And Sambha asked for mercy...

PJ's of all PJ's ...

Gabber: Kitne Aadmi they.

Sambha: Sardar Do,

Gabber: Mujhe ginti nahi aati. Do kitne hotey hain?

Sambha: Sardar Do Ek ke baad aata hai.

Gabber: Aur Do ke pehle?

Sambha: Do ke pehle Ek aata hai.

Gabber: To beech mein kaun aata hai?

Sambha: Beech mein koi nahi aata.

Gabber: To fir Dono ek saath kyon nahi atey?

Sambha: Do Ek ke baad hi aa sakta hai, kyonki Do ek se bada hai.

Gabber: Do ek se bada hai? Kitna bada hai?

Sambha: Do ek se Ek bada hai?

Gabber: Agar Do ek se ek bada hai to ek ek se kitna bada hai?

Sambha: Sardar, Maine tumhara namak khaya hai, mujhe goli mar do

Practice makes man Perfect.... Bangalore??

I was raised in an environment where one amongst the many rules of life were "Practice makes man perfect". I was told that this rule will make me become a better person in all aspects of life, personal, professional and as a part of the "society".

And guess what? As I stand now decades down and beyond the realms of those rules, I find that probably I myself am the only person who knew these golden rules. There are examples aplenty around me. Better person, in all aspects of life, personal, professional and as a part of the "society", all that I became and this came with its own entourage of irritation and frustration.


The one thing that glares right on my face is the surroundings, the things that affect my daily life.

In Part one of this series:

For example:

Take the case of this shit-hole organization people call BMP aka Bangalore Municipal Corporation, and all its offshoots (read CMC etc.) They have been laying the roads, or the contractors have been laying the roads for so many decades. The roads laid afresh and the ones which have a new layer of metal on it, don't in anyway suggest that these people are in this job for so long. Practice makes man perfect!! You ride you bike/drive your card on these and you can feel the road surface as if your surf riding on a wave of metalled road. They are far from even and smooth but atleast better than 0.5-1 foot deep and 2-3 foot long craters for which the euphemism here is "Potholes". Yeah the wiki says that LA is famous for it, doesn't mean we hsould be proud of giving it run for its name.

There are so many flyovers under construction in Bangalore. Under construction, yes well atleast for the last 3-4 years and for will be for the next 2-3 years. Take any flyover, the one at SilkBoard junction, one Jayadeva Hospital; name any and you have many. Most of them have only purpose, to dramatically decrease the transmit time for that junction/crossing. In effect they are just means to dislocate the traffic jam; pick up the traffic jam from this end and dump it on the other. Silk Board, there's traffic jam At Bommnahalli and at Madivala. Jayadeva, there's traffic jam on Bannerghatta Rd. Things were atleast better on Banenrghatta Rd earlier. If not great atleast a bit better!

Take the drains. Every monsoon they de-silt the drain. Every monsoon!! Yes every monsoon. So is there so much of loose soil? No exactly. They de-silt the drain, remove the trash in the drain and dump it next to the drain. So a wild gush of wind blows off some of that silt into that de-silted drain. Come a shower and most of it goes back to its source, the drain.

Pareto Analysis holds well in all the domains. 80% of the problems are due to 20% of the causes. I listed three of those 20%.

I should better leave for home. It takes me 45 mintues to 1 hours to go back home, 13.76 kilometers. Later than now would mean getting stuk in traffic jam for hours and hours.

Thanks for my iPOD I'm still sane and not yet afflicted with road rage.

Hit where it hurts the most...

A forwarded e-mail best served on the platter of public buffet than a personal serviced e-mail ...

The pusillanimous, inept, to be damned in hell Government and the vociferous citizens.
The bombs leaving public in tatters and the country weeping, while the politicians cry about Peace and wot not.
De-weed the garden. Hit the root.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Have a few minutes to read this!!
GOOD MORNING FRIENDS!!!


I am an Indian citizen. One among 1 billion of us. When somebody bombs
us we die. Just like Americans did when the Al Qaeeda drove their
planes into the WTC. Just like Londoners did when terrorists attacked the
city last July.
But while Americans have the right to retaliate and bomb Afghanistan
offt the face of the map because the terrorists HQ was based there, we
Indians have to negotiate, talk, send peace buses, and "build confidence"
with the government across our border - the Pakistanis who are
supporting the terrorists with money and explosives.

The world applauds how resilient we are in the face of our tragedy, how
quickly we go back to "normalcy". Ironically we ourselves applaud our
resilience. The fact is that the world expects us to be less than human
- hey you fella, so what if you lost your colleague, friend, partner,
husband, wife or brother, get on with it old chap, that's it my boy! No
time to mourn. No time to fume and rail at the injustice being meted
out, no time to even call the terrorists the filthiest of names, no time
to give incompetent politicians and policemen, intelligence agencies
and the powers-be a piece of our mind. (Shivraj Patil, our honourable
honourable minister said something to the the effect that we knew that an
attack was planned but we didn't know the time and place. Really! What
did he expect - a phone call from the terrorists giving him the details
of the local trains, timings and compartments in which the explosives
would be kept !)

We also have to prove to the world that we are RESILIENT. Be happy with
Musharraf's "quick condemnation" and go back to the business of dealing
with old betrayers. After all we cannot "change the region's positive
course", as LA Times' editorial put it. So what if a few hundred Indians
die - Indians who are not into big time negotiations. Indians who just
want to earn their
living and return home to their families after a hard day's work.
But well no, Musharraf and his terrorist friends will deny them the
luxury of going back to his family because en route the train blows up!
And our incompetent politicians and policemen will let terrorists do
their horrific jobs and launch a hunt post-facto...
So Bombayites died for a cause: for the peace of the region! As did
Delhi-ites last year before Diwali. As did people in Bangalore when
Pakistan-supported terrorists hit the city. As did Indian tourists who had
gone to Srinagar for a holiday....And as will many many more will
die...Wow, that's some consolation!

If you feel as angry about what's happening to us, please feel free to
pass this on. If your reaction is: "hey nothing is going to change -
this is India," feel free to delete the mail!

I will be proud to call me an Indian if India crushes so called
"foreign powers" like Isreal did, like USA did ....

Blasted Bliss...

So right now as I write this post, I am sitting at Gate 4 of the Tucson's International Airport.
Though my flight is at 3:15 pm I came here early. Well too early at 1:30pm. So what do I do to kill time. Open up my laptop, the one I bought from my own earnings (this is the best of the best part), and connect to the Wi-Fi enabled airport. Start up the Rise of Nations game and listen to the title music, at full volume. The music blasting its way out of the meager earphones. "Lemme out!" Next to me is and empty seat which very efficiently is the place where my can of Soda is drooling. Water dripping from its sides...

Sip of soda.
Scribble some line on this post.
Enjoy the RON music - blast...
Check out the babes in the Airport lounge at Gate 4.

And this one hot female sitting just right opposite to me, is an awesome masterpiece, an epitome of God's craft with beauty. That red hair when she moves them away from here face towards her ears. That glittering white teeth. Those dimpled smiles...

She must be in her early 20s. I can bet a zillion on that.

Man I can wait here, sit and watch here all day long. Years over years ... day after day 24/7 365 days an year.

Two seats left of her is this another lady. I don't feel about her the same way I feel about the angel like sweet lady. And this lady is wearing a handkerchief around her waist. Well you can call it a mini skirt, may be micro skirt but that all would be doing injustice to all these adjectives.

And then she crosses her leg and ....

A whole storm blows over me.

I can see right through the freeway all till the other end of tunnel.
Pun Not intended. Though her thighs are as smooth and even as a freeway which has been smeared with butter.

Drip!... Oh yeah my soda and my post...

Its has been 1 hour 15 minutes like this. My guardian angel is still with me and so is the messenger from satan. Trying to lure my eyes away from my angel inviting to me cheap wordily visual effects and dramatization of those thighs rubbing against each other. I just wonder what she would be like!


Darn that soda...

Too much of that aerated drink and my stomach swells like anything and that my bladder swells like it has elephantiasis. I will have to take a break. Pee or Poo depending upon which one has an urgency to blow up.

PPeoeo.

That's literally what I did, spelt the way I did . Did both simultaneously.

And I come back to see that my fantasy world is in shambles. A city of dream made with labor, where each and every brick smells of the sweat that had gone into making it, lies in ruins.

My angel has gone, the damned satan's messenger vanished. And there's somebody sitting where I has once enjoyed the view of my kingdom.

Anyways it is time to board the flight. Hope I meet the angel and messenger in the aircraft. Three seats in a row.

Left my angel, right the messenger.

Pointless point?

I read this discussion on point on one of my firend's blog. I subscribe to his views but see it in a different perspective.

Any and all points can be fixed point or a floating point.

Consider Case 1:

Our petite point is a fixed point.

The fixed point mathematics say that a point that makes f(x)=x is a fixed point. If this fixed point has dimensions and is pregnent with other points then this argument fails, as then the function will map to many points inside a single point and become a one to many mapping. Since the function f(x) is one-to-one function this cannot be true. Ideally it should not be a mapping, one-to-one or one-to-many or many-to-many as it doesn't map to a smallest unit but a space
consisting of this smallest unit!

Consider Case 2:

Our petite point is a floating point.

