Fantasy Bedlam

Saada Haq, Aithe Rak

2012-01-22T01:56:00.001-05:00

The first step — especially for young people with energy and drive and talent, but not money — the first step to controlling your world is to control your culture. To model and demonstrate the kind of world you demand to live in. To write the books. Make the music. Shoot the films. Paint the art. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

AWOL

2012-01-19T00:29:00.001-05:00

“The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference.” ― Elie Wiesel

This is how I choose to spend 2012, being indifferent. kthnxbai.

p.s. giving Scrivener a spin; may result in a book.

2011. A retrospect.

2011-12-31T00:24:00.002-05:00

Our awareness is all that is alive and maybe sacred in any of us. Everything else about us is dead machinery. ~ Kilgore Trout

A year I came into without much expectations.

And that's how it will end.

Of letting go.

Of putting heart over mind.

Dint try to seek 'the purpose of life' hence no disillusionment.

Slacker mode full on.

Read / watched / heard riveting works.

Friends were made.

None were lost.

Love is blossoming again.

Life looks good.

Uncertainty lurks like a beast.

Like it always has.

The placebo of insurance.

Hope it holds.

Much wasn't written or blogged.

A lot was clicked and mused upon.

Packing up.

unpacking.

Dirtying up.

Cleaning up.

Picking up and moving on.

Twenty twelve, I Welcome you in, with open arms.

homeboy - alien

2011-11-01T00:45:00.001-04:00

I was just another vermin living in the margins of a totalitarian society's consciousness.

The regime of the land dint bother with our types for we for a better part of a century had relatively been trouble free.

The trouble began with me.

I broke ranks and ventured out into the world.

I discovered societies and systems far more advanced and sane.

I came back excited.

I told my brothers of the sights I had seen and the knowledge I had gained.

They said I was a traitor for deserting them by not staying and stagnating.

They drove me away with sticks, stones and knives.

The regime is now aware of my feeble failed attempts at rabble rousing and has put a hit on my head.

The word on the street is that an assassin is rapidly approaching my hideout.

I do not fear death. I fear that my ideas will die with me.

So weary traveler if you have felt the angst, followed the markers and have found this tablet; you have come seeking for clues and inspiration; I have failed and the regime reigns strong.

Do not lose hope for the future of our people depends on you.

Save yourselves to save them.

Know this, that your strength is theirs.

Arise and awaken.

Don't make my mistake, kid.
Don't follow orders your whole life.
Think for yourself.
- Barbatus, Antz

potential

2011-10-28T23:57:00.001-04:00

There are so many ideas swarming in my head at any given point of time and each of them has a potential blog worthy appeal to it. But the operative is potential for many times an idea that seems good while shooting between neurons doesn't translate well when put on paper.

I've been making a conscious attempt to move away from my quotidian english but seem to fail every time. Of course to put wonderfully complex ideas into simple words is a skill perfected by Hemingway / RK Narayanan. Simple is not so simple.

I've had a chance to read blogs by people younger to me and i get a complex, for their language is crisp and the expression is fluid. All I want to do is read their words-works and forget mine.

Does each passing generation always yearn to belong to the following generation ?

Anna Margaret Ross (née McKittrick; 8 December 1860 – 2 February 1939), known by her pen-name Amanda McKittrick Ros, was a Northern Irish writer. She published her first novel Irene Iddesleigh at her own expense in 1897. She wrote poetry and a number of novels. Her works were not read widely, and her eccentric, over-written, "purple" circumlocutory writing style is alleged by some critics to be some of the worst prose and poetry ever written.

Aldous Huxley wrote that "In Mrs. Ros we see, as we see in the Elizabethan novelists, the result of the discovery of art by an unsophisticated mind and of its first conscious attempt to produce the artistic. It is remarkable how late in the history of every literature simplicity is invented."

This is how she informs the reader how Delina earned money by doing needlework: She tried hard to keep herself a stranger to her poor old father's slight income by the use of the finest production of steel, whose blunt edge eyed the reely covering with marked greed, and offered its sharp dart to faultless fabrics of flaxen fineness.

Her novel Delina Delaney begins: Have you ever visited that portion of Erin's plot that offers its sympathetic soil for the minute survey and scrutinous examination of those in political power, whose decision has wisely been the means before now of converting the stern and prejudiced, and reaching the hand of slight aid to share its strength in augmenting its agricultural richness?

(The sentence approximately means, "Have you ever been to the part of Ireland studied by the government with the aim of modernizing its agriculture?")

The Oxford literary group the Inklings, which included such luminaries as C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien, held competitions to see who could read Ros' work for the longest length of time while keeping a straight face.

Northrop Frye said of Ros' novels that they use "rhetorical material without being able to absorb or assimilate it: the result is pathological, a kind of literary diabetes".

Of course when you are these fucking people (C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, Aldous Huxley, Nick Page, Northrop Frye) you can get away with bloody criticizing anybody.

western promises

2011-10-25T00:41:00.004-04:00

Ten years ago on an unremarkable wintry day I stood at the departure gate for a flight to JFK, NYC. Rishi saw me off. No one else. My decision to pursue greener pastures abroad with my mediocre skill-set rather than failed attempts at making headway into the den of competitive wolves that was the workplace scene in my country dint seem very appealing or doable, was unpopular with my parents, friends and relatives. But Rishi, he knew. We were both mediocre and like how misery seeks company we sought each other out. I managed to rake up finances by selling some property and gold , bank loans and all, you know the drill. Rishi hadn't been so lucky. So here we were at the cafeteria, one last quick drag of the gold flake king, a 1/2 chai and a samosa we hugged and said our good byes. I promised to look after him once I got my bearings.

A lot has changed in ten years. I lost a lot of hair, still rocked the six pack abs courtesy my relentless training at equinox and Begumpet made way to Shamshabad. Was in line at immigration when I saw a family cut ahead of me I was mighty pissed and asked the usher what the fuck was going on. He non nonchalantly replied, " Woh MLA saab ke logaan hain. Special permission." I asked if the MLA was in the entourage. He replied " No."

Out of customs I scanned the reception area and there he was as jovial as ever. Rishi hadn't aged a bit.

work in progress

level at last

2011-10-23T01:20:00.003-04:00

a stab.
a shrill scream.
gush of blood.

death.

level at last.

rest in peace.
you entitled fuck.

inquilab

2011-10-21T14:48:00.003-04:00

I am from the system.
I was one of them.

Then, the event occurred.
My eyes opened.

Now, I am one of the others.
I will fight them, for freedom, till death.

i am them.

2011-10-17T01:25:00.001-04:00

I stood on the side lines an amused spectator as the picketing crowd walked by.

"Do you know what does Democracy look like? This is what democracy looks like.” , they chanted.

I shed my inhibitions. I became them.

anatomy of an addiction

2011-10-09T22:12:00.001-04:00

it starts with a bad habit.

you keep telling yourself, shrugging it away with brazen confidence, that this too will pass.

over time the bad habit manifests into an addiction.

you try to quit.

successful for a day.

the addiction works its way into getting it’s fix at the slightest provocation.

rebound.

continue addiction.

realize it’s an addiction with a life of it own.

addiction twists your life to guarantee it’s continuance.

all the while you are blissfully unaware of this organism that’s planted itself waiting to spring a surprise.

failed attempts.

continue.

hollow promises and false hope.

rock bottom.

The India series of books

2011-10-06T21:21:00.001-04:00

Over the past 1 year I’ve read the following books that I would group under India Series. They made me realize how little I know about my country and it’s people and most importantly I’ve never lived in Bombay/Mumbai. This list will be constantly updated as I keep discovering more books.

I call it discovering a book because I never read book reviews ever. I walk into the library/book store scan shelves, first read the titles, check out the author's name; see if the name draws any recollections from memory, gloss over the cover art, read jacket-in flap, read 10 or so pages ( because it's a very time consuming and deep commitment) if I like what i read, i pick the book. All books i've read have been hand picked in this manner; the selection never disappoints.

Also, RIP Steve Jobs.

_____________

By Aravind Adiga

The White Tiger
Between the Assassinations
Last Man in Tower

By Rohinton Mistry

Such a Long Journey
A Fine Balance

By Manil Suri

The Death of Vishnu
The Age of Shiva.

By Suketu Mehta

Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found

By Gregory David Roberts

Shantaram

By Vikram Chandra

Love and Longing in Bombay
Sacred Games
Red Earth and Pouring Rain

By Amitav Ghosh

The Hungry Tide
Sea of poppies

By Anand Giridharadas

India Calling

By Shashi Tharoor

The Elephant, the Tiger and the Cellphone

By Katherine Frank

Indira Gandhi

Almighty Nature

2011-09-30T22:35:00.001-04:00

So here I was at the Niagara falls finally. You would think for someone who lives in NYC i would have already been to the falls but you see expeditions like these need fortitude. Over the four years I've been in the city many people promised to include me in their entourage for a trip; no one did.

So here I was gaping in amazement at the sheer size of the falls when it struck me how minuscule man is compared to the forces of nature.
Man may be tiny compared to the falls but he did dam it and build a thriving tourist eco system around it.

also this is the first post via the blogger app for iPhone. Makes it so easy to post from the loo.

Must read classic authors

2011-09-23T13:51:00.002-04:00

After barely managing to scrape the 50 books challenge last year I've set my sights higher this time. I am embarking on a literary quest to complete reading 100 books between October 2011 to October 2012.

image from mike faille illustration

This time around I will try to finish at least one book by the following authors available in the NYPL's 'classics' aisle . Will be listing progress here --> http://read-ing.tumblr.com/

Chinua Achebe
Jane Austen
Sherwood Anderson
Isabel Allende
Margret Atwood
Albert Camus
Mikhail Bulgakov
James Baldwin
Honore De Balzac
Pere Goriot
Charlotte Bronte
Pearl S Buck
Miguel de Cervantes
Geoffrey Chaucer
Anton Chekhov
Willa Cather
Kate Chopin
Stephen Crane
Joseph Conrad
Truman Capote
James Fenimore Cooper
Charles Dickens
Fyodor Dostoyevsky
E.L.Doctorow
Theodore Dreiser
Daniel Defoe
Bram Stoker
Aurthur Conan Doyle
Theodore Dreiser
Web Du Bois
Alexander Dumas
George Eliot
E M Forster
Ralph Elision
Louis Edwards
William Faulkner
F Scott Fitzgerald
Howard Fast
Gustave Flaubert
William Golding
Nikolai Sogol
R L Stevenson
Jane Hamilton
Earnest J Gaines
Fred Gipson
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Nathaniel Hawthorne
Thomas Hardy
Joseph Heller
Herman Hesse
Langston Hughes
Earnest Hemingway
Robert a Heinlein
O Henry
S E Hinton
Victor Hugo
Karen hesse
John irving
Henry James
Zora Neale Hurst
James Weldon Johnson
James Joyce
Franz Kafka
Ken Kesey
Daniel Keyes
Sue Monk Kidd
D H Lawrence
Gaston Leroux
Sinclair Lewis
Jack London
Theresa Lewis
Nadezda Obradovic
Sir Thomas Malory
Herman Melville
Thomas Mann
Toni Morrison
George Orwell
Lucy maud Montgomery
Naguib Mahfouz
Somerset Maugham
Frank Norris
Baroness Orczy
Sylvia Plath
Chaim Potok
Alan Paton
Gordon Parks
Marcel Proust
Ayn Rand
Erich Maria Remarque
J D Salinger
Sir Walter Scott
Mary Shelly
April Sinclair
Upton Sinclair
John Steinbeck
Betty Smith
Gertude Stein
Stendhal
Harriet Beecher Stowe
William Saroyan
Ivan Turgenev
Theodore Taylor
W M Thackeray
Tolkein
Mark Twain
Leo Tolstoy
Jules Verne
H G Wells
Alice Walker
T H White
Edith Wharton
Virginia Wolfe
Richard Wright

Greed.

2011-09-23T10:55:00.000-04:00

“Earth provides enough to satisfy every man's needs, but not every man's greed.” ― Mahatma Gandhi.

I see greedy people, everywhere.

kibosh.

2011-08-01T23:39:00.000-04:00

May be someday when the spirit of writing smiles back at me I'll visit this space again. For now complete focus is on making something meaningful out of this. It may not grow up to be the mighty banyan I've envisioned in my mind but will try nevertheless.

my favorite comedy shows

2011-07-19T23:20:00.001-04:00

I prefer TV shows with a running time under 30 minutes for I have the attention span of a flea.

a constantly updating list...

30 Rock
Arrested Development
Blue Mountain State
Bored to Death
Bob's Burgers
Californication
Community
Freaks and Geeks
Futurama
Greek
How I Met Your Mother
Human Giant
Men of a Certain Age
Modern Family
Seinfeld
Southpark
Scrubs
The Middle
The Simpsons
The Big Bang Theory
The Daily Show with John Stewart
The Colbert Report
Workaholics
Weeds

A walk in the woods by Bill Bryson

2011-07-11T00:22:00.002-04:00

if you know 'yours truly' on a personal basis and have been keeping up with my twitter and fb photo streams you should know how deeply i lust to walk the Appalachian trail, someday, in this life time or the next. So during one of my cubicle-life stress induced hiking wet dream i came across this post on reddit. And as is habit skimming through the comments section I saw someone mention the book that is the title of this post. A few nifty clicks on the NYPL site delivered the book to my hands in a day. Neck deep into the book the yearning to walk the trail grows even more.

Bill Bryson is an amazing author. Funny, insightful and sarcastic. A win on all three counts.

sample this :

"Nearly everyone I talked to had some gruesome story involving a guileless acquaintance who had gone off hiking the trail with high hopes and new boots and come stumbling back two days later with a bobcat attached to his head or dripping blood from an armless sleeve and whispering in a hoarse voice, "Bear!" before sinking into a troubled unconsciousness."

The book is littered with such many gems. Totally worth your time even if hiking the AT is not on your bucket list.

'...When guys in camouflage pants and hunting hats sat around in the four aces diner talking about fearsome things done out-of-doors, i would no longer have to feel like such a cupcake. I wanted a little of that swagger that comes with being able to gaze at a far horizon through eyes of chipped granite and say with a slow, manly sniff " Yeah, I've shit in the woods." '

on books and dad

2011-07-07T01:35:00.000-04:00

The other day dad was clearing out our old apartment to lease it out when he chanced upon my treasure trove of books. Instead of selling them off to the raddhi wala along with the newspapers he stacked them neatly into cartons and shipped them off to our native place in Srikakulam. He then called me.

“ You read so many books ?”

that should explain why I knew jack regarding kinematics and dynamics of machines or the whole sea of mechanical engineering for that matter.

"Reading books is a very good habit, I agree. But why are all those books novels/comics/fiction ? aka not even anywhere close to work or life skills ?”

dad… they appeal to me more than gears or friction between ball bearings.

“ Do you write as well or only read ?”

mmmm....

“But, but, you should write no ? Why read all those books if you cant write meaningful inferences from what you’ve read? Write research papers/editorials/Wikipedia articles, create a niche for yourself no ? ”

Let me think about it.

Shakespeare in the park

2011-06-30T21:52:00.002-04:00

After an online lottery system proclaimed m and me lucky winners of two tickets to SITP and an evening fraught with transit woes and wrong directions I finally made it to the open air theatre. Now the New York Shakespeare Festival is a tradition as old as the the first published issue of Sports Illustrated magazine.

This was my first time at a play and I walked in with zero expectations.

I was blown away.

Measure For Measure.

You know fine, no, brilliant acting when you see it. All the actors were brilliant in their Respective roles ; even the guy masquerading as the devil and prancing around in black hot pants. A special mention about the monologue where the magistrate talks to his inner devils us a class act. A measure of measure has been copied tirelessly in many of our desi films. If you are not well grounded in Shakespearean English like me Wikipedia is of immense help with regards to understanding the synopsis.A special mention about the background score and lighting which just added to the finesse.

At the start if the play we were all told to switch off our phones and that no photography or video recording was allowed. And strangely the audience predominately made up of locals fell in line. This was an important aspect in order to have the undivided attention of the audience towards the happenings on stage.

I muse how this play must have been when it was first dramatized during Shakespeare time when most of the special effects bling we are so used to now dint exist. Special effects are in my two cents worth opinion are tinsel or specious. The real life and soul are the actors. Each scene was so perfect. The ability to emote mannerisms and voice modulation.

Kudos to the directors .

Exposure to different tenets of culture like these is one more reason to <3 NYC.

Better to die in the flower of youth, on the chance of winning a noble name, than to live at ease like the sheep, and die unloved and unrenowned.

2011-06-23T23:14:00.001-04:00

"I am Pallas Athené and I know the thoughts of all men's hearts, and discern their manhood or their baseness. And from the souls of clay I turn away; and they are blest, but not by me. They fatten at ease, like sheep in the pasture, and eat what they did not sow, like oxen in the stall. They grow and spread, like the gourd along the ground: but, like the gourd, they give no shade to the traveller; and when they are ripe death gathers them, and they go down unloved into hell, and their name vanishes out of the land.

But to the souls of fire I give more fire, and to those who are manful I give a might more than man's. These are the heroes, the sons of the Immortals, who are blest, but not like the souls of clay. For I drive them forth by strange paths, Perseus, that they may fight the Titans and the monsters, the enemies of Gods and men. Through doubt and need, danger and battle, I drive them; and some of them are slain in the flower of youth, no man knows when or where; and some of them win noble names, and a fair and green old age; but what will be their latter end I know not, and none, save Zeus, the father of Gods and men. Tell me now, Perseus, which of these two sorts of men seem to you more blest?

Then Perseus answered boldly: "Better to die in the flower of youth, on the chance of winning a noble name, than to live at ease like the sheep, and die unloved and unrenowned."

For my mother, the silver-footed goddess Thetis, tells me
that two-fold fates are bearing me towards the doom of death.
If staying here I wage battle around the city of the Trojans,
my return home is lost, but my fame will not perish;
but if I go home to my dear fatherland,
my noble fame is lost, but long-lasting my life
will be, and the doom of death will not soon find me.

- Homer, Iliad 9.410-416 (spoken by Achilles)

Conan O'Brien Dartmouth Commencement Address 2011

2011-06-21T23:46:00.001-04:00

my one takeaway from his address that spoke directly to me was

“There few things more liberating in this life than having your worst fear realized…” – Conan O’Brien #respect

Go Change The World.

2011-06-20T22:21:00.001-04:00

Avery Fisher Hall - Graduation ceremony 2010. After a steady slew of speeches by distinguished guests and the valedictorian finally the award of degrees began and oh oh also the photo op’s.

The dean shook hands with each graduate as he handed over their degree and said “ Go Change the World” I dint see many graduates reply back so when it was my turn I shook his hands firmly looked into his eyes and replied ,“ I will.” and walked away to the waiting photographer to pose for a $20 picture which I never bought.

Braggadocio, much ?

Forgive your enemies, but don't forget their names

2011-06-17T00:22:00.001-04:00

He lay in the intensive care unit waiting for the grim reaper to tide over. Not that being alive mattered anymore for he had a led a zestful existence. The market was his altar and he was it’s GOD. Sometimes he did yearn for the good old days. One of these reminiscences drove him to remember THEM. Who were they…His competition. The three Musketeers they called themselves. And in a long drawn out battle lasting a decade they had finally driven him to the ground. They were the new GOD’s. He was content now; yet for that one nagging itch.

He called out to his son who was furiously walking in circles around his bed (in anticipation/preparation for his last rites ? ) and expressed his penultimate wish of meeting the Musketeers to make his peace.

Never the types to drawback from a confrontation with him they duly arrived. A decade of struggle had worn them all out. Potbellied and balding they cut a sorry figure standing by his bed with a sort of remorse in their eyes. He made an attempt to sit up but couldn’t budge. They propped a pillow under his spine as he flopped down. He spoke to them in a kind voice recounting how foolish they had been and how life evened out all odds. He began sobbing heavily and requested his son to step out for a minute as he had to speak in private to the three.

He said to them, “ I have been very mean and deceitful to you. I have sinned so much that I am sure to roast in the fires of hell. I ask of you one final act of kindness for you are the ones that need to forgive me. I want you to promise me that you will do what I ask you to do.”

The musketeers suffering from a bout of hero syndrome readily agreed to whatever he was about to say after all he was the one handing them an olive branch. He was the first one to throw in the towel.

“I want to be emancipated from this gordian knot of our hate filled lives. I want you three to strangle me to death. For you have earned the right to kill me. These are not the ramblings of an senile man. I am in my right senses. Death will be upon me any minute now but I want you to kill me so that I can finally have closure. Maybe in my next life we will be friends. For now free me from this worldly existence. Please.”

The three huddled together to make a decision. It was always the same with them. Individually none could ever come to a conclusion. They decided since he was dying anyways maybe we could garner some good karma for complying to his last wish and haven’t we always wanted to strangle him in retribution for what he did to us.

They moved to closer to his bed and gripped his neck unsure of how to proceed. He encouraged them by cursing them; angered they began strangling him hard.

He yelled out loud “ HELP. THE BASTARDS ARE KILLING ME. ” They withdrew their hands in shock. But he was already dead.

Three months latter.

“After taking into consideration the many testimonies by witnesses, forensic evidence, the autopsy report and the past history of antagonism I hereby sentence the three musketeers to death by hanging for strangling an old defenseless man. Open and shut case Johnson.”

________________________________________

* I read this story as a Kid and decide to give a shot at rewriting it today to take my grey cells out for a jog ;)

The market was his altar and he was it’s GOD is inspired from this bio.

