The End View...

2K11...2K12

2012-01-02T12:54:00.002+06:00

So its the end of another year and the beginning of another year. The FB Wall is inundated with new year wishes and so is the Twitter timeline. The best and the worst list of the year gone by have been published and re-published. The thinkers of our times have put their heads together and given us a lot of food for thought about the year that was and the year that should be or will be. The sum total of this introductory paragraph of my blog is that even I will not be left behind...even I got a couple of cents to spare.

2K11 for me as far as India goes was the year of the 'World Cup victory', 'Anna', 'Rising fuel prices', 'Silent Manmohan', 'Pawar Slap', 'Anna', 'Silent Manmohan', 'weakening rupee' or if you would appreciate my position 'strengthening dollar' and finally the mockery of democracy at the very pantheon of Indian democracy.

At the personal level, 2K11 was marked with intellectual bankruptcy on Blogger. I could manage only a couple of posts all year. I did really make up for it by vociferously micro-blogging on Twitter but then 140 characters is really child's play, so I won't go much into it anyways!!!

2K11 got me geographically relocated and addicted to Wi-Fi ,3G and 4G and the numerous vices which come with it. The Amazon Kindle proved to the best buy of the year for me with my Motorola Atrix 4G coming a close second. The dump of free Kindle ebooks (989 in number) which I got from my colleague should be termed as the best surprise of 2K11. With so many books at my disposal I am sure I have finally got a lifetime of something with me. The Foundation series remains the best 7'o-logy of the year!!!

I was introduced to the Art of Cooking if not Living and in the last 6 months I have pretty much mastered the art of Baigan Bharta and a few Aalo delicacies. Poha and bread upma are like a walk in the park!!!

Over the course of this year I gained a couple of inches around my waistline not to mention the few extra pounds which I recently added. But then I have got a New Year resolution to take care especially of that :P

After India's World Cup win the only thing which I am waiting to see/follow is Sachin's 100th 100 after that I don't think cricket will remain the same for me. Anyways in Yankee land I have pretty much started following American Football with New England Patriots as my favorite team. Baseball still bores me and NBA has to many games to keep track off (even after the lock down :( ). Arsenal still continues to get my respect and love and the way we ended the year on 4th has only instilled more confidence in me about the current team and not to mention the ever present Professor.

That was 2K11. 2K12 holds a lot of promises (as most of them already said in their FB statuses and tweets). Let me not enumerate them for then they might just lose their charm.

For now all I can say is that I will be blogging regularly in 2K12 and yes HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!. But I am sure that you have heard the latter quite a lot until now :)

P.S : Under the one book per week plan, I am still at Hunger Games - I

When a pessimistically optimist (self-proclaimed) patriot writes…

2011-04-09T11:01:00.001+06:00

Dear Anna,

The very fact that everybody in the country is talking about you, made me shun my Saturday morning lethargy and make this endeavor of talking to you. I had dialed that support number from my mobile (the one which we were told to give a missed call on to show solidarity with you, but the network congestion prevented me. Hence this letter)

No, we have not met before and I am sure we never will. Yet the stir which you have created in the capital and the congestion the tweets bearing your reference have caused on Twitter have not passed my notice.

I know most about you and the cause which you are fighting for thanks to the many e-mail forwards I received from my co-workers. I also googled up Ralegan Siddhi and least to say I am impressed by the phenomenon you have made out of it. Such is the impact Ralegan Siddhi has had on me that I have already planned my trip there for the month of May. Getting the leaves approved by my manager is a mere formality which remains now.

Sir, I call myself a patriot. I don’t really get a chance to salute the tricolor on Independence Day or even Republic Day, but I did celebrate India’s World Cup victory in an inebriated state at my city square, honking my car horns in unison with many other like minded souls and demanding that now was the time that Sachin Tendulkar be conferred the Bharat Ratna. The next day when I narrated this at my office, the “ooohhh’s and the aaahhh’s” I got was proof enough to brand me a patriot. Well there was this one instance when I was a bit lazy in getting up for the National Anthem (but I did get up in the end) at my city multiplex, but I think we can discount that. I am a patriot, ai’t I?

Till last week I was thinking of joining up an NGO on a part time basis, to bring about everything from “social upliftment” to “education to all”, but the project deadline at work really made me forget the last date to apply. Now I will have to wait for six months until the applications are out again. Don’t you think that working with an NGO for a year will give my resume that push which I need to get into a reputed international MBA program? Most of my friends have already done it and now are more than well off.

Now that I have shared so much about myself with you, let me also tell you that sometimes when I am high on my rum and alone I sometimes ruminate if I have become a pessimist. You think Anna, that I am a pessimist?

I aspire to go the United States of America soon. Of course the dollars hold there own charm for me, but I have promised my parents that I will be back in 2 years and that I will be marrying an Indian girl of their choice. With so much to look forward too, I feel that I am an optimist. I still got that another drink inside me. Am I right Anna?

Do I detect a scorn on your face after reading that paragraph? Well let me add that in the USA I will be actively participating in all Indian Cultural activities. I will share those pics too with all my friends on FB as a proof of my international social consciousness.

It’s almost 10:30AM now. I have to watch the news channel which is going to be the first to telecast “HAPPY ANNA TO BREAK FAST”. Alongside me is the laptop where I have already typed out my tweet. The moment you break the fast I will be submitting it. I have very deftly copied the same for my FB wall as well. You think that I will be the first to tweet, “I was the first to see him break his fast”.

Wish you success in (y)our campaign against corruption.

By the way there was this one instance not long ago when I got off from breaking the read light for as low as Rs50, but guess that narration will have to wait.

We need crusaders like you Anna.

Thanks

A pessimistically optimist (self-proclaimed) patriot

P.S: I forgot to assure you that my support is definitely with you if you stand to contest the elections. Choose my constituency, we need a true leader. I noticed a certain Mr Kalmadi too at your rally. He seems to have finally had a change of heart. Good for the nation I think.

Postmanly...

2011-04-04T20:34:00.003+06:00

Ashutosh Rana filled our hearts with the fear of the postman. But much before this fear was ingrained in our psyche that fellow wearing a khaki uniform pedaling his way through the numerous alleyways of our town had very unexpectedly been the carrier of one incident which I so wanted to hide from my dad. Such was the magnitude of his back-stabbing that from that day onwards I was forced to denounce this act in a single word which was to be an adjective. That adjective was "postmanly (adj) : of devious intent".

I have never been of the athletic bent. If the proverb says "think twice before you leap", I would rather prefer to think thrice and not leap at all. Having said that it would not be much difficult for people to conjure up a image of me all of 10 years old, pedaling my Hero Ranger up an incline and really baffled as to why there should be an incline on the road when the earth was round. I consoled myself by saying that maybe there would be an equal decline at the diametrically opposite end of this due to which the earth could still retain its roundness against such odds.

While I was battling with my wits to keep the earth round, there from the corner of my eye I caught a blur of something coming my way. I was late to react which by now I was used to and the next thing I knew was that the earth was no longer round, infact it seemed to have a shapelessness which later I would equate to an amoeba in class 9. Distant voices came to me and as the oriented myself to the din, I realized that the blur which I had seen only a second ago was an old Atlas Goldline Super which now had mangled in with my Hero Ranger. I was on the ground, my white uniform a mess. I looked around for the rider of the Atlas Goldline Super, but he was nowhere to be seen. I craned my neck upwards and there he was standing with an evil smile on his face, his uniform not a bit crumpled for I guessed he had shown the right amount of agility at the right time to land on his feet away from the collision which was very much unlike me. A crowd was beginning to form around the scene as I got up and in the most innocent way conveyed my utmost apologies to the postman who was having a devious laugh on his face.

He did not have much time to waste and he departed soon after firing me with some of his choicest abuse which at that age I was not in a position to comprehend. Any further damage was nullified as the collision had caused a traffic snarl and the people behind were anxious to go off than to indulge in a 10 yr old mix up!!! As I continued my homeward journey, the soreness of the entire incident started to grow on me. There were a few bruises here and there and a dirty uniform to foot.

The remainder of the journey home was slow. I no longer bothered about the cursed roundness of the earth, infact I quickly built a narrative which would explain the day's event without giving anything away. Having played and replayed the narrative in my mind a hundred times, tying up loose ends, I still felt there was one thing which I had not really factored and that thing opened the door which I rang the doorbell. That thing was my sister.

I have always found a close relation between the word 'sister' and 'sinister' and my experience had made me realize that the elder they are the more sinister they become. True to her inquistive nature the next 10 mins where the most demanding where my story was questioned, re-questioned, re-re-questioned and finally the matter was put to rest when Mom announced that this will be discussed at the dinner table.

At the dinner table, sister's interference was overruled and my story stood the test of parental scrutiny!!!! The story I cooked up was so overwhelmingly perplexing that I am sure that both my Mom and Dad let go of it by the time we were through with our first chapatis!!!! So I thought that it was the end of it. The collision was to remain a mystery to my sister all her life and I would grow old with the contentment that it was only me (apart for the postman and a few passer-bys) who would know what really transpired that afternoon.

Each passing day the spot which witnessed the collision grew in iconic status in my mind until I decided that one day I will come back here and build a little something which will commemorate the day I had won at the dinner table!!!! But it was not to be...

On the 8th day after the memorable victory at the dinner table, I was pillion on our scooter carrying a few groceries with Dad waiting to cross the road and there out of nowhere he appeared. I did not recognize him at first, but he sure did and shot me a wide grin. I froze. He negotiated his Atlas Goldline Super through the motley of vehicles and aligned himself parallel to our scooter. His gaze was still on me. He turned towards my dad, ignoring my pleading eyes and said, "काय Sir , कशे आहात? " (Hello Sir, How are you doing?). Without waiting for my Dad to reply he fired his salvo, "पोरगा पडला होता तुमचा त्यादिवशी सायकल वरून, ८ दिवस झाले आता!!!",(your son fell off his bicycle that day. Been 8 days now) and he guffawed like I have never heard anybody guffaw before. Almost on cue to that guffaw the traffic made way and we crossed the road. Dad did not have time to reply to him, but then what would he have said. The postman never really wanted a reply. His only intention was to convey and have the last guffaw!!!!! He had succeeded!!!!

I had lost my appetite for dinner. Dad had narrated the scene back home and my 'sinister'..oops sister had a look of triumph in her eyes!!!!

I don't remember what everybody talked about at the dinner table but I do remember that I cursed the 'postmanly' attitude of that postman!!!!

(P.S: this is the 100th post on my blog!!! I have taken time to get that 100th post but you really can't force it out of it each time can you?? :)

Merriment at the Eastlands: 24th Oct 2010

2010-10-25T06:14:00.000+06:00

(Anuj suggested that I try and blog about the Arsenal games and here I am giving it a shot!!)

First of all cheers for the win!!! \m/ Eastlands has been special not cos they are serious title contenders this season but because of Adebayor

Without giving the Gunners any accolades for their performance, if there is one thing which got us a win then it had to be the red card. I mean in ESPN had not yet started showing the starting line up of the teams (on the ticker at the bottom of the screen) and ManC were already a man down. Chamakh's red card run continues ;) this time though it seemed genuine nonetheless!!!

Though credit must be given to ManC cos atleast in the first half with 10 men they did come up with probing runs and troubled Fabienski one more than one occasion. I really did feel that they would go up even after that red card. Almost forgot to mention the save that fabienski made in the opening minutes of the game (this was even before the red card). Had Silva found the back of the net it would have been a different story...

Fab missed a penalty and somehow I felt that before the half time whistle ManC might find something to pull one back and equalize however it didn't happen!!!

3 well earned points..and it was justice enuf that the bloody Adebayor was on pitch at full time with the score reading ManC 0 - Ars 3....

Somehow I have observed that this season the referees are sure bringing out the cards with elan...was it Arsene's relentless pounding on how the Gunners have always been bullied on field or what but I wouldnt complain as long as Chamakh gets us those reds!!!! :)

Though yet to see Ashravin in full flow.The first touch is not all that consistent and there are definite signs of frustrations in his demeanor towards the end of the game....

Fab was impressive. Well I am talking about the Fab between the sticks. Coming of age for him? Well will be too early to comment. I would say that only if he shows consistency.

Still a 5 point gap on the leader and Man United and City too close for comfort. Any slip ups now will prove costly!!!!

Its West Ham next at home with a showdown against Toons in CC midweek!!!

GO GUNNERS!!!

P.S: I did wear my Gunner jersey to watch the game!!!

Breaking the Ice

2010-10-16T09:40:00.002+06:00

If there is one aspect of communication which I have found both funny and exasperating then it must be the ICE BREAKER. Its the time when you have not really started conversing with a person but have just acknowledged his/her presence around you with a slight nod of the head or a smile. But then when the time comes to start a suitable conversation maybe work-related or just to pass time, you are well and truly stumped. And let me make this amply clear that for me this stumped feeling applies equally to both the genders.

The Business Communication program has a one day workshop on ‘How To Break The Ice’. The moment I read about it I enrolled not because I knew that it would help me with my own 'ice breaking' but because I just love to observe the expressions on the faces of people when they are awkward or even embarrassed. Apart from that I had a feeling that there will be a separate 10 min session where the instructor will declare to a room of 25 participants, “I have told you everything there is to know about 'breaking the ice', now go ahead BREAK THE ICE will ya??” and then we will pick up our shovel-like tongues and lash them with the effort to break the ice.

All said and done, the session went quite well. I had my share of happiness (observing awkward and embarrassed faces) and fun with the activities which were designed to make us learn how to break the ice. In the end when the instructor threw the floor open for any questions or feedback I was prompt to raise my query, “My query is pretty simple. It is obvious that using these techniques we will be able to 'break the ice' and start a decent conversation but then I have a feeling that all that you have told us today is so clichéd that the moment I start to employ any of these techniques with anyone outside the room he/she will definitely understand that I am trying my level best to break the ice. So how will it work? Will I not be ridiculed for trying too hard???”

What happened next made my entire week. The instructor, who was our Jedi Master until then made a face of such awkwardness and embarrassment that I knew she needed the Darth Vader mask. While the other participants appeared thoughtful even they knew that all the time spent in this session was to be wasted. Somewhere I realized that I had just unleashed an idea which will bug everyone present there for the rest of their professional and personal lives. The idea that the person with whom they are conversing for the first time realizes even before they start that this is but an exercise in ‘breaking the ice’ and hence futile …

The instructor managed to mumble, “No no its not like that. How can you assume that the person in front of you is aware of all this?” I didn’t press the matter for I knew she didn’t have a suitable retort.

As the session ended and people started to file out of the room, she began gathering her stuff. I waited for the last of the participants to leave the room and then went up to her. She looked up at me and did not smile. I didn’t except anything better either. After all I was the cause for her rather poor session feedback.

“How about grabbing a coffee at the food court?”, I asked nonchalantly. She narrowed her eyes and replied, “Are you trying to 'break the ice' here or what?”. I smiled and said, “Sometimes it is that simple….”

Man and the Pickle Jar

2010-09-03T18:46:00.003+06:00

“Aakhir tumhara naam kya hai?” said the heroine with innocence in her eyes and profound thankfulness in her voice. “Wohi jo har ek aurat ke jubaan pe rehta hai!!!! M.A.R.D” said the hero, while the background score which was building up all through the fight sequence reached a crescendo and almost on cue he tore open the top buttons of his shirt to reveal that manly (read hairy) chest on which was his birthmark, etched by the hand of God.

