World of Vigor, Wit, Ironies and Vicissitudes

Scent of a woman - morning after version

2011-11-19T04:55:00.002-06:00

Dazed, I wake up, morning after!
Straightening every nerve - each a drifter.

I am not, definitely, Al Pacino!
Yet, dance with her was eventful as El Nino!

All I have is the scent of her hands.
Bewitching, as witches and their wands!

Every word exchanged, in memory, is etched.
Forever, the dance, on heart's canvas is sketched!

Myth Ya Right! Awards

2011-10-27T23:57:00.009-05:00

Thank you all for the encouragement of our efforts to put up what was Mithya's biggest production so far!

Personally I feel a big void in life because there is nothing to do. (Of course there is work, there are chores, activities here and there, but NO Practice! No time to while away anymore!) It is upsetting! For about 40 days or more the Mithya group has been involved in coming together and put up a play as serious, as intense and as big as this one. Is there any wonder, then, that there should be many memories attached to this play?

Now, I may write a mushy narrative of experiences during the play in future but for now, here is my tribute to all those involved in the play. I'll call them Myth Ya Right! Awards - more for the contortion of the original word than for lack of better names like Awards... (Only some find a mention but that is only because of my frequent interaction with them.)

The award for best:

Lighting: Saptarshi Bandyopadhyay - Not as much for stage lights and related labor as for displaying a kid-like glint in his eyes when he found a trolley on which he could stand and move about. Together with Sonal Mithal he successfully blared strong lights into everyone's eyes. No surprise then that he'd done something to cause the audiences to have tears in their eyes. At the sets he'd often climb up the ladder at the drop of a hat to stand right next to intense lights. He'd then pick a person to talk to, call him/her, the person would look up, and... well... profanity would follow!
His dedication to serious work would come to the fore when someone would mention food! From that mention to the time food was with him, he'd be serious about work. Then he'd get back to his buffoonery, often sounding like Sourav Ganguly!

Music: Ganesan, Nachiket and Usman - for successfully preparing actors and cue masters for SNAFUs or bloopers on stage. It was only one day before the actual play that they realized they weren't composing for a spoof. Until then they'd take turns to deliberately mistime the sound cues. It wasn't until the last show that everyone realized how much that helped the actors develop a knack for maintaining calm in the event of an actual F&&& up! Must be geniuses! About the music pieces, Usman was stunned to learn that he wasn't composing for Coke Studio or Atif Aslam's latest album!

Cue Manager (sound and light box): Sonal Mithal - After auditioning people for that role she only thought it morally improper to take up the lead role. So she decided to be the production manager. (Besides no one had the patience to appease Mithya's president should she fuss and cry over something!) One of the key hands behind making the Uncle look shabby, she'd not suggest a rockstar kind of costumes for the uncle! If the music and light folks were not bungling, it was Sonal who'd deliberately mislead Jay and others. That explains the nothing that was done on the first day the theater was handed to Mithya! Her fascination for fancy equipment overcame her and she used that whole day to play her version of PS3! Together with Saptarshi she'd create the occasional halos around actors under the pretext of faulty equipment!

Cue Master: Jay Chheda - For bungling Uncle Vinay's cues until even the final dress rehearsal. Sources say that he did that deliberately to have my on-stage presence to as minimum a time as possible! Sources also say that the director suggested this. After the award, I re-christen him to "Q (Kyu)Master?" He also gets the award for best backstage management because he had a very Old Parsi Pappa look a la Munnabhai MBBS! Some actors claim to have heard him say to himself between cues "Rani to pappani!" An actor complained in private that Jay's hastening between scenes nearly caused a dressing blooper that'd have caused nightmares to the on-lookers. Esp Mala Kathhhri!Also nominated and nearly won the award for Mr Consistent performer for having mimed Paperwallahs gay actions on all 3 shows from behind the stage! He only lost the award because he lost control of the backstage crew every time he did that. (Hard to get people to work when they're rolling on their stomachs!)

Make-up artist/Shadow actress: Sarah Brown - for working hard on make-up and doubling up as backstage crew as well as shadow of Mala! Her skills were more in the way she disguised her nervousness to show Mala's shyness/discomfort and reluctance at the psychiatrist's office! Rumors have it that she was the brain behind what is accepted as the Asst Director's master stroke of tiring/stressing the actors! She had minimum work to do then, but maximum credit for the make-up. Her item dances during practices earned her the sobriquet of "Gulaabon". Her ability to learn fast was demonstrated through her quick usages of un-parliamentary words in Hindi! Gulaabon delicately lent herself to the production work too. Or so she made people believe! No one realized her scheme of pointing to her shadow appearance as a reason for not doing much work. An actor under conditions of anonymity confessed that Gulaabon would just sit in the blue light backstage. He shudders at the thought of being revealed to her, lest he gets to hear her full range vocabulary in Hindi!

Publicity: Namita Narain and Ankit Chandra - Former (Namita) for bullying the actors into submission during interviews. But just when the actors realized they were being bullied, she'd sugar coat them with compliments and assurances to be natural on the cam. Flatter them with "You guys are amazing! I was always a tree in plays!" Word has it that she had to work on her bullying skills when despite all her efforts, there was a great turn-out for all 3 shows. We had to do something about the extra people that wanted to be let in... Her bullying worked wonders to hush up one actor who'd refuse to give up on his gimmicks! Always the one to add fire to fuel, she'd assure (false assurance) "setting up" between 2 people any time!

The latter (Ankit) more for publicizing his singing than directing all traffic to the latest play in the blog site until just the day before the 1st show. His altruism and efforts behind the stage were manifest in how he'd lend himself to the Asst Director as a favorite punch bag! His best contribution to publicity was to get his girlfriend to fly in from Pittsburgh. At the least that worked... His best production work was in getting food and thereby keeping perpetually hungry beings like Saptarshi interested in the play!

Director: Radha Venkatagiri - For being the Sonia Gandhi for her puppet (Sibin Mohan)! Her charm worked its way to new comers, one of whom would occasionally claim Radha to be his fiance instead of Radhika!
Also gets the award for assisting with the make-up (read: scrubbing faces and eyelids to redness/soreness). The important inspiration from her for everyone came when shed narrate fictitious tales of how she'd not get high at all and that she'd drink 10 shots and sue the liquor maker for making flavored water!

Assistant Director: Sibin Mohan - for his masterpiece when he came up with the idea to make the whole thing look natural. He is a Neo-director trying to make his mark but boy! His ploy to tire the headlights out of 2 actors such that they actually appear and act old (also tired) seemed to work wonders. Friends of the 2 actors who sat in the audience couldn't recognize them even days after the last show!
The stress was working on Mala Cuttery too except that Sibin, smartly, would pat her shoulder assuring that she was the best actress he ever worked with! It didn't work on Deepak because his mind was always on Hookah, Shayari and Liquor, not on the play! His best contribution was during those days that he wasn't in town for the practices!
He reportedly went on record saying that this was going to be his last play as a director. Pity the newcomers took that as a carrot tied to a stick. If only they'd known that that was what he mentioned last time too. The straight face that he puts it with often made onlookers think that he was Mithya's best actor so far!

Versatile actor: Mohin Khushani - for his versatile roles. His Looney Tunes-esque portrayal of the paperwallah, Sarkar-esque portrayal of the Barista and and Drunken-man-who-ain't-knows-the-difference-between-beer-and-wine portrayal of the Waiter wasn't what earned him the award. It was not even for his butt-thrusting a la Saurav Ganguly! His award was for wooing and accepting his co-star (a change from his days when he'd shudder at the thought of being seen with girls), for pretending to study for a fictitious exam when help was needed backstage and for his publicity interview. In fact the meaty part of his role was when he successfully held his chuckle and tried to seriously say that the person playing the Uncle was his favorite actor. To this day no one bought that, but hey he convinced himself! That is quality acting...

Junior artist/ Backstage intern: Dhruv Mehta - After his raunchy back massaging dance he'd slip into the production crew's dress code with more fuss than even Charlie Sheen could create! Dopey dance with wannabe accent seems to be the thing with Junior artists. They also refuse to share a dressing mirror/chair. He started the Junior Artists' rebellion in the dressing room but quietly led it from behind the Doofus-faced Khushani! Khushani would bark vehemently about how difficult it was to sit on a fellow Junior artist's lap during make-up etc. He'd create a ruckus in the dressing room, and when outside it, he'd look to show his non-existent cricketing prowess! Renuka, the jewelry designer and Nachiket's wife, held more sharp catches than Dhruv and Khushani put together!

Mr Nice guy/ soft spoken actor award: Aviral Jain - Coming from the village of La Mart-in-here he was always raised to leave enough room for the audience interpret the play in their own way! Very good practice except when it comes to saying one's dialogues so softly that the audience cannot hear anything, thereby leaving no choice but to imagine/extrapolate those lines!
His only line in the play (he used often) that made sense and men could readily associate with and feel ever so emotional about was "What do you mean? This just doesn't make sense!" (said with a gawky expression...)
The nice guy bit is for promising intoxicants to the lead actresses but never doing it. Chivalry indeed! Sources suspect the low-voice-syndrome in the play was because of repeated stress of the throat (read gasp+gulp) every time he saw Strawberries & Cream in action (read Girl-on-girl)!
He definitely helped keep everyone's moral high by plugging in earplugs and listening to random stuff instead of reciting Shayaris or narrating stories from Luck-No or La Marts! (In which case it gave Sonal - Aviral's best audience - an excuse to not work despite her not needing one.)

Actress/Glamdoll: Nisha Somnath - Every actor/actress in a given famous movie has a famous thing noted in it. Dharmendra for his "Yamla Pagla" dance and "Basanti in kutton ke saamne..." Amitabh for "Mera baap chor hai" Raj Kapoor for his right palm to the audience, light nod and Bambi eyes saying something like "Ok ji", Al Pacino's dance in "Scent of a woman", Yana Gupta's "Babuji" song.
Our Nisha has done it all. She oozed oomph through her high heels. That was the single major factor for her glamdoll tag. Her gait changed greatly with her skimpy and tight outfits, but not more than with the heels. A candid man in the audience wrote in his feedback, "Dear Mithya, all was ok! I loved everything about the play! But must you really have a horse to transport crew and actors from one side of the stage to the other?"
Her method acting must be lauded. She deliberately estranges her real life chemistry with her onstage mother and uncle so as to give her best performance. So what if despite that she couldn't act.
Her most noted lines/words in the play - "Eh! Did my scene with Spurr-tee come out well? I think it fell flat!"
"But how am I acting?" "Ehh I am not doing it well. Maybe you should find a better actress!" (Sibin's integrity was put to maximum test every time Nisha asked him for feedback on her acting. Best Director indeed!)
Words that really moved/reduced the co-actors to tears, "Deii! You are Deid! There is no Llleww for me! Lizzen!" (for Die! You are dead! There is no love for me! Listen!) (from sitting on chair to ROTFL, i.e.)

Upcoming star/Stacey's mom: Spurti Akki - for integrating her on-stage character into real life behavior. Every time a co-actor would ask her for coffee she'd readily peruse her lines from the play, "Huh? (and look lost)" Her peak acting was when she'd be upset over not being allowed to go to her "lab". (At the rate at which she was claiming things about her lab and/or work she should got either a Nobel Prize or an Oscar!)
Her portrayal of Mala's mother beat "Stacey's mom" by miles! People went gaga over her - not as much for her graceful looking saree as much for her impressions of old actresses in old songs.
Nisha's lines may or may not make her famous, but this starlet's lines "It is going to rain ALL NIGHT!" said no less than a million times by now will occupy the Mithya billboards for eons to come! In a given play her frustration (at the weather forecast not being heeded to) building up each time she said the line was impressive and definitely what made audiences go back home with a moral of the story! Last heard from sources, she was considering a career switch. She wants to replace Ravi Shastri as a cliche generator! (Both lines from the play and outside of it!)
She's taken to stardom like a Royal pig takes to a dirty sty! Last seen on the streets she was throwing tantrums about a spoon not being at the precise temperature in a restaurant and that it was hard for her to maintain her schedules with so many people interrupting her for autographs!

Best actress overall: Who said you needed to be on stage or in the whole movie to act? Anthony Hopkins won Oscar for a short duration in the film! Radhika is our such example. She went a step ahead. As an actor that never appeared, she mixed her emotions in an inimitable manner - romance, anger, catwalk, understanding and sharing & caring nature, etc!

Special thanks: Mehul Thakkar - for making his involvement with this play a minimum. With the feedback from the play and with more ideas, he is sure he can do better at that!

Danville Development

2011-10-15T00:57:00.000-05:00

I was listening intently, nodding occasionally, trying to be normal and sensitive to them. I was trying to appear calm and normal. I wasn't sure if I was able to pull it off! Here I was, thinking I was a good actor, capable of masking my emotions, but I felt shabby!
I was in a class of "Civil Rights" course and there was a general discussion going on. At best a fairly aware, knowledgeable and analytical person, I was in awe of my classmates. I somehow felt awkward, filled with pity and yet strongly respectful of them. These were the inmates at the Danville prison. Black men of varying ages were discussing the Civil rights in the US between 1955 to 1970 with equanimity.

Those who were aged 45 plus were calm and oozed wisdom. The ones who seemed around my age had a zest in their eyes. In the eyes of Juan I saw lost opportunity, remorse and penance. That was what I saw. Maybe another person would have seen the zeal to learn the many things he can while at the Danville prison.
I glanced, observed and peered at the others too with a hope to see what insight I could gain into their lives - now and in the past - but the harder I tried the more I exposed myself. The deeper I looked into their eyes the more I felt like screaming out to the world, "Give them a chance!" They were better people than some of those who roam free and wild in the world! To think that they give themselves as bad examples to their kids, urging them to not follow on their paths, made me feel depths of the low feeling one gets when one is helpless and sad! I imagined a 'regular' father telling his son, "Behave well or you'll be like one of these prisoners!"

Now I turned focus to one of my classmates and imagined what he'd say to his kid!

The discussions in the room left me stimulated. People were ready to absorb what I had to offer. It was a place where ideas could float freely and everyone could assimilate them without restriction. Majid (Otis) said, "Democracy and Capitalism were conflicting." I couldn't stop admiring this bespectacled gentleman ever since that line.
Will, who sat next to me, explained how there were colored fountains back in those days. The ease with which this topic was being discussed, the ease with which he was explaining the idea to me and the readiness with which he was absorbing whatever I had to say about casteism in India was astounding. Majid was quick to point out the similarity between casteism and racism. I had, by then, eased into the home made by the prisoners for themselves. So much so that I quickly argued like I would with my friend, if he offended me!
In between classes, I was greeted by Anthony and he spent most of his break time interacting with me and asking me about my life. I only felt it was natural for me to ask him about his. "Fridays we have classes which we look forward to. We love to learn! We get college credit, too, for this. Tuesdays and Mondays we spend time reading books at the resource room. Some of us even go back to our cells and spend time thinking about their paper/thesis!" As if that, something more privileged students like me hardly ever did (concentrate so much on academics), wasn't enough I asked him, "And what do you do the rest of the week?"
"Oh nothing! We're in a prison, you know?"
"Uhh ummm..." At this point I momentarily felt embarrassed and uneasy! I didn't mean to offend him but somehow it registered that that question could've so easily disturbed him! But Anthony was ahead of me! He smiled and moved on telling me that I should share my knowledge in calculus and algebra with some of them. Or even paper writing... That simple act of his put me in awe of him! He didn't care to be offended with minor things. He even saw the humor in it. All he cared for was to interact with me and to thank me for taking time out to visit him.

They had welcomed me and other visitors like me to their place. Without their genial, warm, outreaching attitude towards us, I am sure we wouldn't have been able to call this one of our most enjoyable days in life - a sentiment echoed by every visitor unanimously!
I started the trip when the weather was bright, gently cold and still. I ended the trip with the weather breezy and chilly! My emotions and state of mind followed the weather pattern too. It was hard to not give in to the conversion of emotions to tears. I maintained my calm and nonchalance!
I learned important lessons and I wish to thank the inmates of the Danville Prison (Danville, IL) for making me a better person today!

Yawn beginning to long weekend

2011-07-01T23:06:00.001-05:00

You'd imagine people in authoritative public service positions won't be frivolous to have whims and fancies. Serious ambitions, normally acceptable hobbies - yes! You could let them have those.

What really doesn't gel well with my philosophy on life is to start construction work at the beginning of a long weekend, or even at the end of it. And NO! Leaving materials from construction strewn doesn't count as sane. This tendency must stop. Can there not be, in the name of all that is human and Godly, better planning which leads to most work done way before a long weekend starts so that by friday afternoon, for example, good intentioned vacationers can peacefully and assuredly plan their trips?

For a stretch of not less than 30 miles was there traffic which would often come to a standstill. Now certainly it cannot be that vacationers planning to go to place A suddenly change lanes to get on the route to place B. One or two may do it, but all cannot b doing it.

Are the authorities listening or are they waiting for some such victim of traffic to write about it and then secretly snigger after reading it?
@Security check officials - What does a fellow do if he missed his flight due to whatever outlandish reasons but gets a boarding pass for early hours the next day? Just sit outside randomly somewhere? Why won't you just check him in and let him be there in the terminal somewhere, where he can dine, wine & whine and rest!

@O'Hare folks - why won't you have some good eating joints in airport premises for those unlucky souls who haven't been let into the lounge area by the security officials? Maybe it is time you open up to a business idea?

It is said great ideas come from a necessity. This comes from someone who missed a flight after driving about 150 miles. The last 50 of them were surely frustrating.

This message is for parents - I am sure each of you would love for your children to be up there! Please encourage your children in not only fine arts but also coarser arts. Arts that include formation of new words without fear of being labeled rebellious or blasphemous. This helps cut down crime. Consider this. You have a flight to catch in 20 min and you are about 15 min away and the traffic is moving at the rate at which an annual snail marathon would proceed! You could do with innovative words to express your emotions and vent your negative energy. Without this, your child may actually misbehave on the roads and cause accidents!

I regret my mom didn't teach me particularly good abusive words to start building upon. Fortunately she has a smart son who can surprise himself with his creativity! Something good came out of missing my flight, you'd say!!!

And now I have to plan how to sleep in this not so cozy chairs here... Mommy! I need more words!!!

A year as good as life summary

2011-06-29T01:36:00.000-05:00

At every stage of one's life one has moments when they think to themselves, "This is it! This is the toughest moment in my life."
To elaborate or enumerate each one would be of not much point but here are a few points:
1- In 9th std I'd wonder how people would memorize all texts for the final board exam. Did it somehow.
2- In 11th I wondered how I'd get into Engineering (I was sure I didn't want to pursue a career in Medicine). I did.
3- With horrible performance in academics I was worried if I'd ever get placed and get a job. I got a job when I least expected. I didn't even dress for the interview. Went in raggedy jeans and tee-shirt.
4- Had absolutely no clue of work there and often spent 15 to 17 hour work days for a whole week or 2.
5- Change of job. Cleared all tech rounds and was selected. Got stuck at HR process tussle between 2 companies. Was so disappointed that I thought that was the end of my hopes. A wise man - my dad - said more opportunities will come. If you are capable enough you'll never have a problem. And true to his words I did get another job in a month from the HR related failure.
6- Quitting work to pursue MS. My manager thought I wasn't too technically strong for a research oriented job profile. That did enough to poke my ego and I decided to do Masters - that which my dad had long been vocalizing about. The whole application process was draining.
7- Masters was relatively a breeze except that brand UIC didn't seem to help get a job. So again the worry of how to, where to and when to get the job.

Exactly 1 year back I joined Riverbed Technology. It wasn't exactly my dream job given my background was more in Embedded Systems and Processor Architecture. However I took it up. The first 2 or 3 months were so hazy that I had no clue what I was doing, what was expected of me, how I was being judged etc, Leaving all my friends in Chicago necessitated making new friends here and having some life here too.
Began playing tennis, cricket and visiting Chicago every weekend. I'd look forward to weekends so much that I'd start planning on wednesdays. And until Tuesdays I'd be hung over fro the previous weekend.

Aug 14th - I fractured my thumb playing cricket and surgery was the only go. A man of weak heart when it comes to hospitals and medical procedures can't imagine such a thing being done on him. Between a syringe poke and death I'd pick the latter. And yet with some bravery I went ahead with the surgery. I took pics of my thumb with pins jutting out of it. Surely brave of me!

Weeks leading up to Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays saw me work 12 to 14 hours a day for a week at a stretch, This wasn't demanded at work but I thought to take up the challenge to finish my tasks earlier than estimated. By now I started enjoying my work and decided to do well here. Things changed and for good. I started living in Champaign rather than merely counting my breaths here during weekdays and rushing to Chicago for weekends. I did a play in late Fall and enjoyed meeting new people and befriending some people. These are people I'd always look forward to meeting and sharing ideas! I joined writers' club and quit because of lack of time.

