The Horse's Mouth... is taken

The Iyer Express

2012-01-10T09:22:00.000-08:00

As is the norm here, let me start by saying that its been a really long time i've visited this blog, and even longer since I've written something here. Let me tell you, its not for want of eligible things coming to mind, but for want of opening the laptop, connecting to the internet and typing out those long sentences. I was hoping Steve Jobs would do something about this too, but sadly the great man has moved on, God bless his soul!

So then, the other option was to keep the laptop open and then wait for the whole story to build in your mind. But then, in such cases one usually ends up waiting for a whole week, and laptops just don't come with that sort of battery backup these days. And so the next best thing to do is to not wait for the whole story, but to just list down random short sentences. Anyway, in this fast food world who has the patience to read through whole stories, right? In fact, if you've even read this far, please go get yourself a candy.

Here I am in the chair car of this train from Bangalore to Chennai. And as far as the eye can see, ofcourse given the low height of the seat and my neighbour's bag poking my eye every now and then, there are only senior citizens. Hey, please don't get me wrong, my due respects to all of them. But it is a 6 hour long ride and one could do with some eye-candy. By the way, looking at the amount of silk and kumkum in the coach, guess there is an IRCTC discount for Iyers traveling today. If any of my Iyer friends are reading this, please don't mind. In all probability you would be busy plotting the curve of a space shuttle or breaking down sub-atomic particles to pay any heed to this anyway.

This next though won't make much sense to you if you come from north of the Vindhyas. If you are one, am sure you have better things to do, like say, helping a shirt off Salman Khan or watching Shahrukh fly. (there, now I've offended my north-Indian friends too). I saw a malayalam movie recently - Rathi Nirvedam. It is a remake of a 70s movie by the same name, that delves on an adolescent boy's infatuation/fantasies for an older woman. If you are a woman reading this, go ahead and say "Yuck !". If you are a guy, please take a moment here to get all nostalgic brother.

Ofcourse, I watched this movie only for the juicy parts that were promised. But in the process, couldn't help but admire the progressive outlook of the malayalam movie industry of those days, right from the directors, actors to the audience. Several mainstream movies of the period touched on topics like extra-marital affairs, child molestation, incest, pre-marital sex, homo-sexuality, etc and with explicit visuals as well. Sadly, my non-mallu friends in Chennai only focused on these visuals and got convinced that all mallu movies are porn films. By the way, one need only to think openly about such a subject in Tamil Nadu and every woman and man with their chastity, morality and virginity intact will take to the streets, supported by their household, their community, their government and their Gods. But then again, thats just my opinion.

Efficient Me !

2011-05-29T09:21:00.000-07:00

Ever since I started writing (about myself, as is always the case) I've been deprecating myself consistently in my blogs. Hey, someone has to criticize me, right? "I do it so I always remain grounded", is what I say. But ask me after a few beers and I'll let it out that I'm very afraid of getting assaulted by someone who disapproves of what I write about them. Anyway, I was so smug about this practice until someone told me that people who make fun of themselves are actually more egoistic than others. So I have made a decision to intersperse such entries with some factual ones now and then. (Please note, as I write this I'm being strongly distracted by some lovely ladies running around in skimpy skirts on tv... some French Open or something).

Coming back to the topic, one may ask what is so efficient about me. In fact, if you had studied or worked with me at some point in the past, you might even start feeling nauseous at this point. But before you mess up whatever is in front of you, let me add that this efficiency is not in academics or work or any of those mundane activities we waste the best parts of our lives on. This efficiency works in a way that is not so obvious. Its end result on the other hand, definitely is. You just need to take a look at me to see it. Let me explain.

We need to eat so that we can sustain ourselves, so that we have the energy to do our day to day activities. (Some of us eat for entirely different reasons, but lets not get into that now.) The more active your lifestyle is, the more food you need to consume. Unless your aim is to get into Kareena Kapoor's pants. (Hey, don't get me wrong here. I was referring to her size zero trousers.) In this aspect, most people are normal. Which means, they consume six to eight rotis, a handful of rice, some dal, couple of vegetables, 3-4 "chai"s with snacks or chaat, etc. in a day; which then provides them just enough energy to go to office, work for ten hours, return home, watch TV, play with the kid, fight with the spouse and sleep.

When I say I'm efficient, what I mean is this. In a day I eat a maximum of 6 rotis, 2 "chai"s, 2 fresh fruit juices, some dal, some vegetables and maybe a muffin. I avoid rice, or "chaat" or any other "energy-rich" junk food at all costs. I take the bus to office, work 8 to 10 hours a day, walk atleast a couple of miles in office (what with my employers setting up a 43 acre theme park and calling it an office), return home, watch TV, then run like a madman around my colony for 30 minutes, and then sleep. And yet, my body amazingly manages to add atleast an inch around my waist every month on a regular basis. Now, if this is not efficiency, what is?

By the way, if anyone is looking to make plans with me, I'll be busy next week. Apparently the Japs are coming to town to take a look at me.

Another one bites the dust !

2011-05-09T08:24:00.000-07:00

Prescript: This post is in utter disgust and on an emotional low. So, if you came looking for some humor, go and laugh at your own life. I'm sure you have enough things to laugh at there.

I have given up my good friend. I have been beaten unfair and square by the many learned men of the past. Men who have spent their entire lives coming up with different ways to screw up a young man's life. Such as religion for one. As a Hindu, look at all those gorgeous Muslim, Parsi and Christian women that I can only see, but never lay a finger on. Language for another. What chance does a 'madrasi' with his classical music and 'poda vada' language have with a kudi who sways to Daler Mehendi and sweet Punjabi gaali? What screwed my life, or is in the process of screwing (and quite successfully at that too) my life is these learned men's invention called the horoscope.

After several attempts at love, interspersed with hairline fractures, misaligned jaws and claw scars in embarrassing places, I resigned to the process of an arranged marriage - the secret weapon that every boy's family uses to get him together with a girl he wouldn't otherwise have had a rat's ass chance to be in the vicinity of, let alone date. And since no human being in his or her sane senses would conduct an arranged marriage without a horoscope, the well-wishers promptly went ahead and made one for me. After all, these astrologists too have wives and kids to feed, parrots to groom, and betel leaves and black ink to buy. Aah, but thats a different tale. So the horoscope was made, and what do we see... it has some complicated parameter misalignment which mandates a similar crap in the girl's one as well. In other words, it reduces by more than half whatever little chance the guy has at procreation.

Apparently there is some scientific reasoning behind these things like astrology, horoscope, crystal ball gazing, shit, etc. they say. The only reasoning I see is population control. Take away my chances of getting married, and how will I have kids, right? Yes, those wily learned men from long long ago were probably very thoughtful indeed. Who knows?

Well, what I do know is that this lovely lady I really liked refuses to have anything more to do with me, because some star or planet many millions of kilometers away happened to remain where it remained some thirty one years ago.

The Fillers

2010-05-19T12:18:00.000-07:00

Yeah, thats exactly what this blog is about - Fillers. Tidbits from here and there that are too insignificant to engage my "too easily distracted these days" mind long enough to form a post on their own. I had been thinking that the blog can wait for my yoga remedies and exotic medicines to have the desired effect on my concentration. But of late, I have come to know that there are quite a few pretty damsels eagerly awaiting the next letter to litter these pages. And hell, for a bachelor thats a much more effective remedy than yoga I tell you.

So what is this problem with us? By us, I mean we lost souls in the 28-35 odd age bracket with shifting hair lines and bellies, one receding and the other advancing, who work longer, sleep lesser and eternally dream of that 'one day'. We have other characteristics too you know - we read more but understand less, watch more but see less, hear more but listen less, talk more (yeah, there is nothing less about this one), spend more but buy less... damn, this is getting too serious for my liking. Well you know the kind, the typical Raghav and Swapna from my previous blog. So, to repeat, what is the problem with us?

Actually, you may be wondering what problem I am talking about, because we do tend to have a lot. But I think the biggest one of them all is our illusion that we still look 21.And worse, we dress like we are still 21. Low waist jeans were good during college when we were skinny, mainly cause we didn't have the money to buy all that junk food I guess. And canvas shoes are meant for school kids, its a freaking uniform accessory. We uncles would look funny in one, not to mention its bad for our arthritic knees (by the way mine are in blue). Oh, and of course, those school bags that we carry to office. We do claim they are laptop bags and are really comfortable to carry around. Hey, I'm comfortable in a lungi, but that doesn't mean... and if it looks like a school bag, it is a school bag boss. But you know what, it doesn't matter, for probably 10 years down the line we will laugh over these too, like we do now over our old fascinations for baggy jeans, backstreet boys and Prabhu Deva's hair style.

Talking about dress, what a convenient contraption the sari is, right? It can cure obesity in the blink of an eye. Little wonder the entire women population of Tamil Nadu wear one even at home. Don't misunderstand me, I really respect them. And more so the "6-feet-in-any-direction" personal space they carry around. I am only miffed that we men don't have any such devices to disguise our frames in. It really is embarrassing you know, when a lady you want to talk to is prodded by your tummy before your head enters the audible zone. So please exercise folks, please do. People our age are dropping like dead flies these days, due to health problems. But again, this is not an advise portal. I'm not running an ashram you know, although by what I see on TV and youtube, it definitely is a very pleasurable profession.