The 30 day - doodle a day attempt

2011-06-14T14:30:00.002-04:00

I've never fancied myself as an artist or an art appreciating types (unless you include the fill color in me kind of books) But today was a bad day at work and I was on the verge of snapping when a piece of paper on my desk made me draw out the angst in my pangst. Resulting in http://doodlefortoday.posterous.com/

New York City in moments

2011-06-13T22:14:00.002-04:00

Overhearing an African American husband discuss about the merits/awesomeness of ‘the Indian arranged marriage system’ from a book on world marriages to his Chinese wife

Exchanging an Indian one rupee coin in a barter system for a comfort doll

While reading ' The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo' on the subway a cute girl walks up to me and asks " What book is that ? Everyone seems to be reading it these days. Is it that good ? " haha

Helping tourists on the Brooklyn bridge by clicking pictures of them with their cameras with them replying back in a genuine emotion ‘that’s a really nice picture’

really getting black comedy

Being mistaken for a Bangladeshi/ Pakistani/ Srilankan / A cab driver

When sauntering in central park with a friend whose wearing a San Francisco hoodie a girl points at him and yells ‘YEAH SAN FRAN’

getting to know about poor vs excellent strip clubs from cab drivers

savoring exotic cuisines

discovering neighborhoods ,nooks and crannies

a minimum of 8 miles of walking on a weekend

showing visitors/friends around the city

Telugu ka basha (తెలుగు క భాష)

2011-06-12T03:42:00.001-04:00

My earliest memories of ‘Telugu ka basha’ (తెలుగు క భాష for the purists) are from my growing up days in Chennai. A little background on me, again: Born into a Telugu family, grew up in Chennai, schooled in the Kendriya Vidhyalaya CBSE system translates to: Can speak Telugu / Tamil , Can’t read or write Telugu / Tamil, Can read/write/doodle/elocute fluently in Hindi.

So ka basha was this mysterious, fast flowing, code-like undecipherable language my parents seemed to converse in once in a while with the eventual outcome of such conversations being me or my brother getting caned.

I was always puzzled as to how born of them I dint imbibe or pickup this language. My mom used ka basha surreptitiously to tell dad of my bad behavior or poor performance in tests. I tried catching the nuances of the language by watching them in action but their code was fool proof because I dint know how to read or write Telugu and was completely unaware of it’s alphabet; not completely true now though, for over the many years that I’ve been watching Telugu films the typography on the posters has familiarized me with Aa , Ka, Ra (espically Victory Venkatesh’s films like kalisundham ra, Jayam manadhe ra, Premanteidhe ra, Prematho ra and many others SRK’s Ra–One got not on Venkatesh’s many Raa’s)

One out of frustration I asked mom to spill the beans of on the language on the basis of my right to information act. She tried to explain it in layman terms “break down words into letters and add a ka prefix to each letter” I tried and gave up in frustration. It was too demanding for my instant gratification seeking acumen.

Today after all those years I remembered ‘ka basha’ somehow. I call this the regurgitation phase of my life. I searched around a bit for info on ka basha and surprisingly no information was found unless I find a way to query the deep web maybe.

So my next best bet was to call mom n dad they dint answer. The fickleness of my though stream drove me to distress as I felt if I dint blog this reminiscence now it would be earmarked for permanent deletion by my brain. I buzzed the only Telugu Vidhwan I knew, PM*. Luckily she was online, though in incognito mode, like always ;)

I used http://telugu.changathi.com/ to get the title of this post in Telugu and sent it to her. For the grammar nazi meets puritan rage type that she is, she instantly pointed out

Telugu radu kani vere languages enduku neeku?
first of all...it's not "KHA"
it's "KA"

(notice the appropriate usage of punctuation in an IM conversation ! I rest my case haha)

So Continuing

some people who wanted to 'code' their sentences used ka in front of every alphabet

for eg. "na peru harini" translates to..

wait let me try “kana kaperu kaharini”

aa tondara ee oddu annedhi, the right answer is

"ka na ka pe ka ru ka ha ka ri ka ni"

danlo code emundi bochu

Me: temme anything else u kno about ka basha

watch that chiranjeevi's old movie Chanti aabai. In that he uses a lot of ka bhasha.

Me: pond james pond. haha. Btw is Ka Basha taught in schools ?

cha ! no ma :P . it's out of syllabus.

Thank you PM. Here is a pic for you.

p.s.

* name changed to protect identity :P

if after reading this page you have more info to contribute on ka basha please leave a comment & email address and I will get in touch with you. May be we can author a Wikipedia page on ka basha.

“Out of Syllabus” , That line was my go to excuse in school when I got less marks on tests.haha :)

On My Fear of Mathematics

2011-06-09T04:22:00.001-04:00

I am more scared of mathematics than pooping in my pants. Dreary from lack of sleep and the summer heat as I lie on my bed twisting and turning unable to catch a wink of sleep I indulge in a little catharsis, the results of which I will humor you with.

I’ve always been a suppressor of problems rather than the rise to the challenge type. My core strengths lie in filibustering, procrastination and finding improbable shortcuts. More out of the box thinking and less of the opposite. I was left to mushroom unchecked with ADD/ADHD during my childhood. Always the kind to seek shelter under the umbrella of defective neurotransmitters today is a good day as any to come clean.

There are things which seem incredible to most men who have not studied mathematics. ~ Aristotle

I never remember being really fascinated with math as a Kid. I was more interested in science. The one only time I was curious was when my elder brother was being caned by dad for clandestinely copying answers to homework problems on decimals from the solutions manual.

In second grade we had mathematics problems on addition and subtraction. The stupid problems were never straight forward like 1 + 1 is equal to what they were rather ram gave me one mango. I slapped ram for every mango ram gave me. ram gave me ten mangoes. how many times did I slap ram. I was very poor at English as well. Combine English and Math you have a below average second graders nightmare. I remember that one time after the math final I caught hold of the class topper and wrote down answers to the questions. memorized the answers. erased the answers. and when questioned by dad repeated like a parrot what the class topper had told me. I managed second and third grade in this fashion. Well my marks in math were surprisingly above average.

A little bit of history. My dad was a Scientist during those days and we lived in a colony with other Scientist families. All the kids went to the same school. In such an environment academic comparisons with neighborhood kids was imminent. My dad was bit of a prodigy and as his sperm we too were expected to be. The brother latter on turned out to be a John Nash kind of beautiful mind types. I did not.

When he was a Scientist dad focused his energies completely on my Brother almost crushing him in fatherly affection. He would take him to his labs, make him do experiments yada yada. I was more left under the care of my mother who let me play in my colorful imaginary worlds and fight over WWF trump cards stats on chest and biceps with the other kids. She noticed I had a problem when I couldn't repeat the multiplication table beyond 3. Enter Dad.

When it came to me Dad had an one key for all locks kind of solution – Caning and tuitions. I have borne so much canning that I sometimes tell myself I can survive a police interrogation. Throwing money at a problem doesn’t make it go away for I had 3 different tuitions for Mathematics alone and still sucked.

I hold no malice towards my father for all those beatings. The way he saw it was that I was too lazy to learn rather than I may have a learning/attention problem. When dad got promoted to a management cadre he had loads of free time on his hands and dedicated his energies in straightening me out. I was in fifth grade now. The math got tougher and the beatings got worse. It was the same routine. 5 am to 8 am one on one math session with dad. He would give me a sum to solve. I would be afraid to make mistakes. One slight mistake. whack! tears. continue to solve. mistake. whack! I would take an average of ten whacking to arrive at an half baked solutions, This method though effective in making me complete homework in time taught me zilch. I was more afraid of mathematics than ever. Afraid of getting whacked. afraid of making mistakes. once I literally peed my pants anticipating dad’s whack. Often after a math exam I would beg, plead my brother to solve the paper for me before we went home so that dad wouldn’t hit me when I got down to solving the paper in his presence.

There was this one time when my brother solved such a question paper and gave it to me. I saw his answers and began crying refusing to go home for I knew I had definitely failed the exam (it dint occur to me for even a single minute that he might be wrong) I sat by the road crying in situ. My dad came walking by an hour latter saw me hunched over dint say a word and left. I was ashamed to show myself to him.

In Srikakulam (Andhra Pradesh, India) a guy who is afraid of mathematics and shirks away from it is called a ‘lekkala donga’ (literal translation mathematics coward) This was the title that all my relatives welcomed me with every time I paid them a visit. You see a failure at mathematics calls for universal castigation. I was constantly chided that I would end up in fine arts (at a time when I had no effing clue what fine arts was !) if I dint pull my socks up soon.

This was the decisive time when I began associating mathematics with pain, suffering and insult consciously and subconsciously. And have continued doing so for the remainder of my academic life; maybe even till today.

Unlike English, History or even Art, for Mathematics I never had a proper mentors. All I had to look up to were these brilliant kids in my class who seemed to score 100 on 100 every single time/ always shooting up hands in Math class with ready answers. A person good at mathematics became/is a rock star for me. I revered them.

Whenever I would be called upon to solve a problem on the board I would have palpitations which were surprisingly absent when I was called upon to explain the Rise of the British Raj in India.

I’ve had many mathematics teachers over the years. None of them has made a lasting impression on me for their teaching, rather I remember each one of them clearly for their quirks and funny accents. All my mathematics teachers have been interested in only nurturing the cream of the crop; I don’t hold any bile against them for this. In a class of so many students the outliers are the ones that bring name and fame to a teacher.

In fact I trusted more in GOD to pass an exam. Before a test I would pray extra hard, religiously and deliriously, try to reason/bribe the most powerful force in the universe with a few pieces of candy and the noble act of abstaining from meat for a day; every time, for every exam. Maybe this is the root for my religious understanding of GOD; as a giver/enabler of passable marks in mathematics.

Sometimes when the time to hand over the answer sheets would near I would send up a fervent prayer to the souls of the examiners correcting my paper to be gentle and understanding. I used the ‘OM on top of margin’ as an talisman to ward off failing marks until it was banned by the Ministry of Magic.

In my 10th standard state board exams when I scored a 95 on 100 in mathematics I was shocked myself and everyone else. Dad felt I had come through finally. But I had a dirty secret. Little did he know that by exam time I had memorized the entire question bank of the previous 10 years down to the last decimal point. In an unimaginative exam system like this I was bound to succeed with rote learning. Just by virtue of scoring a 95 in math overnight I had become a beacon of hope for many parents with children in my same mathematics situation. They felt that if I could do it with countless tuitions and canning then their kids too could do it. Me joining the Math-Physics-Chemistry stream was a bygone conclusion. I dint have a say in the matter.

The bigger test of my mathematical acumen was on the horizon in the form of the unholy troika of ‘EAMCET/ IIT / AIEEE’. It was boot camp from day one. I hit the ground running. A series of tests and then being sorted into sections based on marks gained in said tests and start cramming for dear life. Marks in weekly tests earned or lost you your street cred.

I dint' qualify for IIT. Got ranked high in AIEEE (getting ranked high works the other way around in India :P) Scraped through EAMCET.

In the ranks and marks induced mayhem my deep-rooted problems with Mathematics were never addressed but I did no good and subdued them. Engineering was a joke. I was never cut out to be an engineer. Though I was good at visualizing stuff it dint matter when it couldn’t be reproduced or reinforced with numbers. Take note though I had never failed in mathematics at any point during my academic life always managing with at least a notch above barely pass; that was about to change. I failed mathematics in the very first year of engineering. It was a rude awakener which brought to mind what at some point in the past one of my teachers had said, “The loftiest edifices need the deepest foundations.” Mathematics became an nightmare for me and worst of all I was in a branch where mathematics was going to be my bread and butter (mechanical engineering) The next three years were an uphill task but the beauty of a flawed academic system that recognizes marks on a transcript more and less the ability to actually engineer saved me. Copy, cheat, beg, borrow, rote were instruments I applied but eventually sailed out with a degree proclaiming me an engineer. I am sure If I allowed to design a strut for a bridge in real life on the merit of me holding an engineering degree I am sure to kill someone.

I am sure there are many kids today in the same situation I was who are having a tough time in school taming the mythical mathematical monster. I weep for thee. Nut up, life is going to be a bitch.

Have I overcome my fear of Mathematics ? Somewhat, because along the journey of my life I figured the direction my career was headed in dint require complex math; with Ms-Excel and a scientific calculator my camouflage is complete. But I owe it as a responsibility to my future generations to right the wrongs; to introduce math the right way; to embolden the joy of discovery. Today on a whim I checked out Khan academy. A few hours spent on the site I was moved to near tears. This is the way mathematics was supposed to be taught to me. To understanding rather than force the mind to remember, to derive formulas rather than learn by heart.

Proof is an idol before whom the pure mathematician tortures himself. ~Arthur Stanley Eddington, The Nature of the Physical World

further reading : New York Times (Education) : Are you afraid of Math ?

Jules Verne

2011-06-01T01:33:00.001-04:00

Time to reclaim some grey matter from the clutches of age induced decadence. So every fortnightly or so I’ll be engaging in a little blast from the past to try and hold on to some precious memory before it’s relegated to the recycle bin of my mind.

The paperback copies of ‘A Journey to the Center of the Earth’ & ‘20,000 Leagues Under The Sea’ were the two very first books I read that piqued my interest in the novel format ( for the ADD/ADHD type I am I read both of them at the same time alternating between chapters); before these it was a staple diet of tinkle, champak, chandamama, Archie's, gokulam, diamond comics (chacha choudary and trio), nagraj/captain dhruv/ doga/ mandrake/ phantom/ Jumbo the Robot/ loads of comics (I read all these comics in Hindi as I had access to them only in that language; helped me get top marks in Hindi latter on though ) and that great Target Magazine [as I type this out I am smiling in nostalgia]

A little bit of history here. I used to stammer a bit as a kid and was very bad at English comprehension (not that I am very good now maybe marginally better) and had loads of issues regarding stage fright. I read both these books cover to cover and proudly told dad of my accomplishment. For the critic that he is; he ordered me to explain the Journey to the Center of the Earth verbally to him and my peevish elder brother.

I began to talk and act out the book and did so for the next one hour at the end of which my dad hugged me and said “ You’ve conquered your fear of English’. I have never been happier.

Since that day a decade ago I’ve read a lot of books but the memories of these two are very fresh for they opened to me the realms of human imagination and the beauty in the interplay of these countless words in the arsenal of the English language.

“ Reading is like life, it’s a long journey, but well worth it.”

end quote

2011-05-27T14:27:00.000-04:00

My opinion is neither copyrighted nor trademarked, and it's price competitive. If you like, I'll trade for one of yours.

Indie Ink Challenge – week 2

2011-05-24T23:57:00.003-04:00

My challenge for this week came from Random Girl. And my challenge was to Barb Black.
Your internal dialogue is now being heard by everyone around you. How does this change your thinking?
hmmm … an interesting and a tough premise.

___
A phone booth in Times Square. It rang.
It's none of my business. But a victim of habit I picked it up.
and that is when shit got real.

“Don’t dare to hang up. I have a sniper aimed at your head. Continue talking. This is not a joke.”

“whaa…are you kidding me ??”

“How do I assure you I am not. You see that guy walking up to the booth. I am going to shoot him.”

bam.

“Who the fuck are you ?? and why did you shoot him ? ”

“Like I said. I am not kidding man.”

soon a crowd gathered around and pointed at me yelling that I had shot the man. This was a reel life nightmare coming true. Soon officers from the midtown precinct arrived; guns drawn out moving cautiously towards the booth telling me to come out with both hands in the air.

“don’t dare hang up. Talk to the cops and you’re dead meat.”

“But what did I do to deserve this ?”

“You really don’t know? Let me refresh your memory. Remember Ryan from high school ?”

“Ryan ?? Ryan !! is this you? Dude that was high school. I’m a different person now. Please don’t shoot me. I was on my way to propose to ..”

“Shut up. Just shut the fuck up. You see Mitch; I’ve borne the humiliation for too long, now I’m getting my due. Some emotions are so deeply rooted that only a bullet through the head and an untutored scream will do to express them.”

“Can we talk this over ? And the cops have swarmed this place you can’t get out you know.”

“Why don’t you leave the escaping to me.”

A cop tries to sneak up near the booth Alex yells him away.

What did I do to deserve this…agreed I was a rowdy kid in high school but he want’s to kill me for the past… atonement... But where did he get that sniper. If only I could tell Judy how much I loved her… how accurate are snipers…will I survive a shot to the head…the credit card payment is due tomorrow..what if ma discovers my stash of porn …

A officer moves up near the booth again and in a low voice asked “Where is the sniper ? ”

WTF is happening. How did he know that a sniper is involved.

“I can hear your inner voice Mitch. Don’t look startled, act normal and continue talking on the phone. The SWAT team is in place. Keep talking in your head.”

crazy as fuck.

“Hey Ryan now that you’ve decided to kill me anyways how good of a marksman are you ?”

“After all the year’s I’ve spent training for today I can assure you I’m very good. The vantage point gives me
a clear view of your head. Say your last prayers.”

If he pulls the trigger I am dead. He is a direction opposite to my forehead…go.. now.

“You still do that thing we used to do ?

“ Yes. Very Much or else how do you think I tracked you down ?”

SWAT Team please save me from this maniac.

commotion on the other end of the line. static. call terminated.
_______

This was taxing and tough and I made a feeble effort. But my other plot lines were less inspiring : ~~a wall street trader accused of insider trading / a suicide bomber / a Brooklyn bridge jumper / A Schizophrenia patient / A Sociopath~~ . Will definitely revisit this premise again in the future.

State of the Nation summed up in 3 minutes

2011-05-23T00:50:00.001-04:00

be the change you wish to see in the world. ~ Mahatma Gandhi

India is Shinning.

Indie Ink Challenge

2011-05-19T20:38:00.004-04:00

My very first Indie Ink Challenge came from illogical_being it simply said “You are a fish stuck in a tank. Describe the world as you see it.” For a moment I was like hmmm… and then proceeded to scribble.

My earliest memories of a free life are of swimming in the brilliant blue waters of the Atlantic ocean along the coast of New Jersey. I playing a game of catch me if you can with my bff’s when suddenly a net descended and scooped me abroad a trawler. After a long transit involving trucks, trains and automobiles I finally wound up in a fish tank for the waiting room of a Children's hospital.

I was amidst some august company. There was the queen angel , a lion fish, the sailfin tang, the butterfly fish; me was a maroon clown. I was a replacement for the porcupine puffer which after a long innings had passed away a few weeks ago.

On my arrival I hounded by kids trying to get my attention. I was a celebrity of sorts after some people on the outside had made a movie on our kind. The first few weeks in the tank were dizzying to say the least. Kids would barge into the waiting room tapping on the glass to try and get me to wriggle. Depending on my mood I would do a little sway to the delight of the kids who would run back to their parents shouting “mom,dad look it’s Nemo” The others in the tank though envious of my popularity never said it outright but the old wizened butter fish told me to save up some zest for fame is tinsel and the attention span of man is short.

The butter fish was right. Soon a big TV was installed right opposite the tank and overnight all the loyalties had shifted to SpongeBob SquarePants and Justin Bieber. We were left to amuse ourselves. Rarely would a kid stop by to play with us.

It was during one of these days that I met Ryan. He was unlike other kids. Very silent and withdrawn around people but when left alone at the tank; hours he would spend looking at me with amazement in his big eyes and that smile on his face narrating fantastic tales of oceans and stars. This lasted a few weeks by which I assumed he would be a permanent fixture in my life but fate dealt me a cruel hand and my only friend was never to be seen again.

As I swim in these waters that I’ve gotten so accustomed to, I muse, 'I live to die an another day.'

p.s. Finding Nemo led to environmental devastation for the clown fish

_________________________________________________________________________________

I challenged Melissa to ‘ a walk in the clouds’ and she did a stellar job here. And thanks to M from whose twitter stream I leeched the link for IIWC.

I had this nice big first draft but my computer crashed midway and kept crashing for the whole of yesterday. Worst of all I hadn't saved the draft. So here is what I recollect in bits and pieces an imperfect recollection but just in time for the deadline :)

The Google Chrome OS and a boy’s dreams

2011-05-13T20:38:00.001-04:00

Circa 2002. My windows Xp system crashed taking along with it all my tons of precious data. After a tiring process of reinstallation that involved yelling, frustration and tension I wondered how the OS’es of the future would be. Would they be as ubiquitous as the internet. Like I would just login to my computer and could download the OS right from the internet provided the the dial up connection was fast enough (broadband cable was yet to make an appearance on the horizon hehe) I bounced the idea off a few friends and they just laughed it away saying who would want to do that. Evidently ‘the cloud’ was light years away.

Google I/O May 10, 2011.

I stand vindicated.

Introducing the Chromebook

Bollywood and Entrepreneurship

2011-05-12T19:57:00.001-04:00

if this were to be a question on kweezzz it would read like : Connect Baand Baaja Baarath, Badmaash Company, Rocket Singh Salesmen of the year and Guru.
Themes of Entrepreneurship.

on a side note read this interesting tidbit :

Yash Raj Films has asked Anushka Sharma to shed any extra inches gained before she begins shooting for her next film Ladies Vs Ricky Bahl. The actress has had a long break after the shoot of her last project Band Baaja Baraat.
The production house is very strict when it comes to the fitness of their heroines. While signing a film, their contract insists they be of a certain weight and have a specific Body Mass Index.

Don't gain the world and lose your soul, wisdom is better than silver or gold - Bob Marley.

for when the façade rents,

2011-05-12T00:29:00.000-04:00

the true face of Man shows itself. Deglamorized and naked.

Ryan’s diaries – June 2010.

We all in the same boat brother. You rock it too far to the right you fall in the waddah, rock it too far to the left you fall in the same waddah.

I was musing on this quote by Huddie William Ledbetter when we were called into an urgent meeting in the situation room. I was half expecting this because earlier during the day the latest numbers had come in and going by the sea of people vacating their cubicles with possessions in cardboard boxes at noon, it had been a complete blood bath. My mentor and I hastily made a mock up presentation to the board, perspiring heavily even with the ac turned on in full blast, we entered the war zone. What followed next was an extended period of shelling between the two sides. Some were calling for our scalps.

The mentor, a veteran known for getting out of tight spots like these was pushed to the brink of exhaustion when his normal calm composed façade began to rent. In the blink of an eye I saw his naked face. It scared me. I saw a man way beyond his years worn out and wounded by boardroom battles bearing every blow dealt ever gently and coming out bloodied but with his dignity intact. But today was the first time in all the years I had know him, he was close to going postal.

There are 2 kinds of anger explosive and impulsive. explosive is a customer at the store who gets mad everyday and because the cashier wont take his coupons. impulsive is the cashier that takes the coupons day after day then one day pulls out a gun and starts shooting.

