Keeping the faith

Warning:

Offence intended = NONE
If Offence taken != NONE
Give it back. Its mine.

Most people find it in religion. Some in drink. Me, i find my escape in American television. It can absorb me to the exclusion of everything else. It can show such miserably complicated lives that i come off feeling grateful for mine.

The only time it lets me down is this season break thing. Whoever heard of God taking a break?? Especially on a year when He has already gone on a strike? Unfair, i tell you. I would have switched loyalties, only i've heard God doesnt do Internet.

Its the Monday talking

Why the %$#@ do all questions end up in what do you want from life? And if you havent figured that one out yet, well then, you should be indifferent to whatever life throws at you. In between, where you want something but dont know what that is, in betwwen lies hell.

The God of Small Things

Eshtapappychachen Kuttapen Peter Mon

The name has been ricocheting off the walls of my head since yesterday, each time with a different first name.

Rajupappychachen Kuttapen Peter Mon

Channapappychachen Kuttapen Peter Mon

Its funny, how well it goes with the names it meets off the walls of my head.

I dont want them to end. Estha, Rahel, Ammu, Chacko. Every morning, amidst all the chaos, i sneak into their world. And come out only when my folks very conscientiously pull me out and kick me off to work. I dont think i've felt this way about a book in a while. And inappropriate though it is, almost every page reminds me of To Kill a Mockingbird. I get the same wistful feeling i did when i read that one. Of wanting to go back to my childhood, as an invisible, adult, observer, as the omnipresent narrator of my story.

She warns you, oh she warns you on every page that its all going to end badly. And yet, even that cannot stop life, and the love for it, from seeping though. Small victories of small people need not fade away in the face of war, she shows. They can be scooped up and scattered in a book about war, such that they become bigger than the war.

P.S. At some point, it occurred to me that i could do this as a book review. And a much later point, it occurred to me that i havent actually finished the book.

Flashback

In case anyone is wondering what brought about this sudden spate in posts.
Flashback to what i started to write a few weeks ago

Its not that i dont have things to write about. I have about 300 posts in various stages, some swimming in my head, some on paper, some as saved drafts. (okay, 7 or 8 of them, if you want me to be precise). But this immense cloud of laziness seems to have enveloped my world and all it allows me to do is work, eat and sleep. Time seems to pass without too much effort on my part. Its only that stupid voice in my head that wont shutup and still makes up lists of things i should be doing. No, scratch that, even the voice in my head isnt the list making kind. It just randomly throws at me things that i could/should/must/ABSOLUTELY MUST be doing, none of which i catch, all of which fall on the floor, making a big mess, in the middle of which, i calmly exist and continue to do nothing.

I need to bootstrap myself out of this state. And so, with you as witness, O mighty Internet, i solemnly swear to

And i left it at that. Because, life in the past months has tried its best to teach me that there is a time and place for everything, even for the truth. So i decided to postpone the swearing until i was reasonably sure i was out of the slump. And whatdoyouknow, even stuff that you scribble on Notepad and leave lying around in some forgotten corner of you PC, can do magic.

World wide web?

Sometimes, people you meet out of sheer chance (or as Wodehouse would say, concatenation of circumstances) come back later to save you life. Same with some seemingly insignificant thing you overhear. Almost makes you believe someone up there is connecting the dots!*
It is beautiful, yeah. But for me this glass is half empty. Something like this always leaves me wondering about the ones that go unconnected and the big pattern i am missing out on as a result.

*No, i'm not trying to say everything happens for a reason. Yuck, no.

Too many cooks, and you can forget about the broth

Enough is enough, Shyam thought. A king you may be, but there is, or at least should be, a limit on the arbitrariness you are allowed. Someone had to do something. But that was such a general sentiment, more often than not degenerating into no one doing anything. He would be that someone, he decided. He would put an end to it.

By he of course, he meant they. But Ratan was so much a part of his life, it was the same thing really. The two friends discussed opportunity, discussed strategy, discussed execution. As a plan began to take shape, they felt the excitement grow. Oh, this is going to be good, they thought. If things went according to plan, what they were going to start could well turn into a revolution! They would be the leaders, the liberators, they would be hope.

Their plan, they realized after a few days, would have a much better chance of success if Sundar was a part of it. Sundar supported them in principle, but was afraid for his skin. He told them he'd feel much better about the whole thing if Parth was also involved. Parth thought there was a part of the plan that only Karan could handle. Karan thought roping in Bali was a good idea. Bali refused to come unless his wife was there to see him off. His wife was at her mother's, comforting her sister whose favourite cow was having calving troubles.

So their glorious revolution waited, waited for the cow to feel better.

Moral of the story: Sometimes, screw it, lets do it is the way to go.

Notes to self: Listen to yourself. Sometimes, you talk sense.

Donts and dos

I don't want to grow up.
I don't want to be all responsible.
I don't want to be the fixer.
I don't want to be the safety net.
I don't want to be the goto person.
I don't want to inspire.
I don't want to hold your hand when you learn to walk.
I don't want to pick you up when you stumble and fall.
I don't want to look at you with pride when you learn to run and then to fly.
I don't want you to look up to me as i look up to the ones before me.

Only, i so do.

Beach bum

5 stolen minutes out of a hectic, one day trip to Goa. She sits on the beach, looking out at the sea. Wondering, as always, why she loves it so. She knows it is not a remanent of childhood love, when being on the beach meant playing in water and collecting shells. It has withstood the test of time. It is no longer what she does at the beach, it is what the beach does to her. It heightens her sense of loneliness, but in a way that makes her feel complete, like that was how it was meant to be. The world fades away, its just her and the roar of the waves. And peace.
The constant questioning, this search for motive, she realizes as she leaves to catch a bus back home, makes not one bit of difference to the way the beach makes her feel. In spite of all the unanswered questions, she leaves satisfied.

NetWorking

Dad is back early from his walk He rushes straight in, slightly breathless, and asks - Aa gaya? No, i shake my head. Mom pretends indifference, but every now and then peeks out of the kitchen to check. Brother refuses to come home at all, which is just as well. Who wants to watch a fish out of water? They all look to me, with a glance part hopeful, part accusing, . What use is her education, they ask themselves, if she cant even get the Internet to work?

O mighty powers at BSNL, kindly snap your fingers and get the Net working. This is not just about me justifying the space i occupy on this planet, it is about our connection to the rest of the world, and maybe, even to each other.

P.S. If you know the preferred DNS of you ISP by heart, it is probably time you changed your ISP.

Revelation

Having had to debug my cousin's bubble sort* program to figure out why it was not working, and by debug i mean set up watches on variables and execute one step at a time, something tells me that whatever i eventually die of, it will not be of shame.

* Non geeks: Bubble sort is like the Hello World of C programs.

Fit and fine

Of what use is fitness, i ask you, if all it means is that where previously you'd start huffing and panting after half a round, you now need one round just to warm up? You end up working that much harder just to make a difference.

(The voice in my head: Faker! If you want to brag about something, the least you can do is be honest about it!)

A little bit of random: An optical emergency. Again. As i try to slip on my specs the morning, the lens slips and falls. Of my last surviving pair. The whole family rummages through my past and comes up with:
1. a pair of intact lenses that may or may not have at some point in time resided in the same frame
2. a pair of prehistoric but otherwise complete specs. (Soda petti glasses, thick maroon frame that goes on and on till the bottom of my nose, ones i wouldn't be caught dead in, you know the type)

So i wear the prehistoric ones and go to the optician. Very little chance of me dying on my way there, except maybe of embarrassment. I hand over the lenses mentioned in 1. and plead with him to find their Cinderella. He sees the desperation on my face and starts looking. A couple of dozen lenses later, he's found her! And even though she looks more like one of the ugly sisters, who cares as long as the shoe fits! Me and the shiny greenish blue specs go to work and thus the day is saved.
Its D-day+1, and touchwood, the wearer and specs are doing well.

Pour salt on wound. Rub.

Two kids playing holi accidentally splash you with their water balloon. And then run after a dripping wet you yelling - Sorry Aunty, sorry Aunty.

Like Monu says, i suppose i should be glad it isnt bhaisaab.

The art of selling

I bought shoes. For 4K+. Its all towards developing my new hobby, i console myself. On the surface of it, it should seem quite impossible to see how a salesman can offload a pair of shoes on someone like me for money like that. But study the psychology of the individual, and it’s a simple 5 step thing.

Step 1: Sigh at my foot size.
(Me to myself: Yeah, i know. Please have something in my size. Please. Anything)

Step 2: Ask me my budget and show me shoes more than slightly above my limit. Make me fall in love with them. Okay, so i don’t fall in love with shoes. Make me comfortable with the idea of living with them.
(Me to myself: They are quite hideous. And white too. But really, are looks what i'm looking for in a shoe? They do feel nice. )

Step 3: Tell me what they cost.
(Me to myself: Damn! No way. Damn you, you direct descendent of Satan. Why did you tell me this after i got used to them?)

