Ribbid Rock

Suyee Dhaaga (सुई धागा)

2010-01-25T07:20:00.001-08:00

एक तीखी पतली सी सुई से, और
एक सादे सफ़ेद कात के धागे के रोल से
एक दिन दर्जी ने गौर से पूछा,

के तुम दोनों इतना जो साथ निभाते हो
चलो मेरे तो बहुत काम आते हो
पर तुम क्या इससे कुछ पाते हो?

सुई बोली के क्या बतायें
"इतने टाँके जो साथ लगाये
कितने ताने जो साथ बनाये
वो बेशक सब हम भूल जायें,

"पर मन कहता है याद रहेगा,
जब तुमने पहले पहल इस धागे को
मेरी आँख में पिरोया था, समोया था!
तब से एक मैं हूँ और एक ये धागा!

"फिर हर किस्म के, नर्म खुरदुरे
देखे सौ लिबास हमने साथ
अन्दर बाहर, तह तह को सिलते सिलते
छन गयी कुछ ख़ास हममें बात

"अब समझ है उमदा, परख है पक्की
एक दुसरे की ऐसी जैसे
दो साथी, दो हमसफ़र, यूँ कहें कि,
दो प्रेमी हों, बरसों पुराने!

"अब दिन भर की सिलाई चुभती नहीं
अगर रात भर मैं, इस धागे को
आँख बसाए, तेरे सुई-डिब्बे में
थोडा आराम करूं, सुस्ताऊँ, सो लूं!"

"अरे बस बस!", दर्जी ने ली लम्बी उबासी
"है खरी लड़की एकदम तू , पट पट बोलती जाती!
चल धागे से पूछता हूँ अब मैं ज़रा सी

"तू कहाँ फँस गया आ इस दूकान में
मुई सुई के वश में दिन दिन घटता, कम होता
क्यूँ नहीं जा बसा किसी पतंग बाज़ के?

फिर लाल रंग चढ़ता तुझपे,
और काँच वाँच भी! मांझा कहलाता...
और आसमान में उड़ता, चढ़ता, काटता!"

नीरा धागा बोला "का बताऊँ, मालिक
सादा हूँ, ये सब तो जानता नहीं
पर सच कहूं तो इस रिश्ते से पहले
ना सोचा कुछ और, ना चाहूंगा बाद भी!
... चल सुई!"

- On and for our second anniversary...

Ek Sitara

2009-07-27T01:02:00.001-07:00

The single-most important 'nakshatra' that I've got... written a while ago for omnifuse. Retrofitting lyrics to an existing tune is a pain... ended up using words as fillers and changing to less 'real' words just to suit the beat / tone.

दो तबस्सुम हज़ार है, एक हंसी बेशुमार है

आलम-ए-शब थी, चांदनी फीकी
एक सितारे की, बीनाई देखी
आलम-ए-शब थी, चांदनी फीकी
इस सितारे से शायद प्यार है

रौशनी रहगुज़ार है, एक सितारे से प्यार है

अंतरा १)

माहताबों से बढ़के रौशन तू,
रिन हिजाबों से बढ़के दिलकश तू.

अर्श से हासिल, हष्र को काबिल,
अलबत्ता शामिल, रहनुमाई भी
अर्श से हासिल, हष्र को काबिल,
इस सितारे से शायद प्यार है

रौशनी रहगुज़ार है, एक सितारे से प्यार है|

अंतरा २)

कब से था हर फलक हर तरफ बंजर
जब न था वो दिखा सब था बेमंज़र

एक मर्तबा वो, लख्त-ए-जन्नत जो
मिले रहमत को, शुरू इबादत हो
मिला रहमत को, लख्त-ए-जन्नत जो
इस सितारे से शायद प्यार है

रौशनी रहगुज़ार है, एक सितारे से प्यार है|

Madhushala!

2009-03-19T23:54:00.001-07:00

I was frantically trying to get to the bottom of the daily mail stack, with Dream Theater blasting through the Sony headphones, that have been used mercilessly and stay plastered together somehow through generous use of cello-tape. I don't fancy Dream Theater for music... but they sure are complicated and fast paced enough to make me defocus from the song itself. It was Bosh that intro'ed me to them.

And then I saw Madhushala in the playlist... hadn't played it in more than a year. Hadn't heard vivid ras-daar hindi geet by Bachchan Sr., which I was in love with for so long. I once had it mostly memorized. (Is not easy, it's a 30 minute long song... and aah Manna De's calm soothing voice of). I used to play it on my cheap Transcend mp3 player and get lost in the tune.

I played it, and got lost again. It's 12 minutes to go for some freaking important meeting and instead of going through the notes, I am writing this!

मदिरालय जाने को घर से चलता है पीनेवाला
किस पथ से जाऊं असमंजस में है वो भोलाभाला|
अलग अलग पथ बतलाते सब, पर मैं ये बतलाता हूँ
राह पकड़ तू एक चलाचल पा जायिएगा मधुशाला!!

सुन कल कल छल छल मधुघट से गिरती प्यालों में हाला
सुन रन झुन रन झुन चल वितरण करती मधुसाकी बाला
बस आ पहुंचे दूर नहीं कुछ चार कदम अब चलना है
चहक रहे सुन पीनेवाले, महक रही ले मधुशाला!

अधरों पर हो कोई भी रस , जीव्हा पर लगती हाला
भाजन हो कोई हाथों में , लगता रखा है प्याला
हर सूरत साकी की सूरत में परिवर्तित होती है
आँखों के आगे हो कुछ भी, आँखों में है मधुशाला !!

and on and on it goes holding me again in gentle trance... bin sharaab ki hai ye madhushala!

Rest in peace

2009-03-11T07:56:00.001-07:00

Another song for Omnifuse... when will we finally release an album?! This one is set in a rock'ish tune! Wish I could post the tune here! (or wish you could read staff notation!).

This one is about death.

आग का एक दरिया है, डूब के जाना
जिस्म जलते एक देखा है, एक है जलाना
ज़िन्दगी मिट गयी एक
एक बची, अध मरी, मांगती मौत भी|

तेरी यादें कईं, सारी बातें रहीं
एक ज़रा सी आँखें भी नम||

चार दिन और सात सुर और लाखों आसमान
दो परिंदे थे मोहब्बत में जिए जहां
एक दफा, पुरज़ोर बदहवा
यूँ चली, एक पंछी ना रहा
वो जब तक उडे, सुर मिलाते रहे
सा रे ग, सा रे ग, सा रे प म ग रे!

तेरी यादें कईं, सारी बातें रहीं
एक ज़रा सी आँखें भी नम||

दिन महीने साल बीते, सूखी शायरी
रिस रहा हर घाव दिल का लेकिन आज भी!
हाथ मेरे एक कलम थी, एक थी ज़िन्दगी
बन गया एक गीत अंतिम, साँसें आखिरी !!

ले लहू लिख डाली लफ्जों में मेरी लाचारगी...

तेरी यादें कईं, सारी बातें रहीं

एक ज़रा शी आँखें भी नम||

उन्मुक्त , बंधनों के साथ!

2009-02-11T21:55:00.000-08:00

चल खिवैया खे ले अपनी नाव ले पतवार भइया
दूर दीप है जाना
रुक मुसाफिर देख दुनिया, नील गगन औ' नीला दरिया
बिसरा भी दे ठिकाना

देख मुसाफिर...
ओर छोर खारा पानी पाताल गगन को चूमे
उस अंत में गोला लाल, रवि छुन छुन पानी में डूबे
मछरी भर भर कश्तियों का, मोड़ नोक फिर तट की ओर
गाँव घर लौट आना
नाव नाक की सीध में अपनी बढती जाए दूर क्षितिज के
झ्हरने से भीड़ जाना

सुन खिवैया...
सब सुंदर है जल अंबर पर नहीं हैं मेरे अपने

(काम चालु है ... :) )

iPod-dar!

2009-02-11T07:09:00.001-08:00

Its true. Thanks to a generous sweet gesture by wife, the great, I am finally iPod-dar!

A Streetful of Misery

2008-10-07T04:04:00.000-07:00

Long time after... I wrote this for our Band @ Cisco, Firmware!

There’s a cop on his beat, making sure
The world is as should be
There’s a crook by the bank, making plans
To change his destiny

He has no doubt about
The million he can get out
If he
Could just get a gun…

Got a few dead dreams
Locked away cold
In a cellblock on the
Old jail road

Chorus

When he
dreams their death at night
he screams, inside
Let me out, let me out, let me out!

Think about it, everyday,
Think about it, everyday,
He cries in pain and shrieks aloud
Help me! Help me!

There’s a man on the street, eating mud
To fill his hungry pit.
Doesn’t matter he says, to himself
Things will change in a bit.

If there’s a heaven above,
It sure will send its love
To me
When I am dead and gone

Got a few dead dreams
Buried deep down
Under his home stone on
The pavement ground

Chorus followed by lead

(slow and silent)
Poison in equal measures
Was passed around to all
In God’s eyes all are the same
No one’s big or small

(Reprise)
Pain is good, and he could

Never
Dream of joy, nor love
Nor life, he bides his
Time to die, time to die, time to die

Think about it, everyday,
Think about it, everyday,
He cries in pain and shrieks aloud
Help me! Help me!

Where there is wall...

2008-05-15T10:09:00.001-07:00

That scrapes through to begin well,
Doesn't need to end just so.
Some lives live half a good life
Give the other half to stupidity

To see and to ignore it still
The elephant sits in the room
Look hard and I then find
It's but a hallucination.

Lovely are the tears that are
Shed when people meet again
Is such beauty ever found
In those wasted on going away

Why ego when cogito ergo sum?
Why spite when thy neighbor love?
Why glean when to give is religion?
Why glean when share is economic?
Why learn hate when so much science unknown?
Why pray when there's no sign above?
Why borders, vasudhaiv kutumbakam... :)

Night. Life?

2008-05-09T19:21:00.001-07:00

What stares me in the face outside the window is the absolute quite of the city... the city of Mumbai, that never sleeps. Maybe it finally gave in to this no-night-life Bangalorean and slept... Yes, it sure seems late, and yet not early enough for the paperwallahs and doodhwallas and few remaining muezzins (what with the sena) to be rustling back to life. It's the only hour, when I guess, Mumbai sleeps. And I am awake.

What do I write about? I am here to attend a wedding of a palghat Iyer (capital 'I' intended) friend with a Marathi mulgi (capital 'M' accidental). Marriages are not made in heaven I say! No, nay, negative, nopes... they are very much crafted and treasured by dexterous and trembling human hands. Gorgeous in their success, embarrassed when they fail. The hands still often do a decent job of making that one institution that provides for the lonely days. And I have a lonely night!