Panic kicked in. I had to act fast to relax him. I rose to the occasion, filibustering. I was able to divert the evil eye of Sauron towards me. It was bad. I was inches away from getting fired but commonsense prevailed and I lived to die an another day. On our way out my mentor congratulated me. I had made my bones.

If my mentor was my God and then today I had seen God’s real naked face. It scared me to think of what lay behind that façade.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.

A dedication to my mentor:
Rana Sanga
Fought eighty-six battles
Had eighty-six wounds
Lost his eye
Was never defeated by an enemy
Songs of warrior praise were sung
Up and down the Ganges ~ Via Link

Hail Gaia

2011-05-10T23:57:00.001-04:00

The Presence of Gaia - As a new dawn approaches Gaia emerges from our sleeping planet. The radiance of her aura lights up the heavens and her 'presence' gives confidence to the birds and animals to venture forth, secure in the knowledge that she will protect them. A river of life flows out to all corners of the earth, renewing and restoring. What greater 'present' could she give us!

If you were a kid who grew up in India in the 90’s unless you were living under a rock you must have seen at least one installment of ‘captain planet’. I still distinctly remember the first episode especially the scene of Gaia waking up to a tickle of water on her face due to someone drilling above her abode; the rest like they say launched an cartoon show that for weeks kids like me were glued to and fought with others kids in lunch recess over what powers we possessed. Fire power was my favorite. teehee ^_^

The show had completely faded from my memory until today when I came across what is called the Gaia theory : The Gaia hypothesis, also known as Gaia theory or Gaia principle, proposes that all organisms and their inorganic surroundings on Earth are closely integrated to form a single and self-regulating complex system, maintaining the conditions for life in the planet. The scientific investigation of this hypothesis focuses on observing how the biosphere and the evolution of life forms contribute to the stability of global temperature, ocean salinity, oxygen in the atmosphere and other factors of habitability in a preferred homeostasis.

Stop. Read that again. But this time keep aside your science and logic tinted glasses. When read from a standpoint of common sense seems perfectly believable right?

October 2009. Canadair Regional Jet 700 from Baton Rouge to Atlanta.

After what seemed to be an eternity of taxiing on the tarmac the ATC gave us the go ahead as a collective cheer went when the plane proceeded to take off. It had just rained and was cloudy and gloomy as hell. Things were made worse by the dinginess of the Canadair Regional Jet (the thing is so tiny; it could be straight out of Enid Blyton’s Noddy. You couldn’t stand up without bumping your head into the roof of the plane!) and a stomach upset caused by too much biryani the previous night. As the plane lift off we cut through the sea of clouds which were in two levels; the dark ones beneath and the Alladin like fluffy cuddly ones above. We were flying over a large green ranch (moistened by the rain earlier) at that moment; past the second layer of clouds we came into plain view of the sun. For the two minutes that this entire scenario lasted I was in heaven.Transfixed to the window taking in the scenery I had an epiphany of sorts as my whole being welled up, high on the beauty of nature I had just seen. In fact no picture or words can truly describe that feeling or the sight . It was Mother Nature. Pure and Divine.

The earth does not belong to man. Man belongs to the earth. ~ American Indian Chief Seattle.

September 2010. An epic 8 hour drive from Stanford to Los Angels.

A pit stop in an open field somewhere in the outskirts of Los Angels. I look up at the wide open sky with its gazillion stars. Transfixed to the spot. If an alien spaceship were to beam me up this would be the right time/spot for them. I stood there amazed and almost tear eyed. Such unparalleled beauty. Bringing back memories of walks along marina beach in Chennai. I remembered my first visit to Birla planetarium in Hyderabad where as I sat on the seat reclining my head the voiceover (me thinks it was Kabir Bedi) in a Godly fashion proclaimed, “Look above what do you see ? Stars. Brilliant stars. These stars have always been there but the pollution in the city renders them invisible to the naked eye…” The voiceover was right. I was away from the trappings of the city when nature revealed itself to me.

We need not look father beyond our porch today to see what havoc we humans as a collective race have wrecked on Gaia. This is not a radical call to arms but a gentle reminder to recycle and be mindful of our limited resources. For we would want our future generations to see the natural sights we have been privileged with front row tickets to . Preserve and Conserve.

Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair. ~Kahlil Gibran

A Father. A Son.

2011-05-05T21:49:00.001-04:00

March 1998.

MV Nicobar was docking at the Port Blair harbor – Andaman & Nicobar Islands. I couldn’t wait to get off the ship and head home. It had been an year since I escaped from Port Blair on a dark rainy evening getting past security by travelling in the lowest of the ship passenger class ‘the bunk’. Only my wife knew where I was headed. The kids were in School and she would tell them I was out of port on work related business for sometime. I calculated I would be back soon after winning the case in the high court. The ‘soon’ turned out to be more than an year. An year of living off the grid. No phones or letters home. In my hurry I dint have time to grab a few pictures off the mantle. I haven’t heard my wife’s shenanigans or my boys voices for over an year. I fled defeated and scared.

Kolkata was a different world altogether. It was like I had slipped through the looking glass into some pre-independence era. The narrow lanes, the old building, the yellow cabs the trams, the destitute, the crowds, the dussera festival. I found solace in walking the length and breadth of the city. Making trips to Belur Math was an escape. My lawyer chided me on my callous exploring pointing out that my rivals had still not lost the case and that an arrest order issued in Port Blair could be made valid here as well especially when my case was against the Government of the land. I discovered a treasure trove of book stores and read a lot making notes on each book for my younger son who loved to read, because I never knew if or when I would get to see him. For the elder one I got a few fancy gifts because that’s what he liked and for the wife a bengali saree. My oldie-goldie lawyer saab who was very kind in providing me a free accommodation and also serving me delicious fish everyday lent me money whenever I needed it never asking for repayment. This kindness of strangers is bewildering. An year had passed with no visible progress in my case when I couldn’t bear the pangs of separation anymore so I made a vow to the presiding deity at Belur Math that if I survived my court case I would bring my entire family for her darshan and left for Port Blair disregarding chiding my lawyer’s advice. I had decided to travel irrespective of which way the judgment went. I was ready to court arrest in Port Blair comforted by the fact that at least my family would be around and hopefully they would be allowed visitation rights.

As the pilot boat guided the Ship into the harbor I couldn’t wait to get off as the past 3 days of constant swaying in the bay of Bengal had brought out dominant my sea sickness. I saw eager families crowd around the gang plank waiting for their loved ones to disembark; mine were no where to be found. I dint expect them to because no one here knew I was coming back home. I spotted police men in the crowd which lead to a few palpitations but they moved on. The Kolkata high court order quashing the fake charges levied against me had come the next week after I had set sail.

I was lucky to have married a wonderful woman with the will of a lion and the power of an elephant. She held us together during our darkest times. I reached home. The garden was intact and spotless; a broken boarded window must the boys and their cricket. I rang the bell. The ever cautious woman looked through the kitchen window first saw me and throwing caution to the wind ran out and embraced me in a tight hug. A first in our marriage ha ha. After much sobbing and catching up hid me in the master bedroom as the boys were going to show up anytime soon. She got busy making my favorite payasam. I stealthily placed a few books and gifts I had brought in the living room soon I heard footsteps leading up to the front door. My ever hungry young son stepped into the hall and I could hear him shout to the elder one “ do you smell payasam ?? I wonder what is so special” the ever casual elder son relied, “whatever” He spotted the books too but was too busy sniffing the aroma to browse through them and as a habit raided the refrigerator and found the big bar of cadburys chocolate I had cloyingly left there. He grabbed it and ran to the kitchen bombarding the mother with questions on its appearance. The wife played the some aunty brought it in the morning for you card. Still clutching it in his tiny hands he headed towards the bedroom my heart started beating really fast. He came into the room and stopped dead in his tracks looking at me with shock and awe. He ran crying into my arms and dint notice my tears. I held him in embrace for a what seemed like eternity as the elder son and the wife joined the huddle. I was home. I had survived.

December 2010.

JFK Airport. NYC.

Luggage checked in. Boarding pass collected. Pat down complete. Passport stamped. Flopped in the boarding lounge sipping a chai latte. Sending out a tweet there, updating a facebook wall post here, constantly checking the iPhone for last minute emails, flipping an ebook on the ipad; putting up an act in general to avoid thinking of the weeks ahead.Two years is a long time to be away from home. Dad had moved back to Hyderabad after the New Delhi stint, the bro had married, a house was built, a car was bought, I had missed it all. Too bogged down preparing for the journey left very little excitement. If I had known adulthood would be such a pain I would have chosen to remain a kid forever watching pg rated films. I had missed the whole lightness of being having replaced it with the bulk of existence. The flight took off latter than expected owing to the numerous flights backed up on the tarmac. Got comfortable in my seat sipped a vodka and crashed. The flight journey was largely uneventful save for the aunty next seat who kept feeding me her dessert for I reminded her of her son. I was not in the least of moods to complain. Any sugar is good sugar.

Hyderabad International Airport.

My son’s flight has landed. Only if he had properly labeled his luggage he would have been out by now. He always procrastinates and never learns. sigh! There he is walking out in that trademark red jacket and pullover man has he put on some bulk.

I spot Dad and Mom in the distance. Dad has an thick moustache that makes him look like some army general and what’s that mom’s holding a flower bouquet. Nice way to embarrass me guys. Do I hug them ? What the heck it’s been two years. Go do it. First touch feet next hug. awkward silence and comments about weight follow. Dad hails a taxi as I am clicking mom on my iphone. No time for small talk. Marriage and job talk ensure on the way home. I am still in a daze. Too amazed to be back in Hyderabad considering the fact that an year ago I was cringing to sounds of my brothers wedding music on the phone. I had slumped into an understanding that I would be forever marooned in NYC caught up in never ending limbo of visa statuses. Hyderabad gave me a lease of new life. Back home I wasn’t having as much fun as I had expected to. I was acting pissed off and dumb. Refusing to talk much while my parents asked me plodded about NYC and life back in the states. Why was I angry ? Hadn’t I been imagining an awesome time in Hyderabad since the day I bought my tickets. The four weeks flew away way too quickly interspersed with travel and social meet and greet events and I was back at Shamshabad airport. I hadn’t spoken much to my family.

Dad, Mom and the bro had come to see me off but the fucking security guards would allow them past the entrance. I just waved a causal bye sans drama and proceeded to the check-in counter. The ticket agent told me that once I went past the red door I couldn’t come back. It struck me then that I ad no effing clue when I would be back in Hyderabad again. Throwing caution to the wind I raced out of the terminal causing a few anxious moments to the security personnel. I thought I must yell out to call my parents back but for the jolly old good blokes they were they stood in the same spot where I had just waved them off. I jumped the railing and hugged three of them together almost on the verge of tears; a few hugs and kisses after I walked back in happy, beyond the red door wiping away silent tears of joy. I knew, I will be back soon.

Mother

2011-05-02T23:25:00.001-04:00

“Mothers are all slightly insane.” ~ J.D. Salinger

If I was damned of body and soul,
I know whose prayers would make me whole,
Mother o' mine, O mother o'mine.
~Rudyard Kipling

(pen)sive

2011-04-27T23:24:00.001-04:00

So today was one of those days when I lost a pen again. No, some Czech prime minister dint steal it rather I misplaced it somewhere and spent the remainder of my productive work day looking for it down and under before I gave up in frustration and put in a purchase order to our materials department. The lost pen has joined the long list of stationery I've lost over the years.Sometimes I think all my lost pieces of stationery have reached their stationery heaven or hell.

Got me thinking though how I transitioned from pencil to pen. There may be a lesson in this experience for you wanna be venture capitalists about 'cashing out' in the right time. haha

So, up until my third standard I was accustomed to the nitty gritty of Natraj pencils with their zebra like stripes on a shocking red background. And God's name on my pencil assured me of full success on my exams (i thought so ) also there was this ek box of pencils ke saath ek natraj eraser and sharpener muft . Groupon/Living Social aint got shit like this deal!

and this

Natraj Pencils - Sixer Ad

I had this nice WWF - Hitman Bret Heart pencil box (yes it was called WWF back then. Pencil box! ha ha i find that term funny and nostalgic now ) Each of us in class used to show off his allegiance and cred by the WWF star he supported. Me and the guy next me had this Bret Hart vs. Yokozuna war going on when our boxes used to clash once in while leading to a barrage of stats on biceps, chest, weight and championships won.

I eagerly waited for final exams because dad would buy me a whole box of pencils and mom would put it in the pooja room only to be used on exam day and put back after to recharge them for the next exam. My brother who was two classes above me was allowed to write with pens and used every given opportunity to parade his coterie of Reynolds blue ball point pens in front of me. He once bought a red ball point pen clandestinely to fix some areas in his marks sheets and kicked up quite a scandal. For in those days a student in possession of a red pen was a crime of the highest order.

Maybe it was because of the constant pencil usage or what I never realized and none of my teachers noticed that I had a terrible handwriting. Terrible is an understatement; it was caveman like drivel. And no one pointed it out to me. Two weeks into 4th class Dad got a job in Andaman & Nicobar Islands and I had to change schools in a hurry. I had just begun the transition to a ball point pen in Chennai. In the 4th standard at my new school almost everyone was using a pen flawlessly while I was still taking baby like steps. (they were accustomed to pens from 3rd class itself. outrage.) The class used to crowd around to watch me make earnest efforts to maintain sway and flow. After a month of pen lid biting and cursing I finally managed to pass muster from the ever discerning teachers.

Following family tradition all this while I had been using Reynolds 045 Fine CARBURE Ball Point Pens. Because these were the only pens available to me unless I flicked dad's Luxor Pilot pen once in a while. And the moment i whipped it out of my box in a well planned PR move all the eyes in the class would be upon me; i would bask in the eyeballs in proper attention whore style. In fifth class I changed to a different school in Port Blair. The Carmel High School was a Christian missionary school; hence it was devoid of all the trappings on my earlier Kendriya Vidhayala schooling.I was anonymous no more and was held accountable for my bad handwriting and reprimanded accordingly with lower marks. This was a low phase in my life until someone suggested I join Shanta Xerses madam's class; who during day was our western music teacher and after school hours for kids like me ran a handwriting tuition class. This was my first serious tryst with cursive hand writing. She was a tough task master and the one hour session everyday involved me copying out passages from Robinson Crusoe and getting them graded by madam. She always gave me a D or a C- and gradually transitioned towards a passable B. At the end of the year (also as i reached the end of transcribing Robin Crusoe in its entirety ) in her last class she gave me the A+ i had been craving for. Now as as write this and come t think of it no other A+ grade in my life till date has made me more happy. I will ever be grateful to her.

As a result of successful completion of my cursive writing class and graduating Summa Cum laude dad gifted me a Hero pen. This pen enhanced my cursive handwriting even further.

Hero Pen. The most awesome pen ever. And that whole religious process of filling it up and watching it run out of ink as I wrote was Nirvana. I think no other pen captured my state of mind beautifully on paper as this pen. Writing with this I felt like some great writer. haha How I wish I could get one of these like RIGHT NOW. Do they even make them anymore ?

As I reminiscence about the Hero pen and turn back hands of clock I am transported to a time devoid of social media (those days computers were good only for playing Wolfenstein 3d or typing out endless GO TO statements in BASIC) and COMPUTER stood for Commonly Operated Machine Prepared for Use with Technical and Educational Research. And when I lost my pens I would be subject to sound trashing.

Today I lose a pen; I just get an another one. Life.

p.s. there's a whole sections i dint cover for sake of too much information( and it being quarter past midnight on a Wednesday!) about faber castell pencils with the fancy white shaves / the Japanese plastic pencils with many small leads / pen pencils / Pilot ink pens/ light emitting pens/ parker pens etc.

will sign off with this

Anurada Koirala : CNN Heroes 2011. Respect.

2011-04-26T23:56:00.001-04:00

Ms. Anuradha Koirala is the Founder and Executive Director of Maiti Nepal. Born in Nepal and former English teacher, Ms. Koirala started Maiti Nepal in a small house in Kathmandu with her own savings. Today she is a widely recognized activist and lecturer who has dedicated her life to combating the sexual exploitation of women and children.

As long as we have ordinary people who care for the world and the creatures that inhabit it the collective future of our race is not doomed. This is the beauty of the indomitable human spirit.

Rohinton Mistry – #respect

2011-04-22T00:21:00.001-04:00

I just finished reading two of Mr. Mistry’s books back to back. I went through pain,suffering,empathy,sorrow and outrage over the course of three weeks.

A fine Balance. A Must read. One of a kind. And that simple evocative language. I cried and cringed at so many places. Outrage , sorrow and retrospection were suffered (not necessarily in the same order) If you had to read on book this year let it be this. ( I am ordering this book of amazon as soon as my budget permits)

Such A long Journey. This was the first Mistry book I read. I was so drawn deeply into Gustad Noble’s life and the subtleties of the Parsi culture. And the central conflict and the colorful characters. As the book proceeded I went deeper into my internal reserves and to places in my memories I had long forgotten or suppressed.

I first heard of Rohinton Mistry when I read a piece about ‘such a long journey’ being banned. I got curious and decided to check him out; one of my best calls. And that beautiful flow of words makes me fall in love with the English language even more.

“Those who continue to harp on the inevitable decline of the novel ought to…consider Rohinton Mistry…” –New York Times Book Review of Books.

Tamasha's adaptation of Rohinton Mistry's ‘ a fine balance’ enjoyed two sell-out runs at Hampstead Theatre. www.tamasha.org.uk

How would you monetize a social network in India

2011-04-07T12:55:00.000-04:00

rants here.

me thinks a must is a secure/reliable/trustworthy/local payment system.

http://www.flipkart.com is a good example of a successful online store; but they deliver physical goods.
But how will it work for a system like a movie streaming site like netflix / hulu but with desi centric audience because you're paying for a service you can't really touch or feel.

sms based payment systems sounds do able. Like http://teck.in/paymate-sms-based-mobile-payment.html or http://eko.co.in/index.php (interesting article here)or a monthly electricity bill payment type model.

Another challenge is the penetration of high speed/decent internet connections that can handle HD a/v streams or an IPTV like system which can deliver desired a/v streams with little modding in the current setup or infrastructure.

creation of free trial based public wifi hotspots.

penetration of mobile phones/smart phones in india http://ronnie05.wordpress.com/2010/06/10/ty78/

suggestions / ideas / anything ?

2011– current reading list

2011-02-25T00:02:00.001-05:00

A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul. ~Franz Kafka

Red Earth and Pouring Rain - Vikram Chandra
Love and Longing in Bombay - Vikram Chandra
God Hates us all - Hank Moody
Dork: The Incredible Adventures of Robin Einstein Varghese by Sidin Vadukut
Young Turks - Book 1 The Raisina Trilogy by Krishan Partap Singh
Delhi Durbar - Book 2 The Raisina Trilogy by Krishan Partap Singh
Mediocre But Arrogant – Abhijit Bhaduri
Married But Available - Abhijit Bhaduri
A fine balance – Rohinton Mistry
Such a Long Journey - Rohinton Mistry
Fame, Fortune & Ambition – Osho
Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie
The story of my experiments with truth – MK Gandhi
The Watercooler Effect - Nicholas DiFonzo

incomplete

2011-02-22T22:38:00.001-05:00

am I too early in life to give up on a writing dream ? http://www.strangehorizons.com/guidelines/fiction-common.shtml

' There is absolutely no point in sitting down to write a book unless you feel that you must write that book, or else go mad, or die.' ~ Robertson Davies, Canadian novelist

The Internets

2011-02-19T02:34:00.001-05:00

Before you read the following set of articles I suggest you LOL watching this hilarious clip from the IT Crowd.

The Internet is so big, so powerful and pointless that for some people it is a complete substitute for life. ~Andrew Brown

Unless you’ve been living under a rock there is no way that the following series of article have missed your attention.

1) Anonymous to security firm working with FBI: "You've angered the hive"
By Jacqui Cheng

2) How one man tracked down Anonymous—and paid a heavy price
By Nate Anderson

3) (Virtually) face to face: how Aaron Barr revealed himself to Anonymous By Nate Anderson

4) Spy games: Inside the convoluted plot to bring down WL
By Nate Anderson

5) Black ops: how HBGary wrote backdoors for the government
By Nate Anderson

Corruption + India

2011-02-15T20:00:00.001-05:00

The looting of India via corruption

It’s hard to keep anger and emotions in check with the fucked up state of our union. Yes , yes I am some guy sitting on his ass in his New York apartment and ranting about corruption rather than be in India do the ‘be the change you want to see in the world’ bit.

During the recent trip to India I proclaimed to my dad, “ I am fucking angry and annoyed with this corruption and injustice; I want to join politics. To be in the system to change the system.” dad flashed his all knowing smile. He dint refute or oppose my idea; which is a first btw. He took me to a near relative; an ex MP/MLA who after a long political innings handed over the reins to his Son. This ‘Sir’ said, “You want to do good for the country and are well educated ; what is wrong with you ? Anyways, I hope you are making good money in the US (Lol) because the asking price for entry level political career is 5 c. Stock 5 c and meet me again; by 2014 if possible” He said it in a cool nonchalant way like ‘twas axiomatic. The meeting ended I touched his feet and said “ I better get started on collecting the c’s then…

The greatest truth of life

2011-01-31T22:43:00.001-05:00

If there is one moral i've weaned from my life's experiences this is it :

"success or failure is not permanent."

There have been moments where I’ve felt this is it ; it can’t get any worse than this and also moments of ‘flawless victory’ but in the end it all evens out.