The birthmark read “MARD” albeit in Devanagri for the subaltern hordes of the country.

I woke up with a start. It was a dream but an adrenaline pumping one. Yess…I was so ready ..so ready for this Monday!!! My hand instinctively reached to the other half of my double bed. Empty. I should have known. She was very particular about her morning jogs. Without letting my enthusiasm dampen I got out of bed and got about getting ready for office. She came in 20 mins later all huffing and puffing after the jog and not to mention a bit sweaty too. I cleared my mind off the fantasies and let the decent thought of “She looked more beautiful after her morning jog” settle in. She bobbed around in the living room, flinging the day’s newspaper on the center table with a loud “Good Morning” (the ipod was still blaring in her ears no doubt) and giving my beer belly a playful nudge with a look off “You should jog too with me in the morning too”!! I smiled it away like always and all was well in this world....until…

We were having parathas for breakfast and I was enjoying them with butter when she said, “Try the pickle, my mom jus sent it yesterday with Sheela didi”. I was not going to turn it down because the pickle was the only thing after their daughter of course that I liked of the Sharma household (my in-laws). I took the jar and gave the lid a twist. But it wouldn’t budge. I should have given up then and there but for my male ego. I tried harder. She looked from her place at the dining table and said “Whats taking you so long? Are the Sharma’s too hard for you? Haha”. I bit my lip and tried harder but even then the lid wouldn’t turn. I looked at the watch to show impatience. She got the drift and mocked, “Ohh honey, don’t you think you have a meeting for which you are running late already!!!”. Making a sad face I picked up the bait, “ Its Monday today rite? Damn I forgot. Yes, yes I do have a meeting to attend. Will have that pickle later. Bye” I almost ran outside the door. “Drive carefully”, she said behind me almost suppressing a giggle. This Monday was going to be disastrous.

As I made my way through the traffic to my office I was thinking of that pickle bottle. It was a letdown of the worst kind. The “MARD” dream and this pickle incident were an irony which was just too much for me to handle. Today the lane cutting motorists and the stray cattle on the highway didn’t bother me, I was much pre-occupied in trying to figure a way to redeem my MANHOOD.

The first half of the day in office breezed past and soon it was lunch time. I had forgotten about the pickle jar incident until Mansi opened her lunch box. We were a group of 8 colleagues (now friends) who used to have lunch together and would invariably have fun discussing office gossip and the works. As Mansi took out her lunch I saw there a jar much like the one at home but a lot smaller. Nonetheless it was a pickle jar. Mansi tried to open it but gave up after a few seconds. “Damn, is it a rule that pickle jars are to be hard open or what?” I was sitting right next to her. Under normal circumstances I would have helped but not today. No, my ego could do without another pickle jar for the day. I looked away pretending to observe something. In the mean time from the corner of my eye I saw Raj picking up the jar and effortlessly open it. “Here you go!!!!” said Raj. “Ohh HE-MAN, you did that without even summoning the powers of GREY SKULL. Haha.”, laughed Mansi. Everybody joined in the joke except me.

I had a much bigger problem at hand. I don’t remember what everybody talked about at lunch. I was lost in my own thoughts. For a fleeting moment I thought of inviting the group over for dinner today at home that way we would have enough hands to open the damn pickle jar. But I was quick to bury that thought. It was me myself who had to redeem my MANHOOD.

I hate gyms, don’t ask me why as you will get a Himesh-esque reply, “Its complicated”. But I needed iron to get me out of my present predicament. Just like the cry of “Gimme RED” from that old EVERREADY commercial I too needed something. I wrapped up my work early and sneaked out of the office building into the gym. I didn’t want anybody to notice me leaving especially my lunch group lest I became toast of next day’s lunch.

It was a relief to see the gym empty. I usually get a complex on entering the gym, what with those hulks pumping kilos and endless kilos of iron, grunting, sweating and admiring themselves in the mirror after every 5 mins. I warmed up a bit and almost clandestinely did 5 rounds of 5 kgs dumbbells. As I emerged refreshed from the shower I felt energy surging through me though my arms pained a bit. But in Rocky style I commanded myself, “Pain is good….pain is good” and I was ready to redeem my MANHOOD.

I had left home in the morning like an exile but I entered in the evening like an Emperor. Such was my wishful splendor that I ignored my wife’s “How was your day?” question and proceed to the pickle jar placed on the second compartment of the shelf. I know my wife was looking in awe as I picked up the jar and held the lid tightly with as expressionless face as possible. “What are u doing honey?” she asked with concern. “Don’t worry darling, I have this under control” I said much like Bruce Willis I think.

Then with the might instilled in me by the 5 rounds of the 5kgs dumbbells I had pumped just an hour ago I gave the lid a mighty twist….

The lid flew off without any resistance and struck the wall clock gifted by my in laws when they had first visited our new flat. The glass of the clock face shattered and I looked miserably at her. She was turning red with anger and the emperor in me was fast becoming an exile again.

“What exactly do you think you were doing there? That pickle bottle was already open ohh Hercules!!! Infact you did all the work in the morning itself. I just needed to give it a nudge to open it after you left. I felt sorry that you didn’t get any pickle to taste but now I think you were not worth it in the first place. That clock was gifted by my parents, do you even remember.” , she went on and on I don’t know for how long cos when I looked at the clock closely the flying lid had not only shattered the glass covering but also taken the minute-hand hostage. It just lay there trying to break free from the lid’s clutches, but in vain. My arms were now positively throbbing with pain.

We had a silent dinner and she retired to bed the moment the dinner was done and the dining table was tidied up. It had been 3 hours since I was apologizing but she had not budged. With flopped shoulders and pained armed (now I hated gyms even more) I slid into my half of the bed. I tried to make small talk but was greeted with her silence and her obstinate back. The day had been miserable, I thought and with the efforts taken at the gym I soon drifted into sleep.

I don’t know how long I was sleeping but I was been woken up by my wife’s voice. She had forgiven me, for she was talking to me now. I strained to open my eyes but I was too sleepy. I mumbled too her, “What is the matter??.” She continued in a soft tone, “Its been a long time you have been a man you see. 2 days is long gap.hehe” she pinched my back. “Wake up BE A MAN!!!” she mewed.

BE A MAN was the only thing that registered in my brain and in my sleep I mumbled, “Ok, fine only if you say so. Pass me the pickle jar quickly, will you? I need to catch some sleep too”.

I dreamt the MARD dream that night too :)

MY MOM RETIRES AS HEADMISTRESS! (A successful journey of a mother shared by her daughter Ketaki Barde, also a teacher)

2010-05-31T09:11:00.000+06:00

For years together every 31^st May is the end of a long vacation for school teachers. But the 31^st May this year marks the end of an era in the world of teaching itself for my mother, Mrs. Savita Borate. She retires as the Headmistress of Maharashtra High School, Upnagar, Nashik (the school that in recent years came to limelight on account of the UNO acclaimed Ozone Day Celebrations under her guidance and leadership).

On the 29^th May 1973 a young girl, Miss Mangal Keshav Mandavgane, B.A. (Hons.) in English from Jalgaon stepped into a new world in Nashik. The young man (T. S. Borate) she was married to was a professor of English in a local college. He has been a respectable self-made man who adheres to his own principles and is ready to face the consequences thereof. As she started sharing a new life with him, the young girl entered the new role of a mother. I was born on 29^th July 1974. The first four years of her life thereafter passed raising me, but then she became restless with thoughts about her own future. There were dreams to be brought into the world of reality, one of her father’s dreams being that she should, like himself, be a renowned teacher of English. She took a decision: joined the B.Ed. Course in the city college. That was in the year 1978. It was not easy to pursue her studies, leaving her four year old child for almost the whole day at home in Nashik-Road, daily up and down commutation by road-train (a special and unique means of city transport then introduced by the M.S.R.T.C.) between Nashik-Road and Nashik, which were two independent municipalities then, and then the daily household chores. Her hard and sincere work bore the expected fruits --- she secured a First Class in her B.Ed. After this nothing could stop her from attaining what she is today. She took her first and only job as a teacher in the year 1979. For the last 31 years she has relentlessly done her duty both as a teacher and a mother of two (me and my brother, Advait).

These 31 years just did not slide by smoothly. Life had some dark shades along with the bright ones. My mother faced them courageously. The first two decades of her married life passed by following the same routine. This was because her children were always in the forefront for her. Following their time table, catering to their needs and managing her own school job was life for her. But after my brother joined engineering in Pune, she decided to pursue her M.A. She completed her M.A. from Y.C.M.O.U. at the age of 50 with a First Class. Now it was the beginning of a glorious period in her life. Her seniority at her workplace had the post of Headmistress (the highest rank in her profession!) in store for her. She completed her D.S.M. (Diploma in School Management) before shouldering this responsibility. At the age of 54 my mother was appointed Headmistress of her school. In just about four years she managed to attract ten lakh rupees by way of donations and got a multi-purpose hall built for her beloved school in addition to replenishing the school library by adding to it books worth one lakh rupees. The pride I feel in mentioning this cannot be described in words!

Today, on May 31, 2010 my mother retires after a long successful career. I consider her as the epitome for all working mothers! She has maintained an excellent balance in all her relations.

All that I can do is pray to God to bless her with healthy life for years to come!

Mom! Now is the time for you to enjoy your life to the fullest and go back to your first love - singing - in which you had graduated yourself just as school-going girl in Jalgaon … JUST DO IT!

--- Ketaki Barde

New Era English School, Nashik

My Summer Vacation

2010-05-25T00:13:00.002+06:00

In less than 15 days from now the schools will reopen and if Mother Nature is mercifully then students will plod their way towards another academic year with their newly acquired rainy shoes (gum boots) soiled with muck. For some the just elapsed summer vacations will remain like a speck of memory in their soon to be re-formatted brains while for some it will be remain as an essay titled “My Summer Vacation” to be graded by an English teacher who thinks she is of a Victorian descent.

Don’t be surprised as to how I am sure about all this; cos thanks to my parents and now my nephew I seem to consider myself intrinsically involved with the Indian Academic calendar.
Back in school I always thought that vacations were like a rude shock. You think I am out of my mind, but you see the light once you go through the different events which made up my summer vacation in the year 1996 AD.

1) The “hyper active” friends: Vacations are a time to relax. I believe that even now and I am damn sure that I had this view even back in school all through my primary, secondary and higher secondary. Most of us would have been blessed with “hyper active” friends. Yeah, yeah I am talking about the same bunch of guys who used to stay in your building or locality and on the very first day of the summer vacation call for your blood to join them in a cricket match at 6:30AM!!!! You could not lay asleep cos now for the entire month you had to be a part of the team and turning up late for a single match (more so the very first) would not go down well with the management (My building board for control of cricket was much more strict than a certain PCB).

2) The ‘hobby class’: The cricket would not go all day cos now with the vacations TV viewing was a bit less restricted. But that was only after the “Summer Vacation” supplement of the local daily was thoroughly read, the six differences between the 2 pictures meticulously pointed out and yes that picture of the deer and the butterfly was colored with crayons. After this ordeal when TV viewing would begin, in would enter Sunita aunty with a proposal for my mother.
Sunita aunty: So have Advait’s summer vacations begun?
Mother: Yes, today is the first day of the vacation.
Sunita aunty: Oh, this is great. Have you heard that my eldest daughter has just started her own drawing class. I told her I will talk to Borate aunty, she will definitely enroll Advait as he has his summer vacation.
Mother: …
Sunita aunty: We all know how Advait is good at his drawing. Oh what is this. Look how well he has coloured this deer. (looking at the just colored deer. It was more of a modern art job, Mr Hussein would have loved it though)
Sunita aunty: He can start right from today. Why waste a day na.?? He can come over at 10:30am. Don’t worry about the fees, we will take care of that na….(sheepish smile).
Mother: huh…..ok…

3) The load shedding: You are done with cricket, you are done with the ‘hobby class’. Post lunch at 3:00PM you frantically switch on Cartoon Network. Its time for the POWER ZONE to begin. You are ready to absolve everybody (the hyper active friends, Sunita aunty and her eldest daughter) of their sins as you are sure of the feast: SWAT CATS followed by the CENTURIONS followed by THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JHONNY QUEST, when at 3:15PM the lights go off. It is too early in the scheme of things to dream of inverters (we are talking about circa 1996 AD).

4) The uninvited guests: The lights come back at 5:00PM and you thank your stars that atleast I would get to see some WWF action (yes it was WWF then not WWE) when within 5 minutes the doorbell rings and in walk Mr and Mrs Ramamurthy. They are fellow teachers in my mother’s school. Don’t forget that the teachers also have a summer vacation at the same. How I hate their kid who at this very moment would be lapping up the WWF bouts.

5) The journey: Just a week into the vacation, where atleast for the last 2 days I was able to catch up with some cartoons and a few wrestling matches thanks to the endless repeats, my mother stumbles upon the brilliant idea of visiting her brother in Nagpur. Sorry, did I say stumble. I was wrong, infact it was already planned and the rail tickets were booked well in advance. But what is the use of telling a 12 year old a week in advance that he would be taken to Nagpur to his uncle’s place and that he will be back only a week before his school re-opens. Nagpur in the heat of May, just imagine!!!

So Mrs Rodrigues (my English teacher not sure about the Victorian descent) this is my essay on “My Summer Vacation”. When you grade it please take it with more than a pinch of salt!!!!

P.S: My subsequent vacations were much better and I am sure my parents did not refer to the Reader Digest’s “10 ways of Effective Parenting” cover story !!!!

Bakarwadi Bashers te Maggikar XI

2010-03-23T01:30:00.004+06:00

With Pune being the latest city to enter the IPL family, the city is abuzz with rumors of what the team from Pune will be called...will it be Bakarwadi Bashers, Mastani XI, Shaniwar Wada Sena...what about the main sponsors..Chitale Bandhu, Champion Sports and yes Durvankur Dining hall too..How abt Hotel Vaishali: The makers of the official S.P.D.P of the home team..or CAD B and CAD M served at those drinks break during a home game...hehehe..the possibilities are endless.

Well so what even we all were still were at Maggikar....this is how the team would have shaped up!!!!

1) Ashok Khedkar: He will be the star foreign player of the team. Drafted from a county in UK or Australia

2) Pankaj: Apart from playing the cricket he will be chief instructor to the team cheer leaders..every six will be followed by a WAVEWAAAAA

3)Pappu Parit: Will be the upcoming talent of the team...remember he sacrificed those front teeth for the game.

4)Chaitanya Kekre: Brings in the much needed management skills and ofcourse the PR touch to the team

5)Dhaval: Ofcourse he will be the face to look out for in those ads which cheer us up apart from the cricket not to mention

6)Sachin Joshi: The self proclaimed captain, coach and yes that mysterious blogger who rocked KKR last season

7) Swanand: Another of the new talent, who spends as much on his hair style as his sunday night dinner when the mess is closed (remember PALACE guys)

8)Khawal: The bad boy of the team..who will not think twice when it comes to slappin back bhajji

9)Addya Deshmukh: The Indian Fair skinned Hunk...

