Imperfect

Its been just around a week in Geneva, the perfect city in the perfect country of Switzerland. Life seems so systematic, organized, punctual and respectful. In between extra polite Bon jours of ever helpful citizens of this city and the rough brawny and loud existance back home, I seek peace.

Its strange, life seems much more balanced, comfortable and easier here…its simply a perfect place to be. Yet, I am counting days to return, to an imperfect country where I’d start cribbing the moment I reach and start comparing it with good ol’ Geneva.

Why? Simple. Its the place I call home, its not perfect…its far from perfect but it still is home. Its the place where most memories and moments of my life have been, its the place where things can change, there is an opportunity to improve and make it perfect. There is so much to do.

Yes, i have met too many Indians living outside India and cursing it. I do not like it, I respect their decision to move out but with the same decision they forfeit their right to be critical of the place. If you cannot be a part of the journey you have no right to talk of its destination.

I know I’d go back home and crib…but its home, imperfect home.

Unit of Time

A new year, a new month or a day…our days are divided into units of time. Many of us are often cynical about the celebrations for a new year, afterall it would be just another day on Jan 1 of a year as it was on 31st December. Nothing out of the ordinary would happen to our lives in the change of date. This argument is logically correct specially given the fact that different calendar systems provide us different points of reference for a new year.

But, inspite of all this, millions revel in hope and zeal that the next year shall be better. It is a psychological necessity for most of us to have a point of reference, to start over, to try again and harder. A small altercation with the boss, a reference to your sad past, a fight with family…all can be ignored in the hope of tomorrow. Afterall tomorrow is a new day! I wish one could gain the same psychological support in believing in the next hour, okay, the such and such event annoyed me to no end at 2.23 pm today, but hey…3 o’ clock is a new hour. I’ll just stand up, brush off the dust and move on!

One must not forget that while time is a great measure to slot our memories into decades, years, months and seasons…it is not a discrete measure but is ever changing and analog. Our words, feelings, work and ambitions are only relevant to us in our life time, in the big scheme of things, you simply do not matter. Like those giant dinosaurs, or elaborate civilizations we all have an expiry date, no single human can have an indelible impact on the large scale of time.

PS – A Light year is a measure of distance and not time, many still confuse themselves with its definition

Gone and be Gone

Death, a topic which makes us (except a few) uncomfortable. It is a discussion which we wish to avoid, we have been conditioned to do so.

But death isnt always the end of a life; partings, break ups, death of a relationship or just gradual drifting away is akin to death. People who go away from your life are perhaps dead to you. Sometimes this death could have been avoiedd, on other moments this death was necessary for life to move ahead…for new people to be a part of.

Does it have a purpose? I do not know…is a soldier’s death worth it. Millions have died in the last few thousand years in the name of their tribe, kings, kingdoms, and countries…without knowing the outcome, without realizing that their kingdoms, nations and borders have changed since then….the purpose itself changed. So was it worth it?

Gonna Fly now…

freedom: /ˈfriːdəm/ the power of self-determination attributed to the will; the quality of being independent of fate or necessity

Every human has a different interpretation of freedom depending on their current state and the environment around them. The above picture was of a time when our group of friends visited the Sinhagad fort during our college days. The trip was decided in a matter of hours and executed on a beautiful day of the August monsoons.

That was the time when the days were not defined by meetings, deadlines and targets. It was a period when free thought, creativity and an utmost confidence from within us made us feel that the world was ours to be and we shall make it a better place. But today, the meaning of freedom is weekend!

This post was written as my entry to  Frames of Freedom contest for BlogAdda.com

Here are our other attempts at the same picture: http://www.flickr.com/photos/thesaurus_of_time/3005912842/

Old Man and the Key

My appetite for mishaps and weird incidents reached a new level when I locked up myself in my apartment in Geneva. A story which led to me being the laughing stock of my office folks in Switzerland.

One evening, after an awfully long day at work I returned to my apartment, with my roommate still at work. This incident revolves around the two keys which were used to gain access to the building and then to the apartment.

After reaching early, I started attempting to cook dinner for the both of us. The roommate arrived below the building and called me up to come down and open the building door from inside. Tired and lazy I suggested to drop the key from our 5th floor apartment to him from the balcony. What happened next is an incident to remember!

I peeped out of the window and attempted my well practiced ‘key throw‘ towards my roommate. Little had I realized that Murphy’s Godforsaken law would pop up in the avatar of the vulgar façade protruding from the 1st floor of the building and stop its journey to the ground! The keys never reached the ground and decided to stay back on the first floor!

I realized what happened and like Robin muttered, ‘No problemo Batman I’ll come down and open the building door and then fetch the key by the help of the 1st floor apartment dude’.  With a hare like swiftness I sprung into action and ran towards my apartment door, only to realize that it wouldn’t open as I had locked myself in and had thrown the key downstairs! Yep, I could be featuring in the next episode of jailed abroad on Nat Geo! ( I did mutter a lot of F this and F that at this point!)

So now the roommate couldn’t get in the building and I couldn’t get out of the apartment. It was pretty late, we decided that he’d goto a friend’s place to stay for the night and morning will return with reinforcements.

Morning came and the roommate was on his way with a friend(the reinforcement?). I peeped outside the window to check if the key was there but the key was missing from the spot! Bollocks I say!

I had no way to figure out where had the key gone, the reinforcement suggested that the key was taken by a bird! Preposterous explanations for us! Anyways, they gained entry to the building and went to the 1st floor apartment only to find it locked. Next, they called the concierge but nobody picked.

Meanwhile I ended up calling the apartment lease broker for a spare key, they refused to help! I reminded them that the apartment is cleaned by cleaning staff which must be having a key. I then called up the cleaning people who couldn’t understand English! After a weird anglo-french conversation and they called back and promised to send someone over to open up the door!

After about 30 minutes a pretty lady opened the door, can’t express how glad I was to get out and see another human! I then ran to get a duplicate key made at the cost of around 800 INR!! But when I returned, I met this old man who had dropped a few keys and helped him by picking the keys and guiding him to the elevator. Somewhere in my heart I thought maybe those are my keys(I still didn’t have a building key!). Anyways, we entered the lift to test the duplicate key on the apartment, only to find this old man standing in front of our apartment fiddling with the original keys! He had braved all the way up to return our keys, I ran and thanked him in all languages I knew!

Background Story: The 1st floor apartment dude had picked the keys and kept them on our mailbox with a note. The old man picked the keys and left the same note behind. My roomate found the note but without the key, and had no idea who flicked it this time! Had lost all hopes and were annoyed as well…but then the old man turned up with the key!

Yes, my laziness cost us all a lot of distress :-(