To fly or not to fly

I sat down to write something but then remembered this poem we were taught as kids that says it so much better than I ever could.

What does little birdie say
In her nest at peep of day?
Let me fly, says little birdie,
Mother, let me fly away.
Birdie, rest a little longer,
Till thy little wings are stronger.
So she rests a little longer,
Then she flies away.

How do you know you are strong enough?

Selectively blind

(One of those rare rants where I express extreme displeasure over everything ever invented, discovered or evolved)

Ostrich, isn't it? The animal that buries its head in sand and believes that since it cant see the enemy, the enemy cant see it? Show me one human being who thinks this is not stupid. And yet, the vast majority of them do exactly that. Cover their senses with a comfortable, protective covering and believe everything is all right with everyone. And its fine by me. If thats the only way they can get through life, so be it. What I cant stand is them making a hole in their covers just large enough for one eye to peek out, using the eye exclusively too see whats wrong with me and shaking their "what is this world come to" head shake. Either you are blind or you are not. In between is nothing.

I know. I should be able to say go to hell, but I cant. Not to everybody.

Aaaaaaaa

I feel kind of left out. And dumb. A silent revolution seems to have taken place around the world without my knowledge or participation. Unless, there was a lot of hungaama, widespread protests, which makes me deaf as well as blind. Whatever be the case, from around the beginning of 2006 the world seems to have agreed that Vinaya is a guy's name. Just like that. Indian railways has been doing that forever, but I thought the rest of the world would have more sense. The only explanation I have been able to come up with the universal lack of recognition of the trailing "a" is - "Rama is to Ram what Vinaya is to Vinay". I've lost count of how many of my phone conversations follow the following general format:

Me: Hello
Caller: Hello. Can I speak to Vinay N?
Me: Speaking
Caller: Mr. Vinay N?
Me: Speaking.
Caller: Hello? (unwilling to believe that connection can distort voices so much in this day and age) Can I talk to MISTER Vinay N?
Me: SPEAKING
Caller: Oooh, its VinayA. He he.
Me: Yeah, my name is very funny. What can I do for you?

It happens regardless of age, gender, education, geography, which is why I believe its a worldwide phenomenon. My hard earned degree was awarded, both during rehearsals and the actual ceremony, to Vinay N. Apparently, the world famous professor considered it more probable for a girl to answer to the name of Vinay than for Vinaya to actually be a name. (Her parents must have wanted a boy, he must have thought, if his thoughts ever stooped to such levels).
Maybe it would help if I would start to write my name as VinayA. But then, what happens to my name on capitals only official forms? Brilliant idea, I could change the spelling! Vinayaa, Vinayaaa, Vinayea, Vinayeah... I'd better consult a numerologist before I do anything rash. My whole future might depend on which letter I use to distort my name!

(Three cheers to me for single handedly typing out this post! Knowledge acquired as part of this process - keyboard shortcuts are not so great for us handicapped folks)

I'm Back!

Blame this post on Monu. He is the one who told me such incidents should be documented, that they increase the BSP (best seller potential) of my blog. Who am I to disagree? So, here it comes, with a little bit of background and lot of mirch masala.

With the IT industry up and running again, placements were great for our class. The biggest majority of would be office going bachchas were lapped up by Bangalore based companies. Pune came a distant second, Hyderabad and Noida being also ran. There was a lot of horse trading from the very beginning, with people falling to unbelievable excuses to tempt people from the other camp. Even stuff like "Who will wake me up for breakfast everyday if you are not there" was considered respectable enough a reason to chuck a great job you still couldn't believe anyone could be dumb enough to offer you. End of the course and barring a few casualties to PhD and laziness, the various camps went to their respective cities pretty much intact. Bengaluru wale (Bengalurueans?) settled in their city (which means they cribbed about the traffic, the cost of everything and local language problems) and Punites settled in theirs (incessant rain, pothole paved roads and rickshawalas from hell for them). Life went on for everyone, with occasional conference calls between the two camps in which everyone spoke at once but no one had anything to say.

