Chimerical Flyovers

Parting Shot

2008-05-27T13:22:00.007+05:30

This is going to be the last post on this blog.
No, I neither doubt my writing ability nor cry over my lack of inspiration. This is just the end of a chapter in my life.
I started blogging because I loved the freedom it gave me to express my thoughts, hopes, opinions, but now, the feeling is more like despair - I feel I have lost the capacity to be open, free and express what I actually want without worrying who read it, who didn't.
Of course my fiction blog (Two A Day) will remain active as long as an idea or two keeps cropping up.
I am delighted with my decision because I know I am doing the right thing.
I am not deleting this space (although I feel guilty about contributing to the e-waste) simply because of the comment space that connected me to some wonderful bloggers out there.

So, to those few tenacious readers who still take the trouble of visiting this site, I bid adieu - heartfelt thanks for all the affection.

The Dairy Ghost

2008-04-22T15:17:00.003+05:30

I dream of Curd. Yogurt. Buttermilk. Butter. Milk.
And they can be categorized as dreams (the meaningless, useless ones without any clues to hidden treasures or something equally fanciful) or full-fledged nightmares.

Category I – I see myself getting into this beautiful house, huge and well lit. The lights are bright and has this milky-white, typical dreamlike quality. The furniture is white, the bed – ah, the humongous bed is covered with sparkling white sheet. The pillows appear so full, fluffy and light: just like freshly made butter. I see the house is full of people and I am supposed to cook a large, tasty meal. (Yet another horror story from my repository that gets dealt separately in other dreams) All I can find, in that ridiculously large kitchen, is milk. Bucketfuls. Now how the hell is one supposed to cook delicacies with milk and milk alone?
I panic. I choke. I wake up.

Category II – I am walking towards the ocean. And the ocean is made up of buttermilk. I can see huge blobs of butter floating like giant icebergs. I get a nauseating feeling; I want to run back home. But the waves come crashing. I get flung into the ocean. I didn’t find Lord Vishnu anywhere nearby to save me (the breaker of my sleep – probably somewhere in his own dreamland, snoring)
I panic. I choke. I wake up.

For the past two weeks I have been haunted by the Dairy Ghost, if I can call it that. Just when my eye-lids are drooping with promise of a dreamless, deep sleep and a hopeful fresh beginning, a mad thought creeps in – of having to wake up at hours that I dread. At a time when I am sure even the birds are having dreamless, deep sleep, the milkman gets us milk.

Cow’s, buffalo’s or donkey’s milk - who the hell cares? Can he not come at a saner time and ring the bell only once? The nonexistent fat in the milk is definitely not going to kill me, I know. It is the doorbell that will give me a massive heart attack one of these days. I wonder if it is the Devil himself dressing up as the persistent milkman, making sure I don’t get my share of white clouds, bards and halos.
On second thoughts, I don’t think I need those white clouds. Those light, fluffy white clouds. Reminds me of…

Mooning over Millennium city..

2008-03-25T20:56:00.005+05:30

Jazzy, isn’t it? This is how the ‘millennium city’ looked on the full moon night from my terrace.
I have realized how lonely Rapunzel must have felt in her tower; in my case, the lovely large terrace being the only saving grace. And I can’t even sing.
Not doing absolutely anything is becoming a routine here. I feel my muscles are slowly getting used to this. Warning: If this post sounds a little crummy, you should know – I am just checking if my fingers are working.

Well, I admit I am exaggerating but I am not at fault; Gurgaon is doing this to me. A brand new place: Ideally I should get excited about knowing, seeing and exploring things around. However, the initial vibes I get from this place can be called as, at best, mixed.

I cannot really go out anywhere, without any help. Of course it is not like Potter has stopped me from going anywhere; he would love it if I ventured out – on my own, without hoping and waiting for him to escort me around. Poor fella is stuck in office with neck deep work. For once, I would love to swap places. The season has not yet been the reason to avoid going out – it is still pleasant, thank God.
The real story behind this self imposed imprisonment is quite simple actually - there is no public transportation. No autos, no buses.
Yes, I know for those who have already been here, it’s no big surprise, but come on, I am entitled to be appalled by this. The other day, I had to had to go to the market (there are no shops nearby within the radius of one km, and I don’t live in a jungle) and I had to get into this cycle rickshaw.
One can only imagine how embarrassing it can be when one has to do it the first time. During the entire journey, I felt as if people on the street were staring at me as if I was the spectacle. But if one were to ask Potter, he would chuckle and say no such things occur – there are usually no people walking on the street, either they vroom and zoom in fancy cars or taking cycle rickshaws just like you, which makes them and you equal.
Finally when I reached the destination I sighed in relief, just wanting to jump out of the rickshaw – but the seat is designed by a retired acrobat, and there is a noble intention behind such design. It is to ensure people like me remember their former glory, give them the respect due and not take risks of jumping to end up somewhere near the pedals, all knotted.

How I miss all those small little general stores, the Food World, the dry cleaners! and most importantly, the eateries – all those little Darshini outlets… I don’t want idli dosas no, but something, anything as long as they are nearby? Funny thing is when I was in Bangalore, I did not visit them often; it now feels like they were the heritage sites that I missed out while being on a historical tour.

Oh, I don’t know, I really can’t rant and rave about this place since I have not yet explored it completely. But, yes, the malls – well, they are a different story altogether.

Parting

2008-02-21T13:34:00.010+05:30

The last post from this system, from this location, from this office! Sigh....

As expected, getting out of this organization was in not the usual "will miss you my workstation, laptop, my tea cup, (or ocassionally) a colleague" drama style, but the last few pangs of separation pain are slowly making their presence felt.

A cut above the rest

2008-02-08T12:45:00.000+05:30

Have you ever been compared to Shah Rukh Khan? What’s the big deal – you’d think. After all, there is nothing extraordinary about him: looks or otherwise.
Exactly.
But if you were a girl, who is not his sister/relative or, do not have any similarities in any manner, then it is quite unusual.
I had the misfortune of having such dubious distinction recently. Nope, it is not my looks either, excuse me. The blame completely goes to my hairstylist.
Just Imagine, I spend almost a fortune to get a nice, wavy haircut (well, at least that’s what I thought) from a trendy, upmarket salon and come home to flaunt it in front of my aunt. And I get to hear this: ‘Hey, you look just like SRK; he has the same hair cut in Pepsi ad!’
Oh, by the way, if one wants to disagree on the ‘extraordinariness’ (rather, lack of it) and start an argument regarding SRK, we can do it in another post.
But for now, where do I go to get another stylist?

Wicked Magic

2008-02-04T16:35:00.000+05:30

Yesterday.
As I lay in bed, I saw the sunlight filtering into the room through wide windows – slowly at first, like a hesitant bride stepping into the house. Their warmth slowly seeped into my body.
How easily they bring out the best out of every soul! Even those million atoms in the air that act coy and stay invisible, cannot resist their attraction; a slow dance ensues.
The beams appear tender and fresh, yet strong enough to cleanse the terror of a nightmare.
They are enthusiastic - only they have the permission from millions of sleepyheads world over to enter the bedroom unceremoniously and wake them up from their sweet slumber.
They bounce off the dull walls and brighten up their lives. Like an excited pup, they wander all over the house, bringing a smile on the face.
I let out a sigh of content.
They reassured me that world at large is still safe and filled me with a fresh bout of optimism to look forward to the day ahead.

Today.
This morning I looked out of the window and found dirty gray clouds. I thought about the missing sunshine and felt all the more lost.

An unusual method

2008-01-25T11:47:00.000+05:30

It had always bothered me. The irritant in question is an advertisement on TV about a soap brand called ‘Nature Power’ by some RKN group. It shows two women discussing about the ‘best’ method to buy soap (where one model actually says – ‘by watching advertisements!’) and you see a third one popping up from nowhere, providing unsolicited advice after committing the offense of eavesdropping. The ad in itself is extremely lousy; a half-hearted, amateurish effort. What caught my attention was some ‘TFM factor being more than 76%’ or some such info the models provided; apparently soaps above 76% are supposed to be very good. And this seems to be criterion for recommending this soap to random strangers in the store.

