... because a lot of things are happening on the personal front.
I am going through a very bad patch, it is better that I do not tempt myself to write, for I may end up writing something, which I would regret later. See you folks around.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Goosepimples...
...rise on my arms, even as I read my own article on Mysore, which Churumuri carries here.
A big thank you to Churumuri, for carrying my article, and to Shastri, for pointing it out to me. You guys made my day. I am proud that my writing found its way into a forum where titans like T.S Satyan, T.J.S George, Bhamy Shenoy and Sunaad Raghuram muse, and all the more because I did not have to do anything for it (except the writing, of course).
As email forwards, my article seems to have reached into the hearts of every software engineer either from Mysore, or who has done engineering in Mysore. Immense joy comes when they think it has been scripted by somebody from SJCE. Ironically, this "somebody from SJCE" did his engineering in neighbouring Mandya. I guess the assumption is because I have mentioned Jayciana right after the NIE-SJCE feud.
I also see, by the time Churumuri carried it, well-meaning people have tweaked the text to include their favourite hang-outs, which were missed out. Phalamrutha joins Penguin as a ice-cream joint, and GTR dosa sits pretty with the Mylari dosa I had mentioned. In retrospect, when I go through the comments of everyone of you guys - Adi, Shark, Vamshi (thank you all for carrying it as a main post) and of course, Anu (who brought me to that frame of mind here, in the first place), I do realise that I missed out mentioning quite a lot of things - some which I had experienced, some which I had not - I intend to, on my next visit.
Coming back to churumuri, there ensues an oft-repeated discussion in the comments section - how Mysore was polluted by the influx of IT community. Well, I will not get drawn into that debate, I have only this much to say - Striving to help Mysore retain its status as heritage city does not mean depriving it of development. If we are doing it even unconsciously, then we are doing a great disservice to the city which we love so much.
And before I end, a few gems which elicited wide smiles on this already radiant face - Nostalgic Mysorean says, "Surely this sums up the Mysore I lived in from 1948-1965", and Jeevarathna says "This is actually from Infosys bill board by a infosyan and not meant for public circulation". Really?
A big thank you to Churumuri, for carrying my article, and to Shastri, for pointing it out to me. You guys made my day. I am proud that my writing found its way into a forum where titans like T.S Satyan, T.J.S George, Bhamy Shenoy and Sunaad Raghuram muse, and all the more because I did not have to do anything for it (except the writing, of course).
As email forwards, my article seems to have reached into the hearts of every software engineer either from Mysore, or who has done engineering in Mysore. Immense joy comes when they think it has been scripted by somebody from SJCE. Ironically, this "somebody from SJCE" did his engineering in neighbouring Mandya. I guess the assumption is because I have mentioned Jayciana right after the NIE-SJCE feud.
I also see, by the time Churumuri carried it, well-meaning people have tweaked the text to include their favourite hang-outs, which were missed out. Phalamrutha joins Penguin as a ice-cream joint, and GTR dosa sits pretty with the Mylari dosa I had mentioned. In retrospect, when I go through the comments of everyone of you guys - Adi, Shark, Vamshi (thank you all for carrying it as a main post) and of course, Anu (who brought me to that frame of mind here, in the first place), I do realise that I missed out mentioning quite a lot of things - some which I had experienced, some which I had not - I intend to, on my next visit.
Coming back to churumuri, there ensues an oft-repeated discussion in the comments section - how Mysore was polluted by the influx of IT community. Well, I will not get drawn into that debate, I have only this much to say - Striving to help Mysore retain its status as heritage city does not mean depriving it of development. If we are doing it even unconsciously, then we are doing a great disservice to the city which we love so much.
And before I end, a few gems which elicited wide smiles on this already radiant face - Nostalgic Mysorean says, "Surely this sums up the Mysore I lived in from 1948-1965", and Jeevarathna says "This is actually from Infosys bill board by a infosyan and not meant for public circulation". Really?
Monday, September 04, 2006
The Kaleidoscope
"What is life, dad?" the kid asked.
The father ruffled the kid's dark brown locks, and took him into his arms. "Life, son", he said, "is a mirror."
The little one seemed satisfied for some time, and looked over his father's shoulders, gazing at the two sets of footprints in the sand, which had now reduced to one.
"Can I see myself in it?" he asked.
"Yes, son. But you have to be really patient, as the image does not form so easily."
"Why not?"
The father sat on a rock, put his son on his lap, and pointed to the waves at his feet. The kid peered intently, seeking some crab wiggling away, or a shell, which he could take home.
"Do you see yourself in it, son?" the father asked, pointing to the wobbly reflection of their hunched bodies in the water.
The kid nodded his head and smiled a Yes. The father explained, "When the water hits the shore, it is in a hurry, but it has all the time in the world to go back. You cannot see yourself in it when it comes in, but as it goes back, you can see your reflection in it."
"Life's mirror is similar, son. It reflects what you show to it. Show some anger, and it retaliates. Smile, and it smiles back at you. Show some love, and it will love you back."
"How many mirrors do I have?" the kid piped up, interested in the turn of the conversation.
"We have separate mirrors, son, for each of the people we know. One for me, one for the uncle at the toy-store, one for each of your friends, for each place you have been to. Each mirror is of a different colour, and depending on how much love you put into it, it acquires a deeper colour."
"Where are all these mirrors? Do we have to take them everywhere?"
The father smiled at the innocent question. He loved to explain things like this to the little one.
"When we move on, we cannot take the mirrors as a whole, so we break the whole thing down, and pick up a shard of the broken glass, as a souvenir. When you have lived your life, son, you will have a number of shards with you, which you put into a kaleidoscope. And as you turn it over and over, you see many different shards in random combinations, shining in the light. Each shard will remind you of the mirror it came from, and how you helped color it. And if you smile when you gaze through the kaleidoscope, it means you have lived your life well."
"Colourscope?" the kid looked up, confused.
"Ka-lee-dow-scope", the father syllabled, setting his son back on the sand. "Come, I will make you one when we go home."
And the kid held his hand and pranced away, sure that he would get something to play with in the evening.
The father ruffled the kid's dark brown locks, and took him into his arms. "Life, son", he said, "is a mirror."
The little one seemed satisfied for some time, and looked over his father's shoulders, gazing at the two sets of footprints in the sand, which had now reduced to one.
"Can I see myself in it?" he asked.
"Yes, son. But you have to be really patient, as the image does not form so easily."
"Why not?"
The father sat on a rock, put his son on his lap, and pointed to the waves at his feet. The kid peered intently, seeking some crab wiggling away, or a shell, which he could take home.
"Do you see yourself in it, son?" the father asked, pointing to the wobbly reflection of their hunched bodies in the water.
The kid nodded his head and smiled a Yes. The father explained, "When the water hits the shore, it is in a hurry, but it has all the time in the world to go back. You cannot see yourself in it when it comes in, but as it goes back, you can see your reflection in it."
"Life's mirror is similar, son. It reflects what you show to it. Show some anger, and it retaliates. Smile, and it smiles back at you. Show some love, and it will love you back."
"How many mirrors do I have?" the kid piped up, interested in the turn of the conversation.
"We have separate mirrors, son, for each of the people we know. One for me, one for the uncle at the toy-store, one for each of your friends, for each place you have been to. Each mirror is of a different colour, and depending on how much love you put into it, it acquires a deeper colour."
"Where are all these mirrors? Do we have to take them everywhere?"
The father smiled at the innocent question. He loved to explain things like this to the little one.
"When we move on, we cannot take the mirrors as a whole, so we break the whole thing down, and pick up a shard of the broken glass, as a souvenir. When you have lived your life, son, you will have a number of shards with you, which you put into a kaleidoscope. And as you turn it over and over, you see many different shards in random combinations, shining in the light. Each shard will remind you of the mirror it came from, and how you helped color it. And if you smile when you gaze through the kaleidoscope, it means you have lived your life well."
"Colourscope?" the kid looked up, confused.
"Ka-lee-dow-scope", the father syllabled, setting his son back on the sand. "Come, I will make you one when we go home."
And the kid held his hand and pranced away, sure that he would get something to play with in the evening.
Monday, August 28, 2006
Men, Women and Life in General
The Shawshank Redemption is about Andy Dufresne, an investment banker who is wrongly implicated in his infidel wife's murder, and is sent to the Shawshank Penitentiary in Maine. And how he comes to terms with his destiny. Realising he has a lot of time in his hands, he starts to occupy himself in a variety of things to keep busy. He begins to make himself a chess set carving the rocks with a jack hammer, gets the prison library into order, writes letters every week to request the authorities to provide an allowance to enhance the library, and begins to teach English. But mainly, he helps the jailors evade some tax, and makes the warden a cool wad of money, by handling his financial deals. Until one day, his English student reveals to him the truth of a lifetime.