Well floating points are just a representation of the real world fixed point in digital world. So the same argument hold here too.

Q.E.D

I always loved to scribble Q.E.D. My Quite Easily Done attempt.

Having confidence is good, but having too much of it is catastrophic. I knew that, and knew that very well. But I learnt it the hard way, though this time it wasn’t catastrophic.

I came to Tucson, Arizona on an official visit for 4 months. Being this guy that I am, crazy about driving, I wanted to get my driving license as soon as possible so that I can hit the road ASAP. My colleague advised me that the written test for the instruction permit is easy and anyone can clear the test. At this point I’d like to say that I have driven car in India and that too in my dad’s absence. He doesn’t really appreciate that we (my brother and me) drive the car as he will loose his authority on the car and will not be able to drive as frequently as he is now. He started driving at the age of 12 and is too good at it, having driven a Premier Padmini from Rajkot to Guahati.

So I took my colleague’s advice and just flipped the pages of the manual provided by the DMV(Motor Vehicle Division) . That was easy: red light, green light, signal and turn all that I already knew. I thanked my colleague for his insight into the test and went ahead with my zeal to get the license. I went to the DMV paid the fee and sat for the test.

While I was waiting I overheard a mom asking question to her kid “What’s the speed limit in Residential areas?” 25 mph, that’s too easy. I thought why is the mother so worried about the test? Anyways I was confident I would pass this test with flying colors. The guy gave his exam and told his mother the news she dreaded and didn’t want to hear. She yelled “You flunked again!” Poor guy I thought, only if the parents could be a little more understanding. This is not the end of life, she shouldn’t shout at the kid like that.

There were 30 Q’s in all. First 20 questions were easy; I had already read the manual. My score was looking good 20 out of 20. Then the downhill journey started.

Q: What’s the alcohol percentage in blood allowed if you are under 21 years of age.
My answer: 0.08% (0.04 % for commercial license)

Wrong! What? The manual said these figures and I knew it. But unfortunately I didn’t know that legally under 21 years of age one is not allowed to drink! How am I supposed to know that? Later I found that this was given in the manual but in last few pages which I did not read.

Q: If the school bus has extended stopped sign then which traffic must stopped.
My answer only the traffic in the same direction should stop.
Wrong. Again! Well actually the traffic in both directions must stop if the roadway is undivided; else if there is physical separation like a median then only the traffic traveling in the same direction must stop.
The question was ambiguous.

Few more silly blunders and I failed the exam. All that I had to do was get 24 correct out of 30. I got only 23 correct. I was surprised and angry at the colleague’s advice.

After a few more days of preparation I went back again to give the test (one is allowed to take the test 3 times for 1 time payment of the fee). This time the line the manual “What is the correct thing to do depends on the situation” and DUI screwed me up.

Q: If there is a car on the on-ramp of the freeway what should you do?
My answer: I thought. Well you must move left one lane, but if it full of traffic and you can’t get in, then slow down. Speeding up might not be always possible and is risky. I got my answer.

Wrong. Move left one lane.

Q: On a freeway what should you do if an emergency vehicle is behind you?
My Answer: Give right of way, stopping might not always be possible. What if you are on the leftmost lane of the freeway, it is possible that you cannot stop and you don’t cut across all the lanes to get off the road on the right.


Wrong. Stop on the side of the road immediately. Aargh! Why do I have to think and give all the reasoning? Why can’t I give just straight simple answers?

Q: What are penalties for excessive DUI?
I don’t know, I just didn’t read that section.

Q: What are the penalties for refusing a DUI test?
I know it is my bad day. Next Question please.

Q: What are the alcohol limits for DUI?
I clicked next! What an idiot I am, I skipped that question. I knew the answer.

I am royally screwed by my reasoning and DUI.

This was the second time that I had failed and that there was only one more chance or else I’ll have to pay the fee once again. This was enough. I was so much pissed off and feeling so low that I can’t explain. I had cleared all my semester exams in my engineering in first attempt. I had cleared all the exams all the way form class 1 to class 12 in first attempt. I had scored well in all the exams in my PG. And where I failed is this stupid written test.

I made my resolve to beat it this time.
I geared myself up with a notepad, a marker, a pen and all the other stationary.
I prepared as I would had prepared for my end-semester in my undergrad. Making notes, revising notes. Drawing pictures to illustrate the concept and what not.

This third time was the last time and I was desperate to get my license and to see the tires hit the road.

30 Questions. Min required: 24 correct.

First 20 questions, all correct. This was a relief. I had to get only 4 more correct to the get the things going.

21st correct
22nd correct
23rd correct
24th correct

The stupid screen then showed the result that I had passed the exam. I so much wanted to break that monitor. I wanted to score 30 out of 30. What if I incorrectly answered the 30th question? I wanted to show that I can get 30 correct. But his was just a machine oblivious of any human emotions it was condemned to do the same this again and again, a monotonic boring ritual.

It was a good feeling to get the license. The very next day I and my group of colleagues planned a trip to Grand Canyon, 688.8 miles round trip. And I drove for approximately 350 miles. It was so much fun.

But I realized it too late that I was too confident of clearing the exam that I flunked it twice. And the brighter side of the experience is that even 2 months after taking the test I still know all the rules and penalties!

BTW, one person who had the most fun out of my experience was my elder brother. He laughed and laughed when I told him the first time that I failed. He just couldn’t believe me. And when I told him that I had failed for the second time, it was too much of a hilarious thing for him. So every now and then he’d taunt me “So how much time do you need to understand this? After all you failed the exam 2 times!”. “Did you get his? I know it is difficult for you, you had to take 3 attempts to understand the DMV manual.” I know this thing between us will remain for a long time.

Grand Canyon snaps

I'm not an Indian!

Yes, I'm not an India, atleast that's what everybody says, even though I live in India, even though I was born in India, even tough I have lived 26 long years of my 26 year long life in India.

Not that I like to sneak away to US of A like those gujjus or punjabi's or those gulti's and hence want to prepare myself to be that way.

BTW all my gulti friends have just one ambition in life, to go an settle in USA. Ask them a question "Why?" It helps you get good girls for wives. It helps you get good dowry. What a gulti if haven't settled in USA. Man! One heck of source for drain, I mean brain drain.

Back to where I started. So why am I not an Indian? Simple, because I do not subscribe to the passions and interests, well actually the primary interest, of any and all Indians. The passion that cuts across all boundaries of caste, wealth, literacy and all the barriers we have for ourselves in here. I am not bitten by that bug. I am not ready to waste my day. I am not a fanatic who can spew statistics to either show how much an ardent follower I am or to show that I am more neck deep into this than any other. This is not my past time and this is not of my liking.

I don’t like to watch cricket.

I don’t like to watch cricket, even if it a one-day against the arch rivals India and Pakistan. I am least interested in cricket. To be true I cannot hold a bat and make an attempt to connect the bat to the ball. I an not interested in fielding. I’m not lazy, I play soccer. I do not like to gather that leather ball, or catch it.
I hate to waste 8 hours of my day watching cricket on TV and rest for whatever is left in that day to give rest to my eyes.

To me cricket is a game in where 22 idiots play and 22 million idiots watch.

So I’m not an Indian.

I still remember those days, when I was a kid. And if you are a kid who has an elder brother who’s crazy about cricket, then your life is doomed.

Summers, month of May. I come back from school, eat my lunch and about to jump into my bed to take that afternoon nap. And bang! Someone threw a ball at me. It hit my forehead and I hear your elder brother scream “Get up lets play cricket” Saying no is not an option. He has a bat in his hand and believe me being beated by a bat is worse than hell. So I reluctantly move on. Go outside the house, its terribly hot.

No No. Don’t even think about batting. It is always the same I have to ball first. Get the elder bro out and then beg for my chance to bat. So I would ball, swinger leg cutter or what ever I used to call them. And I had great stamina in balling. I used to ball for one to one and half hours continuously, while my brother used to have great time polishing his batting skills. By the way the batting end of the wicket was always fixed and was always in the shadow of the house. So I guess it would also be comforting and not traumatizing as balling with the sun shining on my head.

So I would ball for couple of hours. If I was lucky I would get my brother out.

Form here there are so many uncertainties.

- If he agrees that he is out, without saying anything, which was rare, I would get a change to bat for few minutes.

- Most of the time I had to prove to him that he was out and I was my chance to bat. And it was rare that I would win an argument and bat.

- This was the most common. If I bowl him out he used to run after me holding that bat high in the air, like a samurai wielding his sword. He would run after me yelling that how dare I bowl him out. And then I would run anywhere I could shouting for help, crying. And since my brother was more of a sports-person he would out run me corner me. And then whatever happened is history.


I don’t like cricket. I’m not an Indian.

Advice for you Mr. Singh.

So the President of largest democracy decreed, upon recommendation from the party in government adn electio commision, that Jaya Bacchan be suspended from the Raja Sabha as she was holding an office of profit.

So many allegations and deliberations on what is an office of profit and what is not, an office from which one draws/ does not draw salary even though the office pays to other office bearers or same rank... Blah... Blah…

Smajwady Party, particularly Amar Singh came out in the open yelling that there are 44 cases of people holding an office of profit and also being a member of Rajya Sabha/ Lok Sabha. Pardon me Mr. Singh, did you say that others also fall in the same group so this suspension is wrong?

