....A journey to absurdity....

Bal diwas!

2008-11-13T12:09:00.003+05:30

Like in a dead conversation where you wouldn't mind breaking the silence even with the worst of jokes, I would like to break the silence here with an Uber-bad joke:

Q> What was the name of Pavarotti's mistress??
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A> Missi-roti

Go on, kill me.

Inquilab zindabad!!! :D

अनेकता में एकता

2008-06-13T14:35:00.003+05:30

Imagine!

If amongst the 365 days that we spend bickering, sabre-rattling, haranguing, wounding and killing each other around the world, we select one day to remember our one-ness..

If we realise that those petty plots of the most prized possession of humans, land, is nothing but one large living entity with a mind of its own...

If we digest the simple fact that long before we humans were here, this planet was one and hopefully by the time we are done, it shall remain the same...

If we don't feel the need spend so much of our intelligence, our creativity, our passion and our toil on competing with others who are our own.

Forget just your neighbours. Imagine, if the whole world was one!

I am unable to imagine beyond a point.
I am unable to dream what seems unachievable.

But, I am ready to try.

It started with Pangea. It shall end with the same.

The video is that of Kenyans singing the Indian national Anthem to mark Pangea Day. There are other similar renditions (as related videos).

It sounds anything but discordant to me, the sounds of one-ness.

Pangea day is a phenomenal concept. Understand it. I have just begun to try.

Oh no you don't!

2008-06-01T00:26:00.000+05:30

10 Months is more than enough, don't you think?

Quarter back

2007-07-27T16:55:00.000+05:30

Let's hurry up, shall we?
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Relax.

Best-est medicine

2007-07-05T10:36:00.000+05:30

C&H; 03-03-91

Quarter-Life crisis

2007-05-18T13:25:00.000+05:30

Picked from Iyer's blog who took it up from some other place.

All you 18-40(?) year olds, read.

It is when you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing that there are many things about yourself that you didn't know and may not like. You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now.

You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren't exactly the greatest people you have ever met, and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you don't recognize is that they are realizing that too, and aren't really cold, catty, mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you.

You look at your job; and it is not even close to what you thought you would be doing, or maybe you are looking for a job and realizing that you are going to have to start at the bottom and that scares you.

Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging more than usual because suddenly you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and are constantly adding things to your list of what is acceptable and what isn't. One minute, you are insecure and then the next, secure.

You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly, change is the enemy and you try and cling on to the past with dear life, but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away, and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward.

You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you. Or you lie in bed and wonder why you can't meet anyone decent enough that you want to get to know better. Or maybe you love someone but love someone else too and cannot figure out why you're doing this because you know that you aren't a bad person. One night stands and random hook ups start to look cheap. Getting wasted and acting like an idiot starts to look pathetic. You go through the same emotions and questions over and over, and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot seem to make a decision. You worry about loans, money, the future and making a life for yourself... and while winning the race would be great, right now you'd just like to be a contender.

We call it the "Quarter-life Crisis."

Haste

2007-04-27T21:17:00.000+05:30

She's all growing up.

And I can't be there to see it.

Opportunities, Globalisation, Distances, Money, Opportunities

Nuovo Rosa

2007-04-09T15:33:00.000+05:30

Hear ye Hear ye,

Could there BE a worse representation of love than a Rose? Although they are pretty, they remain so only as long as one is careful enough to keep it in water and a pretty vase. And even then, eventually in a week or two, they shall die and wilt away. And there is absolutely nothing else you can do with a rose other than display it or keep a wilted one as a bookmark.

What does this say for a person gifting it to his beloved? Something like:

"My feelings for you can never be permanent even if you put in the best of efforts."

"I put up with you only because you are as pretty as this flower."

"You are but a trophy to show off or at best, a great source of nostalgia"

It represents one's love as transitional, based on superficial looks and selfish.

A conundrum, isn't it? Fear not, Fear not. I have a way out.

A potato.

Yes, A potato. A potato just left in a sack, survives for long. Also before starting to rot, gives birth to more sprouts and thereby continues the circle of life. It eventually will survive longer than Osama Bin Laden under the (metaphorical) bombardment of arrogance. You can't get rid of a potato unless you make jeera aaloo or fries out of it, which is possible even if the shoots are sprouting all around (This author is testament to that fact). A Potato is often quite ugly and what is astounding is the great potential it carries within. Other than it being an obvious edible target, a boiled potato is still used by Indian railways to stick reservation charts to the walls and by the geekier kind to make a battery. From the exterior, it might seem to be the ugliest thing next to my landlord, but any hostel cook would swear by its versatility.

What does the gift of a potato say?

"I'll love you forever for who you are. Not only due to your looks , not to put you on a pedestal as a showpiece, not to just smell and look at but to actually get involved with you in almost all aspects of life. You are the person with whom I want to continue the circle of life. "

So, Ladies and Gentlemen, next time...

Gift a potato. Not a bloody rose!

Wordly Cup

2007-03-30T15:00:00.000+05:30

I like this world cup venue.

I like the audience too.

I can't stop thanking the cameramen!

:D

Bhordly Bhise...

2007-03-14T10:27:00.000+05:30

So I began:

Late to bed and Early to rise,
makes a man squirmy, sulky and riled.

Then my PJ protege added:

Late to bed and Early to rise,
more one fails, the less one tries.

The yield of a chat between me and Sandy (now onwards its a state of constant flux):

Late to bed and Early to rise,
all day in office he just sits and cries.

Late to bed and Early to rise,
day-in and day-out he just sits and whines.

Late to bed and Early to rise,
all day in office he doodles strange signs.

Late to bed and Early to rise,
day-in and day-out gulps bottles of wine.

And the bottomline:

Late to bed and Early to rise,
is story eternal, thine and mine.

I LOVE the fact that we get paid to do this!!! :D :D :D

Baby steps..

2007-03-10T17:30:00.000+05:30

What makes people ask babies to just walk and not run? What makes them express surprise when the baby suddenly wobbles and runs or jumps, in imitation of the giants around it?

I started to write and realised that there is nothing I can say here that can make any difference. No more cribbing.

Acta non Verba

My Scream.

2007-02-26T15:28:00.000+05:30

Scream by Munch

My Scream by Me.

My work joy-trip.

2007-02-26T11:50:00.000+05:30

Well, I do have an excuse. The map above explains. Pink are routes travelled once upon. Green are the routes I had a return trip on. And Blue dots are the places I've been to (No mood to name each one of them). Total travel comes to about 6500 KMs. 12 places in 25 days.

Had fun. :)

And ya, , I worked too... I think... Maybe... I guess..... Did I?

So, What are your plans for........

2006-12-30T10:36:00.000+05:30

Its just another month-end. What's the bloody big deal? Eh?

Go home. Sleep. Wake up. Its just another day!

Tarot

2006-12-27T16:20:00.000+05:30

You are the Hanged Man

Self-sacrifice, Sacrifice, Devotion, Bound.

With the Hanged man there is often a sense of fatalism, waiting for something to happen. Or a fear of
loss from a situation, rather than gain.

The Hanged Man is perhaps the most fascinating card in the deck. It reflects the story of Odin who offered himself as a sacrifice in order to gain knowledge. Hanging from the world tree, wounded by a spear, given no bread or mead, he hung for nine days. On the last day, he saw on the ground runes that had fallen from the tree, understood their meaning, and, coming down, scooped them up for his own. All knowledge is to be found in these runes.

The Hanged Man, in similar fashion, is a card about suspension, not life or death. It signifies selflessness, sacrifice and prophecy. You make yourself vulnerable and in doing so, gain illumination. You see the world differently, with almost mystical insights.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Yeah Right!!! :))

Sultans of swing

2006-12-26T17:00:00.000+05:30

And a crowd of young boys theyre fooling around in the corner
Drunk and dressed in their best brown baggies & their platform soles
They dont give a damn about any trumpet playing band
It aint what they call rock and roll
And the sultans played creole

It is very scary to let go. Let go of something you didn't realise to be an extrinsic part of your life. But some wiseguy (wise-ass?) said: "If you love something, then let it be." ... Or something like that. Maybe I am just plain cynical. Maybe I am not positive enough. Maybe I am too pragmatic. But whatever the case, I belive that , the solution lies in the above statement.

Remember the old man and the butterfly's cocoon? Everyone has their own cocoon. Some break out. Some are reluctant. Some are way too vigorous. Some... just die in their cocoons. Never make it out. But each one who makes it out, albiet at different level of enthusiasm, has its own unique beauty. A vivid mesmerising pattern of colours and hues. Some flit around together. Some go in search for nectar all alone. Some just go on to a whole new forest. This isn't something to be sad about or overtly happy about. Its just something that happens.

And there is the account of the hanging of three men, and a scuba diver, and a suicide. There are stories of coincidence and chance, and intersections and strange things told, and which is which and who only knows? And we generally say, "Well, if that was in a movie, I wouldn't believe it." Someone's so-and-so met someone else's so-and-so and so on. And it is in the humble opinion of this narrator that strange things happen all the time. And so it goes, and so it goes. And the book says, "We may be through with the past, but the past ain't through with us."

These things happen all the time. Its just big when they happen to you or around you.

The tighter you close your fist, the faster the sand slips out.

Let go.

And then the man he steps right up to the microphone
And says at last just as the time bell rings
thank you goodnight now its time to go home
And he makes it fast with one more thing
we were the sultans of swing

Careful.

2006-12-20T15:17:00.000+05:30

Be very VERY very VERY very VERY V-E-R-Y careful what you wish for.

You might actually get it.

Btw, Did I remind you to be very careful what you wish for?

PJ updates

2006-11-25T23:34:00.000+05:30

Two noteworthy ones.

This is an Original:

Q> While landing in which country, are your flights ALWAYS bound to be late?

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A> Qatar .... (Aaap Qatar mein hain, kripiya pratiksha keejiye) :D :D :D

This is heard elsewhere and properly reframed:

Q> Who was the first Indian woman to fly abroad?
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A> Mrs. Sita Ramachandra ;-)

Deadly no? Me thinks so too... :D :D :D

Mostly harmless, Huh?

2006-11-18T03:17:00.000+05:30

In the beginning the Universe was created.

This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

Ka-Ching!!!

2006-11-08T21:20:00.000+05:30

Clean shaven. Red and Black are the colours. Sharp. Capped. Has 3 Shiny golden paper stars pinned on his chest. There is a place for a fourth.

Rugged. Facial hair bordering between a stuble and full-blown beard. A kurta which was once white and had buttons. One sleeve rolled up showing a black thread holding a tiny brass cylinder wrapped around the arm.

Good evening sir, How may I help you?

Boliye saahab... kya lenge?

Hmmm ... *squints at the bright candy-coloured menus* ... One McVeggie burger please..

Hmmm ... *grimaces for effect* ... Hmmmm.... Bhindi kaise diya?

Would like extra cheese and lettuce with it? Medium fries or large?

Leejiye saab... Bahut badhiya hai... *snaps the end* ... ekdum taaza hai... leejiye?

I'll take the extra cheese and lettuce, no fries please.

Haan haan... Theek hai... Kaisa diya??

That will be Rs.62 please.

12 rupaiah ka aadha kilo hai saab... bilkul badhiya hai... kitna doon?

Hmmm... *ogles at more of the graphics* Can I have a strawberry milkshake with that, please?

Kis baat ka 12 rupaiah bol rahe ho yaar? Purana maal hai bilul... Chalo... Aadha kilo daal do. Ek kheera, Do nimbu aur thoda dania-kadipatha bhi de dena.

Sure sir, That will be Rs.108. Will that be all sir?

Haan saab, mein nikalta hoon saab... Ekdum badhiya.

Yes, Thank you.

Arre re ruko... Mein khud nikal leta hoon.

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Sir, your order. One McVeggie burger. Extra Cheese and lettuce. One straberry milkshake.

Leejiye saab. 19 rupaiah hua.

Thanks. I don't have change. Can u break a 500 please?

19 rupaiah?? Kiska ??? 16 rupaiah mein kar do sab. Masala ka thodi koi paisa leta hai?

Sure sir. Do you have 3 rupees?

Arre saab... 12 ka bhindi. 3 ka kheera. 3 rupaiah Nimbu aur Ek rupaiah Masala ka.

Sure. Here.

Arre kuch nahi... 16 rupaiah mein kar do sab. Yeh lo 10... aur yeh 5 aur Yeh 1. Ho gaya 16.

Here's your change. 392 Rupees. Thank you for coming to McDonald's. Have a nice meal.

Deejiye... Leejiye sabzi.

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I realised I was being the confused bourgeois through and through. Aren't our perspectives misplaced? Highly skewed? We silently endure the facade. But we not only ignore, we exploit the reality.

"All men are born equal"... Yeah right! Try telling that without any guilt deep within.

Give me justice...

2006-10-18T02:11:00.000+05:30

I really am offended today. I feel that there is no justice in this world anymore. It is a sad sad day in the history of the world of blogs, my dear friends... A sad sad day.

The reason is THIS.

Go visit it first.

Have you seen the photos of the flowers? Those blue bonnety flowers? What about the loooongg list of ingredients for all those recipes? and the Photos that taunt you if you are a poor hungry soul gawking at them at the middle of the night. I am sure these must not be revolting to you. On the contrary, any of the fairer sex out there might have quite enjoyed the flowers. And the desis abound would be copy-pasting those recipes (if they have the taste). Which is why I repeat again... Give me justice!!!

For, ladies and gentlemen, that very blog belongs to my loving , caring, doting elder sister. "Oh really? How nice yaar!" "Abe, Didi ka blog hai... sahi hai be..." ... Arrgghhh...

I spend over a year carefully manipulating and scheming on my blog. A selective assortment of posts interspersed with humour, memories and of course some sensitive moments (According to m, this should be more often). I scheme and plot, design and deploy, ponder and write... I even design (proudly so!) my own blog template with Fantabulous Calvin and the Incorrigble Hobbes as the theme characters (A duo that everyone loves to love). By doing all this jugglery and trickery, I manage to garner a select group of readers (thank you guys! **sniff sniff**) and somehow make my blog counter touch the higher side of 2000.

And here, this sister of mine... starts her blog this late summer. Writes about recipes and only recipes (there is one about some blue-coloured hat-shaped flowers too). Has listed god-knows-how-many similar recipe-crazy blogger friends of hers! (if any of you are reading this, I am just bashing her blog... Welcome to mine. :D, Do read. Comment. Repeat.)

