In search of myself...

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-27T13:40:00.004+05:30

There is no time of the year like Christmas! I just love it. There is no traffic on the roads. No work to be done at office. Deadlines automatically relax by a couple of weeks. And you still get paid for it without exhausting precious privilege leave! I love this time of the year.

Celebrating Work, indeed!

Water Wash

2011-10-07T17:01:00.002+05:30

The traditional way of annual maintenance of vehicles / machines etc. is called Ayudha Pooja and falls on the last day of Navaratri. This Ayudha pooja was a little special as an incident left me amused!

I landed in Bangalore after a hectic Delhi trip late in the afternoon on Ayudha pooja day, only to find my wife waiting for me at home - to wash my motorbike so that she could do the honors with the turmeric, vermilion and sandalwood paste. Obediently (no other choice), I took the bike to get it washed. I was charged Rs. 10 extra for the excess water that had to be spent in washing the bike. I resisted, but the mechanic was adamant that he had to spend a fortune in cleaning my vehicle. I was irritated, but the devil in me made me proud of the distinction!

I narrated this to my wife who only remarked that I would never change - her common dialogue when she doesn't find words to express herself or defeat my argument!! Lol...

Namma Bengaluru!

2011-08-26T14:37:00.002+05:30

If the word "traffic" were an adjective in the English language, its superlative would have been called "Bangalore". I have seen really bad traffic jams in many places, but have always known this to be a sporadic thing. Beautiful Bangalore boasts of this on a diurnal basis.

Every stretch of road is pregnant with smoking vehicles. The planning authorities are hell bent on having buses stop immediately after traffic signals for a never-ending queue of people to board and unboard, thus choking the flow at a green light.

The longest trailers / trucks with absolutely no or capacity load on them can ply on Ring Road during the peak hours at high speeds ranging between 5 and 10 kmph. To top it all, maamaas (traffic cops, as known in Tam land) stop these trucks for money-milking right amidst peak traffic.

Pedestrians cross at will at the K R Puram station junction, with no regard for a bus speeding toward them. At their very sight, the bus driver must stop. And we all know that in the event of an accident, the kind-hearted mass favours the lady involved or the one with the smaller vehicle or the one that sustains more injury. So, traffic stops when pedestrians cross / jaywalk. Great enforcement of respect for pedestrians.

And we shouldn't blame the infinite metro / flyover construction projects going on. On 100m of available road, 110m of digging is done and the remaining place is available for people to drive about. Development at its best.

No garbage bins are available on roads. The "corporation" sends tractors that tow big bins with holes every morning to collect trash from homes. And they need some goodwill money every week to be paid. Or else, they wouldn't pick your trash. Above all, the goodwill money ensures that an undefined, but constant quantity of trash gets picked everytime. If you discarded even an extra diaper, you would need to pay more to get it cleared. My guess is that these guys don't permit the installation of garbage bins on roads for fear of losing the weekly side income.

And Bangalore yearns for a Metro status... I knew this as a beautiful place as a child. I still love its charm and hate to see it this way. Brainless mismanagement is screwing it. I hope there is some way out.

First cricket match in bangalore

2011-04-16T20:42:00.002+05:30

This is what pure joblessness can do to someone. Make him blog after an year or so. I still don't find a subject to blog about. But let me try this. A cricket match tomorrow where I am playing with the team representing General Motors @ the NCJ grounds, Bangalore. Looking forward to it.

What else? I am married now and people tell me I should be more responsible and should stop playing cricket. I don't know how cricket would affect any responsibility. That my wife loathes cricket is a fact, which would make her frown if I only spoke of the game, leave alone playing it. But that is her, and this is me.

I have nothing else to write about. Good luck to me for the match tomorrow. It has been quite a while since I have seen victory in a match. Last 6 matches for Garnet were dirty losses and I am struggling with form. Marriage has generously helped that loss. Don't read a jobless fellow's rant. Go do your work!!!

Sniff.... Sigh!

2010-08-31T09:55:00.005+05:30

An unfamiliar tear rolls down my cheek as my fingers grope for the right keys to hit. The news that Ayush passed away almost put a bullet through my heart. The truth still fails to sink in, from the hope that there must be something wrong with what I heard.

I disconnected the call last night in my sleep thinking it was the alarm that went off. Persistence woke me up and I heard a very shattered Lays telling me that Ayush was no more. I thought and wished desperately it was a dream, but the dialogue with Vivek confirmed the worst.

How could someone with so much fire be put off in an instant? I can only imagine Ayush with his naughty smile calling me for a second run during one of his charismatic knocks! How could his eyes close? How could his breath stop?

Anyway, to all that knew Ayush, let's all stay together and pray for eternal peace to his soul. Heartfelt condolences to his parents and sister. Surprising that the pics below that made me feel proud once, make me weep now!

God,
What did you think, when you took him away?
What would you lose, had he seen another day?
What was his age, that you told death to try
To get him for you and make his mom cry?

Brothers and sisters! Wipe your tears
Close your eyes. Stop all the fuss.
Grieve not! Kill your fears
Ayush still lives; he lives in us!

A time in life

2010-08-30T14:09:00.003+05:30

It's a time in life, where I stop to smell a rose;

I take a little pain, to strike a good pose.

At times I wish I had a smaller nose,

And put more effort to shave my stubble close.

It's a time in life, I turn a new page,

A little thought says that I have come of age.

I know damn well I am entering a cage,

What do I do? I can't be a sage!

A lady over here, my theme she bought

She seems to be the one I had always sought

I am thankful to God, for what I have got,

For in her I see, the half I am not.

- Anand

Englees!

2010-08-30T13:55:00.003+05:30

Here's a picture of an ad board I found outside my office premises here in Bangalore. Amazing that we understand the meaning, though we know that the spellings have gone for a toss. Do we overemphasize spelling in schools????

Nerve Rackers

2010-04-16T09:54:00.005+05:30

Delhi Daredevils lost three wickets for six runs in a low scoring encounter of the IPL 2010. The fight is still on for the second, third and fourth places and each encounter gets more and more interesting. Like an exquisitely directed screenplay, IPL is pacing up the hearts of millions to whom cricket is religion and God is secondary.

In many other places, tense ambiences prevail because of the sudden disruption of flights bound to and departing from more than two dozen airports in Europe. A volcano out of Iceland (who in holy halloween imagined a volcano in Iceland!) put clouds of ash as high as tens of thousands of feet up in the air and turned the blue sky dark. Wives wanting to meet husbands, kids wanting to meet fathers, businessmen wanting to attend meetings of paramount importance, all stranded. Charles de Gaulle, Heathrow, Flughafen Frankfurt am Main, where flights take of and land seconds after each other have come to a standstill. Airlines are still pondering over their rescheduling and the associated losses.

In a remote location amid marshes on the Eastern coast of India, a group of the top minds of the country are forced to bite their nails for 29 long hours. The countdown begins. Majestically, at 4:27 pm on Thursday, the GSLV-D3 lifts off to the outer world to benefit mankind. To add to the suspense, this is fired by a cryogenic engine that took 17 long years for India to indigenously develop. With its destination 36000 kms away, the GSLV-D3 is all set to bring "real" glory to the country and its scientists. All that would be needed to achieve this is firing of the cryogenic engine for 720 seconds. As luck would have it, the engine doesn't fire and Sriharikota falls into an eerie silence as the mission's failure sinks in.

Number of people saddened by the CSK defeat: Millions

Number of people saddened by their flights getting cancelled: Millions - some could wait for another day, so it is safe to assume that a lakh or two are genuinely affected

Number of people saddened by the GSLV-D3 failure: a few hundred

Conclusion: There are very few people bothered about the most burning problems!!! How would we prosper?

Wedding bells

2010-04-13T16:18:00.004+05:30

Rollercoaster season this! A series of weddings to attend - all at different places. Don't know where to make gifts and where to make excuses. Tough time. Anyway, greatest luck to all tying the knot.

On similar lines, I guess these bells (or death knells :P) would ring soon in my house too. My parents are hellbent on seeing their son more responsible. I still feel I am more responsible now and would only become lethargic after marriage. I still doubt it is my grandmom's desire to see her great grandchild that's driving them into this. Anyway, God save the girl!

We returned from our annual trip to our family deity's - Kukke Subrahmanya (Sullya District, Karnataka), where my mom said she sought God's permission to find me a wife. Strange sentiment, but I don't think I would ridicule mommy for this thought. Poor lady has been surviving my torture too long to get rational.

The resume floating for the choicest bride should start anytime now and what amuses me is the kind of questions people put. What kind of a girl do you want? Now what kind of an answer do people expect while posing such a question?

I only tell them that my requirement is a girl and not a product that would comply to my statement of requirements. Interests matching, age difference, height difference, weight difference, colour difference, etc. etc. and the list of differences grows to eternity. Why does one think so much of all these before getting married? Maybe I still haven't thought enough to understand this. But certainly, such thoughts escape my little brain.

When would we stop thinking that there is only a certain set of people that we can live with (as long as they aren't terrorists :P)? We didn't decide to what kind of parents we would be born. When would we learn to accept people just as they are?

Guess I am too confused to explain any further...

A Letter From a Disgruntled Camaro Owner

2009-10-29T23:24:00.001+05:30

"We receive quite a few letters from customers over here at Chevrolet. Some are good, and some offer “constructive criticism.” Normally we don’t publish them, but we really felt a need to share this letter. The author, Roger B., gave us permission to share portions of the letter about his 2010 Camaro.
- Adam Denison, Chevrolet Communications"
----
"I just have way too many problems with this car. Let's start with the exterior:
1. The styling is too aggressive.
I'm a pretty passive person by nature and I don't want the personality of this car to project onto me. The front looks like a snarling animal ready to pounce. Scary.
2. The paint is too shiny.
I spent last Saturday applying ZAINO to the car and I must have done it wrong because I can't even tell what color it is anymore (Victory Red, BTW). All I can see is shine and reflection.
3. It's too sexy.
What with the curves and hips that the body features I'm starting to have feelings about this car that no Christian man should have. I haven't looked it up but I'm pretty sure it's a sin.
Now about the interior:
1. The seat fits too well.
I think Oshawans must have busted into my house while I was sleeping and measured my butt because the driver's seat feels like it was made for my body. Creepy.
2. The audio system is too loud.
I can't even have a decent conversation with my wife because the audio system is always blaring Classic Rock and we're singing at the top of our lungs. That can't be good for marital relations.
On to performance problems:
1. They gave me the wrong motor.
When I ordered the 1LT several "friends" intimated that I was a wuss for not getting the V8. The V6 is a "woman's car". (I'm sure they meant no offense...) I think the Oshawans seriously screwed up and gave me the V8 because this thing is way too fast for a V6. It practically LEAPS when I step on the gas.
2. There's no indication of excessive speed.
I'm used to a car shaking like a gypsy wagon (pots and pans clanging, dead chickens swinging) when I approach 70 mph but this thing is way too smooth. I'm just casually driving, happen to look down and, to my understandable HORROR, I'm doing 85! Smooth as air hockey. That CAN'T be good.
Finally - general overall problems:
1. The odometer must be WAY off.
There's no way I've put that many miles on it already. Just because I drive 45 miles round trip over twisty-turny country roads to get a hamburger, it shouldn't add up THAT fast. 110 miles round trip for a Chipotle burrito shouldn't be excessive. And don't even get me going about a T-Bone steak!
2. I'm unable to keep up with my TV watching.
I don't know what I'm going to do when 24 starts up again.
3. I hate letting it out of my sight.
I find myself parking 6 miles away from store entrances (after letting the wife out at the door - I'm not a caveman...) because I'm deathly afraid some crazy, loony, Charlie Manson looking nut-job will give me a door ding. I'm seriously angry if a butterfly farts on my car. I don't think my heart can take the stress.
4. People keep LOOKING at me.
I feel like I'm in a July 4th parade! I really can't stand all the attention. My smile muscles hurt and my right thumb is going to be in a cast at this rate. Who needs that?
So, as you can see, I have no choice but to return the Camaro since I can't imagine any of these problems ever being resolved.
Oh wait - CRAP! I just remembered... I sold my 60 day return policy back to the dealer for $500. Well, I'll just have to live with it. Maybe it will grow on me.

Signed - Roger B"

Bam Bam

2009-10-29T18:48:00.003+05:30

We hooked up with a cab service provider here in Detroit called Dinesh. Dinesh is an Indian who settled long back in Malaysia and came over to the US to fend for his belly. He's got about 4 cabs with him. Mike is one of Dinesh's employees that can't keep shut and can't help complaining that Dinesh's too old and laid back.

Mike's got this typical "cool dude" slang and once used "bam bam bam" against something he was vociferously revolting and lo! we started calling him Bam Bam Bigelow (WWF of yesteryear). He has a great sense of humour and can make anyone laugh.

On Monday evening, he was driving us back from office when we spotted a lady busted by the traffic patrol here.

The ever-enthusiastic Malay (a friend with me on this trip) expressed his concern, saying "Why do cops give tickets to lady drivers?" Pat! came the reply from Mike, "Cos they are married". We laughed. And then, I asked him what would happen if the lady wasn't married. Mike coolly said, "well! then that depends on how much cleavage she is showing".

We laughed our asses off at this! The writing may not reflect the real scene, but I tell you, Mike's hilarious. He's got a sticker on his cab that says "PIMP". I asked him if he was one and he said his mom had gifted that to him on his birthday!!!

Asshole...

Mind game?

2009-09-27T08:35:00.002+05:30

Yesterday's Indo-Pak match in the champions trophy certainly didn't go India's way, but there seemed to be a good revelation on a rather debatable issue there. The mindset of a batsman during the match.

Some of the Pak bowlers overstepped like crazy and I guess I saw about 6 free hits in the match(I watched only till Virat Kohli got out). Of these, five were dispatched to the fence while one was a dot ball. It wasn't that the free hit balls were bad deliveries. They were just super shots. Gambhir picked one from good length and skied it for six. One more he pulled for maximum runs. Jammy (even Jammy damn it!) sent one to the mid wicket fence, etc...

Strange how the absence of the fear of failure can bring out the best from a batsman. Can't this fear be avoided in normal circumstances? Why are there millions of balls left outside off stump when the same are connected to perfection during free hits?

Got a match in a while. I am out to explore this feeling now. Hadn't thought so much before. Head aches... shit!!!

NEWS

2009-08-06T19:39:00.002+05:30

Some time back in school I was taught that reading newspapers is a good habit. Let's take a look at some pieces that have been in the limelight of late.

1) DMK family members at the centre are baffled by the exclusion of the "Z" from their names. For example, Kanimozhi and Azhagiri were wrongly spelt in the rolls as Kanimoli and Alagiri. This was flash news on Times now.

2) The solar eclipse was covered for more time than the eclipse itself. In fact, the masala here was the argument between a scientist and an astrologer on the good and bad effects of the phenomenon.

3) MJ should have reached heaven now and the media is sending his name to hell by writing anything and everything they imagine or even hear of. Gone are the days when the media would write only on the availability of solid evidence.

4) Rakhi ka Swayamvar is selling like hot cakes... er.... dung!

5) Villagers burying their children in sand neck deep to erase the ill effects of the solar eclipse was telecasted, written about and people connected were interviewed on TV, much to their delight rather than disgust.

6) Big B's house flooded in the Mumbai rains was of more concern to Times of India, when the clouds had peed all over the city and sickened people. TOI had written a 10X10 size article on this.

7) Kambli doesn't stop crying about Tendulkar's "mateship" and the media doesn't stop writing on this

8) John Buchanan hits at India and Bhajji tells him to do coaching instead!

9) Swine Flu taking toll on more people than the media is causing unrest to the latter

More and more... But it's time to go home from office. Long live the journalists!!!

Blushhhhhhhh

2009-06-08T09:45:00.003+05:30

Yes. That's right. Another marriage proposal. This time, it's a girl that I know and who has visited my place in Chennai. As usual, given that my age isn't far from the teens, I said I needed more time. Dad should have replied to the girl's parents supporting my decision. Now where is the problem???

We have a family function in Mysore later this month and I am cent percent sure that I will meet that girl there. How should I face her? Shit man, this is a bad feeling, trust me. I told this to a friend. He said the best way to face the situation is to accept the proposal and get married an year later. But even if I accepted the offer, how would I face my would-be for the first time???