It is now 2 am and a good time to retire. So until the next blue moon, I guess. Till then, pretty damsels, keep peeking in. Uncle needs your motivation.

Virility, Virality and Incredulity

2009-12-11T09:18:00.000-08:00

A school friend of mine recently mailed our school email group announcing the arrival of his new-born son. I naturally responded, with my congratulatory message along with a good luck wish for long nights of feeding and changing soiled nappies. Now the whole world knows I am this bachelor who, apparently, has been ‘struggling’ forever to lose that title. So, there was another natural response, this time from one smart alec, who wanted to know how I would be aware of such baby matters, and if I were secretly a father to a blue-eyed, dark skinned lad in an exotic hideout. Now however much I would wish to respond in the affirmative to that question, with some juicy unasked for details as well, I sadly have nothing to quote. Sigh… gone are the days when one couldn’t have babies without being wedded, even if it may not be your wife who is delivering them.

But hey, it got me thinking. Is it that easy to have a child out of casual sex? I mean, look at the what my favourite hindi and mallu directors have been feeding me during my growing years. The hapless heroine is raped by a monster; and lo and behold, she is pregnant. And in real life married couples need to keep going at it for years to get the same result, if they are lucky. Funny, isn’t it?

I tell you what, it is because these villains are in much better physical shape, considering their energetic life-style – horse riding, jumping off moving cars and tall buildings, beating up an old man who would also inevitably be blind and lame in a subji mandi with all vegetables conveniently positioned to be thrown up in the air once every two seconds, you know what I am talking about. Or perhaps these bad guys have a better method for sex; not surprising with all their rape practice right? So, if you look at it, there definitely are a few things yesteryear’s villains can teach today’s average Raghav, married to a widening Swapna, working as IT managers in a technology park situated 30 miles from the nearest civilization. But do they have to time to learn any of those tricks? Well, thats a different matter altogether, isn't it?

Flattered to be Deceived

2009-11-15T03:03:00.000-08:00

Time flew by, memories forgotten, wounds healed, self doubts subsided,

Then came the rain, very swift, washing away everything in its melancholy

Memories rekindled, fragrance everywhere, life in all its splendour,

Heart bursting at its seams with joy, shambles broken, riding high and free

Just as swift the arrival, so the passing, without rhyme or sense or reason

While the thunderstorms drench bountiful hearts miles away, my heart yearns for what could have been.

The flattery before the deceit, or sub plot of an eternal act, induced by a sense of irony

What does it matter, as I hear it's faint beats fall far away amidst exalted beings.

Do curses work in today's world? You laugh in my face, you say its a farce

But why then do I feel a cursed soul, carrying the burdens of actions past?

I don't see this drought ever seeming to end, the aches so familiar finding respite

The brief period of euphoria in your shower only churned the pains of its thoughts to last.

I hear the thunderbolts from oceans away jolt the frail strings so near to me

Devastated, lifeless and asynchronised seem the strains of music from your stirrings born

I wonder how I let myself get drawn into it's temporal illusion, to be deceived. Yet again.

I find myself where I see the rose, once again I grope for it, but I only feel the thorn.

Redemption... errr.. Resumption, once again

2009-08-04T22:20:00.000-07:00

The best form of motivation a blogger can get to blog is the kind coaxing from friends (the (only) kind readers) to resume the practice. Of course, being friends, they could just be trying to boost my self-esteem. But considering how often they make this request, my self-esteem must be really really low, or they must be really really crazy. So, for the sake of their love, or for the sake of their quick recovery, whichever way you see it, let me get back into the practice.

Neigggghhhhh !!! (thats just for the theme effect, remember I'm the horse)

Now the reasons why I have been away for so long, (despite several threats of resumption) are several. Well, first there was MBA school itself for a year, although I did manage to pen something in between during that period. After the MBA itself, there was this small matter of looking for a job. I even stooped so low as to post something for the recruiters to read. May the blogging gods forgive me for that. Anyway, once I got a job, there was this other small matter of feeling as creative as a light bulb during the daylight hours when I have the time to write, and feeling too tired to write at night when the creative juices are all but wetting my sheets. Ofcourse, my laundry maid would have a different and not so flattering perception to that, but what would she know about creativity. Moreover, whats the fun in blogging for the sake of blogging. They don't turn out to be good anyway.

But hey, there is a limit for everything; sadly, even for laziness. Its about time I let those juices wet my pages rather than my sheets. So here goes (man, this is starting to sound so familiar already)

Compulsory Military Service for Indians

2009-05-10T02:28:00.001-07:00

Varun Gandhi has been in the news a lot lately, for all the wrong reasons. For someone who's exactly as old as a 29 year old male, one expects more maturity and sanity during public appearances, especially during these days of national election when a foul fart from a political hole can trigger an animated news anchor to choke over his spit and froth in front of a giant tv screen. Varun ofcourse belongs to a national party that is not exactly moderate in its views, to put it mildly. That notwithstanding, one can't blurt out hate speeches against large communities and get away with it so easy.

But hold on for a moment. When I put myself in Varun's shoes (empathy being the universal catch-word now), despite all of his 29 years as part of a high-profile political family, it is but natural that every once in a while he gets influenced by those hormonal rushes that is so characteristic of us youngsters. Add to that the euphoric anticipation of his speech, the large stage, the mesmerising feel of holding a rapt audience and the eagerness to please the hopeful masses. It isn't too difficult to get carried away by it all, is it?

Now, you or I could get away with this with only a few dents to our ego. Not poor Varun, for he happens to be part of a high-profile political family. Moreover his affiliations are towards a party that has always been one of the largest, if not the largest, pains in the behind of the ruling party. And in our politics, like I said before, a foul fart can tilt the cart in your favor. Who would let go of such a golden opportunity to go one up in the eyes of the 'secular' public?

Ofcourse, by now one would think that I sympathise with Varun. But no, I don't. Youth, immaturity and hormones cannot be an excuse for such hate speeches. And they should be punished severely, atleast to set an example, if not for anything else.

Anyway, that is not the point that I wanted to make today. It is about Varun's mention of another policy for the Indian public - that of compulsory military service in the country. And this time I am with the poor chap. I completely agree, albeit with the hope that the military will be able to instill its discipline on the average Indian, rather than the other way round. Just think of the possibilities with an even slightly more disciplined Indian public. More road sense for one. Respect for public rules would be another. Courage to stand up against a public crime, instead of ignoring or running away from it would be a third. And ofcourse, all that Old Monk and Old Cask that would enter the reseller market.

But more importantly, there would be a whole new generation of fitter, healthier and stronger citizens. For centuries we have been one of the unfittest set of people in the whole world. Our stamina, strength, health and even eating habits have been one of the poorest in the world. (these are ofcourse my own conceptions and have absolutely no research backing them). If we're over thirty, there is atleast one nagging body part in most of us (mine is the brain). Don't we all agree? (not about my brain, I meant about the previous point). A compulsory military service would bring in some fitness consciousness into our heaps-of-rice-and-dal fed brains (oh, get over the brain, will you). The Indian genetic lineage could be saved from mutating into nothing more than a very brainy blubber of fat.

India, the Global Economic Crisis and Telecommunications

2009-02-16T23:31:00.000-08:00

The title sounds like a Robert Ludlum thriller, doesn't it? Yeah, that was the attempt. So, what has gotten into me, to write about serious matters like the economy and telecom. Well, MBA does have adverse side effects. And more importantly, since I've been pasting my blog address in my resumes, all my future corporate bosses just might visit this blog. So, this one is for them. (So, future boss, you have my number. CALL ME).

The Global Economic Crisis - enough has been written about this. But a Malayalam proverb says, "Naadodumbol naduve odenem". Loosely translated, it means, "When the whole village is running, make sure you run right at the centre" (talk about being concise, eh!). And so I too want to add a few words on this subject matter. However, I'd like to confine my thoughts to the telecom sector in India and the impact of the crisis on this sector.

At the outset, the general consensus among the well-read and oft-quoted persons from the industry is that the telecom sector in India will be doing really well, inspite of the crisis. It will not be affected much by it. After all, do people stop communicating with their near and dear ones just because there is an economic crisis going on? Our own minister, Mr. A Raja says, "India's telecom sector is strong enough to sustain and flourish in the current bleak economic environment". From what I understand, there are three reasons for this.

The first is that the average person's expenses on the mobile phone, telephone or internet is a very small percentage of his or her total monthly expenses, thanks to the healthy competition in the Indian market and the consequent low tariffs. Even among the corporate honchos, a ten thousand rupees expense per month is a small matter when a one million dollar bonus is at stake.

Secondly, in India where there is just above 35% tele density, there is still scope for some serious telecom growth in rural areas. The good news is that the would-be customers here are involved in industries that are far removed from the economic crisis. For instance, most of rural India is involved in agriculture and small scale industries. And the demand for these products has not and will probably not diminish in the future. Since the buying power of rural India will not be affected much, by expanding in these areas the telecom industry can still register a bullish growth.