At one point the camera zooms in on the product cover and the inscribed word ‘TFM’ with the percentage is displayed. At no point of time in this entire ad, does anybody bother explaining what this percentage or the acronym means. I expected at least one of the characters to bat her eyelids and ask ‘What is this TFM?’ like they show in many other advertisements – the usual, obvious leading question used to introduce a concept. No such luck here. They even show the fair maidens getting impressed by this mystery jargon they neither have any clue about nor care to get clarified.

I googled out TFM and found the details and it’s evident from the information on net that TFM is a fairly common term used when it comes to quality of soaps. However, I did not know about this and I am sure, there are millions others who wouldn’t know either.

The advertisement, per se, is not worth a glance but it definitely would have made a difference if I was told upfront what this ‘TFM’ was all about.
Or, may be not – only because it gave such an incomplete message, this ad stuck to my mind. And, that is a pretty roundabout way of making people remember a brand isn’t it?

Technology Glitches

2008-01-23T14:47:00.000+05:30

I am not so proud of my incapability in understanding technology. But I dont have to worry too much. I guess I am not so unique in this category and that makes me happy. Considering I am working for an IT company, (though my professional background has no connection to IT whatsoever) I should at least pretend to understand the latest gadgets, the facilities that information technology has made feasible. Recently, a friend of mine had a catchy tune in her mobile which I wanted transferred to mine. She asked if I had Bluetooth in my mobile. I don’t claim to be knowledgeable about Bluetooth, but I have at least heard of the name, and the wonders it does to people in transferring pictures and songs from PC to mobile, vice versa and similar other options. I said I didn’t have it in my phone. She gave me that saintly smile which translated to you-dunce-are-you-for-real type. I had a brainwave just then – I asked her:
“Could you transfer it to Potter’s mobile? He sure has Bluetooth”
“Yeah, sure”
“Ok, I will give you his number; send it to him right now”
“Okay… but, where is he?”
“Where else, in his office”
At this point, she looked up and I swear, what I saw was horror in her eyes. She then struggled to keep a straight face, and slowly said “the mobile has to be within a range of a hundred meters to transfer any data”
And all I could do was smile back at her, thinking “a thousand apologies*”

( *a reference to a dialogue by a Punjabi character in the serial ‘Mind Your Language’ whenever he made a stupid mistake; something I had always found quite silly)

Hope Floats

2008-01-08T16:53:00.000+05:30

Imagine being provoked, tested and pushed almost to the point of tearing my hair out, by a man on New Year’s Eve.
By a man who does not even exist.
I mean by a fictitious character. I was not drunk, no not all. But then, it happened to me for real. I never thought Andy Dufresne was going to get into my thoughts the way he did.
I am talking about the same Andy Dufresne, the unbelievably positive hero of ‘Shawshank Redemption,’ one of the greatest Hollywood movies ever made, according to me. I have seen the movie – twice. It indeed had a great impact on me then and continues to be one of my favourites. But, this is not that Andy Dufresne.
I happened to chance upon Stephen King’s book ‘Different Seasons’ containing four novellas and the first story in the book was ‘Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption.’
I knew the story well, yet, I was curious about the differences that crop up when books are made to movies. There were minor ones I agree. To his credit, the director has maintained a tight grip on the storyline in the movie.
But, the story in print is like a lip smacking dessert. Every sentence was an absolute delight. And the fact that I could hear Morgan Freeman’s voice narrating the entire drama while I read the book stands as a testimony to the effectiveness of the movie in translating to such powerful script and visuals on screen.
In case one is wondering, this is not what bothered me.
I experienced a peculiar sensation while reading this tale. Some kind of inner tumult going on parallelly. I felt as if I was hypnotized. Later, I forgot about it as the vacation drew to an end.
Recently I was caught unawares by changes in the weather and, on one of those nights as I lay in the bed, slightly feverish and unable to sleep, it came back to me again. I can’t really put a finger on what it was, but it could be roughly translated as a provocation – to detach myself from self and stand as an external party observing my own thought process, my hopes, desires, beliefs and my pessimism. To question the path that is developing in my life on its own, to challenge it and dare to chart it out according to my wish. It was as if Andy Dufresne was making fun of me – his silent laughter innocently mocking my feeble attempts at making decisions, all the while worrying about the possibility of falling flat on my face. Of me trying to be safe and not rock the boat.
Of course, I chided myself: I was just getting carried away by the wonderful optimism of a story – something that is not real.
But then, that strange word stuck in my mind: Institutionalized.
I liked the way the word was used. How convenient it was to describe the way the prisoners felt! However, it exactly describes what we have turned out to be – outside a prison, living in a progressive community and free, yet, institutionalized. By the society that chains us with moral obligations, responsibilities and unrealistic expectations. Expectations that have no business to be there in the first place.
But I cannot waste time trying to question and change the way it works; I’d rather change things for me. I still have the freedom of choice between what is expected and what I want to do. It does not matter if the act of choosing is near impossible.
May be I was plain high on the feel-good factor of the fiction or, may be I was delirious; I had not been keeping well. What else would explain such thoughts bouncing off my head at 2 a.m. in the morning?
Still, somewhere in a small corner of my heart, I dared to hope that a small conflict created in the mind today could later snowball to a strong change to become a better me.
After all it took about twenty seven years, according to the book, for Andy Dufresne to dig a tunnel in the prison wall with a rock hammer.

Road Trip

2007-12-21T11:33:00.000+05:30

Life on a friday morning is quite ordinary. Nothing useful or meaningful happening around. I have four days of leave ahead and am shocked to find out I am not excited about them. I have never been this jaded all my life. Probably I need another road trip. Speaking of which, I have realized travelling by one's own vehicle is so much fun and relaxing.
My trip two weeks ago from Bangalore to Udupi via chikmagalur, kalasa, kudremukh was a bliss.

Chikmagalur Hills Arecanut plantation, chikmagalur
Twilight in Kudremukh

The return journey was equally fun since we travelled via Aagumbe with breathtaking views of Western Ghats, thirthahalli, shimoga, tumkur and then back to B'lore.

Bamboo forest - Thirthahalli Hair pin bend - Aagumbe Sahyadri Range - Agumbe

Sunset Point - Aagumbe

Note: The pictures are quite fuzzy since we were constantly on the move.

Leather connection

2007-12-18T15:59:00.000+05:30

What is it with men and leather jackets? While traveling to work in the office bus, I see this guy with a 'passion' for leather jackets - black, brown, fawn, and even red! (What was he thinking?)
I suppose it's about being macho. I mean, it probably gives them the feeling that they are macho men or, may be the belief that they turn into one once they wear such stuff. But for the jacket, most people would not have noticed the guy in question who is well, kind of short, skinny and totally self-conscious enough to look down diligently while moving towards the rear seats. I always wondered how did he know which seats were empty – if he kept his head that low!
Before one jumps into conclusion that I don’t like him or any men of similar stature, let me clarify it was the jacket that had me gagging and not the person.
I guess it is not fair to expect only the rippling muscle men to wear leather jackets and accessories; after all, every one is entitled to their bit of fantasy.

Post gorging session

2007-11-12T12:11:00.000+05:30

There were three things to cheer about this Deepavali (or Diwali, as more commonly called nowadays and somehow less appreciated.)
*Great food back home, lovingly prepared by mommie dear
*Having Potter around for few days without having to worry about his and my work
*Gifts to be given and received

As the lights faded and I tumbled back to reality, I realized the monotony of our lives – mechanized by work, a crowded city and general listlessness, is all the more highlighted.
Added to the misery is my new found love for sweets. I can not believe I have grown to like these squishy looking halwas, browned burfies and other seemingly unappetizing eatables. Life has not been easy – hiding all those bulges takes a certain amount of efforts, skill and preparation on my part every time I go out.
But, it is not the time to ponder over such depressing things now.

I have more things to worry about than the President of United States – for example, I have to think and strategize about how to counter the magic spell by all those awful sweets on the already weak muscles and growing adipose reserves.
After five days of holiday bliss, the Monday morning is another major hurdle that I will have tackle now. Thankfully, the blow is less painful since the boss is not around yet – allowing me the pleasure of cribbing online.

The one thing I am happy about these festivals and the breaks that come along with them is that they urge me to demand more out of myself. And a purpose to get out of the usual laziness that surrounds life.

