The year that was

I dont like flowers. Now the hate relationship has become mutual. The bunch of flowers that I bought last week (first ever in my life) didnt serve its intended purpose and ended up in a trash can in my office parking lot. A dark chocolate bar with a high percentage of cocoa content in it (70% actually) also conspired with the gerbaras and decided to melt inside its gift wrapper in the very hot afternoon sun the same day.

No cribs though. For 2007 has been the year of the bananas and this was the sweetest one that I got. There is still a today and a tomorrow to go, but I am confident that that was the last one too.

This is also going to set the tone for 2008. I RESOLVE..

..I am not going to get any more bananas for 08. How will I do that? Simple. Some people are born with limited faculties in the 'luck' department and I have realised I am one among those. I have even realised that my banana stock built up only because I did things that such people shouldn't be doing. No out of the way activities will imply no bananas. By the way, banana is a good friut for health but a solid ego-bruiser.

..I will resume cricket and guitar practice with the enthu I lost some time ago. Only these two can keep me sane. And ofcourse work @ office.

Short list, that one. Hope I get these going. I zeroed down on these on the banks of Malaprabha in the backyard of Pattadkal group of temples yesterday. Took mom and dad on a pilgrimage to our kuldevta and kuldevi in the remote interiors of North Karnataka yesterday (29th).

On 27th morn I got this sudden urge to purge my 2007_sins_bin and asked dad to cancel his solo year end trip to his ancestral god's abode. Mom is eveready to sit in the car provided it satisfies 2 criteria. I drive it. And the destination is not some traffic laden street in Bangalore. 1200 km and her son, Sameer Joshi, the sole driver, were enough to get her ready for the journey in a couple of minutes. And so we set out just after dawn on 28th December on a 3 day pilgrimage to Bhairamatti (dad's kuladevta sits here) and Banashankari (Badami, mom's kuladevi stands here). Pattadkal is nearby too and hence a visit.

They are a happy couple now. Proof..


Bhairamatti appa was happy too.


And so am I. I am PURGED you see.

The only unhappy candidate is the car. Came back with a one stop strategy covering 410 km in 6.5 hrs. It is still crying. Anyways, a very memorable and fruitful trip we had. Personally my shoulder blades are moving like as if some invisible hand has depressed the SHIFT key in the power point presentation called life.

AND AND AND..

I am renewing my 'you hate me I will hate you contract' with flowers. Its absolute this time.

Somnathpur and RangantiTTu

K7 and I had a memorable outing to the above two places last Saturday (22nd Dec). For two reasons I link to his travelogue. I am lazy. He writes better.

Tour de Bangalore

Title courtesy : K7

The last time I did some serious cycling was sometime in 2004 when I was in Chennai. I used to cycle, once every month on an average, from campus in Guindy to my LG's (local guardian, my mom's younger sis) place near Koyambedu. That was apprximately 20 km. On Chennai's relatively flat roads that distance would be traversed in approximately 90 minutes.

Now that I have moved in with my friend to his place just under 3 km from office, after more than 3 years I got this sudden josh to use my Hero Hawk to commute to office. The 'big thing' then was to take the cycle from Vijayangar to CV Raman Nagar, separated approximately by 18 km. Big thing because I completed 25 last month and because the last time I even slept facing the cycle was more than an year ago. Hadnt even bothered to clean it on 2 consecutive Ayudha poojas and was apprehensive that the ayudha would abhor my ass on its seat and cause some irreversible damages.

Surprisingly mom and dad were quite cool about this new found enthusiam in me. Dad was interested in the time I would take to erach office. Some encouragement that one. After some oiling and general conditioning on Saturday afternoon, I started from home at 11 on Sunday morn, with Don Williams crooning in my headset. It was quite sunny and breezy too. I started at a fast pace and then near Anand Rao Circle area I realized I will not make it if I dont slow down. From then on it was more of a pleasure ride, drying all the sweat that had crept down my back during the jawani ki josh phase (first 20 min). Unlike Chennai, this shity never has a decent stretch of flat road. I made it to office in 80 minutes.

It wasnt meant to be a pleasure ride and it wasnt either. Just had to prove a point to myself: I am fit. Occasaionaly I saw a Innova or a Baverian Motor Works car pass by with just the driver in it and cursed them to heart's content. But all along there was this picture in my mind that I tried to keep pushing to the background, with little success though. It was the picture of a red Zma and a mountain mist Wagon-R, hand in hand, shining bright in the afternoon sun, grinning impishly from headlight to headlight.

Samarkhand! That is where I headed after the sun bath. A 'high flying' friend of mine was spending his last weekend here and wanted to treat a few dosts before flying away. We were 5. I was the odd man out, in the sense that the farthest I have gone overseas is the Elephanta caves off Mumbai's coast. The remaining 4 are flourishing or soon to flourish associates/business analysts/traders. So they basically keep flying. The dood who treated was in Singapore 2 weekends ago, in Chicago last weekend, in India this weekend and will be flying to Dubai next weekend.Somehow I couldn't help comparing this to my being in Shivajinagar 2 weekends ago, in Vijayanagar last weekend and CV Raman Nagar this weekend and didnt try keeping back my sense of feeling tiny. He would have gone back and told his wife "Honey I shrunk Josh"!

I came home and slept early. Had to heal two paining body parts. A bruised ego and a bruised ass. The former is doing good now, but my ass.. mummy..

If you cant flaunt it, its not worth having it.

I have a lot of bachelor friends in office. They are more of friends than colleagues. From the outside all of them seem to be happy and cheerful. The more I am with them, the more I wonder. Is there no trouble that haunts them? Is there no grief that hurts? How are they so sanguine always?

To say the least, these doubts are only philosophical and rhetorical.But why did I get these doubts in the first place? I guess it is this. To my friend's soul and mind, I am an outsider. I have no clue on what is happening inside and my inference is based on only what the visage projects. I trivialise all the biological and chemical reactions that are happening inside him because I dont see them and naively conclude that, if he smiles, he must be happy.

I am enlightened! Here lies the solution to all my problems. I need to look at myself from an outsider's perspective. Only then I think I can trivialise them as if they are not mine and smile at them.

I think I know how to make things work in this direction. Let me know if this thought process seemed logical.

Find me a gal soon mummy!

Sameer Joshi, design engineer with TI Wireless Group for over 3 yrs now, turns 25 today. Sameer Joshi, the blog owner, had a quick chat with him this afternoon. Excerpts from the tete-e-tete.

TI shares fell to a 7-month low today...

NO! That has nothing to do with the fact that a third of my life has become history on the same day.

Just kidding. I am sure you would have resigned to temptation and switched to retrospective mode last night. So how was the bygone year? Only a jist please.

Very shift+deletable year. I lived for the exact same reason a hen lays eggs. Desultory, demotivated and deflated existence. Woaa! I had an inclination to use words starting with 'C' before. I have moved to 'D' now. This year sure will be 'forward-looking'.

Ok. I get that. So. Any resolutions for the year to come?

Not exactly resolutions. That is too strong a word. But I definitely want to make concerted and sincere efforts in a few directions. Three actually.

One. I had been to Tirupati some time back. After driving for 12 hours, walking 9km, ascending 3700 steps and standing in his serpentine queue for a tad under 5 hours, I asked Lord Venkatramana to give me strength to be a diligent worker. I have quite a few things that I would want to do ('achieve' is a big word here) this year that need involvement, dedication and conviction (clubbed together as 'strength') and Govinda needs to give me those. I guess they have already been deposited in my account. I shall start encashing.

Two. My mom has a big heart. Yes. It has to be the heart. I cant think of any other place where she stores all the shit I give her. I want to flush all that out this year. Period.

Three. I realise that most of the conscious time I have, I spend either remisniscing the past and feeling sad that it doesnt exist any more, or pondering over things that lay in the future and feeling insecure and tensed. Is it hard to live just the present and be myself? I dont want to think so and want to prove to myself that it isnt. I want to relish the NOW, savour the ME.

Selfish, but nevertheless realistic and realisable goals. Hope thess bring some peace of mind and sanity in life. All the best. And once again. Happy birthday.

Thanks.

Something at last...

My only 'achievement' in TI in the 3.33 years since I joined TI.


Our team (WABB - Wireless Analog Baseband) had one last year. Owing to lack of regular players I had to play all the way till the semis. Thats where/how we lost.

I shall still feel happy.

Free and sweet.

Me : "When are you going home"?
Cubicle neighbour #1: "It depends on when I get IT".

On leave cubicle neighbour #2: "Arrey yaar! Jab WOH milega to mujhe phone kar dena please."

Mom, this morning: "So atleast today will you get IT?"

On the lunch table: "So we are not getting IT this time eh. This is heights of cost cutting!".
"No! I saw a girl outside with something that I suspect was IT".