I HAVE COME THAT THEY MAY HAVE LIFE,

AND THAT THEY MAY HAVE IT MORE ABUNDANTLY. ~ JOHN 10:10

GOD has a master plan for your life, and that plan does not change. It is a plan designed specifically for you. It is a plan that GOD intends for you to live out fully, beginning at the moment of your birth and continuing until the moment of your death. GOD’S plan for you has a purpose, a blueprint for your particular life, a character-development plan, a communication plan, a call to service, a guidance plan, and a blessing plan. Your destiny is to be the person GOD created you to be. - Charles Stanley

Holy cow batman

2011-01-29T19:38:00.001-05:00

Now more than ever there is a need to define what or who an Indian is. Is it a merit gained by birth or by pledging undying allegiance to the saffron white and green or by being a stickler for customs and traditions written in the great books. Who is an Indian ?

so where were we

2011-01-24T00:02:00.001-05:00

first of all I wish all the readers/spammers/bots/web crawlers who frequent this site a happy new year 2011. I know Jan’s almost up but what the heck.

So a lot’s happened in the past 40 days. Yours truly had been to his motherland after three long years and is now back in town with a butt load of rants & muses to share.

Jet lag’s setting in; for now ciao.

It's all relative, my dear Watson

2010-12-21T02:36:00.001-05:00

I’ve always found it hard to believe how among the multitude of great people I’ve had the pleasure of knowing over the years it is easy to break them down as :

1) Are leaders/visionaries in the work environment.Are needy/child like when it comes to their personal lives.

2) Are stalwarts in their relationships. Are shit at work.

3) Shit at both work and relationships.

It’s the first category that I’ve run into for most of my life. The pace, the efficiency, the leadership abilities, the work place camaraderie yada yada always makes me think how some people will be great in their personal relationships as well but that rarely seems to be the case. It’s like two different people altogether. Why, why but why ? It’s all relative, my dear watson. We all are tortured souls at some level.

It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it; but the young know they are wretched for they are full of the truthless ideal which have been instilled into them, and each time they come in contact with the real, they are bruised and wounded. ~ W. Somerset Maugham, 'Of Human Bondage', 1915

dance, no ?

2010-12-08T23:17:00.001-05:00

Place : high end caterers in White Plain, NY.

occasion : Office Christmas Party.

colleagues trying to drag me on to the dance floor to get me to bust a move.

Yours truly doesn’t dance/shake hands n legs unless truly hammered out.

Sits in a corner sipping bourbon people-watching.

We Indians have certain idiosyncrasies when it comes to dance. The guys have the same set of moves for every song irrespective of the genre. Bollywood/Spanish/Latin/Pop/Hip hop all have the same steps, balle balle only. Sausage fest it is. And that train thing man, priceless/ ageless.

The girls are wayyy better; I dunno how they manage to pull it off; the exact same moves as in the music video of the song.

Too tired to even analyze further. Top of the shelf booze with the boss picking up the tab is wayy precious to waste blogging.

Why do ‘they’ do ‘it’ ?

2010-12-05T09:04:00.001-05:00

The reason you haven't felt it is because it doesn't exist. What you call love was invented by guys like me, to sell nylons. You're born alone and you die alone and this world just drops a bunch of rules on top of you to make you forget those facts. But I never forget. I'm living like there's no tomorrow, because there isn't one. - Don Draper, Mad Men

Wikileaks : The most trending topic for the past two weeks. The global freedom of the press movement got a new hero and the Jason Bourne types a new target. Julian Assange the face of wikileaks is the latest in a growing breed of tech savvy meets news reporting. Did the founders of the Internets ever envision what great a role their idea of hooking up computers around the world would play in determining the course of human history.

A Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace by John Perry Barlow

Arre Diwano, Mujeh Pehechano,
Kahan Se Aaya, Mein Hoon Kaun,
Mein Hoon Kaun, Mein Hoon Kaun,

What motivates people like JA or VK or many others to put themselves out there; trying to drive sense into the sheep. No one takes them seriously and calls them quacks/narcs/control freaks/ crackheads. Are people afraid that any acceptance of the real truth will break the tightly drawn veil of disbelief. All is not well with the world people. It never was. We’ve known this all along. But some refuse to go to bed at nights because they care about the world and the people that inhabit it.

Saint Anger 'round my neck
He never gets respect
Fuck it all and no regrets,
I hit the lights on these dark sets.
I need a voice to let myself
To let myself go free.

Then there the other types of people; the non vigilante types who in equal measure do their bit for the world to make it a better place. Like Narayanan Krishnan. See how his eyes light up and the pumping enthusiasm in his voice as he describes what he does. Selfless.

Narayanan Krishnan was a bright, young, award-winning chef with a five-star hotel group, short-listed for an elite job in Switzerland. But a quick family visit home before heading to Europe changed everything.

"I saw a very old man eating his own human waste for food," Krishnan said. "It really hurt me so much. I was literally shocked for a second. After that, I started feeding that man and decided this is what I should do the rest of my lifetime." (Narayanan Krishnan’s CNN Heroes Profile)

Narayanan Krishnan– A CNN Hero

So the most important questions you have to ask yourself today are “ What is my purpose in life ? How did my being on this earth make it a better place ? What is ‘my word’ ? ”

There will always be books to read, movies to watch, songs to listen to, places to see, people to meet, errands to run, taxes to be paid and money to be made. There’s no escaping that. But besides all these activities that slot as normal human beings do something small or big that will make this world a better place to live in for now and for tomorrow. Sharing is caring (but don’t share copyrighted content on torrents)

We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop. ~ Mother Teresa

Peace. May the force be with you.

Rajinikanth : Superstar thy name

2010-12-01T22:39:00.001-05:00

Thalaivar was the first film actor I knew growing up in Chennai in the 90’s. He was the first person I knew when I was made aware that something awesome called ‘movies’ exist . This was a time before Star TV/Bay watch/WWF/Prime Sports was yet to make its foray into the black and white tv set of our middle class living room and DD1 was wikipedia, wikileaks, google, youtube and facebook rolled into one.

classmate 1 : “ what sound does kroor singh make ?”

me : “yakoo”

But I had a strict ‘south Indian films are not a part of your school syllabus’ kind of upbringing. (English films on the other hand were highly encouraged to the point where dad would get us VCR cassettes of ET, Jaws and the likes to improve my sorry English marks. I know right ! parents always go the extra mile to ensure their kid doesn’t get left behind when it comes to academics. Reminds me I should seriously write about growing up in Chennai before dementia sets in)

I had seen more episodes of Ramayan, Mahabharat, Chandrakantha than Telugu/Tamil movies. I got to watch tamil movies only once a year when they would be screened at the open air auditorium in the community park. Describing it as an open air auditorium is a great exaggeration; it was just a cracked white washed wall bang in the middle of the park. Once a year a white cloth would be hung across it and the colony administrative board would get a 35 mm movie projector and it would be show time. I was more mesmerized by the divine sound of the spindle spinning rather that the rumbustious crowds or the movie. The sounds a 35mm projector makes is music to my ears. Dunno why ?? (just listening to the youtube clip embedded below itself is making me horny)

A 1940 Simplex SP 35mm Projector

Back to Rajinikanth. So after an uneventful upbringing devoid of the whole ‘southern India movie experience’ I was put in boarding school in Vizag. I dwelled amongst folk who lived and breathed movies. It was awkward. I felt out of place but I made up for lost time by learning about movies from talking non-stop to the fellow compatriots while eating, peeing, showering etc. Then on Dec 31, 1998 we had a 35 mm screening of Basha. For the entire duration of the movie the hairs on my body were erect in rapt attention. I was induced to Rajinism and also Nagma such hot broad who gave me wet dreams latter on.

Coming back to today. Was reading a Rajinikanth interview when this question caught my attention.

You do something other stars wouldn't. You go out as you are, in a kurta, balding hair as it is without dyeing. And your fans are all right with it?
No. It is important to them how you look on celluloid. They're paying for that. There they feel that my hero should look like a hero. Outside, it doesn't matter. People are intelligent, they know everything. Why unnecessarily give yourself discomfort?

Thalaivar. Word. Period.

steal this blog

2010-11-25T03:59:00.000-05:00

Open your brain tank bro, cuz here comes some premium 91 octane knowledge; In an ever changing world you (this blog) are a single point of consistency. If my life were to be expressed as a function in a four-dimensional Cartesian coordinate system, this blog, would be '0,0,0,0'

The 50 books project : update

2010-11-15T20:06:00.001-05:00

First of all the whole credit for getting me back into reading goes to M. clap clap. whistle whistle. So what began as an ambitious and far stretched project to complete 50 books by the end of 2010 fell way side. But I’ve been keeping a notepad list of the titles I’ve been reading.

Reading for me was a two way road to discovery. Discovering the Author and discovering myself. Many a nights were spent relentlessly like a junkie reading page after page after page. And almost all the books I’ve read till now have been good; or I felt so

The 50 books I read this year :

1.The Road to Perdition (graphic novel) – Max Allan Collins
2.Why is God laughing – Deepak Chopra
3.H. G. Wells’ The War Of The Worlds ~ Ian Edginton , D’Israeli (Graphic Novel)
4.Pour Your Heart Into It: How Starbucks Built a Company One Cup at a Time ~ Howard Schultz
5.Cat O’ Nine Tales: And Other Stories ~ Jeffrey Archer
6.The Dilbert Principle: A Cubicle’s-Eye View of Bosses, Meetings, Management Fads & Other Workplace Afflictions~ Scott Adams
7.The Authoritative Calvin and Hobbes ~ Bill Watterson
8.The Accidental Theorist and Other Dispatches from the Dismal Science - Paul Krugman
9.The Valkyries ~ Paulo Coelho
10.Prince of Ayodhya ~ Ashok K. Banker
11.Buddha: A Story of Enlightenment ~ Deepak Chopra
12.Life of Pi ~ Yann Martel
13.The Metamorphosis and Other Stories ~ Franz Kafka
14.The Catcher in the Rye ~ J. D. Salinger
15.Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde ~ Robert Louis Stevenson
16.Maximum City ~ Suketu Mehta
17.The Kite Runner ~ Khaled Hosseini
18.Sea of Poppies ~ Amitav Ghosh
19.The Calcutta Chromosome ~ Amitav Ghosh
20.The White Tiger ~ Aravind Adiga
21.Paths of glory ~ Jeffrey Archer
22.the muslim next door – sumbul ali karamali
23.beatrice and vigil – yann martel
24.Q & A – vikas Swarup
25.Between Assassinations – Aravind Adiga
26.Eat, Shoots and Leaves – Lynn Truss
27.Lord of the flies – William Golding
28.A history of the New York Subway system (forgot to take down the author’s name :D )
29.The Age of Shiva ~ Manil Suri
30.Sacred Games ~ Vikram Chandra
31.The healing of America: a global quest for better, cheaper, and fairer health care by T. R. Reid
32.The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
33.Shantaram
34.A Passage to India by E. M. Forster
35.No Country for Old Men ~ Cormac McCarthy
36.The Art of Avatar: James Cameron's Epic Adventure by Lisa Fitzpatrick
37.Waiter Rant: Thanks for the Tip--Confessions of a Cynical Waiter by Steve Dublanica 38.The Girl who played with fire
39.The Girl who kicked the hornet's nest
40.ANIMAL’S PEOPLE By Indra Sinha.

Now Reading :

41.Prince by Machiavelli
42.The Tao of Physics: An Exploration of the Parallels between Modern Physics and Eastern Mysticism ~ Fritjof Capra
43.Outliers: The Story of Success by Malcolm Gladwell
44.And Thereby Hangs a Tale by Jeffrey Archer

45. God Hates us all by Hank Moody

To Read :

Dork: The Incredible Adventures of Robin Einstein Varghese by Sidin Vadukut
Young Turks - Book 1 The Raisina Trilogy by Krishan Partap Singh
Brick Lane ~ Monica Ali
The Inheritance of loss ~ Kiran Desai
On the Road ~ Jack Kerouac
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas ~ Hunter S. Thompson
Hegemony or Survival: America's Quest for Global Dominance (The American Empire Project) by Noam Chomsky
Waltz with Bashir: A Lebanon War Story by Ari Folman and David Polonsky
The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane
The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck
East of Eden by John Steinbeck
Alice In Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner
The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind: Creating Currents of Electricity and Hope by William Kamkwamba
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers
Zeitoun by Dave Eggers
Funny Boy by Shyam Selvadurai
Dancing Arabs ~ Sayed Kashua
For God, Country, and Coca-Cola: The Definitive History of the Great American Soft Drink and the Company That Makes It by Mark Pendergrast
The Road by Cormac McCarthy
Schindler's List by Thomas Keneally
Two Lives ~ Vikram Seth

Story Ideas please ?

2010-11-12T23:37:00.001-05:00

I’ve wanted to write a full fledged book or a novella like for ever (after I started getting passable grades in English in high school) But the problem with a book parallels my life. Has a starting point but no ending point; ‘lacking a definite vision’ that’s my big challenge. I am challenged.

But let me tell you what I think I am good at. Visualizing people,emotions, experiences,events and places. From every person I’ve met over the past 25 years I’ve absorbed small snippets of their lives; hence I have a rich notebook full of experiences but I get stuck when I try to weave them into a story. Even though I’m bad at directions and all (thanks to the iphone that’s history) any place I am at I take in a wealth of details even the tiniest bits of information like décor and all. And I am good at rewriting scenes narrated to me by someone else, applying my imagination to the events ; screenplay/screen writing is it ?

blast from the past : LFJC, Uppal. English class assignment write a funny story. A friend wrote some funny story involving goats and a villager. He was reading it out to us. I found the premise interesting so rewrote the stuff involving the villager, a bus conductor and some talking goats. Quite some laughs it generated; and mind you the F word wasn’t used anywhere and it dint include any fart jokes as well.

So guys, if anyone’s reading this and feels has a tory to share please let me know. I need a starting point. Will give you 30 percent of the book advance and 20 percent of the book sale revenue.

An another idea is to write a series of essays with no theme in general. May include poems, art work, short stories, scribbles, graffiti, sex cartoons types. But if I don’t impose some kind of constraints it may be a work in progress for the rest of my life.

in between ruminations

2010-11-06T04:27:00.001-04:00

Sacred Games by Vikram Chandra. A 900 plus pages epic. It’s been a really long time since I sat hunched under a lamplight until the wee hours of morning and literally devoured a book (book marking,dog earing, coffee spilling and all) I rediscovered the pure exhilaration that was reading.

After Shantaram and Maximum City, Sacred Games sort of completes the Mumbai crime noir for me.

A little history on my quest to finish Sacred Games.

Year 2007. A book store on a footpath abutting the busy Panjagutta Junction.(mentioned here) I noticed a shiny new paperback copy of Sacred games. Picked it up. Damn it was heavy. Like always read through the two line reviews on the back cover; a snippet in the inside jacket and was hooked; but sadly dint have the money to buy/borrow the book. But the cover stuck in my mind.

Year 2010. NYC cubicle. Sleepy post lunch induced boredom. Out of no where I remember this book but the name escapes me. Google: bombay police criminal novel and lo amazon spit out Sacred Games. I had instant orgasm; because that exactly was the book. After much placing hold at NYPL it duly arrived (The NYPL system man is AWESOME) In a different time and a different place when a book I had been waiting to read for so long would arrive I’d pounce on it with all gusto strangely not with this one. It lay on my shelf for 6 months !! (collecting dust and bed bugs and some heavy fines to the NYPL) every time it came into my field of vision I would open it; flip a few pages and close it. I read every other book except this (even the likes of cosmopolitan, yikes!) Last week I finally decided to read it. And 7 days man; just flew.I was reading while walking,sleeping,eating,working,shitting, the subway, coffee shop, cubicle, under the Brooklyn bridge, over the Brooklyn bridge, most walking most parts of downtown Manhattan. I went totally junkie. And what a book it turned out to be. The rich cast of characters, the colorful language, the plot, the sub plots. No wonder it took Vikram Chandra 7 long years to write this book.

Figures out the changes India went through during partition were so profound and the times of Nehru and Indira Gandhi, communism are rich material for a book. Note to self : must read about India from the 50’s to the 90’s. Manil Suri’s the The Age of Shiva is another great book man.

2010 has been a remarkable year for me wrt to the amazing books I’ve read and the excellent movies I’ve seen. Thanks to M for the book habit and R for the ifilms.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Finally saw the movie. Was junked up on coffee and lo I saw it in one go. It was - Subtle. Beautiful. Spot on.

Man there are so many thoughts/ideas/snippets/stories that are battling it out in my mind as I type these lines but again I’m back to procrastinating.

btw read this excellent article on Procrastination and movie choices.

when the sirens toll

2010-10-26T23:24:00.001-04:00

they are too late; for death has already beaten them to it.

I glanced at the collective bloodied mess lying sprawled in the dark alley. A few were whirling in pain, relapsing into spasms from the various bullet holes that riddled their torsos; I pumped some more bullets in them to end their misery. The rest of the gang ? well they were half past dead.

The neighbors heard the gunshots but were too scared to come out and check. For stuff like this happened every day around here and it was best to leave the streets to police itself.

I sat on the steps of a nearby apartment ; tired and bloody. Flicked open my cigarette case and lit up a menthol. I had been knifed twice in the stomach and sucker punched in the face but the thugs were no match for my Kimber .45 ACP. The killing had been quick and bloody.

2010-10-25T23:22:00.001-04:00

</creativeshocker>

Rinse and repeat.

Yes, that simple a template.

Blog updated.

Some good Flickr sets

2010-10-23T11:36:00.001-04:00

After some good amount of internet tube crawling.

(will keep updating)

http://www.flickr.com/photos/priyaas/collections/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/12201340@N06/sets/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/murali_selvan/sets

and some shameless self promotion hey hey I’m a noob when it comes to photography

http://www.flickr.com/photos/creativeshocker

Superman

2010-10-17T14:09:00.001-04:00

Now, a staple of the superhero mythology is, there's the superhero and there's the alter ego. Batman is actually Bruce Wayne, Spider-Man is actually Peter Parker. When that character wakes up in the morning, he's Peter Parker. He has to put on a costume to become Spider-Man. And it is in that characteristic Superman stands alone. Superman didn't become Superman. Superman was born Superman. When Superman wakes up in the morning, he's Superman. His alter ego is Clark Kent. His outfit with the big red "S", that's the blanket he was wrapped in as a baby when the Kents found him. Those are his clothes. What Kent wears - the glasses, the business suit - that's the costume. That's the costume Superman wears to blend in with us. Clark Kent is how Superman views us. And what are the characteristics of Clark Kent. He's weak... he's unsure of himself... he's a coward. Clark Kent is Superman's critique on the whole human race – Bill, Kill Bill: Vol. 2

Scrubs–I’m No superman

antediluvian immortal enemies

2010-10-17T01:05:00.002-04:00

They battled on mount oom; none stronger or weaker than the other. Born of the same holy womb and endowed with the same kind of special abilities, the victor of a 1000 year mortal combat was not forthcoming.

For when God’s fight, man can’t intervene.

Worlds began and worlds ended . Civilizations had risen and had been ground to dust but they were locked in a multitudinous loop. The consequence of this battle would crown the new Emperor of the Universe and kill a God.

Their conflict was summarized by a great historian: “ If two king cobra’s with the same poison had a go at each other who would die first? ”

Toto, I Think We're In Kansas Now

2010-10-15T00:48:00.001-04:00

that’s what Ryan said a few minutes after taking a hit from the bong with bob marley’s picture on it. (said he got it for a steal in the village)

I sat besides him in a smoke filled room among fellow bros; diligently taking notes. This psychedelic trip would be worth chronicling karke.

Hit 1. Bong. He coughed. a lot. I thought he would die coughing. Cycle over. he sat with legs crossed; fists clenched and placed them on his heart saying man this things beating so fast like it’s gonna explode. He looked around for reassurance; but none was forthcoming. All the hombres smiled at the guy and his virgin lungs. He put his back to the wall resting his wide back. Seemed alive and kicking enough to me. Then they started streaming Mike Myers ‘Love Guru’ on the xbox. He stay put in his back to the wall position and continued watching; eyes wide open. After sometime I noticed his pupils were bleedy red; like juicy tomatoes man. Suddenly he started laughing at some mindless scene and continued laughing for the next twenty minutes. He made some comments as to how jessica alba is a hpoa and he would totally jandu balm her. You can drug Ryan but you can’t take bollywood outta him. Respect.

He started playing this song man. you can’t appreciate it unless you are stoned. It’s such a slow song I almost fell asleep but Ryan was all attentive with his ears perked up, nipples hardened and all. He shouted out aloud that this song was the real dope. I hadn’t seen him this gesticulatingly excited since that scene of Gandalf horsing down the hills in the two towers movie.

Country Joe and The Fish - Grace

--------------------------

----------------------------------------

if I had known

2010-10-11T23:19:00.001-04:00

that the time we spent together,
shouting aloud ‘best friends for eva’ ,
would be sweet and short-lived ,
I would have enjoyed them more as they happened,
rather than think about those moments now,
with a smile and shrug.

Nothing lasts for ever they say,
Neither you. Nor me.

As the pretty drops of rain pelt my window sill;
in a different time and a different place,
we would be talking about how the gods must be crazy.
The time of our lives, we’ve had.
True for you and for me.

Someday; if that day ever comes,
when I run into you again,
hope we’ll have stuff to talk about and laugh,
and make memories anew.

Till that time comes,
All I can say is,
It was good knowing you.

The Verve–Bittersweet Symphony Lyrics

If you're havin' sleep problems i feel bad for you son.

2010-10-02T14:36:00.001-04:00

I got 99 problems but sleep ain't one.

After relentless scouring of the tea shelves at my local supermarket I chanced upon Relaxul Tea (Melissa). And that Sir was the end of all my ‘doh I can’t seem to sleep tonight’ issues. This stuff works like a charm. Brew it 8 hours before said bed time and you’re good to go yo. Good bye vicodin, nyquil, pain killers; I am weaning off your influence.

From this point onwards all my sleep’s like the Dude’s flying over the city in pajamas dream sequence from Big Lebowski.

Neurosis

2010-09-26T16:24:00.001-04:00

Neurosis was coined by the Scottish doctor William Cullen in 1769 to refer to "disorders of sense and motion" caused by a "general affection of the nervous system". For him, it described various nervous disorders and symptoms that could not be explained physiologically. It derives from the Greek word "νεῦρον" (neuron, "nerve") with the suffix -osis (diseased or abnormal condition).

