Sunny Blogs

Blog 5401: Love's in the Hair

2009-08-15T01:00:00.000+05:30

Ah, so its already been 3 months since my last post :P
Anyhoo, lemme move right on and post a new one.
This one's a speech I gave for a competition at IIMB... but its worthy of appearing here as a blog post too.

-------------------------------------------------

For the love of hair

A man’s life is full of endless frustrations, fights, struggles, disappointments, ideas, strategies and remedies until the day he gains enlightenment and gives up. The day he realizes that do what he may, he will go bald.

The express purpose of this post, here, today, is to help you reach this conclusion. Allow me to show you that everything in a man’s life is designed to make him go bald. I speak from first hand experience.

I’ll follow the advice that the king gave to the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. Begin at the beginning and go on till you reach the end.

Now, right from the time we’re born, we are encouraged to go out and play or sit down and study hard. Playing, you must understand, entails going out in the sun, having the wind ruffle your hair and having dirt fly around and settle on your scalp – all of which have been medically proven and constitutionally decried as being detrimental to the proper growth and well being of hair. And when you have the sun, wind and earth coming together to take your hair away, there’s little you can do to stop them.

I would have said ‘Hence proved’ but I see you’re not convinced.

Okay. Take studying. Why do we study? To take exams. What do exams do? They cause stress. What does stress do? It makes you lose hair.

I would have said “Hence proved” but I can see you’re still not convinced.

So consider love. As long as a guy is single, he worries himself no end trying to find a girl. Worrying, of course, does to your hair what George Bush did to the US – ruins it. Now there are three standard techniques that guys use when they’re in this phase of emotional development: a) they buy a bike b) try building muscles; and c) in any case, they spend a lot of money on girls. Now I can show you that each of these three activities is specifically designed to make you go bald. Riding bikes puts your hair at the mercy of the wind. Please refer to my theory on wind and hair propounded a while ago. Building muscles leads to excess male hormone secretion which causes male pattern balding. And spending too much money on girls who don’t finally turn into girlfriends has been known to induce a mature emotion called “I feel like tearing my hair out” which, as the name suggests, is not the best thing to happen to a man’s hair.

I would have said "Hence Proved" but some of you are... well...

So, if indeed the girl converts to girlfriend, things quickly move into marriage and parenthood territory. Both of those are positions of responsibility that a. don’t give you resume points and b. cause stress. Hence, more hair lost.

This phase of life also corresponds to a thing called work life. Governments around the world have asked tobacco companies to put the picture of a skull and write “Statutory Warning: Cigarette smoking is injurious to health” on cigarette packets. There shall come a day when such things will also have to be put on job appointment letters. Work is something that comes with a cloud around it that has “stress, stress, stress” written all over. First you have to study hard to get a good job. Then you have to work hard to retain the good job. If you don’t work hard, your boss will fire you. If you work too hard and stay long hours in office, your wife will leave you. Both events are known to cause stress. Stress is known to cause hair loss.

I hope I have made it adequately clear to you how playing, studying, love, marriage and work – all of them – will make you go bald. I’d wish, but my theory isn’t all just a conjecture I’ve dreamed up. Its backed up by solid observations from my own life. I personally have shown a lot of loyalty to my hair. Unfortunately, its been one way traffic for quite a while now. I f you really want to know how bad things are, then here's a story: a few days ago, a friend of mine put up a status message “Bad hair day”. I replied back with a status message of my own that read – ‘bad hair life’.

I would have said "I think you're not convinced yet", but I think I'll just say, "Hence Proved!"

Blog 5102: An update

2009-05-10T11:21:00.005+05:30

This pic!

This pic symbolizes exactly what I described in the post http://sunnyblogs.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-4801-dream-on.html

Thanks Sandy... got it from your comment on Kadir's status on Facebook!

Blog 5101: A normal day in the life of Suite-16

2009-05-09T18:48:00.003+05:30

5.58 pm
Cell phone shows "Shailu Calling".
Shailu:"Sunny, tu office mein hai?"
Me: "Yups... ssup?"
Shailu: "Oh good, IRCTC ki site khol".

Sunny, though, is busy playing Pathwords on Facebook.

Me: "Haan yaar... (while I make another pathword)... khol raha hoon... umm... ek sec"
1.43 mins left on this game.
I realise it wasn't going so well.
Game kaata.

Flashback.
Abhinav Somani is getting married this Tuesday.
The first of the inhabitants of Suite-16 to get married.
:-)
I'm unable to go coz of a misalignment of the planets in the Solar System.
Shailu decided on Thursday that he's going.
Booked tickets.
Azad Hind Express for today, Saturday, on waiting list.
Spicejet for Tuesday morning confirmed.

Shailu: "Ghar pe power cut hai. Site dekh ke bata ki meri ticket ka kya status hai".
I open IRCTC's website.
Shail gives me his login, password.
Says the train is for 6.25 pm.
Its 6 pm right now.
We're cool, Honeybunny.
We're cool.

He basically wants to ensure that he's still on the waiting list so that he can cancel his ticket.
But...
There's many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip.
Site shows a change in ticket status.
Ticket confirmed, seat reserved.
Shail: "Oh!"
Shail: "Toh... should I go?!"
Adi from next room:"Ticket confirm?! Toh jaaa!"
Shail:"O teri... !"

First hiccup.
The e-ticket hasnt been printed yet.

25 mins.
To pack bags.
To print ticket.
To reach station.
To catch train.

Divide and conquer.
Adi goes to cyber cafe to print ticket.
Shail packs.
But...
There's many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip.
Power cuts everywhere.
Cyber cafe has no power.

I try calling Railway station to see if they allow passengers without printed ticket and just with valid ID card.
Its ringing.
No response.

6.10.
15 mins to go if the train's on time.
They're headed to the station on Adi's bike.
But...
There's many a slip...
Second hiccup.
Adi's bike has a UP registration number.
Traffic policeman stops them.
Asks for papers.
They dont have the papers on the spot.

Ragda+makhhan.
"Jaaane do sir"
"Train hai sir"
"Mere do bemaar bachhe hain us train mein sir"
Policeman: ?! ?!
"Zindagi aur maut ka sawaal hai sir. Jaane do. Upar waala aapka bhala karega"
The works.

The policeman tells them to submit the license and PUC papers and come back from the station with NOC to retrieve them.

Meanwhile, I narrate the story so far to Dot Lal on gchat.
Dot lal:Wanna bet?
Me: I think he's screwed
Dot lal: I think so too.
Me: We need to find someone who's willing to bet he ain't screwed.
Dot lal: That would be Shailu

6.25
I desist from calling Shail or Adi.
I expected them to be on the bike frantically trying to reach the station.

6.30.
Phone says "Shailu calling"
I fear for the worst.
Me: "Kya hua finally?!"
Shail: TRAIN MEIN HOON!"
And he tells me the whole story about printing the ticket and the traffic police guy.
Screw clothes, he also packed Shantaram and his lappy.

The only thing left now...
Shail: Ab yeh Spicejet cancel karna hai
:-)

Blog 4802: What's the Good Word?!

2009-02-03T21:58:00.002+05:30

I've had an itch for a long time.
And I've decided its about time I scratched in public.

There's this word I've been trying to recollect for ages.
I knew it a few years ago.
Then Kgp happened.
As I started making space for Kgp lingo and other affiliated words, this particular word, along with lots of others, eloped from my memory.
Then one day, I came across a situation that illustrated this word and tried hard to recollect it.
Kuppa.
No search results found.

Just like all guys who've been after some girl who doesnt reciprocate, or appreciate, or understand, or (oh-fcuk) recognise, their feelings, I came to the conclusion that I was trying too hard.
I was giving this word more attention than I was getting from it.
I decided to take it easy.
Slowly.
To lay back.
The word will recognise how much I've craved it and it'll come to me.

Like many of the girls in the stories referred to above, it never did.

But time heals all wounds.
'Out of sight, out of mind.'
I got busy in other words.
Like anyhoo.
Life rolled along and I went with the flow.
Anyhoo.

Until yesterday.
Apro da's status message yesterday brought the past crashing back to haunt my present.
I realise I haven't told you much about the word yet.
So here goes.
His status message yesterday read: I dont want to jinx it... so I wont say that the weather is darned good.
This is an art.
This thing... where you say something while professing to not say it.

"I dont want to upset you and so I wont talk about what a fcukin bitch you are."
"I dont want to remind you of that incident where you embarassed yourself before the whole school that spring day, 7th March 2001, in junior high... so I wont talk about it"
You get the drift.
There's a word that describes this... (lemme repeat)... this saying something while professing to not say it.

The thing is, I can't recollect this word.
So here's a plea for search-and-rescue.
Do search for this word and rescue me from this itch.
And just in case you thought I was referring to some other itch/scratching in the beginning...

... I really want you to look for this word and so I will not talk about how crappy your thinking is.
:-P

Blog 4801: Dream On

2009-02-02T11:43:00.004+05:30

Disclaimer: The title of this post is copyrighted by Dot Lal and Gol J. Anyhoo. :-P

My dreams have taken on an entirely new dimension.
And I aint referring to the stoopid dreams that all people worth more than 1 million USD, half of those worth less than 1 million USD, the Corrs and our precious Barack Obama talk about in every alternate sentence.
I'm referring to dreams in their primitive sense - those that occur when we're well asleep.

Circa yesterday night: Me in Shailu's room.
I'd shifted home yesterday from Aundh to Kondhwa, btw.
Thats another story in itself.
Anyhoo.

So yesterday night at Shailu's room.
1 am
We decided we're going to the gym tomorrow morning.
7 am - we're to get up.
7.30 am - we're to be in the gym.
9 am - we're to get out of the gym.
To use one of the grooviest corporate cliches, "that sounded like a plan".

