Admit must I, now, that I’m feeling extremely elated, endorphin high, and, on my personal conduct, not a thing I regret – nay, not I. 2012 has been one of the best years by far, at least for me. And I – oh dear Sir, or Madam, as you maybe – am a man of small stature, but effective. Ah! Without doubt, I am effective. And I am, as Charlie Chaplin used to say, a tramp, a gentleman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and adventure.
Intimidated though I had been many a times and been called names , but then, a valorous man never backs down, but fares forward and keeps learning. Everyone who come to our lives count and play an important part, teach us something or the other, and offer many a lesson to learn directly or indirectly. It is these experiences that shape our lives. Life is but a journey. As a watcher of life I have experienced a great deal, I have experienced hatred, love, suffering, pleasure, and all other elements that of life. For everything, I’m just happy, as much as I can be. But let me not brag about my achievements, for as you might have read in my ‘about me page’, that I despise the idea of bragging about oneself.
All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts… William Shakespeare
And lastly, I have a little advice for all: When you laugh make sure that it’s natural and that you mean it, and don’t merely show your teeth. Wear only one face instead of many, you see me as I am, like it or not. And, if anyone holds any kind of grudges against anyone, I say, let bygone be bygone!
What shall be my New Year resolution? Well, I don’t have any intention to write a long New Year resolution list over here, like many people do, I can only say I have got no more time to trifle away; have I but plans, a great many plans, and I’m going to work on them.
I have nothing to offer to my fellow-bloggers and other readers and visitors, you see, such a poor guy I am. My hand is always empty, but I have a big heart. As a New Year gift let me share something : 25 quotes that I like very much. I hope you will like them as much as I do. They are in a way funny and in another way inspiring. A very happy and prosperous New Year to all!
“Think rich, look poor.” — Andy Warhol
“Not all who wander are lost.” — J. R. R. Tolkien
“Don’t Find Fault – Find a Remedy.”– Henry Ford
“Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.” — Henry David Thoreau
“I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.” — Edgar Allan Poe
“A well-developed sense of humor is the pole that adds balance to your step as you walk the tightrope of life.” — William Arthur Ward
“The course of true love never did run smooth.” — William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream
“Reply to everything someone says with ‘that’s what YOU think.’’— Anonymous
“Formal education will make you a living; self education will make you a fortune.” – -Jim Rohn
“Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.” — Sir Walter Scott
“A man is already halfway in love with any woman who listens to him.” — Brendan Francis
“Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest.” — Mark Twain
“Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.” — Albert Einstein
“Women are always anxious to urge bachelors to matrimony; is it from charity, or revenge?” — Gustave Vapereau
“Start a huge, foolish project, like Noah…it makes absolutely no difference what people think of you.” — Rumi
“There are no great men, only great challenges that ordinary men are forced by circumstances to meet.” — Admiral William Halsey
“Giving money and power to governments is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys.” — P.J. O’Rourke
“The world is my country, all mankind are my brethren and to do good is my religion.” — Thomas Paine
“The silence often of pure innocence Persuades when speaking fails.” — William Shakespeare
“It is very easy to defeat someone, but it is very hard to win someone.” – Dr Abdul Kalaam
“The tragedy of life is what dies inside a man while he lives.” — Albert Schweitzer
“We are what we believe we are.” — C.S. Lewis
“No man is a failure who is enjoying life.” — William Feather
“When I do good, I feel good; when I do bad, I feel bad, and that is my religion.” — Abraham Lincoln
During my last vacation, I worked for three months with an NGO called Greenpeace. I’m sure many have heard about Greenpeace. It is an International NGO with presence over forty countries. Greenpeace fights peacefully for the protection of environment, and suggests various measures for a sustainable economy. When need is felt, Greenpeace holds protests and grabs and breaks the neck (peacefully) of the culprit who poses a threat to the environment, and thereby a threat to ‘life’. By ‘life’, I don’t mean only human life, but every living thing. I’ve learnt a great deal from the organization, met with a lot of people, and loved interacting with them.
Why did I do all of these? Well, to make a project, which is a part of our curriculum, as prescribed by Mumbai University, and then face the viva-voce. And also to fill my purse with some wad of rupees that otherwise remains empty most of the time.
When I went to my college and submitted my topic, ‘Green Marketing’, for the project, my topic was rejected, saying that it clashed with another student from the other division of our class. When I told the lecturer that I worked for three months just for this project, the lecturer told me that the other person submitted the topic before I did. However, I was asked to meet with the other person and see if anything could be done.
The other person turned out to be a beautiful girl. She informed me that her project was already prepared, but not by her; it was prepared by her elder sister when she (the elder sister) was a student doing the same course. So, it was clear that the other girl merely wanted to copy her sister’s work and show it as her own work and save her time and energy.
I was not ready to accept that, but she persistently pleaded that I should change my topic. “Oh, you write so well, and that, too, by your own. I’m sure you can write on any other topic.” I knew she was trying to lull me, I looked at her face, her face radiated a childlike glow, and I felt pity for her. But who was going to feel pity for me? I just said, “I’ll think about it, and let you know.” She seemed very happy when I said that, perhaps she thought or knew that I would change the topic eventually; girls are always confident in getting what they want. Unlike men, they know all the tricks.