And by doing all this, not only does she have a group of foodloggers... ahaa, nice word--> see, In how many foodlogs would you find an instantaneous contribution to her majesty's language? ... Like I was saying, not only does she have a group of foodloggers who visit regularly and start chirping "Oh... What a nice recipe!!! I'll surely try this out" ... "I had the same recipe book, but its collecting dust. I'll dig out that recipe and add some of that dust and kitchen grime as flavouring" ... "I had tried a similar sambhar when I was desperately short of anything better to make. But I had reduced 0.0000000001 grammes of tamarind and added 0.0000002 grammes of fenugreek as seasoning. I will surely try ur suggestion of toning down on the tamarind a little more!"

And you know what? They actually go and do it! Now who in god's name would actually sit and go through those gazillion foodlogs (don't believe the gazillion, go see the list on the side of my sis's blog) and make those dishes with those recommended changes take pictures and acknowledge the original author. As in, I really wonder what must go on in their minds....

Here I am ..... slicing & dicing ... dicing & slicing the spring onions when..... OOPS! A whole bunch of salted turnips meant for the sabzi finds its way into the perfectly simmering sambhar..... eeks! what will I do?? My foodlogger friends will think I am useless! They'll say I drop turnips into sambhars!... I'll be 'nipslip' for the rest of my foodlogging days!!! waaahhh!!... Wait a sec, So what if its stinks of salted turnips, my tamarind and fenugreek levels are that recommended by H. I'll filter out the turnip pieces, take a few snaps and post it. No one can 'see' an extra can of salt in it. And, now that I have tried her recipe, H will be bound till eternity to visit my blog and comment on it!! Buhahahahahahha....

Common ladies! Are there really so many of you out there who complain of not having time to cook as you work late but nevertheless you have time to go through all these blogs before cooking to find out which recipe is fast to cook and maintains your cholesterol levels? Do you really need a flower listing blog to cheer you up in those morose grey settings outside our country? Is this really happening? And why do you HAVE to use such difficult ingredient names like fenugreek and arse0fartida ... or was it asafoetida??? Hmmm... I wonder what such complex names could cook up in the hands of a novice cook....

She makes this blogging mafia of hers, doesn't even work on the template (its literally a cherry) and she gets almost 6000 visitors already??????????? She has a fan club et al?????? No! This is not fair!!!

And worse, I get to see only the snaps. :(

Give me justice......

Ammmmmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!! Waaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!

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Author's disclaimer:

Before any malicious comment is thrown out onto the public domain about how cooking is an art and one needs to actually practice it before writing about/criticising it, the author would like to state that recently due to dire need and sheer gastronomical desperation, he has learnt to cook and isn't as bad as the bangla boys . He makes it clear that the astronomical exaggerations and desperate attempt at humour is simply a nauseating effort to get back to blogging and trap some foodloggers too. This post is an outcome of sitting in the office at 2 AM and looking at photos on a sibling's blog. And ESPECIALLY this post.

Peace.

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Mulligatawny

2006-10-15T15:46:00.000+05:30

Run little rabbit, Hurry!, Run!
No, there is no safe sheltered hole,
Stark to the sun and rain,
Run little rabbit..... Run!

Escape; the thunder, the lightning, the wind
Not; glowing eyes in the darkness; there
Save; the fur, the pink; yourself
You; have to strive and hide; fool!

Run you mangy carnal wolf
Don't hunt the furry flesh too long,
The sun , the rain on you are too
Run you mangy wolf..... RUN!

Escape; the thorns, the jagged stones,
Not; torches and shouts abound; there!
Save; your gut, your clan; yourself.
You; have to turn and run; fool!

From whom will you run you nameless fear,
Who spawned hunters and kings and seers?
You are cursed to live, to feel and act.
You; run from you, your soul; fool!

A few hours of solitude...

2006-09-26T14:38:00.000+05:30

Its apparently been over 2 months since I penned anything down here... Not that nothing happened in these past months. On the contrary, its been one heck of a weird time. Around 7th August, I was under house arrest due to the Surat floods. Over a week without power, running water, new provisions, milk and absolutely no way of communicating beyond the range of your own voice (our relatives all over were super worried, apparently). Thankfully (for both of us), my parents had landed here just a day earlier and I had bought provisions for them. We peacefully 'survived' the flood.

One of the things I did in those 7 days is what would take any sane person over a month to do; I read "Of human bondage" by Somerset Maugham. Its a marvellous book, drawing from the author's life experiences and containing vignettes of astute observations. The drawback is that its a VERY slow book. Its in stark contrast to any rivetting novel that you would've held on to through the night (Not as rubbery as Ayn Rand though). The flood situation with its extremely limited set of distractions gave me a good chance to finish the book in one go.

One other amazing thing was learning to cook! Amma is an excellent teacher. The testament to this is the praise accorded to my sabji preparation by my co-workers today. And the best part is that I discovered that I actually enjoy cooking! yay!

Which brings me back to the topic of this post. My parents moved into where I live, early last month. It consisted of 2 rooms with walls, the decent kitchen and of course, the loo. But when they left it yesterday, I could in a very slight way call it home. Home with a grouchy landlord (they live in the floor below), a leakin roof, absolutely no furniture... But home nevertheless. Suddenly am shrouded in solitude until I set out on almost a week long work (and fun in between) trip. And solitude in qutie scary at first. The worst is the silence. Not necessarily because you would be yapping otherwise, but just the presence was enough. The silence here suddenly turns eerie. Thank goodness for my computer which is working perfectly , showering me with the flourescent aura of Chandler's snide remarks and Jerry's repeated victories over Tom.

What I am trying to say is.... Heck... I am not trying to say anything. Its just that the home's empty, but I am going to enjoy every ounce of solitude that I can. The chirpy phone will keep me connected regularly, but I have the gift that many others crave for and even crib about at all times. Here's to living a grandpa's life at 22! :)

...Gyaan...

2006-08-03T10:58:00.000+05:30

Bastard!

2006-07-27T20:34:00.000+05:30

Creator

IRRITATING

Nasal

...Music....

Schhhuuummmm....

2006-07-23T22:20:00.000+05:30

A deep breath...

The eyes blink...

Eyelids close, A moment of silence... Thoughts regarding the past few hours stream back to him...

Its the last pitstop before it ends... He's done this 49 times already... Just one more...

The path is seared into his memory... each contour... each straight...

He can do this.

The eyes open.

It is met with a rush of sound and fast movement... The engine is rumbling just under him... He can see some of the others... He knows which ones will cause trouble... That guy in the white car has a very reluctant engine... and the other one in the yellow stripes barely has the guts... Doesn't matter. Today is his day. Nothing is going to stop his glorious rush to the chequered flag. Today.... he will outdo his own past....

Its time to go! He barely lets the brown elixir into the starved engine and it shoots off!!! He cajoles his baby into the mainstream... Its time to RACE!!!

A slalom is coming up!!! A left and then manouvering in for a cut on the right!!!.... (that was close)... Audience starts noticing him... he can't hear it... but he's sure that individuals are heaving and sighing as they watch his show...

Its near!! The end is near...

He gives it his all... YES! He's bettered his own previous record! A surge of joy and pride within him goes unnoticed by all those not populating his mind... A satisfaction creases across his otherwise mundane life...

A screeeeeeeeeeeching stop.

Me: "Kitna hua?"

Him: "15 rupaya"

Me: "Arre roj tho 10 rupaya deta hoon... Yeh lo!"

He takes it... bends down, restarts his baby... looks at the fool who didn't think the ride of the day worth five extra bucks... ha! Fools ... all of them!! The evening rush is over anyway... made 50 trips today... a good day... time for some chai...

And so the great Indian challenger trudges on... phatt phatt phatt phatt...

P.S. A humble tribute to Surat's auto-rickshaw walaas... For the daily thrill ride to the office and back... :D

Roy number Zero ... :)

2006-07-14T23:06:00.000+05:30

All that is gold does not glitter,
not all those who wander are lost;
the old that is strong does not wither,
deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
a light from the shadows shall spring;
renenwed shall be 'the nib' that was broken,
the crownless again shall be king!

This is for Indrava Roy, lovingly known to all as I.Roy .

For being the closest thing to a mathematics freak, I know of.

For being maybe one of the few souls who is going to pursue his true love (literally AND figuritively) and his passion after graduation.

For being the craziest son-of-bitch and sticking to his guns during the darkest hours.

May future maths students curse him the way we curse other great theoriticians (Saala leibnitz... C*****) :))

Love ya be!!! :)

Jo Gumshuda.... Sa Khwab tha! :D

P.S. Amazing how one great news can change one's mood drastically!

Coma.

2006-07-14T12:43:00.000+05:30

Where do I even begin?

The events seem like a distant dream. Happening in some place where I was until recently( Barely for a month, but I fell in love with the temptress). I shudder to imagine the present psyche of the gregarious and focussed lot, that are Mumbaikars. It would be too cliche to repeat the absolute horror of the events that have taken place on the Eleventh of this month. Also, it would be a slight to the memories of those who died, to just provide lip-service through some anonymous portal in the labyrinth of the net. But I have safely blocked myself from accepting that it has actually happened. I still believe that when I go back to the churn and grind, that is the city of Mumbai, I shall see no difference.

Apparently, this time around the city of infinite strength is buckling. This incident has shaken the most resilient residents of the city. I believe, that the unrest and a general foreboding still prevalent amongst the citizens is not due to the heavy death toll or the actual Modus Operandi of the incident. It's just because they don't know whom to blame! Whenever we are attacked or insulted, the surge of anger and caution that follows the intial shock and backfoot, needs a focussed target. In the 1993 blasts, we had one. In the 9/11 attacks we had one. The parliament attacks also had a fixed target.

But right now, there is no outfit claiming responsibility. No sect supporting the attacks even the least bit. So whom do the innocents blame? Do they blindly fall back upon their favourite targets, the Mohemmedans? Do they agree with the saffronites that this particular minority is the only one capable of such inhuman activities? But how can they even slightly trust the saffronites who until the previous day were themselves causing havoc on the slightest pretext? How do they believe the government when it says that Pakistan (our evil sister) is most likely to have a hand in the blasts which shook everyone from Tehran to Timbuktoo? How can they believe a system which allowed such a gruesome act to be commited? Mind you, I am not blaming the already stretched police force or the IB... The system,per se, was... and is... at fault.

How the HELL can you expect any form of coordination amongst ranks if u have intelligence coming in from 10 diferent terrorist tracking units? How can't a uniformed personnel even with a moiety of intelligence realise that we are at war, when some one recovers One and a half tonne of RDX from the hinterland close to the city (FYI, experts reckon it doesn't take more than a few kilos of RDX for the damage that was done on the trains)? And most of all, How can one endear oneself to a Chief Minister, the elected benefactor of millions, whose primary reaction to the blasts are: "Rs. 50,000/- for the injured and Rs. 1 Lakh for the dead". 1 lakh??? Is that all an innocent bourgeoisie is worth in our country? For a system which spends crores of rupees during its election rallies, the sheer agony of a life ripped apart and a family shred to destitution is 1 lakh? Aren't we all a part of this hypocritic system? What else am I going to do other than rave and rant on this personal space of mine viewed by a close few? How can I step into the jungle and prove Darwin wrong?

I am just biding my time.

P.S. Have not enabled commenting.

The moot point.

2006-07-09T21:43:00.000+05:30

Was scrap-chatting with a friend today. Found out what the 'moot' actually is. Just pasting her description here fyi :

A fictious problem is given (say 2-3 pages long)... with lots of legal issues and 2 parties... one that goes to court and the other been taken to court...we are told beforehand which side we are to represent and after some 10 days of work ... we submit our memorial with arguments on facts and law for our side...a day after that we argue out the case in front of a bench of "judges" .. who may be seniors, faculty or lawyers from outside...then we're ranked on the basis of our performance..right now selections are on... we have some 3 rounds of internal moots.. after which the "moot team" is formed.. consisting 30 speakers and 10 researchers... these people pick national and international moots based on their ranks and the prestige involved in the said moot!

Now that we have that in the clear... I'd like to draw your attention to one segment that struck me , other than the fact that lawyers, medicos, desginers etc have amazing hands on experience (damn engineering) ... we are told beforehand which side we are to represent ...

Hmmm... told beforehand which side to take? Agreed that its just a college competition and more of a learning experience. But still, for people with zoolch idea about the judicial system (read: The Bourgeois Buffoon), its sorta weird. To me, a stand can be taken based on three circumstances. Either you have studied the situation and chosen a side of the argument using logic and rationale. Or you just blindly accept a trustworthy person's opinion on an unkown subject. Of course, most common of all is the way we refuse to change our stance no matter how much ever logic or reasoning is introduced either way (Its easier for our personal social fabric this way).

But imagine the plight of a young lawyer, passionate about... say, the environment, when he/she is asked to defend a factory which releases enough carbon everyday to cover the vatican city ten times over! Now this lawyer has two choices. Either chuck a good career in this prestigious firm and hold steadfast to his/her beliefs. Else mutely execute the order with a silent vow to never take up such a case when he/she has a firm of his/her own.

I don't know if any other profession would face such a moral grind with such a regular basis as these lawyers do. And knowing the fickleness of the human morality, this explains why lawyers often turn out to be the most hated group of them all. Not that the other guys don't face tough ethical decisions. Like Jeffrey Wigand, an executive in the tobacco industry who showed inside information on what additives are added by tobacco companies intentionally... so that smokers are addicted to their brands of ciggarettes, something that any common worker should be inspired by. He brought a the cartel of Tobacco companies to heel. A $264 billion settlement against them. The movie 'The insider', beautifully potrays his struggle to get the truth heard. With only a handful of lawyers actually coming to his aid. Rest of the law community in the pockets of the cartel. Although the evidence is mounted against them.

Unfortunate. I guess that's why its a Devil's advocate.
I am each and every lawyer/judge understands this. I just
hope he/she realises it. In time.

Rx

2006-07-08T22:54:00.000+05:30

Here is the history of medicine.

"I have a sore throat."

2000 BC : "eat this root"

1200 AD : "That root is heathen, say this prayer."

1500 AD : "That prayer is superstition, drink this elixir."

1800 AD : "That elixir is snake oil, Take this pill."

1900 AD : "That pill is ineffective, Take this antibiotic."

2000 AD : "That antibiotic is artificial, Here why dont you eat this root."

Alma Mater.

2006-07-01T14:22:00.001+05:30

To thy happy children of the future,

those of the past,

Send tidings...

The hope-giving tidings being an excerpt from an article on the economictimes.com on 30th June, regarding the changing trends in JEE due to various modifications:

"This increase could be attributed to the reforms made in the conduct of these examinations. The number of candidates qualified in their first attempt is 2,761, which is 43.5 per cent of the total number of qualified candidates," said the statement. Last year, 28.49 per cent were first timers.
The participation of female candidates also increased from 29,291 in 2005 to 58,997 this year, as entrance fee for them was halved, it said. "

About time, I say. Quite timely w.r.t DD's post.