10) Allaya: He will not be available for all the games, cos he might just not wake up in time...puccchh...kay re gundya zhopu de na!!!!

11)Advait: At number 11 I will be the 12th man of the team....

so folks their is our XI....now tell me wht you want!!! (dnt tell me you want the cheer leaders in those frenchies which chaintanya showed off at the balcony..plzzzz)!!!

On a serious note come next year I will be rooting for the Pune team (whatever Sahara names it) and GOD (dont ask me who I am refering to as GOD..plzz!!!)

P.S: Maggikar is the place where I spent the most memorable days of my engg life...When I learnt that Pune got an IPL franchisee there it was clear in my mind what the team will be like atleast for us Maggikars...I am not sure how many of them read my blog..But I have started a thread on our orkut community as well. Thanks Gundya for generating the interest in the topic and scrapping all the guys about. Though I will not be suprised if only you end up commenting on the topic

My Name is Borate (MNIB)

2010-02-18T02:06:00.002+06:00

(Before you begin even reading this blog, I would like to make one thing very clear. Even in my most demented states I do not mean to hurt the sentiments or emotions or even self respect of those who suffer from Autism and also of those victims who were caught in the crossfire of 9/11. This blog is just for fun and I pray that you take it in that and that sense only. Also I think you will enjoy this piece a bit more if you have been brave enough to watch the SRK starrer movie from which the title of the blog is inspired...)

My name is Borate, Advait Borate!!! Bo..Bo from the appendicitis!!! I am not like everyone else, I am a bit different. I cannot express my emotions like the way normal humans do. I cannot form tears in my eyes neither can I laugh out loud with happiness. But there are certain emotions which I can very well understand but again cannot portray. Those are frustration and irritation. Again I cannot distinguish between the two, but often I use them interchangeably and doing this itself gives me a lot of satisfaction. Satisfaction….is another feeling which I can express only with the written word and not with the facial expressions which other humans manage to make up.

A few years ago an enlightened soul told me that there are only 2 types of humans on this planet. One who code and others who don’t!! I code and I code bug-free!!! 

There are two things which I am afraid off in this world, one is the lottery and second is the fear of not even been eligible ever for the lottery. But that apart, I am pretty normal. I am Borate, Advait Borate!!!

I am dedicated, committed to the cause of making that bug-free code. Infact my wife says that…. Yes I have a wife too. She is more like the other humans, one who can show emotions. But I sometimes feel that even she cannot portray all her emotions as lately all I have seen her do is scream and throw tantrums which only a 26 year old lady can do. Oh no…I don’t like that..no…no..no…I don’t want to waste time talking about how I got my wife. Hey that sounds funny….he..he..he.heeee..

So the fact of the matter was..was..that on one of my project’s deadline day, something went kaput and the code which I had coded, was detected with a bug. The tester reported this to me. I said…no..no..this cant be…lair..lair..your bum on fire…It was already 8pm and I was ready to leave for home. But now I couldn’t go home. I had to fix the bug and deliver the code. And ohh yes yes….I forgot to write that it was my first marriage anniversary too.hehe…eeehhehe…I was all excited but my mind couldn’t help it. I had to be committed to the cause of bug free coding. So I began my analysis.

Around 9pm, I got a call from my wife, I ignored it. She again called after 5 mins. I got irritated…yes…it was irritation for sure and switched off the cell.

At 11:55pm I entered my house, it was dark in the living room. I could hear mild sobs from the bedroom. I knew she was crying. Even I was ashamed. But ashamed was an emotion I could not show her on my face. With a straight face I went to her and forced her head on my chest, patting it in a not so soft manner saying, “Mera raja beta hai na..mera raja beta!!!!” that was the spark she was waiting for and she exploded:

She:Raja beta…raja beta my foot!!! Its because of you my life is ruined. I didn’t say anything when you forgot my birthday last week, but today you have crossed the limit. You forgot our marriage anniversary and that too our very first anniversary!!! And on top of that you switched off your cell so that I wouldn’t disturb you!!! Tell me with all this what have you got….huh…tell me Borate….Bo…Bo from the appendicitis shit…tell me!!! Or even today you were in the mood of beating your personal best time of 13hours 23minutes in office..huh???….”

Me: No..no..dont get angry..No..please don’t.

She: What don’t get angry. And stop repeating those words it really irks me I tell you….. it was my mistake that I blindly fell for the software tag. Bloody I never asked you about your relative performance. Even my mom was blind. It was her job to do a background check on you…and your parents claimed that in the next 5 months their son will fly. His visa will be done in no time and your daughter will be having a great time state-side. Great time my foot….You know what…why don’t you just go away and leave me. Just go….

Me: Go??, where…where??

She: Where?? Anywhere….how do I care. Just go

Me: But but…when shall I return…

She: Return…return you say!!!! Why don’t you return after you tell everybody in the office that “My name is Advait Borate and I am not CRR #” no no better still, why don’t you go to the person who holds the most powerful seat in your organization and tell him that “My name is Advait Borate and I am not CRR #

I write this as my flight to Bangalore has got delayed…I can’t wait anymore I will have to take the bus!!!!

And yes a while back I met a guy at the terminal who said that he had just completed his engineering and he gave me a message. Now what was that message….yes…got it….he says, “Hire me…might even work for free; all I need is a gym and a swimming pool!!!”

The PET

2010-01-30T21:07:00.003+06:00

Some wise guy gave us the Theory of Relativity and divided opinions between us. The proverbial half full glass of water for many suddenly started looking half empty. Somebody’s success had to be somebody else’s failure. If you stood first in class then there had to be somebody else who had stood second and these mind games and the different ways of looking at the same thing made our lives a tad more complicated. But the human race survived. Well it had too, cos some other wise guy who talked about the survival of the fittest didn’t leave us a choice. Even if many within us were lazy, there were some who adapted and surged ahead. They do it even now and will continue to do so for millennia together. They are that distinct breed which I call the PET.

The PETs are human beings like us, but the similarities end there. They are far more alert, far more opportunist than us mortals. They are focused and decisive knowing completely well want their goal is and above all like those lowly canines they salivate (symbolically ofcourse).

In school they are ones who cough up the maximum collections through imaginary names for the HELPAGE INDIA cause. They are the ones who bring in the maximum kilos of newspapers for the NEWSPAPER DRIVES to support the poor and the needy. All these are noble causes and I stand by them, but it is the intention that is the problem here. While the common janta does it with a spirit of charity, for these PETs it takes the form of a donation often a means to a higher grade in the subject whose teacher is handling the drive.

In graduation institutes, they are the ones who make it a point to attend lectures when the class decides to bunk it. They are the ones who complete the submissions first up not to share them with their peers but with the intention of earning those valuable brownie points from the faculty.

In the corporate world, they are the ones who sometimes reschedule the date with their girlfriend only cos they had to take a detour to drop the manager’s check in the bank atm. They are the ones who in project parties make it a point to sit right next to the boss and indulge in small talk. They are the ones who scan through the festive sms’s and choose the most appropriate to be forwarded to the manager. They are the ones who know fully well that everything in the corporate world must work as per a policy but even then salivate just so that they feel that they gave it their best shot!!!

On the whole, it is them who are unpopular. It is them who are hated by their peers but when the dice rolls it is them who end up at the right side of success.

Normal human beings term it as FATE but deep inside even they know that it is just a flimsy excuse and nothing else. The very next day they decide that they will change, even they will laugh out loud on the next ‘funny’ joke which the manager cracks, but when the moment comes to give that fake laugh they end up looking heavenwards with the words “WHY ME, LORD?”!!!!

The Ride That Was: From Pune to Kanpur

2009-12-11T01:30:00.003+07:00

The ride to Kanpur due to the sheer distance to be covered was divided into 3 legs with 2 night halts planned. The first leg was to take me to Indore to my Maushi’s place. It had been 7 years since I last met up with her and I was particularly looking forward to it. The second leg was to take me to Jhansi and the final leg was going to bring me to my destination Kanpur

I dutifully began from my place in Pune at sharp 5AM. Infact even I was surprised that when I checked the time just before starting, the hour hand was on 5 and the minute hand was on 12. It was a good omen for a journey which was both going to long and lonely. The route to Indore was Pune-Sangamner-Dhule-Mhow-Indore. Out of that I was more than familiar with the Pune-Sangamner route as that is on my regular Pune-Nashik road. The surprise started as I started nearing Dhule. Right from that moment the only vehicles I can remember until now on the roads are nothing but trucks, trailers, more trucks and more trailers!!!!

The road is a National Highway (NH3) which goes right upto Agra. So I never was worried about the road condition however what I did not know was the major portions of the National Highway are still under construction due to which large portions of the road have been converted into single lanes ones with the ‘USE DIVERSION’ signs pinned every few kms. And on these single lane roads imagine an unending line of trucks which move albeit very slowly. If you can then you can very well imagine how the first leg of my journey went. Plus the first leg which I had chosen was the single longest leg of the entire journey with a little over 600kms. So when I finally took the Indore exit of the National Highway the time was well over 8.20PM i.e a bit more than 15 hours on the road :) Another thing which I had not paid much attention to when planning the trip was that in these winter months, light fades fast. So with a good 124kms still remaining to get to Indore I was forced to switch the headlights on. Anybody would know how riders hate to travel in the night because plain and simple it is dangerous and on top of that the ‘USE DIVERSION’ signs were still coming on and in all the road construction activity somehow the milestones were nowhere to be seen. In the last 45 minutes till I spotted the Indore exit, I was literally cursing myself as I was more than sure that I had missed a turn and by now was way off track. But all said and done I did get my route right and got to my Maushi’s place without much of an incident.

Though I wanted to begin the next day at 5AM again, it was just not possible for me. With my body already having taken some tear the day before, I just could not get out of bed before 7AM the next day. So finally with tea and a light breakfast I was back on the road for the second leg of the journey which was going to take me to Jhansi. The distance to be covered was 473kms and at the same time I was advised not to cross the MP-UP (Shivpuri is in MP and Jhansi in UP) border if there is no daylight. So having started at 8AM by day light faded and night began I was nearing Shivpuri still 90kms adrift from Jhansi. Better sense prevailed and finally I called it a day there in Shivpuri, but the day was still not over for me. I had to hunt for decent staying quarters in a town I had never been to before and arguably would never set foot into again. The strategy was simple: - get to the town and enquire with the locals. The strategy paid off and I got holed up in the most shadiest lodge I have ever been to. The name was Hotel Vasthasali and a single seater room (read a room with a single bed) cost me just Rs150. I would not waste words to describe how the room was like, cos simply put it was indescribable!!!

But I just cant hold back so I think I will let you know just a tiny bit about the room. There was no mosquito menace in the room, absolutely none at all cos there was no ventilation for the mosquitoes to enter :) I guess that this much information will be enough for you to atleast imagine my living quarters in Shivpuri.

In those settings finally sleep came to me at around 12AM and I planned to get up latest by 6:30AM so that I could begin the final day of the ride by 7AM.

Things went to plan and I was able to ride out of Shivpuri at 7AM. With just 321kms more to go until I reach Kanpur I was finally thinking that this ride is finally in the bag. But as always is the case I was grossly wrong, cos this last stretch happened to be the most frustrating part of the journey. The only reason for that was that the highway stretch between Jhansi to Kanpur is still under construction and the diversions are a real pain in the ass. However finally with every ounce of will power left in me tested and churned till the last drop I reached Kanpur. But wait, there was a minor surprise in store with me too. Just when I was literally a few blocks from where my friend (Rohit), who was waiting to receive me, the rear tyre got punctured and by the time I reached him, the bike had begin to limp a bit. I thanked my stars that this happened in Kanpur and that too when Rohit was at hand. With his help, I got the tyre fixed and thus ended one of the most eventful ride on the Bullet for me.

I understand I got to get back home too, but then as they say, If God got you this far then He would definitely have had means to bring you back!!!

The Road Trip to Kanpur: Build Up

2009-12-06T23:19:00.002+07:00

On the 8th Dec 2009 I will be setting out on a ride which will be a first for me in many respects. It is not that for the first time I will be going on a long ride on my Bullet, but this time it a bit different.

I will be riding to Kanpur to attend the wedding of a close friend and also a fellow rider. And I think it will be apt for me to attend his wedding together with my Bullet. Apart from that, the ride is also which I am interested in.

I have been riding for the last 3 years with my Bullet having done a little more than 38000+ kms already. This is not bragging, but just an indication that at this point I do feel a bit more confidence than I would have felt say a couple of years back about this ride.

The longest ride I have undertaken till now has to be the Hyderabad trip I undertook last January to attend the Royal Enfield Rider Mania. We had a gala time there needless to say. However as I said before this ride it is a bit different.

Kanpur is roughly 1300 kms from Pune and I have broken up the journey atleast the one from Pune-Kanpur into two. The first day I will ride to Indore which to some extent is midway between the two cities. I intend to spend the night at my Maushi’s place. Its been 7 years since I have met her and when I called her up telling her I would be riding to Indore she actually checked the News as she thought that there must be an impending bus or railway strike :)

I am not yet sure whether I will wait another day in Indore or not. That is something I will have to decide once I get there. The next day of the ride will see my go through Guna, Shivpuri, Jhansi and finally reach Kanpur. There is some ambiguity here too. I have been instructed or rather warned not to ride near Jhansi if its late evening or so as there are still some cases of dacoits lurking in the wilderness at nights and plus Kanpur is a good 5 hours ride from Jhansi which I wouldn’t want to do in the night. So the cut off time which I have decided upon is that if I reach Jhansi later than 5pm, I will call it day and find some accommodation in the city and then proceed the next day. This to me sounds reasonable. And it is this ambiguity which might prevent me from staying put in Indore for another day.

So depending on this by the end of the my second day on the road or in the late afternoon of my third day on the road I plan to reach Kanpur and meet up with the fellow rider who is soon to tie the knot!!!!

As this is the first time I am undertaking such a long ride, I had to do some decent investments ;)

Remember like free lunches there are even no free rides in this world:

1) Cramster Saddle bag for the luggage: Rs 2100
2) Canon Powershot A480 digicam: Rs 6795
3) Adhoc thermal wear: Rs 395
4) A full face helmet: Rs 935

And just to complete the Mastercard advertisement: Getting on the Bullet and riding out into the horizon : PRICELESS!!!!!!!!!!!

One Year Hence: The Mumbai Terror Attacks

2009-11-26T02:16:00.005+07:00

That day one year ago...

We were taken by surprise.
When in boats to the coast they were led,
To make our hearts bleed red

That day one year ago...

We were taken by surprise.
For how vulnerable we had become
That in our own house we were on the run

That day one year ago...

We were taken by surprise
By the courage and martyrdom
Of those who fought like the warriors for our freedom

But today one year hence...

Life goes on as usual in the name of SPIRIT
The same Minister takes care of our HOME
And our hearts can still be bled RED

I salute the martyrs who laid down there lives to defend our Motherland on that fateful day. They were ill equipped no doubt but that did not deter them from answering the call of duty. Let us pay homage to those great departed souls by pledging to be active citizens. By coming out of our comfort zones and voting. By choosing a responsible government with tangible policies and credibility. And above all knowing fully well that this is OUR COUNTRY....and that it is not only the borders but the people who live inside those borders which make OUR COUNTRY what it really is!!!!

