The 5th Dimension

A Tale of Two Cities

2010-12-14T22:11:00.001+05:30

A busy congested road, and yet vehicles rush by

Lights blinding horns blaring, accidents preventing all try

Of frustrated and tired people, long queues there be

In tempos and trucks and buses and cars, as far the eye can see

In the midst of them all, drives in a car unseen

Windows rolled down, music blaring at volumes obscene

Singing to the beats of the tabla and the dhol

In a punjabi bad-boy ishtyle, listening to Gal mithi mithi bol

An exchange of money, some way ahead takes place

But the cold wind draws in, a chill on the face

So the windows roll up, and volume adjusted so softly down

As a sudden calmness falls, silent lies the town

The track shuffles through, and so plays Walk On

As I move from one city to the next, no longer blares the horn

A track apt, reminding me of all that I leave behind

Soothed are the senses, tranquil now lies the mind

A million different avatars flow, which one is truly mine

Home is where the heart is, that is all there is to pine

And so a daily swing of moods, the toll bridge signifies

Leaving Gurgaon, Welcome Delhi - a tale of two cities to surmise ...

The Butterfly Effect - Part 2

2010-06-30T14:10:00.008+05:30

Butterflies in the stomach, butterflies in my mind

they bring back memories I cant seem to find

Of days gone by, and evenings so long

they float on the tunes of an old melancholy song

Patient in a cocoon, they germinate with none to hound

each event awaits, till on its own it wishes to be found

To transpire into an everlasting memory, bidding their time

till hell freezes over and clocks no more chime

Colored spots on wings, each holds a clue

some intense others fringed, a thought for every hue

One tiny flap, for each eon of memory wasted by

a million flaps for me, see how they fly

In a forest of dreams, they roam without concern

while in reality, their hearts within me burn

A ruse for the fickle minded, the butterflies are a ploy

with each memory now, they bring more sorrow than joy

I want them to stop, their beauty entrenched

what fear they arise, i fear with jaws clenched

And so their cocoon I shatter, well before they are born

lest i hurt them all, as victims of my scorn

Butterflies in the stomach, butterflies in my mind

they no more bring memories I do not wish to find

Of days gone by, and evenings so long

they wither away like the tunes of an old melancholy song

And Then There Were None ...

2009-11-09T20:01:00.002+05:30

My tribute to the best nineteen folks i have worked with till date and the four best spent days of my life here at IIM-A

A cold winter month, a dog-day afternoon
Empty sights galore, silent lies the tune
No mortal awake, the golden sun passes me by
Am I anxious or elated, rather relieved with a sigh !

Standing here today, the 5th of November not forgot
I travel back in time, four days to the dot
And I see – teeming hundreds, thronging the hallowed hall
Three hundred of the bravest, responding to a recruiter’s call

Like Spartans they come, flocking to the Central field
All charged, some steady – a single resume, their naked shield
Closed doors await, a burden of forty minutes to bear
They are for that instant the foci, all that is they care

And the process repeats, but recruiters they all stay the same
The vanquished Spartan his death awaits – he feels it a mockery of the game
When hark, what is this he sees – an offer comes waltzing by
Unexpected, unseen – a windfall from the sky

The jubilation of glory for this one, it pains me to see
I think of the two hundred ninety nine, yet chained – waiting to be free
But then the day wears on, closer the evening draws
I see them all firm and resolute, none yet clutching at the straws

And it strengthens the resolve, like an oak amidst the greens
Of the twenty who lay hidden, working behind the scenes
For tomorrow will be another day, we know it would be great
Unto us the task is set, we carry this burden of fate

So when I wake up, the glaring sun in my eye
One more offer I say to me, I will not give in without a try
Finally this circle of life and death, it draws towards an end
The fourth day sets down, the last mile before the bend

And so it ends for us, victory approacheth nigh
The last Spartan gladly returns, we celebrate Christmas in July
We now know with all delight, that when the sun shall rise
The competition waits on the starting line, while we bag the prize

The heroics of a batch written in gold, adorn the institute shelves
Of 20 silent shrouds – their work done – they say, we did it ourselves
But for us the moments shared, are not too far and few
No person left unplaced, zero the length of the queue

It feels proud, when asked today – how good, the work was done
We started with three hundred, then in the end There Were None …

The 'SIN'ister Sisters

2009-10-17T00:52:00.006+05:30

As i break the 'blog silence' in almost 10 months, I realize how wasted has this time been in under utilizing the space here. A feeling that sinks in when one realizes he/she has run dry of expressing their thoughts through a creative outlet !

Perhaps one of the few real reasons for picking up this course on Developing your Creative Self here at IIM-A is, as I have come to realize, that hidden desire to reignite a passion for writing which slumbers on.

And so follows a sojourn about the seven follies, sisters in crime, that I have indulged in my desire to be where I stand today, leaving behind some of the better times. I think Acedia will be my biggest concern.

Greed is good and Greed is right,
It cuts through, reinforces, and proves men’s might
Greed for life and Greed for love,
Greed in all its forms spread over a heathen cove

Is it a sign of status or simply a vice of mood,
This constant eating of delicacies and Gluttony of food
Withheld from the needy, rotund bellies bulge
The sin of excess, a temptation to over-indulge

A most potent cause of unhappiness, a harbinger it seems
The want of deep and dark desires in each of our dreams
My sorrow for another man’s good, insatiable none the same
A desire to deprive him of it, Envy – it be thy name

From invidiousness flows anger, an uncontrolled feeling of revenge
Not always external, our own inner demons it may avenge
Transgressions born of vengeance, the sin of Wrath breeds rage
Soothe it, appease it, and overcome it through the patience of a sage

The devil’s workshop it be, they say is an empty mind
To neglect and refuse joy, the sin of Sloth is unique in its kind
A willful refusal to work, an invitation to laze around
Aren’t we mortals through insufficiency of love truly bound

But for love to linger as an excess unrestrained
Adultery to incest, deviant thoughts no longer chained
Luxuria of sexual depravity they called it in times long ago
The sin of lechery, through Lust is how we know

Ultimately, a destroyer of men, a liberator of them all
It is Pride that finally goes before a fall
The sin of hubris, of the seven most vile
Transforming Lucifer to Satan, it makes mere mortals senile

Remember 25th December ...

2009-01-08T17:48:00.013+05:30

Remember remember the 5th of November,
The gunpowder, treason and plot;
I can think of no reason why the gunpowder treason
should ever be forgot ...

So finally a blog that doesnt require much creativity - blatant bullet points and factual descriptions. And i am sure to some it might look better than the recent disaster of movies i have been subjecting myself to - which includes RNBDJ and Ghajini.

In fact, the overboard southie script to which AK has subjected himself has seriously led me to believe that the guy has become prone to senility and in fact when he signed on the dotted line, must have been deliriously suffering from Retrogade Amnesia - or was it Dyselexia - i forget which ... Ummm ... what was the name of that director again ???

I dont think it cost me much though to go and have a look at Ghajini in between my exams. There was supposedly not much to study anyways. My only repent is that i had to sacrifice my sleep by a couple of hours. I had to make up for the ghastly visions of this horrendous show and script massacre by re-watching Memento at 2am to soothe my thoughts. It was not until that time did i realize the miserable attempt to name the movie after John G. Atleast Johnny Gaddar was a more apt name than Ghajini.

The only key takeaway (as consultants in their analysis would say) was the gorgeous heroine Asin and the songs, which unfortunately were thrown around without a connect. Apart from that I was glad the inspector died a brutal death crushed under a bus and the director did us a favor by not letting him continue further into the movie. What dialogue delivery amma ! And the only reason why someone would have Jia Khan in the movie is to launch a new face parallely without having to bother about second glances at JK. The comparitive base line for Asin was way too low !

(Disclaimer - I will not entertain comments on how fat or flabby Asin looked and how big a butt she has - people just don't realize that there is so much more of her to love that way, both literally and figuratively)

Come to think of it, Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi suddenly seems a lot better - i atleast expected it to be rotten and it did not let down my expectations. With SRK you always know the kind of muddle a film will end up becoming. The best movie scene is undoubtedly the old songs medley and kajol in it. I am still trying to figure out how one fails to recognize one's spouse inspite the makeover - unless the spouse is wearing some voice modulating hardware provided by the CIA. And if falling in love required only but a visit to the Golden temple, I don't get the point of why the teeming millions with love's labour lost have still not made it there.

And so now i wait for the release of some of the better movies in hindi cinema. I will probably catch a late night movie run today of Slumdog Millionaire in the meanwhile. As my neighbour next door quipped - "All of us live the Slumdog Millionaire dream and are already halfway on the path to becoming one. We are all Slumdogs here at wimwi. Its only the millionaire part that is still missing ..."

The God of Bald Things !

2008-12-14T01:30:00.004+05:30

I am not sure whether the winters have suddenly become warmer here in Ahmedabad or if the impending release of Gajini has brought this catastrophic turnaround, but WIMWI suddenly looks to have found its new fad these days.

There was an era when ruffian hair and sideburns took the cake. Today the trend has reversed. There has been a sudden flurry of clean shaven craniums all around. I could buy it if one said before placements, i want my hair to regrow and look just perfect. I could also have bought it if one was aiming to beat the heat. But this is suddenly a mushrooming of the vogue.

I can count atleast 4 people in my section alone who have gone in for the Shaakal look, and probably double the number across the other sections too. Pray, explain, what the professor would feel when a triad of baldies are staring at him, sitting right next to each other. These days with the SBC presentations going on, it becomes difficult for the cameraman to record all the live videos with the light shining off the oiled convexes ! "It hurts the eye" is what i heard one of my classmates quipping to the guy next seat.

Now that you come to think about it, all these magnificient bald busts are so different amongst themselevs. Round, oval, egg shaped, close cropped, crystal clear, 'protrusions of a second kind' ! I am beginning to have mixed thoughts on the long hair that i am trying to grow and maintain. Is the fad really out? Or is is this just a passing phase. Are the damsels in distress stumped or 'bald' over ?

What i surely do know is that IIM-A's new hottest telecast that is topping the ratings, is a show called the "The Bald and the Beautiful". Lets see how much longer this show keeps up the steam.

Tabla Beat Science

2008-12-11T23:30:00.003+05:30

While for most of us who continue to be mesmerized by the maestro Ustaad Zakir Husaain, it would be absolutely entertaining and a dash of sheer brilliance to listen to him performing with the other giants of the percussion world in a clash of the titans, giving to us some of the best world fusion music.

At times even the blogger fails to capture the music on paper. However a short note copied verbatim.

"Call it an aggregation of some of the best contemporary percussionists: Trilok Gurtu, Zakir Hussain, and Asian Underground star Talvin Singh combine under the sonic washes of producer Bill Laswell to show the possibilities of Indian percussion. It's definitely a beatfest, but one of subtlety, where what is being said isn't as important as the way it's being stated, and the dialogue between hands includes a lot of silences. Gurtu comes from a more jazz tradition, Hussein a classical background, and Singh represents the brash young things of the dance floor. Mostly Laswell leaves it to them to provide the sonic entertainment, which is as it should be with delicate swathes of sound barely intruding, just coloring the proceedings. While it's not for everyone, those who love Indian percussion in all its forms will find this album a complete joy."
--Chris Nickson

In moments like these i am helpless to comment on greatness well beyond my mortal humble self.
So here are a couple of videos that have just raised the bar of instrumental music for me and left me dumbstruck.

Video 1 : Palmistry by Tabla Beat Science

Video 2: Mengedenga by Tabla Beat Science

Toccata & Fugue

2008-12-08T00:31:00.007+05:30

When one has had a long break away from writing, when one has turned rusty enough, when one has dried up the thoughts that made life worth enjoying, one often wonders what next to pen down. And often it is the next topic, that next incident, you wish was worth more interesting than the previous one and hence flies by a narrative that was never told, a vision unseen, a voice unheard. It is at times like these that one must find that spark to set things straight, set the wheel of joy into motion.

Strangely enough, for me it happened today. And from the most unexpected sources as well. Of all the weekends i have spent wasting or getting wasted here at wimwi, this one was quite a different experience. I spent almost the entire afternoon and evening listening to (rather more like watching) videos on YouTube. And i probably covered an entire gamut of instrumental music that my heart seem to have yearned for in ages.

It is rather surprising to find myself not falling to sleep listening first to all the jazz of the 40s and 50s and then moving onto my favorites - the string compositions. It was a day of pure ecstasy hearing violin renditions of Bach and Chopin sonatas performed by the Berlin Philharmonic and Vanessa Mae. Aah ! The sounds say it all - a feeling of pain, of pleasure, of joy, of sadness, of longing, of sorrow, of desires, of passion, of fear, of strange whispers ...

But the best probably had been saved for the last. Toccata and Fugue by Johann Sebastian Bach. A mix of haunting notes (remember Addams Family) followed by a high pitch energetic stretch of the chords - covering more than 3 octaves. The sheer pace of the beats, and yet the ever so subtle hand movements. It seems like magic out of thin air. Fresh, pleasant and infused with all the serenity one needs to calm one's mind. And to top it off, the duet between an electric guitar with distortions and a violin.

It just cant help one fall in love all over again. Poetry is good, and ballads even greater. But there is no describing the charm brought on by a piece of well rendered instrumental classic. Close your eyes, and the energy will surround your senses. It takes you to a plain so far away returning seems next to impossible. One simply wishes to stay there forever. All alone, all by oneself - with no soul to break the silence. Just sheer melodious aura and nothing more. Maybe a gentle breeze to carry you on.

I am nearing that state of Tabula Rasa I always wished for. In time i will. There is still a hard path ahead to make peace with my inner self. Till then, it seems like things are not so bad after all. There is still some hope out there - pure, innocent, untouched, uncorrupted, vibrant. Those old memories return. And another phase too shall pass, bringing us closer each day, with Toccata and Fugue and so many more like them to guide us through.

The WhACkiest Week Ever ...

2008-07-05T02:42:00.003+05:30

Its been a rollicking fortnight here at WIMWI (Henceforth referred to as IIMA or only A, under the copyright act and citations rule provided by the Chicago guide lines and blah blah).

For those trying to figure out the content of the text above, don't bother. I know nothing of it either. That is the first step to a good report here at A. Know nothing till Friday evening 11pm. And by 12:30pm of the next Saturday, you can become a master at writing reports, providing recommendations and finalizing action plans that major company CEOs and VPs are still at a loss to do.

Welcome to the world of WAC - Written Analysis and Communication - a course taught only in A, and which, as the seniors (henceforth referred to as 'tucchhas') and profs both agree, is what makes us Rated-A.

After a warm welcome to the institute by the tucchhas, in a style that only the best 250 of the country can manage to pull off, the entire last week (or rather it was only just this last week that went by - time sure flies fast) has been a grind. From getting a flavor of "Maniac" (MANAC or Managerial Accounting - now re-christened as FRA or Financial Reporting and Accounting to prevent the use of Maniac) to absorbing Wordworth Poetry and Kabir Dohe in a single class of Statistics, I have realized why they call this place the Mecca.

The professors operate at a level their own. Eccentricity is the name of the game and cold calling is only a glance away. While i am sure to flunk FRA and Stats (i have already screwed my 1st quiz and messed up a 14 mark question out of 40) and Economics is all graphed out with demand curves, I seem to have found a glimmer of hope in Managerial Computing (MC) and a HR based course on Individual Dynamics (ID). Atleast two places i can use my core competencies - Excel reports and Global farts. MC however might be the only place on earth where one is required to write Excel functions in the exam rather than a practical based test.

Which leaves me with the most dreaded course on campus. I met a few alumni of the 1988 batch and they were still terrorized to learn that WAC yet existed. A subject that had made their lives miserable and would do so for 20 more batches to follow.

Now WAC is nothing but discussing a case in class - a group of 80 odd students - listening to them fight over trivialities of the case, providing their thoughts, view points, analysis, ideas, solutions. All we need to do is condense a 3 hour class room discussion into a 1000 word report, in the given style, format, header, footer, spacing, font etc etc. I mean how tough would it be to do that right?

Well for most of us it took up the entire of yesterday night. While I managed to doze off by 2:30am, some of the unfortunate ones managed to look at their beds only at 2:30pm today afternoon.

But the fun part is not as much making the report, as the time when we actually end up submitting it. For decades, there has been a ritual termed as the "WAC Run" that happens in the campus on the first submission Saturday of term 1. In those days of yore, when a single printer existed in the library, imagine the chaos when students were rushing to get prints of a 10 page report, all at the same time in the morning - late and dazed.

At this point in time, it was the seniors who used to be up before us, flogging the paths on both sides with cameras in hand, and snapping away at the lost souls who were dashing to submit the reports before the given deadline.

With technology now offering printers in each dorm (unfortunately half of which did not work today, and we had to visit other dorms), the Run has become more or less non-existent. But hats off to tucchhas of Dorm 10 who came up with innovative ideas to maintain the spirit of things. They had all reports confiscated from the fucchhas early morning, and gave them back only 8 minutes from time. A brisk walk from D10 to the class room would require 7minutes. I needn't say more, do I. The flurry, the rush, the tensed faces. Tucchhas in D14 went a step ahead and locked out the juniors in their own rooms till the last minutes. One of them got scarred enough and tried jumping balconies to get out.