Well since when has being bad been good because the guy next to you is also bad? Maybe you are in politics, so that’s why this weird thing makes sense to you. But to me that’s a chickens way out to saying that ‘Don’t blame me, I'm innocent, others also are too deep in this scam’.

Accept on the face value that crime is a crime and not a good thing just because there are so many criminals.

So Finally ...

So Finally I'm back here.
Last time that I have been off blogging for so long for the first time Or it's the first time that I've been off blogging for the last time. Whatever. Which time it may be. But i'm back.

Last 9-10 months have had been very strenous. With the project complexity rising like the Sensex and the deadlines narrowing down like the summer stream. Life is indeed tough. The pain was equal if not more than the labor pain. The effort none-the-less more.

Jan'06 was spent staying back in office late in the night. Yawing and cursing the bug on which I somehow kept working. In fact I would realize the next day that I was making more mistakes than I was correcting! But the fun of working late was that there was nobody to interrupt you every now and then with thier problems. Not because I don't want to help them or that I am scared that I do not know the solution, but because that a little more effort would have had the solution yelling on their face "Bugger See its me. I'm here. I am the solution to your problem!". Anyways I'm not afraid to admit that I don't know something. In fact I like to hear me say that I don't know something 'cause that makes me think why? And I work upon to make sure that the next time I have something to say on that problem. So much for self praise!

So now when the project neared completon, I thought I can take some time off and rest, but I was shipped off. There again the same thing started all over again except that its a little bit less hectic here!

And you are bang on target. Won yourself jackpot for guessing it right. That's the reason why I'm here with a new post now, which still looks like a disfigured and spaghetti like scribbling on a toilet paper!

Harried Harry

Full 2 days at work, not much but as many as 16 hours. Very efficiently flushed down the drain.

And when Professor Trelawney draws all those unfortunate cards life can't be easy. While I drooled on Harry and his adventures with the Half-Blood prince, my team lead was calcualting the productivity indicies for everybody in the team. No wonder my index would have mounted the FireBolt and made a nose dive.

Thank God there were builds to do. Start 4 builds to run sequentially and I have 6 hours of free time.

So Harry started his new session at Hogwarts.

Adava Kevadra.

She killed the Professor. That bitch. How could she? How could she kill Dumbledore? Weren't many other worthless people to die than Dumbledore?

Ah but yes; ofcourse the hero of the story is Harry, how could he share his glory his delight of Killing Voldemort. How could she let him, the hero, share the success with anybody, even it was Dumbledore.

I wouldn't be amazed to see Lupin, Tonks, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and many others; all of them die in Harry's quest.

And yes it would be friends who laid down their life for a good cause. They'll be remembered till the Wizardly world exists. But why couldn't the story be so written to have them alive?

Rowling you leave me growling.

Teddy, Mickey and Donald

I hate Teddy especially when he's a Bear.
I hate Mickey especially when he's a Mouse.
I hate Donald especially when he's a dick. Oops! Duck!

This was funny...

Have a nice day!
* Achcha din lo!

What's up?
*Uupar kya hai?

You're kidding!
*Tum bachcha bana rahe ho!

Don't kid me!
* Mera bachcha mat banaao!

Yo, baby! What's up?
* Beti Yo, uupar kya hai?

Cool man!
* Thandaa aadmi!

Don't mess with me, dude.
* Mere saath gandagee mat karo, ek husti.

Check this out, man!
* Iski chaanbeen karo, aadmi!

She's so fine!
* Woh itnee bedaag hai!

Listen buddy, that chick's mine, okay!?
* Suno dost, woh choozaa mera hai, theek?

Hey good looking; what's cooking?
* Arree haseenaa; kyaa pakaa rahee ho?

Are you nuts?
* Kya aap akhrot hain?

Son of a gun.
* Bachcha bandook ka.

And the best one is.....

How do you do?
* Kaise karte ho?

Where's the 3rd Floor

9.00 pm Dinner time

9.15 pm I with other colleagues and my team lead leave for dinner

9.30 pm Filled my plate to the maximum

9.35 pm It starts raining and it rains as if it would never rain again.

10.00 pm Finished dinner, still raining

10.05 pm Chatting, talking to colleagues, a loud burst of laughter everybody looks at the rookies. still raining. Found a bakra. Leg pulling, teasing.

10.10 pm Bakra beheaded, hungry we look for another.

10.11 pm Found another bakra.

10.12pm My team lead, "I've parked my car in the 3rd floor."
I, "Is it?"
"Yeah its in the multi-level car park." (We have only one)
I, " Oh! Wow. Where else you would find 3rd floor if not in a muli floor building"

10.13 pm My Team lead bids adeiu and leaves. Walking in the rain, completely drenched he thinks "I'll be back"

Sania Mirza...

So much for Sania Mirza. The rising star of the Indian tennis...
Some poeple never miss a chance and some never take a chance...
Some don't care ...

The lady has put India in top 100 tennis player map, even though its not a great feat but not trivial either. I guess they want to give credit to her for everything...!

It was a dark room...

It was a dark room. Blizzards outside wrecked havoc. Chilling. Cold. Freezing. In the next room the fire in the fireplace was dancing to the tune of winds outside. Very often I could see the shadows on the opposite wall made by those dancing flames. Oh! It was such a lovely scene. And he was there. At the other far end of the long table. A table, which to me, looked like an entire expanse of a football field. Middle of the table was a candle stand sportively sporting 5 candles, neatly arranged into a spirally rising staircase. It was such a wonderful picture. Only if he could also see...

We were like brothers. No we were brothers.

We always were together. We swayed in the morning breeze together; enjoyed the lavish evening sun together. We cherished the star studded sky and the cool and comforting moonlight. We were like brothers. No. We were brothers. Hanging form the same family tree we saw the vagaries of life and the lives go by. Life bought to existence; babies born, children transforming into adults, adults fighting for something or other, and adults dying; life undone.

I still remember those birds... The sparrows who perched so close to us. Those parrots who used to come and nibble at apples kept next to us. Those owls hooting in the night, those kids sneaking in the farm trying to steal one fruit or the other.

His whispers still echo in my ears. The picture of his face, a face with a red splash, is still fresh in my memory. He was big. Too big than me. He was sweet. Too sweet than me. He was an apple of every eye. I always looked up to him for everything. It was him I wanted to be.

And then one day our curator, the lord of the place where we in lived took us, both of us, and transported us. Detached from the family tree, away from those simple pleasures of life, that sun, those stars, that moon, those birds... I was too sad. Dejected. It was him who gave me strength. It was he who told me life changes, and changes for better. "We all grow, and we all die. We all grow from our seeds. Without us everything would stagnate. We are part of the growth of entire universe. We all die. We leave space for more growth. A growth which is better than what we witnessed, a growth which will do this world better than what we could do. We all have roles to play, we play our roles and leave. Just like the Sun. It comes every morning to give us warmth. And then it grows to give us more wrath. What would happen if it stays for ever in any particular state. We would burn in its heat or else die for lack of it. So the Sun grows and dies and leaves. That's when the moon comes to give us the comfort and cool of the night. If moon stays forever we'll shiver and die due to the same good he was supposed to do to all of us. So does every other thing. They come serve their purpose and leave. And then come back again, to do a much better job, to play a much better role in this world than they did last time."

Yes. Maybe whatever he said was true. No it must be true. Or else why... It must be true. He has to come back stronger much wiser and to serve a purpose much better than what he did this time.

But for now, as I see. He lies there still. His red skin glowing in the candle light. That would not last long. I know. They cut him open in two pieces. And those two into two pieces. They were barbarians. They never though twice. Just sliced a knife through him.

I can still see his red skin glowing in the candle light. But now its loosing its shine. His flesh is now turning reddish, more reddish. Its rusting. All the iron in him is rusting. I guess he's already dead. Sure he is. I will follow him soon. I know.

It was a dark room. Blizzards outside wrecked havoc. Chilling. Cold. Freezing. In the next room the fire in the fireplace was dancing to the tune of winds outside. Very often I could see the shadows on the opposite wall made by those dancing flames. Oh! It was such a lovely scene. And he was there. At the other far end of the long table. A table, which to me, looked like an entire expanse of a football field. Middle of the table was a candle stand sportively sporting 5 candles, neatly arranged into a spirally rising staircase. It was such a wonderful picture. Only if he could also see...

And close to me I can see a health diet book of my owner, which somewhere reads...

An apple a day keeps the doctor away.

When GM takes on Microsoft

DISCLAIMER: The blog owner bears no responsibility nor can he and does not assure the veracity of the statements; nor shall he be liable for any damages of any kind induced upon anyone in whatever form.

END READERS' AGREEMENT:
If you proceed beyond this, then you agree to not hold the blog owner liable for any damages of any kind to anything living or dead, person or corporation or anything on this earth.

One of the many forwards that reach me; I present to you one of those...

Now that you are here....

"
For all of us who feel only the deepest love and affection for the way computers have enhanced our lives, read on.

At a recent computer expo (COMDEX), Bill Gates reportedly compared the computer industry with the auto industry and stated, "If GM had kept up with technology like the computer industry has, we would all be driving $25.00 cars that got 1,000 miles to the gallon."