JAI HIND!!!!

The Humble Beginnings of the Pony Tail

2009-11-14T00:53:00.003+07:00

From crew cuts, soldier cuts, simple zero machine cuts, punk hairstyle,clean shaven bald cut to the newest and the most awaited (atleast for me from the last 3 months or so)....

Finally today after much coaxing from my team mates (one of them got me a rubber band too :)) and the other did the rest, I have a small pony tail to boast off..

This are the Humble Beginnings of the Pony Tail

P.S: I pray that I don't have to sacrifice these small joys at the altar of marriage!!! :P :P

Cold November Rain: 10-11 Nov 2009

2009-11-12T01:56:00.005+07:00

The last 48 hours have been torrid atleast in Pune. Rains have lashed the city incessantly :( For the first time in my life I have seen rains in November. Skipped a movie yesterday night as it was impossible to even consider riding down to E-Square. Damn, things would have been different had I owned a car. Anyways I more than compensated for the loss with more than a nip of whiskey coupled with delicious chicken biryani delivered at my doorstep by the brave delivery boy who was taking on the rains for the hungry world that dithered to venture outside.

After the spirits warmed my senses there was just one thing I could think about and that was the COLD NOVEMBER RAIN!!!!

Raise a toast to one of my favorites bands Guns N Roses and there creation--- November Rain!!!!

November Rain

When I look into your eyes
I can see a love restrained
But darlin' when I hold you
Don't you know I feel the same
'Cause nothin' lasts forever
And we both know hearts can change
And it's hard to hold a candle
In the cold November rain
We've been through this such a long long time
Just tryin' to kill the pain
But lovers always come and lovers always go
An no one's really sure who's lettin' go today
Walking away
If we could take the time to lay it on the line
I could rest my head
Just knowin' that you were mine
All mine
So if you want to love me
then darlin' don't refrain
Or I'll just end up walkin'
In the cold November rain

Do you need some time...on your own
Do you need some time...all alone
Everybody needs some time...on their own
Don't you know you need some time...all alone
I know it's hard to keep an open heart
When even friends seem out to harm you
But if you could heal a broken heart
Wouldn't time be out to charm you

Sometimes I need some time...on my
own Sometimes I need some time...all alone
Everybody needs some time...on their own
Don't you know you need some time...all alone

And when your fears subside
And shadows still remain, ohhh yeahhh
I know that you can love me
When there's no one left to blame
So never mind the darkness
We still can find a way
'Cause nothin' lasts forever
Even cold November rain

Don't ya think that you need somebody
Don't ya think that you need someone
Everybody needs somebody
You're not the only one
You're not the only one

Those Were The Best Days of My Life: A Tribute to Apache Chandani Chowk

2009-11-09T23:10:00.002+07:00

6 years and some days ago:

A pack of 12 guys heads out of the college hostel. Each one is bursting with enthusiasm and energy. The semester exam has just ended. There are some in the pack who are still worried that they should have attempted a bit more in that paper, but they know that now is not the time.

They have been waiting for a long time for this and nothing is going to make them stop not even money. For most of the guys it is the first time they are going to indulge in something so jazzy and they are dressed in their best casuals. Unknowingly there is a spring in their step as they make their way to the hostel parking lot.

Some 30 minutes later, they gather outside the place. They walk up the ramp to the door and a hefty fellow sitting nearby gets up and blocks their way. The pack stops abruptly, there is murmur at the tail. The hefty fellow sizes them up and then makes up his mind and pushes the door open. The pack rushes in.

“Those were the best days of my life…..” is making waves inside and the motley gathering who is already inside is lapping it up. The song ends and suddenly one in the pack cries, “Hey that’s Backstreet Boys!!!”. Heads turn and people close by snigger. “Shut up, its Bryan Adams you fool.” shouts the self proclaimed leader of the pack. The guy looks down and accepts his mistake. They join 3 tables and sit down.

The next 20 mins are spent looking at the menu and deciding. Meanwhile the tempo rises to Metallica with “Turn the Page”. They order with restraint each one cautious that they also have to arrange for dinner after this. The leader of the pack is the only one comfortable in the setting. After all he has been there before and that was his claim to be the leader for the nite. The others look in awe as he sings and shouts the songs which play earning the occasional nod of the DJ.

He surpasses all expectations when he without any notice walks up to the DJ and gives his request to be played. He tries to straighten the collar of his polo neck tee when the speakers blast, “She Fucking Hates Me!!!”, his favorite number. The others try to imitate him as he bangs his head, does gestures with his hand and taps his feet to the tune of the song.

An hour into this and everybody is feeling good. Most of the pack does not know the songs been played but its just a matter of time they know. A few resolve to download the lyrics of the songs they have just heard and memorize them before they come here next. A little knowledge hurts nobody right?

A couple of chicks enter the premises escorted by heavy set boys. The pack turns its attention to the chicks only to be shouted upon by the leader. “Don’t stare guys, they know me around here!!!” The pack reluctantly obliges and each one then on steals glances when the leader is not checking.

The clock reads 10:30pm and the DJ puts on System of a Down, the pack goes beserk. Music stops, lights dim and the hefty fellow who had blocked their entrance earlier comes from nowhere and shouts for order to be restored. The leader has a word with the fellow and all is well, except that the chicks now have changed their table so that the pack can’t see them.

It becomes a regular hunting ground for the pack. After each semester they visit the place and each time, they feel like they are one with the place. Very soon they are even able to gauge the mood of the DJ. Some of the pack wins bets laid on deciding which song the DJ will play next. They plan their request s so the DJ has no choice but to play those songs. They invent their own chants for specific songs where the other crowd also joins in with glee. They wait till the DJ plays the last song and leave only when the hefty fellow begs them to vacant the place.

Some days ago:

Its been close to 6 years now, the pack has been disbanded, each going his own way and all doing well. On one Friday evening, a guy walks up the same ramp. The fellow at the door gets up and looks at him. “He is no more hefty”, the guy thinks. The fellow looks at him a bit longer than usual and a faint smile of recognition registers on his face. He does not say anything and pushes the door open. The setting inside is still the same. The same sofa covers, the same tables, the same design on the wall. He looks up at the console of the DJ but sees a new face.

He takes the same table which he last occupied some 6 years ago and waits for the menu card. As he glances through it he sees that everything is the same except for the right most column of the price. He smiles to himself and thinks, “Money is not a problem anymore.” He gets ready to order when the speakers blast “Those were the best days of my life….”

“That is definitely not Backstreet Boys”, he laughs and sings along.

P.S: Hoping that atleast some of the pack return soon and we have a great time at Apache again. Cheers!!!!

Internet Connection in Pune...finally :)

2009-10-25T19:23:00.002+07:00

After a wait of more than 2 months since I got my new lappy, I have finally got myself an internet connection. The Reliance Netconnect (offerring upto 3.1 Mbps speed). It is USB powered meaning I can be online on the move :)

But there is a flip side, the connectivity in my house is pretty pathetic, but if I step out and occupy any of the benches on Sus Road, I get a 100% connectivity, which is good enough!!! I did try looking for other service providers, but the connection problem at my place persisted, so went in for this which atleast assures me maximum speed when I am in the zone :)

It feels great!!!!

What Went Around Eventually did Come Around: Diwali @ Vidya

2009-10-18T00:38:00.004+07:00

Vidya Society, Shikhare Wadi, Nashik Road (my home), is not just a building. Infact in 1985 when 10 families moved into the 10 flats of this society, it was for all of them a fulfillment of a dream- a dream of finally having their own names written against the OWNER column of the legal documents of a flat. The 10 families had finally settled down in the real sense of the term. It was a common dream which was fulfilled at the same time and so they were not 10 families, but infact 1 big family.

You can imagine the enthusiasm and the fervor which would have been generated at Vidya especially during Diwali. The terrace of the building used to fill up with kids bursting crackers, lighting rockets etc. You had to be doubly alert not only with the cracker which you have just lit, but also about you surroundings. There were ample cases, where a kid running from a cracker he jus lit got caught in the cracker lit by another guy on his way back to the safety zone. The safety zone, was where one parent from a house was present dispensing crackers to the kid, with a bucket of water kept handing incase of an emergency.

Diwali is not only about lights and crackers. It is about “फराल” too. The typical items making up the “फराल” are:

1) चिवडा

2) चकली

3) लादू

4) शंखर पाली

5) सेव

6) करंजी

7) अनारसा

And it is a custom to invite your neighbors and close friends for “फराल”. The kids at Vidya needed no invitation. I was especially at the fore front on the tasting brigade, and used to go from house to house, demanding “फराल” :) And then some “फराल” used to be placed on a plate to be taken home for the parents to be tasted.

At the end of day 2 of Diwali, each family used to end up with multiple plates of “फराल” from different houses. The items were all the same with different tastes, making it difficult to which plate belonged to which household!!!

It is also basic courtesy not to return an empty plate, so “फराल” from your home had to be laden on the plate and returned to the neighbors. With all these thoughts running paralleled in every household, each one committed the same folly

This is roughly what each family did.

Flat 1 had plates from flat 2, flat 3, flat 5, flat 4, flat 10, flat 6. But they could not distinguish between any. So they simply decided to rotate the same plates. Little did they know that this same thing will be done in 9 other flats!!! The end result of this confusion: Flat 5 got a plate of “फराल” from Flat 6 which they immediately recognised to be the one they had given to Flat 1 some 2 hours back. Flat 8 got a plate of “फराल” from Flat 4 which they immediately recognised to be the one they had given to Flat 7 some 2 hours back.

What went around eventually had come around!!!!

Everybody realized in a humorous way that they were indeed undone by the other 9. It was the last time “फराल” was ever circulated in Vidya on a plate. The Diwali after that, either people were invited for “फराल” or “फराल” was given out in plastic boxes, which did not need returning :)

Eclairs

2009-10-17T05:46:00.001+07:00

Appearances can be deceptive. This saying applies most to my generation

Think of it this way, have you not been harangued by your parents for the choice of your t-shirts, the patchwork on your jeans which was a major hit or even the piercing you did which incidentally your girlfriend finds cool. I am sure that like me you are subjected to dialogues like, “You are not appropriately dressed for the occasion or your look may be cool, but next time a simple clean shave will look better”. I am no different. Even I am harassed by such things.

My parents don’t only say that my appearance is inappropriate but go a step further and brand me outright repulsive. I don’t blame them completely. A guy with a beer belly, dark complexion, unkempt hair and a 7 day old stubble, with an eyebrow piercing, a low waist jeans which he is too bored to even pull up at times, survives on his roommates deo-oderant is not inappropriately dressed but outright repulsive at first sight!!! But this perception of the prior generation was soon to change.

I got into the afternoon bus to get to Pune. The bus was half empty. I got in and the very first empty seat caught my eye. There were other window seats too but I overlooked them and landed on that seat. The window seat right next to me was occupied by a 60 something gentleman, whose afternoon nap I have just broken. Giving me an injured look he scowled, “There are other seats empty too.” Not wanting to get into an argument with the senior citizen I pretended to ignore him and turned on my ipod. He looked at me for a long moment and tried to get back to sleep. In the meantime the bus started.

After about 30 mins, in which I was slipping in and out of sleep, I caught the senior citizen staring at me. I hate people staring at me, makes me feel like a museum exhibit. I cleared my throat and very politely began a conversation:

Me: Where are you going Uncle.

Uncle: Pune. I just noticed that your jeans is torn.

Me: Err..yes. Does it look cool

Uncle: Cool?? You seem to be a software engg. I saw your company bag

Me: Yes…(with a smile on my face)

Uncle: You wear such clothes to office too?? My sister’s son is also in software. He is much more decently dressed, he is in the US now.

(I got it. The reason I was here in India, was because of my clothes. I don’t want to go to the US now, I am more than comfortable here in my torn clothes)

It was clear that Uncle was going way too tangential and that he did not like me one bit!!! His oblique references to my clothes and ofcourse his loving repartee about why you are still rotting here meant only one thing that “HE DID NOT LIKE ME”.

I had to do something to salvage the pride of my tribe. Tribe referring to people like me, who work for a software company, are comfortable the way they are in their torn jeans, pierced eye brow, smelly over alls. Instinctively I went for my jeans pocket.

More often than not my jeans pocket throw up surprises. Random searches bring up bus tickets, coins, parking tickets etc. But at that fateful moment when my hand came out, it had 2 eclairs!!!!

Why did éclairs came out? Why only two? This was sure to be a sign!!!! I just have to interpret it properly. In a flash I knew what to do.

Uncle had long forgotten my existence and was now enjoying the scenery outside. With the last ounce of self respect left in me I nudged him. He looked at me.

Me: Here Uncle, how about having an éclairs.

He gave me a look of disbelief. I thought that now the senior citizen would get hysterical but to the contrary he smiled. He accepted the éclair and instantly began opening it with child like enthusiasm. I didn’t interrupt him. He rolled the éclair in his mouth and with a calm face said, “Thanks, that was unexpected. I think that very soon even you will get a chance to go to the US. Even you deserve it”!!!!

I just smiled back.

My Vote Counts!!! Go Out and Vote today!!!

2009-10-13T11:41:00.004+07:00

13th Oct 2009, Maharashtra Assembly elections. Along with Maharashtra, Haryana and Arunachal Pradesh also go to polls. I just came back from the polling booth adoring the ink mark made on my left index finger. It was the second time I voted. And the novelty of it is still there.

The effort is colossal, even monumental. Electioneering in itself is noting less than a festival in India.

Consider the statistics for the assembly elections in Maharashtra alone:
No of Districts: 35
No of Assembly Seats: 288
No of Polling booths: 84136
No of candidates: 3559
No of voters: 75811245
(source: http://news.rediff.com/slide-show/2009/oct/12/slide-show-1-three-states-ready-for-polls.htm)

Isn't this monumental? And these are only the assembly elections!!!! The first test of popularity for the parties after the Lok Sabha elections.

It is a very interesting mix this time around. Both the Cong-NCP combine and the BJP-Shiv Sena to some extent have been rocked by rebels. The reason being discontent with fielding candidates who are descendants of senior party leaders. Notable being the President Prathibha Patil's son (from the Congress) and ofcourse the extended Munde family (for the BJP). However in all the melee one party stands notably alone without any cadre issues or discontent and that is the MNS!!!

MNS broke the back of the BJP-Shiv Sena combine in Maharashtra during the last Lok Sabha polls. Though they didn't manage to return any MP's they did eat up the vote share of the Saffron alliance, helping the Cong-NCP candidates.

MNS has a good chance to win seats to the assembly and it is a possibility that we will have a 3 way tiff to form the govt (Cong-NCP, BJP-Shiv Sena and the MNS). Though MNS will not be able to go alone, it is going to be a decisive cog in the wheel!!!! Raj by all means will be the King Maker this time around.

Will MNS return to the Saffron fold? or will MNS side with the Cong-NCP? or will MNS give outside support and sit out of the govt? Or will the Cong-NCP against all odds sweep the polls like they did at the Centre?

The answers to all these questions are in MY SINGLE VOTE!!! and for that I feel important!!!!

