Kavi - jeevit ab bhi

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,
C                                                 Dm

आस लगी थी, मास गये घन, आयो आखिर ताज। आयो आखिर ताज।
C                                          Dm                                                C

आयो डार डार बसंत आज

C

काहे फूल फूल जन ना हँसे

Dm
सब शीत मीत खुल ना रचें

Dm
नए प्राण भये भगवान राज।। आयो ।।
      C | G  Dm      C        

साँवरे सजे थे बदरा, के थे श्वेत हिम सघन
C                                           Dm

आज लागे नव धरा को, साफ सुंदर नव गगन
C                                                 Dm

नहीं ऊन धून, के बहार सुन, कर आकुलाए छेड साज आयो
Dm                     G                    G    Dm  C

हरित मास में, त्वरित साँस से, जपता जा ओ कवि,
C                    G                      G                      C

मेघ है नहीं, हेम जा कहीं लापता, आओ रवि
Dm            C                  G                    C

फिर जाग आग बरसा भूमी पर,
Dm

भंग रंग युगल चखें होरी, तर
Dm

वसन मगन तन मन निलाज।। आयो ।।
G          Dm       C

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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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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... :-).