complete 'dehaati' when I left India. I was pleasantly surprised to see that I didnt (except on one or two occasions like when I couldnt figure out how to lock or unlock the door to a restroom somewhere, and when I had no idea what some of the things offered to us for lunch at our exam center in Philly were, or how they were supposed to be consumed)

There were a few things that struck me about this place in the few days that i've been here. The cleanliness is undoubtedly one(except when I went to Jersey City, which is a totally Indian, and predominantly Gujju hub-it reminded me of Ahmedabad, on a bad day). The orderly and patient way everyone drove their cars was another thing. On our way from the airport, my uncle must have driven at least 20 miles before I could hear a single person honk(even then it was a rather exuberant sardarji who broke the silence). Another impressive aspect of the American lifestyle is the sheer magnitude of doing things. Everything is on a scale nearly as grand as the average Punjabi wedding. The buildings are tall, the cars are big and juice is sold by the gallon. Despite all this I am still yet to see what the big deal is. Why are people from all over the world drawn to the US like Mika to Rakhi Sawant? What is it that has made the US a dream for people for generations now? The promise of a "better" lifestyle and the US dollar is the answer I guess. There really is something about the US dollar. The very first time I put messrs Jackson, Hamilton, and Washington in my wallet at the Forex shop in Delhi, I felt a sense of power that the US currency brought to me(I felt totally powerless a few days later when I saw a slot machine at Caesars Casino in Atlantic City rob me of Mr Jackson in under an hour)

Whether I will ever see what the big deal is or not, I can't say for sure, but I'm pretty sure I won't stop seeing what the big deal about India is.

Soccer Secrets from the Dressing Room

The Football (Guess I'll start calling it soccer now, since I'm leaving for the US) World Cup is almost over. All the pre tournament favorites have fallen by the wayside. All the pundits (myself included) have been left embarrassed by their predictions, and are blushing nearly as red as Rooney's punishment. Throughout the tournament I've wondered what it must be like in the dressing rooms of the different teams, and I imagined a few scenarios which might have had all the flies on the walls rolling in the aisles. This is what I think some team talks must have been like...

ENGLAND
Sven: (stifles a yawn) So you boys really want to play this match?
Beckham, Gerrard, Rooney et al in unison: Crikey! Yes Boss!
Sven: OK..David, you're the skipper. Today you decide the line-up and formation. I'll just nip into the showers for a bit. Faria's waiting.
Crouch: Duh,boss..can I play today?
Sven: Sure, whatever big guy. Theo, you come with me and Faria. I didnt bring you all the way here to play football..

BRASIL
Parreira: OK boys here's the plan. We'll attack them from the beginning- I read somewhere that attack is the best..something..cant remember..what was it Mr Zagallo?
Zagallo: Damned if I remember lad, can barely recall my wife's name at this age..
Parreira: Anyways, We are going to score ten goals today. First three from Ronaldo so he gets his record. I want everyone to pass the ball to him. Then Kaka, Ronaldinho, Adriano and Robinho will score one each. Then time for the defenders to get their share. Is that clear boys?
Lucio: But boss, what about the defense? And what if they score?
Parreira: IDIOT! We are Brasil. They CANT score. And since you're so worried about the defense, you are banned from crossing into their half. Lets see how you get your pic in tomorrows news now
Dida: Boss, can I score today? (Parreira rolls his eyes and reaches for his antihypertensive medication)
Roberto Carlos: Boss, do I have to come back and defend too? (Parreira takes another dose)


ITALY
Lippi (to Del Piero): Alex, you're out.
Del Piero: Why boss? Why?
Lippi: Who told you to get your head shaved? Now you make us look like a soccer team. I think thats why we lost the sponsorship of Dolce and Gabbana. You are a disgrace to Italian modelling..er..football
Luca Toni: Boss, can I start?
Lippi: Yeah, you're a good lookin lad, why not?
Iaquinta: And me, boss?
Lippi: On the bench. We cant defy tradition by starting with two out and out strikers son.