Step 4: Show me shoes within my budget. Rest assured, you have already spoiled them for me.
(Me to myself: These are okay. But there must be a reason why they cost less. What is my limit after all? Isn’t it just an arbitrary number I came up with? Wouldn’t it be stupid if I was stuck with the wrong shoes just because I was unwilling to change?)

Step 5: Praise the first pair. Tell me they are the answer to all my problems. Tell me they prevent back pain (got that, check), knee pain (check) heel pain (check. OMG, he is in my head!). Also tell me they cure all of the above if I already have them. At this point, I’ll believe you if you tell me they bring about world peace.

And you’re home.

I Think (therefore) I'm Back

I'm back. I think. At least for this post. That, i think it is safe to say, was the longest i went without a posting. No particular reason, just that stuff that would have seemed bloggable earlier didnt seem worth the effort. Not that they seem worth the effort now, but there is only so long you can keep a blog alive on life support, before it is declared dead. And i dont want it to die.

So, since i dont have one earth shattering to say, i thought i'd combine a few earth nudging things and hope the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.

I've been on a major science fiction/fantasy trip, reading wise. Asimov of course, Arthur Clarke, Orson Scott Card (cant recommend Ender's Game and Speaker for the Dead enough!), Frank Herbert, Samit Basu and of course Terry Pratchett. I think i've whined about how i've become too lazy to invest in a new author. Looks like i've found an escape route. I am reading new people, but without much risk of wasted effort. Because though the end of these books usually disappoint, the journey is well worth it.

And i've developed a new hobby. I usually snigger at people who call it a hobby, but looking at how much i enjoy going to the gym, i dont know what else to call it. For almost 2 months now, I've been voluntarily waking up for at 6.30 AM 6 days a week to go exercise. You can tell. cant you, that i'm somewhat ashamedly proud of it?

What else? Oh yeah, i've run out of music to listen to. Kaushik suggested i give the Beatles a shot and i am. If anyone is reading this and has anything to suggest, i'm all ears. But please, no screaming. In the song, i mean.

Thats it? All i have to show for over a month of my life are two paragraphs and a request? See, this is why i have to post more often. I may be writing about dogs in the parking lot, but at this stage i'll settle for quantity over nothing at all.


P.S. I've decided to try and cut down on the exclamations. I have been using way too many of them,. Terry doesnt seem to approve.

To Kerala and back

(This post has been lying around for weeks, waiting for an introduction. Feeling too lazy, so kindly consider the post introduced.)

Kerala!!! Yes! I went on a vacation. A totally unnecessary, unjustifiable trip to coconut country! Or as my friend has named it, cheta land. Home to my true love, banana chips. Where a house doesn't become home until it is pained orange. Or green. Or purple. Preferably all of the above. And where buses present a strange paradox. You see one thundering down the road in defiance of all rules and boundaries and also some laws of physics, and you will, not a little fearfully, move out of its way muttering size does matter. How the driver of the monstrosity gets it to snake through traffic almost making you believe you were watching a long haired youth showing off his shiny yellow bike, i'll never know. (Disclaimer: The last two may be specific to Kozhikode, my host city.) On the plus side, the city has a domestic airport that puts all other airports i've seen, including mumbai international airport to utter shame. (Not that i've seen that many. This was the second flight of my life. The first one was also to kerala. What is it with me and that place? Wonder if I was a coconut tree in my last janam. Or maybe, i was God) I got to stay in an unbelievably beautiful campus. "i voluntarily woke up at 6 a.m on a vacation to walk around" beautiful.
I got to act as the guide. Or the navigator. Or whatever it is you call the person who asks people on the road for directions. Not that i would have done it voluntarily, but however fraud a tamilian i may be, i was still the best they had to connect with the locals.
We went to a waterfall and a beach! I can still hear the buffalo in me moo in content. We drove around 200 kms (okay, okay, he drove, but we all made sure he didnt fall asleep) to get to the fall. It had the perfect amount of water, enough for you to get close to the water and not get washed away. This guard with very a strange gender bias wouldn't let me get close to the water while all boys were allowed. We carried out an argument for a while, me whining in Tamil and him shooing me off in Malayalam. Finally, i gave up and sat down on some rocks. And re-learnt one of life's great lessons. It only stops those who let it. Every person who went passed him was told not to go on, but the only one who listened and stayed back was me. So, when he wasnt looking, i leaped ahead and gave him an apologetic grin. Which he returned!
On the way back, car sickness struck as usual and so i sat in the front seat. I'd taken some medicine, the thing worked like a charm. It knocked me off so bad that i had to be shaken awake when we reached campus.
A wonderful, if somewhat short vacation that left me thoroughly campus sick and grateful that ex-colleagues could continue to be friends across time and space.

Nero

Rome burns while i play the fool.

Whats worse, i've sort of learnt to live with the smell.

Happy new year

Tu dhoop hai, jham se bikhar
Tu hai nadi, o bekhabar
Beh chal kahin, ud chal kahin
Dil khush jahan, teri to manzil hain wahin

They speak to me, these lines. Especially the last one. It makes it sound so simple. Sigh. If only i could find the damn place, dilkhushjahan.

Another year is almost here. Starting from some arbit point, the earth is about to complete one revolution around the sun. Celebrate.

Another circle of life

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!

Is it Diwali time? And is that the patter of little feet moving to the sound of tiklis bursting from the plastic gun? And is that the part excited part afraid squeal of the gun wielder as the tikli flashes into ashes?

Naah.

Its an ordinary everyday evening. And those are the parents old feet chasing mosquitoes with a plastic bat. And that is the triumphant scream of the bat wielder as a mosquito hits the bat and flashes into ashes.

It is their second childhood after all.

(In case you haven't come across the latest in pest control, i present to you MachchBuster 2000. A tennis bat shaped bat, it has a light plastic body with a deadly electrified wire mesh. Prominent at the centre of the mesh is a lightning shaped shape, serving to remind everyone of the lightning scar bearer's victory over the Dark Lord. And mosquito unlucky enough to come in contact with the mesh when the bat wielder happens to be pressing the button that electrifies it is not only dead, but cremated with full honour.)

And we? We are the adults now. Too occupied with with life to join the fun. Yet keeping an eye on them, in case they get carried away.

Ha! Whom am i kidding? Wannabe adults, thats who we are. We talk the talk, sure, but are yet to walk it.

Issued in public interest

A strange new phenomenon has been recently observed in audio devices used to play music. Termed Leftyingitis, the phenomenon affects the playing ability of the left half of devices such as headphones and earphones. Acute Leftyingitis is a temporary onset of the phenomenon in which the left half of the device rarely generates music but is known to generate squeaks of static and cries for help. Chronic Leftyingitis is more permanent. The left half of the device shows no sign of life and can actually be cut off from the device if it was not for the aesthetics.
A rarer strain of the phenomenon similarly affecting the right half of audio devices has also been reported. Called Rightyingitis, this strain is as deadly as its more common cousin.

Possible causes:
The jury is out on this one. While hundreds of theories and thousands of wannabe ones have been fighting for the top spot, experts agree that one of the Big Four is most likely to win.

1. A new communicable disease that spreads through luminiferous ether (which, according to the scientists was chosen as the medium because "its a really cool name begging to be used")

2. Evolution: Biologists claim to have seen this coming. They claim that evolution has given up on ever being able to evolve man into a higher being and has now taken to experimenting on man made stuff.

3. Intelligent Design: Proponents of this theory claim that the phenomenon is too narrow and specific to have come about by chance. They claim it is all part of the Makers plan. Unfortunately their press release forgot to capitalize the M, thus triggering wide spread protests outside Bose, Sony and Apple offices.

4. The flying spaghetti monster: Pastafarians claim it is because His Noodly Appendages have been having some fun.

And then of course, there is Global Warming. And the Al-Qaeda.

Cures:
Acute Leftyingitis may be cured by tilting the head carrying the device in certain positions. These positions are random and the effects are not repeatable. The affected device may also respond to physical abuse.
If your audio devices are exhibiting chronic versions of either strains of the phenomenon, you are advised to adjust your definition of a complete musical experience to one in which you can hear from both ears.

Workaround:
Buy audio devices in pairs. If you are lucky, each device in your pair will exhibit a different strain of the phenomenon. If not, swap one of your devices for one exhibiting the opposite strain. Remember though that Rightyingitis is rare, so if both your devices have Leftyingitis, you are better off crushing them both and starting all over again. By whatever means, if you end up with two devices exhibiting opposite strains, get your ears surgically repositioned so that you can listen to both devices at the same time.

