A day in the life of LIFE

Sarojini Nagar – One of the most inseparable places of the city of Delhi,whether you are looking to pick up hair pins, key chains, designer outfits or a bottle of Himesh Reshmiya’s nasal spray – you get everything under one roof.

And the market had the honor of playing host to none other than yours truly, who could find nothing more interesting to do on a Sunday afternoon than accompanying mom who is vacationing in Delhi,to select various paraphernalia from dress materials to ear rings for Laloo’s latest kid, which could well go into making of the next Mission Impossible sequel.

Jokes apart, it took quite some time for us to reach the place owing to the new year traffic, much akin to the airtel network congestion that happens well before midnight.

As we entered the market, a mob of hawkers descended and it dawned on us to don the DON looks so as to evade the paparazzi. A relatively peaceful lane awaited us, with fragrance of “dhoop” emanating from the motley shops that filled up the street, (though they failed to keep the flies away) while cries of “Sau ka doh, Sau ka doh” reverberated in the background. Amidst all this, a bicycle rider whizzed past us, like the artiste in the Royal Russian Circus. As we approached a junction, 2.5 centimeters wider than the lane that we were just in, a splendor motorbike came to a screeching halt and nearly rammed into the “Moomphali wala” who had decided that shops on either side could use his services to fragment the shopping happy crowd, in order to facilitate prospective customer distribution.

Did I forget to mention that Dad was there too? But he was more like the non playing Davis Cup captain, who was there to certify whatever Mom had selected. Dad is also in the process of developing the quality standard for certification, but the guidelines are much simpler unlike ISO. The fail proof Golden Rule for survival, Dad tells me is : “Never tell a woman her choice is bad. Tell her that while the current selection is excellent, the one with the higher price tag goes well with the theme of the next occasion she is going to put the choice to test, be it a dress, ear rings, footwear or even the crockery on the table”

As mom entered the 22nd shop in series, (or was it the 25th ?), dad and I signed a secret pact to alternately accompany mom to shops in intervals of 5. As I waited on them, I managed to find myself a bench right in between two hawkers selling myriad accessories, and the bench seemed like a bus stop in the middle of a National Highway. I was surprised to see the variety in the crowds that thronged the place.

Just beside me was a MPTGH (Mein Poora thak gaya hoon) Bengali husband munching on some pop corn, just as his enthusiastic wife shouted from across the street, “ theek lagbe? 475 bolshish, ami 450 bolbo.”. (any linguistic mistakes, kindly excuse!). The husband replied with a facial expression that implied, “Do as you please”,and that was it!. He had incurred the wrath of the President of the Rashtriya Mahila Vikas Parishad.

I did not see the dude again!

A couple of Nagarjuna fans came by, as they were dressed in yellow shirts and red pants, and just as they mumbled to each other in Telugu, they did manage some Hyderabadi Hindi which got a chaste UP ite response from the vendor, half of which was inaudible owing to the Banarsi Pan that he chewed even as he said “Phipty Phive bhonly” with great difficulty. I had enough reasons to believe that the deal was lost due to lack of an interpreter though both parties had finalized a mutually acceptable price.

The Pan brought with it, an invisible spittoon, since everyone but me, was found spitting right in the middle of the road, which otherwise had just enough space to walk on. A husky “gentleman” occupied the seat adjacent to mine, who initiated a chat with the hawker in front, and they discussed about the “maal” that ranged from Chinese Pencil Batteries to fancy make up kits.

P.S. - Two things, I’ve learnt thus far in hindi slang – “ Anything fried in oil qualifies as Pakodi/da, and never address a girl as “behenji” however reverent you may feel about her” (VM, thanks for the tip)

Sorry for digressing, next came a cool dude who looked like an extra in a David Dhawan movie (referred to as Upma Kaapi in South Indian movies). But I actually liked the line on his T shirt which said, “I have an ATM right @ home: DAD”

The sea of humanity was there to be seen… Weird hairstyles, different nationalities, cacophony of voices, and equally enthusiastic shoppers!! I did a little bit of exploration to help myself to a “Saarvajanik Suvidha” which was extremely well maintained for a public restroom – Glazed walls, shiny unbroken mirrors, and even the local FM broadcast that had Kay Kay singing to me, the hit song, “Yeh duniya Oot Patanga….". But I wonder why the Dettol soap container had local liquid soap in it..

Meanwhile mom had selected a pattern that had qualified into the top 100 of the year list and I was called in to approve the same. I gave my expert opinion that had as much value as Jennifer Lopez’s comments on Raag Kalyani.

The pattern on the dress passed the following four tests:

The lights on/off test
The “Does this color match the one I bought last year on April 21 for Munnu’s wedding” test
The Price Bargain Test
Dad’s Patience Test

This was just the beginning and we finally followed the same protocol to buy enough to call in Blue Line Packers for Door to Door Delivery.

Dad was energized to carry on for another hour with some kadak elaichi chai that blended perfectly with the descending layers of fog that threatened to reduce visibility, but the determined shoppers had their way, even with mother nature!

Back home, as Mom examines, re-examines and convinces herself that she got a good deal on all the stuff that we picked up, I am writing this blog, on New year’s eve, with some melodious singing in the neighborhood from talented people as gifted as Santo Ji in the movie Kal Ho Na Ho.. Wait a minute…no it cannot be this bad…That is my favourite song from “Kabul Express”, being "melodiously" crooned and the accompaniment in the background is a , HARMONIUM!!????@@##

Happy New Year everyone! Mujhe apney haal pe chchod do!
Cheers and drive back safe!! 2007 needs you :)

Pic: Depicting the colors in one of the shops.

Pic: A crowded street in Sarojini Market

Here I am, turning a new leaf in the book of life. Ah! So clichéd, isn’t it? I am not supposed to divulge the details of my age on by birthday, as in the opening line of the post, but then, as my boss claims, I am like Shahid Afridi, whose age never goes beyond 17.

All said and done, neither am I famous cricketer, nor do I have enough hair to model for Head and Shoulders. But, then again, I can at least speak English. Period.

Birthdays have been something I’ve always cherished from the days I said “A for Asafoetida, and B for Bandopadhyay” instead of Apple and bat, and Mom knew that I was a born genius. Post this Archimedean discovery, mom invited Chunnu, Munnu, Rita, Lavanya, Raj, Salim, Jobey, and their parents to my birthday party to showcase the latest talent in the colony. As in the Hindi movies, when the time came for me to perform, a proclamation of “Nach Basanti Nach” followed, but I was so zapped eating sugar candies that I forgot how to perform, and ever since, I haven’t had cakes as a punishment for what mom had to face.

Colour dress in school, distributing chocolates, celebrity status for a day (which meant getting away with the meanest of things ), the caps, the food, the musical chairs, the cartoon films, the mess around the place – wow, that was some merriment. Gathering gifts and waiting for guests to leave, so that the contents could be revealed, was the most awaited moment. The 24 hours meant so much that you would not want to lose a single second since the wait of 364 days was quite taxing and the countdown, equally exciting.

Back to the present.

The last two weeks, I’ve led life like a “fragile handle with care” package thrown into a goods wagon of Indian Railways originating from Kakinada enroute Billimora. I have been tossed, bruised, badgered at work and have resembled “Tom” walloped by Jerry. I skipped meals (atleast one per day) and almost fainted in office like the Heroine’s mother in the Hindi movies after uttering, “Beti, yeh tune kya kar diya, khandan ki izzat ko mitti mein mila diya”.VM saved the day with Glucon D. Thanks V.

But yesterday, Dhandha thoda manda tha, and I finally got time for myself. My parents arrived in saddi dilli courtesy: X mas vacation and I drove down to Delhi to spend time with moi aunt, so that the Big day could be welcomed with the associated ado. I wish to be modest, and my celebration included, home made food that I have longed to eat in the past two weeks, as a much desired substitute to bread and butter.

Today has been a blast of a day thus far, with calls from friends, nice messages, and some greeting cards. I am thankful to Life for the acquaintances, and It’s these nice and often crazy moments with friends that you cherish, for, "those who matter don’t mind, and those who mind, don’t matter!”
I’ve gifted myself a Bajaj Pulsar, with the digital meter and sleek tail lamps, and how I got it would be a story for a rainy mushy day. Till then I am trying to figure out whether the gear mechanism on the bike is all gears down or vice versa.

Adios, let’s go party tonight!!

P.S. – This blog is based on a special request by P.A. from Pune. Here you go , Poo :)

I always wanted to write this particular clichéd statement as the opening line in one of my pieces. And today I’ve got the opportunity to do so. “The time is 2:05 a.m. and I am writing this blog in the chill of the wintry night!” Ah, that feels nice. Almost as if a heavy burden is off my back. As I sit back, illuminated by the light of the incandescent reading lamp across my bed in the guest house, the warmth of the Lux Cotts wool thermal adds a quarter of a degree to my body temperature and protects me from being transformed into a frozen Neanderthal mammoth of the previous millennium.

Yes, the minimum temperature that was recorded yesterday was 6.5 degrees Celsius and that is a degree above normal, I am told. Wow! Wonder how close we are to the Arctic Circle. And imagine a wedding party that is running late into the night, funding Himesh Reshmiya’s nasal implant expenses by playing his constipated songs at this wee hour, asking people for donations. Don’t worry Himesh ji, Just as Delhi washed their clothes with Surf Excel to collect Rs.5 Lakhs for a noble cause, your music shall be promoted in a similar manner.