I visited many places - Las Vegas, Toronto and San Francisco noteworthy of the places.

The cycle of working late nights is back now and I am happy to be working. My only loss is personal life. From how I was maybe a couple of years back and maybe in undergrad to now - I mellowed and quietened a lot. Life does things to you. Friends come, friends drift. There is an underlying depression when you think that eventually all friends will slowly start drifting apart though not necessarily in a sour way. There are minor achievements you feel proud of and there are mistakes that you rue.

On social front I perhaps made a lot of acquaintances but I lost some friends and their love for me. Or so I feel. At times it is not the million friends you have on Facebook but it is 1 person you could turn to any time and preferably a 2-way traffic at that.

New crushes, not so enthusiastic pursuance, familiar stories of no reciprocation for various reasons, odd people randomly asking, "How come you aren't hooked up yet?"
Wanting to buy a dream car but ending up buying a car that has a dream owner. Poor credit to much improved credit history. And now plans to go to India, meet my parents, grandparents, answer questions about marriage and plans ahead, go to places esp in Andhra Pradesh.
So many things lined up but this blog is mainly to celebrate my 1 year at work - Riverbed Technology and 1 year at Urbana-Champaign - a place I thought I could never live in, given I am a big city person. I'd recommend UC to all people who have a taste for a life filled with variety.

Here's a cheers to my 1 year which has been as good as a summary of people's lives for fives or tens of years or even whole lives.

Protest done? Now put in some thought too, please!

2011-04-14T01:52:00.001-05:00

I have a problem. I am not sure who is going to solve it. I am not sure if it is ever going to be solved.

How should I feel if I am promised a free land, free food supply and general free stuff like maybe a car and then there slowly start coming out conditions (fine print) to get those! And what if the conditions (fine print) sound eerily similar to my present condition (state of affairs)?

I am talking about Jan Lokpal Bill! I am particularly interested in (and now concerned about) the recommendations made by JLB! In the beginning I was cursing everyone who didn't help spread the message of India Against Corruption (IAC). Everyone! If my dad was active on Facebook and he did anything other than spread the awareness I'd have disowned him. Such was the intensity of my feelings about JLB!

Here was some revolution which had the potential of that which happened in Egypt. It had the capacity to involve all of the Indian population except the 500 to 2000 odd politicians that may exist in India. Everybody has had at least one experience that he/she could narrate with a red face! It needed everyone to be/speak/think/act in unison! We needed to show the government the most naked form of democracy - where we are actually exercising the by, for and of the people part of governance or policy/decision-making.

After the initial apathy, born to one parent being the Cricket World Cup 2011, we somehow achieved the unison mentioned above. Even if it was mere signatures gathered, Facebook clicks (the laziest method yet a comforting and blinding one in that people think they have done their good for the day, but not quite) we did gather some momentum. The news of Annaji Hazare breaking fast was sweeter than the World Cup victory for me and perhaps for a few others.

Yet, now, as I read some recommendations, watched some videos of the campaign and read some blogs and editorials, I can't help but feel this is eerily reminiscent of the story in the book - "Animal farm" by George Orwell. It starts of with the pigs starting a revolution against the tyranny of man. Then all the animals decide to create a new world for themselves. But then hey! It is a society (coming together of different animals) right? So there have to be basic rules so that one animal doesn't hurt the other to live and yet thrive. The rules or laws start showing their loopholes and shortcomings. The pigs who take the responsibility of governance start stiffening the rules so as to tax (tax as money and tax as demanding) themselves lesser than the other animals.

Slowly and soon the animals realize that being under man was no different or no worse than being under the pigs. What hurt more was that the pigs were considered their own once upon a time! The story ends with some animals sneaking in through one of the windows of the pigs' residence. The pigs are enjoying drinks with men!

Other people had concerns with fasting unto death as a means of protest or being called democratic! I have my own opinions and presently don't wish to discuss that. My problem is with the election of the members of Jan Lokpal organization! "There is no political way of electing members. This is done strictly apolitically!" Although it sounds correct at the first glance, it doesn't quite sound so if you think about it enough. So how would the members or judges be selected? Highest level judges will select the members. Members will also be among the Padma Bhushan awardees.
Again, first glance - Wonderful! What more can be asked for?

Think carefully! The last few years of awards seemed like government doing favors to some select "blessed" people more than sheer merit! If this method of selection of members is accepted, I don't see how the government can't meticulously start bestowing awards to people whom they can groom. Sooner than later, we'll have yet another corrupt organization in our country and zillions of dreams of India-2020 shattered and all future sparks (public endeavors) to try to bring about a renaissance will be doused (mostly with diffidence, skepticism and a feeling of helplessness).

I am surprised that a panel consisting of Kiran Bedi, Anna Hazare and other prominent personalities could come up with only such flawed recommendations! Or was this indeed a government scheme to capture public rage and give it a vent into another universe? Will one of my most revered and admired personalities turn out to be a public traitor? Or even if she doesn't, won't the future members be so easily prone to corruption that this whole exercise would have become wasted?

It did not end with Facebook campaigns/clicks or candlelight protests. Let there be more debates! Let there be more awareness and involvement! Let us take some time out to come up with ideas ourselves, and then recommend them to the government before pushing for acceptance! Let us not give ourselves and our children a chance to blame us!

A letter to Maheen Sadiq

2011-04-01T00:30:00.000-05:00

Dear Maheen,

Like every touching article naturally evokes reactions, most of which manifest as comments, you could take this as my elaborate reaction.

You almost hit the nail on the head when you said, "Cricket speaks to our nation in a way our government never has." I say "almost" because east of your border, it turns out to be true for us too! We rejoice when our team wins - like we did on March 30th when we beat your team. We crash in despair when we lose out - much like you did especially in 2007 World Cup. We admire our stars but we admire them more when they unite as a team to play.

Cricket as a medium to communicate with you seems the easiest. What an irony that it takes a game introduced by the very nation that divided us and filled us with hatred for each other, to break the ice, to understand each other, to embrace each other and to respect each other!

Take for instance the Semifinal game after which your beloved captain apologized to the nation. As much as we were proud of our team and ignored the opposition here on this side of the television... As much as you all were sour about losing to our team in the semifinal... All was gone when we saw Afridi smiling and genuinely congratulating each and every player of our team! Though we were celebrating and didn't have time to voice the sympathy and respect, I am sure every sane and mature person subconsciously acknowledged it. All ice was instantly broken!

So much so that I'd like to give you another point in support of that theory. At least personally at knockout stages whenever we defeated another team I would for a brief moment feel sad for the opposition. This happened in 2003 World Cup when we thrashed all teams except Australia. This time, not for a moment I felt any sympathy for the Australian team! I felt sadistically happy! But every moment in my celebration after the Semifinal win I subconsciously stood up and took my hats off to Afridi and the whole team.

Only someone who is dishonest or "extremely diplomatic" would say that Pakistan deserved to win this World Cup. I am being truthful - Pakistan didn't have a team to win this World Cup and India for once were favorites. Being an Indian my blood was boiling seeing Misbah bat the way he did. I was shocked that they spilled 4 chances at getting Sachin out. There were jokes doing rounds suggesting that maybe Afridi actually meant "We'll let Sachin score his 100th 100!"

Your team did well to reach this stage. Your team did even better to conduct themselves in the manner in which they did.

As a player - Afridi was one of my most hated. He was never a responsible player. How he got out in the semifinal and T-20 2007 final are but 2 examples out of the many there are. The comparisons with Sehwag were even more irritating and completely unjustified. His demeanor often made me think he is an arrogant brat. Maybe he was and maybe he changed. And the semifinal did just make me stand back and take a look at this person as a person! Hang on! Here is someone who looks just like our players when they lose! Here is someone who knows people back home will be sour, hurt and dismayed - just like back here!

Now after I read your post to Mr Afridi, my heart was filled with warmth! Your words weren't jazzy but you did it with simple words. Just the way Afridi pleased us all with his simple smile. I didn't much like the comments about not liking the US because after having living here for a couple of years I realized that the average people here are like us too. We let politics and diplomacy dictate our judgments towards each other and we should slowly stop poisoning our minds this way. I am sure now you'll definitely understand what I meant.

We hated Pakistan and Pakistanis after 26/11 blasts. We hated Pakistan after every terror attack. And we could be justified in doing so. Our lives were lost. Then we hear of blasts in Lahore and we are perplexed. We realize that it is simply not all population of India against all population of Pakistan! Neither you folks love constant conflict nor us. Again I'll use cricket to explain this.

One thing that US can do that neither India nor Pakistan can do independently is "2nd level diplomacy". It is in the US that I took to playing cricket after 11 years. I cautiously joined a team with 9 or 10 of them Pakistanis. Every move of mine was measured and I'd looked and observed carefully every person. In a few days after I joined the team there were blasts in Lahore. My teammate was on phone talking to friends and relatives back in Pakistan. He was worried and almost in tears hearing the voices of his near and dear ones. I wasn't surprised but it was reinforcing something that was buried deep in subconscious. That we are the same. You do exactly the same thing that we do when we hear of mishaps back home. You care for nothing as much as peace and development back home, as we do. Love for cricket and movies, hatred for politicians, festivities, ceremonies, clothes, colors, "mitti ki khushbu", "mithhaiyaan"...

At this point nothing more needs to be said except this. Let us not depend on our politicians for progress. You and me - we can take small steps. Our baby steps multiplied by our sheer number can do a lot more than these politicians giant steps often backed by hidden motives! Let us start a new and grass-root level of diplomacy - "2nd level diplomacy" or "People diplomacy"!

Let us continue to bring about peace through our friends and acquaintances! We can definitely progress on this much better than if we were to depend on the Zardaris or Singhs or whoever next. On second thoughts, maybe our premiers should invite each other every time there is a cricket match at either side of the border. That way at least we get to explore our commonness and contemplate peace and unity!
Cheers.

Yours sincerely,
Varun

PS: I invite you to watch the next Ind-Pak match at my place :)

Why I can't be an atheist?

2010-12-08T01:20:00.000-06:00

Why you?

Thank God it was me. Hopefully it ended with me. Don't want such a thing happening to even my enemy...

You don't have enemies!

In theory, son...

He scarred your face. He gave you pain. You can't even smile. The very attempt to smile and infuse energy in people causes you pain!!! Is that what your 'God' gave you for being a gem of his children

He protected me from worse!

What absurd logic is that? I refuse to take that.

You are too harsh on God.

You only help others. You go out of your way for others. You feed every poor person you meet. You feed every hungry person that walks in to your house. Many a soul are blessed to even have eaten your hand-cooked meals. You are stupid enough to be unconditionally affectionate, warm, welcoming and kind to others. You are especially kind to rejected, lesser children of 'God'! Why you?

Maybe my wrongs in previous lives...

What kind of 'God' is he if he can't dish out punishments as and when wrongs are done? Why should I believe in your 'God'? Why is he a 'God' if he can only punish you now for being flawless? Even in your thoughts I haven't seen you harm anyone. You made backstabbers feel ashamed of themselves by your warm treatment towards them... I am justified in being an atheist!

You have to be open enough to understand his ways, son! I am happy I am done away with this now, than later, at an older age, when I have reduced tolerance to pain!

How can you be so positive amidst so much pain and agony? Well, maybe I should believe in God. I should believe in you... I should, because you do exist!

(GET WELL SOON MOM!)

Almighty customer care center

2010-10-05T01:35:00.001-05:00

"All right, will someone stand up and take responsibility, now?" Was all I could ask." For the whole day, I had my ID/Access card in my pocket and I was searching for it everywhere except in it. Then when I looked for it in the pocket in the morning, I didn't find it. I went to office preparing myself for limiting bladder discharge in the day. Every visit needed Access card to get back into my office. I forgot that I kept it in my pocket like a programmed machine. It just didn't register. I thought I was forgetful and so must've forgotten to put the card in the pocket. So much for self-confidence!
On this day, that I called a call center already, sorting out a cellphone bill (I apparently spoke for a good 1100 min (not so good with the amount it cost me) in daytime during that month and 1100 or more on nights and weekends!) I could have done with another.
So here is another 1-800 number that I'd like to call now. Picture something like this...
1-800-COOL-GOD-4-U : "Hi! Welcome to God's customer service center. Press 2 for Spanish! {Pause}
{Continuing in English} To make a request (prayer) press 1. For divine support press 2. For other options please press 3. For thanksgiving press 9999999999! (Hardly used option! So much so, even God is skeptical it happens...)"
I pressed 3. An auto-voice said, "Your call may be monitored for quality purposes."
"Hi I am an angel, how may I help you?"
"Hi, this is, uhhmm, Varun. I wish to talk to someone who could help explain why I am dumb."
"Oh that is grievance cell. Currently there are a 6999999998 people who are on line. Please wait while we transfer you there."
"What! That's just 2 short of the world population! Who are those 2 kind souls who are saving me some time?"
"Uhhmm! Those would be Rajnikanth and Tom Cruise, sir!"
"Aaahhhh! I should've known", I thought!
After much wait, my call was attended to.
"Hi I am calling to find out why I am so dumb? Rather, so absent-minded?"
"For security purpose, sir, could you verify your date of birth for us?
"Dec 30th 1984"
"Thank you! And your caste?"
"What??? Why would YOU need my caste?"
"We're trying to adopt the Indian political systems. What with India Shining and all... Besides, Ayodhya thing finally being resolved slowly over eons!!! You know that's how God likes to do things - slowly but assuredly!"
"So, are God, Allah and Shiva, Vishnu, and the gang all different? They are all friends up there, at least, I hope!"
"Ok sir, that confirms that you indeed are dumb! We need no further security verification! Please hold a moment while we pull up your records!"
{What! I thought that was everyone's question! Why am only I dumb? Oh well, that is what I was supposed to get sorted out anyway!}
"Sir, we have your records pulled up. Since it is a lot of data, would you like to ask specific questions?"
"Sure! Why am I absent-minded? For example..."
"Sir, we are sorry! There was a mistake in your design! You were manufactured in God's Taiwan dept. We thought of a recall, but your head was already out by then... We could credit you though if you..."
"What? Credit?"
"Yeah, like how it happened with your Verizon phone bill? ROTFL. How did you manage that sir? There was no mistake on Verizon's part, though. In our case, we'd like to apologize for our mistake and credit your next life with better stuff."
"So what would that make me?"
"A silicon implant, sir!"
{Sigh!}
"So why exactly am I defective?"
"God was watching Sachin Tendulkar bat..."
"What! Wasn't he just 11 then?"
"Yes, he was musing over his creation and seeing how at that young age he was developing and all! You know, customer feedback and market survey etc?"
"Aaarrrghghghgh!"
"Besides, at about that time there were a lot of cries. Tragedy befell a lot of places. Chernobyl, Bhopal, assassinations, etc. People killed, people praying out of fear. They hardly pray during prosperity, you know! And never for the good of all! For statistics, the most used word in prayers is 'I'."
"So distractions did it all huh!"
"Yes sir! Glad you understand. Is there anything else I could assist you with?"
"Is there nothing else that could be done now?"
"You are a goof! Be happy. Your goofiness is a source of entertainment for people."
"Not for my mom, for example!!!"
"Well, your records show that in your absence, she giggles about it. Your aunts do that too. In future they'll tell your children stories of your dumbness!"
"Thanks for driving it in!"
"To help yourself, sir, maybe you should try smart things, like not playing cricket when you haven't yet recovered from your fractured thumb!"
"I love that game!!!"
"And so you let it systematically disintegrate you? Sir, we could escalate this problem higher up but at this point I must warn you, that further inquiries would have a negative impact on your Credit history in the US."
"I'm not surprised! Is there anything in the world or in the universe that can actually boost up your credit history rather than damage it?"
"None that we know of, sir! Only Osama bin Laden and such minded people are exempt. They can get away doing all that they want. Only Iraq, Iran and innocent lives are threatened always!"
"I observed that the evil get to live richly and nicely. No worries. Isn't it supposed to not work that way?"
"Sir, we are bringing up upgrades and enhancements to our systems. It is slated to be in future after Kali Yuga. You could stay subscribed to our updates for INR 200000 per month."
"No thanks! But I am curious you take INR?"
"That's the in thing sir. Nothing with $$$ these days. We're hoping for India Shining and all but it needs entrepreneurs and all. We all know people only talk and do nothing except post videos on FB about Glorious India! People like you should tighten up and aim high. That will at least earn you more credit than to be just a silicon implant in the next birth!"
"Can I not be a writer?"
"And just torture more people? Aren't we talking about making the world a better place to live in?"
"Oh! So I need more improvement in my writings then?"
"You're getting there... Already some improvement in understanding words. Now clean the wax in your ears sir. In most of your friends' prayers, we record 2 common problems - 1: Why doesn't he hear properly? 2: Someone make him eat fast! At least 1 morsel an hour! Is there anything else I could assist you with?"
"Thank you, nothing for now."
"Thank you for your time, and sleep tight, cause 'you look wonderful tonight...' Hah hahaha! Just kidding. We love Clapton in here!"
"Eric Clapton and all! Thanks good night!!"

By the way...

2010-09-10T22:13:00.000-05:00

My status update on Facebook evoked some expected reactions. Some were unexpected. Now that's perhaps my current state of mind that makes those unexpected...
So here as the original status "Caution: A right thumb fracture and a surgery on it can make you walk and behave like a pregnant woman!"
Of course it is difficult to believe it could be that awkward, but then take my word, it is that way!
Why, one may ask, should one take my word? Because I am suffering and also, before the surgery I could move about normally even using the rest of my fingers easily.

So here are some of the thoughts that came to my mind as I was trying to answer people's questions! First up, the justification behind my status message:
Please note that I meant every word of it. That doesn't necessarily mean I experienced both sides of the comparison! But then you needn't die in front of an oncoming train to know you'll die if you stand up against a train!

Common behavior between a pregnant woman and Varun (tempted to speak in 3rd person. Makes self-jesting that much easier...):
1 - Walks very slowly and carefully as if to try not to disturb the balance in the universe!
2 - Feels like sleeping and resting more.
3 - Feels hungry more than normal and when sits to eat, loses apetite!
4 - Temper tantrums? Ummm maybe that explains why I talk lesser than normal?
5 - Morning sickness? That is almost everyday (surgery or not). I am not a mornings person!
6 - Putting on weight (my face looks the broadest ever, now)!

Common expressions one may hear from Varun (tempted to speak in 3rd person) these days that one also may have heard a pregnant woman use:
1 - Ouch!
2 - I feel like puking!
3 - I feel it is moving!!!
4 - Look! It is moving!!!
5 - It is pushing!
(3, 4 & 5 refer to what I feel about my thumb inside the cast. Won't mention what 3, 4 & 5 mean for a pregnant woman! :p )

2 thumbs up!

2010-08-29T20:14:00.000-05:00

It wasn't the best of the starts I could have had, I must say. The round of events should justify the "Vicissitudes" in the blog's name.
Roughly 6 weeks into my romance with my newly wed, I've had not so good stuff happen in personal life. Moving to a nice little university town (Urbana-Champaign), working full-time in the day, playing tennis every evening, playing cricket on weekends and visiting Chicago on weekends to meet friends and spending time at Brand "918 SC" with some new officers ramping up to carry the torch/brand forward were a lot of things to do in an average week. However a freak accident while playing cricket led to a fractured right thumb. That not only put a comma (maybe coma too) to my activities but also dented my spirits. (Being denied a car loan sort of added to the irritation.)
Now, being advised to undergo a surgery to correct my thumb dented my spirits beyond imagination. At about the same time, I even got a speeding ticket and a parking ticket. Being a proud driving student of my father, this put me to shame.

I didn't know if any inspiration would work to humor me away from the glum, nauseating, knocking-off thoughts. When I was getting my thumb a splint of plaster of paris, next to me was sitting an old lady. I tried not to look at her for the fear of accidentally letting my eyes land on her injury/wounds/fracture. A hyper imagination has caused to me faint for even trivial things like a vaccination.
The lady was perhaps in her 70s or so. She sounded frail. Her words trembled, more because they came from a very old throat than out of nervousness. Despite being in the deepest thoughts about my surgery and being worried, I lent my ears to her words. She talked about this and that. Suddenly she exclaimed, "Oh wow! I will have new bandages!" It sounded so like a kid getting a new dress. I couldn't help but chuckle. Next she was being given some covering, supporting boots.

"These look like ski boots! I could go skiing!"
This time I guffawed! It may not be the quality of the joke as much as the spirit of the old lady! There was my inspiration to get back the kid Varun who'd bravely go to hospitals and impress the doctors and surgeons. My surgery is due on friday Sep 3rd 2010. While I wait to see which of my friends can be with me that day at the hospital, the lady and her words will go a long way towards my mental strength.
Here is to your humor and the timing, lady!
My original title for this post was - Fractured thumb - rebuilt humor.
I changed it to the current title to not only archive her words but to also implement my resolve to keep my humor (which I learned from her).
And yeah, prayers are welcome - In cash or kind. Even 2 thumbs up would do ;)

As the curtains draw on my Chicago episode...

