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.