Thirdly, even as Corporate India (and the rest of the world) is restructuring, re-strategising, and cutting costs, frequent communication becomes a necessity. Travel costs are saved by resorting to video-conferencing instead. Corporate heads discuss strategy and business matters over the telephone instead of over caviar and champagne at a weekend resort. Exaggerations aside, with the increased globalization of organizations, communications gains prominence, especially during these turbulent times.

(of course, there could be many more reasons, but my thoughts aren't refined enough as yet to think of all of them).

But is this fairy tale growth story just that - a fairy tale? I for one know on a first-hand basis that many of the top telecom players in India have frozen recruitments. When you are facing tremendous growth in future, you do want the personnel to manage that growth, wouldn't you? Either these companies have struck on some secret strategic formula that gets more out of their employees, or they are all being cautious. So, is there reason for them to be cautious?

Although the average person above spends a very small percentage of his total expenses on the mobile and internet charges, chances are that during periods of recession, he does try to minimize his expenses as much as possible. So, if he can avoid that call to that 1800 number to talk to that 'exotic' lady "waiting naked just for his call", he will. Even corporates that might have had plans to install a new PBX system for their headquarters, or to invest in a dedicated international leased line would now put a hold on such 'non-urgent' plans.

The Indian government itself, in particular the TRAI and Telecom Ministry, aren't exactly helping to boost the telecom growth. Our SAARC neighbours Bhutan, Nepal, Sri Lanka and Maldives have already commercialised 3G technology. And we are still haggling over the reservation price for the spectrum. While it is understandable that the maximum revenues for the government are derived from the auction phase of the technology implementation, care must be taken to not make the same mistakes as Western Europe did during their own introduction of 3G technology. The Indian consumer is very price conscious and any technology that comes with a heavy price tag will not be adopted. So, when an operator pays exorbitant amounts for 3G licenses, it will naturally shift the costs on to the end user, or run the risk of making losses.

This would mean that, by pricing the 3G spectrum and licenses so high, the Ministry is threatening to directly subdue the rapid growth of the telecom players here and consequently the industry itself.

Thirdly, if telecom players need to expand to rural areas, they need money. And if there is anything that is a shortage in this economic crisis, it is money and jobs. Despite RBI's efforts to increase liquidity in the market, there aren't many takers. Even the other public and private banks don't seem to share the same enthusiasm as the RBI in giving out their money. Consequently, other than the cash rich entities like Reliance and Bharti, there will not be many others with the capability to make such investments.

What I'd say is this. The government has come up with a good price for the spectrum, at around Rs. 3000 crores. I'm sure the guys who come up with these figures are more knowledgeable than me and they have their own reasons. But they could show some urgency in getting the auction phase started.

Secondly, the telecom players in the country need to look at the positives of the crisis. Land is cheap, financing is available at very low costs, infrastructure expenses are low, if not the lowest in a long time, and employment comes cheaper now. Take a little risk and get those expansion plans going. Because eventually the market will start to look up, and the one who took the risk will be the one smiling. And while you are at it, my future boss, give me a call. I'm looking for a job too.

The horse has woken...

2009-02-16T22:57:00.000-08:00

It has been a while since I have been plagiarizing from my old blog page, to update this one. Two reasons for this - The first is that I've been in the process of doing an MBA and I don't get time to complete my morning duties, let alone write a blog entry. The second is that since the porno advertisers and voodoo penis enlargers have taken over my old blog space, I needed to shift my precious pieces of creation to a safer place. So, after a really long break, we're back in "live" mode.

Ofcourse, my MBA course is still in progress. But after 10 months of coping with the system, you finally know how to handle the system, right? If not, I couldn't call myself the stud now, could I? Meanwhile, even as I write this, I can't help but wonder if there has been or will be any change in my way of thinking or modes of expression or topics of interest after an MBA. I still love football, cartoons and Monica Belucci (some things never change right). But then, what used to be a sleep remedy not too long back now actually keeps me awake - the Economic Times. Similarly, NDTV Profit is no more just a channel counter on the television. It has become worth a few more minutes of attention.

Na Ja, but these are small changes. One cannot really change one's core competencies right? (oops, that was an MBA jargon too). I guess, one actually can. So, for better or for worse, the horse resumes his blog...

My Mind, my Body and I

2009-01-28T11:38:00.000-08:00

I have had a revelation. No wait, I have had 'the' revelation. I have been enlightened comme la Gauthama Budha. This one didn't take place under a bodhi tree though, but the rate at which I'm making these revelations during class hours, I will end up under some tree very soon. The revelation is this - my body and my mind do not get along well. My body seems to have a mind of it's own, and my mind has no mind over matter, I mean latter. Help!!! It has been a while since I've been getting little hints, but now its all as clear as daylight.

Take for instance the incident when I was at this bus stop, and there was this really huge lady smartly parked next to me. I looked at her, and our eyes met. And then for no reason, my eyes winked. No, I won't say I winked. I never wanted to wink there. And the last thing my mind wants is to wink and get beaten up in front of ten other people on a busy road in a bus stop by a really huge lady. But then, the eyes winked. Thankfully I got this brainwave suddenly and I acted out an oscar winning performance feigning optical invasion from a flying bird. Atleast that is what she must have thought looking at the gimmicks.

Or take for instance this other day on the soccer field. Some 'Pele' from the opposite team smacks the ball straight to my face. I can see it coming, and I recollect my mind screaming 'Duck, Duck, Duck dude, D-U-C-K', while my body simply stood there watching the ball all the way as it rocketed into my face. And at the end of the day, who suffers with those bruised lips? Poor me. Talk about third party turmoil.

The best part is when it comes to speech, especially if it is to a pretty girl I want to impress. My mind thinks up a nice opening line, good enough to impress even the snottiest one. As I make the approach, the mind's playing out all possible variations of responses and more wisecracks to counter them. But just as I reach the damsel, my body starts to back out. It starts to sweat all over. Then the fingers start to shake. The eyes start to bulge and scatter suspicious looks here and there. The mouth goes dry and the tongue stays rooted. So what she turns and looks into is a gaping retard, with a dumb smile who's just stepped out of the lunatic ward. If she doesn't scream then, she sure will once the spoonerisms and other slips of the rooted tongue start coming out. Sigh. If only the two could learn to cooperate, many a damsel would be eating off my hands.

Meanwhile my mind ain't all that innocent either. On it's part, it often comes up with all these silly ideas trying to fulfill which, gets me into a lot of trouble. For instance, after watching Mission Impossible the other day, my mind starts to think that I am Tom Cruise. And I get convinced of the same and fly around like a stud, glaring menacingly at every other guy on the road and looking at ladies with a swagger and that knowing smile. 'Hey baby, yeah. How's it going? How about a ... you know *wink*' . (I'm also known to behave this way when in the midst of alcohol, especially when the drink is in my inner midst). And then I come crashing down when he replies with his hands or she replies with a 'Hey joker, take a look at the mirror will ya? Hmmmpfff '. Again whose ego is hurt? Poor mine.

Anyway, now that the problem has been identified, the next step is to find a solution. That is what I'm working on at the moment. I tried meditation, but when I tried to explain that to my professor, he only glared at me and walked off mutterring something about sleeping in class or something like that. And that was the end of that. But a solution find I will and till then I won't mind the body and I won't body over the mind.

Flirt with War

2008-12-12T01:57:00.000-08:00

Flashes of light from far exploding shells intermittent in disorder

Reminiscent of the violence in the surroundings, lest it may be forgotten

Drum beats rolling of the soldiers' boots marching in the distance

Trampling in condescension upon newly conquered soils

Bullets shrieking through the air towards people and property alike

Striking down with force with neither prejudice, nor mercy

With each distant blast, are buildings trembling violently

As I cower in my rat hole in fear, trembling along

And then I see her, so close and yet almost a lifetime away

As she unsettles, sheds her veil and lifts up her face

Through the cracked glass panes, across the wartorn, deserted street

Into the bullet ridden window of my place of shelter, her eye catches mine.

For the briefest of moments, in peace, the surrounding chaos is forgotten

What do I see in them, is it fear of death or is it grief for the dead

Is it concern for a dependent or in despair of solitude

And then in one honest moment, she reveals to me and I see

The fury in those eyes burning against those that dared to oppress

The resignation in those eyes, resignation to what she must do

And even as I comprehend the justness of it all, she blows herself

In an explosion I never heard, in a blinding light I never saw,

But her image so near and yet almost a lifetime away

Etched in me forever.

A love letter...

2008-11-19T08:17:00.002-08:00

The days before I laid eyes on you

Girl, I've never felt this way

For there is something special about you

What is it, I cannot say

It makes me feel so close to you

Like I've known you all these days

An extraordinary sensation

That makes me feel so out of place

Is it your long black hair

Soft and sweet-smelling of flowers

Or is it your dark soft eyes

Which leave me dreaming for hours

Is it your beautiful lips

Part of your dazzling smile

That charms all around you

And spreads warmth for over a mile

The tender touch of your hands

The dainty steps of your feet

The way you flash your angry eyes

When you meet people, the way you greet

With your every move girl,

My heart skips a beat

And leaves me in the cold

Forever seeking your heat

I miss you very badly girl

Every second that you're away

You're in my heart and my mind

For twenty six hours a day

You're the reason for what I am

You're the reason for what I'm not

You're my other half, you complete me

You're my mind, you're my only thought

I love you girl, I love you

Till the sun sets in the east

Till the ocean dries to its bed

Till the trees have no leaves

Till the sky falls on my head

I love you girl, I love you

PS: I won the love letter writing competition in college with this one.