Dark Could Vs Silver Lining

Dark Cloud: It takes more self control than i've got to
1. skip meals
2. go for early morning jogs
I'm doomed.

Silver Lining: I've joined a gym! With a very attractive corporate discount!

Dark Cloud: Too attractive. The money no longer compels me to show up. I'm doomed.

Silver Lining: On the days i do show up, i feel great after working out!

Dark Cloud: And miserable before. And old during. I used to be able to jog for 20 minutes at a stretch. Not anymore. I'm doomed.

Silver Lining: There is always aerobics! Shaking my body to loud music, its the closest i am ever going to get to dancing, and i LOVE it! I love the before! i love the during! i love the after!

Dark Cloud: Oh, but the songs i have to put up with. I want to die when I'm a Barbie girl comes up. And it comes up. Every time. Its one of those songs i'd be terribly embarrassed to be seen enjoying and yet, in that atmosphere i cant help it. More than once i've horrified myself by catching myself singing along. If they ever play Brazil, i'll quit. I'm doomed.

Silver Lining: Thats just one song in an hour! The ones she plays during cool down are really nice!

Dark Cloud: Whatever. After all that, I'm still as fat. I'm doomed.

Silver Lining: (for once without the enthusiasm to talk in exclamation marks) Sigh. You win. I'm doomed.

They get together to form one huge dark cloud and live gloomily ever after.

Acknowledgments: Silver Lining inspired by the following characters from Terry Pratchett's Maskerade
1. Christine, who says everything with an exclamation mark
2. The Opera House Ghost, who leaves threatening notes with written maniacal laughter with 5 exclamation marks. Stuff like

Dear Opera House Manager,

ehahahahahaha!!!!!

Respectfully,
The Opera House Ghost.

Terry the wise says, "And all those exclamation marks, you notice? Five? A sure sign of someone who wears their underpants on their head". You will notice that i have used them only in the singular.

Lessons to unlearn the past

1. Movies do not grow on tress. Neither do TV series.
2. Every hour of the day its own purpose. They are not interchangable.
7 A.M. != 8 P.M. != 2 A.M.
Which means, you cannot start work at 8 P.M., you cannot go for a walk at 2 A.M. and you cannot get home at 7 A.M.
3. Yellow smiley balls are for kids. You are not one anymore.
4. If you want exercise, you have to make yourself do it. There is no coach expecting you to turn up. No conditioning camp instructors threatening to throw you out of the skiing trip if you dont show up. No classmates for company. Its either you by yourself or nothing at all.
5. You cannot go around from desk to desk, bugging people just because you are bored. One, they are all working. Two, you dont know most of them.
6. Afternoon sleep is not a constitutional right. It is grave injustice, but until you become the puppet-master of the country's ruling parties and the constitution your personal diary, you will just have to learn to live without it.
7. All the sporting action you are going to get is likely to be televised. It is not possible to get 4 people together for baddy, leave alone 6 for basky. (It is 6, isnt it?) Or TT. Or tennis. Or Phatta. Unless you can convince yourself that foosball is a sport. You suck at it, but when has that been a problem?

Misery loves company

And mine is so happy right now, it is throwing a party! All of you reading this are invited, yes, all three of you.

There are few things in this world that cause me as much misery as having to wear a saree does. Not that i've had to on too many occasions, but i live in mortal dread of some such occasion popping up and me having to put up another fight of my life. And it is just impossible to make people understand that i genuinely dont like the garment. I would dearly love to punch the next person who says - you cannot look bad in a saree. Really??? That is your argument? That i should wear something i dont like, am extremely uncomfortable and totally self-conscious in, just because i look good in it? Really??? And a smaller punch for the person who tries cultural blackmail. There are thousands of women who gladly wear sarees, let them preserve this part of our culture. I'll find some other part to preserve. Like... err... i'm sure i'll find something, considering the alternative!
(Yes, that is an actual argument. You cant throw "but what if everyone thinks like that" at me. Everyone does not think like that.)
My misery is pouring out like this because suddenly and most unexpectedly, it has company! One of Bhai's closest friends is getting married and he has been asked to be a groomsman. And do you know what groomsmen wear? Suits!!!! And, suits are to him what sarees are to me. (You can tell we are related, cant you?) I dont think i have ever been so happy in such a twisted way! While he continues to fight the groom for his right to wear black (jeans and t-shirt, of course), my misery is enjoying the company! And irrespective of the outcome, i know i have found one person who understands.

P.S. If he loses the fight, my plan is to beg the groom to let me into the wedding so that i can..well, i dont really have to do anything. I just have to be there. My misery will have the time of my life.

Dream of a dream

As I watch Chak De second hand (second hand viewing is what happens when someone else is watching a movie, generally on a PC, generally with headphones, and you looking at the screen is only incidental) it hits me again. If there is something i can see myself happily do for a living for a long long time, it is playing some sport. I know, i know, i probably know nothing about that life or what it takes from you, but i can dream cant i? And as long as i am dreaming, i'd like to dream about a team sport. Not that an individual sports are not fun. They have their perfect moments where your eyes see the right thing, your brain makes the right decision, your body executes the decision beautifully and you feel like ONE being. Now imagine this perfection extended to include other people and suddenly, you are no longer limited to yourself. You are part of a much bigger whole.
All right, i'll stop drooling. But i now get why parents sometimes want their kids to fulfill their dreams. Its not the dream they want to pass on, its the fulfillment they imagine their dream would have bought. But it doesnt work like that, does it? The best you can hope for is that your kid finds his dream before its too late.

Not moving on

A few weeks ago, life took me back to my college. I was going back after 5 long years and was pretty sure no one would remember me. It wasnt as bad as i'd expected. My name didnt ring a bell but my face certainly did! As they were trying to place me in a batch, one of the teachers asked me who my BE project guide was. And i went blank. My recovery went something like this - - B.E project? Did I do a BE project? I would certainly have remembered if i'd done one. But it must have been part of the course or she wouldnt have asked. So we had a guide? How i can i not remember my guide? My M Tech thesis guide still haunts me sometimes, how could i have forgotten my B.E project guide? And more importantly, how could i have forgotten my B.E project?? Took 5 minutes and a lot of prodding from those present, but i got to the answer. Fortunately, my guide was not among those present. I was still quite embarrassed and by way of apology said something like - the stack's grown too deep. I have to pop out a lot of stuff to get to that information. (She taught us Data Structures. That much i remember) And she laughed and said - Dont worry, i understand. Our stacks run deeper than yours.

This fading out has already reached my M Tech memories now. A few nights ago, i couldnt remember the name of a professor and it kept me awake for a long long time. This other time i couldnt remember the name of the ONE multiplex in Kanpur. And i still cant remember the name of the ridiculously expensive restaurant on the second floor of that multiplex. Dabba and batti have gone back to their usual meanings. (Technical question, can a macbook be called a dabba? I've been trying to come up with a common name for all the computers in at home.)

I know its not a catastrophe. I know the old has to make way for the new. But until some exciting new comes along, i'd rather hold on to the old.

Blogging in my sleep

I do not talk in my sleep. It is one of those tiny, insignificant things about me that i wish was otherwise. I simply love to hear people talk in their sleep and only superstitions ingrained into near and dear ones stop me from holding full fledged conversations with sleep talkers. The whole thing is so amazing, they are right there in front of you and at the same time also in some alternate reality. My favourite part is telling the sleep talker what he/she talked about next morning and watching them being amazed at the idea of having been somewhere they have no recollection of being!
Since i cant have what i dont have, I am going to be very mature and celebrate what i do have. I cannot answer the phone when i am asleep. That, lads and ladies, is the nearest i get to being abnormal in my sleep. The following sequence of events which explain the phenomenon have been put together after careful post-postmortem of several such occurrences.
I am asleep.
The phone rings.
I hear it.
I open my eyes.
I squint at the display, trying to identify the caller.
My brain tells my hands to answer. But someone somewhere messes up and I end up pressing the wrong key. Aah, but not just any wrong key, (this is where you see the brilliance of my postmortem) i press the key that is supposed to shut off the alarm.
I wonder why the damn thing wont stop ringing.
I talk into a ringing phone.
I wonder why the idiot at the other end doesn't answer.
Somewhere in all this confusion, i go back to sleep.

(This post is what i have come up with after about 3 weeks of wondering what to write. I gotta get me a life. Seriously.)

About a dog

A huge, shiny black dog belonging to the neighbourhood has been adopted by our office. He is friendly enough for me to be able to look past his size and admire him. I think he is the first ever non-filmy dog that i have found beautiful! He shares our parking lot with some chickens , who also belong to the neighbourhood.