One fine day one brilliant Punite had the idea of a trip to what was then Bangalore, to see how the other half of the world lived. Lets continue with our story without getting into specifically who she was. She mailed her folks to see if anyone was interested. Only one other was. Another brilliant Punite, you say? Lets just say his heart was in the right place. These two made plans. Oh yeah, big plans that involved air travel and holidays from office. Her brother was especially supportive of the air travel idea. She not at all secretly believed it was because once she went to what was then Bangalore by air just to meet her friends, no one would ever question his trips to his holy place, even if he said he was going to see off his colleague's roommate's sister's friend, who was going to Chennai for the weekend. A feasibility study followed by in depth research revealed that bus travel for the to journey and train for the fro would be optimal. She promised to book train tickets the very next day after the results were published and the bus tickets a little later. She told the Bengaluru camp she was coming and they made their share of big plans.

A lot happens between this point and the point that follows. However since absolutely none of it is related to the story at hand, we skip ahead after making the following assertions:
1. She did not book train tickets
2. She did not book bus tickets
3. She did not tell him she did not book the tickets
4. He did not ask

Skip to some Friday. The day they were supposed to leave for Bengaluru. She messages him.
She: I hope you are packed and ready. We are supposed to leave today, remember?
He: I am at the bus stop. Where are you?
She: At the railway station!

They laugh it off, hit upon another brilliant idea to go catch Vettaiyadu Vilayadu in the local theater next weekend and go on with their lives. If you want to ask her how she liked the movie, go and read the story again. You have completely missed the point.

If you think this was the worst anti-climax ever, go hit Monu!

Nothing is free!

A recent addition to my extra curricular activities is reading Scott Adam's blog (yeah, the Dilbert guy). He writes every day, manages to make me smile on most days and laugh out loud on some. That guy is comic genius!

One of the recurring topics on his blog is that of "free will". Observing the behaviour of people around the world, he has apparently concluded that free will does not exist, that it is an illusion and loves to rub this in the face of his readers, who, as if on cue, get all worked up. Him and certain events have made me wonder - does free will really exist? My wonder does not extend to any deep, or for that matter shallow, philosophical level, but restrains itself to everyday life.

When you are young and foolish, you believe everything is possible. I am the captain of my fate, I am the master of my soul. Every road is there to be explored, every why to be answered by a why not. And if you don't find a road you like, why not make one of you own? Inevitable falls and bruises later, age and experience begin to take over. Risks no longer seem worth it since you have too much to lose. One by one the paths begin to fade until you see only one way - the safe way. And are convinced there is none other. Poof! There goes your free will. You are now a "moist robot", programmed by life to react in predictable ways to every situation. Living becomes routine and you are glad. The burden of choice is not easy to carry.

Apparently I don't write funny stuff anymore.

Words

Live and let die

Nothing lasts forever
Even cold November rain

Comfortably Numb

Never imagined these words would make sense, leave alone become the thread that one hangs by.

How many times have you heard someone say - "They are nice, honest people"? Really?? Can nice people be honest? Can honest people be nice? The truth is, there is a lot of ugliness in this world and you can either be nice about it or honest, not both.

Life's lessons from last week

1. It takes a lot of strength to hurt the ones you love.

2. The more they leave you to mind your own business at work (and by "your on business" I mean official work assigned to you), the less important you are.

3. Some things are bigger than everything (disclaimer: plagiarized)

4. Sometimes, its nice to live a lie. To get lost in its comforting haziness, never having to face harsh reality.

5. Do not get lost in details, like the little kid who chases the colorful butterfly. Keep an eye on the bigger picture. Not only because you might get lost, also because you might miss that perfect sunset.

There is a war out there
They fight cause its right
They fight cause its wrong
It goes on
Battle for battle, stroke for stroke
The moment one wins, its all a joke.