Lonely in your Absence...

2008-11-16T23:36:00.000-08:00

I close my eyes, I see her from behind ...
Her hair is a moonless night, darkest and yet serenely peaceful

She turns around ...
And the moon appears... only clearer than the celestial one

She sees me ...
Two twinkling stars... innocently enticing me into its depths
Asking of me mischievous questions without uttering a word
Or is it my imagination

She smiles ...
Her smouldering radiance... igniting smiles on other faces around

She moves ...
Her grace, she's a falling snowflake, a flowing river

She approaches ...
Her scent... a hundred roses would feel inadequate

With her hands, she gestures to me...
Magic wands waving mesmerising arcs through the air

Like a fly, I'm drawn to her flame ...
A flame that can consume me, I'm aware

Unable to withdraw, not wanting to either
An embrace in it is worth a painful death

I reach out ...
Just as I take that leap of faith

She stops, having put on a mysterious mask
A glint in her dancing eyes, I can't comprehend
An evasive smile, that suddenly feels different

She turns around, and walks away.

I'm scalded, and yet not consumed
I've fallen, and yet not lastingly broken
With scars, that I'm sure will eventually fade

But for now, it hurts, this loneliness ...

Dodging the Dogs

2008-10-28T04:19:00.000-07:00

I love dogs... I really do! For a start, they are immensely cute and cuddly. They're amazing company to play and to shove and hug and throw around, they're extremely loyal, and always seem to be enjoying life. And hell, they've even played supporting roles in a few successful South Indian films (along with snakes and bears and birds and elephants of course). The only problem is, dogs don't feel the same way about me. It is the most tragic and most perpetual of one-way love affairs. Dogs simply hate me!

I suspect the main reason for this could be that however much I love them, I also fear them. And I'm sure dogs have this animal instinct to detect fear and turn hostile towards it. I'm also afraid of cats, of raven, of mice and all those animals that have claws and teeth and prefer to use them against logic or concern for personal safety. But then these animals run away from me when I make a mock charge at them. But dogs, they're different. Many a times I made a mock charge at them only to see them charge back at me with renewed vigor. And were it not for some tall gate or a strong fence, I'd have ended up as dog dinner.

Knowing very well the fact that all dogs consider themselves superior to me, I make it a point to completely leave them alone. But they always make it a point to acknowledge my presence as if to tell me, 'Hey buddy, I know you're here. Watching you' (gulp). I remember this one incident when I was jogging along the beach when I saw these two huge German Shepherds playing around ahead. Immediately I slowed my jog into a fast walk and then into a slow walk. Feigning total disinterest in them and with a prayer on the lips, I was quietly sneaking past when one of the brutes had to come at me, for no reason at all. Luckily, he was content with just scaring the shit out of me, sniffed me a little, gave a few woofs and with an irritated look watched me go.

In Kerala, just around where I stay, there's this mean looking black street dog that considers one entire lane as its territory. Every time I pass by on a bicycle or scooter it shoots out from some hidden place, running alongside nipping at the pedals. Thanks to it, I have broken quite a few land speed records. That notwithstanding, I say the government should collect all these stray dogs and take them away to some uninhabited place, and let these animals have fun barking at each other.

Now, due to this constant war with dogs I know all there is to know about how to handle an attacking dog, how to treat a dog bite, what to do, what not to do, which breed you can outrun, which breed you can only stay and pray, all those trivia. Well, if there's nothing you can do to avoid the tangle with dogs, at least you could be prepared for it, right? Wonder how our elders thought of writing, 'Sleep with dogs, wake up with fleas'. Well guys, if you sleep with the ones I come across on a daily basis, you just might not wake up. The worst thing is when I see the same dogs behaving quite normally with other human beings. I guess God created the dog and said, 'You are a dog. You will live for 20 years, will bark from morning to evening, eat meat, guard houses, chase cats and frighten the shit out of Rajesh'.

Well, I'm waiting for an opportunity to get my own dog, the meanest breed that I can lay hands on. I'll get him as a pup, feed him, dress him, sleep with him (stop grinning pervert), love him, cuddle him... you know, catch him young and watch him grow. And then let me see if he turns on me or not. I'll put in the result if I'm still alive then. But for now, I guess I'm better off dodging the dogs.

Men are from Mars, Women are in the Jewellery Store

2008-10-28T03:39:00.001-07:00

What is it with women and jewellery? I'll try to be as considerate as possible here. I agree that jewels are made of precious metals or stones, and are a good investment for future economic crisis, and add a little pomp and status in society. But that is as far I can go. None of this explains to me why women need to be chloroformed and gagged and tied up to persuade them out of the vicinity of jewels.

I recently went with this lady friend of mine to a jewellery store to shop for a relative. Its not that I am at war with this particular relative, but my intention was to simply select one decent piece within the allotted budget and leave. It turned out to be much more complicated than that.

As soon as we entered this big store, my normally sane friend was totally transformed into this wide eyed, gaping dimwit. She was looking all around, taking in everything except where she was going, and I had to stick close by to make sure she didn't bump into one of those plastic models or fall down the stairs. I quickly asked my way to the ear-rings section while attributing her strange behaviour to the food we just had.

At the ear-rings section, I simply mentioned my budget and asked them to show me the choices I had. But she would hear none of it. She told me in no uncertain terms to stand back and watch, while she, with all the confidence of some jewellery merchant, took over. She looked at one piece, asked that it be taken out, studied it for a while, a long while, that is, put it at different places all over her body, held it at every possible angle from 0 to 180 (sorry for being so analytical here), and in the end simply dismissed it, asking for the next one. I almost thought this was some MTV style prank, where one tests the patience limit of another. But no, the sales girl was only too happy to get her the next piece to undergo the same rigorous scrutiny as before, piece after piece, patiently with a smile. I guess it takes one species to understand its kind. And through all this, I simply sat there trying to look important, but feeling more like a fool and doing my best not to fall asleep.

One section of ear-rings came and went, the next section came and went, and the third. By now I was convinced it was a mistake to ask for her help. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she turned around and with eyes gleaming with excitement, asked, 'Rajesh, are you sure you want ear-rings only? There aren't any good choices for selection here, Why don't we look at other ornaments?'. What? Are you kidding me? After 2 hours of painfully going through a hundred or so ear-rings, you mean to say there's no choice here? Then why in the world didn't she feel so in the very first glance, surely she didn't have to do all those stunts with the pieces to come to that conclusion. Anyway, I couldn't bear to sit there for another couple of hours going through necklaces or rings or any other piece of ornament, for that matter. Already my eyes were seeing gold and silver everywhere. I messaged one bewildered colleague to ring me(no pun intended) on my mobile, answered the call with a few loud exclamations and words like 'Emergency' and 'Oh No!' and 'I'll be right there', grabbed my jewellery merchant's hands and yanked her out of the store.

And thats the last I'll walk into a jewellery store with a woman.

Not a Penny's worth

2008-10-28T03:32:00.000-07:00

The world is talking about recessions again and of job insecurities, especially in the financial sectors. Life seems to be going around in circles, for not too long ago we faced a similar situation in the IT sector in the early part of this decade, when the dot.com bubble burst. Of course, the IT companies have come a long way hence and have been a stepping stone to many a thousand professional lives and their dreams. And as I read about company bankruptcies, mergers and job layoffs, I can’t help but recollect my own situation not too long back during the previous global crisis.

I too was once such a young aspirant, spending my fourth year in college with not a care in the world. What did I have to worry about? Having received not one, but two job offers by the end of my third year, I only had to maintain my academic average through the remaining period and walk in to my job. Moreover, with my previous experiences, I was fully aware like most of my batch mates were, that one only needed to put in some effort the night before the final exam to secure decent marks. (Meanwhile, I still wonder had I put those previous nights’ efforts right throughout the year, where would I be now. Feels scary to even think about it.)

Anyway, so there I was trying to make the most of my final few months in college, trying to be everywhere, and do everything, you all know the grind. I did hear passing references and comments about news from the outside world (mind you, everything outside the college campus is the outside world) that the software boom is coming to an end, companies all around the world are laying off people left, right and centre and many companies are shutting down. But these hardly registered, since it all seemed to be taking place so far away, in another world. After all, our jobs were secure; we'd all received our joining dates.

We passed out of college, some of us in flying colours, some of us flying for cover, and the rest barely making it to that required grade to join their preplaced companies. I must mention here one fact. The period from passing out of your college to joining your pre-placed company is a special period. Firstly, there're no more exams to prepare for and no homework or assignments to complete, and every time you remember that, it fills you with so much relief, that it is incomprehensible to the inexperienced. Secondly, there's the sadness of not seeing many of your good friends ever again, and missing those beautiful girls in college and in your class. Thirdly, there's this planning, dreaming and preparation taking place, towards joining your first job, getting your first pay in hand and the whole transformation from the student fraternity to the employed sodality. It is a whole cornucopia of emotions.