PORTUGAL(in a training session)
Scolari(blows whistle): OK boys, thats enough football for today. Time for simulation training.
Team, in unison: Yay!
Scolari: Right boys, lets see all of you dive in the penalty area and sucker the ref
Figo: Been doing this for 20 years, I'm the best diver in the world.
Deco: I suckered 10 refs in the Champions League this year
C. Ronaldo: Yes. but I can get people sent off...
Pauleta: Ya, lets get a penalty. No other way I can get a goal..


ARGENTINA
Pekerman makes a complicated diagram on the board which looks somewhat like the Argentinian Airlines Flight chart out of Buenos Aires and says "Got it boys?". Everyone slowly turns their head towards Riquelme who lazily nods and says "Yeah, sure". The next day the team scores six, and composes a 24 pass symphony that will be imprinted on our memories for decades to come. Truly, one of the greatest goals of all time.

Just Not Cricket

India drew their third Test match against the West Indies as well(yawn!). In my opinion, a boring test match ambling towards an inevitable draw is possibly the worst sight that professional sport has to offer. I consider it even more boring than watching Billiards or Chess (I do appreciate the skills involved in these sports, and also the thrill of playing them, but with all due respect they aren't exactly a spectator's dream!). I have spent a large percentage of my life watching sports (I Once actually watched the National Korfball Championships on DD) and of this a rather huge fraction has been spent on cricket. It has provided me not only some of my best sporting memories (Venkatesh Prasad bowling out Aamir Sohail-1996 world cup), some of my worst (India losing the Chennai test to Pak after Sachins century), and also some of my most boring and exasperating sporting memories(Innumerable test matches being drawn, matches being rained out and abandoned, matches being abandoned due to poor light)

I really believe if it wasn't for India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka, Cricket would be extinct by now. Its just that we suck at every other sport, and crickets the only game where we can consistently stay in the top ten (any guesses why?), that we are so crazy about it. The Aussies, despite being really good at lots of other team sports probably continue playing Cricket because its one game where they can consistently thrash the pommies(yes, I know what happened in the Ashes this year, but I consider it an aberration till England can prove otherwise).

India, I'm sorry to say is not a sporting nation. Don't get me wrong, I'm a proud Indian, but we must accept what our limitations are. The environs we grow up in are not really conducive to developing future sportsmen. I thus have extra respect in my heart for the Leanders, Sanias, Gopichands, Irfans and Baichungs who make it despite all odds - and perhaps even more so for the many others who don't.

When we watch a cricket match we don't treat it like a sport, we treat it like entertainment. I agree that the line dividing sport and entertainment is a blurry one, but the facts remain that we booed Sachin off the pitch in Bombay, we booed the Indian team off the ground in Delhi for scoring just 200 runs (our side eventually won the game-but who cares-we just want to see Dhoni hit the ball out of the park), we throw stuff onto the field and disrupt games when things aren't going to plan(Delhi, Mumbai, Calcutta). We are very bitter losers, and not very sporting people at all. This behaviour is sometimes really disgusting and actually reminds me of a couple of terrible movies I've had the misfortune of being audience to, where the junta got bored and erupted into whistles and catcalls, and on one occasion went so far as to break the chairs in the theater and threaten to beat up the manager if they didnt get their money back! Contemporary cricket is designed to appeal to the masses, with silly rules being introduced into an already complicated game (powerplay, super-sub). Its like a masala movie - Sachin and Sehwag are the heroes, Shoaib/Brett Lee/Murali the villains, Dravid and Kumble are the heroes' ever reliable friends ("best supporting actor goes to.."), Bhajji is the hero's funny friend (the guy who usually gets beat up by the villain and waits for the hero to save his ass), and Dhoni is the latest 'tadakda-bhadakta' item number - comes on anytime in between,usually doesnt last long, and is there for pure entertainment value - the item number after which the match can be classified as 'paisa vasool' or not.

