Beautiful Song: Now our lives are changing fast…

Arcade fire – We used to wait.

Curious case of Digital Revolution

Welcome, Robot Overlords. Please Don’t Fire Us?

What do we do over the next few decades as robots become steadily more capable and steadily begin taking away all our jobs?

Amazing Music Video related to the Industrial Revolution.Follows an article about Digital Revolution above.

Hidden Orchestra

18 April, 1955. The day Einstein Died.

18 April, 1955. The day Einstein Died.

When you are courting a nice girl an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder a second seems like an hour. That’s relativity.

1st Interview of Mahatma Gandhi

Posted this video on my Facebook wall on 2nd Feb/ 2013

A delayed train journey

I love to travel by the train. This is the best mean of transport for lower middle class individuals… Here I’m sharing my last trainny experience, which became quite lengthy…
Trains have its own ecosystem, people sitting in eight-seat compartment looking at each other or avoiding each other, everybody tries to be polite, till somebody seats on his reserved seat or eats his piece of biscuit due to the misjudgment of short-term trainny closeness. In the general compartment passengers often got beaten, if they only look at the seat where a handkerchief is seating.
Kids are three-dimensional travellers running from potty room to window seat, climbing up and down, that make mothers worried and fathers proud. Constipated toilets, where a person goes only in extreme circumstances. Chaiwala selling mediocre teas, and vendors selling samosa, batata wada prepared with unhealthiest materials available at cheapest cost, but we eat them for brief satisfaction of our palates and prolong burning sensation in whole body…in the end, everyone is so satisfied just by the phenomenon of travelling.

“… On this 10/11 march I was on Pune-Patna Express. After almost 20 hour and 1500k.m of smooth journey we reached near to Allahabad, it was hardly 20 more k.m to go, and speculation was fluttering that we might will reach Allahabad before time. At 8:15 p.m it was showing around 8:15 pm in every bodies watch, arrival time at Allahabad was 9:00 p.m. passengers were so happy, jumping on each other in excitement.
At this auspicious moment something happened and our train stopped at a sunsaan locality, it remain standing here for about half an hour before its starts rolling again… all before time speculation all excitement died a natural death, it’s around 9 o’clock now, which made us realize that no train can reach to its destination before time. While maundering these realistic thoughts we realise that train has again halted and this time at some small station where water from handpump, mungfali, tea, cigarettes, biscuits etc. where available. I didn’t buy anything except a cup of tea since Allahabad was only few minutes away and better stuffs; most importantly dinner items were waiting for us at some platform there.
Train ka signal hua, red to yellow, yellow to green. People who were at expeditions at platform boarded nearest coach, since all the bogies were interconnected. I grabbed the handle of that coach which was six seven coach away from my coach. I sat on someone else side lower berth by doing hi hello, finished my tea and moved for my compartment … when I reached to my coach I realized a.c is not working, since I’m a desi person, it was not an issue . Also the air condition has already worked for 20 hours and it’s resting for few hours and if we relate quickly it to Marxist machine law, its O.K.! human shouldn’t throw tantrums at machines… It was quiet and serene now, Because train was again not moving and this time it was standing at a dead sunsaan area it was Gang of Wassypur’s “patra watra sab ukhad diye hai chacha” type of locality. Our train didn’t moved from here for couple of hours. It was the time when innocence looses its faith from this trainny ecosystem. In the meantime my dinnertime passed, co-passengers mobile talk time passed. While on the sidetrack many train passed, passenger train, rajdhani express and many blue colored trains, full of passengers. And we were doing nothing just roaming from engine to pantry car. People had emptied all waters, from bottles & through their dongles. Now they were pissed off, angry.
This was the time many people were bashing up congress, Indian railways, some people were getting personal, saying that the driver must be having an affair or his family is in nearby village. He might had gone to meet them, on this last argument most of passengers where agreed…after that train moved.
After few hundred meters it found a station I don’t remember the name starting from ‘b’.. Trainwa again halted here. I was now determined that I will eat only and only at Allahabad because I was positive that in next rolling train will surely reach to Allahabad. But, I was wrong. Train stooped at 2-3 places again. It seems train was on the wrong track and every signal was red on its way.

In its pre climax it reached ‘Naini’ station where it was written everywhere that “kumbh snan karne wale yanha uttery “… we realized that no body is uttaring  but many people were chadhing. Now we got the clue and later the information… I went to a biscuit shop and bought two big britannia fruitcake…actually today was the last holy bath at sangam and millions & millions of devotees where leaving the city. Obviously large numbers of devotees were leaving for their home stations through train. So it was a genuine delay.
Our train was now again halted at the iron bridge on the river. it was around 1 o’ clock in night. At right hand side yellow lighted sangam was visible, many exhausted passengers where throwing coins in river. I was now sitting at the gate also contributed to the India’s(personal) food and goods inflation by throwing two rupee coin in the river, I searched for one rupee coin extensively but every coin was of two rupees today…my wish got fulfilled in 5-10 minutes, train again slowly rolled…some body said “ye train chal rahi hai ya mujhe chakkar aa raha hai…”

Take care of voids.