2010-06-27T02:58:00.001-05:00

... the show must go on.

Nothing changes. Maybe a few bedbugs that had erstwhile lived on my blood may die. Although I feel sorry for those lives, there is not a lot I could do. I believe that if I survive, I could always feed many more bugs that'd black-cat me. (Refer to my prev blog post for what I mean by Black-cat.)

Tina (my landlady) may not have to look out and see if there is Varun loitering around in the front yard or back yard before going out. Assuredly she can go about her chores/ walks without having to forcibly participate in conversations struck by me.
Vinay can, without scruples, go about watching movies and TV, partying about the place, guzzle tons of rice at one go (even become a Vodka distributor, maybe) and do anything he wishes to and Varun will not criticize him. Vaibhav can pretend to be an angel that he is not for all he cares. Will Varun be able to find out? Nope! Pavan can continue his daily mad-scientistry at UIC for another 3 years without worrying that someone would point fingers at his ways of daily life. Konark will lose out on not much. He won't have to worry about someone reminding him that Chicago may not be the best place for an Electrical Engineer like him. The only loss is losing one of the fellows who'd discuss life at Wipro!

Saahithi will surely be the most relieved of all people. The 'egoistic', 'proud' and 'boastful' Varun will not be around to make her life look ordinary. Sapna won't have a lightly flirtatious guy trying to make a gazillion trip plans for a group of which, eventually, only a 10% may materialize. The more recent close friends in Bhavani, Smruthi, Ryan will surely miss Varun but will also have ways of finding themselves easier and more fun friends than him. (It is not all that easy to replace the fun that the duo of Babbaii and Raingod can provide!) Nisha, Sruthi and Sacheeta will be spared of the ordeal of Varun and his aura! No one to breathe down her neck claiming that her sister is the prettiest in the world :p; no one to call her 'jaanemann' and try to make her smile; no one to comment on the 1-D body and her cuteness/prettiness. Pranali will miss 'someone' at all but the kind of person she is, she will have plenty of overwriting people. Teja (Miss Warangal) will no longer be able to have a guy trying to recollect which beautiful actress she resembles - perenially!

Pushkar and Venkat are safe already because they left Chicago for their work. Now how does this affect my personal life? I have not much clue except that my pockets will start getting regularly filled. I am happy to get started with this new phase of life. It let's me not only survive but also thrive and be able to spend time in future with friends - as opposed to theoretically staying in Chicago "forever" (romantic yet cruelly impossible).

On the flip side of this all, moving to Champaign can so easily be pushed away as "Oh he is not going really far!" I already had almost everyone say it. My wisdom and experiences tell me that that is the first sign of readiness to let go off! Presence, companionship, memories, ... etc! Everyone thinks, "Oh he is always gonna be around!" I'd think, "I can always make it to any party, meeting or plan..." At this moment I'd neither support nor refute this half-developed theory. I'd be glad to have as many people as possible to have fond memories of me! (Oh wait! I am not yet dying! :D )
I'd enjoy a bye-bye call or visit.

PS: The grievances, due to Varun, of some of the people who black-catted him are greatly understated. Some or all of the specimen have a truckload of complaints on him. But then hey! What good is it having yet another bland acquaintance!

Parting shots:
So what, one may ask, are Chicago/UIC going to lose by the moving out of Varun?
Possible statistics will reveal improvements in:
1) Average height of humans in Chicago.
2) Average strands of hair per square-inch of scalp.
3) Average sanity level in general.
4) Average speed of eating a meal.
5) Number of inquisitive and question-mark expressions.

There will be a reduction in:
1) number of adventurists/triers in the city.
2) number of Walking-enthusiasts.
3) number of movie-critics, esp those movies by Tom Cruise and his kin (acting-wise). (Oh how horrible agonizingly painful it is to watch his movies. I'd rather watch our native - Rajnikanth's - movies than Tom Cruise's!)
4) average beer consumption in the city/ university.
5) number of odd jokes which get a "I don't know what that was about..." reaction!

Again not an exhaustive list, but then the idea was to have some parting shot at all... Adios friends! Adios UIC! Adios Chicago!

More sheep in sheep van

2010-06-10T06:49:00.000-05:00

I decided there had to be a sequel. Why every famous/great movie has sequels! So the itch to write a sequel was always there. Cutting the flab, here is the flesh! Characters commonly black-catting the paths of members of 918 S Claremont are being presented. (I am - I guess - the first one to use this term. So let me claim credit to having coined the term - 'black-catting' - after the way they're known to cross paths. No! Not unwelcome! But never mind...) So when you are stuck with some of the terms/names etc refer to this article

Konark Upadhyay:

Nickname: Bhopaali, Goo-padhyay

Indian Name: The one who can't ever make up his mind for nuts. [(Well, you could also wonder if he ever could make up his mind for nuts!!! Also "Mind OR Nuts?" is a question he'll be baffled about!) Don't even get to "Why did the chicken cross the road?" kind of questions. It'll take as much time for him as it would for a toddler to recite Theory of Relativity!]

The world's most gullible man!

A brief history: He was all set to be the world's smartest guy in Bhopal! Then Bhopal gas tragedy happened. Those fumes rewired his circuitry. So not only is he dumb, but he also doesn't try to hide it. Probably that's why he can't be anything but gullible.

Often heard exclaiming: "Huttttt!" "Teri aisi ki taisi!" "Bhaaaiiindiiiii" (Okra/ Lady's fingers) (Euphemism for humble opinions on ones sister) "Ewwmwmmmwmwmw" <--- You have to utter that by widening your lips while keeping them closed and make a grinning sound like a kid does when he is satisfied upon licking his favorite icecream.

Believes in: "Ain't no shit!" and "Life's a beach (another misleading euphemism)" both of which were inspired by the times the author and him roamed about the streets of Chicago (UIC side) as newly-landeds in USA. He was newly-wed with Vinay though.

Best man: Being a one-man-for-life kinda guy, he swears by Chinta's bed (or love)! So the actual best man for their wedding would be either the author or McPuss. Will readily believe and agree with him.

Never known for: Picking up phones at first attempts. Believing that there is more to USA than Chicago. Picking up someone his size. (Ask Nisha - refer below - a new recruit who is trained in abusive Hindi words by him for free. And he never speaks expletives in front of us guys!!!) Agreeing to a plan at the first go.

Best memories: His fights for girls. The very famous fight with the author to compete to take a girl (Dream :p) out on date will always be something to chuckle at. Diwali night when the author, rice-guzzler and Bhopali were the only ones dressed in Indian-wear and together looked like 3 apes.

If McPuss is the one to get thrashed by everybody at 918 S Claremont and if McPuss were to think he was the only victim, then he only need to look at this Felix-the-cat-like-looking-fellow to feel superior. Even Pushkar can thrash him verbally!

Caution (to women): Known to weaken knees with his cuteness. (That is, until he opens his mouth/mind!)

Currently: Not able to decide between... "Chicago OR Chicago?" (That's tough too) and "Girl A or Girl A?"

Saahithi Gunda:

Indian name: One who, if acted, as her last name suggests, then life would be called a spoof! One who can beat Konark in indecisiveness! One who is the last one to get ready for any trip. One who has a cat-walk way of swaying not only her hips but also her words.

The way she stretches every word and pulls it apart, she'd take a light year (make that light-many-years) to to convey even a "Hello" Come to think of it, it should be evident from how she spells her name with 'aa'!

Nickname: Saa, Saasweet (LMAO what an email ID)

Often seen: At the epicenter of 'aa' and 'aaarrrrghghg' and 'yeeooowww' from a single person or a group of people in reaction to her presence or her jokes.

Her brother-by-choice (Black-ticket-seller Chinta) is known to have begun praying for the peace and sanity of the one who'd marry her. Such is the shudder that the thought is supposed to evoke in any man considering marrying her.

Funniest when: She speaks Hindi. Not that her native Telugu would make the listener get serious about life and philosophy! Her wannabe chat lingo and spellings attract all sort of mockery from Varun. Has an amazing success rate with misplacing aiches (Uttering an 'h' sound when there isn't one! Mainly when attempting Hindi...) "Thuu khhyaa khar raa ain"<--- "Tu kya kar raha hain?" The rate at which she can successfully swap h's can put to shame a mosquito flapping its wings!

Best feature: Her dimples. (Not the ones in her brain, but actual dimples on her cheeks. Ok! It is A DIMPLE on A CHEEK! For all the ambiguity in most of her language, she insists on being clear about her dimple.)

Fairly often uses: "Aba chaa!" ('Yeah right' in Telugu.) (Keeps whining about something or the other!)

Determined to/Aim in life is to: Take inquisitiveness to another level. That is, to ask irrelevant questions at the wrong time and make sure to ask questions when all she should be doing is to get ready quickly and join the rest of us to some place/restaurant/temple.

Shruti Eravelli (Reddy):

Indian name: One who will not let air waves be filled with peace. (918 people are known to hide away in closets at the sound of her arrival. Esp Pushkar... Very much like people running helter skelter to escape Godzilla!) One who believed that kids were born when 2 people kiss (for a long time).

Nickname: Nautanki, Red-eye

Family traits match with: Her brother-by-choice - Konark - in how dumb/gullible (D&G) one could be. Chinta and Varun told her many cock-and-bull stories in the first few weeks of their acquaintance. Somewhere her rebel traits overtook. She grew out of that phase (D&G) faster than her brother and Saahithi. She is also proud of the fact that she was a good kid, not a nuisance and entertained herself while her parents were getting married. (Her question to her mom asking why she wasn't there in their wedding pics was thus successfully answered by her mom. Smart lady! Knew how to shut her daughter without more embarrassing questions being asked.)

Loves to: Embarrass guys. Has taken ass-crack pics of an open-minded and equally open-jeans-ed Chinta. Trample over a sleeping Pushkar. And then trample over his remains. Burst out into peels of laughter (this could be in conjunction with 2 previous activities or independently). Ask "Am I looking fat!" and not listen to any answer at all. Mess around with Facebook names of Vinay Chinta aka Babbaaiii Roxxx!

Her determination to do well in life is revealed in how she earnestly begged the 918 S C guys to slap her and stop her if she over-drank the next time.

Her Telugu or wannabe Telugu is what makes a listener believe that it is worth living another day just to hear her speak. After all, what is life without a good dose of laughter and fun and mockery!

Metaphysical Features: A gentle lisp to her speech and can any day be flattered by calling her "Kareena Kapoor". That, I believe, would come with an expiry date. Don't try this 10 years later!

Exclaims: "Maarungi haan!" "Nautanki hai tu!" "What man!" and singing songs here and there tid-bits of songs and dancing to them. "Kaminey!"

Can join Pavan's club of "Iron-y man" for: Being ironical. For all the open messages she has for Chinta, she would get cautious and ask people to not post simple friendly pictures on Facebook (Esp St Patrick's day)!

Nisha Joshi:

Indian name: The one who plays Holi with her eyelids every occasion (She wears some thick layer of color on her eye lids - pink, aqua and what not). The one who says, 'whatever' whatever number of times.

Nickname: Nissssssaaaaaaaaa! Nasha! Pushkar!

Lesser known facts about her: Is pretty surely with a very pretty smile, but has an even prettier sister!

Commonly known fact about her: Has a boyfriend. Every new acquaintance is made to go through a drill-like "I have a boyfriend!"

Gets buzzed at even a whiff of alcohol. People wonder if excess Pepsi might not make her inebriated! Extremely sportive and fairly jovial. More than that, it is perhaps a resignation to the fact that she has no choice but to endure all the leg-pulling. Is smart and picks up jokes quickly and retaliates as much as possible.

Common laments: "You guys are weird!" (Mainly towards 918 S C guys and Konark. Has even a stuttering Pavan imitating that line of hers... More fun than watching a hilarious spoof is the face-off between Druggist Pavan and Intoxicated (Nasha) Nisha. Both imitate and mock each other providing ample entertainment to Poor Indian Graduate students who can't afford the latest iPod!)

Aberrations: Fastest girl to agree to plans. Fastest girl to get ready at all. Beats 1-hour-beauty-bath taking Muscle-man Vaibhav by a good 1 hour! Oh in fact everyone can beat him. Even Saahithi can, in taking a quick bath!

Capable of: Making Chinta stop his work and listen to her even if he is chatting with his best friend online or watching some movie or eating rice! Making Pushkar realize how unromantic he can get (yet with a reminder, "I have a boyfriend, ok?")!

The last mentioned is a new recruit into the team of other sheep - very sweet and endearing!

There could be more coming soon but parts 1 and 2 (prev and this article) should be the essence of my great times at Chicago. 2 blog posts cannot do complete justice to the warmth I feel about these sheep. However, as the curtains fall on my "Chicago Episode" I wish to document at least this much.

Also, as it happens, today is Shruti's Birthday. So this, if she agrees to accept, is her Birthday gift from me.

Darling? No! Please kill me!

2010-04-27T02:39:00.001-05:00

This is one of my popular topics.

Do you really want to punish a person? People of all ages. No hassle, no physical efforts.
Only expenditure = ticket cost at a movie place near you, battling long lines of eager audience. Best of all, your hands don't get dirty. The torture is not obvious.

So when I want to torture my friend (and not enemy, for some reason) I would buy him a ticket to a Telugu movie. * - yes all disclaimers at the end of the post!

Latest one = Darling
Sounds like a romantic movie that could move many a heart. But then that's where an average movie director from this land proves to you that he can work as a spy/intelligence person/conman etc.
So is it a mystery movie? A bit. Is it a crime movie? A bit. Scary movie? A bit. How all these? Answers follow in my effort to lay down as in a scientific analysis. <--- (1)

It starts with a song picturized on the hero. (In movies from here there are no actors. Only heroes and superheroes.) The hero sings and dances with his bunch of local sidekicks to celebrate their graduation from the college. Nothing wrong with a bit of fantasy. Agreed!

At the end of the song, hero's junior confesses her feelings for him and proposes to him. (Errr! When did this start happening?) Perhaps she fell for his pink vest and amazing fashion sense. Ohhh and not to forget - his half shaven body hair! A fetish for tickly and prickly hair perhaps!

Hero rejects! Girl attempts suicide! Awwwwww! I couldn't stop my tears... No! Not for the mush or for the sorry state of the girl. Yawns so intense and resulting from extreme irritation/boredom, get tears out of my eyes!

Girl's father is then shown in his introduction scene as a man who hates traitors! (Who doesn't? And yet there were regular cliches. Regular killing of a traitor. Attempted patriotism when he stops the traitor jabbering excuses/justifications in English saying, "To express feelings you don't need English, Telugu is good enough!" I was moved... (Not by the patriotism, but by the numbness of my butt to change my posture.) I was touched... (By my non-Telugu speaking friend Nisha, poking to ask me to translate what he just said.)

At this point, (Hardly 5 min into the movie) I am so irritated that 3 of us walk out to buy something to eat. Looks like a great mafia, this! They produce horrible movies. So people get frustrated and go out to snack in the theatre's cafetaria. There, they have snacks with prices as much as monthly grocery bills would come up to. All in all, a great business model.

Next, the upset villain/father of that sick-tasted girl vows to kill the hero for upsetting his daughter. If I were the father, I'd have killed my daughter for attempting suicide for such a gay-dressed gu(a)y! Anyway she wanted to die, right?

Hero narrates a coo-chi-coo, mushy story of "How I met your daughter's competitor" with all the humor, emotions, drama, violence that he can conjure up in less than 1/1000th of the time that comedy series narrate their stories of how a guy met his child's mother! Enter a bombshell in Swiss backdrop.

Apparently the hero met her when on a music tour/competition. Yeah why should there be a surprise. It is as easy to pluck the strings of a guitar as it is to bite your nails these days! So, minus all the technical details, the story with all its twists and turns and vicissitudes is being narrated. Hero's group makes loss with the musical concert not materializing. So the organizer confiscates the passports of group, promising to return, upon making up for the loss.

The guys overhears the girl telling her story of previous night and then upon meeting her, chooses his first move as "I can read faces." (Yeah! For the nincompoop that you look, you'd better at least read faces if not good books to improve your common sense!) He narrates all that he overheard, convincing the girl that he is a pro at it. She always kept her face covered after that, to avoid being told what color her undies were today. (One should believe that there are such easy girls available for the taking! And I was thinking dogs are dumb and gullible!)

The guy shows no interest in practising. He spends all his time trying to woo the girl so much that the girl gives in to his pink t-shirts, tube-tops and tank-tops, leather stocking-like stuff that vamps wear on top of tracks, half shaved body hair and effeminating dance moves. (There is no room for those who wonder, what kind of friends are those that don't care about a non-participating member. You shouldd be too sick to be asking those questions, apparently.)

The heroine, with every scene adds to her ooommmphphph factor, but no matter what she did in the movie, the most womanly was the hero himself! He acted like a girl more than the over-acting girl herself. The over-acting heroine is eager to bend over, bend down, jump around etc for no reason. All this is to show, perhaps, that the girl is happy-go-lucky.(There is no normal acting girl in Telugu movies. Only flesh showing, dumb doll-like girls. Breathing Barbies, you could call them. Come to think of it, I always wondered what they meant by, "I want to do a role of substance. A meaty role! Yeah, this one passes the test because she does show her meat!)

The tick of approval is placed on the hero, by the heroine, when the hero fights 1000000000 people single handedly (as he did when the suicide-girl's father sends 99999999 goondas to kill the hero. He furtively fought every goonda that time. Now he openly bashed up every goonda - male/female!) Oh sure it does take a lot to fight local goondas in a foreign land where law is supposed to be strict. But then, it is a narrative...

When the hero walked in rage towards the goonda, one of 2 things happend - 1) There were sparks from his boot. (I knew it! His body was defective. Chromosomes mixed up. And so the electrons were revolting...) 2) There were shockwaves throwing villains off-balance, dislocating their bones. (But I would think the hero bashed up so many only because his cleavage was distastefully distracting and so the goondas couldn't concentrate on counter attack.)

At the end of the narrative, the heroine meets with an accident as she is running towards the hero to hug him. (She was dumb enough to run in the middle of the road and even more to not notice a car coming from behind. Yeah the fellow never honked. He never slowed. Car was quiet, as are faaren (foreign) cars.) The villain-father is reduced to sniffs and tears. He pardons the hero saying that it was "true love" and he understood its value. Given the way the heroine was portrayed, I'd hardly think it was anything more than true lust.

Cut to reality... It was true that the hero loved this heroine. But the narrative was make-believe. How? Well, it so happened that all the characters in the story were real-life inspired. The girl was a childhood sweetheart and a family friend. Hero's father & Heroine's father were diaper-day buddies. Swiss story was just added spice. Yeah, they had to show a faaren locashun! Hero, after fooling the villain-father with a make-believe story, gathers that his love was coming soon to India and so were the other family friends.

Now, everybody converges at the hero's uncle's farmhouse in a beautiful place in Andhra (Araku). There is the usual banter, leg-pulling, jokes which are common to childhood friends and their children. Hero -visualizing those days when all children would be naked/semi-naked and play together - would wish things never changed, literally!

Enter the hero's competitor. Hero was poor in academics! (Aaahhh! Here it was! I knew it right from the beginning looking at his crassy presence on screen and believe it is true of his real life too!) So his father's other friend's son becomes a favorite with heroine's father and even the heroine after some gimmicks like breaking ice-slab, showing 6-pack and beating the hero in a game of basketball. The heroine's younger brother (maybe 6 years of age)- given the age gap - I wonder if there are still people who do family planning the way ancient cavemen did or the way Indian Politicians plan India's growth - is an obstacle to hero's attempts to woo heroine.

Instead the brother aides the competitor, who, despite years of education in Australia, somehow managed to get the exact same number of local, nincompoop looking ass-faced friends with brown dyed hair (looking like muddy carpets) as the hero's group has. (Wow! This coincidence is rarer than that of the 9 planets lining up in the sky!)

So as soon as the competitor lands at the farmhouse, he challenges the hero to a game of basketball and almost every other game. Hero upon seeing that the heroine was cheering the competitor gives up an almost winning game. I would have thought, looking at his constipated expression, that he really quit to go to the loo! The game of rat-race begins between the 2 competitors.

Finally, as has to happen, the hero starts scoring more runs than the competitor. Esp after one incident when the hero bashes up yet another group of local goondas (which launches an attack on the 6-pack, ice-slab breaking competitor) which possibly couldn't bear to see the brightness from the boot-sparks and chest-hair sticking out (like cut creepers seeking sunshine) from his lavender tank tops.

The ungrateful competitor - showing no respect for the gay hero and his bravado - goes to the villain-father-of-the-suicide-girl-fame and tells him how the hero fooled him. Filled with anger, indignation and a determination to finish off the source of possible second-time attraction of his daughter, he takes an army of jeeps filled with animals (Yeah I am positive they were not men!) brandishing swords at the hero. (He is at this point walking away from the gathering in farmhouse, blissfully unaware of vehicles coming onto him. What's with people not realizing where they are walking these days anyway?) He is walking away upon the command of his daddy-dear (a la Lord Rama).