1.45 am
I set the alarm for 7 am.
After a brief round of negotiations involving Shailu, me and my cell phone, the alarm is reset to 7.30 am.
We pay homage to the plan with a "tempo se".

7.30 am today morning.
Alarm rings.
I look at the alarm and put it on snooze.
Pay close attention to the conversation that happens next.
Partly coz it never happened - it was in my dream.
Partly coz it'll show how friggin devious the dreams production unit of my brain is.

Me: Shailu uth... gym ka samay ho gaya hai.
Shailu: Yaar Sunny... late ho gaya hai. Ab fayda nahin hai.
Me: Hain? 7.30 hi to decide kiye the.
Shailu: Bad decision tha yaar... ab late ho gaya hai... bheed ho gayi hogi ab tak.
Me: hain? bheed? 7.30 am?

The plot has thickened.
Notice that I'm still the good guy - I'm still pushing in favour of going to the gym.
And since my mind prolly didnt want to put the whole thing squarely on Shailu, it brought in the mysterious third element.

Mysterious third guy with a stubble and sweat cap on: Yeah. Too late. Aur ab to saare night shift ke call center employees ke aana ka samay ho gaya hai. That place will be full of this crowd now.
Me: Ohh
Mysterious third guy with a stubble and sweat cap on: Yeah... just not worth it.
Me: Ohh
Me: Kaata... I'll go sleep again.

*halo*
Its my mind that conjured up the night shift returning employee reason.
Its also my mind that made sure that I'm the goody innocently-trusting-and-finally-betrayed hero and the rest are the ones using these excuses.

Yeah, I'm Jack's total lack of committment to gymming.

I finally woke at 10 am - and I sincerely believed that the conversation above had happened.
I bathed, got dressed, got down the building and into the cab and only then realised - that third guy couldn't have been.
And this ain't a one-off incident.
If I get a phone call while I'm asleep, I usually decline it or let it ring out.
Blimey, but I then end up having a mental conversation with the caller right down to the final bbye.
Its just happened so often with my mom.
She calls back later and protests that I decline her calls and dont call back.
I say thats not possible coz I distinctly remember talking to her.
And then I tell her what we talked about.
And she says she's sure I've gone mad.

One of these days, she's going to ask me if I'm stoned.
And I think I'll prolly say, "Haven't we talked about this already"
:-P

Blog 4402: Who let the dogs out

2008-10-14T20:26:00.007+05:30

Chapter 1
-------------
It had been a nice day in Mumbai.
Met Shanks.
Went to Linking Road.
Sinned: had a strawberry cheesecake sundae with whipped cream at Brio.
But it was heavenly.
And nothing heavenly can be counted as a sin.
I'll meditate on this in more detail.

Hopped in and out of a/c showrooms to beat the heat.
Had tons of stream-of-consciousness discussions with Shanks.
We went to Bandra bandstand.
Basant called.
Of all the improbable things he could have said, he said he was in Mumbai!
Minor Kgp get-together at Marine Lines.
Shanks, Basant, Vergi, Sengar, Sourabh Bansal, Thakral, Saraswat, Pappu et al.
Walked to Chowpatty.
Bhaated.

Had the most awekosmic litchee-with-cream and sitafal-with-cream at Haji Ali Juice Center.
I'll include that in the meditation.
Then Vergi, Shanks and I parted at Dadar and I took the Volvo to Pune.
It was midnight.
I thought that would be it for the day.
But no.

Chapter 2
-------------
Flashback.
Circa: Sometime after the Attack of the Bee

It was the annual animal world convention in The Forests of Never Neverland.
There was grave concern regarding the attack of the bee on an unarmed unsuspecting vulnerable screwed-up-but-soon-about-to-be-screwed-more- in-the-prob-stats-end-sem-exam human.
All the animals shook their heads in disbelief at the atrocity of the incident.
Or maybe at my performance in the prob stats paper.
The vegetarian animals vowed to go without eating grass for a day.
The non-vegetarians vowed to go without eating them for a day.
Maneka Gandhi rebuked all humans and told them to learn from this example.
Anyhoo.

The king called the meeting to order.
Everyone bowed their heads.
45 degrees out of reverance to the king.
45 degrees more out of shame for the un-bee-coming attack.

A resolution that solemnly proposed lasting peace and cooperation of all animals with me was passed by near-unanimous vote.
Near-unanimous.
Two species did not agree to it.
They were outraged by the proposal.
They could not, would not, and did not wag their tails to approve it.
Because of the never ending bond of fraternity at Never Neverland, I was never told the names of the two species when the resolution was finally delivered to me.
Nevertheless, I accepted it.

In the last post, I encountered a life-perspective-changing incident which revealed one of those two species to me.
Bulls.
I was about to discover the identity of the second.

Chapter 3
------------
It was 3 am.
I got off the Volvo at Aundh.
Some 6 of us took off in one direction.
As we entered a by-lane, a giant dog growled at us.
One of us said, "Can you believe the size of that thing?!"
The dog got satisfied, threw a "hah, did ya hear that" look at his bitch and went to sleep.
We walked on.

The other 5 went their way.
I was alone in the last leg of the journey.
I turned into a lane some 150m long.
Kept walking.
Saw 6 dogs running faster than Usain Bolt from the other end of the lane.
I was cool with it.
They're just dogs.
They run.
But these kept running.
When they were 25m from me, I realised it was me they were running at.
That was about when I stopped being cool with it.
I made a dash for a nearby staircase.
The dogs stopped.
Barked at each other for having made it so obvious to me that I needed to run away.
Retreated.

At length I came down.
There was a good 100m between them and me.
I stood in the middle of the road and stared at them.
They reciprocated.
There was no other way of getting home.
I was behind enemy lines.
I thought of my Orkut fortune of the day: "you are going to have some new clothes"
I knew it then.
The dogs really were going to tear my clothes apart.

An important piece of information should be made known to the learned reader at this point.
My cell had gotten discharged.
So that meant I couldn't have called Bhaaya, at 3 am, to get his bike and ride to my rescue.

I walked back and entered a housing society.
I was hoping I'd find a plug point there and charge my cell.
The guard woke up within 5 seconds of my entering.
Told him my story.
Invented a part about the dogs chasing me up the stairs to make it more dramatic.
I thought it would give him his chance to get job satisfaction.
He could have bragged to fellow guards about saving a hounded fella in the middle of the night from wild animals.
Instead, he said he had no bike or plug point and headed for the loo.

I saw a scooter drive towards the housing society.
Waved it down.
Uncleji and auntyji looked at and around me.
I think they were looking for a girl who I was probably eloping with in the middle of the night.
Anyhoo, I repeated my story.
Asked him if he could drop me on his scooter to a spot just 200m from there.
Auntyji said they'd taken a longer route to get there just to escape the dogs - dogs ran faster than the scooter.
They offered me their cell.
I called Bhaaya.
Bhaaya was well asleep.

Well.
I walked around.
Knew I'd probably have to wait till dawn before some vehicle could possibly rescue me.
I empathized with Jackie Shroff in Border - "yeh raat khatam kyun nahin hoti".

But wait.
Kahaani mein twist.
The security guard realised this was his moment of truth.
He said that the dogs wouldn't bother us if there were two of us.
He picked his cycle.
I picked two stones.
Together, we set out into the dark.
It was going to be a fight to the finish.
We wished each other luck.
Said we'd speak well of the other if either of us went down.

We walked into the lane.
The dogs charged at us.
I threatened them with the stone.
He grunted at them and brandished the cycle!
The dogs fell back.
They formed a semi circle around us... but kept their distance.
We kept walking, occasionally turning around to give a live demo of our new found confidence.
They finally gave up.
Dispersed.

We did a high-five.
The spectators who had gathered around the windows and roof-tops cheered wildly.
India TV stopped their live telecast of breaking news about the latest discord between judges of the reality show 'Jaane Bhi Mat Do Yaaron' and started inspiring the world with our story.
The works.

I reached home.
Got online.
Browsed some blogs on Google Reader.
Couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the title of one of the posts.
Re-read it.
Realised I needed to go to sleep.
Shut the lappy and went to bed.

The post's title was "Oh my God!"
First time around, I'd read it as "Oh my Dog!"
True story.

Blog 4401: Bearing the bull

2008-10-01T12:51:00.005+05:30

And I was walking.
Coolly.
Nonchalantly.
At peace with the world.
Hearing the cars buzz by.
The bells ringing.
People passing by.
Some looking alarmed.
But thats okay.
Thats the way the world is, I thought.

I was still at peace.
Happy with the two packs of Nestle Milkmaid Strawberry Yoghurt in my packet.
I could visualize how happy I'd be when having that yoghurt.
I smiled.
I could feel the sun's warmth.
I could still hear the bells ringing.
Only louder, this time.
And some people still looked alarmed.
Only more, this time.

Ah! What woe betide these people at such an hour, I thought.
I followed Newton's first law.
Made myself stop.
Made myself turn.
And saw a bull charging towards me.

Under normal circumstances, I would have analysed the situation.
Drawn a decision tree.
Decided upon an optimum course of action.
And implemented it.

But two things happened here.
One: All nodes of the decision tree said "RUN"
Two: This wasn't a normal circumstance.

A secret event number 3 also happened just about then.
A realisation dawned.
I was wearing a red jacket.
Smart boy.
Smart choice.

Yeah I know that bulls are colorblind and blah.
But try telling that to yourself when you're wearing red and a bull's charging at you.
D'oh.

You know all those cartoons in which the toon has to run.
First: he launches himself a few inches in the air.
Second: he starts rotating his legs at fifteen hundred rpm.
Third: he does a touch down.
Last: he launches forward.

I makhaoed.
Jumped straight to the fourth step.
My bad.