After some days she met me again in the college and was as sweet as honey, but I knew even what honeybees produce is sweet but when honeybee stings it is excruciating like the sting of death. Men are unthinkably weak when it comes to women, and being a man, so am I. I succumbed to her pleas and decided to change the topic.
I changed to another topic of which I had good knowledge, but a hopeless lecturer lied to me, and said that it was also taken up by someone else. With much difficulty at last I spoke with the other person –this time a guy– and the guy told me that he had chosen no such topic. I was relieved to hear that.
I’m working on my new topic, and for the same I’m collecting a lot of materials, in short I can say, I’m super busy now.
It was 4.30 in the morning when the alarm of my phone started giving me a tough time. And I had to bear with Eminem’s socially inappropriate lyrics, for it had been my phone’s alarm tone. I was reluctant to wake up. It was a cold morning. Everything was still. I shut Eminem up by pressing the snooze option of the phone. I pulled the blanket over my head, squeezed and curled myself in the bed, and was off to dreamland.
At 5 o’clock the phone rang once again. I wanted to snooze it like I did a little while ago, and like I do every day until it stops ringing, but this time it was a different music, not the alarm tone by any chance. I halfheartedly opened my eyes, stretched my hands, and with the right hand I picked up the phone and glancing at it I saw Aravind’s name flash on it.
Aravind is a very good friend of mine. Although he looks aged with his bulging belly and the stiff mustache, but internally he is quite immature and very innocent. He proves his immaturity very often by doing things which a man of his age never does. Some people find him a bit pestering, but I like him. He has always been very good to me.
“Wake up, wake up,” says Aravind Krishna.
I pressed the accept button to speak. He yelled out of sheer excitement, just like a kid: “Goa… Goa, Goa!” Then he paused for a moment gasping heavily, and then he spoke again, his sentences ending before he could complete them: “The girls… wearing bikinis… resort, dazzling beaches… wake up! Wake up!”
Realization hit me hard like a stone to a glass, we were supposed to go to Goa today, “Ah, quite so,” I said.
As a rule set my Mumbai University, all the Management Students must go on an industrial visit. I suppose, to make us aware about our future responsibilities, or to let us know how we are supposed to struggle for money. It was the teachers’ duty to take care of that, that is to say, to organize industrial visits for the students every year.
The last two years I could not make it to any of the industrial tour because I was not interested, moreover, I had no time for it. But this time I was determined not to miss this opportunity. This is my final year in the college, and if I missed it I would suffer from a void feeling which might as well torture my conscience as I grow older. I’ve never been to Goa. I wanted to see what Goa was like. So I paid Rs. 4000 (like everyone did) for the same and decided to go to Goa.
Aravind was waiting for me in his car. I hurried up, and briskly and noiselessly got into the car. “I’m here.” Soon we reached Panvel station from where all the students were supposed to get on board of a train – Jan Shatabdi had been the train’s name – at 6.00 a.m. I met other friends, and the three lecturers (all women) who accompanied us, or who were suppose to keep an eye on us, in case someone led us astray. Ha!
We kept waiting for the train. As it always happens, the train moved forward, rattling inch by inch quite leisurely at OUR timing – the Indian timing, and finally came to a halt. It was late by half-an-hour. The shrilling of its engine wasn’t at all inviting.
The friends’ parents came to the station to see the friends off. These followed thereon: embracing, shaking hands, wiping tears from the eyes… as if they were bidding goodbye for a long time or maybe forever. The tour was just for 4 days, and nothing more. Overflowing affection, ha!
I was looking for my seat as I got into the train, and when I was able to find it out, I saw an elderly man sitting on it. “Sir, I believe, you’re sitting on my chair,” I said. He was least bothered. I raised my voice, and then he said it was his seat. “How could that be possible?” I questioned.
“Very,” he replied laconically.
“Very?” I found myself repeating his word, but only interrogatively. A little argument followed. I summoned the TC and discovered that the elderly man was speaking the truth. I felt embarrassed before the elderly man, the TC, and other passengers. I foamed at the mouth. I had to stand for half an hour in the train; some of my friends did the same.
I went to the lecturers with my complaint. I kept stuttering for sometime before speaking plainly. Yes, when I get very angry, or very excited, I stutter. Let me say it once again, I st-tu-tut-tut-tut-stut-ter.
One of the lecturers arranged a seat for me, and slowly all the other students were able to sit down comfortably. But I wanted to know why there was the confusion regarding the seat. We did pay the money then why should there be any problem at all? When asked, the lecturers had no idea why it was so; there was no answer for me. Perhaps, the agent of People2Place (who provided us the travel service) made a mistake. Anyhow, I was able to sit and relax, my anger melted, and I had no more problems and no more questions.
The Foggy Morning
The train jerked and rattled, picked up speed, and along we moved on. I tried to register everything in my mind through the view from the window. But, alas, it was a misty December morning, and it made my visibility unclear. No doubt it looked beautiful. Sometimes neon signs flicked through as the train made its way, and I was curious to know what was beneath the foggy atmosphere: Perhaps homes, mountains, a bazaar, animals, or such other things.