Now somehow in a dramatic unfolding of the plot and mysteries, everyone agrees that:
1) Heroine loves the hero and no one else. (Had to be.)
2) She'd die if betrothed to marry anyone else.
3) Heroine's father and grandfather patch up after a family feud of eons between them. All this because some gibberish led to the eye-opener of grand-pappy. He realized his folly and decides to: a) let his son back in the family b) re-adopt his son's friend (hero's father) c) Let her grand-daughter be happy and gay with a gay of her choice!

Heroine runs out to call back the hero. (Makes me wonder if no one gives a thought to ticket rescheduling/ cancellation and plan changes at the snap of fingers.) She sees that 100000000000000000 men are beating up her lust (Ohhh ummm Love). So what does she do? Here's her meaty-role part. She jumps in between the villain and the hero, pleading him to kill her 1st and then the hero (if indeed the villain must kill the hero). And once again, the tear glands swell up at the mere words and he drops all arms. I would have thought it was bad-breath from the heroine that rendered him helpless.

And the hero ends saying "Don't worry daaaarrrrlingggg! He won't kill us!" with a sheepish grin showing turmeric yellow teeth! (Oh everything about the hero had to be colorful, right?)

Few highlights in the movie: Every one of the side characters had a ridiculous side to him/her (No not humorous! Ridiculous!). There was plenty of attempt to jokes and there were dumb audiences (mainly overgrown women) sitting behind me laughing uncontrollably. Oh maybe it was a cockroach that was crawling inside their clothes.

Heroine's other meaty part was when she delivered a stunning (oh so cliched) speech on India and its values as opposed to Western world and how she hated Switzerland. Oh and guess what immediately followed that patriotic meaty scene? It was a run-around-trees song set in Swiss Alps!!! (The movie makers apparently don't understand "irony" and "direction")

Everyone else, other than the hero, was reduced to mere hand-clapping, over-acting, slap-stick humored buffoons. Hero's normal acting was very intense. I really cried inside my heart everytime he laughed/cracked a 'joke' and laughed everytime he portrayed serious emotions. (So what? They were intense, and so were my reactions.)

The only thing missing in the movie was a rape scene! That would have so made a complete masala movie. I gathered later, that the girls loved the gay acts of the hero so much that they wanted him to take his top off! I, taking courage from the opposite sex, confessed that I had similar hopes from the heroine!

References: (1) - So it really had a bit of everything you see! Mystery being, what the heck is the story about and where the f*** could I find the movie makers to pack them up and send them into orbit?

On a scale of 5 I'd give this movie -500 (negative five hundred<-- just to remove doubt).
I resent,
every cent,
that I spent,
on the movie. Really, I wish I had spent so much on charity instead!

* - I have no disclaimers as a matter of fact. I believe that the one who cannot criticize himself can't improve/evolve. We all know evolution is natural and essential. A clan that can't look at its flaws and appreciate better things is unfit!
I have only one hope from Telugu movie industry. That hope bears the name of Shekar Kammula! I'd recommend non-Telugu folks to not take movies like this as an example! We had good movie skills until even early 1990s. Now with Shekar Kammula, I have hope again!
I also don't think comparing with other language movie standards is a way out because I never compared here. And I don't care if others do horribly. It is my language movies that should lead by example. That is what I want.

Salute to you, Mr Banker!

2010-04-15T01:25:00.000-05:00

I just saw a 12 min video of your ideas. I admire you more than any big corporate man. Surely you are 10 levels above a fellow who brought franchising in India's favorite sport. Certainly I value you more than some lone tennis star, who after making it to some Grand Slams, decided it was not for her, and instead chose to marry some fellow and settle outside the country.
I value you more than any politician (sadly we don't have leaders in our nation these days). You would be insulted if comparisons were even made to entertainers who are called 'actors' and showered upon with awards. More truly, it is just a distribution of awards, as one does of sweets on Independence Day.
Time and again, when hope seems to be lost in despair, some story like yours comes up. At this rate, Mr Banker, I have a lot to do by the time I retire and beyond.
Kudos! Hats Off! Take a Bow! You put people like me with "Global Education and Exposure" to shame, yet inspire them to take up constructive activities, first at home, then everywhere. Your words restore the faith that there are Angels on Earth after Mother Teresa left our company.
Mr Banker, my countrymen, esp those from the countryside have tremendous potential and burning ambition. Continue to fuel them, till someone like yours truly and his friends get there too!

Watch this video!
Banking on change

PS: I am a firm believer that everyone has a place in this world. So I have nothing against above mentioned people. It is just that I go out of my way to salute these true heroes who get lost in those that I feel are of no significance.

Strength of a woman!

2010-04-04T06:15:00.003-05:00

December 24th 2009. If you look at the date, it is one day before Christmas.

That day, however, I realized that I could hardly fathom the depth of a woman's heart! For all the training that my prospective wife should be proud of my mother for, I just didn't understand it.

So here, I land at Bengaluru International Airport, not without the frustration and fuss of the bribe seeking officials. I loathed every moment of going back to India. My friends who came to pick me up, were annoyed that I tried to run away from the airport premises, not even acknowledging their presence. My justification was that I wanted to escape the irritating government officials.

My friends - Viraj, Vinod and Shreyoshee - relish my mom's cooking. Who Doesn't? I'll pay a 1000$ to anyone who finds a flaw in my mom's cooking. But then, that's not the deal here. The deal is in how this woman casts a spell on others while maintaining an impression of possessing supernatural powers.

Here is her Modus Operandi:
1 - Smile.
2 - Make people comfortable.
3 - Cook amazing delicacies.
4 - Be optimistic.
5 - Help everyone.

I, someone who can speak in 5 or more languages, am trying to learn the secret behind having friends of any background, despite not knowing more than 1 language... Acquaintances who'd take an extra step to help her, just to see her smile stay on her face... I am not exaggerating when I say that 0 to 100, people of all ages speak to her. They feel comfortable talking to her. They want more of her time. So I analyzed her. That is so typically me... Observe, Analyze, think...

She is not a Psychiatry major. She is no Engineer. She doesn't have the B.Com certificate to prove that she is 'educated'! Does any of it matter? I observed - No!

Her secret behind endearing herself to everyone is a secret indeed! Here, I can challenge any psychiatrist an amount of 1000$ to gain an insight into her psyche.

Now a mere mortal like me goes back home after 18 months of living away from home. I was greeted with the same affection that my friends were greeted. Clearly I was offended. Being a single child, I was used to being the center of attention. So a "Hello!", upon my arrival, from my mom was offending to me... I expected more.

The whole day, my friends would not take my hint - a hint saying, "Guys, maybe now you should leave me alone at home. Maybe I could do with some sleep (Jet lag)!" I am proud to have such friends too! I'd give up a lot of things to have friends like these!

Finally towards evening, they decide to leave for their respective homes! Relieved, I decide to inspect my home for the various changes after my departure to Chicago. Nothing seemed to change as much as my mother's tolerance towards my absence. I was supposed to be her only child. So how was I to understand her "Hello!" when I appeared at the door?

I saw that the lunch served was not one of my favorites - Potato curry! I was dismayed. I was confident that my mother would cook my favorites right from day one.

With all the pent up feelings, mixed with home sickness, I was peeved! I went in to her room. She happened to enter the room at the same time. As was customary, I grabbed her face gently, hugged her, tapped her and asked, slightly annoyed, "Enti Amma! Nenu oste neeku aanandamuga ledaa?" (Aren't you happy that I have come?)

No sooner did I hug her, than I heard her sob! And she didn't stop until at least 5 min. I was stunned! Any lady crying over my shoulder was supposed to be comforted. That was how my mother raised me. So I looked around, stunned! Something wrong? I was supposed to be homesick! And my mother was a strong person - to an extent that everybody pours their sorrows into her! Seeing her sob relentlessly put me to shame. Indeed I didn't know to read the mind of a woman! This woman - a personification of strength, love, kindness, inspiration and amiability taught me yet again that '...still waters run deep.' Here I thought, I was homesick. But there, my mother suffered from son-stroke!

That is when I realized that the depth of a woman's heart is not fathomable. Woman's Day or not... Mother's Day or not... Here is my tribute to the Woman! If ever my wife loved me for the respect I have for women, she should thank her mother-in-law! Mom, here is another tribute to you! I Love You!

Bee's thoughts

2010-03-17T04:00:00.000-05:00

Buzzzz! I flit from petal to petal.
My instinct to spot one- worth a precious metal!
Never a flower do I kill.
So why the issue if I can't be still?
Nectar is what I gain.
I help carry pollen grain.

Regularly search for flowers, I do.
Today was a regular day too!
At a same spot I saw a new one.
Or was it under a light of a new sun?
It was a flower- pretty and pink.
Made my heart stop, sink and think!

I wondered how, before, I missed.
That made it look like- always I dissed!
Before nectar, for my breath, I stopped.
From petal to petal, then, I hopped.
How I wish I dipped myself in ink.
Then fly around to write- "You are pretty in pink!"

We need true artists

2010-02-26T10:31:00.001-06:00

To a casual bystander he looked like a dumb cow gaping at a vast plain of greenery. The analogy isn't quite inapt. On his screen were some of the best stories he ever read. He wondered how he had never found this online or how those stories never made it to a published book. Kesari, upon being informed by his mom, decided to read these himself. A feeling of pity for the author who, he now certainly believed, had a flair and talent for writing, mixed with disappointment, anger and other feelings he couldn't quite name filled him. He was about to leave comments for the author but then desisted - for more than one reason.

He, still in a state of shock, hesitantly switched off his laptop. His movements were slow and dazed. The light in his room was switched off. He had started reading the stories early in the afternoon with an estimate that he'd be done in an hour or so. He looked at his watch now to realize it was well over 5 hours now. And then it was only a set of short stories he had read. He was surprised how he never realized so much time passing. The stories just gripped him. And when he tried to decide which the best of them was, he couldn't. They all seemed amazingly simple, yet interesting; unique in that they were different stories and genres, yet common and comparable in that they were all good reads. No wonder, then, time flew by while he didn't realize it.

Presently the room was dark. He was still. The room was calm. Or so it seemed, considering the clutter in his head. No other noise seemed to penetrate the room. His mom was perhaps in the kitchen, making preparations for a delicious dinner. His mind diverted for a bit to his mom's cooking. Her dishes were a blessing for anyone's tongue. He thought they were even a privilege. He decided that whoever had an occasion to be privileged to taste his mom's cooking was blessed. He thought about his father. He thought about the entertaining stories that his dad told him about his college-time romance with his mother. His mind returned to his main chain of thoughts. His face became grim now. He remained seated on his couch.

He didn't want to move until he cleared the rubble from the storm in his mind. It was barely a minute from when his face became grim when he picked up the phone. His movements were not as slow as when he had switched off his laptop and reclined on the couch thinking all his thoughts. His fingers frantically searched and dialed his dad's cellphone number.

In the room designated Senior Vice-president (SV), on the eleventh floor of the building, a bald man in his early fifties was standing by the window. It opened to the west. Pavan Jandhyala, the SV of a medium scale company which dealt with consultancy of embedded systems and microprocessors - design, development and testing, had watched the sun sink into the sea. His brows were furrowed and his forehead had wrinkles that come to a man who thinks a lot. Those who knew him closely - his family and friends - would always say, "He thinks a lot! And sometimes it is unnecessary to think so much." His answer would be, "I can't stop my thoughts. They are just an integral part of me. And as for the usefulness of my thoughts, I never think of it. I don't think a lot. I just think." On occasions when he'd want to be funny he'd just say with a wink, "You don't want me to think about the usefulness of my thoughts, do you? That is not just ironical, but also adds to the thoughts I think."

This is about the time he generally walks about in his room if he isn't in a meeting. He kept himself physically active all his life. If not rigorous exercise, he made sure he walked often, took stairs to immediate floors. His generally serious thoughts never took the humor out of his public or social face. While people half his age, let alone contemporaries, moved about with a slouch, he would walk upright and with quick and long steps.

Pavan was just left with some files related to the client for the day. It would take him hardly an hour, he estimated. He had to read the requirements for some of them. For others he had to read about the clients and their background so as to be able to give the best consultation for how they should design their product. He took pride in his work. He earned it through his merits. His position as a SV, was a natural result of his smartness, assiduous work and professional ethics. Before getting back to his work, he wanted to clear the clutter in his head. Sometimes he wondered if he really gave things more thought than was necessary. If so, he wished he didn't do that. His work life was smooth. His personal life was not something to cheer about. He decided to get himself a mug of coffee from the pantry.

At that precise moment his cellphone rang. He turned towards the table and walked up to it to see who it was that wanted to add noise to his disturbed mind. With a peeved face, he read the screen. His face mellowed a bit, only for a moment. He answered, "Yeah!" The voice on the other end was soft and appealing.

"Dad... Can we meet in the coffee shop near your office? I want to speak to you about something important."

The coffee shop near Pavan's office was about about a couple of kilometers away but it was not the distance that he was bothered about.

"You need money for something?” he said in an austere tone bordering on callousness. At least that's the way he wanted to sound - callous.

There was a deep exhale on the other end. Pavan knew his son didn't like the tone. He anticipated it. But he didn't care. At least that's what he wanted to show. What he didn't anticipate, though, was that his son's voice would continue to be soft and appealing. But then that was because he wanted money or some such favor as usual, he thought. Or was his mind thinking unnecessarily now?

His son continued, "I need your guidance dad. I need your help. And that's why I want to meet you urgently before you get back home."

In choosing his words to get the best result, Kesari couldn't have done better than that. He was smart and he knew how to please people. He was, after all, his father's son. He had a secret admiration for his father's tact and was conscious that he inherited his tact and glib ways from his father. Kesari came across as an irresponsible, careless, happy-go-lucky person, but when he had to or when he wanted to, he could melt hearts. He could nicely talk a person into his way though often, he'd just choose to be rash and speak as if he never cared about the other person's wishes. By emphasizing on the words, "need guidance" and "need your help" he broke the ice between him and his father.

Pavan, with more furrowed brows and intense gaze into nothing particular while his mind's eye was trying to discern the view on the other end of the call, asked, "Something that urgent eh? Where are you?"

"I'm at home but I wanted to speak to you at your favorite coffee shop. I owe you some time and I wished to discuss some things with you. Please dad!"

"Okay! How long will you take to be there at the shop?"

"I'll be there in not more than half an hour."

"Sounds fine. Don't keep me waiting."

"I won't. Bye dad!"

"Yeah. Okay."

Kesari noted that his dad didn't end with a "Bye." That is a sign of anger. The extent of anger, though, was not as much as when he disconnects the call without saying even so much. He knew his dad would be confused by this call. His dad would surely be wondering about the motive behind such a call. But then he knew, his dad was giving him a chance. Otherwise, the invitation to the coffee shop would have been declined. He often felt his father was ruthless to him. "Yeah I know he tells me stories of how a caring father should be ruthless to his child for the child to be surviving, thriving and succeeding. Yeah I know the story of how the zebra kicks its newborn to stand up and get walking, instead of caressing and pampering, because if it didn't do so, a predator would soon be feasting on the newborn. But then he takes it to extremes," he'd often think or say to himself.

Without further thought, he washed his face. Splashing water on his face brought about calming his mind. He could almost hear his mind hissing as thought it were a hot pan being cooled by a splash of cold water. It also physically cooled his head. He went to the kitchen to drink water. His mother, a lady of late forties and just about getting to fifties but hardly looking a day older than forty, greeted him. She was of slim to medium build and her hair was just about graying. Her face had a radiant smile and her eyes were pretty and expressive. Looking from a third person's perspective, Kesari often wondered if his dad wasn't plain lucky to have such a pretty wife. Surely in those days his mom would have been very pretty and attractive. To add to her beauty was the fact that she was an engineer just like his father. By no means was she a beauty without brains. She voluntarily quit professional career to take up his upbringing. As a kid, Kesari would wonder why his mom married his dad because looks-wise they didn't seem to match up so much. "Oh no Chinna (Little one/son)! He was the best man. He was humorous, smart, talented, tactful, intelligent and caring. He looked fine too," she'd explain. On different occasions, she'd patiently explain why those qualities were what she valued a lot in a person who was to be her husband. But it was only as he grew up, as his naive mind developed, that he understood what his mom meant.

"Did you fall asleep Chinna? I thought you did, and so didn't disturb you."

"No Maa! I... was uhhmm... reading the stories. Didn't realize the time."

To Kesari, his mother's voice always had the effect of a lullaby to a restless baby, a cow's moo to call its calf - gentle, pacifying, soothing and affectionate.

Presently his mother uttered an "Oh!" She momentarily looked at him to see if he was continuing to speak. He didn't seem to be continuing. So she turned back to her work, hiding her inquisitiveness. After all, she had suggested that he should try those stories.

"Maa... I am going to meet dad near his office. Will be back with him for dinner." He hugged her from behind and kissed her as he said, "Bye!"

Immediately as the door shut Pushpa wondered what it was all about. What was Kesari up to? Although surprised, she was confident it was something positive that her son was up to. Father and son clashes were not known to her as a topic or by experience. She was the only child of her parents. She only heard from her mother-in-law how it used to be when her husband had fights with his father. Of late Pushpa was seeing a lot of fights. She was worried about the latest one because this time her husband didn't seem to want to budge. Her son wouldn't listen too. For about a week now there was a cold war in their home. They both were not speaking to each other. She just let them both be but it didn't seem to settle like their usual ego clashes.

"It is hard when both father and son are similar in attitudes, have an ego and are adamant," her husband's mother would recount to her some incidents from the past. "As a wife and mother, your job is the toughest, you will be tested and pressurized, but you have to care for both of them. That is a challenge which, in the words of professionals, if successfully completed, adds to your resume in your homemaking career," she once said to Pushpa with a chuckle when Pushpa sought her advice.

Pushpa closed her eyes for a moment praying that all should be well soon and then got back to her work.

Kesari was riding his bike to the coffee shop. On the way he stopped at a printing shop to take prints of some mails. Pavan liked coffee. It brought him a sense of calm and a feeling of strength. He was amused at how his son called him up to speak to him after about a week of avoidance. More than that it was the timing of his call - just when he was about to get himself coffee from the pantry. "You never know why some things happen the way they do, but you have got to let them happen. It is God's way of surprising you." That is what he learned from his mother.

He informed his immediate subordinates and the receptionist that he was leaving for the day. And within ten minutes of the call he was out of his office building. It was drizzling outside and the intensity of the drops increased. He was getting into the parking lot, but then on the way he stopped. He looked back outside and saw that it was raining not so heavily. He quickly turned back, having decided to walk to the coffee shop. He loved to walk... Especially when it was raining. He loved to do things differently. Presently his life was seeming monotonous with success in professional life and tumult at home. He saw this as an opportunity to break the monotony. In a way it was like celebrating the fact that his son called him. It reminded him of those days when his son would throw up his arms, tired of taking those tiny steps learning to walk, begging to be carried. Oh! The joy it used to bring him to pick his son up and carry him around in his arms or on his shoulders. There was a time when the only thing in his life was his son.

He was on the streets now, getting wet by the sprinkle from the heavens, as he was thinking these thoughts. He was looking around him. There was the usual buzz of downtown crowd. It was time to leave for home for many. He stopped at an intersection. He watched the vehicles go by. He watched people running about, trying to get to a shelter as soon as possible. He found it strange that people don't give time to the elements. They pray for the rains to cool down the Earth; to bring relief from the summer heat. And when it drizzles, let alone rains, people run for the nearest shelter refusing to let the drops fall on them. He had a strong desire to stand in the middle of the intersection, grab a microphone and penetrate the insensitive heads to convince them to give the drizzle a chance to soothe them.

He, however, shook himself to reality and continued to cross the intersection and on towards the shop. Soon he reached the shop and if his son was prompt, he should be there in no more than five minutes. He got in and sat at a table for two next to the big glass window through which one could have a view of the busy street outside. He smiled at the waiter as he took the menu card from him.

"Waiting for someone..." he said to the waiter as he put down the menu on the table. He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up above the elbows, placed the elbows on the table and rested his chin on his fists, looking to his left outside the window. His attention was drawn to the streetlight. He could see the drizzle, the light drops in the light from it. It was like a play with the actors coming into the spotlight and going out of it. He noticed how the drops seemed to move slowly, assuredly and quietly at the top near the bulb, but move fast, chaotically and noisily at the bottom, near the foot of the streetlight.

It reminded him of how, at the start of his career, he was uncertain. The people at the top of an organization or the industry seem so settled. Their lives seemed so easy. Their lives seemed devoid of any pressure. No need to please the boss. No worry of someone judging you all the time. No stress of a boss venting his frustration, often out of his inability, on you.