GO OUT and VOTE

1026 DWn Pune-Nashik-Manmad Express

2009-10-12T01:56:00.003+07:00

Its been more than a year and a half since the Pune-Nashik rail service has started and with the frequency of my Pune-Nashik travels, I must say that I was late when finally on Saturday morning I decided to take the train to come to Nashik. It was my dad who gave me the idea to try it out, as I had time on my hand. Plus I was going to be home (Nashik) till Tuesday. So at the age of 25 years, it was to be my first train journey totally alone. Hope you didn’t jump off your seat, but it is really not my fault.

I must admit that I have not travelled much. I really can’t help it. We don’t have distant relatives (in terms of distance from Nashik). The fartherest (this word doesn’t exist in English language) that my relatives have stretched to is Indore. And long distance travel was always to be juggled with the holidays of my parents and mine too. Most of my summer vacations were spent in cricket and swimming coaching. My mother thought these would reduce my fat. Well they did, but now it is all making a comeback.

Apart from relatives the Borate’s (my family) undertook a tour of North India, where we visited Gangotri, Yamnotri and the works. So that has been the only feather in my travel cap. There have been a couple of train journeys to Nagpur, Mysore and one to Suratkhal to take a look at the NIT there. Ofcourse I never secured a seat there.

So the fact remains that with my experience level with the Indian rail I can be termed as a novice. The first hurdle of getting the ticket was surpassed with excellence when in the morning Neha got me my e-ticket. Atleast now I would not have had to sweat it out in the queue only to discover after an hour that I was in the wrong queue and then feel ashamed about my existence on the planet.

Another plus point was that the train starts from Pune. So I did not have to negotiate hordes of passengers getting down and even more trying to get in and all this happening within a span of 1 minute. When the very first announcement of my train was made I promptly made my way to the assigned platform, found my bogie and settled in my seat. I had just bought a novel to read in the journey. I opened page 1 and patted myself on the back. Nothing had gone wrong until now.

At 12:50pm the train started and I made a few phone calls to the people who should know my whereabouts. I looked around my seat and there was the usual gathering of passengers you will see in any second class chair car. There were a couple of hard nosed 45 year olds, who were stretching their legs on the seat opposite there own. There luggage was the cap they had on their head and the newspapers they were carrying to clean the seat where they were going to seat. From the look of it, those were the battle hardened Indian Rail regulars. There was a family of 5, with 2 kids included. One was asleep but the other was going to throw a tantrum. I secretly wished that they would get down earlier. Then there were the other type of battle hardened minions who loved to get into a conversation with anything and everything and in that they will make it a point to show off their knowledge about the latest timings of some of the important trains on the route and how they got it all wrong when they made Ranchi come before the Shatabdi and how the Panvel Passenger should have been a couple of hours later on the schedule. The scene was completed with the guest appearances of the blind singers, urchins who sweep floors for money, a passing eunuch and ofcourse the many motley salesmen.

The scene outside was breathe-taking. I used to just close my novel and look out till the horizon for minutes together. It was a welcome change compared to the road which I had seen a million times over. At Karjat I treated myself to 2 vada pavs and a cup of tea.

The scheduled arrival of the train at Nashik-Road station is 7:30pm. At around 6:45pm I realized that I should somehow get to know the station where the train stops just before Nashik Road. The train does not have a conductor who keeps shouting the names of the forthcoming stops and plus I wanted to avoid the last minute rush which is the primary reason for forgetting something or the other. I called up a friend and enquired.

After listening to his wise cracks of how I wasted my life if I did not know even that and blah blah….he finally told me what I needed to know. Once the station of Deolali passed I was in ready mode (mentally) and finally at 7:30pm the train halted at Nashik Road station and I got down.

Don’t know when the next rail journey will happen. Atleast with this Pune-Nashik journey I am awaiting it eagerly.

P.S: Read the latest Chetan Bhagat novel “2 States: the story of my marriage” in the train. After the disappointment of “3 mistakes of my life” I must say he is back in the groove. At only 95 bucks it’s an easy buy and an enjoyable read.

Nightflier

2009-10-11T14:42:00.000+07:00

I still dont want to believe it, but the Nightflier has left the blogging scene :( With a heavy heart I deleted her link from my page. This just a note to say I will miss your blog.

She says that she has left blogger and blogging for good. I dont want to agree. How can some one grow out of blogging? How can it be boring? :(

There are many questions unanswered, which will simply remain, cos the Nightflier will no longer visit blogger and yes not even know about this post!!! Ever :(

Please come back!!!!

P.S: Went to Sula yesterday evening and remembered how you had been drunk when u visited it. Damn I was not there!!!!

The Nobel Peace Prize: Discretion or Merit?

2009-10-11T14:13:00.010+07:00

Barack Obama the American Blue eyed boy, the first black president of the country. The man who taught us the “Audacity of Hope” was declared the winner of this year’s Nobel Peace Prize. This announcement left many gasping for air while some said that it was a pleasant surprise. Though one thing is true that this is “too much and too early”

The Nobel prizes are the highest honour bestowed on civilians on this planet. The Nobel Prize which was instituted by Alfred Nobel was originally given away in 5 categories : Physics, Chemistry, Physiology or Medicine, Literature and Peace. A 6th category was added in 1968, and this award was instituted by Sweden’s central Bank. The category of Economics.

If you look at the 5 categories (Physics, Chemistry, Physiology or Medicine, Literature and Economics) you will realize that all those are academic subjects. Where things have to be written down and proved beyond a measure of doubt. Hypothesis could be made but they have to be substantiated by things which happened in real life. And because of this very fact, the 5 categories (as stated above) have never been subject to criticism. But somehow PEACE is something which can never fall in line with the above 5 categories.

PEACE is a relative term. And that PEACE can be achieved by different ways. The 2 that come to my mind are 1) By destruction: Simply uproot the population who is causing the disturbance and you can establish PEACE or 2) Dialogue: Engage in dialogue and try to address the needs of the population causing the disturbance.

Point 1 mentioned above is like the “ready to eat” fast food solution, you have to be a World Power, you should have the capacity to pocket the UN and you should leave aside the considerations of collateral damage. If you look at the winners of the Nobel peace prize (http://nobelprizes.com/nobel/peace/peace.html) you will find it loaded with politicians. Politicians who did not usher in Peace but tried to broker it and almost everytime the discussions, which earned them the Prize came after the backbone of the enemy was broken using force. If this the case then tell me is it really worth it?

Mr Obama won the Nobel Prize for (and I quote): “for his extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples”, sounds vague to me to be frank. The category of PEACE has always been won by international people who were present at the right place at the right time, their past or their rise to fame has never been a consideration. I would say that if somehow Dr Manmohan Singh and his Pakistani counterpart, get together and ink a deal on peace and keep it going for atleast 6-8 months even they can bring home the NOBEL PEACE PRIZE.

Infact I am sure that this year's prize would have been closely contested, and the man who just missed out would have been non other that the Sri Lankan President Mahinda Pajapaksa. Does he not claim that he has brought peace to the island nation after ending the menace of LTTE?

What better way to rest my case when I say that the Nobel Peace Prize has always been a matter of discretion than merit, than the fact that the Mahatma never won it!!!

P.S: also read: http://greatbong.net/2009/10/09/the-obama-lama/

Whats Your Rashee to Kashid: Story of a Weekend

2009-09-28T20:58:00.007+07:00

The month of Sept this year has been very easy. Long weekends have become so common in this month that I don't think I will be able to adjust back to a full 5 day week starting October (though the first weekend of October itself is a long weekend thanks to Gandhi Jayanti which falls on Friday.)

Long weekends are different than weekends. You get that one extra day off which makes you both ambitious and equally lazy. You need someone to kick you in the back and get you to do something worth the long weekend. I mean you can doze off lazing around on weekends but long weekends demand something extra, something which makes them seem really long and fruitful if not well earned :p

This long weekend (26-28 Sept 2009) started with a disaster. I literally was banging my head on the seat before me. I think I even started bleeding but the multiplex owner did not take heed and continued with the screening. After the end of approximately 4 hours I was left (like many others) totally numb, brain dead. I had just been "Whats Your Rashee"ed and let me tell you it was even worse than when i had farted loudly in a project meeting when the manager had opened up the floor for any questions, opinions or comments. My team mates later did tell me that the fart was meaningful, but my manager somehow did not subscribe to that.

I got home Friday nite at 2:00AM and I could not sleep. Gowarikar was to blame, I just couldn't forgive myself for the movie which I had just seen. How could Gowarikar have such an impact on me that he had literally robbed me off my sleep. I liked Priyanka Chopra but after seeing her in 12 different roles in the same movie, I developed a nausea so intense that I could see her face on the female porn stars too. Ok I must confess even after watching porn for 1 hour after I came home I could not find sleep. I re-re-re-read my certification material but even then I could not sleep. Finally it took the last gulp of the vodka to enter my system to calm my nerves and lull me to sleep. I hate you Gowarikar....I hate you Priyanka. Linda Goodman was enough as far as signs go.

I still had 2 days to make up for my Friday fiasco and Saturday early morning I left for Kashid. I had been to quite a few beaches in Konkan now and every time it is the ghats, the lush greenery and ofcourse the lack of traffic which takes my breath away. The Tamhini ghat which is the route to the most preferred Kokan beaches of shrivardhan, diveagar is hell to say the least. Both the rider and the ride (including the pillion if any) suffers a great deal. However the route to Kashid was not via Tamhini, the road was good, couple that with the ghats and the greenery and within an hour into the ride I knew I was going to enjoy this :)

The distance from Pune to Kashid being 200 kms it was an easy ride and the prospect of a dip in the sea together with the food, nariayl pani was mouth watering. The route we took while going was

Pune-Lonavla-Khopoli-Pali-Roha-Nadgaon-Kashid

We started from Pune at 7:00AM and reached Kashid at 1:15PM, by that time, sweat had got to me, thanks to the humidity. But the sight of the waves and the golden sand was enough to soothe me. Finding accommodation was not at all a task. The tourist season had not exactly started (as per one of the locals) and we found decent accommodation at a place which was a stone's throw from the beach. This was the best part. The acco was so close that we even could visit the beach many time, sometimes at will :). From the room even the sounds of the waves were audible.

Just before dinner, the walk on the beach was both calming and serene. There were not many people around, the moon was lighting the path and gazing at the stars in the clear sky was an experience in itself.

The return journey started on Sunday at 12:15PM. We had a heavy breakfast at the beach. Poha, Maggi, Bhurji and tea and we began. One thing about the beach which impressed me was that there were no hawkers selling chat, bhelpuri and that was a relief. The chat and the bhelpuri are the chief destoryers of any habitat and more so for the beaches. We visted a Birla Temple as Salav. Though in the afternoon heat we didnt have the heart to roam around the garden, but it was good nonetheless.

The route we took for the return journey was different:

Kashid-Alibaug-Pen-Khopoli-Lonavla-Pune

At 7:00PM I was back at my place, looking ahead to cap it all off with a couple of bottles of beer :)

A long weekend well spent and very well enjoyed :)

P.S: Will upload the pics soon on orkut.

Fashionably Slow

2009-09-21T12:35:00.002+07:00

If you thought getting your first TV video game, your first TV cable connection that too only in the summer holidays was tough then you got to be kidding me. The worst battle which I fought was for getting my parents to buy a PC (personal computer). I had to complete my Std XII to get there. At least the TV video game and also the cable connection came quicker but not the PC. So after the std XII exams were done me and my dad set out to buy our first and I am sure the only PC.

The PC revolution had just begun around that time atleast in my neighbourhood :). Every nook and corner sported either an internet café (I never understood why the word café was used. I mean there were no refreshments or even coffee served there) or a computer shop where entrepreneurs were seated under creaking fans surrounded by motherboards, mice, keyboard and infinite wires. They had zeal like no other. They had a dream of making it big making a PC even more personal than even Bill Gates envisioned.

The word that the Borate’s were looking to buy a PC spread like a Trojan virus if not wild fire and within 2 days 3 budding entrepreneurs came knocking armed with catalogues of hardware.

A Typical Entrepreneur: Sir, full and final sangto. 41K madhe, Samsung cha monitor, Seagate chi hard disk (40GB), Windows 98, 256 MB DDR RAM. Internet ready keyboard ani Quick heal pan free deto. Plus ya society madhe 2-3 order dile ahet me aadhi. Service ani support madhe kahi problem nahi. Tumhi vichara na!!!!

Baba: Barr, tumhi, hey catalogue ithe theva, I will get in touch with you.

A Typical Entrepreneur: Touch kay Sir, mich chakkar marto na Monday la. Theva sanga. Toh pariant hard disk che bhav pan kami honar ahet. Tumche kaam 38K madhe karun deto. Chalo mag see you.

So we had a couple of catalogues to look at, prices to be compared and configurations to be chosen from. I had almost made up my mind when my dad brought home a new concept of “Branded v/s Assembled”. I was never a techo wiz kid, this was new. My dad explained, well he had been enlightened by the Head of the Computer Dept (HOD) of his College, so you can imagine the impact the HOD would have created.

Branded: A PC which is packed, which has only one brand on it. Eg: the PC’s of HP, Compaq, Zenith. Costly but reliable. Fewer hardware issues. But again if you get issues you will have to shell out more for maintenance.

Assembled: As the name suggests. It is assembled. Samsung ka monitor, Seagate ki hard disk. The PC’s sold by the entrepreneurs. Sold on mutual trust, cheaper, but no warranty.

And the Branded PC was a personal favorite of the HOD and it had to be same with my dad. So we visited a couple of shops selling the branded ware. HP and Compaq. The configuration was good, but we found the after sales service wanting. In the midst of all this, the HOD came to our rescue. Why not Zenith?

Zenith: The name did not register anything in me. I had heard about HP, Compaq and so naturally I was following the brand name. But Zenith!!!!??? And when I got to know the catchline I almost puked: Zenith: The Indian Multinational!!!!

Well the HOD knew a dealer personally and that also solved the after sales service. So finally we got home a branded Zenith PC; the Indian Multinational.

On Monday the Budding entrepreneur came and we informed him that a Zenith PC had been brought. Here was his reaction:

“Zenith, kay Sir. Aadhi sangayche na Branded pahiche hote te. Me HP cha dila asta. Market peksha 4K kami madhe. Full support ek varsha sati free. Tumhi rao sagle sangat nahi ani mag amhi service kashi denar. Ani Zenith peksha HP kadhi hi changla. Bagha hardware issues yenar. Teva kalel!!!!”

Its been more than 6 years now, not a single hardware has ever given way. The OS got infected a couple of times but it happens and the PC had to be formatted. Got XP installed a year back :)

The P4 processor takes ages to load a page. I can hear weird churning sounds inside the CPU cabinet whenever some processing happens. I never get worked up. I just sit back, lazily and smile!!!! This is what I call being fashionably slow!!!!

P.S: Today I installed Mozilla Firefox 3.5 on it too. :D

Dharasana Satyagraha: Web Miller

2009-09-20T17:33:00.001+07:00

Ben Kingsley's Mahatma Gandhi is an epic. It is one of the masterpieces of motion pictures at least for me. The crisp dialogues, the breathtaking cinematography and the Mahatma itself lend the movie such credence that even if I have watched it 6 times, I wouldnt be bored to go for it a 7th time. One thing good is atleast on 15th Aug some cable channel or the other airs it.