And so I ran for all I was worth.
My legs were working like crazy.
My two-n-a-half-year-old-bought-from-Marathahalli-at-discount-store Nike shoes showed every bit of the fuzzy technology they're supposed to possess.

It says they're supposed to allow air in and hence let your feet 'breathe'.
Bah! Humbug.
People really do forget all science after doing management.
Breathe? My foot!
Ohh... so maybe thats how they got the idea of feet breathing.
Anyhoo.

So I kept running.
Running.
Running.
Until I'd gotten 3 feet from the starting point.
Three feet forward, four right, one back.
By now, I had safely put a Maruti 800 between myself and the bull.
Bet those Maruti guys hadnt thought of this USP when they made their ads.

Would a bull that had seven states' police forces looking for it be daunted by a Maruti 800?
SMS A for Yes
SMS B for No.
SMS C to find out the number to sms to.
And we have our lucky winner...

The bull realised he wasnt up to the challenge of banging a Maruti 800.
He swerved.
I thought he'd try coming around the car.
But no.
He swerved too much.
Ran towards a shop.

The shopkeep cursed, "Bull shit!"
The bull did not obey.
Instead he swerved again.
Miraculously missing the shop by 25 feet.
Ran into the lane that ran along the shop.
Some people ducked for cover.
Others just waved.
The bull finally ran into the distance raising a cloud of dust.

Me, I just turned and started walking.
Reached office.
Took me two packs of yoghurt to get over that incident.

Opened yet another news site.
Some writer wailed, "Waiting for the next bull run"
Yeah, right.

Blog 4301: Good boys

2008-09-25T02:55:00.002+05:30

Me and Ashish were talking over mocha yesterday.
And he said, "In some companies, employees have this funda of stacks. They all try keeping themselves at the bottom of the stack. Whenever the manager has to fire someone, he just puts his hand in the stack and pops out the topmost fellow."
"Or more."

Well.
Nice funda.
Except that the first thing that came to my mind was - that operation, or moving within the stack, wouldnt be possible without some people getting out of the stack, rearranging, and then getting back in.
So technically, even if you wanted to get down the stack, you and some others would first have to get fired and then hired back.

Then I gave myself a mental gpl for having thought so wonderfully technically on what was a figurative point.
Report card: can do better.

That was yesterday.
Today, some people happened to converge at a door.
I, one of them.
Guy 1 turned the handle and tried pulling the door.
Guy 2 gave him a mental gpl and said, "It says push. P-U-S-H. Dhakka de."
Guy 1: "Ow right. Hey... shouldn't the other side then have P-O-P instead of P-U-L-L."
And they all laughed.

Tough luck Barack Obama.
I dont see those IT jobs not getting outsourced here.
:-P

Blog 4201: Hence, a fachha

2008-08-07T12:59:00.003+05:30

I wrote this mail on 18th October 2002 to a distant cousin of mine... maybe exactly 3 months after joining Kgp. This is the cousin from whom I got the inspiration to go for Science and IIT JEE. Heck, it was coz of him that I first heard of IIT in class 9! I realise there are lots of kids who grow up hearing that they need to eat green vegetables, drink milk, oil their hair, and clear IIT JEE. I happened to have heard only the first three before having met this guy.

I opened my Yahoo account after ages today; and for some forsaken reason, they showed this mail as an unsent draft. Be it so or be it so not, it did remind me of what I was pre-Kgp. Rather... pre-OP.

Lemme copy paste it - the part in bold is the actual text... whats italicized is my expert commentary :P

It has been a quick three months at IIT Kgp. I am here in Calcutta as of now for the puja holidays and this is, really, the first time I have got online since joining kgp. (After the first day of classes, I duly made a list of books I would need for the sem and marched towards Academia in Tech Market. Except for a couple of giggling senior girls, things went pretty smoothly.
They were giggling coz I asked the shopkeeper, " Is there a cyber cafe around here somewhere?")

We do not have comps in our room unless we buy one but Internet connectivity is free. (Legend had it that students joining Kgp got free comps. Or so I believed before entering the hallowed HJB for counseling)

If I am to tell you of our life in the campus, I really do not know where to start and where to end. For one, I have become thinner than before - from first hand experience, you might be knowing the cause just too well. (I was 85 kgs when I joined Kgp; 72 when I went home in October. I continued on my path of losing weight until I reached 67 kg. Then, I discovered the art of eating out. The only thing that lost weight from that point on was my (or Krishna's :P) wallet.)

Time passes all too quickly. We have chemistry labs on Tuesday and electrical labs on Friday and we have to write the discussion for the experiment we did last time. Chemistry journal is fine because it can be done during the weekend but every Thursday the unanimous opinion is that time has contrived against us to bring Friday before it should actually come. Its like- abhi to electrical lab hua tha and tomorrow again.

The mess food has improved over the period we have been there. The students are, mostly, cooperative and friendly. (Haan haan hans lo :P)

There are lots of competitions every now and again. We have been advised by our seniors to participate in as many as we can. In fact some of the electronics department students say they have been told to participate in sports, in cultural activities, drama etc. and get a CG of 9.5! (Excuse the naivety puhlease!)

In terms of placements, our department is widely reckoned as a ‘fundu’ department to use some of Kgp’s jargon. The teachers are, generally, good but some like our mechanics teacher positively induce sleep. (I'm glad this list was not compiled near the end of my Kgp life. But then I wouldnt have been writing such things in a mail then.
Wouldnt have been writing a mail at all, more likely :P)

There are 20 marks for teacher’s assessment and these depend mostly on attendance. Consequently there is high attendance. Of course, there are some proxy attendances but the number does not go too low. Initially I used to feel very sleepy here but it has decreased now.(This is a cow, a cow has four legs and one tail. Phbbt.)

Hope you're doing well,
Sunny

Blog 3602: Saturday Night Movie

2008-02-24T01:52:00.004+05:30

Me and Bhraate made a late night snack out of American Gangster tonight. Nice film. Well portrayed. Denzel Washington does his role well. Two and half hours, 160 bucks, third row ticket and a ride back at 1.30 am means that this was a Saturday night that qualifies as an answer for Monday morning's escape-it-if-you-can question "So how was your weekend?".

Anyhoo, my point is rather different. What I came out of E-Square wondering was whether at all Russel Crowe was needed for this role. Of course, I aint the heir-apparent to Steven Spielberg... but even to my untrained cinematographic perception, twas but obvious that this was a role a lesser actor could have easily done.

So I wonder, why Russel Crowe? The only scenes of note for him in the movie, to me, were those he shot with Denzel Washington around the end of the movie with the styrofoam coffee cup being shoved in "pehle aap, pehle aap" fashion across the interrogation table. The point where he puts it across to the drug lord what he will have done and how the script shall unfold from there on.

Not much else.

And so I wonder, why Russel Crowe?

Just so that people would be drawn to watch Denzel Washington and Russel Crowe in action together? Coz the economics probably said that the amount to be paid to Russel Crowe would be recovered twice over when the two names are seen together?

Why is it that before every Hindi film, the bloody dumb Page 3 screams about what a path breaking project Tusshhaarr (pardon me, I know not which alphabets to repeat how many times) Kapoor, or some such of his ilk, is doing with a debut-today-gone-tomorrow director? And then we have the director say how much Tuushaarrr (trying another variation; I hope one of them may be right) has grown as an actor and as a man during this film. And then, Tuu.. (you-know-who) says what a wonder-funkey director this guy is. And we all go happily slapping each other's back until the film's out and everyone in the first show is left wondering why they hadnt insured their time and ticket money before buying it.

Anyhoo...

On a different plane of metaphysical thought, I had some awesome popcorn today. You must have had the classic salted, tomato and chilli versions of popcorn... but damn... try the sweet version someday. The popcorn's crisp, its sweet layer's crisp too and it forms a quick assembly line using your fingers and the whole gastronomical system.

Anyhoo...

One of these days, I should go meet Faggy. We keep making plans and keep kaatafying them and keep branding the other Mr Ditcher. Its amazing. For the last one month, Me and Himadri living in North West Pune, Faggy in South East Pune and Maalu in North East Pune havent seen each other. And they say Pune's a small city. What have we made out of ourselves? What lifestyle is this? Have we become slaves to these multinationals? Why am I talking like Mamta Bannerjee?

Anyhoo...

Sunday today. A look at Orkut says "Today's fortune: A thrilling time is in your immediate future".

Yeah right. Why does this remind me of those Page 3 reviews? [;-)]

Blog 3601: Once upon a time...

2008-02-13T21:31:00.012+05:30

Act 1. Scene 1.

Its been ages since I last blogged.
Hah.

Obviously it means that I've been busy.
Hah.

You there, with the raised hand, what is it?
Hah.

Whaaaa! You think I was out of ideas and just never felt like it?
Hah.

*Looks around and finds everyone staring accusingly*
Hmm...
Huh.

Hey! hey! Lookee there... a flying bird!
*While everyone looks around, our hero quickly slips a blog idea out of the back of his mind*
Hah.

A flying bird?!
*Whistles coolly*
*Surveys the ceiling*

Act 2. Scene too.

It was a dark and stormy night.
The wind was howling in the trees.
The moon was barely visible through the dark sinister clouds.
And in some other part of the world, I was sitting in Class KG.
Section A.
Around a rectangular desk.
With at least 3 other students.

The class was progressing serenely.
Young minds were being imparted the knowledge that generations before them took their lifespans to deduce and formulate so that their progeny would be better informed and hence more capable in their search for truth, meaning and the purpose of life.

Teacher: "Turn to page twenty. Twinkle twinkle little star."

Okay I dont really remember what poem and what teacher, but then *puffing a smoke and looking nonchalant* how does it matter. Hah.