My first week end in Noida has been good fun. With work pressures during the week soaring like the BSE sensex, I was left with little choice, but to work late nights, of course with intermittent supplements of Maggi tomato Soup. I entered the wee hours of Saturday morning, trying to pull out something like the magician’s rabbit, so that my client would be convinced about my skills in using Microsoft Power point. Post that, my boss took me along to his residence (and I am grateful to him for that) and made me devour hot and good home food that turned my deep blue frozen skin into pale pink. As a guest I also got to have a hefty breakfast the next morning and almost felt like staying over for lunch like the shameless Govinda in one of his ‘C’ grade flicks. But as luck would have it, I was expecting a call from my Packers and had to scamper back to my ‘future’ residence to receive the goods.

I have shed all inhibitions and never miss an opportunity to gorge home made food, which explains my immediate acceptance of an invitation by a colleague for dinner at his place. It was a re-union of sorts, with the boss gang and a couple of ex-colleagues meeting up on a breezy Saturday night.

Sunday was lazy and it was nice to watch Shah Rukh’s versatility and Ekta Kapoor’s triviality on channels like Sony Max and Star Plus which,way back in Chennai were portrayed as taboo channels and hence safely quarantined in the set top box, thanks to the Sun network monopoly.

The evening went in savoring some hot jalebis and pakodas that set the perfect stage to launch into a movie @ Imax in Spice Mall, and what could be better than, “My name’s Bond! Brooke Bond!” sorry James Bond. Well that’s the reason I guess Brooke Shields did not wed James Bond. Quite a decent flick but I would have preferred Pierce Brosnan in the lead role. The movie review would form the topic of another post.

Life’s suddenly got into fast forward 9x mode with so many things happening in such less time, and all I can do is “Bhaagam Bhaag”.
Whoever said “If everything is under your control, you ain’t going fast enough” was dead right about it! More to come on “Discovery of Delhi”….

It’s been 3 days into Delhi/Noida Life, and so far so good. The last week was enjoyable, yet taxing , with myself traveling around the South of the Sub continent, as the next opportunity to do so would not be expected in the near future.

A quick trip to Hyderabad to meet up with a cousin, to another journey into the beauty of the Agumbe Ghats enroute to the famed Jog Water falls, peppered with ‘return to base camp’ sojourns at home, eleventh hour shopping for my Delhi stint, created quite a packed schedule of a whistle stop tour.

In fact, as I prepared for the packers to move my stuff from Bangalore, my house resembled a gypsy camp, and looking at my voluminous luggage, Mom was almost certain I had a secret family whom I was shifting without her knowledge to my new destination. What’s more, she commented in full filmi ishtyle, “Beta, yeh sab saaman tumhare pas kahan se aaye? Bata do ki tum waise kaam nahin kar rahe ho joh tumhe karna nahin chahiye?”

Jokes apart, my exit from Bangalore resembled the scene from the flick “Hyderabad Blues”, with my mom making the choicest of dishes, giving the soundest of advices and pressing a couple of hundred rupee notes in my palm to be handed over to Lakshmamma, our maid, as a good will gesture, which made me realize that basic instincts hardly change.

The flight to Delhi was nice. My maiden flight since February last, this was my first departure from Bangalore airport in 21 years. Things have changed, and air travel has become affordable these days. But strangely mindsets still need time to adapt. I overheard an inquisitive visitor asking an airport staffer, “Bhaisaab, Platform ticket kahan milega?”

I had a south east Asian as my co-passenger, who read some weird book the script of which resembled the one used in the Harappan civilization. He seemed sick and tired and I did not want to bother him with my conversations, as I had the pretty air hostesses at my beck and call who compensated well enough for my disinterested co-passenger.

Just as I landed at the Indira Gandhi International airport, I changed my attire from a coastal beach guy to an Eskimo from Antarctica, and have never come out of it for the last three days. As I got into the cab, I told the driver, “Noida pola ma?” (Can we go to Noida?) A 150 minute flight did not remind me to revise and update my regional lingo from Tamil/Kannada to Hindi.

The temperatures have been tolerable out here. However, a turtle neck sweater, a leather jacket, a monkey cap, muffler, woolen gloves and socks, follow me like Karna’s golden Kavach in the Mahabharata. Finding south Indian food has become as common as India winning an Olympic gold medal.

A Mallu colleague(LI) took me to one Laxmi Café in Sector 27 where we gobbled up rasam, sambhar and rice in true “Saddi Dilli” style, though I had to treat him for finding the place. The bill made me believe I was eating at Saravana Bhavan in New Jersey, and also brought up the attractive proposition of quitting my IT job and opening a “Madrasi in Dilli” café. Food was decent, unlike the Masala Dosa that I had sampled in Badrinath a few years ago which tasted like anything but the Dosa.

The interesting observation about Noida has been that there are lot of well built nomadic bulls which keep wandering on the roads. Wonder why opportunistic India has still not cashed in on the opportunity to employ them. Roads are wider with traffic equally unruly, rest seems normal. In case someone tells you S/He is chilling out, it means s/he’s actually chilled out thanks to the freezing cold. There are no medium budget hotels easily accessible. Either it’s the road side dhaba or the above average premium eat-outs that are available leaving very few options to choose from. Any tips in this direction are welcome.The beauty quotient (both natural and human *wink*) of Delhi/NCR is considered one of the best in the nation and I am all set to explore the same. So till I get back on those details, “O bhaiyya ! do kadak chai banana, malai maar ke!”

I m finally back! For those of you who managed to notice my disappearance into oblivion, and mistook me for Anant Gupta, the rich kid who was kidnapped from Noida recently, thank you for bestowing me with celebrity status.

Yes, after Prince(no not the black and white computer game that we played 10 years ago @ NIIT centers. It is the boy rescued from the well who is now modeling for Kamadhenu water pumps), Anant is getting Bollywood offers for Prakash Jha’s latest film “Anarth ka Anth Anant ke sangh”.

A lot of developments have happened in the current week, apart from the kidnap and release of Anant. My sojourn in Chennai is coming to an end. Though I would not be flying off to distant lands or the greener pastures of the clichéd Amrica, like in most Subhash Ghai flicks, Mom is still holding the tip of her saree’s pallu, brushing aside my sweat and saying, “ Sambhal ke rehna beta, Duniya bohot buri hai”.

I am making my way to the Rajdhani of India, Saddi Dilli. The transition to the Hindi Heartland after 2.5 years in Tamizh strong hold would play a big role in sensitizing me to the much talked about cross cultural divide in the Indian Sub continent.

Chennai has been good to me, in more ways than one. After all, this is the city where I started my “career” in the hallowed portals of the IT industry where I took pride in spending my self-earned rupee, though not returning Dad’s ATM card in the first month, till I got my own.

My Tamizh has improved a lot, what once sounded Latin, now sounds like Malayalam, so I consider that as an improvement. But of course, my brush with corporate honchos is courtey: Chennai. And the food courts and eating joints’ yellow pages is going to be published by me soon.The most important thing though is that it has given me the confidence to survive in any hostile surrounding.

I was just listing out the changes likely to be encountered by me thorough this shift.

A change from dosa and vada to aloo prantha, from A.R. Rehman to Daler Mehendi, from Vanakkam Aiyya to Jai Hind Sirjee, is going to get some time to internalized, and the last thing I would want to say to the Auto wallah in Delhi is Noida Varingla?

But this is going to be ‘some’ experience to say the least. Ab Dilli dur nahin..

Logging out from Chennai..More on Delhi and my crazy travels in the next post!

F.R.I.E.N.D.S.: The second best thing after the family or at times even on par with the latter.It's quite interesting to note that we spend most of our waking lives in the company of colleagues and friends rather than our own family.

And to have a bunch of good friends is like being blessed.

It's a wonderful feeling to be in the company of friends who are willing to listen to you, no matter what your levels of verbal diarrhoea are :).

I can as well figure out the readers' sentimental emotions that have begun to flow like the overflowing Coums of Chennai city.

But yes, today was a great evening.An off the cuff program to the beach with a 'gang' of four other friends was indeed invigorating. The beauty about dynamic decision is the time saved which otherwise goes into long drawn planning that eventually results in zilch results.

D,P,H,E (codes sound like the logical reasoning section of a campus recruitment paper. What's more the letter codes actually match the all pervading Phoebie of the original series) and myself embarked on a mission to visit the visibly overloaded Beasant Nagar Beach, the drive leading up to which reminds me of the wide and tree laden road through Cubbon Park in Bangalore.

D was as usual in the mood of being relaxed and care free. I dont think you need much when you are an IIM pass out, running your own business and live in a cool pent houseon the 11th floor of a plush apartment in the heart of the city.

H, the no-nonsense guy of the group was trying to relate his experiences as part of the German entourange, intermittently munching on some mango and corn.

P, who is currently creating a couple of her portfolios to get into modelling, was the late entrant and was specially requested by H to be part of the gang.:)

E, the philosopher contemplated on the essense of existence as the waves washed some sea shells ashore (that was not a tongue twister, was it?)

And myself as usual, in the greater interest of the rest of humanity, ended up making a fool of myself,voluntarily giving the rest of the 'junta' a chance to laugh their hearts out....at my expense of course. Screen shots from Dil Chahta Hai, struck a chord with all of us, though.

We then moved on to sample "Frankies",sponsored by P. Actually this was my first frankie (yes, unexpected things do happen in this world. In fact when I first comprehended the word "Franky" as a kid, i associated it with a mini Frankenstein) ..It tasted good, though somewhat like a hybid of chapathi,cutlet,taaza pyaz and some chilli chutney, all roled into one tissue.lol.

By the way,The next two weeks are going to decide what I would be doing in the next 10 years.More on that once I get through this fortnight.