As i leave for home, i see a kid (also i suspect belonging to the neighbourhood) playing with a laser pointer kind of thing. He moves it around so that the light shines on the ground. The dog, thinking that it is a ball, chases the light around, barking part in fun, part in frustration at not being able to lay its jaws on it!

You know you have grown up when you cant look at such a scene and not see a deeper message.

The circle of life

Do you ever get the feeling that nothing new ever happens anymore? That everything that happens has already happened before, either to you or to someone else? That all motion is just an illusion, we are moving sure, but not really getting anywhere because it all a giant cycle and at some point, you are going to be right where you started?
My Aunt was talking to my grandmom a few days ago, and she says - "Can you believe it, the kid who delivers newspapers at our home called me Ajji?" (Ajji is grandmother in Marathi and probably several other languages). And my granny lets out a properly shocked But you are so young! And i think, is this what life is all about? Going from indignation over being called Aunty to indignation over being called Ajji?
Recent months have seen me as a participant in more than my fair share of married girl talk and mum talk. Not having experiences of my own to contribute, i naturally turn to those of my mothers. And you know what, one generation later they are still facing the same issues!! In-laws, kids, domestic help, balance between work and home - you would have thought they would have found a solution by now! Think i am being a little naive here? That these are universal issues that actually unite us as a species? Like, how many ever ages the little fish have been around, how many ever tricks evolution has taught them about hiding better, they still have to worry about being eaten by the big fish, dont they? That never goes away. Somehow, i thought humans would be more intelligent.
Take babies. How idiotic is it that every baby has to start form the very beginning? Shouldn't evolution have evolved by now that babies come in knowing some of the stuff humans have perfected over generations? (Am reading All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriot. In one story he goes to deliver a lamb. The moment the little ones come out, they totter around for a few seconds as they learn to stand on their feet and then head straight to the mother's udder! And the shepherd, who has seen this a thousand times, still stares in amazement and says - How do they know?) . I must admit though, an all knowing baby without the whole wide-eyed-wonder thing? Not very appealing! Also, i'm not exactly clear how much pre-programming the babies should come with. I mean, life is generally mostly about the journey, they would be missing out on that. On the other hand, they do get a lot of stuff ready made anyway. No one gives they kids a couple of sticks and says - go, discover fire! (see how confused i can get? I no longer know which side i am arguing on!)
What is really offended here, is in some sense my ego. The belief that i am an individual, i am unique. That i choose my own roads. That my life is not a rehash of lives that have already been led before. That at the end of it all, i will be standing where no one has stood before.

P.S. Scott Adams says it much better with his moist robot theory and you being a hologram programmed by a prior real version of you theory.

Good health implies bad hygiene

And hence it has been proved. That washing your hair, however scant it may be, is injurious to health. Especially to your shoulder muscles. And especially if you have just re-started going to the gym after 4 months. And especially due to attempted bravado, wherein you assume you can literally pick up where you left off and start with 4 times the minimum weight. And especially if you have a history of shoulder problems.

If and when i have a house of my own, the bathroom door will have the following message printed in large friendly letters

Enter at your own risk

Once there will be a young girl

You know the armour of indifference is cracked when:

• you want to kill people who flout traffic signals. You do not want to look at them indulgently and think aisi bhi kya jaldi hai baba, you want to kill them.
  

• it is one of those rare weekends when the starts have smiled. An empty court, 3 available people and you are off to your hour of badminton. An extended family member says - i don't know why you waste your time playing. Cant you find anything better to do? And instead of the "you will never understand me but i still love you" smile, your first reaction is a "how dare she" spike of anger.

• it has been decided, for excellent reasons, that everyone will report to work by 10. It poses no practical problems to you since you hail from a family of early risers. But still, you object to the decision on principle, it seems un-democratic. It takes all your self-control to stop yourself from going to the people in charge first thing in the morning and saying - Sir! Vinaya N reporting for duty, Sir!

People get to you. Their attitudes get to you. Their actions get to you. And you wonder, isn't it supposed to be the other way round? Aren't the sharp edges supposed to get smoother with age? Aren't you supposed to become more tolerant?

Yesterday's TOI had an article about how age is all in the mind. Maybe that is it! I am getting younger in my mind!! And hence more porcupine-y. Assuming this continues, if after a few months you come across a 20 something girl giggling without a cause and replying with a "shendi cut up" to your "shutup", that would be me.

Booooooks!

You open the bookshelf and find 6 unread books waiting to be consumed - it is times like there that make me glad i earn what i do.

Of course, by the time i could put this post to paper (Yes, i am writing this on paper and will type it out later, and No, i do not know of a better way to spend my weekend), the number of unread books has dwindled to 3. So i am halfway between dreams-come-true-land and nightmare city.

All 6 were procured as part of sales in various book stores, none, as far as i can recall, at any discount. Now i know the power of a Sale, it is just a legitimate excuse to go crazy! I was showing off my catch to a cousin and he says,

Cousin: I cant believe it! All of these are so good you went and bought the original?
Me: Original? Arre, nakli books bhi koi leta hai kya?
(Rich, coming from someone who until a year ago regularly drooled over roadside book stalls.)
Cousin: I don't know how you can get yourself to pay full price
Me: Guilt.
(That is one of the prime movers of my life. I mean, what excuse do i have to not go and buy the original? The book means much more to me than the 250 rupees i spend on it. And Pinocchio would call me a liar if i said i couldn't afford it. It was guilt that make me, ME, go and pay full price for HP7 on the day it came out. That is how powerful it is.)
Anyway, i don't suppose you will understand it. The same way i don't understand how you can get yourself to spend so much on branded clothes.

And with that,we agreed to disagree. And launch our own small war on piracy. I buy original books, he buys original clothes. The only thing we need to complete our League Of Extraordinary Fools is one who watches only original movies!

Rambling

I tried to write something about my being an exercise junkie, in which i tried to go on and on about fixes and highs and reveal in the end that i was talking about exercise all the while, but it all got too depressing.

Then i thought i could write about my first "stay-over" at a book store on Saturday. I spent hours lost in a book called No onions no garlic. It was funny, yes, but what kept me hooked was the fact that some of the scenes seemed to be lifted right out of my home! I never realized we were so typical. But that would have been a two-liner post and i am trying at stay away from those.

All this blueness reminded me how in my first job, a friend and i used to get regular Friday Blues, which is depression you get at the prospect of yet another purposeless weekend. Now i get Friday blues and Monday blues. And Sunday blues. And sometimes Tuesday blues too. Yeah, I'm blue should maybe become my anthem. (I'm wearing something blue as i type this, what are the odds!!!)

At this point, i wakeup and realize that i may be scaring off a couple of young things that read this blog about life outside academics. Listen kids, its not so bad in general. Honest. Only, it hasnt been my day. Or week. Or month. Or even my year. And anyway, anyone who looks up to me as a responsible adult or my life as some measure of as good as it gets is a bloody idiot. There, you have been warned!

P.S. I have decided to dignify all the crying i have been doing all over the blog with a label of its own. Its called Boo Hoo. Bet you didn't see that coming. Anyone who clicks on that link needs serious help.

P.P.S. Another theory of mine. According to it, we tend to approximate sounds into words and fail miserably. And then we get so used to the approximation that we change the sound! Take Boo Hoo for example. Have you heard anyone actually go boo hoo while crying? I'm sure it was meant as an written approximation for the sound people make while crying. Already it has found its way into our spoken language. And i predict someday it will change the way we cry. Like Haha has changed the way we laugh. Or Ouch has changed the way we ask for Iodex. Wonder if the theory apply to animals too. I mean, will cats tomorrow actually cry out meow the way do? Or dogs go bow-wow? Or will it be woof?

P.P.P.S. I really admire the person who invented woof. I first came across the approximation in Enid Blyton's books but i'm not sure she invented it. Whoever did it must have been brilliant. And so brave. It couldnt have been easy standing up to a world raised on doggie says bow-wow and say, no, they say woof. Babies would have laughed at him.

Suppose

Came across this Tamil song Suppose yesterday and have been grinning ever since. (Warning, do not see the video, it pretty much wiped the grin off my face). Its the combination of not exactly poetic lyrics and a classical-ish tune that does it, i suppose. Devoid of work and ideas that i am, i decided to try and translate the first para into Hindi. Some points about the translation:

• Its not literal. Because that is no fun. And also because i dont know enough Tamil. What does Baedhalichu mean anyway?
• Not translating the word "suppose". Thats part of the non-poeticness. Out of curiosity though, what in Hindi would suppose translate to? Socho ki?