I, Me(me) and My left little toe

2007-11-05T16:12:00.000+05:30

Dreamcatcher has been up to some or the other mischief of late. If not, why else would she think of dragging me into this?
But it works for me! Though for all wrong reasons – it has given me a chance to write something/anything, considering how little I have been visiting my own blog.
Meme – I am quite ignorant when it comes to things like these…
However, I am equally open to try it out and see how it turns out in my hands.
So, from one link to the other and another, I kept reading and reading, trying to understand what exactly I have to do. I would not say I understood it quite clearly, but then, has it ever mattered? Looks like the ‘chosen one’ has to put down her/his thoughts on Writing – probably, on good writing.
Of the lot, DC has given the best clarity to this whole thing. So, I shall follow her steps with glee :-)

Why write?
When nothing can cheer me up about myself, writing does the dark chocolate trick. Instant gratification. The moment I finish what I started, I feel good, reaallllllllll good about everything around me. Yes, the fine-tuning process is painstakingly tedious, but that does not really dampen the spirits. I am amazed by the words that tumble out of nowhere to form a wonderful sentence that has the capacity to make or break my day.

When to write?
Anytime is a good time. Having said that, one is gravely mistaken if one thinks I can write at the drop of a hat. I hate to ponder and wander and not write a word. There are times when I really have to struggle hard; this makes me quit immediately. Then there are days, when I can see bright yellow butterflies perched on my writing, flitting from one line to the other.

What to write?
Anything that I can think of, as long as it makes sense: straight, honest, diabolic, twisted inverted, simple – basically, sense in some form or the other. The fun element dies the moment I need to search for a topic, which is why most of the times I am underground in hiding!
One should write what one feels strongly about; emotions, logic, science, fiction, philosophy, anything. Most importantly one should know what one writes about.

Where to write?
Depending on the type of mood I am in, I go headlong into frenzied typing in the middle of an assignment during office hours or peck on the keyboard for eternity at home (if and when PC is available)

How to write?
Write as it comes. Thoughts are tricky little monsters. They suck the life out of you but they fly away laughing at your useless efforts if you think you can handle them later in leisure. There is just one way to hold them: catch them instantly and pin them up on your writing boards.

Who to write for?
Sometime ago, I used to be under this illusion of writing for that someone special. No such silly notions now.
It’s thankfully I, Me and My left little toe!

Do I tag?
After much deliberation, I have decided that I follow the proverb ‘united we stand…’
Hence, two bloggers are going to ensure we don’t fall divided.
So it is your turn Bees…

Bikerdude (you have no option: you get tagged every time I get tagged hahaaaa!)

Backpakker (Have not seen you doing meme/tags/whatever other names – so one super chance to do and get over with!)

See-saw

2007-10-17T14:14:00.000+05:30

Have you ever noticed those strange periods when songs pull a sly trick on us? The happier the songs sound, the sadder we feel.

Well, it happened to me.

The best time..

2007-10-11T09:28:00.000+05:30

... I have had for sometime now is, reading The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, on the way to office and back home. I have not smiled (some times giggled/laughed out aloud) so much, so openly while reading a book.

Douglas Adams, God bless you in heaven.

Douglas Adams, You are God.

The right method to write

2007-09-26T12:56:00.000+05:30

Curiosity led me to goolge out quotes on writing. What I found pleased me – so, I wasn’t doing a bad thing by using up my work hours or precious sleep time to scribble thoughts. At least that is what Ms. Steinem seemed to advocate.

“Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don't feel I should be doing something else.” – Gloria Steinem

But I didn’t have to wait for long. For every Steinem there is a James Jones.

“The quality which makes man want to write and be read is essentially a desire for self-exposure and masochism. Like one of those guys who has a compulsion to take his thing out and show it on the street.” – James Jones

Sigh.

So, finally I chose to go along with Mr. Farrell. At least I don’t have to worry about the world.

“Neither man nor God is going to tell me what to write.” – James T. Farrell

Thank you Mr. Farrell.

The feel-good factor

2007-09-24T11:58:00.000+05:30

Past one week has been peaceful... Parents are around and it feels like heaven. I have been away from home for a long time and now, having them here with me, spending some quiet time (yeah, no chattering away to glory – just plain relaxation and chit chat when required) feels like the right solution to cheer up my otherwise dull life.
I was thinking about why we feel so secure and content when parents are around – is it just their affection towards me since I am their child no matter how grown up I am, or is it that I have never really grown up enough to feel comfortable without that invisible shield they provide against all the woes?
May be it’s a mix of both.

Lapse

2007-09-10T11:34:00.000+05:30

I have a feeling someone is hacking my memory... Yeah, I am talking about 'my' memory, not of the PC that I stare at day in and day out.
Dont be ridiculous? Of course I am not being one!
What else will explain the sudden forgetfulness of my banking passwords? That too right after I change them for safety reasons? Initially it was icici and now its another! ( I cant go on saying 'and another and another,' cuz I dont have that many)

Conversation with a TBC

2007-08-31T14:21:00.000+05:30

They are exotic.
They are TBC - true blue consultants.

Me: Hey what happened to your transfer plan? Getting your L1visa?
TBC: Kind of...
Me: Oh Yeah? Cool!...
TBC: No, Will be done soon.
Me: Oh, thats great, when is the interview?
TBC: No, the documents are not yet done.
Me: Oh, so have you applied for it?
TBC: No, will do it now, I have to get approval from the boss.
Me: So, have you spoken to him for the final go?
TBC:No, but will be discussing it in a week or so..

Me: Oh! umm.. that's great!...(totally stumped and searching for a change of topic)

Beginnings...

2007-08-31T11:58:00.000+05:30

Lets paint a rainbow..

What say you?

A brand new start,

a blind white curtain,

the canvas unwritten.

With our dreams for tomorrow,

Yes, let's paint a rainbow.

Foe to Friend

2007-08-20T14:14:00.000+05:30

25 Factoids - Now what the heck is that? Since BD did not clearly give any definition, I assume it is a mixture of anything that I want to say.
So, here you go.

1. Hated 'Max' all my life – I can never understand why my net pay is a laughable number where as the numerals quoted to me on the paper looked so grand! What kind of relationship do they share? Linear, inverse, exponential, reverse exponential? (Forgive me for inventing my own one) So if you really want to piss me off, introduce me to some 'hot' male friend of yours who is a mathematics major.

2. Could never muster the will to master music - am afraid, my parents would have joined some asylum if they had to tolerate my nakhras to practice the art (told my boyfriend that I could sing! just to impress him - and, he wasn't fooled for long)

3. My topmostest wish is to be able to fly - just flap my arms and take off... whoooshh... just like that.

4. I am blind as a bat - that is, without my spectacles and of late contact lenses

5. Lately, I have developed an addiction to chips (yes, it is RECENT) - My favourite? Bingo - Mad Angles (God bless FabMall in our office right below my floor)

6. I dream EVERYDAY.. Quite elaborate and very rarely in black and white. And I clearly remember the dream I had when I was in the first standard, officially my first dream.

7. I dislike confrontations - be it at home, work or with friends/foes

8. For a long time, I hoped to be the world's most famous writer. I had not yet learnt reading then! :-)

9. I never, ever miss a chance to notice myself in the mirrors (worse, even glass doors would do) only to be reminded how easily my hair obeys the wind while ignoring all my prayers.

10. As a kid, I thought 'native place' was a mispronunciation - the right word according to me was 'negative place' don’t ask why, I have no clue.

11. I travel for five hours every day between my home and office to spend time in blog browsing, sing-along-a-song, and finding innovative ways of killing time and boredom. Project? What it eeez?

12. Water is my least favourite drink. What I mean to say is... as a daily dose, I drink very less of it.

13. I like tall men. I like short men too, but I LIKE tall men - the best thing about them is that they “appear" not only tall, but also intelligent.

14. I like the smell of rubber shoes - whenever I pass by Bata Shoe stores, I flare my nostrils to the fullest extent (no, I don’t look like a dragon - male or female)

15. I HATE it when someone/anyone calls me on my mobile phone during my nap. Yeah, so do ten million others but, this is supposed to be about me no?