The ICC and BCCIs relentless peddling of the sport in the name of spreading Cricket to the far corners of the world has to some extent resulted in even a cricket crazy population like us losing interest(yours truly included). They have turned it from a unique, if somewhat placid sport needing patience and skill, to a mediocre circus advertising cheap thrills(twenty-twenty,anyone?). Gone are the days when an India Pak match in Sharjah would capture the imagination of the entire sub-continent, when kids in school would mass-bunk to catch the game on TV. Gone are the days when a cricket match defeat would hurt till the next victory, when we actually hated the Pakistan team, and the matches were like war. Now many of us just dont see what the big deal is. They beat us today, we'll definitely play them next month, so we can beat them then. If not even then, we can just dismiss it with a wave of our hand and say, "saala match fixed hai" and forget about it.

All this can be attributed to a number of reasons, not least of which is the extreme overdose of cricket. Its a huge moneyspinner, especially in the sub-continent, but ICC should really read the story about the hen that laid the golden eggs. Another reason is the dilution of the level its played at. Teams like Zimbabwe, Bangladesh and Kenya have done little to increase the interest in the sport. They manage to please the item number fans to an extent(by proving to be easy meat, and getting thrashed all over the park), but the purists are quite turned off by their pedestrian efforts to make it internationally.

I know its a bit surprising that with the football world cup(i refuse to call it soccer) in full swing, I'm actually writing about cricket, but its just that a certain Mr Bhogle's habit to compare "the beautiful game" to "the gentleman's game" gets on my nerves(who let him anchor the World Cup on ESPN anyways? Blasphemous, i say!). Especially when what we see these days is just not cricket. Its too much of something else.

Sailing to Philadelphia

I had applied for my US visa and went for my interview today. I was more impressed than surprised at the junta that had come to apply. There was a potpourri of humanity that thronged the portals of the US Embassy to get a foothold into the land of opportunity. There were newly married women carrying their wedding photo albums(one actually insisted that her father be allowed to accompany her as she couldnt carry that much weight), there was a long line of very obvious IT professionals(they stick out like sore thumbs wherever they go-and yes, this is coming from a doctor), there were families who probably wanted to take their kids to Disneyland(I'm going to go too, if i get a chance), there was one particular elderly sardarji who seemed like he'd been coming there everyday since he was six, and last but certainly not the least, there were doctors going for their CS exams(yours truly included)

My dad had been quite amused by the way i had been "preparing" for my visa call. He, in his infinite wisdom thought its just a walk in the park, and all you need to do is go there and get a stamp on your passport. In retrospect, I agree. I had carried every conceivable document to attest to my family's wealth-property papers, every FD, passbook, stock, bond, and share that i could lay my hands on, just in order to prove to them that i could afford to sustain myself in amreeka for 10 days. In the end, I didnt really need any of these papers, but I'm a boy scout in many ways-doesnt hurt to 'be prepared'.

A lot of my friends have been going to visa counsellors, and I also met a couple of them. I liked one of them, intensely disliked the other, and hired neither. I couldnt help but feel that I was being ripped off like anything, and also my intelligence was being insulted when I was being told what to write in what column. I mean, I pretty much knew what to say when I went there, and the only reason I would have actually hired one of them would be the fear factor. The fear caused by the voice in my head saying "what if the visa is denied to me, and everyone else gets it?". The fear that then I would have to live with the regret of not having gone to one of these guys all my life. I assume that is pretty much the philosophy behind anyone going for visa counselling, and it really lowers my respect for people in this profession. I mean all they do is fill your form for you, and tell you what to say when you're asked "Why do you want to go to the US?". Any biped can do this job in my opinion. Glorified clerks, if you will.

I know, I know..most of you are thinking just because I got my visa, I am waxing eloquent on these 'counsellors' (and their limitations), and i must admit, you may just be right. Bottomline is I got it, and saved me some 5 grand.

I just got back from the Embassy a couple of hours ago, and since then I've got Mark Knopfler singing "Sailing to Philadelphia" in my head. I cant get it out, primarily because I don't want to.

Just Good Friends

"No, no! We're just good friends"
"Can't we just stay friends?"
"You're just my buddy"
"Lets just be friends"

I'm sure you've got what I mean, boys and girls. These (and many more variants of them) are possibly the biggest clichés ever in the English language(followed closely by,"I just want a nice guy who has a good sense of humor" and not so far behind is,"I'm sure you'll find someone special"). If I had 10 bucks for every time I'd heard these, I wouldn't be a terribly rich man, but i would definitely have enough to go for a movie and a lavish seven course dinner, by myself of course.