Tamil:

Suppose Unnai Kaadhalichu
Suppose Naanum Baedhalichu
Suppose Enna Kattikkoanaa
Enna Solvaai

Suppose Un Mael Koabam Vandhu
Suppose Angae Ena Marandhu
Suppose Naa En Seruppeduthaa
Enna Seivaai

Hindi:

Suppose tum se pyaar hua
Suppose tumko dil diya
Suppose tumse byah kiya
To kaisa hoga

Suppose tumpe gussa aake
Suppose khud pe kaboo khoke
Suppose haath mein chappal aaye
To kaisa hoga

Time for a career change, maybe? If someone is looking to remake Sukran in Hindi, talk to me!

While on the topic, why do most Tamil to Hindi song translations suck so? Either they are plain idiotic (remember telephone dhun mein hasne wali? To be fair though, it was almost a literal translation, but the nonsense is at least tasteful in Tamil). Or they are filled with unheard of Hindi words which make them unhummable (awara bhavre, dil se). Thankfully they seem to have stopped dubbing movies, otherwise the software industry's gain would have become Bollywood's loss!

Which is worse?

That i had to survive a week at work without the Internet or that i did?
(Knowledge gained as part of the survival: the clock on the phone on my desk is 30 seconds behind the clock on my PC. And my mobile is 18 seconds behind my desk phone )

That i now have to travel 12 kms and 10 signals to get to work or that i like it?

That i don't have a life or that i don't miss it all that much?

That i drink tea thrice a day or that i still don't like it?

Who cares? I just played a game of carom with board magnets. And discovered a badminton court walking distance from the office. I am uplifted. It doesn't get better then this!

Duh!

Takes more than a quarter of a century to realize that life is war, that only indifference can bring you peace.
Seriously, how dumb can one get?

I-day

That Choudhary's wife, hahaha, she is actually worshiping the flag with flowers and Rangoli. Touching the foot of the pole, asking it for blessings, reported my uncle to general laughter. And your aunt is making modaks for the Mahatma, he said, something my aunt hotly denied from the kitchen. Public display of patriotism has always been ridiculed in the circles i move in, expect if it is during a cricket match. Independence day, Republic day, Gandhi Jayanti have all been reduced to public holidays in which TV channels have record ratings and malls have record sales. Not that i am in a position to judge, its been a long long time since these days stopped feeling special. But once in a while, i catch Vande Mataram or Saare jahan se achcha or Ae mere vatan ke logon or Jana Gana Mana being played somewhere and i feel a part of something bigger. I guess it is the sort of feeling people get during Dussera or Diwali. Who knows, thousands of years from now, Gandhi might have morphed into a legend, who came to earth to deliver us from the evil British! We'd have to come up with better super powers for him though. Ability to abstain from food, not very impressive!

(Gandhi bashing seems to be the flavour of the season. Gandhi My Father apart, it is only when I saw Cheeni Kum that i realized how utterly frustrating it must be when somebody reacts to a situation by going on a fast!)

There is one in my head!

You know TV has conquered your senses when you mentally curse something and it comes out as as a beep!

Cheers!

As a patch for my F.R.I.E.N.D.S addiction, i have hooked on to another series, Cheers. Nothing can ever come close to the one, of course, but this one does promise to keep me occupied for a while. Which is a big deal really, if you look at the volume of stuff that didn't make it. Sienfeld, How I met your mother, Two guys, a girl and a pizza place, Fraiser, Dharma and Greg, Everybody loves Raymond, Different Strokes, I dream Of Jeannie, Bewitched, Happy Days, Mork and Mindy, Silver Spoon, Nanny and the Professor (at least thats what i think it was called!), Whos the boss, The Drew Carrey Show, South Park (this was when i was feeling really really adventurous and also, desperate), Futurama (good, but not good enough) and more i cant remember the names of.

One of the things i love about Cheers, apart from the fact that it has Fraiser, who now feels like a long lost family member because i caught a few episodes of the show several years ago, is the title song.

Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got.
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.

Wouldn't you like to get away?

Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name,
and they're always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same
You wanna be where everybody knows
Your name.

Very cheerful, no?

However, right now i want exactly the opposite. To be in a place where no one knows me. I want a pastless, futureless existence where I wake up each morning with a clean slate and spend the whole day being whoever i want to be. I want to be able to be unforgivably rude today and wake up tomorrow as the friendliest soul you ever met. I want to be able to see the the world in black and white today, knowing that tomorrow i can turn it into grey. And maybe after i have been everyone and noone, i will be more at peace with being the someone i am, in a place where everybody knows my name. Maybe.

Or maybe, i will stop writing crap.

Notes to myself

101 reason why you should jog: #43

Aunties dont jog. So when you jog, you are automatically promoted from aunty to didi! Unknown kids on your jogging route yell out "didi jogging" and wave. Do you know how long its been since someone called you that? Well, just over a year ago, to be honest. But then, that is because you were in college and aunties dont go to college either.
When you get too old to jog, look into that PhD.

A third eye

I wish had the writer's eye. You know, the one with which they seem to able to see their characters for what they really are. Make statements about them with such confidence that you know they must be right. I'd look at people from far far away, a dispassionate, critical look and then make pronouncements that would be it.

She'd always been satisfied by life's generalities, i'd say. Of course she wanted things. She wanted some degree, some job, some friends, a family. But never anything particular. Why then did she hang on to this particular particular with everything she had? And more importantly, did she have the strength to see it through?

And then, i'd see through the eye and pass judgment. I'd say, she'd never fought for any particular . Not because she couldn't, but because she never wanted to. She had it all in her, untapped, waiting for a worthy cause. And now, that lifetime of peace would help her in war.

Or, i'd say, she'd never fought for any particular because she wanted peace more than anything else. At least thats what she told herself. But the truth was, she was afraid. Of defeat, of hurt, but most of all, of victory.

And that would be it.

Of Mechanics and Mental Mathematics

A khichidi post.

Just got my two wheeler back from the mechanic and i am looking for any excuse to shoot. To kill. Those of you with two wheelers must have guessed why. But for the rest, a before-after.

Before
Jammed break
Jammed stand
Silent horn
Dead battery
A seat that wouldn't lock
Superfast blinking indicators

After
Break okay
Stand okay
Silent horn
Dead battery
A seat that wont lock
Superfast blinking indicators
- PUC certificate
- Half a tank of petrol
- 412 rupees

Is an honest mechanic really such an oxymoron? In all these years of owning vehicles and getting them serviced, i haven't come across a single one i could trust. What gets to me most is the petrol stealing. I could have avoided it oh soo easily! The mother has been warning us for years about this petrol fetish that mechanics as a breed seem to have. But that is what i always took it as, one of mother's warnings. To be fair though, mine doesn't have too many. But you know how it is. You assume none of those things you have been warned about will actually happen to you. Until one day you actually miss that train because you forgot to take the ticket, and then, you open your little book titled "Wisdom i should pass on to my young ones - Part VIII" and write down:

Thou shalt strive to become a mechanic in life. No, getting married to one is not an option. Thy mother knows mechanics scam their spouses too. If that fails, thou shalt rely on public transport for thy transportation needs. But if, ever, in spite of thy mother's best laid plans, thou do find thyself in the position of owning a two wheeler and having to give it to a mechanic, thou shalt rather hand over the keys of thy house to a certified thief than give thy two wheeler to a mechanic with more than a teaspoonful of petrol.

On a totally unrelated note, i don't understand how people make statements like - Its been 5 years since i passed out of college? I mean, how do they keep track of the passage of years? Do they increment the number in their memory every year on the appropriate day? Or do they do the math afresh every time they make such statements? Common sense tells me they must be doing the math, and yet, it doesn't show. Maybe they are all mental math geniuses. Or maybe, they have another little notebook in which they write down the dates for everything that ever happened in their lives. And revise it every morning while brushing their teeth.

How may years since I moved to this city?
5
How many years since I last met xzy?
3
How many years since I got this toothbrush?
1.5

Yuck. Mental math not being an option, I'd rather be caught counting on my fingers.

How many years since you passed out of school?
1,2,3... God help me, i don't have that many fingers!

Break, please!

I love throwing parties at my house. I love having people over, food, drinks, dance, the works. And the next day, of course there is a mess. I cant live with the mess. And I hate to clean up. Maybe i should have someone to do the cleaning. But I don't like handing over my house to some stranger. Maybe i should not have parties at home. But i love having parties at home. But, but i hate the mess...

Very unlike the real me, i dont like parties, i dont mind the mess and i will never say no to help! But you get the point.

Will someone please do a Control-C?

What would i be?

I've often wondered what kings and great warriors must be like. Should they be truly passionate to be able to rise above their fears, doubts, sometimes even morals and do what they have to do? Or should they be truly dispassionate to be able to live with their actions, look upon it as simply their duty? It would not do at all, would it, if they crushed an opponent at war and spent the rest of their life feeling sorry for him?