Forrest Gump is all about man's achievement. It's about how Forrest, a crippled child, realises his strength and takes life head on. He gains his legs back, and runs like a man possessed. His running earns him a place in college, and he gets his degree by playing football all through college. He gets into the army, and goes to the Vietnam. He meets Bubba, from whom he learns all there is to the shrimp business. During the war, he also learns to play ping-pong and gets selected to the national team. He returns from the Nam with a Medal of Honor, and sets up the shrimp business to keep the promise made to his dead friend Bubba, and makes a big fortune out of it. With nothing left to do, he does what he does best - running. He runs all over the country for three years, and finally says, "I'm pretty tired now, I think I will go home."
I can't but draw comparisons between these two movies. Both are superlative, and hold your attention from the start till the end. While The Shawshank Redemption is all about patience, and willpower, Forrest Gump is about humility and simplicity. While Andy comes across as an extremely willed person, with a sound mind to draw a long term plan, and has the patience to implement it, Forrest is your local village simpleton. Yet both are ingrained with an exemplary zest for life. Both have good mentors, Andy in Red, and Forrest in his mother.
Both movies have beautiful lines which sum up the gist of life in the most marvellous manner ever, and mould your attitude towards life. The Shawshank Redemption - "Get busy living, or get busy dying." and Forrest Gump - "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you gonna get."
The Ladies Coupe by Anita Nair is about the life of a single middle-aged woman, and her pathos. Ladies Coupe reads like One Night at the Call Center, where four-five stories are woven around a central character. Akhila is your typical Tam-Bram lady, and the story begins as she enters a train to escape from her dreary life of being a daughter, a sister, an aunt and basically the provider for a family where she has no existence of her own, where she has no one to ask her about HER welfare.
As she sits in the coupe, she meets other passengers in her compartment, and delves into their lives, and realises everyone has problems, and viewpoints of looking at them. She meets an aged lady, who thinks that the happiness of a woman lies in the happiness of her husband and family; a middle-aged teacher, who overwhelmed by her husband's self-importance and lack of affection for her, seeks revenge by feeding him and making him an obese glutton, thereby making him lose his self-respect and come back to her; another lady who was the embodiment of the perfect orthodox daughter and wife, until her husband takes her ona trip abroad, and she realises what she was missing out on; a fourteen year old, who perceives what her parents cannot, and does things that others consider sacrilege; and finally, a house-maid, whose life is a pathetic kaleidoscope of poverty, unwed pregnancy, lesbianism and bisexuality.
All this is beautifully woven against Akhila's own life, her father's death at an early age, her being the 'man' of the family, and the parasitic attachment of her sister's family to her money. The story travels deep into her own life, bringing out her strengths and her realisation of her wants. The book does not give any answers, but leaves you with Akhila at her hotel, where you stand with her, having been a spectator to her whole life, as she looks out into the sea.
After the two movies and the book, I strangely feel, Akhila would have enjoyed watching The Shawshank Redemption and Forrest Gump, as she broods on her own life. Life, indeed is a box of chocolates, you never know what you gonna get, but you have to move on - either getting busy living, or getting busy dying.
Forrest Gump is all about man's achievement. It's about how Forrest, a crippled child, realises his strength and takes life head on. He gains his legs back, and runs like a man possessed. His running earns him a place in college, and he gets his degree by playing football all through college. He gets into the army, and goes to the Vietnam. He meets Bubba, from whom he learns all there is to the shrimp business. During the war, he also learns to play ping-pong and gets selected to the national team. He returns from the Nam with a Medal of Honor, and sets up the shrimp business to keep the promise made to his dead friend Bubba, and makes a big fortune out of it. With nothing left to do, he does what he does best - running. He runs all over the country for three years, and finally says, "I'm pretty tired now, I think I will go home."
I can't but draw comparisons between these two movies. Both are superlative, and hold your attention from the start till the end. While The Shawshank Redemption is all about patience, and willpower, Forrest Gump is about humility and simplicity. While Andy comes across as an extremely willed person, with a sound mind to draw a long term plan, and has the patience to implement it, Forrest is your local village simpleton. Yet both are ingrained with an exemplary zest for life. Both have good mentors, Andy in Red, and Forrest in his mother.
Both movies have beautiful lines which sum up the gist of life in the most marvellous manner ever, and mould your attitude towards life. The Shawshank Redemption - "Get busy living, or get busy dying." and Forrest Gump - "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you gonna get."
The Ladies Coupe by Anita Nair is about the life of a single middle-aged woman, and her pathos. Ladies Coupe reads like One Night at the Call Center, where four-five stories are woven around a central character. Akhila is your typical Tam-Bram lady, and the story begins as she enters a train to escape from her dreary life of being a daughter, a sister, an aunt and basically the provider for a family where she has no existence of her own, where she has no one to ask her about HER welfare.
As she sits in the coupe, she meets other passengers in her compartment, and delves into their lives, and realises everyone has problems, and viewpoints of looking at them. She meets an aged lady, who thinks that the happiness of a woman lies in the happiness of her husband and family; a middle-aged teacher, who overwhelmed by her husband's self-importance and lack of affection for her, seeks revenge by feeding him and making him an obese glutton, thereby making him lose his self-respect and come back to her; another lady who was the embodiment of the perfect orthodox daughter and wife, until her husband takes her ona trip abroad, and she realises what she was missing out on; a fourteen year old, who perceives what her parents cannot, and does things that others consider sacrilege; and finally, a house-maid, whose life is a pathetic kaleidoscope of poverty, unwed pregnancy, lesbianism and bisexuality.
All this is beautifully woven against Akhila's own life, her father's death at an early age, her being the 'man' of the family, and the parasitic attachment of her sister's family to her money. The story travels deep into her own life, bringing out her strengths and her realisation of her wants. The book does not give any answers, but leaves you with Akhila at her hotel, where you stand with her, having been a spectator to her whole life, as she looks out into the sea.
After the two movies and the book, I strangely feel, Akhila would have enjoyed watching The Shawshank Redemption and Forrest Gump, as she broods on her own life. Life, indeed is a box of chocolates, you never know what you gonna get, but you have to move on - either getting busy living, or getting busy dying.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Mysore and Me
Adi publishes my comment on Anu's post here. Thanks a ton, Adi, you have spared me of converting yet another comment of mine into a post.
Anu wrote this at a time where I had made it a point that I will not convert my post-length comments on others' blogs into posts on my own blog. And as much as I wanted to write about Mysore and my love for it, I stopped myself. I would still have written about it, another day, but then, it would not have been verbatim.
So go ahead, and read all about my love for Mysore, here and here.
Anu wrote this at a time where I had made it a point that I will not convert my post-length comments on others' blogs into posts on my own blog. And as much as I wanted to write about Mysore and my love for it, I stopped myself. I would still have written about it, another day, but then, it would not have been verbatim.
So go ahead, and read all about my love for Mysore, here and here.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
The perfect date
... is when, after all is done, the girl remembers the evening in the few moments before drifting off to sleep, and goes "Oooh !!!".
A very dear friend went to meet a prospective better-half sometime last week, but certainly didn't end up feeling the above. Which means, unless they lacked topics to speak on, and ended up feeling like Ross and Mike in Friends, the guy must have done something wrong. Because I believe that if an average guy does everything right, and speaks even half the amount he does when he is explaining a gadget to his gang, he has the potential to make the dinner work.
Allow me ... ahem ... to make a checklist which guys like him could go through before a date. (I seriously wish he reads this)
1. Get the timing right - As a guy, take initiative, and make the call. And time it well. Do not call her right in the morning, when she is still in a big rush to leave for office. All girls are in a rush, and she wouldn't have had a dream the previous night that you'd call. Do not call at night to fix up a date next evening. If you call her at nine, when she's at the dinner table with her parents, chances are she might agree half-heartedly or might not appreciate your "last-week's-email-forward's-santa-banta" PJs. Call in the evenings, when she is most likely be relaxed and ready to strike conversation.
2. Ask her preferences - Just because you like Chinese does not mean she has to eat chow-mein when she is getting to know you. Ask her what she likes, and whether there's a place she'd like to go. Personal experience tells me that all girls have a fave eat-out where they want to go. If she suggests one, there's nothing like it. If she doesn't and/or leaves you to make a decision, choose a quiet place which has a great ambience, and does not serve only one cuisine.