May my Alma mater's happy children prosper... :)

'Life's damn weird re'

2006-06-27T22:45:00.000+05:30

I couldn't agree more! Of course, I have my own reasons... Its been just over a month since it was 'Tadaa' to the village... and life's changed. Totally. I knew it would. Everyone told me it would. I didn't even realise it when it started changing... But that statement above just made me realise it.

Over 20 days in 'Corporate induction'. A desperate attempt by Mssrs Godrej Inc. to mold 40 individuals using their dies. Various terms flying thick in the air ... 'Economic Value Added' ... 'Total Quality Management' ... 'Theory of Constraints'... etcetra etcetra... There was this Outbound programme. Simple funda. Take 40 odd achievers and take them too a secluded place (pun not intended) where there is no mobile or net or any such communication mode. And then divide them into teams, make them play neanderthal games which require different aspects of teamwork and leadership, the 'facilitator' sits back and observes everyone and plays the cat and mouse psychological game with everyone about their teamwork skills etc... Was nice actually we had LOADS of fun... And I DID learn a few things!

The best revelation was the way all us engineer trainees bonded... And of course how the management grads bonded amongst themselves and then the senior-junior thing developed between us... It was almost like clockwork. I am sure it is not necessary that this would've happened with other people. But for sure... it got me thinking about one thing.

Is it a mold which helped us bond? What ARE experiences? Just die-casts? To put us into a mold? Just imagine... U don't feel connected to a person because you shared a nurse in the hospital as a baby or even because both of you pee-ed all over each other in pre nursery or your favourite toy in the play area was the same. You feel connected to them when you share moments and events in a stage in life AFTER you've started forming opinions. It starts right back when you think that Robocop is cooler than He-man ( or some pikachu crap these days). It moves ahead unto all the groups you fall into in the school days (Muggoos, fad chaps, sport guys and morons, of course). And then the common activities and simmering raw opinions you form about life make some of the best bonds. Most important of all these die-casts is that of the family. No other bond is as instantaneous as growing up in similar family systems (hostel life is but an extension). And of course, I'm going to steer clear of the effects of matters of the heart!

We have just been clearing cut-offs to fit into supposedly better casts? Wriggle through the shapes and contours of that cast... To be molded into a finished product. The rough edges being some of the few individualities left?

Will we end up as a suit?

Will I?

<...Shudder...>

Sahi mein... "Life is damn weird re!"

Aila!

2006-06-14T21:22:00.000+05:30

Well,

I should've updated it earlier, but my quintessential lethargy, you know...

Life's O.K. . Joined Godrej Industries Ltd. at Mumbai. Its a 109 year 'young' company (ya ya that's company tempo crap). Pretty nice place. But I can't compare it with any other company as I don't have any experiences to benchmark it against. The area is pretty good... VERY green... which is again very unlike rest of Bombay.

Went to Ahmedabad for a weekend and caught up with dear old buddies. And almost did a few wild things! :D... But its difficult to go wild in ahmedabad.

Have had many amazing experiences which I have wanted to share here, but this crampy cyber cafe near the accomodation they have provided (which is very decent) isn't the place for long bouts of blogging. Wanted to write about Mumbai (obv!), the trains here, the party we had on the first day (I dined with Adi Godrej!! :D), IIT Vs IIT, and other crap that I normally spew out here...

The best part is the amazing set of people who have joined with me (that includes me too!). In a short span of 15 odd days we have gelled as if we've known each other for a few years or something! I guess all college hostel lives are the same... else by picking exactly like-minded people, Godrej's HR has proved its brilliant. But I have sincere doubts about the latter!!

Please pray that I can get a nice comfy comp with net to rave and rant on this page and consequently dodge the brickbats.

Which actually gets me wondering... Have any of you seen brickbats? Wht the hell are they? I know Bricks and I know bats... but what is a brickbat??? Hmmm... dekhna padega...

Keep jiving!!! :D

27 hours

2006-05-25T05:12:00.000+05:30

Its 5 A.M.

There is a slight temperate breeze waltzing into my room. I walk out, stand in the corridor.

A small but lush green ground. A rarity in peak summer, brought about by the evening storms in the village.

A cricket pitch on the eastern side. The net is still hanging on it. The sun is a Red ball.

Already the warmth of the rising summer sun can be felt. There is a dampness in the air. I step down onto the grass. Its wet. Dew, you see.

A simple string quartet is playing in my room. The volume is high. As there is no one around whom I can disturb. It's the theme of 'October sky'. A story of one boy who inspired his whole community with his passion for what was considered out of his reach, Rocketry. The boy ended up in the design team of the Space Shuttle.

The music reflects the passion. The tremolos on the violin, the chords on the other strings and the build-up of the cello... All of them channel the protagonist's passion through notations.

It's been 5 years. 5 long years? 5 tumultous years? 5 unforgettable years? 5 joyous years?

It doesn't seem like 5 years. It seems like a lifetime. I don't remember the 16 year old who walked in with nothing more than a slight mix of desire, accomplishment and passion. Neither do I remember any of the latter two emotions. The desire remains. Accomplishment has been dragged into the mud and drained into the gutters. Passion was shot in the head. All it was looking for was a path to attach itself onto. Many were tried. Few were mistakes due to lack of talent. Few were thorny and hence were shunned. Few were blocked viciously. One lapped it up vigorously

5 years have left the 16 year old bereft of passion. The one thing he prided upon. Fool.

He'll live.

I try to remember some incidents. Strands of memory are stoked by nostalgia and flare up into salty drops just to be contained in time. Overwhelming. Now's not the time to think about it. Now's just the time to wonder... 'How?'

Too many thoughts. Too little time.

Its orange now. Quite bright. Can't look at it without squinting. The dew is long gone. It'll be warm soon. Already the birds are in full choral swing.

The last day.

Good Morning, My Village.

2006-05-24T18:48:00.001+05:30

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to express my sincere gratitude to Prof. R.K.Panda, Agriculture and Food engineering department for being a constant source of guidance. He has always been motivating me at critical points of the project.

I would like to thank Dr. B. C. Mal, Professor and Head, Department of Agricultural and Food Engineering, Indian Institute of Technology, Kharagpur for providing all the necessary facilities for the successful completion of my project. I also thank Prof. S.N. Panda, Prof. R.Singh, Prof. K.N.Tiwari, Prof.N.S.Raghuwanshi, Prof. M.K.Jha and Prof C.Chaterjee for their help and invigorating discussions.

I owe the warmest of thanks to my Parents, Mrs. Mythili Gopalan and Dr. A.K.S. Gopalan, who constantly supported me in all my endeavors and made sure the physical distance was not felt. I am grateful to my sister, Hema and her husband, Vijay for all the lighter moments during the period of this project. And I want to thank my niece, Ananya for being the light of my life. I owe a great deal to my family.

I thank all my wingmates and other close friends on campus for knocking sense into me on a regular basis. Heartfelt acknowledgements are due to Krishna and other friends back home too.

I am indebted to all who have been directly or indirectly involved in this project.

(A.G.Sudarshan)

May , 2006

P.S. Trauma is over. Thanks to the bold ones.

Surprise!

2006-04-10T04:33:00.000+05:30

Its finally happened. It took us over 56 years and 3 months to do it. But we managed to do it. Surely you know what I am talking about? What else can I talk about? What else can every hot-blooded youth worth his salt talk about? Everyone I know has had 'the discussion'. In various forms, in various varying levels of emotions, but they've had it. I am just going a step further and registering my opinion in a sea of opinions which frankly speaking doesn't matter two annas.

See, my dear ladies and gentleman, it has taken just 13 articles (Articles 330-342) of the 444 articles in the constitution to kill the spirit of the sovereign secular republic of India. It was bound to happen. It was supposed to be a measure only for 10 years. But if you let some wolves smell easy prey and tell them that they have a time lock on the hunt, they certainly are not going to take it well. They are going to do what is in their power to catch hold of the jugular vein and ravage the innards of the prey to their satisfy their carnal instincts. That has happened. Why is there such a hullaballoo all of a sudden? Don't tell me all of us were so busy in the admiring the newly burnished land that is our India. Didn't you see it everywhere? When the Supreme court had to categorically state that 49.5 is the magic figure, that meant there were huge backers who would've given half their constituencies for the remaining 0.5%. When there was an embarrasing voice in our 'reformist' government which suggested the call centres should also shed some percentages , did you not see this shameful era being declared?

Well, we apparently did not. Hence all the spikes in instances of blogging by Indians (it took me out of my hiatus for one). Hence all the protests (both silent and vehement). Hence the media houses having their hands full to the brim. Everyone is oh-so-very-shocked. Even the bourgeoisie apparently has a talent for feigning suprise. Everyone wants to give in their $0.02 as often as possible. Some whohave taken the film 'Rang De Basanti' to heart feel this is their clarion call to revolution. I hope no bloke does something abysmally stupid as was potrayed on the screen. Many also apparently feel that the three letter abbreviation O B C was spawned by Ravana himself so that he can enjoy the slow but marked decadence that is creeping into the minds of the policy makers. "Reservations for truly deserving, economically bacward communities is fine, but OBCs are not them. OBCs are the progeny/fraternity/sorority of Lallu Yadav, Mayawati, Uma Bharti et al.". Tch Tch.

But one thing holds. Never before has the youth of this country felt so violated. Never before has it ever felt its future being traded for a few more zeros in front of wily swiss bankers. Where are our Meritocrats. The government, which is led by an economist and a rocket scientist suddenly has muted the voices that of its leaders itself. What do they feel? Do they see something that our inexperienced, easily ruffled minds do not? Why don't they share their profound thoughts with us?

Personally, I don't care if Arjun Singh declares that every alternate year IITs and IIMs shall play host to only to tribals from remotest corners of the country. Even if in the future, the glorious 50 years of these institutes, remind us only of all that could have been. Really. I don't care if the IIT/IIM/NIT/REC/AIIMS/NLS/NID names are dragged to the mud and every shine and every glimmer of hope for the nation that was once seen through them was smudged out. But as a citizen of the country, raised with the staple of essays and debate topics of 'Mera Bharat Mahaan' / 'Brain drain' / 'Unity in diversity' , I would just want our respected elders to grant us one wish.

Please let there be atleast one place in the country where foolhardy youth of my age can experience what we have experienced in these past few years. Just give few of them a refuge where it would just be Merit that mattered. A place with closed walls and open minds. Where everyone rubs shoulder with everyone else, without a grudge. Playgrounds rooted on 'equality of status' which would grow into symbols so magnificent that each would be a lodestone for the sea of talent that resides in this land.

Sounds familiar?

Incommunicado...

2006-03-24T01:35:00.000+05:30

Blog suspended until further notice.

Bamboos ahead.

Sweden... Taiwan... USA... and India, of course

2006-03-22T01:20:00.000+05:30

After facing the ravages of the Department of Agricultural and Food engineering for over 3 and a half years, of being threatened by professors, being de-registered and re-registered, of reporting to the HoD with a seemingly sorry face, of watching batchmates being flunked to maintain the pulse of the faculty's ego, I did the brave thing. I took both my courses outside the department (I still have to face the Grand viva and the Project eval). Both these courses are in the School of Management, in fields in which I want to build my forte in the future. Its not that such aspirations have made me attend more classes or take them more seriously or anything....

Today evening (5.30-7.30 pm) we had the class for Engineering Entrepreneurship.The professor is the CTO (Chief Technology Officer) of IIT, Kharagpur. Yes, yes... we have one... I too found out only recently.Today the class was surprisingly full ( I assume if I could be there, anybody could) and a tad unruly. As the classroom lost all interest as the clock neared 7:30, the poor guy was trying hard to explain his slides (ironically, on motivation).

Finally after warning for a couple of times, he gets exasperated. Says: "Please behave yourself, and understand that this is the first time I am taking a course in India. I have previously taken many courses in Sweden, Taiwan and the US. This is the first time I am taking a course here, please behave yourself". At this point the students look at him incredulity of his statement and after it sinks in to them what he actually said, they don't even bother to understand it and start guffawing loudly. The poor man is hassled but still tudges on with his slides. And in one of the most ironical moments I have seen in classroom for any professor, the power goes out (later realised it went out in the whole campus).

Hahahaha... poor guy. Standing there... was just talking about India. And the wily one that she is, she gave him the taste of India. Thank goodness it was very dark, else one could've seen the redness in his cheeks as the students hooted and just left the class.

It'was soooo much fun!

----------------******---------******----------******---------******---------------------

As I was writing all this, wishing to potray initially how "It happens only in India" jingle still holds, C-125 sent me this article link. I am just copying the introductory paragraph:

America’s oldest institution of higher learning, Harvard University, will soon have India as a subject. And teachers will include visiting faculty members like Nobel laureate Amartya Sen, Gardiner professor of history at Harvard Sugata Bose and Harvard Business School professor Tarun Khanna.

This sets me off laughing. Imagine the hallowed classrooms of the illustrious institution. In the darkened classrooms, the glow of the projector falls on the audience. They are being shown 'India' in a nice capsulated form. By the some of the shining sons and daughters of the nation. I wonder what they would learn... What would the lab be like? Would they have specimens?

"On your left is the stuffed specimen of Engineerias IITius. He (99% of the time, the specimen is male) mostly sleeps on whatever surface he finds, and can also go without food and sleep for extended periods of time when they spot Pandas with bamboos in their paws. Their pet fear is failure"

"On your right is Bloodsuckerus Netais. A species which thrives on other subordinate species. Mostly sports white colour garments, is led by a foreign bred species and finds indigenous uses for fodder and guns. Some large specimens has a fetish for shoes and may possess upto 600 pairs of various types."

"Next up is Cricketix Inditeamus. Clad in blue, these are amongst the most thriving of the species and is known throughout India's 1 billion fauna. A good number genetically advanced specimens of the Cricketix genus are from this country. In a recent experiment by Moronus Bccis (pronounced as: mOrOnus bitches), mixing up the team with a senior specimen from Cricketix Ausiteamus caused the latter to injure a finger in its paw."

Seriously, I really don't see what I can learn about other cultures from such classes. I am sure the grey hairs at Harvard would have their reasons. But I sure want to see the recording of such a class.

Why recording, you ask?? Why attend an extra class? :D

Mera Bharat mahaaan!

P.S.Damn! I wanted to make this a serious post about India and its perceptions.... but what the heck!

.

200 things that you might have done

2006-03-20T04:46:00.000+05:30

Saw this in a few blogs... Liked it... Thought i'd put it up. Things I have done in Red. Things I have done similar to description in Green. And one particular thing I want to do in Blue.
Score are: 51 10 1

And this score is going to increase WAY more...