All in all it was brilliant experience - especially when you are on the other side.
But once the surprise quizzes and report submissions were behind us, we had a sumptuous lunch and went out for a movie. Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na is an excellent Romantic Comedy, one of those types i liked watching after a long time and one which i recommend for a one time watch. Our drive to just chill out was so high that despite not getting tickets in the first hall, some of which were going as high as 400 buks (and this is not even in black), we tried our luck at another.

And if that was not enough, the dorm tucchhas treated us to a late night dinner with some Hyderabadi Biryani. When we did come back to the campus, there was a "Ramp" party going on to celebrate the first WAC submission. Yet again, the name originates from the dance party that used to happen near the Harvard Steps before we had an auditorium. Unfortunately when you have 300 'boys' dancing on the floor, it is not quite a dance party you want to be in.

So i decided to round off my day (and night) with an hour of the National Sport of Frisbee in the LKP lawns. The game is definitely hard and not easy to play. If ever the laws of motion dynamics and random entropy were to be tested, this was it. But none-the-less after a strenuous display (where i kept standing at one end of the field, playing the passing game), i just crashed out in my room - but not before writing all these memoirs down.

Surely and by far the Whackiest Week ever here at the Theater of Dreams !

Mea Maxima Culpa

2008-06-05T18:18:00.002+05:30

Confíteor Deo omnipoténti et vobis, fratres
quia peccávi nimis
cogitatióne, verbo, ópere, et omissióne:
mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa.

I confess to almighty God,
and to you, my brothers and sisters,
that I have sinned through my own fault,
in my thoughts and in my words,
in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do;
-- Confiteor, Mass of the Roman Catholic Church

I stand atop the tower of Babel. The air smells so pure. The wind in my face - icy, silken, subtle, strong! I look up at the sky so clear - untouched and serene. I look down at the teeming millions below - faces familiar, faces unknown.

And then i fall. For atonement - of thoughts so vile, leading to words accursed and actions that are doomed. But it is not a confession of deeds i indulge in, rather, i ask for forgiveness of those closest to me. Mea Maxima Culpa - my most grievous fault: Is probably my trust in those i hold most dear, most true, most faithful.

Left in tatters, ruined, soiled, torn apart - shattered is my faith, lost is my confidence. Strong i never was, steely i have now become. Weak i never felt, fragile now stands my mind. Too close i keep those i confide my deepest thoughts to. Narrow i have made my world - the paths that connect are constricted and dark. A new door i open in anticipation; an old door closes behind forever. Is there a way to negotiate this maze - to come out clean, sin ridden.

How does one preserve the sanctity of thoughts. Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Who guards the guardians? For when such gloom befalls, it saps you off the positive energy. Vibes of negativity float all around. You become obscured from those around you. Grumpy, jittery, moody. A silhouette, a silent shroud.

It pains you to see your own prejudices and that of others. Sarcasm laced. A feeling of the world conspiring. Of people that manipulate your actions, of their sweet talks to weave you and bind you - the oh so common fly in a spider's web scenario. And yet, and yet. We fall prey. The trap shuts close. Engulfing you. And then you plot your ploy. Your escape and your vengence. It defiles the very action, the very emotion you fought against. You become what others around you were. What others around you are. What others around you will remain to be. You become what you fear most.

The hallowed one in me pleads with that little horned creature. Let it be. Move along. People come and people go. Let not their actions be our judge. Let not the deeds of one govern your deeds for the other. Good advice tells you not to go into a shell and shut yourself up like a clam. But I was always the devil in me. I prefer it that way though. In your world, with no one to hurt you. Always in reticence, stepping out only when required.

Aah! Mea maxima culpa, my most grievous sin. Believing in others as much as i believe in myself. Always trying to be good, trying to be docile, trying to be in harmony. Truth is, it doesn't work. The world is selfish and so must you be. Let that be a sin then if others feel so. At-least I stay true to my inner self. Of all things that matter, it is not a sin I would have to answer for.

Cogito, Ergo Sum

2008-05-29T10:52:00.006+05:30

Rene Descartes's discourse lays the ground work for modern day philosophy. Given the sudden interest in the newly found "Quarter life crisis" mails that have started circulating around, I come across people all suddenly relating to it. Trying to find who they really are?

For a long time now I seem to have given up on discovering myself - introspection as is tough in itself, retrospection even more so. It feels like the conversations you had with friends just before the IIM interviews. Trying to desperately fill out those blank pages with 'about you' stuff, your strengths, weaknesses, skills etc etc etc. And I thought that SWAT analysis was something they taught you in a B-school. Yeah, Right !

So well, trying to answer the ultimate bore of a question - Who am I this time?

Am I the intellectual being; a fountainhead of obscure knowledge? Or am I the nitwit; dumb and inarticulate on issues that matter most. Am I the snob, with a swollen nose or am I the docile, cushioned with humility? Am I the obsessive, the compulsive, the disorderly? Or am I the logical, the reasoned, the guide? Am I the pillar of strength in times hard, or am I the emotional wreck? Am I the loud mouthed insensitive or the understanding sympathetic? Am I the mathematician or the poet? Am I a shadow of my previous ghosts or am I the light at the end of the tunnel?

I know not. Probably all rolled into one. A faucet with a million levers. I am who I am.

But well, as Descartes points out - "I think, therefore I am" - these days for me pretty much translates to "I think, therefore IIM" !!

I Moved Your Cheese ...

2008-05-20T20:19:00.004+05:30

Journeys can get boring.
Solitary journeys even more so.
And those in a train, cooped for 24hours, definitely top that list.

So what does one do, apart from listening to the middle aged lady or the old gray haired guy next seat, who wants to ramble all the way and make small talk, and not let you rest in peace, till the time he/she breaks for the rest-room or till you do??

Well, one can either pretend to be deep asleep, with snoring adding to the effect. Or try and look deeply pensive while staring out of the window, looking at the open fields and rocks go past by (counting the number of telegraph poles on the way), as if the answer to the next noble prize winning problem would be striking you this instant.

Gen-X these days would generally plug in to their ipods or laptops (with the Indian Railways now offering charging plug points). For me, it is the usual old fashioned paper back edition of an obscure book. Probably more than one at a time.

This time around it was one of my most interesting reads in recent times. Barely a couple of hours long, less than 100 paged, "I Moved Your Cheese" by Darrel Bristow-Bovey. Its a deep upper cut jab into the jaws of Mr Spencer Johnson and his Self-help book "Who Moved my Cheese?". In-fact, the buck does not stop here. Bristow takes a shot at all self help books and makes you truly realize how good one is by being his lazy self.

A true sarcasm laced read, you tickle yourself to death with the witty humor Bristow uses to charm his audience. Right from African hunters to surly neighbors to Osmatix to the mystic Mayans (which by the way is the best part of book and takes the cake hands down), Bristow teaches you one golden rule - "Find your inner ostrich egg". Life is all about pretending. Its how good you get at the game. The egg is supposed to be your secret, meant to be guarded well. Reveal what is in the egg (or rather what is not), and you lose all your glamor and glory.

For those of you lucky enough to have read it, it is quite dangerous. You really do not wish to work more, shirk all labor and find the easiest way out. Advanced reactions to the book may cause you to become so adept, that it becomes a child's play for you to delegate responsibility and make others do your (dirty) work. Trust me when I say every word of it is true.

But for those of you who still wish to go ahead and try out the low-esteem self help books, please do go ahead. I am sure you would make at-least one person around you smirk (easy to say that this one person would be the one who has read this parody).

I am actually wondering had I read this book earlier, who knows; I would have got my promotions much more quickly than the current usual. Honestly, I am almost on the track laid out by this book. I think now at the Mecca of all MBA schools, it is time to put the practicality to the test. I know I am a bit apprehensive, but the intention is to go out all guns blazing. And what better way to aim at becoming the best of the best of the best.

As the old self-help proverb goes - "Hard work always counts".
We antithetical retards prefer saying - "It is not about how hard you work, it is all about how smart you work" !!

And so the next time my office mates find me with an open excel file, they rather not ask me if it is work that i am doing for Unite or United. Someone definitely moved my D's ...

Butt Branding !!!

2008-05-12T17:00:00.005+05:30

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.
-- Verbal Kint (in The Usual Suspects)

Oh well! That is something i learnt it the hard way around in the strife to reach the ultimate zenith of business schools.

As Kotler puts it so subtly - Good marketing is the art of the customer wanting to come to you and buy your product (whether it be his need or not), rather than you going out to the customer and selling what you make.

I think the same applies to the process of shortlisting B-Schools. Which is the best? What segment does each cater to? What is the profile of the student? Of the faculty? The USP and so on ...

Considering my 'infamous' decision (by many) last year to not join FMS, i think getting through a few colleges considered to be at a higher "brand value" this time around, makes me probably smirking enough at the critics. But critics being critics and what they are, they will not go without a jab at any opportunity.

And so it boils down to my decision to quit ISB and join IIM-A. I mean apart from the name, the reputation, the companies, the jobs.

"A" has been the benchmark for about 250,000 odd students all over India looking to become the top 250 managers in this country. Has it been by chance or is it because it was the only one in its time. With a boom of good B-schools around the country and abroad, with all the controversies surrounding the admissions process, most advised me that I was better off at ISB. I would be done over with it in an year, build great contacts, meet a profile like pot-pourri.

Truly said, the mails on the new IIMA yahoo group have been a disappointment. 19 girls in a batch of 250. Probably 70% engineers from an IIT/NSIT/DCE with only AOE and CS in their extra cirric section. And what happened to the leveraging your work-experience part? Only 80 freshers. I mean, why the hell am i joining A. I was better off at ISB where atleast my work-ex was valued and niche. Now its like a herd of cattle, all trying to get the greenest of pastures.

The second disaster probably seems to be the infrastructure at "A". Coming from a lavish treatment with my own room with an AC, a private TV, fridge and a kitchenette, I am beginning to wonder how life at "A" is suddenly going to become when i will be bringing my own pillows and linen. And strangely enough, there is no Wireless at "A". Atleast it wasn't till last year. Oh boy! What will life be without a wifi on campus. Running back to your nest cooing in the warmth of your lan cable. Disastrous.

And yet. And yet. I still decide to give up on all those rocking parties at ISB, the pool dunkings, the beer sessions with our profs in shorts and tees. Why!

I think for the first time, sanity refuses to lead the way. If only, i hope, i get the answer in a couple of years, it probably will be worth it.

So dear Mr. Kotler - your words do stand true. The butt branding continues. "A" doesnt reach out to us anymore, we do to it. Luckily, we can at-least keep chanting for the next two years - "Branded for LIFE"

Into the Night ...

2008-04-27T18:33:00.003+05:30

Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell
It was love from above, that could save me from hell
She had fire in her soul, it was easy to see
How the devil himself, could be pulled out of me
There were drums in the air, as she started to dance
Every soul in the room, keeping time with their hands …
Santana & Chad Kroeger

Well the song is called, as you must have so obviously guessed, 'Into the Night'. The post in consideration would probably be apt to start of with these lines. Into the Night. The time of the day that many fear the most. Dark and Scandalous. Terrorizing and Tumultuous. Ugly and Abhorrent.

Oh well, welcome to a B-school. Thats the time of the day when all your worst fears come true. Delayed submissions, pending timeliness. The only chance that you get to wrap stuff up is at night. It does not matter to the professors that poor students are losing out on Sleep, Glorious Sleep.

During a recent chat with some alums, i was surprised to find out that of 24 hours in a day, only 4 went for lectures. You had 20 hours to yourself. Inspite of this Wow quotient, i had that queasy feeling in my guts with a pending lull of what was going to hit me next. Its borrowed time that the students live on. Even those 20 hours belong to the profs. And trust me, they will goto lengths to try and squeeze in a few more somewhere.

Take for instance my schedule. Classes from 8:45am to 10:45am and then from 11:15am to 1:15pm. With the profs keeping high expectations that the students will read up the lecture content in advance and also finish off the exercises before coming to class. Why, pray somebody tell me, are classes necessary then. Might as well have a mail correspondence.

Now i being the inherent lazy bum, dont expect me to visit the library in order to find stuff. Especially when the books are tiered into 3 vast floors. And i don't like buying books either, given the previous college experiences, where my books bought in semester one had never flipped a page even till semester eight. Which leaves me with two options.

First, i beg or borrow a book from my group mates for some time when they are not using it. This seems highly unlikely because i am sure there is no scope for lending when the pressure is mounting on you to read up cases after cases.

Second, and preferred option is to download the book of the net. However, our useless net connections have been blocked from pursuing such activities. Even after managing to bypass this obstacle, still leaves one problem. You never end up finding the correct editions. I am currently reading a book that has the exact same theoretical content, but the examples differ in terms of the global geographies. No wonder i was stumped when i tried finding a case for Gillette Indonesia, and ended up staring at the barrel of Ford USA.

The other crib i have is that since everybody wants to utilize the internet bandwidth at night, it becomes an ugly proposition when you cannot get effective speeds at even 4am. Oh well, no one said life is fair, but why cant it be unfair to others.

And now grudgingly, i have to make that trip to my library and get used to reading stuff. I am wondering if they will let me take my camera inside, so that when the library closes at 10pm, i still have the option to read up digitally, Into the Night ...

PS - What ultimate crap. Just when i am about to leave for the library, i get a call saying the book you requested is not on the shelf. Obviously, there are others who have the same idea and are reading away to glory right now. Why i ask, don't they have anything constructive to do in the night !!

PPS - i am now relying on my study group mates to provide me with a gist of what is accounting and marketing all about just before i enter the class. Hopefully that should at-least get me through for tomorrow. Coming from a consulting background, bluffing my way through 4 hours should not be an issue. Though i am riding my luck far beyond than just Into the Night ...

Oh! How I Envy thee Faust ...

2008-03-28T16:51:00.005+05:30

When I say to the Moment flying: 'Linger a while - thou art so fair!'
Then bind me in your bonds undying, and my final ruin I will bear.
--- The Tragical History of Dr. Faust (Christopher Marlowe)

Bizarre as it may seem and heretic though it may sound, come to think of it, I truly wish to emulate Doctor Faust. For the uninitiated, Dr. Faust or Faustus is the person in literary folklore who sold his soul to the devil in exchange for eternal life.

But legends are based on stories, and some of which are true. The origin of Faust's name and persona remains unclear, though it is widely assumed to be based on the figure of German Dr. Johann Georg Faust (approximately 1480–1540), a dubious magician and alchemist probably from Württemberg, who obtained a degree in divinity from Heidelberg University in 1509. According to one account, Faust's infamy became legendary while he was in prison, where in exchange for wine he "offered to show a chaplain how to remove hair from his face without a razor; the chaplain provided the wine and Faustus provided the chaplain with a salve of arsenic, which removed not only the hair but the flesh".

Without deviating much, let me simply say - how many of us are lucky enough to fall in love, be the one who breaks our beloved's heart, sells his soul to the devil, manages to live a life of longevity albeit one of sadness and remorse, and yet manages to find that one single moment of happiness in the end knowing no happiness truly exists. And despite these horrors and the tragedies, God intervenes and prevents the devil from taking Faust's soul as agreed, because HE recognizes Faust's unending striving.

How easy is it for us to condemn someone today for their sins, knowing not the true nature of the actions involved. All we think about is the fact that Faust sold his soul, without an endeavor to understand why he did the same.

It was not for money, it was not for power, it was not for fame. No it was not even for love. It was simply to attain more knowledge. To attain the zenith of human happiness. Faust knew this would never happen, and hence he was confident of never having to give up his soul. As Goethe showcases in his poetry, even God feels the need to let the man's soul be, for though he has committed the sin of hubris, he has done it for a higher good. For that one moment of happiness, he has decided to forgo his very essence.

Now you would think, why am i blabbering all this. The facts simply are, i have been thinking about a few things this past week, and trying to find that one moment of happiness for myself. Seems to me its a little obscured at the moment. I am becoming unsure and hazy on what construes happiness. Is it the pleasure of achieving some thing great or is it the cherished memories of being with people you like, your friends, your family. Clueless i still am.

As the devil incites Faust - "if you wish to stay in that moment forever, you shall die that very moment". Do i thus wish to achieve that tiny bit of joy to be everlasting. Or am i ready to give it up and move on - seeking more moments of mirth that shall please me just the instant, but never to keep in my thoughts for ever. All good things come to an end. But as the answer came back, it is well so for better things to start anew.

The piper at the gates of dawn - waiting to be led - leading the way.
Oh Faust, shower me with the very knowledge you seek. So that i may be wary when the time comes for me to choose and decide the fate for my own.

Forget Me Not ...

2008-02-28T19:30:00.000+05:30

As they stared blankly. in dumb misery deepening as they slowly realized all they had seen and all they had lost, a capricious little breeze, dancing up from the surface of the water, tossed the aspens, shook the dewy roses and blew lightly and caressingly in their faces; and with its soft touch came instant oblivion. For this is the last best gift that the kindly demi- god is careful to bestow on those to whom he has revealed himself in their helping: the gift of forgetfulness. Lest the awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth and pleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-lives of little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they should be happy and lighthearted as before.

--- The Wind in the Willows

Oh what a sweet gift it is. The gift of forgetfulness. To purge thoughts of no use. To wipe away memories no longer dear. To wash away the remembrances no longer worth attaching to.