3. Offer to pick her up - Personal experience also tells me that nothing pisses a girl off like waiting alone in a public place. Now while it is perfectly okay that she agrees to come on her own, it still is chivalrous to offer. And in the rare case that you are late, for reasons beyond your control, she would be waiting at her house, touching up her make-up, rather than ruining it outside. If she insists on coming herself, then be punctual. Leave home an hour in advance, or if in Bangalore, two.
Great, now that the girl is ready, let's work on you.
4. Call the restaurant beforehand - Restaurants like it better if you inform them beforehand. This way, you can get a better table than when you walk in, and they will be more than ready to accomodate your requests. If you have been to the restaurant before, choose a cosy table far from the maddening crowd, and request it for the day. Ask for candles and/or flowers to be on the table. Girls love flowers.
5. Dress formally - While this is not a job interview and does not require ties, it does not mean that you can walk in in torn jeans and "Sepultura" T-shirts. Your dressing shows how much you respect a lady and look forward to meet her. Believe me, you wouldn't want to escort a lady to her table in faded jeans and floaters. We guys don't notice it, but girls do 'check us out', and this is not a day where you would want a 3-on-10. Wear a clean, ironed shirt. Do not go to a date straight from office, just because the restaurant is next door.
6. Smell good - Allright, I know, in hostels, you have proved that you can go without a bath for more than a month. There is no need of making it the first point in your resume. Take a bath before the date, use a deodorant and unless you sport a beard / moustache, shave. But please don't make the mistake of using a deo on your body, perfume on your clothes and after-shave on your face - all together, else the chef might just come out of the kitchen to park your car. Polish your shoes, carry a CLEAN handkerchief (yes, I know you forgot it. Your only hanky was in the pocket of your suit, which you bought when you went onsite).
7. Buy flowers - By that I don't mean the kanakambra in front of the Shiva temple. Buy roses, or carnations if you please, or have a combination of flowers with a few green stalks. Wrap them in shiny ribbons, and give them when you first see the girl, not "Oh!!! I had got these for you", when you drop her off.
8. Be courteous - Be polite. Remember your P's and Q's. Tell her she looks good (Tip: Even if she doesn't). Order her drinks/dishes to the waiter first, instead of going "A Bloody Mary for me, and you'll have ... ?". Say "My pleasure" or "Don't mention it" when she says "Thanks", instead of giving her a "Kya-aap-close-up-karte-hain" smile. Say "Please" and "Thank you" to the waiter, while he serves you. Tip the waiter well, at least a fifth of the bill in cash (preferably). Insist on paying, but if she does not agree (to the point of making a scene), then its perfectly okay to go dutch. If dutch, double the tip. (You don't know how she tips, do you?). This particular tip in life, thanks to this.
9. Be yourself - When you are meeting a girl, who would probably be your partner for life, it is imperative that you be yourself. Honest. Tell the truth, and be comfortable in your own skin. She's only a girl, and even if she's non-vegetarian, she won't eat you up. So, unless there are no butterflies on your plate, there is no reason why you should have any in your stomach. Have a nice dinner over a great conversation, and drop her home. No pretences, no false promises.
However, if you are not a gentleman, but a bachelor ogre with dirty long nails, an unshaven face and clothes which were washed before they were made into a shirt, then I would suggest you don't follow any of these, because you would end up giving a false impression. And it is not a good thing to start a relationship with a falsehood. You ought to be yourself, and not someone else. But then again, being yourself does not mean you can ignore personal hygiene and present yourself like a shabby chap. Come on, if you couldn't take care of yourself, what woman in her sane mind would expect you to take care of her?
10. Following up - is not going behind her wherever she goes. Following up is sending her a mail next day, that you enjoyed her company over the dinner and thanking her for her presence.
Now, if you are the gentleman you are, and have followed these tips, I don't see why the girl should not sit with her face cupped in her hands, and gaze starry-eyed into the distance. (Yash Chopra ke picture nahi dekhta kya?). This is in no way an exhaustive list, and are written with the assumption that the date in question would be fixed by parents of the 'daters', though it can be extended to hold good for EVERY date. You might get poked at by family peers for going all out like this for an unknown girl, but let me tell you, you might be the nth person the girl is meeting like this. We guys generally don't make much of it, but it is pretty hard on the girls. The least you can do is make it enjoyable for her.
Even if the match does not work out, at least a dinner will.
A very dear friend went to meet a prospective better-half sometime last week, but certainly didn't end up feeling the above. Which means, unless they lacked topics to speak on, and ended up feeling like Ross and Mike in Friends, the guy must have done something wrong. Because I believe that if an average guy does everything right, and speaks even half the amount he does when he is explaining a gadget to his gang, he has the potential to make the dinner work.
Allow me ... ahem ... to make a checklist which guys like him could go through before a date. (I seriously wish he reads this)
1. Get the timing right - As a guy, take initiative, and make the call. And time it well. Do not call her right in the morning, when she is still in a big rush to leave for office. All girls are in a rush, and she wouldn't have had a dream the previous night that you'd call. Do not call at night to fix up a date next evening. If you call her at nine, when she's at the dinner table with her parents, chances are she might agree half-heartedly or might not appreciate your "last-week's-email-forward's-santa-banta" PJs. Call in the evenings, when she is most likely be relaxed and ready to strike conversation.
2. Ask her preferences - Just because you like Chinese does not mean she has to eat chow-mein when she is getting to know you. Ask her what she likes, and whether there's a place she'd like to go. Personal experience tells me that all girls have a fave eat-out where they want to go. If she suggests one, there's nothing like it. If she doesn't and/or leaves you to make a decision, choose a quiet place which has a great ambience, and does not serve only one cuisine.
3. Offer to pick her up - Personal experience also tells me that nothing pisses a girl off like waiting alone in a public place. Now while it is perfectly okay that she agrees to come on her own, it still is chivalrous to offer. And in the rare case that you are late, for reasons beyond your control, she would be waiting at her house, touching up her make-up, rather than ruining it outside. If she insists on coming herself, then be punctual. Leave home an hour in advance, or if in Bangalore, two.
Great, now that the girl is ready, let's work on you.
4. Call the restaurant beforehand - Restaurants like it better if you inform them beforehand. This way, you can get a better table than when you walk in, and they will be more than ready to accomodate your requests. If you have been to the restaurant before, choose a cosy table far from the maddening crowd, and request it for the day. Ask for candles and/or flowers to be on the table. Girls love flowers.
5. Dress formally - While this is not a job interview and does not require ties, it does not mean that you can walk in in torn jeans and "Sepultura" T-shirts. Your dressing shows how much you respect a lady and look forward to meet her. Believe me, you wouldn't want to escort a lady to her table in faded jeans and floaters. We guys don't notice it, but girls do 'check us out', and this is not a day where you would want a 3-on-10. Wear a clean, ironed shirt. Do not go to a date straight from office, just because the restaurant is next door.
6. Smell good - Allright, I know, in hostels, you have proved that you can go without a bath for more than a month. There is no need of making it the first point in your resume. Take a bath before the date, use a deodorant and unless you sport a beard / moustache, shave. But please don't make the mistake of using a deo on your body, perfume on your clothes and after-shave on your face - all together, else the chef might just come out of the kitchen to park your car. Polish your shoes, carry a CLEAN handkerchief (yes, I know you forgot it. Your only hanky was in the pocket of your suit, which you bought when you went onsite).
7. Buy flowers - By that I don't mean the kanakambra in front of the Shiva temple. Buy roses, or carnations if you please, or have a combination of flowers with a few green stalks. Wrap them in shiny ribbons, and give them when you first see the girl, not "Oh!!! I had got these for you", when you drop her off.
8. Be courteous - Be polite. Remember your P's and Q's. Tell her she looks good (Tip: Even if she doesn't). Order her drinks/dishes to the waiter first, instead of going "A Bloody Mary for me, and you'll have ... ?". Say "My pleasure" or "Don't mention it" when she says "Thanks", instead of giving her a "Kya-aap-close-up-karte-hain" smile. Say "Please" and "Thank you" to the waiter, while he serves you. Tip the waiter well, at least a fifth of the bill in cash (preferably). Insist on paying, but if she does not agree (to the point of making a scene), then its perfectly okay to go dutch. If dutch, double the tip. (You don't know how she tips, do you?). This particular tip in life, thanks to this.
