A bunglow or not.. this statement certainly makes him worthy of adorning some space here in this blog.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Not Bad.. Mr Vikash
Loneliness is a sin. It should never be thrust on anybody ever. Loneliness creates identity crisis. And this manifests itself in rampant exhibitionism. Like Mr Vikash has been doing. He has taken the concept of blowing one’s own trumpet to dizzying extremes. Obscene group mails detailing his minutest moves, rubbish comments on every issue being discussed on the board and silly yahoo status messages, he has done it all. He is going full throttle redeeming the lack of loquaciousness in the IIML GDs with a vengeance. In the process he has screwed up the concept called freedom of speech. And the intelligent guy that he is, he even doesn’t understand overt criticisms from the likes of Jayant. His latest yahoo status message reads “A bunglow in Singapore.. not bad Mr Vikash”..
A bunglow or not.. this statement certainly makes him worthy of adorning some space here in this blog.
A bunglow or not.. this statement certainly makes him worthy of adorning some space here in this blog.
Monday, December 26, 2005
Life's Like that
Around 2 weeks back I had offered my resignation and was persuaded away from my decision with luscious explanations from my manager. Last friday, we had a small get together of our project team for the occasion of Christmas . My manager happened to be there. Conversation ranged from nostalgic project pre-initiation days to wild plans for the new year.
An excerpt of the conversation:
Me(looking towards the sky): These donuts look really enticing.
XYZ(to the generic audience): Yeah, ABC kitna pasand karta tha donuts (XYZ and ABC are irrelevant names)
Audience: Laughter (All those who got the joke)
Manager(to me): This is something that you would have missed had you left ***** and joined some other company.
Me(wearing a shocked look): What? These donuts???
Manager+Audience: Silence
Then only I realized he meant the small reunions and jokes et al... Life's like that.
An excerpt of the conversation:
Me(looking towards the sky): These donuts look really enticing.
XYZ(to the generic audience): Yeah, ABC kitna pasand karta tha donuts (XYZ and ABC are irrelevant names)
Audience: Laughter (All those who got the joke)
Manager(to me): This is something that you would have missed had you left ***** and joined some other company.
Me(wearing a shocked look): What? These donuts???
Manager+Audience: Silence
Then only I realized he meant the small reunions and jokes et al... Life's like that.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Forget It
Forgetting: Everyone forgets things now and then. Everyone gets moody. Forgetting is a part of life. Forgetting gives us extra space to remember more things. Sometimes not remembering is equally important. As sherlock holmes used to say "Whether the Earth goes around the Sun or the Sun around the earth makes not a penny-worth of difference to me or my work."
People many a times forget their keys, wallets, wives etc... When I used to forget my hmoework, my teacher would scream "Do you ever forget your lunchbox? hmmmm??? Then why did you forget your homework?" I am sure its the favourite dialog of all teachers at all schools and so you would also have heard the same one.
About a month back I happened to lock myself outside my house. The key was on a ring and although I usually remembered to pick it up, that particular day I forgot to take it. Once locked outside I started thinking what to do. My roommate who has the other pair of keys, was away at Pune on his weekly weekending visits to his girlfriend. To make sure that my luck indeed had run out, I tried calling him up. He was as much worried as I was and suggested me to go and fnid the houseowners house in Bandra and get the spare set of keys from him. The suggestion sounded foolproof in strategy but execution looked difficult.
I thought of getting a key maker / lock picker as a better idea. Searched for one and found a shop. The main lockpicker was down with fever and his younger brother was trying to do whatver he had learnt of the trade. It took him about an hour to make one key. Not for me, for another customer. I had to wait all the time. Then thankfully his brother came to work. I asked him to come with me and get my lock opened. He came with me after a lot of questioning, and showed his skills and lo my door was finally open after a long gruelling 3 hours in the sun and heat.
I learnt a lot about lock picking that day. He charged me Rs. 250 for this. I put the key along with my bike keys in one ring so that I wont forget it the next time.
Yesterday being a Sunday I had a friend come over to my place. We both went to the nearby temple. I was all the time proposing my theories of God being inside us and not in temples which went unheard. Finally on our return I found that I had made the mistake again. That whole day danced in front of my eyes. To add salt to the wound my friend started giving me advice on how to remember stuff, and be careful etc etc. I wish to God you are never placed in such a situation.
the mistake happened because the temple is nearby and I did not think it fit to take the bike. A stupid mistake really.
Anyways, had to go back and find another lockpicker. Thankfully with some able guidance I found one nearer to my place than the previous one. This guy said he will charge me Rs 150. I was happy at knowing the profit I was going to make. So we started on our journey to my place and after walking for sometime and climbing all the stairs in the world we finally reached what looked like my door. Though I can't be sure because I could hardly see with the sweat all over my eyes.
Thankfully the gentleman opened the lock and we again entered my room into the nice coolness of the fan.
I kept the new key in my wallet so that this kind ofthing never happens again.
Today morning I got ready for office and came down and was about to start my bike, when I realized I had forgotten the bike keys. Thankfully I had put the spare key in my wallet. I carelessly patted my buttocks for my wallet and guess what. It was not their either. I very conveniently manageed to lock myself outside for the third time consecutively in the shortest time possible.
People many a times forget their keys, wallets, wives etc... When I used to forget my hmoework, my teacher would scream "Do you ever forget your lunchbox? hmmmm??? Then why did you forget your homework?" I am sure its the favourite dialog of all teachers at all schools and so you would also have heard the same one.
About a month back I happened to lock myself outside my house. The key was on a ring and although I usually remembered to pick it up, that particular day I forgot to take it. Once locked outside I started thinking what to do. My roommate who has the other pair of keys, was away at Pune on his weekly weekending visits to his girlfriend. To make sure that my luck indeed had run out, I tried calling him up. He was as much worried as I was and suggested me to go and fnid the houseowners house in Bandra and get the spare set of keys from him. The suggestion sounded foolproof in strategy but execution looked difficult.
I thought of getting a key maker / lock picker as a better idea. Searched for one and found a shop. The main lockpicker was down with fever and his younger brother was trying to do whatver he had learnt of the trade. It took him about an hour to make one key. Not for me, for another customer. I had to wait all the time. Then thankfully his brother came to work. I asked him to come with me and get my lock opened. He came with me after a lot of questioning, and showed his skills and lo my door was finally open after a long gruelling 3 hours in the sun and heat.
I learnt a lot about lock picking that day. He charged me Rs. 250 for this. I put the key along with my bike keys in one ring so that I wont forget it the next time.
Yesterday being a Sunday I had a friend come over to my place. We both went to the nearby temple. I was all the time proposing my theories of God being inside us and not in temples which went unheard. Finally on our return I found that I had made the mistake again. That whole day danced in front of my eyes. To add salt to the wound my friend started giving me advice on how to remember stuff, and be careful etc etc. I wish to God you are never placed in such a situation.
the mistake happened because the temple is nearby and I did not think it fit to take the bike. A stupid mistake really.
Anyways, had to go back and find another lockpicker. Thankfully with some able guidance I found one nearer to my place than the previous one. This guy said he will charge me Rs 150. I was happy at knowing the profit I was going to make. So we started on our journey to my place and after walking for sometime and climbing all the stairs in the world we finally reached what looked like my door. Though I can't be sure because I could hardly see with the sweat all over my eyes.
Thankfully the gentleman opened the lock and we again entered my room into the nice coolness of the fan.
I kept the new key in my wallet so that this kind ofthing never happens again.
Today morning I got ready for office and came down and was about to start my bike, when I realized I had forgotten the bike keys. Thankfully I had put the spare key in my wallet. I carelessly patted my buttocks for my wallet and guess what. It was not their either. I very conveniently manageed to lock myself outside for the third time consecutively in the shortest time possible.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Girl-Hunting
The following is the generic framework for decision making concerning marriages for choosing a girl
1. She should not prattle too much about her work in the initial discussions. The limit to it will be a function of your expectations regarding the professional orientation of the girl.
2. Even if her profile looks very much professional, but she makes it a point to discuss about your sister’s health, your allergies et al then she must be given a second thought. (She may not do it the first time, but as you move on she should be doing it.)
3. But if she does not look too aspiring but goes on blabbering about her work, her professional ambitions; allow her three tries. Try to move her out of it to areas you think you will like to be discussed after marriage. If she malfunctions; ditch it.
4. What is usually seen is, girls particularly with lesser brand of education will try to say that they want to do big things like someone had got this proposal from a girl who is with IBM in testing and validation, and she wanted to do an MS in Quality Management in USA and settle there. This should not act as an inhibitor. Girls do it to show that they have aspirations, which usually fizzle out once you start probing the veracity of such tall claims.
5. Try to show her all those difficulties that she will face if she decides for you. If she is still ok then you know she may be the one. ( Try this in mild proportion on the ones which are so beautiful that you are ok to put them in showcases, serve coffee in the morning and do a dedicated massage if she tells she has little body ache)
6. She should not be fat. There should not be any distant possibility that at least till the time you have your last kid; you will need to tell her that she might be looking a little fat.
1. She should not prattle too much about her work in the initial discussions. The limit to it will be a function of your expectations regarding the professional orientation of the girl.
2. Even if her profile looks very much professional, but she makes it a point to discuss about your sister’s health, your allergies et al then she must be given a second thought. (She may not do it the first time, but as you move on she should be doing it.)
3. But if she does not look too aspiring but goes on blabbering about her work, her professional ambitions; allow her three tries. Try to move her out of it to areas you think you will like to be discussed after marriage. If she malfunctions; ditch it.
4. What is usually seen is, girls particularly with lesser brand of education will try to say that they want to do big things like someone had got this proposal from a girl who is with IBM in testing and validation, and she wanted to do an MS in Quality Management in USA and settle there. This should not act as an inhibitor. Girls do it to show that they have aspirations, which usually fizzle out once you start probing the veracity of such tall claims.
5. Try to show her all those difficulties that she will face if she decides for you. If she is still ok then you know she may be the one. ( Try this in mild proportion on the ones which are so beautiful that you are ok to put them in showcases, serve coffee in the morning and do a dedicated massage if she tells she has little body ache)
6. She should not be fat. There should not be any distant possibility that at least till the time you have your last kid; you will need to tell her that she might be looking a little fat.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Existence
Dad: You know something, I am, therefore you are.
Son: What?
Dad: You see had I not been there you would never have come to this world. Your existence depends on mine.
Son: Hmmmmm... Thanks Dad!!
.....
Son: You know dad, I am therefore you are.
Dad: How's that?
Son: If I do not exist and you do then right now this conversation is an imaginary one. Which implies that if I do not exist then you also do not exist.
Dad: It could very well be that, I exist, you dont, and this conversation is a part of my imagination alone.
Son: In that case your existence doesn't prove mine. Isn't it?
Dad: The existence I was talking about was physical. What you are talking about is meta-physical. Dont confuse yourself.
Son: mmmm... Maybe you are right. But if we do not exist metaphysically, then does physics exist at all? I mean without metaphysics how can we talk about physics? Isn't everything physical imaginary then?
Dad: Seems you have outgrown you age son. Take some rest. Go to sleep now.
Son: Dad, sometimes I wonder if all this is not a dream. I mean why do we exist if we do exist?
Dad: I can't answer that. Right now you must go to sleep. We will talk about this later.
Son: Ok dad!! Good night!!
......
Woman: Excuse me! Any idea which bus goes to Madhusudan Complex?
Man: You can take the B24. Infact I am also going to Madhusudan Complex.
Woman: Ohh great. Then would you be knowing where mmm the Cantron's office is?
Man: Yeah its in MAdhusudan complex itself. 3rd Floor I think. I will show you the place.
Woman: Thankyou so much! I was so worried. I have an interview and I have to reach there by 9.
Man: Dont worry you wont be late for your interview. Here comes the bus. Come...
......
Man: Hey!! Hi.... Remember me? We had met at the bus stop the other day.
Woman: How can I forget. You had helped me so much that day.
Man: So seems you got the job. How's it going?
Woman: Its good. I have even got a house for myself now.
Man: Oh is it. So you dont belong to this city then. Where are you from?
Woman: Me... I am from South India. Had never come to these northern parts. Its been quite a time.
Man: I know it must have been a difficult week for you. Hey what say, if you are free in the evening let me show you around.
Woman: That would be great! Give me your number, I will call you when I am ready to leave.
Man: Yeah its 654456. By the way my name is Samar. Whats yours?
Woman: Oh I am so sorry. I forgot. My name is Tania.
Samar: Ok Tania we meet in the evening then. Bye
Tania: Bye
.............
Son: What?
Dad: You see had I not been there you would never have come to this world. Your existence depends on mine.
Son: Hmmmmm... Thanks Dad!!
.....
Son: You know dad, I am therefore you are.
Dad: How's that?
Son: If I do not exist and you do then right now this conversation is an imaginary one. Which implies that if I do not exist then you also do not exist.
Dad: It could very well be that, I exist, you dont, and this conversation is a part of my imagination alone.
Son: In that case your existence doesn't prove mine. Isn't it?
Dad: The existence I was talking about was physical. What you are talking about is meta-physical. Dont confuse yourself.
Son: mmmm... Maybe you are right. But if we do not exist metaphysically, then does physics exist at all? I mean without metaphysics how can we talk about physics? Isn't everything physical imaginary then?
Dad: Seems you have outgrown you age son. Take some rest. Go to sleep now.
Son: Dad, sometimes I wonder if all this is not a dream. I mean why do we exist if we do exist?
Dad: I can't answer that. Right now you must go to sleep. We will talk about this later.
Son: Ok dad!! Good night!!
......
Woman: Excuse me! Any idea which bus goes to Madhusudan Complex?
Man: You can take the B24. Infact I am also going to Madhusudan Complex.
Woman: Ohh great. Then would you be knowing where mmm the Cantron's office is?
Man: Yeah its in MAdhusudan complex itself. 3rd Floor I think. I will show you the place.
Woman: Thankyou so much! I was so worried. I have an interview and I have to reach there by 9.