In response to Bill's comments, General Motors issued a press release
stating: If GM had developed technology like Microsoft, we would all be driving cars with the following characteristics (and I just love this part):


1. For no reason whatsoever, your car would crash twice a day.


2. Every time they repainted the lines on the road, you would have to buy a new car.


3. Occasionally your car would die on the freeway for no reason. You would have to pull to the side of the road, close all of the windows, shut off the car, restart it, and reopen the windows before you could continue. For some reason you would simply accept this.


4. Occasionally, executing a maneuver such as a left turn would cause your car to shut down and refuse to restart, in which case you would have to reinstall the engine.

5. Macintosh would make a car that was powered by the sun, was reliable, five times as fast and twice as easy to drive - but would run on only five percent of the roads.


6. The oil, water temperature, and alternator warning lights would all be replaced by a single "This Car Has Performed An Illegal Operation" warning light.


7. The airbag system would ask "Are you sure?" before deploying.


8. Occasionally, for no reason whatsoever, your car would lock you out and refuse to let you in until you simultaneously lifted the door handle, turned the key and grabbed hold of the radio antenna.


9. Every time a new car was introduced car buyers would have to learn how to drive all over again because none of the controls would operate in the same manner as the old car.


10. You'd have to press the "Start" button to turn the engine off.
"

The forwards...

With so many forwards, one for you...

1. Regular naps prevent old age... especially if you take them while driving.


2. Having one child makes you a parent; having two makes you are feree.


3. Marriage is a relationship in which one person is always right andthe other is the husband!


4. They said we should all pay our tax with a smile. I tried - butthey wanted cash.


5. A child's greatest period of growth is the month after you'vepurchased new school uniforms.


6. Don't feel bad. A lot of people have no talent.


7. Don't marry the person you want to live with, marry the one youcannot live without...but whatever you do, you'll regret it later.


8. You can't buy love . . . but you pay heavily for it.


9. True friends stab you in the front.


10. Forgiveness is giving up my right to hate you for hurting me.


11. Bad officials are elected by good citizens who do not vote.


12. Laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you gettired


13. My wife and I always compromise. I admit I'm wrong and she agreeswith me.


14. Those who can't laugh at themselves leave the job to others.


15. Ladies first. Pretty ladies sooner.


16. It doesn't matter how often a married man changes his job, hestill ends up with the same boss.


17. They call our language the mother tongue because the father seldomgets to speak.


18. Saving is the best thing. Especially when your parents have doneit for you.


19. Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools talkbecause they have to say something


20. Real friends are the ones who survive transitions between addressbooks

Voilla! Analytical Learner... Blah! Blah!

To gauge yourself take the test!

Here are your survey results!

Your Cognitive Style Index is 46 which indicates that you are an Analytical learner.

This survey measured your Cognitive Style. Cognitive Style affects how you organize and process new information while learning.

Intuitive learners [scores of 0 to 38] are less concerned with detail. They have an open-ended approach to solving problems and work best without strict rules. They are in touch with their feelings and need to feel personally involved in their work.

Analytical learners [scores of 39 to 76] give attention to detail. They focus on facts and "hard data" and rely on what experts say. They are logical in their approach to learning and do things step-by-step. They excel in structured, well-organized learning situations.

Neutral learners [scores of around 38] can learn using both intuitive and analytic modes.

Thanks again for taking the time to complete the survey,

Elena

Managers in an autorickshaw

It was raining in the morning day before yesterday. And I overslept. Woke complete 1 hour late than usual, missed my company cab and had to hire an autorickshaw to office. Rs. 70.00 down the drain. :(


A peculiar thing that I observed is that on every signalled crossing the autorickshaw driver killed the engine. And then just 2-3 seconds before the signal turned green he started the engine. I was amazed at the accuracy of his estimation. This was not a stand alone case but I observed the same thing at all the crossings. I put my brain to some rigorous work and dug into all the memories of travel in an autorickshaw and found that this was true for all aurtorickshaw drivers and at all crossings. Amazing.


Why don't all the managers undergo a trainning course on how to drive an autorickshaw, of duration 1 year or 6 months so that they can be better at estimation. They are pathetic are estimating how much time is required to finish a project. Way off the track. Or else what? I finished Harry Potter and the Order of pheonix and Da Vini Code in office, Half way through the Lord of the Rings trilogy...


Add to this that you can shout and swear at your manager, which you definitely cannot do in routine office life but can certainly do when he's a autorickshaw driver.


BTW this is does not in any way relate to my manager. He's a nice person very efficient and effective in all the things he does.


Does anyone of you people know him?

Sucking Itinerary

Sometimes there's nothing better than reading google.groups. And for certain there's nothing great than finishing Harry Potter and Order of Pheonix in 2 days, sitting in my comfortable chair, sipping tea, good music playing with intermittent periods of checking mail.


And this one is icing on the cake. Doing all this in office.


But seriously this itinerary sucks, sucks big time.

In the elevator... it so happened

In the elevator... it so happened...

Why are the managers the way they are. Not that they are very rude, bossy, overyfriendly or all of that sorts. In fact my manager is a mast manager. But sometimes...

For instance this other day after having lunch I was on my way back to my cubicle. My Mananger had been on a week's vacation and he had come back the same day. He took the same elevator I was in. After exchange of Hi. How was the vacation Blah...Blah which moreso was because there was nothing else to do in the small elevator.

At this point I'd make an OT (off - topic) observation. Ever noticed the elevator has an information inside. 13 persons only. XYZ kgs only. What amuses me is the fact that the lift doesn't even have enough space for 13 people to stand. Atmost 10 people can board the lift with their nose just a whisker awayfrom the other's! For once I thought that's an eskimo way of greeting which these people practise.

13 LOL. Only famished people.

Back to topic. So my manager asked me How's life? Pat came the reply Comfortable

The next day my team lead comes to me and says What did you say to him, that you have plenty of free time!

What? What else do you expect in answer, if you ask somebody How's life? OR is it should I say.

Life sucks. I'm in deep shit. Life's miserable. Add to it the peanuts that you pay. The f****** AC also doesn't work, the room tempreature is at 25 degrees. The food is terrible...

And we laughed a lot the entire day.

Even now you can hear a roar of laughter if somebody around asks How's Life?

The engineers with no TV to them...

Ever been in front of that idiot box. Well plenty of times. Many hours of the day; in fact for one reason or the other, stuck up on one channel or the other.

I was also on one of those channels when I thought why is it so that there so less if not any programs dedicated to engineers. Are we the lost part of this habitable planet? Have we become a vestige? Or is it that we are those back room slaves who never get across that door?


Whatever be the reason , the fact still remains that there hasn't been anyengineer per se on the television. You'll find housewives trying to mess up their calm lives; doctors trying to somehow mess up with their patients so that they can get some more money out of him or else trying hard
to save a patient just in time; lawyers pacing up and down the court hall yelling on top of their voices to convince the judge that their client is not guilty. But never an engineer trying hard to solve the problem at hand, pulling his hairs to get the things right and enjoying the pleasure the
intellectual happiness, so to say, that he would get when his product gets ready.

Never.

The closet the television could get to engineers were Dr. Brown, the mad inventor who built a time machine out of a DeLorean car in Back to the Future; MacGyver, not an engineer but who seemed to have engineering skills; and Gyro Gearloose, Walt Disney's engineer/inventor.

To quote "The National Academy of Engineering, in a 1986 survey, confirmed that the public perceived engineers as self-absorbed, rigid, and possessing poor social skills. One respondent said engineers were social misfits with whom he would not want to be trapped in an elevator because they were difficult to communicate with. Little wonder that entertainment
writers steer clear of us except, perhaps, for comic relief."

Doesn't this look like a positive feedback system, with no chance of things settling down to something more than something transient. The people feel engineers to be self-absorbed, long haired, unkempt and greasy, rigid, cocooned rats like creatures who live and die in the holes they call as lab or work space. So keep the people away from what they 'fear'.

But I guess there's also an other side to it. People respond to and feel more comfortable with things they have had first hand experience with. Not that third party experience or narration is not interesting, but it all passes as gossip as something which never happened to them but nevertheless was equally engrossing, or else all those crime serials or crime buster
serials wouldn't have been popular. Anyways this is off the topic at hand. The viewers can identify with lawyers, doctors, housewives, cops and all the other pervasive professions. The engineer, and now allow me to broaden the horizon to include researchers, are not in any of those.

"Possessing poor social skills" I certainly don't agree. This is a sweepingly generalized statement and is grossly incorrect.


To this effect I would say that Discovery Channel, History Channel, National Geographic Channel to name a few, incidentally they are my favorites led by History Channel, have done a lot. Specially the History and Discovery Channel, I can smell some partisan behavior here, are the leader. With documentaries on engineering marvels, Wings, Modern Marvel, Boys Toys, Nokia innovations and so on and so forth they tell the world about what all engineering has and can do and with due exposure of engineers.

World form the other side...

I never thought I would be placed in that situation so soon. Never had even
a vague idea about it.


It was sudden transformation. And it took a lot of courage. The new role
demanded a lot more responsibility and also the fear of what if
? When it came I had not thought it would come with so much
stealth.