The guy to my right ("RightGuy") whispers in my ear: "You know how to make a bomb?"
Me: "Dont talk in class"

RightGuy: "I know how to make a bomb"
Me: [:O]

RightGuy: "Its easy. Slice your eraser and sandwich dirt between two slices."
Me: "Ohh"

RightGuy: "Bas... then pack it tight and throw it. Maine bahut baar kiya hai apne area mein. Paper mein aata hi rehta hai."
Me: *the look when you think you got superman on your side*

Quietly, before the-left-guy-with-spectacles-who-sat-in-rigid-attention-during-class could observe, I borrowed a blade from him.
Hah.

I made two thin slices from my Nataraj Pencil Eraser.
Rubbed my shoe against the floor.
Lifted my leg.
Pinched some dirt.

*Ek chutki dhool ki keemat tum kya samjhoge reader babu. Bachhon ki barood hoti hai ek chutki dhool. Conspiracy ki wajood hoti hai ek chutki dhool. Har fool ko cool lagti hai ek chutki dhool. Ek chutki dhool...*

Sandwiched the dirt between the slices.
Pressed it hard.
And with a mighty heave, threw it out of the window onto the thick drain pipe.
*Hah*

I waited for the fountain of filth that'd erupt.
Not that I had any particular predilection for squalor.
It was just one of those things that happen in the heat of the moment and are best resolved on the field itself.
Yah.
But...
Nothing happened.

I looked RightGuy squarely in the eye.
"You mean lil red cheeked smirking #$%@&#"
RightGuy: "War-drub malfunction. Twas the wind. Try it in class. It works"

I wonder if you've ever noticed - the # is such in integral component of those unspoken curse-storms that are usually depicted as @#^$#% or some such lookalike. Its like, even without it, a %*&%^! would signify the same curses... but it'd just not be bad enough.
Yah.

Quietly, I remade the bomb.
Rubbed shoes slowly.
Used the sole of one to dig into the alleys of the other.
Lifted leg.
Pinched dirt.

*Ek chutki dhool ki keemat tum kya samjhoge reader babu. Eraser ke katne ka sabab hota hai ek chutki dhool. Drain pipe phate to gazzab hota hai ek chutki dhool. Yeh sab aur woh sab bhi hota hai ek chutki dhool. Ek chutki dhool...*

Sandwiched dirt between two more eraser slices.
And then.
Slowly.
Lowered my hands.
Started swinging my hands beside the chair.
Easy boys... you see... nothing there... just merrily swinging hands... heh...
Hah.

And then, I let go.
The rubber-dirt sandwich bomb floated for a brief moment.
My heart tensed.
It would fall near the teacher.
Slowly, it neared ground zero.
And then...
It touched the ground.
Bounced.
Disintegrated.
The boy on the nearby chair looked at it.
Turned back.
Searched faces.
I smiled serenely.
Twinkle twinkle little star.

I'd finally got the bomb thingy going.
If nothing else, at least the idea had bombed.
Hah.

That Truman guy, President of USA, said this: "I have found the best way to give advice to children is to find out what they want and then advise them to do it."
Now now, would you, Mr. President?
Hah.

Blog 3201: Weekend Extraordinaire

2007-10-02T14:00:00.000+05:30

21st September
Lunch @ Symantec Cafeteria

Me, A and S were havin lunch.
Friday lunch at our cafeteria is usually the best - sometimes they even keep pudding on the menu.
Its like we're leaving for the weekend with happy memories of how good our workplace is.
Almost like: "Thank you. Please visit again"

Anyways.
A tells us he and his friend B would be going biking to Mulshi Falls at 2.30 pm.
He asks us to join.
I refuse - gotta finish work and get down to studying.
What was that about my halo and its shine? [:P]
S gladly agrees.
I'm coaxed.
Some.
Some more.

I'm told we'll be back by 6 pm.
"Owway... what the hell... a nice break would prolly get me in tempo for the whole weekend"
I give in.
Weekends, after all, are meant to be fun.

Bad move.

Having informed my manager, me and S head out on his bike.
A and B are on A's bike.
Mulshi is some 55 kms from Pune.
Nice scenic place... with a pretty lake and a rocky mountain with some waterfalls...
The works.

Uneventful ride... except for two things:
-> I drove the bike for some parts on the journey.
-> A decided he and B would have a drink while at the falls and bought a Smirnoff 1L on the way.
Me and S smiled.

Weekends, after all, are meant to be fun.

The sight at the foot of the hill was awesome.
Green waters, pretty mountain top on the other side of the lake, low clouds hovering around, a shaft of light piercing through the clouds on the glittering water, ...
The works.

Having parked the bikes at the foot of the main hill, we started climbing up the rocks to reach the a pool amongst the falls that was situated 60% of the way up.
Tip-toeing from one rock on to the other and rock climbing at some places, we managed to get to the falls.
This pic is of a spot thats 20% above the base of the hill

The pool I'm referring to is a place where the falls have eroded the ground they fall on to such an extent that its formed a pool there.
Once there, B and A headed for the waters and S followed suit.
I abstained.
It must have been 4.30 pm then.
It was also probably the last time that day I experienced 'peace' in my life.

Digicam in hand, I clicked photos at will.
People posed below the falls, behind the falls, floating on the pool, sitting on trees, showing-off inexistent muscles (:P), reclining on rocks, blowing smoke, splashing water...
The works.
A, meanwhile, had mixed Sprite & Vodka and was having his time in the pool.
B took a few sips... but it was A who was bent on drinking it to the lees.
It was, in any case, nothing new for A.
He had it his way and we didnt think much of it either.

Weekends, after all, are meant to be fun.

5.30 pm
It was fast approaching 6 pm.
However, with A & B living it up in the pool and S reluctant to get out of it, it made little sense for me to play spoil sport.
Ergo, I stayed on.
Bad move.

Meanwhile, it started drizzling.
That meant more fun for the guys in the pool.
That also meant that the rocks we'd climbed to get to the pool would now become downright treacherous when we would make the journey back.
It also meant that A needed to be in his full senses when making the return journey.

6 pm
Realisation slowly dawned on B and S that we needed to get out of there before it was dark.
Both got out and started to get dressed.
A stayed put with the last few shots of Vodka still remaining.
We still weren't bothered much.
A was pretty much in his senses, singing aloud, talking about lost love, floating around in the pool and entertaining the rest of us.
B and I realised we had to get him out of the pool.

At length, A sat on one of the rocks in the pool.
He swayed.
His head fell on the rock behind him.
The first alarm bells had gone off in my head.
How on earth would he be able to make his way back amongst the rocks?

A took another 15 mins to get out of the pool.
By now, he was blabbering, slipping on rocks, addressing ppl by wrong names and talking about his love that once was.
We made A sit at a safe spot amidst the rocks.
He swayed.
His head fell on one of the rocks before any of us could catch him.
A 1 inch radii swelling erupted on his head with a scar in the middle.
If only it'd made sense to A that he'd been hurt, it would still have been a situation we could have gotten out of.
It didnt.

6.45 pm
By now I was holding A by one hand and keeping him firmly down.
We had no idea how to get a drunk back to his senses quickly.
We tried making him breathe deep.
He'd do so for 3 seconds and then start blabbering.
This continued for what seemed like ages.

It was dusk already.
We knew of no way to get down the hill except the rocks.
We sent S to search for an alternate way.
B & I kept trying howsoever we could to make A puke.

That A wouldnt be able to make the journey back on his feet was eminently clear to us.
That we would be lucky to be able to make our way on the rocks ourselves was also clear to us.
That despite Reliance Mobile's ads, there was no sunlight or network there was also clear to us.
And more than anything, that we'd prolly have to stay the night there was also becoming increasingly clear to us.

Weekends, after all, are meant to be fun.

Out of nowhere, three people appeared at the scene.
Said they were locals and had heard voices from this place.
They suggested we mix tobacco in water and make him drink it - it'd make him puke.
We tried.
He puked - all over himself - but not quite enough.
He had been out of his senses for a long time.
He was now unconscious too.
All he was now was 80kg of protoplasm that had to hauled down a mountain in the dark.
Absofuckinlutely brilliant.

The three locals were in different shapes and sizes.
One wore a black jacket and was well built.
We'll call him black.
One was in a white tee and was slender.
The third was prolly 14 years old and shouldnt have been seeing all this.

They told us there was a way down - not over the rocks but right through the mountain-side.
They also told us that they wouldnt touch A.
We were in no position to argue or persuade.

To get onto that way, we needed to carry A across the pool and from there onto the dirt track.
I got under one of A's shoulders.
B got under the other one.
S held A's tee from behind to prevent him from leaning too much.
I havent mentioned it yet - so far, A was wearing two shoes, an underwear and a tee.

80ks is not a joke.
We realised this the hard way.
Carrying A amidst the flowing water, slippery rocks, coordinating with B and S to keep sync and all three of us keeping ourselves from tripping - all we could do was try.
Try, we did.
But if there was one person who wasnt helping, it was A.
He had no idea of what was happening.
He couldnt lift his feet properly.
He couldnt keep his feet from getting entangled.
He couldnt help swaying.
He couldnt help hitting out with his leg at those who tried sorting his entwined legs out.

He couldnt do a thing to help us keep him alive.
Yet, try, we did.

We were exhausted by the time we got him to the other end of the pool.
Again, I and B got under A's shoulders.
Black kept telling us where to go.
The two other locals carried out stuff.
S held A's tee from behind.

The ground was tricky.
Rocky at places.
Slippery at others.
Uneven everywhere - and with pits and slime thrown in for good measure.
10 steps into our journey, I slipped and fell.
So did A - a free fall siedways flat on his face onto a rock.
"Shit"

We carried on.
The fall got A some consciousness back.
We yelled at him to lift his legs in a bleak hope that it'd register somewhere in his head.
For the next 5 mins, I kept yelling "Left right left... left right left" and A lifted his feet in sync.