Now he knows that it was all an illusion. Although it is a cliche, the adage, "with great power comes great responsibility", isn't false. And it became a cliche because no matter how many times you say it, it is still not emphasizing the point enough. As a SV of his organization, he seems to have more pressure than as an entry level employee. Perhaps that is true of the rain drops and streetlight too. From a lower level, the drops seem to be calm and steady at the top, becoming chaotic towards the ground. When you go higher, the ones at your level seem chaotic while those at a still higher level seem peaceful.

He had seen it all. From an entry level position to now, professional life was supposed to move from 'hardest' to 'easiest' on the difficulty scale. However, the pointer remained at the same place. His father once said, "Everyone has his/her own worries in life. And to each one of them those will be difficult." How true!

Kesari, after parking his bike on the street, briskly walked to the shop, entered inside to find his father looking outside the window immersed in deep thought. He saw that he was no more than a minute late for the appointment, technically. He knew that stopping by the print shop would delay him but he accounted for it and was confident he could still make it. The minute's delay could be attributed to the fact that as he logged in to check his mails his girlfriend pinged him.

"Hey sweets! Whatcha upto? You were supposed to be going somewhere? :p"

"Hey pretty! Yeah. I am busy. Sorry I'll call you later. Will explain."

"Everything alright?"

"Yep! Relax pie! Meeting my dad for coffee :)"

"Oh! Nice..."

There was a pause during which he was away printing things.

"Gtg now. Bye" he typed when he was about to log off. He didn't even wait for her to say bye in reply. He logged off. He knew he could explain everything to her later. Besides, she knew of the situation at his home. Although not yet married, she was learning, from Kesari's mother by observing her, how things can be when a father and child don't see eye to eye on certain things. An ambitious and demanding father can be hard on a son who hasn't yet discovered what he likes to do. Kesari, during those soft moments, confessed to his girlfriend - Megha - that sometimes the reputation of his father intimidates him more than assuring him that he has his father's protection upon him, just in case something goes wrong. Kesari was talented. He wrote well. His writings interested the readers. They captivated the hearts. They, at times, inspired people. That apart he had an interest for music. He was a key member of the college rock band. He was mainly a drummer but could also play the bass guitar well. He was one of the top students in college, sure to get a job in any finance firm or department, if he puts his mind to it. That has been the problem with Kesari. He hasn't put his mind to anything particular with respect to his career. That way, he still was a jack of all trades. Megha didn't worry a lot about him but of late his clashes with his dad seemed to get intense. That was one of the reasons why she couldn't visit his home as frequently as before. She didn't want to be present at an awkward moment for both her boyfriend and his father.

Kesari stood for a moment at the table waiting for his father to turn and acknowledge his arrival. Despite the cold war, subconsciously he perhaps still wanted every act or move of his to be approved by his father. Pavan looked at his son without looking into his eyes and half-nodded. Kesari sat in front of him. He quickly looked at the menu and then looked up at his father. He didn't know what to speak. "It was strange how you didn't find words to speak to your own father after a week of not talking to him whereas you could easily talk to someone after years of being out of touch," he thought. So he decided to fill up the silence by nervously asking, "Did you order anything?"

Pavan shook his head, continuing to look everywhere except at his son, and then he looked for the waiter. He had his favorite coconut flavored coffee in mind. Kesari ordered a plain cold cafe latte. He wanted to keep focus on what he was going to say and so didn't mind drinking anything that came his way. Unfortunately waiters are trained not to take 'anything' as an order. So Kesari just blurted out his order.

No sooner had the waiter left them than Pavan had an expression of question on his face, reacting to which, Kesari started speaking.

"Uhhhh... Dad... (now breathing in and then out deeply)..."

Pavan was getting restless. He firstly didn't like the idea of his son's rudeness a week back when all he wanted to do was to drive the point through to his son to take up some job and career, preferably a salaried one. His son had spent about half a year doing nothing, trying this and that, wasting his time. In this age of cut-throat competition, every second spent on useless things counts against you. And to think of six months of inactivity for no particular reason? And now what does his son want? To try out another fancy job or career? How long will the trials happen? As a father he was always liberal. He let his son do things that interested him. He showed interest in music, so he encouraged him. He showed interest in sports, so he encouraged him. Literary events, upon giving a little push, he took them up too. In the six months, he let his son try out such fancy jobs as even a salesperson, which he was sure even his son himself didn't want to do for a long term. Was he playing fool or was he thinking he can fool his father when in fact he is harming himself more than anyone?

His restlessness was showing in his body language - his fidgeting with things around and his rigorous and jerky movement of head around the whole shop.

But one passing look into his son's nervous and earnest eyes made him stop short of bursting out or even uttering anything. A feeling of shame that he was not even giving his son a chance when for once he seemed to be putting an honest effort to do something grew in him. That feeling lowered his head a bit with his eyes looking down, then outside the window and then he askance at his son almost saying, "What is it? Quick!"

"Dad, I wanted to show you something." Saying so he pulled out a few sheets. Handing them to his father, letting him read a few lines allowing the context to be set and for the idea to sink in, Kesari continued to speak.

"That is an offer letter for a job, dad. I am being offered a job as a writer for City Times. I get to write for their editorial. They saw my work which I submitted with my application."

His saw that his father was digesting his words. He knew that his dad should approve it if convinced that it interested him. He was always the one who gave him the impression that he wanted his son to pursue a career that interested him. Preferably a salaried one... That is why he didn't force him or urge him to take up sciences, or sports for that matter, in college. He even let his son choose the firm he wanted to do an internship with, while at college, and didn't make a fuss of it even though his son in his arrogant and naively rude manner said, "I don't want to do an internship with your company. That's it!" But Kesari also knew that somewhere he crossed some lines and that didn't meet with the approval of his dad.

Almost as if reading his dad's mind, he admitted, "I know you don't like the way I spent the last six months but I really was overwhelmed by the fact that I was going to be done with my college life. I'm sure you had felt something similar in your time too..."

There was a quarter of a nod from Pavan, not more, lest he appear softened to his son. But he surely knew what his son meant.

"I know I have been trying out fancy jobs..."

At this point Pavan interrupted, "And this is a trial too?" His face had an intense piercing look, which his son didn't like. But he didn't want to be doing his son easy favors. The world is not so gentle, so his son had better get used to the harsh ways of the world.

The waiter reappeared with their order. Kesari thanked the waiter for his timing because it couldn't have come at a better time than that. It allowed Kesari to gather his composure.

He took a deep breath. "Allow me to explain dad. Please! I know I didn't behave well for a long time now. But I am serious now as I am speaking to you. While I tried out fancy jobs something that I have been doing is to write. I have been writing various things. I wrote my thoughts. I wrote short stories. I wrote articles and movie reviews. In fact in college too I used to write. I just never paid attention to the fact that I used to write. I paid more attention to the rock band which was giving me ready fame in college. But I realized during these six months that I really have a passion for writing. I wish to take up writing as my career, dad! I am sure you'll understand this one more than any other 'fancy' decision of mine... because I got his from you, after all, dad! I inherited it from you, right?"

At this precise moment Pavan softened. There was an element of surprise. His expression said, "Where did that come from?"

Kesari paused, to take out another set of sheets. He handed them to his father. Pavan glanced at the sheets. The first one was titled, "We need true artists". His jaw dropped. Inside him, a chord had been struck. It was as if he spotted his long lost love. As he held the printed versions of his writings he gulped and choked with a little joyous emotion not unmixed with sadness that he couldn't pursue writing. The one about true artists was written by him when he felt that India, for her progress, needed genuine writers, movie directors and artists in general too; not just engineers. He flipped through the rest of the sheets to see what else was there. There was a short story too

Kesari continued, "You were an amazing writer dad! I am ashamed I never knew about it. I don't think I can write better than you, and I don't even want to compare. All I know is that I have a passion for writing just the way you did. Mom told me you had to give up the thought of writing as a career. Your situation was a tough one. So you had to pursue a conventional career in Engineering huh dad?"

Kesari's lips pursed at the end of the rhetoric. Pavan guessed that his wife must have told their son about the difficult choices they had to make. How depressing it was for him that he couldn't get enough time to wait for a publisher to offer him a deal! It so didn't work out that he altogether quit writing. At least that way he forced himself to believe that he never wanted to write. He never had a passion for writing! So he could continue working in his field of education - Electrical Engineering.

Kesari continued his appeal, "I am very honest when I say this dad. You are great! Not just as a writer, but as a person, a father, a husband... If I were you, I'd have just thrown in the towel. I'd have not cared for anybody but myself. I'd have continued writing even at the expense of uncertainty for my family. I not only want to take up writing because it appeals to me and is my passion, but also because it was - if it isn't now- your passion too but you never got to pursue it."

Pavan was contemplating. He finished his coffee and Kesari was almost done with his too. He was hiding his face from his son. His son's words appealed to him. He was at that point ready to burst into tears but somehow maintained a brave front. He nodded as he looked deep into his son's eyes. He didn't need to look deep this time because he knew these were genuine words from his son.

"I wish you good luck son! You'll see your dream come true, and in doing so, my dream come true too!"

They got back home. Dinner was spent talking about the next cricket match. Pushpa was pleasantly surprised that her ordeal - and surely the ordeal, in the form of a cold war, of her two most valuable people was over. She was happy and proud of her son for taking that step.

In a week from that day, at Pavan's birthday party organized at his residence, after cutting the cake, he proudly re-introduced his son to his friends, "Friends! Meet my son. Kesari Jandhyala. Editor of City Times. Above all... a writer... an artist..."

Fellow sheep in the sheep van

2010-02-18T23:44:00.161-06:00

In a strange land you're shepherding yourself. You find sheep like yourself. What would your reaction be? Relief? You now move together, graze together. What is the feeling? Comfort? You discover a lot about the others, you help each other, you watch out for each other and then live together. What is it called? Happy Sheepy Family!

Here are my fellow sheep with whom I am stuck now!

Vinay Chinta

Facebook name: Babbaii Roxx (LMAO, what a wannabe name)

Indian name (As in American Red Indian): The one who doesn't fear getting run over by a bull or have his balls chewed by a cheetah as much as he fears missing a movie.

Diet: Rice and curd. Will die to be alive to eat these another day! (Daily consumption = 2 to 3). Waist size due to diet = 34.

(Above figures are in quintals and feet).

Commonly seen: Advising or chattering away on Skype/Phone with near and dear ones. On weeknights, seen with Varun and others in some nightclub! His roommates should be awarded something big for enduring his low-waist jeans and his cleavage (rear)! His girlfriend is known to take pictures of it as they take of miracles like Ganesha drinking milk or Monkeyman in Delhi! Pulling Pushkar's legs, bantering about some guy or some girl. Explaining why his professor ( a man) is a hunk...

Never seen: Posing for a pic with his mouth closed... You might as well expect water to be found in the sun...

Commonly used phrase: Arrey #^@!*#, $#$^;^@, yaar! Chappal se maarunga !$#@^#%

Commonly addresses others as: Abey/ Baabaai/ Annayya/ Maams.

Will send chats/pings from next room as opposed to moving his ass, walk up and speak to you.

Funniest aspects: His voicemail and his accent in it. Tops it with super-blurred pronunciation which a lot of people can't understand. Like people being swept away by running river water clutch on to a log or branch with all their lives, people clutch on to nearest furniture or their forehead trying to decode his speed/words!

Pushkar Singh

Nickname: Pussy. Also known as Bihari, Pussy Baba, McPuss, Pushkaruu (by Pavan who is guessably Telugu), Kalla, Guru

Indian name: The one whose teeth are the only things visible in a dark room. One who is supposed to have done an unmentionable thing in hostel for up to 14 times in a day (which is so hard to believe). One who has a weak ass (No thighs... something...). One who knows about strip clubs (or anything for that matter) and the frustrations they cause and be the first one to run back home and anti-socialize.

Commonly seen: With a hanky tied around his forehead to set his hair. Feasting on bananas to cure his weak thighs. Lying on his bed with his laptop on his 6- pack or sometimes a little lower.

In the virtual world: He is the Sachin Tendulkar, Albert Einstein, Michael Schumacher, Elvis Presley of the house. Commonly seen gathering his villagers and running to some other Town Center in Age of Empires 3. If settled he is very dangerous. He only sends his MVP - Hand Cavalry and thrashes the $^*;# out of the enemy and plays a major role rescuing his teammates (Often Varun!)

Commonly uttered stuff: Ohh Maa! Oh bhennnn...di! Abbey kyaa bolle ho bey! Chinta beti___(unparliamentary words for Chinta's daughter), Potty beti___ (Where Potty = Varun Turlapotty), Powwaa Haraami, Pavna (Pavan) Haraami! Bhhhhakkkkk!

Sole aim in life: Apart from that of finding a wife who can make rotis for him, his aim is to criticize, or nag Varun, preach stuff. He fears revealing his other major aim (esp to Vaibhav) because it is to free Biharis in Mumbai and give them a separate state in Mumbai itself!

Strengths: Makes sambhar during his turn in cooking! Roommates hardly remember having eaten another dish by him.

Weaknesses: None known to humanity (himself). However, his shy smile can cause weakness in knees of opposite sex, come to think of it!

Vaibhav Khairnar

Nickname: Pauwa/Powwa, Body Builder, Bouncer

Indian name: One who has never smiled in photographs so far/ one who has same expression in every photograph (Expression saying perhaps "Big deal. Do I care!").

Passions: Keep watching out for deals online and tempt others into thinking 100 times about it. Then confuse them when they are about to decide on something. Keeps uttering sahastranam (1000 names) of Pushkar. Either same name in different styles or different nicknames in different styles.

Other known facts: Harbors feelings for Pushkar and also for a girl that Chinta has a crush on. Publicly, however, they declare disgust/hatred for her.

Penchant: Has a knack for cracking up people around him with his PJs or some absurd logic.

[Recorded saying: "Pushkar, you should buy a car for us roomies. It is hard to commute to college."

Pushkar retorts: Go in a taxi or rent a car.

Vaibhav: Abey nahi! No! You can't park it by Chicago river. Doesn't feel nice to accidentally drown someone else's car!]

Has a funny voicemail too. (Voicemail funny-ness rating = 6 out of 5. A very matter-of-fact-ly "Hi! Currently I am not a... a... aevuh-laebal (available). Plizz uh call me back later!" or some such thing.) Watches movies, episodes or plays Age of Empires. Together with McPuss, he forms a strong team in Age of Empires/ Counter-strike. Jujubes (helpless/hapless ones like Varun) always benefit being in their team.

Often says: "Kyaaa?" with a constipated look on his face. "... meansss..."

Known to: Strip down to skin-tight t-shirts or vests to show off his muscles at the drop of a hat (Or at the visit of a girl, perhaps?). To mock Pavnaa's pronunciation of Hindi words while not realizing how much entertainment his English pronunciations are...

Pavan Mamidipalli

Full name: Phani Raja Pavan Mamidipalli

Bankers say: He doesn't need encrypted password. His name is good enough!

Nickname: PavNaa, Anniyaa, Nassu (After Naseeruddin Shah, whom he resembles).

USP: Shrill voice (Shrillest a man can have. When uttering interjections, they sound like they are coming from an angry dog whose neck has been throttled so much that it is now gasping like a cat or a horn from old style motors). Partial stammer when uttering words starting with P/ K (P. Phh. Phhushkaruu - refer above)

Commonly exclaims: "Nee ammaa rey..." (Some views and humble opinions about the other person's mother), "Nee khhaamedy ni ..." (comedy- again some views about the other fellow's humor). "Of course!" "Wokay!"

Trivia: Is a fatherly figure. Together with the rice-eating, movie freak above, he forms a formidable pro-Andhra team. If President Bush were to be in tenure, he'd have been drawn to the strange increase in rice consumption in USA ever since Fall 2009.

His words have inspired Biharis above to pick up curses in Telugu (Puss was once heard saying, "Neeeyummm ray!")

Popular pass-time: Calling up near and dear ones, talking about world affairs. Joining in pulling Phhushkaru's or Varun-gaa's legsu! Ganging up with Chinta to support listening to Mass (crass) songs in Telugu! Watching scenes from a watched movie over and over again.

Miracles/Public welfares undertaken: Preaching ill effects of drinking water immediately after food while simultaneously guzzling 2 cans of Coke/Pepsi after dinner. (He doesn't understand the meaning of irony...)

Recent hobbies: Like a typical Desi, took to photography (clicking or getting clicked) like a tribal pervert takes to internet porn. Now... has developed skills and creativity to promise certain girls (sisterly love) beautiful photographs of theirs with ideas for hairdo (for their wedding day).

Expected Avatar: In 5 years, will become a Mad scientist (is a PhD student after all), writing crazy chemical formulas over rice and selling them as art pieces! Oh rice he has to eat, so may be it is going to be on wheat!

The above post was brought to you by yet another useless soul in 918 S Claremont Av - yours truly! To know more about him, get in touch with any of the above mentioned. They'd be in police custody for assault on the writer!

Perfectly Ironical People

2010-02-14T06:12:00.003-06:00

Any fan of Sherlock Holmes would know of his ability to deduce the train of thoughts by mere observation of a person's face. He'd also need to know the person a good deal, of course, to be able to know how a person would react to something (a word, a picture or something). I wish I had Holmes to sit by me to playback my train of thoughts so that I could compile this post well.
Anyway, it was about the inflation - esp in India - that led me to think and come up with this post that I was supposed to have written long back (At least a month back). What with "3 Idiots" providing some entertainment (but more than that, making million idiots of the watchers) - the 'message' it intended to portray about excellence and education as opposed to success and qualification - it led me to relate the ideas to what my father often says about the gen-next.
"Your generation lacks common sense and are fit for nothing in life except making wonderful gadgets", he'd say in one of his more relaxed, gentle and amiable moods.
"You carefully plug all the ant-holes, dog-doors giving the impression of being assiduous, spend-thrifts and mature beings...
... only to leave elephant-gateways open?", he'd continue.
Although, I feel he makes outrageous statements, there is more than a hint of truth in those. Take this for example. In my apartments in Bangalore, most of them are in the higher middle class (economically). Almost everyone is in the Technology field (Engineers, IT people etc). Some are doctors. Others are chairpersons of small companies. You'd expect their lifestyles to be lavish at an average and you'd not be disappointed by your guess. Most families own at least 2 houses. Their spending habits don't show much restraint too, apart from the regular savings and budgeting that any family that wants to survive does.
Now, move the focus to a lady who offers ironing service to the residents. She, as anyone could guess, was a poor lady. She charged 1 rupee per piece of cloth (Shirt/trouser etc). Now that's very less. When you look at the globe and see the prices of essentials, you only see a sharp increase if not exponential. You don't need to be a rocket scientist (or as pertinent here - a Nobel Prize winning economist) to understand that daily expenses are hard to meet for her family.
She, last year, in the wake of rising prices of even essentials like rice, pulses and vegetables, decided to increase the ironing cost to 1.50 rupees. A sane population will be expected to sympathize and support the decision. And lo! What happens? There is a furor over the increase of pricing.
"She is exploiting our helplessness!"
"She thinks we don't have any other place to go to?"
"We'll show her who's the boss here!"
"The apartment administration should intervene and impose her to stick to 1 rupee..."
My father - the then (and as of this post,) the unanimous choice President of the Apartments - dismissed these requests from residents saying they were too silly to be discussed! "That matter is simply not worth my time and I don't wish to discuss this. If you have an issue, you find someone else, but I'll not pass a law asking her to reduce her pricing!"
One day, after he came back from the Owners' meet, he had a peeved look and with his hand on his forehead, poured out his disgust. "These 'highly educated', so called IIT grads and MIT grads and MS from USA folks think they know it all. Ask them to talk about solving a simple problem and they'll all be ready with Powerpoint presentations! However, does the problem get solved? No! Only endless meetings happen..."
I got interested in this outburst. A little instigation is all it takes to get more out of him. "So what are they doing now, dad?" I asked.
"Oh well, I saw a lady drive out of the building with a bunch of clothes to iron. I asked her what she was doing and she, with a wise, smug look on her face, revealed the ultimate secret of eternal wealth and savings! Some fellow down the road is charging just 1 rupee per cloth and so she decided to go to him instead of to this poor lady here. And these very people don't mind pouring lakhs and millions to builders without much bargaining!"
I realized his drift. I let him continue, albeit at the expense of my generation! "And she perhaps doesn't realize that she spends more on the fuel than she saves by going to that other fellow!!!"
Dad, I wish they taught 'life' too in schools! But then, most in your generation, never encourage 'wasting' time on such courses which don't make their children either doctors or engineers. So here we are. Engineers and Doctors, but not humans!