What else do I care for? It is difficult to be truthful when you do not want to cause pain. And is it not hard to lie and then live through it? Your people skills are best left for people you dont care for. Come on, there's still life on the planet! I got off the Andheri station and asked a building watchman directions for Juhu gully. He says, out, right thenleft. A shop owner, overhearing, called out from behind, 'Juhu Gully mein kidhar?', and based on my answer fine tuned the directions to 'out, left then right'! As I started going out, a woman with vamp thick blue mascara, passed by and offered me to walk me to there, through the market shortcuts. Would Delhites do this for strangers?

Why does Raj Thackeray want my ilk out of this city? Lets be grown-ups about this. You know, if you throw out all the Bihari's out of Bangalore, there wouldn't be any good panipuri left.

Yellow blooms

2008-03-10T13:09:00.001-07:00

As I walk on a sidewalk, try to find my path again
I chance upon a tree of gold that is blooming in vain
Its flowers picked by few, never for love, seldom for religion.
I walk on, pray someone soon inflicts on them that pain

Before they fall like their siblings scores on the wayside
Before the wheels weighed down by humans quash
That smaller hope within small petals, tender and timid
Of being of use at least in death if not in yellow blush.

My time here...

2008-02-21T11:02:00.000-08:00

My time here was done and over a long time ago,
And my time here, now takes flight another time
Every moment that has dared to step on my toe
Now begs forgivance from its master, yes, that's me!

A flower, was it? or rather a bloom of them
Starry eyed I look on in delight all of tonight!
Evil eyes, gentle eyes, playful eyes, just eyes
What other eyes are squinting to see the light?

I Spy with my little eye, a spark here and there
Fie! Fie! on the wicked sly, that does not still accept
Past has been, and may it rest, and never to be seen
Whats not in here but soon will be... is there and in between!

Hitched!

2007-10-01T02:10:00.001-07:00

Get your own flash movie here!

Journey

2007-10-01T01:17:00.001-07:00

Free Movie Maker at Toufee.com

Khaaleee

2007-07-01T22:42:00.000-07:00

That's what my home in Sun City is, absolutely khalee! Itna ke hall mein rah ke ghar phone karo to bolte hain ki 'Kuwen mein se bol raha hai kya?' I have wilfully checked myself from buying any furniture, though spent lavishly on the white goods. I wanted to do a well-matched interior-decorated furnishing in the whole house that gives it a contemporarily vibrant but not flashy look. But now it's getting to me... I need a chair! I need a table! I cannot 'Work From Home' with the laptop on the fridge carton and my butt on the bucket that leaves a mark on the soft tissue.

It pinched me big when this Sunday evening Kimi went and won at Magny Cours and I could not see it... just read about it and see his picture on TOI sports page, exulting in warm red of this year instead of the cool silver. While on the colours; I had a black and silver McLaren helmet that said Kimi somewhere. I lost that and a few others, broke a couple as well, and now I have another silver-black Kimi one. Inappropriate, I know, but do I have the flash to pull off red streaked helmets? I will, when Harley changes me.

And khalee ghar bhi bharega. Bas ek adad interior decorator aur ek billi chahiye... that's not more than a year from now.

All is good in blissville and we are
softly treading the path to permanence
We prepared with armours for the war
that never started, all saw the good sense!

Bhi are in... Bihar - II

2007-06-09T19:59:00.003-07:00

We went on to Ballia, where I was greeted by two unusually silent cousins. The two girls were almost always on mute in front of me and dad, and talked a bit with mom. Was it the dictator-like rule of uncle on the family? Was it because they never really went to college, and instead just prepared at home for the annual exams? The culture had somehow etched on them that shy, reserved, dumb was equal to ideal homely girl. Now because of that, the elder cousin is not able impress any groom her father finds for her. The guys want smarter girls nowadays. Whose mistake then, uncle?

We went to Dad's high school in Ballia. Forty four years ago, he used to cycle here from Sanha (an hour up and down) to study when his brothers were busy either playing in the fields or helping at Dada's shop. Dad was the first engineer in his village following Dada's footsteps, who was the first metric-pass. He must have felt nostalgic. The same arch, the same building, the same classrooms. But it looked like the benches weren't different either. And the same truancy, the same mediocre teachers? In this school maybe, but not in D.A.V, Begusarai where Sujeet Gandhi is grasping the neo-hindu ways of monotheism and no idol worship in addition to competitive formal education. Change's knocking, what?

Sanha, my best day in Bihar was spent here. A real village with open spaces, green and mud-brown fields, thatched roofs, domestic cattle even at the richest house, ours. Rameshwar Poddar was once sarpanch of Sanha and now too his address is: Rameshwar Poddar, Gram Sanha, Jilla Begusarai, Bihar. And Sanha has a lac people now. Serious. On the morning walk my cousin chhotu took me to the banks of dried up Ganga and showed me masjid, school, playground and our fields. It must all look rustic and common to Sanha'ians, but urban I loved it.

My cousins Rani and Rakhi are the sweetest and most doting two girls I've seen! Both are pretty, bubbly and yet demure. Both are smarter than what's required of housewives. Such a contrast from the Ballia cousins! Maybe the reason is that their dad, my youngest chacha, who has suffered from a brain nerve damage, hasn't had that strict 'authority' during their bringing up. I hope they get husbands who dont need a nerve damage to remove malignant chauvinism.

There are more muslims than hindus in Sanha, and it has a special communal harmony. No cross-marriages, no close contact, but no mud-slinging or bitching either. Muslimon ke ghar ka paani nahin piyenge, par khoon bhi kyun piyen? Achchha hai!

Bhi are in... Bihar - I

2007-06-09T19:59:00.001-07:00

I traveled with my parents to Patna on the 28th May. My mother's sprawling family tree of 13 first branch siblings and a hundred leaf node kids belongs here. We are headed now to Ballia and the Sanha Village in Begusarai district, where my father's side is - sensibly big and, I daresay, more close-knit.

We got off at the Patna Rajendra nagar station on the election day when by law no motor vehicle is allowed on roads. While the 2 cycle-rickshaw moved through the narrow lanes to Mama's home, we saw four policemen with guns and a pistol chasing a man. The rickshaw walla said a polling booth was nearby and the chase was just to scare away the booth capturers. There was almost a curfew like ban on any motor vehicle, especially around polling booths. This was to prevent the the 'neta ka tattu log' from rounding and bringing people as vote banks in tempos. But ironically, that should also be one big inconvenience for the voters possibly resulting in low turnout, no?

I met a lot of my cousins, and by lot i mean in dozens. Many of them don't have Poddar in their school registered names. Reason? To prevent people from finding out their caste. We aren't SC/ST, then why? Cause generally it's a good idea to hide one's caste and only let merit show. So there was this DM in Begusarai called Manish Kumar and no one had a clue where he belonged, and no one dared ask. It wasn't possible to raise objections of partisanship against him. My cousins are Tushar Gaurav, Pranay Pallav ... even a Sujeet Gandhi. (Gandhi is oft-used muddler surname... I am Bihari, I am Gandhi, go figure my caste). Very sensible I'd say.

Bihar does have some special things. Parval ki mithai, khaajaa, sattu, litti chokha, badhi, teesi, boot ka saag, guramma... We were at a sweet shop in East Patna (less developed and more old-city like than West Patna) buying kilos of sweets for my many maternal relatives in that city. As I stood outside trying to mix-and-match 3 different kinds in 9 boxes, a hadrly sixteen girl in salwar kurta walked out of the shop and stood outside. A middle-aged man walked up to me from somewhere outside, pointed at her and asked me "Dost Banayenge?".

Patna's heat was oppressive and staying indoors was a torture, especially for Mom, who wants to sit inside the A/C when she sees one. So we decided to rather go to a cental A/C anything - mall, multiplex, theatre. Dad found out that the Vishal Mart was a central A/C mall, and Regent was an A/C theatre. No multiplex, but let's not quibble for more. Plan made: Book A/C Bolero, Afternoon in the A/C Planetorium and vishal Mart, evening show at Regent. Mom was looking forward to it all. Well, planetorium was closed, Regent was Air/Cooled and badly so, but the biggest surprise was Vishal Mart. A/C alright, but it was Patna's equivalent of Big Bazar, and as happily crowded as well. Patna's only A/C mall is a superstore. Long road ahead!

Low Brow Love

2007-06-09T19:58:00.001-07:00

The point I want to make is that most intellectuals either remain dissatisfied in love or become fickle, and that those that remain at just the basic levels of understanding, care and compromise in the relationship not only stay faithful and happy but also in the end are the real winners in the craziness of relationships where single absolute truths are rarely found.

Take a happy couple in which One has had an earlier love in a smart, whimsical but unworldly person. Now, ask that One with a broad smile, "Isn't everything just perfect?" Chances are an ideological junkie will not reflect your enthusiasm, at least not genuinely... and anyways the real thinkers would die before faking a smile. A simpler One would have learnt that what was lost was possibly not worth all the pining.

Take a literary couple. Each has maybe churned out real thought-foods on, say Tagore, apartheid, contemporary art, economics or mediterranean cooking. One goes and finds a paramour - forbidden love that grows sweeter and eventually essential. Ask One what's right. Chances are the free-spirited individualist who believes in each-to-his-own, would choose to stop doing what the 'society' thinks is right and would go with the soul's calling.

Intellectuals have a flair for debating on the very tenets and norms of society, a knack of proving right their choices not only to others but to themselves too. They contrast more starkly what they have with what they want. They grow to like their own minds and think they deserve keeping only such like around. Intellectuals brood on the past more and demand more from the future. Intellectuals walk out on committments more often.

It may not be a winning argument, and who am I to win an argument against the high-brows... When it comes to love, simple seems good enough.

Aashi and I

2007-05-20T22:02:00.001-07:00

20th May was a good Sunday. Invitation to togetherness, foreverness... and acceptance for life. We are in it for good now. Let the fights, complaints, misunderstandings, begin now! We're ready to take on them all! Aren't we, dear?

You've been so good to me all this while
It's been so perfect thus far
Can you see if we'll last the miles
Dont you want to see who we are

Come on now, lets gaze a bit
What lies ahead for us in it

Can you see a family, happy with a pup
Can you see bitter fights and sweet making up
Can you see me ...
Can you see ...
Can you see this love brim over, die eventually
Can you see another love that keeps us company

We won't be needy, nor hungry nor poor
We'll go see the world, maybe the moon too
We'll be fighting fit, live to ninety five
Love wont be needed to keep us alive

But will we, be our best together
And will we, stay closest forever
Well love's got a part to play in that
and you can see what I am getting at

I'll love you, untill I have this head on me
You can be, my music, my ... , my sweet would-be
So let's just fix it the, jigsaw is perfectly placed.
Marry me, marry me, marry me.

Bean counting

2007-04-19T23:05:00.000-07:00

I am back.

A small city like Baroda will have everything within an arm's length. I pick up dad's Honda Activa and reach within fifteen minutes, anywhere I'd like to be. (Within city limits i.e., cause I'd like to be someplace else if given a choice). Groceries, one hop away, malls, two hops... bank, movies, doctor a couple more kangaroo hops away. It is a perfect place to lead a comfortable and happy life.