Finally we got IT. Disappointments and happiness galore. Some say its heavier. Others feel it is smaller. Elsewhere the variety inside seems to evoke mixed response. Anyways, the storm has passed and lull has prevailed. Cubicle neighbour #1 has left to board the earliest bus back home. Last year he had to brook a night long journey standing owing to ITs delayed arrival. He left a lot more happier this time. Neighbour #2 is on the way to collect IT and mom wants me to return home ASAP with this priced possession.

But this beats me. Each one of us can afford a box full of assorted sweets for a little over 200 bucks and feast on it. But what is it in a 'free' sweet box that can govern your course of action for an entire day? How can a 'free' sweet box bring so much unadulterated happiness? Is it in its 'freeness' or its sweetness? I know. The question is just a rhetoric. But whatever it is, who cares! I got mine and I am happy too. It sure is heavy, and I shall leave it to mom to decide who eats what.

HEARTIEST WISHES ON DEEPAVALI!
(Thats what the box says)
May the free sweets keep pouring in. AMEN!

Advice please..

My boss called me on Saturday night, from Udupi (he is on a vacation) asking me about that day's cricket match. TI was supposed to play its second TNT league match on Saturday. He is a very solid middle order batsman and a clever medium pacer too. He was surprised when I told him I actually didnt play the match (I had hinted at that before he left) and have no clue about the result either. It was very clear in his tone that I was being too stubborn and foolish with the incident I had with the captain a couple of weeks ago. He bruised my ego and my boss is witness to that.

This is what I am:
* I dont insult anybody. I avoid criticising.
* I take insults and criticisms very seriously and it takes a long time to get them out of my system.
* Being the younger one at home, I m used to being pampered and I am involuntarily tuned to expect it from all quarters.
* Self motivation alone cannot drive me. I need a good dose of back-patting, applauds, recognitions and encouragement from people around.

I am presently reading this book "Genome" by Matt Ridley. This book has convinced me that what I am is not what I chose to be but what is built into me. In the past I have tried to work on points 2, 3 and 4 above, but now I know I am at the mercy of my genes. All efforts to re-organise my traits are abortive.

And so I shall not play cricket. Am I doing the right thing?

The bullock cart incident

This is one of the blandest titles for any post..

On the way to Devagiri temple just before noon on Sunday (it was my parents 28th wedding anniversary), a bullock cart rammed into the rear door of our car. A fifteenish kid was in 'control' of the cart. He had to bear some verbal and physical abuses from dad because doing that to the bull wouldnt help.

Apparently the cart belonged to the kid's father. Dad asked him to tie the cart to a nearby tree and go and fetch his father. This he did and started walking in some random direction. He was 100m or so away and the sheer helplessness of the situation dawned on dad. What would his father do anyways eh? And so we moved on, as the kid kept walking, with not a single backward glance.

But this thing troubled me for a couple of days. Agreed. We had to vent out our anger and frustration on some one and that guy was our easiest target, but did we do the right thing? We just drove away after sanity prevailed, but what about the boy? Did he ever go back to his father? What if he was a monster of a man and this incident would mean flogging on the kid's part? What if the kid feared severe repurcussions and never went back home? Fear can direct a small boy's decisions right?

I only hope these are just exaggerated baseless thoughts in my already perturbed mind and that life is just as normal for that guy.

As for the car, a swimming pool is formed near the rear seats whenever it rains, albeit a kid's one. To my rotten luck it is raining almost every evening these days. A repair is impending, but i plan to 'disown' the car for some time.

Pining for peace within..

My apartment is taking a frustratingly long time to make itself worthy of occupation. The every day 35 km to and fro journey to office in the maddening traffic has started getting to my nerves big time.

An ox cart rammed into the rear door of the car yesterday. Door might need replacement. Additional unwanted expense.

Dropped my 6300 twice on Saturday. I can see the inside circuitry through the opening on the left side. Back to my W205 for the time being.

A rift with my egoistic captain means I wont be playing cricket for a long time.

Still searching for an activity that will keep me sane. Patience has abandoned me. Loneliness has taken its place..

Ineluctable impasse

A wants to show B that he can actually be with B, the way he actually lives, in the world beyond B. Nonchalant. Practical. Strong when it matters. But being any of this means silence and distance from B. In which case B will never know what A is.

The worst part of the quandary is that, either ways, B doesnt care what A is. But A desperately wants to show it.

A deserves a slap. I obliged.

Still, God save A.

Lost

So you had a good time with it in the beginning?

Yes. Very much. I still can vividly recollect the first time I got it and the effort that had gone into making it possible. This thing that I had, I worshipped. I cared for it more than anything in the world. I did everything just to make sure it stayed with me.

What happened then?

Slowly, without my realization, it turned into my obsession and my weakness. Its very thought became a kind of background activity in my mind's processor, 24x7. I became dangerously possissive. I began to feel that I OWNED it, in every sense.

How did it react?

This thing, insensitive and indifferent, never understood any of this. It never talked to me. How could it? It was dumb. And I have always been deaf to subconscious communications. But I sensed, wrongly I can say, that it considered me more equal to it than others.

And then?

Over time possessing it became a liability to my existence and I continued hanging on to it only because the memories, of the above said effort and the initial days spent with it, were still very strong.

Did it end then? This nexus?

Finally, after 18 months of a real strong bonding, I managed to lose it yesterday. It actually had a shelf life of another year and I had actually resolved to keep it with me for that long, even if it meant insanity. But destiny had its ways and I was only too human, weak and immature, to stick to my resolution. I bruised it to the core. Even the stone heart that it had, surprisingly gave way, and broke to pieces.

I am sorry.But..

Yes. Possessing it had its own ups and downs.But on an average, I was happy and consider myself lucky that I had it with me for this long.

How does it feel in its absence?

Its been over a day now. First time in 18 months I have no clue where it is or what it is doing. But surprisingly, I am quite cool about its loss. Afterall, I decided to get rid of it. So I cant crib. I had a very painful night yesterday, but I feel it is manageable. I am getting used to its absence pretty fast. I wouldnt say I am happy. But definitely I am not sad.

Would you like to tell it something?

It wont read this. But yes. I want it to know, somehow, that,
a..being possessive is not my natural trait.
b..circumstances made me a bad guy with bad thoughts.
c..and it was the most beautiful thing that I ever possessed.

Quality from birth..

.. wont go even if you burn it. So goes a Kannada adage.

After the longest of the longer long times, I gave a test today. Logic Masters 2007: an online puzzle test to select the best puzzle solving brains (ya ya.. I still wrote that one. Whose father's what goes eh?) to represent India at the world championship in Bbbbraaazillll.

My aim was to improve on my last year's AIR of 44. If that means being in top 3, I will be happy, but India@WPC.. paapa only. Anyways, I set a modest 300 as my target in a grand total of 1000. After 3 and 1/2 hours and infinite piss breaks (Its a puzzle test for christ's sake! Still the same JEE types nervousness), I thought I had scored 307. I am GOD!

But the GOD in me left in a jiffy when the score sheet showed 277. Careful analysis showed that I had mis-entered the values for one question from paper to the flash movie. 30 points went down the drain just like that.

Memories came rushing in. Did they? Not exactly. It was only when I told this to mom thAT she opened the safely locked flood gates.

CET.. JEE.. CAT.. he he.. different commode, same shit. I shall never stop making silly mitakes. Birth quality you see.

Result will be out in a couple of days. Hope I better the 44.

Brownie points

I had an extremely good beginning to the day today.

Sometime in the morning, one of the radio channels was playing 'In Dino' from Life in a Metro. Very hummable romantic number this one. Instantly I latched on to it and have been singing it for the past couple of hours.

Being an early office goer, I kept singing the song at a not too feeble volume as I washed my cup in the pantry, supremely confident that no one will turn in that early to appreciate my singing (or critique, whatever). But somebody actually had. And that somebody happened to be this extremely likeable female from HR. Here in office, we call her the 'lone standing tall green tree in a charred forest'. Extremely likeable, I repeat, in a very respectful manner. And she is married, I heard. Nevertheless, extremely likeable. Did I already say that?

She was right behind me, waiting for her turn at the basin.

"Which movie is that?", ebulliently she asked.
Blah blah blah (Ofcourse nobody is interested in what I said!)
"Nice song".
"You a good singer."
*Blush* *blush*

I see her almost every other day. But something today told me she was happy talking to me. What a smile I say!

In dino, dil mera
mujhse hai keh raha
tu khaab saja
tu ji le jara..

Geez! I must be singing oftener, shouldn't I?

I am not an intellectual whore!

A couple of people who actually understand me quite well, have called me a 'nice guy' in as many weeks. I prefer to use, 'called me' over 'complimented me'. Coincidence or not, in the same two weeks I chanced upon this theory and this rant.