18. Learning the hard way: icicidirect.com can be fun when you are learning how to use a demat account for the first time but fatal when you realize you have lost all the money you had. What was I thinking? A game probably, similar to Trade Game (or whatever it is called where you buy and sell cities and ships/planes for fake paper money. It was so much fun.
Forgot to mention, you even get to be a jailbird in that game)

20. Learning the easy way: Inventing excuses that always managed to explain my late appearances in the evening after playing till 9 pm during those 'good-ole-days'

24. I never knew I liked diamonds until, my 'mister' forgot to buy me one.

25. I dislike rains but love pizzas (Did you say what's the connection? Well...some other time)

Surprise surprise, on a rare occasion like this, my nemesis 'Max' ( I have heard even the convent educated gals using it this way) has come to my rescue and I have got all my facts ready - right till the 25th. There!

So, I shall pass this infection to Priya

Hide and Seek

2007-08-16T17:31:00.000+05:30

Location: An unusual evening on the terrace, Gurgaon

Permanence

2007-08-08T10:46:00.000+05:30

It has never bothered him -

who wakes up in a prison, a gutter or a brand new room

It's the same path in his sight

every morning and in the night

Does he know I am home away from home?

The lessons learnt...

2007-08-07T13:30:00.000+05:30

A team meeting involving the super boss around always reminds me of my college days – more specifically, times during group discussions (GDs). I can draw parallels at every point.

Talking continuously, ignoring what the others are saying and going ahead with one’s point, those points being completely pointless, trying to impress no one in particular and every one at the same time, and redoubling efforts at appearing intelligent at the cost of other’s mistakes – all in the hope that the guy-who-matters noticed the efforts.

Of course, I was talking about the GD that occurs when campus placements are made.
It definitely differs from the one during a project completion in college that is hardly alive with one’s blank stares, doodling in note books and hoping some one else does finishes the work for them. Same goes for internal team meetings.

People (read MBAs) never grow up, do they?

Lightheadedness

2007-06-29T10:19:00.000+05:30

A vacation from the vocation (hopefully not a permanent one)

Have we broken the..

2007-06-27T09:46:00.000+05:30

..Glass Ceiling?

2007-06-26T16:32:00.001+05:30

I desperately want some cuddling up, a reassurance, a smile that makes me 'smile' in return, a signal that life is not a hell hole. Even as I write this I admonish myself - what hell hole? What is so wrong?
I dont know.
I should not be feeling this way.
The punishment is I am not going to think. Just sit and finish the work I am doing. Push myself into the paragraphs that are impersonal and make sense out of them to justify the education I received.
I am not going to comfort myself. That's what I deserve right now.

Thoughtlessness - It's Official

2007-06-25T16:56:00.000+05:30

I know, it’s Monday morning. Nobody wants to come early to the office. As I wait for the bus at another location of our office, I wonder how the bus will accommodate these many late comers (that includes me today) There are loads of them – brand new Nike shoes, Esprit bags, oodles of make up and bleached manes.

After two false starts (they were vehicles of other organizations) our bright red office bus appeared. All this while, people were in various stages of trance – blank stares, mobile games, and mumblings on the phone. The red devil seemed to have an invisible power shaking every soul out of slumber. Chaos reigned.

As if propelled by rocket fuel, every employee rushed towards to board the bus that has just one door. There were gentle, not-so-gentle, downright rude pushes and shoves. Made up faces lost their delicate sandals, resulting in high pitched screeches and an outpour of audible curses. Bags were pulled, pushed and some even went through the danger of snapping. The stylish accented English came down to the ugly lashings of Hindi and the vernacular. The cultured men turned to hooligans in spilt of a second sparing no thoughts towards the PYTs they were humoring. Traveling in a BTS bus would have been easier.

I am zapped. Amazed at this sudden turn of the events.
Everybody knew they are heading towards the same destination. They also knew there were limited seats. Despite the rush, most people had to stand since the bus was already full. Is it worth all that commotion? So much of an inconvenience to one and all. Would it not make sense to apply breaks to the enthusiasm one shows in finding that unavailable empty seat?
It appears education and propriety come into picture only in conference rooms, meetings with clients or when one is in a situation favorable to self.

The Reluctant Fundamentalist

2007-06-22T13:27:00.000+05:30

The Reluctant Fundamentalist - By Mohsin Hamid
I first happened to read about this book here. I was quite impressed with the interview, so I went ahead and bought it. I have mixed feelings about the book.

The book describes the journey of a young Pakistani man into the harsh realities of conformity to a world that is not his own. He slowly grows uncomfortable with his American surroundings, his discomfort further enhanced by the rejection by his lover. The troubles brewing in his homeland make him restless enough to leave the comforts of a plush and prestigious job and return to his homeland. The education and the liberal thinking do not help in handling the unease he feels when it comes to being a part of a minority community. The book touches upon current issues like US interference in world politics, though not in an in-depth manner. The book also focuses on the Pakistan – India relationship when Indian parliament was attacked, but only as an add-on to the already developed story line.

The writing style is simple and does not require extra effort from the reader's part. The story is gripping; I didn’t want to put it down till I reached the end. The portrayal of the main character 'Changez' is convincingly real. The emotions he goes through, be it during his romance with Erica or in the working environment, can be easily identified with. Initially one might feel the depiction of Erica's character a little fatuous (her longing for her dead lover being so overpowering as to shadow her feelings for Changez) but at a later stage one automatically empathizes and connects with the turmoil she goes through.

The book is written in first person, which is all right, but the setting, where the listener is addressed in the book (an American who is visiting Pakistan) is never involved in the scene, looks pretty artificial. I mean, imagine telling your life story (which is quite eventful and long) continuously without a break. Here is a total stranger (a Pakistani, who with his long beard which looks pretty menacing) who is insisting on spending more time with you in this unknown place where fear is the norm, would you not be fidgeting and itching to get out after half an hour? Yes, there are instances where the narrator acknowledges the listener's discomfort, still it does not sound very convincing.
Overall, a decent book to read up on a weekend.

There she goes...

2007-06-20T14:24:00.000+05:30

In the middle of the week, you get a chance to get out of the office at 2 30pm. Without raising any one's eyebrows. And go shopping with your family that is here on vacation.

Peace and overflowing joy.

Cozy Coorg

2007-06-15T14:17:00.000+05:30

A first time weekend visit to Coorg is an exhilarating experience, especially if you have your own vehicle to drive around. Traveling to this place with cousins whose idea of fun matches yours, is the icing on the cake. A few pics to tell at least half the tale. As to the other half, shh.. not to be asking!!

Abbey Falls was a sheer disappointment with middle aged men with their bulging potbellies trying to act cool in the chilling waters. They would climb up the slippery stones around and shout in triumph urging their families to take pictures. Looked like Himalayas would take a beating here. (thankfully not captured here - of course, it was quite a feat to avoid them in the shot!)

Raja seat truly provided the chance to enjoy the beauty of the valley and the surrounding blue hills.

Of course, it was pretty clear that the rain god had decided to make it difficult

A disguised sunset - if one can call it that way!

....

2007-06-12T11:17:00.000+05:30

The brain - a disused sponge drying out in the sun.

Sunset at Malpe Beach

2007-06-04T13:38:00.000+05:30

A peaceful sunset with riot of colors and clouds – the luxury I missed the most when I was in Chennai... And now, in Bangalore.

P.S: My camera battery betrayed me just when the sun decided to give us a feast. So, that essentially explains the lack of colors!

Location: Malpe Beach, Udupi, Karnataka.

Ball on the Wall

2007-06-01T14:04:00.000+05:30

If I were God, Ok, not necessarily God, at least an Elf I would devise a lovely scheme for all those wonderful people who can’t seem to keep their saliva trapped shut.
How about this? Who ever, irrespective of age, cast, creed, gender, status, or education spits out on the road, the spit instantly bounces back on their face. “Phucchhak.” Not once or twice but every time.
Sounds disgusting? But I am only reminding you of Newton’s 3rd law - nature is governed by the rule “Every action has an equal and opposite reaction”
The rubber ball hits the wall.
I love physics!

The Relic Hunter

2007-05-31T16:53:00.001+05:30

I am sure my cousin did lot of hunting on this! The romantic side of me would imagine he had been to faraway exotic lands, riding high on this mean machine, checking out for monsters and slaying dragons in the bathroom. Dinosaurs hidden under the bed, trembling at his war cry.
The mountainous stairs to the first floor however, refused to bow making him red with anger, and he vowed one day he would conquer them.
And he did.
Ever since, this trusted aide of the Zulu warrior has rusted on the terrace.