There is a war in here
Me against myself
For control of the boat
It goes on
Battle for battle, stroke for stroke
Only, whoever wins, I get hurt

A peek into a regular morning of a regular Indian family that

a) has recently been centralized after being a regular distributed Indian family for about two years
b) consists of 4 jobless people and
a) has free Internet from 2 a.m. to 8 a.m.

Life begins at 6 a.m. with the mother tiptoeing into the children's room, not daring to switch on the light lest she wakes up the competition. She makes her way to the P.C in the semi-darkness (which in itself is no mean feat, remember, the two occupants of the room have been thoroughly "hostelized" and are yet to get acclimatized to home discipline) and switches on the UPS. That dumb machine, unaware of the sensitivity of the issue, emits a loud beep that causes the father to open both eyes, the son one and the daughter to stir. By the time the mother has finished her online activities (which cover a wide range - from jewelry stores, to cookery sites to MTV VJs that catch her fancy), the father has completed all formalities and is ready to take over. He then begins his journey of all online newspapers, heard and unheard of. Any missing details are efficiently searched using the small search bar in Yahoo Messenger (the existence of which, I am ashamed to say, I discovered only after I saw him use it). In typical Indian tradition, the son takes over. And in typical gen Y tradition, he dispenses with all formalities and jumps directly from the bed into the chair. While he organizes a massive and comprehensive hunt for unheard of songs and obscure comics, the daughter awakens. Having always belonged to the "Oh Shit! Its morning" community, she takes her time going about it. The Internet, her only gateway to the external world, proves a strong enough motivator. She wakes up, kicks the son out and settles to her few minutes of bliss, which consists of alternating between Orkut and Gmail. Yes, free Internet is pretty much wasted on her. She is lost to the world until someone shouts - "5 minutes to go!". She immediately wraps up her activities and very generously offers the remaining minute or two to anyone with an emergency.
8 a.m. Life goes back to normal.

You would think that with
a) the two children occupied in jobs that provide free Internet and ample free time to (ab)use it and
b) an upgraded Internet connection that is "free" the entire day,
the contention would have reduced. Ha! Remember that law we were taught in school that gases expand to fill the space available? They forgot to mention that it applies to free Internet too!

Back to work. A new place, a new beginning. Somehow not quite along the lines of my past beginnings. Allow me to explain.

Flashback: my first job. Though I had got in the hard way [a test, a couple of interviews one of which gave rise to serious doubts about my ever having done engineering], I knew that I still had to prove myself. I had to start from zero and build up from there. People knew nothing about me, assumed nothing and expected nothing out of the ordinary [ordinary of course being completely subjective]. I could take my time, make my mistakes and learn.

Cut to IIT. Another beginning. Another start from zero. Lot more time, lot more freedom to make mistakes [because they hurt no one but you] and a lot more to learn.

Back to work. A new place, a new beginning. But no start from zero. The bar has been raised. My past has caught up with me! People know where I am from and hence assume something, expect something. Nothing out of the ordinary, to be fair, just that ordinary has become a little extra-ordinary.

The countdown begins!

My last Saturday in paradise. Inspired by a couple of movies (oh yeah, some movies do that), I've decided to chronicle every day of this last week. I know the whole thing sounds terribly self indulgent, but it is my blog after all! People! Make it special so i wont have to sink down down to the "brushed my teeth, had a bath" level!

Morning. Surprisingly spent doing work. Work meaning listening to Devendar give an excellent demo to some visitors. And running around for a gate pass, meeting unexpected obstacles, balanced by unexpected kindness. Lunch in CR with the visitors.

Afternoon. Yesterday i created history by becoming the first girl to ever sleep in the department. Decided to repeat history today, but fate (in the form of Nitin and co) had other plans. He and a bunch of others thought it would be very funny to sprinkle some namkeen on poor ol me, an opinion to which i would have wholeheartedly subscribed, had i been but a slightly more impartial observer. Woke me up with a start they did! Screamed them away and tried to take up where i left off. But some things broken cannot be mended.