A big city like Bangalore will have everything within my wallet's reach. I pick up my huge fat Cisco Salary and reach within hours, anywhere I'd like to go. (Including Goa, Maldives, Europe, or beyond). Groceries, within 1k, shopping at malls, within 10k... Harley, Honda Civic, property, investments, within a couple more millions. It is a perfect place to lead a content and ambitious life.

But for few months from now, dad says, and I agree I'll be in Bangalore living the Baroda way... bean counting.

On Bean....

Check out Atkinson's dance in Mr. Bean's Holiday... physically funny yet not slapstick.

And the two trailers... It's running in INOX, Baroda but I am gonna wait and watch this one in Bangalore.

Dogtag for a new chapter

2007-01-08T12:45:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, it all ended with a thud. Today I deleted every single mail, chat, pictures and files associated.

Yesterday, it all began with a start. Today, I got a confirmation that it's time I start treasuring new mails, chats, pictures and files associated.

Smooth transition, what? I'll be back here in another 90 days. Till then, ISB.

Move on?

2006-04-25T22:36:00.000-07:00

Moved to ISB, and to http://isb2007.blogspot.com... Will I come back here? and When? I guess honey and blood would make a brown unpalatable liquid. When will I sing?

Don't Sing

2006-03-22T23:42:00.000-08:00

Someday not long from now, I will sing again
Will have a reason to write something again
There are no promises, no hopes or distress
There is still sunshine, and so it will be then

No I don't see,
I cannot see what will I be
I had the right, I could be free
But I locked myself and lost the key
I'll just be me.

I am at http://isb2007.blogspot.com now.

Crash!

2006-03-16T04:10:00.000-08:00

Watched the movie Crash - Brendan Fraser, Sandra Bullock and host of other actos that complete a perfect collage of incidents and emotions triggered by racial prejudice and then collide in one event a la 'Magnolia'. Liked the fast paced yet fluid changes in reference points and happenings. And Nona Gaye has done a good job as the black wife.

Will see the Brokeback Mountain next. Someone on ISB pointed out that it was just an outright gay flick. And others said it's good. Let's see...

The Bridges of Madison County

2006-03-13T08:25:00.000-08:00

I am in a train going from Karwar to Mumbai. I just finished reading this good book by Robert James Waller I got from Ashwini. Now, I am not a peregrine as defined by Francessa to her kids twenty two years after Kincaid had waxed lyrically during their lovemaking, in response to her bewildered whispers about his emotional and physical power over her, "I am the highway and a peregrine and all the sails that ever went to the sea". I am not a stranger, foreigner, wanderer, leave alone a falcon. I considered myself quite firm footed and worldly until sometime ago. My dreams were academic and my passions professional.

What then draws me to Francessa so much that I almost identify with her? Her undying feelings for Kincaid coupled with her sense of commitment and responsibility that kept her in Winterset, Iowa with her family. What sets apart Kincaid from other dreamers who hold on to images long after the flesh is lost? His longing for Francessa coupled with the self-control that kept him from Winterset, Iowa. I loved the book, I love these two characters. I almost believe in eternal romance now... As you kept getting pragmatic and getting over, I was learning a trait that made me closer to Robert than Richard - love. "In a universe of ambiguity, this kind of certainty comes only once and never again, no matter how many lifetimes you live."

Now onto the next book, which is sure to be in a much much lighter vein than this one - Richard Gordon's 'Doctor in Clover'.

It's not fair!

2006-03-09T11:44:00.000-08:00

Can't say what exactly is not fair, but something on this planet or someone much above (depending on your beliefs) is not fair... especially not to me! I mean look at what's happening around me! I let one dream wind my sailboat and it sinks, floats, sinks as rhythmically as the care-two-hoots lulled waves of my life. What am I doing with myself? What will I do with myself?
Kaun si manzil ab haasil kar paayega tu rahmat
Badbani kashti chalata hai hawa ke tangdil phunkon se

Well, I am going to crack that ISB thing down to the ground! Mere se panga lega bedil uparwaale! Chal dekhte hain...

Formula No: 1

2006-03-06T08:26:00.000-08:00

As the race day for the Bahrain F1 draws near, let me tell you a nice formula to make yourself so miserable, you want to jump off your office terrace and land head first. I shot myself in the foot several times over the last 6 months in several departments of life. I've just done an encore yesterday night, but let's not talk about that. I could have resigned from Cisco long ago... maybe in January itself, had I known that I didn't really want IMD. All I wanted was change and success to a manageable degree. ISB happened in Jan beginning and soon after stupid me started chasing a double dream of Queens+IMD, spurred on by a strange mix of reasons that will never make sense to my own self. I have already almost burnt out myself, and don't know how well I'll do. Not to mention, I am semi-crazy...

Anyhow, post-harakiri, I also find that work is tight, as tight as it could have been! Am working hard, but I don't think I can finish it. So, I'll leave behind dangling pointers ... not literally, cause I don't code in C. Engineering posterity in my team will look at half-cooked pieces of tasteless code and jeer at the MBA lotos-eater who was too good for everything, but turned out to be good for nothing in the end. Don't do this to yourself. When shifting gears it's good to allow room for speed change. I didn't, and got stuck.

But, F1's coming! It's going to be good fun with the improved qualification round (I didn't quite like the single car qualify round), and permissible mid-race tyre changes. Check out: http://www.formula1.com/news/4043.html

Geek bhai!

2006-03-05T23:55:00.000-08:00

Bro was in Dallas attending a set of DBMS presetnations and goes presenting something on Oracle to some 400 people people in Tennesse. He has launched a website of his own, www.oraclegeek.net too. Hmm, as I try to go places by climbing rungs, he's already going places by spreading his nerd know-how around! Go, bhaiya.

Snowballed pebble roadrolls dream

2006-03-01T10:18:00.000-08:00

Well, actually the dream itself was was just that. I awoke and found that. I do not really want IMD, and I am not going for IMD. A small thing started it all off when my Swiss Visa got rejected and I was asked to reapply personally. It set me thinking if I want all the action, the pace. More importantly, does IMD fit in my scheme of life. In the end, it was the gut feel that said No. More on this later... or maybe not much more on this later. So decision is made, ISB it is. Laut ke buddhu ghar ko aaye. Yep, it's all a circus, life is... or maybe 'Life is what happens when you busy making other plans!' - John Lennon

One for the toad!

2006-02-24T07:51:00.000-08:00

... or for the ugly duckling. I got an interview call this afternoon from IMD! It took a while to realize that it was actually an interview call and not just some information they were seeking, because Lisa (or the lady I forget the name of) sounded nothing like I would have expected the bringer of that all-important news to... no preambles, no dramatic tones, not even a congratulations. And well, like my usual self, I started with a goof up. I looked at the caller ID, heard her voice and went... "Hey Shobs!". Thank God she introduced herself quickly enough to confirm she wasn't my just-married college friend, or I would have asked her about her honemoon!

I worry that I am a misfit amongst the hordes of super-experienced business consultants, managers, financial analysts... and professional golf players and IMD . But I do have my dreams with me - just a couple more remain. I may be the ugly duckling but yeah I'm happy I got the opportunity to evaluate if I can be a swan. I talked home, and that was a big achievement! Now on to getting them visa, tickets... and case studies straightened out.

IMD has informed me that they certainly can't let me know the results before March end and it can very well stretch to April 10th. Reason: there are many Indian applicants, a majority with exceptional W/E & GMAT's, I presume, and they would like to evaluate all of us in the Feb 1st batch before making the offer to the select 2-3. By the way, any one knows what's so right with Indians that cracking 750+ in GMAT seems a child's play for many of us? To think that I was on the seventh heaven after seven seven zero! Thud, anytime now.

The interview process... Information I have culled this from the BW forum:
http://forums.businessweek.com/bw-bschools/messages?msg=25844.297
http://forums.businessweek.com/bw-bschools/messages?msg=38972.193
http://forums.businessweek.com/bw-bschools/messages?msg=38972.194
http://forums.businessweek.com/bw-bschools/messages?msg=38972.341

Thanks to everyone who has helped me through this process, including Ashwini's dog, Zoey!

Then there was a Queens

2006-02-22T23:02:00.000-08:00

I got an admit from Queens last weekend! But I decided to ditch it. It was a huge tussle, with the college, place, good life on Queens' side and career, low-risk, good cost on ISB's. In the end, as usual, money (or the lack of it) settled things for me. The university did not give me a single cent of scholarship. I was actually banking on at least CAD 10k, what with Mr. Ben Whitney all pleased and talking about me starting a band in Queens and telling me that if he were on his own I would have received a 'favorable' response then and there. Talk about confidence... I actually had imagined I'll have the highest schol in Queens just like I have in ISB.

So, without the schol, and without a penny in the bank, without any chance of a Canadian loan, and with Indian Student loans maxing out at 20l... hmm, bye bye Queens.

Am not repenting much. ISB placements stats are pouring in with McKinsey, BCG, AT Kearney, HLL... big wigs wooing the ISBians. And Queens has a record of placement worries for non-North Americans. But there was this other thing that had drawn me to Queens... The 'experience'. And it would have been great to be study with 60 bright people and learn from 25 good profs.

No worries... IMD, here I come. Provided you call me. I told Arun IMD doesn't expand to anything. He said, no it does for you... to 'I M Desperate'. Yes, I sure am.

A piece of code

2006-02-22T07:42:00.000-08:00

I happened to look at a piece of code right now. The last time I had touched it was when I had created it way back in February 2002. I got a request from someone from somewhere to add something someplace in there. I looked through and, guess what I actually got nostalgic. Four years ago, when me freshie was firing away methods and procedures with hardly any expectation that it would be seen/run by anybody, I had my rewards in seeing it work. Today, when I create something I blow bugles and beat drums. As my stature rose I lost that self who had worked for days to create the BBA Automation module that was not even critical or urgent. Professional lethargy killed the productivity.

But I still looked at those lines and felt nice. Hey, I could do all this way back then!? I must have been smart... wait a minute. I am smart.

The Orchard of Banchharam

2006-01-27T20:03:00.000-08:00

Saw this play yesterday by Forum Three of Ranjon Ghoshal. Background: Ranjon heard us do our composition at out Annual Day function and seemed quite impressed. Invited us to watch the play and then meet him... and we started dreaming of an opportunity, very much undeserved, to do the score for his next play!