The Magic Duster

2007-05-30T17:39:00.000+05:30

At the discussion room today, I had painstakingly charted out the entire course of action on the white board, literally. Our team was looking at an alliance deal with an organization well known in the industry.

My super boss came into the room, discussed few more things and suddenly decided that this wasn’t the right approach. Just like that. In a single sweep of the duster, those lovely rectangles, pointers and asterisk on the board disappeared. Every one seemed happy except me.

How wonderful it would be if I could erase my past mistakes, my guilt trips and unintentional bloops. Just like that. Would this make me happy or others?

Of Responses and Responsibilities

2007-05-29T15:19:00.000+05:30

The art of pitching for new projects has always fascinated me. I mean, there must be really an element of luck that each IT company is blessed with, when handling these RFIs (Request for Information documents) or RFPs (Request for Proposal) from the prospective client. How else could one explain the miracles of clinching deals with the kind of information that people provide in these pages?

The people who pitch in for new projects are the ones who know the least about the requirements and yet talk most about them. The 'gyan' that goes into the RFP documents comes from an unknown, and till then, unwanted entity sitting in a cubicle trying to act busy. Typically, the Field Force person (in simple words – sales guy) who will be 'leading' this initiative would sleep on these RFPs for the major part of the deadline and wake up the morning before to whip up the offshore people. These harried souls in turn hurry up to fill up the document with unnecessary details that no one would believe except the duds sitting in the prospective client's place. (That is, if we are fortunate to have them strategically positioned to handle these situations)

I have learnt that a seemingly ‘routine’ task such as this has helped the poor souls in interpreting and understanding bigger and more important things in life. You don’t believe it? Ha!! Then take a look at this.

Ethics. How wonderful it is to learn the art of balancing the shred of truth with the loads of lies and yet feel good at the end of the day! "Hey, we did not lie outright! We just didn’t give the complete picture, and it’s anyway not possible in an RFI." As regards to facing the consequences of these incomplete pictures that one has painted, it would a brave "We'll cross the bridge when we come to it." This is of course, if and when one does manage to squeeze into the next qualifying round.

Networking. Information seeking becomes an all time absorbing activity. This would mean calling up unknown strangers in the role of project managers, consultants and leads in every verticals and horizontals for an itsy bit of data. You would be lucky if they have just finished their lunches and are in a benevolent mood. God help you if they have just come out of a losing argument with their bosses.

The so-called soft skills. "How come you are answering this RFP? This is completely our domain. We should be getting involved at this point of time." By the time you convince them that you are handling only one aspect of the RFP and the rest 'may' be already with one of their own, you would have perspired enough to flood your cubicle.

Negotiation. The skill of extracting maximum information from others while providing minimum in return (that too most of the time, irrelevant) can be developed only when one is dealing with the fellow company men. You would be surprised at the level of resistance to part with information that is not even personal! Wait, don’t crib, the same goes for parting with your side of information. The already harassed seeker is given strict orders not to pass on anything (as if they are national security secrets) and still gain immense insights from the other.

After all the circus, one finally gets to send out the document working overtime, overnight. It is another issue altogether that the sales guys blooped the process of addressing it to the 'right' contact person, offending their sense of hierarchy and costing you the project.

That’s ok! Tomorrow is another day with another new beginning to the old process.

Icing on volcano

2007-05-23T17:47:00.001+05:30

When irritation turns to anger and the fuse is waiting for that small ignition, comes the final act of defiance - the supreme indifference. I am in the mood for it now.

Mixed Feelings

2007-05-15T11:00:00.000+05:30

Once upon a time, if one played a word association game, Bangalore would invariably linked with nouns/adjectives starting with P - parks, pleasant weather, people.

Even now, the association holds good for the alphabet - pollution, parking problems, and people.

Note: This was an old post in an older blog of mine, which I decided to fold for good. Somehow, the post still felt relevant.

Blog Speaketh!

2007-05-08T17:26:00.000+05:30

A fellow blogger had once suggested that I display a picture of Kiskara Huvu - (Kiskara: the vernacular name for the Ixora flower. huvu: flower) to which I gladly oblige. The picture here is of the wilder speices of Ixora Coccinea. Some how, I don't prefer the domestic or hybrid or what ever it is called (which we see in our/neighbors' gardens). The picture was taken on the way to a temple situated on a hillock.
Since I was unsure of the common name (which usually is in English) I tried googling as usual.

Two things interested me.
That, it is the national flower of Republic of Suriname, one of those chutku countries in South America. (However, there were contradicting pictures citing the same at several websites. So, I am not really sure.)
That, the name Ixora is a Portuguese rendering of the Sanskrit name of the Indian god - synonymous with Iswara. (Source: www.gardenasiamag. com).

Obviously, of the two what surprised me more was the fact (which, I didnt state in my blog) that the website quoted Iswara as the Malabar deity. Now, what/who exactly is Malabar Deity? (I had always associated malabar with kerala - does it mean Iswara is a mallu god?)

Contributions of any info on this issue would be enlightening.

Picture this 'P'

2007-05-02T11:33:00.000+05:30

Pipal/Plaksa

Patience

Perseverance

The fate of a skilled worker

2007-04-24T17:37:00.000+05:30

I happened to read this post discussing on ever increasing demand for skilled workers. In the post, the blogger writes about how other industries can benefit by nurturing skilled workers and creating opportunities for them so as to keep this more as a long term benefit.

Considering the examples were taken, let me speak about the industry that I am associated with - the IT industry. Yes, people here are skilled; the working part, I am not so sure. Of course, this is not generalizing the entire population of this industry but a surprisingly sizable chunk of them. I am ready to put up a fight against those who would say this does not apply at all.

I have seen enough instances of skilled workforce sitting idle for lack of projects, lack of direction in the work, lack of 'space' and yes, don’t be surprised, lack of desktops. And these are not in some struggling, small firms. The idea is to hoard. Whether they are required or not at the moment, we have people who are doing nothing yet highly skilled. The general argument is that a healthy reserve is a must for all company and its the norm in the industry. I would agree to that. But how long should that reserve go on in the 'reserve' mode? And how are these skilled people who are in the reserve, contributing to the general growth of the industry?

Unfortunately, the work environment in most of the companies does not promote creativity during idle hours, for the very reason that I mentioned above – 'lack of many things' that would enable doing any kind of work. There would be people no doubt, highly ambitious, who would make use of this time to come up with ground breaking ideas. But let me assure you they are few and far between.

I guess the benefit occurs in the initial stages of development in an industry. Hiring skilled force is not a big deal but utilizing them, nurturing them and creating opportunities for them is the problem. As the industry grows, the inefficiencies grow too and at present, it's the opportunity creation that is lagging behind. And an idling skilled workforce is one of the manifestations of the inefficiency.
Yes, this is just one side of the argument, but an argument it is.

The Perfect Couple

2007-04-23T15:55:00.000+05:30

There was no way he could have got an internationally acclaimed beautiful wife. There was no way she could get a husband whose family had sole rights on the word “iconic” and whose status could be defined as that of demigods. There was no way they could have missed each other. They were “The Couple” for the star crazed nation made perfect by a manipulative media.

How convenient a marriage can be!

The Roman Catholic Cemetery, Adugodi

2007-04-20T18:00:00.000+05:30

It is strange that a location that is generally synonymous with eeriness, fear, and Stephen King stories in the darkness, magically converts into a place that looks serene, lovely (with all the greenery) and calms me down when I pass by it every morning.

The Ugly Red Flame

2007-04-16T16:31:00.000+05:30

Had a bad tongue lash with a colleague of mine. It was just for two minutes, but the bitter after effects will definitely last longer. Of course, we made up. I am sure I will forget it by tomorrow cuz I am pretty fond of her, but I am not so sure about her... not because she is insensible, but because she is more sensitive compared to me. Two minutes after the episode, I calmed down only to be in the usual regret mode.

Looking back at the situation, I realized we both felt the other was in the wrong. And even when we were clarifying things, we still felt the same, I am sure of that.

How does one handle such situations?
How does one keep this vicious anger from lifting its enormous head in unexpected situations?
And, how does one manage to maintain the delicate balance between proving oneself right and acknowledging the other's point of view?
Finally, how does one handle guilt after such episodes?