Nonetheless, The light banter helped cheer us all up and re-align towards the Lakshya.

This post does sound esoteric. But the mist would rise as I elaborate in due course.

Special thanks to P for making 'MY' evening so memorable. :D

By the way, 'M' we did miss you :)

Yeh Dosti, Hum nahin todenge....Don first, Sholay next....[.]

P.S. - Sorry, no snaps this time..This was off the cuff right?So I am excused...:)

Okay!. Now where was I. Ah, yes…I got into the compartment only to discover that I was allocated a side upper, and this was almost equivalent to forcing a camel to enter an ant hill.(pardon the bad analogy!).Dad always told me not to look the gift horse in the mouth. All animal crackers apart, I was a little envious of the passengers who would enjoy their sleep on the “usual” berths.

Just then, a “boy” [used in the same analogy of the "child in the previous post here] appeared out of nowhere, with some heavy metal playing so loudly that even Professor Calculus (of Tintin fame) would be startled out of his slumber. The “boy” was vertically challenged [ should be just about 5.1 ft] but horizontally followed Charle’s law [Courtesy: Physical chemisty Class XI].

I requested the dude if he could swap his berth with mine for which he flatly refused.
Some courtesy, I thought! Meanwhile I turned my sight to a visibly “drunk” co-passenger uncle who was in pajamas and a white kurta and was making as many arrangements to get to sleep as if he were on a journey from Kashmir to Kanyakumari for the next 50 odd hours.

As everyone settled down in their berths, one person pointed to an unclaimed handbag that had been lying on a vacant berth for quite some time. Specially in the light of the recent train of events, the situation we had on our hands (George Bush lingo) was not to be taken lightly.

The RPF official soon swooped down, armed with an AK 47 raising quite a few brows around. It almost was a real life operation and it was not like the way it’s shown on TV. The bag was right behind me and God knew what it contained. Everyone expected the train to be halted and an IBN crew to arrive any moment and the 6221 would soon turn into the “Super Express” as in the famed movie “Burning Train”!

It was not funny at all, but I was still reminded of the serial “How I met your Mother” , where one of the episodes had Barney placing dummy suitcases on the conveyer belt to pose as tourists in the prospect of befriending fellow passengers of the fairer sex.

The hapless Railway attendant was summoned for interrogation if he had seen anything happening. The guy was scared out of his wits and thought he was being accused of the probable crime. He was asked to check if it belonged to any of the motormen. By now the panic factor started gripping everyone even as the cold conditioned air made us freeze.

One of passengers suggested we throw the bag out of the train. But what if it exploded on the track??

The TT was soon summoned to check if he owned the bag. When both responses turned out to be negative, the RPF office took great courage and tried opening the bag. The outer flap was opened. It had layered zips beneath. The first zip was opened with utmost care and lo behold! It was empty. But the bag was heavy and definitely had something in it. The second zip was being opened even as sweat dripped off many foreheads. And as the zip clicked open, “BOOM!” a bomb! thought everyone, only to realize that it was the long horn of the engine coupled with some track turbulence which had resulted in the toilet door in banging against the frame, with the loud bang.

As the bag was dug into, a couple of neatly pressed shirts came out..
A placebo! One of them commented…Next came an envelope..It must definitely have some design and maps, a passenger muttered. And what came out was currency of around 5000 Indian rupees. My My! 5k was his reward!!! Exclaimed one..

And to the sheer surprise of everyone, what accompanied the envelope was a letter addressed to a local blood bank and this was when all of thought this was actually not what we all imagined it to be.

A couple of passengers were asked to sign as witnesses for the amount found in the bag, lest the RPF be accused of devouring the cash. It was decided that the bag be handed over to the unclaimed baggage section in the next station.

Everyone left the coach at around 12:45..a.m. with no conclusion.

Meanwhile I was left with my side upper berth which was almost inconsequential now. Nonetheless there was a “smart” lady who had got in at Cantonment and apparently had been allotted the regular upper berth atop the drunken uncle in pajamahs. Now this was a task for “Superman”, I muttered and rushed to offer a swap which she readily agreed to. As I gleefully acknowledged the “Dumb Blonde” theory, I realized that I had obtained a raw bargain. The smart ”blonde” had given me a berth that was just above the entrance of the AC compartment and had three a/c blowers adjacent to it, emulating the atmosphere in the “Abirami Snow World” in Chennai.(Yes, in Chennai now-a-days, the rains are free but snow is still to be bought)

As I dreamt about anything other than the polar bear, I faintly heard some noises around me. Apparently they had found the owner of the bag in one of the other compartments and the attendant came to wake up the witnesses to testify the co-ordinates of the bag. There were some words flying here and there about the man “forgetting” his luggage and all that. But the RPF officer announced that the issue was resolved and he would tell us the details next morning. But we never got to listen to the details.

With teeth chattering, the drunk uncle snoring, the adventure still ringing, and with the door banging into my feet jutting out of the berth, It was almost day break by the time I could catch some sleep.

The last straw on the camel’s (my) back was the arrival of the 6221 an hour before schedule which had a probability of 1/2756984. To top it all, I had developed a heavy cold and have been coughing all week and am pampering myself with “Sud Tanni” (Hot water) as part of my daily menu.!! Achchooo!!

That's right! This is precisely the train number of the "Kaveri Express" that runs daily and transports around 1276.5 people(15 coaches multiplied by 60 seats + unreserved + kids + vendors + ticketless travellers) between the metros of Bangalore and Chennai.

I had this psychological feeling of associating a train journey with summer vacations, for a train journey signified a looooong trip. Not anymore. I've very well joined the bandwagon of Indians who travel more often than they visit the restroom.

The 6221, departs at a convenient 23:45 hrs, thus providing lot of allowance for those office goers whose place of work does not mandate enough travel, which most Bangaloreans would find as close to the ideal state Carnot's engine.

After a hefty meal(I've said this before, My mother believes food is unavailable in Chennai), and a tearful farewell (they were more tears of joy though Ma doesn't admit it :)), I reached the Bengalooru city railway station at around 23:15 hrs. It's that time of the night when the stray dog on the street thinks he's the lion of the area, and hawaldar Pandu, is busy having a beedi to beat the cold weather.

The railway station as ubiquotious across India, as the Medu Vada in an Udupi restaurant, was however totally different from the sleepy city in being up and running 25*8.

I dragged my stuffed suitcase along the rugged platform and reached my coach S5, after a long walk that was as far as Dandi from Sabarmati.

I gleefully pulled out my ticket and matched S5 54, against the reservation chart that still smelt of fresh glue with which it had just been pasted.

S5 52 Santo Ben F 56
S5 53 Santa Singh M 78
S5 54 Lokesha M 28

S5 55 hey! wait a minute, 54 was supposed to be my name, unless of course my parents got fed up of calling me by the same.

I checked and re-checked!. I thought that Indian Railways was testing my logical reasoning ability and tried rearranging the letters of Lokesha to get my name in place. I then said to myself, "Abraca Dabra, choo!" still no luck. The time was 23:25. twenty mintues to departure.

I started swearing against my travel agent who I thought had bungled things up. but no! the date and train number were right.I decided to check if my berth was occupied, else I would sneak into the same and hold onto it for dear life.

As I approached the berth, I saw a 28 year old "boy" who was a macho already asleep on the berth, with his shoes at the far end. I hate it when people put their footwear on the berth thereby treating the railways as the Indian Government's dowry to them. Guessing from the namology, I figured the guy had to be from Karnataka. Not wanting to be beaten up into a pulp by the body builder, I broke into Kannada in the most reverent of tones, "Saar #54 nim berth a? nandu kooda ade ansuttey". (Sir, is this your berth? I seem to have the same number too). I expected the man to retort with annoyance, but Mr. Lokesha was more than willing to help.He allowed me to park my luggage under his berth and volunteered to sort it out with the TT. His ticket had apparently been confirmed from an RAC.

As we marched upto the TT in the adjacent bogie,"S S Sharma". I enquired, "Sirjee, zara yeh ticket dekh sakhtey hain? dono mein ek hi number hai? " He turned out to be the wrong one. We travelled to the other end of the compartment and bumped into the "real" TT.I read his nameplate "R. Selvamani". I've realized that speaking one's mother tongue adds the extra touch to the conversation. I decided to test my Tamil skills. I muttered "Saar, inda ticket koncha paakringla. Randa ticket ley orey number da irukku".(Sir will you please see these tickets they same to have the same number). By now, Mr. Lokesha thought I was going to speak Mandarin and Swahili in my next conversation.

The TT pleasantly smiled at me and said,"Saar! Ungod Class AC ku upgrade aairukku".(Sir, your class has been upgraded to AC). As pleased as punch, I triumphantly scorned the II sleeper bogie and sang praises of Lalooji even as Mr. Lokesha announced to his fellow passengers the news which was perceived by the others as if I had set a new Olympic record in Kabaddi.

It was 23:42. Three minutes to reach the compartment that was a good 5 bogies away. The gymnastics of Nadali Dementia(Should be Russian! and the relative of the Scientist who discovered Dementia - temporary loss of memory)did help me reach in time.

Once onto the train and after settling into my seat,I discovered that it was side upper! Groan! I muttered..And shortly I saw some passengers raising an alarm with a Railway police officer about unclaimed baggage right behind my seat!!

What happened to me in the Side berth? Did the unclaimed baggage contain some contraband substance that blew up? Wait for the next blog for more details on the same. Reporter Tintin would be back live :). Please dont go anywhere and do take good care of yourself

Dear Readers,

Wish you and your family greetings of the season.

Just want to quote one line that was published in the Times of India a few years ago.