The play: hillarious. Rajeev Gupta, as Banchharam stole the show with his portrayal of the the 95 year old possessive owner of the orchard who wishes to die, live, die, live multiple times through the play, much to the chagrin of Nakori Datta, the landshark, enacted by Nilanjan Choudhury. Srijit Mukherji, the real star of 'The other side of history', which was the previous play of Forum Three, didn't get to do much as Hontka and Kontka Datta. Devaiah has done better as the good-for-nothing emasculated grandson here than as the lead in 'The other side...' I really would have liked to see Anand Ramprasad, Nikhil/Bijoy of 'The other side...' on stage too.
http://forumthree.blogspot.com/2006/01/forum-three-playfest-2006.html

After the play: Of course, Ranjon had no time to meet us. We'll meet sometime early next week is what he said. Hope early is before Friday.

Anyhow, so quite a nice evening we had. Now on to finishing IMD. Have promised myself today's the deadline for submitting the app.

Helping people...

2006-01-22T05:50:00.000-08:00

This jet talker with a spanner in his works calls and asks for my advice for the upcoming interview. The other person whose dad works with my dad calls a second time and asks about GMAT after royally buttering me up in the first phone call. Yes, it used to feel good in the beginning but now it's getting on my nerves. I mean I have loads of stuff to finish at work and in those apps... and more than that I have my absent-mindedness and ever-growing sleep requirements to cater to.

Would you believe it... I come to office all set to work with my laptop but without its charger. I go back to get the charger, but come down from my home without the bike key. Very calmly, without cursing myself, because I am at ease with my stupidity, I climb the stairs again. This other guy calls and I help him with the details of how to study for GMAT when I would rather have told him how exactly to make a nice cylinder out of the OG 11th edition and use it more imaginatively. I come down with the key but without my mobile. Now, should I not blame the guy? Of course, I should not... But I will!

Queens Interview call.

2006-01-22T05:26:00.000-08:00

Things are happening with me professionally. Got the interview call from Queens for February 2nd. IMD and INSEAD app are on the final stages. If nothing else, the Queens interview will brace me for the other two more demanding ones.

And well, personally, things all around me are straining to not fall apart... Imagine a circle of bamboo sticks stuck in loose soil with me in the center holding one thread that's tied below the middle of each stick. 'twill change, 'twill be better soon... time to sugar-coat the hopes going sour, with another achievement.

ISB Admit!

2006-01-08T09:36:00.000-08:00

ISB offered me an admit with scholarship yesterday. Checked the mail after meeting Swati after such a long time and having meaningful conversations about Oncology and heart-aches. I read the whole mail twice, punched the air a couple of times and then settled down calling everyone at home, friends, sms'ing the others, and finally treating the left-over rectens in Bangalore.

Today, I've outgrown the feeling of satisfaction. There's a greater battle to be won. IMD is calling, and I am fiddling with my guitar! Focus, boy, focus...

Have a long way to go, but I know for sure I won't be at Cisco in 2007. And guess what, 12th Jan is coming near! This time there'll be no poetry, but I have bought Vaishu a nice little gift she's bound to like.

Ezzzays...

2006-01-01T09:58:00.000-08:00

Almost fell asleep thinking about one of the IMD essays on "What motivated you to apply to IMD MBA?" At other times, I have been, furious, satisfied, thrilled with what I churn out for each of those questions that are meant to plumb the depths of your mind, but in the end, only manage to graze the R-complex, where ambition purportedly resides. So many different emotions can a single essay generate going through multiple iterations after every set of comments...

"Analyze any human emotion," said Freud, "no matter how far it may be removed from the sphere of sex, and you are sure to discover somewhere the primal impulse, to which life owes its perpetuation."

I'd say the MBA dream is as good as the primal impulse in fostering varied emotions.

Advt bloomer

2005-12-30T23:21:00.000-08:00

Are you suffering from

Depression, Hair Loass, Feeling Excessive Hot!

Could be because of the

Thyroid dysfunctoion SRL Ranbaxy is organizing

Thyroid Detection Camp.

29th-31st December 2005

ISB versus others

2005-12-25T08:11:00.000-08:00

I got a jolt when Shanky pointed out that placements at Queens was just a shade better than 60 % even after 3 months of graduation. ISB boasts of cent percent placement. And, to think that Queens was the top-ranked MBA college outside of US in BusinessWeek 2004 rankings!
http://www.businessweek.com/bschools/04/#nonus

INSEAD has a similar story. What I got from one of the contacts "Placements are not like that in India .No day zero, day one placements... It is usually through networking and finding the best fit for self."

Where does this leave my hi-fly dreams? IMD is still tops. Aah, if only I had worked a little longer in States or any goddamn place outside India. International exposure seems a big ticket thing at IMD apps. So, should the order be IMD, INSEAD, ISB, Queens? Or IMD, ISB, INSEAD, Queens?

Kavi - jeevit ab bhi

2005-12-20T10:04:00.000-08:00

I don't write stuff in hindi much nowadays, but came up with these - the second one under the effect of the hijr hormones, and the first when challenged to fit lyrics to an existing tune in Raag Desh.

-----------------------------
साँस जमीं थी, चहूँ ओर शिशिर था फूटत नाहीं राग,
आस लगी थी, मास गये घन, आयो आखिर ताज।

आयो डार डार बसंत आज
काहे फूल फूल जन ना हँसे
सब शीत मीत खुल ना रचें
नए प्राण भये भगवान राज।। आयो ।।

साँवरे सजे थे बदरा, के थे श्वेत हिम सघन
आज लागे नव धरा को, साफ सुंदर नव गगन
नहीं ऊन धून, के बहार सुन, कर आकुलाए छेड साज आयो

हरित मास में, त्वरित साँस से, जपता जा ओ कवि,
मेघ है नहीं, हेम जा कहीं लापता, आओ रवि
फिर जाग आग बरसा भूमी पर,
भंग रंग युगल चखें होरी, तर
वसन मगन तन मन निलाज।। आयो ।।
-----------------------------------

जा चला जा बदरा मेघा मोरे के काम का
जाने ना मोरा करजवा जिया,
माने ना मोरा अरजवा जिया,
बिरहा मोरे के काम का

इस बार जो तन के मैं आया देखन
उस पार दर्पण के था कोइ पर जन
मुरदार जड तन पे छिडके है जल घन
आषाढ़ बादल, बेकार सावन
ढ़ाई बरस आराम बीते,
आखर ढ़ाइ भये नाम के

आ नहीं रहे वो हियाँ,
जा नहीं सकूँ हूँ तियाँ
छन बीते दिन बीतत नाहीं,
कौन उन्हें समझाये

Wasn't easy, but I did it!

2005-12-20T07:57:00.000-08:00

2 weeks of self-denial. Not a single drop! I think I am rehabilitated. Am I? Naah... come next weekend, and Husher! Husher! all would fall down.

Freakonomics

2005-12-15T21:10:00.000-08:00

Started to read the book by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner. Claims to be a book that peels off a layer or two from everyday facets of modern life, and with plain data assessment, no morality, reveal stark new perspectives.

"Morality, it could be argued, represents the way that people would like the world to work - whereas economics represents how it actually does work"

Two lives

2005-12-15T11:07:00.000-08:00

If all goes well, very soon I may need to create another blog. This blog is too laden with the blood of my heart to make sense as a heartless MBA blog. Reading the previous post with other posts, I wonder if it is the same person writing.

Right-ho, once there was a hiyapods and then there was a sumeetme. My good old story book diary... Find your fire, hiyapods, and go char yourself.

But will I break if I get through none of the colleges? Of course, but I can take them in my stride. My company needs me. It will earn me bread, butter and butter kulchas if all goes into the well.

Bigger than ISB

2005-12-15T10:52:00.000-08:00

I started dreaming bigger than ISB. Quite possible that the ISB dream itself fizzles out... when I try to recall a moment during the interview when I shone and impressed, all I see is Mr. Kannan going 'Fair. Quite Fair.' to my (over)estimate of INR 80 mn per month starting revenue for Vodafone in Bangalore.

Anyways, sapne sanjone mein harz nahi. So the dream is IMD, Switzerland. The best of the best according to most websites. And a class strength of juts 90 taken from 45 different Countries! Whoa. That's where I wanna be. But, how? Going through the helpful advices of the guys who're going to be there, doing that next January.

http://forums.businessweek.com/n/pfx/forum.aspx?nav=messages&tsn=171&tid=58198&webtag=bw-bschools

Plan to app to IMD, INSEAD and Queen's. I know, it's a mixed bag. But then, let's give it a shot. Kya pata, kya likha hai!

Cisco Newsletter

2005-12-12T10:52:00.000-08:00

Came up with these few lines for the 1st Cisco Newsletter to new campus recruits... for Ashwini. And she said 'Do you think the fresh grads will get this kind of humor?'. A nice way to say 'You're overboard.'

"Hark Gladiators! To get through to the Ciscolosseum was a dream harboured by all, but you fought hard, and fought well. Welcome to the mecca of networking. Things happen quick at Cisco, quicker sometimes than it would take an IP packet to go around the planet on our routers. This newsletter would keep you abreast of the latest at Cisco - technology, culture, triva and people. Go ahead, devour the first edition!"

The Forty-two mall

2005-12-09T09:33:00.000-08:00

There was a day at the Forum mall, long long ago in my previous life, when after walking, yes walking, up and down the escalators impatiently and then gazing passively for long in random directions on each floor, I reached the top floor and stood by the rail at one of the circles. What I liked here was the loud roar of a thousand quiet voices, which afforded me the chance to speak. And I spoke for a good few minutes to the jolly air-conditioned air and then then I loooked down. The floor, four floors below, seemed inviting, yes inviting.

That was it... that was it. I found the answer to my wrenching question 'how do I live now?' when contemplating how not to. The mall gave me my answer. There was life to live around me, and I willed myself otherwise? 'Oh! Fie, Fie, Fie!' as Isabella dramatically says several times in the 'Measure for Measure' I saw. If nothing, to live was a challenge. I love challenges. Live I did.

I had't been to Forum alone for more than an hour since then. Today I did. Did an encore of acts from that day. I could. It did come back in small doses, but I could! You fought well, boy. Spent some time reading the new management book arrivals at Landmark, and some more time buying stuff for tomorrow's trip to Kabini with Shanky. It's going to be a great weekend! Thanks to the mindless shoppers at Forum.

Mush - left, right, center

2005-12-08T03:45:00.000-08:00

Two lovebirds sit on the either side of my office cubicle, cooing away to their dearest's (not each other). It certainly harms my productivity... I don't and don't want to hear all the words, but I do catch the giggles, the elongated helloo's and byeee's, and see-ya-at-so-and-so promises. I put on my headphones sometimes, and then search for the right kind of song... not Beatles, not Elvis, not Bobby Darin, definitely not Sinatra! I generally pick either Dylan or Knopfler (but not Romeo & Juliet), or Indian Ocean (who are more gorillas than orangutans in matters of romance).

Love se bachne ke liye saala kuchh bhi karega!

Eighteen Yellow Roses

2005-12-05T07:36:00.000-08:00

Heard this mushy song by Bobby Darin. All through, it feels as if it's about a girl cheating on her guy, who is okay with her leaving with someone else. The last line brings in the real meaning, and you go 'Oh shucks, what was I thinking?'. Wonder if Bobby did this little lyric trick on purpose. Most of his other songs are sure about romantic love...