9. Be yourself - When you are meeting a girl, who would probably be your partner for life, it is imperative that you be yourself. Honest. Tell the truth, and be comfortable in your own skin. She's only a girl, and even if she's non-vegetarian, she won't eat you up. So, unless there are no butterflies on your plate, there is no reason why you should have any in your stomach. Have a nice dinner over a great conversation, and drop her home. No pretences, no false promises.
However, if you are not a gentleman, but a bachelor ogre with dirty long nails, an unshaven face and clothes which were washed before they were made into a shirt, then I would suggest you don't follow any of these, because you would end up giving a false impression. And it is not a good thing to start a relationship with a falsehood. You ought to be yourself, and not someone else. But then again, being yourself does not mean you can ignore personal hygiene and present yourself like a shabby chap. Come on, if you couldn't take care of yourself, what woman in her sane mind would expect you to take care of her?
10. Following up - is not going behind her wherever she goes. Following up is sending her a mail next day, that you enjoyed her company over the dinner and thanking her for her presence.
Now, if you are the gentleman you are, and have followed these tips, I don't see why the girl should not sit with her face cupped in her hands, and gaze starry-eyed into the distance. (Yash Chopra ke picture nahi dekhta kya?). This is in no way an exhaustive list, and are written with the assumption that the date in question would be fixed by parents of the 'daters', though it can be extended to hold good for EVERY date. You might get poked at by family peers for going all out like this for an unknown girl, but let me tell you, you might be the nth person the girl is meeting like this. We guys generally don't make much of it, but it is pretty hard on the girls. The least you can do is make it enjoyable for her.
Even if the match does not work out, at least a dinner will.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Thursday, August 10, 2006
23 minutes...
...is the time it takes to reach from Bangalore to Mysore, or so it says here.
Or if the link doesn't work, here is the transcript -
To Mysooru at wind speed
[ 9 Aug, 2006 2226hrs IST TIMES NEWS NETWORK ]
BENGALURU: Vayu Express, the bullet train between Bengaluru and Mysooru, has been speeded up. This means that the travel time between these two cities will now be reduced by 5 minutes. This is a major step forward for India's only bullet train.
Introduced last August at a speed of 300 kph, it enabled you to reach the City of Palaces from the state capital in 28 minutes. At a simple ceremony here on Wednesday, Infrastructure Implementation Ministry (IIM) administrator Bharat Kumar commissioned the new Track Maintenance Technology which enables the bullet train to zip along even faster to Mysooru.
Sanjay Rao, a regular commuter between the two cities, is thrilled by this development. "I'll spend less time on the train which means I get more to spend with my family. I hope the state introduces such trains to other cities too." His hopes may soon be realised. Track testing is under way on the Bengaluru-Mangaluru and Bengaluru-Hubbali routes and if all goes as per the IIM plan, the bullet train should be ready to roll from August next. This should dramatically improve the connectivity between the three IT hubs of the state and give a boost to further development of the region. The Hubbali link is of particular significance for travellers to Mumbai because the Maharashtra government is pushing the Railways to finish the Mumbai segment.
However, the occasion was marred by stray protests orchestrated by the opposition party which does not see much benefit in this Rs 1000-crore upgradation project. "What is the big deal in cutting short a journey by 5 minutes?" said opposition leader A Murthy. Most businessmen could easily give him a fitting reply. At least, he got his 5 minutes of fame on Web TV. Despite these carping critics, the bullet train continues to be a huge draw. Thousands of passengers have already travelled by it and there's no looking back on this Japanese technology.
My first reaction at this was - What is this crap about? Introduced last August? Yeah!!! And why was anybody not talking about it in September when I went home? 28 minutes from Mysore to Bangalore is national, no international news. How come no part of the hungry media, which carries every cough and fart of our cricketers on primetime, carried it? Except TOI of course...
And I googled, but could not find a Infrastructure Implementation Ministry headed by a Bharat Kumar, nor is any opposition leader in the State or Centre named A Murthy. And the three IT hubs of Karnataka are Mysore, Mangalore and Hubli? Whither Bangalore?
The article carries actual commuter-speak, too. The guy is thrilled by this development, the development being a reduction of travel time from 28 to 23 minutes. And he says he gets that much more time to spend with his family. Poor guy. I would like to know the time at which it leaves Bangalore to Mysore and also the fare for the half-an-hour journey.
What I did find out was that there was a proposal in 2004, here and it was shelved, here.
UPDATE : All right, I KNOW now. You don't have to tell me what this particular article was all about. It turns out that there is a Refresh Bangalore project going on, where ToI is requesting readers to contribute their dream for Bangalore. The article above, and the ones Shastri and Adi wrote about, are a reflection of the article author's dream for Bangalore in 2025.
Or if the link doesn't work, here is the transcript -
To Mysooru at wind speed
[ 9 Aug, 2006 2226hrs IST TIMES NEWS NETWORK ]
BENGALURU: Vayu Express, the bullet train between Bengaluru and Mysooru, has been speeded up. This means that the travel time between these two cities will now be reduced by 5 minutes. This is a major step forward for India's only bullet train.
Introduced last August at a speed of 300 kph, it enabled you to reach the City of Palaces from the state capital in 28 minutes. At a simple ceremony here on Wednesday, Infrastructure Implementation Ministry (IIM) administrator Bharat Kumar commissioned the new Track Maintenance Technology which enables the bullet train to zip along even faster to Mysooru.
Sanjay Rao, a regular commuter between the two cities, is thrilled by this development. "I'll spend less time on the train which means I get more to spend with my family. I hope the state introduces such trains to other cities too." His hopes may soon be realised. Track testing is under way on the Bengaluru-Mangaluru and Bengaluru-Hubbali routes and if all goes as per the IIM plan, the bullet train should be ready to roll from August next. This should dramatically improve the connectivity between the three IT hubs of the state and give a boost to further development of the region. The Hubbali link is of particular significance for travellers to Mumbai because the Maharashtra government is pushing the Railways to finish the Mumbai segment.
However, the occasion was marred by stray protests orchestrated by the opposition party which does not see much benefit in this Rs 1000-crore upgradation project. "What is the big deal in cutting short a journey by 5 minutes?" said opposition leader A Murthy. Most businessmen could easily give him a fitting reply. At least, he got his 5 minutes of fame on Web TV. Despite these carping critics, the bullet train continues to be a huge draw. Thousands of passengers have already travelled by it and there's no looking back on this Japanese technology.
My first reaction at this was - What is this crap about? Introduced last August? Yeah!!! And why was anybody not talking about it in September when I went home? 28 minutes from Mysore to Bangalore is national, no international news. How come no part of the hungry media, which carries every cough and fart of our cricketers on primetime, carried it? Except TOI of course...
And I googled, but could not find a Infrastructure Implementation Ministry headed by a Bharat Kumar, nor is any opposition leader in the State or Centre named A Murthy. And the three IT hubs of Karnataka are Mysore, Mangalore and Hubli? Whither Bangalore?
The article carries actual commuter-speak, too. The guy is thrilled by this development, the development being a reduction of travel time from 28 to 23 minutes. And he says he gets that much more time to spend with his family. Poor guy. I would like to know the time at which it leaves Bangalore to Mysore and also the fare for the half-an-hour journey.
What I did find out was that there was a proposal in 2004, here and it was shelved, here.
UPDATE : All right, I KNOW now. You don't have to tell me what this particular article was all about. It turns out that there is a Refresh Bangalore project going on, where ToI is requesting readers to contribute their dream for Bangalore. The article above, and the ones Shastri and Adi wrote about, are a reflection of the article author's dream for Bangalore in 2025.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Untimely Resolutions
I love books. I like to buy them and read, rather than borrow, because once I have read the book, I lose the interest to buy it anymore. At another point in life, I used to buy books off the footpath, because as much as I hated piracy, I loved books, and my pocket was too small to afford a new one. So, footpaths and second hand shops it was.
Now, I'm earning, so I don't mind spending on books. Sadly, that is also the case with things other than books. The result being running up huge bills on the credit card. Yes, I am one of those people who got financial independence and went on a shopping spree, only to find that living out of your means is suddenly very stifling, however nice your job may be. Having burnt fingers in that way, I cancelled many of my innumerable "lifetime free" cards, with the exception of a MasterCard and a Visa.
And I'm on a strict budget. It has been almost six months since I shopped anything (clothes/watch/shoes/shades/accessories). It has been a few months more that I have bought books/CDs. And no, in all these non-shopped months, I haven't saved money. I have managed to send home a fixed sum every month, a fine improvement on the sparse and undecided amounts I used to send home irregularly. I have managed to identify how much spare cash I am left with at the end of each month.