Happy DiwALI and RAMzan! Who are we to draw the line?Simply awesome!ain't it?

Btw, This is probably my shortest blog :).

Celebrate life!
cheers.

How many of us have grown up, spending time in front of good old Doordarshan, watching the serial “Malgudi Days”! The melodious title music, the make-believe small town setting of Malgudi, the characters so infused with life – Swami being the most famous among them, and but of course, the illustrations and sketches, all these bring back memories of the person with the gift of Story telling – R.K. Narayan.

Born as Rasipuram Krishnaswami Ayyar Narayanaswami, R.K. Narayan is among the well known and most widely read Indian novelists who wrote in the English Language.

After completing eight years of education at the Lutheran Mission School close to his grandmother's house in Madras, he studied for a short time at the CRC High School. When his father, Rasipuram Venkatarama Krishnaswami Iyer, was appointed headmaster of the Maharaja's High School in Mysore, Narayan moved back in with his parents. To his father's consternation, Narayan was an indifferent student and after graduating, he failed the college entrance exam in English because he found the primary textbook too boring to read. He retook the exam a year later and eventually obtained his bachelor's degree from the University of Mysore.

One of the few Indian-English writers who spent nearly all his time in India, he went abroad to the United States in 1956 at the invitation of the Rockefeller Foundation. Narayan's first published work was the review of a book titled Development of Maritime Laws of 17th-Century England. He began his literary career with short stories which appeared in The Hindu, and also worked for some time as the Mysore correspondent of Justice, a Madras-based newspaper. He also took up teaching at a government school, but left the job within two days.

It was on a Vijayadashami day, that his grandmother asked him to write something in the new book and Narayan was not sure what to write. It was at this time that his mind conceptualized a small town of South India and called it Malgudi which eventually interconnected the experiences of many Indians who could relate to the same.

His writing career began with Swami and Friends.At first, he could not get the novel published. Eventually, the draft was shown to Graham Greene by a mutual friend, Purna. Greene liked it so much that he arranged for its publication. Greene was to remain a close friend and admirer of his. After that, he published a continuous stream of novels, all set in Malgudi and each dealing with different characters in that fictional place. Autobiographical content forms a significant part of some of his novels. For example, the events surrounding the death of his young wife and how he coped with the loss form the basis of The English Teacher. Mr. Narayan became his own publisher, when World WarII cut him off from Britain.

Mr. Narayan won numerous awards and honours for his works. He won the National Prize of the Sahitya Akademi, the Indian literary academy, for The Guide in 1958. He was honoured with the Padma Bhushan, a coveted Indian award, for distinguished service to literature in 1964. In 1980, R. K. Narayan was awarded the AC Benson Medal by the Royal Society of Literature. He was an honorary member of the society. He was elected an honorary member of the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters in 1982 and nominated to the Rajya Sabha in 1989. In addition, the University of Mysore, Delhi University and the University of Leeds conferred honorary doctorates on him. His work is unique in writing field. He was awarded Padma Vibhushan in 2000.

RKN's stories have definitely formed a part and parcel of every Indian household that would be remembered for time immemorial.Today, October 10 marks the birth centenary of this great author, and the least we could do is pass on the timeless tales written by him, to the generations that follow!

P.S. Facts courtesy - Wikipedia

Ok! Benovelent Anu has tagged me, and I've set out to answer these "good" questions, in a manner as true to myself as possible.

1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn on page 18 and find line 4.

The book on my table is my personal red diary (like the one in the movie DON). Pg 18, line 4 is a white patch between two lines. In other words, it’s blank. Haven’t reached writing into page 18 yet.

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can.

Oops! My colleague’s wig just took off *giggle*

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?

Inzamam-ul-Haq’s English in the Man-of -the match ceremony. Yes, that was eons ago, my room in Chennai has no TV, coz you don’t need idiot boxes where idiots live :)

4. Without looking, guess what time it is?

I came in to work,finished checking my mails, cleared the trash and settled down to write this, so it must be TEA time.

5. Now look at the clock, what is the actual time?

What ever it is, it sure is never late to grab a coffee. Tea time does not always mandate you to drink tea, does it?

6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?

The sound of silence! (isn't that an oxymoron?) - not many people are in yet, thanks to Monday morning blues

7. When did you last step outside? What were you doing?

Half hour ago -Thinking as to why the cow across the street prefers eating banana leaves to coconut leaves.

8. Before you started this survey, what did you look at?

An e-mail joke from a colleague in my mailbox, the import of which am still trying to comprehend. :(

9. What are you wearing?

A 500 Watt positive attitude and a broad smile with the ends of my lips turned up.

10. Did you dream last night?

Yes, That I flunked the Class X Bio paper for the nth time.

11. When did you last laugh?

Just Now. Thinking about what I dreamt last night.

12. What is on the walls of the room you are in?

Let me consider the wall of my open cubicle:

A friend’s sketch of a falcon – breathtaking
Quotes from the Alchemist - Inspiring
A poem by Rudyard Kipling – Memorising
The Indian Tri Color - Mesmerising
A campus batch mates’ photograph which is now selling like an antique piece - just hanging :)

I also have a Couple of meaningless but whacky quotes like:

•The succeeding statement is true: The preceding statement is false
•Diplomacy is the art of saying "nice doggie" . . . 'till you can find a rock!
•Smile today. Tomorrow could be worse.
•Always and never are two words you should always remember never to use.
•If everything seems to be under control, you are not going fast enough.


13. Seen anything weird lately?

Yeah! Looked at myself in the wash room mirror - (har har har)

14. What do you think of this quiz?

QUIZ! Yippiee.. Did I answer a quiz? I thought it was a stress interview for a job opening @ Blogspot

15. What is the last film you saw?

Yesterday – The name of the Movie was "A day in the life of my life"

Producer – Mother Nature
Assistant Director - Serendipity
Actor - Me :)
Actress – Situation Vacant ! Interested candidates can apply
The Director – GOD !!

16. If you became a multimillionaire overnight, what would you buy?

Would I still have to buy,I'd anyway get a new name?? - SelvaKumar ( translating to the poor little Rich boy - Richie Rich) in Tamizh.


17. Tell me something about you that I dunno.

I detest colored “upma” (prefer the dish white) as much as mallika sherawat dislikes Salwar kameez.

18. If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do?

Change Myself :P

19. Do you like to dance?

I love to, and am currently being coached by Prabhu Deva’s personal Dhobi

20. George Bush.

Hmmm…Hmmmm…Hmmm…. – In order to win the battle, we need to defeat the enemy in the war !! :P

21. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?

Lulu (pet name)


22. Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?

Tintin (pet name)


23. Would you ever consider living abroad?

Nopes, Zindagirocks@India.com.

24. What do you want GOD to say to you when you reach the pearly gates?

GOD to Me : I think you got the wrong address buddy..My records don’t reflect your name.Having said that, maybe it’s because of your faulty code that My database got corrupted…lol

25. 5 people who must also do this in their blog.

Arthi
Subbu
Aphros
Anonymous
Anonymous

Glossary:
ATM : Any Time Money
Dumb IT Guy: Me
Security guard: Anyone who is at places other than where he actually should be

This list will evolve in flesh and blood as the blog proceeds.And the title of this post bears no resemblance with Chetan Bhagat's novel.

It was one of those days, when after a contented meal, and a banarsi paan, all you could ask for, is a Hot Chocolate Fudge... [Yummmm ain't it].

Well, having said that, I was feeling quite full and another mention of anything edible, would have made me adopt Gandhigiri's famed "fast unto death", for the preservation of the endangered cockroaches in T Nagar.

A chat treat at Gangotree and some corn with butter was quite filling, and as I thundered down G.N. Chetty Road @ speeds of 5.6124 kmph, my extra sharp eyes spotted an ATM - Yes, Yes, you are right! The same 2x2 cubicle that coughs up cash the moment you load its processor with the magic pin code.

This ATM belonged to a bank other than the one in which I hold an account, but my bankers, generous as they are, give me a couple of transactions without charge whenever I use an external ATM.

And the "lazy" me decided to avail this option rather than go to the end of the road to my "regular" ATM.

It was quarter to 10, and I remembered dad's words of ATMs being unsafe at night. But, the adventurous part of me, took on the challenge and entered the air conditioned match box.

I tried inserting my card and something told me, the machine was not going to accept it. Perseverant that I am, in matters which dare defy me, I forced the card into the machine till it was three quarters in. It was then the realisation dawned on me that something was hopelessly wrong and now I had to figure out a way of removing the card more like trying to snatch a bone from the jaws of a german shepherd.

Using some basic mechanical engineering skills that i had assimilated sleeping through seminars and presentations, i picked up a gem clip and thought if I could fit the width of the card into the clip, I could then pull out the same.

Meanwhile a couple of co-ATM visitors successfully completed their transactions on the machine next to mine and started suspiciously staringat me, as I tried to draw my card out. No success yet! In fact, rather than coming out, the card went almost in but was still stuck in the jaws of the machine. Rowan Atkinson would have been proud of me, as my antics of removing the card could well be converted into a whole episode of "Mr. Bean @ the ATM".

As I was pondering my next course of action, a brilliant idea struck me! - I tried to scout around for the watchman but as I moved out of the ATM, all I found were three stray dogs menacingly staring at me. I got back into the ATM and stayed there for a quarter of an hour. The stage was set like the episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. where Chandler gets stuck at an ATM when there is a power black out and has a beautiful model for company. But poor me had just a poster of a starlet advertising the Bank's latest schemes adorning the soiled walls. What a pity, that you neither get "locked out" in Indian ATM s.