I was enjoying my day at office. Having completed most of what I was
supposed to do; I was 2 weeks ahead of schedule. That made me suspect that
either I've improved or else the people who had estimated the time to
complete the project were pathetic, poor at estimation. Obviously being a
youngster in this young industry (merely 60 years old) I believed in the
latter. The former had no chance of acceptance. I had read somewhere
Thou know Thy the best. But at same time some words were resonating
Boss is always right . Whatever be the reason, the point is I was
ahead of schedule.


My project manager came to me and said Hi, LM. How's it going. For a
moment I thought what? What going? Confused beyond any more confusion,
perplexed I looked at him and said Comfortable. Comfortable!
Comfortable, what was supposed to be going went comfortably. I smiled at my
witty answer. Ok. So let me give you some work. For once I was very
excited, thought I might be asked to mentor the new trainee. No prizes for
guessing who (s)he was. I was being asked for last 2-3 weeks to prepare to
transform to a mentor's role. No doubts she looked beautiful.


Ok. Tomorrow 3.30 pm you take 3-4 interviews. What?
Interview! Shocked I was. I had never been on that side of the table. Have
always been the one whose ass was on fire. The interviewing panel drumming
on my bums. Hmmm. You answered this question. How about this one. Gee I
knew you couldn't! I took me a while to brush together my lost senses
and I replied, interview, well that's a difficult task and I don't think I'm
ready for it now. Oh! It shouldn't be difficult for you. You have been in
interviews. You'll do a good job. ??!


I am still as of writing very scared, what if. What if the person knows
everything I ask? Does it mean he's good or I've lost my edge? What if (s)he
doesn't answer any question, does it mean that he's bad or I'm worse in
taking an interview? What if I find him/her good enough to be recommended
and the other panel members do not, does it mean I've failed in making
judgment? What if I found him/her good enough and recommend, (s)he is hired
and then fails to perform, does it mean I've failed?


Yes and No.


Maybe some questions don't have binary answers.


Let's wait for tomorrow.


Sometime it has to be a first time, so why not it be at the first
opportunity itself!

Few good things in life

Past few weekends have been great for me. Specially the last week. Lot many good happened to me and to people around me.

My cousin took the last step to enter the black hall. The Passing> Out Parade (POP) . He's now going to Indian Military Academy, Dehradoon. After two years he'll be a commissioned officer in Indian Army. He'll wear that green uniform then. And I'll ask him to salute his elder brother and have a snap taken. He's the same boy who used to wash his feet every time he went outside. And now he's typical> army man.

My school time friend, we are still in contact even though its been more than 10 years since we met for the first time and 3 years since we last met. He was posted somewhere in Assam and now he's been transferred to the Pune air base. He's been put into the Sukhoi squadron. He was earlier with Mig21 as far as I remember. He stood first in his entire batch of air force pilots. I just can't wait to go to Pune and see him as well as the Sukhoi. In fact the excitement of seeing the bird is more than that of seeing him.

One of my 6 PG (Post grad not paying guest!) time friends is seeing girls and will probably settle down with one of them. He's getting married in next 3-4 months.

This weekend we cooked food at home and the demand was for pumpkin (kaddu) and poori, a deep fried bread kind. We made delicious pumpkin dish and 30 poori's to be savored by 3 of us.

Last week there was not much work load, so I could browse a lot. Everyday 6pm to 8pm I swam across sites, urls.

Had great fun.

This kind of week should repeat more too often.

Worst Case Scenarios

Having planned for a week long vacation with my family almost a month before, worst things start happenning.

Just before start of vacation there's network outage in the company, I cannot do any work and the work pressure mounts.

One day before I have to leave the network is alive again and to add to my woes there's a deluge of mails asking me to do "some" more work! That day I stayed back in the office till 5 in the morning to finish most of what I could finish. The vacation seemed to be too much far, too much needed.

The next day I come to office, in half sleep, with my luggage, work for few more hours,well actually 6, before I plan to leave and catch my train. I meet my Lead and say "I gotta go, have train in 1 hour". And he looks at me with hollowed eyes. "Are you leaving" with an expression on his face which suggested "Is it necessary to go?". I make a sorry face, an expression that suggested "What? I couldn't hear it. Anyways I couldn't understand it. You know I as planning for it for last 1 month" "BYE".

I reach the railway station.

I'm very tired and want to sleep. Habitual of the habit (!) I browse through the reservation list to see how many F's are there in the list. None of my interest. Too old or too young. There is a group of students in the next coupe. They make my life hell. Playing Antakshri all night. Yelling at the top of their voice, the act they fondly called as singing, they ruined my night. Humble request falls falt on its face. Its already 1 in the morning; I had boarded the train at 5 in the evening. I fell asleep. The cries and yells were now acting as lullabies.

Morning 5'o clock. Its time to alight the train. Destination.

2 days into the vacation.

Accusotmed to doing something in the office, being busy, I end up in a shock. Boredom, nothing to do. The evenings turn into a torture. I am forced to watch those mega soap operas on Sony Television, Start Plus... all those which mysteriously always start with alphabet K. Kyonki Saas bh kabh bahu thi, KKusum, Kahani ghar ghar ki. Amazingly all the serials seem to have same cast same plot and possibly same ending!

Twice in a day I start a discussion with my uncle and loose the battle. But like Rana Pratap who ate bread made out of grass but didn'tsurrender, I continue my war.

The TV remote control malfunctions unannounced. I can't watch WildOn or Poor Man's Bikini Beach on AXN. To those who find it difficult to understand why, we in INDIA still avoid doing some things infront of elders, which might be as mundane as smoking, even when we are parents of dozen children!

I go to a VCD/DVD shop to get some movies to watch. The store (?) has none except "Bride and Prejudice" and that too in hindi "Balle Balle: Amrtisarto LA". I thought "Dheere Dheere yahan se sarak le".

Come Diwali and I am in no mood to fire some crackers. "Loudmouth, what happened no crackers?" For once I had a good feeling of refraining from polluting the air, not burning those fancy fireworks, the products of an industry which employs a lot many children. Well this was a ephemeral feeling. But those raid of questions certainly made me feel like grabbing all the crackers from everybody I could catch and fire them all at onego.

Finally, Diwali and come a lot many invitations for dinner and lunch. Eating is my favourite hobby pastime and also possibly the only kind of work Ienjoy. In fact I at 3kgs of bitter gourd (karela) in this one week.I'm so fond of it. The connoisseur of food had a good time eating all the dishes and that too in huge quantities.

Back to usual. Same old food served by company caterer, same old cubicle...

And so was born the legend ...

Not so long ago in a non-descript village in countryside people did talked about this Legend, nicknamed DD. The old called him Debar Donst but the youths preferred to call him Dare Devil.
The children couldn't understand what it was, nor were the stories of this DD narrated to them so often. This village, like many other of kinds, had a cemetery not very far from the village limits. A cemetery not like other cemeteries. This had an eerie silence surrounding it, a cast of ill omens. This cemetery lived in the shadows of the dead.
For ages grandparents told their grandchildren, mothers frightened their children if the kids didn't have their glass of milk or the meal finished. Going out in the night was considered darest of the dares. Bedtime stories were told before the sun settled in its nest in west. Doors were closed before moon lightened up. People asleep before the stars came out. This was the village with a burial ground, which used to become the playground of the dead. So was said and told to others. Nobody knew how is started. Nobody ever questioned. Nobody ever dared to venture out and find the truth. Like the universal truth the dictum of gray haired people was accepted and honored. But as with any other place, as with any other story, there was one called DD.

Though he wasn't too brave and daringthough he wasn't too smart to be an outright maverick, he had many dares under his belt. Having traveled a lot to many distant lands across the seven oceans he didn't subscribe to the ghost stories his parents told him and their parents told to them and their parents told to their parents.
At a very young age he had traveled to far off lands of long eyed people. It was told that the country, called China, was full of dragons fire spitting beasts that could fly. Strange was the land and strange were its people. DD had also been to someplace where everywhere there was ice. As far as one could see it was ice. He called it the land of the Queen. Such strange were the ways and equally strange was DD's life. When DD came back from his tour he revolted against the dictates of the village council and the fear of the cemetery. He said he would go to the cemetery and come back alive to prove that everybody was wrong all along. They were captivated by the imaginations of their ancestors and riveted by their own imaginations and uncanny conclusions.

That day he waited till it was dark. A lunar eclipse. Even the stars didn't dare to have a peek at what was being done. An old man already on the verge of death was asked to keep a watch on DD that he did what he said he would do. He entered the cemetery roamed around. Prayed at his mother's grave, talked something to the grave of his neighbor and then started to return. The ghosts as if were woken up by his prayers and his talking were waiting to pounce on him and shred him to tatters. The moment he got up from the grave he felt his trousers being pulled from behind. Somebody was holding the end and pulling it. GHOSTS! The kingdom of DEAD was indeed alive. He saw a flash of light cross the sky. His eyes reddened, he started sweating profusely, breathing very hard. DD felt strong pain near his left shoulder. Someone was pressing hard on his chest. Someone was trying to gorge out his thumping heart. He had a cardiac arrest and he died on the spot. The old man saw everything. He was in tears, shaking as he witnessed this gory act. He had seen DD pray and talk to so many graves. He has seen him walking and now he was seeing him dead. The ghosts had feasted on him. It was more than what he could endure. The he had been a witness to all, the kid growing into a man until now was, witness to all his mischiefs and now witness to his beastly drama of death.