I had many reactions to the above two, and that’s not even counting “Eewwww!” (Courtesy : Scott Adams). After having been there and having done all that, in my opinion, being an intellectual whore is anything but nice and being called a nice guy is everything but a compliment.

I am an Woody Allen fan for sure. LT says this short story led to the coining of the, 'intellectual whore' terminology.

Can also visit this of you are a nice guy, nice guy.

When words failed me..

I stare at the sky, many a night,
With nothing but your memories for company
But then everything hurts, even the serene moonlight,
And my eyes are flooded, with tears that many.

You have no idea how I am living in your absence,
Neither do I.

I intended to complete this. But words just cant express how lonely I am feeling right now.

I miss you ka. Today. Now. More than ever.

Happy Raksha Bandhan.

Dilbertesque

The first three days of the week were really frustrating. After a long time, I had to do something just because my boss wanted that. And the only reason he wanted it was because his boss wanted it from him.

An insight into what we do (part of it):

Customer X (its illegal to mention where you get your business from) wants some design on his chip to send some data over a channel and recieve it elsewhere on some other chip. He asks us to design an interface for this. He gives the specifications and we design.

In the age of digital dominance, the scales of IC design are unfavourably tipped against we analog designers. All technologies are optimised for driving either a 1 or a 0 and we analog designers fight with these to drive something like a 0.3 or a 1.3. Morover, we design using simulators, on a computer, which are only as efficient and trustworthy as the models on which they run. The consequence of this, and the digital dominance, is that, WE DONT TRUST OUR OWN DESIGNS. And hence, before we deliver the design to X, we produce many 'test-chips' internally to convince ourselves that what we design on the computer and see as the simulator outcome, is actually seen on silicon. Its akin to lot of net-practice before the cricket match.

I worked on one such module, since Feb 05, for 22 months. The specifications were very aggressive and needed some back-to-the-blackboard approach for a viable solution. And we did come up with an innovative idea for the same. The patent that I mentioned sometime back was for this idea. We needed 4 test-chips in this span to convince ourselves that the design would actually work. And when we were, in early 07, the chip was cancelled and so were all the modules that went into it. Apart from some knowledge and experience building and a patent, all other effort went down the drain.

The final testchip came back from the fab last month. The ending was painful but I have 'moved on' now. 6 months have passed and now we have a much better solution, smaller in area (the previous dsign was in 65nanometer technology as aginast 45nanometer now) with lower wattage for those specifications. The previous design can be dumped for good.

But no! My boss's boss wanted to understand if that previous design could be confidently signed off as a stable design. Off I was sent to the lab to 'characterize' its performance. And 3 days I lost in proving this. But the worst part (I havent told this to my boss) is that I have the Silicon results but I seem to have lost the data from the simulator to compare with. There is so much data that I have no clue which one is the latest. C'mon! Its been over 6 months now. How am I supposed to remember! All this is so inconsequential that half my mind is coaxing me to 'cook-up' data from the simulator and tell the world that all is fine. I might do that soon.

I was frustrated for I worked on a testchip that has a module based on an idea that has long been dropped, for a project that no longer exists, in a process node that has become obsolete.

Very similar to this, aint it?

Dilbert: As usual I worked until midnight last night, mom.
Dilmom: At least you made some extra money.
Dilbert: I don't get paid for overtime.
Dilmom: Well, at least it was important work.
Dilbert: Not really. My boss made me change my "PowerPoint" slides, but the changes made them worse.
Dilmom: Well, at least you're prepared for your meeting.
Dilbert: It was cancelled. But that's okay because the project isn't funded anyway.
Dilmom: So ... you worked for free to worsen a presentation for a meeting that won't happen for a project that doesn't exist.
Dilbert: Yup.

Slap him! He is a cabbie

I am a happy boy today (Man? Naaah). Just a small act of atrocity on the cab-driver kind, tonnes of happiness for my kind.

For more than a mile a disgrace-to-humankind called a cab-driver was stuck behind my Zma. Rather i was stuck in front of his trumpet blower. He honked more often than he breathed, fully aware that there was no space whatsoever to overtake. He pissed me off big time. Three quarters of my mind wanted me to slap him but God had other plans for him today.

Commuters on the Old Madras Road traffic will know that there are no rules at its infamous Suranjan Das Road junction, but its tacit that the right half of the road is for traffic towards my office, and if you are on the other half you should be going straight towards KR Puram. But this asshole overtakes all right laners from the left, makes it to front of the lane, parks his disgrace-to-carkind called Indicab right across the two lanes at some arbit inclination, blocks all traffic on the left lane and honks at me asking me for space on the right lane. I could have accomodated him but I was adamant to move. Tough though it was, I still managed to turn a deaf ear.

Along came police mama. His demeanour (shouting, pouting and the likes) has always made me feel he is henpecked. That poor soul wouldnt miss a chance to vent his manliness, would he? And here was his animal, the cabbie.

"Soovar.Yaako traffic nillstya? Line nalli barakke yen keriyutte?"
(Pig. Why do you block the traffic? Does something itch if you come in the line?)

He mocked a slap. Never smile at a henpecked traffic police man, especially when you have created a km long traffic block. But this dimwit did just that and made it to the history books. Phut! came the first real slap.

"Turn togonDre oditeeni. Hogo straightu."
(Will kick you if you turn. Go straight!)

The animal moved by a meter, thinking that it will fool the mama. Phut! came the second one. This time from the back of the hand.

"Nann jote ne aaTa aaDteeya magane! Hogo muchchkonDu straightu!"
(You wanna play with me son. Close all openings and go straight.)

One final blow on the head and he went straight, with all openings closed. Three quarters of mind again wanted me to raise my helmet, shake hands with mama and say well done. But I didnt want to take a chance. Henpecked, remember.

He didnt do the right thing, for sure. But laato ke bhoot baato se nahin maante. I came to office with a smile. Hope that soovar never found a right turn.

All I want is everything

The title has nothing to do with the content. This phrase has been in my mind for 3 days now. Thought I can as well put it here.

This post brought back old memories. During second year in college, I read this classic, "The American", by Henry James. The 'hero' here has a supremely confident, mentally strong and mature character. Back then, I too had these traits, albeit in a coarse sense. Newman, the hero, became an instant personal idol. Six years hence, he and I have nothing in common, but this paragraph remains my personal favourite from everything that I have read so far. On what he pictures THE WOMAN in his life as,

“Well,” he said, at last, “I want a great woman. I stick to that. That’s one thing I CAN treat myself to, and if it is to be had I mean to have it. What else have I toiled and struggled for, all these years? I have succeeded, and now what am I to do with my success? To make it perfect, as I see it, there must be a beautiful woman perched on the pile, like a statue on a monument. She must be as good as she is beautiful, and as clever as she is good. I can give my wife a good deal, so I am not afraid to ask a good deal myself. She shall have everything a woman can desire; I shall not even object to her being too good for me; she may be cleverer and wiser than I can understand, and I shall only be the better pleased. I want to possess, in a word, the best article in the market.”

The last statement might seem impetuous. But you've gotta read the book to understand what Newman isn't. I appreciate the lucidity in his thought process here.

As an aside, I am right now wondering where the brashness that I unashamedly possessed in those days has evaporated. This feeling of steady worthlessness is slowly thawing all my innards. I might vaporize soon too.

A different day

Saturday was a long day. Was awake for a good 18.5 hours.

Cricket:
TNT Cup is round the corner. Too many enthu teams, too few good practice nets. Want a good net? Come early => Be at the ground at 6:30 => Leave home at 6:00 => wake up at 5:30. Efort paid off. Beat two teams to a decent net. Full team turned up. Came back with 40% of left hand fingers swollen and lighter by 160 bucks. Had to treat 9 members to masala soda for turning up.

City beat:
12:00 noon: Start from west (Vijaynagar).
12:30 pm : Reach centre (Garuda mall).
3:00 pm : Head east for movie tickets (Innovative multiplex).
3:45 pm : Buy tickets for 7:15 show.
4:00 pm : Head north (Hebbal) to be jobful between 4 and 7.
7:00 pm : Back to east. Watch movie.
10:00 pm : Head south (Bannerghatta Rd). Stay there overnight.
Sunday 8:00 am : Back to west.

Movie:
Chak De! rocks.I dont appear anywhere in the SRK fans list, but nobody can portray Kabir Khan better. Spare BigB. I guess the director would have pondered over the choice for this role himself. Very sensible direction and sense prevailed in choosing SRK too. If I were in his shoes, Khan would score solely on the criterion of 'relevance of motive'. He is 40+. Amitabh is 60+. The movie is a '7 years later' story. For the motive, SOMETIMES WINNING MEANS EVERYTHING, '27 years later' seems weak. Sorry old man. You wouldnt fit here.

Food:
The masala soda shorted my input to the output. What went in came out unaltered. Survived the entire day on sugarcane juice, strawberry milkshake, naariyal paani, hot lemon tea, in that order. Had my first solid intake for the day just before Sunday started.