01.Bought everyone in the pub a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula.
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said ‘I love you’ and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Done a striptease
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Stayed up all night long, and watch the sun rise
15. Seen the Northern Lights
16. Gone to a huge sports game.
17.Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
18. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
19. Touched an iceberg
20. Slept under the stars
21. Changed a baby’s diaper
22. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
23. Watched a meteor shower
24. Gotten drunk on champagne
25. Given more than you can afford to charity
26. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
27. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment (Siggh... the librarian sure still remembers me)
28. Had a food fight
29. Bet on a winning horse
30. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
31. Asked out a stranger
32. Had a snowball fight
33. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier
34. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
35. Held a lamb
36. Enacted a favorite fantasy
37. Taken a midnight skinny dip
38. Taken an ice cold bath
39. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar
40. Seen a total eclipse
41. Ridden a roller coaster
42. Hit a home run ('Match'-winning Six runs!)
43. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days
44. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
45. Adopted an accent for an entire day
46. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
47. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment (Yes, there was a time when...)
48. Had two hard drives for your computer
49. Visited all 50 states
50. Loved your job for all accounts
51. Taken care of someone who was shit faced
52. Had enough money to be truly satisfied (10 bucks in my pocket... But was grinning all the
way!)
53. Had amazing friends
54. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
55. Watched wild whales
56. Stolen a sign
57. Backpacked in Europe
58. Taken a road-trip (Was over in a day...)
59. Rock climbing
60. Lied to foreign government’s official in that country to avoid notice
61. Midnight walk on the beach (Sat on teh beach with friends till late night)
62. Sky diving.
63.Visited Ireland
64. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
65. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them
66. Visited Japan
67. Benchpressed your own weight
68. Milked a cow
69. Alphabetized your records (MP3 folders surely count)
70. Pretended to be a superhero (long time back... don't ask)
71. Sung karaoke
72. Lounged around in bed all day
73. Posed nude in front of strangers
74. Scuba diving
75. Got it on to “Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye
76. Kissed in the rain
77. Played in the mud
78. Played in the rain
79. Gone to a drive-in theater
80. Done something you should regret, but don’t regret it
81. Visited the Great Wall of China
82. Discovered that someone who’s not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered
your blog
83. Dropped Windows in favor of something better
84. Started a business
85. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
86. Toured ancient sites
87. Taken a martial arts class
88. Swordfought for the honor of a woman
89. Played Counter-Strike(& AOE & IGI & MOHAA & NFS & HL2) for more than 6 hours
straight
90. Gotten married
91. Been in a movie
92. Crashed a party
93. Loved someone you shouldn’t have
94. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy
95. Gotten divorced
96. Had sex at the office
97. Gone without food for 5 days
98. Made cookies from scratch (Does cake count? While your helping your elder sis i.e. :D)
99. Won first prize in a costume contest (Was a ventriloquoist)
100. Ridden a gondola in Venice
101. Gotten a tattoo (Not permanent though, some stuff in goa...)
102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on
103. Rafted the Snake River
104. Been on television news programs as an “expert”
105. Got flowers for no reason
106. Masturbated in a public place
107. Got so drunk you don’t remember anything
108. Been addicted to some form of illegal drug
109. Performed on stage (Yay!)
110. Been to Las Vegas
111. Recorded music
112. Eaten shark
113. Had a one-night stand
114. Gone to Thailand
115. Seen Siouxsie live
116. Bought a house
117. Been in a combat zone
118. Buried one/both of your parents
119. Shaved or waxed your pubic hair off
120. Been on a cruise ship
121. Spoken more than one language fluently
122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone
123. Bounced a check
124. Performed in Rocky Horror
125. Read - and understood - your credit report (As of now, it is verrry simple)
126. Raised children
127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy
128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
129. Created and named your own constellation of stars
130. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did
132. Called or written your Congress person
133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
134. …more than once? - More than thrice?
135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking
137. Had an abortion or your female partner did
138. Had plastic surgery
139. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived
140. Wrote articles for a large publication
141. Lost over 100 pounds
142. Held someone while they were having a seizure
143. Piloted an airplane
144. Petted a stingray
145. Broken someone’s heart
146. Helped an animal give birth
147. Been fired or laid off from a job
148. Won money on a T.V. game show
149. Broken a bone
150. Killed a human being (I wish)
151. Gone on an African photo safari
152. Ridden a motorcycle ( Yeah baby! )
153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100mph (greater than 100 kmph anyway )
154. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced
155. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol (NCC in 6th class :D)
156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
157. Ridden a horse
158. Had major surgery
159. Had sex on a moving train
160. Had a snake as a pet
161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing
163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
164. Visited more foreign countries than Indian states
165. Visited all 7 continents
166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
167. Eaten kangaroo meat
168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground
169. Been a sperm or egg donor
170. Eaten sushi
171. Had your picture in the newspaper
172. Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime
173. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about
174. Gotten someone fired for their actions
175. Gone back to school
176. Parasailed
177. Changed your name
178. Petted a cockroach
179. Eaten fried green tomatoes
180. Read The Iliad (First book I issued in the CL... Forgot most of it though...)
181. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read (Will do this my whole life)
182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed
them
183. …and gotten 86′ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you
184. Taught yourself an art from scratch (Amateur greeting card making! :D)
185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
186. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt
187. Skipped all your school reunions
188. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language (Singapore-la!)
189. Been elected to public office
190. Written your own computer language
191. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream
192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
193. Built your own PC from parts (Love you, my super-problematic comp.!)
194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you
195. Had a booth at a street fair(Some fete...)
196: Dyed your hair
197: Been a DJ
198: Found out someone was going to dump you via LiveJournal
199: Written your own role playing game
200: Been arrested

P.S. Some of them have not been answered intentionally

When the skies were purple....

2006-03-18T00:49:00.000+05:30

Sometime I wish I had been born in the medieval ages (latter half of the previous millenium) in Europe (or mebbe I already did and am really just longing for that lifetime). I love the no nonsense attitude that those people had. Everything was fixed in a person's life the moment he was born. As a peasant boy you could become and apprentice at some skill shop (like blacksmith etc) at best. Else you could serve as the servant of the Chef of the Esquire of the Baron of the friggin land. It was simple. No ambition required. You would have a rugged drunk as a father (so you wouldn't have to love him or respect him too much). Guys of my size would have made an excellent right-hand man of the wily bully up the street. And by the time I was 21, frequent fights would've made it unnecessary for me to have a dentist.

Also amazing is what I would have to do even if I was a member of the intelligensia. As an artist I would have to paint potraits of rich fat balding nobles and make them look like debonaire conquerors of yore else paint vivid potrayals of what today would be called PG-18. As a musician, I would write pieces as and when they struck me and dedicate them to people and places to gain money and glory (Bach's brandenburg concerts are an excellent eexample of this). Medicine would also be supremely lucrative. Setting a bone would have very simple instructions: Twist, pull, pivot the affected joint/ligament until there is a resounding crack. The side-advantage of medicine would be exploring new frontiers of medicine by experimenting with various herbs (if you know what I mean). Best would've been science. There was no perceivable way in which I would've been busy. My sole duty would've been to learn how old farts talk about the purpose of this world and the related metaphysics... of course, I would occassionally have to wait for the apple to fall on my head.

But, as I was telling Psycho and C-125 today, I personally wanted to be in the Emperor's Elite torture division. Any stupid idiot would be slapped just for the heck of it. And some morons could be hung from a tree by their arms and then beaten with an iron pestle... Ya just imagine... There is this tree just in front of my room... with two thick gnarled branches hanging out from either side... Two amazingly stupid imbeciles who dared to displease the Baron would be hanging from there.. One of them with his arms strung up to a branch and the other with his feet to the other. And me with the Iron pestle.

I know that by this point, the scene would've become very disturbing for many of you. Where as some of you repressed frustrated souls would actually want the pestle in your hand and the persons hanging there to resemble someone you know.

But as I said... I only wish I had been born in that age. Times when morons would not be suffered for the sake of decency.

Publisher's note: The author of this article is known to be a very gentle, loving and caring person. These thoughts potrayed above are, but just the manifestations of the dark undercurrents in his psyche. The publisher wishes to categorically state that the Author has never intentionally harmed any living soul. Except red ants... and them friggin mosquitoes. *cough cough* and the occassional mental strain on his wingies.

I know not who I am...

2006-03-10T04:12:00.000+05:30

I know not who I am…
I know not who I am…

Nor am I the believer in the mosque
Nor am I in the rituals of the infidel
Nor am I the pure in the impure
Nor am I inherent in the Vedas
Nor am I present in intoxicants

Nor am I the lost, nor the corrupt
Nor am I union, nor grief
Nor am I intrinsic in the pure/impure
Nor am I of the water, nor of the land
Nor am I fire, nor air

I know not who I am…
I know not who I am…

Nor am I from Arabia, nor Lahore
Nor am I from the Indian city of nagaur
Nor a hindu, nor a turk

Nor did I create the difference of faith
Nor did I create adam and eve
Nor did I name myself

Beginning or the end, I know just the self
Do not acknowledge duality
There’s none wiser than I…

I know not who I am…
I know not who I am…

I am not moses or the pharaoh
I am not sleep or wakefulness
I am not fire or the wind
I do not stay in Nether
I am not inertia or travel

Who is this Bullah shah?

I know not who I am…
I know not who I am.

The sufi poet Bulleh shah was a resident of Kasur, Pakistan in the 17th-18th century. He wrote mainly in Punjabi

This is a translation of one of his works, which was given music by Rabbi Shergill, a newly successful singer
The translation was taken (painstakingly) from the music video.

Who flu?

2006-03-04T18:22:00.000+05:30

hehe...

Intruder!

2006-03-01T16:58:00.000+05:30

BBbbRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr......

I hate snakes... I loathe them... and I love the geezer who gave them the worst role in the bible.

This outpouring has been caused by the experiences of the past week...

Sometime last week:

My room neighbour (C-125), walks down our dear wing corridor (ground floor). He has just woken up and is breathing in dollops of fresh morning (read 11 am) air. He walks past C-122 and notices a 3 foot long greenish-silverish thing just below the cement corridor. He pauses, realises its a snake. Not just A snake, but a snake with its fangs deep into a fat frog. As neither are moving, he assumes both are dead. To share this viewing pleasure with other wingies, he calls out to a couple of people. As he does so, he notices that he can see the pulse on the frog's upturned body. Slowly realising that this means the snake just bit the frog meaning the slithery bastard is still alive, he takes a step back. At this juncture, our slimy friend decides to open its mouth out wide baring its fangs et al. Poor C-125 just froze. And before a voice (let alone a scream) could come out from his sunken gut, the biblical scourge slithers right off into the ground in front of our wing. At this point C-123 finally comes out to avail of the viewing pleasure mentioned above and finds that it has slithered away leaving behind a dumbstruck C-125.

At this very point I enter the scene (I had gone to class... i think :D). And I am narrated the entire happenings of the past 5-10 minutes. After looking at the upturned frog (still beating its vein), a chill last seen or heard of in the Ice age runs right down my spine "BBbbRRrrrrr". C-123 bravely goes out into the ground with his matchsticks and sets the dry leaves aflame. For the next hour we breath in smoke as the dry leaves on the ground in front of our rooms burns away to glory. The hostel sweeper is instructed to throw away the frog (preferably into the flames).

As the flames died out leaving behind the blackened ground, All of decide that we should be more careful as this very same snake was spotted the previous day by another junior. There are discussions as to whether this is a poisonous variety (a minor detail which simply spikes my already risen hair). There are arguments as to if it has enough goodies only to make a meal or for a human too. Slowly as we all melt away into our rooms, we try to forget the happenings. But later in the night, as C-127 wakes up to breath in his fresh dollops of air, he knocks on my door lightly and asks me to come out... I first open the door a little... peek out to see if he is ready to run or anything which would imply only one thing. As he was not, I step out and follow his pointed hand. Our dear scourge of eve was right where he was hoping his lunch would be... sprawled out 3 feet. Glistening brownish in the flickering tubelight of the corridor. Gulp No.1 ... Gulp No.2.... The bloody reptile started slithering out into the ground again... Gulp No.3... And it was gone... Gulp No.4... and no traces seen... Gulp Gulp Gulp...

Till now I was only scared. Now I was petrified. Every night (even day) whenever I leave the room, I peak out with ears perked up for any sounds. I have reduced water consumption evening onwards as our bathrooms have been the best place to find frogs. Why the hell are there are so many frogs? If only we were a medical school...

Bottomline: I Hate snakes. I Loather snakes. I am SHIT SCARED of snakes.

The BourgeoisBuffoon!

2006-02-25T05:24:00.000+05:30

So after many comments on my yesterday's experiment, the common denominator was...

"What a morbid background photograph!"

As I am not in the undertaking business here...

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you my original background based on the famous .... nay VERY FAMOUS ... the one and only Calvin and Hobbes a.k.a Spaceman Spiff...

Of course this whole thing based on the amazing basic template designed at BlogspotTemplates, I had fun working on the background image...

Kindly note it has a shaded reading area also! :P :P :P

If any of my juniors is reading this... Get a better hobby... this is how much 'abject joblessness' you will be facing in your final year!

Now all of you can sod off... as I am going to sleep... ZZZzzzzZZZzzzzzzzzzz.......

Set out to dry...

2006-02-23T20:29:00.000+05:30

Just experimenting with the blog template... I like the floating text thingie... don't know about you guys...

This basic design is taken from a site called Bloggspottemplates. Me and a friend broke its workings down... So i selected this pic. And the colours for the shading and so on so forth...

Comments are openly invited...

Bouquets to me... keep your brickbats!

I like the word 'Indolence'...

2006-02-23T01:58:00.000+05:30

... it makes my laziness seem classy. For all those of you who know me.... know him?

"...he is at once very lazy, mournfully ambitious and illustriously unfortunate; for all his life he has scarcely had any complete ideas.The sun of his idleness shines with constant splendour within him,vapourizes and consumes that moiety of genius with which heaven had endowed him.How can I let you see the depths of that tenebrous nature; a mind in which paradox often assumed the proportions of naivette, yet whose imagination is as vast as absolute solitude and laziness..."

- Charles Baudelaire
(French poet , 1821-67)
in La Fanfarlo

Haven't put up anything orginal for a while... will do so soon...

Paragraph.

2006-02-15T03:53:00.000+05:30

A friend sent this... it apparently brought clarity into his thought... I am putting it up for comments purposes only ... I personally have had no reason to comment on it... except, i like some of the one-liners.

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

Buhahaha

2006-02-11T19:58:00.000+05:30

Made a new original PJ after a looooooooongg time...

Here it goes:

Q> What do you get when you cut a needle into many parts??

Scroll down for answer...

More....

A li'l more scrolling.....

A> Chop-suey! :D :D :D

Uno.

2006-02-08T04:28:00.000+05:30

Thank you all!