We reached a spot on the hill which was shaped like a J.
The long stick in the J was the mountain side.
The short curled bit at the bottom was a stone jutting out of the mountain side.
We needed to get across this one at a time.
Any of us could have lost our lives at that spot.
Carrying A just made it that much more probable.

Black went first and got to the other end.
I was next.
One of A's shouldes still slung around me.
The other slung around B.
80 kg of protoplasm was making every gram of its weight felt.
I made it across with A's shoulder still around me.

Now was the critical phase.
We had to somehow get A across.
This time, there's be no one holding him from behind.
If he swayed back, that would be it.
B still had some stamina left in him.
My legs were shivering with fatigue.

On count, I started pulling A towards myself and B started closing in.
A swayed forward throwing us all into the bushes.
We grappled.
Extricated ourselves from the moss and dirt.
Swaying forward was fine - I could use my body to ease the fall onto the mountain.
A decided to see what the opposite trick felt like.
He swayed back.
I screamed.
I thought this was it.
Remarkably, even with our fatigued hands, we managed to push him forward.
Another tug and A and I fell onto the safe end with B.
Only just.

We let A lie on the ground for sometime while we caught out breath.
Next up, we had to cross the flowing stream.

Black and his fellows showed us the way to the stream.
By now, I was positively fatigued.
For the life of me, I couldnt have applied any force to prevent A from falling if he happned to do so.

The stream bed was a foot below the ground that bordered the stream.
Black warned us to expect that.
There was, however, no way to feel the ground before putting our feet.
Carrying A on two feet was arduous.
On one foot, it was impossible.
Fuck Adidas.

B and I together placed our first foot into the water.
I slipped; dunno what happened to B.
If any of us fell there, we'd have seriously joepardised all three of us.
Luckily, even after slipping, I managed to hold my footing.
So did B.
Gradually, we crossed the stream.

That, however, was it
I realised I was riding my luck to stay upright.
I could have fallen anywhere and it would have hurt all three of us.
For some distance now, I'd had Black hold me by my side to prevent me from falling.

With 20% of the way left S decided to get under A's shoulder.
Even with S' slender built, there was no way out for us.
It had to be him or no one.
Trudging along, we finally made it to the bottom of the hill and from there to the gate of a run-down hotel nearby.
Black had already warned us that we wouldnt be allowed a room there given A's condition.
He was right.
With nowhere to go, we let A lie on the dirt track between the hotel and the road.
Visualize it.
Not too pretty a sight, is it?
A had had plenty of chances to die that evening.
His being alive today, a statistical improbability that it is, is miraculous.

We spoke to some locals who agreed to get a 'car' from a nearby village.
It arrived after half an hour in the form of a pick-up van.

S decided to drive his bike back to Pune.
B and A would sit with the driver.
A's bike would be hauled into the van.
And I had to keep the bike from falling over at the back of the truck.
Since holding it was out of question, the only way left for me to do so was to sit on it.

The bike's stand gave way within the first 10m of the journey
With two hands holding the two sides of the pick-up truck, I somehow stayed put on the bike and kept it from falling over.
Half-way through the journey, A's cell found some network and we called his room-mates.
With A's mother and grand-dad coming over the next day to meet a potential bride for him, we decided to take him home.
How he'd explain his situation to his family was something we couldnt have cared less about.

I finally got off some 1 km from home.
A's roomies took over from there.
One of them dropped me off at Pizza Hut.
I surveyed myself.
My blue jeans had turned brown.
So had my shoes.
I looked around at the happy faces in Pizza Hut enjoying Friday evening.
I wondered if any of them had ever saved someone's life.
Everything seemed so damned trivial.
And yet I knew I'd be one of them a few Fridays down the line.

Weekends, after all, are meant to be fun.

Blog 3001: The Battle of Kruger!

2007-08-11T19:10:00.000+05:30

In any contest in which I'm initially indifferent to the contestants involved, I have a tendency to support the underdogs.
And I guess thats why this video ought to be on my blog.
Baby Buffalo vs Lions vs Crocodiles... and guess who wins!
Trust me, you dont want to miss this one.

Blog 2901: Say cheesy!

2007-07-20T16:32:00.000+05:30

Round and round the mulberry bush
The monkey chases the weasel
The monkey thinks its all for fun
Pop! Goes the weasel

I received his first sms on the 9th of July.
It said, "Hey! My new number is 93256*****. Please note it... aur maze ki baat to dekho, puraana number bhi yahi tha". [:D]

Plenty of Kgpians have been shifting locations and changing sim cards lately.
I reckoned only a truly, madly, deeply bakc Kgpian would be capable of such an sms.
Ergo, I replied back, "Hoohaa! Now sms me your name as well :-)"

Note, I sent that smiley too.
Bad move.
Caesar once said, "In war, events of importance are the results of trivial causes."
We'll see how.

He sent his next sms exactly 2 mins and 57 seconds after his first.
It read, "Messages are not for time pass. They silently say that I am thinking of you right now and also making you think of ME for a moment... "
He wrote his name at the end of the sms.
For convenience, we'll call him Dhakkan.
:-)

Dhakkan must be a bright boy.
He reckoned he could fire in the dark and hoped his sms would reach a girl.
Considering how considerate I am *halo firmly on head* I didnt feel like breaking the news to him just yet.
:-)

*Checking halo*
*Hello, check 123*
*Yep, still in place*
:-)

After 55 seconds, he sent his third sms.
It read, "Smile is the curve that sets everything straight. Plz smile"
I did feel like replying, "Dude, did you say 'straight'?"
But naah.
[:D]

*halo check*
*positive*
:-)

After 1 min and 14 secs, he sent his 4th sms.
Viewer discretion advised.
It read, "Chalaane do jo padosi goliyan chalaata hai. Hum Mithun ko bhej denge jo goliyan haathon se adaata hai".

Statutory warning - throwing objects at monitor after reading the statement above will only lead to a firmer halo on my head.

Dhakkan had fired his initial volley.
He waited.
Waited.
He prolly still remembered that smiley.
Waited.
Finally, after 12 mins and 26 secs, he fired.
"Aap apna naam bhi to batao"

I thought about it.
But should I have pulled the plug on his blissful dream?
Naah.
It would have broken his heart.
Ergo, I let it pass.

*Halo check*
*Affirmative*
:-)

An hour and a half later, he was back.
Prolly searched some site and jugaadofied more sms'
Or maybe went and got his sim recharged.
He sent me 5 more sms'.
Here's the last one.
Those with diabetes: do not read.
Those with insomnia: here's your pill.
"Never walk away from a true friend. When you see some faults, be patient & realise that nobody is perfect. Its affection that matters... not perfection. Good night."

At 11.50 that night, Dhakkan again sent me an sms.
Woke me.
Put me in a quagmire.
One one hand, I had an urge to ask him to fuck off.
On the other, the fun had just begun.
I checked my halo.
I went back to sleep.
:-)

Dhakkan prolly woke up early morning.
Tilled the earth.
Wiped the sweat off his brow.
Fed the cows.
Drew water out of a well.
At dusk he shed his farmer's outfit.
Put on a his shades.
Gloves.
Dove into his repository of crap.
And began sms-ing.
He sent a couple more.
He called it a day.
I felt like sending him another smiley.
You know, just to keep the flame burning.
:-D

Next day morning.
8.45 am.
I arrived at my cafeteria.
Half groggy.
Half groggier.
Cell rings.
Its an unknown number.
Me: "Hello?"
He: "Hi. Aap kaun bol rahe hain?"
Me: *Hmm... this could be some real estate agent I've called* "Umm... Sunny here. Who's this?"
He: "Umm... main Dhakkan bol raha tha"

Now for the life of me I havent the slightest clue why people say "bol raha tha" on the phone.
Its not like they arent speaking any more.
Or that they were one avtar this moment and something else the next.
Anyways... I'm digressing.

It suddenly dawned on me that this, my sirs, was our dear Dhakkan finally deciding that he needs to find out if he's investing his sms' well.
Me: "Oh" *supressing a laugh* "Umm... haan boliye"
He: "Uhh... woh... errr... I received an sms from this number"
:-)
I'm thinking: "Yeah?! I've received a deluge of sms' from your number!"
Khair... I decided this needs to end here.
Me: "Hmm... I dont really know. My phone was with a friend for a few days"
He: "Oh... err... theek hai... woh... "
Me: "Hello, hello, hello" *click*
:D

*Halo check*
*Affirmative*
:-)

Blog 2702: Thesis writing - behind the scenes!

2007-05-07T08:26:00.000+05:30

1.45 am.
Food craving starts.
Have only had Maggi for breakfast.
And for dinner.

1.50 am
Cell phone says 'Calling Saransh'.
Calling.
Calling.
Calling.
"Yes dweed"
"Dweeeeed, we need to hit Eggies"
"Dweed, bad time. Thesis"
" :( "
"Okay dweed, 15 mins"
" :) "
On the day of our last exams at IIT Kgp, Saransh had made the most definitive assertion of our times to Pandey.
"Pandey! Duniya mein dude bahut hote hain... lekin dweed bas do hain... *thunder and ligthning* main aur Sunny"
If this had been a Hollywood film, he'd have proceeded to blow the smoke emanating from his gun barrel.
If this had been a Bollywood film, he'd have proceeded to wipe the blood streaming out from the 2 mm cut in his forehead.
It was neither.
Ergo, we left it at that.
PS: We were, of course, in high spirits. :-)

3.11 am
Met Shanks on the way back from Eggies.
"Dude, Aunties?"
I'm thinking: "Oh please no... I have to write my thesis... have been out bhaating and fooding for the last hour"
I say, "Umm... naah... you go ahead"
I smile.
Sincerity and dilligence beams from every cell on my face.
:-)
2 mins later, my cell phone reads "Calling Shanks".
I know not how.
I know not why.
Inexplicably, I hear myself saying "Dude... I'm coming".
Forgive me Lord, I have sinned.

