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?