Neurosis is a class of functional mental disorders involving distress but neither delusions nor hallucinations, whereby behavior is not outside socially acceptable norms. It is also known as psychoneurosis or neurotic disorder, and thus those suffering from it are said to be neurotic.

There are many different specific forms of neurosis: pyromania, obsessive-compulsive disorder, anxiety neurosis, hysteria (in which anxiety may be discharged through a physical symptom), and a nearly endless variety of phobias.

According to Dr. George Boeree, effects of neurosis can involve:

...anxiety, sadness or depression, anger, irritability, mental confusion, low sense of self-worth, etc., behavioral symptoms such as phobic avoidance, vigilance, impulsive and compulsive acts, lethargy, etc., cognitive problems such as unpleasant or disturbing thoughts, repetition of thoughts and obsession, habitual fantasizing, negativity and cynicism, etc. Interpersonally, neurosis involves dependency, aggressiveness, perfectionism, schizoid isolation, socio-culturally inappropriate behaviors, etc.

Psychoanalytical theory - As an illness, neurosis represents a variety of mental disorders in which emotional distress or unconscious conflict is expressed through various physical, physiological, and mental disturbances, which may include physical symptoms (e.g., hysteria). The definitive symptom is anxieties. Neurotic tendencies are common and may manifest themselves as depression, acute or chronic anxiety, obsessive-compulsive tendencies, specific phobias, such as social phobia, arachnophobia or any number of other phobias, and even personality disorders, such as borderline personality disorder or obsessive-compulsive personality disorder. It has perhaps been most simply defined as a "poor ability to adapt to one's environment, an inability to change one's life patterns, and the inability to develop a richer, more complex, more satisfying personality."Neuroses may be rooted in ego defense mechanisms, but the two concepts are not synonymous. Defense mechanisms are a normal way of developing and maintaining a consistent sense of self (i.e., an ego), while only those thought and behavior patterns that produce difficulties in living should be termed "neuroses".

Jung's theory of neurosis

Carl Jung found his approach particularly fitting for people who are successfully adjusted by normal social standards, but who nevertheless have issues with the meaning of their life.

I have frequently seen people become neurotic when they content themselves with inadequate or wrong answers to the questions of life (Jung, [1961] 1989:140).

The majority of my patients consisted not of believers but of those who had lost their faith (Jung, [1961] 1989:140).

[Contemporary man] is blind to the fact that, with all his rationality and efficiency, he is possessed by "powers" that are beyond his control. His gods and demons have not disappeared at all; they have merely got new names. They keep him on the run with restlessness, vague apprehensions, psychological complications, an insatiable need for pills, alcohol, tobacco, food – and, above all, a large array of neuroses. (Jung, 1964:82).

Jung found that the unconscious finds expression primarily through an individual's inferior psychological function, whether it is thinking, feeling, sensing, or intuition. The characteristic effects of a neurosis on the dominant and inferior functions are discussed in Psychological Types.

Catastrophization is a representation of something in an excessive manner. Words or expressions associated with exaggeration include:

   1. boasting and bragging by arrogant or manipulative people.
   2. inflated praise in the form of flattery and puffery.
   3. a type of deception.
   4. amplifying achievements, obstacles and problems to seek attention.
   5. magnifying small injuries or discomforts as an excuse to avoid responsibilities.
   6. a form of cognitive distortion called magnification.
   7. overemphasizing one issue and downplaying (minimizing) the other to divert attention from it – see also Spin.
   8. inflation of the difficulty of achieving a goal after attaining it, possibly to improve self-esteem.
   9. a grandiose sense of self-importance observed in narcissists.
10. "self-dramatization, theatricality, and exaggerated expression of emotion" observed in those with those with histrionic personality disorder and other Cluster B personality disorders.
11. associated with depressive, neurotic or paranoid behavior – focusing on the worst possible outcome, however unlikely, or thinking that a situation is unbearable or impossible when it is really just uncomfortable.
12. observed in abusers or manipulators to amplify or fabricate faults of the victim as a component of victim blaming .

Neuroticism is a fundamental personality trait in the study of psychology. It is an enduring tendency to experience negative emotional states. Individuals who score high on neuroticism are more likely than the average to experience such feelings as anxiety, anger, guilt, and depressed mood. They respond more poorly to environmental stress, and are more likely to interpret ordinary situations as threatening, and minor frustrations as hopelessly difficult. They are often self-conscious and shy, and they may have trouble controlling urges and delaying gratification. Neuroticism is associated with low emotional intelligence, which involves emotional regulation, motivation, and interpersonal skills. It is also a risk factor for "internalizing" mental disorders such as phobia, depression, panic disorder, and other anxiety disorders (traditionally called neuroses).

On the opposite end of the spectrum, individuals who score low in neuroticism are more emotionally stable and less reactive to stress. They tend to be calm, even tempered, and less likely to feel tense or rattled. Although they are low in negative emotion, they are not necessarily high on positive emotion. That is an element of the independent trait of extraversion. Neurotic extraverts, for example, would experience high levels of both positive and negative emotional states, a kind of "emotional roller coaster". Individuals who score low on neuroticism (particularly those who are also high on extraversion) generally report more happiness and satisfaction with their lives.

the Wikipedia article.

and then I went off the deep end man

2010-09-26T02:56:00.001-04:00

Hi there. I am Red. My Friends call me that. You can too. Red why ?

Well my parents thought t’was a pretty short name; easy to remember. We was always known as a clan of simpletons around town ; keeping it simple all the time; my name figures. School can be a mean place man. ya got the jocks, the geeks ,the nerds, the bullies, the goths, the emos, the confused, the immigrants and all sundry. Anytime someone asked me why I was Red and not any other color I just made up a story saying ma folks liked the The Red Badge of Courage. Always keep it simple man. People like it that way. I ain’t go outta my way and mess with people’s business. Like I sees some guy getting all beat up behind the school alley I wud just say my prayers and run man. I got beat up many times myself. I was a puny kid man; I din’s start filling out till I was 20. I pretty much lived my life by the holy book and be all eat, pray and loving.

Me was never good at studies becuz my mind would always keep jumping around thinking bizarre things and all. Science with it’s theories of evolution confused me while math with it’s never ending equations scared me. And i had really bad handwriting. My folks being the simple blokes they were blamed it on me. It never occurred to them that I may have a condition. Employing unethical means I always managed to scrape off passing grade in every class. But wait; academic life man such boring topic to talk about. This is about when and how I went off the deep end man.

Like I said, I was a simple guy living his simple life but as time passed this regularity induced some sorta depression man. I was always all sad and hung up for no apparent reason. I started smoking and drinking like crazy; get high and wasted and finally sleep in a pool of my own mess. I tried to kick the vices man but they had become integral to my life now. Soon there was the weed and then the cocaine, ecstasy,heroin and meth. My life had hit rock bottom man. I quit my steady job, broke up with my fiancée; just stay put at home all day long listening to them Led Zeppelin and shooting one drug after another. My money ran out and my gut hung out; I never stopped to ask my self why I hated me so much. I was too much of a coward to commit suicide and the drugs weren’t fast enough. Thanks to the everyday cocktail of drugs I was doing, my cognitive functions shot up and t‘was during this time that i started reading them Wikipedia, a lot. A particular section was my favorite. Mysterious celebrity deaths.

old enough ?

2010-09-25T18:48:00.001-04:00

When the fone rings mid day on a Saturday and you’re still in your dreams fighting trolls and saving that six pack case of beer, it has to be some one from India on the other end of the line. It’s the bro. No surprises there. He’s in serious kicking form because from the drowsy tone of my voice he understands I am half way between the dream world and the real world. (did i just work in an inception reference there?..well watever) and for seriously military defense types like him sleeping beyond 5 am is an unpardonable sin worthy of being lined up against a wall and shot by a firing squad. His ideal cadet would wake up at 5 and go work out those turgid rippling muscles like crazy ‘the more you sweat in peace the less you bleed in war – old bro saying’. The bro’s a sweet cloying guy who works in his purpose for the call into the conversation out of the blue; no really. Shock and awe I guess.

Bro : “ Saw Dabaang the other day. I would totally zandu balm that female”

me: “huh..yawn..heheh”

bro : “ any other good movies ya seen of late ? “

me: “ udaan was good. heard good stuff about aashayein too..”

bro: “ hmm..you ready for marriage ?”

me: “wtf!!..is this a setup?”

like i said. shock and awe.

bro: “ you’ll be hitting 25 soon…Did you plan what’s ahead ? Where you want to be in your life? did you start retirement savings ? And life partner ? and weight loss ? You need to figure out your life rather than sleep lazily on a Saturday still hung over from that 5 guys burger you had last night. Seriously go do some push up/ab crunches or yoga”

me: “. . .”

bro: . . . and you have a holiday on Saturday ? You know where I am ? On duty in the parade ground marshalling cadets through exercises while my fat sloppy brother is delightfully eating cheese burgers on Friday nights and sleeping late into saturday afternoons. fml.

me: burp.

bro: ok ok. So this time when you’re coming to India are you planning on getting married at least ?

me: why does my life all of sudden seem to sound like that Hyderabad Blues movie ?

bro: enough with the movie connotations. So what’s he big plan for this fall India trip ?

me: hmmm..i thought we could do some adventure sports, outdoor hiking and all you know for some serious bro on bro bonding and here you go with your buzz kill banter on marriage future plans. I planned to get you some A grade booze but now you make me think otherwise. And why do you sound like dad and mom all of sudden? Ok listen reg. marriage I can’t marry just anyone without getting to know them at least. And don’t gimme that piece on you have the rest of your lives to know each other..na na..no can do. So yes, I will be in India and if you find someone then lemme talk and see. If I like like and there’s a vibe who knows…

bro: so about that Iphone4…

and the conversation dissolved into antenna gate and the grip of death issues which are too frivolous to even write about.

Udaan : My Movie for the year…so far

2010-09-22T22:45:00.001-04:00

After the masala belching treat that was Dabaang, next comes an unpretentious Udaan in my movie queue and it was beautiful/poignant/delightful from the first frame of kanti shah ke angoor to the ‘run forrest run’ types final chase.

Directed by Vikramaditya Motwane (also the screen writer for another of my favorites Dev-D) + lilting music by Amit Trivedi (another favorite) + lyrics by Amitabh Bhattacharya and Anurag Kashyap (anything with AK’s involvement is pure win, at least for me) + Rajat Barmecha (he’s awesome as the protagonist with a pocket full of sunshine/mind full of poems/bottle full of anger; reminds me of a certain Shreyas Talpade)

Lots of my personal life experience references are trying to pop up as I type so I’ll try to keep it short : an authoritative father (check) + getting caned a lot (check) + writer dreams (check) + drab mechanical engineering spent day dreaming (big check) + mauj/masti (small check) + rebellion (small check) + breaking free in a moment of clarity (cross) + balls (cross)

And pure Hindi dialogues with little bit of English here and there; how long has it been since something like this has happened.

bottom line : if you had to watch only one Hindi film in 2010 let it be Udaan.

ek udaan kab talak yun kaid rahegi

Roko na chod do isse

ek udaan hi sapno ko zindagi degi

Sapno se jod do isse

p.s. yet to see Nagesh Kukunoor’s Aashayein. Heard good stuff about it too.

Illusion of death, no?

2010-09-20T22:47:00.001-04:00

Place : Universal studios. The Jurassic Park ride. Time : 8:00 PM

While standing in line was watching the excited Asian guys next to me in bright yellow ponchos and Lol-ed to myself such wusses these are; a little water can do no harm. The ride arrived at the gates,we boarded duly and slowly left land. A huge gate opened, ushering us into a prehistoric wetland and all. Suddenly some dinosaur heads appeared from the hillocks and started squirting on us. It was bleedy annoying mah! And suddenly a torrential downpour here and a waterfalls there; it was more like a reenactment of the movie Raavan with it’s water symbology. I began hating it. The Asians were having a blast at my discomfort, lol-ing every time I let out a curse like Cartman from the tourettes episode (very explicit language). No wonder Dinosaurs perished owing to all this wetness.

As we neared the end of the ride I was almost all drenched and fuming when the roller coaster took a turn for the ‘exciting’. The ride meandered slowly and ramped up and landed under a giant T-Rex head of monstrous proportions (A blood curl inducing howling one at that) plus the head was strategically placed amidst a huge rapid. My seat stopped dead right under the gigantic head so that I could count all it’s teeth and piss in my pants at the same time, the water falls acting increasing the feeling of helplessness. Filmy dialogues were playing in the background “all life support will terminate..” Rahul surreptitiously whispered “it’s die time bitch” and bro, shit hit the fan. The roller coaster fell steeply down the ramp without warning. How fast I can’t calculate because my mind had gone numb/shitless at the suddenness of it all. I closed my eyes and yelled out aloud I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die and many other expletives. I felt it was certain death but no memorable scenes from my life were playing in fast forward before my tightly shut eyes. I though I must have died already and floating in purgatory, my sins absolved and all. But damn! I wudn’ know what happened on the next Entourage between Vince and Sasha. I felt a poke. It was Deeraj. “Wake up pussy, the ride’s over.” I was reborn a changed man that instant.

p.s. needless to say when we saw the pictures of the ride (taken by a camera deceptively placed some point after the steep fall ) I was the only person in the entire group who was hunched over the protective bar holding on for dear life with a face as pale as death.

link of interest : Why A Brush With Death Triggers The Slow Motion Effect by Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich.

This video was taken by some dude when there was at least some fleeting sunlight. Ours was pitch dark.

Branding

2010-08-31T22:30:00.001-04:00

A brand is a name, sign, symbol, slogan or anything that is used to identify and distinguish a specific product, service, or business.

So you see this PYT post pics of herself on FB ok ? And in some of them you see her flashing a smile and inadvertently there is bound to be at least one comment which says “ Modeling for Colgate - close up / whatay close up smile and the likes” You read it right. Not happy dent, not wrigley’s not any of those atrocious brands of gum or paste good ol’ Colgate/Close Up. Word.

That dear Sirs and Ladies is the power of branding and product recall value. Of course I don’t know how much of this brand recall value translates into sales though. Will need a MBA or will have to pore through sales/marketing reports. Yawn.

p.s. the above observation is applicable only if you grew up India in the 90’s watching Doordarshan and STAR TV.

So this Telugu dude I happen to know has nothing better to do than post pics of him wearing a yellow shirt on FB. And soon the inundation of feedback follows. “Telugu Desam huh !” brand.

p.s. the above observation is applicable only if you watch TV-9 Telugu or Telugu movies or all things Telugu in general.

From V’s FB feed

On Twitter : @RGVzoomin so what wud be a definition of settled people according to you ? RGV replies 'dead'. LMAO!! Best answer ever and my answer too. ("when will you settle?"...."when will you settle?"...dick heads..there is no settlement in life. Life is like river, you flow, you can never settle.)

p.s. as if life dint present many issues to muse about I am leeching stuff off FB. haha. pathetic.

a chance encounter with a wall street trader

2010-08-29T00:21:00.001-04:00

Circa 2008 I was an pamphlet distribution boy for a Long Island event management firm. So one of the events I did was the IIT North America Alumni reunion held at a swanky hotel in Times Square. I was doing my usual stuff: eating all the good food relentlessly , picking up freebie t-shirt's and pens, clicking self portraits etc etc you get the picture right ? So I met this guy from some company, TRC methinks. He looked so south Indian like me, so I took a guess he must be from Chennai; and I was right. Me and this guy hit it up pretty well. We chatted about state of life in general when he said he graduated from IIT-M and was now a trader on wall street. My jaw hit the floor. He asked me what I did. I replied. His jaw hit the floor.

of Jug Suraiya and the Jugular Vein

2010-08-25T23:05:00.001-04:00

Circa 10th grade when I sill used to read Deccan Chronicle dad once got me an in-flight copy of the times of India, New Delhi – Sunday edition. Giving Times of India to a kid surviving on DC was showing him what wonders lay beyond the confines of newsprint monopoly. This copy dad gave me I thoroughly read end to end, when I came across Jugular Vein. Mr. Suraiya had written something about a tree. I guffawed as I read. And that’s the first time I laughed reading a newspaper article. I pestered dad to get me TOI he refused because it had too much inappropriate exposing and all. I finally was able to convince him to at least get the Sunday edition. He relented when I pointed out that in a few years I will have to go out into the corporate world and my vocab had to be at least 10,000 words strong; The Hindu though doing a good job I found was far too sophisticated (I have never read the editorial till date) for a kid in 10th class; TOI was cool.

Mr. Jug Suraiya’s writing was so funny, precise, spot on and loaded with witticism+sarcasm. And he never used any arcane or indecipherable words (at least I dint find any) So when I started scribbling small notes behind my workbooks during math class I would try to imitate his style. I never knew how good a job I did of copying him but it was an escapist pleasure; I would write some stuff, take up a newspaper clipping of the Suraiya’s writing, place them end to end and see if I came anywhere close. A teacher once saw me doing this and thought I was writing some sleaze stories. haha.

Years have passed since those first notes to myself and I haven’t followed the Jugular Vein as much as I would have wanted to. Today, as I was tied down in my cubicle staring at post it’s some short story struck me along with how I used to dedicate whole Sunday afternoons to only reading the news paper. One thought led to an another and eventually landing at the Google homepage. Did a little bit of searching and lo the good folks at TOI have placed the Jugular Vein in nice type face at http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articlelist/19865420.cms

I am going to make full use of my laserjet printer now. Or PDF them and read away on the IPad.

Fire Fighter

2010-08-24T23:44:00.001-04:00

That’s the job title I would like my future visiting card to read. Fire Fighter ?? Yes, but not the kind who wears jackets and fights physical infernos/blazes but rather a guy in a dapper suit who know how to brow beat problems; kind of like a fixer or a Chanakya. But why this sudden revelation ? Induced by quarter life crisis ? No, not really. I was in deep pondering the other day at Burger King wearing my paper crown hat speculating what that one thing was at which made me unique and a valuable asset for a team or an organization.In a much bad coffee guzzling and burger stuffing induced haze it dawned upon me that I was good at so many things; mitigating risks, staying calm when shit’s hitting the fan, coming up with solutions to a given crisis from every possible angle, ability to look beyond fields and domains, comb and combine knowledge from these different spheres of learning, predicting exact outcomes related to work and people (though I suck at calculating mathematical probability), connecting and disconnecting with people… yada yada yada. All these qualities, if you will read through again, are constitutional in fire fighters. ‘Paramedics and similar adrenaline gushing jobs also match the description’ did I hear you say out aloud ? But come on.. are they as fancy sounding as a Fire Fighter ?

We're in hell right now gentlemen. Believe me. And we can stay here, get the shit kicked out of us, or we can fight our way back into the light. We can climb outta hell... one inch at a time. - Tony D'Amato, Any Given Sunday (1999)

Foot note: just saw Kick-Ass. An out and out super cool and super bad ass movie. \m/ To quote a reviewer on IMDB When Spiderman and Kill Bill were put into a blender and Kick-Ass was the end result. oh, oh before I forget i give it brownie points for playing I don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation (- Joan Jett And The Blackhearts) when Mindy Macready / Hit-Girl goes on an all out killing spree.

What if I say I'm not like the others?
What if I say I'm not just another one.
You're the pretender
What if I say that I'll never surrender?

of a star wars tshirt and other tales

2010-08-21T23:05:00.005-04:00

So I was on another one of my spirit walks around NYC sporting this black star wars tshirt i recently bought at a garage sale (hey hey I am on a budget) when around federal plaza a guy on a skateboard came up to me and stood blocking my way. In NYC when this happens, you better get into the krav maga stance; but come on, me and Israeli street wrestling, fat chance. So I looked haplessly at the strapping 6’4 guy in a goth tee with a goatee and prepared for my worst nightmare meanwhile looking for escape routes. He waited for me to unplug my apple earphones then breaks into a smile and says “ dude I am one of the biggest star wars fans in east Manhattan; if not the biggest. I have taken it upon myself to click any object referencing the movies. So if you stand still and I will proceed to click.” See my mind doesn’t run on your normal frequency. while he was talking I was looking around to see if some one would sneak up behind and stun me (it was a deserted plaza after all) noticing no one i gave one of those awkward I may shit any moment smiles as he pulled out his HTC touch and clicked away and thanked me. I just ran. literally. i run rarely. I just hope and pray he was serious about collecting pictures of starwars fans, because i don’t want my smiley face photoshopped onto some porn star; it’s marriage season after all.

I was at the Armani Exchange store checking out the clearance section when a lady walked up to me and asked me if I worked there. I blushed. The people who work in Armani Exchange stores look like models straight out of fashion mag.

While I was flipping through winter wear at Banana Republic an old lady picked up a sweat shirt and began placing it on my back, trying to gauge the fit for her old man,son, lover or wotever, with out even saying please or sorry. People seem to be taking me for granted. He is brown what can he possibly be mad about, is it ?

Recently at office we had one of these free lunches and I invited myself. As I neared the food table and began helping myself a lady came up and got excited “ that’s beef !!! you Indian’s don’t eat beef right ? Because if you eat it you are condemned to hell! Sorry sir, Not on my watch.” me: “Lady chill. Pass me the hot dog will you ?” epic pawnage occurred.

I tried eating a dollop wasabi the other day, again. I had a near death experience, again.

Some one at work recently praised my design work. To which my Boss said “he was just fooling around.”

On these long alone walks I have been taking of late I hardly seem to sit anywhere. It’s like my legs are some kind of perpetual machine that seem to only want to pound the pavement. And no sweat breaking’s occurring! But I always overshoot the I want to sit down someplace, watch people, read a book, write some stuff goal :( Walking is a drug which seems to have the only purpose of improving my cardio vascular functions.

People the workplace are warming up to my class of snide humor. Someone actually complimented me saying “ that’s very funny” and my sarcasm radar din’t even blip.

So I was hanging out with the Sql Developers in my office; more for the haleem and less for the gyaan. Everyone was eating happily and looked at me strangely when I dipped my spoon into the haleem pot, to cut the tension I said “a Sql query walks into a bar, sees two tables and asks may I join you ? ” laughs were heard and my intrusion was forgotten.