Superpower Republic

2010-01-26T21:40:00.001-06:00

One of my friends' status message on facebook was a bit different from most others' on 26th Jan this time. It said something to the effect of, "Everyone suddenly gets a burst of patriotism on this day. It is all a farce." That was a reaction, I guess, to the many people's posts of patriotic videos and gloriying messages about India. Although, I jumped onto the patriotic bandwagon, letting the feeling creep and crawl over me, after I saw this message, I sat back.
"She is right! It is all a farce (nautanki)." I thought. But another friend commented on her status saying, "At least this day we feel that way. It is fine." Couldn't disagree.
I know at the root level I am patriotic and want to affect lives of my kin (fellow countrymen) in a positive way. Watching/hearing of any development in India makes me feel superior and proud. I am sure it is true of most of my friends and acquaintances too. Some are already contributing their bit to the society, some are planning, others help those who take initiatives. All on all, I know that the social mindset is changing and for good. Esp the ones who live out of India for a bit, value their motherland more; a majority of them at least!
There are a few points which a lot of people touch upon when talking "Indianness". Some of them are as follows (in no particular order):
1- We worship our actors and cricketers. We are crazy about movies and cricket.
2- We criticize the soaps on TV and yet watch them religiously.
3- We never arrive on time.
4- We have no queues/ traffic sense.
5- We criticize bribery yet be the first ones to use it as a "Get out of jail" card.
6- We save money for a better tomorrow forever.
7- We even bribe Gods, touch parents'/elders' feet before starting a task.
8- An average man can communicate in at least 2 or 3 languages.
9- Marking the beginning of any speech, we say, "I have a few words..."
There are more points like these. I'd recommend that watch this video. It is by Rahul Bose. Surely an inspiring one...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bim_APQ_5xQ
The part from 6:20 minutes into the video esp talks about how we are unique. Most of those points were greeted with cheer as were some of the points before that. So how do we know if we have become a superpower (as we have been dreaming since the nuclear test at Pokhran) when we do become one?
Apart from the checklistable points mentioned not only in this speech but in most other speeches in this genre (India/Indianness/India Superpower), I have a clear one to watch.
The day we stop cheering loudly/ applauding for those precise points... the day we stop getting goose bumps on hearing patriotic speeches arousing our expectations... The day we stop looking at other nations and their people for their pride and duty towards their nations... That day we would have become a superpower because we know it is not a 'to do' anymore, but already a norm of our lives!

Of splits and vainness!

2009-12-06T17:37:00.001-06:00

Andhra, Telangana, Rayalaseema - split!
Vidharba, Konkan, Maharashtra - split!
Others too follow suit!
No useful work, only split and loot.
Tear away our togetherness!
Who cares India, we only make mess!

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/hyderabad/Telangana-protest-hits-Hyderabad/articleshow/5307169.cms

War and Piss

2009-11-23T02:14:00.001-06:00

This is an old poem, written in about 2005/06. It is here because I was reminiscing the days when we attended various fests/events at different colleges.
This one was written as my entry to the poetry contest at IIM Bangalore at their Management fest. There were various odd/vague sounding topics given. I chose "War and Piss", and it goes as follows:

War and Piss

Riding, on my way to IIM Bangalore,
I saw a need to construct toilets galore!
   The infernal, unholy stink,
   led me to think,
“Two words used with or without link
talk about World Health, if or if not pink.”
   Between ‘war’ and ‘piss’
   Consider these similarities.
Whatever may happen,
Both need a weapon.
   One is solely for mass destruction.
   Other can be used for mass production.
Former weapon spreads evil helter skelter.
Anyway, latter is no better.
   Humans wage war for oppression.
   Dogs piss to show domination.
War is across national borders.
Piss is across streets, much against government orders.
   Fight against evil is also called ‘warfare’.
   Relieving oneself is good, as it makes one feel light as air.
Wage a ‘war’ against illegal piss.
Inspire ‘opposites’ into blowing you a kiss.
   Fellows and brothers, PLEASE stop these wars!
   Lets not leave our Earth, ugly with scars!

Getting to know someone

2009-11-11T23:14:00.001-06:00

May be everyone knows this but I feel it is one of those things that are present in the subconscious, not obvious, just like every creature knows that jumping from a height could either injure or kill it.

Many applications on Facebook these days are quizzes which are supposed to reveal how much one person knows another person. Essentially it is fact-based. Knowing facts about a person is a major 'fact'or in knowing a person. Agreed! However, I realized that you could just know a person or feel that you can know a person without actually being able to quote their favorite color, dish, brand or pastime. In fact these may change from time to time.

So if you want to know a person, you should know how their tastes may vary or how they react to events and why. You could perhaps say you know a person well if you can think what the other person is thinking. You'll know the chain of thoughts. Maybe why he/she thought of that thought even! Everything. And yet, you may not be able to tell something specific like the other person's dog's name.

With my new found discovery (having brought it from subconscious to main working sheet of the mind) I plan to set out trying to know people. My emphasis will be on extrapolation of person's behavior to judge (Oh everyone judges everyone at every instant of time!<--- I just did once again!) the person and predict the person's reactions at another time. The joy you get when you realize that you can almost predict what a person would do in a situation and then see that the prediction becomes true is un-word-able! :)

I have some friends who can tell what my reaction would be and why. We often don't even need words to communicate with each other. (This comes to the fore when you're playing games like Dumb Charades and Taboo.) It is mutual. I am now discovering/adding more people in that list.

PS: Maybe the idea behind knowing facts is to know what happened in the past and what was the response of that person. That knowledge may help in predictions. Any which way, it is not just the facts...

Dad on Facebook?

2009-10-08T03:46:00.002-05:00

Woke up in the death of the night!

Saw a sleep-blowing sight!

Checking to see the new mails I got,

there was one - made me feel I was high on pot!

Happy or nervous, should I feel?

Lips or fingers, should I seal?

All careless flirting may be under scrutiny,

and any reckless word may lead to a mutiny!

"As you're going down, you're taking us with you",

say my friends, "What did you do?"

I invited him in an impulsive moment.

He accepted it. Now I can't lament!

"What's all this midnight poetry about", you say?

"My dad's on Facebook!" Here, my case I lay!

*Written at 4:00 am!!!

A High

2009-10-06T01:26:00.005-05:00

Sitting in office, struck by blanking of mind, is horrible. You know you're being paid for being in office and coding an application (for ex) but all that is happening is the former without the latter. "Aaahhh! Coffee! My best medicine..." This is dangerous! I noticed that my coffee consumption goes high when in office and that doesn't always give me a high. All that goes high is the acidity in my stomach.

Worse still is when I do this without breakfast/lunch/brunch.

On one such droning day when the world seems to be hibernating and you wonder if the Earth stopped rotating, I came across a very stimulating status message. It claimed "Religion is a socio-political system/setup invented by the opportunist to control the majority population by exploiting their emotions and weaknesses."

I gawked at the message. In some moments, I was smiling! In the next few moments, my fingers joyfully tapped the keys of my keyboard! This chain of climactic events was because my thoughts resonated with that person's.

I buzzed him and what followed was a stimulating chat. Mutually both were extremely happy. It was as though God or some such thing (both are agnostic) gave us a play toy called stimulating thoughts! We played. We played and had to cut short our game because of lack of time. I promised Harish to write about this. I went on to join him, Suraj and Vivek to perform in a college event (IGSA Freshers' Night 2009).

Harish Naik's blog is http://hnaik.blogspot.com/

In this post I enumerate the people who are my mental coffee: Rahul Ranade, Rajagopal V (confusedmartian.blogspot.com), Harish Naik.

Rahul Ranade is one who can follow anything from any simple rot that I utter to a high-ly pun/vague/sarcastic thing I say. Our verbal wars have produced many a happy time for the two of us and if I am right, I should see a pugnacious and bilious remark, which at the least harmful level is merely sarcastic!

A compilation of regrets

2009-09-10T00:45:00.004-05:00

A passing by reader will be very tempted to generalize and say, "This blog is only about attempts at philosophy or wanting to be serious and talking about what I miss." I'd beg those readers to sympathize with me.

My recent talks with many of my friends and acquaintances revealed that everyone is in the same boat. Perhaps living in another country and not just another city makes people think deep and hard about everything. Thoughts become intense. There is a general wistfulness and longingness about anything! All this in the middle

of fun trips and vacations!

So when I was driving about in Tennessee and on our way back to Chicago, I had solitary moments when all my friends were asleep. I was driving with special focus on the road (I drove between 5am and 8am). In the screen of my mind played a movie!

This movie showed different me-s.

Anything but my present self...

So I was:

1) Drummer in a rock band (Professional/Amateur)

2) Flautist

3) Singer

4) Cricketer

and some more characters which didn't get enough time to form. They were vague.

These are my regrets. I love my life. I know that what I am is because of all that has happened to me and how I reacted to them. (The harshest self critic and the humblest acceptor of the criticism surely does well in life, I believe!)

But it was interesting to picture how life would have been if I were anything but what I am now. Somewhere deep in my heart, I still have one regret. I don't know what exactly it was that made me so strongly inclined to it but everytime my mom suggested that I should be an Engineer when I grew up, I pictured a happy-go-lucky train driver who sounded the whistle of the train ever so often!

Mom! Yeah I became an engineer, but perhaps there was a miscommunication! Where is my train?

Spoilsport became Opportunity

2009-08-17T23:20:00.005-05:00

When could a rained out (Cricket match cancelled due to rain) be tolerated?

When you get interesting company... You sit and chat over a wide range of topics... That's when!

"You know what I learnt from someone? The difference between a smart guy and a not-smart guy...", said Moshi bhai!

"Go on! What is it?" I said, always the one to enjoy Moshi's company.

"A smart guy needn't be experienced, but can understand exactly (Almost empathize with) what the other person who is more experienced is saying and use that to act wisely. Given a set of inputs and circumstances, not just you, but I would take the same decision."

I almost agree. With a bit of difference based on the natural attitude of the person, more often than not everyone would end up taking the same decision. So Moshi made me feel not-such-a-loser-as-I-decided-I-was after a discussion with my friends and roommates made me believe I was the biggest loser, deciding to quit work and come here to the US!

And now when I think, I wonder if that natural attitude of a person (The traits of being optimistic or not, risk-taking or not) depends on the circumstances around him/her all life... If some friend of mine and I were baby swapped, then he'd have been like me now and I'd have been like him now. Yeah the genes may count too, but that's far too complex to judge. Then again, if you trace back, the gene differences came because of diverse circumstances that all of us lived under.

After a 2 hour chat on various things with him, (who is Pakistani by birth) that make you feel homesick or at home, I realized that the same things that used to irritate me at home (India) will be more tolerable for me.

I miss the crowd.

I miss the chaos.

I miss the roads (or at places, the lack of it).

I miss the people.

I miss the food.

I now am thankful that I came here to study. I now know what I missed when I was in it! In the thick of the things!

Most of all, perhaps, my mom reminding me "Do you have your wallet with you? Does your wallet have money? Do you have your cellphone?" And I'd stop her halfway and grumble that she thinks I'm an irresposible kid.

Only to come back in 5 min, sheepishly smiling and admitting, "I forgot my bike keys!"

More on related things in my forthcoming posts. I'm thinking these now because it's been 1 year since I left home (India) and I was so mentally prepared that I didn't even let the thought of homesickness mention itself... Now, it's hard to stop these thoughts!

Shower to Flower

2009-08-12T23:22:00.003-05:00

Amidst accusations of cliche I maintain, it is not my choice, but a result of chance!

So here he meets her in a party - this time a sober one, (though last time's one was not un-sober, it couldn't be proved) - and his initial reaction was a bland one. "Don't care!"

Maybe there was mist in his eyes. The more he saw her, the beats got more irregular! Hmmmpppfhfhfhfh! "You fall for everyone and anyone!" his 'wise' friends say.

He still maintains that that is not true. For things to get to heart-beat-irregularizing level, there has to be something.

This time he did things differently though! He didn't speak to her until he found that that was the only option. All through the cake cutting, the snacking, the friendly violence he caught glimpses of specimens of most innocent, angelic smiles! That is his weakness! The sweet smile...

And to top it, the eyes looked intoxicated. He so envied the boldness with which (or the sheer chance because of which) his junior spoke to her. All he did was talk to people he knew. Else they'd think they knew him and start the above mentioned cliche that his 'wise' friends use.

Flower Power!

Rain Shower!

The God for showers toils,

to get Flowers all smiles!

"Here's a toast to our acquaintance O Flower,

and may it blossom into more", says God of Shower!

Nandan of our nation

2009-06-26T00:21:00.004-05:00

About 7 to 8 years back it was Dr A P J Abdul Kalam that I wanted to be like. Now it surely has to Nandan Nilekani. There shouldn't be any comparison between the two but a news item I read today has cheered me. It has given me a reason to 'live'.

I was an ambitious man looking up to influential people, as a kid, only to degenerate into just another creature who resigns to the statement, "it is all very easy to say big things, but not easy to do them. We can't do anything in this messed up political garbage!" From someone who wanted to be an Aerospace Engineer I became just another Electronics Engineer.

This too had phases.

1- Ambitous Electronics Engineer who saw many opportunities to do big things.

2- "Ahhh! Economy! Let me get a job first."

Being in the USA at this time gives such less-than-normal attitude to most people. What really lifted my dying spirits with a breath of life is the post about Nandan Nilekani. My survival will develop into living for sure. Here is a man whose knowledge, work and attitude earned political respect from a government I lost hope on. Apart from Dr MS (Our Prime Minister) and former Finance Minister PC, I didn't see more avenues for development and positive strides. Railway Minister and his respect from IIMs drew attention and my awe.

Now with this induction of Nilekani, there is a new wave of hope. Indeed men with bright ideas will be appeciated. Today, it is at the highest level. I pray that tomorrow, the level of an organization where a person can get recognized moves down and so on. When this happens, India will be in another universe. India 2020 won't be far away! And it won't be only in patriotic songs that India sounds great in!

My upward looking eyes are a result of news items I read. To name them are:

A- India exports milk to New Zealand (Dr Kurien's dream comes true)!

B- Nilekani's appointment as the head of (National) Unique ID agency!

C- Mumbai's Worli-Bandra sea link's status and now Worli-Haji Ali's proposals!

D- Vishakhapatnam's development!

E- Andhra Pradesh's e-governance actually being real and not just dummy web pages doing nothing!

F- Dedicated Freight Corridor project (railways)! (More railway projects related news on this wordpress link)

Today I feel my satisfied best because I turned from an apathetic person towards goings-on-around-me to a delighted and proud man looking to do my bit.

For all fellow Indians, let's take a cue from this incident and let us do our bit soon! For a start, it'll be a great thing if everyone decides to hokd back the urge to throw trash on the roads or any place other than the garbage bin. If I were you, I'd keep the empty packet with me till I find a bin. It is not very difficult.

I wish to mention my friend who is already doing his bit while the rest of us friends are still trying to either find excuses like lack of time/energy or some such thing or are still planning for those days when 'we will do something'!

Meet Vinod. He is presently working with Aricent Technologies in Bengaluru. Always the one to dirty his hands, put in the effort, plan and execute things, he has started a Charitable trust with a group of like minded people. Their trust mostly funds poor children's education. Personally I am looking forward to be a part of their trust. I strongly recommend you (reader) to get in touch with him if you want to do your bit.

You could mail him at 4uvinod@gmail.com

Here are other friends who harbor such itch to do something - Viraj Patil, Arun V T and Harsh Mankad. There are other friends in my close circle whom I haven't mentioned because they may not take initiative, but I know they'll participate.

@Vinod - I see a lot of scope for us to dirty our hands now.

A walk in the rain

2009-06-18T00:43:00.004-05:00

Mind was clouded;

frustration enshrouded!

Hoped for a clearer mind.

Brightness it should find!

Not happy, was I, with any work.

Backstabbers! Every corner they lurk.

"I have no achievement!"

To myself I lament.

No opportunity to prove myself.

No earnings to stock my shelf.

All, around me, in their strides, have spring.

Alas! I'm tied down; depression the string!

For others' sake, I go out of my way.

For their hassles, soul and spirit I lay!

To up my mood, no one cares!

A friendly time no one spares...

In mind, I want to get rid of darkness.

Outside, I don't mind the cloudy mess.

"Oh bring some peace! Bring some calm!"

I begged! Begged with outstretched palm.

On my way back home, raining it was!

My regular way would be by bus.

But today I chose to ease my pain.

So I walked. Like a kid I walked in rain!

*Dedicated to all those souls who are going through tough times! Hope that brought a smile...

Rasam powder's importance

2009-06-15T22:31:00.004-05:00

What is the value of Rasam in Varun's life?

Zilch.

Ok, that's a very rude thing to say about Rasam because it is great to have it and some people love it. Most people live because of it. Every Tamilian survives on it. Teluguites have a bit of it on most days as appetizers and call it "Chaaru". Kannadigas and Malayalees have it too with their own variations. The rest of India would not much know the difference between a Sambaar and Rasam but do like it when they have it.

Rasam, with its ingredients, can not only be an appetizer but also give relief from cold and flu. "It makes you want to live another day..." says my dad, when he gives his pro-Rasam talk.

I never eat it with rice. For me it is a mere nutrition-less food. I'd rather have as much as my appetite normally permits than increase my appetite and find that Rasam anyway filled that newly increased appetite.

Let's refine the question a bit.

What's the value of Rasam in Varun's life in India? Zilch.

What's the value of Rasam in Varun's life in USA? Increasing...

Mr Innovator (one of my faces) made Rasam flavored Pasta. I'll call it "Rasamy Pasta". I'll take suggestions for a better name. I was tired of eating outside. I wanted to make something and realized that we were out of rice. "Ummmm!!! Varun, what do we do now?"

"Ummmm!!! How about making pasta?"

"Yeah! Will save money for tonight and I'll get to make it to suit my taste buds..."

So I religiously start cleaning 2 utensils, boil pasta and sautee vegetables. I'm not your emergency cook but a Chef-i-have-time-give-me-something-new-yet-tasty cook! I realized it and people did praise me for my food. The only flaw so far has been that potatoes in my dishes often aren't completely cooked. So let's say I am a Honest-chef-I-have-time!-Give-me-something-new-yet-tasty cook. I wanted my taste buds to get a tingle of red chilly powder. I have been having really bland food for long without whining.

Indians need spices and chilly powder in particular. More so, people from Andhra Pradesh. We are people who just make a pickle of everything. Most them vary in degrees of spice - (with '!' symbol to be read as the spice level)

Most spicy, !!!!! + !

Moster spicy, !!!!! + !!

Mostest Spicy and !!!!! + !!!

Call-the-fire-brigade spicy !!!!! + !!!!!

Now as I finish this post, I can't say anything more than, "Call me home, and let me dish out a Varun special, anytime when you're at leisure!"

For now, Chef Varun (CV) signs off, having satisfied his belly and taste buds.

I'm just wondering if it should have read: Honest-Chef-I-have-time!-Give-me-something-new-yet-tasty!-Remind-me-of-my-mom cook!

Play!!!

2009-06-14T23:43:00.003-05:00

"Time to play gentlemen!" I didn't hear that actually but I finally played cricket. Raingod was merciful towards Raingod and others in the team. A long drive (3 hours) from Chicago to Springfield was made more sullen when we realized that the umpire decided to toss the coin without us because we were late. Our captain, Amer Khan, wasn't very happy because we had, as a visiting team, some grace time.

It didn't matter. After first two overs going very economical, our bowler Ali struck. It was a difficult catch because it was taken running backwards (a la Kapil Dev). That the ground was uneven and damp made this catch even more difficult. If I were the fielder I'd have dropped it or not reached it. As it is I was always a close in fielder, who'd do extremely well in ground fielding and inner circle catching. Never was an outfielder.

Soon it was 3 and then 5 wickets down. The batting team didn't seem to be getting anywhere. I was wondering if it indeed was possible to get a team out within 100 runs in a 40-over game. As it happened, we bowled a tight line and held our catches. Most of them were at 1st slip. 2 of them were by Moatsim Bajwa (Moshi bhai). He held one by his right hand - a quick reflex catch and the other was held low, just above the ground. He later completed a fine spell of bowling though he missed taking a hat-trick. Just for the hat-trick ball we all stood close by.

Moshi bhai looks like Waqar Younis. I said that to him. "Did anyone tell you look like Waqar?"

"Yeah some have..."

"Why don't you bowl like him too? (I was hinting at speed because he is a super bowler. Difficult to get away and has slow in-swing.)

He is a chirpy and a fun man. Just being around him gives an extremely comforting feeling.

So we got the team all down for 54 runs, the last wicket having fallen when they were attempting a second run of a brilliant fielder! (me) ;) I am really struggling with my right shoulder and I promised to take a doctor's appointment. My throws are just not as sharp and well-directed.

The batting order was decided. The openers were to play and complete the game for us. I was to go 5 down. As the batsmen were playing, I got restless. I needed to bat. I asked Moshi bhai if it would be doing too much to tolerate if I wanted to play in the nets for a bit. He said, "Suuuuuurre!" I am yet to see him discourage me for anything like this.

