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.....