As I type this, my lip edges are touching my ears. I hate this feeling!

The Chevrolet Promise

2009-06-01T11:33:00.006+05:30

With a historic bankruptcy in prospect, GM North America is all set to undergo good restructuring. But what does this mean to GM India? The answer is 'virtually nothing'. GM India with its present sole brand, the "Chevrolet", has been on the move in a good way and the first quarter this year witnessed substantial growth in sales. With more launches in the pipleline, Chevrolet promises to capture markets and hearts. It is not possible that the world's oldest, largest and leading automaker that is bigger than some competitors put together would shut down operations in one go. And it would be a slap on the industrial face of America if it actually did so. This article is directed at those people that carry the slightest speculation on GM's survival, both in India and abroad. GM was never a bad car maker, but too good a paymaster that incurred a lot of bad costs. It will take time for this feeling to sink in to people! GM's future is as strong as its technology. Living 100 years isn't a joke! :)

Domoshtik???

2009-05-26T22:59:00.004+05:30

I just returned to Bangalore after an official trip to Faridabad. It is one of the most industrialized places in India and sometimes in the four long days I was there, I felt that the industries developed all alone, leaving the masses way behind. There were some things that I found interesting there.

1. Cricket equipment is dirt cheap compared to rates in Chennai and Bangalore - thanks to lesser transit costs from Jalandhar and Meerut where they are made.

2. Paneer Butter Masala is served for breakfast, lunch, brunch, tea, dinner and anything in between. Even more interesting is the size of a paneer piece in it. Easily beats a medimix soap.

3. Three star hotels have receptionists that own personal CNG driven cars and these are used as taxis for customer pick up and drop. The taxi that I used to reach Delhi airport was one such and I ended up paying 500 bucks to a cop on the border, besides the 700 I paid for the "taxi". I got the 500 from the hotel later, thank goodness.

4. The driver of this "taxi" was a Bengali and not surprisingly, had a thick Bengali accent in the Hindi he spoke. I asked him his name and he said "Orijit Bondhopadhyay" (Arijit Bannerjee). In reply, he asked me, "shaab! aapko domoshtik jaana hai?". I replied in the affirmative, without having understood in the least what he had asked. I realized that domoshtik = domestic (the airport) after I landed in Bangalore.

5. Haryanvi is not equal to Hindi, though many Haryanvis said people that knew Hindi would easily understand their language. Blatant fib. Maybe I don't know Hindi too.

6. It is f***** hot there. It is Chennai minus the humidity. That equals a war sword digging into your flesh. My first experience of a dry summer. Not memorable at all!!!

The rest were lost in the pangs of the blissful sleep I had back in Bengaluru...

Spelllinngg!!!

2009-05-04T11:13:00.002+05:30

I just bought this new cricket bat for my leagues next season. It is an amazing piece of white willow and the balance is just outstanding. It is well knocked-in and ready for use. Sadly, it has a name that made me remove the stickers the day I bought it. It's called MATRRIXX!

Now, who on earth would name a bat like that? Maybe they consulted Daffy Duck (of the Looney Tunes) before naming it. Or maybe it is to avoid getting into copyright clashes with the 'Matrix' range from Sunridges (SS). Whatever the reason, the name sucks and I spent a couple of hours removing the stickers without peeling off the willow.

Now, sticker-peeling isn't an easy task. It needs great care because the adhesive used is so strong and the wood so soft that it brings out bat chips along with it. After peeling, the entire bat gets sticky and the only solution to erase this is to use either petrol or kerosene and wipe the entire bat with a cloth dipped in it. When I did this, i got a cupful of white glue (goo maybe). The stench was intolerable. I then had to use kerosene to erase that odour. I put the bat back into the cover. The next time I removed it, I found little threads from the cover sticking to it in numerous places. Oof! What a mess.

Finally, I got tired of it and left it as it is. It now looks horrible - white willow with black spots and red ball marks. I should have let the sticker stay on. My monkey business!!!

Sudden Growth = Bigger Fall

2009-03-11T09:37:00.003+05:30

To all that don't know how I got into playing league cricket, let me admit it was an accident. In fact, I was taken as a replacement for the AG's office (II Division, TNCA League) gloveman for only two matches in the 2007-2008 season. Looking at my decent ability with the gloves, I was asked to continue playing for them as wicket keeper in 2008-09. Poor things didn't know my (in)capacity with the bat.

The truth came out this season. Of the 5 matches I played, I managed a top score of 13 not out in a match that was declared drawn owing to bad light. My average was a stunning 5.33 with two ducks off the first ball I faced.

And to add to all that, I have been pushed down to III Division this year. Let's see what's in store. Not for me, for the team I am gonna play ;).

Cost Cutting

2009-02-06T17:57:00.003+05:30

Hats off to this cartoonist. Imagine people doing this! :)

Speed of Speech

2009-01-23T14:49:00.003+05:30

Some of my British colleagues said that the Americans spoke English a little too fast.

Some Indian colleagues have similar thoughts.

My Italian friends in GM think Indians speak fast. They ask us to slow down at every meeting.

Friends at GM-DAT (Korea) speak too slow according to the Italians.

GM-DAT employees sometimes complain that people in GM China speak very slow.

Is there something slower?

At last.. Phew!

2009-01-04T20:17:00.001+05:30

I hit two sixes in a match today. The first two of my life on a ground of considerable size. Feels good now. :)

All Good Things...

2008-12-31T12:09:00.002+05:30

"All good things do come to an end,
To pave the way for a bright new trend.
Drawing to a close is December,
I had a great year, I now remember.

There have been downs, there have been ups,
Many a time, there have been hiccups.
But all that's happened has made me strong,
Forgetting my worries, I now sing a song.

Come this January, history we shall make,
We'll set an example, the world shall take.
Come what may, break we shall never,
May bliss be spread, for ever and ever.

Let's not forget, the martyrs of the past,
For you and me, they breathed their last.
Every now and then, I shed a little tear,
Remembering them, I drive away my fear.

Let's stay human, think of the divine,
Acting so, would keep the world fine.
My dear terrorists, you've had your fill,
It's tough to create and easy to kill.

Let us celebrate, without rum or beer,
With kith and kin, with near and dear.
The message now, is loud and clear,
May you have a HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Why change?

2008-11-16T02:02:00.003+05:30

If everyone in the world started trying to become like another, then, we would be left with the same variety that we have today. So, why change in the first place? Let's be ourselves.

Amidst all odds...

2008-11-14T04:43:00.004+05:30

This is what GM has managed to pull off despite one of the steepest declines it has faced. The opening of new headquarters for Powertrain Europe at Turin, Italy. Kudos! I just hope we get one such "own" building for GM Powertrain at India soon.

Maladies of posing

2008-11-10T03:28:00.004+05:30

Here's what happens when one is compelled to pose long for photos.

Expressions

2008-10-30T22:15:00.002+05:30

Italians are over-expressive when they talk. They cannot talk with their hands tied to their body. A minimum movement of the hands within a distance of half a metre from the body in all directions is must.

For the first time in life, I saw people play dumb charades after their cars collided. I was at this traffic signal when a mad driver drove into a car standing next to us. Both the drivers came out of their respective cars. And they spoke nothing. Anger and disgust was evident on their faces and they started moving their hands in the air in all directions. One of them shrugged his shoulders and tried to touch his nose with the lower lip. Every possible expression was made. They weren't dumb for sure. I learnt from someone later that one particular expression, something made waving the right hand like we eat food, implies "what the f***" in Italian parlance. Both drivers did this repeatedly.

At last one of them spoke, and then, both got into their cars, banged their own doors in utter annoyance, and sped away.

I also learnt later from colleagues here that the best way to befriend an Italian is to fight with him on the face and then go out for a drink. Think those drivers did that too.

Phew! Strange guys out here. 28 days to go for my return to India!

Marriage - the only solution to problems

2008-10-14T01:38:00.003+05:30

That a bachelor should be able to work in office for atleast 14 hours a day seems to be a popular misconception amongst managers. If that is the case, why should they stay back? Aren't they married? Then, are they trying to convey the message that office is better than facing one's wife at home?

What is it that people have against bachelors? They aren't given houses on rent, and they are expected to stay back after office hours. So, is marriage the only solution to both these problems? Think I should solve these problems now. ;)

If my dad reads this, he will only think that I am giving excuses so that I get married soon. The way people think! Oof...

"Swades" in "Vides"

2008-09-29T02:56:00.003+05:30

I watched 'Swades' for the umpteenth time today - the first time outside India. The feeling after watching it, I promise, was very different from how it was when I watched it back home.

Homesick asshole!

Saucy stuff

2008-09-23T01:45:00.002+05:30

At Italy, asking for tomato sauce with Pizzas is considered an insult. I heard there have been cases where the restaurant owner has taken it as a personal insult and chucked his customers out when the latter asked for sauce.

I tried asking, when I was warned by an Italian customer not to do so. And thanks to the owner's ignorance of English, I was saved from personal enlightenment!

Oof! I miss Pizza hut! Saucing the pizza is fun! Lavish fun!

Superga

2008-09-23T00:58:00.010+05:30

The previous Sunday was longer and more enjoyable than usual. It wasn't the usual chilled out routine that it could have been, thanks to the weeklong ennui. We (Vardhan, Saurabh and I - the Indian trio at Italy) decided to hit the slopes (exaggerated). Saurabh's place is about a kilometre from Porta Nuova (city centre, Torino). We walked from Porta Nuova and knocked at Saurabh's door at 11:00 a.m. We decided to take lunch and head for the hill (Superga). Lunch we had at a place with a name too complicated to be remembered (my memory is quite volatile though). It was the worst lunch I ever had - thanks to my vegetarianism. It was plain pasta with tomato sauce poured on it. But for the whole delicious chocolate truffle with the amazing strawberry after the meal, I would have puked.

We then took a tram and I managed to travel the entire day with a ticket whose time had lapsed. Trusting that the European principle of not working on Sundays applied to checkers as well, we made our journeys with expired ones. No Tabacchis (multi-purpose shop, or potti kadai in tamil) were open for us to get a bus ticket.

There was this huge, mad gang of street hooligans with tattooed bodies and pimpled faces that managed to obtain permission to have a festival in some street enroute to Superga. So, our tram driver gracefully stopped before the place and told all of us to go ahead with the trip. We got down, only to find these people with hot chicks, driving Harleys. Each of them wanted to beat the other in the amount of noise his bike generated. So, all revved like crazy! Some of them wanted to generate smoke from the wheels and so, they did some good untreading exercises, only to leave the entire place stinking of burnt vulcanized rubber.

We managed to follow directions on boards and finally reached the correct stop for the next bus that would directly take us to the foot of Superga. We did get one and after forty minutes, we were there. Tickets were bought and we joyously boarded the hill-tram. This was different in that it was only guided on rails. There was an endless rack that engaged a pinion and drove it. It was a nice ride uphill and the temperature dropped sharply. Finally, we were atop.

There is this graveyard of an entire World cup winning football team on this hill. Apparently, the plane in which they were returning crashed into a building on the hilltop. So, they have made a graveyard of all victims (none in the plane survived) and have placed memoirs of the team, like the shoes of some footballers, their jerseys, etc. in the adjoining museum.

There is also a laboratory built inside the hill at its foot. I only heard so, couldn't take a look. The hill is a beautiful place to chill out. It's very cool up there and the breeze can get at you at times. In particular, for a typical Chennai resident like me, cold weather is a curse.

I also caught sight of very very cute little kids. This one in particular, was the most active. The others were being pushed in prams, with their little mouths gagged with a rubber nipple.

We had coffee with some cookies on a cafeteria up there and started the journey back. It was obviously quicker than the climb. The museum at the station at the foot of the hill was full of great old inventions. The most fascinating thing preserved even today over here is a horse driven carriage, which was used for trams for the first time in Italy.

There are a lot many things in similar vein. Words are scarce!

Torino - First impressions

2008-09-15T22:32:00.002+05:30

It's been little more than a week since I landed here at Torino. I am with another Anand, in the same apartment, but adjacent houses. We cook together (actually, he cooks!). The apartment is well furnished. The funniest thing I have found here in Italy is the second commode for defecation. I really don't know why it's there. But then, thats the way it is.

The city is pretty. It is well connected by public transport. The METRO is just amazing. The best part is that a view from anywhere to the west offers pleasantries to the eye. The beautiful Alps! They stand tall and sturdy, with their snow-capped summits. A lovely sight, I must say.

We had been to the city palace (palazzo) last weekend. Again, beautiful architecture. Sculptures are intricately detailed and the paintings make one speechless. Credit should be given to the efforts being put in to preserve them. Sunday was spent at a park called 'Valentino', on the banks of the river 'Po'. I believe 'Po' should be extended to 'Polluted'. The government has banned fishing there as the water is extremely poisonous. People who go for boat rides are well protected by suitable gear before they venture into such escapades. The park was exquisite too.

Well, there is nothing negative that can be said about the place, if one eliminates personal bias. The vegetarian in me wants to run away from the place only to avoid the sight of the loads of beef hung in every alternate shop. The Indian in me wants to join other Indians to celebrate Dussehra and Diwali. The cousin in me wants to join the cousins in Bangalore tying the wedlock in October. The homesickness never ends.

Italy is liked.

Job satisfaction

2008-08-13T12:47:00.004+05:30

There was this beautiful mail that my PL sent me. It was about what to and what not to expect from a job. There was of course, loads of advice associated with it. But the crux is what matters. The bottomline is too simple and offers just two choices:

1. You stay if you like the job.

2. You quit if you don't.

But with some people here, I find that satisfaction from the job is lacking and they still hang on and discourage new joinees. Something that I despise. The first day I reached here, a guy asked me - "Why did you come here after studying at IIT?" How do I answer that question. This is something that was put to me the day I joined my previous employer too. I have found this question irritating. A question that shatters all hopes - further, something that also teaches you not to expect anything from the job being done. I also recollect that the day I joined IIT, there was a person who asked me why I was there though I had been employed by a prestigious organization. Come on! There are some things that an individual would like to do that would not have answers or make the person feel uncomfortable while attempting to answer them.

I am trying to inculcate this attitude in me - "This is what the industry demands. Be part of it and contribute. Or watch from a distance. After all, economies are running only due to industrialization and not because of the millions of lines of simulation codes being written in research after making umpteen assumptions."

That makes me feel better.

Degree day

2008-07-29T09:21:00.003+05:30

As Bangalore plunged into shock on Friday, the 25th of July 2008 after serial blasts, there were some like me who were happy at Chennai - happy for a reason. And it should be obvious from the shot above.

Be what you were

2008-07-17T17:04:00.013+05:30

Got such a mail after ages, I believe. Totally refreshing. For a change, something that didn't carry the famous warning of ill luck on not forwarding. Enjoy.

The cubicle

2008-07-14T15:16:00.003+05:30

After B.E:

1. A personal desktop computer with no internet facility

2. A cubicle enough to seat three persons

3. Peanuts for wages

4. Major work - pan, zoom, rotate 3D models and drink loads of tea and coffee

After M.Tech

1. A DELL Laptop with super speed internet

2. Cubicle enough to fit me in with little clearance

3. Cashewnuts for wages

4. Major work - running behind people to create a login id for myself (till now - its been two weeks)

In expectation of better situations and a larger cubicle,

Anand

Bangalore beckons

2008-06-18T13:58:00.002+05:30

The long wait is finally over. I am joining my job at last on the first of July this year at Bangalore. Hope the experience is better than the one at my previous employer's. Let's see. No more expectations. I have finally learnt that greater expectation leads to greater depression.

Right. Am cutting the crap. Bangalore! Here I come!

No comments

2008-05-31T13:51:00.003+05:30

It was a murky Saturday afternoon and I joblessly ventured into watching a 'great' movie on SUN TV starring the little superstar, "Simbhu". I affectionately prefer calling him "Sombhu" for very obvious reasons. The movie was called "Kaadhal Azhivadhillai"(Love can never be destroyed). That is a misnomer I am sure for one's love for movies does get destroyed on watching this particular reel.