The most riveting sequence of the movie for me is the Dharasana Satyagraha. Just after the Dandi March where the Mahatma has broken the Salt Act, the Dharasana Salt Works in Gujarat was chosen for the next protest. A 76 year old retired judge Abbas Tyabji lead the march with the Mahatma's wife Kasturba. Both of them were arrested and subsequently the protest was to be lead by Sarojini Naidu and Maulana Abul Kalam Azad.

Naidu was aware that violence against the satyagrahis was a threat, and warned them, "You must not use any violence under any circumstances. You will be beaten, but you must not resist: you must not even raise a hand to ward off blows." On May 21, the satyagrahis tried to pull away the barbed wire protecting the salt pens. The police charged and began clubbing them.

The beatings as caught on the camera in the movie were a world apart. Batch after batch of satyagrahis went ahead unflinching only to be struck down by the lathis of the Raj. Scalps broke open, as blood oozed out. People fell by the way side only to be replaced by another batch. Nobody retaliated, nobody fought back.

All this was being watched by Web Miller a British journalist. Even as the beatings were in progress, Miller was shouting on the phone his report which until now for me has been the best newsprint report I have ever come across. Miller is shouting at the top of his voice. He is using the word 'STOP' to signal that one sentence is over and another begins. Hats off!!!!

Here is the transcript of the article. It is moving and captures what would have happened that day at the Dharasana Salt Works:

Not one of the marchers even raised an arm to fend off the blows. They went down like ten-pins. From where I stood I heard the sickening whacks of the clubs on unprotected skulls. The waiting crowd of watchers groaned and sucked in their breaths in sympathetic pain at every blow.

Those struck down fell sprawling, unconscious or writhing in pain with fractured skulls or broken shoulders. In two or three minutes the ground was quilted with bodies. Great patches of blood widened on their white clothes. The survivors without breaking ranks silently and doggedly marched on until struck down. When every one of the first column was knocked down stretcher bearers rushed up unmolested by the police and carried off the injured to a thatched hut which had been arranged as a temporary hospital.

There were not enough stretcher-bearers to carry off the wounded; I saw eighteen injured being carried off simultaneously, while forty-two still lay bleeding on the ground awaiting stretcher-bearers. The blankets used as stretchers were sodden with blood.

At times the spectacle of unresisting men being methodically bashed into a bloody pulp sickened me so much I had to turn away....I felt an indefinable sense of helpless rage and loathing, almost as much against the men who were submitting unresistingly to being beaten as against the police wielding the clubs...

Bodies toppled over in threes and fours, bleeding from great gashes on their scalps. Group after group walked forward, sat down, and submitted to being beaten into insensibility without raising an arm to fend off the blows. Finally the police became enraged by the non-resistance....They commenced savagely kicking the seated men in the abdomen and testicles. The injured men writhed and squealed in agony, which seemed to inflame the fury of the police....The police then began dragging the the sitting men by the arms or feet, sometimes for a hundred yards, and throwing them into ditches.

Miller's first attempts at telegraphing the story to his publisher in England were censored by the British telegraph operators in India. Only after threatening to expose British censorship was his story allowed to pass. The story appeared in 1,350 newspapers throughout the world and was read into the official record of the United States Senate by Senator John J. Blaine.

Jersey No. 5

2009-09-18T17:33:00.001+07:00

Jersey No 5: Thomas Vermaelen. The Club's only major signing in the summer window of 2009 and a more than ideal replacement for Kolo Toure who moved on to Manchester City. 4 goals in 8 matches (including the 2 against Wigan yesterday) and the new kid on the block has already proved his mettle in a side which is desperately seeking to win any form of silverware this season.

At 23, he is young and full of new blood. Also he has a responsible head on his shoulders having captained his Belgium club Ajax last season. In the intial games of the season, he seemed to have put the fire back in Gallas' belly. Isnt it ironical that after 8 games, Gallas is the seond highest scorer for Arsenal with 3 goals. Two defenders mind you!!! The strikers have yet to start firing on all cylinders.

The last couple of weeks were tough. 2 back to back away defeats, first at the hands of old rivals Man Utd and then after a week at the hands of the newly resurrected Man City (ohh how I hate Adebayor now!!!). Midweek was also not that easy. Being 2 goals down within 5 minutes against a Belgium side could have been the undoing of the English Club which boasted of a Big 4 finish season after season after season. But Arsenal clawed back (though a couple of goals were sketchy). Again a goal by Vermealen.

The 4-0 rout of Wigan at home was good, but still we are found lacking against those established clubs (the other 3). With Man City knocking at the doors of the Big 4 already with a perfect record in as many games, it is apprehension that the Gooner inside me feels.

There is still time to take on Chealsea (29th Nov, its a home game) but we have Tot Hotspur (31st Oct, at home again) which will be challenging :). Hope we don't have any slip ups until that atleast in the EPL.

P.S: Rosicky is back and looks smooth and sleek again. Want to watch more of him!!! Been a long time....

FindMyMatch.com

2009-09-18T17:07:00.002+07:00

I think I was in the hall (read living room) of my house. I rubbed my eyes to get a better view and also to be sure of my co-ordinates. “Hell, it is the hall.” I thought to myself looking at the familiar wall clock up on the wall to my right. But that was the only thing familiar in the hall of the house where I had stayed all my life. What happened here?

“Please have a seat!!!” commanded a voice. As I followed in the direction of the source of the voice, I saw that a table was arranged right in the middle of the hall. “What is going on here? That is my study table. Get up from my chair, will you?” I shouted. “I said sit down!!” the voice became sterner. I looked around but there was nobody else, other than the man who was sitting on my chair. There was smoke lazing around in the hall. That was weird. I took some in, in the hope that it may be stale cigarette smoke which might get me out of this daydream. The smoke had no taste to it. It was jus there, hanging in suspended animation. “Damn, what is this place? This is not a dream”, said I.

“Who said it is, mister?” said the man in front of me and laughed a laugh which echoed through the passage way.

“Hmm, let me see this. You are Mr. Advait Borate correct?” he continued looking at the papers he took out from the manila envelope; age 24, weight 80kgs, though you look heavier to me; colour of skin brown, yeah as if I believe you, a software professional earning close to 5 lac a year, not bad, no foreign trips eh, that might be an issue, but we can see what can be done about that. By the way I am Rakesh Gaithonde ”

“Rakesh what? Hell it doesn’t matter. How do u know all this? What are the papers you have? Where the hell am I?” I was lost and was frantic. “Relax, buddy. You are in your own hall. Can’t you see? Though we had to make a few modifications. But we kept the wall clock. I knew you would recognize at least that and you did not disappoint me. And the papers. Don’t you remember these?” said he throwing the papers at me. “You filled these with your own hand. Look its your signature there at the bottom”

It was my signature and my writing all right. But I didn’t remember ever doing all this. I searched for a name, a name of an agency of a corporation something, but there was nothing. I looked up at him. Sweat was trickling down my face and my heart beat had reached such a pace that I feared that my chest might implode. “I really don’t know what is all this about?”

“Ohh come on now, Advait. Go wash your face, freshen up and have some water.” his voice suddenly became soothing. I did as I was told. When I came back he handed me some printed sheets of paper. Here we go. Guys, can we have some lights please.”

The moment he said this, a strong flashlight shone on me. I was blinded for a moment and then when my eyes got accustomed to the light I looked down at the sheets of paper in my hand. “Read them aloud looking in front.” He commanded pointing at the red light which was blinking in front of me at a distance.

“Hello there, Good morning. I am Advait Borate. I am 24 years old and am moderately built. I am currently based in Pune. My complexion is brown. I work as a software professional in a reputed IT firm in India and will be flying abroad very soon. My hobbies include reading, blogging, surfing the net, watching movies. I earn 5 lac rupees a year. If interested do get back to me at AdvaitBorate@FindMyMatch.com. Waiting to hear from you. Bye”

“Excellent”, he said clapping. “That will be all, thank you Mr Borate. Take him away”. I was still coming to terms with what I had just said when 2 heavily built men literally picked me up and threw me out of my own living room. I had no time to even shout. I landed heavily on my back and my head hit the floor, I blanked out.

The phone ring woke me up. I checked the time it was 3:30 in the afternoon. Damn it was a dream after all. “Hello, who is this?” I said. “Hey, Didi bolte ahe.”, it was my sis on the line. I hadnt even checked the number before answering the call. “Hmm...bol” I said still with a quiver in my voice. “Arre kay zhale, asa ka awaz kadtos” my sis. “Kahi nahi…bol” I said. “Guess what, I finally put up your profile on FindMyMatch.com. Ill message your id and password in sometime, wicked na” she was so enthusiastic. I felt liking banging the phone, but I was sweating and didn’t have the energy to even do that. “Wow. So mom wins eh?” I said. “Hehe, you know she always does!!” came back the reply and the line went dead. My sis is always in a hurry.

I knew why I dreamt about this. My mom and I had been discussing this for the last few days on the phone and she was very persistent. I couldn’t ignore her and had to absorb all she had to say and now it was done. I had my own FindMyMatch.com id.Wow!!!!

The phone beeped. My sis had messaged the login credentials. I freshened up and logged on the website and into my account. I almost fainted when the page refreshed:

You have 2 unopened messages.

I clicked on the first. “Hi, I am Priyanka. I am also based in Pune. I am interested. Check Priyanka’s profile for more details.

My sis wasn’t kidding me after all.

Vidya ka pahela Landline phone

2009-09-11T22:48:00.001+07:00

The year was 1991 and Vidya (that is the name of the society where I grew up in Nashik) got its first Landline phone. It was the Dixits who lived in Flat No 1, who got not one but two connections after waiting for a period of 13 months. They needed the phones, after all Mr. Dixit was an entrepreneur and landlines were the only sources then to stay connected. Like everybody in our society, even I was enthralled. I felt a bit jealous too, cos Chinmay (their son and my very good friend) would nonetheless brag about it. Mind you the first colour TV in Vidya Society was owned by the Borate’s. A multi channeled (8 channels in all) ONIDA TV without remote . We used to have quite a gathering at our place to watch Mahabharata on Sunday mornings, but now the tide had turned. By the time the Dixits got the phone, every household in the society had got a TV. So the colour TV was passé and the LANDLINE was the tr(IN)g thing.

We were a close knit society, meaning the architect of the society had achieved such an acoustical feat that any noise from 1 flat could be clearly heard in the remaining 9 flats. Also, it was a marvel of visibility, you just had to peer through a crack of your kitchen window and you could see who was visiting whom. I always thought that the architect was a descendant of the guy who built those forts for Shivaji Maharaj (NOM!!!).

So when the khaki clad VSNL guys (BSNL did not exist then) barged in the front gate of the society and shouted loud for Mr Dixit from the parking, we knew it had arrived. Even before Mr Dixit could get out, the VSNL men were surrounded by curious neighbors and even more curious kids. And a conversation ensued:

Neighbor 1 (The Chairman of the Society): What is there in the box?

VSNL man # 1 (looking him up and down): Who is Mr Dixit?

Neighbor 1: He will be coming, but tell me what is there in the box?

VSNL man # 2 : What is the name?

Neighbor 1 (feeling important): Professor XXXXXX!!!

VSNL man # 1: Hey, not your name!!! The Society’s name.

Neighbor 1 (looking around to see if anybody heard tht. By that time others had covered their laughing faces): Vidya, I am the chairman of the society.

VSNL man # 2 (looking bored and to no one in particular): Who is this Mr Dixit??

Chinmay (finally managed the courage to speak up): Err….dad is coming.!!!

VSNL man #1 to # 2: People only want us to give the connections on time. Now when we are here they are not even showing up. Plus today is Sunday. You don’t know what all I had to suffer at home for this!!!

Chinmay (making a small face and calling out): Babaaaaa

And before the long shout could end, out walked Mr Dixit. He looked immensely fresh for a Sunday afternoon. Now it was clear, all this while he was preparing for the VSNL men. The shirt and the trouser were freshly ironed. There was just one crease left on the shirt, I saw. Only if Chinmay would have delayed that last shout by a few seconds, I was sure Dixit kaka would have got that too.

Mr Dixit: Sorry huh,I was a bit held up. Had to attend an important call

VSNL men (perplexed): Call!!!! Means you already have a phone connection!!!!

Even the crowd was taken aback. Mr Dixit had a phone already and he never told them. Mr Joshi tried to recall the telephone department rules which mandated somebody to wait for a minimum of 3 years before registering for another connection if he had an existing one.

Mr Dixit (feeling awkward): Arre not that call, THAT call!!! You come inside na…please please do come

I wonder how the others had missed the relieved look on his face!!!

VSNL men (not convinced): Hmm ok. But first we will have to check.

Mr Dixit: Yes why not..why not..

And they entered the house. Mr Dixit wanted to close the door immediately but it was just not possible to be impolite. The junta followed much to his displeasure. All the possible seats in the drawing room were occupied and the children spilt onto the floor.

Even before the VSNL men started their job, Mrs Dixit walked out with 2 cups of tea. The neighbors did not mind this, after all the VSNL men were the MEN who mattered the most!!! They finished their tea and also demanded some biscuits and then when they were satisfied they set out to work. The boxes were opened and the phones were laid out on the side table right next to the sofa. People started taking turns to see the phones, as if they had never seen a landline. Well it was partially true, they had never seen a landline in the drawing room of a house before.

After 30 mins the VSNL men drove off in their van leaving in their wake many marveled souls. It was as if a couple of God sent angels had just saved the day and even vanished before the mortals could say a thank you. Mr Dixit did pay his homage to the angels by giving them Rs 10 as a token of appreciation. They accepted it and smiled too.

But after that the Dixits realized that, “With Great Power, Came Great Responsibility”. Now they had the enormous task of respectfully juggling the neighbors. Every night after about 8:30pm just when Mr Dixit thought that he could relax and spend some time with his family, there would be a knock on the door. A neighbor would walk in with a plate containing some sweet or the other. Mr Dixit could not refuse it out of decency and then the neighbor would get into a conversation. After 10 mins into the conversation he would slowly take out his phone diary from his upper shirt pocket and inch closer to the phone. Mr Dixit would understand and leave the drawing room for some reason. With Mr Dixit out of sight the neighbor would call out, “Arre ek call karu ka!!!”. Mr Dixit would have no option but to say ,” Ho ho, ka nahi aaplach phone samjha!!!”

This went on for a couple of weeks and Mr Dixit had to do something. He had to retaliate without disturbing the delicate relationship with the neighbors and he got it. Whenever he heard the knock on the door in the night, he simply used to pull the phone line from under the instrument. He also decided not to leave the guest alone lest he found the courage to actually look around and find that the wire was disconnected in which case he would have to join it back and everytime the phone went dead the other neighbors would also look for the disconnected wire.

It worked. In a few days time the neighbors got the hint. They stopped disturbing him. Now the phone was used only when really required and in the due course of time everybody got their own connections.

As times changed the landline became out of fashion and mobiles started ruling the roost (they do so even now). I have a prepaid connection, sometimes when I run out of balance and ask for my roommates’ cell to make a call, I cannot stop but remember Vidya, the first Landline and ofcourse Mr Dixit and his subtle tactics!!!!