I decided to read a book, the best way to eat up time, but the friends wouldn’t let me. They (the boys) inherited the girls’ hormone. They kept on talking tirelessly and continuously. Some guys had a voice as melodious as Justin Bieber, and I could make little difference as to who was the guy and who the gal.
We reached Goa and checked-in to our resort. A very beautiful resort it was, with greenery all-around, a swanky swimming pool that was made more appealing by the alluring golden-haired, brown-eyed girls swimming and dancing in it. A friend of mine exclaimed: “This is it!” I gave him a puzzled look, and he explained, “Besides the beaches and the wine, I wanted to see this and nothing more.” He pointed his fingers towards the women in bikinis swimming in the pool, and towards another who was reclining on her rocking chair, smoking, exhaling circles of smoke, and reading a book at the same time. “Ah, it seems like a movie. This is exactly how they look in the movies. Oh my god, I feel like a star!” He said, expressing mirth. The other friends laughed back at him, not with him, mind you.
We freshened up and learnt that we were going to a very famous and the finest beach in Goa called Baga beach. The boys wore shorts, so did the girls. But the girls invited some criticisms from the lecturers for doing so. My friends disapproved of the lecturers’ gesture. A guy said, “What problem do the teachers have with the students? They never want to see us happy. This is only time we get to see some skin, and … “
Baga beach
A lecturer approached towards him making a strange face, and he thought it best to shut up and stay mum. I knew what he was trying to convey. But he meant it only for fun without having any bad intention. Nevertheless, the girls adhered to their dressing style; after all, they were going to a beach and not to a church or a temple.
We went to Baga beach, swam to our heart’s content. A friend, upon seeing a bikini-clad foreigner, wanted to click a photo with her. But she refused. The friend looked a little disappointed and brokenhearted, we couldn’t help but laugh and laugh, and laugh a little more.
Now, that’s a good laugh!
A lady friend lost her camera somewhere in the beach or in the shops nearby, and started crying. Girls of our college always cry no matter what, “I won’t go back home if I don’t get the camera,” she said. All the other girls started crying as well, as if the camera was a lifesaving drug for them. The lecturers told us to help her find the camera, it happened to be a very expensive one. We went to find it, and luckily we found it. It was in a shop, the shopkeeper was a morally upright, very kindhearted and noble man (such persons are very scarce today, aren’t they?) and returned the camera back to its rightful owner. We thanked him and were off to our resort.
Dancing to the DJ’s tune
Then, we danced to the tunes of the Disc jockey in the swimming pool as dusk set in; it was especially organized for us. After that we had a hearty dinner.At the crack of midnight we retired to our beds.
During the night I could not sleep properly because of a friend’s snoring who slept beside me. The whole night he kept on torturing me by producing strange sounds: grarrrrr… graaaaaaarrrrrr… grrrrarr….graarrrrrrr… This followed in the same fashion till the remaining days in Goa. I told him to change his sleeping position hoping to see some changes in his breathing. He changed his position, but it was of no avail. I felt like defenestrating him, but thought the better of it.
In the next day, we went to another world-famous dazzling beach –Calangute beach– in north Goa for water sports. These are the sports we enjoyed: Banana boat ride, Bumper ride (the force of the water did a good bum massage), Para-sailing (we paid extra for extra pleasure), Jet Ski (I rode, by paying extra, of course). In the night we went boat cruising. ‘Coral Queen’ had been the cruiser’s name. Some cultural dances were displayed on it. We watched and loved it.
The next day we went to Coca Cola Company, that’s the main reason for which we were in Goa. An instructor demonstrated us the functioning of the machines and all other stuff related to the production of beverage. At first I thought the instructor was not an instructor but a security guard. His dressing style was overly simple. But when he started speaking in fluent English, and started explaining us everything about the manufacturing process, I found him a very knowledgeable, genial, and modest person. Oh, and he wore a big smile every time he spoke.
Then we proceeded towards old Goa and visited BIG FOOT Cross Museum which is a centre for preservation and promotion of Art, Culture and Environment. Then we visited the historical church of St. Francis Xavier, and an archaeological museum nearby.
St. Francis Xavier Church, Old Goa
The next day we visited Fort Aguada. After that we were on our way back to Aamchi Mumbai.
I must say, Goa, with its mighty Sea, good-natured people, and its proximity to other huge cities such as Mumbai, Bangalore, Hyderabad, is really attractive, enticing, and fascinating.
Fort Aguada
There is something soothing about Goa. For a writer, it’s the best place to live. The surroundings are quite, serene and peaceful. Goa, I’m sure, would alleviate your mental agony, and make you feel that life is worth living.
Thus, we concluded our journey; it was a thrilling experience, at least for me. Now, as I finish writing this, I am missing Goa a lot.
P.S.: I could have written a lot more, but as it is, it already looks very daunting. I don’t want to bore my readers, and definitely my blog is not a book.
Ramu Das 