As the coast got clear, I managed to reach out to the watchman, who was catching a quick nap in the basement, and after listening to my story, asked me to come back the day after to collect the card since the next day was a National Holiday -Bole toh apna Baapu ka Happy Birthday, that's why.

Now, the eerie feeling of my card being misused and my account being reduced to nil balance sent the shivers down my spine. I decided to wait till such a time that an Einstenian idea could strike.

I had once studied a chapter on Semaphores in Operating Systems which quoted ATM s as a real time example.Now was my chance to write some path breaking code on a PLA (geek gadget) to force open the ATM, like they show in the Block buster Sci-Fi movies. but alas, I am not a star programmer, In fact my programming skills are almost similar to George Bush's speech making skills. Both work best when not used.

Finally,as I star gazed looking for higher level intervention, a samaritan who came to withdraw cash, looked at me with the "You IT guys always land up in a mess, dont you?" gaze and did something which was born out of sheer common sense.

He took out his card and pushed it against mine, and voila! my card successfully entered the system and the usual status message appeared. I thanked him profusely and realized what six sigma could not achieve, plain common sense did.

Blushing, I took my card out and made my way out of the ATM, with a lesson learnt well...It's the small detail that helps rather than paralysis of analysis!

And as a compensation, the bank has decided to bring in additional options for customers stuck at ATMs. I've decided what I want - the next time the message "Do you want another function?" flashes on the screen, am gonna order for a Cold Coffe with extra cream and caramel!

The basic instinct of any human being (No I am not referring to that: Corrupt you!) is to find three square meals a day (I still wonder why they call it square when most plates we eat in, are ellipses), and for those people living out of their cozy homes, in far away lands inhabited by alien species: they need four 'square' meals a day.

Two days prior to my departure to my home 'city' ( would not want to call Bangalore a town), dear mom called me up on the phone and enquired in a quivering voice similar to that of Nirupa Roy (The ever pervading mother of Indian Cinema) :

"Beta, ghar kab laut rahe ho? tumse baat kiye huey bees ghante ho gaye hai. Padosi ka ladka munnu har haftey aata jaata rehta hai.Tumharey paapa bhi intezaar kar rahe hai... jaldi aa beta, kaam toh chalta hi rahega". By the way, before my readers sympathise with munnu, he is the "bad boy" of the street who stays out of the house and comes back home at the end of the week when he runs out of money. Nevertheless, I got all senti and decided to pack my bags and catch the next bail gaadi (oops rail gaadi) to Bengalooru, like Aakash in Dil Chahta Hai.
By the way I think Aakash used the Hawai Gaadi in the movie, to travel fraam Aastrayliya to Humara India.

Awwww. wasn't that sweet?. Wish it would happen that way. I had been home just a month ago and when I announced the details of my being there over the weekend, Mom was so aghast that she asked me if e-cancellation of the ticket was possible and told me to utilize the option for the same. But like all mothers, whose hearts are made of Platinum, dear mom welcomed me with as much fanfare as depicted in the Siyaram Suiting advertisement, and the only component missing, was Dia Mirza.

After the customary "You look so lean and have gone down so much dear, you are not eating well" words, mom gave me many guidelines that could be compiled into a best seller, overnight. She stopped only when I told her that my waist size had increased by over an inch thanks to Chennai in general and Usha Uthup aunty in particular (Refer to the previous post here).

But mom was not convinced, and for the two days at home, my itinerary looked something like this:

5:30 - wake up!
6:30 - final wake up call or MS Subbulaxmi in max volume
7:00 - Tea with sprouts and biscuits
8:30 - BreakfEast
10:00- Freshly prepared Juice
11:00- Bakery Biscuits
11:30- Dry Fruit Snack
12:00- Soup
13:00-......................

I think the half day schedule was quite "filling" and I'll cut it short here, lest i be troubled by pangs of envy.

That's not the end of the story. This is the schedule on an off day. On a "special day", visits to grandma's, maamis' and buaji's houses leaves me with enough and more to chew the cud for two continuous days once back in chennai.

Mom strangely believes that there is a severe food shortage in chennai. So she packs up almost everthing and hence, I make it a point to carry an empty suitcase on my onward journey which comes back full, during the return trip.

Of course, These are coupled with the gellusils, haajmolas and Pudin Haara.

But then, as they say, "Mother's love is fattening, and I am not complaining". Rather, I am all set to participate in the T Nagar Sumo Wrestling competition next week. So wish me luck :)

I tried experimenting with the newly found liking to the “gyan” and “gandhigiri” philosophy, courtesy: the movie that I’ve spoken of in the previous post here. [For the uninitiated, Gandhi and Giri are not my neighbors, Gandhigiri as defined by Mr. Murli Prasad Sharma, is the act of following the ideals propagated by Mahatma Gandhi, in the context of the 21st Century].

My Experiments with the moments of truth are narrated below: Note: Watching the movie would help you relate the scenes of the movie to the following experiences, all of which might not have actually happened, and are all a figment of my volatile imagination.

Scene 1: The RTO office at K K Nagar

After watching the movie, I finally decided to obtain my road tax permit for my kinetic that I had evaded till date and chugged along to the RTO office to own up my “sins” to the round and beautiful traffic inspector who would come out to inspect the bike.

The “dude” asked me as to why he should approve of my wrongdoing for which I explained the script of the movie that had inspired me to commit kamikaze at the RTO office.

The routine “maamool” was asked for, and after consultation with “baapu” who was right behind me [a la the movie], I decided to embarrass the inspector by shedding my tee shirt then my glasses and by then a huge crowd had gathered near the spot.

Instead of the desired effect, my bike was seized and I was mocked at and shooed away for indecent exposure, and the moral police felt I was giving Mallika Sherawat a run for her money. the Cristies’ of London have been wanting my tee shirt for an auction titled, “The tee shirt of the man who made an ass of himself, rather rephrasing it as the ass who tried to make a man of himself”.

Contributions for paying my auto fare to and back from office in the absence of my loyal two wheeler, are humbly accepted.


Scene 2: Building relationships

I had mentioned about my noisy roomies in a previous post here. As a mark of silent protest/ Satyagraha, I decided to sleep out of the room, right in the middle of the hall, so that they get aware of my problems, and turn down the volume, since “Satyagraha sey dushman ki nazron mein aap key liye izzat badti hai”.

The result has been that both the rooms are now bolted and the volumes of Himesh Reshmiya are at an all time high, and Sigh! Neither are the ear plugs working.

Scene 3: @ my home in Chennai

My neighbor’s wife has this annoying habit of combing her hair, making small rings out of those that have come loose and blowing them into the air, like a child making a “good luck” wish. The small rings of hair conveniently make their way into our room though the balcony and lodge themselves al all inaccessible locations.

I got this idea of shouting at my neighbour, but then, after watching the movie, I picked up all the cute little hair collectables and made a hair bun out of the same (yeah, I learnt the art from my grandmother) and went across to present the same to my padosi’s padosan.

The uncle thought I had ulterior motives and has lodged a complaint with the Secretary of the apartment on account of prying and forceful entry into their flat. I had also used the broad smile as shown in the movie but that did not seem to work.

Eviction proceedings are underway , and I am now, out, searching for a new flat.

May be Baapu forgot to include the enhanced version 1.1 for the user manual on Satyagraha for the 21st century. So, till then, I am going to watch a re-run of Lagey Raho Munna Bhai…..for some finer tips on survival :)

What would you wish to do when you are loaded with work at office and know you are fighting a challenging battle against time? Or, you’ve just been dumped by your girlfriend and feel that the rest of the “buri duniya” is plotting to get rid of you?Worse even, you’ve just come out of a casino with no money left but for a hundred odd rupees, that can’t help you do much?

Lo behold! You are in the perfect condition to go watch the latest flick of Tinsel town – “ Lagey Raho Munna Bhai”.

After much deliberation, and mustering a feeble strength of 3 fellow cinema watchers, my movie watching plan was almost in jeopardy and with the movie running to packed houses, I was heading towards the cinema hall with no tickets in my pocket.

But India, the land of opportunity that it is, gives you a hundred options to choose from, when you ask for just one. And banking on this, I pulled out my 1898 make “bike” [past references to the “Kinetic Honda”] and set out to have my dose of laughter therapy.

Adding to the fervor of the day was the fact that September 7, after all the controversies that it got itself in, still marks the Centenary celebrations of the National Song of India, “Vande Mataram”. This song has been sung in so many myriad tunes that each new one refreshes the message and the effect of the lyrics on the audience, and this movie captured this song in one of the better renditions by Shantanu Moitra - "Bandhe mein tha Dum, Vande Mataram !".

The star cast is almost the same with the minor exception of Vidya Balan, who adds an extra layer of beauty each time she acts in a movie. [Yes, I was bowled over by her performance in Parineeta]. Including the dhobis and their characteristic dhobi ghat coupled with the “Rampuri” brandishing “Circuit” and the protagonist - the heart of gold wala tapori - Sanju Baaba all gel with the movie and have a great chemistry. Bomman as usual, masters his role in the plot of being the thorn in the foot.

Not many times can you have a comedy genre movie with a moral, but then lagey Raho scores a 100 percent in this department, by involving Baapu Mahatama Gandhi under the famous banner of “Gandhigiri versus Gundagiri”.

A phenomenally refreshing movie and a must watch for all the Indian people “bole to” for all those who feel “desh ki waat lag rahi hai” oops “ desh ki durgati ho rey li hai Maamu”.

The only pangs of guilt that I had after watching the movie were that I bought the tickets in black for almost double the price, which is against the principle of “Gandhigiri”.