Very fortunately, I only happened to watch the movie after the first half. Dialogues were studded with the least poetic sense and each of it was delivered with the same intensity and expression characteristic of a person suffering from sudden onset of profuse watery stool filled with blood and mucus. Each dialogue had a generous helping of the word 'love' and was punctuated with related words like 'heart', ' death', 'life' etc. The rhyme theme was hilarity personified. It was as if someone had made a list of rhyming words and added four words before each to make a poem. Vomitting could have been a better experience.Whenever Simbhu walked, the background music went like this - "Simbhu! He's the best". The foreground had a fight where Simbhu would floor more than a hundred people who would come rushing at him and elegantly offer their chest for Simbhu to plant his foot and send them flying over well arranged vegetable handcarts and jewellery shops.

Anyway, watching the movie is a nonpareil experience. Please do so. And that should be enough inspiration for blog debutants and people planning suicide. Lovers excuse!

"They will never learn"

2008-05-09T22:52:00.002+05:30

The class of M.Tech '08 (Manufacturing) @ IITM organized a tea party today as a thanksgiving to the professors. Two of the guests turned up late and here is the scene in words. The names of the profs have been withheld in a desperate attempt to add suspicion to the matter. Anyone who knows IITM profs should take no time in naming the culprits.

"Anand Kumar (carrying the tea and the snacks into the prof's room where the profs (X and Y) are seated): May I come in, Sir?

Y(after accepting the snack, opens the pack and starts sipping the tea): So, where are you people heading?

Anand: Sir, I am joining GM, Satya - Tata Motors, Lakshmikant - M&M, etc. (finishing the list of placed classmates)

X(sipping his tea and grinning nastily): Ok. Just try to keep up OUR name. Don't let US down!

Anand(grinning even more nastily): Surely sir.

Y(with legs crossed, an arm around the back of his chair and the foot suspended in air vibrating at high frequency): Sir, these people can never keep up our name technically, but they will manage things and can keep up our name managerially. Technically they can't do anything. They never learn.

X(the grin continuing and the tea adding to the fire): Yes yes. Nowadays, with the experience I have, I see that the quality is on the decline. If I touch a thesis, I am able to make out what the person has done. If someone gives me a technical paper these days, I am getting those vibrations that communicate what is in the paper to me, on just touching that paper. You know, these fellows have not been whipped. Once they are, they will learn. Unless people get whipped, they don't learn things nowadays. They will get all that when they go to work and then it will be too late.

Anand(still maintaining the grin and looking at Y for some consolation): Sir....

Y(nodding in support of the previous remark): Yes, sir. But you know, these people will cleverly jump elsewhere once they feel they are going to be whipped. They have come here only for the degree. Nothing else. They don't want to learn sir. They come here and look for a job. Thats all! If they wanted to learn, they would have been different fellows. They just don't want to learn.

Anand(getting angry now): Sir... er.... There's nothing like that sir.

X(finishing the tea): But you know Y, I think we are drinking their tea. We shouldn't be talking these things here.

Anand(thinking "atleast you realized that now"): Ha ha ha... (loud laughter in the room)

Y: Ok. All the best.

X: All the best. You may go now.

Anand(sheepishly): Thank you, sir. Good day."

Here's the important thing. Lets do this as a comprehension exercise. Comment on the quality of X and Y.

And for IITM students who have the slightest idea of where I belong, kindly guess the names of X and Y if possible. Good luck!

Curtains down

2008-04-13T22:56:00.003+05:30

It's almost time to say adieu to the wonderful pampering life at IIT Madras (I just hope so... the MTP review is still pending). I still remember the day I entered the SAC at IITM for some (dis)orientation, nervous of what was in store for me, feeling low amidst a set of "unearthly" mortals, who I had wrongly thought, would know nothing but cramming day in and day out.

I feel I have lived each day that passed, to its maximum. In fact, I feel like going back in time to every single dawn that I slept through, every single dusk that I played through and every single night I stayed up with coffee, just to relive that experience. Mind-blowing indeed!

It is tough to digest that life, from its fullest sense, will sooner or later, turn into mere existence. The days ahead would pass off, hereafter, till the grave, in running behind money and other people in life, for someone else's or something else's sake. These golden days, where almost everything (except studies), was done for its own sake, shall never return. It is a nostalgic feeling that should come at every moment of separation, just to keep one 'human' enough.

Of all my activities and inactivities at IITM, what I have enjoyed beyond exemplification, is all the cricket I have learnt, thanks to each and every member of the cricket team that I have met in these two years. The picture above (my favourite) should convey beyond elaboration, the joy we experienced in being with each other and playing together. The shot is from IIT Bombay, where we had met for the Inter-IIT sports meet. Being known in another IIT as none else but just a member of a rival contingent (we were the mighty "maddus"), walking around the campus with the same, unwashed overcoat for all those days of stay, proud of wearing the IITM logo on the chest, living in cold-war conditions, etc. are experiences in the superlative.

Anyway, life pulls one out of shelters and with one good kick on the butt, sends him flying into the wide, mad, competitive, intimidating world. Spirits are high in premonition of what lies ahead, with a touch of grief from the separation to come. I just hope I live up to the expectations of my family and friends, the society, the country and the world at large. I am coming! :-)

One liners

2008-04-09T13:14:00.008+05:30

Here are some really nice quotes that I happened to stumble upon recently.

1. "The best speaker is not the one who knows when and how to talk, but when exactly to keep shut!"

2. "Fashion designing is that field wherein too many people work on too little clothing with too many ideas on how to cover two little areas!"

3. "A diplomat is one who tells you to go to hell in such a way that you actually look forward to making the trip"

4. "The Indians have grown so strong in the 20-20 format of the game that they have started limiting their innings to only 20 overs even in Tests"

Amusement at the saloon

2008-03-10T13:53:00.002+05:30

It's been quite a while since I blogged and my visit to the barber's this morning gave me the next topic.

I was fourth in queue and trust me, waiting for a haircut is one of the most painful things in life. And Mr. Murphy comes in as promptly as ever, with everyone ahead in queue demanding both a haircut and a shave. Exactly on this day, the second barber doesn't turn up. Drat! What rotten luck!

An effective way to kill time at the barber's is to sift through the pages of the boring local magazines filled with cine masala, linking everybody to anybody, punctuated by a few pages of pictures of gods and godmen, as if they are seeking an apology to all the glorious fibbing on the remaining sheets. The other source of pastime is the highly vociferous transistor, tuned to some FM channel. The latter is even more amusing. Between 6:30 and 7:00 a.m, the songs that are played should bring the heavens right before the listener. And immediately after that, only songs relevant to the god of love are played. The listener, thereby travels through ages while switching over from K.P Sundarambal and The Sulamangalam Sisters to Janaki, Leela, Susheela and L R Easwari to Hariharan and SPB and further down to Karthik, Srinivas and co.

But the most amusing of all sources of entertainment there are the customers themselves. Everyone tries to tell the barber how his head should be brought to shape and the barber agrees nonchalantly. All the latter does is a routine cutting on everyone's outgrowth, but finally, the customer has to leave with whatever mercy the barber shows on him. Some customers who are in the queue cannot resist themselves from looking into the generously wide mirror from different angles with all possible expressions on their faces. They probably are making desperate attempts to admire their own features, but unfortunately, the mirror always seems to speak the truth. Most interesting of them all was a boy around thirteen, who would pull a few twisted tufts of hair on to his forehead and blow them back into position and resembling an australopithecus in the process.

So, I have killed enough time and it's my turn now. Hooray! But the barber dreads my occupying the seat. I am pretty regular there and the barber is aware of my habit of falling asleep after surrendering my head to him. I love the look on the barber's face. Good luck buddy! Thanks to you, I shall be losing some headweight. :-)

My first fifty

2008-02-26T20:23:00.003+05:30

The even semester here sees little cricketing action at the institute level, but for a few inter-collegiate tournaments. One such is the prestigious IIT - Sanmar trophy involving various colleges from the city known for their cricket teams and IIT Madras as the host, besides being a participant. This year, the enthusiasm for even semester cricket was sporadically greater and the first match against D G Vaishnav college was a glorious re-incarnation of the India-Bermuda match of the nationally infamous World Cup 2007, with IITM playing India. The hosts put up a thundering 251 off 30 overs with three batsmen scoring express half-centuries. I was one of them. Otherwise, why would I write this? ;-P

Our opener, Amit, gave us a good start as he managed 54 quick runs. It was the flamboyant Ayush next, who got out after a lovely little cameo. And then it was our captain Dharik and myself for the rest of the time. We settled faster than usual and put on a century partnership in no time. I would particularly mention Dharik's great success in making me run hard. I had to sprint between wickets as if I had a chilli up my hindquarters. My luck with attempts at clearing the ropes remained rotten as the only shot that actually went flying past the ropes according to me was declared four by the umpire.

The job was done and the performance had exceeded expectations. Next was the most demanding task - keeping wickets after having run like that. A mega wide by Teju, our strike bowler, sent me diving to save it and I cramped up in the process. Limping for the rest of the time, I managed to keep decently and the match was over. It was a feeling of great complacence after the match, but all that was short lived.

A little thought at the opposition's bowling attack (attack!! my foot) put me back on the ground. I had scored against a team that could not bowl well. What was the achievement in that? Had I not ridiculed the Indian team after their victory against Bermuda at the WC? I still remember laughing at their ability to demolish only bowlers from great cricketing nations like Bermuda, Holland, Canada and the like.

Now how different was I? Whenever things get personal on such issues, they are achievements. Aren't they? The bloody ego....

Crossbatsman

2008-02-08T12:26:00.000+05:30

"Anand, you are playing across." - most common comment when I bat.

"You have shuffled across so much that your middle and leg stumps are seen." - a common quote when I try to flick the ball off the pads.

"Don't run away from the leg stump." - cricket coach during school days.

"When the ball is bowled straight at your middle stump, play it straight back to the stumps at the other end. You are playing it to mid-on." - Coach @ IITM.

"Your bat is coming from gully. Get it straight at the ball." - another feather in the cap.

With such comments being heard after every batting session, I hereby give myself the title, 'crossbatsman'. Batting across seems to be a congenital defect!

There they go again!

2008-02-01T16:41:00.000+05:30

This is the fourth attempt at suicide by a student that I came across after I entered IIT and the third successful one. That makes it roughly one per semester. The reasons ranged from love-failure to low grades to financial crisis. Today was the fourth and it was a student who had an 8 plus grade on a scale of ten and had also won a scholarship. He belonged to the batch of first year students of M.Sc in Mathematics.

There is nothing heroic about their deed that makes me write here. Just feelings of pity at their state of mind when they attempt suicide. I am still unable to comprehend what it is precisely that makes them think that death is the only solution to their problems! What makes them leave everyone near and dear at times of need, totally defeating the purpose of having near and dear ones! Most importantly, at the age of twenty five and odd, when people make plans to live, they make plans to die and succeed. How much of life have we seen at this age to decide against it?

As Sidney Sheldon explains in his "The Other Side of Me", "Life is a novel and you never know what awaits you on the next page. Turn it to know whats in store and don't ever close the book before". True isn't it?

The "Walker" walks away!

2008-01-27T22:32:00.000+05:30

What does it take to become a wicketkeeper?

Concentration, fitness, hard work, technique, etc.

What does it take to become a wicketkeeper batsman?

The aforementioned aspects plus batting skills.

What does it take to become an Aussie gloveman?

All of these honed to the finest levels.

What does it take to become Adam Gilchrist / Gilly / Church?

Everything cited earlier plus an ability to display fine sporstsmanship, be it in the appreciation of a good ton by an opponent, or the mammoth honesty to walk back to the pavilion on judging his own dismissal amidst an era of "professional cricketers", even if the Aussie batting line up is in dire straits, or the sheer ability to have appeared in ninety five tests incessantly, or the capacity to guard wickets for fifty long overs and bat through an equal number of overs, demolishing the opposition in the process?

Yes, his retirement has indeed marked the end of an era. Wicketkeeping never looked easier and batting for wicketkeepers could not have been defined better. At 37, in the series against India, Gilly said adieu, the test at Adelaide being his last. With the record for the most number of dismissals, the man has had a befitting career in both, the long and short versions of the game. In the lineage of great glovemen like Rodney Marsh and Ian Healy that Australia has produced, Gilly seems to be special, particulary for his ability to live up to the benchmarks and his credentials with the willow.

Who should be feeling proud of Gilly now? His family? Cricket Australia? Contemporary cricketers? Or Gilly himself?

In my opinion, the proudest should be the game of cricket.

When destiny beckons...

2008-01-21T21:37:00.000+05:30

I had my pre-employment medical check-up done from the VHS (Voluntary Health Services) hospital here in Chennai. A doctor named Pradeep is one of my close friends there and I had the opportunity, thereby, to visit his division. The latter housed patients who tested positive for HIV. A look at some of them, which I managed to throw with great difficulty, revealed nothing else but eyes calling for someone to donate hope during the last moments of their life. Little children suffering the wrath of a lifetime (if there is any life), for absolutely no fault of theirs! Hitler was no greater dictator than nature probably.

A few thoughts came into my mind that I wanted to express. How does it feel when the ultimate fear engulfs the mind? Man and presumably every animal lives today in the hope that there will be a tomorrow. Though death is certain, everyone thinks he or she is immortal, most surprisingly (Yaksha Prashna, Mahabharatha). This is exactly the thought that keeps propelling living beings ahead. Or else, how could people celebrate birthdays had they been aware that they were getting closer to the grave?

The answer to these questions, I have heard, lies in the discovery of who we actually are. So, I should indeed be "in search of my self..."

Spellbinding Spelling

2008-01-18T21:38:00.000+05:30

A few instances where I happened to come across words spelt in exactly the way they are pronounced:

1. Seen outside a cycle mechanic's - Mani servis and puncher shop

2. A lodging - Singal and doubal rooms for batchlars... Contact....

3. An internet cafe - Pandian browzing center.... e-mail, chating, games....

They still seem to convey the message don't they?

Innocence and Ignorance

2008-01-07T20:49:00.000+05:30

Art - this was one of the many periods in school I loathed attending. The teacher, every year, would sketch something on the blackboard and would expect a copy of it in our notebooks. One such sketch was that of a car. I tried my level best to make a reprint, but in vain. I still feel it looked like a house on wheels. Part of art class was colouring/painting practice. My skills with the paintbrush were as deficient as those with wax crayons and I would usually end up with bruised knuckles from sound caning. Every teacher of art has cursed me for my congenital incapacity to make a sketch or colour one. On these lines, I am reminded of one of my escapades with crayons.

I was in the first standard and the art teacher had given us an outline and expected us to colour it as homework. The sincere student that I was, I finished it promptly the same evening. My inflated ego, thanks to repeated curses from the teacher, had made me take extra care and time in colouring the sketch. Fully satisfied with the effort, I went to school, a jubilant boy. The first hour in the afternoon belonged to the art teacher and she came in. For the first time, I was smiling in the art class, expecting everyone to extol the effort. When I handed over the homework, the teacher laughed, gave me a 'C' grade and returned it. I was aghast. Back home that very evening, I was uttering mouthfuls in "praise" of the art teacher, when the flow was stopped by my mother. I showed her the homework and she laughed too and asked me to be thankful for the 'C' that I had earned.

The problem apparently was that the sketch of the elephant given to us was coloured in bright orange by me. It took me a few days to realize that I was wrong!!!

And now, I realize that I too was innocent and ignorant, at one point of time. The ignorance, to an extent, with literacy, seems to have vanished. But I fear it has taken away a huge chunk of innocence with it too! I am still in search of the reason...

The first proposal

2007-12-31T23:40:00.000+05:30

At 8 pm on the 31st of december, my mobile seemed to ring louder than usual. I picked up the phone, expecting a call from someone wishing me for the new year. It was from an uncle of mine from Delhi, as close a relative as is the distance between the earth and the sun. He congratulated me for getting placed. I was surprised as it had been over a decade since we spoke (now the distance should seem long enough) and had no clue as to how the information had reached him. He wanted to talk to my dad. Suspicion grew stronger as this person was related to me from my mother's side and hadn't spoken much to my dad.