He had also seen his trousers get entangled in that thorny bush. In the morning the villagers took his body and buried it in the same place he had fallen dead.

And so was born the legend of DD, Dare Devil for some and Daring Dude for others who had challenged the creatures of the other world and laid down his life.Even now going out in the night is considered darest of the dares. Bedtime stories are told before the sun settles in its nest in west. Doors are closed before moon lightens up. People go to sleep before the stars come out.

END.

Different flavors of Suicide

Agreement: If you read beyond this point you agree to be 18 years or
older.

"This seems to be surreal but nice"

Have you ever tried committing suicide? Yes, then you are pathetic
looser to not have tried again without making all those mistakes! Go back to
design board and plan a fool proof and "effective"
way.

No, I knew it or else you wouldn't have been reading this, you would have
been working on a new plan.


To explain a few niceties about suicide and types of suicides:


1. Suicide. Plain and simple like those you read in
newspaper and see in movies. No thrill, no excitement in committing suicide,
color-less, flat. Way of the losers or laz(y)-ers.


2. Auto Suicide . This one is more interesting. Don't
compare this with the Biography and Auto-biography analogy, as then you'd be
grossly confused, like those Theory Of Relativity Concepts.
Auto-suicide differs from suicide in the intent for suicide.
Suicide is out of desperation, with hopes in abysmally low state, life in
deep shit, in stinky gutter (well almost all gutters are stinky, though I
never verified); it is more stable and persistent, both the feeling and the
aftereffects! Precursors to Auto-Suicide are more temporal in nature. This
chain of self-sustaining desires can be initiated by both good and bad
feelings; the research has mostly shown it to be good feelings, willingness
of being happy. Auto-Suicide attempts are most effective and rarely
does the deceased person haunt the woods or whatever he would otherwise have
liked to haunt


3. Automated (Auto) Suicide . This term is bequeathed
to the English language by the new world driven by technology. With
automation spreading its wings into every conceivable domain of operation,
suicide, a field, which required extreme courage and determination, is not
left untouched. To help those who fail on both fronts there are Automated
(Auto) Suicide packages, 100% result oriented and very dirt cheap,
neglig(ee) -ble rates of failures, available off the shelf at a very low and
affordable cost. Here the readers have the freedom of asking me "Why does
money come into picture?" Loot, plunder get the cash or else steal the
package itself and who cares what they do after You've used the services??
Why Kamakazi pilots wear helmets?? Effortless, is what the promoters
say.


4. Third person Suicide Murder is a euphemism for
this.



This post is dedicate to Brayandranath

Test of Macroni as Lunch Diet

One day this week we were served a special salad. Macroni Salad.
Waiting for our turn to serve us some, my colleague turned friend
and I started talking about this new dish. Actually he coined this term
"Test of Macroni as Lunch Diet". To me it looked like as if somebody had
drilled into Maggi noodles, boiled it and then zoomed in it and
served it. As we waited for our turn we saw that most of people, who had
served themselves lavish quantities of Macroni Salad, take it as is
to dump in waste bags. We got suspicious but decided lets test it out. Being
the gourmet we are, we served ourselves plenty of it, looked nice the way it
was kept in the bowl. Slimy looking curved things with black patches on it,
more like as if somebody had taken the spinal chord of a goat, pulled out
everything inside it just keeping the protective tissue sheath, washed it in
an antiseptic and served it for eating. A perfect Chinese dish.


A thought just flew by, What if they were actually some kind of insects,
strange creatures something like maggots, which would suddenly come to life
and start crawling on the table; What if they grew all of a sudden with
their tentacles closing in on everybody first me and then my unfortunate
friend. And then say to their less fortunate friends "Hey! Those fresh,
nicely dressed humans tasted well. Real Good. Burrp. Burrp"


"Move your ass you day dreamer!" yelled my friend. The (un)usual research
process started. First came the visual inspection. I need not comment on it.
Then the taste.


Eeeh! Pathetic. That's all we could say. It seemed to us that they wanted to
dispose off some stale Marconi so they dressed it up as salad!



We then puked on the seats of all the cars in the parking our lot
(exaggerated event) to our heart content, or the 'seats' content!


Test of Macroni as Lunch Diet failed miserably.

The other day I was reading a novel about a student, a country bumpkin, from a nondescript town in India going to America for higher studies. This is what he wrote to his brother about his first flight to America.

nZai.

Beloved younger brother,

    Greetings to Respectful Parents. I am hoping all is well with health and wealth. I am fine at my end. Hoping your end is fine too. With God’s grace and Parents’ Blessings I am arriving safely in America and finding good apartment near University. Kindly assure Mother that that I am strictly consuming vegetarian food only in restaurants though I am not knowing if cooks are Brahmins. I am constantly remembering Dr. Verma’s advice and strictly avoiding American women and other unhealthy habits. I hope Parents’ Prayers are residing with me.

    Younger Brother, I am having so many things to tell you I am not knowing where to start. Most surprising thing about America is it is full of Americans. Everywhere Americans, Americans, big and white, it is little frightening. The flight from New Delhi to New York is arriving safely thanks to God’s Grace and Parents’ Prayers and mine too. I am not able to get to go to bathroom whole time because I am sitting in corner seat as per Revered Grandmother’s wish. Father is rightly scolding that airplane is flying too high to have good view. Still please tell her I have done needful.

    But, brother, in next two seats are sitting two old gentle ladies and if I am getting up they are put in lot of botheration so I am not getting up for bathroom except when plane is stopping for one hour at London. Many foods are getting served in carts but I am only eating cashew nuts and bread because I am not knowing what is food and what is meat. I am having good time drinking 37 glasses of Coca-Cola.

    They are rolling down a screen and showing film but I am not listening because air hostess ladies are selling headphones for 2 dollars which is Rs. 26 and in out beloved Jajau town we can sit in balcony seats in Regal Talkies for only Rs. 3. I am asking lady if they are giving student discount but she is too busy. I am also asking for more Coca-Cola but she is looking like she is weeping and walking away. I think perhaps she is not understanding proper English.

    Then I am sleeping long time after London and when I am waking it is like we are flying over sea of lights. Everywhere, brother, as far as I am seeing there are lights lights. It is like God has made carpet of lights. Then we are landing in New York and plane is going right up to the door so that we are not having to walk in cold. I must say Americans are very advanced. And as I am leaving airplane, air hostess is giving me one more can of Coca-Cola. Her two friends are also with her but why they are laughing so much I do not know. I think Americans are strange but friendly people in their hearts. I hope she was not laughing for racial. Perhaps she was feeling shy earlier.

    Then I am going to long bathroom. As I am leaving I am making first friend in America. This is gentleman named Joe, who is standing at door and as I am opening it he is holding out hand so I am shaking it and telling him my name and he is telling me his. I am telling him if he is ever coming to Jajau he can ask for National hair Oil Factory. If I have not returned from Higher Studies please tell Father that if a black gentleman named Joe is visiting Jajau he may kindly do needful.

    In this way I feel each and every one of us is serving as Ambassador of out beloved Motherland. Joe is doubtful I feel because he says “Far out, man, far out,” but I am reassuring him that India is only 16 hours away by plane and that is not very far. I think he is accepting this because he is not saying anything any more.

    Next I go to place marked “Baggage” as Father has advised and suddenly place I am sitting starts to move throwing me. It is like python we once saw in forest, only rattling and with luggage bouncing on its back and sometimes leaping to attack passengers. I am also throwing my self on bag before it is escaping. I think if I am not wrestling it down it would revert to plane and back home India. I am only joking of course.

    Before this I am meeting very friendly gentleman at Immigration desk. I do not know why all relatives had warned against this man, because he is so friendly. He is talking English strangely but is having kind heart because he is asking me about nuts and I am saying that I am liking very much and eating many on plane. “Totally, totally nuts,” he is saying, which I feel American expression for someone fond of cashew nuts.
Before this he is showing friendliness by asking “How is it going?” I am telling him fully and frankly about all problems and hopes, even though you may feel that as American he may be too selfish to bother about decline in price of hair oil in Jajau town. But, brother, he is listening very quietly with eyes on me for ten minutes then we are having friendly talk about nuts and he is wanting me to go.

    At Customs, brother, I am getting big shock. One fat man is grunting at me and looking cleverly from small eyes. “First Visit?” he is asking, “Yes,” I am agreeing. “Move on,” he is saying making chalk marks on bags. As I am picking up bags he is looking directly at me and saying “Watch your ass.”

    Now, brother, this is wonderful. How is he knowing we are purchasing donkey? I think they are knowing everything about everybody who is coming to America. They are not allowing anybody without knowing his family and financial status and other things. And we are only buying donkey two days before my departure. I think they are keeping all information in computers. Really these Americans are too advanced.

    But, brother, not I am worrying. Suppose this is CIA keeping watch or else how they can know about our donkey? Anyway please do not tell Mother and Father as they are worrying , but lock all doors and windows. If CIA wants to recruit me to be spy in Jajau, I will gladly take poison before betraying our Motherland.