As Engelbert Humperdinck would put it - "How could you leave without regret? Am I that easy to forget?"

Or is it that we begin to forget some memories because new ones have taken their place. We had nothing against the old ones though. Its just that they faded away into obscurity.

But why would this happen. What would lead someone to churn out the remembrances that one has. Memories are linked to people. Memories are linked to places. Memories are linked to events. You can forget the people, you can forget the places, you can forget the events. But you cannot drive out the abstract emotions that have had a lasting impact on you via them.

People come and people go. They maybe near you, they may be distances apart. They are with you today, and yet years away. The memories you cherish the most are the ones that bring a smile to your face even after ages of their having happened. The sudden warmth you feel, the glow that lightens up your face.

Who would be cruel enough to ignore these. Shun them like pestilences. One man's junk is another man's treasure they say. Apt words. Your golden days can at best be the indifference in the lives of others. What then should one do. Pluck such thoughts off? Or bury them in so deep that they get lost amongst the million other indifferences.

I for one, cannot do either. I wish i could. Revisit the Tabula Rasa as i so want to. But no, I have learnt over time that starting clean is probably not always the correct way out. It maybe the easy path, but then i choose not to take it. As Frost puts its, I took the road less traveled. Beautiful lines:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Face my fears and face my defeats. Face my sufferings and face my pain. This I must do.
To try and remember, to keep thinking, to keep longing, to keep hoping, to keep having the faith, to not give up even if the cause is lost.

The gift of forgetfulness is the easy way out.
But as Frost yet again so serenely puts it as "my best bid for remembrance", i quote one of my favorite passages again.

Whose woods these are I think I know,

His house is in the village, though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lonely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Sgt. Pepper Lonely Hearts Club ...

2008-02-14T03:39:00.000+05:30

Yeah yeah - that's the name of the number one rock album of all time as mentioned by the Rolling Stones magazine. The first time the Beatles came out with their creative best as a unit. The first time they tried doing something under a nom-de-plume - to NOT be Beatles the performers - but Beatles the next door artists.

Given the debacle i put myself into after the previous write-up, where everybody (except the one intended for) started questioning the mystery shrouding the post, like the Beatles posing as the Sgt. Peppers Club, i decided to clear up some air.

No, this has nothing to do with Hyderabad or Nashik or any other city in the country. And no, this was not the usual pre V-day blues either. I don't suppose you need to have a V-day in order to tell somebody you love them or like them or miss them and on and on. Don't we keep doing that pretty much every day of the year anyways.

(PS - don't brand me a "Tu hi tu Bajrangi Re" for having something against Valentine - beautiful post - must read - especially the "Kya ek ladka aur ladki ..." dialogue from Maine pyaar kiya - suddenly reminds of a "couple" of people i know - in a good way obviously - who am i to presume things and get into the trouble of writing apologies)

To cater to a second niche group that was much interested in the time of the post; well crowds generally pysche me more than being alone. Its all a state of mind rather than the physical being. Ok ok, no more Freudian fart.

Take for example tonight. It truly was a blast. Old happy memories revisited. Rib tickling laughter entwined with Toxic Ninja overdose. On one side you had the eternal chatterboxes, and on the other the GD experts, who like to come in at strategic points, hit a bouncer for a six, and then move back into their shell.

I was in the mood for writing the contents of the previous post for a long time now, but just never found the opportune moment. A few lines "close to my heart".

Come to think of it - do i need to justify what i write or on whom i write. NO i don't.
Read at your leisure, if you will. Appreciate at your leisure, if you will. Scathe at your leisure, if you will.

The keyboard is simply a medium for aerated ideas. Thoughts fizz through ...

What i have realized though over time is - you can be as lonely as you want to be in a crowd, or enjoy the company of good memories locked up by yourself. Its all how you perceive the moment. You could laugh away in front of everybody but still be aloof. Or you could have that pleasant and relaxingly quiet glow that says it all.

I recall a very old story i read by Earl Reed Silvers; the thoughts which i try and capture here in my own poetic essence:

Do you remember, dear, the days so long ago;
the school lab, where over messy experiments, each other we grew to know.
Do you remember, dear, you had just moved to town;
I was a poor dressmaker's son, but you wore a tiara and a gown.

Do you remember, dear, my waking thoughts were mostly of you;
you took me into your crowd, though friends i had so few.
Do you remember, dear, the night i took you to the dance;
and while we danced the last waltz, i confessed my love at this only chance.

Do you remember, dear, the specks of gold in your eyes;
and all the efforts to keep it a secret, with those small true lies.
Do you remember, dear, when society became so disapproving of us;
you took the path to college on the very next bus.

Do you remember, dear, what i whispered to you that day;
that in years to come you must follow what your heart would say.
Do you remember, dear, i asked you to win over your fears;
I kissed you, and you smiled at me through your tears.

Do you remember, dear, those letters of mine you never got;
the ones your mother, seeing you reading, had from then on caught.
Do you remember, dear, your replies to mine were always so short and few;
One week followed another, and i had only my memories of you.

Do you remember, dear, that i worked hard to earn a living of mine;
and through hardships and savings, it all worked out fine.
Do you remember, dear, the years that have gone by, 31 in all;
and we celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary this fall.

Do you remember, dear, that soon after you had college left;
chance it was, that in the corner of an unknown street we again met.
Do you remember, dear, the golden specks were in your eyes again;
reminiscent of that old night you left, us standing a final time in the rain.

Do you remember, dear, standing there in the middle of the street;
those strange words i again began to repeat;
Do you remember, dear, if in years to come i ever walk in through that door ...
forgetting the tears in both our eyes, you kissed me like never before !!!

Alone ...

2008-02-08T01:55:00.000+05:30

In days, perhaps even in months, i felt alone today.
Really alone.

"You are so far away from me. So far i just can't see."
Never have i missed you so much. But what have i to remember you by.
Except for those few golden memories my thoughts have captured.

I half cried, i half smiled. Like those cute pink bunny rabbits with long ears.

I know you won't be reading this. But if you do, you already know.
Haven't you heard it all before. The pain, the anguish, the longing.

You have been my bridge over troubled waters. The rock i find an anchor to. I know where to seek solace. Aaah ! That smile :) - the eternal rejuvenatory potion - the one element in my mundane existence that i long for the most.

But my thoughts betray me. Or do they?
Can i ever forget you? Do i want to forget you?
In your happiness lies my salvation, and in mine lies yours.
The ties that bind !

And yet, if for ever in years to come ...

Tribute to the Busby Babes

2008-02-07T16:18:00.000+05:30

"Trafford Park, which is just behind us here, is the biggest industrial estate in the city and they work hard, and they work long. On a Saturday, it is up to you to provide a little entertainment for them"

---- Sir Matt Busby

As one of the teeming million fans of the Red Devils, i feel proud to take out time and devote a post in tribute to the greatest team that ever walked the planet 50 years ago.

The darkest day: Feb 6th 1958
February 6th will forever be circled on the calendars of everyone connected with Manchester United. On that day in 1958, the darkest day in United's history, 23 people - including eight players and three members of the club's staff - suffered fatal injuries in the Munich air crash.

Flying back from a European Cup tie against Red Star Belgrade, the team plane stopped in Germany to refuel. The first two attempts to take off from Munich airport were aborted; following a third attempt, the plane crashed.Twenty-two of the people on board died instantly, while Duncan Edwards - one of the eight victims from the team - died 15 days later as a result of the injuries he sustained.

The tragedy is an indelible part of United's history, as is Sir Matt Busby overcoming his injuries to build another great team which won the European Cup 10 years later.
Roger Byrne (28), Eddie Colman (21), Mark Jones (24), David Pegg (22), Tommy Taylor (26), Geoff Bent (25), Liam Whelan (22) and Duncan Edwards (21) all died, along with club secretary Walter Crickmer, trainer Tom Curry and coach Bert Whalley.

Eight journalists died - Alf Clarke, Tom Jackson, Don Davies, George Fellows, Archie Ledbrook, Eric Thompson, Henry Rose, and Frank Swift who was a former Manchester City player. Plane captain Ken Rayment perished, as did Sir Matt's friend Willie Sanitof. Travel agent Bela Miklos and passenger Tom Cable also died.

The Busby Babes as the young team (with an average age of 22) was called, was a highly talented bunch of youngsters that had come through the United junior ranks, coached by the legendary Sir Matt Busby. The team that went on to re-shape United's history over the next few years, rising like a phoenix from the ashes of Old Trafford (bombed by the Nazis), winning 5 consecutive FA Youth Cups.

If not for the tragedy, the juggernauts would have been unstoppable. There was no team unparalleled. And yet, it was the resolve of the 5 survivors led by Sir Busby, to mould a new team, that would go on to win the European Cup within just 10 years.

As Sir Alex Ferguson remarked in the memorium service, he has been at the helm of the club for 21 years now, and has won just the one Champions League. For that United team to win it in such a short span overcoming traversities, is something the entire footballing nation would be proud of. Sir Matt Busby could have retired then, and people would have understood. But even lying severely injured, he felt it his responsibility to all around him to continue and revamp the team.

Yesterday's solidarity shown by all soccer teams, even arch-rivals Manchester City, to pray for the departed and remember their constributions symbolizes the resolute spirit of the Red Devils.

The current United team for their part will come out this weekend against City in a derby match, wearing a one-off 1950's styled uniform, without sponsorship logos, and numbered 1 through 11.

A tribute to those true champions of soccer. Remembered but never forgotten. It makes me Proud to be a United.

Source: The ManUnited official website (http://www.manutd.com/)

U kNOw - What a CATastrophe ...

2008-01-25T15:51:00.000+05:30

Three weeks gone since the results of the CAT were declared - three weeks since the dates for 6 interviews and 6 group discussions have been looming over my head - three weeks of staying up late in the night, not because i am studying, but simply because i am hanging out.

Now with a tryst with Lucknow coming up next week, all those nights screaming 'UNO' and 'caught' need to come to a halt. Those random visits to movie halls and tea stalls, the getaways to Khan markets in the middle of the night, the working back after dinner - must take a backseat.

Academics is something, they say, i must know well. If that were the case, pray explain why I hadn't gone about doing an MS. How does one prepare 4 years and 40 core subjects in a span of 4 days.

They argue, you fool. How can you not know GK and current affairs of the entire world. You are after all a global citizen. Yes please, i ask. If my examiner knows the prime minister of Tonga, i will devote my entire life to studying politics and world economy.

Which incidentally brings me to another cheap-skate they want to pull of at my expense. I am a stupid engineer. A computer one at that. Why the deuce would i have the remotest idea of GDP and fiscal deficit, given that i don't even know my own subjects. Tell me those numbers and solve a problem i might. But no, they have to ask me the problem and my opinion. In a country as diverse as India, there are going to be a billion opinions on macro-economy and the budget and the atrocities of the Finance minister. Does my liking or hating the budget going to change my way of living. I am going to pay the tax irrespective of the slab. I can crib about it for hours even if he eases the rates. I am here to learn these things. Knowing them is not getting me the Nobel Prize for sure.

If some gyaan guru from the IIMs reads my blog and decides to not select me, then so be it. Their justification would be that a leader of tomorrow does not express such negative chi. But i am not asking to become a leader. I simply want to be a better manager. And this involves all of Planning, Leading, Organizing and Controlling.

And this whole stupid basis of a GD is beyond me. Obviously, when the great B-schools consider selection or rejection on a GD, then they might be having a very good reason for it. Probably, if i do get to that B-school, i might just figure it out. But today, all i see is a fish-market, with the most vocal trader trying to sell of his rotten stock, while the genuine guy keeps waiting for the correct customer to sell his good quality fish. Ultimately, the entire market closes down and everybody is put out of the misery of the bad smell

Last week i attended this workshop on GD and PI, trying to take away some pointers. I met all kinds of people. Some with "Black Eyes", and some without. What i did see in commonality was the fact that there was always one guy in these group discussions who wanted to start, conclude and keep speaking on for the entire 20 minutes, irrespective of whether he even knew anything on the topic. There were others who did a blitzkrieg attack, annihilated the opponents and went back. There were others like me, the Silent night ghosts. They came, they saw and they went away. Sometimes, they would bring the ball to the ground, and then the rest of the field would play football.

Well amidst all of this what i have learnt is that Simon and Garfunkel still are the best duo around, and listening to them lets me keep my mind of such petty matters. Oh how i missed my long forgotten cassette tape, only to feel rejuvenated again.

So the keyboard stops now. I am homeward bound and feeling groovy. Old friends and bookends have gone by, and even though I might not find Mrs. Robinson, let me search for my Emily, wherever she may be ...

Memento Moir 2007

2008-01-04T11:54:00.000+05:30

Following the steps of Cyrus 'Bakra' Broacha, i am going to replicate the Year that Wasn't - memoirs of 2007 - the highs and lows - the good, the bad and the uglys

I know, i know - same old sordid cliched topic - but even though a non-conformist that i am, some things just don't change !!

In near chronological order, encapsulating the year of the pig ...

1st of Jan began on the Star Virgo, partying away to glory amidst friends - A 4 day long cruise of Phuket and Penang ensued - good beginning to a new year
IIM results out - i am one of those (250,000 - 5,000) guys
A sad parting away from "beloved" Can-la land of Singapore
Back to India - Gurgaon pollution aggravates allergy - put on a 3month antibiotic vaccination course.
A promotion comes calling.
23rd Jan - I sign up to become a Farmer, more rather a bonded laborer.
The trauma continues - we celebrate Valentines day when Mr. Bhatt wishes the team at 9am on the conference call.
13th/19th Feb - Happy birthday to me - Both birthdays spent alone in the office working.
Finally a call from FMS - the knut that i am - i kick a university after an admit - i am still wondering if it was worth it.
I also manage to become a SAS certified ninja.
A torrid quarter comes to a brief halt interluded by my cousins wedding, allowing me to really enjoy myself after a long time.
Silver lining on a very dark cloud - workload eases as "They" mirage us with the "promised land"
Come August - turmoil - rumble in the bronx - the company has seen its worst for the better.
Simon and Garfunkel remind me - Old friends, bookends - some new ones made though.
A dull september - work continues - people come and people go - Dear friend 'Lee'ves the team.
October brought back good memories of the TT tourni - i prove my 'klutzness'
Nov was hectic - GMAT and CAT all around - apps to fill, essays to write
18th Nov - the final nail in a Farmers coffin - probably the saddest day of the year for me.
Kabootar ja ja ja happens with a trip to Kansas - first visit to Amrika - i fall in love with snow (and a zillion airhostesses on the way)
My parents celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary - unfortunately i am unable to join them.
A call from ISB - seems surprising but some good news finaly.
An eventful journey back home - miss my flight, loose my baggages for more than a week, and celebrate christmas running around immigration agents rather than under the mistletoe at Schipol.
A quiet new year with the family - ice cream and cake.

Well, the year also saw me catching up on a few movies that were not half as bad as the ones i watched in 2007 - Memento, Eternal Sunshine, Pursuit of Happyness, Saw 4, Forrest Gump, The Butterfly Effect.

Overall, the year was decent - had its share of moments - it passed quite quickly infact - it was just yesterday it seemed ...

The Butterfly Effect ...

2007-12-29T17:31:00.000+05:30

Coincidences, coincidences ...
I watch the movie barely last week, i am thunder-struck by the concept, the beauty of the ending, and think of reading up more on the chaos theory.

Turns out, i don't need to. Get a practical first hand, within days.

So, if memory serves me right, how do they put it -

"It has been said that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world."

Well, transliterate that into -

"Snowfall in Overland Park can cause you to lose your baggages in New Delhi ..."

So obviously, i learn about it the hard way.
A flight from Kansas City that was supposed to depart at 3pm, gets off the ground at 5:30pm; when salt has finally melted some of the heavy snow on the runway. The flight has a fated passenger to Newark. No points for guessing who. The passenger is turning and twisting in his little seat thinking of the next flight he is sure to miss. The accursed flight touches down at Newark an hour after the connection as left. After running 40 gate terminals around the airport (i land at gate 67, and takeoff at 103), i reach half panting, with almost zero hope, to see a plane to Peurto Rico departing instead of the one to New Delhi.

Now comes the hard part - locating someone who can help me solve this muck.
I ultimately trudge back down to don't know where; trying to locate a help desk. Surprising as it may seem, nobody on the airport knows what a help desk is !! I finally manage to see a long line at one terminal. Curiosity saved the cat this time. I happen to identify it as a 'Service Center' for Continental airlines. After standing in queue for about an hour amidst other helpless beings as myself, i realized i wasn't the only one hit by delayed flights. Pain reduced, you ask? Probably yes. Self sadistic pleasure i would call it.

Ultimately, i managed to get to the "agent" at the desk, identified the problem and asked for a solution - which came in the form of a quick tour of Amsterdam. I was to be re-routed to Delhi via a stop-over at the Schipol. Not again, i thought. If i missed my connection again, i would be stranded in the drug and sex capital of the world. Not a bad place to be though, especially when as the air-hostess put it - you don't require a visa in the Netherlands, only a smile.