Eighteen yellow roses came today

Eighteen yellow roses in a pretty bouquet

When the boy came to the door, I didn't know what to say

But, Eighteen yellow roses came today

I opened up the card to see what it said

I couldn't believe my eyes when I had read

Though you belong to another, I love you anyway

Yes, Eighteen yellow roses came today

I never doubted your love for a minute

I always thought that you would be true

But now this box and the flowers in it

I guess there's nothing left for me to do.

But ask to meet the boy that's done this thing

And find out if he's got plans to buy you a ring

Cause Eighteen yellow roses will wilt and die one day

But a father's love will never fade away.

Stay away Gray!

2005-12-04T18:42:00.000-08:00

I spotted the first grey hair on my chest today. It was all very fine when them roots were merrily losing their melanin up there, but a hairy grey chest is a tell tale sign of senescence. Of course, I am not old. "ये बाल शायद मैनें धूप में ही सफेद किये हैं" What next would these silver strands conquer? Arms? Legs? ... ? I see myself, not long after today, peacefully dressed in white when not dressed at all. Maybe I'll take to dyeing my chest hair. Painstakingly holding each strand and giving it back the artificial youth. Or maybe, I'll shave all of it off... maybe that's why SRK did so too. He's 40. He must've spotted his first grey on his Fauji hairy chest long ago.

Come gray, stay with me. Give me good company, while I say good bye follicle-by-follicle to the fickle black!

Will prayers help?

2005-11-28T23:31:00.000-08:00

Being an agnostic is the worst that can happen to someone in a fix. Will ISB happen? I have a Shiva murti at my home I've been carrying with me since I left Baroda back in 1997 for RECT. I do look at it everyday; sometimes i try to close my eyes and pray, but it doesn't feel solemn enough. Sometimes I light an incense to make it better, but it hasn't the same punch as, say, when Mom stands in front of the sandalwood mandir at home. Faith is God and vice versa... and agnostics like me have neither to hold on to. Ok, then I'll find my own way.

Hausla-e-Buland Khuda Razamand

2005-11-25T19:45:00.000-08:00

Khudi ko kar buland itna ki har taqdeer se pahle
khuda bande se khud poochhe bata teri raza kya hai

Have the ISB interview today at 12:30 PM. I am not too sure if there is a God up there. Most of my friends who believe have sent in the confirmation that they have prayed for me. Most of my friends who don't have wished me luck. A few important ones have totally forgotten about it. But I know that God, Chance or Friends are not going to help me out there. I am going to be on my own in front of that panel. And going by the single past experience of an interview I have had - Cisco at Campus, I know I can make a mark just by being myself. There's confidence within me to take on individuals and come out as someone who knows what he's talking about. Only when people know me enough do they find out that many a times I just blabber so coherently that it 'seems' good!

The only thing lacking now is a good tie. I had forgotten that most interviews happen in formals. I was banking on the Park Avenue shirt I got on the 22nd. Shanky asked if I have the right tie. I said I don't need one. But turns out everyone wears one. So I rummaged through my jumbo suitcase of old knick knacks and found the cheap ancient tie I used to get through to Cisco. It's not great, but believe it or not, it still fits me! So, I am going to wear it. Goes well with neither the shirt nor the pant, but goes well with me. I had some trouble tying it, and missed dad, the only family member and among the select few Poddars I daresay, who know it well! Got some tips on the net about how to get the dimple at the centre of the knot, and Lo (not Lolita) I am dressed up.

Anyhow, I am on my way. I have to win this one. It's a personal challenge now... Hey, if you're there reading this, don't let me down this time, will you?

Square root of misery

2005-11-24T19:23:00.000-08:00

Most pain is self-inflicted and self-healing too says Vaishali. To ask is the beginning of to be denied. Quite possible, but where does the journey end? And where did it begin?
A Beatles song comes to mind "The world's treating me bad, Misery!". And then comes Savage Garden's "Lemon Tree"... Isolation is not good for me. I don't want to sit on a lemon tree.

If Misery gathers interest compounded every second, it should soon be enough to fill my 12x11 room, like the foam Amita sprayed on me, only muddy in color, and smelling downright pungent instead of soapy. What's more, I have my windows closed cause it's cold and raining outside, so none of it shall escape. I picture myself wallowing in the roomful of soft, dull brown Misery, playing with multicoloured balls of memories, flailing my arms around and shouting out like kids in the McDonald's Ball Pit... only thing, the kids are generally happy.

I start to doubt what Vaishali said. Expectations, yes, but there are ideas which one comes to believe in with every ounce of conviction that oozes out of deep emotional recesses. That faith is the square root of Misery.

Shetty. Birthday. Oeufs

2005-11-24T09:24:00.000-08:00

Mr. Shetty, my Landlord, was a seemingly sweet chap to begin with when I gave him the booking amount of 3k. Didn't even care to count, and agreed to reduce the deposit to 25k. Now, this may be a racial remark, but it's said of the gultis in general and Shetty's in particular that money is something they can't help obtain by crook. Had I known this then, I'd have been careful. The glibslither has finally shown his fangs. Not willing to sign the lease agreement as is, with an interest clause for holding up the deposit amount after lease-expiry. And contending that the rental started from the date of our meeting and not the date of my moving in! Ridiculous, but I'll grit my teeth and agree. The place is so perfect. I am not going to trust this guy again, though.

Have been doing lots of different things at work, but finding it impossible to get time to prepare for the ISB. How does one prepare for an MBA interview anyways, I ask friends. Jitne moonh utni baatein. Shankar's gifted me a Jack Welch - Winning. It says "you won't need another Management book" on the cover. I doubt it.

The birthday went great. Daga and Mota came with our customary midnight cake. Calls from all who matter came in the morning, except Bhaiya who decided to stick to his TZ instead of mine. A surprise party with Blackforest and Sula Brut after a fake cold welcome by the Jaipur gang. A quick omelette done to a charry death in breakfast, lunch at Something Fishy, coffee at Java City with Shankar and dinner at Little Italy with Bosh and Rekha, who gifted me Kurtas.

Omelette reminds me. The french for egg, I read in a novel recently is oeuf. Now I generally don't care much for pronunciations but oeuf? 3 vowels in a row. How the hell do I even read the word, forget about the right French guttural that scares English speakers. I turned to the Internet and turns out it's easy to pronounce. Sounds like the pleasured grunt of someone enjoying good sex. "I had coddled 'urghs' while my honey coddled me. "

The word, coddle, by the way, is like 'splice'. Strange that it can mean 'treat with indulgence' when it also means 'cook in boiling water'? And while on eggs...

There, a post that speaks of 3 really unrelated things.

Nuts in may

2005-11-21T06:16:00.000-08:00

Reading this nice little book by Richard Gordon, the Wodehouse-like author of the Doctors series - a hilarious story with the brit wit and wry humor. Picked it up for 15 bucks on the way back from the Hyderabad. Yes, May is a perfect month to go nuts. Try it.

Am through to the ISB interview round. 26th is the D-day. another one... Got to make it. Just have to make it. I have to win everything I can control. The case interviews fly past feet clear above my head. The 5 yr/10 yr aims are a blur. Have a meeting with the Bangalore interviewees the day after. And... tomorrow I'll be 27. It's a nice number, says Ashwini, but is it a nice age?

Well, 14th Jan is not far away... so,
What did God say to Gujjus?
"Let there be kites!"

I first

2005-11-11T07:13:00.000-08:00

There seems a substantial change of mindset required to cut over to being a successful leader or entrepreneur from being a brilliant engineer. Graduating from 'smart' & 'intelligent' to also 'aware' & 'creative', reading a good variety by the tonne, considering sleep a requirement rather than a hobby... these are things that I understood well.

But today, I read this quote from Rajat Gupta, former MD, McKinsey. "You have to live with yourself longer than you have to live with others." Straightforward yet striking. Some of us, including me, can take the good samaritan in us to extremes where self-denial seems natural. Of course, a theory says 'If an act of sacrifice gives pleasure, then it's more a selfish act than a selfless one'. But let's not get philosophical. The sentence has practical implications in the professional life, and it has got me well. Time to learn something new, what?

Sapne se sapna

2005-11-04T11:00:00.000-08:00

A dream of mine, before shrouding itself in white, has spawned a substitute which seems more manageable. This same change-of-guard has happened before, when the substitute seemed more achievable, but soon both the old and new dreams were incapacitated. This time, though, the old has left behind a blue spectre that will live on while the new is an orange ball of fire. It's fun to keep thoughts behind the bushes of circumlocuted words, and peek at them later reading your diary!

So, the new dream is to do an MBA, to break out of the software engineer's mould, to rise above the average. If there is comfort of anonymity and security within the masses, there is also the angst of mediocrity and aimlessness. I wonder if I can aim higher. I've cracked the GMAT well, 770 (V: 45 M: 50) and have app'ed to the ISB, Hyderabad. Should make me reach the interview at least. I was quite confident about the interview too until yesterday, when I read some sample interview questions that unsettled me. An engineer knows how to answer direct questions like "What is entropy?" or "What is polymorphism?". But how does one deal with market size estimation of pencils and Titan watches? Lateral thinking, huh? Will need to run to de Bono books soon. Then there are questions on individual comapnies in the industry-of-choice. I fumble in recalling companys' CEOs, and I need to remember their revenues! And yes, I need to have some visibility into my future, my industry's future, my country's future... MBA needs barrels of globe and gyaan, says Mota, our eternal unassuming philosopher from IIML.

I've given a thought to INSEAD and IMD. Still not sure if I should try my luck there. Will decide when I get back to Bangalore. Meanwhile, while in Baroda, let's dream... "If you can dream it, you can do it. Remember, this whole thing was started by a mouse." - Walt Disney

Reja-vu

2005-10-25T14:34:00.000-07:00

Some things that you see around you give you a spooky feeling of them having happened before too. But what if an event brings back a queer deja vu you've had earlier? Reja vu? That's already taken (when it feels it'll happen again). Then maybe re-deja vu? Anyway, it happened to me today. When I looked at Aanchal today morning, it reminded me of the deja vu I had on seeing a kid earlier. Wanted to write about it here, but now decided against it.

I just love how Aanchal stares attentively when someone is talking to her, as if she is getting every word. She will be a month old this 27th. Keep blabbering with enough interesting tone changes and she keeps her eyes focussed on you. Of course, even otherwise, she won't look away (can't move her neck much yet) but will maybe shut one of or both her eyes and eventually doze off. Mom says it's a good idea to keep talking to infants.

And well, it seems bhaiya's office people find it easier to pronounce Aanchal as ankle. I got it from somebody that there's some website somewhere that lists desi names that are 'safe' to use in US. For instance, people with dikshit, parikshit and other rhyming names are in for some friendly jabs. I think Aanchal is safe so long as her parents can keep reminding firangis that it's not fancy in India to name kids after body parts.