I need some real quick answers before I change from a human to a creature possessed by anger :(

The Ice Cream Maker

2007-04-15T11:28:00.000+05:30

The Ice cream Maker by Subir Chowdhury - a small yet powerful book on Quality. The best thing about the book is that it is a tale; it succeeds in retaining the reader's interest. The narration was concise and simple. It made me want read on. For the first time, I did seriously think about my own job, the quality of work I do, we as a team do and the enormous scope that we have for improvement.

To put it simply, the story is about a dairy manager who is facing the threat of closure if he doesn’t turn around the business of ice cream manufacturing. He realizes that employee morale is low, they have already laid off few people, and cash inflow for any improvements is not forthcoming. He needs a sale to Natural Foods, a chain of stores; this new account could be a savior for his company. Once he meets the manager of Natural Foods, an ex-neighbor of distant past, he realizes the various problems his products have - mainly quality. Through continuous interaction with the store manager, he learns the various aspects of quality and tries to implement in his plant. This leads to small but positive changes in the productivity, employee morale, changes in the mindset of the owner, and finally the required sale to Natural Foods.

The story is basically explaining a concept called LEO - Learn, Enrich and Optimize with respect to quality. The idea is to build quality in every aspect, every area and every role in an organization. Make every one feel responsible about ensuring highest quality in the work they do - no matter how big or small the role/work is. The point that has been emphasized in the book is that quality is not a one-time activity - it is continuous and always there is room for improvement.

Well, if we look at it, almost all management books would say pretty much the same thing, but this is a book that makes one 'think' about it after putting it down. To try and see if there is a small chance for us to implement what it says. And, this I think, is a great achievement for a book.

Chicken Soup

2007-04-11T17:06:00.000+05:30

Just completed 'Chicken soup for the Writer's Soul', one of the chicken soup series books. Yes, earlier I was averse to these feel good, chocolaty sweet motivational stuff, but somehow the 'writer's part caught my fancy. I must say I was pleasantly surprised.
I guess the difference between this and others would be that instead of the usual theme of how the world at large benefits from the insights, here, the individual - the writer benefits from other's experience. The stories were of well known and some lesser known writers as written by them. The one lesson that kept repeating in almost every writer's experience was that of 2Ps - Practice and Perseverance.
I was astonished to see the statistics of many great authors who were rejected repeatedly (some, for years!) and yet bounced back to produce a bestseller.

This only goes to prove that some day... some day I too might have a chance!
But 2P comes first!!

Estranged

2007-04-09T16:16:00.000+05:30

As you stoke the embers of my past
I watch the soot of unhappiness
settling over my soul
I lift my teary eye
to glimpse a stranger’s face

The last of the losers to roll out ever...

Soliloquy

2007-04-04T14:52:00.000+05:30

The future tense of argument is regret. Why have them at all if I am going to feel shitty later without a single instance of exception? I need to realize after all, everyday cannot be a Sunday.

Sunset in GKVK

2007-04-03T17:33:00.001+05:30

This is the kind of surprise UAS (also popularly known as GKVK -Gandhi Krishi Vignyan Kendra) will throw at you when you least expect it, like when you are walking around in the sprawling Hebbal campus ...

Who would believe this 202 acre land of peace and tranquility is still part of the same noisy, polluted and suffocatingly overpopulated Bangalore?

P.S : One should excuse the incongruencies in the picture as initial efforts of an amateur.

Jealousy

2007-03-29T13:45:00.000+05:30

Could one be so madly in love that they cannot tolerate the intrusion to the mind space of their beloved, even if the intruder is just a piece of writing?

Written words, I argue, are the most potent, virulent, and the oldest super species on earth that pulsate with life.
They are blessed with immortality. With power that can destroy the strongest establishments. With passion that no human can possess. With feelings that no lover can induce. With energy that could tire the winds. With persistence that shames the waves. With magnetism that can reduce a free soul to a slave.

With the potential to steal away a heart...

With so much at stake, how can one say that it's just the insecurity that makes one ache with envy?

Magic Number

2007-03-26T15:05:00.000+05:30

I had this sneaking suspicion all this while. I have had dreams - pleasant and unpleasant ones on this.
Today was the day of confirmation.
I have reached the magic number - that sticky one which will refuse to let go of me no matter how hard I try (why does this remind me of the melting cheese on a hot pizza? Never mind..)

Shouldn't I be happy? I have joined the ranks of "healthy" people.
Should I be sad? Fifty does not sound so bad...

"Medaam, life is so costly"

2007-03-23T16:36:00.000+05:30

Sometimes, one does wonder about the time, situation and the appropriateness for having a "sensible chat". The time and the situation change the condition accordingly – it could be absolutely horrendous or perfectly sensible. Life Insurance taught me that.

Scenario: Me getting hounded by an insurance agent disguised as our photocopier assistant.

The line was growing longer and longer every time I peeked into the admin room.
Reason: one working photocopying machine with an assistant to help out.
Time: Last day to complete the investment proofs for tax purpose.
I, belonging to the greater population that believes in Just In Time concept, gingerly joined the queue. Every time I heard a groan in the line I feared for the life of photocopying machine. Finally after forty minutes of PTIO (productive-time-in the-office) spent on shuffling legs trying to avoid insensitive sods that moved back and forth like fourth standard kids during prayer, I got a glimpse of the machine. And the man.

If you are in a tearing hurry, fearing your monster of a boss to appear out of nowhere, what would you do? - Give the man your document, avoid eye contact and ask him for 2 copies phataaphat. I did EXACTLY that.
Sigh.. I don’t know what part of my sentence provoked him to start a conversation with me. Looked like he had the faculty of divyadrishti to identify the potential bakras.

He: Medaam, ee varshaddu tax papersaa? (Papers for this year's tax?)
Me: (Avoiding his gaze) Umm…
He: Full amount aitha medaam? (Have you invested for the full amount?)
Me: (Highly embarrassed) Umm no…
He: Medaam, our life very important no? Life is so costly (I am sure he meant precious, but I didn’t have the gall to check), we working so hardly for our family...

I was growing confused - have I met a Socrates Reincarnated?
In an instant, it became all too clear.

He: Medaam, insurence madidra? LIC policy thagondbidi (Have you insured yourself? Take an LIC policy)
Me: Sir, I am getting late, can you give my copies?
He: Medaam, thumba easy (very easy)... Jest one form filling medaam..
Other JITians are already getting restless - some whispering curses in a not-so-low tone and some stifling giggles at my condition
Me: (Going red in the face and almost begging) I have to run for a meeting now; I will come back and collect the form ok?
He: (With knotted eyebrows and curled up mouth) Eveningaa medaam? I meeting you here only medaam..
Me: (Almost running) yes yes...
He: Medaam, See you at 5..... I waiting…

I could see scandalous assumptions that the growing group of JITians was making, having heard only the last sentence. I wanted to jump out of the second floor at that instant and end it all, but for the 'Life is Costly' statement.

Ever since, I sneak around with furtive glances scanning the horizon before I leave my unit.

Inward Focus

2007-03-14T12:01:00.000+05:30

This was forwarded by a colleague of mine…

“Some of us waste our time waiting for people
to live up to our expectations.
We are so concerned about what others are doing
that we don’t do anything ourselves.
It is not so important what others are upto;
compared to what you are doing.
Focus on what you do, your work; Not on others.”

The alternate Identity

2007-03-13T16:02:00.000+05:30

The discovery of pet names must be as old as the human civilization. (Of course no googling was done on this! - this can be another heavy duty exercise in itself). No, it is not the name of a pet as one would automatically assume, rather, those sweet somethings that are used on unsuspecting humans who have no way of escaping once the term is carved out of nowhere.

The root cause for converting/shortening names or rechristening of people can be many - affection, or lack of it, ease of use, fad (which has lasted generations!), social obligations (check with Bengalis or Punjabis for this!) or just-for-the-heck of-it. Whatever be the case, I have always been fascinated (partly because I never had one) by those ingenious minds who coin these names. I mean one does have to have a streak of genius/madness to come up with names that sound like some incoherent chatter of monkeys - tibbi, chichi, peekaachoo ... Haa!! what not!