I joined my company on the assigned date, (the second choice company had postponed its joining date forever) one among thirty six young and eager faces. While this software slump was nagging us at the back of our minds, those worries were soon put to rest as we received an immediate rise in our compensation package. Ha ha, we had nothing to worry about now, our beloved company is doing so well in spite of this slump, that they've given us a raise.

We were put into an intensive two month training, where we were expected to learn what distinguished software engineers took two to three years to. This was a period of enlightenment, not just in some software programs and coding, but in the fact that many of us were not built for this kind of a job. But we all stuck on, after all the period after the training is where the fun really starts, doesn't it? We were told that after this two-month training period, we will be put into our respective projects.

The two months passed, all of us assembled in this beautiful conference room, took our seats and discussed which project each one would get, whether JAVA was better than VC++, or whether Pascal was a smarter guy than Richard, while we waited for our future project managers to come pick us. I must tell you, my thoughts also flirted around the bike I was going to buy the next day and the options for the extra fittings I could fit in. After a long wait, our HR vice president walked in, followed by an entourage of HR personnel. We were a little surprised, not seeing any of our would-be technical managers, but then perhaps this company has different ways of doing things.

Thereafter, what was said in that conference hall is still a blur to me to this day. There was some talk of software slump, not doing well, cost cutting and global layoffs. What I do remember is that at the end of it all, we were holding our own resignation letters that we were supposed to sign, and had time till that evening to clear out our desks, hand in our ID cards and leave the premises. For good.

Walking out that gate on Bangalore's MG Road that afternoon will remain in my mind for the rest of my life. A whole bunch of thirty six young aspirants, with our individual small dreams shattered in a matter of minutes, some still dazed not realizing what happened, some crying, some smiling at the irony of it all. I must mention here the second fact. Staying in a far off place, away from your family, not having a shoulder to lean on, your job being snatched out from right under you ten minutes ago, not having a clue what to do next or where to go and feeling not a penny's worth, is one of the worst things that can happen to you. And I hope others needn't ever come to experiencing it.

Ferraris of Chennai

2008-10-28T03:10:00.000-07:00

If you are someone who has stayed in Chennai (one of the four metros of India, capital city of Tamil Nadu) for even a day, you would know what I'm talking about here. Yes, the Ferraris of Chennai are none other than our 3-wheel drives called Autorickshaws, more commonly known as Autos.

Firstly I must tell you what an Auto looks like. It has got a funny shape, unlike any automobile you may have in mind. Its front end is shaped sort of like a jumbo jet's cockpit. No, not as pronounced as that, but more or less, similar. And this front end is supported by a single tire located right in the middle, and poking out quite conspicuously. The back side is flat, with an opening like one of your cupboard doors at home, to access the fuel tank and motor, and this is all supported by two tires. So, that makes a total of 3 tires, doesn't it? In between is obviously the middle, and main portion, compartmentalized into two sections. The front for the driver, and the back for the passengers, three is the design limit, but in practice it has been observed to go as high as six or seven. All this is smug under a 'strong' overhead covering made of tarpaulin or plastic. To put it short, in the evolution of the automobile, the scooter transformed itself into the car by going through the phase of an Auto. Its literally a cross between a scooter and a car. Many of the new comers to Chennai have often wondered aloud to me as to how this thing stays on the road. "Wouldn't it just fall to one side?" "Well, that's a design marvel", I tell them.

Now that we know how it looks, you must see what it can do. A Chennai-Auto can be used for anything from a temporary living-quarters to a mini school bus to an industrial goods carrier. But mainly, they're used to transport people from one place to another in minimum time and maximum tariff. These super-light machines can achieve terrific accelerations from 0-60 in under ten seconds, irrespective of the fact whether one is on an empty test-field or in a Chennai traffic jam. This goes to say a lot about the guys who drive this mean machine, called as auto-drivers. I often wonder if the Road Transport Office conducts special tests before licensing an auto driver. I mean, their test conditions surely must be extremely difficult. I can imagine one test condition as going like this -'Ok, this is a 50 m track, crowded with a car or cycle or motorbike or pedestrian or a cow every 5 feet. All you have to do is drive your auto through all this, maintaining a constant speed of 80 kmph from start to finish, overloaded, of course'.

In my opinion, it is wrongly assumed that a fighter pilot is the most skillful of all drivers. Guys, you must take a look at a Chennai auto-driver in full flow. Little wonder that these fellows have an attitude to match. Getting an auto-driver to take you to a place is like getting Mallika Sherawat to do a film shoot fully dressed. A normal conversation with one would go like this ...

Passenger: Er, sir, would you come to Adyar?
Auto-Driver: (after a look up and down at you, and in his most insulting tone) Where in Adyar?
P: Near the Adyar bus station.
AD: Before the bus station or after?
P: After.
AD: That'll be 250 rupees.
P: Excuse me, but the last time I only paid 100 rupees by Taxi.
AD: So? See man, petrol prices have gone up. The roads are blocked now, and I'll have to take a roundabout route. If you want I can take you till before the bus station, that'll be only 200 rupees.
P: Its ok thanks, I think I'll take the taxi.
AD: Bloody $%&*$, right in the morning these %&*#$ come here to disturb our peace. Get out of here you %$$%&*...

And then, if you're unlucky, you'd meet a smiling auto-driver, who'd willingly take you to your destination, assuring you that you'll have to pay only the amount that shows in the rental-meter, and if you're happy, five rupees more. You get into the auto, and your sightseeing trip of Chennai starts. Right from the central Chennai landmarks to the suburbs, you'll get a local's knowledge of the geography. In between, you might also get to see the sophisticated meters at work at traffic signals, where they keep running even when the auto isn't. So, you finally reach your five-minutes-away destination after 2 hours and end up emptying out your bank account and mortgaging your house to pay for the ride. But what are you complaining about, you had a detailed view of the countryside and a roller-coaster ride for two hours, didn't you? Even Disneyworld doesn't offer that.

Hey, but there's nothing to feel bad about being gulled by an autodriver. It happens to even the Chennai residents on a daily basis. There was this one incident that occurred to me (I've been in Chennai for 17 years of my life, mind you) when I took an auto from the railway station. The guy asked me to pay just what's shown on the meter. Two minutes into the ride, he switched off the meter, said he's been on the route for a long time now, and that the amount would be 70 rupees (which I knew was at least 30 more than the usual fare). I refused, and after an on-road quarrel, he took me straight back to where he picked me, took hold of one of my bags and asked me to pay up 70 rupees. It should really impress you to know that I got out of that situation with my bags and pride intact with 'just' 10 rupees short. Taking an auto in Chennai is the best way one can be 'taken for a ride'. Literally.

As a final word, I must say, please don't let this deter you from coming to Chennai and taking one of those auto rides. After all, we do indulge in alcohol and drugs and unsafe sex and gambling, don't we? And if you aren't brave enough to take one, at least you could observe in awe one of the marvels of automobile design and some of the best drivers in the business. Ferraris of Chennai, indeed!

References: The pic has been picked from this location (http://www.daneshzaki.com/post/28136930/chennai-auto-rickshaw-drivers-the-other-side). I wouldn't be brave enough to take their pictures now, would I?

A rap on the hand that helps...

2008-10-28T02:58:00.000-07:00

Right from the time I've left my school, I've been in different cities all over India over different periods of time. This has given me a lot of experiences, some nostalgic, some pleasant, some unpleasant, and some ironical, like this one below - but they have all been memorable.

So then, what better way to keep them fresh than to blog them here. So, in this category, you will get to share many of my experiences, starting with this first one...

I was in my college days, second year, to be precise. My college was in Trivandrum, a pleasant city in Kerala in south India. Since my native place was just a couple of hours and more from there by train, everytime there was a Friday or Monday off I used to go there to visit my aunts, uncles and grandparents and cousins. And what better way for a hostelite to get his laundry done, right.

It was one of those Friday mornings, and so I collected all my soiled clothes, put on a pair of them, packed the rest in a bag and off I went to the railway station.

I reached the station, got myself a ticket, found that the train was still an hour away, saw an empty bench occupied only by an elderly lady, and settled myself onto it. After looking around at every person in the station for a while, like we all do in a public place when having nothing else to do, I looked at my bench neighbour. She seemed a little worried and forlorn and there seemed to be no husband or son or daughter around returning with a water-bottle or hot masala dosa or tea. We started chatting, well if you're wondering, I speak good Tamil too, and she was from Tamil Nadu. And I learned that she was alone and is looking to go to her home in Tirunelveli. Now, as far as I knew, Trivandrum station was a terminal, in the sense, all the trains leave the station in only one way, and then take their separate routes. So, I knew that she would also have to travel in the same train I was going to use.