But of late, my wishlist is growing longer and longer, and my wardrobe looks outdated, and so I have decided that starting next month, I will buy one book, one CD and one piece of apparel every month. This fits nicely in my scheme of things. I also plan to put a little amount into an SIP. Those who have a good idea on markets can suggest an SIP which is doing good. Please drop some names in the comments.
It is with great reluctance I came out of Crossword empty-handed yesterday. And I'm not going there until next month. After days and days of just silent browsing in the store, I get a "Can I help you, sir?" five minutes after I enter.
Now, I'm earning, so I don't mind spending on books. Sadly, that is also the case with things other than books. The result being running up huge bills on the credit card. Yes, I am one of those people who got financial independence and went on a shopping spree, only to find that living out of your means is suddenly very stifling, however nice your job may be. Having burnt fingers in that way, I cancelled many of my innumerable "lifetime free" cards, with the exception of a MasterCard and a Visa.
And I'm on a strict budget. It has been almost six months since I shopped anything (clothes/watch/shoes/shades/accessories). It has been a few months more that I have bought books/CDs. And no, in all these non-shopped months, I haven't saved money. I have managed to send home a fixed sum every month, a fine improvement on the sparse and undecided amounts I used to send home irregularly. I have managed to identify how much spare cash I am left with at the end of each month.
But of late, my wishlist is growing longer and longer, and my wardrobe looks outdated, and so I have decided that starting next month, I will buy one book, one CD and one piece of apparel every month. This fits nicely in my scheme of things. I also plan to put a little amount into an SIP. Those who have a good idea on markets can suggest an SIP which is doing good. Please drop some names in the comments.
It is with great reluctance I came out of Crossword empty-handed yesterday. And I'm not going there until next month. After days and days of just silent browsing in the store, I get a "Can I help you, sir?" five minutes after I enter.
Talk of conversions
My ISP still blocks blogs, so I post using a mailer. And I read blogs using pkblogs. Now, an interesting observation is in the last post, I put in the address of my other blog as http://undertheshiningstars.blogspot.com (read undertheshiningstars dot blogspot dot com) and when it got posted on the site, you can see, it shows http://www.pkblogs/undertheshiningstars. I'm baffled.
Is it that whenever I open a blog through pkblogs, it actually runs through the whole text and replace *.blogspot.com with pkblogs/* ???
Update: It works only with pkblogs. When tried with another proxy, it comes up as dot blogspot dot com only. :-)
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Of partners and hands
They say in Bridge, as in sex, if you don't have a good partner, you better have a good hand. In badminton, however, you better have TWO good hands - A backhand and a forehand.
My partner last week, says he is used to playing badminton "mind-your-own-court" style, and not "net-and-baseline". Fine, I say. Now, whenever my right-handed partner is in the left side of the court, he gets me points with his strong forehand. He stands at the very outer edge of the left court, and rallies all his shots to the center, while I take care of the right side of the court.
Sadly, whenever he is in the right side of the court, he cannot cover the center court, and loses me many points as I try in vain to cover the left court, front, back and center. And then he attempts a few false shots but ends up dropping the shuttle in our court and losing us the game.
After the game, I sit for a break, and the poor guy walks across to me and says sorry for losing me the game. He explains that he has a poor backhand, and so he cannot play "net-and-baseline". I shrug it off, say it's just a game and make some small talk. Later he goes and plays with other guys while I rest for some more time.
It is raining hard so there is not much crowd to play with. Sometimes, lack of crowd becomes a problem in itself. Like, a court is vacant, and we are three guys resting now, and none pro enough to play singles. I wait for some time before another game ends, and partners switch, and then I play until N says she is hungry and wants to go home despite the rain.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Familiarity
Have you ever wondered how the first time you meet a person, you make an impression of him in your mind, and as you start interacting with them, to the extent of back-slapping, how your impression changes. (It changes for the better or worse, depending on whether you are back-slapping or back-stabbing). How, the first time you are ready to ignore a particular trait as a discount in the persona, but a few months later, you can joke about the same trait.
My cousin runs an internet cafe in Mysore. He has a live-in hire, who looks after it because the cafe is open 24 hours. The fellow maintained the sanctity of the cafe for a month or so, then he was seen to be managing the cafe in shorts, or on a rare day, pajamas.
A guy joined my gym a few months back. He would gingerly walk about the men's room, waiting for everyone to leave the room before he changed for the shower. Today, he walks all over the men's room, sits in the steam room, dries his hair after a shower, all in his briefs, and with the towel over his shoulder. As it was becoming quite an embarassment to the shier gents in our gym, I once ask him why he did not wrap the towel across his waist. His answer - choD na yaar, apna hi gym hai...
It is not without reason they say familiarity breeds contempt.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Winning
Winning is so good isn't it?
Last weekend saw me playing badminton after a long time, and with a new partner. I usually tire out after three back-to-back games, there is only so much an amateur can take. It was raining, so there was not much of a rush, courts were relatively free. Usually getting to play three full games is a big thing in itself. But Saturday, I played, in a row and won all three. Heh heh heh.
I had almost cooled down and ready to leave, while my partner called me for another game he was playing with a different set of guys. Needless to say, we won that match too. All this after a cardio workout at the gym, and on one red mug of Nescafe Classic. In retrospect, I think I should have bought a lottery ticket too, that day. Nothing seemed to go wrong at all.
On Sunday, everything was as usual. I lost my team more points than I gained it. Heh heh heh. I played with different partners, and ended up on the losing side. And mind you, after the second loss, I didn't feel like another game. That in itself, was instrumental in losing the third game.
Like I said, winning is so good. It goads you on and on, and you feel so unstoppable. Monday morning saw me with a blister on my right hand. Time to change the grips on the racket, I guess.
Unless I win, in which case of course, the racket is not what matters, talent is.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
What would you do?
I'm usually not bothered by mood swings. I do feel down sometimes, because I spend some time alone brooding on things past, present and future, but its not something that affects my daily routine. But once in a blue moon, I really get pissed off at things, and feel low - down and out - for no apparent reason. And when I am like this, I am best left alone. Those who attempt to talk to me, are either snubbed "I don't want to talk" or get the cold shoulder. Very rarely does someone actually succeed in probing me enough to get to the root of it all. Usually its the pent up feelings of not being able to do something, or something which fizzes out like a no-brainer, when I was very eagerly looking forward to it.
A particular Sunday was like that. I was acting very cranky. Silly thoughts wandering in my mind, and the whole of that weekend, all the forces of nature seemed to have conspired to make me feel miserable.
It was then that she called. And I'm glad she did. For the first time in many months. Even though we don't speak often, I cherish the conversations I have had with her. That day she chose to speak on Ayn Rand. Given the mood I was in, philosophy was the last thing I wanted to discuss. I kept looking at a tree from my window, while she was going on...and the conversations took an inane turn.
Her: "What are you doing now?"
Me: "Looking at a tree."
Her: 'Are there any birds?"
Me: "No."
Her: "Oh, they must have gone to find some food."
We spoke like this about the birds, trees and the sky, till she brought up "Bruce Almighty". And popped a question - "What would you do if you were God?"
My mood was out, and I was looking at the ants walking in a line on the windowsill, and I had no spontaneous answer. After a lot of hemming and hawing, I ventured, " I don't know. I've never thought of it before. Being God....hmmm" and trailed off. Then I asked "Tell me, what would you do?"
Her answer stumped me and shook the bad languor of my mood.
"You know what," she said, "I wouldn't do anything. I'm happy the way it is now".
"But, surely you would want something. If not for yourself, wouldn't you do anything for others?"
"No. Because I don't need supernatural powers to do that. You don't have to be God to do something for others. You can do it being yourself, too."
"But.."
"Tell me, why would you need to be God to help others? What prevents you from doing it now?"
I could only nod, while I listened to her, and looked at the ragpicker rummaging for something in the dustbin on the road below. What prevented me from helping him. Nothing.
She changed the topic soon and we were again talking on mundane topics like the trees and birds, but the question still lingers on...
A particular Sunday was like that. I was acting very cranky. Silly thoughts wandering in my mind, and the whole of that weekend, all the forces of nature seemed to have conspired to make me feel miserable.
It was then that she called. And I'm glad she did. For the first time in many months. Even though we don't speak often, I cherish the conversations I have had with her. That day she chose to speak on Ayn Rand. Given the mood I was in, philosophy was the last thing I wanted to discuss. I kept looking at a tree from my window, while she was going on...and the conversations took an inane turn.