So long, going to Dallas tomorrow.

September's over and I'm still young

2005-10-06T08:40:00.000-07:00

It's such a hotch-potch. I have so much going on around me right now; someone could actually consider making a movie out of it all. Of course, it won't be as big a hit as The Truman Show, but I guess there would be enough masala to make the khichdi seem quite appetising.

The best thing that has happened to me is that my niece Aanchal is here. Bhabhi says she is a cute little with bhaiya's cheek and lots of hair. Dad and mom are with them and are going to have a great time. A baby brings with it such a big bundle of joy for everyone related. I'm sure I am not going to have enough of just staring at little Aanchal. I remember Chhoti when she was, well... chhoti. I used to lift her and hold her outstretched like an airplane, swaying her side by side and up and down and making funny sounds that by no means resembled those of a flight engine! Now it's quite impossible even to lift her!

There's the band that we've to revive. We picked so nicely and then suddenly stagnated for lack of instruments. And have the exam coming up; am quite confident that I'll cross 700. And that's all ISB needs. Have also to finish app'ing before leaving.

Have shifted to my new little 'penthouse' in koramangala, which is in effect a 12x11 room with a 5x5 kitchen and a 5x5 bath. But it's quite cosy. The landlord is such a soft man, Mr. Shetty. And I now know what Saurabh gained when he moved out of of Tawakkal's to stay alone. I had never liked staying alone. But I see the benefits now. I haven't changed enough to call myself a loner but I definitely see some good in it. I have to do some gift shopping this weekend for all the people I will be visiting, have to check what happened to Vaishali's parcel that aunty was supposed to send, and maybe help Priya in house hunting. Have to go to yelahanka country club too.

The Nandi hills trip of mine couple of weeks ago was eventfully uneventful. Couldn't catch the sunrise for which I started at 5. That fickle ball showed up at 8 high up in the sky when finally the fog and the clouds gave way. Spent a small fortune talking ISD to Smita and then got a flat tyre on the way back, and then the crazy mechanic fitted the wheel out of alignment. Came back to Bangalore wobbling all the way!

But where's the movie material? Hmm, let's just say sumeetme has all his shares underwater, has lost all options before they could vest, but is banking on the money market and his PF.

Woody moods

2005-09-23T21:53:00.000-07:00

He's a funny guy, this Woody Allen. I picked up his 'The complete prose' and am relishing it page by page like I would a delicious dessert. Such a book can't and shouldn't be devoured in a day. The chapters are whacky, nonsensical and quite often pointless, but they are witty. Sample some:

A fine example of demonstration was the Boston tea party, where outraged Americans disguised as Indians dumped British tea into the harbor. later, Indians disguised as outraged Americans dumped actual British into the harbor. following that, the British disguised as tea, dumped each other into the harbor. finally, the German mercenaries clad only in costumes from the Trojan women leapt into the harbor for no apparent reason.

Is it better to be the lover or the loved one ? Neither, if your cholesterol is over six hundred. By love, of course, I refer to romantic love- the love between man and woman, rather than between mother and child, or a boy and his dog, or two headwaiters.
The marvelous thing is that when one is in love there is an impulse to sing. This must be resisted at all costs, and care must also be taken to see that ardent male doesn't "talk" the lyrics of songs. To be loved, certainly, is different from being admired, as one can be admired from afar but to really love someone it is essential to be in the same room with the person, crouching behind the drapes.
To be a really good lover, then, one must be strong and yet tender. How strong? I suppose being able to lift fifty pounds should do it. Bear in mind also that to the lover the loved one is always the most beautiful thing imaginable even though to a stranger she may be indistinguishable from an order of smelts. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,. Should the beholder have poor eyesight, he can ask the nearest person which girls look good. (Actually, the prettiest ones are almost always the most boring, and that is why some people feel there is no God.)
"The joys of love are but a moment long," sang the troubadour, "but the pain of love endures forever." This was almost a hit song, but the melody was too close to "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy."

Going again to the US in the coming month. This time it's a personal trip to meet Aanchal, my niece, who is going to come to this world anyday now. Dad and mom are already there. I'll meet Vaishali and Smita too. On the way back, I do a quick stopover at Delhi just after Didi's birthday and then Diwali with Dad in Baroda. And yes, just before leaving for this frenzied trip of 5 places in 2 weeks, I give the GMAT and finish apping to the ISB too. Life's an adventure for the next 3 weeks. Why did I pack so much in? I always do that. But this time there was a reason. Idle mind, cupid's workshop... :-).

Daal Baati, Dhol Kartaal, Dhola Maaru

2005-08-22T11:43:00.000-07:00

An eventful and fun trip to Jaipur, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer. My first ever visit to Rajasthan and I am wowed by its food, forts and music.

We do have daal baati churma in bangalore... Roomali. But the real thing was what I had in that roadside rundown restaurant called Agarwal Hotel or something. The baati's were almost charcoals, burnt nice and brown. और दाल ऐसी मिरच कि हर कही से पानी टपक रहे! And the jodhpuri thaal in the ghanta ghar haweli! And by far the best, the dinner at Chokhi Dhaani (Clean Village) in Jaipur, a theme viallge setup with camel rides, puppet show, kalbeliya, luhaar, jaadu, teer-kaman, nat (nut... tight-rope walker), and an hour and a half of eating... Makai, bejar, bajra, gehun rotis. Gatta, khichdi, baingan, maalpua, ghee... They serve ghee there not with spoon but with a ladle! All 4 of us had a running tummy or a clogged one by the next day. And the LMB, Lakshmi Mithai Bhandar, the hallmark of Jaipur Sweets! I must've put on a couple kilos by now.

We started off with the Hawamal; then the Amer Fort (with a sheesh mahal like in mughal-e-azam but derelict), Jalmahal, Jaigarh (has the world's biggest cannon of those times) in Jaipur. Umaid Bhawan, which is now a 5 start ITC hotel too, Ghanta Ghar haweli (standing grand in a seedy market) and Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur. And the Jaisalmer Fort with jain temples some 600 year old. And Jaisalmer being the edge of the Thar... Did a long camel ride to the sunset. Quiet nice, except that the sun set behind the clouds, instead of the horizon! Kela, but we had a good time running through the expanses of sand.

I saved the best for the last. Everywhere we went there was good folk music. Chokhi Dhani had a family with baapu on the ektaara, amma singing and the two kids dancing a little abruptly out-of-beat but quite cutely. Mehrangarh fort had another such miya-biwi pair. There also was a dadaji sitting under an arch gate, captivating people with evening ragas on a sombre-toned big flute that would've drained the breath of Shankar Mahadevan. And such humbleness, that he asks when done "ठीक है?" Got talking to him about his family. Said his grandson liked to watch WWF rather than learn any music. And it was a surprise for him, when we said WWF is all playacting! The best music we had was at Jaisalmer's desert resort. We had a group playing exclusively for us. Anwar Khan, Putul Khan and party. I have three of their songs recorded. Can upload if interested. And there was alcohol available. Although I would have liked to focus on the music, I got drinking and before I knew it, I was happy. Up and dancing with the young kid. This kid, by the way, sang wonderfully too. And the guy on the kartaal (two flat wooden pieces in a hand, one held firmly between thumb and forefinger, the other losely on the palm) was as flashy as our Chinky (bikram kumoi) on stage, while the dholaki was as silent and rigid as me on stage. The girls told me later that I danced cute to begin with, but later I started moving my hips. Guess I was quite drunk by then cause for the life of me I can't figure out the muscle in my body that controls my hips. Anyways, I had a good time!

One last thing, I had gone to Rajasthan with an image in mind of Rajputs with long twirling moustaches walking through city markets overflowing with bandhni dresses and chaddars. The only twirling moustache I saw was on a guard at Clark's Amer, and he may as well have been a non-Rajput. Anyhow, he was much better a sight than the tamizh John Kennedy (w/o Fitzgerald) , the guard at Jenny's, Trichy.

It was good fun and made me forget my troubles for a couple of days. And eventful? It's a blog, not a diary.

This ones for me

2005-05-12T10:23:00.000-07:00

I want to look back at this one and remember what I feel right now. This is not a journal entry or a view or a recap. It's a placeholder, a dog tag for my thoughts. Now, would I be so lost that I fail to recall what made me write this? Let me just throw in a couple of helpful useless lines...
Some blandnes soured, while some pleasantness sweetened. Wished against wish and discovered that the bright light wasn't there to blind me but to guide me, to it and to heaven. Joy is distant, hope is near. Tenterhooks.

Blog vs. diary

2005-05-03T03:02:00.000-07:00

Back in bangalore now. An interesting point Smita brought up for not using a blog for her journal while I did, was of privacy. What all, that happened to me in these 3 weeks, can I put down in my blog? I find there's a sizeable chunk of memories of bland, sweet, bitter, tangy, spicy and other tastes that are not going to go in here. Is a blog, then, just a mode for outward expression for extroverts? What about others who actually feel for and about many people and things, want to write about them, but not show but a few close people. Maybe blogs should have a "share" feature so that articles can be read by only particular people.

A diary is something quite personal to you. Back in school when I did maintain one, mostly to jot down my second face experiences, I sometimes narrated for someone else reading it, and sometimes recounted for me reminiscing. But I knew if someone does read my diary, it will be with my consent. So, in went the details of every experience without refinement or reservations. Can't do that here, can I?

I actually liked my way of mixing up hindi and english seamlessly, and consciously avoided writing the hindi portions in Roman script. I can't do that in the blog. Well, actually I can... ऐसे, पर जहमत बहुत करनी पडेगी! And well, no one can take away the old-world charm of the diary. Leafing through well-thumbed yellowing pages to relive your life...

In favor of the blog is the maintainability, ease-of-use and most importantly the throughput. Everyone types faster than writes nowadays. And when a thought strikes a software engineer, he can start typing them after a couple of mouse clicks or hotkey-strokes, depending on his nerdity. Not so with diaries.

I guess I'll maintain them both, the balanced middle-path guy that I am.

Bet you I'll lose

2005-04-26T14:31:00.000-07:00

We three went to Foxwoods this weekend. It's primarily an indian (red) Casino and an all-in-one thing with food, drinks, entertainment. There was live jazz and there was also a dance club called B.B. King. Quite a pleasing coincidence for all these 2 weeks I've been listening to BB when in my car. It was closed though... not that I'd have rocked the dance floor if it were open. The people dancing with the live jazz were all above 50, and a real portly old man moving just his belly and hands, and intermittently a leg looked cute. A short old lady was not at all graceful but could move her shoulders quite nice, so her dance was mostly well timed shirks. Sat there wathcing and listening a few songs, then on bhaiya's behest left in the middle of a song. I said, impolite. Bhaiya said, chalta hai.