Man: Dont worry you wont be late for your interview. Here comes the bus. Come...
......
Man: Hey!! Hi.... Remember me? We had met at the bus stop the other day.
Woman: How can I forget. You had helped me so much that day.
Man: So seems you got the job. How's it going?
Woman: Its good. I have even got a house for myself now.
Man: Oh is it. So you dont belong to this city then. Where are you from?
Woman: Me... I am from South India. Had never come to these northern parts. Its been quite a time.
Man: I know it must have been a difficult week for you. Hey what say, if you are free in the evening let me show you around.
Woman: That would be great! Give me your number, I will call you when I am ready to leave.
Man: Yeah its 654456. By the way my name is Samar. Whats yours?
Woman: Oh I am so sorry. I forgot. My name is Tania.
Samar: Ok Tania we meet in the evening then. Bye
Tania: Bye
.............
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Reasonable Nostalgia
Nostalgia, almost invariably, is an outcome of how comfortable we are with our present state of existence. Unless convinced inherently that we are at a position in the nearest vicinity of where we aspired ourselves to be, we dread on looking back.
Once ensconced in the warmth of your realized ambitions, nostalgia tastes sweeter, by telling you that you have the liberty to go-back to a dreamy past. Reason decides the contrary. Almost always.
Once ensconced in the warmth of your realized ambitions, nostalgia tastes sweeter, by telling you that you have the liberty to go-back to a dreamy past. Reason decides the contrary. Almost always.
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Hazaron Khwahishein Aisi
We all know and agree that India is underdeveloped. Developing as our politicians put it. But we never agree that as human beings we too are underdeveloped. People in general are poor and malnourished, maybe thats why the nourishment has never reached our brains. At least not enough to vitalise the cells that tell us what is right and what is wrong. Civilization is a phenomenon that evolves. We pride ourselves for having one of the oldest civilizations. And yet we never moan at the slow pace of evolution that our civilization shows.
Eat a chockolate or an ice cream and throw the wrapper on the road. Take the short cut to save time, even though it is a one way. Murder, to get some more money. Well okay that one isn't what we do, you say. But isn't a murder only a higher version of banditry which can safely be assumed to be the big brother of thievery which all of us do indulge in. Some time or the other. Office supplies?? Software piracy?? Music sharing??
Then why blame those murderers? They killed for what they thought was right. IOCL has many more officials who will take this as an example and just take a little bit of bribe and look away. And why not? They have their families to support. Why should it be forced on them as part of honesty morcha to get themselves killed for others?
Why should only a handful suffer for the rest of us? Why should they get the brunt of the corrupt politicians and their hard hitting, killing chamchas? I feel its the duty of the populace to come up and do something instead of just hoping that some people will keep their moral values higher than things that matter. By raising a slogan or two and bringing those killers to justice we may win a small battle. But what about the rest of them? IOCL alone has over 23000 sales points.
He tried to shutdown one. He was killed. But he was alone. What will happen if on one particular day 23000 of us decide to take samples from all these outlets and send them for testing. To be on the safer side each one can take one policeman as a witness (or maybe bodyguard depending on which part of the country you are from). What will happen if all these reports are sent collated to the management in IOCL? Wont it be a sufficiently big challenge for all the politicians put together to negate all these reports? Maybe I am being too optimistic but if something like this can be orchestrated then I am sure some result will come out of it.
And it definitely wont be what my senior, hostel mate, and fellow being was meted out.
Manju we will all miss you. And those days will always remain etched in our minds when you enthused all of us to win Sikandar. Hope this sacrifice of yours enthuses us now to become real life Sikandars and win the world from those corrupt politicians. Our world.
Eat a chockolate or an ice cream and throw the wrapper on the road. Take the short cut to save time, even though it is a one way. Murder, to get some more money. Well okay that one isn't what we do, you say. But isn't a murder only a higher version of banditry which can safely be assumed to be the big brother of thievery which all of us do indulge in. Some time or the other. Office supplies?? Software piracy?? Music sharing??
Then why blame those murderers? They killed for what they thought was right. IOCL has many more officials who will take this as an example and just take a little bit of bribe and look away. And why not? They have their families to support. Why should it be forced on them as part of honesty morcha to get themselves killed for others?
Why should only a handful suffer for the rest of us? Why should they get the brunt of the corrupt politicians and their hard hitting, killing chamchas? I feel its the duty of the populace to come up and do something instead of just hoping that some people will keep their moral values higher than things that matter. By raising a slogan or two and bringing those killers to justice we may win a small battle. But what about the rest of them? IOCL alone has over 23000 sales points.
He tried to shutdown one. He was killed. But he was alone. What will happen if on one particular day 23000 of us decide to take samples from all these outlets and send them for testing. To be on the safer side each one can take one policeman as a witness (or maybe bodyguard depending on which part of the country you are from). What will happen if all these reports are sent collated to the management in IOCL? Wont it be a sufficiently big challenge for all the politicians put together to negate all these reports? Maybe I am being too optimistic but if something like this can be orchestrated then I am sure some result will come out of it.
And it definitely wont be what my senior, hostel mate, and fellow being was meted out.
Manju we will all miss you. And those days will always remain etched in our minds when you enthused all of us to win Sikandar. Hope this sacrifice of yours enthuses us now to become real life Sikandars and win the world from those corrupt politicians. Our world.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Manju !
Manjunath. Manju, aka Machan.
The man of spirit, who lived life without giving a damn. The one who kept us on our dancing feet with his hearty vocals, the man who kept egging us on the football field with his "Lets go, guys !". The one whom you had to just see to break into a smile.
That hearty laugh, alas, will be heard no more.
And all this because Machan dared to stand up to a simple principle by which he led his life: truth and honesty.
Brutally murdered by dishonest petrol pump owners, who take selling adulterated petrol as their birthright. People for whom the assurance of political patronage makes a murder or two an accepted way of going about their business. People who reasoned that an IOC official had no business trying to ensure that the masses got the fuel that they paid for.
Here's the story on Indian Express: http://cities.expressindia.com/fullstory.php?newsid=158004
Anyone could have avoided these people by easily turning a blind eye to these activities; which is no doubt what most of the responsible authorities have been doing for years. Anyone, in fact could have amassed a lot of wealth with the bribes that these pump owners offer in the first place.
Alas, for Manju could not see things that way.
Alas, for the people for whom he stood up, would never come to know about it; becuase only one newspaper chose to carry his story till now, it wasn't news good enough for the TV channels.
Alas, because due to the high-level connections of the these people to whom pumps were "allocated", those who did this heinous act might be let off in a short time, due the lack of public outcry.
Should they be allowed to ?
Machan, miss u we will. Lots. For all the people I know who we cannot but respect and admire, u are right there on the top, way above. RIP.
Here's Gaurav's post on Manju : http://gauravsabnis.blogspot.com/2005/11/bye-machan.html
The man of spirit, who lived life without giving a damn. The one who kept us on our dancing feet with his hearty vocals, the man who kept egging us on the football field with his "Lets go, guys !". The one whom you had to just see to break into a smile.
That hearty laugh, alas, will be heard no more.
And all this because Machan dared to stand up to a simple principle by which he led his life: truth and honesty.
Brutally murdered by dishonest petrol pump owners, who take selling adulterated petrol as their birthright. People for whom the assurance of political patronage makes a murder or two an accepted way of going about their business. People who reasoned that an IOC official had no business trying to ensure that the masses got the fuel that they paid for.
Here's the story on Indian Express: http://cities.expressindia.com/fullstory.php?newsid=158004
Anyone could have avoided these people by easily turning a blind eye to these activities; which is no doubt what most of the responsible authorities have been doing for years. Anyone, in fact could have amassed a lot of wealth with the bribes that these pump owners offer in the first place.
Alas, for Manju could not see things that way.
Alas, for the people for whom he stood up, would never come to know about it; becuase only one newspaper chose to carry his story till now, it wasn't news good enough for the TV channels.
Alas, because due to the high-level connections of the these people to whom pumps were "allocated", those who did this heinous act might be let off in a short time, due the lack of public outcry.
Should they be allowed to ?
Machan, miss u we will. Lots. For all the people I know who we cannot but respect and admire, u are right there on the top, way above. RIP.
Here's Gaurav's post on Manju : http://gauravsabnis.blogspot.com/2005/11/bye-machan.html
Thursday, November 03, 2005
WIP .. completed !
So finally its done. Over. Finito. And here's what it looks like:
Still havent learnt to differentiate between shadows and skin tones, thats why she appears a lot darker than she really is ..
And I got a request I couldn't refuse ;) to post the reference pic, too : so here they are, side by 
side.
Am posting this in a really small size so that you would have a more difficult time if you started playing "Spot the Difference " ... :D
I hope to catch up on doing some landscapes next time ..
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Random Thought
Here is a random thought, a little didactic though...
In the jaipur match against srilanka, India were 175 at 24.5 overs, a run rate over 7. But most of us watching the match were still looking at the target, 124 in 25 overs which was almost 5 an over. And I felt with this extra focus on the target, sometimes we loose the charm of the pursuit of achieving it. Targets gotta be there, but once your goals become the primary key of your existence, the process of surviving looses its sheen. Though the destination is important, path has its own beauty which we should not deprive ourselves of relishing.
In the jaipur match against srilanka, India were 175 at 24.5 overs, a run rate over 7. But most of us watching the match were still looking at the target, 124 in 25 overs which was almost 5 an over. And I felt with this extra focus on the target, sometimes we loose the charm of the pursuit of achieving it. Targets gotta be there, but once your goals become the primary key of your existence, the process of surviving looses its sheen. Though the destination is important, path has its own beauty which we should not deprive ourselves of relishing.
stuff for my CV ..
We were supposed to go-live on th e 31st. As it turned out, the CMD scheduled a visit to a nearby location on that date.
Efforts to bring the CMD to do the ceremonial click of the mouse to herald the go-live proved ineffective. His calendar was simply too busy. With this, dawned the fear that all the important officials would be of course, tailing the CMD, and we would run short of any official to do the ceremonial mouse-clicking for us! (The success of a go-live is often measured by the importance quotient of the individual who comes for the occasion; a go-live by any person below the rank of a GM would have been considered as an insult to the status of our project in the scheme of things .. )
So all said and done, our project was advanced by one day, to happen now on the 30th.
Isn’t that simply great?! Now, I get to write in my CV: “Completed successful delivery of XYZ project, before time”
Do I need to mention that it was advanced by one day? Nah, I think I will stick with the general truth that it was delivered before time, no need to mention petty statistics.
Do I need to mention the fact that it was originally scheduled to be delivered on the 20th; and was already extended by 11 days? Nah, I think I will just omit to mention this too. After all, I am still stating the truth, just not stating some other truths. That’s for recruiters to find out, if they so desperately wish to.
And what happens, if for some reason, the go-live is shifted back to the 31st? I think I should go make my CV now, right away. After that, if it does get postponed, I will just forget to update my CV, that’s all.. the recruiters will have to do with a CV that’s a bit out of date .. .
Thank you, Mr. Scott Adams, for introducing me to Weaselese !
Efforts to bring the CMD to do the ceremonial click of the mouse to herald the go-live proved ineffective. His calendar was simply too busy. With this, dawned the fear that all the important officials would be of course, tailing the CMD, and we would run short of any official to do the ceremonial mouse-clicking for us! (The success of a go-live is often measured by the importance quotient of the individual who comes for the occasion; a go-live by any person below the rank of a GM would have been considered as an insult to the status of our project in the scheme of things .. )
So all said and done, our project was advanced by one day, to happen now on the 30th.
Isn’t that simply great?! Now, I get to write in my CV: “Completed successful delivery of XYZ project, before time”
Do I need to mention that it was advanced by one day? Nah, I think I will stick with the general truth that it was delivered before time, no need to mention petty statistics.
Do I need to mention the fact that it was originally scheduled to be delivered on the 20th; and was already extended by 11 days? Nah, I think I will just omit to mention this too. After all, I am still stating the truth, just not stating some other truths. That’s for recruiters to find out, if they so desperately wish to.
And what happens, if for some reason, the go-live is shifted back to the 31st? I think I should go make my CV now, right away. After that, if it does get postponed, I will just forget to update my CV, that’s all.. the recruiters will have to do with a CV that’s a bit out of date .. .
Thank you, Mr. Scott Adams, for introducing me to Weaselese !
Saturday, October 29, 2005
WIP ... an update
Work was a bit hectic last week, what with go-lives and all, but still got some more time to work on the pic, and here's the result :
and then got to work some more, and completed the hair...
I love doing the hair. Its easier, you can give the definition of the shape and fall with bold strokes and not care too much about the details. After all, a strand or two out of place does not do much to change the shape of a face... unlike the eyes of course. So I rubbed out the awry left eye that I had done last time, but havent corrected it yet ...
The pic is taken with a K-750i, the latest addition to the collection of my gizmo addict room-mate, its autofocus camera is simply wow. Beats the hell out of many digicams, let alone fixed focus cell-cams!
Any gyaan on how I can do this better ? please comment !
Friday, October 21, 2005
Unparalleled Institution of Fraud and Hogwash
Past couple of weeks has been to say the least, very eventful. Alumni from my famed institution were at the flash-point, bearing the brunt of a system that has struggled to overcome its tendency to nurture double-standards. Somebody from my immediate neighborhood became an instant celebrity after a windfall jackpot at KBC. I have been vicariously yet vividly involved in this flux. It makes sense to jot them down.