Night:
Set a personal record. Slept at the highest altitude in Blore. 10 floors above ground level. A service apartment it was. The monthly rent is more than my salary.

Tuththu anna tinnoke
Bogase neeru kuDiyoke
TunDu baTTe saaku nanna maana muchchoke
Angai agala jaagaa saaku
Aayaagiroke

Vishnuvardhan was made to realise this before my birth (Jimmi Gallu - 1982). 25 years later, sour grapes made me sing this in the balcony, just before midnight.

300..

..km in 8 hours. That was the distance I drove on Sunday.

Where: Srirangapatna, KRS
With whom: Ajji, amma, appa
Why: Reason at the end of the post.

We left home only after I was done with the last offering in the Karade Kid series (III). That was at 2 p.m. Picked up ajji on the way and hit SH17. Reached Srirangapatnam, amidst light drizzle and gentle, pleasant breeze at around 4:30. Dad wanted to visit the Ranganathaswamy temple. He had come here 33 yrs ago, but at the wrong time. He had returned without paying Ranganatha a visit. This time he was lucky.

By 6 we were at KRS; in time for the musical fountain and stuff. The breeze had sligtly picked up and was challenging the old bones (read ajji and amma). Dad and I were enjoying it. We headed in the direction opposite to where the music would happen in an hour's time, towards the dam stairs. Good sight that one. Water at full 124ft (thats what The Hindu said). All along the way amma had her eyes fixed only on the balekai/mirchi bajjis and bhel puris. Ajji reproached her for this. Appa and I relished this moment. Orkut's [:D] best describes the expression on our face. But amma was finally victorious. She did get her share of the bhajjis and bhel.

7 pm is when they turn the lights and music on. We slowly made our way in that direction. But the distance was too much for ajji to walk. We just had a look at it from across the lake and pushed and pulled our way back to the parking lot. Thats when amma realised she had been robbed. Her small purse inside the big purse was missing (why so many purses, I have no clue!). The loss meant we had to head back to Bangalore without any dinner on the way, for I had 200 bucks in my wallet and a few useless cards (a town like Mandya has no hotel that accepts a credit card!) and dad and ajji completely trusted mom and came along 'purseless'.But nobody was as disappointed as amma, for she was the one who had targeted/analysed/chosen a decent hotel to visit on the way back. Dinner finally was at her favourite hangout, Indiraprasta, Vinjayanagar, Bangalore. 120 km from where she actually wanted to eat. 3 hours later than when she intended to eat (at 10 p.m.). And what did we get to eat? Set dosa and masala dosa. I for one wanted to badly get to bed. Red eyes and all.

Any outing for mom is a potential excuse to stay out of kitchen for some time. I keep trying to give her this chance often. I enjoy watching the way she morphs into a kid, especially the way she peeps into the icecream deep freeze, fully excited about the number of flavours she can choose from ,and at the same time confused and dejected that she can eat only one. The last time (a week ago), she reached the depths (as a mother of 2 20+ plus kids; heights as a 50 yr old kid). After she got her scoopful of mango flavour, she naively extended her cone and said.. "Ishte na! Inna swalpa haaki!". I was slisha embarrassed. But that guy obliged! Is she my mom or my daughter! Sad that this one ended in a way she didnt want. But still, an enjoyable evening it was.

A few things pissed me off though:

Its not the crowd that turns me off. Its their attitude in public. The way they litter such nice places is akin to a dog pissing on a pole and mindlessly moving on. One guy did just that! Finished the shit he was eating (if it is food that I eat, it cant be the same thing that he eats too), brought his hand behind his ass, and flung the paper on to the green grass. A dog sometimes has the courtesy to cover its 'misdeeds' but this son of compound interest (baDDi maga) had no clue where the paper landed. How I wished I could just shove it up his.. But what baffles me is this: Is it because there are no dustbins around, that people do this (this garden has more dams than dustbins) or is it that the authorities have tried abortively and then removed the bins, with the idea of beautifying the garden atleast that way? What happened first?

Then this episode of pickpocketing (loss of 3000 bucks) led to some heated exchange between mom and dad on the way back. Even I raised my voice to bring theirs down. At one point I lost my concentration badly and all 4 wheels were in air for a second.

Memories. Memories. The last time I was here, (Sep 30 2006), it was just me and my companion in the entire garden. Photos here and echoing laughs there. Hmmm. How I wish I could delete them.

And why this outing? Saturday evening I went out on a very expensive dinner treat (ofcourse I treated) and couldnt tell mom about it. (Kesava! Sorry maga! I failed to keep up my promise). Some buttering was needed as she was not ready to talk to me on Sunday morn. So this trip.

I told mom that there is nothing like seeing the beauty with your own eyes, but she was keen on seeing how it looked through the camera lens. No! Thats not the Tirupati queue..

Retrospect II : I should never have done it

'Retrospect I' got very ugly. I lost my credibilty there. Nevertheless, this is my space on the www, and I shall post what I like, fictional or otherwise, and so, part II is here.

This was written on Dec 31, 2006. Unlike Part I this never saw the light of the day. I was still looking for the 'THE END' then. For the curious mind, the spoiler first. The protagonist is an 'incorrigible pessimist'. So its apt to go with the flow in the first part and give him only as much as he deserves. So! Expect no antitheses here.

The story so far: The boy finally managed to muster all the courage he could and took the bold step. He accosted her. Without going into the painful details, I will put it tersely. He had the year of his life, with her. He thought his heartaches, sleepless nights phrasing words, plotting steps, all had worked. But they actually hadnt. Facts slowly began to unfold. He started understanding how everything was nothing but an illusion. She was committed, whole heartedly, elsewhere.

Dec 31 2006:

"Even before I met you, you had given away your heart away. Right now, I have all reasons to believe that you are so deeply in love with him (I am glad to know that this feeling is mutual), that you have both built very realistic and colourful dreams/goals for the life to unfold. It is him that you will live your life with or nobody. Let it be him then. AMEN!

You never considered me 'that' way at any instant of time. Despite all my direct words and tangential hints about me being in love with you, you never felt like explaining the above, and how tough it would be to accommodate another person in your life. Consider it my bad luck that you never deemed me worthwhile to know this, even after I repeatedly showed you what you had come to mean to me in a span of one year. You considered me as this emotional, sensitive type who can't handle rejection and so you kept quite

But you know what. Had you told me this in the days when I went head over heels for you, you could have saved one miserable soul from losing motivation in life. But how would you. As it has always been, I am that arbitrary 'somebody', who needs to know nothing about your personal life. I tried very hard to get beyond this stage, and failed. The only way I can convince myself as to why you kept me in the dark is this: You didn't feel like taking my love and words seriously. Why would you? You already had the best man in your life. You some how felt that one day I will forget all this and be gone from your life. I think it will happen soon. But one thing I want you to realize. Your silence has given some wounds that will take a very long time to heal. Not in the near future am I going to trust anyone or care for them.

I might not be a mentally mature person, I might not have that right attitude towards life, I might not have any of those qualities that make him dear to you, and I am definitely not handsome, tall, fair, but, I too have a heart and for most part of the year gone by, you were the essence that kept it throbbing, slow and steady in your presence, fast and sporadic otherwise. None of that matters right now I know, but still I feel like writing it. I get a sense of great satisfaction and pride whenever I think that my heart actually managed to love some one so deeply.

I don't repent for anything, but for this late entry into your life. Who knows, if at all I had known you for another 5-6 yrs more, you would have obliged me in return. But that I couldn't have helped. Destiny had its way here. So, no regrets.

I don't know what I have done, but God has punished me for loving you. The writing is very clear. Love is not for people like me: impractical, over-sensitive, possessive. I shall take this decree and curb all my feelings. To paraphrase someone, I shall laugh at my love for you, very heartily, for loving you has been the problem of my life. That's the only way I can get rid of it. That's what I shall strive to do, come 2007.

That can't stop me from praying for your well-being, can it? I shall pray that both of you get to see the best of life together. I shall pray that he take you away from all the sufferings that you have endured for so long. I shall pray that you give him in return all the mental support and strength that God has blessed you with. May God bless you both with all the happiness in the world."

Its August 2007 now. She wants him to stay with her for as long as possible. That will be another couple of months. She will be gone for good after that. Seven months, through thick and thin, he stayed. He is counting days now. Big deal! You say? Put yourself in his shoes and you will definitely empathise. I am proud of this boy. He cribbed, he whined, he cried, when alone, but with her, he always puts his best smile up. Knowing his position in her life, he unashamedly continues to love her.