After a long interval at Aunties, during which Shanks, Dayal and I discussed the definition, scope, implication, effectiveness, importance and efficiency of flirting in a pub, we head out to the railway station coz Shanks had to drop a friend.
Dayal took Shanks' scooty.
I took Rushin's bike.
Shanks, for the moment, had nothing.
Poor fellow.

We head to RP so that Shanks can borrow someone's bike.
We wait.
He calls after 5 mins.
He: "Hey, where are you people"
Me: "Railway Station"
He: "Oh crap, Rushin isnt too happy about his bike going to the station. It may not have enough fuel to make the trip. Where are you people?"
Me: "Railway station. Can it make the trip back or do I have to look for fuel here"
He: "Uh.. I think it'll make it"
End of call.
Me and Dayal rev up our bikes and flee from RP before Shanks comes out.
:-)
To borrow a line from Sandy's blog, we'd like our martinis shaken, not stirred.
Thank you.

4.27 am
I restart my thesis.

6.30 am
Buzz Chaks.
We go for a 2.2.
Meet Naween at Harrys.

Phbbt.
Yes.
Phbbt.
Here, take a look.

Here's some more, for variety.

On the way back, we discuss the nuances of this all encompassing word.
Or rather, gesture.
Phbbt.
Naween Kumar deftly displays how it is done.
You may try copying it in a step by step process.
First, take out your tongue.
Keep it straight.
Then swiftly, tactfully and smartly, make this disgusting sound with your tongue.

You may practice on the main road between Harrys and Cheddies if you need to.
We did.
Plenty of passers-by on the other side of the road may look at you in amusement.
Dont bother.
We stayed put.
Practiced.
Phbbt.
Phbbt.
Phbbt.
We practiced all the way from Harrys to Cheddies.
At the end of it, Naween Kumar turned out to be the only one who could do a good rendition of phbbt.
Me and Chaks need more practice.
Some other day.
Some other road.

Damnit.
Thesis!
I need to show my thesis to my guide on Wednesday.
Its okay.
I'm well prepared.
Worst case, he might ask me, " Is this what you call your thesis"
Best case, I know what to say.
"Phbbt"
:-)

Blog 2701: Filling in the blanks

2007-05-03T07:42:00.000+05:30

The following isnt an original composition. In fact, if you Google for it, you'll find plenty of occurrences. Nevertheless... here goes...

This is when you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing that there are many things about yourself that you didn't know and may not like. You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now.

You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren't exactly the greatest people you have ever met, and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you don't recognize is that they are realizing that too, and aren't really cold, catty, mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you.

You look at your job; and it is not even close to what you thought you would be doing, or maybe you are looking for a job and realizing that you are going to have to start at the bottom and that scares you.

Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging more than usual because suddenly you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and are constantly adding things to your list of what is acceptable and what isn't. One minute, you are insecure and then the next, secure.

You laugh and cry with the greatest force of your life. You feel alone and scared and confused. Suddenly, change is the enemy and you try and cling on to the past with dear life, but soon realize that the past is drifting further and further away, and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward.

You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you. Or you lie in bed and wonder why you can't meet anyone decent enough that you want to get to know better. Or maybe you love someone but love someone else too and cannot figure out why you're doing this because you know that you aren't a bad person. One night stands and random hook ups start to look cheap. Getting wasted and acting like an idiot starts to look pathetic. You go through the same emotions and questions over and over, and talk with your friends about the same topics because you cannot seem to make a decision. You worry about loans, money, the future and making a life for yourself... and while winning the race would be great, right now you'd just like to be a contender.

We call it the "Quarter-life Crisis."

Blog 2401: A story that needs telling

2007-02-05T18:23:00.000+05:30

October 2002

Someone organised a funda session for us first years whereby dep seniors came down to HJB ground to bhaat with us.
Nice initiative.
A senior asked us: "Why did you join IIT?"
I wonder what he expected as an answer.
"Because we made the mistake of clearing IIT JEE, sir?"
Anyways.
Everyone, almost, said "To get a good job"

December 2006
It was time to make that happen.

My placement season began on 30th November 2006.
Barclays Capital telephonic interview.
Preparation had begun a few days ago.
All possible questions and their answers duly written and refined.
Re-refined.

30th Nov, 8 am
Met S at Tech Cafe for a mock interivew.
Satisfactory.
Actual interview began at 10.20.
"I'll not ask you about technical stuff, I'm sure you're very good in those. Lets talk about other aspects of you."
"Which other companies have you applied to?"
"What did you like about Barclays' PPT?"
"What do you know about I-Banking?"
"Why I-banking?"
"Why Barclays?"
"Why Singapore?"
"What has been the most challenging thing you've done in the last 3 years"
"Was it fun doing it?"
It lasted 30 mins.
Dont remember the other questions.
Interviewer's concluding line: "This is the best interview I've had in a long time."
I wonder how different things would have been if he hadnt said that.

Barcap, by the way, was scheduled for the 10th of December - the last day of the first phase of placements.

5th - 9th December
In every company I appeared for during this phase, the philosophy was simple: "Good if I get through, better if I dont."
Microsoft & D. E. Shaw on 6th.
Adobe, Yahoo & Inductis on 7th.

6 pm, 7th December.
Sitting in CL making strategies on what I can do for the Barclays interview.
Pandey calls.
I'd gotten shortlisted for Adobe.
Dunno how.
Dunno why.
Denouement: didnt make it through.

No company on 8th.
Morgan Stanley on 9th.

Rejection is a hard thing to take.
Doubts, about self, are harder.
Those are interesting times when you start wondering if there are enough 'good' companies left...
Or if you'll get into any of them...
Or what if you dont make it anywhere...
Or what if you have to appear in a 'truck'...
Interesting times.
Indeed.

If Morgan Stanley had been on 8th, I'd probably have gone for it after the Adobe episode.
It wasnt.
I lived to die another day.

9th December, Morgan Stanley online test.
Had already decided to let this one pass.
40 questions.
Left 20.
Somehow, everyone near me had difficult questions in their test.
Me, relatively easy ones.
Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony.

10th December
D Day
All possible questions again refined.
Tech funda refreshed.
Project funda refreshed.
Made three presentations: on my internships, projects and extra-curriculars to show them.
All possible omen just said "you're making it today"
Twas also my parents' wedding anniversary.

Interview begins.
I'm told how the interview is going to proceed.
We'd begin by talking about what I study and what my dep is about.
We'd move onto any one project I want to elaborate on.
Then talk of any of my internships.
Finally, we talk about me.

Its all going to plan.
I begin with my project.
Explain everything.
They ask about where this project can be put to use.
I give a social and a commercial use.
They ask how it can be extended.
I suggest an extension.
They ask some implementation details.
Peace enough.

We move to my internship at GE.
I must have talked about GE a million times since the internship anyway.
Cool.

I'm asked some questions on finance.
"Difference between future and option"
"Give me a practical example"
Piece of cake.

And finally "What position are you applying for"
Me: "Since I'm not really aware of what divisions you have within Technology at Barcap, could you please tell me something about them"
They tell me about Tech Analyst and Business Analyst.
I opt for Business Analyst.
"Dont you think you'll be at a disadvantage, considering you havent had much of a background in finance, if you're a business analyst"
I talk about my project and subjects in finance.
Also "If there's anything you feel I ought to know before I join, I'd be most willing to study it by taking additional courses or projects"

They tell me more about the Tech Analyst position and how its better suited to me.
I assume its a hint to tell me that I dont have much of a hope as a Business Analyst since I'm not an MBA.
I switch to Tech Analyst.
Wrong move.
I thought I was through.
The shortlist said otherwise.

"How excruciating it is to build a house of cards…
How momentary its collapse.
How gingerly a castle of sand is made…
How summarily it’s washed away."

It was to be a 16 day wait before placements began again.
Torturous.

26th December
Didnt make it through Z.S Associates.

Rejection.
Tough.
Doubts.
Tougher.
Still, decided not to sit for the companies that were lined up for the 27th and 28th.
Symantec, 29th December, was going to be the next one.

Between 26th and 29th December, I mailed 15 companies for an off-campus job interview.
Christmas week.
No reply.
I'd convinced myself I wouldnt get a job in 2006.

28th December.
Sahara.
Prithvi: "Sunny, whats your next company?"
Me: "Symantec"
As a postscript: "Feels so nice to say na 'my next company is Symantec'. As if... "

29th December.
Symantec test.
I scored full in quantitative aptitude.
Must have scored near zero in some other sections.
No hope.

Lunch with Himadri and Swati.
Bhaat.
Bhaat.
I'm sure I wouldnt make it through the test.
Self doubt is a wonderful thing.
More bhaat.
About Pixar, Bihar, tennis, Ganguly, GE, placements, Archi, Maths, Chem, politics, India, food and Kgp.

2.45 pm
Phone rings.
I've been shortlisted.
Interview scheduled for 5.15.
Cool.

Rush back to room.
Refresh first internship funda.
It had been on networks and spamming.
Refresh other departmental funda.

6 pm.
Damn cold.
I'm in a shirt and tie.
We had to mark ourselves on 10 in different topics like Comp. Sc Fundamentals, C/C++, QA, Algorithms, OS, Java, Projects & Internships.
I gave myself full in projects & internships, near full in Algo and C/C++ and pathetic marks in the rest.

