I sat down to write something but then remembered this poem we were taught as kids that says it so much better than I ever could.
What does little birdie say
In her nest at peep of day?
Let me fly, says little birdie,
Mother, let me fly away.
Birdie, rest a little longer,
Till thy little wings are stronger.
So she rests a little longer,
Then she flies away.
How do you know you are strong enough?
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Monday, November 20, 2006
Selectively blind
(One of those rare rants where I express extreme displeasure over everything ever invented, discovered or evolved)
Ostrich, isn't it? The animal that buries its head in sand and believes that since it cant see the enemy, the enemy cant see it? Show me one human being who thinks this is not stupid. And yet, the vast majority of them do exactly that. Cover their senses with a comfortable, protective covering and believe everything is all right with everyone. And its fine by me. If thats the only way they can get through life, so be it. What I cant stand is them making a hole in their covers just large enough for one eye to peek out, using the eye exclusively too see whats wrong with me and shaking their "what is this world come to" head shake. Either you are blind or you are not. In between is nothing.
I know. I should be able to say go to hell, but I cant. Not to everybody.
Ostrich, isn't it? The animal that buries its head in sand and believes that since it cant see the enemy, the enemy cant see it? Show me one human being who thinks this is not stupid. And yet, the vast majority of them do exactly that. Cover their senses with a comfortable, protective covering and believe everything is all right with everyone. And its fine by me. If thats the only way they can get through life, so be it. What I cant stand is them making a hole in their covers just large enough for one eye to peek out, using the eye exclusively too see whats wrong with me and shaking their "what is this world come to" head shake. Either you are blind or you are not. In between is nothing.
I know. I should be able to say go to hell, but I cant. Not to everybody.
Monday, November 13, 2006
Aaaaaaaa
I feel kind of left out. And dumb. A silent revolution seems to have taken place around the world without my knowledge or participation. Unless, there was a lot of hungaama, widespread protests, which makes me deaf as well as blind. Whatever be the case, from around the beginning of 2006 the world seems to have agreed that Vinaya is a guy's name. Just like that. Indian railways has been doing that forever, but I thought the rest of the world would have more sense. The only explanation I have been able to come up with the universal lack of recognition of the trailing "a" is - "Rama is to Ram what Vinaya is to Vinay". I've lost count of how many of my phone conversations follow the following general format:
Me: Hello
Caller: Hello. Can I speak to Vinay N?
Me: Speaking
Caller: Mr. Vinay N?
Me: Speaking.
Caller: Hello? (unwilling to believe that connection can distort voices so much in this day and age) Can I talk to MISTER Vinay N?
Me: SPEAKING
Caller: Oooh, its VinayA. He he.
Me: Yeah, my name is very funny. What can I do for you?
It happens regardless of age, gender, education, geography, which is why I believe its a worldwide phenomenon. My hard earned degree was awarded, both during rehearsals and the actual ceremony, to Vinay N. Apparently, the world famous professor considered it more probable for a girl to answer to the name of Vinay than for Vinaya to actually be a name. (Her parents must have wanted a boy, he must have thought, if his thoughts ever stooped to such levels).
Maybe it would help if I would start to write my name as VinayA. But then, what happens to my name on capitals only official forms? Brilliant idea, I could change the spelling! Vinayaa, Vinayaaa, Vinayea, Vinayeah... I'd better consult a numerologist before I do anything rash. My whole future might depend on which letter I use to distort my name!
(Three cheers to me for single handedly typing out this post! Knowledge acquired as part of this process - keyboard shortcuts are not so great for us handicapped folks)
Me: Hello
Caller: Hello. Can I speak to Vinay N?
Me: Speaking
Caller: Mr. Vinay N?
Me: Speaking.
Caller: Hello? (unwilling to believe that connection can distort voices so much in this day and age) Can I talk to MISTER Vinay N?
Me: SPEAKING
Caller: Oooh, its VinayA. He he.
Me: Yeah, my name is very funny. What can I do for you?