Networking helps. food wise. Like every time I go to apna bazaar and this particular aunty is manning the counter she gives me free samosas because she thinks I am from New Delhi. I am not complaining.

The office recently hired a ‘professional’ designer and I had to send him my psd files so that he could work on them. The bugger had an aol email address. 50 failed attempts latter I vented to the boss “ I refuse to work with someone who has an aol email address even today” Needless to say he got the contract and the 10 grand.

The other day I was very sleep deprived when I had a series of life changing revelations via short dreams that seemed to populate my mind like advertisements. My whole life and it’s under lying conflict flashed in just under 30 seconds. Will elucidate on that latter.

The ipod play button has been stuck on this song for the past two weeks (which is remarkable considering my short attention span and passable interest in music) this song makes me want to dance, but..

my regular movies for a Friday evening

2010-08-21T02:57:00.001-04:00

of insomnia and the crazies

2010-08-18T00:23:00.001-04:00

Insomnia has held a vice like grip on me since time immemorial. All that pawsh talk about being a night owl and all, is bull crap. It’s like a dead weight pressing down on my day today waking consciousness. And all this sleep deprivation doesn’t show up at work courtesy 10 cups of coffee or green tea. I am hitting Travis Bickle like stage now, where the mind starts acting all crazy giving me ideas like roaming the streets alone at midnight seeking incomprehensible thrills and all. I am so angry at myself I could sleep myself to death, alas. Worse comes to worse I may have to get a prescription for sleeping pills or an unlimited supply of nyquil. The rest of the guys in my room are so lucky, the moment their heads hit the pillow they are off to slumber. sigh.

Improv

2010-08-15T01:59:00.001-04:00

So I was getting all bored and depressed on a Saturday evening when on a whim I decided I would watch a live stand up comedy thingee. But the catch was, I dint want to spend like 20 bucks and if the show dint live up to my expectations I wud never watch any form of live comedy again. Yes, I sometimes am so anal about first impressions (esp. when it involves money) Googled around a bit, narrowed down to 2 options upright citizens brigade or magnet Theatre. UCB was the most highly rated one so gave it a miss, for now. (though it had actors from ‘30 Rock’ on today) Magnet has this signature comedy segment - 4 Track.

4TRACK is a New York based improv comedy group featuring George Basil, Frank Campanella, Christian Capozzoli, and Matt Evans. 4Track is one of Magnet Theater's signature shows. From a single suggestion, 4TRACK delivers huge characters, high stakes, bold risks and big energy to make a show that is daring, truthful and brutally funny.

So I arrived promptly 10 mins before show time, the beers were super cheap, the environment superbly bonhomie. I have never been to an improv show so i was completely clueless as to what to expect; which was a good thing because I was totally blown away for the next 40 minutes. They did some howlarious sketches on celebrities, drunk chicks, exes, gays, tanning, skanks, plants and many more. One thing is for sure I am going to be a regular here for the near foreseeable future.

A yelp reviewer put it the best way : Magnet is where New Yorkers in the know go for a good laugh that doesn't break the bank or obligate you to drink unless you care to.

p.s. watch out for Alan Fessenden. He’s a riot.

What grinds my gears

2010-08-13T00:01:00.001-04:00

Quit it you ‘the’ people, saying out aloud oh my gawd I wish I worked for google because this old vid of their work place (making rounds now via fb wall posts) made me come in my pants. Yes google kicks ass. I am a google fanboy. So what if Google takes branaic’s and I was not called for that job in the HR division; but you ‘the’ people who seem to whining (and are some of the smartest kids I’ve known), incredulously work for some of the biggest names in tech, finance and telecom. The perks offered at mountain view are a deal clincher/life changer now? seriously? But I ain’t complaining about my job though, for the compassionate soul I am, whenever I get all sad and depressed I visit the ER. ER is where the pain is, period. I walk out a changed man and thank Sai Baba for my plump health and insurance coverage.

So yes, Google has an awesome work place,so does facebook, apple, twitter and all other software sperm that exploded out of silicon valley. I want to work on cutting edge/world changing technologies did I hear you say ? flash..flash..breaking news, you will not work on those technologies, ever. So take a moment, breath in, suck it all up, now look at those yellow post it’s on the walls surrounding your cubicle. Get back to work now. No,seriously. There are pivot tables to be made, graphs drawn, data to be mined, flowcharts sketched, flashy powerpoint presentations to be copied, memos to be sent out. Chop chop go bill atrocious amounts of money for your company and feed the capitalistic juggernaut. You gotta risk it for the biskit.

In any event, if you are a product of America's public school system, you may very well have asked yourself, as I once did: "What have I learned in my twelve years of school that will help me get a job?" That's certainly an interesting question, but, strangely enough, the answer is far less important than the question itself. For that question reveals a mindset that has been instilled in America's children by our public education system, by conventional wisdom, and, in all probability, by almost every student's parents for generations. Namely: Get an education, get a job, work hard, buy a house, save for the future, and someday you will be able to retire and live happily ever after. That mindset, according to this book's author, has doomed generations of Americans to a lifetime of hard work with little chance success, leading many to someday ask themselves: "Why is it that I have a good education and work hard at my job, but I never seem to be able to get ahead?" The answer, again according to this author, is that, despite the fact that America is a capitalist society, our public schools only train our children to be good employees, good soldiers, professionals, and small business owners, but teach them nothing about money and finance or how to properly invest and prosper in a capitalist system. - Marvin D. Pipher reviews Robert T. Kiyosaki's Rich Dad's Conspiracy of the Rich

The lightness of it all

2010-08-10T23:08:00.001-04:00

coming up with entry titles is a chore in itself ! and this one is not a ruse for drawing you into some metabolism and BMI related banter. So yea, the ADHD therapy sessions with my doc have kicked off on a fine footing with me reading up a ton on the matter (the empowered patient haha) and interrupting the doc frequently midway in his sentences and ending with him saying “you know what? you’re untreatable” haha. But it was a good catharsis nonetheless. We indulged in some History of Present Illness, detailed study of my childhood behavior (like me eating mud, crappy handwriting, the time i pissed in my pants, the oppositional defiant disorder [ODD] and arbit stuff not of much interest to you the causal reader) So according to the doc I may have outgrown my ADHD and maybe some of those traits have carried into my adulthood; but more immediate concern to him was that I may have Generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) and a few traits of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD). He says I may be a goldmine of undiagnosed mental problems and that one of his research assistants to monitor me closely. As a parting advice he told me not to worry too much by magnifying issues and consume less cheese cake. But now I understand why therapists are so highly paid here; you tell them stuff you wouldn’t probably talk to yourself about;and they are like a sponge absorbing it all patiently and knocking some sane advice.

Back home sitting on the front porch with a cool breeze flowing I put up my legs on the fence. It’s such a relief. Legs need rest and pampering period. I begin laughing out aloud remembering funny scenes from sitcoms and all. Roomie comes by, shrugs seeing me lost in my own world; murmurs something to the effect of “poor guy has lost it.” pats my back in fatherly concern and goes to pee.

The thing about jokes or scenes only you seem to visualize and laugh out aloud is so awesome. It’s like this inner private world to which only you have access.

Inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that is where I renew my springs that never dry up - Pearl S. Buck

When I was this aloof kid in school my only hobby was building imaginary cities in my head, coming home and translating that dream city into a structural reality using shoe boxes and discarded cartons. Our whole balcony was encroached by my megapolis. I used to make additional improvements everyday like crazy. A vertical shoe box would be a tower,a horizontal one a staff quarters, black socks laid end to end would be tar roads, my hot wheels cars would ferry people in and out of my city and all. My brother who was always a sports guy seemed to be fascinated by my indoor constructional hobby and would beg me to let him build. Being the snotty kid I was, I bluntly refused. So one day when I had built my latest masterpiece and gone out to do homework he lit a candle that I had put up as a street lamp. Corrugated cardboard boxes + flame = you do the combustion chemistry. In 30 mins thick smoke started coming out from the room. My parents freaked out; my dream died. Looking back now methinks if I had seriously pursued my urban planning jig, I may have very well been India’s Donald Trump. haha.

So back to where I was laughing out aloud on the front porch. I just kept laughing.

Because life ain’t so bad if you have something to laugh about at the end of the day :)

The two bleeding travelers lay besides each other, telling funny tales waiting for death to tide over.

p.s. one of these days I am seriously contemplating taking book& pen, sitting by the majestic NY waterfront, spend the whole day doodling/scribbling. Getting distracted by the hoi polloi and creatively inspired at the same time ;)

In between things

2010-08-08T02:11:00.002-04:00

Green Tea. Three months since I’ve been sipping it. Tried the caffeine and decaf versions. Not much difference felt. Too much can make pee smell herbal. Tried Jamaican ginger tea, Korean ginseng and Japanese peppermint teas as well. The first night I had Peppermint tea I fell into a deep slumber tried again the second night ended staying awake for 48 hours.
Brown Rice. What’s the big deal it’s all carbs anyway.
Broccoli. Salted,unsalted,boiled,raw. it’s all the same to me.
Flax seeds. Blue berries. oats.Honey. Probiotic yogurt = metabolism boost.
Foot long Tuna Sandwiches.Guilty pleasure.Stinks up the mouth and the cubicle.
Cheese danish. french culler. eat. feel happy and sad at the same time.
Bud light. fried chicken. My Friday nights.
Metrocards.still keep losing them on a regular basis.
Marriage.parents are pumped. i am stumped.
Paychecks. More taxes to pay unless i get married soon.
Single.loving every moment of it.
TV.Mad Men. Freaks and Geeks. Futurama. Weeds. Breaking Bad.Till death. Human Giant. ad infinitum.
Walking. therapeutic and new parks in NYC every weekend. Taking Manhattan one avenue at a time.
Photography. Rahul’s D60 is being put to good use.
Reading. Diversified into fiction, non fiction and religion. Slim chance of reaching the 50 books target by year end.
Credit cards. APR’s are financially raping me.
Stock portfolio. may pick up stake in some cloud server company.
work.is fine.
friends. on and off.
weight. sinusoidal curve.
height.truncated trunk.
India.December 2010.
radio. slacker radio ftw.
bed bugs. a war with no end in sight.
August. less sun. no chill. just perfect.
sleep.now.

Dog Day Afternoons

2010-08-07T23:55:00.004-04:00

So after eighteen months of acting like the aam desi aadmi and merging seamlessly into the organizational fabric at work, yours truly has made some observations worth putting on blog.

“Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so? There's a support group for that. It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar.” ~ Drew Carey

Any company has this mathematical factorial like chain of command. The President is at the top of the ecosystem flanked by the COO, CFO and the CIO. The COO and CFO over look a board of Vice Presidents. And the VP’s preside over a group of Department Chairmen. The Chairmen boss over Managers. The Managers over Administrative Assistants. And the AA’s over Interns like me. My camouflage was perfect. I would occupy the last row of seats during meetings, park my ass near the condiments table, helping myself to coffee and cookies and no one would as much lift their eyebrows hearing my hush puppies leather shoes squeak on the floor. I was invisible.

As an Intern I am supposed to act all intelligent and nerdy by taking down copious notes on regulation and policy, make minutes and do a mail blast. I would open up a notepad to religiously take notes; start with a few intelligent observations like ‘at the current rate our panel size will grow by an additional 1000 members this necessitates an increase in the number of providers, faster eligibility verification systems etc etc get bored just in time for ADHD to kick in, resulting in drawing captcha doodles and sex cartoons. And I seem to be getting pretty good at animal anatomy sketching. Sorry that I digress too often. You know It’s this neural condition I have, ADHD. No it’s not a STD per se but fucks up your brain anyway by not letting it focus psychic energies on one particular thing or goal. Like I may be having sex and thinking about eating butter scotch ice cream at the same time. ADHD is a bitch because it makes you think you are a multi-tasker and all but no. it’s a general misconception the same way safe days for sex during the cycle is. And I am medically diagnosed with ADHD as of yesterday and am getting the best possible treatment from my shrink. Because you know people with my condition are an organizational hazard and have to be medically declared unfit before being laid off without a severance package.

Have you met my friend Ryan btw? No ? The three regular readers of this blog: myself, that anonymous dude and the spammer bots have seen his name mentioned in some of the psycho and passively violent short sketches on this blog. So yea Ryan and me were clerks at this gas station cum grocery store in rural Louisiana. Yes, I was in Louisiana for some six months in 2009. My life had hit a low and NYC was haunting me with phantoms; pumping gas and restocking coolers with beer seemed therapeutic. Ryan Thomas was my Tyler Durden. And he spoke exactly the same way: ‘All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not.’ So anyway the life and times of Ryan Thomas is a different tale with a sorry ending; more on that latter.

So a brief treatise on how the top dogs roll.

canto 1 :

Chain of command. The chief has a problem with his login. It doesn’t seem to be going through. So what does he do? Normal people would hit backspace and retype the password but not the chief because he is the chief. He picks up his blackberry pronto and calls the CIO and yells “Your systems are crap. Your guys are crap. I can’t login to my account.” The CIO seems to be in the midst of a nature call and replies “Let me patch you through to my help desk guys they can help you.” Chief to help desk guy “Are you competent enough to fix my problem ?” systems guy “trust me Sir, I am an Indian.” “So Sir is the caps lock key light on your keyboard ON ? ” Chief “eh. what about it ? yes it is. You know what, I don’t have time for all this crap. I pay your department to have my systems up and running when ever I need them not for me to check if some light is illuminated and crap. Remote login to my computer and fix this problem now.” Systems guy: “ Sir please hit caps lock and see that the light goes off. Now retype your password and you should be able to login.” chief:” you Indian guys are amazing. Yes it works now. bye.”

observational gem : When you are chief you deal only with other chiefs. None higher none lower.

Arrested Development. Saturday morning 8 am. Your truly was happily hammered out on Friday night and is having cosmic orgasmic trippy dreams when the phone rings that special the empire strikes back ringtone. 30 minutes latter I am on a train headed towards the office dressed in a neck tie and a two piece suit.

observational gem : If you are a single guy working for the chief. You Have to work on weekends as the unwritten clause in your employment agreement says ‘for the first few years of your working life you have no life’

Asserting authority. Sometimes my escapist luck runs out and I get a chance for some one on one action with the chief. It’s like a nightmare playing out in real life with matrix like slow motion. The chief on seeing me clutching the notepad and vanilla folder holding on for dear life brings on a devilish grin on his face. Scratches his bald head, drums his fingers and asks “ So intern what brings you here?” I muster courage and squeak out some incomprehensible words. His frown deepens. He puts his legs on top of the mahogany table and stretches them like he’s back from some long walk; adjusts his tie; draws up his pleated trousers and asks back “ You said what ? Anyways I am busy. Leave that folder on the desk I will look at it latter and I hope there are no accounting mistakes else I wont hesitate in firing your sick ass.”

observational gem: create an impression of power and all so that no one will smile at your pot belly or balding head.

Furniture. For most of the time all chiefs are hung up on who has the most expensive and color coordinated furniture. If one chief comes to know someone else has better furniture than him he will go to extreme ends like laying off a few people to buy more expensive wood. Furniture takes on a new dimension like its some extension of people dicks.

observational gem: the higher your position the more polished your desk is.

Emails. If you have an inordinate subordinate who refuses to do a job for you make sure to include his bosses email address in the cc field. The work will be done. CC-ing is like the mafia. It works in strange and wonderful ways.

observational gem: Don’t do mail blasts without a purpose or unless its a video of a dog pooping on a baby. Always spell check.

Appear Busy. In the middle of a meeting the boss will get up suddenly with blackberry in hand like he got some confidential text on the benefits of eating fish, step out and break wind.

observational gem:make it look cool.

Swear words. Only the boss can use the F-word freely and not flinch or say sorry for bad language. I get to see Ari Gold like curse word outburst every day.

observational gem: epic power.

Slang/Proverbs. One particular chief uses a lot of yada yada yada in every sentence and statistic. He’s too hung up on Calvin and Hobbes me thinks. Another manager uses lots of slang/arcane movie references/proverbs. a few examples “the proof is in the pudding” “lining up my ducks” “you really stuck it out din’t you ?” “ build and they will come”
observational gem:Thanks to the Iphone Wikipedia app I am always in the loop.

Delegating. The Boss will never do even the most simplest of tasks when he has an assistant whom he can delegate it to.
observational gem: The best way to escape delegation is to spend lots of time hunched in the loo hoping no one comes looking.

Attire. The Chiefs are always dressed like Don Draper from Mad Men. The suit, the tie, the shoes, the belt all are perfect sync; the fact that only Don Draper call carry that dress code is something that completely overshoots them.

observational gem: Invest in a Macy’s card for people to take you seriously.

Drinks. The best thing about working in a corporate is the free booze at sponsored events. Yours truly is a beer fan boy. The frothy liquid has a vice like grip over his throat. But when you wander around bosses with a bottle of Budweiser in hand they give you dirty looks like you just landed from a fraternity dorm. All the big men drink gin and tonic and the big ladies cosmos.

observational gem: switch to whiskey, at least.

Take Credit. Irrespective of how big or small achievement a department makes the chief of that department will indulge in a show and tell at the monthly chief’s meeting with PowerPoint presentations and printed handout jazz. Just to ‘in your face’ the peers.

observational gem: Resume/ Operational Budget ballottement for dummies.

footnotes:

Observe and Report. To put it simply no matter how stoned the boss looks you have to compliment him on how good he looks with his new crew cut.

The no bs rule. The boss is boss for a particular reason: He can see straight through your bull shit no matter how well you dress it up like Russian salad.

Linkedin. Don’t add your current colleagues to your Linkedin network unless you want to draw flak for for your preposterous job titles and descriptions.

Email Signature. When you are in a temporary position always add a thank you to your signature along with the thanks for your consideration and time line. cleverly delete your phone number so that no one can call you back and shout at you.

Technology. MS-Office. Pdf-ing. Google Advanced searching. Hands down these three skills are essential to survival in any environment and also for good remarks in your appraisal report.

Memos. Send them out regularly for no particular reason so that people can know how anal you are about regulation and next time delete it directly without opening.

Sick Day. sick days are given for a reason so if you are lucky to get one and someone calls to check sound all sick and constipated even though you might be prancing in your balcony in lungi and sipping beer.

at the office annual party don’t do teen maar when the song says cha cha slide.

clock in. clock out. with out fail. else no pay.

Much more to type but ADHD is acting up again, time to watch futurama.

The mind is a pleasure seeking organism

2010-07-26T23:41:00.001-04:00

Just when I was ranting about the above mentioned topic I hit upon this article ‘The Acceleration of Addictiveness’

And for here’s an another link if you want to start a personal 'life story blog : http://ohlife.com/

I love Telugu cinema comedy

2010-07-25T01:30:00.001-04:00

Major part of my growing up was among non Telugu speaking folk. In USA Shashank, Harish, Sumanth and Rajendra + YouTube played a major role in orienting my constricted vision towards the brilliant comedic talents of our actors,an addiction was born; I was hooked for life.

I am of the opinion that no other film industry in the world has as many actors involved solely in comedy.

A collage as a dedication to these comedic stalwarts.

p.s. There are for sure actors I may have missed. please let me know in the comments.

The Bedim Conspiracy

2010-07-22T23:43:00.001-04:00

location : The secret war room of The Supreme One.

All the generals were huddled together in fright as the notice for the meeting had been short and sudden and no one really had time to prepare their briefs.Trying to break the tension in the air they smoked their cigars and indulged in small talk over caviar and cognac. The big screen flickered to life; the room fell silent abruptly. The screen was filled with the interiors of the conference room on spaceship 1. The Supreme One was super angry; his wide forehead had deep furrows as his eyes moved furiously from one deadpan face to another.

No one dared to speak or for that matter even breathe. He bellowed “ Does anyone who why I had to call this sudden meeting when I would rather be off playing interstellar world of warcraft? ” No answer forthcoming he shouted again, “Gentlemen, we have been caught with our pants down on The Bedim Conspiracy.” silence. The faces of a few senior generals began to turn pale in fear of anticipation of his next words. He turned to his senior attaché “ Ryan you are the supreme commander in charge of the Bedim project how did you not see the happenings of the past few months and their far reaching consequences ?” Ryan tried to utter a few words but was unable to. The Supreme pressed a button on his iscreen and that was the last of Ryan.

“ The Bedim Conspiracy was my master plan to rule the world. Waging countless wars would never get me supremacy and what’s left to rule if there is no one to rule on. So I drew up this sketch to capture minds; for once the mind has been subdued and sedated people are just sheep with no ambition. And as a part of this scheme I unleashed a media storm; for people of the world just want to be entertained,every day, all the time. The sought movies, drugs and sleaze; I gave them all that and much more. But recently it has come to my notice that a new breed of free thinkers has unshackled themselves from all that is ‘cool’ in the world and has set out seeking answers from the oldest and the greatest teacher of all : Nature. They possess totems that keep them weaned of my tinsel attractions. And slowly as their numbers grow they will overthrow my rule. I will not let this be. Get my ace director Christopher Nolan and tell him to make a movie that will penetrate their minds (the sheep) and do an inception of confusing cut scenes and special effects interspersed with an befuddling tale that will keep them preoccupied debating, repeat watching and fine reading between the lines for the near foreseeable future. The last time I faced such an army of free thinkers in 1968, I got Stanley Kubrick to unleash 2001 : A Space Odyssey. I had the sheep debating non stop on on the significance of the monolith.”

Silence in the war room continues as the trailer of Inception starring Leonardo DiCaprio starts playing on the screen.

what a facade sirjee

2010-07-20T23:02:00.001-04:00

So some friend sought my advice on whether to join an educational institution or not. For the tech savvy type I am I got down to some googling and backtracking. So I arrive at the site. It has the usual every Indian Management Institute that aspires to be an IIM type of look and feel to it. What’s with the bloody layout btw couldn’t they hire a nice user interface guy? pisses me off to no end these sliders, rss feeds, social media, the same taxonomy of headings and side headings in Arial font and CAPITALS and BOLD. And I realize the same design rip-off symptoms present in many websites. No fucking innovation or freshness. And what is with the pre-disposition with plastering pictures of fair skinned, neatly trimmed, suited, booted types of students. Trying to impress the parents is it ? It’s like no dark skinned, disheveled hair, uncouth beards, jeans/t-shirt totting slunk students attend this college. Really ? Really ?? Incredulous. It’s all make believe show and tell.