She is only going to see better days. Afterall, she has what she wants. But he, no one knows. And he doesnt care either. His only aim now is to see her off to the other shore. Happy and safe. Hoping for a not so miserable future, he sings,

"I'll never let you see
The way my broken heart is hurting in me
I've got my pride and I know how to hide
All my sorrow and pain
I'll do my crying in the rain

If I wait for stormy skies
You won't know the rain from the tears in my eyes
You'll never know that I still love you so
Only heart is remain
I'll do my crying in the rain

Raindrops falling from heaven
Could never take away my misery
Since we're not together
I pray for stormy weather
To hide these tears I hope you'll never see

Someday when my crying is done
I'm gonna wear a smile and walk in the sun
I may be a fool but till then, darling, you never see me complain
I'll do my crying in the rain
Aha.. crying in the rain"

By the way, this was Post #50 :-)

Retrospect I : I shall never do it..

I wrote this unpublished post on 28th November 2005. It was published actually. But had to take it offline in a couple of days. Dont ask why. This is a letter from a desperate love-smitten boy to a girl in his office; a letter that never reached her.

(Read it in black and white, flash back mode for extra effect.)

So crooned Jim Croce:

"Well, i know it's kind of late
I hope i didn't wake you
But what i got to say can't wait
I know you'd understand
'cause every time i tried to tell you
The words just came out wrong
So i'll have to say i love you in a song

Yeah, i know it's kind of strange
But every time i'm near you
I just run out of things to say
I know you'd understand
'cause every time i tried to tell you
The words just came out wrong
So i'll have to say i love you in a song
'cause every time the time was right
All the words just came out wrong
So i'll have to say i love you in a song

Yeah, i know it's kind of late
I hope i didn't wake you
But there's something that i just got to say
I know you'd understand
'cause every time i tried to tell you
The words just came out wrong
So i'll have to say i love you in a song"

Me no good songwriter, but I'll say I like you, in a blog. Try smiling facing the mirror once, and you'll understand its no fault of mine at all. I'll never find myself in a position where I can talk straight into your eyes, 'cus they are just too bright. Maybe I'll never even give myself a chance to know if you ever nursed a hint of curiosity to know the guy who thrice so hopelessly tried to say a few words, and failed. Jim found wrong words, but I found none. Sad.

June it was, when I first saw you in the cafeteria. Those probing eyes on that glowing face, that shy demeanor, and that smile, ah, that smile. I lost it all in the first week, my senses, my mind, and my heart. November it is now. And my condition has moved from bad to worse. These days I pray. Pray that I get to see you at least once every day. Pray that you return a smile, if and when I muster some courage to give you one. But the Gods aren't that helpful. And so aren't the long weekends, 'cus that's when I miserably miss you.

I hardly know you. Perfectness is very subjective, but I am smart enough to spot the 'perfect' girl- a girl I would like to share my thoughts, my feelings, and my life with; an angel who would fill the every widening emptiness that life these days is. And you are exactly that, a girl, perfect and angelic.

But I shall not whine. Not many people are blessed and lucky to get what they want. And I belong to the huge bunch of ordinary mortals who always want what they can't get and get only what they deserve. Maybe I don't deserve angels. Maybe you deserve some one better, a lively man, a man with nerves of steel, a MAN, in every sense, and not an incorrigible pessimist like me.

As for me, I'll sing this song, and wait for a miracle...

If he brings you happiness
Then i wish you all the best
It's your happiness that matters most of all
But if he ever breaks your heart
If the teardrops ever start
I'll be there before the next teardrop falls

I'll be there anytime
You need me by your side
To drive away every teardrop that you cried

And if he ever leaves you blue
Just remember, I love you
And I'll be there before the next teardrop falls
And I'll be there before the next teardrop falls.....

Dad, my hero!

Its been over six years since I last arm wrestled dad. I think it was in second year of engineering. Right is his strong hand. Left is my forte.

He was 52 then. His appearance belied his age (Not that he looks any weaker or older now). Once a health freak, always a health freak. Thats my father.I was 18. Rotund. Flabby. To say the least, if there is anyone called a power house, I wasnt one.

But it was always a 1-1 draw. Dad would win with right. I would win, hands down, with left. In the end he would brag about his abilities, and I would put my head down in shame. 52 vs 18.. chi chi chi..

It was around that time that I seriously started thinking about improving my physical appearance. To some extent I am happy the way I look now. Not a mirror cracking material, but I have my own cuts, in the right places, to boast about. Dad too has been doing his bit, regularly, to stay fit and on the heels. If at all there is a difference in him from 2001 to 2007, I can only say he looks meaner and a lot more active. But age, bloody age, he cant fight that.

On Friday, he challenged me. Out of nowhere he got the josh to test himself. May be it was the quarter kg bengali sweets he had devoured an hour before I returned home that was taking its toll. With confidence (and humility) I accepted it.

As always it was right hand first. We started. I was impressed with the way his biceps tightened and bulged. Midway, his hand slipped. We had to stop. It was tacit by then. He couldnt put my hand down. He could only defend. I realised it was my day.

We restarted. I told him he shouldnt move his wrist lest I will lose the grip. The strong man that he is, he didnt. He fought for a whole 30 secs. My victory was inevitable. Vistory at last for me.

His eyes were red. No left hand was brought forward. He started analysing what went wrong. He put fundaes saying he gave resistance at the wrong angle and that he would have kept me at bay through out, had he played smart. He is a sales man by blood. Need I say how he defended himself?

Finally I had stop him. I just gave him a tight hug and said..
"Dad. Accept it. You are growing old."

No more words were exchanged till Saturday morning. The reality hurt his ego. Badly. May be I should have kept quiet.

But what the heck! You are THE soopur cool dood maga! (I call him that these days :-).. )

Absolute happiness is a myth

Our new, and temperory, maid servant is too noisy even to my mom's liking. I think mom is tolerating her only because she is 'a guest of few days'; our old kaamwaali will be back this weekend.

Last night I asked mom why she is that way. Mom said it is her way to keep away from thinking about the joke that her life has become. I believe she doesnt need a listener. She can talk to no one too. She doesnt want to stop, lest she will go into thoughts. Painful, depressing, energy sapping thoughts. This is her short story.

She has 2 sons, past their prime. One is crippled for life. He lost is legs, I dunno when, in a freak accident and now he is 24x7 at home, eternally sick and dependant, counting his days. The other son, works part time as a coolie. If mood permits, he will go out and earn something. On other occassions, he is at home or out passing time. Both demand nothing from their mother. If she feeds them, they eat. If she doesnt, they dont seem to mind. Husband? He drank his way to death. She is glad he exists no more.

Now its the mother's heart that cant stand seeing her sons rot this way. This alone drives her to walk down all the way from Rajajinagar to Vijayanagar to clean utensils and mop floors for a few hundred extra bucks a month. Apart from a few permanent customers in Rajajinagar, she has 'taken up' a couple of houses in our locality. She is requesting mom to employ her on a permanent basis, but mom wont. She cant, rather.

I was tired physically last night. But this story made me retire to bed with a rather pensive mind.

For over a year now I have been living such a self centered life, that only MY ABSOLUTE happiness and worries have become important to me. Out there, there are so many more things, material or otherwise, that I can add to MY life, but I perenially sulk thinking about how it has gone out of control and how things just dont seem to be going MY way.

I think its time I appraised my existence relative to how people around me are living, and for once, try to be happy with the my life, its quality and possessions.

Omen

They are sitting on the last step of the flight of stairs leading up to the office reception. Both are lost in thier own thoughts. As always, she is the leitmotif of his thoughts.And hers, no one knows. The way they are sitting, a curious mind will wonder if they know each other at all.

HE : Do you believe in omens?
SHE : No I dont.

Silence again.

SHE : Do you?
HE : You took a full eight minutes to ask that. Hmm. Yes I do.

How he wished he could read her mind. He continued.

HE : Do you see the temple across the road?
SHE : Yes I do. What about it?
HE : Six months ago, even before I said I loved you, I dreamt of marrying you there. A week later, they stopped constructing it. It has been abandoned ever since.

Another painful interval of silence.

SHE : I am sorry.

She stood up and walked to the reception. He walked into the rain.

All in the name

I have wondered, since college days, what motivates people to publish papers in journals, present them at conferences or file for a patent. I still dont have an answer for the first two, but from personal experience I can throw light on the patent thing. After almost 2 months of disinterested cavalier half hearted approach to filing one, i finally got my draft approved yesterday and disclosed the same to the office patent committee. Whether I will have my name embossed on a patent platter, I dont know, I dont care and is also besides the point. The leitmotif here is: what motivates one to file a patent? Couple of things drove me.

Firstly, its the money. For the first one that was filed and had half the world as its inventors (9, actually. My name appeared above 2 others), the returns were quite decent. I dont think it was a path breaking idea, but royalty will be most welcome.