After the initial hiccups, his conversation with my dad grew smoother and for me, hotter. It was a marriage proposal, one from my uncle's friend for his daughter, who apparently had seen me at the wedding I happened to attend at Bangalore a couple of days ago. My dad was laughing joyously; I knew the next few days at home would be spent with people pulling my leg from all directions. Anyway, the person on the other side was serious and my dad seriously denied it too in his thoroughbred gentlemanlike circumlocution. I was floored by his capability to deny a proposal without hurting the person talking to him. His entire experience with marketing should've taught him this.

Anyway, I just want to confess that I blushed like a pig when I heard "marriage" associated with me for the first time and later, thankfully, prudence won. The days ahead intimidate me!

Height of coincidence

2007-12-31T13:00:00.000+05:30

I had been to a wedding in Bangalore where I came face to face with coincidence. An old teaser in a magazine that I happened to read stated the height of coincidence as follows - "someone's mother and father getting married on the same day". This experience of mine was closest to this.

A few days back, I was recruited by General Motors (GM), Bangalore for the power train applications division. I wanted to visit the place this time, but could not do so. I thought I would do it later next year before joining when fortune played its part. I was introduced to a distant uncle of mine, who is supposedly a senior project manager in GM. As if all this wasn't enough, he heads the power train applications division too. I could not believe my eyes and ears for the rest of the day and my ever-fickle mind started imagining weird things.

And just take a look at the first question I asked him - "Sir, do you have a cricket team at GM?". I learnt from his expression that he wasn't very pleased with the question. Who would be???

Dharik Sanchan

2007-12-23T21:58:00.000+05:30

The meet is over. Everything seems to be a lot more relaxed now. No more strenuous sessions of practice. No more nets. All the efforts that went in to making a brilliant team minus our captain (Dharik) resulted in a silver medal and a certificate. Is that what we played for? Does the glory from a silver medal do enough justice to all the pains the man with a broken collar bone took to pull back the team from the drain?

For those who don't get the import of my words, we had moulded ourselves into a beautiful cricket team worthy of wearing the IITM whites, when disaster struck. Our dedicated captain, Dharik Sanchan, broke his collar bone during practice and was ruled out of the tournament.

The vice captain, Ayush, another fighter in the making, did his best to darn the damage, but there was always this gut feeling of an unfilled cavity in the side, atleast for me. Dharik finished his make-up examinations and went with us to Mumbai for the tournament to render moral support. I think he did much more than that and this makes me blog here.

Every match we played was watched by his keen eyes and our first victory against IITG did not make him happy. He proved to be someone who could look into the minuses in a victory. We were given a mouthful that night at the team meeting for the appalling behaviour on and off the field. The next match against IITD saw IITM go down probably like never before. It was then, that the man rose to the occasion. He detected the lack of a left arm orthodox spinner in the team.

The sole left handed medium pacer in the team, a freshie by name Vivek, who had never bowled in a match for IITM before that, was transformed into a spinner in just two days; full credit to Dharik and Vivek for the feat. The latter was very effective in the semi final against IIT Kanpur. All the matches had our former captain patrolling the boundaries asking his players to raise volume levels on the field and offering valuable advice. At times, the match would only be as interesting as digging one's nose, but one look at Dharik and enthusiasm would seep into me.

The eve of the cricket final saw some shameful moments in the history of sportsmanship as every game that IITB played was ably backed by heinous referees. IITM suffered loss after loss and it was left to the cricket team to save its face. The championship had slipped from our hands and the only majesty that we were playing for was gold in cricket. Beating IITD was a bigger motivation and Dharik had asked for nothing more than this. Unfortunately, a team that lacked an ace spinner and batsman in Dharik could not do well yet again and was defeated for the second time in a row by IITD.

Emotions were high and the seven players of the team who apparently were playing their last inter IIT cricket match shed contagious tears. A few good words were exchanged and Dharik only praised the team for fighting its skin out. But that could console none of us. I still feel we haven't done justice to all his efforts. There is no chance we could do it anymore and that makes me feel worse!

Anyway, thanks Dharik. Hats off!

The same applies to all the other members of the team. It was my good fortune playing with them.

On the eve of the journey!

2007-12-11T22:30:00.000+05:30

Yes, this is indeed the night before the journey to Bombay for the 43rd Inter - IIT sports meet. The days of tough practice have drawn to a close and it is time for the final test. It is hard to believe the wait is over, but everyone in the team has been eagerly looking forward to this moment. Spending a whole day on the train tomorrow is gonna be tough I swear.

There is not a single player in the team who is not injured in some form or the other. Yet, the pain has to be borne, for it has been a compulsory side effect of rigorous practice and we are doing so, very well. There is a feeling of patriotism localized on to a scale called IIT Madras. The contingent of a 116 members is raring to have a go at every other contingent out there. The feeling is inexplicable, trust me!

Pray I do justice to all the facilities I have enjoyed at insti...

Employed at last!

2007-12-08T22:57:00.000+05:30

I had not for once dreamt that I would make my fiftieth post with a job in hand. Yes, fortunately, I have been placed with Messrs. General Motors. December 8th would remain a red letter day in my life.

Pre-interview emotions were high and a lot of talk about a lot of things filled the air around the placement office. The place was filled with probably the most wily souls ever, all clad in gentleman-like formals with prior preparation to speak lies enough to fill the quota of a couple of human births. Everybody looked noble and I knew everyone's eyes and everyone's smile hid something ulterior and I was no exception. Tension tightened its grip on all and the cool weather was no remedy to perspiration. There was an aura of camaraderie mixed with subtle jealousies and trust me, the two are seriously contagious at such a place. Reminiscence is sweet, but I still can't believe I lived through it.

The technical interview was cool and for a moment, I thought I was wasting my time, for the panel was ultra-cool and the whole process seemed to progress nice and slow, highly uncharacteristic of interviews I have attended so far. And when the panel said with a smiling face, "we will get back to you", I assured myself that they were telling me to f*** off in the most thoroughbred dandy style of speech. I went to the stadium at IIT Madras to see my friends at net practice. It was here that I got a call from the placement cell for the HR "interview".

I followed the HR person with the most scornful look. I have always thought of HR managers as people who are used to seeing others fibbing and the thought that he could look through the cock and bull stories I had narrated at the interview sent a shiver down my spine.

To my surprise, he just shook my hand and said, congrats! you have been selected. I was more ashamed at that instant than happy. I had felt jealous, suspicious and scared, only because of an interview?! What a magnanimous personality!!! Soon, jubilation overshadowed shame and I called up my parents to tell them that their son was employed at last.

Everyone was happy and that made my day!

I would be deemed ungrateful if I did not thank, atleast on this blog, everyone who supported me when I was feeling low - this the people reading this blog should know. Thanks to all my teachers and friends without whom I could never have reached where I presently am, today. Kudos!

FEA - For Everyone but Anand!

2007-11-30T19:36:00.000+05:30

This course called Finite Element Analysis (FEA) in the third semester of my M.Tech programme at IIT Madras has brought turmoil into an otherwise peacefully advancing season. A little thought into it has yielded the following results. This does not have to do anything with the professor or anyone else concerned with the course. It is only sheer incompetence on my part that has produced such magnanimous returns. The professor was always helpful to students and was very sincere with the course, quite on the contrary to what I was.

Advantages of having done the course:
1. Mastered the Greek alphabet.
2. Killed enough time during the third semester.
3. Admired the "babes" that attended class.
4. Learnt how to use 'printf', 'scanf', 'if - else' and 'for' loops in C.
5. Interacted with my own classmates for more time.
6. Another blog in my list.

Disadvantages of the choice:
1. Spoilt one good course that I could have opted for, other than this.
2. Screwed up all exams and thereby, the grades.
3. Realized that programming and I are sworn enemies.
4. Screwed up my efforts towards my project.
5. Did not prepare for any of the campus interviews scheduled for this month.
6. Developed an aversion to calculus.
7. You having to read this.
8. Most importantly, missed a few practice sessions at Cricket.

I am waiting for the outcome...

Rescued

2007-11-28T14:13:00.001+05:30

The feeling, I am happy has vanished into probably the same place where it came from (read previous post). All credit to two of my good friends. Today's progress with studies was bad too and I wanted one good kick on the butt. I turned to my best friend, my dad.

All he said was this :" You have done it before. You can do it again. Your conscience is telling you to study and your mind wants to do exactly the opposite. So, the apathy or the fear, (who cares now what it was) is purely because of your conscience being controlled by your mind. The solution is simple - leave the mind to the conscience. Thats all. There is none equal to you." What he said is tough to implement. But the simplicity of the reason has brought a sea of relief with it and I am in pretty high spirits now.

The second is Prakash, my good friend from Chennai, currently employed at Bangalore. He had sent me a mail this morning, enquiring how things were with me. I vented out all my ill-feelings and probably screwed his day. But he responded telling that it was exactly how he had felt last year before he passed out and advised me to ride through the next two days and ensured that things would change for the better.

I never knew I would become so childish in life, but I am profusely thankful to the divine grace that has given me people to bank on at times of need, no matter how trivial they may be. I should also be thankful for being incapable of hiding feelings within, for in this case, not bringing them out would not have done any good.

I just don't care how I perform now. I am eternally happy that the stupid feeling of insignificance within has disappeared. Help should definitely be sought when needed. What after all, are friends for??

Stranded

2007-11-27T22:20:00.000+05:30

In two days from now, I will probably be writing the last examination in my life. The exam has fallen on a day before the campus placements are supposed to begin and the completion of A5 thesis submission by a good friend of mine (the last from my batch of friends studying at IIT) seems to have deserted me in the war-front. A feeling of insecurity has crept in from thin air and it is putting butterflies into my stomach like never before. The day doesn't seem to pass and nothing of what I am studying is getting into my head. The future seems to be filled with nihility and I am helplessly being sucked into unwanted thoughts. What trait of mine is giving rise to this is unclear. I have been petrified by examinations in the past. This one seems to be different from all of them for I am still not able to differentiate if it is fear or apathy.

God save the examination ahead!!!

What are we selling?

2007-11-09T09:02:00.000+05:30

Visit http://www.ndtv.com/convergence/ndtv/story.aspx?id=NEWEN20070032045&ch=11/9/2007%208:21:00%20AM

For those who cannot access this link, this is an article on how people at a few BPOs "celebrated" Deepavali at work. Those who worked on Deepavali got double pay. And the BPOs actually decided to work as their American and European clientele wanted business as usual. 'Customer Delight' is the word.

Would they do the same during Christmas too? A big NO! Christmas is 'THEIR' festival. But isn't it a matter of business? To a majority of Europeans and Americans, nothing is more important than their holidays. There are organizations that shut down operations for about a week during Christmas.

Is there, then, anything wrong in asking for business in India during 'OUR' festival? My opinion - NO! Why? Because businessmen are born to make mincemeat of every employee under them. Then whose fault, if any, is it? You guessed it right - the employees who went to work and their managers who agreed to work.

If people cannot exercise their own rights in life, they are bound to be taken for a ride! Working on a national festival for double pay? Such a decision could be right when people are hard pressed on their finances, but all their employees could not be so at the same time! Today's world, people say, is looking forward to establishing operations in India and China. Why? Is it only because labour and material costs are lesser? I think it is also because labour here is more submissive to employer demands.

In a nutshell, doing anything for money is like......... you know what!!

The Acronym Onslaught!

2007-11-02T13:45:00.000+05:30

I worked with Messrs. Audco India Ltd. prior to my decision to continue my masters and I am reminded of one incident there that had left me open mouthed for a while. This took place a day after I joined.

One of the rules in my letter of appointment as Engineer Trainee read, "No leave shall be permitted during the period of training (six bloody months!) whatsoever, unless availed under unavoidable circumstances. I needed to take leave for my Driving Test to get my Driving licence and had to take the third day from joining, off. I approached my product head and explained the situation. This reply of his kept me thinking for the entire day - "Anand, go to SSR of PSD and tell him you have been put under NRV. He will decide if this is CL or LOP".

Blistering Barnacles!!! What do I make out from that? I approached a senior with this outrageous statement and he deciphered it for me. "Anand, go to Sowrirajan (SSR was how he was known) of People's Support Department (PSD) and tell him you have been put under N.R. Venkatesh (NRV was how this person was known). He will decide if this is Casual Leave or Loss of Pay." *#*@#*

Talk Less! Work more. Absolutely! Don't you think I worked more for the only reason that he talked less??

The PPT by GE!

2007-11-02T13:19:00.000+05:30

"PPTs" at IITM stands for pre-placement talks, besides notoriously pointing to useless presentations in Power Point that students here make with expertise, to compensate for loss of marks in the quizzes (periodical tests). This blog is on a pre-placement talk that I had to attend skipping cricket practice for the only reason that I need a job in future to play cricket as well!

Messrs. GE had come for the PPT and it all began at 4.45 pm in a hall filled to capacity as this organization is known for mass recruitment. To ease boredom off the relatively long presentation, the representatives had conjured up a few questions to be put to an audience, I am sure, that was eagerly waiting to look only at the slide carrying the package offered. Anyone who gave the right answer would get a cap. I got a cap too! But what was different?

I had only heard a part of the question (it wasn't a visual) amidst my slumber - "Which car is it?"Someone from the audience yelled out a name that doesn't run in India. The representative said it was incorrect and proceeded with a clue. He said "Its a Maruti car". Pat, came the reply from me - "Swift" and I was "honored" with a cap. The lady who handed over the cap to me asked, "You only guessed it right?!" with all her 32 teeth out of her mouth. I showed her that I had the same number of teeth and went back to my seat, anxious to know the question to which I had given the answer. My reply was only a guess of the name of a Maruti car and nothing other than that. I learnt from the presentation that followed that one of the engineers at GE had actually designed the bumper for the 'Swift' and this was the first part of the question that I had failed to hear. How did I tell that name? My dad owns a Swift and presently a Maruti brand that would first flash across my mind would naturally be a Swift.

Everyone around me was definitely jealous and a lot of them were gracious enough to remind me that I had only guessed the answer. My ego said, "Don't worry! You did something the others couldn't." And then, I went back to sleep, intoxicated by the victory, for the rest of the presentation.

75 years YOUNG!!!

2007-10-25T22:45:00.000+05:30

The notice was put up a couple of days back and I could swear that there could not have been anybody who was not looking forward to the lecture by one of India's outstanding statesmen and former Chief Election Commissioner - Mr. T.N. Seshan. I rushed to the temple after cricket practice and sped on my ailing cycle back from the temple to the IC & SR building here at IIT Madras - a healthy two kilometres. People were entering the hall fast and it was overflowing in no time. There were more than twenty minutes to the start of the lecture and my crazy mind had started thinking of all kinds of bullshit. Thankfully, Mr. Seshan put an end to it by entering, punctual and gleeful as ever and very much unlike politicians - a magnanimous presence I felt! Students who had managed to squeeze in their butts into the meagre spaces available on the aisles between the rows of seats struggled to make way for the guest. The hall was filled to atleast thrice its capacity and the airconditioner was having a tough time. So was the audience.

Seshan started and one could have heard a pin drop. His lecture was studded with the sudden eruption of the gathering's laughter and I promise everyone had an overdose of it. But through all the hilarity could be seen the man's knowledge par excellence. He recited India's history right from the era B.C to the emergence of 'independent' India in about fifteen minutes with the dates of occurrence. The recitation also included the birth and spread of diverse religions in India. I watched him with my mouth wide open as I had studied about all that he talked for five long years in school and miserably failed to remember even one date properly during the exams(read previous post, "The sleeper wakes up at last!" to know my experiences with social science). He smoothly passed over to the state of Indian politics at present and dwelt upon it at length. The crux of what he told I shall try to convey.

"Indian politics a few years before independence, had one sole purpose - achieving independence! It consisted of statesmen who, otherwise, could have led a life of luxury and taken other avenues to make a living. But they came into politics only to see to it that you and I could boast of being independent. Jawaharlal Nehru, Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, Lala Lajpat Rai, Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, Gandhi and many others sacrificed their personal interests in front of the nation's and that is exactly why we should if I dare say, remember them with respect today. This effect stayed for a while after independence and that was spent in framing the constitution and other noble causes."

On the current state of politics, he had a few distressing points to say. Most of it was hinted at how politics has become a profession, a bread-winner for many in it as politics, at present, is being played under the pretext of bringing about development. Anyone could talk of development. He rightly stated that development, in comparison to freedom, as a purpose, was far less glamorous and less sexy.