Gaurav’s stance has been a watershed of an event, where the innocuous looking blog-post has spread like a wildfire to expose the sham that AC is. This extreme reaction was but expected from a person who though has institutionalized public hog-washing and broken records in self-aggrandizing, is inherently an under-educated minnow with a deep sense of insecurity and deep fear for sane and matter-of-factly discussion on his spine-less institution. The brazen, obscene catch lines, without a grain of truth may have taken the marketing exercise to manic proportions, but he is scared ‘coz he also has heard the Bob Marley song. This synchronized machination of his cheap repertoire of fusillade that we have witnessed is the ramification of his deep underlying anxiety. This anxiety is the manifestation of a keen desire to ensure that the systemic plot of mass-fraud is not at all disturbed, coz once the cannonball is displaced, it might never stop rolling. Garnished by the idiotic awards and the meaningless qualifications, all conferred by organizations patronized by the mother-of-all-fraudsters institute of planning and management, and surrounded by a coterie of even-less educated professors whose collective intellectual output is as precious as shit, whose books and papers read like frivolous experimentation with management jargon, this guy has got away too long with his brazen blasphemy to the profession that is management. That the research regarding how this guy has fooled a lot of people for a lot of time is endemic on internet; I hope this result in a just consequence that this foolish nexus deserves.
PS: What was undeniably shocking was the behavior of the Chinese employer!!!
Disclaimer: We are not liable for the views expressed above. These are mere personal opinions, we suggest the readers to exrcise discern and do more research to realize the magnitude of the scam
Gaurav’s stance has been a watershed of an event, where the innocuous looking blog-post has spread like a wildfire to expose the sham that AC is. This extreme reaction was but expected from a person who though has institutionalized public hog-washing and broken records in self-aggrandizing, is inherently an under-educated minnow with a deep sense of insecurity and deep fear for sane and matter-of-factly discussion on his spine-less institution. The brazen, obscene catch lines, without a grain of truth may have taken the marketing exercise to manic proportions, but he is scared ‘coz he also has heard the Bob Marley song. This synchronized machination of his cheap repertoire of fusillade that we have witnessed is the ramification of his deep underlying anxiety. This anxiety is the manifestation of a keen desire to ensure that the systemic plot of mass-fraud is not at all disturbed, coz once the cannonball is displaced, it might never stop rolling. Garnished by the idiotic awards and the meaningless qualifications, all conferred by organizations patronized by the mother-of-all-fraudsters institute of planning and management, and surrounded by a coterie of even-less educated professors whose collective intellectual output is as precious as shit, whose books and papers read like frivolous experimentation with management jargon, this guy has got away too long with his brazen blasphemy to the profession that is management. That the research regarding how this guy has fooled a lot of people for a lot of time is endemic on internet; I hope this result in a just consequence that this foolish nexus deserves.
PS: What was undeniably shocking was the behavior of the Chinese employer!!!
Disclaimer: We are not liable for the views expressed above. These are mere personal opinions, we suggest the readers to exrcise discern and do more research to realize the magnitude of the scam
Work in Progress
I made a promise on 43things about stuff I would like to do in life. Well, two of those are done now, completing a half marathon, and a trip to Goa. More about that in another post. One thing I did note down however, and did nothing about, was to Sketch Regularly. Doodling I did frequently (after all, I do have to sit through lengthy meetings), but all my sketching pencils were gathering dust in the drawer. That’s when I saw this photo of a friend which looked very pretty, and that helped me to at least start on my promise about sketching..
This is what it looks like right now:
I am using a heavy, large grain paper borrowed from my room-mate; lots more suited to water color than sketching – it has a very rough texture, and would not allow much blending. More important to me was to get the shape right; there were not too many tonal values in the master copy, anyway. However, the alignment of the left eye has gone all awry, will try to set it right at my next sitting. The hair warranted a much darker black, but my 5b Faber Castell is not giving me the desired results on this paper either. Hope to post updates on the work pretty soon, till then any suggestions would be very welcome!
This is what it looks like right now:
I am using a heavy, large grain paper borrowed from my room-mate; lots more suited to water color than sketching – it has a very rough texture, and would not allow much blending. More important to me was to get the shape right; there were not too many tonal values in the master copy, anyway. However, the alignment of the left eye has gone all awry, will try to set it right at my next sitting. The hair warranted a much darker black, but my 5b Faber Castell is not giving me the desired results on this paper either. Hope to post updates on the work pretty soon, till then any suggestions would be very welcome!
Monday, September 26, 2005
Boss for a Day
Sat, 24th Sep
Today, AJ, my team lead had taken a day off. Being the only other person in the team who was not a new joinee, I took over as the acting team lead for the day.
Being the boss has its advantages. You get to decide who does what. In effect, you decide to do nothing, and offload all your pending work to your underlings. I had been pretending to work on an assignment of documentation the whole week that AJ was there. Painting screenshots on user manuals isn’t what one would say “interesting work”, but having that on my worklist meant that it prevented AJ from handing me over any other “issues” that came up regularly. Hmm.., I thought, this work should get completed today !
Called over PM and asked him how he was loaded today. He was working on the specifications for a development that was high priority. What exactly is “high priority” ? Part of the fun in playing the boss is that you get to decide the priorities of everything. “Have you explained this report to the development team ? No ? Do that. Let them start working while you work on the written specs, no need build in linear dependencies. Documenting the specifications you can do later. That’s low priority. Now there’s this list of user manuals that need to be delivered positively by 4 p.m. today. You need to describe the processes in this list with appropriate screenshots. Start on this, and complete this by 3:00 so that I can review these before submitting..”
……..
Being the boss also has its drawbacks. All issues are routed to you. However, Saturday is normally a light day in office. Only one issue sprung up the whole day.
A mail routed through finance arrived after a number of forwards, saying some user in Baroda wanted :a new cenvatable condition type in import PO's to handle the new Govt levy - Additional Countervailing Duty". Whew . What a mouthful. I sometimes are amazed what sentences people can think up, given some leisure time.
Anyway, couldn't make head or tail out of that line. So, I sent back a mail to one of the guys in finance:
"Please provide the following details:
a) The rate of the duty
b) The cases/conditions where this applicable
c) What is the price basis of this duty
d) Will this be applicable in conjuction with Countervailing duty. (well, I had no idea about that, either, but I guess since he wanted "additional" duty there was some original duty in the first place ;) )
e) Whether the condition was to be made available in OBYC, if yes in what form; if no then what is the alternative to be followed. ( This was a technical term and absolutely irrelevant, but I knew that this would flummox the user and it would be quite some time before he would think up of an answer to that one :D )
We will look into this matter and make the suitable software modifications once this information is made available to us. "
The original mail was sent three days back before it reached me. I guess they would take a similar amount of time in getting back with the answer. By that time AJ would be back, he would know how to handle it ...
Ah, well ! getting to be a temporary boss is fun !
Today, AJ, my team lead had taken a day off. Being the only other person in the team who was not a new joinee, I took over as the acting team lead for the day.
Being the boss has its advantages. You get to decide who does what. In effect, you decide to do nothing, and offload all your pending work to your underlings. I had been pretending to work on an assignment of documentation the whole week that AJ was there. Painting screenshots on user manuals isn’t what one would say “interesting work”, but having that on my worklist meant that it prevented AJ from handing me over any other “issues” that came up regularly. Hmm.., I thought, this work should get completed today !
Called over PM and asked him how he was loaded today. He was working on the specifications for a development that was high priority. What exactly is “high priority” ? Part of the fun in playing the boss is that you get to decide the priorities of everything. “Have you explained this report to the development team ? No ? Do that. Let them start working while you work on the written specs, no need build in linear dependencies. Documenting the specifications you can do later. That’s low priority. Now there’s this list of user manuals that need to be delivered positively by 4 p.m. today. You need to describe the processes in this list with appropriate screenshots. Start on this, and complete this by 3:00 so that I can review these before submitting..”
……..
Being the boss also has its drawbacks. All issues are routed to you. However, Saturday is normally a light day in office. Only one issue sprung up the whole day.
A mail routed through finance arrived after a number of forwards, saying some user in Baroda wanted :a new cenvatable condition type in import PO's to handle the new Govt levy - Additional Countervailing Duty". Whew . What a mouthful. I sometimes are amazed what sentences people can think up, given some leisure time.
Anyway, couldn't make head or tail out of that line. So, I sent back a mail to one of the guys in finance:
"Please provide the following details:
a) The rate of the duty
b) The cases/conditions where this applicable
c) What is the price basis of this duty
d) Will this be applicable in conjuction with Countervailing duty. (well, I had no idea about that, either, but I guess since he wanted "additional" duty there was some original duty in the first place ;) )
e) Whether the condition was to be made available in OBYC, if yes in what form; if no then what is the alternative to be followed. ( This was a technical term and absolutely irrelevant, but I knew that this would flummox the user and it would be quite some time before he would think up of an answer to that one :D )
We will look into this matter and make the suitable software modifications once this information is made available to us. "
The original mail was sent three days back before it reached me. I guess they would take a similar amount of time in getting back with the answer. By that time AJ would be back, he would know how to handle it ...
Ah, well ! getting to be a temporary boss is fun !
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Guns and Roses
Intro
I have to tell you, there is nothing better than a life with a 9 to 5 job and a loving wife. You open your eyes in the morning see her cuddled up besides you and you can never resist the temptation to kiss her. And once you kiss her of course, you just have to move your hands around her. And once your morning activities are over you go to office and all and then work like a hog. Joke around with your colleagues. Call your boss names. And then return back home. Back into your wife's arms. I love it.
The dream i mean. Because I am neither married nor do I enjoy a 9 to 5 job. I work in a bank like many of my batch-mates. I work in the IT field like most others of my generation. And I work from 9 to 9. Sometime even later. Of course there are those beautiful girls in the office that i can look at when I am in the office. But the bitches, all have got themselves a husband or a boy friend. They never cared to wait for me. Not that I care too much either. But still it would be nice and all to have a girl friend. Or maybe a couple of girl fiends.
You might think I am a pervert who has nothing but sex on his mind. True. Only I don’t feel like a pervert. There's this girl who keeps giving me the looks like if I just go ahead and talk she will marry me right there. I am scared. As any other of my age, scared of commitments. Today I have got this proposal to make. Not to any girls silly. Agh!! No not even to boys. I am making a proposal for a change in the software system. Yaah so my life is boring. What can I do? Have started the work. But only just started.
Chapter 1
I have to tell you, there is nothing better than a life with a 9 to 5 job and a loving wife. You open your eyes in the morning see her cuddled up besides you and you can never resist the temptation to kiss her. And once you kiss her of course, you just have to move your hands around her. And once your morning activities are over you go to office and all and then work like a hog. Joke around with your colleagues. Call your boss names. And then return back home. Back into your wife's arms. I love it.
The dream i mean. Because I am neither married nor do I enjoy a 9 to 5 job. I work in a bank like many of my batch-mates. I work in the IT field like most others of my generation. And I work from 9 to 9. Sometime even later. Of course there are those beautiful girls in the office that i can look at when I am in the office. But the bitches, all have got themselves a husband or a boy friend. They never cared to wait for me. Not that I care too much either. But still it would be nice and all to have a girl friend. Or maybe a couple of girl fiends.
You might think I am a pervert who has nothing but sex on his mind. True. Only I don’t feel like a pervert. There's this girl who keeps giving me the looks like if I just go ahead and talk she will marry me right there. I am scared. As any other of my age, scared of commitments. Today I have got this proposal to make. Not to any girls silly. Agh!! No not even to boys. I am making a proposal for a change in the software system. Yaah so my life is boring. What can I do? Have started the work. But only just started.
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Intro
My bike is usually parked in the basement of my office building. I was thinking something and unlocking my helmet from the bike when I saw this gleaming object lying on the floor. A gun!! Whew!! I had never before seen a gun in my life. I mean in real life. I was thinking whether to pick it up or not. There was no one in sight. It was well past 8:30 and most of the people in my building are the 9 to 5 job type. So there was this urge in me to pick it up and I went right ahead and picked it up. It was quite heavy. As heavy as those plastic steam irons that we get nowadays. You can pick it up with one hand and aim and all. I picked it up and put it right inside my bag. Before anyone else could see. I was not thinking anything. I was just mesmerised by the thought of having a gun.
Ever since childhood I have practised shooting. With my index finger pointing straight ahead and thumb upwards. I have had my chances at holding guns too. You know, the Diwali ones. Every child as soon as he is able to walk and run wants a gun. And people say violence is bad. If violence were bad then why would we have the urge to have guns at all? We are all descendants from animals after all. The other day I was watching discovery channel and they showed these two huge horned deers or something playing. And how do they play? By locking horns and hitting each other. Same with lion cubs. And ditto for monkeys too. How can we be different? I think with civilisation and all we have actually become a bit too peaceful. Maybe thats why our population is increasing so fast. But, I am deviating from the subject.
So I had the gun inside my bag. The feeling was undescribable. A part of my nervous system was making me twitch, another was making me feel cold behind my spine. The
frontal lobe on the other hand was thinking whether the relative merits of owning a gun would surpass the danger from police. But then I am a banker, okay still too young to be called a banker, but nevertheless I am one of those breeds. I dont think police will have anything to do with me. Why would they check me at all? Unless... Unless they have put surveillance cameras around here and are watching me right now.
I looked all around me. No one was there. I looked at the ceilings, only cobwebs there. Could the camera be in some vehicle like they do in the TV channels nowadays. You know making bakra and all. There's this other one by a sardar which is also time pass. But bakra is the best. Anyways, I looked around, squinted a lot but couldn't make out if there was any buffoon watching me. Then I saw this huge fly or butterfly or whatever. It was just going round and round. Could it be some CIA sponsered espionage trick? God knows. I tried to look closer at the thing and found to my relief that it was only a big smelly fly. By that time I had one or two drop of sweat hanging by the twitching nerves on my head.
I once again looked around and then made up my mind to give the gun to the police and let all my apprehensions go. There's a police station right infront of my office building. So i sat on my bike and started it and came out of the parking area. To go to the police station I have to go right around my office building because the parking outlet is on the other side. I had to take a left turn and keep turning left until i reached the police station. But usually I turn right at the gate. Habit takes precedence. I turned right instead of left and then realized my mistake. But I am also pretty lazy so I talked myself into keeping the gun till tomorrow. I decided first thing in the morning I will give it to the police.
So I was on my way back home. The road is full of auto rickshaws as the place harbors almost all the head offices you can think of. One of those bastards took a sudden right turn and I had to put my brakes hard on. My back tire skidded a bit and I was temporarily shocked. The shock gave way to anger and I just thought I would kill the bastard with my newfound gun tonight. I accosted him and started yelling at him in perfect mumbaiya and he like a cow said sorry and turned around. All my hopes of killing a man went bust with him saying sorry as my heat came down suddenly.