It happens regardless of age, gender, education, geography, which is why I believe its a worldwide phenomenon. My hard earned degree was awarded, both during rehearsals and the actual ceremony, to Vinay N. Apparently, the world famous professor considered it more probable for a girl to answer to the name of Vinay than for Vinaya to actually be a name. (Her parents must have wanted a boy, he must have thought, if his thoughts ever stooped to such levels).
Maybe it would help if I would start to write my name as VinayA. But then, what happens to my name on capitals only official forms? Brilliant idea, I could change the spelling! Vinayaa, Vinayaaa, Vinayea, Vinayeah... I'd better consult a numerologist before I do anything rash. My whole future might depend on which letter I use to distort my name!
(Three cheers to me for single handedly typing out this post! Knowledge acquired as part of this process - keyboard shortcuts are not so great for us handicapped folks)
Sunday, November 05, 2006
I'm Back!
Blame this post on Monu. He is the one who told me such incidents should be documented, that they increase the BSP (best seller potential) of my blog. Who am I to disagree? So, here it comes, with a little bit of background and lot of mirch masala.
With the IT industry up and running again, placements were great for our class. The biggest majority of would be office going bachchas were lapped up by Bangalore based companies. Pune came a distant second, Hyderabad and Noida being also ran. There was a lot of horse trading from the very beginning, with people falling to unbelievable excuses to tempt people from the other camp. Even stuff like "Who will wake me up for breakfast everyday if you are not there" was considered respectable enough a reason to chuck a great job you still couldn't believe anyone could be dumb enough to offer you. End of the course and barring a few casualties to PhD and laziness, the various camps went to their respective cities pretty much intact. Bengaluru wale (Bengalurueans?) settled in their city (which means they cribbed about the traffic, the cost of everything and local language problems) and Punites settled in theirs (incessant rain, pothole paved roads and rickshawalas from hell for them). Life went on for everyone, with occasional conference calls between the two camps in which everyone spoke at once but no one had anything to say.
One fine day one brilliant Punite had the idea of a trip to what was then Bangalore, to see how the other half of the world lived. Lets continue with our story without getting into specifically who she was. She mailed her folks to see if anyone was interested. Only one other was. Another brilliant Punite, you say? Lets just say his heart was in the right place. These two made plans. Oh yeah, big plans that involved air travel and holidays from office. Her brother was especially supportive of the air travel idea. She not at all secretly believed it was because once she went to what was then Bangalore by air just to meet her friends, no one would ever question his trips to his holy place, even if he said he was going to see off his colleague's roommate's sister's friend, who was going to Chennai for the weekend. A feasibility study followed by in depth research revealed that bus travel for the to journey and train for the fro would be optimal. She promised to book train tickets the very next day after the results were published and the bus tickets a little later. She told the Bengaluru camp she was coming and they made their share of big plans.
A lot happens between this point and the point that follows. However since absolutely none of it is related to the story at hand, we skip ahead after making the following assertions:
1. She did not book train tickets
2. She did not book bus tickets
3. She did not tell him she did not book the tickets
4. He did not ask
Skip to some Friday. The day they were supposed to leave for Bengaluru. She messages him.
She: I hope you are packed and ready. We are supposed to leave today, remember?
He: I am at the bus stop. Where are you?
She: At the railway station!
They laugh it off, hit upon another brilliant idea to go catch Vettaiyadu Vilayadu in the local theater next weekend and go on with their lives. If you want to ask her how she liked the movie, go and read the story again. You have completely missed the point.
If you think this was the worst anti-climax ever, go hit Monu!
With the IT industry up and running again, placements were great for our class. The biggest majority of would be office going bachchas were lapped up by Bangalore based companies. Pune came a distant second, Hyderabad and Noida being also ran. There was a lot of horse trading from the very beginning, with people falling to unbelievable excuses to tempt people from the other camp. Even stuff like "Who will wake me up for breakfast everyday if you are not there" was considered respectable enough a reason to chuck a great job you still couldn't believe anyone could be dumb enough to offer you. End of the course and barring a few casualties to PhD and laziness, the various camps went to their respective cities pretty much intact. Bengaluru wale (Bengalurueans?) settled in their city (which means they cribbed about the traffic, the cost of everything and local language problems) and Punites settled in theirs (incessant rain, pothole paved roads and rickshawalas from hell for them). Life went on for everyone, with occasional conference calls between the two camps in which everyone spoke at once but no one had anything to say.