Her: "What are you doing now?"
Me: "Looking at a tree."
Her: 'Are there any birds?"
Me: "No."
Her: "Oh, they must have gone to find some food."
We spoke like this about the birds, trees and the sky, till she brought up "Bruce Almighty". And popped a question - "What would you do if you were God?"
My mood was out, and I was looking at the ants walking in a line on the windowsill, and I had no spontaneous answer. After a lot of hemming and hawing, I ventured, " I don't know. I've never thought of it before. Being God....hmmm" and trailed off. Then I asked "Tell me, what would you do?"
Her answer stumped me and shook the bad languor of my mood.
"You know what," she said, "I wouldn't do anything. I'm happy the way it is now".
"But, surely you would want something. If not for yourself, wouldn't you do anything for others?"
"No. Because I don't need supernatural powers to do that. You don't have to be God to do something for others. You can do it being yourself, too."
"But.."
"Tell me, why would you need to be God to help others? What prevents you from doing it now?"
I could only nod, while I listened to her, and looked at the ragpicker rummaging for something in the dustbin on the road below. What prevented me from helping him. Nothing.
She changed the topic soon and we were again talking on mundane topics like the trees and birds, but the question still lingers on...
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
And the day after
Eighteen hours after the first bomb ripped through strategic points of the western line, which connects Churchgate to Virar, Mumbai has bounced back admirably. Schools, Colleges and Offices remain open, and people are keen to put the tragedy behind them and resume their routine.
Once again, the spirit of Mumbai triumphs over the tragedy, and like in the floods last year, people did not care or wait till the government machinery started rolling its wheels. One for all, and all for one, they showed the human face of Mumbai, televisions were flooded with images of people offering biscuits and water, volunteers were searching high and low for information which might help the persons next to them, citizens rallied around donating and appealing for others to donate blood, and for once, the media is not showing the gruesome tragedy, but the way the people overcame it.
In all tragedies, waiting is worse than knowing. Knowledge breaks the heart, so that it may begin to heal, but waiting rends the heart over and over again. And in order to counter this, Mumbai Help came up with a mindblowing idea. They set up this post, which served as a forum, and people all over posted their name and number as well as the name and number of the persons they wanted to contact. Mumbai Help contacted these persons as and when they could, and reverted to the next of kin who posted the messages. More than a hundred fears were laid to rest this way. They used all the means they could - telephones, cellphones, texting, and sometimes in person.
They have now set up a wiki for the same, and a train schedule as well.
Try as we might, we cannot fill the void left in the lives of those who lost their loved ones, but we pray for their souls to rest in peace. We wish the injured well, and hope they get back on their feet soon, and let the scars heal. Bravo!!! Mumbai Help and Thank you, you have contributed in ways more than one, to help Mumbai bounce back the way it did from the face of tragedy.
Update: Hospital-wise list of dead and injured people here.
Once again, the spirit of Mumbai triumphs over the tragedy, and like in the floods last year, people did not care or wait till the government machinery started rolling its wheels. One for all, and all for one, they showed the human face of Mumbai, televisions were flooded with images of people offering biscuits and water, volunteers were searching high and low for information which might help the persons next to them, citizens rallied around donating and appealing for others to donate blood, and for once, the media is not showing the gruesome tragedy, but the way the people overcame it.
In all tragedies, waiting is worse than knowing. Knowledge breaks the heart, so that it may begin to heal, but waiting rends the heart over and over again. And in order to counter this, Mumbai Help came up with a mindblowing idea. They set up this post, which served as a forum, and people all over posted their name and number as well as the name and number of the persons they wanted to contact. Mumbai Help contacted these persons as and when they could, and reverted to the next of kin who posted the messages. More than a hundred fears were laid to rest this way. They used all the means they could - telephones, cellphones, texting, and sometimes in person.
They have now set up a wiki for the same, and a train schedule as well.
Try as we might, we cannot fill the void left in the lives of those who lost their loved ones, but we pray for their souls to rest in peace. We wish the injured well, and hope they get back on their feet soon, and let the scars heal. Bravo!!! Mumbai Help and Thank you, you have contributed in ways more than one, to help Mumbai bounce back the way it did from the face of tragedy.
Update: Hospital-wise list of dead and injured people here.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Re-tying old strings
The first school I ever went to was Chaitanya Central School in Mehboobnagar, Andhra. I left it in Class 5, and had I been a bit older, I am sure I would have apprehensions on leaving the school. I loved every bit of it.
We lived in dad's factory quarters at Pillalamarry Road. The old campus of the school was in Rajendranagar. My sister used to attend classes there, but I dont remember visiting that campus once or twice, to get sis's paperwork done or when Dad had to meet some official. All the memories I have are of Yenugonda campus. Even at that point of time, the campus was a sprawling one. The bus would enter from the city, crossing an unmanned railway line, and through muddy roads until we saw a milky white building emerge. There was a paan-shop, selling sweetmeats at the entrance.
The building's entrance opened up a few steps ahead, bang in the middle, flanked by rows of classrooms on either side. When you walked up the entrance, you could see a flight of stairs going up to a landing, and TWO flights of stairs doing a right about-turn to the first floor rooms. These rooms were used by the residential students, and faculty members. There was a collapsible door, which prevented students from trespassing there during class-hours. The landing had a plush room, which was the principal's office.
Back to the entrance, when you stood facing the principal's room, you could see that the room to your right was the library, and then the higher classrooms (IX, X). Further to the classrooms, there was an open handwash-plaza, if you can call it that. Basically it was your kitchen sink extended into a L shape, with 5-6 taps on each leg. Beside that was the field. This was where the buses would pick up the students, and during classhours, would be parked. There were two buses - Blue bus and the Yellow Bus as we called it. The Blue bus had a driver with a flowing goatee, and we would call him "Pilli gaddam" (roughly, cat-beard)
Beyond the buses was the playground, for as far as the eye could see. Towards your right hand side was a rudimentary cricket pitch, and to the left was a mildly sandy football ground. It must have been a full-sized football ground, because by the time we took the ball towards the other goal, it would have been end of PT period. Enough of soiling your shoes, come walk back with me, as I go towards the library.
Again, I stand facing the flight of stairs, and suddenly it strikes me that the national anthem was sung here every evening before close of school. My sister was in the choir, and her classmates used to play the drums and cymbals. To my left now, were classrooms again, until we reached the end of the block, and there was again a small staircase, leading to that paan-shop through a passage in the bushes. There was a toilet complex too, if you went this way. But if you took a right, instead of going into the staircase leading down, you would reach another block perpendicular to the entrance block. Now, this is an elevated platform we are walking on, with the classrooms on one side, and the ground a couple of feet below on the other.
All the classrooms were named after scientists. I remember my sister's classroom named "Niels Bohr", and each room had a wooden plate with its class and section painted in white. The last room in the block we are walking is the Lab. Both Chemistry and Biology were inside. I dont know what Physics was doing. At the end, again, there were steps to get off the corridor, onto the ground. Again, if you took left, you could reach the toilet complex behind.
To the right of this block, which would mean, right parallel to the entrance block, we had the primary section. This was not on an elevated platform, but was on dear old terra firma. ( Maybe they thought we had enough head weight already, so no need of elevating them further ). My time in this school was entirely in this section, but I had the special privilege of walking on the corridors, whenever I went to meet sis.
Next to the primary block was a canteen, which was used by the residential students. I never ventured inside, as mama used to pack lunches for me and sis, but I could see the black stone gleaming inside. Sis was in the hostel once for a week, when Dad, Mom and me had come to attend an uncle's wedding in Mysore. I remember eating my lunches on the ground, furthermore right to the canteen, in the red hard mud, which served as a court for net games. (And before you think why you need a muddy ground to play a game on the PC, let me clarify, those net games were games which needed a net...like volleyball, badminton, throwball and suchlike). Sis used to sit further ahead, with her friends, in the soft sand near the football ground.
Now I have given you a rough quadrangle of the school, the only thing I have missed is the dais. The dais was behind the flight of stairs which led to the Principal's room. You could reach it through the corridors, and this was where the teachers would stand together, with few chosen students, who did the morning prayers and read the day's news. And from where the dais started, we kids would stand, classwise, section-wise, height-wise, and the last person would almost reach the primary school block behind. Mikes and speakers would be out every morning and evening.