First interview starts.
I'm asked to write a piece of code for a problem in C.
Peace enough.
Enter OS and DBMS.
Not that good.
I'm asked a question on data structures, hashing, a puzzle and an algo.
Peace enough.
We have some other questions and answers.
Interviewer likes my CV.
Also, since I'd given myself poor marks in OS, he wasnt getting into it.
Asks: "Nice. Okay. Do you have any questions to ask me?"
Somehow I dont think it had been a job-clinching interview so far from my side.
I ask: "Sir, how do you think was this interview?"
He: "Its been nice, you've done fairly well... but we work a lot on OS and... umm... but you're good in coding so lets see."
I convince him I'm not bad in OS and had rated myself poorly coz I didnt know much about the Linux kernel etc.
Fresh lease of life.
I'm asked more questions on OS.
I answer most.
Finally: "You'll probably have another round of interviews. You've given yourself too few in OS. Dont worry, I'll take care of those. :-)"
Thankew sir!

I have a second round of interviews.
10 pm.
Bloody cold.
Sometimes, however, such things dont matter at all.
I was through.

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road.
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.
So make the best of this test and dont ask why.
Its not a question but a lesson learnt in time.
Its something unpredictable but in the end is right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

I did.

Blog 2103: Socho socho...

2006-11-30T16:37:00.000+05:30

Continuing in the same vein as the previous post.
Here's the result of another arbit-thought-process-gone-haywire.

So...
Think about the following three premises and derive a logical conclusion.

Premise 1: A person is known by the company he keeps.
Premise 2: A dog is a man's best friend.
Premise 3: Every dog is either a bitch or a son-of-a-bitch.
Adios.

Blog 2102: Room (for) no more!

2006-11-24T18:30:00.000+05:30

You know how the web sometimes throws arbit stuff at you?

Things that really put you in deep thought?

That you'd never have thought about before that?

Or prolly never would afterwards?

And then you think about them all day?

And you still dont reach any conclusion?

And you wonder why nature made stuff the way it made them?

And why things couldnt have been otherwise?

The way you want them to be?

Or why things dont get any better?

And why you have to worry about so much?

And then worry about worrying?

Anyways.

This is what I found on a site today.

A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it -George Moore

And then I sat wondering.

Where in my room will I find it?

[:D]

Blog 2101: To bee or not to bee!

2006-11-22T17:53:00.000+05:30

It was the 22nd of July, 2006.
Just three days into the new sem.
Many innocent second years were just settling into the their new found worlds.
Buying books.
Notebooks.
Pencils.
Erasers.
Having visions of the scholastic semester they were about to embark on.
Stuff.

But...
War began.
It was the best of times.
It was the worst of times.
Anschluss took on a whole new meaning.
Bees attacked our wing.
And this is where they set up base...

Notice the population proliferation underway in this comb.
It was sinister.

Here, take a closer look... see?

Notice the timestamp on the image.
They were hard at work at 7.04 pm in West Bengal.
Straight out of Ripley's, isnt it?
Sinister.
Pure and unadulterated.

Raw is war.
If they were playing it rough, then so were we.
It was time for strategy.
Pay close attention as a wingie of mine demonstrates "How Not To Bee for dummies".
Statutory warning: All stunts have been performed by downright novices. Please do not try these at home. If you do, lemme know if you fared any better.

Step 1: Tie a dumb cloth on a stick and keep it vertical.

Exactly.

Step 2: Immerse the cloth in spirit.
Tangible spirit, that is.

Notice the red mug beside the one containing kerosene and the newspaper on the other side.
Interior decoration.

Step 3: Just do it.

An important part of any successful demonstration is a sound round-up of the safety procedures.
Here...
See and learn...

NB: resist urges to sneeze when this process in underway.

End of demonstration.
Start of action.
As the wing waited with bated breath, our hero posed for the camera.
Coolly.
Nonchalantly.

NB: Swapan da fans may be able to identify with those gloves.

After a final wing huddle, we were done with our strategy.
All 2nd years: indoors.
All 3rd years: leave home and get to wing as soon as possible.
All 4th years and me: run.
If the bees escape, that is.
If not, take photographs and do a victory dance.
Simple.

(This one was taken just in case we decided to go pro after this experience. Would be good for the ads.)

The action started.
We lighted the cloth.
Poured kerosene on and thrust the incendiary missile simultaneously at the bee comb.
The war was on.
And we were winning.
The bees had been taken by surprise.
Shock and awe.
No one knew where to run.
Or fly.
It was over in quick time.
The comb was destroyed.
Check.
The bees gone.
Check.
No stings on anyone.
Check.
Pics taken.
Check.

But war is never easy.

Notice how shaken our hero appears in this pic as he contemplates on the events of the day.
Maybe he'll renounce all violence after this incident.
Maybe.

As the war drew to an end, people started coming out to see the new dawn.
They had fresh hope in their lives.
The birds had started chirping.
Children would play without fear and mistrust.
The world was well again.

And of course...
They all lived happily for ever after.

Blog 2001: Home Alone

2006-10-09T22:15:00.000+05:30

Have been living alone for the last three days at home.
Hmm...

First night
2 am
Start comp hoping to play some good loud music.
Spot ants in modem.
Red ants.
Crap.

Check 1: Can use insecticide... I know there's Pepsi in the fridge.
Check 2: Can use ant-killer-chalk... I know not where it is.
Check 3: Can use cockroack spray... I know it'll cause a fire.
Check 4: Can use kerosene.
:)

Bang modem a quarter million times to drop off the ants.
Use Johnsons ear buds dipped in kerosene to zap them.
Statutory Warning: be sure to use only one hand for kerosene; the other one's for changing radio channels.
Clean hand after an hour.
Wipe kerosene off radio remote's cover.
Clean hand again.
Housekeeping for dummies.
Go to sleep.
Wake up at 8.30 next morning.
Ants are back.
Crap.

Lunch time
Take out a cooked and frozen veg from the freezer.
Ice crystals formed all over it.
Put the container in a bowl of water.
Observe the ice melt.
Spot fungi-type shapes on the surface.
Green colored.
Yellow colored.
Ugh.
Throw veg.
Call up mom to deliver the bad news.
Statutory Warning: Be sure to call up mom before throwing the veg.
It wasnt fungi.
Just unmelted ice crystals taking the color of the underlying veg.
Crap.

Today
5.30 am
Ting tong
Ting tong
I'll spare you the dozen more.
One eye opens.
One ear too.
Ting tong.
Still processing sound in bheja.
Ting tong.
Oh crap!

Pick specs.
Peep into main gate's eye hole.
Eyes open by 1 mm.
Mouth open by 1 m.
Peeping.
Still peeping.
Face seems recognisable.
Open door.
"Yeh auntyji aisa so rahi hain ki... ghanti baja baja ke thak gaye. Phone kar dete hain ghar pe."
'Twas the next door neighbour.
I check watch.
No watch.
Check cell.
5.30 am.
Auntyji is probalbly justified in sleeping at this hour.
Probably.

Screw mornin walks.
He tempowalks to telephone.
I zombiewalk to sofa.
Scene ends.

5.30 pm.

Decide to have the second shower of the day.
:-)
In suspense thrillers, actors often go to bathe.
*hmmm*
Then they use a perfectly lathering soap.
*yawn*
Then they start humming.
*yawwwwwwwn*
Then just when they have soap all over then, there's a power cut.
*hmmmmmm*
Then the water supply is cut.
*interesting*
Then there's suspense music.
*Bloody interesting*
And then they hear footsteps.
*Ohhh...*
And then...
*Amen*

I too experienced it today.
Except the perfectly lathering soap part of it.
And the humming part.
And the cut water supply part.
And the suspense music.
And the footsteps.

Thrilling.
*Hmmm*
Err...
*Yawn*

Blogging after aeons.
Happens.

Blog 1802: "With extra sugar, if you please"

2006-08-29T16:25:00.000+05:30

Here's another article that I'd written for the San Diego Reader

The air hostess decided not to ask him if he’d like his tea re-made. He was reclining in his seat, eyes closed, ipod playing; the tea cup ensconced by both his palms and a smug smile glowing on his face. She pushed the trolley. There were plenty of passengers left who were displeased with the excess sugar in their tea.

He took the last sip from his cup but continued holding it with both palms. He wasn’t prepared to let go of it. Not just yet. It had been two decades since he’d last had tea this syrupy.

His was one of those families that had migrated from a village to a city. His dad was the last member in the family tree who had been born in the village. Every couple of years or so, the family used to visit the village during his school vacations.

He remembered those times better than any memory he had of the city.

Their village was an obscure little place in the middle of the Thar Desert in Rajasthan. The kind of place that folk stories thought was meant only as a stopover for hungry caravan riders and tired camels. A place where supposed genies thrived and miracles occurred inside every earthen pot. A place which had neither a telephone nor a TV… but which they, nevertheless, called home.

He remembered the first time he’d gone there. He’d fallen in love with the sand. He loved picking a fistful of sand and watching it fall from his palm, blowing with the wind as it did. He loved going out with his dad every evening with a jar of water, making balls of wet sand, arranging them in a line and then having a camel walk over the line. Rarely, if ever, had he been that thrilled.

He remembered the first time he rode a camel. The camel got up on its hind legs first almost throwing him in front and then straightened up its front legs… almost shrugging the poor chap off its back. He was impressed: by his own ability to stay put and by the camel’s attempt to cast him off. He had always thought the camel looked cool. It had an indifferent countenance at all times, walked like it couldn’t care less, dragged its feet without any hesitation and ate food like it was chewing gum.

He remembered the peacocks and how his dad would wake him up early and sit with him in the verandah watching the peacocks pick on the grains he’d spread for them. If they were lucky, they’d see a peacock spread its wings in full majesty. If not, he’d have to be content with picking up some of the feathers the birds had dropped. He remembered trying to write with the feathers dipping them in ink. He’d given up, exasperated, after a few words.

He still laughed when he thought of the cricket matches he played with the local boys there, especially that one perennially smiling chap who used to do commentary as he ran up to bowl. He wondered what might have become of him. Whether he left the village and made a career or took after his forefathers and tilled the land. He wondered what would have happened if his own father hadn’t made the shift to the city. He could so easily have been just the same as that smiley guy. Maybe nature does play dice, he thought.

