Training day


He swung to his right and dodged a train and then jumped to the left just as another train came barreling down the track.

There was nothing exceptional about whatever he was doing except he was managing to do all this while squeezed from all sides by the sweat, desperation and despair of Delhi. They surrounded him not by choice, but because they were pushed into that very place by the society; much like the society had done the rest of their lives.

He was now running on top of a train to collect another shiny coin which was when it happened.

It wasn’t gods wrath, it wasn’t fate, it was just the arm of someone who realized at the last moment that he had to get off at that stop. That arm managed to knock the phone of his arms and the Subway Surfer died a tragic death.

Sweat, desperation and despair threw daggers at the arm that hardly noticed the interruption he had brought to a spectator sport.

I turned to another side of the train that was headed towards Noida from Rajiv Chowk where another group was crowded around a guy crushing candies.

I decided to listen a song instead.

Image source

Medium level difficulty

It’s been 21 days since I woke up to a nice mail from folks at Medium telling me that I can now login with my Twitter id and entertain the world with my writing typing. In these many days however I have done very little writing that would make any sense for a platform like Medium, instead I have spent more and more time thinking what I can write here.

Medium is not my personal blog that I would start posting photos of my cat Whiskey — who by the way, is getting cuter and cuddlier with each passing day. This is not Twitter either that can I post lame jokes about cricket, politicians and technology.

It was then that it struck me — I have lost the ability to write long pieces unless they are dumb straight-forward pieces full of quotes from people who may or may not give a shit about the topic. “You need to have your own opinion jackass, no one cares about what someone you met has to say, tell us what you have to say,” that’s not some riting guru speaking, it’s my inner voice screaming at me from one corner of the brain. My inner voice between, is the same idiot that told me to express myself completely in 140chrs, yes, ‘chrs’ not characters back in 2008. I have always been a man of few words so I found that challenge very easy, all I had to do was unlearn how to write. With a brain as conflicted as that, with a brain with such short-term memory how am I supposed to express myself in more than a few tweets five years later?

The question actually is not about how I can do it, but more about what I have to say. Most things one has to say in life can be expressed in a paragraph and that is after all the basis of news writing. You express the most important things in the first couple of lines of a news story — the five Ws and one H (Who, What, When, Where, Why and How). This is true for most blog posts too, except we mask it in layers of jokes, puns and anecdotes. So what topic can people write long essays about? Religion is definitely not my thing as my believes can be summed up in one line. Economics, though I studied in school is something I don’t ‘get’ beyond the basics and I hate everything about politics so that is definitely out of the question. That leaves me with technology, a field I’m passionate about, a field I spend a couple of hours reading about every day. So may be I should write about it?

The problem with technology writing, as I have noticed over the years, is that bulk of the time is spent dumbing it down for the common folk — people who don’t read TheVerge, Wired, Techcrunch, Engadget, NextBigWhat, Medianama, Quora or any of the sites I frequent. If you cut through that bullshit most of the information can be conveyed in 300 words; definitely not long form.

So with nothing to say and not enough to say I still stare at an open Medium tab and wonder when I’ll ever write something. Whenever that happens I’ll be a little relieved.

Write… make it right

Write, not because I have to, but because I must
Write my heart out, else I will not be heard
Write for myself, not for the world
Write the kind of stuff I will want to read
Write the kind of stories I will be proud of even years later
Write… no type it fast, for there are a million others who thought of the same thing I did

Autos are not so bad in Hyderabad

Bangalore auto drivers are namoonas, no doubt there. They would get on your nerves and harass you to the extent that you’ll decide to get a vehicle for yourself. I think they used to get commission from banks for getting people to take vehicle loans.

Bangalore autodrivers however won’t be the point of discussion here, since I’m in Hyderabad now I have got a new species to study. Hyderabadi auto drivers for some weird reason have the calm understanding nature Bangaloreans are renown for. You can bargain with them with neither parties mother’s name being dragged into the conversation. That’s a big relief. The biggest win however is the shared auto system.

Shared autos charge as much as busses do for the same distance that’s it. The only problem is that they carry eight passengers at a time, which means you’ll be hanging off the front seat, with half your bum sticking out of the auto. Fortunately that’s the only major inconvenience I have had in the city till now and I hope it stays that way.


PS: No I haven’t had the famous Hyderabadi biriyani yet, thank you.