But, looking at the brighter side, it helped a poor fellow Indian to buy his daily quota of roti, kapda aur…. daroo?? – Keep rocking Munna Bhai, apun abhi katlera hai :)

Of late, I have found it extremely difficult to grab some good sleep at night. Changing the time at which I go to bed hasn’t helped either. I have tried pinning down a lot of reasons for my inadequate rest and have short listed a few potential ones. My party going room mates who, after their “fun” come home and bang the door so hard that the Secretary of the apartment we stay in thinks it’s a terrorist attack in our serene locality. You must however discount his description as he keeps going overboard each time even when he compares his grandson’s arms to John Abraham’s biceps. Well, not that my knowledge of biceps is great. It is as much as Shakira’s interest in Carnatic Classical music. But nevertheless, we all comment on things we are ignorant about, so it’s ok.

Where were we? Ah, yes, my room mates after their parties at the “ 24 x 7 Babu Chettan Chai Kada” opposite our flat, is one probable factor.

Next, it’s the vagaries in the Chennai weather that promote my indecision in judging whether to sleep with the bed sheet on, or otherwise. And even before I decide on this issue of National importance, I hear Bryan Adams singing to me. For a moment I am glad that I am dreaming, which implies that I am asleep, but all of a sudden, his voice grows larger than life. Now I am convinced that I am asleep since I am dreaming about being live at his concert.

And then I hear him intermixing his lyrics with Malayalam, Kannada and Bhojpuri ?? - Eventually driving me to realize that the three pain in the neck room mates of mine have a discussion on “How to celebrate Sonia Gandhi’s next birthday”, ably assisted by Bryan Adams, in the adjacent room. I shout at the top of my “melodious” voice like Bianca Castafiore’s [of Tintin fame] “Maaaarrrrrthaaaa”, till the volume is turned down.

I get back to counting the number of rows in a Microsoft Excel sheet [counting sheep doesn’t quite gel with IT guys] and just as I reach the 29,967 th row count, my room mate’s mobile phone that he left back to sing a lullaby to me, croons with Himesh Reshmiya and his T Nagar police station 3rd degree torture voice.

I shout back over the voices of Bryan Adams, Himesh Reshmiya and the Mallu-Kandu-Bhoju (don’t know if this is the right word) combo, to take the constipated guy away.

As I settle back now, changing body postures to prevent body sores, I suddenly realize I need to get some water after all that shouting. But the challenge lies not in getting to the water can perched atop the kitchen sink, but to dodge the Z security maze that we’ve created four ourselves. Yes, two mosquito nets, a foldable dumping cot, a study table and a chair – all in one room can get quite crampy at times. I slide out of the net trying to evade the attention of the ever waiting mosquitoes; I maneuver the complex network of the rope/thread holding the two nets, in MI 2 style and eventually return after a refreshing drink of H2O.

Now I am all set to wage the Fifth Battle of Panipat ( not sure if there were four of them earlier, either) with the blood sucking parasites and as I brandish my swords like that of the last Samurai, I hear the door bell ring. No one else in the house wakes up as their intellectual discussions have concluded pretty late in the night and I go ahead and open the door to find my owner looking at me with the “ I know you IT guys – you party hard at night and don’t care to open the door at 6:30 in the morning” look. It’s morning already! I wonder, and get back to the bed like the security guard at my office after his night shift.

And as I learn to put up with all this, I am planning to invest in a couple of Ear plugs that would at least save me from answering the door bell - I hope!

Till then, My Dil goes zzzzz zzzzz zzzzz !! :)

If you are driving down the streets of India, you might well be surprised that the rule book for safe driving given to you at the Indian Consulate at the time of obtaining your visa seems to be outdated. [Yes, Now-a-days, medicines are not the only commodities with expiry dates].

For first timers visiting India, and planning to rent out mopeds/bikes/three wheeler taxis [better known as auto rickshaws], to drive around on your own, here are the 20 postulates on how not to end up in hospital on your maiden flight, err ride ..

1] When you see red, stop. When you see green, go. When you see yellow, go faster!

2] If you are on a two wheeler, having large size indicators helps. Be careful not to wave your hand to show signals during peak hour, else you wont be able to wave again.

3] When at the zebra crossing, dont expect zebras to show you the way. We have enough and more people in India that zebras are the last thing we need now.

4] The smaller vehicle is always right. In case you are on a two wheeler, and you break a signal hence enabling a scorpio/ikon to hit you, you need not worry. The bigger the bullier! so it's not your fault anymore.

5] We get Meteor showers in India instead of Rain. If you can see the sky above you and feel you are in an elephant's burrow, chances are that you have fallen into a pit that has just been dug in the middle of the road by the DoT for laying Optical Fibres. That expains our flair for Adventure sports but a dismal track record at the Olympics is something we are working on to improve.

6] When there are 10 seconds for the signal to turn green, start moving or get moved over.

7] Corollary to postulate 4: The proportion of compensation, irrespective of whose fault it is, is directly proportional to the size and make of the car/van/bus, unless of course you have hit guy on a bicycle. The rest depends on your bargaining power.

8] While overspeeding remember not to stop at any cost when you see white and brown and a large ponch. No! they have not changed the color of the traffic lights. For all you know he might be a policeman with a speed gun waiting to fine you.

9] Having a mud covered/soiled number plate helps in preventing onlookers from noting the same.

10] Most Indian four wheelers are left hand drives. Yes, the women on the left seats talk the men into the way they ought to be driving. We are an I.T. nation so most Indians learn driving through e-learning courses.

11] The width of the road always fills up to accomodate a water tanker, a cycle rickshaw, a couple of cows and if you are lucky, you can walk in the space that remains.

12] If eventually you dont see riders on the road, don't panic. They are soon becoming extinct as the sale of helmets is reaching an all time low.

13] If you have all documents in order, including the requisite certificates, be 100% sure, the cop won't stop you on the way. But if you have even one of those missing,it's going to be your "lucky" day.

14] Always park in front of "No Parking" boards so that it is hidden from view of the cops. This helps in preventing you being fined. And for those of you who did not understand,[specially the Chinese], fined is not the past tense of being fine.

15] If you want to have your right of way, you need to give up your right to live!

16] Be comfortable and coversant with local slangs and abuses. You dont know when you would require to sing praises of your fellow commuter on the road. Low Price Editions of "Learn to give gaalis in 30 days" are available at all leading book stores at vaious airports and railway stations. Pakistanis can learn them in 1 day since the variation in language is quite minimal.

17] Please remember that it is legal in India to have 4 people travelling on a 2 seater mobike/scooter. After all, it is Paapa,Mummy and Chunnu Munnu di Gaddi. The fact that the Japanese stole the concept of Optimization from us is evident from this age old practice.

18] It is also common to over take from the left,all that matters is who is left at the end of it all.

19] It is illegal in India to drink and drive but all pubs have parking lots which are always full. And did I forget to mention that it is perfectly legal to drink and walk in the middle of the road, so if you hit a drunkard, it's but your own fault.

20] Lastly, even if after reading all this, you still dare to drive on our roads, please call 9990652236 well in advance. That's the number of the coffin maker, they need advance booking since they are always busy, but don't worry, your driving skills will be remembered for ever....with the engraving on the tombstone of course.

Welcome to India! Hope you have a pleasant stay and we anticipate you would be able to see your motherland again

Pic above : NASDAQ proclaims its wishes on Indian Independence day and was the star attraction at Times Square.

As I type this post, I keep a watch on the hands of the wall clock that is fast approaching the midnight hour, heralding the advent of the 60th year of Indian Independence.

This might be part of an extended vacation for most people who consider this day as just another well deserved rest day, but there still exist people for whom the day is reminiscent of the sacrifices of thousands who feel a tribute to the nation is more than just hoisting the flag and singing patriotic songs. For them, it is the celebrating the spirit of freedom that has more connotations than the symbolic gestures.

It is the freedom to decide our future, the freedom to express opinions, the freedom to fight for a cause with conviction.

We might speak of the failures of the past or the ineffectiveness of the Indian Democracy, but deep beneath in our hearts, we realize that it has been challenging for a nation of One Billion people with a billion diverse tastes, to remain cohesive as a unified entity for 59 years and for all those who thought at the time of independence that the survival of the independent India would hinge on constant dependence on the “developed nations” and would eventually turn to them for crutches of empowerment, the current scenario has proved an indigestible surprise.

With all our flaws, and all our bickering, moments of despair and euphoria of hope, we have come a long way, and it is nothing less than a miracle to have remained a fully functional democracy despite all this, unlike the less fortunate neighbors of the Indian Union.

The inhabitants of this country might change over a period of time, but the symbols of India’s existence, the indelible marks left by India Inc. the world over are here to stay. And as the world looks up to India as the trend setter, we have made quite a transition from being a land of snake charmers to a land of mouse movers.

No longer is India known for just the Taj Mahal and Kohinoor, but it is known for the most important resource that runs the world economy – Intellectual Capital.

An MNC as large as PEPSI looking to an Indian to bail them out of the current cola controvery, as Indra Nooyi takes center stage as the CEO is yet another “Made In India” stamp on the world stage.

A.R. Rahman, on the cover of his album “Ma Tujhe Salaam”[which I am currently listening to, on Bangalore's Radio City] released on the occasion of the Golden Jubilee of Indian Independence remarked, he would like fellow country men to shrug the “Chalta Hai” attitude in life. Taking a cue from this, it has been well mentioned that Indians might be wrong on occasions, but India as a nation is a gift of civilization. वयम् अत्र सञाता: सर्वॆ अस्माकम् पुन्यम् | - Blessed, we all are, to be fortunate enough to be born in the land called India.