I went on, and while going realized what a big mistake it would have been if I had even taken the gun out of my bag. There were so many people all around. I would have been lynched before I could even figure out how to unlock the thing and fire. And even if I did get to fire the damn thing then what? Whew!! That was a close escape.
Chapter 2
My bike is usually parked in the basement of my office building. I was thinking something and unlocking my helmet from the bike when I saw this gleaming object lying on the floor. A gun!! Whew!! I had never before seen a gun in my life. I mean in real life. I was thinking whether to pick it up or not. There was no one in sight. It was well past 8:30 and most of the people in my building are the 9 to 5 job type. So there was this urge in me to pick it up and I went right ahead and picked it up. It was quite heavy. As heavy as those plastic steam irons that we get nowadays. You can pick it up with one hand and aim and all. I picked it up and put it right inside my bag. Before anyone else could see. I was not thinking anything. I was just mesmerised by the thought of having a gun.
Ever since childhood I have practised shooting. With my index finger pointing straight ahead and thumb upwards. I have had my chances at holding guns too. You know, the Diwali ones. Every child as soon as he is able to walk and run wants a gun. And people say violence is bad. If violence were bad then why would we have the urge to have guns at all? We are all descendants from animals after all. The other day I was watching discovery channel and they showed these two huge horned deers or something playing. And how do they play? By locking horns and hitting each other. Same with lion cubs. And ditto for monkeys too. How can we be different? I think with civilisation and all we have actually become a bit too peaceful. Maybe thats why our population is increasing so fast. But, I am deviating from the subject.
So I had the gun inside my bag. The feeling was undescribable. A part of my nervous system was making me twitch, another was making me feel cold behind my spine. The
frontal lobe on the other hand was thinking whether the relative merits of owning a gun would surpass the danger from police. But then I am a banker, okay still too young to be called a banker, but nevertheless I am one of those breeds. I dont think police will have anything to do with me. Why would they check me at all? Unless... Unless they have put surveillance cameras around here and are watching me right now.
I looked all around me. No one was there. I looked at the ceilings, only cobwebs there. Could the camera be in some vehicle like they do in the TV channels nowadays. You know making bakra and all. There's this other one by a sardar which is also time pass. But bakra is the best. Anyways, I looked around, squinted a lot but couldn't make out if there was any buffoon watching me. Then I saw this huge fly or butterfly or whatever. It was just going round and round. Could it be some CIA sponsered espionage trick? God knows. I tried to look closer at the thing and found to my relief that it was only a big smelly fly. By that time I had one or two drop of sweat hanging by the twitching nerves on my head.
I once again looked around and then made up my mind to give the gun to the police and let all my apprehensions go. There's a police station right infront of my office building. So i sat on my bike and started it and came out of the parking area. To go to the police station I have to go right around my office building because the parking outlet is on the other side. I had to take a left turn and keep turning left until i reached the police station. But usually I turn right at the gate. Habit takes precedence. I turned right instead of left and then realized my mistake. But I am also pretty lazy so I talked myself into keeping the gun till tomorrow. I decided first thing in the morning I will give it to the police.
So I was on my way back home. The road is full of auto rickshaws as the place harbors almost all the head offices you can think of. One of those bastards took a sudden right turn and I had to put my brakes hard on. My back tire skidded a bit and I was temporarily shocked. The shock gave way to anger and I just thought I would kill the bastard with my newfound gun tonight. I accosted him and started yelling at him in perfect mumbaiya and he like a cow said sorry and turned around. All my hopes of killing a man went bust with him saying sorry as my heat came down suddenly.
I went on, and while going realized what a big mistake it would have been if I had even taken the gun out of my bag. There were so many people all around. I would have been lynched before I could even figure out how to unlock the thing and fire. And even if I did get to fire the damn thing then what? Whew!! That was a close escape.
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Chapter1
I reached home. I live in a small studio apartment. One room with my bed, cupboard, TV and most of the luggage packed in there respective corners. There is a kitchen which I occassionally use to make maggi. I dont like eating maggi a lot. But I dont know anything else. And I hate cooking. My mom cooks well. But all that is unnecessary blabber. There is a full length mirror attached to the cupboard. I love looking at myself in it. Surely Narcissus will pale in front of me.
Now that I was back again in my one room suite, I took out my Gun and stood in front of the mirror. First, James Bond style. Then mumbHai style. I checked if there were any bullets inside. It was the new kind of gun, not the old revolver; you know where the bullet compartment revolves to get the new bullet ready. This had a magazine inserted in the handle. I have seen in movies, people pressing the gun and the magazine comes out. I tried that in several ways, but it won’t come out. There had to be something. I couldn't find it anywhere. A surefire way to know whether bullets were there or not was to fire. But if I fire then people will hear and they may call the police.
But wont I love to fire it once. Just to hear how it sounds and to see the sparks fly. Maybe if I went to a deserted place and fired no one will hear. I aimed my gun towards the sky through the window and ting tong. An electric shock went through my body starting from the legs through the trunk to my head and the arms and the gun fell from my hand. There was someone at the door. What to do? I slid the gun under the bed and ran to open the door. By this time I was breathing heavily, not so much from the running as from the shock. There's not much room to run anyways.
I opened the door to reveal the secretary of the society where I stay. He is a middle-aged man, most probably in his early 40s. Big thick mustache on a big round face. Most of the things about him were round. He had a well-rounded belly. Round shoulders and round eyes. Really I had never seen anyone with that kind of eyes before I met him. It was as if he was permanently staring with either a mix of surprise and terror or surprise and anger at you. Maybe the poor fellow never had any eyelids.
He seemed more of angry right now than terrorized. But one could never discern. He opened his mouth to say something, and suddenly stopped. Then he looked behind me into the room. He put his neck in through the door and surveyed the whole place as if I was hiding something. Could it be possible that he knew about the gun? No he was inside his flat when I came up. He couldn't have seen me. It must be something else.Finally he uttered something. Said, "We live in a society. Family. You bachelors! What do you think you are doing? Coming whenever you like and going whenever you like. Bringing girl friends. You also bring drinks. Don’t you?"
Let me clarify here that I have never brought any girl friends here. But I believe the previous occupant had brought some lady of dubious origins and had been thrown out for the same reason. And ever since I have been getting the punishment he deserved. But the fatass was right about the drinks. I do get my friends to come over to my place for drinks. We have quite a gala time. Come weekend and we plan it out. A full bottle of whiskey, 2 liters of coke, lots of snacks, lots of chicken and lots of food. The laptop is connected to the big speakers and the party starts. Its great fun to be bachelors. I don’t know why people want to get married.
I am sure it was this that had put a nail in the oldies head. We had a party on Saturday night, Sunday I was away with my friends and the fool got hold of me now on Monday evening. I couldn't think of what to say, while he started again, "You young people are the future of our country. Hah! Our country will go to the gallows. This breed is all alike. They have no responsibilities and all they do is drink and dance and make noise." At this point he had started shouting and my two neighbors had opened their doors to see what was going on. Now he hollered, "If you do not stop this, I will throw you out. I will call the police. What kind of parents has reared children like you". The bastard was testing my patience now. I swear I would have hit him hard on the nose or poked his round eyes out if it had not been for those ladies watching.
Oh no! What am I thinking? This gun it seems will make me murder someone someday. Why am I thinking of killing people? This is horrible. I must throw the damn thing. Yes I will give it to the police first thing tomorrow morning. Surely. I switched on the TV thinking thus. I like watching songs. Music channels are my second most favorites. The favorites being the movie channels. Discovery comes a close third. Although in academic circles I would like to put forth myself as an ardent admirer of discovery.
Chapter3
I reached home. I live in a small studio apartment. One room with my bed, cupboard, TV and most of the luggage packed in there respective corners. There is a kitchen which I occassionally use to make maggi. I dont like eating maggi a lot. But I dont know anything else. And I hate cooking. My mom cooks well. But all that is unnecessary blabber. There is a full length mirror attached to the cupboard. I love looking at myself in it. Surely Narcissus will pale in front of me.
Now that I was back again in my one room suite, I took out my Gun and stood in front of the mirror. First, James Bond style. Then mumbHai style. I checked if there were any bullets inside. It was the new kind of gun, not the old revolver; you know where the bullet compartment revolves to get the new bullet ready. This had a magazine inserted in the handle. I have seen in movies, people pressing the gun and the magazine comes out. I tried that in several ways, but it won’t come out. There had to be something. I couldn't find it anywhere. A surefire way to know whether bullets were there or not was to fire. But if I fire then people will hear and they may call the police.
But wont I love to fire it once. Just to hear how it sounds and to see the sparks fly. Maybe if I went to a deserted place and fired no one will hear. I aimed my gun towards the sky through the window and ting tong. An electric shock went through my body starting from the legs through the trunk to my head and the arms and the gun fell from my hand. There was someone at the door. What to do? I slid the gun under the bed and ran to open the door. By this time I was breathing heavily, not so much from the running as from the shock. There's not much room to run anyways.
I opened the door to reveal the secretary of the society where I stay. He is a middle-aged man, most probably in his early 40s. Big thick mustache on a big round face. Most of the things about him were round. He had a well-rounded belly. Round shoulders and round eyes. Really I had never seen anyone with that kind of eyes before I met him. It was as if he was permanently staring with either a mix of surprise and terror or surprise and anger at you. Maybe the poor fellow never had any eyelids.
He seemed more of angry right now than terrorized. But one could never discern. He opened his mouth to say something, and suddenly stopped. Then he looked behind me into the room. He put his neck in through the door and surveyed the whole place as if I was hiding something. Could it be possible that he knew about the gun? No he was inside his flat when I came up. He couldn't have seen me. It must be something else.Finally he uttered something. Said, "We live in a society. Family. You bachelors! What do you think you are doing? Coming whenever you like and going whenever you like. Bringing girl friends. You also bring drinks. Don’t you?"
Let me clarify here that I have never brought any girl friends here. But I believe the previous occupant had brought some lady of dubious origins and had been thrown out for the same reason. And ever since I have been getting the punishment he deserved. But the fatass was right about the drinks. I do get my friends to come over to my place for drinks. We have quite a gala time. Come weekend and we plan it out. A full bottle of whiskey, 2 liters of coke, lots of snacks, lots of chicken and lots of food. The laptop is connected to the big speakers and the party starts. Its great fun to be bachelors. I don’t know why people want to get married.
I am sure it was this that had put a nail in the oldies head. We had a party on Saturday night, Sunday I was away with my friends and the fool got hold of me now on Monday evening. I couldn't think of what to say, while he started again, "You young people are the future of our country. Hah! Our country will go to the gallows. This breed is all alike. They have no responsibilities and all they do is drink and dance and make noise." At this point he had started shouting and my two neighbors had opened their doors to see what was going on. Now he hollered, "If you do not stop this, I will throw you out. I will call the police. What kind of parents has reared children like you". The bastard was testing my patience now. I swear I would have hit him hard on the nose or poked his round eyes out if it had not been for those ladies watching.
I said, "Listen Mr. Satyanath, everyone here knows how great a person you yourself are. You don’t have to shout at me. Shout as much as you want to your wife. We all know how much you beat her". This last sentence was said almost in a whisper, because it was such a sensitive issue. This ignited the old bastard, and he flew at me. But I was ready for any such assault and jabbed my right fist right in his belly. That dazed him for a moment. And then he kept swearing at me. But I closed the door and came back. I swear to God, if I were a gangster I would have killed him. If someday I do turn a gangster, he will be the first one I will kill. Gangster! Gun! I had a gun. The bastard beats his wife. Even if I kill him it wont be considered a sin. At least not up there. As for down here, I could always take him in some dark alley.
Oh no! What am I thinking? This gun it seems will make me murder someone someday. Why am I thinking of killing people? This is horrible. I must throw the damn thing. Yes I will give it to the police first thing tomorrow morning. Surely. I switched on the TV thinking thus. I like watching songs. Music channels are my second most favorites. The favorites being the movie channels. Discovery comes a close third. Although in academic circles I would like to put forth myself as an ardent admirer of discovery.
Chapter3
Chapter 3
I haven't yet told you about Tania. She is this really cool kid who enjoys life like the rain drops falling from the sky. She is kinda cute too. Though not an Aishwarya, but still I sometimes feel I could have tried harder to get a bigger share of her attention. The thing is she is not just cute, but also quite intelligent. And intelligent girls are a bit difficult to persuade in the beginning. Moreover her beauty also makes her a bit unapproachable.
That doesn't mean that we are not good friends. In fact we are great friends. We call up each other quite often. She likes me for being so funny. Infact i think she kind of revers me. I mean who wouldn't be in awe of such a charming and intelligent man. You must believe me when I tell you that she is head over heels for me. She just keeps her distance to get a lot of bhav.
The other day, I was standing on the pavement waiting for a bus. Suddenly I saw her coming towards me. Seeing her walking towards me was a visual treat. She was wearing this brown leather jacket and a cape. skin shining in the morning glow of the sun. Smiling like a kid. My heart was overwhelmed with her beauty and I had to take my eyes off her to get a breather. Just then I saw a small little kid running after his ball into the middle of the road from the other side. There was a truck coming at full speed. I thought for a moment that I would hear screeching brakes. But nothing happened. It would have hit the kid had it not been for yours truly. I darted through the traffic like a bullet and caught hold of the child in one hand while flying off my last foot on the road. The very next moment there I was on the other side with the child in my hands and the truck behind my back.
People started gathering and congratulating me. I was feeling so nice. I saw Tania come too. But she stood a little away from the crowd. I like this characteristic in her. The decency and feminine pride. After the crowd thinned a bit I went towards her. She hugged me. The warmth of her body permeated through me. And her smell. Ohh.... I can't describe. I just wanted to melt in there. Just then the truck that I had so tactfully defied its kill came honking behind me on to the pavement along with a deluge of cars and bikes. I suddenly felt like I was going to die. Why were they coming to kill me? And why were they running towards the pavement? My heart was thumping like the huge aircraft engine on that Supersonic Jet they were showing.