I never understood business' obsession with suits. All a suit tells me is someone likes to waste a lot of money on being uncomfortable. It tells me nothing about their skill set, ability to do the job.

~ RT kingdom2000

On a different note Steve Jobs says : "We’re Apple. We Don’t Wear Suits. We Don’t Even Own Suits.” Look how uncomfortable Steve Jobs looks in a suit.

The Big Picture

2010-07-15T00:25:00.001-04:00

Today, again was one of those days you know, when, ‘ I was walking through life unnoticed.’ A simple long distance call back home put everything back in perspective mode. I now realize why it is even more important for me to succeed in what ever I decide to make out of my life. The whole fml funda is out of the window. ctrl + shift + del.

It dawns upon me, as to how crucial I am to the thinly veiled family fabric. The sibling who could have very well been the next wunderkind but chose not to be, making the ultimate sacrifice for the not so deserving one. The parents and their unmentioned tales of kindness. I look up and see a whole cloud of expectations precariously balanced on my shoulders. Failure is not an option. Methinks from now on every time I visualize this cloud, I falter from doing the wrong thing. Pressure is good. No, it is awesome. And for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder types like me it is the ultimate motivator. So I henceforth decide to quit being a whiny bitch and work my ass off towards whatever my cloud says is right.haha.

p.s. the title is a shameless rip off of the pictures page in the Boston.com :P

and all that cloud reference is a result of me trying to follow strides in cloud computing :D

Ridin' down the highway
Goin' to a show
Stop in all the by-ways
Playin' rock 'n' roll
Gettin' robbed
Gettin' stoned
Gettin' beat up
Broken boned
Gettin' had
Gettin' took
I tell you folks
It's harder than it looks
It's a long way to the top
If you wanna rock 'n' roll

In life’s crosshairs

2010-07-13T21:29:00.001-04:00

How lucky you were can only be understood by rewinding and reviewing those times you felt were fml-ish.

So an another Indian student working as a grocery store attendant was shot to death while being robbed at gun point. He was shot though he offered no resistance.

Circa July 2009. Ryan and I were co-clerks at a gas station cum convenience store in one of the toughest neighborhoods of Baton Rouge, LA. We had all kinds of customers the good ones, the bad ones, the mad ones, the crazy ones,the drug peddlers, the ex con’s, the pimps, the whores, the penny pinchers, the shop lifters, the goons, the senile ones so on and so forth.

Many a times we flirted with live danger; like shouting at a bad customer, threatening to call the cops on the shop lifter etc. All we had to save our asses was our common sense and the weakly bullet proofed teller cabin. Ryan likes to play bad ass. While I manned the counter he would go outside the store, lean on the glass exterior and smoke. And we wore these dark store clerk uniforms which made us stand out from every person that walked in through those doors. Any one could put a gun on Ryan’s temples and make me unlock the bullet proof door of the cabin. All the pleas to Ryan to quit smoking or go smoke in the loo, fell on deaf ears.

Many times when a customer used to piss us off we used to flip our middle finger and the dude would go all crazy like a gorilla and bang on the bullet proof windows; we half feared it would break some day. At times some dude would get pissed of for no apparent reason (like the fact that we were Indian and all) and threaten to beat us to pulp in the driveway when we left at the end of our shift. And many such encounters can keep you regaled to the end of eternity.

(I must write a full fledged blog post on the gas station stint some time soon)

Today when I look back at those times I am amazed at how incredibly foolish I was to flirt with danger and still manage to type this entry, an year latter. Thank You Sai Baba.

Who do you write like ?

2010-07-13T19:34:00.001-04:00

So we had the Matrix Name Generator, The Lord of The Rings Name generator and now comes

I Write Like...

Check what famous writer you write like with this statistical analysis tool, which analyzes your word choice and writing style and compares them to those of the famous writers.

work flow and chain of command

2010-07-08T23:34:00.001-04:00

When you are in school and getting an education you hear all these awesome things about ‘the work life’ : littered with hefty paychecks and extraordinary bonuses + perks. The one word that should have been the heading instead of an insignificant footnote ‘ lie’.

Boss1 wants to reinstate Project1 which was helmed by Ex-Manager1. Ex-Manager1 is now Owner1 of his Business1. Owner1 tells Boss1 how to get started on retrieving from where he left off. Boss1 forwards it to Current Manager1. Current manager1 is too busy cooking up fancy spreadsheets and is not a technical guy so forwards it to Chief Technological Officer1. CTO1 has his head up his ass so fumes on and on about how Project1 was doomed from the start. Boss1 , CTO1 and CM1 are in a threesome, bouncing off angry emails to one another on nicoompery and breach of contract jazz. Three of them realize Intern1 is whaling away time typing out their squabbles on his blog. Boss1,CTO1,Exmanager1,currentmanger1 get together and dump the shit load of work on the unsuspecting, calm,well mannered Telugu boy, who just throws up his hands in the air and mourns about how his weekend is going to get super wasted again.

p.s. Intern1 has no effing clue as to what to do with Project1.

If everyone cared and nobody cried
If everyone loved and nobody lied
If everyone shared and swallowed their pride
Then we'd see the day when nobody died

- Nickelback : If Everyone Cared

scum

2010-06-30T22:02:00.001-04:00

Listen, you fuckers, you screwheads,whores, skunk pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies, sick, venal. Someday a real rain will come and wash all you scum off the streets.

Ryan stood taut amidst the angry crowd of kings and generals. He was laughing out aloud, as the world began falling apart. His revenge was final.

Ivan And The Chestnut Horse – A Russian Fairy Tale

2010-06-21T22:25:00.001-04:00

This is the first fairy tale I ever read. Way back when I was in second grade KV-CLRI,Adyar, Chennai we had this mobile library that would come to our colony on the weekends. So on my first visit to this ‘house of books on wheels’ (as put by dad) this was the first book I picked up. After much recollecting and googling I was able to find it here.

This section is from the book “Edmund Dulac’s Fairy Book”, by Edmund Dulac.

In a far land where they pay people to keep its name a profound secret, there lived an old man who brought up his three sons just exactly in the way they should go. He taught them the three R’s, and also showed them what books to read and how to read them. He was particularly careful about their education, for he had learned that to know things was to be able to do things.

At last, when he came to die, he gathered his three sons round his deathbed and cautioned them.

‘Do not forget,’ he said – ‘do not forget to come and read the prayers over my grave.’

‘We will not forget, father,’ they replied.

The two elder brothers were great big, strapping fellows, but the youngest one, Ivan, was a mere stripling. As they all stood around the bed of their dying father, he looked a mere reed compared to his proud, stout, elder brothers. But his eyes were full of fire and spirit, and the firm expression of his mouth showed great determination. And, when the father had breathed his last, and his two elder brothers wept without restraint, Ivan stood silent, his pale face set and his eyes full of the bright wonder of tears that would not melt.

On the day that they buried their father, Ivan returned to the grave in the evening to read prayers over it. He had done so, and was making his way homeward, when there was a great clatter of hoofs behind him; then, as he reached the village square, the horseman pulled up and dismounted quite near to him.

After blowing a loud blast on his silver trumpet – for he was the King’s messenger – he cried in a loud voice:

‘All and every man, woman and child, take notice, in the name of the King. It is the King’s will that this proclamation be cried abroad in every town and village where his subjects dwell. The King’s daughter, Princess Helena the Fair, has caused to be built for herself a shrine having twelve pillars and twelve rows of beams. And she sits there upon a high throne till the time when the bridegroom of her choice rides by. And this is how she shall know him: with one leap of his steed he reaches the height of the tower, and, in passing, his lips press those of the Princess as she bends from her throne. Wherefore the King has ordered this to be proclaimed throughout the length and breadth of the land, for if any deems himself able so to reach the lips of the Princess and win her, let him try. In the name of the King I have said it!’

The blood of the youth of the nation, wherever this proclamation was issued, took flame and leapt to touch the lips of Princess Helena the Fair. All wondered to whose lot this lucky fate would fall. Some said it would be to the most daring, others contended that it was a matter of the leaping powers of the steed, and yet others that it depended not only on the steed but on the daring skill of the rider also.

When the three brothers had listened to the words of the King’s messenger they looked at one another; at least the elder two did, for it was apparent to them that Ivan, the youngest, was quite out of the competition, whereas they, two splendid handsome fellows, were distinctly in it.

‘Brothers,’ said Ivan at last, ‘our first thought must be to fulfil our father’s dying wish. But, if you prefer it, we could take it in turns to read the prayers over our father’s grave. Let it be the duty of one of us each day to fulfil the duty, morning and evening.’

The elder brothers agreed readily to this, but, when Ivan asked whose turn it should be on the morrow, they both began to make excuses.

‘As for me,’ said the eldest, ‘I must go and order the work of the farm my father left me, and that will take seven days.’

‘And for me,’ said the younger, ‘I must see to the estate which is my part of the inheritance, and that also will take seven days.’

‘Then,’ replied Ivan, ‘if I perform the duty for seven days, you will each do your share afterwards?’

His brothers agreed still more readily than before. Then they went their ways, Ivan full of thoughts of his father, and the other two to train their jumping horses, the one on his farm and the other on his estate. And both laughed to themselves, for neither knew the purpose of the other.

How they curled their hair and cleaned their teeth, and practised ‘prunes and prisms’ with their mouths close to the looking-glass! – so that when, at one bound of their magnificent steeds, they reached the level of the Princess’s lips, to aim the kiss that was to win the prize, they would make a brave show, and a conquering one. As for their little brother, they each thought he could go on praying over their father’s grave as long as he liked, – it would be the best thing he could do, and it would not interfere with their secret plans, so carefully concealed from each other and from him.

So, for seven days, in their separate districts, they raced about on their horses by day and dreamed of the greatest leaping feats by night. And at the end of the seven days the youngest brother summoned them to keep their agreement, and asked which of them would read the prayers, morning and evening, for the second seven days.

‘I have done my part,’ he said; ‘now it is for you to arrange between you which one shall continue the sacred duty.’

The two elder brothers looked at each other and then at Ivan.

‘As for me,’ said one, ‘I care little who does it, so long as I am free to get on with my business, which is more important.’

‘And as for me,’ said the other, ‘I am in no mind to watch each blade of grass growing on the grave. I cannot really afford the time, I am so busy. You, Ivan, – you are different: you are not a man of affairs; how could you spend your time better than reading prayers over our father’s grave?’

‘So be it,’ replied Ivan. ‘You get back to your work and I will attend to the sacred duty for another seven days.’

The two elder brothers went their separate ways, and for seven more days devoted their entire attention to training their horses for the flying leap at the Princess’s lips. How they tore like mad about the fields! How they jumped the hedges and ditches! How they curled their hair and dyed their moustaches and practised their lips, not only to ‘prunes and prisms,’ but to ‘peaches of passion’ and ‘pomegranates,’ and ‘peripatetic perambulation’ and everything they could think of! In fact, they paid so much attention to the lips which were to meet those of the Princess at the top of the flying leap, that they began to neglect their own and their horses’ meals. In other words, they were beginning to show signs of over-training.

At the end of the second seven days Ivan again summoned them to a family council, and asked them if either of them could now take up the sacred duty. But no; thinking heavily on horses and lips, and high jumps and kisses, they spoke lightly of fields to be tilled, seed to be sown, and all such things that must be done at once. Their view was – and they got quite friendly over it – that Ivan should be more than delighted to bear this pleasurable burden of reading prayers over his father’s grave. Indeed, nothing but the stern call of immediate duty would prevail upon them to relinquish a task so pleasant.

‘So be it,’ said Ivan; ‘I will perform the sacred duty for another seven days.’ But as he spoke, he noted his brothers’ curled hair and dyed moustaches, and gleaned from this, and from the look of sudden suspicion and jealousy exchanged between them, that they were both in love with the same fair one. But he kept this to himself, and left them to their own concerns.

Again, at the end of seven days, when Ivan had read the prayers devoutly, he summoned his brothers. But they did not come. Both sent messages saying that they were frightfully busy, and would he be so good as to go on with the sacred duty until they could be spared to do their share later on. Ivan accepted their messages, and went on reading the prayers over the father’s grave.

Meanwhile each of his brothers prepared for the great flying leap; and each said to himself: ‘What about Ivan? He would like to see this great exploit. It might make a man of him. He is altogether lacking in ambition, and to see a great deed done might stir him to try to be a great hero himself. But yet – I fear it would never do. He is so weedy, so insignificant. I feel I should lose by having a brother like that anywhere about. No; he is far better reading prayers over our father’s grave.’

So each in his own way resolved to go in alone – apart from the other and apart from Ivan.

The morning of the great day came. The eldest brother had chosen from his horses a magnificent black one with arched neck and flowing mane and tail. The second brother had selected a bay equally splendid. And now, at sunrise, they were, each unknown to the other, combing their well-curled hair, re-dyeing their moustaches, and booting and trapping themselves for the wonderful display of prowess the day was to bring forth. And they did not forget to make sure that their lips were as fit as they were anxious for the ‘high kiss.’

At the appointed time they rode into the lists and drew their lots, and neither was altogether surprised at seeing his brother among the host of competitors for the hand of Helena the Fair. Their surprise came later, when Ivan arrived on the scene.

It so happened in this way: that, towards evening, when his two brothers had each had their last try to leap up to the Princess’s lips and failed, like every one else, Ivan himself was reading the prayers over his father’s grave. Suddenly a great emotion came over him, and he stopped in his reading. He was filled with a longing to look just for once upon the face of Helena the Fair, for whose favour he knew that the most splendid in the land were competing with their wonderful steeds. So strong was this longing that he broke down and, bending over his father’s grave, wept bitterly.

And then a strange thing happened. His father heard him in his coffin, and shook himself free from the damp earth, and came out and stood before him.

‘Do not weep, Ivan, my son,’ he said. And Ivan looked up and was terrified at the sight of him.

‘Nay, my son, do not fear me,’ his father went on. ‘You have fulfilled my dying wish, and I will help you in your trouble. You wish to look upon the face of Helena the Fair, and so it shall be.’

With this he drew himself up, and his aspect was commanding. Then he called in a loud voice, and, as the echoes of his tones began to die away, Ivan heard them change into the far-distant beat of a horse’s hoofs. After listening for a while his father called again, and this time the echo was a horse’s neigh and galloping hoofs. It seemed beyond the hillside, and Ivan looked up and wondered. A third time his father called, and nearer and nearer came the galloping sound, until at last, with a thundering snort and a ringing neigh, a beautiful chestnut horse appeared, circled round them thrice, and then came to a halt before them, its two forefeet close together and its eyes, ears, and nostrils shooting flames of fire.

Then came a voice, and Ivan knew it was the voice of the chestnut horse with the proudly arched neck and flowing mane:

‘What is your will? Command me and I obey!’

The father took Ivan by the hand and led him to the horse’s head.

‘Enter here at the right ear,’ he said, ‘and pass through, and make your way out at the left ear. By so doing you will be able to command the horse, and he will do whatever you may wish that a horse should do.’

So Ivan, nothing doubting, passed in at the right ear of the chestnut horse and came out at the left; and immediately there wasa wonderful change in him. He was no longer a dreamy youth: he was at once a man of affairs, and the light of a high ambition shone in his eyes.

‘Mount! Go, win the Princess Helena the Fair!’ said his father, and immediately vanished.

With one spring Ivan was astride the chestnut horse, and, in another moment, they were speeding like lightning towards the shrine of Helena the Fair.

The sun was setting, and the two elder brothers, disconsolate, were about to withdraw from the field, when, startled by the cries of the people, they saw a steed come galloping on, well ridden, and at a terrific pace. They turned to look and they marked how Helena the Fair, disappointed of all others, leaned out to watch the oncoming horseman. And the whole concourse turned and stood to await the possible event.

On came the chestnut horse, his nostrils snorting fire, his hoofs shaking the earth. He neared the shrine, and, to a masterful rein, rose at a flying leap. The daring rider looked up and the Princess leaned down, but he could not reach her lips, ready as they were.

The whole field now stood at gaze as the chestnut horse with its rider circled round and came up again. And this time, with a splendid leap, the brave steed bore its rider aloft so that the fragrant breath of the Princess seemed to meet his nostrils, and yet his lips did not meet hers.

Again they circled round while all stood still and tense. Again the chestnut steed rose to the leap, and, this time, the lips of Ivan met those of the Princess in a long sweet kiss, for the chestnut horse seemed to linger in the air at the top of its leap while that kiss endured.

Then, while the Princess looked after, horse and rider reached the ground and disappeared like lightning.

Instantly the host of onlookers swarmed in.

‘Who is he? Where is he?’ was the cry on every hand. ‘He kissed her on the lips, and she kissed him. Look at her! Is it not true?’

It was true, for Princess Helena the Fair, with a love light in her eyes, was leaning down and searching, with all her soul, even for the very dust spurned from the heels of her lover’s horse. But she could see nothing, and sank back within her shrine, treasuring the kiss upon her lips; while the people, dissatisfied, but wondering greatly, melted away. Among them went the splendid brothers, seeking how they could sell their well-trained horses to advantage, for they had both been frantically near to the Princess’s lips.

Whither had Ivan flown on the chestnut horse? Loosing the reins – he cared for nothing but the kiss – he let his steed go, and presently it came to a standstill before his father’s grave. There he dismounted and turned the horse adrift. As if its errand was completed, it galloped off; a rainbow came down to meet it, and, closing in, seemed to snatch it up in its folds. Ivan was alone before his father’s grave.

Once more he bowed himself in prayer. Once more his father appeared before him.

‘Thou hast done well, O my son,’ he said. ‘Thou hast fulfilled my dying wish, but my living wish is yet to be fulfilled. To-morrow Helena the Fair will summon the people and demand her bridegroom. Be thou there, but say nothing.’

With this Ivan found himself alone.

On the following day there was a great gathering at the palace, and, in the midst of it, sat Princess Helena the Fair demanding her bridegroom – the one who had leapt to her lips and won her from all others. Her heart and soul and body were his. The half of her kingdom to come was his. She, herself, was his; – where was he?

Search was made among the highest in the land, but, fearing a demand for the repetition of the leap and the kiss, none came forward. Ivan sat at the back, a humble spectator.

‘She is thinking of that leap and that kiss,’ said he to himself. ‘When she sees me as I am, then let her judge.’

But love, though blind, has eyes. The Princess rose from her seat and swept a glance over the people. She saw the two handsome elder brothers and passed them by as so much dirt. Then, by the light of love, she descried, sitting in a corner, where the lights were low, the hero of the chestnut horse, – the one who had leapt high and reached her lips in the first sweet kiss of love.

She knew him at once, and, as all looked on in wonder, she made her way to that dim corner, took him by the hand without a word, and led him up, past the throne of honour, to an ante-chamber, where, with the joyous cries of the people ringing in their ears, their lips met a second time, – at the summit of a leap of joy.

At that moment the King entered, knowing all.

‘What is this?’ said he.

Then he smiled, for he understood his daughter, and knew that she had not only chosen her lover, but had won her choice.

‘My son,’ he added, without waiting for an answer, ‘you and yours will reign after me. Look to it! Now let us go to supper.’

Link of interest : The Art of Edmund Dulac

on gratification via writing

2010-06-12T05:32:00.001-04:00

every time i keep hitting the blues (more often these days) I turn to this blog to vent it out. Sometimes the blues hues are so dark and trippy I feel like pulling the plug on these narcissistic pieces I polish off as a blog. But again, I get this rare comment/off-line/mail at least once an year by some person I’ve never met or will ever meet, as to how while reading some arbit stuff I wrote brightened up their gloomy day or made them think and they quote some lines from my muse/rant which even I don’t remember having written. The ability to put acts, thoughts, feelings, emotions in to words is a gift for me or I inherited this bit from my ancestral genetic pool. Yes, I have met people who read a lot, talk a lot but when i ask them do you write, they draw a blank. They tell me writing was never their forte, like poetry is my bête noir. Poems, I tried writing many times but always end with crumpled bits of paper with strange voodoo like figurines scribbled on them.

And there was this one time in during my masters, the topper of the class,a fair skinned,thick moustache totting, tam-bramh and me were slotted in the same project group. All the complex stuff involving design,calculations and all I leave it to the brainiac because at the very start I throw in the towel and tell him “ I can’t do half the analytical reasoning stuff you can. You’re a genius with a high mensa rating or woteva. So if you need my contributions in any other area like time-pass and all, I am game. And yes, I need a A grade in this course to renew my scholarship.” He looks at me amused (I guess it is an over achievers thing, this quizzical smile) and says “ dude! chill. I got this covered. (let’s hug it out bro) from my point of view you are far superior to me in ways I can hardly fathom. You are creative man. You can write. I can’t write for shit. All the answers that I scribble on my tests they are ditto from the text books.I can’t re-write in my own language. In the long run you will be more successful than the many of us dorks that sit here mugging page after page formula after formula. Just hang in there and continue to be innovatively creative.” (needless to say I had an nerdgasm of sorts hearing those words from him)

The way-back machine: (henceforth all references to my shady past shall be termed thus)

p.s. The WBM posts tend to be pretty long and wordy as I become overtly nostalgic when recounting past events.

yet another p.s. According to recent advances in neurological sciences it as been determined that the average adult mind can read a lengthy blog posts for 3 minutes maximum before attention deficiency kicks in. Just letting you know. Unless you are my biographer or something I wouldn’t mind if you give up here, throw your arms in the air and yell hallelujah. But if you are my future spouse who has landed here despite me trying to hide all traces of my nefarious online activity, read on but don’t bring this stuff up during our fights. And if you are my kid; god save you son, this is how your old man rolled.