Evening. Whiled away hogging and chating, weather being surprisingly cooperative.

Late evening. My first football match. As audience, of course! That too on the big screen. Germany versus Sweden. Kept bugging Sudeepa with rookie questions throughout. (Still cant digest her interest in football, Bengal or no Bengal!) She tried her best to show me Miroslav Klose, but always ended up showing me his back. Not particularly handsome, that!

Night. Saw "Whisper of the heart", my first foreign language film. Not bad, and partly responsible for the inspiration mentioned in section 1(a) above. Concluded with a "coupled" belated birthday celebration. The last ever birthday celebration of MTech 2004. I should have kicked someone. Sigh. A group of classmates "ba ba" ed their way into a nimbu pani treat tomorrow. (Details in some Telugu movie, name unknown)

Tomorrow is Sunday! Very likely to be very uneventful.

Ever get the feeling that fate is playing with you? That is is tempting you with a... i don't know... dark temptation, lets say. (If you don't know what that is, no games fate can play can be as cruel as your life!) And just when you think you are about to bite into that delicious, irresistible, incomparable combination of rich chocolate and ice cream, fate snatches the plate away. All you are left with is thin air and a reminder of the smell.

The first time, you feel like kicking fate on the backside. The front side. And every other side that that multi-dimensional polygonal concept has. After several iterations, slowly, you learn. To live. To hope. Perhaps to even enjoy the taste of thin air. You see that all your kicking and screaming has no effect on fate whatsoever. And so you stop. Take things as they come. Hope, that fate will get bored of the games when it sees that it is not getting to you any longer.

Nursery rhymes making a sudden re-entry into my life, so i end this post with one.

Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To fetch her poor dog a bone;
But when she came there
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none.


*ing: My guide as OMH, me as the dawg, my defense as the bone and my internal examiner as the contents of the cupboard.

Three pairs of specs, too good to be true!
One crushed in a Basky match,
And then there were two.

Two pairs of specs, oh what fun!
A frame split for no reason,
And then there was one.

One pair of specs, now that's a laugh!
A temple broke while wrestling
And then there was half.

Half a pair of specs, ever got that done?
Soon joined the other half,
And then there were none!

(Managed to salvage two complete pairs of specs out of the wreckage. A big thanks to my caretaker mom and my anna's anna for helping me through my blindness)

Door se dekha to chand dikh raha tha
Door se hi nihara aur nikal gaya
Paas jaane ki tammana thi na aarzoo
Jab bhi paas gaya hoon, bas daag hi dikhe hain

What happened to me???

(A fraud post, in keeping with my current way of life)

There are so few people in the world who know what they want to do, it is a pity/waste/crime to keep them from doing it. For whatever reasons.

What's eating Vinaya N?

Apart from a report that a snail would say is going at snail's pace and segmentation faults that drop in unannounced, bug you the whole day and then disappear without giving you the satisfaction of having driven them away, it is this. Is it right to do unto others what they do to you? On one extreme, you can sink down to the level of the lowest human you meet, letting him get what he gives. And on the other, you can decide to take the high road, letting people take advantage of you in the process.
The answer, as usual, lies somewhere in between. In defining limits. A lower bound below which thou shalt not sink and an upper bound beyond which though shalt not be nice (My language affected by too much association with the people of a certain room in the department and re-watching I Dream Of Jeannie). And while the theory seems sound enough, the devil is in the (implementation) details!

No, I am not brave.
Bravery is doing something despite your fears.
I have no fears to overcome.

No, I am not a monk.
A monk gives up all desires for something higher.
I have no desires to renounce.

No, I am not ruled by emotions.
I do not get carried away by joy or drown in sorrow.
A smile and a frown are all that I need.

Yes, I am the undefeated King.
Not because I have won all my battles
But because I haven't fought any.