Dreams, dreams. Reality came crashing down when i was instructed to take a sky train, find my shuttle, and retire to the nearest hotel for a one night 'complimentary' stay with a couple of meal vouchers, which would pass off as loose change at those hotel rates. Barely a few hours of putting up, and you leave again at 12 noon check out time. I wasn't in a mood to hang around at $100 a day. So back to the airport, where after the usual strip search at immigrations, i put my butt off to sleep on the lounge. Apprehensive, with no clue as to where my luggage was currently (despite the assurances from the helpdesk that it would be re-routed the same as me), and no idea of the departing gate, it seemed like a flight in itself, stuck in a seat for 7 hours, hearing every announcement, no where to go.

Well, cut to the chase, i came, i saw, and i went away. Schipol airport was cool in the festive season. Huge Christmas trees, lighting, and the mistletoe. Two eight hour flights and a stopover later, i found myself without my baggages at New Delhi and in love with the KLM flight attendant. As obvious, all she did was smile flirtatiously, take her baggages and leave - leaving me at the conveyor belt, head swooning, both for her and looking at the suitcases go round.

After spending Christmas night at the airport, trying to locate my bags, nothing came of it, and i had to file in a complaint. Its been over 7 days since i last saw my bags at Kansas. I havn't heard from the authorities at the airport, or the CO/KLM flight group. Pleaded with the IGI help center but to no avail. They find themselves as helpless trying to trace my bags.
So after giving up hope that i would ever see my precious wardrobe again, with all the new business suits, shoes, watch and stuff (includes the chocolates i was pestered for), i had decided to go ahead and buy myself atleast a new razor before anything else.

But surprisingly, some other butterfly must have fluttered its wings in Tokyo, because a windfall occurred this evening. As i was midway through this blog post, i get a phone call, immediately recognizing the KLM office number. I answer with a bated breath, and hear the good news. No, my cat is not pregnant. But something will get delivered. My dear baggages arrived at my door step late night - everything sealed and perfectly intact. I couldn't have done a better job myself.

So with all tension dispersed, i finally decided to gorge on the chocolates myself, rather than take them to the place where they were intended to go. As it is, most were melting. Too tempting to resist. My sister dug in as well. I feel good now.

That's one lesson learnt. Better let the official laptop get lost in transit than your personal luggage. Atleast then the office will be supportive in trying to locate it ...

Tabula Rasa

2007-12-16T06:52:00.000+05:30

No, i am not referring to a computer game or that disc in town which goes by the same name ...

I fall back to the original Latin - the Unscribed Tabulet.

Tabula Rasa, the clean slate, the origin of the human mind.
What shapes it into what it is? The blank parchment that we are all born with. Is it "Nature" or is it "Nurture" that metamorphosises us into who we are, into what we become.

What the mind thinks must be in it; in the same sense as letters are on a tablet which bears no actual writing -- Aristotle, On the Soul

What is knowledge, if nothing but the truth that we are inclined to believe.
I think now behind this solitude that keeps me behind glass walls, who am i? What is my purpose?

I don't wish to go into this Platonic/Freudean debate.
I simly wonder sometimes, how nice it could be to blank this slate clean of things unwanted, memories undesired, pains conflicting. Reach into the shadowed depths of my heart, my mind, and pluck out those sorrows. Re-write the mind with thoughts cherished.

Speak the truth, and the truth shall set you free. Fear naught but the fear itself.
Do these be but speeches brave? Or are they the very foundations that rest the mind at ease.

The reaction of senses to the external world of objects imprints our minds. That is what imbalances the Tabula Rasa.
Oh! How i wish, how i wish i could sweep the mind of all the dirt that clogs it, and refreshen it - vibrant, joyous, carefree. To relive the childhood, the moments of nascency.

My thoughts no more do me justice. I no longer trust if i hold true to myself, let alone to those i love. I make a prayer to my own heart.

Give me that languid, peaceful space,
where falter not my dreams may;
winds of conceit harden thy brows on face,
let me be pure as i was born, to thee i say.

Bonded by chains, break through them, set upon myself the task, I do, to realign the Tabula Rasa ...

Snow is beautiful ...

2007-12-10T03:05:00.000+05:30

Hmmm ...
I have been cursing snow for ever now - right from the time i slipped and fell down a snow cliff in manali, (almost) breaking my nose; to being stuck inside my hotel room for 2 consecutive weeks like a rat in a cage.

But today i finally braved the 15F (-10C) temperature and marched out to explore the town on foot. It had snowed all night yesterday and today morning, but the sun had been up for a couple of hours, giving me hope enough to go and "chill out".

So at 2pm on a freezy winter day i leave house for my first visit around Overland Park. I had decided to go to this lake near my place, which from a distance kind of looked like this perfect spot - the old country side, a large lake, with snow all around, and a frosted bridge across it. The scene was breath-taking. Dry leaves, green winter grass, ice cold water, and snow all around.

No point capturing those moments on a camera. Its only something that you can see yourself and appreciate. Probably try and capture them on paper - but i am not too great at doing that either.

Well, feeling hungry, i moved on to a random route just walking where the road led me - kind of realized that i had taked the path to the town plaza - the surroundings were just so pure - snow all around, cars skidding down the highway, ice on the sidewalk, huge countryside manors with kids sleighing down the snow slopes, standing so far apart you could fit 10 elephants sidelong, the sub zero wind blasting me in the face, ears and fingertips numb, no other pedestrian dumb enough to be out but me, and small lakes every 5 streets frozen with sleet.

Aah, the beauty of it all ...

My glasses had frozen so hard up that i had to look at the menu without them. No wonder to my embarrasment, i ended up giving a 20$ note instead of a 50$, and then asking for 30$ more on the change. A hot cappuccino on the way back alongwith my lunch was just the perfect way to beat the cold. Though it was a different matter that my fingers were now really about to breakoff in this chill carrying the lunch packet in one hand and the cofee in the other. My watch stopped at 3:05pm. It just couldnt take the chill i guess. It however returned to normal functionality when i came back to my warm abode after 1.5 hours of a gruelling hike. But the most amazing part was the fact that my tears froze. They literaly froze to ice and stuck on my face. It was a wow moment.

To round off the perfect day, even though i skid a couple of times, i did not fall. Apprehensive of the new roads, i never lost my way. And most importantly, though i hated the "icky-yellow-brown" snow before, i believe i will look upon in it in a different light from now on. Wish i could have stayed longer till christmas and enjoyed it in the snow ...

Welcome to the 'Dork' Side ...

2007-12-01T10:02:00.000+05:30

So finally adjusting to Overland Park, Kansas.

Its been a gruelling journey and a chilly weather so far. An ice storm this last weekend and all plans of touring the city 'washed away', quite literally. And today, a blast from the past - i mean another of those winter winds that freeze you like an icicle. I forgot to wear my jacket while on the way to the cafeteria (which is about a 3min walk from my office). Only God knows how i made it there alive. Felt like those sci-fi movie characters when they throw liquid nitrogen on you.

So what do i find different over the roughly 10 days that i have spent here?
Probably not much.

Contrary to expectations, OP seems quite populated. There are definitely people here, and they travel in cars, which get stuck in traffic jams. So quite a normal little town. Haven't seen any farm animals though yet, except on the dining menu, ofcourse.

From my airhostess to the lady next to me in the cab queue - Kansas city has greeted me with its best. You know what they say best about orchids and camellia; they bloom the best in winter.
An example of my masquerade was me missing my cab at the airport, chit chatting away next to this gorgeous female i talk about. We were so engrossed in discussions, i refused to notice the cab i had called. Had to order another one.

So when my friends asked me if going by the sacred American customs i asked for the girl's number - i quipped - she lives in Kansas City, Missouri and i in Kansas City, Kansas - how am i to bridge the state gap to ask her out, especially without a conveyance.

Oh well, did i mention though that OP has a radius of 20 min from its town plaza to the border, which effectively means zilch and which means its all walkable. Again, especially given that it has a population of about 150K only and the odds of finding any working person withing a 5min walking radius is 1 of 10 (since 10% of the population of Kansas City works in Sprint Nextel Corp, which is just opposite my place, and needless to mention so did the brunette in question). Actually make it 1 in 8 - i think 2.5% of the population works in the YRC and Applebee HQs.

So come to think about it. I did have the chance to ask out a great looking (and for once smart, given her stunning looks) single girl, and i didnt. You see, whatever place it be, people are all the same. And so am I.

As Skywalker Senior would put it - Welcome once again to the 'Dork' Side ...

Winter begins on the 3rd sunday of novemeber ...

2007-11-19T13:47:00.000+05:30

The whole year round i never feel cold, running around the house without even a fulls-sleeves shirt or sweater, let alone woolens. But come the 3rd sunday of Novemeber and there's always a winter chill, making you want to run to the water closet 3 times in the span of 3 hours ...

Yup, an annual ritual for many, the CAT exam not only brings depair for a quarter million students (-1500 ofcourse), but for me its always the case of no clothes are warm enough on this day. You hit the roads at 9 in the morning and all you can think is brrrr - couldn't it have started after noon, warm and sunny.

You enter the examination hall and all you can think is where the hell is the washroom. Queen's "Under Pressure" is buzzing through your systems. You start writing the paper and all you think is Bono crooning "Hold On" (AKA damn - when will this end)

Head's spinning, eyes watering, stomach churning - it is definitely not a good feeling to undergo. Add to that the ever tormentous time. Its always short for a question, always long for the agony. Now ok, this is no excuse to give if i genuinely screw my paper, but yeah, it is a decent excuse anyway !!

And for the first time in months, i slept with my fan switched off ...

A Game Well Played

2007-10-25T22:49:00.000+05:30

My organization's flavor of the month happens to be a certain ongoing T.T. tournament, that has generated enormous enthusiasm amongst both the players and the crowd alike.

As last year's undefeated semi-finalist (sounds odd - but the tourni got scraped since i went onsite), and co-winner of the 'sledger of the tournament', an award i had shared with my team-mate Aman, my team was again the dark horse this time around. Initially seeded in the top rankers, i pursued a course of Aggresive Negotitations (as Anakin Skywalker would term it) with Iyer sir, the tourni organizer, and got myself ranked lower. I mean, seriously, given the quality of players we have this time around, it was an insult to them to put me up there in their league.

Paired in the draw with Varun as my strike partner, and given a 1st round bye, we were confident of atleast winning our first game against Raunak/Amrita. But i went off on a leave for about 10 days, and the organizers un0kindly decided to put me out and continue the tournament. As fate couldn't see me so harshly treated so early (there was humiliation waiting for me ahead), another team also had a member lose out and so when i returned, i found myself paired up with Chirag.

Now the guy can play well, on his day, and given he does not tense up under pressure. Some critics found our team combo to be too strong and argued against such a formation. Most had written off Amrita and Raunak. They expected us to blaze through past them with 2 under-10 wins. On match day however, it seemed an upset was on the cards. Not only did Raunak/Amrita fight well, they pulled the crowd behind them. Every point they rallied and won was cheered voraciously. Needless to say Iyer was totally on their side, without least bit bothering to realize he was the refree. Ishan who was also assisting with the score-keeping and line calls, now faces a tough time ahead when i prepare his project review.

The first set went down to the wire. In order to make the game interesting, Chirag and I allowed some loose shots to keep the excitement. But it proved a little too lax. With Raunak/Amrita already winning a lot of points, they soon raced to a 8-2 lead, and kept us under pressure. Raunak was smashing away all of Chirag's returns and Amrita was managing to keep all her shots on the table. Iyer declared we would forfeit the match if our opponents reached double figures, over and above wanting to provide them a 5 point handicap advantage. We almost lost the first set when the score read 20-15 to them. With a single point away, i got my serves right and pulled all 5 back, to setup a deuce. From there on we regained our touch a bit (both in sledging and TT) and killed the first set.

With our nerves quite jittery and Chirag perceivably tense at the near escape, we played a bit better in the 2nd set, and won it with relative ease. Grabbed a 7-0 lead and thought officially it was Jig'saw' (remember - Game Over). But Iyer as usual, decided to give us his respect instead of the points and play continued. 21-14 i think it was, and that too when we were 18-7 up. Obviously, we were both out of form - i, perennially always am, but i didn't expect Chirag to perform under par, given my reliability of smashing the opponent or the water cooler.

With a tough first match behind us, the crowd had realized that we probably were not the team who could go on ahead given this showing. In the second round where we were facing probably the toughest team of Murarka/Kunja, we were expected to lose easily, given that they had dispatched of 2 very strong teams - Ishan/Major and Dilip in the previous round (Ninja not accounted for - actually it was Ninja's tough luck that he had a player as good as Dilip, otherwise he would have won single-handedly using some SAS macro that would control his and his opponent's serve, smash and returns).

But in today's game, we had different intentions. Deciding that we would play safe, keep the ball on the table, and let the opponents make mistakes, we started off positively. With a highly charged encounter on the cards, lots of people had gathered around to cheer the other team (not us unfortunately). But i looked in super sublime form (aka totally vaporised). Didn't know what got into the two of us, but we responded to the task and played well. With nobody to egg us on, except referee Iyer sir, who as always was sledging against us, every point that we won, silenced the crowd and only the "yes" that we shouted was audible. I had this feeling of "pin drop violence".

All dusted and done, we surprisingly shocked everybody, ourselves most of all, by winning the first set very convincingly. Iyer whispered audibly enough to Lakshmi - "was he so happy at even getting promoted?". With all the shots that i managed to make and gain points on, i would walk upto Iyer and return the jocular stare, not considering the fact that some shots which i hit at the left corner, ended up at the right. But who cared. And with all the points i lost, i was the first to joke about my weaknesses.

The second set started well again. But this time it was more competitive and we were going neck to neck. With two points away from winning the set and the match, a crucial 'twist' occurred, literally. With nothing to do as simple as finishing off a weak 6 ft high return from Kunal (that just landed across the net), i stumbled on my own toe with Chirag's foot just behind me and managed to sky the shot from the top edge of the racket. And the next instant, i lost my balance and squatted down. IT was a laugh riot. A Kodak moment that needed capturing. I couldn't stop grinning at the glaring error, and the crowd just exploded. Nearly 2-3 minutes passed before i got up and we resumed playing. As Iyer quipped, i had just dropped the cup.

And the words rang out true only a moment sooner. With both Chirag and I fatigued, with all energy spent till now, and dripping sweat, I asked Iyer if the organizers would atleast provide us some towels. But equal in sarcasm, all i received were some tissue papers. Now almost out of steam, we could just hold on to get to deuce. Finally, we lost the 2nd set with Chirag also under pressure and none of his smashes hitting the board.

Set 3 was a disappointment for us and a cake walk for them. I was too tired to even serve properly and the one weapon i had effectively used failed to get us through. An incorrect line call and some wayward returns later, finally at 18-12 (or was it 19-11) down, we were able to grab a few points that inspired us back. But it was too little too late, and we succumbed.

We weren't sad to lose, we hadn't expected to win in the first place. On the whole, whatever said and done, i think what we got as a result was an excellent game of table tennis, thoroughly entertaining, full of sledging, the stronger team winning (with a reality check nonetheless) , and a respect well earned by both teams for fine skills, a high level of commitment, and the will to fight it out till the end.

This TT tourni has been as good as the last one. The teams are definitely stronger, more skilled and each plays with wanting to win, but without being serious. There is always a fun quotient around in each match. Some of the highlights of this tourni include - Ishan/Major to be the first to get eliminated, Gaurav Iyer and Lakshmi progressing ahead and getting kicked out of the tourni on the same day itself, the all serious Rahul Pandhi storming through to the semis with no effect of sledging on him, Varun and Vicki quietly and consistently playing themselves through to the other semis, Gautum/Neha duo practicing the most and not winning, dark horses Ashish Garg and Tushar also sneaking through to the semis with a bit of 'knocks' between sets, Gidra and his sliding maneuvers which he himself could not keep pace with and thus slamming into the floor flat (another Kodak moment), and yours truly sky rocketing the simplest shot of the tournament.

A special mention to the success of the game goes to the towels that were never provided, the new bats that were never used, the referees who couldn't remember the scores, the players who couldn't stop sledging, and the audience who cheered at all good and bad shots alike.

And most importantly, the constant reminders of Iyer sir to all participants asking them to smash their shots while thinking of their lead project managers (no names named) ...

While my guitar gently weeps ...

2007-10-23T21:15:00.000+05:30

For the people who were wondering where I was this whole time - in geeky Arnie style i say - Inverse of Asta Lavista Baby - I am back ...

Judging by the pathetic level of PJs i have gone down to, I personaly realize the amount of pressure i have been under lately, and see my pent up thoughts going down a drain.

Back from a week spent in Silent Wilderness.
Thrown right back into the cacophonous populace.

I put up my blog title as my messenger status (without having written about it yet). People asked me the reason behind it - well the obvious reason was the Guitar that i saw hung on my wall with dirt accumulated over the jacket, with no one to care about it - forgotten and lost. I have kind of been feeling the for a few days now. Instances where the wrong items grabbed the wrong attention and the real good stuff - no - the great stuff - got lost in the middle of somewhere !!

Wrong priorities, unhappy endings, feeling of betrayal, lack of trust, loss of passion, overcome by apathy, grumpiness galore, rise of anarchy - the past revisited, the present distorted, the future foreseen.