  
 Then I am going out and cousins are waiting and
receiving me warmly. I will write soon after settling down.

                                                                                                                                                Your brother.

What amused me so much was that this guy’s respect for his Parents and Grandparents, even their prayers, and Motherland and everything other related to his Motherland is also reflected in this writing. Did you notice the capitalized words? The next hilarious thing was imagining this person at the immigration counter, who out of courtesy asked our fellow “How is it going?” and our hero pours out all that he had to say about everything. The immigration person in bewilderment says “Man you are nuts” and our hero says, “Yes I like nuts.” I rolled over the floor like anything. But the king of show was ass and CIA keeping watch even on the donkey?

Definitely a wonderful reading.

Aboriginals Unknown

Aboriginals Unknown

"I believe certainty is simply an illusion. At one point or another, we all indulge in this illusion because we need some sort of order to justify our actions. How can we put one foot in front of the next if we're always afraid of the probability we might stub our toe, step on a nail, or trip on a stone? I'm fairly sure I'll be brushing my teeth in the morning, but I don't KNOW this for certain -- I could die of a stroke or a heart attack in the middle of the night, or the Tooth Fairy in a fit of rage might come by and rob me of all my teeth. Uncertainty is an inherent quality of every particle, action, and moment in our world. It's a poetic way for The Creator (whichever you believe in) to make things a little more interesting for us.

So if you're certain that you WILL BECOME the President of the United States, a movie star, a porn star, a chicken farmer, a computer engineer, whatever, then I'll say you probably will get closer than most, and I'll even say you will probably succeed, but maybe you won't.

Then again, is that really so terrible?

In a world dominated by results, numbers, money, efficiency, and the need to succeed, it's natural for us to be raised thinking in these terms. But it's not the only way to think.What we forget as adults is what we knew so inherently as children. You might argue this point, but I believe that as children, we had a totally different mechanism for enjoying life. As children, our pleasures were rooted in the act of discovery: learning to play a new sport, finding Easter eggs during scavenger hunts, figuring out how a Rubik's cube works, or eating ice cream for the first time. If you don't believe me, try observing a baby for just a few minutes. Infants have a miraculous, indomitable spirit for learning -- they will gaze in wonder at even the most mundane of things, simply because everything they see is new to them. We see less and less of this as we grow older, and that is exactly why "the heart of a child" becomes so endearing, valuable, and scarce with coming age.

As we grow older, we begin placing everything in terms of a goal -- we want that promotion, new car, bowling trophy, trophy wife, etc. Although not so terrible in and of itself, these goals can become mindless compulsions. We forget the REASON we wanted these things in the first place, becoming lost in an obsessive delirium, when all we really wanted was to be happy. I myself have fallen into this trap many times, and I still don't know all the reasons for it. Maybe it's our competitive spirit -- we must win to prove our worth. Maybe it's our desperate need to define ourselves against the billions of other people trying to define themselves. Or maybe it's some more primal desire -- instead of urinating on trees, we build up stockpiles of accolades, expensive toys, and superficial trinkets that we hope others will recognize as status. The exact mechanism isn't important; it's good enough that we recognize this aspect of our lives.

So I'll ask you now, when was the last time you had fun? I don't mean the last time you were in a drunken stupor that helped you forget your troubles. I mean some genuine, wholesome fun that let you laugh out loud without embarassment or self-consciousness. If you haven't had that kind of fun in more than 24 hours, then go to your best friend, drag him/her out to watch a movie, grab a cup of coffee, play some games, learn something new. And if you don't have that kind of time on your hands, then why not put on your favorite song and dance -- no one's watching, so you can do it in your underwear if you want. You'll feel happier afterwards, even if you didn't think that was possible. My point is, you don't need a reason or purpose in every little thing you do. Sometimes it's just enough to do things because they're fun -- children do this without a moment's hesitation."

Is he smart ?

Looking at his son, whom he was seeing for the first time, "Is he smart?" Forrest asked Jenny. And I had wet eyes with tears running down my cheeks, as I watched Forrest Gump for the nth time.

Lieutenant, this is my Jenny!

The unforgettable, lost Voice

I was new in the city. Felt lonely for first few days. It so happened that one day loitering on one of those most frequented by females street I heard a group of people listening very eagerly to what a lady had to say. I couldn't see who that lady was. Not withstanding the fact that I normally do not listen over shoulders or evesdrop on others, I got immensly curious about the speaker. The speaker had built an aura aorund herself. Everybody present heard as there was no tomorrow, this is going to be the first and the last!

The speaker probably was all too concious of the listener's emotions, was putting in a lot of energy and excitement in what she had to say. I was glued to the road. The voice had certianly enchanted me. Some kind of hypnotization, maybe. As the primary motive of being on that road lost it's very source of being high in priority I returned back home.

Lazily turning in bed on that sleep deprived night, my thoughts inadverently returned again and again, involuntarily to the speaker. She had so much charm in her speech. The speaker was certainly a good orator, not that I'm a very good critic of speakers, but the speaker was awsome. Or else how can one make a group of so many listen so eagerly?

Next day I again went to that most frequented by females street, although this time it was more to see if the speaker was there and to listen her. The priorities had now reshuffled and reorganized and now listening to this no face speaker gained high priority. Good fortunes that day. The speaker was again there and with the same corwd.

I realised that I had fallen fatally in love with the voice. Not the speaker. How I wished I could hear her voice everyday. How mcuh I wished every morning I could her voice, the first thing in the morning. What if my alarm clock instead of yelling in its irritating tone I could have her voice in it, a soothing pleasureable and once more kind of call! How much I had wished that the first Good morning and the last Good night was her's. Why not my whole life be stacked with her voice anywhere and everywhere.

Fatal attractions of last kind.

Then Gods favoured me. It so happened that what ever I thought of was turning out to be true. I woke up and the first voice I heard was her. I could sense her so close that I could feel her lungs pump air into her vocal chords. I could listen to her daily 24/7.

2 years have passed since then. I still like to hear her but the vigourous intensity of want has died. I still like to hear her but now it stands last in the priorities. I still hear her but to kill time. She still rejuvinates me but not to the extent she used to do earlier. For me she has lost her edge.

Sunaina Lal. Radio Jockey (RJ). Radio City @ 91 FM.

Ghosts. I’m screwed. My life in deep shit!

So what happens when a soul is desperate? Desperate for everything. Say craving for anything that can exist on earth. Deep craving. This is what happened to me and one of my friends. We thought a lot about it. We cannot necessarily get all what we seek.

And finally we’ll die at age of 60 half satisfied; more the years more the desperation and as many more desires; shorter the life lesser the desperation, lesser the desires. Buddy, why not start dope, cigarettes and all that stuff. This way we can cut short our life! Suicide was never an option. It takes too much of courage to do so. If you do not believe me then see one of the suicide videos (shot by a Russian couple), you can download them from Kazaa. Even the mere thought of it the beats the shit out of me! Moreover we never wanted to die as cowards but as knights in shining armor who unfortunately died in their quest.

Hmmm.

Murder each other? Nah. We are not killers. Wraparound. Dope cigarettes blah blah… All that which cuts short your life by few seconds every time you relish them.

How does that help? Well it’s simple. Either me or my friend would die earlier. We’d become ghosts, for some of our desires were unfulfilled when we breathed our last. The one who becomes the ghost would kill the other or drive him to the limit so that the desire to get killed kills him. A heart attack. Something. Something fatal. But, wait a minute.

Darn, that suspicion! No matter how good friend we arte this thing never bids adieu.

What if after becoming ghost my friend doesn’t come to my rescue? What if he doesn’t kill me?

I’m screwed. My life in deep shit.

A Tribute!

We brought them home young. They were brother and sisters. In their clan nobody was brother to any sister. I use the term to identify the fact that they were born to the same mother and see their relationship in the way we see in our world. Both were beautiful naughty little fellows. When we brought them home I too was a child, a little child. So I had company. We used to play together, go for a walk together. Do everything except some things, together. When I used to come back from school and later on vacation from college they used to jump on me and my first day used to pass being with them. I loved them so much.

He was macho man type. Chasing all the boys and girls in the neighborhood. Chasing and yelling at the top of his voice every vehicle that honked more than necessary. She was more homely type. Every morning before sunrise she would come and sneak into my blanket and sleep close to me. I could feel her breath. Ah! Bad-Breath. Both were very fond of milk, mangoes and green vegetables. They’d eat any vegetable, of course if they’d like it!

Some years later he, the one known for his notoriety in the neighborhood, one who would loiter around with those of his likes, contracted a contagious communicable disease. The docs told it was some kind of skin infection. We never wanted to do so but had no other choice to save him from all the misery and also save us. We had to mercy kill him.

Now she feels all too lonely. Mom and dad are at office and she feels all alone at home. I can feel how happy she feels when we all come back home. She never leaves us; and gets very upset when she finds we are going out for a couple of days and not taking her with us.

She is getting old and would die soon. I already miss him and would soon miss her too.