He wound up telling that his generation had failed in its mission and beckoned the youth to take up the task that lay ahead. Yes, youth! He called for youth that could stand by Dharma, a generation consisting of people that could voice out its opinion against corruption, a team that could differentiate right from wrong and not do wrong when threatened to do so.

Anyone who reads this might think delivering charismatic discourses on such topics is one of the congenital traits of politicians. Frankly, I would have thought so, on a similar reading. But this time, the person who spoke was not just any speaker who had come over to deliver priceless advice, but a paradigm statesman, whose candor was explicit in his regime as Chief Election Commissioner. Absolutely anything on earth could be seen with an eye of apprehension, but a man with guilt in his heart could not have spoken like Mr. Seshan did.

The queries session probably lasted as long as the lecture that preceded it and when the organizers decided to call it a day, there were still people in the audience who had not found answers to their questions as they could not put their questions across. Had they entertained all the questions, I would have been blogging one night later. Truly, the insight he provided into the current scenario of Indian politics is nonpareil. There were questions on the nuclear deal and the Sethusamudram project and his answers opened schools of thought.

It took me some time to realize that it was two hours since I had entered the hall and the resounding standing ovation that Mr. Seshan received (we had nothing better to give) brought me back to firm footing. A superannuated person standing on stage and talking for more a couple of hours about issues that current politicians would fear even hinting at was just too unbelievable for me. His knowledge of politics, history, physics, environmental science, Sanskrit, etc. was too much to fill into my small begging bag. Maybe he had more, but I am happy at what I was blessed with at the end of the day. What more could I say???

CM - Chief Madman!!!

2007-10-17T10:30:00.000+05:30

An extract from http://ibnlive.com/news/rajini-joins-setu-debate-advises-mk-to-talk-it-out/50648-3.html

Please go through the original article for more amusement.

'At the state government's film awards function, Lord Ram took center stage yet again. It all started when superstar Rajinikanth requested Chief Minister M Karunanidhi to solve the issue amicably, talking it out at a higher level.' But Karunanidhi's response was categorical. He said, "Rajinikanth has the luxury and opportunity to travel to the North more often than me. He even goes up to the Himalayas and meet the saints there. So next time you meet them please tell them that Karunanidhi may be an atheist but he doesn't hate Ram.”

Karunanidhi quotes further - "We're not against Ram, we don't have anything personally against Ram, we don't hate Ram. Be it any avtaar whoever has done some good to the society, we only appreciate it. We wouldn't dump the project just because it has Ram's name attached to it. Would we say we don't want the Krishna project because of the name?"

And one of their politicians remarked earlier that they were only being rational. They really seem to be. Don't they? Someone doubting the very existence of Ram initially quoting Ram being a drunkard and non-engineer and finally telling he doesn't hate Ram as he did good to society. Rationalism personified... Kudos!

The Indian Aussie!

2007-10-12T21:45:00.000+05:30

Cricket nowadays, is played less by players and probably more by characters. One interesting character in the Indian team is Santhakumaran Sreesanth. His first name should translate to "peaceful boy" but he seems to be quite otherwise, for on the field, he does everything but fast bowling.

Every bowler ideally has a run-up, delivery and follow-through. For Sreesanth, one could call it dance, delivery and blabber through. A commentator hyped him up, saying "there is killer instinct in this kid". Bullshit. Can't the commentator distinguish aggression and juvenile delinquency? All through the run up, I feel he thinks of phrases to be used against batsmen. Naturally, most of his deliveries are smashed around the park. His body is held on ground firmly by the weight of the charms that he sports around his neck. He probably would find it tough to clear the customs at airports. On the hottest of days, he wears about three layers of clothing, with a colorful wrist band and smears his face with white cream thinking he could prevent batsmen from sighting the white ball. After the ball is bowled, our hero runs up to the batsman, abuses him and looks at the leg umpire to save himself from being given a warning. The walk back to his mark is the funniest part of his game. He adjusts the sleeves of his T- shirt umpteen number of times and in the last few steps, compresses air against the ground, pumps his right fist twice and scratches his temples with two fingers of his left hand. He is now ready to dance er... bowl the next ball. FOUR again!!!!

If matches could be won by no talent and only sledging, every team could be given a course on it rather than having people to play before selecting them. Hats off to Sreesanth's energy and enthusiasm, but at some point of time, the game deserves respect and the spirit should be upheld. I believe there is no point in abusing someone on the field and asking him to take it in the right spirit off the field. Sledging should be as healthy as the sport is and it is high time people realize how sport should be played.

I thought I was alone!

2007-10-04T19:08:00.000+05:30

I really don’t know why I feel like writing this. But still, I write, as I would like to share the amusement…

X, Y and Z contested for elections in a state way back in 2004. There was no clear majority and a coalition government was to be formed. Z called X to form the government, but X flatly refused, don’t know for what. Y ruled the centre at that time. The latter also had a clear majority in the same state but not an absolute majority, which is a prerequisite for a party in India to rule. So, X and Y entered into an agreement, the clauses of which allowed for a twenty month regime for each. X took it up first. The twenty months of power for X and waiting for Y have drawn to a close and it’s time to swap positions. Now, X wants to hold on and Y wants to displace the former, rightfully so. X is challenging Y to contest in a re-election as if it would fund the entire process. In the meanwhile, X has also made attempts to make alliances with Z, which now rules the centre and Z has given X a good kick on the butt.

Does this ring a bell somewhere in the South? Karnataka, maybe….

And I thought I was the only one born shameless….

The sleeper wakes up at last!

2007-10-01T15:02:00.000+05:30

Being jobless and fighting ennui aren't new to me. On parallel lines, I was chatting with a good friend of mine at school, Dharini. This blog on some of my experiences in school was her idea and this is dedicated to her. She asked me to credit her for the idea in the blog and hopefully she can't sue me now.

I am thinking hard to recollect one experience that would top the list of all the strange ones that I have had there.... Let me start with this... St.John's Senior Secondary School, Chennai was where I went. I owe a lot to it. In fact, everything to it. Alright... I am not getting sentimental.

St. John's had this routine of conducting parent-teacher contact sessions (it still has) on the second saturday of every month. This was something I regarded as a desperate attempt by a school to screw a child's weekend. It wasn't the case with me as I was the most impudent, disobedient brat that parents would dread bringing up. Anyway, they have brought me up. Kudos!

I was in class nine and had a particular grudge against my social science teacher (name withheld for fear of her reading this blog and coming into my dreams to curse me) - the only social science teacher to have caught me sleeping in class everyday. Many students managed to stay awake in her class. My heart goes out to them for I still consider them to be chronic cases of INSOMNIA. I actually was proud of my deft capacity to doze off in social science classes with my face buried into my textbook, without being noticed by the teacher until this lady came into my life. History was a tranquilizer, Civics was a sedative, Geography was poison and Economics seemed a soporific. Naturally I slept without partiality to any division of social science. This lady shall be called 'R' henceforth.

One fine morning, I was woken up with a violent rapping on my back, only to find R staring at my blissfully wretched face through the gap between her eyebrows and spectacles. I stood there, scared of what she would do to me and disgusted for she had woken me up from heavenly peace. She asked me what I had eaten that morning and I told her "Dosas". She lectured for more than five minutes in her Malayalee accent. I shall try and recollect some of her phrases. "Ya Anantha Kumar... Useless fellow... Alwaiiiyyys (the malayalee pronunciation of always) sleeping in the class.... What do you eat at home?" To me, a better question could have been - how much do you eat at home??? But my cherubic features probably made the quantity obvious. Anyway, there I was, being lauded for my exploit and I shamelessly managed to smile when she said I was eating her life. I wanted to retort telling it was the other way round, but was too sleepy to do so.

The following saturday was the Parents-Teachers meeting and my mom dragged me to school despite my resistance. The English teacher complained that I did not score well in exams though I spoke from ear to ear. Mathematics was no exception and the only person who made my mom happy was my Hindi teacher who said I took good interest in class and fared well in exams. I was thrilled. The science teacher said I was like any other student (very ordinary) and nothing else. Then came the tete-a-tete with R. Every step I took towards her table made me anxious. As soon as I parked my posterior on the seat in front of her, she started her list of complaints. But the complaints were all cooked up cock and bull stories, to my surprise. She said that I was a disturbance in class (the first lie), that I did not allow anyone else to concentrate (the second lie) and I had scored very low marks in the surprise test (there was nothing of that sort to my knowledge. So thats the third). To top it all, came the fourth. She said that I had beaten up a boy in her class and he had started bleeding. Most interestingly the boy she mentioned was the bully in class, easily twice my size and umpteen times stronger. This was too much for me and I started weeping. I thought all freedom at home would now be gone and my life in St. John's as a free budding child was over. All teachers would look at me as an urchin most potent of being made the scapegoat for a variety of mischiefs.

But something else happened! My mom, while walking back, gently caressed my head and said, "I know she is lying. My son isn't strong enough to beat anyone up!". This angered me and pinched my ego, but it brought a mountain of relief to a wounded soul (highly exaggerated - I was born shameless). Now what the teacher achieved by fibbing so gloriously is unknown, but it made me sleepless in her class thereafter. Was it a deliberate move by R to prevent me from sleeping? What would have happened had she just told I slept in class? I really don't know. But I thank her for this. After that, I have always made an attempt to avoid sleeping in any class that I attend (sometimes in vain, thanks to the teacher and the subject)....

Disclaimer: This blog is not meant to discourage talented class-dozers. It is only an attempt to warn you of potent danger from teachers like R.

Victory be unto us!

2007-09-25T20:46:00.000+05:30

It was a special day in the history of Indian cricket in the year 2007 after the notorious first round exit from the world cup. A team that was regarded inexperienced and unreliable pulled off an emphatic win in the miniscule version - T20. Someone had this message on Gtalk - that Dr. Kalam's foresight into India becoming a super power in 2020 had been fulfilled. How creative!

The victory was not an ordinary one. It was against a team hyped up by the media and commentators as an arch rival and the Indian team was under more pressure than ever as it had to maintain its victory run against Pakistan at the world cup. A team without the three stalwarts that was not expected to win any of its matches went on to win the rubber by comprehensively defeating teams like England, South Africa, Australia and Pakistan. New Zealand was made to sweat and fortunately, Daniel Vettori was at his consistent best.

All that apart, I had to watch the match at the common room of our hostel. My friends cautioned me to reach the place and book a seat an hour in advance. I thought they were joking and leisurely went at five to five. To my utter anguish, I found one place, not even big enough for my big posterior, close to the television (63" Sony Wega). Cursing my cholestrol, I went and parked my arse there, urging my neighbors to allow me to uncramp. They were obstinate and very soon, I discovered that my discomfort was no exception in the room. The wait was taunting and every second passed like a millenium. I was restless and tried my best to look divert my attention away from the commentators' drivel. The speakers were too powerful and kept knocking my ears and reverberating in my head. Soon, it was time for the toss. It was won by India and the decision to bat first caused an air of loud cheers from the audience in the room.

Nobody was not watching. The game was such. There were ups and downs. Every hit was cheered and every Pakistani was jeered at. India managed a meagre 157. The hopes were still high. Entered the Pakistani batsmen and the air was polluted with bad words. Their entire dynasty was cursed by the noble souls in the audience. I was nervous as is the case when I watch India play and remained less active than the others. Their wickets kepts falling after an initial cameo by Imran Nazir and the crowd in the room went berserk. The match gripped like a python till the last over. Joginder Sharma fortunately ended the onslaught of a highly unfortunate Misbah-ul-Haq, thanks to Harbhajan and Sreesanth and that was enough for the human volcanoes to erupt.

For five minutes thereafter, the noise was uncontrollable. It was not the noise from just our hostel, but from the entire institute. Crackers boomed and their sounds were easily put to shame by the audience's bedlam. For someone like me habituated to watching matches at home and cursed whenever my voice boomed to cheer the players, this was a chance to cut loose. I joined them too, a little shy at first and in full swing later. The kid in me was alive yet again. All bondage was shattered and there was nobody to ask. The only motive was to get one's voice to be heard distinctly above the rest. It lasted only five minutes, but it seemed to me like it had relieved me of all the stress accumulated over the past years of my life. Everyone's joy knew no bounds, and why would it????

What would have happened on the contrary, had India lost? Oh no! I dare not think....

The Bridge of Controversy

2007-09-18T16:09:00.000+05:30

The news of late, seems to have troubled me. I can't help but express my thoughts on certain issues. One of them that has caught my attention is the controversy on the Ram Sethu (the bridge built by Lord Ram to take his army across to Lanka).

'Culture Minister', Ambika Soni has come into notorious limelight after presenting a government affidavit, which stated that there was no historical evidence to Lord Ram's existence. She is under tremendous pressure to resign as the BJP would leave no stone unturned in making this a national issue. They have in fact, vowed to make this an election slogan and have always advocated that the Congress is Anti-Hindu. Ambika Soni, on the other hand, seems to be the most noble person on earth. She says the affidavit was prepared, not by her ministry, but by the ASG (Additional Solicitor General). She also added that she would resign, if the party needed it. Pinching the baby and rocking its cradle would definitely put a lot of kids to sleep!

When another DMK leader, Ponmudi was asked if it was progressive to insult a faith that many hold dear, he said, “It is not insulting religious feeling. The Dravidian movement is about rationalism. And when these beliefs degrade our way to progress, we have to fight against those superstitions.” He also added that anecdotes in history could not become history itself and the DMK would continue to criticise any religion that nurtured such beliefs.

Atheism, to the DMK, is rational and they are converting every ounce of their blood into sweat to preach atheism. The DMK supremo proved it by launching Kalaignar TV on Ganesh Chathurthi. He also wanted to know which engineering college Ram got his degree in Civil Engineering from. Sounds rational doesn't it?

But, what is troubling me is their incapacity to explain their own experiences with the Sethusamudram project. That the bridge exists was accepted by them, thanks to NASA. Why did this route have to be chosen when experts advocated about a dozen equally short and better routes? If I am recollecting this right, a dredger was shattered when it entered the zone near the bridge. How? Maybe the place was inapt to carry out the operation. Still could a dredger break all on its own?

Had Lord Ram foreseen this controversy, he would have probably saved the nation by finding an alternate way to reach Lanka and saved the readers of this blog too by not constructing the bridge in the first place. Wait, I hear a voice from within.... It says..... "Why don't people follow my ideals rather than debating if I really existed or not???"

Hey Ram, is that you????

The Court Supreme!!!

2007-09-18T12:12:00.000+05:30

Please bear with me. My mind is at unrest after reading this. Maybe you will face the same situation too. Thanks to NDTV for publishing this piece of utmost national importance.

"NDTV Correspondent
Saturday, September 15, 2007 (New Delhi)
The Supreme Court on Saturday set aside a Karnataka High Court verdict, which had reduced the sentence of the accused of raping a ten-year-old girl from seven years to three and a half years. The High Court had reduced the sentence stating reasons that the accused was a young boy of 18 years belonging to the Vaddara community and illiterate. Supreme Court has held that the measure of punishment in the case of rape cannot depend upon the social status of the victim or the accused. The socio-economic status is an irrelevant consideration in the sentencing policy."

"My friend slapped me the other day and I think it would be right on my part to go directly to the supreme court, as the high courts pronounce judgments based on caste."

No wonder a sea of cases are still pending with the Supreme Court. Below this was a request made to readers to rate this article on a scale of five stars. How much should I give?

Speaking the obvious!

2007-09-12T10:18:00.000+05:30

I happened to visit the NDTV website and there was this eye-catching piece on the collapse of the flyover at Punjagutta, Hyderabad. This is the second tragedy after the notorious twin blasts a few days back. The article carried the statements made by a few distinguished personalities on the incident. However, reading this article angered me for reasons that a sane reader should find natural. Read and decide.

Prime Minister Manmohan Singh:

''I am shocked and deeply grieved by the accident in Hyderabad'' - I am shocked at your concern.

Andhra Pradesh Chief Minister Y S Rajasekhara Reddy:

Expressed ''utter shock and anguish'' - What else could he express?

Soon after learning about the incident, Reddy visited the spot briefly and took stock of the situation - What a responsible person!