So at the casino, we didn't know how to play any game. What we knew to play or rather operate was the slot machine. So we got $40 worth of quarters and I squandered away my $20 in 10 minutes on 3 machines. Got back redemption tickets worth some 6-7 bucks. But bhabhi, true to her lucky-lady acclaim that bhaiya had talked about won us back what we had started with, just a quarter shy of $40. Baniyon ki aabru rakh li. I've decided to be back the next time with the knowledge of craps and blackjack, and win some good bucks. Already gathered some basics at the lunch table today from a colleague. Only once before have I won something I didn't toil to earn. Almost everyone curses his luck in chance games, and still people manage to find time and money to indulge. And they say, house always wins in Casinos. Odds are always against the players. Gambling is big money. I wonder why gujjus here haven't entered this line of business yet. Is it prohibited? Maybe there's a federal law. It certainly makes sense not to allow gujjus, else we'll soon see dollar rains in Gujarat.

I also clicked away furiously with my new Canon SD500. In the car, at the shopping mall and at foxwoods. Almost exhausted the 32 MB card and then when trying to figure out the free space, formatted the card. Then re-exhausted the card and acted smarter this time by not checking the free space and changing to the mammoth 1 Gig card. It's sure to last me the week provided I don't go trigger happy like yesterday night. I've to capture the 4 cisco buildings, and the hotel and the team here if possible. And this weekend is sure going to need all the memory I have in that card.

Rain on the highways

2005-04-25T11:59:00.000-07:00

In my car, headed to bhaiya's place, and parked at the Charlton Plaza on the I-90. Want to spend some ten fifteen minutes here, cause i started too early and by the time I reach there, I want bhaiya to be there too. Plus it's raining... aah the rains.

Now this is one thing I just have to write about. I love rain even when it brings slush, water logs, traffic jams, and even national calamities. If I can opt between death in an arid desert suffering a draught and in Cherrapunji hit by lightning under the pouring skies, I'd pick the latter. And not just because it'll be quicker. So, when it rains in Bangalore I like to look outside the glass windows of my office. I like riding my bike in the rain. Papa would say it's not safe and others say i'll catch a cold. But they don't see the point. Rain lifts my spirits up! Driving in the rain isn't bad too; its got that fuzzy feeling of cosy comfort you get when in a balcony with a cup of tea looking out into a cats-and-dogs rain . I had to strain some to focus my eyes on the road ahead and not on the dancing wiper in front. It almost had me in a trance!

It's raining right now in Masachussetts and Connecticut. It has rained before too during my stay, but always in the nights. So when today morning it rained and then it rained again, I knew I was in for my first drive in the rain! My window in Holiday Inn faces wilderness - a field of green grass and woods beyond. And it doesn't open! *$%@#. Pushing one pane to a side I managed a thin opening thru which I looked out into the greenery, felt the drizzle, smelt the freshness... witnessed monsoon making love to spring! And then got back to work. Remember the ladder?

The rains on the highways here doesn't slow down the cars a bit. People trust their governments to not have chasm-sized cracks on the highways, they trust their anti-accident cars with anti-skid wheels, anti-lock brakes, anti-fogging AC's, they trust each other to drive at least sanely if not safely besides trusting in God. Good thing. I pretty much started off shuddering at the thought of skidding off the road turning at 60 mph or missing in my misty rearview some oncoming car in the left lane, and getting my car royally banged. But soon I was myself in the left lane coasting at 75. People tell me it's officially safe to add 10 to the speed limits here. I wonder why then the officers didn't keep the limits hard at +10 of the curent ones.

The sky is overcast right now at Charlton. Rain's reduced to a drizzle. There are two girls going jumping holding one each of their daddy's hands. They must think about me, "what a geek! playing with his laptop when he could be playing in the rain! Learn from us..." And several couples walking by my car. Let me go fill some petrol in the car, and then head to bhaiya's place. They and my SD500 are waiting for me there! I just have to be careful not to let the wiper hypnotise me.

Topless ladder, makes me madder

2005-04-22T21:17:00.000-07:00

To begin with I was a happy software engineer who had a life of his own, who valued his lazy weekends, who fiercely guarded his right to fun, who worked on things that excited him, whose dream was 2 promotions, double of the then salary... and like many stable headed guys - eventually, home, wife and kids. It'll all be settled then. "Life mein settle ho jaane ko mangta".

I had good fun and I got 2 promotions and the salary doubled too. But every heartening letter handed over to me by my changing managers has had a barcoded price tag attached. Every subsequent grade takes my engineering and people-skill requirements to the 'next' level. And I desperately grope for a hand rail while going up rung by rung on my professoinal ladder. There doesn't seem to be an end to this climbing. I've reached a crossroad. Funny, how every down-in-the-dump moment in life seems a crossroad of decisions, while the up-on-cloud-nine moments never have any horns of dilemma attached to them. You never ask yourself, "What a wonderful evening! Should I go biking, or should i go binging?" Yes, so the crossroad... decide priorities like my dad decided. Gave up a plumb job to stick with family. Do I want my personal life or my work to be the bigger marble in the jar of my life?

I was not made for slogging. I never wished to slog. I wanted to do good work and not lots of work. With an 8 hour minimum sleep requirement, I could never have dreamt doing what I have seen Mohan and Cynthia do. But see what the ladder is doing to me. It's practically driving me crazy. I am here in the U.S., so close to my bhaiya and bhabhi, and all I am doing is code away? That too on a Friday night? When I could be shopping with them, when I could be seeing places, when I could be enjoying a good drive on the I-90 on my way to Connecticut. Shucks! Bring me down, I don't like it up here.

The Journey here - II

2005-04-20T21:17:00.000-07:00

Day 2… Reached Frankfurt airport at about 7 in the morning. I had heard about it being the biggest airport in the world/Europe depending on how big the narrator wanted to make it seem. But because I could’ve compared it only with airports in the 4 indian metros and Bangalore, I found it incomparably big. As we started walking towards B24, we realized that we were a bit hungry and Sri pleasantly floated the idea of a round of Heinekens at the Goethe bar. I had actually been a little shy to ask the flight attendants for another glass of wine, or something stronger, and hence was more sober than I’d have wanted to. Therefore I agreed. And so we retraced our steps back to central shopping/eating place at the airport. Sri went away to the loo, and I used the time to buy a couple of chocolate gifts. Looking at all the different alcohols made me chide myself all the more for not being myself with the flight attendants. Gods sake, they were not more than ultra-refined sagar waiters, and I deserved all the drinks I could've asked for.

Anyways, so after that I roamed around a little in the other shops in their, including the gift/curio shop which was selling t-shirts and swarowsky. It reminded me of shweta’s rocking chair and smita’s wine bottle. I looked if I could find them there, and see how costlier they were here than in Bangalore, maybe to find how much I saved than if Dadaji were in Hitler’s army… The baniya brain. Then the beer at Goethe Bar, and breakfast of breads, fruits and orange juice. Made myself look foolish once more. After ordering the beer, which was Palmer and not Heineken, I said “And two vegetarian breakfasts please”. The good waiter asked “that’d be with coffee or tea?” Guessing he was trying to thrust another item from the menu at us, I said with a joke’y grin, “With the beer we just ordered!” And he informed us cordially pointing to the menu that the beverage comes with the breakfast. Sheesh!!! Backed off the joke’y grin and put on a sheepish smile. Well, actually beer with that breakfast was an odd combo, cause it brought together beer, tea and orange juice together in my tummy for the first time in my life. And they didn’t like it in there with each other too much. Then we went off to catch the flight.

Then another social hara-kiri… While sitting at the waiting lounge, the 3 drinks reached their final destination in me after running thru the system. Plus I had also to brush my teeth. I realized there were no rest rooms around, and I had to come out of the lounge. So, I handed over the boarding pass back to the girl at the counter and took a quick look at the two doors. One had a woman with ‘Damen’ drawn on it, so I entered the other one, only to realize once in there, that was neither a urinal nor a pot. There was a wash basin though, and I actually thought let me go ahead and brush my teeth. But then something inside me thankfully shouted out, and I came out to find a couple of glances thrown my way. I realized it was a baby loo! I hope I had come out quick enough for people to conjecture my using the wash basin! Went red-faced to another one some distance away with a man ( I double-checked) and ‘Herren’ drawn on it. So, on this flight I made good friends with one of the flight attendants. He was called Mark I guess. Nice pleasant face and cropped hair. Looked cool, and he served me couple of good drinks. Got drunk, finished Peter Colaco and then watched a little of ocean’s twelve and dozed off. Woke up and it was just few more hours to landing. Sri was engrossed in Naipaul’s India – a wounded civilization. Later he said he didn’t like the book much. The thoughts of u-know-what kept me company.

So landed at boston finally at around 1:30, and stayed in the aircraft for another hour, before the ‘U.S. Authorities cleared the plane for disembarkment’. And then the queue at the immigration/customs took another hour! And they say ‘it happens only in India’! Went to hertz to collect our pre-booked car. Now, I was all fired up about driving a car and all, but good sense prevailed and I declined Sri’s suggestion that I drive. Boston to Boxboro is just around 30-40 miles. It took us 2 and half hours to get here. How? Like true software guys, we went with yahoo maps ignoring the common sense and the actual MA map that we got from hertz. And that showed the shortest route, which was also quite cryptic. So, we got lost twice. I did look around at the houses and the old buildings in boston and neaby cities. And they seemed much more appealing than the pictures of San Jose and the bay area with huge buildings. I so can live out my retirement years here. Maybe I will, who knows. So ‘Middle road’ was what we had to take to reach holiday inn, bxb. And it was supposed to be 3.7 miles from exit 43 on RT-2 West. But after 0.9 miles we met with a T junction, guessed one way, and met one more 2 miles later. Came back, took the other one, went straight to RT-2 west again, came back again, took the same one this time, now not in search of the middle road but some gas station with a helpful soul in it. One such chinky soul of a girl offered suggestions even after confirming that she knew nuts about the area by asking ‘Boxboro? Which city?’. But another wizened old man was helpful with good directions and good jokes so we bought a couple of dollars stuff from his station, and finally reached holiday inn.

Went straight to calling bhaiya and smita. Talked for long, then thought of taking a bath before bhaiya came to pick me up. Just thought. Went for a quick drink and dinner with bhaiya and bhabhi. And then on the way back to bhaiya’s home, and then also till 4 in the morning, was talking to bhaiya and bhabhi about the current goings on.

The journey here - I

2005-04-19T12:36:00.000-07:00

So, the journey has begun finally. Should I say it’s been a long wait. Frankly I’ve never ‘waited’ to go to U.S of A. But I’ve definitely wanted to go places, in, around or far away from India. I’ve 3 weeks to live the few dreams I’ve stored away in a safe corner somewhere.