Been a bit busy with GMAT and stuff - and seriously - the only 4 lettered acronym i can think of for it is PITA. With only a week and half to mug up English, "Lays American Style", it was a hard task unwinding all the basic grammar rules and re-learning English as quite a different language. It was an interesting experience, as all such first-time experiences are. But i would have appreciated it more if it were art-for-arts-sake, and not simply a grading system which judges you based on how well you can correct "me and I". Truly speaking, seriously, would it really - and i mean really - matter to any top-notch university if the sentence articulation was slightly off mark, but conveyed quite fairly the meaning it was constructed to convey.

Given the fast pace of all activities, who is going to stop and think for the next moment if "they did it" or "they had done it". Point is - the job was/had been 'done' - without mattering when in the past it was done. We are no detectives investigating a crime where time line and speech would have (could have?) mattered. Will it ever create a dent in my presentation if did not start my sentences with However, while others may, firstly, summing up !!

Alright - i'll be the first to agree i am not the greatest exponents of the language - but without pride taking a fall, i am not the worst either - written or spoken, English is something i think i can convey my ideas reasonably well in. Fundamentalists might argue that Yoda spoke wrong English - but hey - the French use more of Passive voice and the Germans put their verbs before their subjects - both of which Yoda regularly indulges in. And yet, and yet - we all get what he gibberishly speaks (apart from the whole With-you-may-the-Force-be, My-young-padawan concept - we are not Jedis, right?)

Do the readers feel my anger and frustration is vent upon the GMAT because i scored miserably in test - not really - in fact i did better in the english section than i was doing in any previous practice tests. My score was decent (my personal target was 700+ which i passed comfortably) if not phenomenal, and i am happy with what i got compared to the input i put in. Obviously, since humans are never the content species, they'll always crib if they fall short of the best. What am i to say - I am human too.

And that is the reason i see my guitar gently weep - even though i notice it not, it sees me transforming into something i am not, something i aim to be which i dont want to, struggling against the odds to get even, doing what my heart does not believe in, holding onto things i should let go, and missing those little joys of life that truly matter.

I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at the floor and I see it need sweeping
Still my guitar gently weeps

I don't know why nobody told you
how to unfold you love
I don't know how someone controlled you
they bought and sold you

I look at the world and I notice it's turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning
Still my guitar gently weeps

I don't know how you were diverted
you were perverted too
I don't know how you were inverted
no one alerted you

I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at you all
Still my guitar gently weeps ...

(George Harrison)

Silent Ramblings

2007-09-15T23:21:00.000+05:30

'Eudosin d'orheon korhuphai te kai pharhagges'
'Prhones te kai charhadrhai.'

ALCMAN. (60 (10),646.)

(The mountain pinnacles slumber; valleys, crags and caves are silent.)

Starting lines of Poe's short story Silence - A Fable. Reminded me of my blog. Its been as quiet and calm out here as the lines suggest. There has been no zing to spice up any reminiscences to mention here as of now. A few people have been wondering where i have disappeared. To them, i say, in the words of Joe Strombel - "Give me a scoop, and i will give you a blog."

Its been boring these past few days. Nothing much has been going around. Almost had a near 'tryst with peanuts' again. Thankfully, recovered quickly with timely medication and a day off from work. Apart from that, the last excitement was in the shape of a lame fresher's party given by the company to welcome new hires. Obviously gone are those days when such parties used to be fun. Now, it was a necessity to get the party 'done and dusted' in order to boost employee morale. Still, I consider it a change for the better given the situation over the past few months. Some nominees have gotten around in trying to address this problem, and events are enroute to see that it gets implemented.

Oh and yeah, given that "the day ended" on 13th Sep in Jeetender 'badminton' style (read as Dhall gaya din ...), we celebrated with a trip to the sparkling vineyards of Spain. And i always thought the men fought in Sparta, while the women led combat in the Amazons.

The most buzzing thing these days is sports - Cricket and T20 - managed to catch Zim 'massacare' the Aussies (though not without some drama) - and then India's late night fight back to win a dramatic match and maintain a 100% world cup record against our neighbours. As Rameez Raja quoted, "Can India-Pakistan matches ever not be without romanticism?"
Champions League is back on track this month on, and i cant wait for Rooney-Ronaldo to return back to Porto and Roma and blast off. ManU are ticking me off by slender goal-margin wins. Its time to cut loose.
TT fever also has gripped the office. With a tourni likely to kick off soon, its time i spent practising getting my smashes on the table rather than at my opponent. It brings a new dimension to 'hitting below the belt' tagline.

I intend to watch 'Memento', considering rave reviews from fellow mates. If it does turn out to be a cult movie as they say it is, i'll be pleased. Anything to break this boredom from silence. And when i say silence, its not as if its got boring and dead all around. Its just about breaking away from the monotony, and trying to do something different, something interesting, something challenging, something exciting, something fruitful. Not all of them together, but probably even one will do.

Till i find a more suitable topic to lambast about, adieos !

Pigs with Rocket Launchers

2007-08-31T12:33:00.000+05:30

Felt like taking a break from all the sombre stuff. So here is a post plagiarized (again) from a friend (a college junior and sister-school junior as well), who decided not to put the post up on his blog becuase of acute paranoia. He feels when applying to company for the post of VP/CEO etc, the company might perform background checks like the CIA and rake up demented dirt on him. And all this future planning when he is still in the 3rd year of engineering ...

But since i liked the post, i decided to put it up here with due acknowledgements. Most of it is verbatim, though i have added a couple of sprucers to it on my own. Here goes ...

So I came down to think about it. I do like Pigs. If I could really get down to making a comic with Pigs who had Rocket Launchers.
Characters and props I would need:

1. The SuperPiggy
Simple Pig from the village.
Wields a rocket launcher.
Meets the WisePig who transfers all his wisdom to the SuperPiggy.
So the SuperPiggy is extremely wise.
2. SuperPiggy's Love
With beauty that none of the other female pigs posses.
With a heart so pure.
Our SuperPiggy is bound to fall for her.

3. An evil Pig
Thinking up of a name is so tough.
Suddenly I am filled with a lot of respect for all comic creators around the world.
Okay I cant really think up of a name, but here s what he'd (or she :D) be like.
Okay she.
A female pig who has the power to draw male pigs towards her and brainwash them.
Her piggish sensuality has left all male pigs wanting more.
With her super piggy abilities (what evil powers would we like to give her?) and evil heart she has been able to make the biggest Pig army of the world.
Well every Pigess (I daresay?) has a weakness. I need some help with this point people!
4. So the setup
Okay how about a Japanese village as the perfect environment?
We can then teach our pigs all kinds of Japanese "Ninja" Tricks.
Our SuperPiggy can wear a black band on his forehead and go HAAAOINK! Just like all the ninjas do while fighting.

So now i need to think up details to continue this comic strip like Kekta Kapur continues her serials. My friend tells me people have already started creating the images for the strip. I can see where the TRPs are headed. Obviously we don't expect to do a Calvin and Hobbes. But dear paranoid friend of mine. Even company CEOs read Calvin and Hobbes. If Bill Watterson thought like you did, where would humor go?

The Portrait - Musings of AAA batteries personified ...

2007-08-26T22:48:00.000+05:30

I am sick.
And I am tired.
Not of my own life though.

But of every Tom, Dick and Harry blabbering away like a "AAA" battery on a topic they have no inkling about (i hope this particularly quoted sarcasm doesn't go waste on the people intended, though i doubt since they have limited comprehension of what black humor might be), trying to make a tea-party out of it. Well it made me change one of my gibberish mood swings to this - "Money people earn for work they don't do ..." - and then probably go on to act as if the work got done because of them. Well, its not hard to put 2 and 2 together for people who inter-visit 'common' blogs often.

Well, i don't want to harp on these petty issues (oops - i really meant people)

All my frustration apart, i do not deny a couple of teeny-weeny truths probably there are in all these writings and stuff. But there has to be a way of putting it effectively across, without making it sound so gung-ho and repetitive and blatantly obscene. Take for instance the chai-waala dhaba postings by Dingy and AJ. I couldn't kind of really find one different from the other. No hard feelings AJ. But man, get your creativity going dude. I am sure you can phrase out the same thing in a much better manner using a decent (if not better) idea.

/* PS with Edits */
I am sorry AJ - it was NOT meant to be a personal attack on your creativity what-so-ever. I simply beg you to use your creative talents on something which is not so trivial. Reading the same issue day in and day out with half the junta not knowing the correct info and trying to provide their 2 cents on everything pissed me off. I apologize if what i meant actually came out incorrectly (which i accept it did when i re-read it) and i caught you in the line of my frustration firing. That is what blogging is meant for :)

I cant respond to comments right now due to some proxy issues on this stupid network.
As i told you, dil pe mat lena - lets put together our heads much more "creatively" and try and loosen Mr. AS of some of his hard(ly) earned money during lunch on wednesday ...
/* End of PS with Edits */

And apart from these 2 blog posts, there were a couple of others, but too insignificant for me to mention here ...

All in all, i decided to fall back to my only form of creativity - poetry writing. I had ended up reading one of Edgar Allan Poe's short stories called "The Oval Portrait". So i decided to use it as my theme to fire up a few lines by myself which could probably describe the situation in a much more positive/optimistic outlook rather than the mundane-sombre-deadbolt approach people try to take. I personally don't look down upon my chai stall. In-fact, i consider it to be a piece of art. As opposed to the contrary notion of a chottu chai waala, tea-preparation techniques can be vocational in themselves. I am sure many wouldn't agree with the lines crafted below, in that light - but to them i say - who cares - i blog because i like to - "i blog because i think" (OK, thats stolen from Descartes, but he is not going to turn in his grave for plagiarizing it)

So here goes my le' imbecile. Without any visible firm bashings like the others !!
For people who cannot link the artist, or the exhibition, or the lady-love to known events and surroundings - well shame on you !!
I truly think that with a little effort and vodka (reference: Unni) you will understand it. There are a couple of interpretations, i as a poet thought out.
Good luck ...

THE PORTRAIT

Oh ! What a painter he was, an artist so fine
He could sketch from gothic frames, to a mural with intricate design
Never did art exceed its greatness so, in that era
Those pictures were more real than Gods Zeus or Hera

Once to the Paris Art Exhibition he went
where he fell in love with an angel, from heaven sent
He married her and brought her home
with a single desire to paint her, standing next to the Elyssian Dome

She was a maiden unparalleled in beauty and form
to be challenged only by the genius' artistic storm
Never did she like his involvment to become so deep
that he completely forgot her, even in his sleep
But a gentle, loving, obedient wife she was,
so she allowed herself to be portrayed for his cause

To capture that face on paper, he would like a madman work
never would he budge from his seat, though the night shadows around him lurk
For weeks together with the eisel in front of her spread
she sat in the dark high turret, a single window overhead
But he, the painter, took glory in his work, which stretched from day to day
that he shut himself up, keeping even his loved ones at bay

He could not see the dark, despaired health and spirit of his bride
who even in this time of gloom, yet had never cried
From the ardour of his work he never rose
to see the shattered, dying countenance of the lovely lady he chose

When finally his masterpiece had been completed
and the bristles of the paint brushes with the oil color reserves had depleted
then did he rise to admire his art, his child
none could achieve such greatness, even with an imagination so wild

"This is life indeed" , looking at the portrait he said
and he turned around suddenly to regard his beloved - SHE WAS DEAD

Say "NO" something to "They" Uncle ...

2007-08-23T14:28:00.000+05:30

It seems like this blog is turning out to be a transcript of my proceedings in the office on a regular (daily i think) basis.

Who said working wasn't supposed to be fun. According to a certain Mr. 'They', you should always enjoy working. Thanks to him, the 'day' never goes without some spice and spruce to it.

Take for instance yesterday. Sun-Tzu would have been put to shame over his Art of War book. A master of cornering people and then ripping them apart shamefacedly is somthing our Mr. 'They' does exceedingly well. We were on a conference call with him for a continuous 3 .5 hours, and the ultimate takeaway of the whole meeting was - "So Guys, Hold on. Learn to say NO".

First thought in our mind - can we say No to your "gyaan" and have our dinner. Or, can we say No and move on with the scheduled piece of work, which otherwise could be completed without YET another night at the call center (oops i meant office - though doesnt make much difference - we are after all "Culturally" a BPO company).

We had a long series of lectures over 'incompetent' communication skills, time management, project management, our inability to put our foot down and say NO to client requests, push them back blah blah blah. There were 9 subpoints highlighted by our team where we thought we were facing issues. It so happened that Mr. 'They' blasted us on our own issues. And when he asked - "You with me?", we were supposed to say "NO" ???

The high point of the call came when he asked our manager if he could do a particular piece of work. We were so into the NO philosophy by this time that after much deliberation, we were put into the classic Calvin situation as shown below.

Considering it to be a trick question, we felt we knew the answer - yet another Calvin classic to illustrate the situation

And then the answer from our side was - NO. We cannot do what you are asking us to do. But, it truly was a trick question, and we got blasted once more for saying a No where we were not supposed to say it.

Coming out of those stressful 200 minutes was a relief - but whatever said and done, throughout the night our team continued to be in a good spirits often joking about the NO factor.

We named our manager "Dr. No" henceforth. And the team singing in Daler Mehndi style - "No no - no no - no re - no re - no re ...". So the 2 important lessons we learnt yesterday were that - first, Pinpoint who is 'they' (else it would give him a complex) when you accuse someone and secondly, Say "NO" something to "They" Uncle ...

No more "Lee"way ...

2007-08-18T20:29:00.000+05:30

17th of August will probably be recognized henceforth as the saddest day, a Black Friday, in the history of the 3rd largest American P&C Insurance company, and for our project team as well.

No, we did not screw up the project (whats done is done - it is beyond us now to screw it up further)
No, we did not mess up getting an extension.

What then could be so catastrophic you ask?

Well, attrition (due to work pressure, tough bosses etc.) finally caught up with our project team, and one of our most "crucial" members resigned.

No, not here at my workplace - but - guess what - at the client side ...

Its now doing the rounds in the entire office that our project will probably live in the annals of the firm as the first to lose an analyst from the client team. Well the fault is not (completely) ours. The poor fellow probably succumbed to the blastings from his boss just about as much stick we keep receiving from ours. However, Indians, even with all the cribbing, are known to bow down and slog in with late nights and weekends if required. That perhaps is not the culture I expect in a US office, where you come in early morning and leave early evening. Our poor boy it seems was pushed to the limit and veered off the edge.

It is not that i would miss him because he was so dear to me - even though i haven't met him till now, i feel this bond with him. He brings humor to the calls, and with all his antics, keeps the meetings interesting. More importantly he was always made the fall guy and held accountable for all the mistakes anybody did on the team. I say this as the bare naked truth. Yes, we are highly indebted to him for soaking this pressure up on our behalf as well. Okay, he was at fault most of the times as well, but then give the poor guy a break. We all make mistakes. As long as they are not made daily and you can cover them.

I have seen the guy go from pathetic to awsome in over the 7 months that i have been interacting with him. What started out as a communication problem, seems to have been solved. I have lowered my bar and now think like him and talk in his language (which is a shock to my manager and team-mates). It is difficult. At times exasperating. But the joy of finally knowing you have made a point across makes you happy. You receive your share of taunts - "He understands what you are saying - you must be really retarded for that to happen".

Over a few weeks, i started maintaing logs of our meeting notes. If you thought notes about the project, you are dumb. Your just not 'thinking' at the right level. Notes about the amazing one liner the guys keeps throwing around, that he thinks are superbly intellectual, unknown to him that our team here in the office is on the floors, with their stomachs aching with laughter.

Take for instance the comment on him using a procedure "Funk Merge" to extract some data (which ultimately is so screwed that its taking weeks for his boss to re-extract it himself). For the uninitiated in SAS, there is NO procedure that goes by that name. Atleast not known to us lesser mortals. Given the way he talks and behaves, it was a shock to us to know that he had his "own personal laptop" and "drove a car with bluetooth in it". Whatever said and done, the guy was doing good data quality checks. I mean, OK, if you pull the obviously wrong data in the first place, it shouldn't be difficult to point it out.

We were also stunned by his "I know how CART works comment". Its a complex tool used for profiling/regression etc. which most users still haven't had a hang on, while we, who are practically experts on it, dont feel as confident as he did. He used words like "backfilling" and "re-engineering". He was training people in his company (i cant even guess wildly on what), working late hours, and even weekends. It seemed like the rubber band had stretched a bit too much. The point of no return had come.

Towards the end (i mean just before he resigned), even his manager had started taunting him publically in front of us. Attributing all errors to him, making him write explanatory notes to the VP, perform "sniff tests" and so on. The poor guy always took it in good fun, but he did realize that all his boss cared was for meetings and presentations, and not for him.

On Thursday, when he finally broke the news, i personally was in tears. My team was happy thinking it would be easier for the work to proceed in his absence. But they did not realize that the one link that maintained the axe from falling on our heads directly from the client boss was this guy. For him, he felt that the upcoming presentation to the Board of Directors would take a backseat with his resignation. The VP would have to bring in a new fresher. After all, He was the "Subject Matter Expert" in his own little nichest of niche domains.

In a speech, dedicated to my client counterpart, that Amit made to him over the phone, he called him our "One point anchor".
Come 31st August, we will miss you old pal. There will be no more comic jokes, no musings, no fun, no laughter. There will be No more 'Lee'way for us henceforth at the client side.