Its been an amazing year! :D... A truly roller-coaster ride...

Cheers!

Oh ya... exactly one year since bourgeoisbuffoon was born. :)

The first post

The real first post! :D

Yearnings...

2006-02-05T08:06:00.000+05:30

A friend of mine forwarded (cough cough .. ahem ahem) this poem to me... It struck me quite hard. More because I haven't come across many Tagore poems before. And certainly didn't expect something as lucid as this...

I LONG to speak the deepest words I have to say to you;
but I dare not, for fear you should laugh.
That is why I laugh at myself and shatter my secret in jest.
I make light of my pain,afraid that you should do so.

I long to tell you the truest words I have to say to you;
but I dare not,being afraid that you would not believe them.
That is why i disguise them in untruth,saying the contrary of what I mean.
I make my pain appear absurd,afraid that you should do so.

I long to use the most precious words I have for you;
but I dare not,fearing I should not be paid with like value.
That is why I give you hard names and boast of my callous strength.
I hurt you,for fear you should never know any pain.

I long to sit silent by you;
but I dare not lest my heart come out at my lips.
That is why I prattle and chatter lightly and hide my heart behind words.
I rudely handle my pain,for fear you should do so.

I long to go away from your side;
but I dare not,for fear my cowardice should become known to you.
That is why i hold my head high and carelessly come into your presence.

Constant thrusts from your eyes keep my pain fresh forever......

- Rabindranath Tagore

The full poem is called 'The Gardner'. Get full text here.

What lies beyond?

2006-02-02T10:29:00.000+05:30

My "Canon in D major"

2006-01-30T05:37:00.000+05:30

Johann Pachelbel's Canon in D Major.

That is the name for the piece which is playing in the background right now (embedded audio track in a web page. Funda credit: DD). This piece had been haunting me since yesterday.

It started when I was watching "The Wonder years". The protoganist, a 12 yr old Kid Kevin Arnold, enters the scene on his small cycle. Its dusk... in the suburbs. His playtime is over and he's on his way home. He stops outside a window. The glow from the house shows a few senior people watching a young kid play "Canon in D major". He stops outside and ponders:

When your a little kid, your a little bit of everything,
An Artist... Scientist... Athlete... Scholar...

Sometimes it seems like growing up is the process of giving those things up one by one.

I guess we all have one thing that we regret giving up. One thing that we really miss.
That we gave because we were too lazy or we couldn't stick it out....

or because..... we were afraid.

After this scene, in flashback mode, Kevin continues to show how he had backed out of his piano lessons (which he is actually good at) because he couldn't play "Canon in D major" as well as Ronald Hirschmuller. He practices hard and improves so much so that his tutor prefers his natural flowing style of playing to Ronald's mechanical style. But he cancels his recital and regrets that decision forever... He says:

I never did forget that Night.

I remember the light glowing from Mrs Carple's window. And I remember the darkness falling out there on the street as I was looking in.

And now, more than 20 years later, I still rememeber every note of the music that wandered out into that still night air.

The only thing is...... I can't rem how to play it anymore.

Since those words, a better part of my childhood rushed back to haunt me. The piano lessons, the singing lessons, swimming lessons (My akka would dilligently take me and promptly laughing when I would dive-bomb from the board), even art lessons for god's sake! I remembered all those hours of forced creativity and false exuberance. The energy that went into those classes. Mine & my escorts's. The hard-earned money. All those instances in which creativity and talent was to supposed to be channeled into me. To mould me into a complete personality.

The thoughts were noble. The efforts? Despicable.

But yes... Those days have left me with an appreciation. Appreciation for the finer arts. Appreciation for the nuances present in the expression of human civilization. Appreciation for the people who actually went through the process... with or without inherent talent.

As Kevin said, I guess everyone does have something that they loved, to be left behind in the process of growing up. It could've been Dancing gaily or Getting your knees green every day or Tending to that solitary flower in your balcony or Cycling around without a destination... ANYTHING. We all say growing up "sucks" or that "ignorance is bliss". But how many of us would have the courage to go back to those unfullfiled passions? To try and rekindle them with the remaining vestiges of our childhood. "Woh kaagaz ki kashti"?

In hindsight, giving up on music was a very defining part of my childhood. It was when I would let laziness truimph over one of my favourite passions. It unfortunately showcases itself in my life habits even now. Indolence.

Giving up something just because of inherent lethargy and fear of mediocrity.

Mine was music... What is yours?

Tears.... in heaven

2006-01-23T05:17:00.000+05:30

Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?

I must be strong
And carry on,
'Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven.

Would you hold my hand
If I saw you in heaven?
Would you help me stand
If I saw you in heaven?

I'll find my way
Through night and day,
'Cause I know I just can't stay
Here in heaven.

Time can bring you down,
Time can bend your knees.
Time can break your heart,
Have you begging please, begging please.

Beyond the door,
There's peace I'm sure,
And I know there'll be no more
Tears in heaven.

Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?

I must be strong
And carry on,
'Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven.

- Eric Clapton & Will Jennings

.

2006-01-14T22:07:00.000+05:30

Blank.

That is wht my mind had come to after I finished reading 'Rama revealed' by Arthur C Clarke. The Rama series (***Spoiler warning***) is a series consisting of 4 books which tracks the interactions of the human race with an alien spacecraft and ends with the life story of the first few humans to board tht spacecraft: 'Rama".

The questions of Life, the Universe, Creation and God are often convenienty relegated to the back of our heads. This action is woven into the fabric of our society so that our day-to-day activities are carried out in an un-inhibited fashion. These questions have been substituted by some of the rites and rituals that any of us care to follow or simply by an annual visit to the temple (or any other place of worship).

We hindus just bow (more like nod) our head when we pass temples and then say a few slokas/hymns that was seared into us at our childhood. Other religions are also more or less the same. We mostly end up praising the glory of god or thank him/her/it for all the good things in our life or we ask him for more happiness/successes in our life. And all this is well-rehearsed.

We just tell God: "Hey thanks a lot sir-jee! Amazing world you have made here. Ya, my life sucks... but so what? I am sure it must be in the 'Grand plan of things'. And oh ya... I have this, like, very important exam coming up. I know I didn't study a bit for it, but... you knw... can u just dust off a bit of ur sheeer benevolance onto me for those 3hours??"

Just stop.

And even for a fraction of a second try to truly comprehend what is there around us.

Each one of us is 1 in a six billion of an intelligent (yeah right!) species on this planet. There are mebbe over a trillion of living organisms in general (discounting the germs and viruses). We are a DAMN LUCKY planet amongst 9 in our sun's neighbourhood. Our Sun is Just 5 billion years old in a galaxy which is twice as old...... this can simply continue forever until we reach the infinite...

As I write this i can hear the shouts and screams and hollering associated with a volleyball match in out hostel (its the first night of Intra-hall volley). The participants are giving their all-out, the crowd around them supports them jeers a few and its pitch rises and falls with every exctiting play in the game. A little farther removed, in our instititute gymkhana, students are zealously getting the whole setup ready for our college festival. Even further removed, there is another rally which more or less brings a part of Calcutta to a standstill. On the national front, terrorism and even Amitabh Bachan are chucked out of the window of dis-interest with the Indo-pak series (with spl focus on Ganguly) revving up. China is still confounding the rest of the world with their abysmal finance system. Whereas the whole world awaits with bated breath as to what will happen in Israel-Palestine (the hotbed of international terrorism) after Sharon's heart attack.

This is a sample of hapennings in varying scales of time and distance around me. How am I supposed to be affected by the squiggly lines of the Boombay Sensex when I know (rather have been reminded) that we are not even a blink in the history of time?

This sort of a thought process should take me towards a nihilistic delusion. But thankfully, I don't succumb to the enchanting yet elusive questions that time poses to me. I know how those squiggly lines will affect me. I know that only when those lines stay on the top of the chart and continue to do so, will I get a job very easily in this "Great Indian boom". And that job is what is going to keep me fed and clothed and sheltered for a few more years atleast.

But anytime from today when due to a delusion of great achievements or swelling pride, I raise my head high; I know that the sky above me will remind me to lower it.

Its an irony:

Our greatest lesson in humility is right above us. And we are too proud to even acknowledge it.

Been some time...

2006-01-06T04:45:00.000+05:30

Its been quite some time since I lasted posted something (DUH!).....

But between those posts contaning nice forwards and this prolonged silence, I have been experiencing something (still am) which I have NEVEr felt in my life.

That of being left in a lurch...

As in, there are so many things that any student goes through (multiply it by a 100 if tht person is in a hostel) in his/her student life. I did... I am sure that you also must've... To be unchanged and untouched by the happenings around you in college would mean you are either:

(a) Demented
(b) Dumb
(c) God

I am sure I can discount the last possibilty. And I am always stand by the notion that nobody's actually dumb... they just lack perspective (yaya... I am a humanist). And if your demented, then please don't visit this site again. Ever.

So, as I was saying... I went through a lot. Mostly on the professional sides. Very few readers of this post would not know what I am talking about. But for their benefit (but primarily my own), let me put it down. You see, I had a job offer from ITC ltd. It had a fat pay package. An excellent mentor (my summer training supervisor) was waiting for me to join his division. I would've been placed quite close to home. And also, I would be using some of the 'technical expertise' and 'analytical skills' that I had gained in the past 4-4.5 years. It was good. In fact, in hindsight it was TOO good for the professional qualifications that I could proclaim to possess. Forget Soft-skills... they go for a six when a company is hedging Lakhs over you.

So I went to Calcutta on the 13th (Damn! :) ) for my final interview (mainly HR). 5 minutes into the interview, I knew they weren't interested. They had seen my grades and had decided. But still they HAD to go over the charade of an interview. Unfortunately for me (... or for the company?) they didn't think that they had ' a suitable profile' and thought they wouldn't be 'able to keep me energised' through their work that they can provide. It took me exactly 30 minutes to recover overall (in the meantime I was chatting up with other ppl)... I was relieved only after calling my Parents and my ITC project supervisor. Their shock was good enough for me.

I spent an amazing evening with the other successful candidates... Sandy, Varun and Aashwit (glad to get to knw u then buddy)... We did the perfect thing possible... Have an amazing dinner at an amazing place (Peter Cat at Park st.) and watched a jhelao bollywood movie (Ek Ajnabee) ..... And I had an epiphany somewhere on the way... I decided that I will NOT willingly step into something that I don't like (unless the pay is fat... but chances of tht happening.. hehe).

All my life, I have been shielded and protected. Both by family... and myself (:D)... But it sucks to have your security blanket snatched away from you. Its actually scary. Also, how does one talk to others with your earlier infectious(?) self-assurance. You grew to become a senior over 5 years. And suddenly you have to be ready to be a junior again. You have to try not to make the same mistakes. Because from now on there will be no hug saying "Peace hai be"... no support system (remember Sandy?)... No reassuring smiles... No juniors timid enough to be afraid of talking about your failed attempt...

There will just be a slap on the back ... "Tough luck man! See ya tommorow morning."

So here I am. In a lurch. I have proudly declared that I shall not be a part of the great Indian IT story. I am sure I will have to struggle to stick with that decision. I think I am ready to do so.

I hope I am ready to do so.

And for all the support... Thank you.

Sniff Sniff... WAAAIIILL!!!BAAWWWLL!!!... Now that I have it out of my system ...

I am going to put up some mast posts soon...

"The Travails of Single South Indian men of conservative upbringing" or "Why we don't get any..."

2005-12-06T01:57:00.001+05:30

Yet another action packed weekend in Mumbai, full of fun, frolic and introspection. I have learnt many things. For example having money when none of your friends have any is as good as not having any. And after spending much time in movie theatres, cafes and restaurants I have gathered many insights into the endless monotony that is the love life of south Indian men. What I have unearthed is most disheartening. Disheartening because comprehension of these truths will not change our status anytime soon. However there is also cause for joy. We never stood a chance anyway. What loads the dice against virile, gallant, well educated, good looking, sincere mallus and tams? (Kandus were once among us, but Bangalore has changed all that.)

Our futures are shot to hell as soon as our parents bestow upon us names that are anything but alluring. I cannot imagine a more foolproof way of making sure the child remains single till classified advertisements or that maternal uncle in San Francisco thinks otherwise. Name him "Parthasarathy Venkatachalapthy" and his inherent capability to combat celibacy is obliterated before he could even talk. He will grow to be known as Partha. Before he knows, his smart, seductively named northy classmates start calling him Paratha. No woman in their right minds will go anyway near poor Parthasarathy. His investment banking job doesn't help either. His employer loves him though. He has no personal life you see. By this time the Sanjay Singhs and Bobby Khans from his class have small businesses of their own and spend 60% of their lives in discos and pubs. The remaining 40% is spent coochicooing with leather and denim clad muses in their penthouse flats on Nepean Sea Road. Business is safely in the hands of the Mallu manager. After all with a name like Blossom Babykutty he cant use his 30000 salary anywhere. Blossom gave up on society when in school they automatically enrolled him for Cookery Classes. Along with all the girls.

Yes my dear reader, nomenclature is the first nail in a coffin of neglect and hormonal pandemonium. In a kinder world they would just name the poor Southern male child and throw him off the balcony. "Yes appa we have named him Goundamani..." THUD. Life would have been less kinder to him anyway. If all the women the Upadhyays, Kumars, Pintos and, god forbid, the Sens and Roys in the world have met were distributed amongst the Arunkumars, Vadukuts and Chandramogans we would all be merry casanovas with 3 to 4 pretty things at each arm. But alas it is not to be. Of course the south Indian women have no such issues. They have names which are like sweet poetry to the ravenous northie hormone tanks. Picture this: "Welcome, and this is my family. This is my daughter Poorni (what a sweet name!!) and my son Ponnalagusamy (er.. hello..).." Cyanide would not be fast enough for poor Samy. Nothing Samy does will help him. He can pump iron, drive fast cars and wear snazzy clothes, but against a braindead dude called Arjun Singhania he has as much chance of getting any as a Benedictine Monk in a Saharan Seminary. '

Couple this with the other failures that have plagued our existence. Any attempt at spiking hair with gel fails miserably. In an hour I have a crown of greasy, smelly fibrous mush. My night ends there. However the northy just has to scream "Wakaw!!!" and you have to peel the women off him to let him breathe. In a disco while we can manage the medium hip shake with neck curls, once the Bhangra starts pumping we are as fluid as cement and gravel in a mixer. Karan Kapoor or Jatin Thapar in the low cut jeans with chhaddi strap showing and see through shirt throws his elbows perfectly, the cynosure of all attention. The women love a man who digs pasta and fondue. But why do they not see the simple pleasures of curd rice and coconut chutney? When poor Senthilnathan opens his tiffin box in the office lunch room his female coworkers just dissappear when they see the tamarind rice and poppadums. The have all rematerialised around Bobby Singh who has ordered in Pizza and Garlic bread. (And they have the gall to talk of foreign origin). How can a man like me brought up in roomy lungis and oversized polyester shirts ever walk the walk in painted on jeans (that makes a big impression) and neon yellow rib hugging t shirts?