So, I started off to home from office quite late. Delayed attending a meeting with our director called to call upon us to bring the new hires to the ‘social fabric’ of our team. Shankar came over to drop me off at the airport. I called up Mota, Sunni, Dhingra while on the way. Mota, who is leaving our froggy paradise the next to find his identity, his purpose, his calling in a ½ BHK somewhere in the airport road. Sunni who is getting married on the 5th may to Ranjita, his love, and then leaving Tawakkal’s too. Dhingra who has left Bangalore for good, become the brand manager of Peter England for North India. Then met Pondi at the airport, who will be moving to Boston soon. Shankar by the way, is getting engaged on 24th to Roopa. I enjoyed her going mushy lovey-dovey for shanky over the PC phone, not realizing she was on speakers! And while on the way on the auto talked to Shanky about the problems at work, in life and in my sinuses. Once at the airport, talked to Papa, Sasurji, Sasu/Buku and Rekha. Called Shweta but seemingly she had forgotten her cell at home again.

Met Sri on the flight. I asked, so what book are you carrying for the long journey ahead. He says none. I say why. He says I was thinking we will do some talking. Now, I am socially quite active. But while traveling somehow I prefer to be incommunicado. Reason being this is the only time I get to do a little introspection. I remember in my last long delhi-bangalore train journey of 36 hours, I spoke for a sum total of 3 minutes. But Sri was going to attempt intelligent conversation with me in that mode. We began with cribbing about Bangalore as all software engineers, and I was in good luck, because I had been reading Peter Colaco’s Bangalore - a century of tales from cantonment and city. We then moved on to our professional futures, our marriages and Cisco managers. This guy can actually make me go on talking even when I don’t want to! Only one other person can lay claim to this asset. The flight from Bangalore to Chennai was otherwise uneventful.

Chennai was 30 degrees at 9 in the night! Quickly checked in, and then called up JC and Priya after begging for change from one and all. One good soul actually gave away the only 1 rupee coin he had! And another stopped short a phone call to help. Such wonderful people and we curse Indians for their heartlessness. Finally managed to gather some 6 bucks and split them 2:1 between JC and Priya.

Post the measly dinner of patties and my much needed medicines, the talks actually turned to debate with Sri! Well he started it. He broached my close-to-heart topic, communal discord. Most of our gods are just kings or great leaders or just heroes. How many people worship one of the trinity compared to innumerable people with affinity for Ram and Krishna. So one day, people of the Gandhi clan, Manmohan Singh (the liberator who got us over our foreign debt), Rajnikant, Khushboo, Tendulkar stand as much chance at Godhood as does Satya Sai Baba, who declares he is the next Visnu incarnate after Ram and Krishna. The unified code of law, do we need hindu/muslim personal laws. Aryans/Dravidians, were the Veda’s just plagiarized from Dravidian literature by the Aryans. India is in a bad state, it’s a chaos… Well, that’s when I got into the debate mode. And when Sri brought up Gujarat, I went on on a monologue about what I know from first person accounts of my friends and family in Baroda. The big divide is very much palpable now in most Gujju cities. Can we do anything about it? I said I try to reduce the acerbity in the hindus I meet back home, but that’s about it. Sri wants change and soon. He’s got a friend who gave up a Microsoft job to join Civil services here. Now that’s some India Today material. So the debate went on mostly centred around why the religions we have now are what they are. The laid back and assimilating hindu’s, the staunch and quite masculine muslims, the convert! Convert! proselytizing Christians. Blah blah blah… for over an hour and a half. By the end, as happens with most of my debates, I started blabbering about the flight, the free local calls from the waiting lounge, and how I spent good time hunting for change downstairs, will they serve food on flight … All this to end the debate and soothe frayed nerves, more mine than his! He is one cool headed guy. Listens good deal, and brings back the debates flying tangentially to the crux quite effectively.

Well, anyways, so boarded the flight… I was actually trying to be more suave than I am normally, which is next to gauche. I feigned an accent when asking for directions and wishing good evening to the german attendant. If u know me, u know how I said this ‘Fifty-three G, where would it be… Thank you, good evening’. I then reproached myself and found 53 G and Sri. Sri went off to sleep almost immediately, and read thru some chapters of Peter Colaco’s. I guess by the time it reaches its owner, the book would be all but in tatters. But then a gift is a gift, regardless of how used it is! Isn’t it? Then started writing this piece, interrupted pleasantly by the attendant for some good Red wine (Isle was the brand) and would you believe it, Lemon Rice!! Well well, guess the germans just wanted to make us all Indians feel at home. But will someone tell them, most non-tambs hate Lemon Rice! And that too with good wine! Well forgive them God, or Rajni. So I guess I am done with the piece, and with the wine and water in and with my laptop on my tummy, my bladder is complaining. So good bye till later…

An American Loo Story

2005-04-19T08:51:00.000-07:00

Americans value their privacy more than any other race, so I was told. You can't call on someone without calling up first, you shouldn't knock on unknown doors, when lost in some town to ask for directions to I-90 or to a gas station. Even at the queues at Six Flags there was good breathing space between unacquainted people, although none between them cute cuddly couples who were busy saving each other's lips from the scorching sun above.

It's beyond me, therefore, why there are no separators between most urinals here. Of course not many men would be interested in taking a peek when taking a pee. But why not ensure the privacy of some vulnerably gifted men from prying eyes of others with right ear-rings? One granite slab of 3'x2' at the right height is all you need. Back home, we have them nice and big, the slabs that is. Sometimes taller than required...

So what's the reason then? Maybe it's the carefree open culture of men's locker rooms taken to men's lookar rooms. Maybe it's a byproduct of the have-it-flaunt-it ideology prevalent here. Maybe that’s one reason for gay abundance in the western part of the world. Regardless of reasons or ramifications, I did take time to adjust to the revelation. I can't look a little to the left or right as I am used to. Have to stare straight ahead at the flush knob, or up at the ceiling or down at...

And then there was this McDonald's restroom on I-95 where there was no flush handle and no auto-flush either. I moved away, swayed left right in front of what I thought looked like an infra-red sensor, but nothing happened. If you know me, picture me or else picture yourself doing that in there and you'll know how funny I looked. Being a reformed Indian citizen, I didn't want to leave it as is. That's when a good man noticed and said "No flush in there. that's a waterless urinal." Looked up the web and found: http://www.rotaloo.com/03urinal.html. U.S. - now a pioneer in bathroom technology too!

To go or not to go...

2005-04-17T04:50:00.000-07:00

I am here in Boxborough, Masachussetts. A constant hassle for me till now has been getting my sandwiches or burgers or bagels made. Back in an the Bangalore Subway, the guy asks a minimum of questions, which one has to answer in a Yes/No. And not multiple choice, "American or Swiss or Poblano cheese" or even worse open ended ones, "What else would you like in your sandwich?" To begin with I used to baffle a guess, "Umm, Poblano" only to be looked at patronizingly as if "Poor new desi, doesn't know his ABCD!" And then my manager told me that I should ask for Swiss, Swiss is best. "What bread would you like?" I haven't yet found out all the choices for that one. But I should never have said, "Umm, wheat bread?". In another place I haughtily said "What've you got?". And with a very impressive and equally incomprehensible accent she rattled off the options which flew high above me, and said quite helpfully in the end "Or I could give you a wrap", which I understood cent percent. I ended up eating a veg wrap when I wanted a sandwich.

And I've heard quite a few styles of 'here, to go' variations. This actually sounds quite hip to me. Crisp, communcative and with as much politeness as the customer merits by adding 'sir', 'would u want it', 'you'd like it', etc at the right places. I liked the expression, and so also the people using them, esepecially of the right gender. I wonder if back in Baroda "rehvanu ke javanu?" would catch on as easily.

Anyways, so now I've learnt some and gained good confidence. So when presented with them complex choices, I still fumble around in my mind, but with a smart smile, an outward me speaks up "As you would like it, please!"

But frogs don't rock...

2005-03-30T11:28:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I know. 'Rock' was something i wanted because i am not yet over my college days when few kind souls, not fans just kind souls, sent me swooping to cloud nine, by giving me 'guitar god' and other equally undeserved and unimaginative epithets. During the few tolerable performances of RECT Western Music Troupe, named 'The Duhs' by our most creative member Deepti Zachariah, we had actually managed to impress, while all we wanted was to salvage pride! There were also Chandrashekhar (Vicky), Arvind (Gandhi), Karthik (K) Vikash (did he have a nick name?) with me. From the Festember 2000 to Leap nite of 2001, we came a long way. And eventually could shake a bit if not rock. So rock...

And well, I have been a frog in the well. India is my home and is going to be so. But why haven't I ventured to the snow capped himalayas or the backwaters of kerala yet, let alone using my passport. And then there are people, of the wrong gender, who think I'm a Casanova, when actually I am that mythical frog waiting for the right kiss. And last and the least, my current residence in Bangalore is at a place called Tawakkal's, and I am told tawakkal in Tamil is a frog. So ribbid...

Travelogues and Travails

2005-03-17T02:59:00.000-08:00

I've been around a little. Enough to find that go anywhere in our beautiful country, you always will have something to complain. The heat, the dust, the beggars, the traffic, the crowd, the stench, the hygiene, or lack of it... and thousand other things.

Should anyone try to hold such observations back? I guess not. Each to his own liking, and I like my journals to be smelling beautiful. Let's see...

Born in Bihar, brought up in Gujarat, graduated from Tamil Nadu, and one of the million software engineers in Bangalore... and having three good friends, from Maharashtra - Vaishali Pathak, Bengal - Smita Chakravorty and Karnataka - Shankar Jayaraman. That's given me some coverage. I remember, when I was a kid, we used go picnic'ing to the Maithon Dam near Dhanbad on the Barakar river. Or at least we went there once :-). That habit of exponentially increasing the frequency of good things spurred on by Mr. Nostos. Like "Aah, how we used to sing and dance in the rain on the water tank on our terrace!" or "You used to bring me such lovely flowers!" ...

Anyways, so all I remember of those (or the) picnic was that I felt I have to go places. This is one great place, so unlike the boxy Sindri. There'd certainly be nicer places in Bihar, or thinking bigger India. Mind you, I was a toddler then. So Venice, Vegas or Toronto didn't occur naturally to me. And that dad once killed a goat on the way back with our black sturdy Ambassador! The Big Ambassador! The 'Shaan Car'! The animal would've boasted in goatee heaven, most goats go there, atoning all sins by giving their lives for the nutritional betterment of the society, 'you lowly creatures, slain by rusted knives! Look at me, I was done for by India's pride!"

It was a dream alright to go places. But I find I have never once gone out of urban India, forget about going out of India. Have been to the metros, but never the mofussil towns like Pankaj Mishra, who is a fellow Bihari, and whose book Butter Chicken, I have a sweet and sour opinion about. But next month is going to be my first journey to the haven of s/w engineers. So I thought let me start a blog, and use it in stead of my old diary, which is now so full of emotions, I can sometimes hear it cry. And I started a blog... Ribbid.