Later, he directed the officials concerned to immediately attend to the rescue of those who are still caught in the debris and trapped in vehicles - He could not have told them anything else, for God's sake!

He also directed them to deploy required cranes to remove the debris and shift the injured to nearby hospitals - He just doesn't talk. He also provides 'expert' solutions.

He directed the GHMC officials to oversee the clearance of debris - There is a shortage of manpower and another situation demands immediate attention!

Reddy said the injured would be provided free treatment in all hospitals - He is shelling money out from his 'own' pocket!

He said he would review the situation again on Monday morning - An example of how to follow-up. Learn from him.

State Governor Narayan Dutt Tiwari:

"I am deeply distressed and shocked at the tragic loss of life due to the collapse of Punjagutta Flyover Bridge under construction'' - As if the rest of the country is not!

Opposition leader and TDP chief N Chandrababu Naidu:

Also visited the spot and blamed the government for ''not maintaining the quality'' of the flyover - A statement couldn't be generalized more. When the opportunity comes, pounce on it!

Don't the statements by the statesmen sound too obvious at the situation? It's not their fault either. The media that publishes such pieces should be thrashed. At the time of distress, these people run behind politicians asking them for their opinion as if it would do a great deal to the nation. And what else would a person say if asked how he felt about the disaster? Would he say "I am happy about it and am looking forward to encountering more in future??!!"

I am not trying to be cynical. Just felt that there are situations that demand better responses than this. Not in words, but by action. Wake up, people!

Research!

2007-09-11T23:38:00.000+05:30

I reached the lab at half past ten, hoping to get some project work going. To my surprise, there were more people in the lab this night than is usually the case. I thought there was serious research going on and I ought to work a lot harder to catch up.

A closer peek at the taskbar on everyone's system said something else. They had tabs dying to be opened and blinking desperately. Those tabs opened websites most useful to research, rediff.com, scores.sify.com, ndtv.com, cricinfo.com and the like. It did not take me long to assist them in the research and I opened a page myself.

Yes, undoubtedly, it was the first match of the 20-20 fantasy world cup and Chris Gayle had been tormenting the South African bowlers as if it was his birthright. And junta at the lab were lauding his exploits with comments on every ball bowled.

Every hostel has a television here. Why on earth, did people have to come to the lab when the only thing they managed to do tonight was take a look at the scores?? I thought I would work, but ended up blogging. Strange, isn't it?

Cool down, mad blogger. It's research...

The Waiter at Tifanys

2007-09-07T19:49:00.000+05:30

For those who are not aware, Tifanys is a restaurant inside the IIT campus where I generally end up every morning after having missed my breakfast. Well, this blog is nothing concerning the taste that you get to eat or the ambience at the place. I would like to make a mention of a waiter who seems to be an inspiration to me here at IIT for more than a year now. Why?
The day of a worker at Tifanys starts at around 7 am and continues for an hour past midnight - a whopping eighteen hours of non-stop work. This waiter seems to know no fatigue. He greets customers vociferously and of course, with a broad smile anytime you step into the restaurant. An energy plot against eighteen working hours would probably be a horizontal line in his case.
When I raised this point in the course of a chat with a friend, he said it was out of compulsion that he did this. I beg to differ. Going around for eighteen hours a day for six days of the week with the same enthusiasm is no joke. I have seen none work like him till date. There are workaholics putting more time into work than he does, but consistently being human while doing so is what seems to make the difference.
What is it in his work that motivates him? A waiter's work for sure, is monotony incarnate. Earlier, I worked with an industry that paid me well for just nine working hours. Work was not as monotonous as is the case with this waiter's. Still, I cribbed.
My past is firing questions at me. What did I not have in my job? Atleast, wasn't my workplace a hundred times better? Was I not fortunate enough to have landed at such a place?
Very often, we look at people who are marginally well-off in various material aspects and aspire to lead a life like they do. But I really don't think we care to throw a little look at the crowd behind us. The latter should make us realize how very fortunate we are in life! I realize how poverty-stricken I have been, though materialistically comfortable. Happiness doesn't come from anywhere else but within, does it???

The Panel Discussion

2007-09-07T13:00:00.000+05:30

Teachers' day here at IIT Madras was celebrated with a panel discussion on a topic that according to me, could never be conclusive - "The IIT Degree - A passport to material prosperity?". The discussion was chaired by a renowned professor here who was extremely impressive with his interplay of words in English. One could possibly keep listening to that well-modulated, commanding, flawless (I've run out of adjectives) voice of the moderator all day long - something that is the monopoly of great speakers.
The speakers at the discussion were five in all - three faculty members and two students. After they had voiced their opinions loud and clear, the moderator took charge yet again, enthralling listeners with his charismatic strain. A major portion of the discussion revolved around attempts to define what prosperity exactly is. Again, an unending venture that unfortunately showed up as it does consistently at such fora because every human has his/her own definitions of prosperity. All of a sudden, the moderator gave the entire thing a new dimension, a new outlook.
Someone I had heard of recently as being a fighter in life had to get a postgraduate degree from an IIT before getting a job to support the rest of the family although she had excelled in her undergraduate education. That made me ask the panel if material prosperity should necessarily presuppose prosperity in other domains. He ventured into stating that as long as someone believed that he/she is just the layer of flesh around the skeleton, one is poor and realizing the subtle beyond the gross is what makes one prosperous in life. Time and again, he quoted from the ancient scriptures that laid emphasis on what kind of prosperity one should be looking at achieving. His intentions to get us thinking out of the planes of poverty consciousness seemed right.
But that still does not answer my question and this is exactly why I am putting a piece of my mind here. In utmost humility, I feel the entire topic dwells around the gross aspects of getting a degree from an IIT(not subtler knowledge) and material prosperity. Now why did the thought of realizing the subtle come into the picture? I very much agree that realizing the most subtle aspect of creation, the proof to equality of life, is the king of all kinds of prosperity that every human should aspire to achieve. But that is entirely different from the whole point being discussed. For more than an hour, this was the topic being spoken of and I always had the feeling that the speakers had flown far away from the crux of the matter. Probably too much knowledge in that domain makes people who have come close to realizing it, talk of it everywhere.
Towards the end, there were questions raised on why professors liked to stay at IIT to which a senior professor remarked that they still had ideals in life. As if IIT is the only place where idealists live. Another member of the audience asked if the exit tax imposed on emigrants was fair, to which he was told to prosper by not cribbing about such small things. A member of the panel wanted to know what was so attractive about a UG programme at IIT and not so attractive about an M.S from the same place? Yet another thought was put across in an attempt to answer the previous question. Someone wanted a talk about India before every lecture started.
I just hope the reader is getting where I am getting at! Well, in the least, we are nowhere near the topic being discussed. Nor were they! And it took me this blog to mitigate the turmoil in my mind.

Hats off Gurus!

2007-09-05T10:55:00.000+05:30

Dawned September 5 and there was an urge to jump out of bed. Something that never happens to me. What was the urge all about? It just got stronger and stronger. Yes, I woke up on Teachers' Day with a violent jolt from within.

The first thing I wanted to do was to rush to every teacher's residence carrying gifts. But it obviously wasn't possible because the effort that has gone into making me as I am today was not put in by a handful, but a multitude of gurus. The least I could do was make telephone calls to a few I still remained in contact with and a few more, with whom there hadn't been any conversations in the recent past. The latter set failed to recognize me. It was but natural. They have been seeing batch after batch pass out and I was nothing more than a member of one of those batches. However, some teachers felt happy that I called and I was elated when they recognized my voice.

What makes me write here??? Its a question I have been trying to answer as I type. I have never felt like I did this morning. Is it attachment, sentiment, emotion? What is it? I have been trying to console myself telling that this is the way of the world. One is always dependent on another. A parasitic existence, though mutual. Nothing is made complete by an individual. There is always the hand of someone in every little task accomplished. But the person who has lent a hand, maybe even more, is forgotten with passage of time.

Time is supposed to be a healer. But it comes down harshly on one's memory. The thought that my teachers have remained nothing more than memories in me makes my head fall in shame. There have been teachers in my life from whom I have derived knowledge in more domains besides academics. In every little endeavor, there has been a teacher, direct or indirect. On this day, I would like to express my gratitude to each one of them, without whom, I could never have been even close to the small person I am. The misdeeds I have committed that hurt my teachers at times, seem to prick me today. All the nonsense I spoke behind their back makes me feel uncomfortable now.

The little things I might have achieved in life is solely because of their efforts. And what have I done for them? Written this blog, hoping some teacher of mine is reading this, somewhere! What a shame!!!

Maladies at a Marriage!!!

2007-08-27T10:33:00.000+05:30

I had been to a wedding in Bangalore recently and the devil in me noticed things that make me scribble here.
First of all, a lot of people gather at a wedding to look for matches for themselves or their own relations. Blessing the couple tying the knot there is secondary. The gaze reaches far and wide and envy fills the heart of a parent if either the groom or the bride is slightly well qualified. Unnecessary comments fill the air and generally, people hint at the most trivial details that don't match. "The girl is too short for the boy. The groom doesn't match our girl's complexion. Look at the girl - can't wear a saree properly. The boy is too fat for her. The girl seems to be heavy-headed. The boy seems overaged. He is BALDING!! The girl might be sporting a wig. Why did she have to marry so early, she is just twenty two. The bride has a squint....."
These are just samples. There are many more comments that a human, I feel should not bother to speak.
The bride and groom become the day's scapegoats. They are subject to intense mental torture from the wedding wishes that everyone so happily throws without caring in the least, for how the wishes would embarass either. "Experienced" couples give them suggestions on how to (sometimes how not to) lead a happy life. The parents of both instruct them strictly to hand over a grandson on the tenth month. As if the couple was just waiting for the nuptial knot to deliver a baby after the necessary processing. The girl's friends pass comments into thin air swivelling about their feet, which should amuse them and them alone. The groom's friends hit their shoulders against his and urge the groom to ease off all tension. The icing on the cake comes when a superannuated person comes up the stage to bless the couple. The blessing is for the couple to have sixteen children. Now, is that a blessing????
Teenagers hunt for a pick up too! 'If the two on stage could do it, we could do it too' is their motto. Show-off is never lacking there. The sight of a prospective girl friend could make the boy become the most noble soul on earth. The reverse should hold good too.'
Now, its no ascetic blogging here. I am very much filled with the uncontrollable androgen and testosterone. But having gone into the twenties puts me in an odd situation, particularly when there is no company of the same age around and brings all these thoughts into my mad skull. Everytime someone known to you walks up and says you're next, it brings a nasty smile that could never be explained. To top it all, they say you have blushed and have thus shown that you are ready for marriage. I had a grin too, but the reason was different. I recollected a joke where a guy taught an old man passing 'you're next' comments at marriages a lesson, by using the same phrase when they met at someone else's funeral. Truly, this made me smile.
Despite all the little mischief happening around, a marriage is truly a fantastic occasion to cherish. The bride and the groom have come together to make an eternal commitment to each other to share everything they possess. Everyone is happy. Going beyond the little barriers called handicaps, complexion, status, physique, etc. they have agreed to live with each other. May divine grace carry them through the rest of their life and may they know nothing else but happiness.

Greek free with FEM!

2007-08-23T13:54:00.000+05:30

This course on finite element modelling here at IIT seems to be of immense benefit to me. There is more Greek in it than English, besides the havoc of higher mathematics. I seem to have picked up the Greek alphabet instead of learning FEM. And every alphabet is pronounced equal to an entire word in English. Oof... Anyway, I could boast of having learnt a foreign language and boost my CV.

Forward, or else...

2007-08-16T23:59:00.001+05:30

My mobile has a flair for receiving a multitude of messages that go this way.

1. "'Om Shri Ganeshaya Namaha'. Send this mantra to ten people and good luck will hunt you down in two days. But if you break this holy chain, you will have to bear the wrath of Lord Ganesh's fury." - forwarded by a friend of mine who claims to be an atheist. Lord Ganesha now comes on mobile. Ohm e-ganeshaya namaha. Wake up people!!!

2. "A test to find how many people are close to you. Send this message to ten people who you think really matter to you and in whose lives you are willing to make a difference. I sent this to you because I deem you as being the closest to my heart. I wanna be a part of your list of lucky guys" - another friend who has been out of touch for long. Suddenly we are making a huge difference in each other's lives. Please relieve me of such messages. That should make the difference!

People since time immemorial, have been living and dying in their own superstitions. I wouldn't say it is wrong to be so. But it definitely is criminal to spread superstition. It only makes the weak hearted weaker.

Metamorphosis!!

2007-08-13T14:44:00.000+05:30

I still can't believe the transformation happened in me as well. Not very long back, I was mischievous, yet innocent. Now, after only a little more than a decade has passed, I see the same things very differently.

Things like a super-hero in a movie jumping off infinitely tall buildings to catch the 'bad guys', cartoons that shot arrows at each others' butts, puppet shows etc. that would amuse me then mean nothing now. In fact, they are trampled by criticism. There was a time when the usage of the word "fellow" was thought of as part of abusive language, the word "love" meant nothing other than a boy and a girl hugging each other in hiding and cricket was played with under-arm bowling and 'one-pitch' catching allowed. Weather was no bar to daily outdoor activities. Going out to friends' homes and meeting their parents was common.

Times have changed. 'Fellow' is used freely. Tom, Dick and Harry are addressed 'fellows' irrespective of age, creed, position, etc. Words far more obscene are engraved into every sentence. People talking of "love" are considered liars who seem to be having ulterior motives and using "love" as a pretext to pacify the wolf in them. Nobody seems trustworthy. Smoking and drinking, coolly christened 'fagging' and 'boozing' respectively, are regarded as socializing activities. We want proof of the existence of 'GOD'. Only bet matches and tournaments are played. Fighting on the streets with gangs is fashion. Calling friends home when parents are not available brings immense joy and opens the door wide for a range of "ultra-cool" activities.

How it happened still remains a mystery to me. The only answer people tell me is "you've grown up". Have I? If yes, then why?

Last drops of elixir!!!

2007-08-08T11:36:00.000+05:30

Where did I stop? Oh yes. We reached Kukke Subrahmanya at midnight on Saturday with the help of some adept driving amidst the downpour. I learnt from our driver later that we had lost our way somewhere in between and were put back on track by a helpful truck driver. I had dozed off gloriously through the entire episode.

The bed seemed cozy and I hugged it tight. It wasn't long like always, before I fell asleep that night. Early next morning my aunt woke me up after quite some struggle. We reached the temple and performed anga pradakshina. We had splendid darshan and were also fortunate enough to take lunch inside the temple. Satisfied thoroughly, we started back from Subrahmanya at half past two.

Our train back to Chennai was scheduled to start from Bangalore on Sunday at 11.30 pm. We had to make it by then. And Mysore had to be visited enroute. That day, I realized what Murphy's law (fate) is. Our van broke down in the ghats on a steep hairpin bend. A nut had fallen off from somewhere near the gearbox and had rolled down the incline out of reach. Our driver got down to work at once, for he understood the urgency. A nut was pulled out from one of the rearview mirrors and substituted. A leech feasted on his blood happily, which he pulled out after donating some. My grandpa's snuff served as makeshift medicine. An electric pole had fallen on the road, which had to be avoided carefully as the road was narrow and one side of it led to eternal peace. All this had happened because our driver had come down on the brakes all of a sudden to avoid a buffalo. Time was flying. Most of us got down from the van to ease it's load during the ascent.

We reached a small but exquisite town called Shanthihalli later in the evening and stopped there for coffee. The place was unusually cold and I was almost shivering like a typical Madrasi to whom chill weather is a rarity, why, something lesser than hot is a luxury. The coffee went down like a fireball and brought life to numb organs. How pretty the place looked is impossible to explain and inevitable to cherish. We started again, with tension mounting slowly. I did not bother in the least for I was having my holidays and a day's delay in reaching Chennai meant more timepass. But there were others who had more purpose in life and I had to act as if I was tensed to prevent them from pushing me into the roaring waters of the Cauvery at Kushalnagar.