And then I woke up. To my heartwarming relief the blaring horns was nothing but my mobile ringing. My heart was still thumping pretty heavily, and saliva dripping like the viscous, colorless blood of african dragonfly from my mouth. It was a call from Anil, my colleague at the office. There had been a small hitch in the programmes we ran every night. Thankfully I didn't have to do much of talking and the problem was resolved by Anil. After the call was over, I checked out channel [V] for some hot steamy number. It was already 12 and some rock band was playing some jhing bang. I switched the damn thing off and thought of the nice dream I was having.
Why does it happen with me that everytime something good is happening, something bad has also to happen? That roller coaster funda of life holds on to me as if its own life were at stake. the phone rang again. I didn't want to pick it up. Why do people call at such alte hours. It kept ringing for sometime. Then I checked. You wont believe me, it was Tania. And unbelievable as it may seem, I was not even sleeping. so it was not another dream. It really was her. I jumped up from the bed, cleared my throat, cleaned my mouth of the saliva in one nice stroke of the back of my hand, and was ready for the onslaught.
"Hello", I said, picking up the call.
And her melodious voice rang through. "Hiiii!! How are you doing? Were you sleeping? Did I disturb you?". She is like that. Very caring and very fast while talking. So many questions for a sleeping man. But her voice definitely had some exhilarating fresh quality to it.
"Hiii!! No I am not sleeping. I mean I was sleeping, but not any more. How are you?".
"I am fine. Just thought hadn't talked to you since such a long time, so... You know? My dad presented me a doggy last week. It's so cute. It sleeps with me on my bed".
Lucky sonuvabitch. I said, "Whow! Thats so nice. What breed is it?". As if I cared.
"It's a cute little Golden Retriever". I suddenly remembered my dream. Was she holding that dog in her hands while she was coming towards me? Or was it some book? I dont know. Cant seem to remember.
Agh!!
Agh!!
I said, "You know I was dreaming about you a little while back".
"Really?", she said, "What were you dreaming?".
I told her my dream. masking the last bit about the hug and smell part. I mean one cant cross the boundary at such an early stage. She is like a Goddess up there for me.
"Whow, you are a real hero. You should get a medal for your bravery", she mocked. You know, it hurts when someone you aspire for mocks you like this, even if jocularly. You want to be a hero for her. Her superman, but end up being a Clark Kent instead. You see, everytime the bloody roller coaster sticks to me. She calls me up to brighten me up and then mocks me to throw me into gloom. Anyways, I try to pick up my dropped ego a bit and tell her about my recent acquisitions in books. I think we talked for about half an hour about this and that. And finally she said she was going to Mahabaleshwar with her friends, and if Iwanted I could join her.
Chapter 4
Sleeping through the night is always difficult after getting a call from her. It’s like throwing away the honey after you have harvested it from the honey combs. Who in his right mind would do that? I might have had a few dreams as well in the night. She is like that. Always makes me dream of her. Morning brought back the memories of the time spent together. Office seems like drudgery in all this. But I still have to go. While getting ready, I couldn't think of anything else. I mean I am a flirt and all that, but when it comes to her, something takes over me. Really!!
I remember that one time, when we had met up in a cafe round the corner at Bandra West. She was looking lovely as ever. Her eyes sparkled with innocence. Nose high as usual with pride. She had this habit of rolling paper napkins into thin straws and throwing them around. I don’t know why she does that. But then there are so many things mysterious about her. She has a way of...
"God damn you. You idiot! Dekh ke nahin chala sakta kya? @#^%$#77".
The bastard Auto-rickshaw driver. Why do they allow these people on the roads anyway? I mean look at the way he swerved man. I think I have a dangerous liaison with Auto drivers. I am giving the indicator near this bandra kurla complex diversion and this guy is coming out of nowhere and trying to hit me. Anyways, the horns were honking behind me and I moved on. I was really raging. I think instead of vehicles moving on roads, it would be better if roads themselves moved. It will be like a combination of a train and a conveyor belt, only with automatic diversions and all. Near the gates to the bank, I remembered - THE GUN. I forgot to bring it. You of course know what prompted me to forget it in the first place and what made me remember it. But what’s to be done now? I can't give it to the police. It's still lying under my bed, where I had pushed it last night. Maybe I will bring it tomorrow. Or maybe not. Heck what difference does it make? Will the police really ever search me? I mean I at least can show this around to my friends. I could become a hero and all. Maybe I will keep it. Anyways I will decide about this later. Right now need to check the mails and start with the work.
The mails always have something or the other which keep one busy. But even more than that the thing that keeps people busy in office is gossip. And it is so much more convenient in the cubicle type setups where you don’t have to even standup to talk to the next guy. Today's topic had inadvertently to be the current cricket series. Flintoffs and Sehwags ruled the day. But my heart was set at Mahabaleswar.
A lot of google search later I got to know that it is a place to be enjoyed in the rainy season and best spent with a friend of the opposite sex looking at the sceneries or trekking in the curvy steep slopes of the hills. I think it will be great to go on a trek there. I can take my gun for some original hunting experience. Yeah it will be great fun.
Oops it’s already 12 pm. I have to complete these reports by evening. Boss leaves office everyday quite late. He expects everyone to not just complete all work in time but also sit late.
I remember that one time, when we had met up in a cafe round the corner at Bandra West. She was looking lovely as ever. Her eyes sparkled with innocence. Nose high as usual with pride. She had this habit of rolling paper napkins into thin straws and throwing them around. I don’t know why she does that. But then there are so many things mysterious about her. She has a way of...
"God damn you. You idiot! Dekh ke nahin chala sakta kya? @#^%$#77".
The bastard Auto-rickshaw driver. Why do they allow these people on the roads anyway? I mean look at the way he swerved man. I think I have a dangerous liaison with Auto drivers. I am giving the indicator near this bandra kurla complex diversion and this guy is coming out of nowhere and trying to hit me. Anyways, the horns were honking behind me and I moved on. I was really raging. I think instead of vehicles moving on roads, it would be better if roads themselves moved. It will be like a combination of a train and a conveyor belt, only with automatic diversions and all. Near the gates to the bank, I remembered - THE GUN. I forgot to bring it. You of course know what prompted me to forget it in the first place and what made me remember it. But what’s to be done now? I can't give it to the police. It's still lying under my bed, where I had pushed it last night. Maybe I will bring it tomorrow. Or maybe not. Heck what difference does it make? Will the police really ever search me? I mean I at least can show this around to my friends. I could become a hero and all. Maybe I will keep it. Anyways I will decide about this later. Right now need to check the mails and start with the work.
The mails always have something or the other which keep one busy. But even more than that the thing that keeps people busy in office is gossip. And it is so much more convenient in the cubicle type setups where you don’t have to even standup to talk to the next guy. Today's topic had inadvertently to be the current cricket series. Flintoffs and Sehwags ruled the day. But my heart was set at Mahabaleswar.
A lot of google search later I got to know that it is a place to be enjoyed in the rainy season and best spent with a friend of the opposite sex looking at the sceneries or trekking in the curvy steep slopes of the hills. I think it will be great to go on a trek there. I can take my gun for some original hunting experience. Yeah it will be great fun.
Oops it’s already 12 pm. I have to complete these reports by evening. Boss leaves office everyday quite late. He expects everyone to not just complete all work in time but also sit late.
Friday, July 08, 2005
Fotos from Assam
The first thing that you notice about the land is its greenery. Coming from Delhi parched by the fierce summer sun, the sheer vibrant color of it all swept me off my feet – all I could see from the plane was acres and acres of green paddy fields and greener forest-land. And in between, vast swathes of water: the Brahmaputra and its tributaries meander through the plains, separating, turning, twisting and coming together again, to form a giant criss-cross puzzle of islands and lakes. And besides these water-ways have sprung up the habitations, marked out by the trees and shiny tin roofs; lines which stand out in the face of paddy-green and muddy blue…
I had a quaint old guesthouse which was almost colonial: with red tiled roofs, ,and a delightful little garden…
I had a quaint old guesthouse which was almost colonial: with red tiled roofs, ,and a delightful little garden…
The view from my balcony was awesome. The Disang flowed behind, a swirl of turbulent muddy water, fed by the generous rains…
and here’s the other side .. taken a bit later into the evening…
As you came out of the guest house, and went towards the plant, there was .. what else ? A vast, placid pond, again !
I loved the way the lilies looked, so I took a closer-up ..
And then there were some local residents, who wouldn’t be hurried along ..
Finally, I got someone to click me in one of the tea-gardens nearby. Couldn’t get my camera on the days that the workers with their wide-rimmed hats and bamboo wicker-baskets were picking leaves.. so I guess just me will have to do !
Thursday, July 07, 2005
The Patent Revolution
Given a chance we can give IBM a run for its money. The way we are churning out innovative ideas to bring in new products with usages, that people would never have imagined, I am feeling we are no less than those geeks cramming their brains in those IBM , Bell cubicles (if not better). I wish we had the zeal and enthusiasm to get these patented. Or some lifespring that would have compelled us to metamorphose these brilliant figments into something practical. Alas!! This time I will blame the laziness that this amazing monsoon has brought along. Any way here is an excerpt of the discussion(which has the potential of becoming as legendary as the celebrated Bohr-Heisenberg chat)
Place: The virtual meeting place of three talented souls
Participants:
The Visionary: He sees things that never were and asks why not
The Missionary: He sees things that are, and asks how/why
The crusader: He doesn’t see things the way they are but the way he is
VISIONARY: abe sahu ek naya b-plan socha tha... logon ko indian aur english toilets main bahut problem hta hai... i mean someone likes squatting, while someone likes sitting... so can we have a toilet which will be both... i mean there will be a lever which when raised will increase the height of the toilet and put a seat on it... the seat will otherwise be standing vertically... plus there will be two pedestals for squatters which will be kind of fixed at a little above ground level... the distnace between indian and western toilets will be gapped by a collapsible plastic thing... (same way the distance between virginity and promiscuity is gapped by the expandable plastic things LOL )
MISSIONARY: tera idea achchaa hai ... and not just from the angle of indian/western . I think one applicability lies in terms of height of individual .. salaa western toilets, if their height is adjustable like chairs, then they would suit every member of the family from bachcha to whoever is tallest ..
CRUSADER: Mast hai.. bahut sahi… me bhi kain baar socha tha.. but itna technology fechnology dimesions me mene socha nahi tha…
Abe mere paas ek aur hai… This is for the Indian Roads… What I see is bloody nobody looks at these indicators while taking turns and all.. if you are taking the turn, switching on the indicator only marginally increases your chances of not getting hit.. but what improves the chances significantly is when you have a pillion-rider who waves his/her hand before the turn… if it is a girls hand the marauders become so careful that sometimes they get hit them selves… SO I was planning that we will manufacture a kind of Indicators that will pop out a girls hand with bangles and big nails and all.. and start waving asking for the pass/turn… I guess that will have a great market…initially the young turks will by it blown over by the sheer ingenuity of the product and buy it, we can position it that way.. and as the effectivity of the product is proven on the roads they will be adapted by the masses in hordes.. watsay??
VISIONARY(Doubles up as the missionary and sees things that are as missionary is in a bogus meeting): suppose banda apne ghar ke paas aake right turn le raha hai.. uski biwi ghar pe uska intezaar kar rahi hai... achanak she sees a female's hands coming out of hte rear seat... what will happen to their marriage? and leave wife, usko to husband kaise bhi samjha dega.. what about clients, bosses, friends... sab kya sochenge?
CRUSADER: Arre Listen, Every body will already know that these are fake hands and all… The biggest advantage that this product will offer is that people in general will be more cautious to physical movements indicating to slow down rather than some dumb-a*s light which they might conveniently overlook… (we may think of incorporating some AI as well so that the hand starts waving automatically as soon as it sense that there is a turn ahead…)… Girl's hand theory is based on a study that more than 50% of the traffic rule breakers are perverts as well ( 42.3% of statistics is made on the spot.. )
VISIONARY: Oh Bingo… I can sense another usage of this product as well…. this can be utilized as a great camouflage to offer hitch to big-bosomed beauties on the roads by meek souls in dread of their wives, bosses, friends, clients et al.. If the primary usage does not buy enuff users, I am sure this secondary usage definitely will…
Place: The virtual meeting place of three talented souls
Participants:
The Visionary: He sees things that never were and asks why not
The Missionary: He sees things that are, and asks how/why
The crusader: He doesn’t see things the way they are but the way he is
VISIONARY: abe sahu ek naya b-plan socha tha... logon ko indian aur english toilets main bahut problem hta hai... i mean someone likes squatting, while someone likes sitting... so can we have a toilet which will be both... i mean there will be a lever which when raised will increase the height of the toilet and put a seat on it... the seat will otherwise be standing vertically... plus there will be two pedestals for squatters which will be kind of fixed at a little above ground level... the distnace between indian and western toilets will be gapped by a collapsible plastic thing... (same way the distance between virginity and promiscuity is gapped by the expandable plastic things LOL )
MISSIONARY: tera idea achchaa hai ... and not just from the angle of indian/western . I think one applicability lies in terms of height of individual .. salaa western toilets, if their height is adjustable like chairs, then they would suit every member of the family from bachcha to whoever is tallest ..
CRUSADER: Mast hai.. bahut sahi… me bhi kain baar socha tha.. but itna technology fechnology dimesions me mene socha nahi tha…
Abe mere paas ek aur hai… This is for the Indian Roads… What I see is bloody nobody looks at these indicators while taking turns and all.. if you are taking the turn, switching on the indicator only marginally increases your chances of not getting hit.. but what improves the chances significantly is when you have a pillion-rider who waves his/her hand before the turn… if it is a girls hand the marauders become so careful that sometimes they get hit them selves… SO I was planning that we will manufacture a kind of Indicators that will pop out a girls hand with bangles and big nails and all.. and start waving asking for the pass/turn… I guess that will have a great market…initially the young turks will by it blown over by the sheer ingenuity of the product and buy it, we can position it that way.. and as the effectivity of the product is proven on the roads they will be adapted by the masses in hordes.. watsay??