For the second one, a 15 page draft was written, explaining the idea behind the latest 'invention'. Diagrams, equations and all. No fun that one though. I could have finished it in a week, but, you know Prof. Parkinson, dont you? But the most challenging, irking and simultaneously highly pleasing aspect here is christening the idea. For me, if at all I get any more ideas, the "Title for invention" column in the disclosure form will be the second most motivating factor to file a patent. Silly it might sound, but come to think of it. The idea, its conception, is development, all have co-contributiors. But the name, thats totally a single man's contribution and creativity. I GOT TO NAME MY DISCLOSURE. Woaa! Dont know if anybody derived tantamount pleasure on this front, but I hope, I feel, I am not alone here.

"An improved low-power solution over the hybrid amplifier for AC coupled applications with impedance control over a wide dynamic range of output voltage swing and during all instants of operation suited for UDSM processes".

Not ingenious I know. Come on! Its my baby. I will name it the way I like it.

Adios brother

I never worked for him. My nexus with him was nothing beyond informal. For any problem outside of work, I would talk to him. Any suppressed feeling, I would share with him. He was always there, as my elder brother.

No more though. He moved to Dallas last Friday. He doesnt want to come back for another 5-6 years. Dunno how things will be then. No idea if I will ever meet him again. But I hope we do.

This aspect of life sucks. You grow attached to some one and a day comes when that person says tata bye bye and flies away. Why dont people stay? My sis..

a few very very close friends (all, except me, right top, have settled down elsewhere now)..

each one flew in a direction of his/her own.

Hmm. Guess its still gonna take time to understand this hard reality.

But Paddanna, I am gonna miss you :-(

A compliment

After a long hiatus, we played a cricket match this Saturday. Much to the captain's surprise, 12 people registered and all of them turned up. On time too. 7 out of the 12 had played a maximum of 2 matches before this. A novice team at best this one, with full of young blood.

We batted first. At the end of 12 overs we were reeling at 76 for 6. A couple of good lower middle order partnerships (I was involved in one of them) saw us post a competitive 184 in 25 overs. A spirited bowling and fielding performance (I bowled my full quota of 5 overs; took a wicket) gave us a solitary run victory.
It was a happy ending. Doubly so, given the inexperience in the team.

I shall blow my trumpet now..

After the game, captain came to me and said.. "Happy? You built this team.". A pat from the team followed.

Well, did I? Not exactly. But yes. TI has a team that can play cricket because I made my passion for the game contagious. For the last 6 months, all senior members in the team were so heavily burdened with work at office, that none of them could attend the saturday morning pratice sessions. Slowly the interest started dwindling. Nobody bothered to renew the contract with the groundsman at NAL for a practice net and we were left netless by early February after the contract expired. Thats when I decided 'to take matters into my own hands'. I went hunting for grounds which were affordable and at the same time not too far off from the Airport Road vicinity. (I didnt mind travelling). Seeing me struggle, one influential senior memeber (who has now retired from active cricket) used his influence and got us a net for Friday evenings at the same NAL grounds. The next step was to bring talent to the ground. We had loads of it, but none was motivated. For the first Friday evening session in early April, we were 4 enthusiastic players. I started forcing it down the gut of some lazy bones, that it was a shame they prioritized a Friday evening show at a multiplex over some healthy physical exertion. Result : 4 rose to 8-9 by May.

Once every quarter the contract with NAL for a net should be renewed. For the period starting June 07, we made sure the payment reached in time. And all looked back on track and we started our regular Saturday morning sessions in June. Ever since, we have a full team (sometimes surplus) that turns up for the sessions.

My punchline to make people feel guilty: "If I can wake up at 6 in the morn, leave home by 6:15, drive a good 15 km to reach the ground before 6:45 to see to it that we get a good net for practice, you people can definitely wake up at 6:45 and come here by 7:00."

People do come at 7 am these days (We had times when the 6:45 session would start at 7:30).

For once, I am proud and happy. Proud that my captain acknowledged my effort. Happy that I managed to spread my unflinching passion among the team members. Proud and happy that my name is synonymous with cricket at TI.

Sorry mummy

Long time back there was post a with the same title. But this one deserves the title more than that.

Whenever I dont find a cable, mobile charger, MP3 player, car/bike key at my work table at home, my fingers involuntarily point in mom's direction. And she comes running.

Me:"Where is the USB cable? It was right here last night. You swept it off this morning. Darn your broom! Find it for me. NOW!"

Mom: "Why will I sweep it off? It must be somewhere here. Search with open eyes."

Me: "I cant. That is why I called you. I will check the dustbin. Might find it there (The way I say this pricks physically). YOU search here."

She starts of diligenty. Boxes, racks, drawers, behind books. And finally there it is! Hanging from behind the port on the comp. I had left it there after I last used it.

Mom: "Rascal! Look where it is. Badmash. You blame me always".

Impish smile on my face..

Me: "But why do you come running, searching for it? Always? Thats because you feel guilty. You know you dont have control over your hands when it comes to cleaning and mopping."

Mom: "You are so wrong! Just look at your face when you cant find something. Tensed. Dejected. Lost. I dont mind taking the blame and those pointed verbal arrows coming from you. But I just cant see that face. I know yow will do this again. Soon. But I really dont mind son."

She wont expect it, but why cant I say a SORRY? On her face?
LOSER.
Shame shame!

But you are wrong mummy. There wont be a next time. Not in this regard atleast.

The Rose

Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless, aching need
I say love, it is a flower
And you it's only seed

It's the heart afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance
Its the dream afraid of waking
That never takes the chance
It's the one who won't be taken,
That cannot seem to give
And the soul afraid of dying
That never learns to live

When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed that with the sun's love,
In the spring, becomes a rose.


Nice song too.. this one

Encounter of the uncomfortable kind

A fortnight back I was volunteered by my boss's boss (for lack of ingenuity, will be called big B henceforth) to arrange for a team picnic this month end. After some net search I decided on this. Looks like a decent place, doent it?

And today was the card swiping day; had to make full advance payment to the resort people. Obviously it was big B's card that passed through the slit. Since I am the Bangalore wallah, I had to take him to the resort office, on Infantry Road. Out we set at 2 p.m in the office cab that I had booked. If I were big B, and if he was in my liberty floaters this would be the course of events..

Given that I am his boss for 3+ years and I have no clue about him or his family, given that he is no run of the mill kind at office, curiosity would prevail and a conversation as natural as this would fall in place.

Me : So, where are you basically from?
He : blah..blah (not important)
Me : You stay with parents?
He : ..
Me : Where?
He : ..
Me : How do you traverse that distance?
He : ..
Me : Why so far?
He : ..

Ok. I guess you get where this is heading. C'mon! He is my boss. He is supposed to make me feel comfortable atleast during that 1 hour's ride, isnt he? But no! All he managed to ask was a couple of questions on my work. Then absolute silence. He kept alternating between his watch and his blackberry and sometimes a peek outside the window. I felt suffocated sitting next to him. Hello! If not for your card our paths wouldnt have crossed! Now that they have, why behave as if I have sinned by taking you along? Shady character. Shady forgettable post lunch hour.

I definitely want to be a manager one day. Soon. But no one will ever write this way about me.

The weekend that was..

My fascination for dragons, large spiders and snakes, the wingardium leviosas, dementors (The concept of feasting on your good memories to an extent where you are left with only the bad ones.. too much!) seems to stay unabated with me. Proof : I watched two and a half of the three HP movies again this Sunday. Dad also gave me company for some time and later the plots became too complicated for him to follow. I tried to explain but his mind is just too unfantastic to lock to it.

Rafa has improved. Federer was plain lucky. It wont be so next time. But I was happy. Ferrari strategy worked. Hamilton erred. Alonso was useless and Kimi was at his best. Good combination of F1 news for a Ferrari fan in me to sleep with a smile on the face.

Problems galore. Zma refuses to start. Arbit hissing sound from below the seat. Some fuse problem I surmise. Gotta wait till next weekend to have it checked. Net down on both days.

Absolutely no physical activity over the weekend. Not even cricket. No regrets though. Had a tough (physically) week andI deserved a break.

With loads of mummy made food, a neat, free weekend it was.

ABD ABD ABD..

Gotta keep this place alive. Lot of things to write, lot of free time too (my manager doesnt visit this place anyways), but not enough motivation. Updates on things new/different in life...

3 yrs @ TI:
The 2nd year anniversary (7th June, 2006) saw a full length post to its credit. Anniversaries come and go. No big deal there. The highly indelectable lunch at Indi Joe's (spare the desserts) didnt help enliven the spirits either.
Jist : With loads of downs and a few ups here and there, it was definitely an year worth a Shift + Delete.

NOKIA 6300:
For a gizmo freak that I am, a W205 from Motorola seemed to insult my very existence. After a 2 month nexus, I am done with it. And what did I buy?


Considering that my credit has been running in only 3 digits for 2 months straight, 10K didnt seem to make a huge impact on the pocket. What is brought me along instead, are pride, smile on my face, 2MP camera, 16M colours screen (this rocks!) and much more. Have lost 2 half-night sleeps over feature exploration, but it was worth the effort. Thinking of having the GPRS enabled. Lets see.