Koffee with Rohit (who??)

2007-08-13T15:00:00.001+05:30

They talk about monday morning blues.
I was in a total mood to avoid that today.

Infact, i was in such a mood to avoid that and something else associated with it, that i decided to reach the office not before noon. It didnt work out the way it was supposed to - and so i got to (was made to?) have coffee with Rohit. Rohit Kapoor, President/COO, EXL Services.

The invitation for cofee had been extended to a select few, by advertising out the same in a very ludicrous manner over e-mail by our dear fwd-FYI-without-topi-ka-HR. The appointment had been set for an hour at 12 noon on a monday. Some mystic ninjas were enthusiastic about it and reached the office sooner than they usually do for work, while other laggards like me tried coming in as late to avoid making an entry into the conference room.

Unfortunately, the meeting got postponed an hour out, thus making it impossible to make an excuse. At about 1pm the few of us (not more than 12-15) got together in the bored room (no its not a spelling mistake), and "signed" the attendance sheet like little school kids. Masterji was very angry when told that some children will not be able to come to the class because they were ill/watching cricket/bunking etc etc etc ....

In anticipation of the coffee (that is what after all we had come for !!), we were deliberating as to would we get to choose between a mocha and a cappucino or a latte, or would a single brew be served throughout the board. All hopes of a good coffee were shattered when we saw the standard cups, and tea bags, entering the room. It was a disaster. Cold tea, without sugar !!!

Well in the midst of all the tea/coffee drama, we had an hour of discussion (about i am not even sure what??) with Mr. Kapoor. His conversation was somehow reminiscent of Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities -

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity; it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness; it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair; we had everything before us, we had nothing before us; we were all going directly to Heaven, we were all going the other way.

Well, though, it did seem more like it was the best of times for him and the worse of time for me, but none-the-less ...

It was a discussion on a personal front, to know the man who built the company, better. He talked about his education, his work experience (inlcuding the part about managing a trainee for 2 months, who later on ended up being his wife), the way he setup the company, the acheivements and the slides etc. There were some questions from the not-so-enthusiastic audience in terms of a few queries/concerns, a couple of which were pretty emabarassing beamers for the boss and his team, but they ducked well.

Ultimately, the moot point of the coffee charade all came down to what one expected it to be all along - STAY and WAIT and BELIEVE.

The hour long session ended with Rohit giving out 2 autographed coffee mugs, the way KJ does on his show, to the two most enthusiastic members of the group (in short people who asked the most questions and bugged the others). The others received mugs as well, without the signature of-course. With Rohit finally leaving for his flight to Pune, probably for another coffee tete-a-tete there, the group embarked upon their second mission - 'samosas' and 'dhoklas'.

/* Transgressing away */
For the uninitiated, samosas, are snacks to be had piping/steaming hot, made of mashed potatoes, peas and lots of different spices, wrapped in a cone shaped coating of gram/corn flour (not sure which - my culinery skills are restricted).
Dhoklas are dhoklas - dont ask me how and what they are made from.
/* Regressing back */

Back to our original discussion, the samosas were effectively colder than the tea. You couldn't expect them to be less so, given they had been put out there in the open right under the AC vents. I could barely manage finishing one, while ninjas with occult powers helped themselves to probably half a dozen.

Finally, returning to our cubicles, we posed with our priced possesions and heres what it looks like. It was, truly, an "interesting" Coffee with Rohit ...

Driving in the fast lane !!

2007-08-07T12:06:00.001+05:30

No, this is not another philosphocial or lifestyle or marketing mantra based concept.
The topic post is just what it says - quite literally - driving in the fast lane - on the roads ...

Its been now close to a month (or two was it?) that i have started driving on the "bad wolf" roads of Delhi and Gurgaon. It still feels like you are going to get gobbled up by the raging-bull traffic around you.

I have that dreaded L-sign still taped to the back of my car windshield. Dreaded not for me - but for people around me. The L-sign, especially "red lettered" that it is, invokes for some the tendency to live (and fight) another day (by passing the learner very very slowly and safely) and for others the wrath of a woman scorned (horns screeching and honking at learners who inevitably find their vehicles stoppind dead center of a traffic jam on a green signal, others wanting to zip through by).

Well - for me - its been there, done that kind of stuff now. I think i can drive decently well now (by my standards atleast) on main roads and negotiate tricky traffic. I however, am still not into the thick of how things drive into "danger zone" yet. I play by the rules. And that is what will get me killed someday on these roads.

I thought, and still do, (and i know pretty sure i am not delusional on this) that in Delhi/Gurgaon (actually in India as a whole), the driving is right-handed. Which means, by pure logic that you overtake a vehicle from the right, and hence the fast lanes would be the rightmost lane on any road. Why then for the love of defied logic, do people with cars that cannot go more than 30kmph on a freeway, want to travel in the rightmost lane. That too when all 3 lanes on their left are totally empty. And when you tend to be driving at 100kmph, if somebody jumps in front of your car, then God save him/her (I doubt if even He can manage to do that).

And its not just private vehicles. But for some reason, the trucks and tempos think of the right lane as their daddy's as well. No matter how much you honk, blink your lights, cuss at them, show them the finger - it just isnt going to move them off that track. Then out of sheer frustration, you change lanes from right to left (mind you, i have given the left side indicator as well), but just about as you are doing that, some other guy, coming straight from playing Road Rash 2, crashes past your left rear view mirror jarring his horn, only for you to shift back again in the right lane behind the tempo and repeat the infinte cycle to try and overtake it.

I can understand the pain the Formula-1 drivers would be feeling when driving lap after lap behind a slower car, trying to find that perfect corner, that moment when they are just about close enough to sling shot from the slip-stream and overtake the car in front. But till then they must wait and wait and wait - and brake and brake and brake if they get too close enough for comfort. Reminds me of Massa's Ferrari behind a debutante's Spyker at the end of the safety lap in the European Grand Prix. A dream come true for the rookie to lead the race on atleast one lap, but the impatience of Massa and Alonso to get past him.

Well for me its not so drastic as January and May as it was in this F1 race, but as O.Henry would put it - its still a clear case of October and June.

So as i have learnt, driving in the fast lane is easier said than done. Didn't really know that the phrase used by so many 'gurus' really meant what it actually was. Nothing figurative. And the world thought it was euphemism ...

Mlogging - the Farmer's way ...

2007-08-03T19:18:00.001+05:30

Finally got 2 go on a team dinner to Le' Meridien with my kissan bhai behen. Translated 2 english, thats farmers and not ketchup. Had 2 resort 2 mobile blogging given a few late hours at office, no internet at home, 'unabling' me 2 transfer pics or post. Keeping it short. This gets expensive :)

Post addendum - a view of the Le' Meridien lobby 20 floors down from the passage entrance to Belvediere (their restaurant)

The OSIAN Film Festival - Movie in Review (TIME)

2007-07-28T16:56:00.000+05:30

Of all the recent weekends, this was one where i managed to drag myself outside my house, got my lazy bum into the car and drove off to Siri Fort, where the Osian Film Festival for Asian and Arab movies was on. Today was the penultimate day and one of my old college pals suggested we get together. It had been long since we last met, so I acquiesced to his wishes.

After a couple of wrong detours on my way to the auditorium, i finally managed to reach the place well on time, located the ticket booking counter, and got the 3 tickets i needed from an over-the-counter-side-line rather than the main queue. The movie we had decided on watching was "Time" - a Korean movie directed by Kim Ki Duk.

While i waited my for equally slow-bro pal and his friend to join me, i contemplated my decision on not wearing the traditional kurta-jeans combo to the film festival. I kind of felt the odd one out in my T-s. But i thought my common sense had prevailed. It was too hot and sultry to wear a kurta, whatever be the occasion. It was also too hot to be sporting a Rastafarian hairdo but none-the-less, there were guys with just that. Looked like a typical DU atmosphere - kurtas, jeans, jholas, wraparounds, junk jewelery and beads. Add to that a few foreigners and the kolhapuri chappals - and the deal was complete.

Well, about "time" i got to the movie in review here !!

Love Against the Passage of Time is the movie's theme.

/* Spoiler Starts */

Time is the story of 2 people - See-hee and Ji-woo. After two years of romantic relationship, our male protagonist Ji-Woo realizes that his love for See-hee is not the same as before. See-hee feels that Ji-Woo cannot bear to look at her face day in and day out. Over a tumultuous day, See-hee just disappears, and breaks all contact with Ji-woo. He is left to brood the loss and misses See-hee every day. He still loves her even after what she did to him.

As time passes, it is now 6 months since that fateful day when See-hee had disappeared. Ji-woo, on a visit to the sculpture island, the place he frequented with his ex-girlfriend, meets a girl named Seh-hee, and is struck by the uncanny similarity of the name. She is a waitress at the coffee house he regularly visits. They strike up a relationship, only for Ji-Woo to be thoroughly confused when Seh-hee asks him the question - "What would you do if See-hee returns back?". Ji-woo replies he doesn't know.

As the two fall in a comforting happiness, Ji-woo gets a letter from See-hee wanting to come back. Ji-woo is torn by the love he could not forget and leaves Seh-hee for his old flame, after a huge argument. Ji-woo decides to meet See-hee, who comes wearing a mask on her face. The mask itself is a picture of her. Ji-woo is confused and asks for an explanation. He realizes that See-hee and Seh-hee are one and the same. Since See-hee found his love to be waning and he wanting to look at other girls, she underwent a plastic surgery on her good looking face, and got a totally different look.

Ji-woo is stunned hearing this and is aghast at what See-hee had done. He tells her that love was what he has inside him, not her exterior looks. He walks of from her and himself disappears. He goes to the same plastic surgeon and gets himself a makeover as well. He asks See-hee to wait for him for 6 months the way he did and then come back to find him at the place where he used to pursue his hobby of shooting pics.

As more time passes by (in the movie as well as in the hall), See-hee starts approaching every man she sees in hope of finding Ji-woo. She gets mislead every time, and starts losing her mental stability. One day she thinks she sees the man who could be Ji-Woo and follows him. The faceless guy starts running from her, and in the process ends up under a car. See-hee goes insane thinking she ended up killing Ji-Woo. She enters the plastic surgeons office and asks one final time to be grafted. The movie ends with a shot of countless unknown people walking in the street, with See-hee dissolved somewhere in this obscurity, her new identity hidden and unknown to us. The landmark in the Sculpture Park, where Ji-Woo and See-hee used to spend time, is now under the ocean that surrounds it.

/* Spoiler Ends */

Time could not win over love ...

Since i found my above narration to be pretty lame and direct, i'd rather quote something here from the movie's director, and the amazing sculpture shown in the movie

DIRECTOR'S COMMENT

"It is an instinctive desire to seek for novelties.
It is human to endure the passage of time.
It is love to find novelties among repeating routines.
It is life to realize that nothing lasts forever in the passage of time.

Here are lovers crazy about each other.
But after their long relationship, it isn't love that has decayed, it is their throbbing hearts, their chemistry, their passion and their yearning.
I am posing a question to them. An absurd one."

Overall, the movie could be labeled as "interesting". Not a great class apart thing, but it highlights the concept that obsession (in this case with plastic surgery and the look good factor, as is so common in Korea these days) can lead to disastrous outcomes, and that relationships are not as fragile as some might make them out to be, and vice versa. Looks like a leaf or two out of the Eternal Sunshine types, but no where close to the masterpiece.

My first movie at a film festival, i'd probably rate it at 6.5 on a scale of 10, for some humor in the early stages, a 'different' concept and and even different portrayal of that concept. I could probably notch it up to 7 actually. The movie was dark, in terms of the story and the ending, and that is something i personally like. So looking forward to seeing more obscurities in the near future, or should i say, in Time.

A Days of Firsts !!

2007-07-17T23:19:00.000+05:30

Today was just one of those days where everything happens for the first time ...

I drove my car from home to office (a distance of about 75 odd minutes) and then back home as well - all by myself - a feeling of real ecstasy and adrenaline rush - if not for me then for the guys whom i brushed past by :)
I called up a dear old friend saat samundar paar and talked to her on the phone after 2 years (it was her bday, but no excuses) - it was delightful to hear each others voices after such a hiatus - reminiscent of the good old times
I watched the cult classic Mithun starrer Gunda with all audio titles in place - last time around i had only caught the video - i was simply stunned by this thunderstrike of a movie - hope to God to give the masses sense enough to appreciate it. The movie is at concept level - a true work of art. I wished for the first time that i get a chance to watch more of such entertaining cinema.
For the first time on the new project phase there was no call with the client.
I (my team as well) finished all my work well before delivery time.
My boss and I had a marathon heart to heart for the first time in two years where lots of feel good things were discussed, but i am still clueless to the actual issue of why I had gone to him in the first place.
I managed to find a place to stay all by my own enterprising efforts and information gathering.
I am writing a post with all bullet points for the first time. I am also writing this post without editing it.
Finally, I am tired and sleeping before 12am for the fist time in weeks ...

Tryst with Peanuts ...

2007-07-15T16:24:00.000+05:30

I have gone 'nuts' over this last week. And simply because of peanuts in my life - both literally and metaphorically.

Monday began with me taking the hardest decision of my life yet - withdrawing my name from the B-school roles, with some finally feeling a relief, and making quick money (Yes, there had been bets over me joining or not to the order of a few K i have heard). I also got to hear an earful from a few others who felt that for 'peanuts' i could have graduated from one of the better mba colleges in India. The ROI would have been amazing given the minuscule fee structure.

The same day there came the devastation - the organizational cost cutting plan which reduced our bonuses to peanuts and increased our salary to Peanuts (please do note that the change in capitalization of 'P' here is discretionary and can be reversed any #$%@ day I want). Reminds me of the Dilbert strip a co-employee circulated in the happening of this event.

And as if that was not enough, i succumbed to my allergy to actual salted peanuts and got my larynx in a bloated state, the consequence of which was high fever, body ache, throat infection et al.

I am still recuperating from all this peanut sickness, and i doubt that, though the physical pain will subside, mental scares will ever get healed.
The only good thing i feel now is by going back and listening to Coleridge and Beck and Pope !!! In the advent of this, i added yet another video clip to the post of the Rime of the Ancient Mariner below, with the recital of some verses. Enjoy it.

And to the one who said that the B-school fees was peanuts, i say, go check my bonus - thats peanuts, the fees refund i got was a 7 course meal compared to that ...

Peanutting off
Perky P

Poetic Musings - Eloise to Abelard

2007-07-07T18:20:00.000+05:30

07 July 2007

Continuing from where i left off the previous post, here's the 2nd part to my poetic musings. This time it's the romantic love ballad by Alexander Pope - "Eloise to Abelard". I came across this obscure and unheard of poetry while watching the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, a movie which kind of brought me down to my knees in terms of the theme and performance and music. But its not about ESotSM that i am here to write - its about the poem from which the title line has been borrowed, and a paragraph of which Mary Svevo recites to the doctor ...

" How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd "

Probably only after the powerful dialogue delivery by Kirsten Dunst and the background images of Jim Carey - Kate Winslet fading into Beck's Everybody's Gotta Learn Sometime do i realize that i must find the source to these amazingly beautiful and serene lines. And thus i read through another ballad about eternal love.

The story of Eloise and Abelard is similar to that of Romeo and Juliet to an extent. Need i say more. Boy loves girl, girl loves boy, families dont like either, lots of blood spilt.
Not really this way, but Abelard was one of the famous tutors of his age, and Eloise was his student. The love between them developed but Eloise's family were not ready to accept that, and had Abelard castrated. Both Eloise and Abelard entered into clerical service, where once again, Eloise's love for Abelard grew strong, and what followed was a series of letters exchanged between Eloise and Abelard.

The ballad speaks about this condoned love between the two fateful lovers. The archaic wordings lend it an odd mystery and charm that probably normal English would not have justified. The poetry is beautiful, and like all beautiful poetry, it is rhyming. Now that would sound very odd to many people. Why is this lunatic comparing good poetry with ryhmes !
Simply because i feel that to express your thoughts in rhyming poetry, where the correct words need to inter-weave, is an art in itself. Simple thoughts well laid out would constitute a prose, not poetry.

The difference between the two ballads i read - Rime earlier and Eloise now (apart from the rhyming scheme abcb v/s aabb respectively) - is that while Rime incites pity via horror and terror, Eloise incites the same via love and sorrow. One is the reminiscence of eternal darkness, the other of unconditional love. Coleridge stimulates the deepest fears plaguing the mind, Pope touches the inner sanctums of the heart. Coleridge is more easier to understand in first reading than Pope, though that does not take away the joy of reading 'Eloise to Abelard' to try and grasp the real meaning and the ballad's beauty. Some lines 'sound' so good, it sometimes becomes irrelevant to even understand what they mean.

As before, i quote here the lines i liked the most from this mega-scribe. Rest is for the reader to sift and explore and enjoy.

" In these deep solitudes and awful cells,
Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells,
And ever-musing melancholy reigns;
What means this tumult in a vestal's veins?
Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat?
Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat?
Yet, yet I love! — From Abelard it came,
And Eloisa yet must kiss the name."

" Relentless walls! whose darksome round contains
Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains:
Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn;
Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn!
Shrines! where their vigils pale-ey'd virgins keep,
And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep!
Though cold like you, unmov'd, and silent grown,
I have not yet forgot myself to stone.
All is not Heav'n's while Abelard has part,
Still rebel nature holds out half my heart;
Nor pray'rs nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain,
Nor tears, for ages, taught to flow in vain."

" Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief;
Ah, more than share it! give me all thy grief. "

" No happier task these faded eyes pursue;
To read and weep is all they now can do."

" Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell,
When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell?
As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil,
The shrines all trembl'd, and the lamps grew pale: "

" Yet here for ever, ever must I stay;
Sad proof how well a lover can obey!
Death, only death, can break the lasting chain;
And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain,"

I could have written so much more of these beautiful verses here. But that would defeat the purpose. Lines that i write here are significant to me, and me only. It is for the audience mesmerized to unravel the poetry in its entirety and decipher the meaning of lines that stand true for them. I for mine still have a long way to go doing that. I sign off with the last verse that rings so true, i can but visualize Eloise and Abelard, not as the characters they are, but as me penning these lines.

" Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore,
And image charms he must behold no more;
Such if there be, who loves so long, so well;
Let him our sad, our tender story tell;
The well-sung woes will soothe my pensive ghost;
He best can paint 'em, who shall feel 'em most. "

Here, at last, i understand !
And So be it ...

Poetic Musings - The Rime ...

2007-07-02T18:18:00.000+05:30

July 02, 2007

In a mood swing today, that generally happens when i am not working and hence my brain is at its creatively worst, i decided to surf through famous ballads from yonder years, and read through two amzingly interesting pieces of poetry.

The first was Samuel Taylor Coleridge's The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. The last rememberence i have of this megascribe was some very long exceprt in my English class 10 syllabus that spaced out over 3-4 pages (pretty huge by standards then for a poem, when the mind of an average Joe schoolkid was barely mugging up 2-3 paragraphs).

Today i read the entire seven parts of the poem, and realized that back then we had gone through just two !!
I feel a little hard done now, seeing that the charm of the poem lies in reading it completely, and more importantly, understanding each and every line with its obscure connotation. The way Coleridge lays out bare the horror of crimes the human society indulges in and the casual attitude with which it behaves towards such an outrage, really chills my bones. Given that some of the passages were written by Coleridge under the influence of opium, it is not far from the feeling and mysticism that he must have felt while induced in a pyschedlic state, especially the passages that describe the fiendish passing away of the sailors and the whispers of the lost souls across the ocean.

It is difficult to elaborate the devilry in my modest words. The subtle interplay of archaic wordings and the amazing Mariner centric poem, that so cleverly invloves the other sailors, the listner, the wedding entourage, even the albatross, and yet so easily does not draw the focus away from the protagonist (or rather should i say the antagonist) throughout the entire poetry. The journey, the pain and the suffering, the joy of forgiving and being forgiven, the penance, and finally the salvation - it is indeed a ballad - complete.

I leave it up to the curious reader to explore this on his own. All i can do is mention a few lines from the poetry which impressed upon me the most and helped me trace the contour of the darkest thoughts in Coleridge's mind.

"Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink."

"And some in dreams assured were
Of the spirit that plagued us so:
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow."

"An orphan's curse would drag to Hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is a curse in a dead man's eye!
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die."

And finally the lines that i heard in this video below which made me revisit the poem ...

"Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
With a woeful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.

Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns;
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.

I pass, like night, from land to land;
I have strange power of speech;
That moment that his face I see,
I know the man that must hear me:
To him my tale I teach."

I shall continue my poetic musings in my next post
Cheers !!

Blog Roaming

2007-06-29T17:03:00.000+05:30

June 26, 2007

This is painful. Wanting to blog but nothing to write. The perpetual feeling of wanting to do something because you are bored, but knowing not what to do ...

I indulge myself thus in some blog reading and pitting myself against some "pyscho tests".

Here are the results - very eerie in the sense they do sound true !!

Whats my inner blood type ?

You seem cool and collected, though a bit shy.You are highly driven and a perfectionist, but that's a side you keep to yourself.Creative and artistic, you are a very unique person who doesn't quite fit in.People accept you more than you realize, seeing you as trustworthy and loyal.
You are most compatible with: A and AB
Famous Type A's: Britney Spears and Hilter.

Your Inner Blood Type is Type A

What kind of intelligent am i ?

You are excellent with words and language. You explain yourself well.An elegant speaker, you can converse well with anyone on the fly.You are also good at remembering information and convicing someone of your point of view.A master of creative phrasing and unique words, you enjoy expanding your vocabulary.
You would make a fantastic poet, journalist, writer, teacher, lawyer, politician, or translator.

Your Dominant Intelligence is Linguistic Intelligence

How intuitive are you?

Your intuition is often right, and you use it more than you may realize.Your gut feelings are usually a good guide, but you need more to go on when making a decision.You'll often check to see if the facts back up your feelings.And when your intuition is wrong, you work to improve it for the future.

You Are 52% Intuitive

How weird am i ?

You're so weird, you think you're *totally* normal. Right?But you wig out even the biggest of circus freaks!

You Are 60% Weird

What kind of mythical creature are you?

Driven and ambitious, you tend to acquire material success easily.You have grand schemes - both for your own life and for changing the whole world.You are a great leader, and you have no problem taking the reigns.However, you aren't all business. You also have great talents for performing and visual arts.

You Are a Phoenix

And now i have reached a limit of copy pasting html snippets.

Close out and stimulate my brain, i must, writing a blog before i can think (Yaster Moda from Wart Sauce)

Return to my Roots

2007-05-30T11:22:00.000+05:30

May 30, 2007

I have just about returned from a trip to my paternal hometown. Located in Surat, and abundant in a Parsi populace i had never seen, the trip was an amazing boon to get away from the hectic office life, and meet up family members i hadn't met in a very long time.

The trip started with an hours flight to Baroda, and then about 3-4 hrs on the highway. I was sorely missing my earplugs because Born to be Wild was jumping around to get played. A nice little lunch on the dhaba enroute could be termed as "interesting". This was on a friday evening. And then came the Saturday where i realized i had a pretty big family :)

A day before my cousin's wedding (obviously that was the reason i had gone on this trip), there was this "small" family gathering. Now consider this as a mathematical problem. My paternal grandmother had six other siblings, each of whom had atleast 4 kids each (one of them being my daddy dearest), and this genration having a couple of kids each as well. Now also throw in their spouses and their close relatives. Seemingly a hash of sorts, with me totaly oblivious to the fact of whose-who. Everytime my dad got up to meet somebody i would be having this bewildered expression on my face, thinking, now who the deuce is this. Then i would get introduced and i would be like - aah i see - as if i had attained all knowledge and obtained Nirvana.

The best part about all this being that all the people knew me quite well - "yes, i had seen you when you were so small. I dont think you would remember me !"
I mean, doesnt my obviously bamboozled face tell you that already ...

In all this melee my younger sister was probably even more perplexed than i was. We being Delhites, rarely manage to make it to the west coast. And thus our interactions with all other distant cousins was neglibible.

Well the outcome of all this being - when we reached back home after a hectic and eventful day, we sat down and re-created our family tree chart. From top to bottom and left to right we identified all there was know about my roots and the various connections.

Well the next day went more smoothly now. But wonders never cease. You always end up coming across relatives not present in your tree chart !!
Overall it was an "enriching" experience, to meet up old relatives and attend my sister's wedding. Had a great time, lots of fun, saw some really old pics of my family, and went back to my roots. More importantly, i turned back a non-vegetarian. There was no way i could stop myself from not having Parsi non-veg cuisines - "sali-marghi", "bhaji-dana-nu-gos", "machi-patiao", "kheema patis", and on and on. My mooth still drools.
This being a marriage there were obviously good looking chicks around (i mean girls this time - not the non-veg item on my dish). My cousin obviously asked me to let him know in case i was interested in any one !!

And as weddings go, you always end up being asked the question - so are you the next in line ?
Oh well old grannies, meet me in the funeral parlour, i'll put the same question to you :)

Jeepers Creepers

2007-04-18T23:31:00.000+05:30

Apr 18, 2007

Its not about scary horror movies that i am going to follow on about in this scrap. You here the phrase jeepers creepers et al and you kind of synonimize it with a dark room, all alone, 1:00 in the night, horror movies blah blah ...

I wanted to talk about the part about being all alone here, and for a lack of a more imaginative post topic, i ended up using this.

Anyways, the point is : How many times have we faced a scenario, where we are all alone, with absolutely no soul around (living or dead), just "trying" to while away some idle time, simply because there is a petty thing that needs to be done, because it needs to be done and nobody else wants to do it, and you have nothing else to do while it is being done. Stare out into the space maybe - but that's only when you are doing your petty little work out in the open, which generally is not the case (now don't u try and fit a weird connotation to this).

And hence the question - who to blame - what to do ?
I mean somebody should have the decency to give you company - how would it be put - "moral" support by "physical" presence ???

/* Bit of geek talk */
I have realized that the work at hand and output/utilization/efficiency are directly correlated to the number and type of people around you. It seems to follow an abstract kind of a curve - something i know and understand but cannot explain. The more the number of people buzzing around you, less is the work you manage to complete. The inverse is also true. But this is not a tan90 situation, where zilch people around would mean infinite productivity. There is a lower cap to this as well. For some time, being all alone - the silence and the quiet - are actually good predictors of my efficiency model.
/* End of Bit of geek talk */

But then after a point it feels - why the hell am i banging my head on something others are least bothered about. Is it because i am a fool enough to be good and sugary nice to not deny the work laid out in front of me. Or is it that the others are just too shameless to share the burden even after well placed hints that kind of make it so obvious. In the end when realization dawns, the simple statement would be - "you should have said so explicitly - how would i realize that you wouldn't be able to work it out yourself".

And the next obvious question that arises is - what next - so how do i spend this eerie time all alone myself. And the next obvious answer is -

I write this stupid blog entry ...

The Dark is Generous ...

2007-04-14T17:23:00.000+05:30

Apr 14, 2007

It was the Friday the 13th yesterday - obviously it meant something bad had to happen - nothing much actually went wrong - until the moment i decided to go back home - it was then i realized i had some pending work - not much - just enough to keep me in office till 5am again.

Been a week since i wrote something. Original or not, this time i am directly quoting something i read and liked and got "inspired" by (not like Anu Malik though)

A few lines from the Star Wars book - part 3 (Anakin Skywalker's transformation to the dark side as Lord Darth Vader)

The lines portray not only the flow of the entire Star Wars saga, but if you end up thinking about it, the lines are actually quite true and significant. We are all lost and hidden from the truth. Because speak the truth and the truth shall set you free !!

Some people think these lines are too pessimistic, and thats where is trapped the dark side. It is the optimism towards the end of the passage that has to be considered and not the gloomy feeling otherwise. If you think negative, you fall onto the dark side - lol :-)

Read on ...

The dark is generous.

Its first gift is concealment:
our true faces lie in the dark beneath our skins, our true hearts remain shadowed deeper still.
But the greatest concealment lies not in protecting our secret truths, but in hiding from us the truths of others.
The dark protects us from what we dare not know.

Its second gift is comforting illusion:
the ease of gentle dreams in night's embrace, the beauty that imagination brings to what would repel in day's harsh light.
But the greatest of its comforts is the illusion that the dark is temporary:
that every night brings a new day.
Because it is day that is temporary.
Day is the illusion.

Its third gift is the light itself:
as days are defined by nights that divide them, as stars are defined by the infinite black through which they wheel,
the dark embraces the light, and brings it forth from the center of its own self.
With each victory of the light, it is the dark that wins.

The dark is generous, and it is patient.
It is the dark that seeds cruelty into justice, that drips contempt into compassion, that poisons love with grains of doubt.
The dark can be patient, because the slightest drop of rain will cause those seeds to sprout.
The rain will come, and the seeds will sprout, for the dark is the soil in which they grow,
and it is the clouds above them, and it waits behind the star that gives them light.
The dark's patience is infinite.
Eventually, even stars burn out.

The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins.
It always wins because it is everywhere.
It is in the wood that burns in your hearth, and in the kettle on the fire;
it is under your chair and under your table and under the sheets on your bed.
Walk in the midday sun and the dark is with you, attached to the soles of your feet.
The brightest light casts the darkest shadow.

The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins --
but in the heart of its strength lies weakness:
one lone candle is enough to hold it back.
Love is more than a candle.
Love can ignite the stars.

People and their Idiosyncracies

2007-04-08T22:47:00.000+05:30

Apr 08, 2007

Proverb: To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism - To steal ideas from many is research ...

/* Spoiler starts */
What i write ahead is actually related to the post topic this time. So if you thought this is arbit stuff, please read on. Title or not, I'll try and keep it random, i swear :-)
/* Spoiler ends*/

PS - i just couldn't resist adding those geeky comment symbols !!

So, since as always i was wondering who or what should be my target today in here, and while talking to a couple of friends whom i met up, i thought why not embarrass them more by writing about them here, especially when they asked me not too. I mean, who would be dumb enough to suggest such an outrageous favor of sorts. I am evil.

First, dear old "white elephant", my last king of "Thailand" (yeah not Scotland). Average age of elephants is 40, but has dropped to 24. Given that your still single past your average age doesn't sound good to my ears. And Dude, whether the name ends in Z or I doesn't matter. Just go for it ... Well the point i had to make here was - U needn't freak out at instances we discussed. We must all live for ourselves to an extent as well. Till what point can we just keep thinking about others and not do the things we want to do with all our hearts and soul into it. And so, i am not editing anything i wrote or write in the future. Learn to accept the facts and deal with it. (I am so going to be sore for all this tomorrow).

Second, someone whose so close to "life" shouldn't shun away from the company they keep - sometimes accepting and mixing work and pleasure is alright. People talk all the time. Stressing yourself based on that is not going to help you or others around you. Uncomfortable or uncanny, situations keep occurring. Try not hiding them. Sometimes choices need to be made. I generally end up being wrong in your case and then listening to loads of left-right thrashing, but its ok. I have learnt to live with that. So must you with my idiosyncrasies and i with yours.

A couple of people more i would have wanted to discuss and probably malign (couldn't think of a better word for them) - but this being a public blog, lets leave it at that.

Damn, such a good day it has been and yet such gloom in my entry - naa - something better needs to be done. I could write a poetry in here but it is of a sombre mood as well. Let me think of something better.

Till then - i contemplate - and so do you ...

When the Stars Go Blue

2007-04-07T23:01:00.000+05:30

Apr 07, 2007

My trip to Jaipur got derailed today. Plans never materialized and i decided to keep sleeping. It however gave my mom a little leeway to come after me for not (re)organizing my wardrobe. With summers setting in, winter clothes needed bundling up. So was the need to take a stock of the situation of summer accessories. Fortunately, the pile was big enough to last me this season. Otherwise i would have had to go shirt shopping with mommy dear. I don't really mind that, but why bother. I mean, mom, how does my choice of shirt have anything to do with my coming to a shop with you. You know my size and my style. You like shopping more than i do. Why wouldn't you get me something by yourself and shock me, err... i mean surprise me. As it is, how the shirt looks on me is a perception that other people are going to notice and comment on. Not me myself. Right !!!

Anyways, i ended up watching some soccer and Cheatskies grab vital 3 points with a fluke long ranger. Bad day when that happens because dear "Mannu" (as my mom calls them) generally end up messing theirs, and thus screwing the entire joy out of my as it is morose weekends.

I ended up having a nice sumptuous dinner of Gujarati thali, followed by jalebis.
For the uninitiated, jalebis are the round-round spiral things, that are quite sweet, spoil your teeth, end up coloring your shirt with sugar stains, and are made by frying flour dough in oil. I am not an expert chef like my friend hammy who knows the exact recipe for a dosa (yeah hammy, this is a leaf out of your book), so pardon my facts on jalebi if i got them worng. But most importantly, did i tell you that jalebis are orange in color. I think if i gift a kilo of these "Orange" colored sweeties to my boss Mr. AS, he should definitely be in a mood to promote me. You would ask me what has jalebis got to do with promotion. My reply is nothing. You missed the point if you could not decipher where the stress lay ...

Also, it was interesting to note the varied conceptualizations for my multi colored rage (aka my blog here). From words like jhataak, psychedelic, rave to word processors, all participants in the contest get a free ticket to the Blimagine cup. Keep imagining and blogging.

Ciao for now ...

Oh and for those who have had the nerve and guts to read till this line and are still wondering about what the hell in the whole wide world did the post title refer to with regards to the content in here, well, the answer is - "absolutely nothing". Except for being the title of a song written by Ryan Adams and performed by my darling Andrea and Bono, and being my favorite number, the name serves no other purpose.

Welcome to my world of random blogging :-)

What's In a Name ???

2007-04-06T21:57:00.000+05:30

.................................................................................................................................................
Apr 06, 2007

My second blog entry in a day. This is what happens when i refuse to leave my laptop alone. And look what i have done now to my blog. Spruced it up ever so much with color that even designers from NIFT are going to get a heart attack. I also ended up reverting back to my nearly original nickname rather than a cryptic pseudonym i was writing under. A friend suggested in a very 'matter of factly' way that i put up my blog link on my g-talk status because she wasn't going to memorize it for the rest of her life. So, well, i decided - if that was going to be the case, some posts needed deleting and some names needed editing. And since charity begins at home, i demystify my name as well, even though most of my juniors still know me only as "medusabane" sir.