Kamran bowled gentle offspinners. I was lost for the 1st 4 balls. I started picking up. Ali, who looked sceptical of the idea of my going to bat in the nets, showed up and bowled a few at me. He gave me tips when I edged a few. It was nice. I was feeling very confident. Ali sledged me whenever I hit a confident stroke off him. It was fun, though he wasn't easy to handle in the nets too.

My confidence was a positive wave. I was being observed. I went back to join my team and asked Moshi bhai for feedback on my batting. "My feedback is that your batting in the nets made Amer decide that you'll go 1 wicket down if at all..."

"Thanks but I was seriously asking your feedback."

"Serious bhai! We were discussing when you were confidently playing your strokes. Launda confident lag raha hain. Isko bhejte hain!" (Guy is confident. Let's send him next.)

And so when the 1st wicket fell at 52, I had to be there to finish the game. I joined our wicket-keeper and opener, Vajid. Amer bhai asked me to be wary of the owler. He was supposed to be really deceptively good.

So I take guard, minus chest guard and thigh guard. That was supposed to worry me. I recently had injuries because of lack of protective gear. But the confidence I was in, I was looking to finish in the next few minutes.

1st ball!!! Here it was. Went forward to a left arm over, medium bowler. I got a genuine edge which was missed by the slip. I went through for the 1st run in my rekindled career. Vajid finished off the match with 2 singles (1 of the last ball and off the 1st ball of the next over). He felt bad for denying me the chance to hit the winning run. All is well. He more than made up by gifting me his chest guard.

An early finish saw us back home by 6pm. Looking forward to my next game on saturday (June 20th) at Washington Park, Chicago.

License to conquer

2009-06-12T12:15:00.005-05:00

What is it about a Driving License that makes you feel strong; makes you feel confident?
Is it that you have been certified to drive alone? But why don't you feel the same about any other official document which gives you an identity. How about a college ID, even a reputed one, for that matter?
Perhaps the photo identity, age proof and address proof - all in one - give it the ultimate-document-to-posses status. Very bland? Not so convincing? What difference does having all these proofs in one or in 3 different documents make?
Perhaps it is license itself - license to drive - that gives one the confidence, pride and satisfaction. At subconscious level you know that you are free. Free to take on the world. Free to roam the world (or at least as far as the roads can take you). Free to feel free.
It tells you at the inner level that people have faith in you, your abilities and your reliability. It tells you (Funny that IT has to tell you):
1 - You're not suicidal.
2 - You're not a criminal or murderer who gleefully visualizes human bodies being trampled by car tires.
3 - You won't refer to your restlessness, frustrations or thoughts triggering these emotions.
4 - You're mature as your age suggests (Assuming mental age is at least close to the physical age).
4 - VERY IMPORTANTLY, even if the others in/on the vehicle sleep, you'll not prioritze your sleep over your driving!
So, in all, it is my pick as the sole document that can reform your attitude towards life. Something that even a passport can't do, to that extent!

Needle in a haystack

2009-06-09T20:33:00.006-05:00

The following is an imaginary conversation between my friend and I...

"You seem so geed up.

You seem to be on top.

What's up? What's up?

Of joy, you're a dollop!"

"There is a joy in learning.

Ecstacy in meeting a loved one.

A pride in your earning.

Satisfaction in a great job done."

"What is this answer?

I asked a question.

Your answer filled with vigor,

has what relation?"

"A difficult needle I found,

in a dark, big haystack.

Thus, I feel joy all around.

Hope this find sits atop my prize rack."

"By golly! I get some idea.

I do see more clarity.

Tell me who! Santa Maria!!!

Do bring in some sanity!"

"Go back to my blog dated 31 May.

Of approval, I wish, I get a nod.

This find of mine gives a hope's ray.

The find being Worship, I am Raingod!"

The only reason I hate my name!

2009-06-08T23:57:00.006-05:00

My name was carefully chosen by a man who puts detailed thought into everything. Everything! My father wanted to ensure that it was not a typical Andhra name. That his son shouldn't have a problem while filling the numerous application forms that one fills in a life time was a major factor in his choice. He wanted to name me a trendy and uncommon one by those days' standards. The limiting factor was also that no one should be able to shorten my name further. They could nickname me anything, but the name itself couldn't be shortened further. Shortening further shoudn't give any bonus to the one calling out the shortened name. All these factors culminated into my name being fixed as what it is.

People may argue that they could still shorten my name and make it "Varu" or "Var" or some such thing. But here is what I observed. The easiest for anyone to shout out or keep using frequently would be bisyllabic names (Two sounds. Most nicknames are of 2 syllables.). Names longer than those are shortened to 2 syllables for ease of use. Vikram (2.5 or 3 syllables) typically becomes Vikky. Tejaswi become Teju. Vinay could become Vinnu. Padmanabhan becomes Paddy and so on. There are some 2.5 or 3 syllable names which can't be shortened and be used easily. Say, shouting out "Varru" isn't so much of a bonus over "Varun". "Madhur" can't be shortened but in case it is shortened, "Madhu" is another valid Indian name. Also, calling out, "Mad" in a formal meeting sounds flippant.

So, Mr Ravi Kishore (my dad)! Well done. Hats off! However, there are occasions when I really hate my name, of which, I am otherwise very proud.

I remember, people used to appreciate my name in the context of monsoon rains which are crucial for Indian farmers and the economy. The name was fairly uncommon too. So I never had trouble with my name. It is also a part of the motto of Indian Navy.

I hated it most in Bengaluru. Bengaluru has the most fickle rains that a city could have. Given that it is not an island, or near a coast like say Mumbai, it is surprising where it gets rains from. It is not exaggerating to say that if the sun beats down for 4 days or say a week, the next day has to be rainy. So, when I would set out to go to college on a bright morning, it would not rain, unless I am not carrying my jacket. So let us say, it is that day when it could rain going by the rule I established above, it will rain positively if I am not carrying my jacket. If I do carry my jacket, however, it will not rain. I was stuck with this. It happened more than a dozen times. Riding a bike on a horribly wet day is an experience I will dedicate another article to. For now only those who have ever "been there done that" will know how it is a nightmare.

I think it is to do with my name because my friends didn't seem to have such a problem. Every such instance only cemented that rule for me. The last one really frustrated me. I drove my friends to a cricket match that I was playing. My roommate (Vinay) wanted to see a game in flesh, especially a game that I was playing. This excitement came to him when he saw the cricket kit that I bought. The others for some reason or the other wanted to watch it too. My main worry was, if after they came to see the match I only managed to score a duck or did badly in the game.

I didn't expect that there was something worse to fear. 10 minutes before our reaching the ground it started drizzling. 9 minutes before reaching it started lashing. And it continued to pour for at least half an hour. With every half a minute of rain, my belief that there would even be a single ball bowled in the game was buried deeper. So far every game possible got rained out. The one game that didn't get washed out was the one in which I was resting. My teammates (Most of them from Pakistan) were wondering how this year the weather seems such a spoil sport. I observed this till one day in a fit of frustration I cursed that it was my name perhaps. That I joined the league this year was enough for the God of Rain to start pouring his heart out was what I was coming to believe. In fact, this time, it is not just affecting me, but my team, and the whole league itself.

Now, with this knowledge, everytime there is a rain forecast or the match has just been called off, my senior team members teasingly ask me, "Aur kyaa chaahte ho bhaai mujhse?" (What more do want from me?) "Let us have a game, Raingod!" they say. Varun means "God of water" but then I don't think that makes a difference anyway. The sorry story continues every weekend. Every team member observed how the sun beats down brightly and how it is pleasant for the whole week just to spoil the weekend. It is as if the sun wants a break in the weekend too! I wonder why it isn't this way - the rain wanting an off on weekend! It is MY name, I guess! When I was in India, it was this way there. Now that I am in Chicago, it is this way here!

I have vowed to change my name and/or email ID (varun.raingod@gmail.com). Another thing I promised to do is to name my son "Ravi" not so much after my dad as because it means "Sun God". At least he'll get nice weather following him wherever he goes. I only hope after all this that the same rule applies to him (Name = weather).

This is the only time I hate my name; only reason I hate my name. Dad, couldn't you think of another name?

Viraj Pa'TI'l to Viraj Patil

2009-06-05T01:22:00.006-05:00

The title of this post is, as I write, the google status message of my friend - Viraj Patil. For someone who knows that he is quitting TI (Texas Instruments) to join IIM-B (Indian Institute of Management - Bangalore), and only so much, it will seem like he is bragging his achievement, boasting, showing off or whatever.

Allow me to introduce my friend for 7 years while explaining that his status message doesn't mean to do any of the above mentioned things. A man of much fewer words than actions, he is continuing to set new high standards in our group of friends. 7 years back we all met each other in M S Ramaiah Institute of Technology, Bangalore. Through years we became fast friends and moved together as a group.

Viraj (Viru) always came across as a reticent, at times rude, fellow. This changed with the arrival of his 'steady-state' partner. He was someone who, we believed, would look in another direction if he accidentally even looked at a girl, as if saying, "Ohhh! Distraction!" As Vikram once put it, "Viru would go home and take a cold water bath if he sees a girl..." He was the butt of a lot of our jokes based on this idea. His frequent visits to the restroom (we're exaggerating here, of course) earned him a title "Attendance!"

He'd generally be in the top 5 scorers in the examinations in our class of about 70 and he'd come up to us all and exclaim "I got f***ked man!" when all he managed was mere honors (80% in VTU). If one pictured him and me standing next to each other, one wouldn't get a more academic contrast than that. The guy who almost failed in a course had no intention to apply for re-evaluation whereas the guy who missed securing 80%, instead securing 79.99% was feeling ashamed and wanted to apply for re-evaluation!

I would always believe that he was acting weird (We all believed so anyway and we still do believe that)! He'd fend off congratulatory messages by saying things like, "That was a fluke. Next time you see, I'll surely fail." And the story repeated all 8 semesters. It was just that we knew and got used to his quasi-modesty. This isn't to say he isn't modest, but when such things happened, people would get irritated.

The bottomline remained that with every semester he'd only get more determineed and focused. To complement those, he'd be methodical in his approach. There wouldn't be a single lecture he'd miss or a single notes' sheet he'd not have written down. Yet he found time to occasionally play with the rest of the group or roam places, go on trips or treks.

With time and with the reformation that the steady-state partner brought in him, he eased into a free and light-hearted man with tolerance to personal jokes or friendly banter. Academically, Viru, Vinod and myself took inspiration from our seniors at school (MSRIT) who had the urge and itch to do an extra bit. That found us participating (teaming up with Arun V.T. and Swetadrivasan) in the Honeywell - Freedom to Innovate - 2006 and ending up as the Top 5 team out of about 200 in India. Initially interested in the IIMs just as most others wanted to append an MBA to their BE to have that edge to their profile, he started developing a strong inclination towards technical qualifications (MS, MTech).

He had the audacity - if that word can be used - and the subconscious confidence in his abilities to believe that he deserved a better job than an average campus-placement job. He didn't take up the 1st few interviews/tests. He didn't take up the job he landed at CTS, instead choosing to apply online. His persistance rewarded him a job at TI as a consultant. Basis his performance, he was to be either confirmed or rejected there as a full-time employee. He would often worry. Any comfort given to him through allusions to his high pay would only evoke a reply, "It is not confirmed dude..." Need I say what finally happened in more explicit manner than just saying that he is quitting TI after 3 years of dedicated (may be overly dedicated) work? He ensured though, that he didn't miss many commitments - social, family etc.

What better event can happen to him than to get an admit at IIM-B? It only had to be this better (than the now saturating work at TI perhaps) an opportunity for him to decide to quit TI. As he is entering IIM-B, he still has not 'showed-off' in any status message that he is quitting for that reason. While each one of us in the group are trying our best to inspire each other and give each other an occasion and reason to be proud of ourselves, this surely counts as a pride-evoking achievement for us all.

On behalf of Madhur, Rahul, Shreyoshee, Shwetha, Swetadrivasan, Tejaswi, Vikram and Vinod I wish him good luck! I'll soon update this post with some pics of our group! Here is hoping that all of our dreams (including our million plans like restaurant, farming, suing and anti-suing agencies) are realized and one day we meet at the crossroads that we bade farewell to each other and join forces to inspire others and possibly generations to come!

Cheers!

Tribute to a great woman!

2009-06-03T19:32:00.006-05:00

Everyone's mom is the best. Though mathematically it seems odd because according to mathematicians most populations of species have a distribution from worst to best. Moms however defy all laws. So let me establish that my mom is the best. Yes, your mom is the best too! Yeah his mom is the best and her mom is the best and everyone's moms is the best!

The lady that I am paying tribute to can be an inspiration to anyone. She is a personification of cheerfulness, grit, determination, duty-mindedness, humility, endearing, etc. (At this point I spent quite some time and realized that I was spending way too much time on something that has no limits and no justification despite the number and quality of words used.) The lady I am paying tribute to has no achievements, whatsoever, that the world recognizes. She doesn't even have her degree certificate (B.Com from Osmania University) to prove she is a graduate. But she has achieved a lot indeed. Read on...

Born as, Ramalakshmi Gidugu to Dr Narasimha Rao and Mrs Rajeshwari Gidugu in Nellore, she was the second child and eldest of the 5 daughters the couple had. She quickly became a favorite of one and all. She was plump and chubby to look and was very active and naughty. With every year, she was more of a tomboy. She'd beat up her elder brother's friends and bully them. She'd climb trees and steal mangoes and fruits. She'd make her own catapult and use it to pluck fruits. She'd leave home after an early breakfast, only to find herself relishing another breakfast at the neighbor's house. Then she'd leave, only to stuff more into her stomach at another neighbor's place. (It was usual for people to spot my mom on the road and be tempted to call the chubby looking girl and feed her more.) My mom wouldn't deny them that pleasure. She became the only person to have the privilege to give her piece of mind to the village head (called Munsab).

Life was all rosy for this happy-go-lucky girl who lived in the beautiful countryside of Andhra Pradesh. At school she'd dread Hindi classes and just pass the time by sitting in the back bench. By college time she retained most of her happy-go-lucky and carefree ways. She had friends around her who liked her company. She had a friend who wrote a poem on her. She was adored and admired by everyone. She never harmed anyone but was capable of seeing the possible harm that a person may do to her and was capable to fight ten words with just one effective word. She reserved her sharp tongue for those who'd, unaware of her capability, attack her verbally. It wasn't until a few months ago that I saw a picture of her college time and reformed my image of her. By the standard of those days, she was a beautiful lady. And I used to think she was plump and fairly okay to look at. This is despite the many times I saw an uncountable number of people not believing their ears when my mom would tell that she had a son as old as I am!

Let me jump to her married life.

Marrying a man who worked in a big metropolitan city - Mumbai - isn't easy. Living in Mumbai was impossible for most people. This lady didn't know Hindi - at least that would have enabled her to manage and survive daily life. Let us just say that apart from Telugu she couldn't speak another language. This was in 1983. When we left Mumbai to live in Bengaluru (2000) she had unbelievable lot of friends speaking different tongues. The amusing part was that two women speaking the same tongue trusted my mom more than the other woman. They all would come to my mom. I was amazed! It is hard to list down everything but I'll end this post here abruptly, only to continue in my future posts. Those posts will mention amusing anecdotes from her life in Mumbai.

To conclude this post, she is a magical lady, a Goddess, an inspiration to live and thrive. Mom, here's wishing you a Happy Birthday.

A story by the river...

2009-06-02T03:49:00.008-05:00

“… we have no time to stand or stare.” We have no time or we make no time. Whatever it is, the truth remains that every one of us has a story to tell. Walk down the streets, look at people, and observe them. Some would be walking nonchalantly while others would be rushing to some place. The old man sitting on the bench in the bus stop must be eagerly waiting for the bus which would take him to his newborn granddaughter. The man standing at the corner, waiting for the bus could actually be hoping that the bus never arrives so that he doesn’t get to go back home to his troubled married life. A young girl standing in the bus stop shelter, seemingly calm while awaiting the bus, could from inside be restless to meet her friends and tell them the story of her new-found love. One should just have a little time to scratch the surface and there will be stories after stories, waiting to be told.

Everyone cannot afford time for such interesting tasks. People are more engrossed in survival, trying to improve their quality of life – merely materialistically - earn that extra buck and find happiness, though ironically they struggle throughout their life for it, thus spending many discontent and unhappy moments in their lives. For example, a family would buy an expensive home theater system, watch events (news and other events) all over the world, watch movies (mere stories told by others) or watch sports to see a fight between victory and defeat (the same old story since the beginning of the universe). How many people would know what is going on in the life of that smiling and charming new neighbor or the wrinkled widower living across the street?

I am a writer. I thank God for making my job implicitly require me to find such stories and also give me the time for it. Sometimes the purposeful observation gets to you. However one might argue, it is another regular task after all. I quickly decided that I needed a vacation. This is another luxury of my profession. I could call it a break from work to enjoy the beautiful nature. I could also use this very break to think away from the crowd and yet be working by writing something - story or a descriptive article about my trip.

On the last occasion that I made a quick decision, I found myself going to Cauvery river's jungle lodge resort. This was about a hundred kilometers away from Bengaluru, the technology capital of India. I enjoy a special rapport with the staff and the in-charge of this lodge. I called up Andrew, the in-charge of the lodge, my special friend. I gathered that he was going to be out of office for a couple of days. So the first two days of my stay for about four days was going to be without the company of my fellow philosopher with whom I shared many intellectual conversations.

Early one monday morning I kick-started my bike and, off, I set to the lodge. It was a typical pleasant Bangalore day. Cloudy, cool and gently breezy weather made riding a bike a very pleasurable activity. A cup of coffee with biscuits was to keep me going till I reached the lodges in time for a heavy breakfast. Breakfast, for the quantity, quality and variety of dishes was what I liked best about this lodge. Andrew, who is a nature-lover and who is vegetarian by choice like me, ensures that food served in the lodges is vegetarian, yet tasty. The meat-lovers never had an occasion to complain about the lack of taste that they generally have elsewhere. Stopping for photographs on the way, where the views looked breath-taking, was all that interrupted my ride.

Andrew has some creativity in his schemes, themes and work. He was instrumental in changing the interiors of the rooms and having a close-to-nature color scheme for them. The rooms were wooden and green artificial turf carpet covered the wooden floor. The curtains and lampshades were of light green shades. Upon entering any of the rooms, one would get the feeling of living in a tree house, or for a more imaginative person it would be like living on the tree. I chose Room 7, not only because I liked the number but also because that room was special for me. On occasions in the past when I was fighting states of depression or was struggling over something in life, time spent in this room triggered an improvement. This room also happens to be the one closest to the river bank. River Cauvery flows from Karnataka to Tamil Nadu. In this particular stretch, the river flows from west to east. The lodges are on the north side of the river which means that looking out from the south-side window the river would flow from the right to the left. It is surely a quarter of a kilometer wide on average and looking out of the south-side window, the opposite side of the bank is very scenic. The land quickly rises up and hardly would one see water surface level land as more imposing is the hill that sits in the background as if threatening to fall on you.

The whole bank is green. There is hardly any soil visible. The hill is covered densely by trees. It is eerie in a way because the stretch is known to be a good catchment area. Given that, it is natural to expect one of nature's fiercest and strongest predators to lurk in the waters. It is not uncommon to find carrion of deer floating by the river bank gently being tugged from underneath. In moments, the carrion would disappear. The thought of being stranded on the other side of the bank often gave me shudders. There was no place to run and escape a preying alligator there except climb a tree or the hill. The thick tree trunks surely make it difficult to climb them, especially with an alligator breathing down one's neck.

Dark nights in such forest areas are scary. It is the moonlit nights that are more terrifying. It is the partial sight of things that puts doubts in the minds. Standing at the banks of the river it gives me shudders seeing small dots glowing in the moonlight in the middle of the stream. I stop whatever I was doing and rush back towards my room when I see such things. I ordered beer for that night. A tiring day in the sun in the village area can be ended on a good note by beer. I recently tried writing when I was a little tipsy. What came out was well appreciated by people. What better than to get tipsy in room 7 to kick start a story?

As I do on occasions like these, I don't start writing until 11:00 pm, when surely all other campers retire to their rooms. That night I was going to do what I wanted to do for a long time - write a story by the river. I had enough beer to make me slightly tipsy. It was about 11:30pm. I looked outside the window. The crescent moon that night looked beautiful and the sky was studded with fine diamonds. It was only a look down at the forest that could spoil these adjectives for the night. I stood there pondering about the topics I could write about, people I could write about or just the night, to start with. I opened another bottle of beer. It looked like I had to up the level a bit to get started. I perambulated within the room for a while. It was the frustration of not being able to come up with an idea that stopped any new idea from entering. I was stuck in that rot. Strange that when some people want to tell a story they never get to tell it while others tell their stories no matter what.