Cricket:
Sad but true. My length and line are much more consistent from around the wicket. But this comes at a premium. My inswingers are lost to oblivion. Even on the breezy Saturday morns, the ball pitches and stays dead straight. Gotta work on some pace now.

Badminton:
Been regular at this now for almost 2 months now. I thought I was tough. But 1 hour into it, and I am panting like a mad dog. Stamina.. stamina.. hmm..

Hope to come back soon.

Demand Note to GOD

Dear God,

Give her happiness, an everlasting one,
to keep her bubbly and ever ready to sing and dance,
Give her a mind, a simple one,
where good ideas and thoughts flow without hinderance.

Give her the grit, a steely one,
that people will admire and wish to borrow,
Give her a dream, a tough one,
in pursuit of which she will forget all her sorrow.

Give her a body, a strong one,
that will brook a storm as a mild breeze,
Give her a mate, a deserving one,
with whom she can share the fruits of all of these.

Give her inner peace, a solemn one,
to stay composed amidst the tumultous crowd,
Give her a smile, a radiant one,
that will reflect her self-confidence, clear and loud.

Give her optimism, a cheerful one,
to lead a life with conviction, every night and day,
Give her courage, a resilient one,
to stand up to what is right, no matter what people say.

Give her a tear, a stubborn one,
to uproot anything that stands up as life's anomaly,
Give her a long life, a memorable one,
at which she will look back and say,"I couldnt have lived it more successfully!"

All in the game

I hadnt played football for almost 4 months. The intra office tournament was my last venture. This afternoon it was footer time again : 5 on 5 in the indoor court.

My footer skills are not exactly my physical abilities that I would flaunt in front of my girl friend. Both are badly missing. But thats beside the point. After desultorily running around for more than an hour (my teamamtes stopped passing the ball to me 20 min into the game; the opposition stopped marking me soon after. Just too many missed chances), on my way back to the cafeteria, stinking of sweat, a thought process was triggered.

Why do I suck at this game? Frankly, one leg of mine comes in way of the other. Maybe, just maybe, I would have made a name for myself if I had just one of these liabilities called legs, than a couple. But, knowing my prowess elsewhere, which I am happy about, let me put this question in perspective. Why doesnt adroitness in a particular game reflect in another game too? The cricket ball rarely slips through my legs (Yes. I field more often with my legs), but this bigger football creates a sorry figure between the same pair of reliable legs. Hell no! I am not an anomaly here.

The best dribbler/striker in this footer team plays badminton in a way that is anything but agile. I have seen that often. I am no champion material but I cover the court with much greater panache. A good midfielder was in my team for the cricket 8-a-side last year. The cricket ball is just too small for him. That is the impression he left.

I have known precisely 4 guys in my life whose flair in any game they play is tantamount. As for the rest, I guess its just too much conditioning in a particular game that is seen as gaucherie in the others. Gauche I might look right now, but I wanna continue with football. For one, this game tires every muscle. And what more. A prelunch session definitely makes the nauseatic cafeteria lunch quite bearable.

Haunted

Some time last year our CEO made this statement at one of the annual stockholders meet:
"The world of communications and entertainment is driving an opportunity of maybe up to 10 devices per person, compared to one device per person in the PC era. Just take a look around and count them - a cell phone, a digital camera, a game player, a broadband connection, an iPod and so forth. If you have any doubt, find your nearest teenager - you're looking at the future."

Yes! I am looking at MY bright future. And what about the teenager's? Game player + cell phone with music player + iPod - a perfect concoction for his doomsday preparations. If I were to be the CEO and I had teenage son, these are just the things I would keep him away from, atleast until I start feeling that he really deserves any of these. But seriously, do the present day teens really need to possess any of these? Is it the age for 'entertainment'?

Somehow, my CEO's stress on cashing on entertainment seems to be a repelling idea, more so because I feel he is targetting the wrong audience. I believe its not just him chanting the mantra. The whole semiconductor industry is on this path - coax a rich dad into buying a 3G, 3.5G phone, for his undeserving son, loaded with every possible entertainment circuitry ever concieved by a geeky EE engineer. Agreed, every party is happy in this deal. But dont we see some long term losers here? Are we so deeply engrossed in our money making spree that we feel not a pang of guilt when we make lofty statements like "find your nearest teenager - you're looking at the future"?

This thought sometimes makes me abhor circuit design, as is the case right now. All my transcievers, phase locked loops, regulators, references are soon going to sit in some NOKIA mobile's audio, camera or display interfaces that will eventually land in the hands of one such teenager.

God save him.

This industry is akin to child labour. Only there, some mean person is cashing on the direct physical involvement of a child and here, however tangential it might seem, we are exploiting the mental suppleness of one. Just because we have moved from the physical to the mental domain doesnt make this industry very different from human trafficking. So I am going to quit this industry, whose foundation is anything but ethical, and search for one that is more humanitarian. NICE TRY! Not in the near future do I see this industry going bust. If I dont screw my child's future, some one else will. So, no point in making a foolish sacrifice. A distorted future is better than no future.

As an aside, talking about someone deserving something, I had this encounter on Monday on Cubbon Road. As I reached an intersection, the signal turned red and the 180 seconds countdown started. I was on my Zma. By my side stopped a Bajaj ChetakX. The gentleman on the scooter started thouroughly started examining my bike. CAK XXXX was his bike number. One side of his helmet's wiper had come off the hinge. An old tattered black bag hung from the hook in the front. Surely a dowry material. I developed an instant disliking for all of his body parts. I gave him the position of a third rate sub-registrar office clerk in KR Puram. He started it.

"Yeshtu Saar idu (How much is this?)"
"85K"

Some more technical details I gave him.

"My son, only this bike wants. College ge hogallvante idilla andre"(wont go to college if he doenst get one).

I had this sudden rush of blood to my head.

"Idu naan togonDiddu. Nammappa koDslilla. Idanna oDsakke yogyate beku". (I bought this. Not my dad. I bought this because I DESERVE this bike).

This reply made me immensely proud. Hope that sonofagun never goes to college.

OK. Back to work now. I am not paid to believe in the power of my thoughts.

In pursuit of happiness..

Irked with corporeal resolutions and subsequent ineffectiveness in the previous years, when 06 ceased to exist, I adopted the last line from Max Ehrmann's Desiderata as my resolution for 07. Three months into it, its time to retrospect.

I have a reason, right now, not to be happy. And that is because retrospection returned dismal results. Let alone striving to be happy, I havent even made an effort not be sad. Till mid Feb I was too busy to be happy. Mid Feb to end Feb I was sad that my project got scrapped. Since Mar started, I am not happy because I have work again.

Moving from retrospection to introspection, is it really WORK that has stopped me from being happy? Everybody knows how workaholic I am (not). I barely manage to clock those 40 mandatory hours per week that the work place demands. So it really cant be work that is working against my resolution. And I spend around 60 hrs/week on bed, devoid of all human feelings.

Stepping outside my boots, as an onlooker, I think I have reasons to feel good once in a while. My parents are proud that I will be in possession of a HOME SWEET HOME before I turn 25. They are so elated that I single handedly arranged for a loan, completed all formalities, and even got the property registered in my name. Some other year, some other planet, I would have basked in this small glory that I have cornered, but right now, right here, I am not happy about any of this.


I worked assiduously on my patent, as a primary inventor, drawing self explanatory figures, deriving comprehensive equations, surveying literature to see if I had infringed on any existing patents, discussed, ruminated, and submitted the draft for review. It might not make it, thats a different thing. If I were to do the same set of things an year ago, at the end of it all, I would have had to try hard to contain the immense satisfaction and contentment the process would have given me. But last week, I logged out, saying good riddance and havent cared to follow up on it ever since.


I have shown enough diligence and regularly played my guitar for some time now. I can croon along as I play it. I used to lose myelf in it completely some time back. But now, its become more of a formal proceeding. I stop the moment my fingers start aching, 'cus paining myself for perfection doesnt make me happy any more.

Can some one be passionate about something and still not be happy doing it? I still remember those days when I used to wait for 3:30 p.m to strike. Then with all the zeal I could garner, I would head to the gym to bleed some unadulterated sweat. Awesome fun that WAS. And now, more often than not, I carry a lot of garbled thoughts along, and wont even realise when I start and when I am all sweat. The conviction exists. No doubt about that. But happiness. Z i l c h.

Cricket! I have lived for this game. I have spent long minutes conceptualising those perfect inswingers. I used to be proud of my unflinching commitment for the game. But with nobody around to share this passion, happiness has fast disappeared.


Neither am I cribbing nor am I looking for answers. I feel sleepless this night and feel like experiencing some misery. And so this post. Some wise dood told me to pursue my passions relentlessly to keep myself occupied and hence sanguine. Occupied I am, Sir, but devoid of sanguinity...