Now dont get me wrong, i'm not cribbing, although in my opinion, I have been at the receiving end once too many. I do understand that this is the ladies' way of putting someone they despise down as gently as possible, hence I have no complaints with this method. I think I speak on behalf of most of the guys who have experienced this when i say that we appreciate the thought behind it. However, having heard it for over half my life, I have realized that its the tone that hurts, rather than the content. "He's JUST a friend", "NO! NO! We're JUST friends", thus implying that this chap is completely dispensable.

I guess its something girls start learning when they're around 12 (the more attractive, the earlier it starts) when guys first begin to pay them attention, and by the time they reach 24, its more or less a part of their system. A conditioned reflex, if you will. I also believe that the "Just Good Friends" conversation is a fairly recent phenomenon. If it had existed all along, history as we know it might have undergone significant alterations. Can you imagine Juliet telling Romeo that she just wanted to be his friend? Shakespeare wouldnt have been as famous, and Mark Knopfler poorer by a few million quid.

Every time I have one of these conversations, i begin to wonder whether every guy has been on the receiving end as often as me, or is there something fundamentally "good friend"-ly about me(ladies, please feel free to comment. Guys, get your own house in order first). I'm not the most sociable of people (unlike those whack-jobs who claim to have "making friends" as a hobby-How needy is that?!), but I have no qualms about making friends. In these circumstances, however, its always kind of like getting "consolation prize"-never did figure out whether that was supposed to make me feel good or bad.

I often say that there are two things I will never figure out- computers, and the way women think. They think they're being nice to us when it’s really pretty painful. They think they're letting me down gently when they actually leave me hanging in mid-air. I admit that every single time I have had a "good friends" conversation, I have deluded myself into believing there's still a semblance of a chance, a ray of hope, despite knowing that it’s pretty much the last nail in the coffin. Totally my fault, I don’t blame the fairer sex for any of this.

Ladies, please don’t misconstrue this as a sexist post. I don’t have anything against women- in fact, I really like them - hence, my getting into trouble with them so often. Here's to all the "just good friends" I have ever made. I love you all. (Call me)

Driving Me Crazy

Just a few days back I was returning from a friends place at around 3 in the morning. On my way home i realized that my favorite time for driving on the capital's streets is around 3AM. Thats the time when you get the perfect mix of the half-asleep traffic cops(thullas/maamus-take your pick), virtually no traffic and an absence of signals. The disadvantages of this ungodly hour include a significantly added risk(for the above reasons, precisely) and an exceptionally large contingent of stray canines, which may not bother the more privileged of you who have four wheels under your posterior, but can give hell to bikers like me.

Driving in Delhi can be quite a harrowing experience. The cause is not helped by a populace for whom road rage is somewhat of a sport, the climes which can drive a sane man to climbing walls, and the pollution which makes us want to spend the least amount of time going from A to B. Throw into the cauldron some of the choicest driving styles in the world, and its bubbling over, ready to explode. Let me elaborate what I mean when I say "driving styles", and you will certainly identify with some of them. These are some of the more infuriating of them:

1. Auto-pilot: This is an auto-wallah who was born to do just one job-block your path-and by God, he does it sedulously. He will very diligently stop you from overtaking, and will drive well below the speed limit. He does not respond to honking, dippers, shouting or middle fingers. This vehicle is in more ways than one, on 'auto-pilot'.

2. Van's the man: Usually the realm of maruti van drivers, now being encroached upon by Qualis, Sumo, and the like(thank you, BPOs). These guys are in a real hurry, and seem pretty pissed at life in general. They will do the zig-zagging, honking and flashing of dippers. Warning: DO NOT try the middle finger - These guys are usually spoiling for a fight.