Sociologically too the tam or mallu man is severely sidelined. An average tam stud stays in a house with, on average, three grandparents, three sets of uncles and aunts, and over 10 children. Not the ideal atmosphere for some intimacy and some full throated "WHOSE YOUR DADDY!!!" at the 3 in the morning. The mallu guy of course is almost always in the gulf working alone on some onshore oil rig in the desert. Rheumatic elbows me thinks. Alas dear friends we are not just meant to set the nights on fire. We are just not built to be "The Ladies Man". The black man has hip hop, the white man has rock, the southie guy only has idlis and tomato rasam or an NRI account in South Indian Bank Ernakulam Branch. Alas as our destiny was determined in one fell swoop by our nomenclature, so will our future be. A nice arranged little love story. But the agony of course does not end there. On the first night, as the stud sits on his bed finally within touching distance and whispers his sweet desires into her delectable ear, she blushes, turns around and whispers back "But amma has said only on second saturdays..."

Yet another forward I found while cleaning my mailbox.... the whole thing was very 'succinctly' put ... shall we say? :)

Nadir

2005-12-02T19:23:00.000+05:30

I have reached the trough...

The Abyss...

Red roses...

2005-11-26T18:29:00.001+05:30

Each year he sent her roses,
and the note would always say,
I love you even more this year,
than last year on this day.
My love for you will always grow,
with every passing year."

She knew this was the last time
that the roses would appear.
She thought, he ordered roses
in advance before this day.
Her loving husband did not know,
that he would pass away.

He always liked to do things early,
way before the time.
Then, if he got too busy,
everything would work out fine.

She trimmed the stems and
placed them in a very special vase.
Then, sat the vase beside
the portrait of his smiling face.

She would sit for hours,
In her husband's favorite chair.
While staring at his picture,
and the roses sitting there.

A year went by, and it was
to live without her mate.
With loneliness and solitude,
that had become her fate.

Then, the very hour,
The doorbell rang, and there
were roses sitting by her door.

She brought the roses in,
and then just looked at them in shock.
Then, went to get the telephone,
to call the florist shop.

The owner answered, and she asked him,
if he would explain, Why would someone would
do this to her, causing her such pain?

"I know your husband passed away,
more than a year ago,"
The owner said,
"I knew you'd call, and you would want to know.
The flowers you received today,
were paid for in advance.
Your husband always planned ahead,
he left nothing to chance.
There is a standing order,
that I have on file down here,
And he has paid, well in advance,
you'll get them every year.

There also is another thing,
that I think you should know,
He wrote a special little card...he did this years ago.
Then, should ever I find out that he's no longer here, that's the card that
should be sent to you
the following year."

She thanked him and hung up the phone, her tears now flowing hard.
Her fingers shaking,
as she slowly reached to get the card.

Inside the card, she saw that he had written her a note.
Then, as she stared in total silence,
this is what he wrote...

"Hello my love, I know it's been a year
since I've been gone.
I hope it hasn't been too hard for you to overcome.
I know it must be lonely,
and the pain is very real.

Or if it was the other way,
I know how I would feel.
The love we shared made everything
so beautiful in life.
I loved you more than words can say,
you were the perfect wife.
You were my friend and lover,
you fulfilled my every need.
I know it's only been a year,
but please try not to grieve.

I want you to be happy,
even when you shed your tears.
That is why the roses will be sent to you for years.
When you get these roses,
think of all the happiness that we had together,
and how both of us were blessed.
I have always loved you and
I know I always will.
But, my love, you must go on,
you have some living still.

Please...try to find happiness,
while living out your days.
I know it is not easy,
but I hope you find some ways.

The roses will come every year,
and they will only stop,
When your door's not answered,
when the florist stops to knock.
He will come five times that day,
in case you have gone out.
But after his last visit,
he will know without a doubt!
To take the roses to the place,
where I've instructed him
and place the roses where we are,
together once again.

The best poem that has ever been forwarded to me... don't get shocked at me posting senti .. sniff sniff...

Seven nuggets

2005-11-24T07:37:00.000+05:30

Tagged by Chaavi.. who recently turned 21! Happy Birthday!

I found some titles depressing. Like "Seven things i want to do before I die"... made some changes there...

Seven things I want to do in my life:

Buy a house in my native village and make it a retreat
Teach
Run a NGO(not pseudo-socialite types, but touching a few lives)
Organise a complete Family reunion, school reunion........ and hopefully my kgp batch's reunion
Learn to ride a horse and go for a horse-riding jaunt in europe
Learn to fly a plane/glider
Play a musical instrument to my satisfaction

Seven things I can do

Listen
Lie
Work like crazy when required
Sleep like a bum when not required
Finish any book/TV series/Set of movies in one go
Procrastinate endlessly and Plan needlessly
Market/Sell stuff ... (A skill recently discovered)

Seven things I say the most

See... / Dekh...
Aisa kya?
Sahi!
Shit be!
Abe yaar, frust ho raha hoon
Oye, khaane ke liye kuch hai kya?
Chal then...

Seven things I can't do

Keep my room clean
Resist bhaating with friends for many many hours
Diet
Remember birthdays (except a very few)
Flirt
Get a smile off my professor
Understand fashion

Seven things that attract me to the opposite sex

Eyes
Smile
Sensibility
A sense of humour (preferably mine :P)
Poise
Reaction to smaller pleasures in life
Down-to-earth attitude

Seven celebrity crushes

Julia roberts
Preity zinta
Tanushree Dutta
Angelina Jolie
Allison Mack (Chloe sullivan in Smallville)
Keira Knightley
Jessica Lucas (Sue miller in 'Life as we know it')

Seven people I tag

DD (yaar the main post is in draft... will be done this week)
Krishna
KTda
Iyer
Priyanka
Himanshu
Bagru (Saurabh)

Damn!! I thought this would be easy!! :)

Crepuscular

2005-11-24T06:13:00.000+05:30

Tagged by dd.

1. flip open a dictionary and point to a word / get word of the day from dictionary.com
2. type the word into google images.
3. pick an image that strikes you.
4. write a 10 line riff off the image.
5. use the word or the meaning at least once within the first 5 lines.
6. tag 3 other bloggers on your list.

crepuscular \kri-PUS-kyuh-lur\, adjective:
1. Pertaining to twilight; glimmering; hence, imperfectly clear or luminous.
2. (Zoology) Flying in the twilight or evening, or before sunrise; -- said certain birds and insects.

The morning beckon,
with the call of seagull and the shimmering ocean,
timid waves caressing the sand

"Ahh, look at that pa! Those auroral rays!!"
"Not auroral. Crepuscular.", said he.
"Oh, Cre-pus-cu-lar"..... "It's beautiful"

Light stabbing the darkness,
through the wispy clouds spread over the horizon
heralding a new day, a second twilight

"Hmmm, Crepuscular. "

3 people I tag:

Sandy
Chaavi
Iyer

Reminders

2005-11-17T04:09:00.000+05:30

As you can see, I have updated my blog after the longest break yet (just scroll below). And I have missed out on writing about some of the busiest and tumultous days of 'me liph'! So blogs I have to write

Illumination... in full detail
Chaavi's tag
DD's tag (the riff needs to be addressed)
Garba
My new handset
Winter
And few more wisps of thought which I can't quite verbalize yet.

End-sems are coming up... in final year, with one Humanities course and one management course and a 4 day gap between the two technical courses, that means a LOAD of free time!! I am sure I will get myself to do it....

Jai hind! :P

Triskaidekaphobia!!!

2005-11-16T21:15:00.000+05:30

I am generally a pretty sane bloke. Decent habits, concrete beliefs and sufficient abilities. But one blot that I have been unable to rid myself of is that slightest sense of superstition i have. I know, I know... Superstitions are for morons, idiots and George .W .Bush; but nevertheless I have these these moments when hesitation in action occurs just because some vague superstition pops up in my head.

I come from a pretty orthodox family. As in, Amma strongly believes religion and has never been 'away from home' (until she got married obviously, but that was her home then!). And Appa truly believes in the core (true) values of our religion and he HAS been in a hostel environment. So i often am exposed to the myriad set of beliefs and superstitions that our religion has. The most prominent example is the "Rahu kalam". Apparently this time of the day belongs to the demon Rahu (who in one of the mythological tales, swallows the sun). I have lost count of the number of times that we have had to start journeys and reschedule shopping for auspicious occasions due to "Rahu kalam". This is the maximum superstition I permit mother to entertain (or is it?).

Anyway, in this complex human life bound by black cats and sneezes, I have managed to largely avoid most of this tom-foolery. Well... most except the strange uneasiness i associate with the number 13. Yes there it is.... ladies and gentlemen... I am a patient of Triskaidekaphobia (not too severe though). It is defined as:

S: (n) triskaidekaphobia (a morbid fear of the number 13)

Although I wouldn't say that my feeling for the number 13 is 'morbid', it sure exists. I feel this is absurd as the fear of thirteen has started only in the times of christianity. So quite often on the 13th of every month i used to get jittery and would attribute every bad experience of the day to the number. Well, I don't do so now-a-days because i rarely realise what the date is.

But it was not so on the 13th of this month... yes the one that just went by. I had some divine foreboding of the day. I say the clock on my mobile at exactly 12 am of the 13th. And i was like... "Grow up, u moron! Ur 21 now... hmmm 21... 13+8... so i have to look out for 5 years hence... when i will be 26(13 X 2) ... OH SHUT UP!! there is no such thing as unlucky numbers.... why in the name of gaia should god create a number and then make it unlucky????!!!!??? ... one big moron you are... someday i should blog about.. HEY THE LATEST EPISODE OF LOST IS ON THE LAN"

So in that fashion I spent the first few hours of the day oblivious to the impending agony that awaited me. The whole day reaffirmed my beliefs in:

Murphy's law (more fun facts about it)
The old hindi adage: "Bhagwan jo deta hai chappad phad ke deta hai". I find this true for torture and agony also.
"Larger you are, harder you fall" (Old proverb)
There is no "Happily ever after" moments only "after every happy" moment. (Sudarshan, circa 2005)
A blog is like a girlfriend. Fun in the 'fling' stage, but requires maintenance in the long run. (Sudarshan, circa 2005)

Now I shall explain the impeccable logic behind these beliefs from my own experience.

It started with my tonsils... I took a 2 hour nap and when i wake up, my tonsils are the size of africa. The bloody things got in the way of swallowing, drinking and even talking. So i relaxed a bit and hoped it would go off soon. I have had the tonsil problem since a loooong time. But never got it operated due to the bad experience that amma had in her operation (gave her a tinge of double voice). So I forgot about it... and it became something that was hidden under the blanket and instructed never to pop out again. After over 6-7 years, it found this very day to come forth in undimming glory.

So in the afternoon, when i opened GTalk, I noticed my project supervisor in Harvard online (Yes, I am doing an extra project... Husssshhhh .. my guide doesn't know about it). Sudden pangs of guilt struck as I was to give him results this weekend and I had been TOTALLY tied up in academic stuff and also was stuck at one place in the project. So I opened the software, checked the model and started a few runs. And then all hell breaks loose. My UPS stops and I have to wait for 5 minutes before booting the computer. I got totally frustrated with the efforts as the monitor went yellow and I needed a proper colour monitor to do image processing!!

So quit that and went out for snacks. After snacks, I went to the loo and with my hands and feet being all wet, I stopped to talk to a hallmate. I happened to keep one foot on the wall and the other normally on the floor.... Although I made no sudden movements in fact no movement AT ALL, I was in the air... and in a second on the floor. I don't know what did it. 'Cause i swear there was enough traction on that slipper to compete with michellin and I had been standing without moving for 5 minutes..... Anyway there I was ... on the floor.... forcing a smile when the hallmate, half-bemused half-concerned asked me if I was alright.

Yes, I was alright... How could I not be??? I still had the remaining day to face. Then I walk into the room and see a couple of offlines from a close friend. "Hey..." "Just wanted you to know that me and ________ broke up" "happened a couple of days back..." ... I grrroooaaanned my heart out. See... this friend of mine and I had an amazing connection until last year. Both of our lives sucked and we used to be happy that we atleast compete in "World's 10 most suckiest lives!" reality show. Then the latter found a nice relationship and was pretty happy (or recently just seemed to be). And I was really happy (Not because I was the undisputed reality show champion) but because its good to see a friend's life going on well.

So the day trudged on... and i felt pretty morose by the end of it... I had some vague stuff going on in my life too. Actually since then I have slept at such odd times that i forget what happened when... but the above 4 are entrenched in my mind as happening on the 13th.

So what made me write this blog? I opened some friends blogs today and got tagged twice(one by chaavi and other I got myself tagged at DD's).

So I open my dashboard rite? and it says... "A journey to absurdity...." --> 13 posts.... I was flabbergasted ... the longest break in my blogging just when the going was good. And in these past 50 odd days, I have wanted to blog atleast 15 times... 15 different events... Just couldn't get myself to do it... Had work or just forgot...

So I have started writing this post at 9.15 PM ... and its 3.55 AM now. 13 has tried its best to stop me from writing .... with umpteen distractions and one UPS failure... But I saved the drafts... I know the crafty ways of 13. So 13, be warned!! ... The gauntlet has been thrown... please don't hurt me!

Shit happens.

Kar lo duniya mutthi mei...

2005-09-21T10:52:00.000+05:30

Circa 2001, July 14th:

“Hello? Who is this?” …”Sudershan? Dei, Lakshmi chithi here!!” …”Chithi!!!!!! Hi!!! How are u??”… “I am fine. Where is amma? I want to wish her”…”One sec…”…

“AMMMA!!!! CHITHI IS CALLING FROM CHICAGO!!! FAST!!! I AM HOLDING THE PHONE! FASSSTT!!!!”…

“SUDU!! JUST DON’T HOLD THE PHONE!! TALK TO HER! DON’T WASTE THE CALL!!”

“YAYA…So how is everybody??? When are you coming to India next??? I am… Ahh amma’s here”

“LAKSHMI!! HOW ARE U??” …

“MYTHILI????? HAPPY 25th ANNIVERSARY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”……

Just about 4 years back, a call from the US was equivalent to the Indian team making a clean series sweep, Rare. An occasion worth remembrance. Due to this wonderful tam-brahm (or is it?) habit of keeping the volume exponentially proportional to the distance of the caller(or receiver). Neighbours would know one got a call from abroad: “Aaj US se mere sister ne call kiya” …. “haan ji pataa hai. Humne suna”. A whirlwind affair, such call(s) would uproot us from whatever activity we were engaged in and within 5 minutes the call would be over and the whole family would be around the phone. Amma with her hands white with the atta she was kneading. Appa wearing his reading glasses with his office papers in hand. Hema Didi also with her hands white as she was preparing the roti. And of course, your truly had answered the phone (jobless as always).