This weekend I am definitely going to try and get some motivation from Will Smith.

Wish I was a Pardesi..

Last night on my way back home I somehow felt like taking a short cut through the non-existent main road of Michealpalya. A part of this road, the end from where you exit to join 180 ft road, used to be a one way some time back. But some vexed commuters recently uprooted the board that hinted at this. The road cant actually handle two way traffic, but travailing on this for a few minutes is any day better than getting stuck at the eternally jammed Suranjan Das Raod and Old Madras Road junction. Having said this, I usually avoid this short cut.

But, as fate had it, of all nights, I chose last night to try this road. At the exit point there was an entire batallion of traffic police mamas ready to prance on blissfully innocent commuters who were foreordained to end their day on a bad note.

License please. OK.
Hundred Rupees please.
Why?
That's a one way sir.
Who says so?!
The board.
Where is the board?
On the road.
Its not there.
It is.

A Maruti Omni guy went that extra distance to prove that there was no board there. He took along a small mama, but he never cam back. God knows what happened to him.

But the shadiest part of this whole affiar was yet to come. Two chinkies on a Kinetic Honda, male+female, who came a few minutes later, on the same road, were NOT looted! Just a cavalier license check, a few words, and they were on their way! I couldnt stand this. Upon asking that miserable sonofabitch on his partisan behaviour, the response I got was equally atrocious.
"Avru namma desha alla saar" .. They are not from our country.. !@#$

At that instant, I wished for two things.
1. That I was a Pardesi.
2. That I had a valid insurance. Mine expired some time in April lst year. Was I in possession of this, I would have definitely created a scene there. But on this occassion, I quietly rode back, feeling lucky. Losing 100 bucks is better than losing 5 times that amount.

The first thing I did this morn was drop my zma at the service center. Will pick it up in the evening and tomorrow morn I shall head straight to the ICICI Insurance office.

Lean phase

Every Thursday evening, all module owners need to send a weekly to the manager explaining all the activities that happen during that week. For the second staright week, I havent sent mine. The reason is as simple as having nothing to write in the weekly.

Not that we bill our cost center on an hourly basis, but its a tacit expectation that we clock atleast 40hrs/week at office. I have done 45 hrs in 2 weeks combined. Work at office these days is akin to mugging in college: lot of backlog vis-a-vis dwindling interest to keep pace.

I am trying hard to convince myself that lack of physical fitness ( a sprained right elbow last week, an aching left shoulder since yesterday) plus lot of time consuming activities on the home front (loan+registration+payments) has kept me away from giving 100% at work. But something inside is making a cussed statement that all the above are just excuses and the actual reason is general lack of motivation.

With 2 modules in the finishing stages and 2 new ones in the planning phase, I have work that actually demands more than 50hrs/week. Hope things will be normal starting next week.

Zma vs. Thunderbird

After a 70 odd km biking on the Thunderbird(TB) (thanks Kesava!), I feel I am in a decent position to make a comparison with my Karizma (the last reading on the odometer : 11111 km). This being my first attempt at comparison/review I shall copy parameters listed at mouthshut.org.

Fuel consumption :
38kmpl (Zma) against 30kmpl for the TB. 30 is pretty low for the kind of power TB delivers. May be it is the dry weight (168kgs against zma's 150kgs) that results in such a low fuel consumption.

Comfort :
TB's rear seat is a real pain in the ass. Cant say much about zma though, for I havent sat on its pillion seat for such long a distance. But for the rider, TB ROCKS! Bangalore- Chennai distance can be covered with at the max 2 breaks on the way. Zma demands atleast one every 50-60 kms. There is nothing like a 'comfort zone' on the zma seat. You need to shift every 10-15 mins to relax a certain blood starved part of your bottom. But TB is comfort personified. You will need a break now and then only to beat the boredom that this comfort tends to create.

Handling and control :
Though a cruiser, TB seems to be better suited for city traffic conditions. I am not sure, but I guess it is for the same 'more torque at lower engine speeds' funda that applies to cars. Juat an observation, TB cruises at 80kmph@3000 rpm but zma needs 5000rpm for the same speed.

Looks:
People might contradict, but zma scores here. Agreed TB has this rugged,meant-for-business look, but in the age group where bikes matter, zma attracts more 'sights'.

Acceleration ( my original comparison point):
No comparison. zma will reach its destination by the time TB accelerates to top speed (exagerated, but close to truth). TB cries when open throttled. zma encourages.

For my physique, both are grossly ill suited bikes, but if I am still to make a choice, I will settle for ZMA. After all, not often do I get a chance to cruise to long distances. When I do, then what is a Wagon-R for eh?

What hurts more?

The fact that you are always thinking about some one who is very special to you and that life has gone completely haywire because of that.. or the fact that that special some one doesnt care for you more than the dogs that roam her street?
I feel its the latter..

A trek to KoDchadri peak - Jan 26/27 07 : Part 1

Kodachadri. Don’t ask me what that means. I cared as much to know what it meant as I did to know where it is. Before departure, I mean. Now I can give details on request. Such was the pining to go ‘anywhere’, that no sooner did a guy drop out from the trek team, I jumped in. Despite my dozen odd last minute ditches on prior invitations, Mithun (trek ‘lead’) was kind enough to call me for this one. All this, a day before the trek.

A few facts that I garnered about the peak (along the way):

1. The 4^th highest peak in Karnataka (at about 1350m above MSL).
2. A hundred odd km north-north east of Kundapur and a hundred odd km west of Shimoga. Hardly a fact, I know. But for a guy who thought it was a couple of hours ride from Bangalore, this fact was an eye-opener.
3. And needless to say, B E A UTIFULLLL…

This was apparently my second ‘official’ trek expedition. First one was way back in March 2006 to a peak somewhere in Coorg district, close to Honey Valley. A risible trek that one was, compared to this back breaking, pant tearing (literally, what with all those thorny shrubs on the way) one.

DAY 0:

To make sure that we do not end up expecting some junket to heaven with 5-star treatment, we were treated to some ‘Swades general compartment’ level 400 kms overnight bus journey to Kundapur. Surprisingly I managed to sleep through most part of the tumultuous ride (Bangalore-Mangalore NH has gone to dogs).

DAY 1:

After a sumptuous breakfast at Kundapur, we set out to Kollur (of the Mookambika fame). From Kollur its all the way UP, to the destination (approx 800m ascent). After a game of frisbie (by the way, we were seven trekkers) and an hour’s wait at Kollur bus stand, with the peak in the distant background, our final leg of ‘6 wheeled’ ride (for the next 24 hours) took us to Nittur. A bumpy jeep ride from here to a village that had ‘a hut and sugarcane fields around’,

left us at our starting point.

Destination #1: HiDlumane falls

A refreshing bath before the climb to the peak and lunch were planned here. But Mithun had decided that we fight for and win each of these small pleasures. With ~15kgs of whatever -we -needed -and -whatever -we -could -fill -in -the -rucksack load on the shoulders, we started our steep ascent, amidst slippery boulders, to the cascade. An hour’s climb and we were at the base of the falls. A war well fought that one.

Standing naked (almost) under the cascade’s cold, pricking needle-like droplets.. aah.. be there to feel it! Heavenly the experience was! We wished we could stay on for ever. But the peak beckoned. Any place we ate, we hogged. I wont repeat it again. With full tummies, we started our descent to the village with a hut and sugarcane fields around.

Destination #2 : Inspection Bungalow, below KoDachadri peak.

Again from the village with a hut and blah blah blah we started the climb, in a different direction this time. Climb. Rest. Climb. Rest. Cimb. Rest. The travail continued through dense shrubs, open grasslands and a sultry afternoon until we reached the IB before sunset, as planned.

Destination #3: The peak.

Almost all souls were badly battered by now. So close yet so far wouldn’t be a nice thing to go back and tell office mates. One final climb and the peak would be captured. But rest would come only at a premium this time. We were racing against time; treating ourselves to a pleasant sun set at the peak was the ultimate goal. And we did it! Breathtaking, marvelous, splendid. Oh boy! Were we lucky or what! Just the right setting to forget anything and everything that has troubled you through the day. Just the right setting to sit, hand in hand, with your girl friend, and discuss, what next. For the seven male trekkers at the peak, what next was not a problem. A mundane climb down to the bungalow, cooking, and sleeping is all we had to settle for. Hmmm. So much for romance on the hill top.

Much to the consternation of fellow trekking groups (from Philips and NI), we cooked our own dinner and relished it.. Rice, MTR ready to eat veg curries, pickle.. we had them all.

And then, a perfect ending to a not so perfect day: Sleep under a blanket of stars with natural air conditioning. More pleasing was the fact that the rug that I carried and cursed myself for carrying along was more than useful that night.