VISIONARY(Doubles up as the missionary and sees things that are as missionary is in a bogus meeting): suppose banda apne ghar ke paas aake right turn le raha hai.. uski biwi ghar pe uska intezaar kar rahi hai... achanak she sees a female's hands coming out of hte rear seat... what will happen to their marriage? and leave wife, usko to husband kaise bhi samjha dega.. what about clients, bosses, friends... sab kya sochenge?
CRUSADER: Arre Listen, Every body will already know that these are fake hands and all… The biggest advantage that this product will offer is that people in general will be more cautious to physical movements indicating to slow down rather than some dumb-a*s light which they might conveniently overlook… (we may think of incorporating some AI as well so that the hand starts waving automatically as soon as it sense that there is a turn ahead…)… Girl's hand theory is based on a study that more than 50% of the traffic rule breakers are perverts as well ( 42.3% of statistics is made on the spot.. )
VISIONARY: Oh Bingo… I can sense another usage of this product as well…. this can be utilized as a great camouflage to offer hitch to big-bosomed beauties on the roads by meek souls in dread of their wives, bosses, friends, clients et al.. If the primary usage does not buy enuff users, I am sure this secondary usage definitely will…
Monday, July 04, 2005
Mood : relaxed
How do u feel like getting a holiday in the midst of a hectic work schedule ?
Well, what if your work itself was such that u feel you are taking a holiday ? Nothing much to do, just come to office and collect your daily paycheck. Stay on till office closing time doing your blogging and chatting, then go out and enjoy the sylvan surroundings.
Sounds good, doesnt it ? Well after a week it turns pretty sort of boring.
I will need to go back to Delhi tomorrow. And while I cant say that I will be absolutely swamped, right now I feel something to do would be better than doing nothing.
All said however, I do hope such breaks keep coming my way !
Well, what if your work itself was such that u feel you are taking a holiday ? Nothing much to do, just come to office and collect your daily paycheck. Stay on till office closing time doing your blogging and chatting, then go out and enjoy the sylvan surroundings.
Sounds good, doesnt it ? Well after a week it turns pretty sort of boring.
I will need to go back to Delhi tomorrow. And while I cant say that I will be absolutely swamped, right now I feel something to do would be better than doing nothing.
All said however, I do hope such breaks keep coming my way !
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Pati, Patni aur Woh
Autumn had shed its leaves and spring was sprouting new ones. The old tree looked like it had been there forever and will stand forever. With a branch stretched to the other side of the river, like a marooned islander asking for love, it stood its ground on the bank of the river. The river itself was curvaceous like a beautiful maiden and hid its upper parts in a bend so sharp one would not be able to see beyond twenty farlangs.
I was on my way to the city on a raft. Enjoying the serenity and the slow gurgle of the flowing water. As I came across the bend from the upside, my eyes fell and were rivetted to the beauty bathing in the river. Probably there were others surrounding her but taking my eyes off from her to notice them was not possible and I didn't even try. She was more bubbly than the effervescent river, looked more serene than the full moon night and sparkled like a sky full of stars. My love rose along with me and while I was this standing on my raft looking at her, the overhanging branch hit me and swooped me off my feet into the water.
I dont remember what happened next, but when I woke up I found my beauty looking down at me with concern. Seeing me opening my eyes she felt relieved and asked me how I felt. That is when I realized I was lying on a bed inside of what looked like a palace.
I was on my way to the city on a raft. Enjoying the serenity and the slow gurgle of the flowing water. As I came across the bend from the upside, my eyes fell and were rivetted to the beauty bathing in the river. Probably there were others surrounding her but taking my eyes off from her to notice them was not possible and I didn't even try. She was more bubbly than the effervescent river, looked more serene than the full moon night and sparkled like a sky full of stars. My love rose along with me and while I was this standing on my raft looking at her, the overhanging branch hit me and swooped me off my feet into the water.
I dont remember what happened next, but when I woke up I found my beauty looking down at me with concern. Seeing me opening my eyes she felt relieved and asked me how I felt. That is when I realized I was lying on a bed inside of what looked like a palace.
Telecom: India Vs China
Setting: The office of a public sector undertaking.
My colleague had this interesting quip on the telecom sector boom in India: “Why is there a boom? That’s because Indians talk so much. We just love talking, and that’s all we do all day anyway. We are toppers till it comes to any real work. So while we will overtake China in tele-density, try manufacturing a mobile handset in India?!”
My colleague had this interesting quip on the telecom sector boom in India: “Why is there a boom? That’s because Indians talk so much. We just love talking, and that’s all we do all day anyway. We are toppers till it comes to any real work. So while we will overtake China in tele-density, try manufacturing a mobile handset in India?!”
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Aishwarya: Deconstructing the Myth
Suddenly Aishwarya is fairly conspicuous, in several international platforms. Eg. Cannes, Letterman show, Oprah’s show. The question that arises here is, has all this international appearances helped her by any means? I would think otherwise. I feel her tackiness in these appearances have only exposed her nervous foreboding side and rendered her more vulnerable.
In Cannes she made a mockery of beauty, with her gaudy and uncouth sense of dressing and make-up. And with a chipkoo Vivek oberoi all around her, it was a comedy show. Lot has been discussed about her face-to-face with Letterman. Here is my version. Laconic and impervious. She was clumsy, gauche and sounded absolutely nervous. Her giggling only made more conspicuous the nervous shudderings in her heart. I would say she messed up the whole interview. She blabbered, she chuckled, she flirted. But she hardly made any point. You can check the video @ http://www.badmash.org/videos/letterman.wmv .
That is because she thinks herself to be much bigger than she actually is. Deep down her heart, she knows she is not what she feigns to be. This amplifies her insecurity, pushing her farther into the cozy warmth of a dark cocoon, where she can hide and pretend that the world doesn’t know. So when it comes to big shows, like cannes or letterman, she falters because of the fear that the real aishwarya might be unfolded, in front of the public. This trepidation accentuates her nervousness and makes her stammer. In her Indian interviews, her pretentious intellectualism is as conspicuous as her nervous stutterings outside. Her arrogant rattlings entirely reveal her bloated sense of identity. It is just that she assumes the Indian junta to be too idiot or too star-struck to notice indeed.
In Cannes she made a mockery of beauty, with her gaudy and uncouth sense of dressing and make-up. And with a chipkoo Vivek oberoi all around her, it was a comedy show. Lot has been discussed about her face-to-face with Letterman. Here is my version. Laconic and impervious. She was clumsy, gauche and sounded absolutely nervous. Her giggling only made more conspicuous the nervous shudderings in her heart. I would say she messed up the whole interview. She blabbered, she chuckled, she flirted. But she hardly made any point. You can check the video @ http://www.badmash.org/videos/letterman.wmv .
That is because she thinks herself to be much bigger than she actually is. Deep down her heart, she knows she is not what she feigns to be. This amplifies her insecurity, pushing her farther into the cozy warmth of a dark cocoon, where she can hide and pretend that the world doesn’t know. So when it comes to big shows, like cannes or letterman, she falters because of the fear that the real aishwarya might be unfolded, in front of the public. This trepidation accentuates her nervousness and makes her stammer. In her Indian interviews, her pretentious intellectualism is as conspicuous as her nervous stutterings outside. Her arrogant rattlings entirely reveal her bloated sense of identity. It is just that she assumes the Indian junta to be too idiot or too star-struck to notice indeed.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Clean shaven, well gelled rockers!!
In my school days I used to think, rock stars gotta have a flattened abdomen, power biceps, a goatie and of course disheveled hair. Ozzy made me realize, you need not have a flattened tummy. Freddie Mercury epitomized the emaciated look, until Marylin Manson came and showed that even if you don’t have AIDS, you can still be skinny and a hard rock god. (I hate Manson for his personal gimmicks and overt use of sex in shows, but that’s a separate issue.)
The clean shaven Stapp and Tremonti duo showed that a goatee is eminently disposable in the matter of passionate rock. But hair, that still had to be disheveled. Until, I discovered Nine Inch Nails(yeah I know, I am sickeningly late). The gelled shinny hair of Trent, may be an aberration in the world of rock, but his music got me mesmerized in the first hearing itself. Check out The Hand that Feeds from album "With Teeth" @ http://www.nin.com/visuals/thtf_hi.html
I instantly appreciated his gift for tortured writing that is so intense and real. He has a vision and a message in each song. The words are so real they get you inundated in that vision and in that immersed state of hypnosis each word penned reverberates in unison with your shuddering thus unfolding the profundity of his compelling emotions. Some of them are violently metaphysical. The rebellious phrases woven into a gripping tapestry may create a hallucination of a vengeful soul, but down bellow I guess it is the awekening of noble message from the suurrounding hazy mist of torment. I wont say they are more inspiring than those of creed. But they are compelling. Got to to hear more of it in days to come. Here is a part of his lyrics for you:
Got no religion, don't need no friends
Got all I want and I got no need to pretend
Don't try to reach me, 'cause I'd tear up your mind
I've seen the future and I leave it all behind
The clean shaven Stapp and Tremonti duo showed that a goatee is eminently disposable in the matter of passionate rock. But hair, that still had to be disheveled. Until, I discovered Nine Inch Nails(yeah I know, I am sickeningly late). The gelled shinny hair of Trent, may be an aberration in the world of rock, but his music got me mesmerized in the first hearing itself. Check out The Hand that Feeds from album "With Teeth" @ http://www.nin.com/visuals/thtf_hi.html
I instantly appreciated his gift for tortured writing that is so intense and real. He has a vision and a message in each song. The words are so real they get you inundated in that vision and in that immersed state of hypnosis each word penned reverberates in unison with your shuddering thus unfolding the profundity of his compelling emotions. Some of them are violently metaphysical. The rebellious phrases woven into a gripping tapestry may create a hallucination of a vengeful soul, but down bellow I guess it is the awekening of noble message from the suurrounding hazy mist of torment. I wont say they are more inspiring than those of creed. But they are compelling. Got to to hear more of it in days to come. Here is a part of his lyrics for you:
Got no religion, don't need no friends
Got all I want and I got no need to pretend
Don't try to reach me, 'cause I'd tear up your mind
I've seen the future and I leave it all behind
Friday, May 06, 2005
The corporate farewell:
Friday, the fourth of February, was Mr. Sharma’s last day at office. Accordingly, his deputy and close confidante Amit Jain floated a mail, explaining that a “small” get-together had been planned at four p.m. in the conference hall to bid farewell to the outgoing stalwart.
So come four o’ clock, when the effects of an early lunch were fast wearing out, Shravan and me, with the expectation that decent refreshments should necessarily be the part of such an occasion, trudged nonchalantly up to the second floor to check on the proceedings.
We were two of the early birds in the hall. As has been widely accepted, you can judge the importance of a person by merely noting the time of his arrival for a meeting. Where a common fallacy arises, though, is in merely assuming that the later someone arrives is in direct proportion to his importance. As has been chronicled by none other than C. N. Parkinson himself, the most happening time to be in a party is to be fashionably late, but not outrageously late. Allow me to explain this further, in the context of corporate meetings, with the help of an elementary mathematical equation. The basic premises of the theory that we are hoping to capture in the form of this equation are simple, and can be stated thus:
1) A meeting cannot be started without the presence of the chairman, ( the most important person in this case); and
2) Anyone who arrives after the arrival of the chairman is generally viewed as frivolously wasting the collective time of the congregated intelligentsia.
These facts can briefly and succinctly put thus: If a meeting is convened at H hours, the Most Important Person (henceforth known as MIP) involved (By this we mean the highest designated individual. He might not have any bearing on the outcome of the meeting, or even any knowledge of what the meeting is for, but that’s immaterial) should arrive at a time t given by the Sczammony-Schultz equation:
t = H + [{log10(n)}*abs{({sin((x*2.372)/d)}*y)3}]………………………………..(1)
where,
x = time of the day in the 24 hour format,
y = latitude of the location of the meeting, in degrees,
d = day of the year, as counted from the 1st of June, and
n = index value on the Peabody scale, a value ranging from zero to ten, according to the type of the meeting and the dominant base cultural Leakey - subgroup of the dominant 70% of the population present in the meeting.
Notice that the term following H allows for zero, or even negative values, implying that under certain abnormal conditions of temperature and pressure (as derived from a combination of ‘y’ and ‘d’), the MIP of such a meeting might arrive before the scheduled start time. But as we are dealing with the more dominant 93% of situations and not a more general case which allows for Horfizondian variations, we shall limit ourselves in this case and allow other researchers to explore this stream of social physics in greater detail.
Once having grasped this basic theorem, it is but an easy and logical step to move on to the Schultz extension, which states that the importance I of a person can be calculated as a percentage from the Simon-Milliper’s equation:
I = C – mT2 , T < i =" Ae-T">0 ………………………………………………………………..(2)
valid for small and non-small values of T.
Where,
T = time in seconds as measured from t, t.o.a. of the MIP,
C, m and A are the universal Borzievsky constants.
What can be inferred from the above equation is that, till the arrival of the MIP, the importance of a person might be fairly judged by the closer he appears to the time t. Any industrious person, wishing to be counted among the essential cogs of an organization, can use this equation judiciously to effect his timings in these meetings, and consequently, improve his perceived importance and standing in the party.
But of course, if one does not wish in any way to enhance one’s standing, but wishes to take a longish break from the workstation, one should arrive early at the designated meeting hall, and preferably take up a corner position where the to-be-coming speeches wouldn’t bother him much. Accordingly, we securely ensconced ourselves in the comfortable chairs nearest to the corner where the refreshments are normally stacked. This strategy has the added advantage that in case someone really important comes up really late into the proceedings when all the chairs have been taken, you don’t have to politely abdicate your far-corner seats for their convenience.