One fine day one brilliant Punite had the idea of a trip to what was then Bangalore, to see how the other half of the world lived. Lets continue with our story without getting into specifically who she was. She mailed her folks to see if anyone was interested. Only one other was. Another brilliant Punite, you say? Lets just say his heart was in the right place. These two made plans. Oh yeah, big plans that involved air travel and holidays from office. Her brother was especially supportive of the air travel idea. She not at all secretly believed it was because once she went to what was then Bangalore by air just to meet her friends, no one would ever question his trips to his holy place, even if he said he was going to see off his colleague's roommate's sister's friend, who was going to Chennai for the weekend. A feasibility study followed by in depth research revealed that bus travel for the to journey and train for the fro would be optimal. She promised to book train tickets the very next day after the results were published and the bus tickets a little later. She told the Bengaluru camp she was coming and they made their share of big plans.
A lot happens between this point and the point that follows. However since absolutely none of it is related to the story at hand, we skip ahead after making the following assertions:
1. She did not book train tickets
2. She did not book bus tickets
3. She did not tell him she did not book the tickets
4. He did not ask
Skip to some Friday. The day they were supposed to leave for Bengaluru. She messages him.
She: I hope you are packed and ready. We are supposed to leave today, remember?
He: I am at the bus stop. Where are you?
She: At the railway station!
They laugh it off, hit upon another brilliant idea to go catch Vettaiyadu Vilayadu in the local theater next weekend and go on with their lives. If you want to ask her how she liked the movie, go and read the story again. You have completely missed the point.
If you think this was the worst anti-climax ever, go hit Monu!
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Nothing is free!
A recent addition to my extra curricular activities is reading Scott Adam's blog (yeah, the Dilbert guy). He writes every day, manages to make me smile on most days and laugh out loud on some. That guy is comic genius!
One of the recurring topics on his blog is that of "free will". Observing the behaviour of people around the world, he has apparently concluded that free will does not exist, that it is an illusion and loves to rub this in the face of his readers, who, as if on cue, get all worked up. Him and certain events have made me wonder - does free will really exist? My wonder does not extend to any deep, or for that matter shallow, philosophical level, but restrains itself to everyday life.
When you are young and foolish, you believe everything is possible. I am the captain of my fate, I am the master of my soul. Every road is there to be explored, every why to be answered by a why not. And if you don't find a road you like, why not make one of you own? Inevitable falls and bruises later, age and experience begin to take over. Risks no longer seem worth it since you have too much to lose. One by one the paths begin to fade until you see only one way - the safe way. And are convinced there is none other. Poof! There goes your free will. You are now a "moist robot", programmed by life to react in predictable ways to every situation. Living becomes routine and you are glad. The burden of choice is not easy to carry.
Apparently I don't write funny stuff anymore.
One of the recurring topics on his blog is that of "free will". Observing the behaviour of people around the world, he has apparently concluded that free will does not exist, that it is an illusion and loves to rub this in the face of his readers, who, as if on cue, get all worked up. Him and certain events have made me wonder - does free will really exist? My wonder does not extend to any deep, or for that matter shallow, philosophical level, but restrains itself to everyday life.
When you are young and foolish, you believe everything is possible. I am the captain of my fate, I am the master of my soul. Every road is there to be explored, every why to be answered by a why not. And if you don't find a road you like, why not make one of you own? Inevitable falls and bruises later, age and experience begin to take over. Risks no longer seem worth it since you have too much to lose. One by one the paths begin to fade until you see only one way - the safe way. And are convinced there is none other. Poof! There goes your free will. You are now a "moist robot", programmed by life to react in predictable ways to every situation. Living becomes routine and you are glad. The burden of choice is not easy to carry.
Apparently I don't write funny stuff anymore.
Words
Live and let die
Nothing lasts forever
Even cold November rain
Comfortably Numb
Never imagined these words would make sense, leave alone become the thread that one hangs by.
Nothing lasts forever
Even cold November rain
Comfortably Numb
Never imagined these words would make sense, leave alone become the thread that one hangs by.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