(Disclaimer: Though the names used in this article are real, the dialogues are imaginary. What do you expect a 6 yr old to remember :p)

Mile Sur Mera Tumhara: The DD nostalgia

2009-08-24T10:51:00.003+07:00

I know the Independance day is behind us, but each time I litsen to this song it brings back memories. I have it on my ipod and when this song starts, I just leave everything aside (that is if I am not riding) and just sit back and enjoy the melody. Images of the picturisation rush back to me in a torrent. Those were the days when DD national was the heart and soul of my existence.

We had that Onida TV with 8 channels. All 8 channels showed DD national. A TV antenna was fixed on the building terrace and the signal was boosted with a booster kept next to the TV. Each time this melody begins the TV, DD national comes to the fore. I see Pt Bhimsen Joshi sing, Lata Mangeshkar in the closing stages and yes Amitabh, Jitendra and Mithun too. Guess we have PT Usha with the torch as well and Kapil too. I will be seeing the video after this. Its fun to recollect this!!!!! Now below are the lyrics.

I am going to put subtitles with the images I remember when I litsen to the lines (even if I dont understand the other languages)

(Music begins....Sea waves..waterfall and Pt Bhimsen Joshi kicks it off)

Mile sur mera tumharaa, Thoo sur bane hamaraa.... sur kee nadhiyaan
har disha se behkee saagar mein milee. Baadalon ka roop leiker
bharse halke halke... Mile sur mera tumharaa.. thoo... sur bane
hamaara.. Mile sur mera tumhara...

(Due on a boat...Kashmir!!!)

Chaain taraj tahin nyay taraj
ek but baniye saayen taraj

(A family of Sikhs on a tractor making their way through a field)

Tera sur mile mere sur de naal
milke bane ek nava surtaal

(Arial view of the TAJ...Shabana Azmi comes on sceen)
Mile sur mera tumharaa....tho sur bane hamaara..

(Over to the deserts now...Narendra Hirawani in cricketing whites walks towards the camera..he made a sensational start to his career but fizzled away on the international scene..)
Mohnja sur tohi desa pyara mile jadein geet ashaanjo madhur tarano
bane tadein

(a group of senior Sikhs...the lady who sings the last part....me likes her)
Sur ka dariya bahte saagar me mile badlaan da roop leike barasan
holle haule

(Over to south. By the method of elimination this has got to be Tamil. I asked Chirstine..she deciphered the Malyalee bit and this she could not understand!!!!) :)
Isaindhal namm iruvarin suramum namadhakum.. Dhisai veru aanalum
aazi ser aarugal Mugilai mazaiyai pozivadu pol isai ...Namm
isssaiiii....

(This is what she understood!!!!...the dude on the elephant at the end of this verse...I still remember him...he sure made an impact...man look at that carefree expression on his face!!!!)

Thik thakida thathikakidA....thaka thimi thaka junu
Nanna dhwanige ninna dhwani-ya, seridante namma dhwaniya..
Naa swaramu nee swaramu sangammamai, mana swaram ga avatarinchey
Ninde swaramum ningalude swaramum otthucheiyum Namudeya swaramai....

(Over to West bengal....A Metro makes it way to the station...Me spotted Arun Lal at 3:36)
Tomaar shoor moder shoor srishti koroor koi ekshoor[2]...
Sriishti karoon woi katha

(Over to the Far East now!!!!)
Toma mora swarer milan srishti kare chalbochatano
Toma mora swarer milan srishti kare chalbochatano

(Scenes of Goa....the parties and the beach!!!)
(Over to the Gujju brothers....)
male sur jo taro maro, bane aapno sur niralo

(Scene of a local from top...and konkani ladies walkin in the background..Maay Marathi!!!)
majhya tumchya julta tara madhur suranchya barasti dhara

(Back to Hindi...I dont knw the first lady....then its Hema Malini..Asha Parekh in a saree which an aunty in the neighbourhood had..long back..followed by Lata didi..in a tricolour sari..!!!
Sur ki nadiya har disha se behke saagar mein mile...
Baadlo ka roop leke barse halke halke..
Oh...Mile sur mera tumhara tho....sur bane hamara...

(The synthesizer rakes up the beat...AB..Jumping Jack..Gun Master G9 take it away!!!Kids dressed in saffron, green and white....and forming a tricolour in the end...)
Mile Sur mera tumhara
tho sur bane hamara tho sur bane hamara
tho sur bane hamara

Enjoy the video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gstRrEmTcBc

Second Best

2009-08-23T02:00:00.008+07:00

He tried his best to beat the rest,
But always there was something amiss.
Somehow he always ended-
Second Best.

He soon lost interest,
Not in trying but in winning.
Now he always wanted to end-
Second Best.

He found solace in this now,
He smiled more out of sarcasm than happiness.
There was more fun being-
Second Best.

This was his victory chant,
“I motivate others
I give them a reason to try
They are the best because I choose to be-
Second Best”.

A Milestone

2009-08-20T14:26:00.000+07:00

The road lingers on;
From one horizon to the next.
Some people pass me by, but I remain,
Like I was, like I will be

Life is not forever;
Like the turn of the tide it too has to ebb.
But I remain;
Like I was, like I will be.

I found many friends on the road,
Some stuck while some just went by with a wave of the hand.
But I remain,
Like I was, like I will be.

The wind now blows hard,
Bringing back memories of old.
Some more people pass me by, but I remain
Like I was, like I will be: A milestone

Read my blog...somebody please...do leave your comments!!!

2009-08-17T13:35:00.000+07:00

(The background: I have recently started posting on InfyBlogs too. And as crave for attention, I refresh the blog page every 10-15 mins to check if somebody commented on my blog or not. But yeah, you are right, no many do and that sure makes me sad. What adds fuel to the fire is my friend Kali. Now he is blogger and writes real well too. Respect for that. But he gets a lots of comments (of which half are his own...but the bottomline is..he gets a lots of comments :( ). So this write-up comes up to address my frustration and yes to gain more page views on InfyBlogs.. :) )

I have never been good at presenting myself. Back in school…well forget about school…I was presentable then…at least my mom says so and she is correct too, she did take pains about me wearing regularly washed and ironed school uniforms and yes regularly polished shoes too. I used to tie my own shoe laces mind you. Learnt that in Std VII (ok…fine…I am a slow learner but not lethargic mind you!!!).

As my mom says and she is correct again, “Everything changed when you enrolled in that engg collg in Pune and yes got that room in the hostel.” (mind you it was COEP, arguably the best in the state after of course IIT B but mom had her reasons to hate it). So be it in my hostel or college I was this disheveled guy, with a stale beard and an even staler t-shirt (no..no don’t look away please, I have not even mentioned my smelly floaters yet). My friends (including girls) didn’t exactly run away from me, but looking at the state of my t-shirt they could guess whether it was the first or the fourth consecutive day I was in those rags (pardon the exaggeration)!!!

Let me tell you a secret,though, the branded t-shirts (like Reebok and Nike) are real worth. I mean I did a round of regression testing on my Reebok t-shirt and it lasted the toil where other t-shirts lost their sheen or just fell by the wayside. So basically I was never presentable, but for the way I spoke or wrote!!!! And I should admit that nothing much has changed these days, only that formal shirts are a bit delicate and a bit costly and have to be washed regularly. The tie with the knot can be pulled on until your roommate mistakenly puts it in the washing machine with the heap of his clothes ;)

With this history behind me, it suddenly struck me that I was not diverting enough traffic to my blog page. So I thought out the reasons and here are my thoughts, point wise (for ease of the reader, “I care so much for the reader, but then why don’t I get many :(???”)

1) You have to be regular in posting: 1 guy reads your blog on 25th Dec 2008. Then one fine day 29th March 2009, he is relatively free and suddenly remembers, “I must check Advait’s blog. Last time I went to his page he had written an engaging account. Here it is.”. “What is this?? The same old entry. Hummmphhhh…another one of those wannabes!!!” :(

2) Profile pic : An interesting profile pic can do wonders. “Where did that “Joker!!!” pic go…Damn these software security guys” :(

3) Write about LOVE: This is a top draw I tell you. LOVE made not only Yash Chopra what he is today but many others too. One name comes to my mind but then I don’t want to offend anybody and say NOM. But ..but its not my fault….so many people talk about LOVE that even a real story will seem like a “Seen that, read that (a 100 times) before” :(

4) Make your presence felt on the BB (the public folder) first: I tried. But damn the server, by the time my reply got posted there were like 10 replies already posted and when I, myself read my reply I found out that it was way out of sync. Others who read it would say, “Man he sure is slow…Ramayan ho gaya aur puch raha hai Sita kon hai!!!!” :(

5) Attend bloggers meet: I did…I did attend it….I seriously did… what!! you don’t remember me. Hey I am clean shaven now. Maybe that is the reason you don’t recognize me. But I did attend it. I swear!!!! :(

6) Appear to be an apprentice of another blogger of interest: I tried even that..Kali you know I did that. But then everybody wants to have a piece of the BATMAN…no one if wants to glance at ROBIN :(

7) Break ur story in parts. Arouse interest: I tried that too. But by the time I completed part II, I forgot who the main characters were and part I was one story and part II was another L

8) Post on BB that you have posted on your blog and ask for comments: I did that. Whatever moderate comments you see are thanks to that. But then I don’t think I managed to get the timing of the post on the BB right. And now getting attention is not possible. “These SWINES, I tell you!!! I always hated them. Flithy ba#$%^&*!!!” :(

9) Don’t give up: Whatever you do. However disheartened you are don’t give up!!!! That’s what I am doing right now!!!! :) :) :)

BLOG ON!!!! :) :) :)
End Result: This post attracted 15 comments on Infy Blog..most of them of sympathy!!!!! :)

Whaaddd a start to the season!!! GO GUNNERS!!

2009-08-16T13:11:00.003+07:00

First game of a brand new season....away from home...against a team who has been challenging the top 4 for quite sometime now...against a team who through sheer resilience made it to the FA CUP final last season...one the other hand we..2 players sold out...4 years without a trophy and now critics pointing out that a top 4 finish will also be difficult with money flowing at Man City....it was pressure...

The end result....Arsenal 6 - Everton 1.Truly unbelievable.

I came in the net cafe and checked the score and I was kicking myself for not staying awake the entire 90 mins. I watched the first half and the score read Arsenal 3 - Everton 0. The match was in the back. I did expect that after the half time break Moyes will tighten up. After all he could not afford humiliation at Goodison Park. But 4 goals were scored in the second half. Fabregas taped in 2 and Edu (am so happy he is back) scored 1, Saha pulled one back for Everton. In the first half it was a beauty from Denilson to open the scoring for the Gunners. Credit also must go to Bendtner, he kpet his cool and more importantly possession in the box before tapping the ball to Fab who passed it on Denilson. "Pick your corner and hit me" was written all over the ball and Denilson did it to perfection.

The remaining 2 goals came from set pieces. Unnecessary fouls committed, and poor marking in the penalty area gave the debutant Vermaelen his first Arsenal goal, followed by the veteran Gallas (yes that Chealsea reject...that abusive ex Arsenal captain) who netted the team's third.

It is a dream start to the season for Arsenal especially they have a tough start to the season with a Champion's League qualifier against Celtic coming up on Tuesday. It is of utmost importance for Arsene to win silverware this season more so if he wants to retain the big names of Fab, Van Persie in the team.

With the likes of Nasri and Ro-sicky (remember him!!??? :) ) we only have one way to go...TOWARDS THE OPPOSITION'S goal.

GO GUNNERS!!!!

Man....Machine..The Bullet

2009-08-10T14:46:00.000+07:00

Its been close to 2.5 years that I bought the Bullet and each day I have felt that the Bullet is not only a Motorcycle, it is not only a Machine but it is like me in more ways than one. Remember how in Transformers I it is said, “You don’t choose the car, the car chooses you!!!”. Though I must admit that my Bullet (MH 12 DU 9116) did not actually come to life when I first touched it much like BumbleBee did but then it started to grow on me from the moment I got it home from the dealer.

Given my history of being irresponsible and at times utter careless about my belongings, everybody around me were skeptical whether I deserved the Bullet or not. Well I do agree that I am not one of those motor freaks who would take a spanner in their hands and get to work on their machines on hearing a slightest noise which is not normal to their trained ears. But then my Bullet is teaching me, it is making me learn and making myself worthy of it. And that is why I say much in the vein of the famous TV series of yesteryears: Man..Machine..The Bullet!!!

The first 3000kms (running in) are very important to determine the fate of the Bullet. Just like a good schooling to some extent is the foundation of your later life, the running in is of prime importance for the Bullet. It is advised not to rev the engine much and yes also not to go beyond the 50kmph mark on your speedometer. With all this knowledge, I threw caution to the wind and did what I always wanted to do. Within the first 3000km I was consistently clocking 80kmph and I even dared to make my first trip to Nashik this way. I knew I was rubbing it too hard but once the thump started, I just could not stop. It was as if I wanted more of it…more of it. The Bullet was teasing me, many times testing my patience and I gave way. The result, oil leakage, burning of oil in the engine leading to white fumes from the exhaust leading to indications of engine seizure. The block piston had to be changed (thank God this was covered under warranty), but the machine stood in the shed of the garage for a better part of the month mocking me and shouting “You LOSE!!!!”

After I got it back, I ran it in (taking the precautions I should have taken earlier) and every thump that time was as if the Bullet was laughing on me saying “..grow up mate…speed isn’t everything; learn to enjoy the ride.ha ha ha !!!!”

Getting your ride serviced regularly is also of prime importance and my Bullet was no exception. The riding manual advises to get the Bullet serviced every 3000kms, with the replacement of oil, changing of the air filter and other general checkup like the brakes, tightness of the chain etc. After the block-piston heartache I regularly visited my mechanic and my ride responded with no issues at all. I rode to Hyderabad for RM 08 and also rode to places near Pune. The ride to Hyderabad gave me a sense of pride and a feeling that yes I was finally a rider, deserving my Bullet but it was not to be.

Pride brought a sense of complacency in me and the visits to the mechanic started to be few and far between. Only when a ride was planned I visited the mechanic to get the ride serviced. I let the 3000km rule fly out of the window and the Bullet gave me a wake up call!!!

Returning from office with my roommate Aniket one evening, I hit a pothole on the road and the chain gave way much like in a bicycle. I had nothing but to kick myself. Hell the Bullet was due for servicing a couple of weeks back. “Suffer mate!!!”, said the Bullet as I parked it in a nearby building and got back home on my rommate’s bike ( a pulsar). It took me 2 days to find a mechanic who could get there and fix the problem before I got the ride to my mechanic for servicing. When I related this incident to him, he could not help but laugh. I was looking for someone to hide behind; but the onus was on me.

Then I even had a fall from the Bullet when in one of the ghats while coming down I took a wide turn and then slammed the front brakes as I saw that the ride was going off the road onto the gravel. The front wheel skidded and I came crashing down with my pillion finding an apt cushion in me. The guard in the front prevented injury to my leg and we were back up and riding. Not bruised but battered nonetheless. From that day I keep my turns tighter and less wider, controlling my speed also.