3.The Sorry Lorry: This is the truck which has 10 times its own weight loaded on it. It creaks. It cant stay straight, and is horribly tilted to one side. He wants to let you pass, but just isnt able to. These chaps are quite amenable to overtaking, but DO NOT allow yourself to be overtaken by them, as overtaking just one vehicle is often their ambition for the night. You could spend the next 20 miles trying to get past them.

4.Dhoom machale: Souped up bikes, even silly ones like Passion. With sillier still brake horns (weird tunes playing everytime they brake). From Dhoom to Vengaboyz, they have it all. These guys know no rules, indeed have no rules, wear no helmets, often drive with 3 people riding, and even use their cellphones while driving their bikes. My advice: Dont bother overtaking them, just let them pass. There's a high enough probability of them ramming into the divider or barrier anyways. Back the odds.

5. Hamara Bajaj: A family of 3,4 or even 5 can be spotted riding the trusty family scooter. Easy to overtake, but beware of sudden swerving as chunnu standing in front of his papa might decide to move all of a sudden, aunty might decide to shift her weight a bit, or uncle might just have turned halfway around in order to shout a sweet nothing into aunty's ear.

6. Horny Buggers: If you havent guessed already, this is the guy who is 10 feet away from a red light and always honks as soon as it turns green. Sometimes even before it turns green. He is the ideal recipient for the finger. Or better still, do what I sometimes do-as the light turns green, dont start your car, and as his honks grow louder, just turn around, give him a smile and then show him the finger. Far more fun this way.

Well, thats my top six, in no particular order of course. I'm sure all of us have our own personal favorites (I welcome inputs, ladies and gentlemen). So, till we meet again, keep your seat belt fastened, drive safe and keep that middle finger safely in its holster.

An Ode to Mediocrity

How does Arjun Singh sleep at night?

Knowing that he's ruining my life,
And lives of millions along with mine,
Knowing he caused all this strife,
I think that he should now resign

With this government ruling,
Indian talent will rot
The undeserving will prosper
The unreserved shall not

The meek shall inherit the earth
so goes the prophesy
But even the meekest wouldnt have thought
"The earth will be gifted to me

because i have a certificate
which proclaims i'm weak"
While the rest of just wait
For Manmohan to speak

But he's too busy hiding
Behind Sonia's saree
and he just turns a blind eye
To all the maraa-maree

You send your people to meet
But false promises will not do
because now we've seen enough
And dont have any trust in you,

Oscar came to meet us,
as did Pranab Mukherjee
Sushma and Malhotra came too,
But soon had to flee

We are fighting this fight
not because we must
but because we believe in whats right
and whats rational and just

And so "Dr" Arjun Singh,
we will continue our fight,
but do tell me,
How do you sleep at night?

Ahmedabad rears its head again

I am contemplating a trip in a few days to Ahmedabad, home of my alma mater, to get my clearance from the office, and to hopefully bid a final goodbye to the place that has been home to me for all these years. Hence I caught myself reminiscing on the first couple of years I spent there, and to my surprise I had quite a fair share of fond memories to go with the ones of utter despair.

7 summers ago, I packed up bag and baggage and left for a completely foreign land. I had just got admission into a prestigious med school in Ahmedabad, Gujarat (I didnt think it was prestigious when i left, I was still depressed at not having gotten into a Delhi med school, but it was drummed into me over the subsequent 6 years-I still have trouble accepting the fact).

Nothing could have prepared me for the culture shock that lay ahead. For the first 6 months or so, I was in a perpetual daze. The place, the people, the place, the people, the people, oh, the people...everything drove me nuts (or in my rare lucid moments made me believe that everyone else was nuts)

The first month or two were spent getting myself ragged like anything, although in retrospect i seem to have enjoyed it. There were some really weird seniors in hostel with strange ideas of what constitutes fun. One guy woke me up at 3 am and interrogated me till 5 about Delhi and its surrounding areas."how many districts come under NCR?", and shit like this. When i forgot to mention the place he was from (faridabad),he went ballistic, and reportedly gave me hell. I was too sleepy to notice, but some of my friends told me the next day.