Now for a farewell meeting in New Delhi at this time of the year, by an application of equation (1) above, one might easily come to guess that the arrival of the MIP, the GM (Fin), occurred at around 4:28 p.m. By this time, a goodish crowd had already gathered in the meeting hall. It was difficult to imagine that Mr. Sharma had been a popular cult figure in his time, so it could be reasonably assumed that Friday evening in office was not a time when work was the most important thing playing on the minds of the people; and a desire to be seen among the people who mattered probably overrode the desire of making an early break for home.
The meeting commenced soon after, with the compere for the occasion letting us all know what we had gathered in the great hall for, and dwelling for a moment on the significance of the event, called upon the MIP to speak a few words for our benefit.
The MIP was fluent in his emotional farewell, having had the experience of giving this performance a number of times. One by one he recounted incidents - how he (The MIP) had for long known Sharma Ji as a person of the stoutest heart, always there for other’s troubles; how he (Mr. Sharma) had excelled in putting in the longest hours at office, how we would be orphaned without his (Mr. Sharma’s) support ..….
And at each mention of his name, the overwhelmed Mr. Sharma had to take a bow. Eager students of the medical profession might do well to explore the link between the remarkable incidences of rheumatism among recent retirees and the severity of the farewell functions that they are subjected to.
When the MIP was done, there was the standard round of polite applause, followed by a pause before the compere invited others to speak - according to rank and standing, of course. “Exceptional”, “matchless”, “without equal”, “inimitable”, “unparalleled” – the praise flew thick and fast. Roget would certainly have had an easier job compiling his thesaurus, had corporate meetings been invented in his time. Now, if you really listened to all of them you would start wondering how it was possible that Mr. Sharma was being let go in the first place...
It was after “extremely rare” and “unique”, when we had just reached “irreplaceable” in the course of proceedings, that the compere called out for a contribution from the next person. It turned out that this gentleman was the person transferred in, and scheduled to take over from Mr. Sharma.
A silence reigned again. Presently Mr. Sharma was called on to speak his bit.
Till now, the question of the number of delegates in the meeting was an asset, a show of strength, a sign of a supportive organization. Soon, however, it became apparent that this had its associated disadvantages as well. The person in charge of the refreshments had quite underestimated the size of the gathering, to say the least. While first there wasn’t enough food on hand, when that had been got, it was discovered that there weren’t an adequate number of “boys” to serve it around. What with the speeches running out and refreshments yet to come on the table, it took quite a bit of inner strength to keep a dignified face, when all the while we were itching to go help ourselves to the snacks. Just goes on to show the tough core that we MBAs are made of. Well, our strategic placing did help; and we were among the first to lay our hands on the stuff.
When the last morsels on our plates had been given their due attention, we looked up to see that in the ensuing interval, almost half the remaining people had also been served. Meanwhile, Mr. Sharma had presumably thanked everyone around who had given him so much support, and was concluding by saying that “….it was a period in my life that I shall never be able to forget”. We were supposed to clap. We did.
After this last heroic effort, there ensued another of those awkward silences. Tradition holds that a meeting should end with the vote of thanks. Any elementary book of etiquette says so. However, I daresay that no previous author of books on the topic of etiquette in corporate meetings has taken into account this situation, wherein a full half of the quorum is thinking (and quite rightfully, I should add) that having gone through a round of speeches, they well deserved an opportunity to go through a round of sweets, as well. Guidance in the matters of accepted behavior in this turn of events found lacking, there was nothing to it but to resort to another round of shorter speeches; and this time with the distinct addition of a heavy dose of corporate laughter (the reader is invited to read We go live to know what that means!) Well, we had our fill of sweets already, and having no interest to spoil the digestion by subjecting ourselves to another extended round of torture, we excused ourselves; leaving the congregation to debate about the relative advantages and disadvantages of the “Mission Khoj” - the new corporate HR initiative …..but that’s totally another story altogether .
So come four o’ clock, when the effects of an early lunch were fast wearing out, Shravan and me, with the expectation that decent refreshments should necessarily be the part of such an occasion, trudged nonchalantly up to the second floor to check on the proceedings.
We were two of the early birds in the hall. As has been widely accepted, you can judge the importance of a person by merely noting the time of his arrival for a meeting. Where a common fallacy arises, though, is in merely assuming that the later someone arrives is in direct proportion to his importance. As has been chronicled by none other than C. N. Parkinson himself, the most happening time to be in a party is to be fashionably late, but not outrageously late. Allow me to explain this further, in the context of corporate meetings, with the help of an elementary mathematical equation. The basic premises of the theory that we are hoping to capture in the form of this equation are simple, and can be stated thus:
1) A meeting cannot be started without the presence of the chairman, ( the most important person in this case); and
2) Anyone who arrives after the arrival of the chairman is generally viewed as frivolously wasting the collective time of the congregated intelligentsia.
These facts can briefly and succinctly put thus: If a meeting is convened at H hours, the Most Important Person (henceforth known as MIP) involved (By this we mean the highest designated individual. He might not have any bearing on the outcome of the meeting, or even any knowledge of what the meeting is for, but that’s immaterial) should arrive at a time t given by the Sczammony-Schultz equation:
t = H + [{log10(n)}*abs{({sin((x*2.372)/d)}*y)3}]………………………………..(1)
where,
x = time of the day in the 24 hour format,
y = latitude of the location of the meeting, in degrees,
d = day of the year, as counted from the 1st of June, and
n = index value on the Peabody scale, a value ranging from zero to ten, according to the type of the meeting and the dominant base cultural Leakey - subgroup of the dominant 70% of the population present in the meeting.
Notice that the term following H allows for zero, or even negative values, implying that under certain abnormal conditions of temperature and pressure (as derived from a combination of ‘y’ and ‘d’), the MIP of such a meeting might arrive before the scheduled start time. But as we are dealing with the more dominant 93% of situations and not a more general case which allows for Horfizondian variations, we shall limit ourselves in this case and allow other researchers to explore this stream of social physics in greater detail.
Once having grasped this basic theorem, it is but an easy and logical step to move on to the Schultz extension, which states that the importance I of a person can be calculated as a percentage from the Simon-Milliper’s equation:
I = C – mT2 , T < i =" Ae-T">0 ………………………………………………………………..(2)
valid for small and non-small values of T.
Where,
T = time in seconds as measured from t, t.o.a. of the MIP,
C, m and A are the universal Borzievsky constants.
What can be inferred from the above equation is that, till the arrival of the MIP, the importance of a person might be fairly judged by the closer he appears to the time t. Any industrious person, wishing to be counted among the essential cogs of an organization, can use this equation judiciously to effect his timings in these meetings, and consequently, improve his perceived importance and standing in the party.
But of course, if one does not wish in any way to enhance one’s standing, but wishes to take a longish break from the workstation, one should arrive early at the designated meeting hall, and preferably take up a corner position where the to-be-coming speeches wouldn’t bother him much. Accordingly, we securely ensconced ourselves in the comfortable chairs nearest to the corner where the refreshments are normally stacked. This strategy has the added advantage that in case someone really important comes up really late into the proceedings when all the chairs have been taken, you don’t have to politely abdicate your far-corner seats for their convenience.
Now for a farewell meeting in New Delhi at this time of the year, by an application of equation (1) above, one might easily come to guess that the arrival of the MIP, the GM (Fin), occurred at around 4:28 p.m. By this time, a goodish crowd had already gathered in the meeting hall. It was difficult to imagine that Mr. Sharma had been a popular cult figure in his time, so it could be reasonably assumed that Friday evening in office was not a time when work was the most important thing playing on the minds of the people; and a desire to be seen among the people who mattered probably overrode the desire of making an early break for home.
The meeting commenced soon after, with the compere for the occasion letting us all know what we had gathered in the great hall for, and dwelling for a moment on the significance of the event, called upon the MIP to speak a few words for our benefit.
The MIP was fluent in his emotional farewell, having had the experience of giving this performance a number of times. One by one he recounted incidents - how he (The MIP) had for long known Sharma Ji as a person of the stoutest heart, always there for other’s troubles; how he (Mr. Sharma) had excelled in putting in the longest hours at office, how we would be orphaned without his (Mr. Sharma’s) support ..….
And at each mention of his name, the overwhelmed Mr. Sharma had to take a bow. Eager students of the medical profession might do well to explore the link between the remarkable incidences of rheumatism among recent retirees and the severity of the farewell functions that they are subjected to.
When the MIP was done, there was the standard round of polite applause, followed by a pause before the compere invited others to speak - according to rank and standing, of course. “Exceptional”, “matchless”, “without equal”, “inimitable”, “unparalleled” – the praise flew thick and fast. Roget would certainly have had an easier job compiling his thesaurus, had corporate meetings been invented in his time. Now, if you really listened to all of them you would start wondering how it was possible that Mr. Sharma was being let go in the first place...
It was after “extremely rare” and “unique”, when we had just reached “irreplaceable” in the course of proceedings, that the compere called out for a contribution from the next person. It turned out that this gentleman was the person transferred in, and scheduled to take over from Mr. Sharma.
A silence reigned again. Presently Mr. Sharma was called on to speak his bit.
Till now, the question of the number of delegates in the meeting was an asset, a show of strength, a sign of a supportive organization. Soon, however, it became apparent that this had its associated disadvantages as well. The person in charge of the refreshments had quite underestimated the size of the gathering, to say the least. While first there wasn’t enough food on hand, when that had been got, it was discovered that there weren’t an adequate number of “boys” to serve it around. What with the speeches running out and refreshments yet to come on the table, it took quite a bit of inner strength to keep a dignified face, when all the while we were itching to go help ourselves to the snacks. Just goes on to show the tough core that we MBAs are made of. Well, our strategic placing did help; and we were among the first to lay our hands on the stuff.
When the last morsels on our plates had been given their due attention, we looked up to see that in the ensuing interval, almost half the remaining people had also been served. Meanwhile, Mr. Sharma had presumably thanked everyone around who had given him so much support, and was concluding by saying that “….it was a period in my life that I shall never be able to forget”. We were supposed to clap. We did.
After this last heroic effort, there ensued another of those awkward silences. Tradition holds that a meeting should end with the vote of thanks. Any elementary book of etiquette says so. However, I daresay that no previous author of books on the topic of etiquette in corporate meetings has taken into account this situation, wherein a full half of the quorum is thinking (and quite rightfully, I should add) that having gone through a round of speeches, they well deserved an opportunity to go through a round of sweets, as well. Guidance in the matters of accepted behavior in this turn of events found lacking, there was nothing to it but to resort to another round of shorter speeches; and this time with the distinct addition of a heavy dose of corporate laughter (the reader is invited to read We go live to know what that means!) Well, we had our fill of sweets already, and having no interest to spoil the digestion by subjecting ourselves to another extended round of torture, we excused ourselves; leaving the congregation to debate about the relative advantages and disadvantages of the “Mission Khoj” - the new corporate HR initiative …..but that’s totally another story altogether .
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Close encounters of the third kind!!
We had to bid adieu to the vast expanse of polished concrete on the Mumbai-Pune express-way and take the turn to enter Khandala. The aroma of the moist earth, drizzle dripping from the concrete express-way above and the sudden chill in the wind with its tranquil fragrance blended in consortium to engender a heady concoction, of languor and apathy. We were no more in a mood to bike any further and felt its best to rest the limbs.
But before we could lay down, of foremost importance was the fact that we scout for a roof over our head. As empowered customers, we visited several hotels, and finally settled in The White House. The receptionist promised us all our little indulgences that Panda has mentioned earlier.
But sleep, we did not ;)
But before we could lay down, of foremost importance was the fact that we scout for a roof over our head. As empowered customers, we visited several hotels, and finally settled in The White House. The receptionist promised us all our little indulgences that Panda has mentioned earlier.
But sleep, we did not ;)
Monday, May 02, 2005
Nightlife and Hotels
At this point I must admire the heroism TKD showed in standing in front of a huge truck for me. At the beautiful spot TKD just described it would have been blashphemy not to take a photograph. But it was already 7:00 and dark, and even with all my brilliance TKD was not able to find me in the lens, and then he took the brave decision of standing in front of the lorry and take my snap in its light. You should have been there to see the hair-raising bloodcurdling sight. Thankfully the lorry turned at just the last minute to leave my friend living.
So from here our journey went on to the next level. The night had just started and we were on the road. The cool air felt like angels flapping there wings welcoming us into heaven. Oh and around this time we reached this tunnel and while I was driving through it I coulndn't help but remember the NFS days. Boy, the tunnel was so much like a NFS tunnel letting us zipppp through it, I would have lost all control of speed had TKD not interrupted my dreamy invasion.
We reached Lonavala and I was transported back 4 years into the beautiful valleys of Himachal Pradesh. I suddenly remembered that evening of 9/9/99 when I was roaming around on this similar road at Hamirpur scouting for a girl to make a proposal to. Yes! I did it. Ofcourse the girl was totally scared and so was I bcoz she had teeth coming out of her uper lips. Thankfully she didn't bite me or anything and that day has been etched in the memories of me and my friends forever, just like this day in Lonavala.
Once in Lonavala, the next thing to do was to find a decent hotel. The requirements were simple
1. The room should be decent
2. Should have a TV
3. Daru and all should be allowed.
Finding a hotel matching our requirements was quite an excercise with one life-endangering experience. But one experience that shattered our hearts was where an uncle aunty couple welcomed us with open arms with so much love. Oh! My heart wails for them. I will let TKD do the talking now.
So from here our journey went on to the next level. The night had just started and we were on the road. The cool air felt like angels flapping there wings welcoming us into heaven. Oh and around this time we reached this tunnel and while I was driving through it I coulndn't help but remember the NFS days. Boy, the tunnel was so much like a NFS tunnel letting us zipppp through it, I would have lost all control of speed had TKD not interrupted my dreamy invasion.
We reached Lonavala and I was transported back 4 years into the beautiful valleys of Himachal Pradesh. I suddenly remembered that evening of 9/9/99 when I was roaming around on this similar road at Hamirpur scouting for a girl to make a proposal to. Yes! I did it. Ofcourse the girl was totally scared and so was I bcoz she had teeth coming out of her uper lips. Thankfully she didn't bite me or anything and that day has been etched in the memories of me and my friends forever, just like this day in Lonavala.