I'd make a lousy warrior. Even assuming i am the bravest of the brave, i simply couldn't be bothered enough to go pick a fight with someone. And even if i did, the first scratch on his skin from my sword and i would have forgotten him and waged a war with myself. Over whether i should finish him off or rush for bandage.

Wonder what i would have done had i been living in the times of Kings. Warrior, no. Farmer no, they have to get up too early. Cook no, i'm bad at that too, plus not much of my efforts would reach the table. Trader no, cant bargain to save my life. Dancer no, singer no. Jester no. Birbal no. Those people who fan the king with peacock feathers no.
Wonder if they had career counseling back then.

Shopping we will go!

Another cousin story. A different one this time. This one has just started college. Asli college, not the fraud colleges one used to goto in 11th and 12th standard, schoolage would be a better name for which. Where timestables have lectures not periods, where lectures are bunkable, where canteens exist and professors covering the entire syllabus is unheard of. And she wanted to buy t shirts. And she wanted me to come shopping with her. Me. ME. Me. Me. And. I. Agreed.

Some background for those who did not feel the earth move beneath their feet. I DONT shop. I might agree if
- it is for me and
- you hold a gun to my head
but for someone else, i'd rather die. Much rather.

Back to the ishtory. Not only did i agree, i was the guide, the knowledgeable one! I guess all those yearly shopping expeditions with my mom left their mark. I found the place, i took her to shops, i asked them to show us stuff and, this is what i am most proud of, i even told them thanks, but you dont have anything we like. Twice. Or once. This was not just a step forward, this was evolution!

And it was fun too! 3 times out of four, we liked the same stuff. It did not result in a duel unto death because we are both nice people who belong to vastly different size classes. She belongs to the class for which they make clothes, i belong to the class for which they dont. I found her a shirt that says - "If you dont like the way i drive, get off the road".
(Her younger cousin tells her that she has a brush with at least one car driver every time she is on the road. And what do she do? Does she lecture the young one on road safety? Does she panic and call the young one's parents? Nooo, she buy the young one a t shirt that says "If you dont like the way i drive, get off the road". And lets the young one ride her bike. Some people, i tell you!)

We came back with stuff that was 17 rupees under budget and met with parental approval. Not bad for a first timer! No, i didnt bargain. That would not be evolution. That would be alien takeover!

My assignment

Scott Adams says in his blog today

Your assignment for today is to describe your own job in one sentence, preferably in a humorously derogatory way.
Go.

So i went. And on my way realized that though no one from my office reads my blog (not that i know of. If there are any of you out there, please come forward and declare yourself. Or, remain forever slient), this thing has the potential to someday come and bite me. So, i shall write about the former job of this person i know. I cant believe how evil a genius i can sometimes be! This will not only totally get to this person i know, but will also tell me how often this person i know reads my blog. Because if this person i know is the person i know, (s)he simple cannot let this go.

This person i know, his/her job was to produce the gems that someone could then call crap and spray paint all over.
Go.

Two Appliances

In this post, I pretend that a school teacher has asked me, me, who has now seen more of life outside school than in it, to write an essay on "Two appliances". Yes, any two appliances. Because, as much as i think, i cant come up with an essay title that covers the two appliances i want to write about. So, Two Appliances.

Appliance one is my blower. My former blower. A blower, for those of you unused to extreme climates (no sniggering, Kanpur is extreme) is an appliance that blows out hot air. De- freezes the frozen climate. Brings warmth, and equally importantly, makes a comforting fan like noise without which some people cannot sleep. The one i had i shall call Little Grey Blower. It came into my life from outside the campus gate on a particularly cold November evening. And the cold winter nights, and for that matter cold winter days were never the same again. Little Grey Blower would sit on the easy chair and watch over me as i slept. And my room would become a warmer place. Though it is no more with me, it did lead a full life. And went with a bang. All the lights in the wing went off a mark of respect. It might have been age but it might have been a little my fault for using it well past the official end of winter.
You are missed, my little friend, even in lesser winters.


Appliance two is my cooler. My former water cooler. My third hand water cooler. This i shall call Big Blue Cooler. It was a luxury i bought under extreme poverty because better times were promised. (And not that it is relevant to the story, but they did come. Better times. Much better times) Even though i had to transport buckets of water and fill it up everyday, even though it took up so much room that the easy chair had to sleep out, even though my bed had to be 6 feet high to make the best of the cool wind Big Blue Cooler generated, even though i woke up each summer morning to a drizzle, i never thought i had compromised. I would willingly spent hours every night adjusting and readjusting the position and orientation of my bed and Big Blue Cooler for maximum exposure. I would have loved to have passed it on to a fourth hand, but i guess age caught up with it. I left it with the clothes in the drying area, and never looked back. Rust in peace, my friend.

How did i do, miss?

Hurry up!

The movie for the 5th is coming out shortly.

I've revised the 6th one. Can you believe i couldn't even remember who the Half Blood Prince was, or what horcruxes were?

I'm ready. I'm soo ready for the 7th Harry Potter! Even if the name makes it sound like a cheap thriller. Even if it is the last one. Even if rumors say she is on a character killing spree. After this one, they are dead for us anyway. At least on paper. The ones in my imagination, she can never kill.

Hurry up!!!

Ram Rajya

I have become a night watchman. Err... woman. To be precise, less dramatic, closer to the truth and boring, my cousin is kind of alone at home and i have been appointed to protect her at night. My first night on duty, i went over with a movie. No, it was not an abuse of lack of parental supervision, movies made her feel safe. Halfway through, she felt too sleepy to worry about safety and so we decided to save the rest for the next day. I settled into my bed with Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince and she, that kid i am supposed to protect, that girl i have seen grow from a bundle in the hospital to to the fine young girl who once gave me note to get out of office, went and locked the doors. She was fast asleep before i realized that as a night watchwoman, that was probably part of my job.
Instead of being shocked at my lack of responsibility and watch-womanability, i prefer to say that i don't believe in locks.

Conspiracy Theory

Society has been asking for it for a while now. What i would like to do more than anything else is to kick it in the backside. However, such physical display of affection being impractical, i have been brooding. And not without result. I have come up with a conspiracy theory! From the makers of society, no less!

Let me state at the outset that for this theory of mine, i have no proof whatsoever. Unless you can count the fact that i would have done it this way if i were one of the makers making up society as proof. When the wise men and women sat down to figure out the rules that they expected majority of mankind to obey, they settled on the strictest possible subset. Not because they were mean, frustrated people but because they realized the importance of the illusion of freedom. They knew there would be rebels, people trying to break free. And they designed the rules such that people could break free without too much damage either to themselves or to their precious society. Kind of like keeping a kid locked in a room, telling him it is to protect him from the dangers outside, so that even if he breaks out he is still within the the house. Free and safe. So, you don't have to actually fly in order to feel that you have broken away, just dancing in the middle of the road will do it.

(Now that I think of it, it seems more common sense than conspiracy. But what kind of a post tile would common sense be?)

Crawling in the dark

While I can run, I'll run
While I can walk, I'll walk
When I can only crawl, I'll crawl
But by the grace of God I'll always be moving forward

says a computer printout that mysteriously appeared in my room yesterday. People I think are trying to tell me something. Life does seem to have stagnated in most areas. If you look closely, you might even get to see the faint green moss that has grown over it. The only crawling i do, i do when i write.

But today, even that didn't seem enough. Today, I hit rock bottom. Today, I picked up Corman. Getting rid of my ignorance/dislike/fear of Data Structures has been on my "things i must do before i am 20" and "things i must do before i am 30" list and is currently in the lead for the "things i must do before i am 40" list. And ordinarily, this doesn't trouble me. I've accepted it as one of the minor irritants of life that one must learn to live with, much like raincoats. But on days like today, when i feel like a big gesture, I pick up Corman. Someday I hope to get what he and his friends want to say. I'm sure it is something beautiful. I can see it sometimes, when someone gives me a problem to solve. And the solution. Or when i get to see the difference between n and n^2 in real life. But mostly, it all appears as just a lot of maths, getting rid of a fear of which is also list material.

So I read Corman. Because 2 pages of that means I'm no longer crawling. And because someday I have to stop being such a kid and start taking interviews. Whichever way i look at it, growing up is not fun.

TV through the ages

From the days when we ran over to the neighbours to watch news coverage on Indira Gandhi's assassination

To the days when we drove over to ex-tenants to watch Ramayana because the light had literally gone out of our lives

To the lusting over the weekend movie shown on DD but being kicked out to play

To the days when we picked up a whole language just by watching serials made in it

To the invasion of cable TV and English movies and sitcoms

To the days when aimless channel surfing became an acknowledged hobby

To the days when life became too full of cares to stand and stare

To the days when the TV was in a room far far away and the competitors for the remote were no longer family

To the enlightenment that the PC was as good if not better

To now, when TV has been reduced to the thing I proudly say I haven't touched in 4 years

While I sometimes realize with a guilt that is more wished for than real, how hopelessly outdated that makes me on current affairs, the only thing I really miss are the ads. I hear they make them good there days.