Five minutes to Independence and I think I have said enough. All said and done, it is the spirit of Indianism that is inspiring resurgence, the world over…and it’s about time, Indians acknowledge the fact and take a bow in front of the global audience.

Here’s wishing you all, a very happy Independence Day…Aakhir Dil Hai Hindustani !

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this post do not bear any resemblance to the author's personal experiences.

Come, the month of August and the Indian Tri colors are seen everywhere. It is also the month of Janmashtami, with govindaas filling every Gulli of Mumbai, and breaking the tallest Handi is quite an achievement in itself.

But other than these two festivals, there is one other 'major' one, termed Rakhi [no not the dudette with Mika] this one is - Raksha Bandhan, the bond of love between bhaiyya and behna..

I fully endorse the festival as my 'sisters’ regularly send the rakhis by post and I dutifully adorn the same. Rakhis have been used since time immemorial as the symbol of protection awarded by the brothers to their siblings of the opposite gender. For me, they also served as the ornaments on my shoulder for the role of “Lord Krishna” that I portrayed in one of the fancy dress competitions loooooong ago.

Coming to talk of sisters, I never have had any of my own, and so, in standard I, when there was an examination question - “How many sisters do you have?”,I innocently counted up all my first cousins and wrote 10 as the answer..The teacher, gave my mom a “Why do you want to set up a cricket team?” look when she came to collect my report card, and till date my Mom doesn’t know why.

By class 6, the norms were a little different and girls spoke to ‘boys’ only under two considerations:

One, you need to be the class topper, so that they can borrow your notes
Or, you need to be their Rakhi Bhaiyyas so that they are sure of your intentions.

Oh My God, it took me a couple of years after that to get educated about the world and its practices, and till then I continued to remain under the impression that the number of Rakhis on one’s hand were directly proportional to the chivalry that one possessed, very much akin to the Rajput Queens who tied them on the hands of the invaders to save their husbands from being taken prisoners, as taught to us during History lessons.

I even went distributing hair clips (mom’s selection) and a Cadbury’s Relish chocolate to my dear sisters as their rightful gifts. And 5 bucks per head was quite an expensive proposition in the year 1994, for a class 6 student.

Soon it was class 10, and the number of rakhis being tied around guys’ wrists went down, as also the number of bhaiyyas wanting to flaunt the same, though most mothers continued to doubt their sons except when their “rakhi sisters” called up home.

In fact as we moved to college, Raksha Bandhan happened to be declared an informal yet mandatory holiday for the guys gang.

Engineering was quite a different story. I knew girls who ran after guys who they thought were behind them and entangled them in the bond of brotherly love to crush their only hope of passing semester exams. The transformation of the red roses on the day of the college fest to yellow on friendship day and then gradually to white coupled with an Aarti Thali on Raksha Bandhan, was quite traumatic for a few fellow friends.

I’ve also heard of a Management school in Chennai where guys and girls refer to each other as “cousins” among themselves… I know one school where I would not want to study.

The work place is actually a mixed bag. I have received rumors that the freshers’ batch that recently entered the corporate campus has celebrated the festival with pomp and splendor. And apparently there have been a couple of guys who sacrificed themselves to the chains of “brotherly love” for the general good of humanity. God bless the noble souls.

The smart guys are staying away from the canteen to avoid the glimpse of anything that is silvery and shiny..

And to depict the mood of the moment, I am attaching an awesome picture below.

No! it’s not Janmashtami, It’s the setting of Raksha Bandhan…

Hmmm. after blogs being blocked, the autocratic censorship at the work place has raised its ugly head again...[well atleast from the point of view of active Orkutters].

Apparently, with the herd of freshers actively using Orkut at work, a decision to block the same was passed by SA, and this made the site inaccessible to 600 odd star employees, thus bringing to a standstill, the breadwinning occupation of these individuals who contributed to the top-lines of the organisation by constant networking through the website, and hence made hunting for prospective customers that much more easier.

However, SA, not appreciating this noble motive, felt that this brought down productivity and increased productivity.

Let me explain..This is actually a double meaning poor joke, that was provided as an explanation by SA.

Me: Hi SA, may i know the main concern that the organisation has with the usage of the harmless orkut?
SA (exhaling three symmetric rings of smoke in the cancer "smoking" zone): Well my friend, it's a clear indication of loss and gain of productivity

Me:Sorry? how can both happen? aren't they antonyms?
SA: No they are not.. See, work wise it's a loss of valuable time, but i heard this site promotes alliances and attracts membership from both the sexes thus forming a matrimonial service productively contributing to the future population of the country

Me: Come on SA, it can't be that bad...We get business on that place..we've found ex CEOs on Orkut.
SA: Really? Probably,it's only that they've found time to log on to the place after they became ex-employees..[another sad one at which I was expected to laugh]

Me: (realising that this ain't heading anywhere)
SA, look at me... I am an active user of the site too...I keep in touch with my long lost friends from school and kindergarten..Else I need to go to the Kumbh Mela every 12 years to find them..I don't have an internet connection at home too...Please have a heart....Orkut Baba will bless you...[Sniff Sniff]..
SA: Okay Okay! stop wetting my tobacco with your tears... Let me see what can be done...

Me: Oh Thank you SA.. A community would be created for you and your collection of PJs on Orkut...You would have a huge fan following from the entire office as the Messiah of communication and the savior of the singles ready to mingle
SA: Ok I think if that be the case something can be worked out..
But till then, you could probably use the time saved from over using the internet, in well, baby-sitting my kid on weekends...

Me: Well, this is not what I had bargained for...But, i believe in Poet Milton's words, "They also serve, who only stand and baby-sit?.."

Well, What do you know? White Elephants flying into the sky, with ears as large as wings, were once considered only a figment of imagination in the Amar Chitra Katha story books that we read as children.

But, now that has happened in reality, with one of my closest friends - Anand (affectionately called aney), flying to the greener pastures of the Divided States of George Bush for pursuing his studies. Another post related to Aney's stunts and adventures can be read here

Even as I type this, I believe Aney is lodged in one of the lounges at Frankfurt airport like Tom Hanks in 'The Terminal'. Fortunately Aney is from India and not Krakozia, so he has all the help required in the name of the President of the Republic of India [picked verbatim from the Indian Passport, which makes me nostalgic for no reason at all, probably in anticipation that some day, I shall be touring distant lands] - By the way, I currently feel that I am in Sri Lanka (No kidding, I recently passed off a Sri Lankan 10 rupee currency to the local bananna seller in Chennai, on account of ignorance).

The only other country that has accepted to take me in for a year, has been the Sultanate of Oman (Muscat), which was quite some time ago...That probably is the topic of another post if and when I visit that country again.

Enough of nostalgia. Getting back to the point, Aney had invited us all for his get together party, which more resembled the engagement of an eligible bachelor. After repeated invites and reminders (most of which were through Orkut) we finally had the get-together on Sunday last, the 23rd of July, which also happens to be my Mom's birthday. I'd like to say 'Happy Birthday Ma', on the sidelines of this post

The groom's side - we a gang of potential kauravas (yes, Anand had invited around a 100 of us) was gearing up for the event on a scale as large as Mayawati's birthday party.

This acted as a precursor to my travelling to Bangalore to be a witness to the extravaganza

The bright lighting of the 100 watt bulbs increased the heat in the A/C hall, bringing memories of the "Vara pooja" ceremony that generally happens on the day before the wedding.

The guests started filling the hall, and the mix spanned across four platforms - The school gang, The plus 2 college gang, the tutions gang and finally the Engineering Gang.

Aney carried his Sony camera like Gabbar Singh adorned his Bullet cartridges in Sholay, and was busy in getting the crowd to interact with each other. But Indians, the way we are, find topics of interesting discussion only among people of the same sex, and very soon, the hall was divided into two categories, like the BMTC buses' seating arrangement, with all the gossipping ladies in the front seats and 'extra' gossipping guys being the back benchers as always.

Probably aney should have utilized my mimicry services to gel the crowd, but who values potential talent anyway? [:)]

Catching up with friends was quite memorable, and the stories down memory lane were refreshed in a jiffy. Right from fighting for place to park tiffin baskets @ lunch hour to running down the corridors for 'the twice a week games' hour, those were the days of "living life - Dil Se".

The fragrance of Masalaa Dosaas and Hot Badam Milk dispersed the gangs and we were soon joined by some late comers who graced the occasion nevertheless.

After all the photu sessions and flashbacks, we parted ways into the chilly Bangalore night, in the anticipation of crossing our paths again in life..

Aney's house, I am told resembled the Yeshwantpur market of late with luggage, luggage and more luggage being cramped into his room.

This is to wish Anand the best of luck in his endeavors, and wait a minute, we were talking of the Engagement, the hot snacks , the bright lights and the kaurava sena. And we all expected Anand to announce something major during the course of the evening akin to the party scence in Gupt, where Bobby Deol's engagement is announced.

But in this case, Someone must have definitely forgotten to invite the bride......:)

Take care Amigo...

This piece of news that i picked up from the Bangalore Edition of the Times of India dated 21st July forms an interesting read. Not that the it focusses on Veerappan's aide, but that Indian courts mandate such absurd policies for trials.. read on..truly informative..For a moment I thought we were talking of a high profile accomplice who is all set to enter politics...Nevertheless, I've always wondered : How different is a kennel from a prison ??