And it wasnt just the people who were already there. There were so many freaks in my batch too. I began to suspect there was a conspiracy to pick out all the weirdos and send them to that college, but the theory instantly collapsed 'cos it was based on the assumption that I was a freak as well.(A large majority of people have been known to be strongly in favor of this hypothesis, but I refuse to accept it)

One of my classmates used to love pretending that he was some sort of politician-cum-freedom fighter. He used to give us long speeches on how we should stand up for our rights and not let ourselves be ragged, and how he could arrange a "tamancha"(pistol) for the 'cause'. Another one spent roughly 80% of the time at home, and how he managed to get through with attendance like that is a mystery to all(It has been alleged that he went and told a professor that he had cancer, and wanted to spend as many of his last days as possible with his family. How a prof at a med school would fall for that is totally beyond me. It has also been alleged that he is married and has a daughter and thats the reason for his frequent and long visits to his hometown). Then there was the chap who virtually lived for porn. (He is reported to have watched 7 back to back porno movies in a single night to celebrate new years'- need i say more?)

The faculty of the college seemed to have its share of quirks too. One day the Head of Anatomy called me as I was leaving for lunch and asked me to lock him in his room, and to unlock him at the end of the break. That is the longest lunch break I ever had, and I had to keep reminding myself every minute, cos if I had forgotten to unlock him, I'd have to wait for him to retire before I could pass Anatomy.

The language and food were things it took me years to come to terms with. The food sucked quite badly. I can never forget the time I went to the mess, after playing an hour of soccer, dreaming of a lavish spread, and our cook (a lady affectionately called "mausi" by everyone else-there was no fondness from my side, our relations were at best strained) presented me with a platter of lauki ki sabji. I could feel the bile rise in my stomach. I controlled my reverse peristalsis and asked her what there was for dessert, and I was offered a bowl full of some green gunk that i thought i'd seen on the soccer pitch few minutes back-"lauki ka halwa". I pretty much ran what i believe is known as the 'gamut of emotions' at that moment. I felt disgust when i saw that thing, awe and amazement at the lengths that life went to in order to piss me off, joy when i realised i was right all along- the world WAS crazy, and dismay when i realised that there was no way on earth that i could possibly eat whatever that was, and would have to go out and hunt for food.

The first few months in any new place are trying, i'm sure, but I was tested to the hilt in Ahmedabad. The things that got me through those dark evenings when i was staring at the prospect of having tinda or lauki ke kofte were some good music, some good reading, my friends who to some extent agreed with me(those evenings were sometimes like war, when we would just sit together for 15 minutes before going to the mess and brace ourselves for the ordeal),and the promise to myself of an ice cream after the "meal".

I had my share of fun in college, although much different from the way i had pictured college before joining(someone should sue bollywood for their depictions of these temples of learning), but I am not looking forward to going back to the scene of the crime(s). Least of all in the heat of June. And I can already feel my gastric mucosa jumping around and looking for a place to hide at the very prospect.

Breaking News?

These days 2 out of every 3 channels on TV is a news channel. The other one is usually in some south Indian language i cant fathom. (So it might just as well be a news channel too, but i doubt any self respecting, or even non-self respecting news channels would have their anchors semi nude dancing in the rain).

"Infotainment" seems to be the mantra these days, and new news channels are cropping up everyday-my cablewallah has already cut 5 sports channels down to two..its kind of like an "And then there were none" scenario, but i hope to have moved out by the time that happens (see my last post for more painful details).

My favorite(sic) news channel on TV these days is star news, primarily because of their tenacity. They can stick to one story for days on end, and their anchors never seem to tire of repeating themselves. Another reason I like them are the colourful titles of their programmes and headlines. (They actually have a programme titled "Match ke mujrim" which is aired every day that India plays a cricket match-win or lose, and has 2-3 "wise" men who comment on the days play, and a host of junta who really dont have anything better to do- not to mention the thousands of people who actually sms and vote for the mujrim of the day!Also aired is a programme called "Sansani" who's host is quite an eyeful-and earful. Could work as a modern day Gabbar-"bete so jao, nahi to papa sansani laga denge")

The most overrated over-hyped channel is the garish and ostentatious TIMES NOW, where Arnab Goswami appears to be a bemused journalist surrounded by wannabe starlets who probably spend more time in the make up room than celina jaitley and kareena kapoor. All this channel seems to care about is grabbing the credit("First on times now", "We have original proof", blah blah), and here every bulletin is an expose. Its like a child desperate for attention in a room full of adults.