The announcement came that our train would come on platform 2, which is across tracks from the one we were on. So, I took my bag and this sweet lady's bag, took her by hand, and led her up the crossover steps and down to our platform 2. We hardly reached there when two men came down those steps in a rush. They looked familiar cause I had noticed these two men were also on the previous platform. They came straight to us and asked me my name, age, occupation and where I was headed for, which they learned as Kayankulam. Then they learned from grandma that she was headed for Tirunelveli. And then I learned with some embarrassment that Trivandrum station is not a terminal, and that trains leave from there in both directions, and that Tirunelveli and Kayankulam were 'coincidentally' in opposite directions. And almost at the same time I also noticed their regulation police boots. These were plainclothesmen, surveying the station for crime.

Now if any of you have stayed in a hostel for a long period would understand that hostelites don't look all that well and decent, what with erratic water supplies, late night chats and card games and booze parties. And add to that the smelly clothes I was wearing. So, with nothing said and done, I wouldn't have looked very different from a local roughie then. The cops quietly led grandma, who I must mention had absolutely no idea what was happening and wasn't in any way interested to know either, to the opposite side and into a train that had been there ever since I walked into the station. And whats written in bold letters on its sides? - 'Trivandrum-Tirunelveli Express'. Ha ha, now how was I going to get out of this?

The cops returned. And how did I handle it? Well, I took in a deep breath, and in my most fluent English explained to them what had happened. I also laid emphasis on the fact that I was studying engineering and was staying in the hostel, and so was an outsider who hadn't a clue as to which town lay in which direction (do I get the Mr. Moron prize for that?). The cops decided to believe me, and with a suspicious look up and down, off they went to patrol the other regions. I could only look around at the staring public with a sheepish smile, and wait for my train to rescue me.

Well, Grandma, helping you, I almost went from railway station to police station and only hope everything was worth it and that you reached your home safe and sound. But the next time you need my help grandma, I will still oblige gladly.

A Festival of Colour...

2008-03-22T06:34:00.000-07:00

No, I am not present anywhere in this picture, however coloured I might be. These are just some bunch of hooligans throwing colours on each other and making fools of themselves. Atleast that is how anyone playing Holi is perceived to be by the very esteemed (read boring) general public in Chennai. I'll tell you what; we 'Madrasis' must hand it over to the 'Northies' for the way they celebrate their festivals and festivities. Complete extravagance and undiluted fun.

Holi is no exception. The colours are diverse and plentiful, you are given the license to do anything to apply an extra colour on someone's already emblazoned face or torso or tooth, and amidst all this atleast one sweet comes your way every ten seconds, followed by some 'bhang' filled 'thandai'. Now tell me, in which festival in Chennai would your dad hand you a glass of milk mixed with a derivative of Cannabis? Yes, 'bhang' is a derivative of Cannabis. My good friend who grew up in Hyderabad, but who now lives in Chennai says, 'In Hyderabad, on holi day one can get on to the roads and apply some colour on anyone they fancy. And it would all be taken in the right spirit'. I'd love to see someone in Chennai apply a speck of pink on the white and starched shirt of any Ramalingam Chettiar - B.A L.L.B., MCom., AISSCE., SSLC as he sits back in his white ambassador on the way to court.

Luckily for me, blessed with friends who have immigrated from those northern lands of festivities, I do get to indulge in such extravagance every now and then despite being in Chennai. And today was one such occassion. And as we bunch of friends took a break from our holi games, one of them tutored us on the story behind the coinage of the word 'holiday' in the English language. Apparently in one village in North India long ago, the British noticed that none of the people were working one day, but were instead celebrating something. When asked why, the people responded, 'Because today is 'Holi' day'. And thus was appended yet another word to the Queen's vocabulary from the illiterate farmlands of India. Well, that story was my friend's own creation, lest you go through the annals of Colonial India (yes, bhang is known to have such effects on people).

As a last note, bhang is believed to also freshen the intellect and give alertness to the body and gaiety to the mind. How else did you think a new post came up here after all these days? In fact, even as I write this, I am getting enlightened on the origins of 'holiness', 'holism', 'hole',... I better stop. Happy Holi!

PS: The above picture is not mine, but was pilfered from this location. You see, now I don't want to be sued by someone through Mr. Ramalingam Chettiar - B.A L.L.B., MCom., AISSCE., SSLC

Computers, Heat, Bikers and Physics

2007-10-02T06:07:00.000-07:00

Computer processors spread a sort of sickly heat in the room when kept on for hours together. I am getting more aware of this recently as I wake up with my head on the keyboard so often these days, what with my business school application deadline coming up and their officers being intent on making the application process to this school worth every single second of your free life.

So, talking about this heat from computers, I had a very computer savvy friend when in school. When I say computer savvy, I mean computer savvy. He could even give you, if really pushed, the serial number of each and every chip in your PC. When he typed on the keyboard, there was no any distinct noise, just one continuous whirring sound as whole sentences materialised out of thin plasma onto the monitor screen, while the rest of us more mundane ones plonked one letter a minute, scared to use anything other than the index finger of our right hand.

His dad was in computers networking he said, and I didn't disbelieve him for in his one room he had atleast 10 PCs, with each of their parts lying at different vantage points. Don't know how many PCs were lying around in the other rooms cause he also had an equal number of Alsations that were kept locked in these other rooms when we visited. And this one room was one hot furnace at all times of the year, not that Chennai's weather varies that often between the seasons. The only way we come to know winter from summer is when the maximum temperature drops from 45 degress to 40 degrees.

This is another reason (I'm actually still talking about the heat from computers) why software companies insist on maintaing sub-zero temperatures at work. This is hardly surprising with the number of computers lying around in these offices, but then, with the temperatures these companies actually maintain, one can't be blamed for thinking that a lot of computer research is done on cadavers. The consequence of this is really funny you see. Every morning, as each software engineer on his bike dents his way through other vehicles on the road (I sometimes wonder if the motorbike is part of the software engineer's dress code), you can see each one is wearing a jacket that would feel more at home in Siberia than Chennai. No wonder they are in such a hurry to reach their destinations, perhaps to take off their jackets before it melts them inside.

Which brings me to a serious issue. Why is it that a normally very intelligent person becomes very dumb the moment he or she gets on a bike? I have a bike too that somehow didn't come with this 'immortality accessory' attached. Neither do these people wear a helmet when riding a bike, nor do they remember their physics. Having secured 96 % in my physics in high school (there, the purpose of this blog has also been achieved), let me help them out here. You see, applying the law that the momentum of any system always remains constant (don't ask how), you can derive a practical conclusion as follows - 'When two bodies of masses such that the smaller mass is negligible compared to the larger mass, moving at different velocities collide with each other, the smaller mass travels in the opposite direction at a velocity twice that of the larger mass.

You see, your bike has a top speed of 120 kmph and weighs 150 kg on average while my car has a top speed of 220 kmph and weighs one a half tonnes. Learn your physics and ride safe! And increase that frigging temperature at your offices mate, before you become the cadaver.

A tale of two cities

2007-09-19T02:50:00.000-07:00

I decided to take the old classic, put in a weeping widow, three villains, a heroine, an item number and rewrite the same. Then I remembered my name ain't Priyadarshan. So, inspite of the nomenclature, this is more about me jumping between two citites - Chennai and Coimbatore.

Somehow I always had this opinion that every city in Tamil Nadu, barring Chennai, sucks. And the constant glimpses of the devout dedication of the people to their morning rituals all along the railway track from Avadi to Palakkad, during those innumerable train trips to Kerala did nothing to change that opinion. And then my company put me in charge of projects all over Tamil Nadu, and made sure I spend five days in ten touring Salem or Trichy (places that cannot really be called cities). Life did seem all rosy, during draught, ie.

So I wasn't really excited to hear about a project requirement coming up in Coimbatore. But then, from the moment I landed till now, I've really enjoyed my one and a half months here. The weather itself is a good enough reason to officially declare Coimbatore as no more a part of Tamil Nadu. A few days more and I felt things were just as good as in Chennai, sans its water problems, its traffic problems and its angry people. And it comes at half the price too.

Where do I come in then? Nowhere, if you discount the fact that I am the author. Anyway, it has been a while since I laid my hands on this blog. Blame (or thank, depending on how you look at it) my company for that. They have this policy - We kill our employees, either with idleness or with work. So, one moment while I am sitting with nothing to do 7 days a week, 24 hours a day, another moment I'm working 9 days a week, 26 hours a day. (We always exaggerate the work we do, and play down our joblessness, don't we). These days have been of the latter type.

Anyways, lets talk about life. Lately I've been getting a lot of philosophical thoughts; such as what is the purpose of this life, what is that cute receptionist wearing today, what am I going to choose from the buffet table this day - you know, the deeply philosophical kinds. Talking about buffets, I learned at the time of paying my hotel bills that each of my daily dinner buffets costs me Rs. 450. I couldn't help but compare this with the dainty little place I have lunch from - it costs me Rs. 20. The food is just as tasty, just as hygienic, just as filling and I don't even have to walk around collecting my food. But yes, the old couple running the place don't come to my table to sing me a song every day. God bless the economic divide !