Circa 2005 September, 5 nights a week

T-r-i-n-g T-r-i-n-g…Gtalk: Call from Amma ( Answer/Ignore… ”Hello? Can u hear me?”…“Ya sudu, we can hear u. Can u?”…”Ya ma, I can. So wassup?” … “…”Nothing specific da. Ananya rolled over today. Hema has taken snaps, we’ll send them soon”… “Sure send them on gmail”…”How are your exams going?” … “3 down, 1 to go on Thursday. Will study later” ... “Appram…” …”nothing else…”

That would be my mother calling from my sister’s place in Florida. She takes care of my niece till didi returned from office. And Appa would call me asking with regard to some financials which have to be taken care off. Often I have spent 40 minutes just trying to listen to my niece’s voice. These calls rarely have content and are just made just so that we can hear each other’s voice. Note the calm conversation in the latter compared to the screaming and bellowing in the former. And I must say the quality of GTalk is far better than direct telephone calls itself.

This is on the international front. On the national front, one man’s dream has literally revamped the telecom industry in the country. Reliance IndiaPhone has revolutionized… well, BF-GF relationships. After both parties buy a reliance phone (a down investment of around 2k-3k each), at Rs.770 per month there is INFINITE talktime. A dear wingies of mine is sharing this phone with another hallmate of mine. So every night, C-123 is seen on the cricket ground in front of the wing, mumbling sweet nothings into his phone… for hours together. This has revolutionized youth relationships in the country. Earlier when fielded the question “Aur, how serious is it getting?”, the reply would be “Quite serious yaar, I call her once in a while”. Now: “Nothing much yaar, Bought a reliance IndiaPhone” and pat comes the reply “Oh that serious eh? Good for you man!”.

The greatly acclaimed telecom revolution both in India and the US in regard to Mobile telephony and Internet telephony, respectively; has changed the way relationships are made, kept and at time, broken. Mothers don’t think so much about sending their daughters to the foreign lands, as they can keep in touch so regularly. Long-distance relationships are the norm of the day. One meeting and a spark flies. So what if she lives across the country, Reliance hai na! Gone are the days when Romeos would have to dodge in the darkness & climb the balcony just to see her face in the moonlit night and hear her voice. Love’s on speed-dial. So is family. So many fathers keep in touch with their kids and spouse over the phone while their touring the world more than the mythological parashuram or odysseus.

So many of these gadgets and technologies which ostensibly are ‘bringing the world together’ and are ‘reaching out to hearts’ are doing more harm than good. There is no replacement for being in the vicinity of a loved one. At this point the pragmatic would disagree with me, saying that it’s not possible ‘these’ days for professionals to be around their loved ones all the time. That the work culture is such that, Dad’s who come in the night to find their kids sleeping and kiss them goodbye in the morning when they leave for work before they wake up, are becoming very common.

Look at Japan. The land of the rising sun too had similar family values compared to India. But the social structure there is abysmal now. In the mindless rush to recover from their inglorious war defeat, the 60s-70s worked their asses off. They indoctrinated their children with the same values and principles that they got from their parents, but they didn’t show them how to adapt those values in the modern sense. The result is the highly dysfunctional families in the country. And sadly, we are heading in the same way, albeit slowly. We have parents who are professionals and stalwarts of their respective fields but, they still want their child answer this question: Engineer or Doctor? There definitely is no panacea for such a plethora of problems, but can't we try? Or will it be too late for our generation? Caught with our pants down in the glare of global limelight?

I hope the Indian family system is stronger and infallible in view of Verizon’s $14.95 monthly calling rates.

A lament for my sore arse...

2005-08-24T06:00:00.000+05:30

I guess nothing mirrors the phases of one’s life better than the way birthdays are celebrated. Although most of us would never remember our first few birthdays, the old yellowing photographs in mom’s dusty little upper shelf would tell us that those celebrations were more for your parent’s friends (and elder siblings, if u had any), than for you. Rarely would your own friends (except those in the same residential colony) be a part of the guest list. The birthday boy/girl would be relegated to the center of the room as a showpiece (not intentionally; it just happens that way). This continues for 3-5 years, depending on how obstinate the child is. It is after attending the parties of a few elder ‘bhaiyas’ & ‘didi’s’ of the colony that the child realizes: Birthdays are the BEST time to blackmail your parents <Buahahahahaha>.

Then our dear li’l angel starts demanding. “Waaaaaaahhhh!!! I want snoopy theme or Tom & jerry theme. I want that Space gun/Birthday Barbie/Thunderbird plane.” etc. The loving parent succumbs to the child’s endearing pranks. Well, most do. But some, like my father, don’t. The best time for having birthdays is when you’re going to school. The whole day seemed special. Right from the second you jumped of your bed (not stumbled of it as usual), it was your day and nothing could get in the way of that. And why wouldn’t it seem so? You will be the only person in the whole class wearing civilian clothing (picked with gingerly care over the past few weeks); you would be distributing toffees to your mates and getting smiles from teachers. I remember one particular birthday (class 8 or so). One bitch of a teacher punished me (made me & other ‘criminals’ in the front of the class) for not brining my textbook. And this after I gave her a toffee!! My classmates were scandalized!! How can a teacher do this to their friend on his birthday!!?? In retrospective, it seems normal. But at age 13, the most important day on your calendar was your birthday (Hmmm, maybe it was because it was my 13th birthday… hmmmmm.). Adolescence also brings in that tremor of hope, during the distribution of chocolates, of having eye contact or a warm handshake from that ‘certain someone’. Of course, all these years, the school will be followed by a nice party at your house in which the guest list would actually comprise your friends.

These school years seem to be a very crucial stage in deciding how a person perceives birthdays for the rest of his/her life. From my VAST experiences in books, movies & TV serials (obviously… what else would I have experience in?), I draw the following conclusions:

If a child has had fairy-tale birthdays around this time and he is unsuccessful later in his/her life, s/he hates birthdays.

If a child has had fairy-tale birthdays around this time and s/he is successful in his/her life, birthdays are still a time to rejoicing and togetherness.

If an unfortunate child rarely experienced birthdays around this time and s/he is successful in life, birthdays are used more a social do than anything else (Mambo No.5!!).

And finally, If an unfortunate child rarely experienced birthdays around this time and s/he is unsuccessful in life, s/he wouldn’t remember which day is his/her birthday.

The past five monsoons in Kharagpur have each given me a different flavour on my birthday. My birthday happens to fall just into the beginning of the year. So, in the first year, I barely knew anybody to celebrate it with. The high point in second year was a luncheon party I gave to around 20 of my first year friends. My wingies barely had any inkling that it was my birthday. Third year onwards the set routine came up. It mainly consisted of a GPL (G***d Pe Laath) at midnight and a nice dinner party in the night. Last year was the first time that I had actually gotten a ‘Proper GPL’. I wasn’t able to sit properly for the next 3-4 days. This year was even worse. As it happens, the Orientation Period (or rather the R***ing period) got over last Saturday (there were 2 rounds of GPLs for that itself) and all my dear juniors were raring to celebrate the first birthday amongst their loved seniors. And that poor old bastard turned out to be me. There were 70 guys wishing me a ‘Happy Birthday, Sir!!’ at exactly 12 o’clock. The smiles on their faces were closer to the devil than Al Pacino can ever get.

So, here I am sitting in an awkward position on my chair trying to complete this post before I go to sleep (on my belly, of course), wondering what lies ahead for me today (3 classes and a lab are amongst them). I have received many wishes (including some touching ‘status messages’) which wish me a great day and an equally joyous life. But I wish all my readers (irrespective of their birth dates) a great day 40-50 years down the line, when we are at the twilight of our lives. May you be surrounded by loved ones and an aura of a life well lived. I wish this with all my heart for all your birthdays.

Signing off with some snaps:

1>3rd bday;

2>10th bday;

3>16th bday(1st yr)

and finally 4>21st bday's beginning

A Sunday...

2005-08-14T16:22:00.000+05:30

It started with a second year knocking my door at an 'unearthly' hour of 5.30 to wake me up for tennis practice. Although I haven't played tennis for over 2 years now, it truly remains my favourite sport. I had slept at 3 am yesterday night, but a promise is a promise. So, I trudged along with a battalion of second years to play tennis. Half an hour into the warmup+practice, there were no regrets of loosing sleep. Tennis seems to be the most enjoyable way of getting into a diet & exercise routine (details on why i am trying to start such a routine, i hope to reveal in another post).

So. Tennis over. Now what? The sun had come up and it was getting quite sultry. I didn't want to sleep immediately after playing, so started watching a few episodes of F.R.I.E.N.D.S and read the paper etc. Around 11 am, I woke up my room neighbour (Nick: Bagru)and we set off to the venue of the weekly Mock-CAT. No,No! Not to give the exam. Merely to get my account transfered to him. You see, Ladies & Gentlemen, I have FINALLY decided that I shall not be appearing for the mandatory exam for those who covet a seats in the IIMs. And parallely, Bagru decided he has more chances to get through CAT than to apply abroad for higher studies. Therefore, we decided that the most economically sensible thing to do would be to switch accounts at the coaching centre. He gets his coaching course at a discount (I did well in the 'discount exams') and I get some moolah which is otherwise stuck in some course.

Even after completing these formalities at the coaching centre and procuring the remaining sets of materials, the weather was very sultry. In fact, it was quite unbearable. I then proceeded for a long over-due haircut. It was when i got out the saloon, that I heard thunders from afar. It had started to drizzle and the drops were falling vertically (literally). For the next hour or so, it felt like there was an impenetrable curtain of rain around us. It was smothering any ember of energy left in me. I hurried up my bath and shut myself in the room for my ritual prayer. Although I hadn't explicitly asked the Lord to make my day better, i guessed he sensed it.

Wisps of cool air started entering my room from under my door. I could actually feel the cool wind first touching my feet and then, as it got more windy, the cool air reached my waist. The room above my waist was still warm and stifling. It was odd. Half of my body was still sweating and confused that the rest didn't feel the same way. And the bottom half propelled me to my door: 'Open sesame'. It hit me. I could actually feel the front of the cold wind sweep through my body. I immediately opened all the windows of the room. A supendous musical piece: Yanni - A face in the photograph; was playing on my computer.

It was heavenly.

It was perfect.

The complete rejuvenation. Just a few minutes back, I was subconsciously praying for this day to end in its existting form. And it happened. I don't intend to take a spiritualistic or rhetorical view on this, but prayers do get answered. Some may say "Hallelujah" and some may cry out "Coincidence". But I don't care. Scientifically, I believe that every event has its own set of probabilistic outcomes. Spritually, I believe that prayer gives us an ability to rejoice when the outcome is desired one and to be stoic when it is not.

I guess that sometimes even the erratic weather of a village can teach you how to find a balance between science and spirit in atleast one facet of life.

P.S. I have been writing this blog with all the windows and door of my room wide open (like in all other rooms of kharagpur, i guess), continously listening to the theme of Bombay composed by Rahman.

My interpretation of dreamers

2005-08-09T03:14:00.000+05:30

Sleep is the quintessential anti-thesis of achievement. None in Human history have left a mark due to their lassitude (except Rip-van-Winkle and Sleeping beauty, but they are fictional). The insomnia that many 'Greats' suffer is legendary. Napoleon would barely sleep when he was at war(which often was for years together). Even Karnad lucidly describes Tughlaq's maddening insomnia which causes him to say:

Sweep your logic away into a corner, Barani, all I need now is myself and my madness—madness to prance in a field eaten bare by the scarecrow violence.

IITs are full of young minds raring to achieve. If there is one common thread which binds all students of IIT, it is the sense of achievement. The achievement of looking at the result of the exam-whose-name-must-not-be-said and exulting in ones triumph. And they know they did not achieve this by sleeping. God (and all the gossiping Aunties of the colony) are the sole witness to the self-flagellation that is required for this exam. I still remember clearly the EXACT 6 hours of luxurious sleep I used to permit myself. This was forcibly increased to 7 hours by my mother towards the end of my preparation. It had its desired effect. I performed decently.

I don't intend to indulge in self-glorification through this post. Rather, my aim is quite the opposite. Once these sleep-deprived, weary-eyed chaps come into the hallowed institutes, they promptly (and quite literally) go to sleep. There are records set by people which would shock freud to think of an alternate world we exist in during our torpid behaviour. I was a proud record holder in my freshman year (17.5 hours) until it was surpassed by a bigger bum (19 hours). And may I explicitly state that these are not alcohol-induced or drug-induced stupors. Quite simply put, we were taking Dr. Kalam's statement, "Dream of a new India", literally.

Even in the institutes, students who sleep marginally(1-2 hours) less than the average(8-10 hours), are the achievers. These are the guys who find time for sports, music drama and academics. But these guys are rare and are worth their weoght in gold. This article deals with the majority of forlorn characters whom one would find around every other corner. Also, I have heard from my friends in their fledging careers and experienced myself (During ITC training), the return to insomnia. Our sleep patterns go back to the standard 6 hour a day. It seems that the fire of achievement is rekindled in every soul who leaves the not-so-comfortable hostels.

I guess by now the reader( yes, that is you my dear fella) would've realised the point I am driving at(or so i hope). The academic "grinding" of the 'Nation's premier institutes' is barely a challenge to any of its students. They would rather choose between curricular and extra-curricular activities. Rarely do both of them co-exist. It is either curriculars+sleep or extra-curriculars+sleep. But sleep/slumber/siesta/naps are irreplaceable. Exam-induced insomnia is an exception at times, but they occur for exactly 40 days in the whole year(and that too not for all). Add to this the 'necessary' dosage of intoxicants and you will get the sons of Dionysus. Therefore the ratiocination is that:

Man's response to challenges or the lack of it can be determined by his sleep patterns (Quote by 'yours truly', 2004).

P.S. The usage of complicated words is to help me imbibe them into my vocabulary

A Bundle of Joy!!

2005-08-03T17:05:00.000+05:30

This post has been repeatedly postponed & it is sacrilege to do so anymore.

So Ladies & Gentlemen,
I would like to introduce you to my new-born niece :

Miss. Ananya Chari

Born on the 26th of April, she is a taurean(Sign : Bull). The personality traits are supposed to be according to the following:

Taureans like to be rooted -- whether it is your environment, work, home or your opinions. Thus you are a picture of stability to some and to others you can be stubborn, with a mind closed to new ideas and a certain unwillingness to change. But it works both ways, you are determined and do not easily buckle under pressure and adversity. You are patient, loyal and caring. Like the bull that represents your zodiac sign, you will be slow to anger but once annoyed, you will rage and turn ferocious.