It doesnt really take much to start a news channel, I guess. I mean, the last thing you actually need is NEWS. All you need , apart from the technical equipment and the capital, is a bunch of people who know some rudimentary english(They may even be call center rejects, anything goes), and a few well known people who like coming on TV to air their views. So if any newscaster is reading this and is in a spot of bother because the story he /she is covering regarding th spat between Sharmaji and Vermaji of Geeta Colony lacks a certain pizzazz, they should consider inviting the following people to comment:

1.Mr Mahesh Bhatt - This is one man who has an opinion on everything, from Parveen Babi to Abu Salem, from the tsunami to the football world cup. And in case he is unavailable (a hitherto unheard of scenario), his daughter Pooja can do just as well. Plus his recent fixation with Pakistan(Meera, just abt every Paki music band around) gives him the right to comment on the "padosi mulq" and "videshi taqats" as well.

2.Any ex-cricketer - Any cricketer who has played more than 0 matches for India can be invited to give his expert comments. Here we are spoilt for choices-Atul Wassan, S. Ramesh, Ashok Malhotra, Kirti Azad, Maninder Singh(the last three named actually host possibly the most entertaining cricket show on TV, I forget which channel- During the entire Ganguly-Chappel controversy, they had an episode in which they laid the blame for it all squarely on the shoulders of John Wright!!!!)

3. Navjot Singh Sidhu- Yes, I can hear many of you saying,"but he's an ex-cricketer too..". But surely, his realm is wider than that, and he deserves special mention. Cricketer, commentator, MP, Judge of stand up comedy, TV soap star( for the uninitiated, Mr Sidhu is playing GOD in a soap on TV-no kidding, i've seen the ads). The man has an opinion on just about everything. But the correspondent must be aware of the risks associated with him. Mostly, the fact that he doesnt stop talking once he starts, and that can pretty much throw your show way out of synch. Another risk being that he WILL say a lot of stuff that wont make sense(or wont make any sense to you, i.e, he will leave you as clueless as a child in a topless bar) but he'll say it with such melodrama, that it becomes a good sound byte. If nothing else he will just guffaw, slap the table and say "o, bas kar yaar, chakde phatte!!"

4.Ms Arundhati Roy - Although her appearances are limited compared to the prolific mahesh bhatt, she is still very much available for "social" causes, for example, if the spat was over sharing of water or disposal of garbage. Shobha De can also be invited, but if the quarrel took place in Vasant Vihar or Golf Links, definitely not in Geeta Colony.

5.Dr Jitendra Nagpal - a well known psychiatrist(these guys of course are paid to have opinions and insights on everything-what a job!). He can be an able substitute or add-on in case the story is a bit bigger ("How do u think Vermaji's kids are going to be affected by the quarrel? can you give us some insight into how this might have happened?). I have a feeling his clinic is somewhere close to the offices of aajtak and star news.

So if you hate your job, or know someone who's in need of one, pass them these tips.

Is bulletin me bas itna hi..

Home Run!

ek ghar banaaoongaa, tere ghar ke saamne
duniyaa basaaoongaa, tere ghar ke saamne

ghar kaa banaanaa, koi aasaan kaam naheen
duniyaa basaanaa, koi aasaan kaam naheen

Sounded easy enough (and pretty romantic) when Dev Saab was singing it, but Nutan, I'm sorry to say, had a better grip on the facts pertaining to the obstacles that Dev saab might encounter in this project. Getting a house constructed is tough work(especially in Delhi/NCR- dont know how badly they try to rip you off in other places), its a bit like juggling 3 balls with your left hand while operating on an aortic aneurysm with your right, all the time of course, trying to balance yourself on a unicycle.