He remembered the dinners. The chapatti’s cooked on an earthen kiln, the splash of melted butter on the chapattis, the generous helping of jaggery, the crisp papad baked on the kiln that was had after dinner… he always believed it was the kiln that added the magic to the food. Somehow, the gas stove had missed a trick in being so chic.

He remembered the tea they used to have after dinner as they sat on the terrace and gazed into the nothingness surrounding them. The local folks loved the tea sweet. That was the only form of tea known there… and that was the tea he got used to whenever he was there. He felt teleported to a different world as his dad recounted stories from his time and those he’d heard passed down from generations. Wrapped in a warm blanket, sipping tea, watching the sand dunes change shape as the winds blew, he’d fallen asleep many a night in his mom’s lap on the terrace.

He remembered going with his parents to the fairs in nearby villages: watching the puppet shows, the dances in traditional costumes to songs in an unknown dialect, listening to the cheers from those on the hand operated Ferris wheel and the din created by vendors selling handicrafts and earthenware.

He remembered going up to the terrace by himself at dusk on some days and looking at the camels and the cacti in the distance. He enjoyed the solitude; the emptiness around him. He loved the way the air quickly became crisply cool right after sunset. Now, more than ever, he longed for those quiet moments with himself. He smiled a wry smile. The grass always does appear greener on the other side.

C’est la vie, he thought, as he opened his eyes and searched for John Denver in his ipod. Driving down the road I get a feeling that I should have been home yesterday. Country Roads suited him just fine for the moment. He reclined back in his seat and got lost in more memories from times long gone by.

Back in the pantry, an air hostess smiled amusedly. A passenger had just asked her for some more of the tea she’d just served… “With extra sugar, if you please.”

Blog 1801: Never gone :-)

2006-08-20T21:18:00.000+05:30

Apologies, apologies and more apologies for having played truant from Blogsville for so long! More explanations etc later... for now, here's an article I wrote for the San Diego Reader a li'l while ago :-)

Julius Caesar once said, “In war, events of importance are the result of trivial causes”. I guess in life too, the biggest of events could result from the most innocuous of incidents. You wouldn’t really guess that a visit to a historical palace could trigger monumental self-realizations in a bunch of college students. We ourselves didn’t. Now we know better.

Eight of us packed our bags one sleepy Sunday morning and set out to reach Mysore, an important city throughout most of India’s history and situated nearly 120 kms from Bangalore. The plan: leave early, get there early, cover maximum possible ground and report back to base.

Things would, really, have gone to plan but for two teeny-weeny acts of oversight on out part. Firstly, we had no idea Mysore had well defined tourist packages which covered all the major attractions there. Secondly, we absolutely had no idea that those tours began approximately 10 minutes before the time at which we’d left Bangalore.

Anyways, we managed to get ourselves tickets for the second half of one such tour package on the condition that 6 of us would get seats in the bus but two would have to make do with sitting on stools.

The first stop on our tour was the grand Palace of Mysore. While our driver cum guide eagerly told us all he could about the palace, the 8 of us solemnly agreed that all we’d really heard was that the bus would stop there for half an hour and then push off.

To say that Mysore Palace is grand would be like saying that Michael Schumacher knows how to drive a car. This palace is grand with a capital G! You’re greeted by a larger than life sized leopard as soon as you enter the palace and as you move on a little, on the far side of the lawns, you see a herd of elephants maintained by the palace languidly munching stuff and acting royal. And oh, the leopard’s made of stone.

The seven arches at the front of the palace highlight its expansiveness and as you look a little higher, you see something resembling a grandstand facing the huge garden in front of it. The sheer magnitude of the structure is enough to cast you back to the times when there must have been princes and armies inhabiting the palace. You imagine the king sitting proudly atop the palace façade and watching the army with the elephants and horses assembled for his address. You imagine yourself for a fleeting moment occupying the position of that king and beholding this titanic set-up waiting for your command. Its tough, nay it’s impossible, being there and not being mesmerized by the colossus all around you.

As we moved closer to the palace, we noticed the multitude of light bulbs lined up all along the palace walls and edges. We collected from the guides around us that the palace was lit up every Sunday evening and on public holidays. If nothing else, this brilliant spectacle itself is enough to draw plenty of visitors to Mysore.

As we moved into the palace, we were confronted by a series of cannons placed along the railings. There’s a story in Indian history which says that Mangal Pandey, an Indian in the British army who triggered India’s first war of Independence, actually marched up and put his chest to the cannon mouth when it came to it. Heaven knows why, but I decided I’d like to check out how it feels to stand defiantly in front of a cannon. That I did, and it dawned on me what it must have been like standing in front of a live cannon with an enemy soldier ready to spark it at the slightest hint from above. Hair raising!

As we entered the interiors, we were filled with awe at the sight of the carvings on the ceilings, the opulent statues, the gilded pillars and the magnificent chandeliers. We moved on to the kalyan mantapa which had an entire structure that had been made in Scotland and brought here. Nothing, probably, made our jaw drop more than the sight of the howdah there that had around 80 kgs of gold decorating it!

But every silver lining has a dark cloud, or so it seems. As we started listening more keenly to the guides narrating the palace’s history, it dawned upon us that the original palace that had stood there had burned down in 1897 and this new one had been raised to replace it.

1897. It was a time when India was under colonial rule and there were upheavals occurring across the length and breadth of the country. It was a time when India had those kings who were doing something to fight the British and others who were puppets at the hands of the Raj and fed off the crumbs thrown at them from abroad. The ruler of Mysore belonged to the latter.

Suddenly, it all meant nothing. Not to me. Not to any of us. The gold around us lost its luster. The palace that had held us in awe till then no longer was anything more than sand, brick and metals.

Shakespeare’s ‘gilded tombs do worms infold’ had never been more true. Suddenly, all we wanted to do was get out of it.

We’d surprised ourselves. None of us had any idea we had even a fraction of the amount of patriotism we’d felt that day. Something just happened that made us feel we barely knew ourselves. Like they say, you never know… until you know.

Blog 1603: Bangalore Episode 6: Catch 22? Just did!

2006-06-27T18:56:00.000+05:30

There are days... and then there are days.

Monday 26th June
8.05 am
Wake up.
"Crap"
Almost sure to be late for bus.

8.25 am

Leave home.
Bus stand is a proper 15 mins away.
Walk or run its 15 mins.
4-dimensional invariance.
Blah.

Ask at least 5 auto-fellas if they'll go.
Zilch.
Kuppa.
Every auto fellow thinks he's driving a limo or something.
Moral of the story: further time waste.

Office bus scheduled to arrive at 8.30.
Reach Kemp Fort at 8.40.
Bus arrives at 8.45.
*Waah Sunil Babu ishtyle* Badhiya hai.

Reach office.
Mail says its going to be "lab fun day" today.
Whee!

There's a program that I've been working on for a few days.
Just havent been able to get over the debugging bit of it.
Set up camp in the lab.
Pull one box below the comp.
Place feet comfortably on top of it.
All set.
Start.

After another hour of debugging, it works!
Whee!

4.45 pm

"Crap"
Realise I had a meeting scheduled at 4.30.
Was too engrossed in another program to realise that time wasnt exactly standing still.
Catch: the last time this meeting had been scheduled, lotsa ppl hadnt turned up... ergo, Mr. Big Guy was annoyed.
Good.
Thinking.
Could have dug a hole under the carpet in the lab to hide myself for a few days.
Could have gone to medical center and reported high blood pressure.
Could have torn my shirt and turned up at the meeting and gained admiration for sincerity despite mugging.
But no.
Went straight to the meeting.
Sakkat dumb maga.

Enter hall.
Junta discussing Portugal and Holland.
Mr. Big Guy hadnt turned up.
Badhiya hai

Meeting goes on anyway.
I join in.
Major strategic decisions to be taken.
Lots of constraints.
Nevertheless.
Six sigma needs to be followed.
Weigh every option in detail.
Expert opinions sought.
Local chiefs called in.
Meeting still doesnt reach conclusion.

Brainstorming.
No brain all storming.
Finally decision: lunch is a better option than dinner or movie for intern outing.
Quickly exit maadi

Enter lab.
Find everyone's about to leave after having searched for me everywhere.
I say, Google needs to look into new areas of search.
Anyway.

Reach Megabowl.
Game on.
The last time I did bowling was on 2nd June, 2002.
But thats another story.

6 people playing in the lane I'm in.
Strike in my first bowl!
Thank heavens for beginner's luck.
At the end of round 1, I'm the only one on 100+
Whee!

Play air-hockey.
Dumb game.
Dumb games rock.
Win first match 6-1.
Play second match with buddy.
Win 7-4.
Whee!

Dinner time.
Buffet.
My dinner: vanilla ice cream and hot gulab-jamuns.
Ambrosia.

Finally go home at 10.30.
Crash on bed within an hour reflecting in wonderment on the most serendipitous birthday I've ever had!

Blog 1602: Bangalore Episode 5: Flee! Free!

2006-06-15T18:12:00.000+05:30

Had a lecture in GE on Six Sigma today.
Meant for all new joinees.
Six Sigma is a major concept in GE.
Thought I'd better attend and know more.

Began at 3.00 pm
Scheduled to go till 4.00 pm.
But...
There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip.
It became majorly boring once you realised the what and how of it.
Not helped by a fellow asking all sorts of irrelevant questions.
I almost shouted out an answer to one of his questions.
Almost.
Realised I cant take it anymore.

3.45 pm.
Borrowed cell from a fellow sufferer.
Dialled my number.
Got up and flashed my ringing phone in the direction of the lecturer.
Got out of the room.
Muhahaha.
[:D]