It would be considered a social offense if you do not have a pet name in places inhabited by 'ami tumi's and ' Oye chakkde phatte's (Oh! you don’t have a pet name? - you poor thing, looks like your mommie/daddy doesn’t love you) All those chintu, mintu, boskey, babbloo, lolo, molus of the alternate identity world would be genuinely surprised about the lack of "cute" little words that emphasize the affection hoarded on one's offspring. In South Indian families, I have noticed a relatively lower prevalence of pet names that extend into one’s life to become official names (Pinki, Dabboo or something similar). It could be that I have met quite a small sample of the above mentioned population but that has convinced me to go ahead with the assumption. You are welcome to prove me wrong. :)

Of course, one must not I repeat, not confuse my ramblings as dislike towards these names. On the contrary, they have been a source of inspiration to me – to try creating new words of my own; mind you it’s quite a challenge to get an absolutely meaningless word to sound sweet/romantic/affectionate/disgust – the entire range; just right enough to suit the mood and the occasion.

These small little words have the habit of causing devastating effects – try calling out your six feet tall brother’s pet name “Putta” (meaning small/tiny in Kannada) when he is out playing cricket with his friends and see his reaction; rather, don’t wait for the aftermath action. Or, the time when there is an office conference call scheduled to be taken from home and your mom picks up the phone only to yell “Chinnuuu….phone for you….” to the awaiting phirang world.

On a serious note, I find using customized names to be very very enchanting – as long as they are done in private. Who wouldn’t turn into defenseless blob of butter on hearing his/her sweetheart’s voice cooing the magic word? (Honeybun, sugarplum, sweetie pie – for those with epicurean orientation; contrasting with others such as baby, love, sweetheart, melody, whatever whatever…) The warmth of love overflows when parents call out their sons/daughters (beta, naanna, babu, putti, chinni, chitti, bangaari, muddu, kanna, etc etc – forgive me for relative lack of knowledge in this namology domain of our northern counterparts)

So, I wouldn’t dare say what’s in a name – well, so much of course!

Defenseless

2007-03-12T15:36:00.000+05:30

There they are - zooming in on me,
chasing me every where I go
like moths raving over the flickering light..
Only it does not seem so right.
Eating me up slowly...
making me feel like a lowly.

Is this right? Is this true?
Have I been blinded
Have I been a fool?
Heart forecasts doubled sunshine and trippled laughter
mind whispers - Oh! whatever...

I am scared, ashamed all at once
Doubting my own love and feeling blue...
Where is this all going to end?
no idea, no clue..

The feeling of helplessness creeps in when one goes through THE DILEMMA.
Self-doubt is the best weapon towards self destruction.

The Drought

2007-03-08T17:14:00.000+05:30

I fear the drought
I fear the drought that kills the sprout,
the promise of a new beginning ...
that hesitant struggle to a delicate sapling
Sprinkle the elixir, my love

Fear and suspicion – the growing weeds
Leaving us with no more needs
sapping our hearts, drying the earth
Silence embracing emptiness
emptiness leading to hopelessness
To a barren land of no return

Oh, I fear the drought!
Sprinkle the elixir, my love...
Before the drought kills the sprout

Women - What say?

2007-03-08T12:06:00.000+05:30

Women's Day. Today almost the entire universe would talk, write, debate and sing about the significance of 'celebrating' the day, the progress that has been made, the contribution to humanity etc etc. On similar lines there will be 'deep thoughts' about the real story that is not apparent to the world and male bashing that comes along with the thought process.

End of day, no one knows which thoughts are genuine, arising out of real concern for the development of (the word itself is a disgrace) womenfolk. All in all it is a mixed bag of achievements, over expectations from self and others (read species counterparts), ready suspicion towards anything that appears a wee bit different from general cynicism and a shocking indifference towards the oppressor (at least in some cases).

Would it not make sense to appreciate the society for the support that is being offered but trust ‘Self’ for the supposed 'development'?

Honeymoon Timepass

2007-03-05T17:33:00.000+05:30

Weekend was movie time after a long gap. Sticking to my usual rule of procrastination, I watched 'Honeymoon Travels Pvt Ltd' by Reema Kagti. I am not much of a movie goer and a movie review is definitely not my cup of tea since my knowledge of technicalities involved in movie making is just about the same as a peacock's expertise in singing. Despite the declaration, I shall attempt to describe what I felt watching the above mentioned.

Without going too much in to details of the story, let me say the movie is about six couples who planned their honeymoon to Goa in a tourist bus. For once, the movie evoked decent laughs with humour that was not really run-of-the-mill kind. But yes, there were times I wished the director had thought a little longer (especially the superman/superwoman scene)
The best couple was Partho and Milli - I wanted to start a fan club for the delectable Partho but found out that this effort would require some kind of activity from my side, so I wisely dropped the idea. Kay kay (Partho) - how did malluland produce such a darling? I fail to understand. His portrayal of a husband who is uncomfortable with PDA was so hilarious and touching that it reminded me of my own beloved Potter. Raima sen (Milli) was a surprise (could be because I have never seen her in any other films except Parineeta and that is as good as her being absent from the flick).

Our dear oldies - Shabana and Boman Irani (sadly, I cant remember their screen names) were not given much scope and yet, I found Boman Irani quite cute with Shabana not having to do much at all hence, quite dumb.

Aspi and Zara (Abhay deol and Minisha Lamba) are nothing to write about except that Ms. Lamba looked good even in close ups.

Ranvir - 'Hites(h)' was a gem that had just five minutes to sparkle. He was amazing, reminded me of some of my gujju friends back in gujjudes(h). Diya Mirza ('Silpaa') does little (neither song/dance sequence nor an eye candy material to the male species - but of course that's my opinion!) and Arjun Rampal was nicely forgotten during the drafting of this post (only later did I realize and correct my mistake!).

Who else? Amisha Patel and some Karan guy (sorry Karan, not to be getting offended) as Pinky and Viky are passable, at least better than the previously mentioned couple. Amisha Patel did manage to humour me with her silly woman act, complete with off-the-track sense of style and misplaced attitude - commonly found up north. I appreciate Karan's efforts (though not very successful) portraying his agony in the realization of the effect of another homo sapiens on him.

Sandhya Mridul and Vikram Chatwal as Madhu and Bunty were also quite pale - I dont know what could have been better, but I am fond of Sandhya Mridul (for no apparent reason) and I was slightly disappointed with her performance. The best part of the movie was the song of course - Sajna ji wari wari... I loved it and I just wanted to join Kay kay in that mad jump hop skip act. Others (if any, in the movie) - I am not bothered.

So, all in all it was a well spent saturday evening that ended with a dinner with the cousin junta.

Ficklemindedness

2007-03-02T17:47:00.000+05:30

I used to love my earlier blog layout... suddenly I see that it does not appear how it supposed to appear... So, it had to go...

Two sides of a screen

2007-03-02T16:20:00.000+05:30

Writing is a curse. A disease that won't go away. A temptation that I cannot resist. An agony that I have to endure. For days, I will be in the vacuum mode where no thoughts can enter the realm of writing, a dazed brain that sturggles every minute to crystallize a simple sentence. This frustrates me to no end, no subject seems fascinating and there is a general feeling of despair. The thought paralysis spreads to other activites and the final stage is self pity.

The other leg of the journey is equally arduous.

The days when the heart seems to sing and brain is high on ink (or key board sound) words seem to tumble out like passengers from the bus to tirupati.They seem to run all around me and all I have to do is catch them and order them around - make them dance for my pleasure or put them on a march.

Necessary jolts

2007-02-26T09:36:00.000+05:30

'Look before you leap' - Cliched, but every word of it is worth the implemention. Life gives us a chance to remember and practice this very often, as I was made aware of. What could be the truth and what we perceive as the truth are two entirely different things - in fact, as separate as a parallel universe.

On Trolls and travelers

2007-02-22T12:18:00.000+05:30

It is 6.50 am and the bleary eyed employees board the company bus one by one in a manner that would befit the robots in a factory. The routine is not something that they enjoy since it involves multiple levels of discomfort. The driver, unmindful of the impact of drudgeries of work on these poor souls, takes perverse pleasure in shaking and waking them to face the sad reality.

The bus moves forward in the manner of a patient whose knee jerk reactions have been tested over and over again. The rattling windows, which have had repeat extensions from retirement, ensure the employees have to carry cotton plugs to keep their hearing capabilities intact. After the multiple stops, the employees hope the speed of travel would increase from the current crawling style. To their dismay, it does, with devastating effects.
The driver honks till the next city can hear him coming and is immediately greeted by thousands of other reciprocating honk addicts. Suddenly, there is a rush of dreadrinaline (the monster equivalent of human adrenaline) in him and he decides his travelers need a dose of suicidal driving. The details of this activity are unnecessary and painful hence, can be summed up as an act that was superbly executed.