(The mind moves in mysterious ways on a Sunday afternoon)

Some things in life are only possible in a college hostel.

Spending hours sitting on a structure suspended between the second floor and the terrace of the department, gazing at the night sky, discussing life, the universe and everything...

Deciding on a whim to go to the faculty building roof at 12 in the night (inspired by five point someone?), half expecting to find people drinking vodka. Climbing 6 floors, making our way through dark corridors (feeling very much a part of a detective novel) looking for the way to the roof. Only to find that though the roof is very much there, the only way to get on it is to climb down a rickety ladder.

Four people. Three guitars. Tuned to three different pitches. One song (Uthe sab ke kadam...). Girls Hotel terrace. Again past midnight. It must have been cacophony, but to us it was pure music!

Past 1 A.M. Basketball court. A bunch of super enthusiastic classmates, most of whom had never touched a basketball before. And one of the most enjoyable games of basketball ever, despite me being blinded halfway because of broken backup specs. Surprisingly, I have one more pair to spare. When did I become one of those people who have a second backup for everything? Noooooooo I didn't, this just happened to happen.

M Tech second year students ready to play anytime I whip out a sponge ball (a very cute birthday gift with the original yahoo smiley drawn on it). 20 somethings who are soon going to take up responsible jobs actually making faces at each other, the same faces that tiny tots 20 years their juniors make in play school. Going from lab to lab, asking people to narrate their love stories or lack of them. Water fighting in someone else's lab, wetting some innocent non bystander's keyboard in the process and making a sworn enemy out of him until he gets a chance to wet some other innocent non bystander's keyboard. Hiding each others keys, purses, mobiles...

Damn! I am going to miss it all. Terribly :(

Been a while since I got back from the ski trip. An amazing week filled with trains, rocks, snowfall, snow, skis and fireplaces. Snowfall is breathtakingly beautiful, snow simply amazing! Rock climbing is a little scarier than I thought but as much fun. Skiing is a lot more hard work than I'd ever imagined! But once you learn enough to be able to zoom down the slope fast enough to get the feel of a free fall, there are few things better. Presenting some random snapshots of the week.

Whether they were coming back from lunch, dinner, skiing or a short 5 minute stroll in the sun, the moment anyone entered the room they made a beeline for the fireplace. A small stove kind of a thing that ran on gas, it was a life saver! Frozen body parts, frozen gloves, wet socks, damp shoes, there was nothing it couldn't set right. I'm sure none of us have looked at God with as much devotion and hope! And even incidents like someone's shoe catching fire could do nothing to lessen it. I dried and re-dried Anjali's gloves so much that they shrank a couple of sizes at least. Varun and I had planned on giving one glove each to our respective kids so that if they ever meet at Kumbh Mela... But Anjali liked the shrunk version so much, she took them away :(

It amazing how one snowfall can turn a barren mountainside into a thriving market! Suddenly there were shops, snow mobiles, snow carts, yaks and scores of instructors. What was more surprising was the number of tourists that suddenly sprang up to meet the supply. Oh how I envy people who can turn up in Manali on a Thursday, on barely a day's notice! Took a short yak ride up the mountain, my yak being uncharacteristically reluctant to climb. I wonder why. Also slid down the mountain sitting inside a truck's tube. Reminded me how much fun simple things can be. Also discovered that the inside portion of a truck's tube is not as spacious as one would like it to be.

Chandigarh. Never seen a city so obsessed with cleanliness. Even the railway station is clean. The lady in charge of the waiting room actually drove us and our baggage out so that the room could be cleaned. Waiting rooms are meant to be cleaned. That people use it for waiting is only incidental, a nuisance at best. The platform cleaner was no better. Neither we nor our baggage came up to his standards of cleanliness and so we all got doused with water. He would have scrubbed us too if only we'd let him! Only when I landed at Lucknow station and was welcomed by a cow and the accompanying smells did those little inconveniences seem worth it.