It was half past eight when we reached Mysore. My uncle had arranged for food packets which the rest of us could carry to Bangalore. The tension overshadowed hunger and none of us ate. I had to behave myself and go hungry. Bangalore was three hours away and I was enjoying the thoughts of us running behind the train as it just deserted the platform. The train would start from the fifth platform that had to be reached by crossing an overbridge. With my grandparents, this was not possible. It was eleven twenty five when the bus screeched to a halt and I was shaken to existence from my sleep with my dad glorifying me. There was no time to say goodbye to all. Everyone descended from the van and ran with us. My grandparents showed their interest by climbing as fast as they could. The clock struck half past eleven and we reached the platform. The initial intent was to entrain. But since the train hadn't moved, we thought we could walk further till our compartment. We finally boarded our own compartment and the train had not budged. The train started finally at quarter past twelve. All were thankful. Hypocrisy I thought. Had they been on time and the train started late, families and ancestral lineages of government officials would have been cursed. This situation turned in their favor and increased their faith in God. What better purpose than to hold a train for six of his "devotees" would God have?
The next morning, we all woke up much to my disgust and to others' relief. It was back to the same mundane existence in Chennai. What to do? When you don't have work, you curse others who do. Exactly my state then.

Dharmastala - Selfless Service!

2007-07-24T14:11:00.000+05:30

It was almost eight when we reached Dharmastala - a town known for benevolence. It is located in one of the most scenic spots in the Western Ghats on the banks of the river Nethravathi. Interestingly, the administration here is run by Jains and the poojas are performed by Madhva priests. The Lingam is made from gold and there is no police force in the town. Tradition goes that the entire town is guarded by the deity (Lord Manjunatheshwara). Devotees believe that nothing could be taken possession of, by humans, in the sacred town. Not even stone. A massive dining facility run by the temple administration serves food to more than ten thousand devotees a day - free of cost! Besides just this, the administration also runs charitable educational institutions and hospitals. Mass weddings are conducted every year to aid families that can't afford marriages of their own.

Coming back, we had a great darshan and my father was in tears for an untold reason. I perceived them to be tears of joy. Being the eldest son in the family and going on such a trip with a lot of younger relatives and their children took its toll on him, probably. One thing that makes me(and should make all humans) most uncomfortable is the sight of someone crying. This time, it was my dad and the tears were contagious. We had dinner and started towards the twin town - Kukke Subrahmanya, where we go every year to express our gratitude to our family deity.

Belur

2007-07-24T09:33:00.000+05:30

We drove along for sometime, bathing in the sweet memories of Halebeedu till the Belur Channakeshava temple brought us to firm footing again. From the outside, it looked forlorn and dilapidated. Inside, it is immortal. The skies had started pouring and we rushed into the sanctum sanctorum filled with darkness owing to a power failure. There stood the lord, his form illuminated from a solitary oil lamp, in all splendor, tall and dark and handsome (which is precisely why he is called "Channa-Keshava"). A sight to behold indeed!

The sculptures here are second to none. Pillars with confounding carvings of Gods and Goddesses were not new to me anymore. What surprised me was a vacant area, very much the size of a human palm, on one of the pillars. I learned from someone there that the spot was deliberately left vacant by the sculptor, "Amara Shilpi Jakanachari", who openly challenged anyone to come forward and fill that spot with anything that he had failed to carve. History also quotes that the sculptor carved all this with only his left hand, for he cut his right hand after losing a bet to his son, "Dankanachari". To be skeptical is easy, but what is more important is appreciation for immortal art.Outside the sannidhi, in the temple premises, is a thirty-foot pier that stands without a foundation. More breathtaking is the fact that the pier rests only on three points. Slide a handkerchief from one side in the gap between the foot of the pier and the ground, and one could easily pull it out from the opposite side. Heavy rain prevented me from getting a good photograph of the column, but it is well imprinted within me.

We ran out of the temple and jumped into our seats in the bus, puffing and panting. The rain was hitting the ground hard. We stopped for coffee and finally started towards our next destination - Dharmastala. All through the bumpy ride, I was only thinking if the Gods looked any better than how they had been depicted on stone at Belur and Halebeedu. Such was the art!

Pillars Profound!!!

2007-07-10T14:08:00.000+05:30

I pushed everyone aside to get a good glimpse of the art. From the word go, I began shooting pictures. This is where destiny showed its game. The batteries were totally drained out and I could click no more. I had to be content with the camera on my mobile for the rest of the time. As far as my ability with words extends, I shall try to explain what I saw.

The plan is star-shaped for spatial economy. Maximum carvings on minimum built-up area is the intent. The lower portion of the outer walls had carvings of elephants, lions and horses. There are 1248 elephants carved and no two resemble each other. I have no words to explain the intricacies of the sculpture. Besides these, there are carvings of important incidents from Hindu mythology. Each sculpture seemed more enchanting than the previous.

A carving of the dancing 'Mohini' (the lady incarnation of Lord Vishnu) spiked me up. The posture of has been depicted, incorporating the most trivial details. If one observed this picture closely, the contours on the left foot match perfectly with a dancer's foot in the same pose. Even the fingernails have been carved with deft precision. The pillars inside the temple have been carved into exquisite shapes. The polishing is just outstanding. I could go on and on, but I would like to leave the rest to the seeker's thirst and destiny.

After this visit, we proceeded to a Jain temple in Halebeedu. The sculptures here were slightly different, though of the same quality. If one had to practically learn ray optics in physics, I would advocate this place. For the first time in life, I saw stone polished into concave and convex mirrors. The entrance to the temple faced the east from where the sun shed its light and revealed these wonders. On one pillar, the image would be diminished, one gave inversions, and another magnified images. One of them also gave two images, one erect and one inverted, formed with a common junction. If one showed five fingers, the image revealed ten - five on the top and five below. Yet another pillar had the unique property of revealing the colors of the object in front of it, from its image. The pillar closest to the sanctum sanctorum was special, for its top portion sounded like glass and the bottom sounded like copper when struck - two distinct clangs, highly uncharacteristic of stone.A researcher there was courteous enough to show us around and throw light on the amazing art and saved the temple from being called yet another monument with pillars for support.

Archaeologists affirm that these were built in the 12th century. But what is more absorbing is the fact that the work went on for a hundred and ninety two years (five generations) and was left incomplete due to Mughal invasion. Alauddin Khilji is believed to have plundered all the wealth here and destroyed most of the priceless art. This is from where Halebeedu gets its name. In Kannada, it means "spoilt place".

I really do not know how much the reader benefits from this seemingly monotonous essay, but I can swear that the sculptures on the walls also get carved in one's heart on seeing them. We sat down near the temple for our mid-day meal, but only the little ones ate well. The rest of us had digested so much from the spellbinding art that there was little place left for food...

Halebeedu - Where Stones Speak!

2007-07-09T13:02:00.000+05:30

We drove further between what seemed an endless stretch of trees until we found inhabitation. We had reached my father's birthplace, a village called Salagame in Hassan district. This place is very close to the Master Control Facility (MCF), from where satellites launched from SHAR are controlled.After spending a few minutes there, we drove to Halebeedu (pronounced ha-lay-bee-do), one of the two homes of sculpture marvels in the south. I had heard people glorify this place like nothing else. My mom would force me into trying to recollect incidents on my previous trip to Halebeedu, when I was three years old. According to her, I had visited the place and should have remembered everything about it.I descended from the bus at one end of a long path with lawns on either side that led to a wet monument. People heading inside towards the monument looked anxious and those coming out looked spellbound. All this amused me, for I thought stone carvings were best found at Mahabalipuram and those who had not visited the latter would not know how real sculptures looked. I was in front of the monument and it did not take me long to realize the magnanimity of my ignorance. Without batting an eyelid, I gazed at the carvings and in the meantime, my father arranged for a guide. Thus began the journey into a world of stones...

A splendid start...

2007-07-06T16:58:00.000+05:30

My previous trip with a large number of relatives was during my thread ceremony in 1999. Those were some of my most pleasurable moments in life. I was eagerly looking forward to another. The boon was granted on the 30th of June, 2007.
We started our journey westward from Bangalore on that chilly morning. We were 25 in all and I had jumped to catch the window seat in the last row, much to the displeasure of a herd of younger cousins. In such issues, I am smaller than the smallest kid. The digital camera was put to full use, for I clicked away to glory at everything interesting I saw, once we had reached the outskirts of Bangalore. There was nothing outside that I could draw my sight away from. I kept staring at those large mountain ranges silhouetted against thick, dark clouds, bearing life-giving water. The roads wore a lovely dark gray tint and the trees on either side had gone into their darkest shades of brown and green, thanks to the monsoon.
It was a contrasting change, for Bangalore was choking with breadwinners running helter-skelter, noisy vehicles puffing smoke, horns driving people crazy and many other things people would love to live without. I had entered the world of the slow-moving, eternally blessed lot, who have had the opportunity to live in enchantingly exquisite surroundings. Utopia, I thought. But the best was yet to come...

Ten seconds of mystery...

2007-06-27T13:37:00.000+05:30

The control room is filled with scientists. The rocket is ready to be launched. Everything seems to be in place. The glorious vehicle, in a few seconds, will reveal its destiny.
Tension grips the minds of everyone witnessing the launch. The most trivial of technical faults could put an end to years of hard work in a matter of seconds. If the lift-off does not occur, things could be set right and the launch could be deferred. But after lift-off, the vehicle is controlled internally. It could only be manually destroyed if it malfunctions in its trajectory. Crores of rupees, years of labor, loads of fuel and tons of strategic material would have to go down into the sea along with the rocket.
Imagine the feelings of those involved in the project. Those ten seconds must be passing like decades. If the mission is successful, everyone is to be credited. How many come into limelight after a successful launch? If it fails, who is to be blamed?
Hats off to all these people who take such heavy failures as lessons to make better subsequent attempts. If I could get a small percentage of their perseverance, I would consider myself blessed. I am yet to learn a lot of things in life....

Big, Bigger, Biggest!!!

2007-06-26T13:58:00.000+05:30

We entered the SHAR premises after the routine security checks. The whole place looked forlorn and there was nobody moving about. The stranded roads inside would lead to security gates at regular periods. Thankfully, there was a scientist aboard our bus to save us from getting lost in the labyrinth.
We got down from the bus to visit the spot where static testing is carried out - a long, wide corridor with a high roof and overhead cranes all around. This was where the motors (rocket engines) were tested for various parameters. The most interesting thing about the enclosure was that the entire roof was mobile and could be slid out during the testing process. Nobody stayed within a radius of 3 km during the testing. A single testing operation needs six months of preparation.
Then, we were led to the first of three launchpads. This was where my respect for engineering grew manifold. The entire rocket would be assembled on a platform in an enclosed structure that is 51 meters in height. The assembly would take about forty days, after which a final check is carried out before countdown. Before the launch, the enclosure would be moved 200 meters away from the launching platform. How do they speak of such gigantic structures moving????? Oof..
After lunch, we were taken to the site where the booster rockets were assembled and inspected. A scientist there explained things as if he was in a hurry to die, for he spoke faster than we could comprehend. He added a lot of life into his explanations by calling every part of the rocket, a "fellow". For instance, "Last time, this fellow failed because of high temperature". I watched in awe as he finished his lecture and demanded questions.
Later, we were taken to the other launchpads and finally to the control room. It was a hall with computers that brought information on everything about the rocket's status. A hall where, according to me, the best brains in the nation got together to witness the launch. The control room was separated from a gallery for VIPs, by a glass window. The VIP panel consists of eminent personalities from different parts of the globe.
That was the last place we saw in SHAR and we were left to be with our memories of the trip. Nobody spoke as much as they did while going there. Was it because of the fatigue from roaming around all day? Or were they too thrilled like me to speak? Reminiscence is sweet and that of a trip like this is sweeter...

Natural Splendor

2007-06-26T11:29:00.000+05:30

Thursday dawned and the unseasonal overnight downpour had not affected my excitement. It was a pleasurable drive to IIT on my motorbike. I was anticipating all kinds of things that might happen at SHAR. Throughout the ride, I dreamt of fabulous rockets that I would see and some technical snag that defeated all professional expertise available there and was set right by me! Excuse me for this, but day dreaming is my favorite pastime.
The bus turned right on that busy Chennai-Kolkata highway. A turn I knew, would take me to a place in India that only a lucky few would get to visit. A board said that the entrance to SHAR was seventeen kilometers from there. It did not take me much time to note that once we had left the highway, we were on a road that was flanked by tranquil marshes of the Pulicat lake on either side. As far as one's eyesight could go perpendicular to the road, there was nothing but marshland. The sky was pregnant with water vapor and could deliver anytime. An odorless cool breeze filled with drizzle struck my face and gave me goosebumps all over. Beholding virgin nature, I tell you, is a feeling that cannot be explained.
The splendid drive lasted thirty minutes and the sight ahead gave me immense happiness - the entrance to the satellite launching station, Sriharikota.

Rhapsodizing SHAR

2007-06-25T11:41:00.000+05:30

During my trip to the Sriharikota Range(SHAR) earlier this month, I felt proud for one reason and humble and insignificant for many more. Yes, India's only satellite launch station, to me, is home to engineering marvels. I am proud because my nation is now self-sufficient with regards to space technology, thanks to people like Vikram Sarabhai, Satish Dhawan etc., the pioneers in this field. I feel humbled and insignificant because my education (undergrad earlier and postgrad now), has contributed little on such scales. A sea of difference separates people like me who, until recently, took pride in making designs on computers and showing them in different colors and perspectives, deriving approximate empirical relationships between invisible parameters typing away pages and pages of code after making a million assumptions, and those who put things into practice. Engineering is what I call the latter. Maybe I am getting a little sentimental about the entire trip, but I don't find anything wrong. After having been brought up in a sealed shell during the tenure of my undergraduate education and completing one more year of postgraduate education in a branded shell called the IIT, witnessing such feats was just enthralling. The transition period between UG and PG involved an year's work as design engineer in one of the leading industries in India. That was where I felt like an engineer for the first time. After this trip, that feeling seems to have vanished too.

I have blogged on trivial themes and I would be doing injustice if I did not write on this trip that made me feel so small. Here I go...

The Human Factor

2007-06-18T11:29:00.000+05:30

That cricket today has become extremely competitive is not unknown. To match its credibility, umpiring too, has grown to elite standards. Substantial technical assistance is offered to umpires on the field. The introduction of a third umpire into the game has provided welcome relief to both players and a lot of umpires who have borne the brunt of erroneous decisions.

Further advancements (e.g. hawk eye) that have taken place and technological credibility in the game could now support appeals for any mode of dismissal. But still, the licence for a majority of the decisions, lies with the two officials on the playing field.

This decision to confine the powers of the camera-aided umpire seems to have added spice to the game. One surprising decision could turn entire matches around. Whether this is good or bad is secondary. It has brought in a small thriller element to what would have been an otherwise boring game.

Success has many parents. Failure is an orphan...

2007-06-15T13:07:00.000+05:30

The dismal performance of the Indian Cricket team in the World Cup earlier this year has brought shock to many. Chappell was dismissed on grounds of proven incapacity and Sunny Gavaskar had his own way of putting things against Chappell, for he remarked, "Batting has floundered under Chappell".

Now, when Chappell took over as coach, the team saw quite a number of victories that were attributed by the same "experts" to Chappell's Australian aggression. That was a period when the duo of Rahul Dravid and Greg Chappell was deemed invincible. Mahendra Singh Dhoni was supposed to be the find of the period.

After the world cup, where are all these people? All their reputation has gone underground. Now, why has this happened?

Problems in managing players are bound to occur. But taking those problems onto the playing arena only shows incompetence on the part of the team.

Still, winning and losing should be taken in the stride and it should be understood that it is not everytime that India loses to a team like Bangladesh. Unfortunately, it happened in the World Cup. Attributing all this to Chappell's mismanagement is like making him the scapegoat. Where was the talent of the "senior" cricketers? What could Chappell do if players would not co-operate? Drop those players from the side and be blamed for that as well?

Why should one grow hair like Dhoni when the latter hits sixes one after the other and why should one break his house for getting out early in one match? Isn't it insane?

Cricket today gets more respect than what it actually deserves. In a country that boasts of cricket being the religion, the situation is not surprising.

Home Sweet Home...