Once in Lonavala, the next thing to do was to find a decent hotel. The requirements were simple
1. The room should be decent
2. Should have a TV
3. Daru and all should be allowed.
Finding a hotel matching our requirements was quite an excercise with one life-endangering experience. But one experience that shattered our hearts was where an uncle aunty couple welcomed us with open arms with so much love. Oh! My heart wails for them. I will let TKD do the talking now.
Friday, April 29, 2005
Of Solitude, Coelho and Kurkure!!
As the road spirals upwards like a python, devouring hitch-hikers, bikers, cars and the occasional Lorries in its misty murk, we stop to look back at the path so far traveled. This is no travelogue like the ones we used study in school text-books but I tell you this, in an upward journey it always pays to occasionally stop, sit back and stare-back at the past that you have left far behind. We park ourselves on a not-so-risky turn, remove the cobwebs, bushes and low-hanging branches to reach for the edge from where we can look clearly unto the valley we have left far behind. And lo!! Khopoli unfolds itself in a mesmerizing beauty. The blinking of the dim dhaba bulbs within the haze of the chimney smoke, the inherent symmetry of the houses on the slopes, the gullies gleaming with the road lamps, weave themselves into a compelling kaleidoscope of poetic beauty, so enthralling, we feel like having a longer break. Over the Kurkures and Haldiram’s we discuss mountains, sojourns, ambitions, Pirsig, Hesse, Couelho and come to a deeper sense of solace with our souls, which I oh-so missed in Hyderabad in my pub-outings. The serenity was spiritual. As we set off again, a solitary light beckons us on the precarious curves. The headlamp of Panda’s Unicorn. Rest later.
Baloney, Hypoglyceamia and Coke!!
There are trips, there are expeditions and then there are adventures. The bike ride to Lonavala and beyond I guess will fall into the category of an expedition at least if not more. (CI still working). Hang on, I would rather say the pillion-ride, ‘coz panda just would not allow me ride his objet de passion more than 15 minutes at a stretch.
About the CI stuff that panda’s roomie guessed so fast, I would say only a person with a higher CI can judge another person’s CI so quick. And when a person with higher CI makes a statement, I usually don’t heed them. (May be that’s why many people say I am not such a good listener). Let’s not ramble on ‘coz the trip in itself is gonna ramble a lot. (With fun-loaded pit-stops of course)
After a tiring journey of 14 hours, I reach at Panda’s 13th floor Sea-facing apartment, where his roommates and his dad welcome me as the telephone guy(now you know). Any ways after dispelling the myth or confusion or whatever, I take a shower and wait endlessly until our handsome hunk arrives. We fuel and lubricate the Unicorn for the impending long ride and vroom off. In the initial enthusiasm, Panda falters, be it long legged lasses on the street or big-bottomed beauties. So I request him, let me take over the handle. And what a nice ride we have, with no distractions on the old Mumbai-pune highway with the repertoire of its idyllic glory spanning beyond the horizon. The ginger sky with the setting sun zooms off in the rear-view just like a Nat-Geo postcard. The dusky chill of the wind fills my heart with the warm shuddering of a hopeless romantic adolescent and as a consequence I twist the accelerator further. The approaching hilly landscape passes us by at 90kmph and the sudden drizzle compensates for the lack of music that panda was cribbing through out. You should hear the tune a 90(-1.5i-j) velocity vector of rain-drop makes on a helmet, if you think I am talking gibberish. The sudden sensation of rain-drops makes us realize, we are thirsty like hell.
We stop at the Khopoli food-joint where people look-at us with awe. I don’t know if it was my melanin-smeared face, panda’s bandana or the huge back pack. (CI still working) And then the legendary COKE incident. Inside the joint we have a candle-lit snacks break(no electricity), talk all sorta gibberish like how amazing it is that people so near to the bustling Bombay can be such big yokels and then garnish them with neo-intellectual nonsense like innocence is source of all beauty and other assorted baloney. We know we are on for a good trip and set-off for the second-leg of it. Will update that tomorrow. Got to look for a rented house and its Friday.
About the CI stuff that panda’s roomie guessed so fast, I would say only a person with a higher CI can judge another person’s CI so quick. And when a person with higher CI makes a statement, I usually don’t heed them. (May be that’s why many people say I am not such a good listener). Let’s not ramble on ‘coz the trip in itself is gonna ramble a lot. (With fun-loaded pit-stops of course)
After a tiring journey of 14 hours, I reach at Panda’s 13th floor Sea-facing apartment, where his roommates and his dad welcome me as the telephone guy(now you know). Any ways after dispelling the myth or confusion or whatever, I take a shower and wait endlessly until our handsome hunk arrives. We fuel and lubricate the Unicorn for the impending long ride and vroom off. In the initial enthusiasm, Panda falters, be it long legged lasses on the street or big-bottomed beauties. So I request him, let me take over the handle. And what a nice ride we have, with no distractions on the old Mumbai-pune highway with the repertoire of its idyllic glory spanning beyond the horizon. The ginger sky with the setting sun zooms off in the rear-view just like a Nat-Geo postcard. The dusky chill of the wind fills my heart with the warm shuddering of a hopeless romantic adolescent and as a consequence I twist the accelerator further. The approaching hilly landscape passes us by at 90kmph and the sudden drizzle compensates for the lack of music that panda was cribbing through out. You should hear the tune a 90(-1.5i-j) velocity vector of rain-drop makes on a helmet, if you think I am talking gibberish. The sudden sensation of rain-drops makes us realize, we are thirsty like hell.
We stop at the Khopoli food-joint where people look-at us with awe. I don’t know if it was my melanin-smeared face, panda’s bandana or the huge back pack. (CI still working) And then the legendary COKE incident. Inside the joint we have a candle-lit snacks break(no electricity), talk all sorta gibberish like how amazing it is that people so near to the bustling Bombay can be such big yokels and then garnish them with neo-intellectual nonsense like innocence is source of all beauty and other assorted baloney. We know we are on for a good trip and set-off for the second-leg of it. Will update that tomorrow. Got to look for a rented house and its Friday.
Lonavala
TKD came to mumbai and my roommate got to know he has a high confusion index. It's unbelievable how the guy carries his confusion index so high. Anyone passing by looks and knows. Neways, I had to go to office to login and logout. These sadists at my office think office is the funniest place to be in even on a saturday. So i come a bit late after waiting for TK, who by the way reached about 4 hours late in mumbai, i think some of his CI brushed on to the bus driver who tok them on some other route. Then I go back early. The local trains seemed to be well behaved, considering there was a female(mustacheoed) in the first class too.
So me and TKD brush up on our societal things a bit and then start on our journey at around 5 in the evening after tanking up "The Big Red". Oh well you know what the Big blue is --> IBM. You know what the Big Yellow is?? hmmm guess guess.... Kodak.... The Big Red is my beautiful bike. Its big and its Red. Lovable isn't it. I am sure girls would like it too.
As soon as we were on the road I was about to hit this girl from behind. Actually she was wearing a skirt and my gaze was fixed on her bottoms so forgot to apply the brakes. So finally after asking for directions from a few people we were on our way.
-"Bhaiya 2 coke de do".
-"Sir coke nahin hai, coca cola chalega?"
This happened when we stopped for a drink near Khopola which is like the base of the mountainous route that lay ahead. This restaurant "Shree Krishna" served good vada pao which made TKD an instant fan.
So me and TKD brush up on our societal things a bit and then start on our journey at around 5 in the evening after tanking up "The Big Red". Oh well you know what the Big blue is --> IBM. You know what the Big Yellow is?? hmmm guess guess.... Kodak.... The Big Red is my beautiful bike. Its big and its Red. Lovable isn't it. I am sure girls would like it too.
As soon as we were on the road I was about to hit this girl from behind. Actually she was wearing a skirt and my gaze was fixed on her bottoms so forgot to apply the brakes. So finally after asking for directions from a few people we were on our way.
-"Bhaiya 2 coke de do".
-"Sir coke nahin hai, coca cola chalega?"
This happened when we stopped for a drink near Khopola which is like the base of the mountainous route that lay ahead. This restaurant "Shree Krishna" served good vada pao which made TKD an instant fan.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Bujho paheli …. 2
And here's another ..
There is a garden with 4 gates, and inside the garden is a lemon tree. Chakru wants 2 lemons for himself from that tree, but at each gate there is a guard, who would want his customary “bakshish” ! Chakru can pick as many lemons he wants, but at each gate he would have to surrender half the lemons he is carrying to the guard at that point. All guards are of a generous nature, though, and each guard promises Chakru that out of the “half” that they receive, they would give back one lemon for his pains ..
So, whats the number of lemons that Chakru would need to pick in order to be left with 2 lemons at the end of it all ?!
Now here is a bit of an extension from my side: what if, there are n gates, each with a guard, and Chakru wants X lemons at the end of this all ? for what values of X would there be an integer solution ?!
There is a garden with 4 gates, and inside the garden is a lemon tree. Chakru wants 2 lemons for himself from that tree, but at each gate there is a guard, who would want his customary “bakshish” ! Chakru can pick as many lemons he wants, but at each gate he would have to surrender half the lemons he is carrying to the guard at that point. All guards are of a generous nature, though, and each guard promises Chakru that out of the “half” that they receive, they would give back one lemon for his pains ..
So, whats the number of lemons that Chakru would need to pick in order to be left with 2 lemons at the end of it all ?!
Now here is a bit of an extension from my side: what if, there are n gates, each with a guard, and Chakru wants X lemons at the end of this all ? for what values of X would there be an integer solution ?!
Bujho Paheli….1
Along with the wisecracks, there were riddles, too… and each had an engaging tale with a juicy little arithmetic core at the heart of it… Here’s one about the eternal Sardar pair of Santa and Banta .....
In the days not-so-long-ago, when electricity was unheard of except in the cities, and there was, on the average, one shop to five villages, Santa and Banta decided to replenish their stock of kerosene. Now, kerosene available at the government fair price shops, is rationed at 8 litres per family. So Santa carried his big canister of 8 liters, and Banta brought out his two smaller cans, one of 5 liters and one of 3 liters, and both set out on a walk to the next village, 5 miles away.
It was at the fair price shop that they learnt of the oil crisis being faced by the govt; and that consequently each would get only half his scheduled ration. A quick calculation showed that this brought the total amount of kerosene available to both of them to eight litres, which would fit snugly into Santa’s gherkin. So they topped up the big can, and promptly used the remaining cash to top themselves up at the nearest toddy shop.
The liquor was good, and by the time they left the shop on the trek back home, the whole world outside looked good too. Except for the fact that Santa’s moustache was an overgrown piece of shrubbage, the world was perfect to the t. Consequently, it came as a bit of surprise to Banta that when he tried to remove this last bit of imperfection by pulling out the weedy growth from Santa’s face, he was faced with stiff resistance from Santa himself! One word led to another, till finally each came to the independent decision that he could no longer continue walking on the same path that was infested with the most degraded species of humanity. Having decided to part their ways, the only problem remained was to divvy up the kerosene equally. With only two empty cans of five and three liters; and neither being able to think too clearly at the moment, the Sardars are in a bit of a spot. Can you help them out?
In the days not-so-long-ago, when electricity was unheard of except in the cities, and there was, on the average, one shop to five villages, Santa and Banta decided to replenish their stock of kerosene. Now, kerosene available at the government fair price shops, is rationed at 8 litres per family. So Santa carried his big canister of 8 liters, and Banta brought out his two smaller cans, one of 5 liters and one of 3 liters, and both set out on a walk to the next village, 5 miles away.
It was at the fair price shop that they learnt of the oil crisis being faced by the govt; and that consequently each would get only half his scheduled ration. A quick calculation showed that this brought the total amount of kerosene available to both of them to eight litres, which would fit snugly into Santa’s gherkin. So they topped up the big can, and promptly used the remaining cash to top themselves up at the nearest toddy shop.
The liquor was good, and by the time they left the shop on the trek back home, the whole world outside looked good too. Except for the fact that Santa’s moustache was an overgrown piece of shrubbage, the world was perfect to the t. Consequently, it came as a bit of surprise to Banta that when he tried to remove this last bit of imperfection by pulling out the weedy growth from Santa’s face, he was faced with stiff resistance from Santa himself! One word led to another, till finally each came to the independent decision that he could no longer continue walking on the same path that was infested with the most degraded species of humanity. Having decided to part their ways, the only problem remained was to divvy up the kerosene equally. With only two empty cans of five and three liters; and neither being able to think too clearly at the moment, the Sardars are in a bit of a spot. Can you help them out?
Tales of the taxi driver ….puzzles, jokes and more ..
Drivers as a breed are incorrigible raconteurs, with authentic, hearty accents, collected from the days of long off-duty periods of days at a time, when all drivers sit spinning yarns around endless cups of tea and rounds of beedi. Here are some pearls of wisdom from one who has been my companion for many a ride:
Chutkule ….
The editor of a daily storms “The government is the biggest thief of them all” !
Next day, the police lands at his doorstep to arrest him.
“Of what crime, pray, am I accused of ?!” enquires the scribe.
“Thou accused the Indian Government of theft!” Quoths the inspector.
“But that is not true, for I wrote ‘government’ only .. nowhere have I mentioned which government.. it might have been the American or the Pakistani government that I was referring to !"
“Do you take me for a fool, sir?! Do I not know which government is the thief ?!!?”
Chutkule ….
The editor of a daily storms “The government is the biggest thief of them all” !
Next day, the police lands at his doorstep to arrest him.
“Of what crime, pray, am I accused of ?!” enquires the scribe.
“Thou accused the Indian Government of theft!” Quoths the inspector.
“But that is not true, for I wrote ‘government’ only .. nowhere have I mentioned which government.. it might have been the American or the Pakistani government that I was referring to !"
“Do you take me for a fool, sir?! Do I not know which government is the thief ?!!?”
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