This month of Aug/2011, New Delhi had an instant hit event, shaking the Indian political milieu. It says, Main Aam Aadmi Hoon (I’m a common man) and we want Janlokpal (People’s Ombudsman).Surely, most of the event goers don’t know what the fuck is Janlokpal and not giving a flying fuck about the nitty-gritty of demands in this Janlokpal. So it was Anna Hazare, an old man, who was a truck driver in Indian army in his younger days, later got padama bhushan award for his work in a village of Maharashtra. He became the cause of curiosity among all weekend protesters, and this event later became a hero worship month. Resulted into an extended Monsoon Session of India’s Parliament. Everyone, political, non political praising Anna, Facebook, Twitter bombarded with slogans like ‘anna chubbish ghante chawkanna”. Actually “Anna Hazare” is quite a tone in itself which have all the phonetics and grooves, which enters via our tongue and takes a temporary place in our mental voids.

We should avoid this old Indian ritual of Hero worship. ‘Ambedkar’ the father of Indian constitution has warned once against this tendency of hero-worship, and such tendency can only testify the saying of Aristotle which signifies Indians as politically active but lazy.

Seven cinemahall.

I was the most frequent traveller on my little runaway. Which leads to bright and happening Mona 70mm, Regent, Ashok, Eliphiston and some gloomy and still happening like Apsara, Veena and Chankya cinema hall, i do remember at times chankaya wala log use to run world cup cricket matches also. I went to watch India vs. some country match, Mandira Bedi was heroine, but in extras innings!! and I realized cinema halls are made to watch cinema only…  ‘made-for-each-other’.

Going there, what particularly remains in my mind’s eye is, no of people gathered outside, with a desperate look waiting for  fantasies unfolding in that stinking dark place. Out side, houseful board on ticket counter hanged as a window and allegedly painted for always, for many years i have never seen inside the window, and in my knowledge blackiers are the only person who sell tickets. With it theater owners created employment for blackiers [on the commissions basis], lesser service tax. It was a momentary thrill for us of getting tickets from them, they walking with a furious fear and preaching tika tika tikat. with confidence of their pet line lena hai toh loo… posted on face.

Last hurdle to the haven was  long gay type queue at entrance, while you wonder what seat no. is written on the ticket. No A.C. those days, lucky you if your seat comes in a fan range [ least bother] it never came, but you do get your dose of air supply once you concentrate on the film. A film always starts with a round of scream, many whistle, people lighting up cigarettes, torchwala pointing flashes on the blind idea of that smell, abbey light band kar…, two-three bouncers in dhoti enters, more and more yelp, and film goes on…

Each shows have typical and versatile audience, 1000 of hearts beating at the edge of busted chair. Sound systems where not of today’s par! So obviously our all ear and attention towards the screen, but you can’t ignore alive audience, I remember many witty comments on each twist and turn of the plot, entry of hero with 100 whistles, oomph of heroin jiyyoo, aree bula rahi hai, all potential punch lines use to get appreciation “shabash mere sher, gardaa kabar diya” . Around you, audience busy in anticipating trills with 😯 percent success rate. It was soccer kind of cinema…

There was a tedium beyond those seven cinema halls. I  graduated in watching the outer fantasies of world and inner realties of city, often when I go to a new city first thing I always prefer to do is to go and watch a cinema, just to have an idea about the place and its people. To escape the allegation of film buff, i prefer to do it quietly.

It would never been surprising to see familiar faces roaming during interval and few times unluckily got caught at theater Itself, arrey bullu tum, ghar pe bol ke aaye ho ki.. ya aise hi...

Going there considered evil and attracted some simpler punishment, severe if I got caught bunking and watching cinema in school dress, in morning show. In morning show they use to show thought-provoking english films, but i was grown in hindi medium culture, so my intension of watching english films where always doubted by elders. Though it depends on how squeamish they were and how ignorant with excuses i am. Since i was unstoppable, at home, I was restricted to watch bimonthly one film. ‘filmon main kuch bhi dikhate hai’ Those were the rules, never traveled.

Sudhir Mishra’s foggiest notion behind the film Tera Kya Hoga Johnny

Director’s Statement

Friday, 25 September 2009

Post Slumdog Millionaire, for many, Mumbai is a hell hole, where people wallow in shit. But for a lot of us, it is the only city, where we can still dream of changing the screenplay of our lives.

Years ago, when I was still new to the city, I first saw the now normal, tradition of young kids selling coffee from their mobile cycle coffee shops, during my late night strolls in the city of Bombay. Barely in their teens, these youngsters added tremendously to the image of the city that really never sleeps. For anyone working the grave yard shift, a coffee and a cigarette was suddenly available at the end of the street. Needless to say, the concept was a huge hit with the city, becoming an integral part of its nightlife.

With each night, as I met my local vendor, I got a further glimpse into the life of the so called underbelly of city. Constantly juggling between regulars and random customers, the little vendors’ speed, efficiency and most importantly personal relations were striking. Over time, we became well known to each other and one fine night I finally asked him where a profession like this would take him, a still young mind… What will become of him… Without skipping a beat, he smiled back and said, “do you think you know what will happen to you?” and rushed to attend to a rich customer.

Our conversations continued often, the more I learned of him and his world the more intrigued I got, and the idea of showing the city through those that truly belonged to it germinated.

Tera Kya Hoga Johnny is the story of one such young boy who sells coffee on the streets of the city night after night. In a Mumbai desperately trying to be Shanghai, some people wonder what will become of Johnny, while Johnny wonders what will become of them…

Sudhir Mishra