FAQ

Fact
Did you know (why do all facts begin this way? No that was not what the did you know was for) that convenience was actually a philosophy of life? To put it more formally,

Thou shalt follow the path of maximum convenience.
(go to great lengths to do so, if needed)

No right and wrong, no opinion, no judgment, no ego. Just convenience. It is an art, seen to be believed.


Advice
Use with caution the power to tell people what they want to hear. You just might be setting free someone who by all accounts should be rotting in jail for the rest of her life.


Question
Can a chick ever get back into the egg? Having broken out of its safety, having experienced the joys of running barefoot in the grass, having discovered wings and flight, having found chick-buddies to share the world with, having learnt to hold its own against them, can a chick ever get back into the egg?

It aint over until its over

If you ask a man who is

- about to be hanged
- has the noose around his neck
- has the black cloth over his face

whether he would want to watch a movie by making two holes in his back cloth before the trapdoor is opened, recent experience shows that he will say yes.

Applies to women too.

Happy Convorsary!

The past. Sometimes you life now is so different from your life then that it all seems to have happened to someone else. As the memories flash by, you can look upon them as dispassionately as if you were watching a movie. Been watching one such movie all day today.

It a big day in the heroine's life. No, more like a ceremonious day. The day the last two years of her life become official. More than anything, she is excited by the black gown and the hat. A lot of formality and a lot of silence later, she has her degree in hand! Like in the movies, she throws her degree up when its all over, only to get her first and only dressing down by a professor for disrespectful behaviour! Smiles, photographs, late lunch at a dosa place called for some mysterious reason Ambi Baba (another first and only). Aimless roaming. Bullying. More roaming.

Seems like one of those art movies, doesn't it, where they show a fly doing pretty much nothing for a really long time? (No, i don't claim to be writing an art movie script, if they have such a thing.) As bland and faraway as it all seems, there are some moments in there that can never be contained in my past.

Added: Professor for disrespectful behaviour. Hehe!

I wish I was a bear

I've finally figured it all out. This part of my life i call hibernation. You know, the state where all activity but the ones essential for life cease, and you lie dormant, waiting for better times. I work. I eat. I sleep. And that keeps me alive. Pretty low maintenance, I'd say.

The trouble however, comes from the rest of the world. You see, when you are hibernating, it is understood that you are to be left alone. The only interaction you are supposed to have with the rest of the world is through your nose. But the rest of the world? Doesn't follow the protocol! It keeps disturbing me with stuff that hibernators are supposed to be unaware of. Like trips, and college festivals, and faraway trips, and weddings, and treats, and trips... All stuff designed to make me want to wakeup to life. Only i can't, see?

So now, i've come up with a way to shut up the rest of the world. The whole problem arises, as the astute reader must no doubt have grasped, because i let them get to me. Penetrate through my defenses. Make me want stuff i am not supposed to want. So, until i wake up, this is going to be my standard response to all all non-hibernation-standard questions. Ready?
:)
Yeah. A smiley.

A before-after scenario will show how powerful it can be.

Before:
rest of the world: We are going on a rafting trip!
me in hibernation: Cooooooooool! Hold on, without me?? How could you?? I hate you! I'm never going to talk to you again! Never, ever! I hope your raft topples in the wall. I hope you fall into the third blind mice. I hope... aah, whom am i kidding! It would still be the bestest fun...

After:
rest of the world: We are going on a rafting trip!
me in hibernation: :)

See? Devastating.

Wish me luck. What with the upcoming convocation and rafting trip and wedding, i am going to need it!

Gotcha!

Age creeps up on you and says boo at totally unexpected places. It could be while you were listening to the uncertainties of someone just setting out in the world, looking to find his spot. And you realize how secure you are. The smugness lasts for a while before you realize it also means you can see your whole damn life ahead of you. No uncertainty, no unknowns. Old.

It could be when you hear of someone going for higher studies. Unknowingly, you smile your been there done that smile. And then the shock - When did I cross over to the other side of that one!

It could be when you are showing off your cute nephew's photos. And someone refers to his mom. And you start to laugh, say- she is my cousin, not a mom! She is a kid, like I am. Boo. OMG! Am I an aunty like she is?

Then of course there are the obvious ones. Like there is no way you can click the 16-24 age group in online surveys and still be telling the truth. Or the fact that your classmates are getting married in large numbers. And of course, people who ask you your age and then look around to see where you have left your kids. (No, that hasnt happened, and i dont see how it could, but i also see how it could).

To whoever is trying to send me these signals. I get it, you know, i do. What i dont get is, what am i supposed to do about it?

In which Granny tells a story

(To make up for all the one liner posts. I confess that at this point all i have is a very vague idea of where i want this story to go. Let see if I can take it there)

Once upon a time, began Granny, adjusting her specs to look upon a bunch of interested faces, there were four Pandas. No, no, said the up-to-date granny before the kids could interrupt her, they were not called Ta, Ra Ma and Pa. They were called, well, it doesn't really matter what they were called, so lets call them Axe, Why, Zee and Aye, she said, preening a little at her variable naming skills. There were your regular little pandas, you know, the ones who eat shoots and leaves. They were happy, fulfilled pandas who spent their days climbing trees to eat shoots and leaves. Until one day. And here, granny took a dramatic pause, making sure the audience was with her. On that day, half way up his 23rd tree, Why was hit. No he did not die a gory death, said granny, to the great disappointment of the audience. What do you take my story for, some kind of revenge drama where the remaining three dress up as humans and track down the killer and fall in love with his daughter? As i was saying, she continued, on that day, half way up his 23rd tree, Why got hit. By what you ask? By... a... Question! Oh yeah, those things are dangerous, she told a skeptic audience, sometimes even more dangerous than a headshot.

Granny had them, she knew. She continued. Why bravely climbed down the tree with his Question and sat down to think. Axe, Zee and Aye, passing him on their way to their 25th, 28th and 32nd trees respectively, at once realized something was wrong. Why, whats the matter, they asked him. I have been hit, moaned Why. I don't see any wounds, said Axe in a very scared voice. Zee was too scared to speak. Only Aye was brave enough to ask - was it a Question? Aye, it was, said Why. Better tell us about it before it hits us too, said Aye. Why nodded. Gathering all his courage, he told them about the Question that hit him. Why, said Why, are leaves green?

They were all stunned. Zee even dropped the leaf she was eating and started at it like she had never seen it before. The Question was scary, but what was scarier was that it had been with them all along and they hadn't even noticed. There was only one thing that could save them now. The Answer, said granny to a wide eyed audience. The four of them picked one direction each, and went looking for the Answer.

Axe went North
Over the mountain, across the seas
Forgetting to eat shoots and leaves
Pausing just to tell the trees
How much for the Answer he grieves


Why went East
Looking high and low among the trees
For the Answer that would bring him peace
He found the answer with ease
but is still looking for the peace

Zee went West
Zee went looking determinedly
Some answer there was meant to be
She looked and looked until she found
There was no answer to be found


Aye went South
Skipping over hills and climbing trees
Looking for the answer to complete his peace
The Question still hurts him repeatedly
But never when he eats shoots and leaves

So, said Granny, peering at her audience through her specs, which one of them would you like to be?

(You may think I am lost, but this is where i wanted to be. Yippie!)

Wrong time

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

Righ now, i do not want people to be nice. I do not want them to care. Not when I'm looking for an excuse to explode.

I wish I was a...

My suitcase has been to Singapore. My digital camera is on its way to London. In the words of Javed Akthar:

Socho tumne aur maine kya paaya insaan hoke

In an ideal world

- I will have work, not just a job
- I will have a life, and not just barely be alive
- Going to the gym will mean burning calories, not just money
- I will have concrete achievements, not just vague dreams
- I will have real stuff to write about, not just bulleted lists

And I will definitely not look upon my afternoon tea as a lifesaver.

Grow up!

Funny isn't it, when people behave like kids? So afraid of the injection, they'd rather remain sick?

Grow up. Grow up. Grow up!

Global warming, my foot!

Its all bakwaas, I tell you. All this global warming sharming. The globe is not getting warmer, its only this city of mine that is. Leave Pune out of the temperature calculations and you will see that the world is not a bad place to be in. (Of course there are people who insist the world will not be a bad place if we leave Pune out altogether. Though I shout myself hoarse defending the city of my birth, all this heat is not helping). Two years in Kanpur and thought i could come back here and turn my nose up at anyone who complained of the heat. All my "You call this hot?? Asli garmi to hamare Kanpur mein hoti hai" plans are now rotting in some damp, sweaty recess of my brain. It must be really bad, mustn't it, if someone who sits in an air conditioned office all day is cribbing so much about it? And its not just a matter of inconvenience, its affecting the basics, its changing who i am! Suddenly i have become one of those people who bathe daily. Sometimes twice. Shudder. what next? Will I become one of those umbrella carrying, dark glasses and sun-coat wearing, cool drink sipping people? No offense, but that is just not me!