Source: TNN

Woof! Veerappan’s aide is a witness

Ittippa Leads A Quiet Life In Bangalore

By Pooja Virendra Kumar/TNN



Bangalore: Whenever the court summons him, he will be there as a witness. A trusted aide of sandalwood smuggler Veerappan, he was arrested for being a part of the sandalwood smuggling pact and was released on a bond of Rs 2,000. Now, he is living a happy, yet, quiet life in a rehabilitation home in Hebbal.
He is Ittippa, the 13-year-old dog, once part of Veerappan’s core gang. His USP was that he could smell sandalwood bark and lead the gang to the spot.
In 1995 when the Kasargod police arrested some of the gang members, Ittippa was also taken into custody along with two other dogs of the gang. The three were kept in a lock-up in a veterinary hospital in Kasargod for three years. While two dogs died of poor health in the lock-up, Ittippa was reduced to a grey stinking mass of flesh due to ill-health.
He was released on health grounds after the Bangalore-based Compassion Unlimited Plus Action (CUPA) intervened and signed the indemnity bond. “As per the bond, whenever the hearing of the case would come up, the dog is to be taken to Kasargod court as a witness,’’ said CUPA secretary Sudha Narayanan. Since 1998, Ittippa has been with CUPA under tight security. “The initial two years we had sent him to CUPA Animal Birth Control Centre in Koramangala as we were scared that he would be taken away from us,’’ Sudha said.
Now, there is a drastic change in his life-style at CUPA. Not getting into trivial fights with his canine peers, is just one of his characteristics. He sits only on his favourite bench in the CUPA garden, eats only mutton and rice and is prompt in his evening exercises.
Does he miss his master whom he has served for so long? He gets pensive and thoughtful at times and flinches in fear even if a hand is raised to stroke him. What it means is anybody’s guess.
* Ittippa was trained for identifying sandalwood tree barks
* His peculiar bark would send a signal to his gang members about the exact location of the trees in the dense forest
* As per the gang’s directions, he would protect the tree by going round in circles and continue barking

I have been a great fan of creative advertising and The Club Madras Ad awards, that I had a chance to attend, renewed my interest in the same.

I have a few ad crazy colleagues ( mali )who keep me posted about the latest in the industry and some good quality ads that come their way, both in the print media and on television.

Posted here, is an advertisement for worldspace that depicts the exquisite flavor of waking up in rural India and blends it with famous bands from the rest of the world using a play of words.

What's more? It has the God of Bollywood Music featured in it, A R Rahman! What a legend..

A previous post on the advertising awards is available here

Okie..Here I go...anu has graciously tagged me to her blog and by not responding to this,I dont want to incur the wrath of one of the few people who regularly takes time out to visit my blog, apart from attending to other emergencies like saving America from the clutches of George Bush.

I have been known for quite a few weird things as a kid, many of which deserve a place in the Limca Book of world records [the Guinness Book is underway]. Right from believing that restaurants would lock us in if we did not leave by 21:00, to being conned by my aunt that giving me a bath as a 4 year old kid with goggles on, actually made her blind and save me the embarrasssment[she sourced a pair from God knows where], I've outgrown the days to evolve as a rational human being. bah!

Nevertheless, here I ramble off on 5 weird things I continue to do in no order of priority.

1)Speaking to fellow homo sapiens in the office restroom

I have this uncanny knack of striking a conversation with colleagues 'busy' in the loo. It ranges from just a 'Hi' to discussing the company's H.R. policies at length. I have received different reactions to my pleasantaries from people that makes it even more interesting.While some reciprocate, others look at me as if i had just asked Mallika Sherawat to wear a Salwaar kameez. But my rationale is that when business deals can get signed over mugs of beer, some classified information can also be exchanged,over, ...well, never mind.

2)I make weird 'pop' sounds with my tongue

I have been 'gifted' with this strange habit of popping air bubbles in succession pushing my tongue against the inside of my upper jaw . It can at times sound provocative, but I've tried it outside Sathyam Cinemas and have not been booked for eve teasing. So I guess it's o.k.

3) Making Granny memorize world cup cricket schedules

My Grand mom's interest for cricket is as much as Inzamam-ul-Haq's urge to learn a few correct pronounciations in English, though granny roots for Indian victories and the men in blue have disappointed her on many occasions. But I have made it a point to make her memorize the world cup fixtures (dates) starting from the '99 world cup.
It's a pity she could not remember all the venues per say, and found player names like Motabananzo difficult to recall. Well, even Sunny Gavaskar could not get this Zimbabwean's name right and referred to him as "the young kid" for atleast three consecutive games.Now let me test myself.. Namibia versus Scotland happened on...err... Ajji,please forgive your little Satan..and please pray I dont go to hell for the tortute I have inflicted upon you.

4) Wearing 'lucky' apparel

Inspired by famous success stories of the "luckiness quotient" of clothes I ventured out to explore it's effectiveness. All (well half of most) my Engineering semester Exams were written, with me wearing a navy blue tee shirt and a light blue jean. Now I know why Arvind and Ashvini scored lesser marks than mine. Awwww...the stench !! and they were on the roll calls adjacent to mine.

No, I actually had Surf Excel Suraksha. I continued wearing this combo on the exam days for four continuous semesters, till i passed one paper with the least possible marks...the flip side is that i dint flunk the paper.

Maybe Ganguly needs to change the color of his jersey from light blue to CPM's Red, for a change in his fortune.

5) Composing mimicry and remixing lyrics in the bathroom

Who ever said that inspiration comes best when in the bathroom was dead right about it.Much of my micmicry practice happens during the 'early morning somethings' with my room mate banging the door in frustration. But the resilient individual that I am, I continue with Balamurli Krishna, Vajpayee, Sachin in their characteristic voices that has been recently topped up with composing a remix depicting the recent election results in Tamil Nadu.

The insurance guys are earning a fortune. I've taken extra cover as atleast 50 people i know would want to bash me into a pulp right now for mimicing their voices[P.S.- this includes people @ office and batchmates in College].

My Net insurance worth is 4,000,000. Hard to believe, eh? The point is that the currency in usage is Japanese Yen.

Meanwhile Shekar Suman ki Jai Ho and Jhonny Lever Zindabaad.

Maybe I should quit my job and start performing Stage shows...Pretty optimistic I guess...

After a long time I would want to rant my feelings out on this post, for one main reason. I need to justify the astrology forecast for Sagittarians elaborated in the Deccan Chronicle today. It said, "You will be in a pessimistic state today and speak about your low state to your near and dear. Love life is absent but your property trading may get a boost".

To simulate the atmosphere that would prompt ranting, I have Pankaj Udaas [yes, i missed the 'h' on purpose], singing to me, an extremely heart rendering number with elements of a local bar,lost friend,going astray in life etc. and I find most things applicable to me as per my forecast.

IT [Information Tech] has become more squeezy than ever. Entering the 2+ bracket [no, not the magical 6 figure salaries, just the number of multipliable years of experience], has given this extra aura of responsibility and the urge to prove myself more than Zidane as the Infamous captain of the French team.

The beauty about IT is that the more you crib about it, the more it gets to you, in accordance with Murphy's law. And consistency is the name of the game.
People across companies irrespective of insatiable managers and colleagues as green with envy as the Onida TV ads, are living by the gun pulled by trigger happy westerners who consider Indians as cheap labor in IT sweat shops.

I still cant comprehend the euphoria in Engineering colleges when placement happens.
It's almost as if the glee of getting chained superceeds the pleasure of spending quality time with family and friends.I recollect a prospective match happening immediately on the day of the campus recruitment since the couple believed that being placed in two 'reputed' IT companies now made them capable of achieving the impossible in life.A Professor in college once even warned of being 'purchased' by westerners and succumbing to unreal pressures. The words seem so true now. The tag around the neck is more a realization that Big Brother is watching.

Disposable cash [most of it goes into my 1998 Kinetic that guzzles a litre of pertrol for every kilometre], a plush apartment [ours isn't one], awesome nightlife [ which should be meant for CAT preparations], and a charming companion [a perfect example of Xanadu as far as Chennai is concerned], has prompted many ITians to transform from the 'friendly neighborhood leaky nose and striped shorts' guy to the 'green card holder' eligible bachelor on the roads.

A decent meal at a decent time has not been available since I have been reaching my abode at 11 ish each night for the past week.

Lines of Code, Metrics, 'What's the issue', performance measurement, Customer delighters, Value additions, touch base with vendors, schedule an update meeting, attend the con call,these words of IT lingo ring in the dreams of Software engineers who are now visiting Apollo Hospitals for a complete diagnosis at ages one third that of George Bush. Even as I write this post one poor team member is being held accountable for some change in call timings not being documented in the Minutes of the meeting with "God" err.. the client. Law offenders get off with lesser brickbats.

Meanwhile I salute comrades who have risen above their mundane pursuits and achieved whatever they have desired in life, much in line with the theme of the book " The parable of the pipeline", which challenges the efficacy of status quo and steadiness in one's life.

There is so much more to achieve in life than romancing a computer for over 13 hours a day. Listening to the birds, gardening, Looking at the rising sun in the eye, a few solitary moments on the roof top, with the breeze in the face...the list is endless...It's time to wake up and move on. Time to stop existing and start living!

Time to discover ourselves, as rightly brought out in the following lines :

If a drop of water falls on a lake, it loses its identity.
If it falls on a rose, it shines.
If it falls on a shell, it becomes a pearl.

Moral:- The drop is the same, but the moulding and company, matter.

Ok, I am getting a call for the status update on the capability document now..Back to the Oil Rig like an overworked Ox.

P.S. - The comments made in this post in no way have resemblance to any organisation and is truly a work of fiction.. So, IP lawyers and Brand defenders of IT, please stay out...