And as I write this, I have made a sketch of how the school looked, on a sheet of paper. It has been 14 years since I left that place. And yet I remember it so vividly. It must have changed a lot in these 14 years, and I dont even know how it looks now. Now I feel I have to go there and visit it, just to relive those days. I missed that school so much. As I said earlier, if I were a couple of years elder, I would have preferred to stay in the hostel, and never leave the place. A visit to Hyderabad is on cards for a long long time, and when it materializes, I will go to Yenugonda, too.
Why this post, you wonder, I came across my school community in Orkut.com, and I found an old friend too, but inspite of the minutest details I gave him of our time together, he could not place me. I also came across a beautiful girl, who I knew was my teacher's daughter. How, you ask? My maths teacher's family had unconventional Sanskrit names - the girl's name is Snigdha (In Sanskrit, it means fair, which I remember she was), her brother's name was Veda Vyas. Their mother's name was Adyasree.
More on this school and town, later.
We lived in dad's factory quarters at Pillalamarry Road. The old campus of the school was in Rajendranagar. My sister used to attend classes there, but I dont remember visiting that campus once or twice, to get sis's paperwork done or when Dad had to meet some official. All the memories I have are of Yenugonda campus. Even at that point of time, the campus was a sprawling one. The bus would enter from the city, crossing an unmanned railway line, and through muddy roads until we saw a milky white building emerge. There was a paan-shop, selling sweetmeats at the entrance.
The building's entrance opened up a few steps ahead, bang in the middle, flanked by rows of classrooms on either side. When you walked up the entrance, you could see a flight of stairs going up to a landing, and TWO flights of stairs doing a right about-turn to the first floor rooms. These rooms were used by the residential students, and faculty members. There was a collapsible door, which prevented students from trespassing there during class-hours. The landing had a plush room, which was the principal's office.
Back to the entrance, when you stood facing the principal's room, you could see that the room to your right was the library, and then the higher classrooms (IX, X). Further to the classrooms, there was an open handwash-plaza, if you can call it that. Basically it was your kitchen sink extended into a L shape, with 5-6 taps on each leg. Beside that was the field. This was where the buses would pick up the students, and during classhours, would be parked. There were two buses - Blue bus and the Yellow Bus as we called it. The Blue bus had a driver with a flowing goatee, and we would call him "Pilli gaddam" (roughly, cat-beard)
Beyond the buses was the playground, for as far as the eye could see. Towards your right hand side was a rudimentary cricket pitch, and to the left was a mildly sandy football ground. It must have been a full-sized football ground, because by the time we took the ball towards the other goal, it would have been end of PT period. Enough of soiling your shoes, come walk back with me, as I go towards the library.
Again, I stand facing the flight of stairs, and suddenly it strikes me that the national anthem was sung here every evening before close of school. My sister was in the choir, and her classmates used to play the drums and cymbals. To my left now, were classrooms again, until we reached the end of the block, and there was again a small staircase, leading to that paan-shop through a passage in the bushes. There was a toilet complex too, if you went this way. But if you took a right, instead of going into the staircase leading down, you would reach another block perpendicular to the entrance block. Now, this is an elevated platform we are walking on, with the classrooms on one side, and the ground a couple of feet below on the other.
All the classrooms were named after scientists. I remember my sister's classroom named "Niels Bohr", and each room had a wooden plate with its class and section painted in white. The last room in the block we are walking is the Lab. Both Chemistry and Biology were inside. I dont know what Physics was doing. At the end, again, there were steps to get off the corridor, onto the ground. Again, if you took left, you could reach the toilet complex behind.
To the right of this block, which would mean, right parallel to the entrance block, we had the primary section. This was not on an elevated platform, but was on dear old terra firma. ( Maybe they thought we had enough head weight already, so no need of elevating them further ). My time in this school was entirely in this section, but I had the special privilege of walking on the corridors, whenever I went to meet sis.
Next to the primary block was a canteen, which was used by the residential students. I never ventured inside, as mama used to pack lunches for me and sis, but I could see the black stone gleaming inside. Sis was in the hostel once for a week, when Dad, Mom and me had come to attend an uncle's wedding in Mysore. I remember eating my lunches on the ground, furthermore right to the canteen, in the red hard mud, which served as a court for net games. (And before you think why you need a muddy ground to play a game on the PC, let me clarify, those net games were games which needed a net...like volleyball, badminton, throwball and suchlike). Sis used to sit further ahead, with her friends, in the soft sand near the football ground.
Now I have given you a rough quadrangle of the school, the only thing I have missed is the dais. The dais was behind the flight of stairs which led to the Principal's room. You could reach it through the corridors, and this was where the teachers would stand together, with few chosen students, who did the morning prayers and read the day's news. And from where the dais started, we kids would stand, classwise, section-wise, height-wise, and the last person would almost reach the primary school block behind. Mikes and speakers would be out every morning and evening.
And as I write this, I have made a sketch of how the school looked, on a sheet of paper. It has been 14 years since I left that place. And yet I remember it so vividly. It must have changed a lot in these 14 years, and I dont even know how it looks now. Now I feel I have to go there and visit it, just to relive those days. I missed that school so much. As I said earlier, if I were a couple of years elder, I would have preferred to stay in the hostel, and never leave the place. A visit to Hyderabad is on cards for a long long time, and when it materializes, I will go to Yenugonda, too.
Why this post, you wonder, I came across my school community in Orkut.com, and I found an old friend too, but inspite of the minutest details I gave him of our time together, he could not place me. I also came across a beautiful girl, who I knew was my teacher's daughter. How, you ask? My maths teacher's family had unconventional Sanskrit names - the girl's name is Snigdha (In Sanskrit, it means fair, which I remember she was), her brother's name was Veda Vyas. Their mother's name was Adyasree.
More on this school and town, later.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Blocked and Tackled
Block and Tackle is an interesting game played in university fests. It is a slightly different version of the normal debate, with the topics being a little lighter. Here, you don't have two people, one rooting for the motion, and the other ranting against it. A single person gets a topic, and for 3 minutes he starts speaking on it. His initial choice may be for or against the motion, but he has to keep it throughout.
Suppose a speaker starts speaking against reservations. This is his block position. He will continue speaking against reservations, until the judge calls out "Tackle", where he switches sides and starts speaking FOR reservations. Again when he is tackling it, if the judge calls out "Block", he switches back to his original stand, against reservations. Much fun comes when the speaker changes his stand when judges call out "Block" instead of "Tackle".
The winner is the one who had spoken on varied points, made their stands clear, and switched sides seamlessly. And did not switch sides, when judges called "Tackle" when they were already tackling the motion.
Shweta Jha was a clear winner. At our yearly fest, PESCO, she was an external candidate, who came along with Sudarshan Avadhany, from VVCE, Mysore. I had never seen anyone play B&T so seamlessly. It was obvious that a lot of effort and practise had gone into it. Her debates were something which I never missed, during the fest. Being busy with stage events like Dumbcharades and Mad-Ads, I never got a chance to congratulate her that evening, though I was in the front row, cheering at her every successful switch. Applauding at every relevant point she made in the debate.
I never knew her personally, but used to hear about her from friends. During the little I saw her on stage, she came across as a bubbly vivacious girl, with a ringing infectious laughter. She would laugh at every little mistake she or her teammate made, and the joy on her face was radiant. After PESCO, I heard a lot about her through Datta and Naveen (both VVCE) about her activities and wins in other tournaments, and VVCE's own fest, Vidyut.
It came as no surprise to me that she had carried across her enthusiasm to the workplace as well. Her colleague, Uppu Prasanna, remembers her as a, intelligent and a cheerful gal who took part in all group activities which involved making a lot of noise. A typical, fun-loving gal, who wanted to make the most of life.
Before fate blocked and tackled her life tragically.
On 10th of June, after hectic weeks of coding and stuff, Shweta and her colleagues went on a project party to Sivanasamudra, where, while playing in the water, she slipped on some rocks, and disappeared forever. By the time her colleagues recovered from the shock, it was too late.
When Naveen (ECE, PESCE, 2004) told me about this yesterday, we were silent for a long time. The mail he sent further mentioned that the body was found next day, badly mutilated due to all the rocks and debris it hit on its course. Prasanna, who wrote the stuff, further warns us, in such outing we hardly think of anything else but the moment. Before you enjoy like there's no tomorrow, do spare a thought for your parents, and the people who care for you. What will happen to them in case anything happens to YOU.
Like any other kid, Shweta's parents too had dreams and aspirations for her, they had a picture of their daughter's lively future. Her friends are inconsolable, and are yet to come out of the shock that encompasses them. It is hard for me to believe that the infectious laughter has been silenced forever. When it affects me, who saw her on stage for a couple of days, to this extent, I shudder to think of those who knew her better, as a close friend, as a classmate, as a colleague, as a relative...