The Charms of India

2007-07-18T07:55:00.000-07:00

India is a diverse country, with multi lingual people following many different religions, people who come in all shapes and sizes and from all walks of life, and last but certainly not the least, people who are multi talented. For someone who's not acquainted with this place, be it a foreigner or an NRI living abroad, coming back to India is a nightmare. Once here, the ill prepared and those who refuse to 'come down to earth' will learn a lot of lessons. Which is what I did on my return back after a long stint abroad.

The education started right from the moment I landed in Mumbai. In the Hollyood movies I see, the gorgeous heroine calls for a taxi, and then gets into her arguments, or punch dialogues, or her monthly periods with the charming hero and the whole while the taxi patiently waits. Apparently the directors don't research enough. I too hailed a taxi at the airport, put in my bags and hardly turned to say goodbye to my friends. Now the Mumbai police are on the lookout for a black taxi carrying three stolen suitcases. Luckily for me, thanks to the airport authorities who misplaced my fourth bag, which was eventually found abandoned on another flight, I'm not entirely devoid of some clothes to wear for the time being.

Having learned that lesson with taking a taxi, when I had to travel to Chennai, I decided to take the train. Seeing just one person at the ticket counter, I politely stood behind him. I finallly got my ticket a couple of hours later, well past the train departure time. The counter guy looked at me like I was some retard, understood that I was new to the place and explained to me that the queues there don't go in straight lines, they go in clusters. But the good thing was that I didn't miss the train either, apparently it was running late by a day and four hours. These days I take the bus.

And one such day on the bus, I saw this vacant seat next to this pretty lady, and occupied it. I quickly came to know that this lady was well acquainted with my family, which couldn't have been all that decent, based on what she had to say about us. Apparently in Tamil Nadu, the women and men aren't supposed to touch each other. I'm still trying to figure out which of the two is the untouchable. Atleast I was more fortunate than my very 'Americanised' friend. He reportedly went to a wedding and hugged the groom. He proceeded to do the same to the bride, is the last I heard. His funeral was a nice and quiet little affair by the beach.

Anyway, by now I'd decided to drive on my own, just that I still haven't figured out which is the right side of the road - the left or the right. But atleast I've come to believe in miracles, guardian angels and near-death experiences. And did you know that all Indian drivers are professional stuntmen; or that all vehicles in India are manufactured without brakes, the space being taken up to fit in extra noise making devices; or that running a few fellow road users off the road, (and if they don't oblige, running over them) is perfectly acceptable as long as it doesn't slow you down? Well, now I do.

One of the things that hits you the hardest in Chennai is the weather. Most of the time it is stifling hot and very humid. Takes a while getting used to. So I went to the beach to take a dip. I couldn't enter the water, for as soon as I stripped down to my trunks, I was promptly arrested by a couple of cops. Apparently some women belonging to the Southern division of the Adyar division of the Chennai division of the Tamilnadu division of the Hindu division of the Women's Holy Organisation against Revolting Exposures of India (proudly abbreviated to WHOREs of India, I was diffidently told) lodged a complaint. It seems that when they looked long enough at my trunks, it brought to their minds certain improper thoughts. That is how I got to spend a few days in jail.

The policemen were decent folks actually. They taught me seventy five methods to break the human bone. I was the subject though. Then when they realised I didn't have the money to pay them, they moved on to teaching me torture techniques. I learned fifteen of them before I lost consciousness. By the end of it, I was convinced that I was the one who shot JFK. The Chief Cop was to have got a medal.

Unfortunately before that, the poor guy ran his jeep over a stray cow galavanting on the roads. This caused a few riots up north. The Shiv Sena activists blamed the Muslims for the dead cow. They apparently had incriminating evidence of links between the dead cow and Pakistani intelligence. The Lashkar e Toiba blamed the Hindus and the Americans for the incident. They declared that the cow died of an Indo-US missile attack. And the Chief Cop was declared the biggest criminal of the country. We both are hanging this Friday.

Mobile's the word !

2007-07-17T10:58:00.000-07:00

What an invention the mobile phone is. Enables one to always be reachable by friends, can be used as a fashion accessory, can be used to display financial status, capabilities and eccentricities, can play you good music, can keep you entertained with games, can even keep lonely housewives company (now don't ask me how, use your imagination). And I haven't even covered a quarter of their uses.

Back in those days (when I say 'those days', I mean the good old days, old being the catch word), one was lucky to have a simple phone at home. Yes, a fixed phone (but these days even they aren't fixed anymore). I still remember many years back when we got our first telephone connection at home after more than a year of applying and waiting. Everytime it rang, it was pure elation. All family members came running out leaving whatever we were doing, to take in the marvel. It was looked at with awe and given more respect than certain family members, and only dad was only allowed to handle the instrument. Such was the reverence.

And then people were seen carrying around suitcases that they claimed to be phones. That was when mobiles came into being used for the first time, I guess. I had a very rich friend, son of a jewellery merchant, and he used to carry one of these suitcases. In those days, it was more like a Bond gizmo. One was allowed to look at it and if lucky, caress it. Nothing more. And as per him, calls were so expensive in those days that one rarely used them, unless in a total emergency, such as when you're hit by a car and are flying through the air, or ur halfway down the throat of a crocodile, and - well, you get the idea of such emergencies right? I mean, only if it were really such an emergency.

Then I moved onto college and hostel life. Now hostel life for every individual (except if your surname is Tata or Birla or Ambani) is a period of poverty. However much money you receive from home at the beginning of the month, it's the law of hostel science that at the end of it, you're back to those cheap and tasteless but filling 'thattu dosas' , half used cigarette and beedi butts and local, adulterated-with-everything-under-the-sun liquor. Obviously a local call from a fixed phone to a girlfriend or friend or anyone was only a yearly occassion. Under the circumstances, owning a mobile was totally out of the question, especially since you had to carry it with you even to take a shit for fear of someone stealing it, and worse, having to pay for the prepaid cards shelling out all your meagre belongings. And yet, one classmate of mine got one mobile phone from his dad as a gift. I suppose that was the only mobile phone in the entire college campus. The way it was being used was very interesting though. No calls were answered, and strictly none were made. The instrument was usually taken out when in the presence of pretty ladies, or to have some fun with friends making digital noises and playing games, until one day someone decided to have a say and stole it.

Those were the good old days I'm talking about. Now every rickshaw puller, taxi driver, car mechanic and beggar on the road has a mobile. They come in all shapes and sizes. You can take snaps with them, make porn movies with them, play and record rock and roll, access the internet, trigger bombs, perhaps even light a cigarette and carry a peg of your favourite beverage. A pickup line in a pub goes like, 'Hey, what's your mobile?' or 'Hello, I have a friend and she has a Nokia. What about you?'. Take a look below at what happens in a mobile store.

Customer walks in.
'Hey there, show me your latest mobile model please.'
'Sure, here you are. It's got polyphonic ringtones, five games with java downloadable option, screensaver, clock, calendar and diary, plays FM and MP3, has got MMS, WAP, GPRS, EDGE, 3G capability, still camera, video camera with and without zoom, calculator, car alarm, a shaving razor, torch and swiss knife. Can be worn on your sleeve, shirt, wrist, neck, belt or bum. All this with one week battery life and comes in hundred different colours and twenty different shapes.'
'Errr... can I make and receive calls on it?'
'Oh, I'm sorry sir, none of our customers have asked that before. I don't really know...'
'Never mind, I'll take it. It goes well with my attitude and that is what matters'.

But hey, I can't complain. The telecom engineer that I am, mobiles are my bread and butter. But you don't want to eat bread everyday, do you?

Killing the Females ??!!

2007-07-13T22:20:00.000-07:00

Modern day trends are set in the cities. However, for the past century and a half, a very bad trend has been and is being followed in the remote villages and towns in India, and perhaps even in the cities. The trend of killing the unborn female human foetus. Obviously this is an age old issue, and I just read an article on it. Saddening, to say the least.

We men need women right from the day we're born. Before anything else, we need a woman to bring us to this world. We need them to feed us, to take care of our childhood needs and tantrums, to sing us to sleep, to wash our dirty clothes and make our unkempt beds, to console us when we're sad or angry. Breaking the eggshells of childhood, and emerging into the adult world, we need women in newer roles. As a friend, as a girlfriend, as someone to drool after and flirt with, as a soulmate and finally as a wife, to live with for the rest of our lousy lives.

And then, our attitude takes an about turn. We no more need the women. It is like we have suddenly woken up from some hidden confinement and decide enough is enough. Henceforth, we shall make do with males alone. And so, every one of us wants a male child, a Son. A son who will sit on your shoulders, lovingly boisterous and take on the world for you. A son who will make his dad proud one day and take forth the 'khandhaan parampara' (family surname and tradition) and business into the future. And the sad part is that the wife or the mother in the family feels the same too - 'I want a son, just like his papa!' or 'I want a grandson just like my son!'