9th grade.Hyderabad. So I was the new kid who had transferred to school. Everyone was giving me these strange looks. I blamed it on me being extra brown than the rest of them. A few weeks into the start of session we had those damn unit tests. So when the graded answer sheets were being given out the English teacher Ms.kalpana asks the class monitor point out any one who’s talking while she’s passing out the booklets. Being the over talkative person I am I was the first to be called out for some brutal canning on the knuckles. Ms.kalpana: “ What’s you name? You are the new kid aren’t you?” (meekly) “siddarth mam.” “oh! Siddarth. That’s you??” (silence) “I was going through you answers and was actually taken back, because none of your answers conform to the ordinary literary standards I expect from this class. Class clap for this guy, he has scored the highest marks in my class of all my students till date.” I was the hero of the day (I pictured myself as my, then/even now, hero, Tom Sawyer) only to be brought down to my knees an hour latter when the maths marks were announced, but that’s a different story.

8th grade.Vizag. So again I was the new kid who joined mid term in a new school. My dad took up a new job in Hyderabad rather abruptly abandoning the scenic Port Blair(Andaman Nicobar Islands) He dint want me to face problems adjusting to Hyderabad so he placed me in a school in Vizag. My bro was in the same school and fml he was the most popular/cool kid. Being the brother of the cool kid, people presume you are either more cool or at least half cool,because both of share the same dad seed and all. But sadly, I was way far from cool, I was pathetic. And the day I landed in that school the half yearly exams were going on and it was the bleedy english exam that day. So the kind principal asks me do you wanna to go to your room and beat off or do you wanna give the paper a try. I gave one glance at the paper and started writing it. All it had were questions on grammar and chapters from Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry finn. Are you kidding me ? My library teacher at carmel high school, Portblair had made sure I read the acclaimed mark Twain’s works thoroughly inside and out. I looked up at the false ceiling and offered her a silent thank you, taking back all the abuses I had hurled at her. I began writing. Even though I knew my marks for this exam wouldn’t be counted I wrote a min-novel. I was in a zone. The principal was shocked by my enthusiasm and told me to sit for the maths exam the next day. I balked.

6th grade.Port Blair, Andaman Nicobar Islands. These basis for this story is rooted in my fifth grade so will have to recount that first.

5th grade.Carmel High School,Port Blair, Andaman Nicobar Islands. and Yet again I was one of the many new non descript kids whose dad’s had transferred from Chennai to Port Blair. I was no hot shot in class and all the teachers knew me well because I always sat on the last bench and had the worst caveman like handwriting. A teacher once even slapped me right across the cheek frustrated at not understanding my scribbles. But one kindred soul Ms.Shanta, my western music teacher took a special interest in me. She saw my hand writing and told me that my words though perfect dint make any sense when written in a tightly woven, flower garland like fashion. So for the entire 5th grade, daily after school I used to spend and hour under her guidance in cursive writing classes. She gave me tons of writing assignments and pored over every turned in work of mine with a fine toothed comb. She taught me to cross my t’s and dot my i’s. As I improved daily she gave me a B- or a B at the max,never the elusive A+ I always looked for. And at the end of the term she finally gave me an A++ on my writing. I owe this blog to her.

So back to 6th grade. As always English exam papers were being handed out. And our teacher Ms.Gayatri was making all the usual toppers stand so that the rest of us unworthy folk could gawk at them and feel sorry for our limited comprehension skills. She suddenly said “aha! we have a new addition to our list of snobs. Siddarth please stand up. You’ve made the cut.” I stood up to quizzical stares from my last bench brethren. This had never happened before, a guy from the last bench getting up for the right reasons. Latter Ms.Gayatri called me aside and told me that since my writing had improved a hundred fold I could try out for the school news letter. I was on cloud nine.

Logging out of the way-back machine, memory overload.

So where was I ? Yes,writing is gratifying. As gratifying as finding a nice clean restroom to pee after holding a bursting bladder for two hours.

A panda walks into a café. He orders a sandwich, eats it, then draws a gun and proceeds to fire it at the other patrons.
'Why?' asks the confused, surviving waiter amidst the carnage, as the panda makes towards the exit. The panda produces a badly punctuated wildlife manual and tosses it over his shoulder.
'Well, I'm a panda,' he says, at the door. 'Look it up.'
The waiter turns to the relevant entry in the manual and, sure enough, finds an explanation. 'Panda. Large black-and-white bear-like mammal, native to China. Eats, shoots, and leaves.'

- Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation by Lynne Truss

Have a nice day :)

New York City, para siempre

2010-06-10T00:42:00.002-04:00

Why is that fleeting random faces in the crowd make such a lasting impression on me. It is the people I ‘ve heard or seen the shortest that I remember the longest.

The homeless guy asking for loose change on the subway, the senile lady standing at the corner of tremont ave. & grand concourse handing out pamphlets proclaiming that the kingdom of god was coming soon, the long haired - suited old dude skating n swaying to music on the ice rink at Rockefeller center, the guy who stoops in the middle of the road to pick up a half finished butt of newport menthol,the bored conductor in the subway station reading magazines and staring idly at the people,the guy who roams from compartment to compartment preaching how lord Jesus Christ reformed him of his life long crack addiction,the candy man, the high school kids yelling ‘what time is it ? it’s show time’ and breaking into gravity defying moves, the drummer who beat the shit outta their instruments, the overly perfumed and the overly accessorized,the loud talkers,the government cursers, the sophisticated phonies discussing politics/ art/drama/movies/books/restaurants/music/movies/sports,the Mexican strumming his acoustic guitar to ‘hello darkness my old friend’,the blokes who are always overtly customizing their lattes and food, the people who take up two thirds of the seat and act as if they are sleeping to avoid moving over, the sometimes funny train conductor who doubles up as a stand up comedian, The old folks who are always cribbing about none of the youngsters offering them the seat, the people who seem to fall into a perfect sleep as soon at the train leaves station. And many more people who keep adding them selves like twitter auto-follow bots, subconsciously, to my every growing list.

M recently asked me “ Why do you like NYC ?” I dint have a spot on answer then, but now when I start to put down on blog I get it : New York City for me is a cacophony of colors,people,sounds,cultures and idiosyncrasies. This city gave me my first green dollar, friends, associates,lovers,solitude and loneliness. Showed me sights I could never dream of seeing while growing up in India. I had an epiphany of sorts the first time I saw the tall glowing masts of Manhattan from the Staten island ferry. Under a clear evening sky, a million lights welcoming you into it’s fold, to be one with it. I saw my American dream.

“When you look at a city, it's like reading the hopes, aspirations and pride of everyone who built it”

For me NYC It is not the shopping/pubbing/night life many of the Indian student populace make it out to be. The NYC i see is way different from their version of utopia. I am just an another brown face in this milling human ocean. I like the anonymity it offers. How no one really cares who you are, what you do, because they are too busy getting to their destinations. I do enjoy gawking at the neon lit creations in Times Square by Madison avenue executives but I am also at complete peace sitting on the rocks beneath the Brooklyn bridge pebble hopping on the east river. In this mega city I see lives rife with strife. Lonely people, couples, musicians, performers, artists, salesmen, cooks,authors,bankers; people of every conceivable race,profession and color. Then there are people working multiple jobs to make it in the big apple. It is a city of constant struggle. And all this struggle is what makes you a man and gives me bitter-sweet memories that may hopefully one day span to be a book.

A lady who had lost her job today was a loose canon on the train today belting out expletives at her ex boss and asking any one caring to give her and ear ‘ What did you do today that made someone’s life better?’ Blame it on my snake like ears the moment she spoke those words there was an angst in my pangs. Small factors like extra sugar in my coffee or a missed meeting seemed irrelevant. I realized my many battles are not with the people or the place it is within myself; a quest for self identity. A search for the meaning of my existence.

Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner
Sometimes I feel like my only friend is the city I live in
The city of New York
lonely as i am
Together we cry
I walk on her streets cuz she’s my companion
I walk through the borough cuz she knows who I am
She sees my good deeds and
she kisses me windy
and I never worry

Excerpts from Maximum City : Bombay Lost and Found by Suketu Mehta

2010-06-09T00:35:00.001-04:00

India is a country of the NO. That “no” is your test.You have to get past it. It is India’s great wall; it keeps out foreign invaders. Pursuing it energetically and vanquishing it is your challenge. In the guru-shishya tradition,the novice is always rebuffed multiple times when he first approaches the guru. then the guru stops saying no but doesn’t say yes either; he suffers the presence of the student. when he starts acknowledging him,he assigns a series of menial tasks, meant to drive him away. only if the disciple sticks it out through all these stages of rejection and ill treatment is he considered worthy of the sublime knowledge. India is not a tourist friendly country. it will reveal itself to you only if you stay on,against all odds.the “no” might never become a “yes.” But you will stop asking questions.

---

Long before the millennium, Indians such as the late prime minister,Rajiv Gandhi, were talking about taking the country into the 21st century, as if the 20th century could just be leapfrogged. India desires modernity; it desires computers, information technology,neural networks,video on demand. But there is no guarantee if a constant supply of electricity in most places in the country . in this as in every other area, the country is convinced it can pole vault over the basics: develop world-class computer and management institutes without achieving basic literacy; provide advanced cardiac surgery and diagnostic imaging facilities while the most easily avoidable childhood diseases run rampant;sell washing machines that depend on a nonexistent water supply from shops that are dark most hours of the day because of power cuts;support a dozen private and public companies offering mobile phone services, while the basic land and telephone network is in terrible shape;drive scores of new cars that go from 0 to 60 in ten seconds without any roads where they might do this without killing everything inside and out, man and beast.

it is an optimistic view of technological progress – that if you reach for the moon, you will somehow, automatically, span the the inconvenient steps in between. India has the 3rd largest pool of technical labor in the world, but a third of its 1 billion people can’t read or write. An Indian scientist can design a supercomputer, but it won’t work because the junior technician cannot maintain it properly. the country graduates the best technical brains in the world but neglects to teach my plumber how to fix a toilet so it stays fixed. it is still a bramhin oriented system of education; those who work with their hands have to learn for themselves. education has to do with reading and writing, with abstractions, with higher thought.

as a result, in the country of NO nothing is fixed the first time around. you don’t call a repairman, you begin a relationship with him. you can’t bring to his attention too aggressively the fact that he is incompetent or crooked, because you’ll need him to set right what he has broken the first time around. Indians are craftsmen of genius, but mass production, with its attendant standardization, is not for us. all things modern in Bombay fail regularly : plumbing, telephones, the movement of huge blocks of traffic. Bombay is not the ancient Indian idea of a city. it is an imitation of a western city, maybe Chicago in the twenties. and, like all other imitations of the west here-the hindi pop songs,the appliances, the accents people put on, the parties the rich throw – this imitation, too, is neither here nor there.

so where do I start

2010-06-07T01:08:00.001-04:00

i can start off by telling how it’s pissing me off when people claim the only reason they like NYC is because they want to sound cool and all or with the incessant walking exercises I've been doing of late or the usual jazz, narcissistic whining rants or how I am trying to stay sane by blanking out my mind watching white walls. Yea nothing much to say. Or that short story that’s been brewing at the back of my mind for the last 3 months or how i dread Mondays or so and so forth. So many false starts. But Ryan nailed it for me, he says: “ You could do so much with what you have right at this instant, rather than hold out for some hypothetical special idea that you think is going to be beamed down from the heavens right into your head.” This guy Ryan always gets me, with his words and ideas knowing what to say at the right time. Of course he also my voiciest critic. When all the world gives me a particular opinion he gives me the counter view; sorta devil’s advocate he is.

Like he once said “ you know beneath all this facade of humor, do-gooder, happy go lucky guy is a cynical evil guy. You just don’t bring out the superbad cuz like many others you are a conformist and a sell out. You’ll keep doing the same shit over and over again if it pleases a small section of people. You’re the comedian who is too afraid to laugh at his own jokes. And for as long as you try to avoid this dual nature of yours you’ll be trapped in a no man’s land. Making others happy but incapable of making yourself happy. be selfish man. put your priorities over others, don’t let them use you as a pedestal for their success. it is acceptable to be vulnerable and a care giver but insinuate some caution into your system rather putting it all out.”

Disturbia

2010-05-23T03:53:00.001-04:00

The apartment security guard buzzed her on the intercom. His tone was grave. “ Some drunk guy lying by the dumpster yellin out yer name miss. You better hurry before someone calls the cops on him. Says his name is Ryan.” “ I dunno any such guy.” “But miss, he says you know him very well” “ damn..very well I am coming down there” The migraine made a rather dramatic appearance as she took to the steps, running down three at a time. She uttered a few curses directed at the drunk stranger who had gotten ‘er outta the bed. As she neared the dumpster she saw a haggard sickly figure bent over in a pool of his own piss and vomit with his back turned to her. He lay panting on the asphalt too weak to move. Reluctant to go towards him she shouted out “ who is it ?” she waited for the guy to respond. He groaned and with great effort flattened himself on his back and turned his neck towards her. The face she saw was covered with a thick beard. “ It’s me Ryan.” A faint glow recollection began kaboom as it hit her who he was. Unable to contain herself she ran to him and scooped him in his arms. “Oh god ! Ryan! you poor thing, what have you done to yourself.” With help from the guard she got him on to the elevator. Once inside her apartment he fell on the floor too drunk and stoned to move. With great effort she dragged him to the bathroom and put him in the shower. The cold water elicited angry abuses from him. But she managed to clean him up a little. He tumbled out and fell on the couch dripping and slipped into an instant slumber “ Ryan ! wake up ! what the hell is all this? What’s going on ?Where have you been all these years ? i thought you were dead? What happened to you ? I need some fucking answers damit.” he opened his eyes a bit, the dull light from the night lamp making it easy for him to absorb the surroundings. “ Nice place ya’ve got here” “That’s not what I wanted to hear. I need fucking answers.” A look of pity came over his face “ You look so old haha. Man! nine years sure is a long time to be gone. What did I miss ?” She stares at him impatiently as her head begins to go crazy with searing pain “ I was running around embracing my dark side. I did things I should never have done. I lost my way in the world.” “ But Ryan you were always the good one. Everyone’s favorite. The comedian, the altruist the hope giver. What happened to you ? I always used to look up to you but then suddenly you disappeared without a trace. For five years I searched for you and gave up all hope of finding you alive. Why did you go?” “ I wanted to find my inner voice. But my quest came up empty. Doing unmentionable deeds I thought I could provoke it to show itself. But turns out it’s one resilient bastard. It’s a lie this whole inner voice thing.” “ How did this whole inner voice thing begin in the first place because as far as I remember you were always about matters of the mind rather than those of the heart.” “ It’s a long story which I don’t have time to tell right now. I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain and suffering on my account. I’ll trouble you only one more time. Can you please get me a glass of water ?” As she walked towards the kitchen she heard a loud bang and ran back to the bedroom. He lay on the bed with his brains blown out.She shrieked and fell on the floor and began crying. A piece of paper rolled out from his hand and fell on the carpet. She grabbed it with both hands and began reading and crying. It was written in his neat handwriting “I wanted to see your pretty face for one last time.”

on code monkey

2010-05-15T00:54:00.001-04:00

#codemonkey

RR is a disgruntled PHP coder. Our conversation opens with “ FML man. This PHP is an ocean that I can’t cross in this life. ”

me: “ you know, last night I photo-shopped a donkey head onto a playmate.”

V is an student at Stanford pursuing a math program and she rants “ I just realized I am so damn good at coding and all. I should have picked a major in CS with a specialization in coding. My BF’s already a code monkey in training, so I thought why make it a family of coders and hence gave up on coding”

me : “ the word code has already appeared five times in the past one minute.”

M is this true blue coder types but her current job duties don’t let her do that. She rants about the want for creative freedom. “ The current nature of my job is monotonous and so unexciting for my grey matter. I could train a monkey to do my job and It could do it flawlessly.

me: “ The image of a monkey hunched across a key board typing away to glory, sipping mountain dew/munching frito lays is not so hard to imagine. Lol. So where was I, yeah,Sarah Jessica Parker looks gorgeous in the Sex and the City 2 because it was air brushed yada yada…”

Found this on a forum. In response to the question “Which programming language should I learn first?” - one user responds:

Depends.

To program in an expressive and powerful language: Python
To get a website up quickly: PHP
To mingle with programmers who call themselves “rockstars”: Ruby.
To really learn to program: C.
To achieve enlightenment: Scheme.
To feel depressed: SQL
To drop a chromosome: Microsoft Visual Basic
To get a guaranteed, mediocre, but well paying job writing financial applications in a cubicle under fluorescent lights: Java.
To do the same thing with certifications and letters after your name: C#
To achieve a magical sense of childlike wonder that you have a hard time differentiating from megalomania: Objective C

I could go on… but I’m not feeling hateful enough today.

P.S. The song ‘Code Monkey’ by Jonathan Coulton.

I am not that guy

2010-05-12T21:14:00.001-04:00

Whenever I replace/takeover someone else’s position in an organization I am expected to merge seamlessly into my new role; do all the things the other guy used to do. And every time a task/deadline is missed I get blamed for no being as effective as the other guy. If all they wanted was a robot they could have very well picked some charlatan. If the old guy was so damn good you should have retained him; giving him pay hikes and all. More over since you’re supposed to follow orders to the dot, any creativity/innovation is frowned upon. But again if you’re tight lipped trying to browbeat all those suggestions of yours you’re blamed for being dumb and un- entrepreneurial. “You don’t smile/socialize”, is a common insult I encounter everyday. “I don’t find anything worth being smug about”, I say. When venting out blues to an over achieving pal he says “Why are you getting so worked up for ? Got a job na ? Just do it. Nut up or shut up.” The under achieving pal says “ You have a job rite ? Be happy man don’t complain. Life on the bench is hell.” Trying to seek a middle way between these two extreme opinions is hard. It’s like walking over a tight rope and juggling at the same time. And ADHD which doesn’t want to miss out on the fun, complicates matters just in time. When one person is talking to you blurting out instructions, the mind’s in la la land of its own chasing unicorns and storm troopers. So when instructions for the task have been spoken out and I am asked “Got that?” I slyly reply, “ Roger” To beat the blues daily just before I am to enter office I turn up Megadeth’s Iron Man and hit the flight of stairs. A lil bit of cardio is the only bright spot in my day :D

On a different note :

So I was made in charge of this dead beat project. The liaison from the other department was pretty worked up as it was her first major event. So I get an email today saying “all the phone’s in our dept. are dead can you fix a meeting for me with that other guy from the other dept. ?” I replied “ xxx is his number. Use your cell phone and call him.Bye” Little victories that leave me smiling :)

in life, in death

2010-05-09T02:25:00.001-04:00

My friend Vamsee recently had a terrible family tragedy. I grieve for his loss. He seems to me to have been shaken. Now let me tell you a little something about Vamsee. He’s sorta a mentor to me. When I was drowning in an ocean of sadness and bordering obsessive depression he threw me a line. He gave me perspective and enlightenment and set my mental faculties on track. I can’t comment on his current state of mind but one thing I can always vouch for, this man never flinched in the face of gut busting problems; when the rest of the sheep bleats out ‘ we are so fucked’ he would stand up in the front and always say ‘what the fuck is the big deal man!’. So, a beautiful poem he penned in the memory of his sister made me cry. It’s a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.

when she cried,I cried too,and
all it did was to wet my tshirt
for, sisters always cry
for all the simple things
right?
who thought she had so much pain in her heart
until I read her diaries
to be read by others
after her demise
as she instructed
I see a natural philosopher
set of rules to live life
so that all that pain
never repeat again.
she lived alone
fought alone
died alone.
as she predicted.
found love,
a tad too late,
too short

I recently read ‘Buddha by Deepak Chopra’.Now that book’s not the I-Ching of world religions and I may not have a perfect understanding of the tenets of Buddhism but what I understood to be the bottom line was ‘each of us is born free and have to be that way. All relationships/attachments/suffering are an evil veil of maaya that obstruct man from reaching his true potential; that of a Buddha.’ If God created us in an image of himself and HE himself gave us family, friends and all that jazz, I ask why ? If we were born to be free then why are we given these attachments? Not that I seek to detach myself and all. This is where my mind blanks out. Are you given so that it can be taken away some day ? Make hay while the sun shines, is it? Pain is mandatory, suffering is optional ? what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger ? What point is the creator trying to make ? Some one enlighten me PLEASE… If every day of your waking life is lived in fright of that one dreadful phone call where’s the zing in life ? I am guessing all my confusion stems from being rigidly attached to the tenets of my orthodox upbringing i.e. Dharma. Wouldn’t it be just easy to put everything in terms of cause and effect, but that leaves out the miracles part and I believe in miracles damit. Am I trying to comprehend knowledge that I am not prepared for yet ? or do I go atheist ? I need a metaphysical paradigm shift. As an educated person you’re always groomed to take an educated guess. But my education doesn’t allow me to guess. It’s either yes or not. Are you in or are you out types. A deal breaker, a gordian knot and what not. There are sometimes when I look up to the heavens and ask “ damn is this really happening to me ?” and sometimes it’s “ wow ! this is happening to me” I deride for a moment, I thank in an another. Duality. Does this make me phony ? Being one thing and at the same time being another ? or is this the onset of early mental illness. Whom do you turn for advice when everyone you ask is trying to rub their ideas/ideals on to you ? Why can’t things be left to self interpretation. But again how do we know if our self interpretation is right unless we have something to compare it against ? look to nature for answers? I was born Intelligent, Education ruined me? Some seek answers in the heavens, some seek answers from soul searching, I seek partly from both. Or is it that I choose whatever answers my current query the best ? Where are gurus like Sri Ramakrishna Paramahansa who could answer with a straight face to a questioning Vivekananda “ Yes I have seen GOD.” There are questions that must be asked without expecting easy and pleasing answers. Is the purpose of the human race only to be born, copulate, die? Is this the vision the architect of the man had ? If yes, then I don’t see why I am ranting up to this point. haha. good night.sleep tight.

Why did God command Abraham to sacrifice Isaac is a question that still baffles me ?

“Why is god laughing ? May be because he gets the joke.” – comedian, Mickey Fellows

“Once you realize what a joke everything is, being the Comedian is the only thing that makes sense.” - Edward Blake/The Comedian/watchmen