Shweta Jha, Rest in Peace. May your ringing laughter illuminate your heavenly abode.
Suppose a speaker starts speaking against reservations. This is his block position. He will continue speaking against reservations, until the judge calls out "Tackle", where he switches sides and starts speaking FOR reservations. Again when he is tackling it, if the judge calls out "Block", he switches back to his original stand, against reservations. Much fun comes when the speaker changes his stand when judges call out "Block" instead of "Tackle".
The winner is the one who had spoken on varied points, made their stands clear, and switched sides seamlessly. And did not switch sides, when judges called "Tackle" when they were already tackling the motion.
Shweta Jha was a clear winner. At our yearly fest, PESCO, she was an external candidate, who came along with Sudarshan Avadhany, from VVCE, Mysore. I had never seen anyone play B&T so seamlessly. It was obvious that a lot of effort and practise had gone into it. Her debates were something which I never missed, during the fest. Being busy with stage events like Dumbcharades and Mad-Ads, I never got a chance to congratulate her that evening, though I was in the front row, cheering at her every successful switch. Applauding at every relevant point she made in the debate.
I never knew her personally, but used to hear about her from friends. During the little I saw her on stage, she came across as a bubbly vivacious girl, with a ringing infectious laughter. She would laugh at every little mistake she or her teammate made, and the joy on her face was radiant. After PESCO, I heard a lot about her through Datta and Naveen (both VVCE) about her activities and wins in other tournaments, and VVCE's own fest, Vidyut.
It came as no surprise to me that she had carried across her enthusiasm to the workplace as well. Her colleague, Uppu Prasanna, remembers her as a, intelligent and a cheerful gal who took part in all group activities which involved making a lot of noise. A typical, fun-loving gal, who wanted to make the most of life.
Before fate blocked and tackled her life tragically.
On 10th of June, after hectic weeks of coding and stuff, Shweta and her colleagues went on a project party to Sivanasamudra, where, while playing in the water, she slipped on some rocks, and disappeared forever. By the time her colleagues recovered from the shock, it was too late.
When Naveen (ECE, PESCE, 2004) told me about this yesterday, we were silent for a long time. The mail he sent further mentioned that the body was found next day, badly mutilated due to all the rocks and debris it hit on its course. Prasanna, who wrote the stuff, further warns us, in such outing we hardly think of anything else but the moment. Before you enjoy like there's no tomorrow, do spare a thought for your parents, and the people who care for you. What will happen to them in case anything happens to YOU.
Like any other kid, Shweta's parents too had dreams and aspirations for her, they had a picture of their daughter's lively future. Her friends are inconsolable, and are yet to come out of the shock that encompasses them. It is hard for me to believe that the infectious laughter has been silenced forever. When it affects me, who saw her on stage for a couple of days, to this extent, I shudder to think of those who knew her better, as a close friend, as a classmate, as a colleague, as a relative...
Shweta Jha, Rest in Peace. May your ringing laughter illuminate your heavenly abode.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
All weirdos, man
I saw this tag coming when she was doing it, but it was she who tagged me.
You gotta write five weird things about yourself, and then pass it on to five others. Of course, these can't be held against you in any court. Awright, here goes.
1. I always take the phone to my left ear to answer a call. Why? I don't know. This is about being weird, right?
2. I always keep my money sorted by denominations, the mutilated notes preceding the crisp ones for each denomination. And Gandhi always has his bald pate on top.
3. I can never wear a baseball cap with its peak in the front. It always has to be back. I used to, but once while riding fast, the wind blew it away, and my cap came under a bus, and I lost it. I have that fear ever since. Even when not riding.
4. My company is quite lenient on the dress code, and does not insist on a tie. Yet, you can catch me knotting a tie on a Monday, even though I don't wear it to office. I just remove it and put it away.
5. My comments usually end up being of a length fit for a post, and I quietly convert them to posts on my blog. I'm restraining it though, and the fact that there is no post on Mysore even a week after she put this up, is proof enough.
Now for the next five: Its her, her, her, him and him.
You gotta write five weird things about yourself, and then pass it on to five others. Of course, these can't be held against you in any court. Awright, here goes.
1. I always take the phone to my left ear to answer a call. Why? I don't know. This is about being weird, right?
2. I always keep my money sorted by denominations, the mutilated notes preceding the crisp ones for each denomination. And Gandhi always has his bald pate on top.
3. I can never wear a baseball cap with its peak in the front. It always has to be back. I used to, but once while riding fast, the wind blew it away, and my cap came under a bus, and I lost it. I have that fear ever since. Even when not riding.
4. My company is quite lenient on the dress code, and does not insist on a tie. Yet, you can catch me knotting a tie on a Monday, even though I don't wear it to office. I just remove it and put it away.
5. My comments usually end up being of a length fit for a post, and I quietly convert them to posts on my blog. I'm restraining it though, and the fact that there is no post on Mysore even a week after she put this up, is proof enough.
Now for the next five: Its her, her, her, him and him.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Monday, June 05, 2006
Bride and Prejudice???
I personally don't like putting up forwards here, as blogs, but when she sent it, I couldn't but resist putting it up.
Ah, lady, this is for you. And for you too, my dearest.
Here is a girl,
who is as much educated as you are;
who is earning almost as much as you do;
one, who has dreams and aspirations just as you have because she is as human as you are;
one, who has never entered the kitchen in her life just like you or your sister haven't, as she was busy in studies and competing in a system that gives no special concession to girls for their culinary achievements;
one, who has lived with and loved her parents and brothers and sisters, almost as much as you do for 20-25 years of her life;
one, who has bravely agreed to leave behind all that, her home, people who love her, to adopt your home, your family, your ways and even your family name;
one, who is somehow expected to be a master-chef from day #1, while you sleep oblivious to her predicament in her new circumstances, environment and that kitchen;
one, who is expected to make the tea, first thing in the morning and cook food at the end of the day, even if she is as tired as you are, maybe more, and yet never ever expected to complain;
to be a naukraani, a cook, a mother, a wife, even if she doesn't want to; and is learning just like you are as to what you want from her, and is clumsy and sloppy at times and knows that you won't like it if she is too demanding or if she learns faster than you;
one, who has her own set of friends, and that includes boys and even men at her workplace, too, those, who she knows from school days and yet is willing to put all that on the back-burners to avoid your irrational jealousy, unnecessary competition and your inherent insecurities;
yes, she can drink and dance just as well as you can, but won't, simply because you won't like it, even though you say otherwise;
one, who can be late from work once in a while when deadlines, just like yours, are to be met;
one, who is doing her level best and wants to make this most important relationship in her entire life a grand success, if you just help her some and trust her;
one, who just wants one thing from you - your unstinted support, your sensitivities and most importantly - your understanding and love.
Are you man enough to give it to her?
I, for one, am.
Ah, lady, this is for you. And for you too, my dearest.
Here is a girl,
who is as much educated as you are;
who is earning almost as much as you do;
one, who has dreams and aspirations just as you have because she is as human as you are;
one, who has never entered the kitchen in her life just like you or your sister haven't, as she was busy in studies and competing in a system that gives no special concession to girls for their culinary achievements;
one, who has lived with and loved her parents and brothers and sisters, almost as much as you do for 20-25 years of her life;
one, who has bravely agreed to leave behind all that, her home, people who love her, to adopt your home, your family, your ways and even your family name;
one, who is somehow expected to be a master-chef from day #1, while you sleep oblivious to her predicament in her new circumstances, environment and that kitchen;
one, who is expected to make the tea, first thing in the morning and cook food at the end of the day, even if she is as tired as you are, maybe more, and yet never ever expected to complain;
to be a naukraani, a cook, a mother, a wife, even if she doesn't want to; and is learning just like you are as to what you want from her, and is clumsy and sloppy at times and knows that you won't like it if she is too demanding or if she learns faster than you;
one, who has her own set of friends, and that includes boys and even men at her workplace, too, those, who she knows from school days and yet is willing to put all that on the back-burners to avoid your irrational jealousy, unnecessary competition and your inherent insecurities;
yes, she can drink and dance just as well as you can, but won't, simply because you won't like it, even though you say otherwise;
one, who can be late from work once in a while when deadlines, just like yours, are to be met;
one, who is doing her level best and wants to make this most important relationship in her entire life a grand success, if you just help her some and trust her;
one, who just wants one thing from you - your unstinted support, your sensitivities and most importantly - your understanding and love.
Are you man enough to give it to her?
I, for one, am.
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