Incidentally, the title here happens to be a nemesis of sorts. It was the title of a white paper i wrote while working on a project in my office. It was also the topic of my extempore for the FMS interview. Having a unique name does invite such varied concoctions from people all around. I am a Greek to someone, an Iranian to another, but an alien to most !!
Truly speaking, its actually good i have such a name. Its quite an ice-breaker in most situations, and evilly speaking, i tend to cash in such situations. Not my fault. I just go with the flow.

The second part about adding colors to my blog was simply because i was restless and the preexisting templates were boring to say the least - "what to do sir, i am to be liking the scribe template but it not to be having the option of stretch". Well at least now i can campaign for Nerolac or Asian paints - zindagi rangeen bana de !! What this also does, is take away the attention from my pathetic writing skills and focus them on my pathetic coloring schemes. I read somewhere that most people will visit sites or read books that have more pictures and colors in them than small font cluttered text.

The only question that now remains is - how do i make the people actually read this ??
Cos in the end, i am still "Perky P" and not any "Juggy D" or "Jazzy B" ...

Preserve Wildlife - Pickle a Squirrel ...

2007-04-06T19:59:00.000+05:30

6 Apr, 2007

Just like the title heading, this post is again entering the Random Zone. Somehow i feel i am moving away from the concept of my blog name - The 5th dimension, where thoughts meet reality - there doesn't seem to be a reality check here. Though i wouldnt even put it to be an all out thought forum like dear little Spaceman 'the Spiff' Calvin and Sir 'Tigger' Hobbes enthusiastically share.

Well pulling myself back into writing what i intended to write here, the title is "obviously" stolen. Its not my style. Rather put, i ain't good enough to think up something like that. Its been clearly and shamelessly plagiarized from another blog that i had been reading earlier today. Also, don't expect me to name the blog. If i did, it wouldn't be plagiarism, rather it would end up being a bibliography.

The point i am making is - how do people end up writing so much daily and that too quality stuff. I surfed through 3-4 blog authors and read a few of their entries. Not exactly mind blowing but pretty good stuff. Especially the titles they think off - i mean that practically sets up half the tone and mood.

Okie i am back after leaving my blog midway and just browsing around again aimlessly. I mean what the hell am i even doing on the net right now. I should rather read up something and spend time better. Oh but then again - i am reading blogs - screwed up vicious circle it is.

I have a client meeting at 9pm. I think I'll skip that and get back to reading some Asimov and listening to dear Andrea. My managers should be "able" to handle the rut.

One more post down with just nothing going in as content. Damn it hammy - i blame you for it (now somebody has to get the stick - u being a junior are in the firing line)

Bloggers Paradox

2007-04-05T17:29:00.000+05:30

05 Apr 2007

Hasn't everybody who blogs ever felt the frustration creep in when he/she gets in a mood to write something and decides like - here it comes - my best piece of blogging ever ... and suddenly the moment u punch the laptop keys - Whoom Crash Bang - all ideas disappeared !!!

You have nothing or nobody to write about, crib or discuss. It feels as if what a mundane day it has been. You did this and that, and yet you cannot say what you did. Nothing really significant to write up or share. Even if you did, you might end up not publishing it, simply because you wouldnt consider it a work of art ...

I think i am just writing right now simply for the heck of it - just because i came in to write and nowi feel challenged right now. None of this makes sense; a few incoherent repetitive ramblings just to relax and not get bored. I might as well read some better blogs and spend time productively.

Who knows i might come across a good topic to think about and might just plagiarize it myself. I mean who really cares. Its not as if I am using romantic couplets written by others and passing them as my own to some girl. Though come to think about it - the idea ain't half that bad. But on second thoughts - naaa - i probably could conjure up a few lines myself for my loved one if need be. They might end up being stupid or even dumb to an extent - but the pleasure of creating art in any form has always given me joy - i cant dance, sing or play - and yet .. and yet - i simply try.

Sure, i mean it gets obscene at times, the way i just try and go cacophonic - I don't intend to set a phobia of music into the people next to me - but kind of inevitably it just happens. I believe when people say so modestly "they don't sing well". I think we should all stick to bathroom singing. Thats the one time when the shower wont complain. But that's another story - somewhere sometime someplace ...

And hey - look what happened - i thought i would manage to write something good - i thought Oh God what should i write - i thought and couldn't think - i wrote and couldn't write - and yet i manage to fill in a few lines here - abstract abject arbit. Seems like i am getting good in things i can't do. Now that my friend is what i truly call a paradox :-)

Ulysses

2007-04-03T22:22:00.000+05:30

Apr 04, 2007

The sheer joy of being able to leave my office at 9pm today has just made me more of a lunatic. Given the stress i have been under to continuously slog day in and night out, had taken a toll on my health - physically, mentally and emotionally ...

With suddenly all work materializing to a finish, and no backlogs or pile-ons apparating onto my plate, i simply was overwhelmed with emotions too good to be true or comprehended. I can understand how Sanjay Dutt would have felt in Zinda after he came out of that horrid cell - in his case it was fried wantons - in my case Paneer Tikka Pizza, Focaccia and Brownies.

Its been days since i got time for myself - let alone devoting time to others !!!
Thanks to a very close friends advice, i put my foot down to the inhuman torture (oh ok - it wasnt so bad as i am making it sound, but nonetheless - leaving at 7 am in the morning almost twice a week and coming back by 11 isnt something anyone would want)

I dont know till how long a time my manager would be able to digest my happiness - but that is not something i am worried about presently. As of now, its heaven, bliss and ulysses - all rolled into one ...

Ringa Ringa Roses ...

2007-03-25T13:29:00.000+05:30

25 Mar 2007

Surprising as the topic might sound, its a game i played after a very long time at a friends bday party, that too, standing right in the middle of a hip and happening place with chicks gawking at our antics.

Even stranger was the fact that, well, the birthday bash wasn't thrown for kids tho.

A former workplace colleague, an ex-manager, and a good friend (they are the same people - lol) was throwing a party at khan market.
Standing near a small outlet famous for its "Spicy meat-a-balls" as Jim Carey would put it, there were 6 adults and one 4 year old overly enthusiastic kiddo girl, who in her innocence was in a total mood to embarrass us by playing ringa ringa roses. Well we all tried to comply - by standing in a circle, holding hands, and going round round, with one of us singing the nursery rhyme every time. Well, 3 of us got sucked into it before food arrived and saved the rest.

It was an interesting site that - hilarious, real odd - and yet reminiscent of the good old days when kids were kids and nothing else.
The energy and exuberance of that little kid made me feel so lethargic from the inside (even tho it was more of an adrenaline rush considering the amount of chocolate milkshakes and ice cream and mud pies we made her eat - the sugar hyperactivity got to her). In this daily military rigor of ours, we simply have lost track of the fun and laughter and excitement associated with life.

I need a break ...

The Great Gurgaon Deluge

2005-08-06T11:18:00.000+05:30

Aug 5, 2005 (10:48 pm)

If u thought bombay looked horrid in the pics - with the floods and jams and all - come to gurgaon - and u'll know

yesterday, i left office at 7:30 pm frm gurgaon (close to malls) - was on bike with another friend. we encountered the "routine" jam at iffco chowk.

only diffrnce was - this time we were wading through a river.
the road was utterly jam packed - and being on a bike - we managed to zig zag along the narrowest path on the outskirts of the road, barely brushing past the walls and other vehicles.

we almost skidded in the mud and were close to going down in a "watery grave" (read ganda naala, the embankment being broken)

after 40 minutes of trying to cross atleast the 1st DLF tower, we gave up - took a detour, towards maruti, hoping to find the old gurgaon road less congested.

on the contrary, we nvr saw a more stuck up case of jam. ppl were coming in frm evrywhere, trying to go nowhere and god knows wht.

amidst the chaos, one truck waale bhaiya, assuming the road to be his paapas, went off for a stroll - leaving his vehicle in the middle of the road. the haryanavi police jats (u get the picture) got mad - rapped the bonnet a few times - and whn got no response - broke the trucks windshield and headlights.

well, we thought off better to stay there and face the "lath" charge. so we moved on to the jaipur going road - taking the roads inside gurgaon. i visited IBM, MDI, Signature towers (in shrt a gurgaon darshan) - and then retraced our steps back to our office.

so then aftr 1 1/2 hr of travelling on bike - we had managed only 4-5 km of forthgoing distance. we came back to our office at 9pm , to find that - thank god - some poor souls were stil working their ass of on the projects.

the 2 of us "travellers" sat for a while - dried off - studied a bit - and were about to go off for dinner to the nearby mall (sahara or DT or PVR) - however, we were joined in by those other guys as well - so we ended up going to Yo China at pvr mall - having awsome dimsums - and footing the bill to our clients project.

fokat mein acchha khana mil gaya !!!

came back to office at 11 pm - called a cab and went back home - only to find the flooded river and jam stil abhorently existing.

this time my cabbie took the wrong lane and blaring his horn ran past the opposing traffic. thanks to his "intelligent" thinking - i made it to my home sweet home at 12:15 am - only to come back at 9:30 am to office

well - whn ppl asked me today - aaj itni jaldi - kab aaya tu - my reply was - gaya hi kab tha !!!

Should i cut my hair ??

2005-07-22T08:00:00.000+05:30

A question i end up asking myself in every 5-6 months when all my efforts to simulate the guy with "tata namak" hair (read: free flowing) fail.
Heres one of those recollections that i quizzed myself on when i was about to join my 1st company ...

July 21, 2005

With the prospect of inevitably going to JOB (finally) on Monday, 25th july, after a complete 2 months of total lethargy and self indulgence at home, its that time again whn parents start reminding you that 1st impression is the last one !!

With a total freak idea of mine to grow my hair and give john abraham a run for his money, the barber has been missing me for more than 6-7 mnths now.

Unfotunately, John Abraham look cudnt succeed - i ended up with a Saif Ali Khan's "Tom Cruise look". But even that has erupted into a Zakir Hussain - Alec Padamsee mix. A few mnths more and Boney-M cud have recruited me instead of their lead singer.

So the obvious blathering i have to face now-a-days is - "Get urself a haircut, or we wont allow u to go on the job"

Damn the jobs - why shud the company be bothered on how i present my hair as long as they get the goods delivered.

Rather the American clients wudnt resent me sporting a "trendy" hairdo. I cud have gone in for a straightening - but seems like the damocles sword is ovr my head.

A haircut seems inevitable, and so does the disappearence of my beloved "italian beard" (remember damian fleming and jason gillespie).

Goodbye my beloved hairy friends. Its been nice knowing you !!!

The Ride Back Home - An old memoir

2005-07-05T10:20:00.000+05:30

I wrote these recollections some time back at some other place. I just felt like recollecting all my thoughts. So heres the first one of my collection ...

July 4, 2005

Just going back home the other day, i was contemplating and pondering over the 4 years I have spent not only in college, but in the daily travels (or shud i say travails) to and from this institute.

I know it seems a pretty odd topic to converse or even think upon. But really, it does form one of the most integral part of a students life.

When i hear my dear hostler friends cribbing over the horrendous 10-minute walk they to make from their rooms to the canteen or admin, (obviously not the college ; you dont think students come here to study now, seriously, do u? ) I kind of feel just about raving mad to smash their faces. Common sense prevails, and i hold back, bcos exams are near, and notes have to b arranged frm the hostlers

Do they realize, some dayskies have to bear the sweltering heat, a 1 1/2 hr standing ride alongwith all the pushing and shoving, only to come and find an empty college.

Anyways, not digressing away from what i started off, lets begin at the beginning. 30-40% of the colg students are hostlers. Of the remaining, another 35-45% have their own mode of conveyance, be it bikes or car pools. What a about the rest - yes - one and only - BUSES.

There are only 2 routes from NSIT - 817 and 764. These 2 buses, rather routes, will generally take u to where u wish to go, cos as they say - "sab raaste bhagwaan ke paas hi to jaate hain". Since i personally travel by the 817 "route", my personal reminiscences lie from that domain expertise.

So, whn colg gets over, after saying all ur tatas and bye byes, you trudge desolately from the admin to the main gate. Standing out there, you wait for a noble soul to give u a lift till Kakrola (or evn further). Obviously, beggars cant be choosers. So anything and evrything goes - from a Skoda, to a Pulsar, a van, tempo, tractor ..... even from a bullock cart. Most generally a khataara scooter will be ur saviour. By the time u crawl along along at a snail's pace to Kakrola, half of Dwarka has zipped past, and is staring and oggling at you.

The best lift we have had is frm an army bus. One Wednesday afternoon, whn all colg gets ovr simultaneously at 3:30, one of my friends managed to "hold up" an army vehicle. The driver kept seeing the number of students (about 40 in the least) getting onboard the vehicle. It was truly amazing.

Nonetheless, u finally reach NSIT's paradise and most happening touring spot. Just like Bangalore's MG road, where u will recognize 80% of the ppl as ur colg acquaintances (thats another story), Kakrolla also offers u a chance to catch up with friends, while u wait for ur DTC. Ah! DTC - the lifeline - the immense pleasure of saying "PASS HAI" (and in some smart instances, - Staff Hai - to the blue line guy).

Some people get impatient after waiting for 35 minutes for a DTC. So then u take a RTV, in the hope of reaching home quickly. But as soon u pay the guy the 2 Rs/- fare, u find a DTC whizzing past you, and all ur friends smuggly sitting in it. You think its been a bad day.

But wait - the worse is yet to come ...

After a 30-35 minutes of traveling misery, you get to Uttam Nagar, with all bones dislocated, and ur head in a swirl. Now u r eager to catch ur nxt prey, oops, i meant the DTC bus. Life or Death, it hardly matters. You cut across the swarm of traffic like an expert pro. One hand movement and u expect the cars to slow down - just bcos u said so. Next is the 100m dash to get onboard the bus, which most definitely will leave the bus stop before u can arrive there. Most of us would emulate even Jesse Owens, who beat a race horse in sprinting.

Now that ur in the bus (God knows which - as long as it takes u near to ur final destination), u try to find a seat where u can sit and sleep off the tiredness u have accumulated over a rigorous day in colg - organizing mass bunks, playing TT and baski, persuading friends to give u treats for no reason whatsoever.

But before all this, u must indulge in something called "haggling" - a term used to describe your bargaining with the conductor over the bus ticket. You never buy a 10 Rs ticket - always a 5 or 7/-. The 3 bucks saved can go into drinking a bunta in the canteen the nxt day.

Then, if ur lucky, u'll get an empty seat nxt to some uncleji. If not, yet another hour will be wasted standing in the middle of the stampede, with ur upper torso being jolted in a diametrically opposite direction from ur legs. Worse, never sit on a ladies seat, unless theres a cool looking chic besides. And Murphy's Law will follow you soon (An engineer's strength - blame has to be shifted elsewhere - so why not on Murphy himself). The moment u sit, some auntyji will apparate out of sheer nothingness, like from some other space dimension, and ask u to vacate the seat - irrespective of whether u r carrying 1/2 a ton worth of books, registers, ED apparatus etc etc.

And if u do get the seat, and sleep off - just follow a couple of precautions. The guy nxt to u will let u keep ur head on his shoulders, only till u dont start drooling and dropping saliva on his shoulders. After that it cud nasty.

Secondly, remember where u have to get off. One of my dreams has been to visit the metro station and enjoy a ride. Well, once it almost got fulfilled. I slept soundly, and by the time i woke up, i saw strange and unfamiliar buildings passing thru. My misery was compounded, when the conductor told me i was about to reach the metro station. I quickly got off and came back to my "intended" bus stop, a 3/4 hr ride probably.

I was still groggy and very sleepy. In the confusion, i tried crossing the main road on a green signal, only to be bumped by a speeding motorbike I never saw coming. It wasnt so scary apart from a swollen leg and a near crushing by the blue line bus, that just stopped with screeching brakes an inch away from us.

But looking at the brighter side, some good uncle gave me a drop back till home, seeing my condition - and u know wht - that was 2 Rs saved frm yet another bus ride (this time it wud have been my final one)

And so as the engineering joke goes - Alcohol and Calculus dont mix - Never drink and derive. (even tho i wasnt drunk, nor was i driving - lol)

The above scribbling of mine typically describes a single day of travelling back to our abodes. Imagine spending 4 years doing this. Also take into account the fact that for the 1st 3 sems, the Uttam ngr-kakrolla route was closed - so we had to take the long way back.

Looks like i have traveled immensely in these buses and probably tried and tested 9-10 different routes for getting back home, sometimes evn going half way to gurgaon, or evn in a 764 to IIT (which is in completely opposite direction to my home) to accompany some "friends" enroute (if u ppl get the drift ). No wonder the buses are a third home for us, considering we spend 4 hrs traveling in them daily.

But its been a hell of a 4 fun years in the "buses". And the excitement and incidents will definitely be missed.

However the best route/journey I have encountered so far is :

Friend + car + "thoda sa bahaana" + "bahut saara maska" = lift back till home

An Introduction

2005-02-11T17:06:00.000+05:30

This is supposed be a blogspot where i might post any topic depending on my mood - anything under the sun - as the title suggests.

It could range from music to sports to cartoons to technology !!!

So this one is just for starters

MAN UTD RULES !!!