When I looked out of my window this time, to the right, at a distance I spotted what looked like a carcass to me. It was flowing slowly downstream and it was only after fixating on the object for a while that I could discern it was a human body. A chill ran down my spine. When you see such things, you can hardly do better than that. Under ordinary circumstances I'd have watched it flow beyond my eyesight from where I was. Being tipsy removes fear. I opened the door and briskly walked towards the bank to catch a closer glimpse of the body. I could serve as a witness if there would be a case in future. The slowness of the drift seemed a pointer to the kind of death the person had. I could gather that it was a man. “Surely a sorry way to die, ” I thought. A feeling mixed with pity, eeriness and horror filled me. I only stared at the body and watched it drift closer to me from far. “I wonder if he drowned himself or he was killed,” I thought.

“He was killed sir!”

My heart seemed to come up to my mouth! With a sudden jerk I turned back. I wasn't alone? I surely heard a man! I saw a movement just as I turned back. My feet froze and my head became heavy. My heart was banging against my ribs. I stood there. I know that for sure. I couldn't think, let alone act. What was happening? Who was this? What was he doing here? He wasn't a person working at the lodges!

“He was my father! They killed him.”

It is horrifying when I recount it and I wonder why I didn't react. What if, instead, I spotted an alligator behind me. Would I have stood still while it preyed on me? Was it because I was tipsy or would I have been this way anyway?

He sounded more human than a spectre, the longer I stayed there. My frozen body slowly started to twitch. I started following his movements. I looked alternatively at the body and the man. He had an indignant look on his face.

All this was not making sense. What was the link between the man getting killed and his son sitting by the banks as if expecting the body to flow by at this hour of the night?

“He was innocent sir. They accused him of a abetting in a theft of money, jewels and valuables from the temple. When he threatened to reveal the truth about them, they killed him by drowning him.”

I stood there like a zombie. I was staring at him without reacting. He too joined me in following the body of the deceased.

I found words at last. “What exactly happened?'

“They say that when some people have some stories to tell, no matter what, they tell them. My father had a big truth, about them, to reveal. They killed him so as to shut him up. There were half a dozen of them who drowned him. They escaped sir. And the blot of the theft is on Nagappa – my father. I see this body every year on this day – the day of this brutal murder. It is as if he wants to tell a story. I can only sit here and cry my heart out, sir,” saying which he broke into subdued tears.

My heart went out to the man. I couldn't decide which part of the whole incident was my hallucination. How could I see a body of a man killed, by the words of the man, more than a couple of years ago? I could understand a grieving son imagining seeing his father. Why me?

“They stole the valuables from the temple for their own pockets. My father, an honest and God-fearing man, refused to let it pass. He threatened to reveal the conspiracy to the officials. But before he could do that...” the weeping intensified.

I continued in the flow of the chat which was more like that man's soliloquy so far. “Why don't you tell the officials? Surely you know it all too!”

“They won't take my word sir! I am just left with no one to believe me. My guiding light has been removed from my life!”

I didn't know what to say. What could I say? I couldn't believe it was just beer that did so much to my imagination. No! I surely heard so much. “It can't be my imagination,” I convinced myself.

I had nothing to say. I couldn't find words to say anything to the weeping man. I seemed in a vague sort of dream of my own where strange things appeared and disappeared. The story seemed clear. Though I didn't ask for a complete chain of events from the weeping son, I gathered enough to know that there was a murder and the murdered man knew things which weren't allowed to come out into the public.

I slowly walked back to my room. I hardly may have entered my room and mustered enough energy to lock the door behind me. I just couldn't take it anymore. I fell asleep. I don't think I dreamt that night. I woke up late that morning. There was a hangover. It was more from the disturbing night than from the beer, I felt.

I made my way to the police station. I was curious to find out about the incident. The officials there knew me as a regular visitor of the lodges.

“I was curious to know about some Mr Nagappa's case in conjunction with the theft at the temple some years back...” I asked inquisitively.

The name wouldn't have struck chords but when I mentioned the theft, the officer seemed to recollect quickly. “There were a few theories, but in any case he drowned himself. They say he stole the valuables and was planning to sell them in the city. He couldn't swallow the guilt and so he killed himself. Why he killed himself is not exactly known but the evidences we have point at that as a reason.”

My brows furrowed as I thought, “So what I heard from the son was correct? That he died was for sure. But it is very possible that he was killed. So indeed some people tell their stories in some way or the other.”

I was about to bring up the topic of the son, when the officer said, “And the very next day, his son committed suicide too. He had no one else but his father and he couldn't bear the accusation and the blot on his father (his only family member). He thought he'd always have to bear the wrath of the villagers. It was too much for him. Both the cases are closed.”

I don't remember what more the officer said. I was just nodding. That I was shaken is an understatement. Could I even say anything about the previous night there? Once again I couldn't tell a story. I headed back home by that evening. I wanted to write a story. But here I was. I wondered - through my painful moments in room 7 trying to think of a story to write - how some people tell stories when they have to, no matter what. Here was the example. Should I say Nagappa had a story to tell, which he told me and his son? Should I say the son had the story to tell which is why the whole incident happened? Let us just say it was a story by the river... A story by the river...

When listening obediently gave me a card of joy...

2009-06-01T16:32:00.010-05:00

I got my Illinois State Driving License today. I'd have been surprised if I didn't. I drove a lot in India and somehow the mental driving that I did here didn't scare me much. I thought, a hands-on session before the test and I should be through. I don't know if this term was coined by anyone before but I picked it up from my dad.

[Mental driving is something that is done by anyone other than the driver of a vehicle. Mental driving is actual driving minus the physical control of the vehicle. So you are driving in your mind with exactly the same reference as the driver's, only that you may brake earlier than the driver or steer gently to the left to center the vehicle in the lane. So a good mental driver needs just 5 min to understand the vehicle because he/she knows how the traffic is and has the experience of the roads.]

I was picked up by my instructor Mrs Araceli Villa in the morning at 7 am. I am not an early morning person at all. I am worse when I am made to not only start my day early but also start without breakfast. I didn't bother because my aim for the day was to somehow get myself a Driver's License.
I had about a 30-min drive during which I instilled confidence in the instructor and, more importantly, me. She gave me and another person taking the test today useful tips about most likely instructions by an examiner. At the reception, where they give tokens, the lady greeted me, took my documents (Passport, Social Security Card and Bank Statement) for verification and looked at me and said, "Varuuuun?"
I looked half-puzzled. I didn't mean to. It was just hunger I guess. Or maybe as my friends put it, it was my regular "the perennial lost/confused/ question-mark-face look".
"Varuun! Is that how you pronounce your name?" (She must have thought I don't much follow English.)
"Yeah, that's right! Varun!"
"Ahh! I am very smart this morning, for a blonde..."
I noticed that she was a blonde. I chuckled and half shook my head as if to mean, "Naaah! Don't demean yourself..." I refrained from asking her about Monday morning blues. As it is it was raining in the morning and I don't know of many people who look forward to Monday Mornings at work.
At the counter where the processing was to be done, I walked up and submitted my documents.
"I wish to take the Driving test," I requested.
She looked blank! I wondered if the blues had something behind the look. I wore a blue t-shirt too. (I had a choice of other colors. But...) I have this irritating habit of going against my beliefs and superstitions, often. A lady spoke from behind her.
I figured that the lady from behind was training the lady at the counter. I was relieved that it wasn't anything to do with the blues. Poor lady was nervous. "Ahhhh!" I thought.
For some moments I was contemplating trying to create some fuss just to shake her up a bit. That thought hardly lasted a few microseconds!
I had a mental picture of the instructions that the examiner would give me during the test. I was confident about the test. I sat in the car and waited for the examiner to appear and take the seat next to me.
"Hi! How are you," I greeted.
Pause...
Pause... (The two pauses would sum up to a time duration of 1 second, but a greeting so cheerful should have evoked a chirpy response from anyone! If I was expecting a Driving license granted with a pat on my back, just for the cheerful greeting, I agree I was expecting too much. Surely a happy "Hi!" in return shouldn't have hurt him a lot.
He looked very austere and reticent. "Okhaye! Leth me see yourr thaw-cuments," (the thaw is a pronounciation key. To be pronounced like 'th' as in 'there') he said with a heavy accent that told me he spoke Spanish and was very likely from Mexico. Through the grim look I somehow read that he wasn't going to be mean. I saw in him a fatherly feeling waiting to hand me my license.
"Now leesen thu mee cayrrfully. I am yorr examinerr. I will give you the instrucsyons well in ath-vaans," and some more statements, the order of which I th-on't rrremember.
We moved. He asked me to turn right as we exited the venue onto the streets. I gave the indicator and was well on course. Just at the gate, I suddenly imagined that it was a "No-right turn" sign at the gate. For a moment (nanosecond) I wondered if he was trying to trick me to see my presence of mind. I quickly changed the indicator to left at the Stop sign and then realized that the road was not a one-way. So I could indeed take a right turn there. Horror!!!
Why does my imagination pitch in at wrong times? I changed to right turn again. All this happened in a span of 1 second during which I also heard him gently say, "No, rrright, rright!" I didn't dare explain my whole train of thought. (I have had people laugh at me when I tell them about my imagination. Some are bemused too.) Despite the muddle followed by a mumbling explanation that it changed to left by accident I continued confidently with my eyes opened wider. I was going straight and 'well in advance' of the expected instruction to turn left, I dind't get any instruction. Always the one to be ready for surprises (sometimes convert regularities/ non-existent surprises to surprises) I thought he was taking me on another route. At the stop sign I was to take a left, but because he didn't say anything I continued on the straight lane. And at the last moment he says, "Left here."
Horror! I crossed the dotted line from where I was to switch lane if I was to turn left. So it was not legal to take a left. I wanted to tell him that. But he almost had his hand on my steering so I realized that he wanted a left there and nothing else would do. In Chicago, if you miss a turn, you could very often turn on the next street and turn again to come back to where you originally wanted to. These theories, I told myself, didn't have a patient taker.
I looked through all my mirrors and gently crossed into the left lane. He was happy I watched the mirrors for traffic from behind. At the stop sign, it was my turn to go, but this whole thing left me fumbling a bit. I was disturbed that the examiner made me do something illegal (sort of). A lesser mortal would have broken down. I have nerves of steel (Titanium perhaps...)! What else would you expect me to have when most of my life I throw myself into trouble; I spring surprises on myself? I wanted to remove the fumble from my mind and as my dad so often taught me, "Err on the safe side", I didn't see any harm in taking a fraction of a second to settle myself before proceeding.
"Naaauuww! Move Naauwww! Ptchchch! Phhuuffff! Now wait. Watch. Mooov naauuw."
For each of those instructions, I vaguely remember my answers as, "Huh? Yes but... (interruption. This is where the Ptchch came) Errrr. But now I have to wait (I knew what I was doing, but he didn't have the confidence that I'd stop). Ok Now I'll move." At this point if I didn't move, more than the trailer (moving opposite our direction) crashing onto us, I feared my examiner's wrath!
[What happened was that in taking the extra fraction of a moment, the opposite car who was to move after I took the left was confused. But just before the examiner said, "Now wait" at just the same time as I was explaining, "But now I have to wait..." that car moved. So I stopped. Which is great, considering the confusion. However he was unhappy I didn't move when it was my turn, which in turn happened because the 'turn left' was not well in ath-vaans. I believe that was in turn because he was busy trying to look at the Radio and AC knobs and somewhere on the streets.]
After I completed the left, he was almost at the peak of his voice, "Naaaauuwwww, stop there at the rrright."
"Over there? I pointed expecting that we were just moving on and he was asking me to make an expected parking. Horror! No!
"Rrriiighghghgt naaauww. Staaaappp! Naauuww. Naaauut at yor own swweetth thime!"
I gently pulled over to the side, kinda disturbed at the way things were proceeding. "Perhaps he was trying to shake me up and see how I react," I thought. (In hindsight, I didn't think that made sense but the fuss didn't make sense either...)
After some stern words to me about how things were to be taught by my instructor and not the examiner and how, he wondered, my instructor thought I was fit enough to drive and how the examiner's job is to examine and return home to his family and not land in an emergency ward in the hospital, during which all I said was, "Sure sir, yes sir, yes sir, sir, sir, ..." (I was trying to save syllables because the additional syllables didn't have time to be heard in that supposed-to-be-monologue)
I found it sort of ridiculous. I did my best in such a short notice and I didn't panic. I stopped at the stop sign, etc. I only waited an extra fraction at the sign before making the left. He thought my basics weren't right. "How th-oo yuu stop at the Stop sign? Tell me when you have khompleted yor anser an-th I will prrocee-th!"
"Uhhhmm come to a complete halt, sir."
"Are yuu th-one with yor answer?"
"Yes sir!"
"Naauw leesen thuu me!" And he rattled an animated lesson of how to stop and proceed at the stop sign and he took out his pen and said, "Naauw luk. Thees ees yor Stop sign." His finger was our car and he showed the finger stopping at the pen and waiting 3 sekunds, "Woun (pause), Tuu (pause), Three" The pauses, I tried to time, were exactly of a second in duration!!! He explained again.
"Naauuw. How dhu yuu parrkh a khar daauwnheel weeth the rroad khurving thu the rright?"
"Road curving to the right? Ummm, pull up the Emergency brake, keep the car in parking mode and turn the wheels to the right!"
"Ghh-oo-th. Very Gh-ood."
And after a few breaths, he asked me to be careful while once again emphasizing that he wanted to reach home and not elsewhere. He asked me to proceed. I, wanting to show that I haven't lost my cool, and I am a good driver, said, "Yes sir. I'll give the indicator and proceed."
I followed his instructions carefully. There were times when he was telling me when to start turning the steering wheel. It was annoying. All he should do is to tell me to turn, not how much to turn and when to turn. To make matters worse, the regular traffic would sometimes just come onto the main road though they had the mandatory Stop sign and I had my right of way. If I just proceeded my way, we'd probably have bumped into those cars, but I would brake just a wee bit to be under "khompleet khontrrol".
"No no! They have the Stop sign, not you. You shoul-th go."
"Ughghghgh! Would you rather have us crash into them and then explain the rules to them while failing me in the test" I wanted to ask. "I am just being careful because they don't know I am driving for a test," I wanted to add.
A couple of expected exercises and he asked me to park in the parking spot. He grimly marked circles and scribbled stuff on the marking sheet. I furtively looked into the sheet to see if I could gather something. I didn't know if I was supposed to look or not.
"Naauuww! Follow me tuu the fhoto centhur inside."
"Ok!"
My instructor raised her eyebrows to ask, "Positive?" I half nodded with that 'lost look'.
It slowly struck me that having a photograph take was not for a 'wanted' list but to print on my License card. I got it all done! I didn't even have any sensation, to feel happy. "What was it all about then!"
I guess it was my obedient listening and not trying to explain things that saved my day. My first instructor, my dad, more often than not, got answers and explanations. It was his zero-tolerance approach and strictness that trained me for such an eventful day. I am surprised I didn't lose my cool for a moment.
Thanks dad!

Of Vandana and Raingod

2009-05-31T21:30:00.007-05:00

When you get more than you expect, you're stunned. When she waved goodbye before leaving the club, that is what happened. From the impression that my friends have of me, off late, this shouldn't so much as tickle my nails. (I guess that's something that shouldn't cause any sensation. So I used that comparison.) It should be a mere pushover incident for a today-this-tomorrow-another type callous flirt!

Hang on! I was sent to dizzying heights. (May be that's why the weakness in the knees. They'd be shuddering with the thought of a fall from there.) It wasn't a pushover incident. I gathered some courage. Believe me, it took a lot of it! To turn back, take quick steps towards her, tap her shoulder to catch her attention, hope that she is receptive while she turns back to me, open my mouth, exert some energy to generate sounds and ensure that they are clear and are intelligible to the hearer in the loud noise and mean what they were to mean - all this after she waved goodbye and made her way to the exit of the club - was tougher than most questions in the exams I faced.

I first caught sight of this pretty girl in black at least an hour after we entered the club. This was in Crobar, Chicago where Anant decided to invite us to celebrate his birthday. It was difficult to say if it was crush at first sight or not because the lights were dim -though very much the way they should be in nightclubs - making it imperative to have more than a glance to capture the complete picture.

She was there, dancing on the floor with other girls and guys who seemed to be her colleagues. They seemed to be visiting USA on some official work. How did I judge that? Well, the whole group consisted of Indians and some of them looked fairly old. Such mixed age group of people all from India more often than not points to a group of onsite-ers. Anant walked up to me. We have this code to update each other, at least when we bump into each other, of the happening events or possible events in the club. I shouted in his ears (have to shout more than once to convey anything longer than 2 words) and furtively pointed in the direction where she was sitting with 2 of her friends. "The middle one... Looks nice!" I said. Anant wished me luck and set off where he wanted to before spotting me.

I now saw, much to my pleasant shock, that her 2 friends were leaving her to join their other colleagues on the dance floor. I couldn't believe it. Was this a sign from above? May be not. Maybe they'll come back and make a fuss about me troubling their friend - a lonely girl sitting by the side. Maybe they'll have me bounced out by the bouncers. It perhaps took about 5 min in this quandary. It seemed like an eon though.

I gently walked up to her. "Excuse me. Are you a student?" I asked. She couldn't hear. "Sorry?" she asked. "Are you a ..." as I was about to complete, I realized that the sounds were dying down before they could reach her ears. And the distance from my mouth to her ears could harly be a couple of inches. I took out my phone, typed a text version of my question. "No" and she shook her head too.

"Are you onsite?"

"Sort-of..." she said with a corresponding gesture.

I contorted my face as if to mean, "What does that mean?"

"Where do you work?"

"NEC!"

"What?"

"NEC!!!"

"Oh! Ok! You care to join me for a dance" I said, shaking my legs and moving my shoulders as I asked. Now the text conversion seemed to take too much time to engage her in a conversation in which she'd reply patiently.

"No, I am done," with an expression that one has when they want to say, "Sorry to disappoint you." This was kind of strange because girls normally are sterner, bordering on rude, when they refuse during such times. I was happy that she wasn't rude.

"Just a little bit? Over here?"

"No, I am done."

"Hmmm... You're looking pretty!"

"Thank you!" she replied with a smile.

"Hmmm... Okay! See you..."

I passed time around other places, joined my friends for a bit. Some wanted to leave. I felt it was way to early to leave.

I also received Anant's text "Your girl is alone by herself."

I knew it. I had done what I wanted to by then. But I thought she was still alone. So I went back to see if I could gather more about her in a casual conversation. But when I went back, there were the 2 friends who came back to join her. I understood the meaning of "sunken feeling" completely. It always works best when you learn with examples!

The rest of the time, I passed, trying to find moments when she'd be alone. The whole group now joined her. They were taking pictures. I surely think our eyes met a couple of times from a distance. I was worried she may get cautious and ask her friends to call for help! That didn't happen.

Finally they decided to call it a night. One after the other, they started walking in a half-dizzied and half-drunken manner (rather quarter dizzied, quarter dancing, quarter drunken and quarter tranced). At least 4 girls walked past me from my left side. (As I faced the DJ, the enclosure where they were sitting was on my left.) The next one was her. My heart skipped most of its regular beats. I was hoping she'd not embarass me. Half trying to catch a glimpse of her before she left and half trying to save my face I was in a mess.

Surely the Heavens felt mischievous then because the girl waved at me to say goodbye!!! That was the dizzying moment. The skipped beats and the regular ones came at once. That shock drowned me so much that I forgot to do what I'd have so easily done when in my elements - try to strike a conversation!

Just in the nick of time, when there was a pause near the exit as they were waiting for everybody to be together, I mustered enough courage and walked up to her and asked her name.

"Vandy!"

"Huh?"

"Vandana!"

"Ahhh! Varun!"

"Nice meeting you." Here I was like, "She said that? SHE said that???"

"Yeah nice meeting you too."

Itis not that I get beaten up by girls when I talk to them so I was feeling this way. It was just something about the girl. Too many pleasant shocks here and I lost courage, ironically, to ask any more of her contact details.

"You should have asked for her last name at least!" exclaimed Anant.

"You think I am so dumb to not know to do that?" I said to him, while I mumbled "It was just lack of courage," to myself shaking my head. I know there is no logic in that, I knew there was no logic in that. If I gathered courage to ask her name, why not her full name?

Here is where I remembered my friend Rahul. In many of our up-there-in-quality conversations we had we would discuss about how certain things are beyond logic. All I can do is shrug my shoulders and wait for her to bump into me and hope that logic, to the extent that I can strike useful conversation with her, prevails. When after I told Rahul this story I said, "I wish I could find her dude!", he replied "I wish too!" He paused before delivering the punch-line, "I can't bear your whining!"

He surely wants to sound insensitive but I guess he may be praying a little that that happens too. What is the logic? Don't ask me now! (I'd have been the first one to attempt to find and/or provide logic in any matter/discussion. Today, and for some time to come, I believe it won't happen.)

For now, it is a small prayer (Praarthanaa),

that Raingod (Varun) gets Worshipped (Vandana)!

Some pics uploaded by my friend Tejaswi are here.