My pets.
Tuffy and Tipsy

Distance leads to enchantment

We were having our lunch on one of those mundane routine office days. Actually we here refers to Loudmouth and Recursive Sindhanai. Happily enjoying the lunch, which we felt tasted all the same it did yesterday and the day before yesterday and those innumerable days before all those yesterdays, we drooled (well actually we did) over a new trainee who had joined. In fact she was sitting few tables ahead of us actually 6. Well 6 isn’t that great a distance when you feel so close to that anonymous face. We talked how good she looked, her smile, the dimples and what not. But then sometimes she looked all too flat , igniting no feeling either of want or denial. Slowly we drifted to more intellectual Posh Bullshit. Don’t ask me what it means because then you’ll have to endure what we lived through those six months when we had "company", of a person to whom we were the Hawkiest people alive on the face of earth! Believe me it’s a real pain and you know where.

Having finished our lunch we moved on to have a short walk before we settled in our seats; well actually that’s a euphemism for me smoking after lunch and Recursive eagerly watching how much of it is left to burn, both the cigarette and me. (!) Then. There. We saw that trainee again. Walking a slow paced walk with her friends, talking something we couldn’t hear or understand, though we did want to. She crossed us.

Yuck. Goodness gracious. What a look! What a face! What a smile! What teeth!

True very true. Distance leads to enchantment.

Good from far;

Far from Good.

Dementor. The guard of …

Silently he comes near, without your notice he’ll do so much harm that no creature in your worst nightmares can do to you.

Dementor.

I have seen the dementor, a real life dementor. He is as horrific as those seen in the movie Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaaban. But unlike the dementors in the movie, who suck every last bit of happy memory every good feeling, this dementor of mine sucks every ounce of confidence, every bit of belief you have in yourself that you can achieve what you aim for. The faith that makes you do all that effort you do to reach where you wanted. Imagine you are all geared up to take that first small step of your long journey and then he comes to say that’s not all possible. “You can not do it this way. That way it can be done but then there are lot more problems. Why not do it the easiest way though it’s not all that elegant (?). In fact the idea has some inherent contradictions that make it far from being worth called an idea. You can never make it.”

He wears spectacles and is composed of bones and only bones. In fact its bones only covered with skin. You can actually call him a moving alive hangar on which somebody has hung some clothes. So thin and light that if you sneeze he would be blown off. In fact we tried a lot many times to do that. Still no success. Someday we will.

He calls himself Ash. I don’t know why! Maybe he’s a great fan of Aishwarya Rai that he calls himself with her pet name “Ash”. Or is he motivated by the mythological bird phoenix which rises from its own ashes. Why phoenix? Because when people try to reduce him to ashes by turning a blind eye to him, ignoring him he comes back again and again and again; and with all the more force.

He’s one guy to be dreaded most of times but many a times he’s a good pal for all the jokes he cracks. But alas they too …

Paap(Sins) and Punya/Anti Sins

This weekend I was thinking about Paap and Punya which is Sins and anti-Sins(?). I wondered why people devote so much of their life in praying to God, doing all that penance, starving themselves, indulging in all that self-denial. The thought of me being too loud an example of a soul having gone awry in this physical material world weighed too heavy on me. I started feeling too low of myself, so I began to study. And here is my final conclusion:
King Bhaageerath, the great King in Hindu mythology who prayed to God Bramha to get Goddess or 'Ma' Ganga on earth so that his forefathers could get the final peace, salvation.
So he did tapasya, penance, for half of his life. He denied himself food and water and stood on one leg all the time until God Bramha appeared. So his highness King Bhaageerath asked O Lord! I prayed for you for half of my life why did it take you so long to appear? God replied O my Son! All this time until now you have done tapasya with unwavering dedication. But listen. Your ancestors were great Kings. They did rule and many ruled without any mercy for the common man. Many did atrocities on the people. So they gathered Paap (sins). Till this time all the penance that you and your forefathers had done, all the Punya (brownie points, anti sins(!) ) that you all gathered were spent in counter balancing those sins. The day your Punya got more than sins by one unit of atomic measurement I appeared. King Bhaagerath understood so did I.

Since I do not have any balance sheet of how much punya or paap (sins) have been done before me, could be either way, but I don’t know. So if I now start doing tapasya (penance) then it could very well be the case that I do it for my rest of the life and none of the punya, brownie points that I earn actually help me get salvation. They all go to compensate for whatever paap was done by my forefathers, unless they were all saints (Oh! How hard I wish they would have been). So I grind my ass all my life denying myself all the worldly pleasure (read UFO) (read the second comment), all that masti, all that bindaas life ishtyle (what the fuck that ever means) and get nothing for myself. Gone are the days when Menakas danced around a hermit else even then,without all those punya's in my pocket, it would have been a better scenario, we could have killed as many birds with just one half of a stone!

So Baap bindaas jeene ka. Bhaad main gaya punya aur jahanuum main gaye paap!
Matlab To hell with paap and punya (brownie points).

As MunnaBhai MBBS said Aish kara nu, Majja nu life

Laugh.

So I had been on a long vacation to my home. After 1 year. Had a lot of good experiences. Changed a lot. Witnessed many humorous incidents where I laughed and rolled over the floor like anything.

I. This is about the son, about a year old, of lady who was doing Ph.D under my mother. So a caretaker mostly looked after this little kid, both the parents had to go to the office. Poor Kid. So this caretaker used to say Accha hai (It's good) and this is what the kid learnt and this is what this kid always said. So one fine day the kid’s aunt, father's sister, was eating mangoes while this kid was sleeping. Just as the aunt was about gulp down the first bite the kid woke up and said Accha hai. Poor aunt she was so embarrassed, and I who witnessed the whole episode was head over heels lauffin.

II. I was enjoying the evening tea, looking over the balcony thinking how much my colony had changed. while doing so I realized that there was this Honda Activa oscillating between the ends of the main road of the colony. Putting my specs where they are usually supposed to be I saw a fair, beautiful girl probably in her twelfth grade riding her bike up and down the poles (!). To enjoy this show were a bunch of guys sitting on every place which could accommodate their bum(-py) base of at least six. I too started to enjoy the free show, then suddenly. SCREEEEEcH. There was a twist in the fairytale. The Honda slipped and the princess fell flat on the road. The onlookers lauffed, so did I, and left. The poor princes, I can never understand how can a princess be poor(?), brushed her dress and riding slowly left the road. I didn't see her again for next couple of days.

III. If you have traveled on Indian rail-network you would have certainly found these. You can actually sense them by that peculiar clapping sound. For a second you are compared to every other hero in the Bollywood and you pay a heavy price for it. So this was when I was returning back from home. This guy was sitting in the next coupe. When this troupe approached him Oye Hritik, Salman la de de this guy very irritatingly said I have been giving money since last day and have almost given Rs. 150. The troupe very calmly said Those would have been from U.P, M.P and Maharashtra. We are from Andhra Pradesh.

IV. This guy in flashy clothes, humming some English chart buster and trying his ring tones every now then. The one I'm so modern and different from others kind. I couldn't understand why he behaved so cos I didn't find any good-looking females in the compartment. Anywayz, so this guy for some reason to show brave he his goes to the door of the bogie and sits at the door with his legs on the footboard.See I'm so cool kind. After some time he came back red face holding his leg. A big branch of a tree had hit him on his toes. The show had a big scratch mark on it and his foot had gone pale blue with swelling. Fracture for sure. Good for shoe that it was there to save his foot from any more damage. I had a nice time laughing for all that he did.

V. To endure a 3-day train journey in summers and that too when you are going towards the oven, read north, its pain in You know where. The pain was assuaged by the presence of lot many kids below 1 year of age. Though their crying was sometimes irritating but they were good pastime during the day. Felt like watching the Kid Videos on Discovery Channel.

One more for accusations...

Ok so now it seems that controversies and accusations have a natural liking for me. Male Chauvinist Pig. Interesting. By the way I couldn't understand that why anything despicable is always compared to pig? In fact I would be honored to be compared to a pig. Do you know how much it helps the cities? It cleans all the garbage! Do you know how much it helps the 'farmers' in France or Italy somewhere there, to find that much-valued underground mushroom. For all that help the pig gives to us we are always there to make it a benchmark for lowliness in everything, character, behavior...!

So coming back to MCP (Male Chauvinist Pig).

When I could understand the dynamics of the society we live in and the complex networks of dependencies amongst individuals, how families are structured, what roles different people have to play in it, etc. I would stare at them in amazement. How complex yet so simple. I was trying to understand the role of females in the society, how they affect it. The newspaper and the TV were all too informative. Conclusions: The females are an oppressed lot, denied opportunities, education and almost everything. So I became a supporter of women liberation, equal rights and everything the NGOs find to come to limelight.

But then something happened. Tip of an iceberg so to say??

Job. Equal rights for men and women for job opportunities. A man gets a job and a family of 4 has at least one bread earner; mostly its two, the man of the house and the woman. So far so good.

All earning men do not mind marrying a non-earning woman. So a family always has at least one bread earner, the man. If both man and woman have a job, that increases the purchasing power of the family to live a modestly luxurious life. Right. But see it the other way round.

Will a woman be willing to marry a non-earning man?? Maybe, but I haven't seen it. See the matrimonials, you'll find it there. NRI, Earning 6 digit salary, good company, MNC blah blah blah.

So that job that goes to the woman if had been given to a man would have one more family have a person earning! Right.

Do all these rhetoric about women rights commensurate with the complex nature of our society?

You may say I'm wrong.