Meanwhile our poor employees are trying to sleep and habit enables them to manage it pretty well too. The driver is not going to accept defeat so soon though. Instantly the speakers crackle with cacophonic noises that currently pass off as music. The cackle of radio jockeys makes one's skin crawl and tear apart any defenses that were built in the process of evolution of man to zombie. There are squirms, tired glares and ‘tchtches’ aimed towards the driver who, of course, can neither see nor hear and cares even less.

It indeed, is a bleak situation and one of the Harassed Employees (identified as HE) plans to come back to life and do something about this. So, HE moves ass to reach the driver's seat and requests him to switch off the radio. All HE gets is a stare from the puny monster who continues with his driving. Another act of begging masked as a request towards reducing the volume too gets squashed.
Sudden enlightenment occurs and Harassed Employee decides to call the manager Incharge Transportation (IT). What occurs between them is an encounter that might not happen in the next five hundred years thanks to further evolution of Homo sapiens towards the new species zombo tnutus.
(HE - Harassed Employee, IT - Incharge Transportation)

HE: Hello? Hello? John Peter?

IT: (terribly irritated at having to wake up at 7 am and listening to some alien voice) Speaking! ... Who is this??

HE: John, this is _____________ I am on the way to office now, I am in the bus numbered TP1

IT: So?

HE: See, we have a problem... (The rest of the sentence is completely drowned by the honks and screeches of the bus tyres)

HE: Hello? Hello? (The line has been dead for quite a while)

HE (muttering to himself): Bugger!! sleeping happily while we are getting tossed around here.. (tries calling him again, thankfully gets through the call)

HE: Hello? Sorry the line got cut

IT: No I cut it. What nonsense background noise was that?

HE: Oh that? That was driver Ponnappa trying to take us to heaven. Apparently he got a bulk order this time. See, we have a problem, there is already lot of noise on the road and in the bus, and we can’t sleep.

IT: Then finish your sleep in the office (chuckles at his own 'joke')

HE: Yeah, but we need to reach there first. The reason for calling is, the driver is refusing to... (Again, there is lot of noise of gurgling, cooing and screeching noise - all at the same time, of a decibel level that is guaranteed to provide customer delight in deafness)

HE: (Afraid that he might lose the attention of the troll on the other end, quickly shouts) Hello? Hello? U there?

IT: Stop screaming into my ear! I am very much here... Why are you calling me at this time? Could you not call me once u reached office? (out of habit, says) I am busy, I have lots work

HE: (Surprised) Work? At home? Are you giving driving lessons to your folks? (Hurriedly) Anyways, we can’t sleep coz there is some banshee in the radio howling its head off every now and then...

IT: Then ask the bloody driver to switch it off. You calling me just to tell this?

HE: Well, I called to inform we have a medical emergency - Ponnappa seems to have been affected with a sudden bout of brain degeneration. He does not recognize human voice. When I spoke to him, it just bounced off his head... Also, he seems to have had an attack of temporary and selective blindness - he could see the road but not me.

IT: Oh God! Tell him I told so... (slams the phone down)

HE: (mutters to himself) Ok, I have tried my best and this is great! I love the noise, I love the banshee and I love the monster and his troll master.

HE goes back to renew his sleeping efforts.

Freedom

2007-02-19T09:22:00.000+05:30

At dawn I set out -
A prisoner of needs trudging towards
an unwanted destination
Blue sky, green trees fail to cheer up the mind
benumbed by grey existence
I look up - the burst of sunshine blinds my eye
The blooms of tabebuia tree make me a butterfly...

Power that stinks

2007-02-14T15:49:00.000+05:30

The link I found in Amit Verma's blog shook me to the core (of course that's no fault of his - the details in the story link under the heading "Good girls do what they are told")

I wonder what kind of brain damage had these managers and their assistants undergone that they helped the man commit such heinous acts on innocent people. Surely they were not thinking about some bravery award or some equally crappy recognition that would come their way? What is so shocking is that the victims (read their colleagues) were not strangers. These were the same people who would have shared a cordial work relationship with the perpetrators.

Another thought creeps into my head - is it some kind of perversity buried deep in humans that without fail they take advantage over the others in a situation that offers them the power to do so. Deep down would every human being want to use an opportunity to enjoy the discomfort of the other without having to feel guilty about it? All these days, I thought it was not the case. Now, I am not so sure.

Time

2007-02-13T13:48:00.001+05:30

On a bright sunday morning
The blue sky from the window beckons..
Sunshine pours in like liquid gold
I stare in amazement - a bright yellow Tabebuia bunch!
How did it find me this high?
I realize life is passing me by...

Insomnia

2007-02-09T14:01:00.000+05:30

I try to sleep,
Black coffeeing me are the happy old memories
But I don't have to fret too much -
I have loneliness accompanying me as such...

Five point someone

2007-02-08T14:35:00.000+05:30

Today has been no exception – the laziness and the worklessness continues. I am so bored that even all this writing is making me fall asleep.

Yesterday I had borrowed ‘Five point someone - Chetan Bhagat' from S – I had promised her I will get the book today. I stayed late till 2 30 pm and finished the book (yeah, I know, that book does not deserve such attention - but it's the lack of time than anything else that made me do it)

The book is a reflection of what its protagonists were – an under performer. In terms of language, quality and entertainment, it deserves just the ‘five point something’ grade. Potter happened to mention something about ‘dude lit’ (similar to ‘chic lit’). Well, every enthu cutlet wants to write a book... me too!!
Apparently some wiseguy mentioned that it’s the age of mediocrity – well, I guess majority rules!

Home

2007-02-01T12:20:00.000+05:30

'Home' actually was part of an apartment building with few trees in the surrounding. The trees were a bonus. She had not expected even a foot width of space between the building and the compound wall. It made all the difference to the ambience.

The house was in the first floor. A small living room leading to an open kitchen, on the other end was a balcony that was surprisingly quite large. There were two bedrooms, each moderately spacious and a small study.
She squealed with delight when she saw the study. She had always wanted a study - it was her secret ambition to have a separate study that also posed as a library and made her feel like a real, serious writer. She could already imagine rows of books in the bookshelves, a writing table and a straight backed chair to help her maintain the right posture. She also wanted to add a reclining chair that would be epitome of comfort while reading her favorite books.
Pulling herself away from those wonderful warm thoughts, she moved about the house, shaking her head in wonder and grinning all the way. The bed rooms had large windows allowing enough light and air. She was really surprised at the ingenuity of the architect to manage all these vital factors despite the minimum area that was available.
The kitchen was a pure delight - an open space that made one feel as though they were not confined to the mundane task of cooking. She knew she would come to love the process of cooking eventually thanks to the space that would set her free.
Walking towards the balcony, she imagined potted plants set skillfully in the balcony that would make her feel good about... well, everything...

Sigh! This is exactly how I want to feel - she thought, as she walked past the half constructed building that looked few light years away from her dream.

Pain pangs

2007-01-25T10:37:00.000+05:30

Tears flowed freely from her eyes. It was as if some geyser in the depths of her soul was always ready to spring with the slightest provocation. And provocation it would be - every word he said was like a seismic shock wave that rocked her rather fragile will and drowned her in sorrow. Only later she was to realize that this sorrow, always defined by those outbursts of bitterness, was momentary and would disappear like morning dew with one kind gesture from him.

Mid week crisis

2007-01-04T14:40:00.000+05:30

I am in a mid week crisis... It's 2.41 p.m and after a heavy lunch, an ice cream and no interesting work in sight, what else can I be facing but a crisis?
I have nothing to do... agreed, its the best thing to happen at work place but, I feel guilty. Guilty about making money for an afternoon that is used for blogging away some random thoughts...
How justified is my guilt considering I can throw hundred arguments against 'them' for not providing me enough work? Few will understand and empathize with me on the strain that one goes through while pretending to be busy when your boss walks around. The only comfort I gain in this situation is from the knowledge that even my boss is walking around pretending to be busy..
Even then, why does it make me so uneasy about this?