You know you are a lost cause when...

• You get wisdom tooth at 24, and it is crooked.
• Crossword drives you crazy. Not because you don't have the money. Not because you have to choose. But because laziness forbids you from picking up a book without a reliable guarantee that the reading effort will be worth it.
• You get free food coupons every month and the only thing you have used them for is to buy ice cream for the neighbours.
• Its your first game of Foosball and you are the only one complaining of back pain.
• You still make plans involving people other than yourself climbing hills at 5 in the morning and believe they will work.

Born free

Some people are meant to be bred in captivity. Guarantee them the basic necessities of life, and they will flourish in a controlled environment. The uncertainties of the unknown, the dangers of the wild are not for them. Survival for them is not a struggle, it is a fundamental right. And as harmful as it could be to release such a person into the wild, it is equally harmful to hold captive someone meant for the wild.

The other side

Hard-hearted I may be
But silver tongued I am not
What you see is what you get
I beard the burden of destroyed lives
Of destroyed hope I can not.

Hard-hearted I may be
But with a silver tongue that heals
Telling you what you want to hear
So however deep the cut may be
Its my conscience that bleeds.

Shutup and feed me!

4.30 p.m.

[Stomach rumbles. Sends a HUNGRY message to Brain ]
Brain: Didn't we like just have tea?
Stomach: All part of the forgotten past, my dear fellow. Wonder what we will have for snacks today.
B: [grinning evilly] Poha
S: Oh, shut up!
B: Upma
S: Cant you ever think positive?
B: Health foo..
S: No! Don't say it! Unless you want me to flood you with HUNGRY messages for the rest of the evening.
B: Alright, alright. I take it back.
S: [dreamily] I hope its bhel. Or pav bhaji. Or...
[Brain has moved on to more productive tasks]

4.50
[Stomach sends a TIME message to Brain which it passes on to Eye]
Eye: 4.50. Oh, this must be S asking.
B: Who else? Sigh, its goodbye to all work until it is filled. I'd better pass on your message before S interrupts me again.
[to S]
4.50.
S: What?? 10 whole minutes? And thats only if He (the cook) is on time! Oh, i don't think i can take it anymore.
B: [rolling eyes. Not Eyes] Do you want a toffee?
S: Oh, how heartlessly it mocks. No one understands my troubles. Not even Nose, which has to be fed every 6 seconds. It has the memory of a goldfish, really, takes in a lungful, promptly forgets about it and starts all over again! Disgraceful, i tell you, this dependence...
B: [who by now knows the routine well enough to have asked Nose whether it has inhaled any smells] Nose says it smells onions
S: Really?? [Does a little jig] That could mean Bhel! Oh please let that goldfish be right. please. I'll never ever call it a goldfish again! I'll... are we there yet?
B: [sighs] I'll ask around.
[to Eye]
One of you look at the clock, only the clock and nothing but the clock until further notice. Interrupt me with the time every minute. And the other, look out for tray carrying office boys. Only they can save us now.
[to Ear]
Open doors. The clank of plates. Until further notice, everything else is noise. And keep me posted.
[to Nose]
I don't care if you don't take in air, but take in the smell. And for God's sake, not everything smells like onion. You'll break the poor fellow's heart if it turns out to be Poha.

[For the next how-many-ever minutes, they are all professionals. Eye, knowing that it is no good at parallel processing, multi tasks between the clock and passer-bys. Every passer-by who is not a tray carrying office boy gets the look. The look is the look that a drowning man would give a log that turns out to be a straw. Nose does not forget to breathe, but it analyzes every breath for clues. Ear hears every creak of the door, every footstep that follows, every hint of a clank. Brain is so busy with I/O, it has suspended all processing. Evolution never seems to have heard of DMA]

5.10
E: I spy an office boy! With a traaaaaaaaay!
B: Its here!! Stop rumbling, you idiot!
S: [with a weak smile] Cant believe i made it. Couldn't have done it with you, guys.
Eye, Ear, Nose, Brain: Awwww.
S: Shutup and feed me!

Life with directions?

Have you ever wished while wandering along life's roads, that some of them came with a danger sign? Skull and crossbones that say - Keep Away!

I don't. One, because i don't believe in danger. No, its not quite that. Danger as a distant, faraway possibility does not scare me. Like, if I ever come face to face with a tiger, I will
a. be terrified
b. faint
c. do something incredibly stupid like throw a stone at it and yell shoo
d. all of the above

But, my fear of tigers will not scare me from entering the jungle. I guess sometimes it pays to be unimaginative!

Secondly, no matter how hard a road is, no matter how much it hurts you, no matter how desperately you want it to end, you never come out the same person. Every road teaches you something about yourself, shows you the kind of person you are, the kind of person you want to be. And that to me is worth a few bruises any day.

Untitled

Like a rock she stands
Firm, unyielding
Throwing back whatever the world throws at her.

Oh why not be a lake instead?
Unprotesting, but unchanging
Swallowing whatever the world throws at you
With only a burp of a ripple to show for it.

The geek that never was

Sigh. Its time I admitted it. Although I've been to all the places they go to and spent two years among the best of them, I've come out remarkably unaffected. It can only mean one thing - i am not one of them. Technology does not excite me. What goes on behind the technology does not excite me. Don't get me wrong, I like my job, doing it well gives me a lot of satisfaction, But I think i can safely say that would have been true about any moderately challenging field fate would have pushed me into. And I doubt if such lukewarm sentiments can get me even a visitors pass into geekdom.

I've seen people go crazy about puzzles. They spend days trying to get to an answer, thesis pushed to an unobtrusive corner, discuss them over birthday dinners (birthday boy included!) I've seen whole groups of people obsessed with finding a better way of solving some obscure problem. I've seen them give up movies and sleep in order to participate in programming contents that for some inexplicable reason, always being at midnight (I tried it once, under influence, but didn't make it past 5 A.M. She never asked me again). I've seen people go crazy over games, mobile phones, Ipods, Macs, gaming consoles... But I've always watched from a distance, wanting to want to join in the fun, but not really wanting it.

Its like Phoebe's husband says in Episode 204 (yeah, big surprise, i quote from FRIENDS):

I thought I was supposed to be someone else, you know. I'm an ice dancer. All my friends are gay. I guess I was just trying to fit in. But you reach a point when you cant live a lie anymore. I guess at some level I always knew I was straight.

Addicted

Can you be addicted to multiple things at the same time? I seem to be! And instead of engaging in destructive competition where the winner takes all, they each seem to have chosen a sphere of my life that they aim to fill to the exclusion of everything else. In no particular order, these are:

F.R.I.E.N.D.S
Yes. Again. I don't even know whichth repetition of the series this is. It never seems to get old! Its so bad that i can watch an episode, laugh at all the jokes even though i know them all, immediately watch the same episode again and laugh all over again! I've tried alternatives, but they don't make 'em like that anymore.

Exercise
Yeah!! Even though it doesn't exactly show, its true. I cant go too many days without some form of exercise. I know its supposed to be a good thing and all, but the dependence is scary! I mean, what if someone kidnaps me someday? (Its not as ridiculous as it sounds. I'm in the software industry, I stay with my parents, I am what you get if you cross a monk with a miser). I will be torn between whether to appeal to my kidnapper's better nature to give me more food or ask him to let me run 10 rounds of the jungle.

Banana chips
This one is an old demon. They would occasionally be found in the pantry at my old workplace. My love for them was so famous, people from faraway lands would come and tell me that there were chips in the pantry. And 5 minuets later, they would be no chips in the pantry. Once one person asked me - Auntiji, how many do you eat? (That address is NOT a reflection on me, its not even a personal thing. Its just how people were addressed there. Part of the corporate culture. I thought calling people by names would be difficult, but this! I did get used to it over a period of time, stopped considering it an insult, even slipped into unclejis occasionally). My reply - As many as i can Uncleji, as many as I can.

Blogosphere
Work, or lack of it, is mainly to blame for this one. I can spend a whole day blogtrotting, skimming through some, going deeper than I'd like to admit into others. It is a lot of fun seeing a person emerge from the writings, shaped by your own views and prejudices. To find that I have yet again judged prematurely, that the person lies somewhere in between posts that make me frown in disapproval and posts that make me go awwww. But sometimes I get the feeling that I am a whole generation behind the youth of today (at least the ones who blog). Sigh. Maybe I am.