SG OwnBlog

Bahalrampur is a sleepy little village in Western Uttar Pradesh, India. Before independence the only thing people did there was rear sheep and farm in their fields. The highways connecting Delhi and Kolkata in the early 21st century brought what we call as modernity and development to this place. Now it is bustling (for a village) with people opening up businesses, tractors ploughing the fields and large fertilizer dealerships. There are also large dairy farms, each housing more than 200 cattle and selling milk to the ever increasing demand in the National Capital Region. In the summer of 2020, just after the first hard wave of COVID was reaping its deadly harvest, this little village was coming to terms with a slackening consumer demand. Instead of the hundreds of large tankers of milk that flowed every day from the village to the Noida collection center of Amul, there were barely barely a few. The price of milk increased and the few remaining firms made a lot of money. It was at this...

This is a story that goes way back to 2001 or 2002. I was in the sixth standard. Yes, I do remember it quite vividly. It was funny, painful and a bit out of the ordinary – basically it had all the ingredients that allows a memory to stick a great while longer than others. In the process of my recollection, I may miss out a few pieces here and there, but it will be pretty accurate. Of course, the intention of this exercise is in no way to humiliate anyone else or point out the flaws about others’ actions. I now find it hilarious and I think so would you. I studied in the Vivekananda Mission School, a private English medium school in Joka, on the outskirts of Kolkata. If you know the location of the Indian Institute of Management, Kolkata, you know the location of my school. I studied there till the twelfth standard. We had many students in our class (sixth). We were divided into several sections, ranging from A to F (not sure if it was F or G). But anyway, I was in section B, the ...

I stayed for 3 years in Bangalore. There were places I loved in the city, places that I liked and a few places that I hated. There were also places about which I cannot make up any opinion at all. Among them was the Jumma Masjid on the Dispensary road. This is not to be confused with the more famous Trust by the same name that is close by. The area around is always busy and the commercial street is also close. The markets were always full of customers, shopkeepers sold exotic items. Just a few hundred meters and you could also visit the markets selling lots of stolen goods, though the shopkeepers often deny that and then wink to show that they were bluffing. It is a fun place for a man to be in, a bit scary for many women, except in a crowd. Anyway, I always found the place inviting in a peculiar way, the nearby Salafi mosque preaching the evils of other religions, the stench of the urinals, the cheap stolen goods in the market, the prostitutes on the road, the hustle and bustle...