I quote from that article the view of a woman from a village in Gujarat, "Raising a female child is like watering your neighbour's plant". There are some things that can be slowly amended with time, for instance education for women or abolishing child labour. But with this basic attitude towards bringing up your own daughter, I doubt if anything can even be attempted on solving this issue. On a lighter note, being the perpetual bachelor, my main worry is if there will be any women left for me to marry. Even more worrying is if there will be a girl to marry my son to (yes, I'm aware I mentioned son here, but please note that given a choice, I'd go for a daughter). The funny part is gay relations and marriages among men are more prevalent in those other countries where the sex ratio is hardly a problem, while in our country with such a sad sex ratio, guys just can't seem to get enough women.

So, what is the reason for this attitude towards the female child? Obviously it is the maintenance costs of a female (sorry for putting it so bluntly ladies). Honestly in any society, the female child digs a bigger hole in the pocket than the male. Fashion accessories for the female body are a hundred fold more than the male version, both in quantity and cost. And in our Indian society, we still live with another old evil called 'dowry' (the bride's family compulsorily having to give money or expensive gifts to the groom's family at the time of engagement or marriage). Therefore, the family of the girl child needs to start saving with these in mind, right from the day the daughter is born. Then there are the social stigmas and safety issues of women, what with all those desperate male bastards galavanting the streets. Anyway, the problems are another whole issue by themselves.

And the solution? Abolish dowry for starters. Guys, shouldn't you be ashamed at taking money from a girl? Comeon, where are your male egotisms when needed? And thinking about it logically, shouldn't you be the one paying something to the girl's family in return for taking away their daughters?
Secondly we could educate the women about their rights in all those far flung villages and make life for women as good as it is for the men (I know the respective bodies have already started out on these). I'd even go on to suggest government sponsored, free porn shows for those desperate male bastards like us to reduce those desperation levels somewhat. And while we are at it, let's get more men to have gay relationships in ou country, and lets get those lesbian women out there to consider us perpetual bachelors for a change. Yeah, I know these are some crazy ideas, but atleast the point is made.

PS: Please do not let the humour and the quips divert any attention away from this serious issue. A female child is as good as a male child, if not better. Please do not kill our future lovely ladies.
Here's the link to the article -
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=393896&in_page_id=1770&ct=5

The Mayor must have built the Taj

2007-07-09T10:39:00.000-07:00

A Swiss millionnaire, who apparently has too much of money, forms a foundation which decides to take upon itself the onerous and benign task of hunting around the globe for the Seven Wonders of the World. Ofcourse, someone had already 'discovered' the Seven Wonders of the World, and so this noble quest becomes a hunt for the 'New Seven Wonders of the World'.

With adequate hype and advertisement, complemented all the way through by the media's support, nearly a hundred million 'learned' people from around the globe, obviously after a lot of education and research into human history, culture, art and architecture, voted from amongst twenty one sites, the Seven New Wonders of the World.

The Taj Mahal, located in India, no doubt one of the finest illustrations of human creativity and man-made beauty, has gotten selected into this elite list. Now, India's population is a little more than one billion, of which eight percent or, in absolute numbers, eighty million are unemployed. Most of these unemployed persons live in the cities, where there is adequate access to the internet and television. Add to this the fact that Indians decide to vote for the Taj, as evidenced by the Indian media and the numerous e-mail forwards I received myself, more on patriotic grounds, rather than for the heritage, architecture and beauty of the monument.

Now, take the rest of the World population of five and a half billion. The majority of these in China are busy duplicating everything made in the west, at one tenth their prices and selling them back to the west. The Europeans and Japs are busy making economic and industrial progress. The Arabs are busy fighting each other and the Australians are busy playing sports (the Aussies are too few to make any difference anyway). The Americans are busy 'enforcing' peace in the world, while one square meal a day and staying alive are all the wonders the Africans care about. So, was it ever in doubt that the Taj Mahal wouldn't be in this list of the 'New Seven Wonders of the World'?

What I find funny isn't any of this. A newspaper article goes, 'The Agra Mayor Anjula Singh received the award' (on behalf of the Taj Mahal, I guess) 'amid thunderous applause for the monument of marble that is hailed as a symbol of love and passion'. Reading this, I did google to find out if Ms. Anjula happens to be a descendant of Emperor Shah Jahan, (who built the monument in memory of his deceased wife), inspite of the trouble with the surname. Apparently she isn't. Perhaps Ms. Anjula personally visits the monument every morning with soap water and mop.

... and Federer goes on...

2007-07-08T10:55:00.000-07:00

Federer is the 2007 Wimbledon Men's champion. So, what else is new?

He comes to Wimbledon, wins the Championship title, collects the cup, and goes home. This time, on the way, he also equalled Bjorn Borg's record of six consecutive titles. Was that feat being accomplished ever doubted? This is where I profess my total adoration for Mr. Roger Federer. I'm a huge fan, period!

The Swiss have a way of getting things done - with a quiet demeanour and clockwork efficiency. Roger Federer is Swiss, and so is his tennis. While the other stars grunt and neigh their way through serves and volleys and smashes and forehands and backhands, the Swiss lets out a little more than a silent breath. The tennis ball from his racquet does all the screaming as it scorches across the grass searching for and homing in on those boundary lines.

People say the best competitors never let an emotion show on their faces. While the other stars shout and fight and argue and throw punches in the air, the lensmen would be lucky to get such frames of Federer. Only at the most crucial of situations, when he digs into that confounding bag of shots he carries around, takes out one that rewrites the laws of physics, yet again, perhaps surprising even himself, does he display a rare clenching of fists or an even rarer shout. Mind you, the spectators and you and me and everyone else watching the match, aren't surprised anymore. We are left gaping in disbelief from game one, set one. The ball could stop midway, do an Irish hop-skip-and-dance, and continue on its way, and we'd still be expecting that from Federer's racquet.

What the normal players, on their best day of tennis, play as winners, Federer plays on his bad days. The commentators covering a Federer match usually run out of superlatives by the end of the first set, then step up a notch their expectations, run out of superlatives again, step up another notch and finally decide to let the Swiss' tennis do the talking. Anyway, who listens to the commentary when Federer's playing tennis.

Ofcourse, I was totally heartened to see the quality of tennis Rafael Nadal produced himself. To take a Federer match to five sets, and to give the Swiss, even playing at his best, more than a few worries, is nothing short of spectacular. But in the end, the Swiss is the better player, atleast on grass (which hurts me to say thus, as I hope he spreads his supremacy over all surfaces very soon).

What impresses me about Federer, again ie (am beginning to sound like a recorder thats got stuck), is that the Swiss does all this in style. His tennis is so artistic and creative; he floats around on court, painting strokes one here and one there - beautiful sight to watch. His very entry into centre court, in that spotless white blazer for every match oozes with class. Notably, for today's presentation ceremony, he also donned on matching trousers to complement his white blazer. Now, one must remember that he brings these things together in his kit to the court prior to a match. One also would never know if he would have donned on those trousers for the presentation had he lost. Therefore, what I'm also impressed with is his confidence and arrogance (which I mean in the most positive of senses) in the knowledge that he is the Champion. But hey, whats wrong with that? The whole world knows it, why wouldn't he !

Thanks Roger Federer, you made my day !

PS: Image copyright -Getty / C. Brunskill

Not mine... but beautiful all the same

2007-07-02T09:42:00.000-07:00

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

PS: dated 23 Apr, 09: This poem is by the late Lebanese American artist and poet Khalil Gibran. Thanks to my beautiful friend Aarthi for pointing this out.

A Horse is born...

2007-07-01T05:26:00.000-07:00

The problem with having a blog is to think of something to write in it every now and then. The problem is all the more complicated if you've already had a blog that people have come to not just read, but also appreciate, which is when you start thinking you are William Wordsworth and worry about a writing standard that needs to be maintained.

And for a person like me, upon who these creative pockets of energy descend at the most inopportune of moments, only to disappear for years to come, (something like Sania Mirza's tennis triumphs (note I mention tennis specifically)), and whose memory span would make a goldfish feel proud of it's own, blogging surely is one of the things I wasn't designed for. The last time I was struck by a barrage of ideas was when at a traffic signal. I do carry tissues around in my car, but they're kept there only to show the rare lady passengers my cleanliness traits and not to withstand any writing stresses. The other time I was blessed by the creative shower, (for the prudes among you, kindly excuse me) was when on the potty at a public place. Anyway, these are but minor examples to validate my point (as no one seems to trust anyone these days, without proof or bribes).

However, me being a person who just wouldn't give up, (unless offerred lots of money or a deep cleavage), I decided come what may, I will have a blog, or to be more precise, I will continue blogging. And born out of that gallant stupidity is this - thehorsesmouthistaken.

Strange name for a blog one would say, or wouldn't one, given the strange names people come up with these days to be different. I chose this for purely proud reasons. I'd like to be called the 'stud', to the vexation of everyone who knows me. And since they still haven't come up with any idioms with stud (haven't checked on Freud though), I decided to use 'The Horse's Mouth'. Apparently there was already a fool who thought of himself a stud, and took up the blog name 'thehorsesmouth' before I could. And me still being the one not to give in (unless accompanied with the cleavage and money and all that, yeah yeah, i remember), did the very 'innovative and clever' modification to come up with this.

So, with great humility and greater arrogance, I welcome one and all with open arms. And before you read any further, like I advice prior to watching any Bollywood movie, kindly keep your brains at home !