2007-06-14T12:10:00.000+05:30

The R.K. Narayan novels kept me company yet again. It was past noon when the train reached Vizag. I did not want to repeat the mistake of booking my meals in the train. The previous journey had taught me a lesson the hard way. I detrained and saw what best I could get to eat on that platform. Again, I had dosas. Then, a glass of cold pineapple juice to supplement this. Not surprisingly, when the train reached Vijayawada at night, I went in search of food and again got dosas to eat. After this, I had a cup of coffee and went back to sleep. My hatred towards dosas had grown manifold in this short trip to Bengal and I cursed myself for it. I was longing to reach Chennai and eat something better. The train reached the station at 4:15a.m on Sunday. My dad was waiting there and I relished the stench, characteristic of Madras Central – Home Sweet Home.
It was the most satisfying drive back home in our car and I felt a new surge of energy unleashed into my circulatory system. I came home and ran to the bed and hugged it with utmost intimacy. Sleeping is generally how I burn most of my calories. I felt like I had been separated from home for ages. I slept like I was hibernating and only woke up at noon. There stood my grandmother, beside me, with a plate of the most delicious masala dosa and I instantly remarked, “oh no! not again!!”, much to the surprise of others.

Farewell Kharagpur

2007-06-14T12:05:00.000+05:30

Bidding farewell to Shekhar was tough. I was amazed at how well we had got on with each other in such short notice. After a few final words and some promises to keep in touch (which I have not stuck to), I boarded the Howrah Mail at 11 p.m. I slept very well and woke up only at eight the next morning. I only had a second class ticket this time and I should admit that the experience was rewarding in more ways than one. This time, I was able to see things outside more clearly.
There was a Bengali family traveling in the same compartment and I was amused at the matriarchal society they had in miniature. Their son bore the brunt of the lady’s attack. What the lady said, had to be done without second thought, by the son. Even her husband was not spared. The dominance was of such magnitude that the husband and the kid had to visit the toilet or drink water, only at the lady’s will. I swear I am not exaggerating. Any gesture of disagreement and the lady would take her role as chief counselor, delivering her lectures away to glory, in one of the shrillest voices ever. The discourses were in Bengali and I could not understand a word of what was being said, but I was able to make out things from the looks of disgust that adorned the faces of the son and his father. The latter bore everything with nonchalance. Such patience was amazing. There was more evidence with regard to the ingenuity of their grievances when the faces of the man and his son lit up during the lady’s visits to the toilet.

No place for me....

2007-06-14T12:02:00.000+05:30

The counseling was scheduled at nine in the morning. We did not want to risk our moods by taking breakfast and directly went to the counseling hall after a cup of tea. Those of us who did not have the demand draft were asked to book their seats when their turn came and then get the draft – a welcome suggestion much to the relief of many. Seats had also been filled on the previous day by the candidates who enjoyed reservations and by an elite few, who had very high marks in the qualifying examination. Shekhar and I were basically interested in Engineering Design, though our scores were not deserving of the course. He was not ready to compromise and said that he would walk out of the hall if there was no seat in Design. But I was a little more flexible in the sense that I had more options in mind.
When I went into the hall, I saw seats in Metallurgy, Materials Science, Physics, Ocean Engineering, Industrial Engineering, Cryogenics, Reliability, etc. – all of these are good branches of study, but none of my interest. I would have settled there had I got a seat at least in Aerospace Engineering. But then, destiny had it’s say as usual and I came out without opting for anything.

Shekhar was waiting for me with a dejected look on his face. He was rather surprised when I approached him, smiling. We consoled each other and went to the same canteen that offered better food, for lunch. Again, a few vadas and dosa. We were not willing to risk anything. We went back to our rooms after lunch and I went to sleep, with mixed feelings. Shekhar was very upset and I did not want to talk to him and left him to his own company. When I woke up in the evening, he was alright and we walked to the football ground, before making preparations for our departure that night. Dinner was taken in the same place and exactly the same items were eaten in the same quantity. I had started thinking of dosas as abominable by then.

Matka Chai, vada, dosa and insects....

2007-06-14T11:40:00.000+05:30

I cursed myself for having chosen SBI from among three banks located inside IIT Kharagpur. But all was over and I walked back with Shekhar towards his hall of residence, hoping to get a room. Luckily I got one right opposite his and that was the only happy thing both of us saw that day. At dusk, we went to the football ground there and sat down to enjoy the cool breeze that drove away all the humidity. It felt good, but both of us were tired and could not walk any more. The ground was a more than a kilometer away from the hostel and we had actually come out in search of a canteen that could offer better food.
On the way, we had stopped to refresh ourselves with some tea at a shop. For the first time, I was served tea in an earthen cup. I liked the idea, but the cup was not well baked and the moisture was felt. I drank the tea and each sip that I had, brought with it, millions of particles. I did not know if that was unfiltered tea dust or the earthen cup wearing off, thanks to the heat from the tea. We found a canteen with a reasonable crowd near the football ground and as there was time remaining for hunger to strike, we had ventured into the ground.
It was about seven thirty when we managed to lift our posteriors from the soft grass. We went to the canteen mentioned above and ordered some vadas and a dosa for each of us. That was the only meal that did not make us sad. We resolved to go there till we stayed in Kharagpur. We returned to our rooms, more satisfied than before and were in for another surprise.
I opened the door of my room and put on the light. There were guests – flying insects in all colors and sizes. Thank goodness the large ones were very little in number. An open window offered ample opportunity for these unwelcome guests to enter. Again, Shekhar and I indulged in fighting those pests until most of them had been trampled to death. We were a tired duo, waiting to hit the bed. But the counseling that was to be held the next day ran in our minds and did not grant us sleep until midnight. We kept talking and finally, physical exertion put us to sleep. The morning sun welcomed us to another day in the same vein as the previous.

Overtime worker

2007-06-14T11:33:00.000+05:30

I still had to get a demand draft for the counseling. Shekhar and I went to the SBI located in the campus. It was about twelve thirty when we reached the bank and I took my position as the seventh man in the queue. Shekhar had already got his draft from his homeplace, a town called Akola, in Maharashtra.
The clerk processing the drafts was a middle-aged man with round glasses, who worked slower than a tortoise. He coolly lit something that seemed to be a cross breed between a cigarette and a beedi. Lunch was scheduled at two in the afternoon. This person would take out a bunch of notes from the drawer, count them, and put them back. This he did for all denominations, once every ten minutes. I was losing my temper and so were the other people in the line. The clock struck two and I was still sixth in position. The employees of the bank showed their punctuality and in a jiffy, all were in the dining room.
The clerk returned to his seat with a mere fifteen-minute delay and that dirty narcotic roll in his mouth. All faces lit up on seeing him back in his seat. But I put little trust in that guy. The bank was scheduled to close at four and no one got up till half past four. I was aghast at still not having got the draft. I learnt a little later that the employees had been “WORKING” overtime and that they would be paid for the extra time they put in. Bullshit. An old man from behind shouted at the manager in Telugu. All I could infer was his inability to understand the purpose of a computer in front of an employee who had processed exactly three drafts in the interval that I have mentioned. The whole day had been wasted. Shekhar had been patiently waiting there. He had actually gone to sleep with his head against a corner. I felt pity for him. We reported this to the authorities who were equally efficient and stood by only one notion – that they had worked overtime for the sake of the crowd.

Panneer bonanza!

2007-06-14T11:21:00.000+05:30

We had been promised accommodation in one of the halls of residence at IIT Kharagpur. But what happened was the contrary. The warden plainly said in a mixture of Bengali and Hindi that all rooms were full and none could be allotted to me. I stood there with my luggage wondering what to do when divinity showed itself in the form of Ingle Chandrashekhar, a guy from Maharashtra who had come there with a similar purpose. He had checked in an hour before me and had been lucky to get the last room available. He led me to his room and eased me off my luggage. He compelled me to have a bath, which I refused. He then gave me company wherever I went. We were together all the time in that godforsaken place. I now wonder what I would have done in his absence; maybe roamed around that mammoth campus with my luggage under the merciless sun.

We were famished and decided to have our breakfast at a nearby canteen in the campus. Again, being vegetarian, both of us could only choose the Tandoor cuisine and we ordered some naan and panneer butter masala. I was shocked at the amount of panneer that was going into my body. But I was helpless. The waiter brought the dishes and laid them in front of us. That brought more shock to me. The gravy in the side dish was okay, but the panneer! Oh! I saw for the first time, generosity at its best. There was a piece of panneer, only as big as a computer mouse. Shekhar and I exchanged glances. What else could we do? We divided the panneer and the gravy and started the feast. The first thirty minutes went away in desperate attempts to overcome the cohesive forces in the naan. The next endeavor was to try and eat it with the side dish. We sat there for about forty-five minutes and finally finished the meal.

Entering Kharagpur...

2007-06-14T11:14:00.000+05:30

The next morning, I was disturbed by the snores of my co-passenger who had boarded the train close to midnight, at Vizag. I woke up and he followed me very shortly. Deep down in my heart, I cursed him for having woken me up so early. Talking to him, I learnt that he stayed in Kolkata and had been to Vizag on an official errand. He asked me about my work experience. I said that we manufactured valves. Snap came the question from the Bengali, “ Oh! ‘Balbes’ !!” I felt like laughing my wits out, but diverted the topic and showed some decency for the first time in life.
The train crawled into the Kharagpur station, which boasts of being home to the longest railway platform in the world – a massive 1072.5m in length. I thought that the place had been deprived of another credit – the most malodorous station in the world. I took an autorickshaw to the institute. Again, here was an engineering marvel – an automobile chassis with a body held together by not more than two pairs of rivets. The ride in that vehicle reminded me of a fun ride in a good theme park. The jolting was so high that for sometime, I thought it was an earthquake simulator. The roads of that place have no dividing line, neither does the traffic. There are no cops and no signals. No proper hospitals to attend to the sick either. I spotted only a couple of pubs and a few other shops selling liquor, besides some paan shops and tea and snack bars.
I had entered the IIT campus. The very feeling that I was inside a premier institute in the country nullified all my bad experiences during the travel. The campus was entirely different from its ambience. There were huge buildings, neatly laid roads, well maintained stadia, lush green trees on either side of the roads and what not. It seemed to me like I had entered an oasis in a desert. Here started my real journey...

Humans commit mistakes, fools repeat them...

2007-06-14T11:11:00.000+05:30

It was dusk when I reached Rajmundry in A.P. I gulped down a whole packet of chocolate cream biscuits to erase that nagging taste of the lunch(read previous post) that I had taken. The journey continued and the server came again, asking for an order for dinner. I was told that I would get rice with curd and sambar for dinner. Overjoyed, I fell into the second trap. Dinner came. Rice was good. Curd too. There were a few pooris that were not larger in size than the palm of a ten year old. They tasted better and I reserved sambar for the end – a sin. One spoon of that sambar had brought before my eyes, my past and my future. Everything seemed to be reeling and I was finding it difficult to handle the onslaught. But my stomach was almost filled, thanks to those biscuits. I returned the sambar with a few good words to the server. But I should be thankful because the food had not played with my stomach...

Panneer Butter Masala!!!

2007-06-14T11:01:00.000+05:30

I had applied for admission to the M.Tech programme at IIT Kharagpur and was called for counseling in the month of May, 2006. I was very pleased when I saw the reservation chart at Madras Central on a bright Wednesday morning. The ticket to Kharagpur fthat had been booked in a two tier A.C compartment had been upgraded to first A.C due to a dearth of seats in the former. I was all alone and learnt a little while later, that the only other passenger who had a seat reserved in that cabin would board the train at Vishakapatnam – a healthy twelve hours of seclusion. So, there I was, trying to derive the best from my only pastime on the train – a collection of novels by R.K.Narayan. I should admit that I have never read like that before and was amazed at how a little loneliness could cause such changes in me. The tinted glass permitted little visibility and I was longing to get out from that cabin and look at the vast expanse of greenery that characterized the route. I was happy for one other reason, in the entire trip. I was able to regain the little fluency I had, in conversing in Hindi, though my accent would deny me the recognition deserving of a person who spoke the language as his mother tongue. Then started the real test – something that gave me a taste of hell on earth.

I ordered for lunch to be served in my cabin. I asked the guy who came to take the order, for the menu. He poured out a list of items, of which only one was vegetarian. All the rest had some contribution from an unlucky member of a poultry farm. I had but few things to choose from and the order was made – fried-rice and panneer butter masala. I was left to be myself for about three hours after placing the order. This was punctuated by reading, a series of messages to my dad and of course, my favorite afternoon siesta. The server brought the “food” in. I was famished by then and my mouth watered at the thought of panneer. I opened the food and found to my astonishment, that I still had to learn a lot of lessons in economics. Fried-rice was only “fried” rice and there was no sight of any vegetable amidst that. I hunted for a vegetable and finally succeeded in finding a small pea struggling for dear life amidst a cluster of coriander leaves. I was happy at the small game of treasure hunt that the Indian Railways offered to its elite passengers. As if all this was not enough, I opened the other box that was said to contain the side dish – panneer butter masala. And lo! It stood before me in all grandeur and in a color that would put the setting sun to shame. I repented for not having taken sunglasses with me. In that viscous, red, ‘gravy’, was a solitary piece of something close to panneer, in utter confusion in opting between exosmosis and endosmosis. It took more time to digest the thought that I had eaten that thing completely, than digesting the actual food itself. But it was done and I was happy that I was vegetarian because the very thought that I should have taken non-vegetarian dishes of such high quality put a population of butterflies in my stomach.

India Shining!!!

2007-06-13T15:33:00.000+05:30

I was on this train to Bangalore, which is the only place on earth I seem to reach when I have my holidays. This particular experience was different.

I have come across eunuchs demanding money in very atrocious ways on north-bound trains from Chennai Central. This time, Brindavan express fell into their hands as well.

The eunuch came and clapped when I was listening to music with my earphones on. I paid no heed. Had it been on any north-bound train, the eunuch would have simply pulled the earphones off and demanded money. But this one seemed literate and more importantly, educated.

The eunuch patted my back and requested me to take the earphones off. And then, in a most cultured tone, asked, "Excuse me, Sir. Could you spare me some change?"

I was surprised at the tone and stared for a while and later sent it away telling I had no change.

I overheard a few conversations between the eunuch and a few other passengers in my compartment and learnt that it was comfortably speaking gramatically correct English.

Now, what disturbed me most for quite sometime after the incident was why such educated eunuchs had to beg on trains!!!

Where do I look for an answer?

Killing Childhood

2007-06-13T11:41:00.000+05:30

It's almost evening and a boy is about to return from school. A look into his house would tell a lot of things.

The lady is busy making rotis for her son, when the doorbell rings and mama rushes to open it. Enters our hero, a ten-year old, with his progress report. Mama snatches the card in anxiety and throws a look of utmost perplexion at the kid, who, in the meantime, has managed to switch on the television set to watch his favorite programme. Ensues the mother's dialogue...

"Rohit! How dare you switch on the tv when you have managed only eighty five percent in mathematics and science? Your dad works so hard to send you to school and tuitions and all you give in return is this? Shame on you. I will accompany you to your tuition class today and tell the teacher to increase the number of classes to four a week. And no more music classs for you. Tara aunty engages tuitions for science and you will be attending them from next week. After tuitions in the evening, you will come back home and study. Do you get me? Look at Ram. He has secured 95 in both subjects without attending tuitions. I just don't know how to get you on to the right path."

The boy is shocked. Meekly, he replies - "Ma, 85 is not bad either. I am only in class five, to which his mom says, "If you score only 85 in the fifth, you will end up failing in your tenth."

This dialogue is not uncommon in many of our homes. We may have been victims of all this ourselves. The real reason to Rohit's "failure" is obvious. Encroaching into the lives of children and forcing them to do things that they do not intend to do, according to me, is criminal. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, is a well known saying. Sending kids away to tuitions is no healthy way of orienting the kid towards academics. Not just tuitions, but forcing the child to attend classes in music, dance, drawing etc. all held when the kid is interested in playing outdoors, makes the child lose interest in everything.

Leave them to bask in their lovely innocence, of course, giving small dosages of academics, and they will grow up into potential talent sources. Childhood is the best part of human life and parents should ensure that it is cherished by the child when he/she grows into an adult. Like nature, childhood remains beautiful as long as there is no interference.

The bottomline, is this - "Innocence must flourish and should not be poisoned by adult maturity".