This is a song i hum to myself(cant do it loudly, the neighbours'd kill me) very often these days. My dad's retired now, and for the first time in our lives, my family actually has to worry about things like kitchen and bathroom fittings for a house of our own (while the government does provide very good accomodation to doctors in service, the same facilities are, however not extended to those who superannuate).

From not even bothering to know how much our phone/electricity bills for a month are, i've suddenly been catapulted into a world of wood margins, door handles and PVC pipes. Just about everyday i'm running around like crazy, learning some new lessons, and I suspect am paying quite a lot more than i should for some of them!

Sometimes I wonder whether Dev Anand in his quest for a house across that of his beloved's would have faced quite the same problems that I (well, my dad more than me, but I'm also getting used to 'em) am facing these days. The whimsical carpenter, who thinks of himself as an artist and not a labourer, and whose petulance is getting on our nerves day by day. The almost paranoid contractor, who's just worried abt getting paid ASAP. The compulsively lying idiot, from whom we have unfortunately purchased out kitchen fittings (i use the word "purchased" in its loosest sense, as we're yet to receive some of the stuff).

We're a long, long way from completion, and its going to take every iota of our patience to get this done, but i swear the next time i hear the carpenter querulously complaining and asking me to go and change some of the material that I had to go and buy in 45 degree heat in the first place, i shall scream.

What is with all these people? The more naive among us would say that they're getting paid for their job, so why dont they do it?(thats how i used to think just 10 days back) But now i've begun to believe that they're just lazy oafs who also unfortunately happen to have a rather sadistic streak in them.

I can also now understand why Shahjahan cut off the hands of all the dudes who built the Taj.

PS: If any of you need any tips for a modular kitchen, u now know whom to contact.

PPS: There is a green belt across the street from where i'm moving, so dont go getting any ideas from the song.

Jhalak Dikhla Jaa

A few months back there was a spate of weddings all over Delhi. Despite my being comdemned as "asocial" by my family, and my parents nearly having given up on me, i still had to partake in the festivities on a few occasions. Somedays, just when I was getting ready to catch the premiership weekend matches, congratulating myself on having wriggled my way out of some such social commitment, and generally gloating, i would be welcomed by the now all-too-familiar, extremely nasal "ooooooooo..aap ki kashish.." reverberating through my neighbourhood. Shaadi in the park virtually nextdoor. You can run but you cant hide, son. Nothing from Metallica to headphones could save me from my misfortune. Over the next three-four hours i had so much of himesh reshamiya that i nearly OD'd to death.

This is the trend these days on every punju shaadi(also- engagement/birthday/reception/cocktails/ladies sangeet-i'm guessing here/ mundan /naam karan- way outta my depth on these). We may forego the butter chicken and naan, but himesh has to be around. A DJ accompanied by disco lights and a dance floor are a must. Of course, for the first hour, nobody cares to dance, and we all just gorge on the snacks and "soft(?)" drinks. After a while, the dance floor is occupied by the guests in the age range of 1-5, with some more experienced campaigners from the 5-10 age group supervising. And of course when the less adventurous like me, and some with a reputation to protect, like my dad are about to leave, and are saying our final "achhaji, thank you ji,you must come over sometime, and bunty and micky must come too"s, the dance floor is pretty much jampacked with people who, in my extremely humble opinion have had one too many. Lots of uncles who are tipsy, and many of whom will probably feel terribly embarrassed, not to mention hung over the next day. And of course, the one(at least one - some gatherings may have more than their fair share of such sportsmen) mandatory uncleji who tries to balance the glass on his head-that for me is the definitive sign for the bar to be locked, and the key flung far, far away.

Coming back to Himesh, what is with the music scene these days, and what has happened to our taste? I believe Mr reshamiya won an award recently for singing ashiq banaya apne (I could be wrong-somebody please tell me i'm wrong!!) ..an award that not terribly long ago, legends like Kishore Kumar and Mohd Rafi were vying for. I got nothing against Reshamia, i just think he sucks (whats with the silly cap anyways?). As do Qazi Taukir, and last but definitely far from the least, Abhijeet Sawant.

Anyhow, guess i'm rambling now..gotta rush and go turn off the radio..they're playing Jhalak Dikhla Jaa..