The saddest part is that I shall not be able to hold her in my arms until the end of next year (most probably), when my sister and her husband come over to India (They are presently in Florida with my parents). More than half of my cousins have seen the child and ME.. Her Mamashri has not his Bhaanji. With all my heart, I curse Kharagpur and its super-tight schedules as the reasons.

Such occasions are one of the few reasons that I never want to settle downhalf the across the globe from my country. This time period of almost 2 years to see her is too much for me to take.

Sniff..Sniff...Sob...Sob...

The little angel sleeps....

Poses with her Grandfather....

A poem...

2005-08-02T02:47:00.000+05:30

I am not much into poems as such... But couldn't resist adding this piece:

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

--Rudyard Kipling

Fare thee well, my friend......

2005-08-01T23:49:00.000+05:30

Farewells are always a tough thing to go through. Going through each day knowing it is one less you shall be spending with some people. Waiting for the appointed day, making a few laughs while getting the baggage ready and if u are lucky enough saying goodbye at the station without any tears. It is this whole process of saying farewell to people whom you hope to rendezvous with in the future. At Kharagpur, like in many other Indian colleges, this season of bidding farewell is in the month of May. I have heard that batchmates who leave last often reprimand themselves for being the last of the 'deserters'.

I say 'I have heard ..' because, I have not seen any of these seasons in my 4 years of stay here. The first 3 years I was always in a hurry to go home and this year, when majority of my batchmates left, I was undergoing a Summer internship. Hence, I missed most of the hugs and tears that are normally associated with farewell. It was more of calling my friends up and realising they are at home or in some cases a wierd 'bangaali' voice picking it up and saying 'Yeh number humne naya kharida hai'. And there it was... the signs of people cutting off their links with the place they called home for 4 years (not that I blame them for selling a BSNL sim card for 1000 bucks)

Still, it didn't hit me until I reached kharagpur after the summers. I walk down the often-trodden paths and fail to recognise anyone. These are all strange faces, unknown faces. I walk into the hall and I missed many of the smiling faces, the swagger in their walk, the simple nod of the head, which meant "Hey! How are u? I'm great!". Then I spoke to a few of my friends and talked to them about jobs, cursed their bosses for them, wished them luck in their new endeavors. And then it sunk in.

It is not the same.

Nothing is.

Nor will it ever be.

I often used to ask myself why don't alumni jump at the chance of coming to their alma mater. I used to meet many of the alumni during sponsorship work for the college festival and all used to get in return to an invitation to Kharagpur was a shrug. Just a shrug. It baffled me. How can a guy, who can part with a few bucks for his college and also does have the time to visit, simply shrug of a visit? It baffled me... until today.

Any home is not a home without its memories. All those starry-eyed boys, who entered these hallowed halls of knowledge and left with fire in their eyes, grew up here together. They lived, ate, laughed, cried and left together. For them coming back to these buildings of mortar and stone without their comrades is simply not worth it. For they learnt more from their brothers than they learnt from the grey-haired professors.

Hence it is time, for me(and my remaining wingies) to bid a fond farewell to all our dear friends. And hope that we shall meet again. For it is only hope that remains in the box.

Farewell

Indian Tobacco Company Ltd.

2005-06-30T23:55:00.000+05:30

For exactly 51 days now I have been working on a very interesting project under the aegis of ITC Ltd. The past 51 days have not only given me a clear insight into the workings of a big successful organization but has made me realise many things about my abilities and limitations. Also it has given me lots of cud to chew in terms of "Life as we know it..." . I am currently at the final phase of my project work (Making reports and presentations), so I shall write in detail about all these experiences at a later stage ( I am sure my non-existent fan club is anxious about this :D ).

Also, I am planning to put up another secondary blog dealing mainly with some current topics in Business and technology. This will be mainly for my own benefit as maintaining a sensible blog will take persistance and in-depth knowledge, both of which are not exactly my domain of expertise.

Until then... aloha

Ergo

2005-03-31T05:04:00.000+05:30

A Boulevard of broken dreams.
A phrase stolen shamelessly,
from a ballad for the lonely.
Not subtle.
Not accusing.
But a true one, nevertheless.

We all walk down this boulevard
finding bits and pieces.
Bits and Pieces and Fragments.
Of dreams, Of fantasies,
Of hope, Of confidence,
Of the Heart.

Yes!
The wicked heart.
A heart which grants life...
A heart which guides life...
A heart which cajoles life,
in the amber of its warmth.

But alas!
Alas, for those souls!
Souls whom this very heart led astray.
Souls who still are trapped in the sepulchure
The sepulchure of Truth
The abyss of Perception
The labyrinth of Love

Think using your heart, they say
the hallowed heroes of yore
DO WHAT IS RIGHT!!!

Right???
RIGHT???
Right & wrong.....
Dark & Bright....
Joy & sorrow....
Black & White?
or is it
White & Black?
While the bourgeois haggles on these,
The neo-enlightened say:
NAY! Its Grey!
Grey as the moors of the north,
Grey as the skies of the havens,
Grey as life itself!

But why does the heart see no grey?
It sees only Black & White or White & Black..
through glasses, coloured rose.

Why does it lead a man into a journey?
A journey which never ends.....
A journey which abrubtly ends.....
A journey which, i am sorry, never begins.....

And think using your heart, they say...

The City of Joy.........

2005-03-05T04:13:00.000+05:30

Statutory warning: Some parts of the following passage is going to be written, emulating what i call, Iyer-style-description. Those who are allergic to the above mentioned person's writings please skip those segments!

The trip had only one purpose. To reach the National Bureau for Soil Sciences(NBSS) and collect the soil data for the watershed that I am working on. I was completely sponsored by the project of Ministry of Water resources under my Guide. That was one respite as I took up this ordeal. I was supposed to leave by the 6.35 AM local. I have this particular thing w.r.t morning trains. I am so confident that I will miss them that I don't sleep the previous night. So i followed the same tradition and put a nite-out. I left at 6.05 AM. Did not find a cycle rickshaw in sight. Walked towards the gate to find this 'typical' boozed-out-english-speaking rickshaw-wallah. I quickly bullied him into accepting Rs.25 only to the station and set out. I had to regularly spur him to go faster as I didn't have time: "Dada thoda jaldi jaayeeye". Pat came the reply: "No worry, sir. We take IIT student many time. Aapke time train mein pahunch jaayenge". Aapke time train??? Hmmmmmmm. He somehow got me to the station at 6.30. Now the problem was he didn't have change for a 50. So i had to roam arnd get some change and pay him. All the time the thankless bugger would keep directing me to different places where I could get change.

Now the best part. The ticket counter. I rushed in the station like a madman, panting away to glory towards a counter barely gasping out the words "Howrah-gasp-ticket-gasp-gasp-express". All I was met with was a stoic expression and a droll reply "Tickets at counter 9". Thankfully counter 9 was empty but I had just heard some commotion from there a minute back. I reached there in a less-panting state and asked for the ticket. Now the Aunty-ji in the counter was chewing her paan with her eyebrows crunched up apparently because of some anger she had just shown towards somebody and her mouth letting out a rapid set of bengali-scold-words. I told her: "Madam, express ticket deejiye Howrah ke liye.". The scoldings did not stop. The announcement for the train started: "203 Down Midnapur-Howrah local is coming on platform No.6". I prodded her further: "Madam, train aa gaya hain, jaldi kariye"..... "madam jaldi!!! Ek howrah ke liye express ticket".Her eyes settled on me and she asked me in a tone which could be called more a bark than human speech: "Kaunsa express... kaise maang liya koi bhi express... aise kaise koi bhi express... naam bolo"....... "Madam, pleeaasseee... train aa raha hain!!!! ... " .... "203 Down Midnapur-Howrah local is coming on platform No.6" ...... "Madam!!!"..... "Yeh tho local hain ... isme mein express ka ticket nahin milega"....... I was DUMBFOUNDED. I am ready to pay Rs.44 instead of Rs.22 to get onto a local with a express ticket and here was this creature trying to stop me. My limited(rather self-permitted) vocabulary of gaalis offered its help. I refused the help and told her: "Theek hain local ka ticket deejiye"...... "Ab local ka ticket maang rahe ho..."..... she types in something.... "Aise kaam chalta hain kya ".....the printer started making whirring sounds..... "Tum tho IIT ka student ho itna tho pataa hona chahiye"...... The ticket at hand and wallet in another, I dash to the platform No. 6... A 'gentleman' tells me at my start point, that the train is at Platform 2. My confused and confounded mind decides to take me to Pf.2.......... run.... huff...puff... gasp gasp... I could hear my heart thumping like the beats in a trance song (complete with the whoooosshshhh effect). i reach Pf.2............ "203 Down Midnapur-Howrah local is coming on platform No.6" ..... AAAAArrrrggghhhhhhhh (pronunciation key in previous post)... huff ... puff.... more stairs... gaaaaassspppppp........ I am above platfrom 6 now... and .. and .... and... the train is sliding away... looking at it taking up speed rapidly... i gave up climbing down the stairs itself.... "DAAAAMMMNNNN!!!!!" ... it was pretty deep-throated.. enough to wake up the beggar who was sleeping beside my feet.....

"Should I kill the fat lady?"..... "Maybe I could go upto her and have a verbal combat"....."Maybe I could go and stand in front of her and make her realise that I missed my train" .... with every thought my enthusiasm for having my revenge waned..... Anyway... A sympathetic passer-by informed me that there was another local in 20 min..... I waited... boarded that train.... and was finally off for Cal!!...

Now that is a totally different story.........................................................

Of hangovers....

2005-02-19T15:59:00.000+05:30

Aaarrrggghhhhhhh!!!!!!!
{Pronunciation key:
A -> as in shouting... AAAAaaaa
a -> the fallout in shouting... AAAAaaaa
r -> the tongue flapping 'r' in Rrrumble
g -> the gagging sound in the neck while chocking... "G-ollum"
h -> more for creating the wind effect after the 'g'
}

That was my first reaction when i woke up today morning(rather as my neighbour just pointed out from behind my back... it was noon). For those who know me, rest assured I haven't given up my life as a teetotaler. This was after a marathon day of an exam, cricket(the gulli waala version), Lord of the rings and computer gaming. Although I have never experienced the excesses caused by alcohol, I have often wondered about why it is such a popular...... timepass/vice/hobby? It often beats me. You pay for it. It makes you act and behave abnormally. And if it is in excess then it simply refuses to stay in your body and makes its presence felt in the outside world once again. But the part which most baffles me is the hangover. I have read many-a joke, limerick and anectodes about hangovers. Also, I have seen people around me wake up to such a world which, in one person's view makes you feel like a " feather just 'hit' by a train.". It hits you, makes you lose your bearing and then even when the event is over, you are barely floating back down with no control over when you will land.

And forget booze, there is a substance of higher level, lower cost and easier access. Marijuana a.k.a Pot a.k.a Gaanja. The people who wake up after a night session with it seem to hate themselves for ever having stopped the session. There is this particular friend of mine whose way of celebrating the post exam period (Post exam, not Post exams.... During exams but after a paper) is a round of pot. He is often very irritable(Called Chid-chida in colloquial tongue) the next day. He has shown me some research papers on the net which state tht pot is not harmful hallucinogenic drug and all such crap.... apparently that is why they are legalising it in many places....

So, I initially I was just wondering what exactly is a hangover??? Is it just the toll any intoxicating substance takes on the body? As in : "You were not supposed to feed me stuff like this now look how i screw your morning!" sort of a reaction or just a psychological thing of being dragged back into the real world after a roller-coaster ride the previous night.....

Readers, Please do enlighten me...

So much for my hangover though. :)

A Beautiful morning......

2005-02-09T02:50:00.000+05:30

Pudhu vellai mazhai indhu pozhingindrudhu....
Indhu kollai nilla udhal nanaighindrudhu....
Indhu solladha iddam koodai kullindrudhu...
Manam sondhala idam thedi allaihindrudhu....

Yeh haseen vadiyan...
Yeh khula aasmaan....
Aa gaye hum kahaan...
Oh mere saathiya....

These are the lyrics of the song tht was playing in my head(from the film Roja) this whole morning.

I didn't sleep the previous night.It was more due to the reason that I didn't feel sleepy than anything else. Then early in the morning (a time wisely called Brahmamuhurtam), a friend(dept. mate) of mine and myself decided to go to cheddi's(a 24 hr canteen) to have tea and crib abt our lives....

Yes... cribbing about our lives... As to how it was a foul moment in our lives when we wrote away 5 yrs of our life to a set of hypocritical and macheivellian humans we call "Professors of
Agriculture and Food engg, IIT kgp". To crib as to how it was unfortunate that we were in a field which had only 500 applicants for GATE, hence making a basic preparatory book unavailable ( the publishers see no profit in a gate book for agri ). To crib as to how we have been wronged by the system......

The system... isn't it always 'the system' or 'them/they' who are to blame for all those professional milestones we could not achieve.... Please do not get me wrong, this monologue has nothing to do with GATE ..... It is about finding a lacuna in your life and realising that everyone has it and it will never be filled, only ignored satisfactorily.......

As usual we cribbed... but this time there was a difference ... what that difference was,I shall not say now... nor anytime soon... what came out of that difference in attitude only time will tell...

But as the golden rays of the sun slanted down to the hallowed lanes of my(our) campus, it brought back a warmth and a sense of possibility along with it... It was as if the shafts of light were sent not to pierce the darkness but to caress the luminesce.

Then we walked back the paths to our rooms... and the beauty of the road, which had been so proudly, elegantly and hopefully been named "Scholar's avenue", was overwhelming. It was as though it was a path not to the same old dreary dorm rooms, but the road to neverland.... yes, neverland. A neverland which is as individual and unique to every person as the love of a father for his child.

The rain from the previous night had washed away the dust and tiredeness from the leaves and branches of the trees and bushes. It had suckled the tender grass on the roadside. It was as if it was mother nature herself catching hold of my finger and guiding me through the roads. In the honour of the moment the trees seemed like proud knights. each shining in their own armour of greenery and vitality.

I walked with my buddy till near his hall. stood there for sometime and took breaths of the air which seemed like ambrosia ripened to its prime. At that point the cretin had to make a 'joke'
which took me out of my trance.

The return journey to my room was not so etheral. but for the first time that i remember, my heart rang out clearly in a baritone (my chords responding to their best :D ).

It is a morning which I hope every person on the planet experiences, and if possible with his/her loved ones.....

So it begins...

2005-02-08T01:35:00.000+05:30

Dunno how long and how consistently it will go on..............