There are a lot more lessons to be learnt, lot more wakeup calls to be listened to before I can be anywhere near a TRUE RIDER but to get there I have only one way and that is to RIDE!!!!
And it is only after I feel that I am close enough to be one with my Ride that I will take the ultimate route to RIDER HEAVEN!!! You know what I am talking about, the route from New Delhi to Leh-Khandung la!!!

The ultimate route:

If only we could have bypassed FATE - A short story

2009-08-08T14:38:00.001+07:00

“Himanshu wake up, its time for your morning breakfast”, said a compassionate female voice. There was a tinge of sorrow in it. It was more out of instinct than anything else that he opened his eyes. The curtains of the windows were drawn in. It was a pleasant morning outside, but even then the light which filtered in was too much for his eyes. He shielded his eyes against the sting of the light and looked up in the direction of the voice. He did see the face. He tried to smile but it took a lot of effort and he left it there. He tried to recollect where he had seen that face before but his mind returned nothing. It was as if he was staring at a bottomless pit trying hard to find its bottom.

“Doctor, is he improving?”, it was the same female voice. Something told Himanshu that they were talking about him. Words did form in his mind, but when he tried to speak, it was impossible. Somehow his tongue was rock solid. His vocal chords were in total disagreement with his brain. “That must be a bug” he thought. “Bug, now where did that word come from?” he patted himself on the back for that discovery. The answer to the question never got to Himanshu as he got into one of his now common fits. He would blank out for the remainder of the day and just lie there in his bed with the equipment next to his bed registering his heartbeat giving out a receipt of his been alive every few minutes with a loud beep.

The female voice belonged to Chitra. She was Himanshu’s wife – newly wedded wife would be apt. It had only been 3 months since they had exchanged their vows or more correctly signed on the contract of marriage in front of a registrar. The entire event was witnessed by 4 mutual friends whose signatures were also firmly embossed on the contract. It was not one of those lovely arranged marriages where the guy and the gal meet, fall in love and then tell their respective parents who are cool with it and then arrange all the rituals to show the world that it was an arranged marriage in the first place. It was a love marriage per se, with the filmi twist of a registered marriage and the parents from both sides cutting off contact with their respective kids and just going on with their lifes as if nothing happened.

Himanshu and Chitra worked for the same IT firm and their courtship had lasted for almost 2 years when they decided to break the news to their parents. They had never expected that they would be turned down with such venom from both their families.

He was the only son of a High Court Judge who despite his high education was after all very narrow-minded; at least that was what Himanshu had concluded on seeing his father react when he had told him about his love for Chitra. If only mom would have been alive today, she would have helped him sort the matter was what Himanshu had thought when he had walked out of his father’s home with a resolve to never return again.

Her father was the high priest of a temple in the city of Chennai and was highly respected in his community for his mastery over the Vedas. “Don’t any of your Vedas talk about love?” was what Chitra had retorted when she was reluctantly thrown out of her own house by Subbu, the helper. Subbu after all was just a domestic help, what could he do when even her mother was a mute spectator to all this. The only resistance her mother had to offer was in terms of the silent tears which were trickling down her now wizened cheeks. Even she did not want Chitra to be a bad influence on her 2 younger sisters who were now nearing marriageable age.

They rented a 1BHK in Aundh and decided to fight. None had the intention to talk it out with their parents and try and change their point of view. After all even they were like their parents, stubborn and determined. Everything was going great and cozy and as per planned. “Doesn’t this seem like a program I have written, Chitra, fulfilling all the requirements and more importantly bug free!!!” Himanshu had joked. “Not at all. Remember you injected 2 defects in your latest release” replied Chitra imitating Mr. Ghosh, their project manager. “Yeah OK!!! The bypass logic I had put in didn’t work as expected.” said Himanshu making a sorry face making Chitra laugh.

4th November, Chitra was watching TV having just returned from office when her mobile rang. It was an unknown number. The conversation which followed after she said “Hello” was like a blur or static on a local radio station for Chitra.

The events of the evening of 4th November replayed in her mind as she walked out of the room where Himanshu was now lying. She had called it sleep; it helped to ease her pain. She had abruptly cut the call not waiting for the person at the other end to even complete. She just picked the keywords - accident, BPO cab, no helmet, Aditya Birla hospital. She rushed out of the house, and hailed a rickshaw to take her to the Aditya Birla Hospital. She did not even wait to take the change from the rickshaw driver and ran to the hospital’s OPD room.

After she identified herself, she was informed that Himanshu was taken to the operating room and that he had suffered a skull fracture. A MRI scan had revealed that there were pieces of bone scattered which would need immediate removal. There was also a fracture to the right hand and multiple fractures to the hip bone. Chitra instinctively dialed her mother’s number but the call was cut. There was no use dialing her father’s number. She called up Himanshu’s dad but he cut the call the moment she said she was Chitra. A few of Himanshu’s colleagues were there to comfort her. She wanted to be strong. She did not want to cry but the tears were not stopping.

Chitra cleared her mind of the images and walked back inside the room. She looked at the face of the man whom she had married defying everybody in her life. The stitches on his head were still raw. The equipment monitoring his heartbeat beeped and brought her back to the moment. “If only we could have bypassed FATE, Himanshu” she whispered in his ear. His eyelids opened just for a second and closed again as if he had heard what she said.

Nai..nai...ek minute!!!! (Farewell Gundya)

2009-08-03T14:08:00.000+07:00

"Me kon ahe na....tula....atta nahi sangnar...me kay koni bhai nahi ahe...pan me kon ahe na....tula ....", I will always remember this exchange which took place when me and you (Gundya) were having anda bhurji at the Shivajinagar Bus Stand. It was not Shabbir but Jai Maharashtra at which we were standing and the exchange was between, a drunkard and the helper who worked at the bhurji gada!!!

Like this one there are some many things to talk about, so many kisse to discuss. As you fly, I want to say THANK YOU for everything. I never thanked you enough because you I never felt the need off. You were always there, read to help, always there available, ready to be taken for granted!!! But now as you move on and more importantly move away I am compelled to make a mention of a lot of thank yous!!!!

Thank You Gundya for

The anda bhurji at Shabbir, followed by falooda!!!

Making me a part of ur close college group and including me in the late nite Roopali coffee session

Always been available whenever I needed to know any route in Pune

And for always knowng all the routes

For trying and making me remember the routes (The ride to the courier service will be memorable)

For always been eager to make it to Aana for tea and bidi

For the booze we had at Sudama when the engg exams were going on

For unfailing repeating the story of how you and Pankaj started talking again ;)

For the cry or the song "Nachu kiti...nachu kiti..kambar lachakli" and "Mai...Mai......"

For threatening me with "BRAKE NAI DABNAR....bh******od" and then actually doing it, till I gave way

For accompanying me to ABC to get the UPSC prep books..(nothing came out of it as of now)

For accompanying me to movies and not paying the bill and then proving how ethically I was to
show you the movie anyways (eg: CHAK DE INDIA)

For being a CHELSEA supporter and more over a MAN UTD hater

For asking directions whenever it came to English (that made me feel important)

For the great time we all had at Junnar....both the marraige, Shivneri and how can I forget the Mutton at Mama's (thank you to him too for tht)

And finally for being the brother from another mother!!!!! (remember the joke of my dad saying "ka re tumhi bhau ahat ka??" hehehe)

There are many more things to talk about. Many more thank yous to be given but I stop here, sitting back and reliving the good and the bad times we shared!!!

Farewell Gundya and all the very best in whatever you do!!!

P.S: Hope you will be regular in updating your blogs!!!!

One Step Closer

2009-08-02T13:48:00.000+07:00

(Infosys Pune Toastmasters Club (IPTMC) wll be celebrating its 100th meeting on the 12th August 2009. As a part of this occasion, an Inter Club Speech Contest is organised for which speakers will be invited from the different TM clubs across Pune district. To represent IPTMC in this competition a prelim was organised where the top two speakers selected to carry the banner of IPTMC. I was one of the selected two. Below is my speech. The theme for the 100th meeting is "One Step Closer". )

On 28th August 1963 one black man, not very imposing but resolute, stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and thundered:

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

That man was none other than Martin Luther King Jr. The “I have a dream speech” delivered that day brought not only the American-African community but all the other colored races “One Step Closer” to the hope of equality and redemption.

Mr Contest Chair, fellow toastmasters and guests a very Good Evening. I stand before you to take you One Step Closer to “One Step Closer”.

I must admit that the theme “One Step Closer” appeared to be vague to me at the outset, but then as I gave it a thought it became clear that it was anything but vague. In fact, I would go on to say that “One Step Closer” is not only a mere expression but it is so powerful an arrangement of words that I am forced to call it a concept, an idea, An idea that can very well change your life”. …

“One Step Closer” is more psychological than anything else. Imagine a rabbit chasing a carrot dangling at the end of the treadmill. The rabbit is running with all its might; all it can see and smell is only the carrot which is dangling in front of him. It is running but somehow it cannot get closer to the carrot. The rabbit is hungry; and it is not intelligent enough to understand that it will never get to the carrot until the treadmill stops. But then, why does the rabbit continue to run? If you ask me it is not just its hunger but its feeling that “with each leap I am getting
One Step Closer to my goal” that makes it continue to run until it faints out of sheer exhaustion.

When you realize that whatever efforts you are putting in are taking you closer to what you want to achieve, you don’t mind putting in extra efforts to get there. Remember when you were in school, how a mere pat on the back from your school teacher or even words of praise from your mother made you stay up all night and complete that math exercise which normally you would have ignored. Well that pat on the back, those mere words of praise were nothing else but an indication that “Son, carry on you are One Step Closer to completing that exercise”.

14th February is a very important day at least in my calendar. It was my first Valentine’s Day in college when I saw her some 6 years ago. She was not exactly a show stopper, or somebody for whom heads would turn but she was what I had always dreamt off. I still remember the last time I looked at her that day; she had smiled a smile which was careless yet measured. Her smile told me that I was “One Step Closer” to falling in love. I need not ask you whether you have had such an experience or not. Am I correct?

Failures can also take you One Step Closer to Success. You just have to take a peek at the lifes of great inventors and scientists to understand that each failure made them learn how not to approach the problem at hand and thus brought them One Step Closer to their invention or discovery. Thomas Edison brightened our paths not only with the bulb he invented but also with his famous quote, “I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.” Each failure which Edison encountered showed him how his approach was wrong. Each failure which Edison encountered, took him “One Step Closer” to the light.

It is rightly said that everything in this world is relative. A glass of water can either be half full or half empty, similarly one can either be “One Step Closer” to glory or “One Step Closer” to annihilation. And it is the latter which the cynics amongst us would root for.

Maybe this is the reason why I have always been in a dilemma whether or not to celebrate my birthdays. Doesn’t each of my birthdays take me “One Step Closer” to the inevitable ?

The concept of “One Step Closer” has so many implications, so many different aspects to it, right from your life’s dream to your life’s love. It is both surreal and simple at the same time. Surreal because it makes sense to both an optimist and a pessimist and Simple because it makes me realize that even as I speak I am getting One Step Closer not only to the end of my speech but to the fulfillment of a dream.

Yes, even “I have a dream” and that is to don a best fit blazer and represent my Club in the Inter-Club Speech Contest.

This speech is nothing but a humble effort to get “One Step Closer” to realizing that dream.

The First Job

2009-08-01T13:28:00.003+07:00

I was busy congratulating others when they uttered my name,
“Was it really me?” I asked, but it didn’t matter, others had also heard the same.
Thus I got my First job,
And so for a living, a bank I didn’t have to rob.

An electrical engineer in the software field,
Said my father, “Your fate is sealed;
Waste will be your knowledge;
Entrapped you will remain in this cage.”

“No, no I have ambitions” said I,
“We will see about that.” said he with a sigh.
To prove him wrong I decided, I planned,
But soon my dreams were canned.

Now the ambitions are no more,
And even my dreams have become sore.
Thus I am still in my First Job;
And now I wonder, why didn’t I find a bank to rob??!!!

(I met an acquaintance some days back on the bus stop and while talking he said, “Its very difficult to leave your first job”. That line just remained with me and now this poem is what comes out).

FireFox Cyclone

2009-07-20T05:46:00.000+07:00

Finally I did it....and I have no qualms. I bought myself my first cycle. Well technically it is my 3rd cycle but this is the first I have bought for myself and it rides like a dream. Its been only about 4 days but I have started loving it. Its a FireFox Cyclone with 3X6 (18 gears) and is an ATB. It looks something like this:

Let me tell you this thing sure burns calories, and apart from that its gives a surreal feeling especially in this weather. For the last 4 days at least I have been taking it out for a spin in the morning. One day I went till Bhavdhan, the next day to Sadanand then returned via Baner-Pashan Link Road and have taken it to Shivajinagar too a couple of times. Let the rains reign in and I plan to take it to office too. After all my office is a measly 12 kms from my place. Piece of Cake I would say!!!! :P

And once I am comfortable with all this, its Off Roading man!!! Singhgad (I screwed the spelling I guess) baby, don't know when that will happen though!!!!

The Pedestrian and the Rain

2009-07-19T05:32:00.001+07:00

(The Rains are finally onto us and we all have heaved a sigh of relief. A couple of days back while going home from office, the heavens opened up without provocation, there was bright sunlight one moment and close to a downpour the next. I like this game of hide and seek but then I saw pedestrians who were not only at the mercy of the rains but also us:-the motorists :( I spare a thought for them here!!!)

All of a sudden, without provocation they opened fire,
Not even a sign or an indication of the quagmire.
What could I do, nothing absolutely nothing,
Was it because I was the lowly pedestrian?

People in their cars where better prepared than me,
They rolled up their glass windows, so outside they could see.
What could I do, I just hung my head and took the lashing,
Was it because I was the lowly pedestrian?

Some motorists rushed past me in glee,
Painted me in mud in their ensuing melee.
What could I do, I just tightened my fist and then let go,
Was it because I was the lowly pedestrian.

I returned home in another hour all drenched and wet,
Looking out of the window I shouted to the still black skies.
“Why me? Why me?”,
“Because you were the lowly pedestrian son”, said thee.

The Closet: And He Had the Last Laugh

2009-07-18T05:26:00.003+07:00

"Will you atleast untie me!!!!” cried he but there was nobody around to hear his scream. It was pitch dark inside and after he regained consciousness he had felt a weight of another body onto him. But he was too weak to shake it off. And now with that last cry he has lost all his energy. He just lay there gasping for breath and waiting…

His master had never been so unkind before. “They get everything on the platter you see” came a voice from the darkness around him. “Who is it?” he managed to say even in his fright. “Here up above you. I think a couple of shelves above”. “Don’t bother to see, its been dark in here since a long time, except that there was light only a few hours back, I guess it was you who was thrown in then. Ha ha ha!!!” This guy like himself was trapped in here and on top that he was laughing. “Where am I?” he cried out again in anguish. “Hey will you shut up, I am trying to get some sleep here!! And you will do good if you stop whining.” came a voice some 4 shelves below him. Just to drive home the point he also heard furious tapping from the shelf below.

The lights in the room were put out. He could understand that by poring through a narrow slit near the roof of his enclosure and the night began. It was filthy in there. He was never used to such filth. His master took great care of him. He always carried him neatly wherever he went. Together with his master he had seen many a boardrooms and had also experienced many a corporate luncheons. But then why was he disposed off so unceremoniously. Thinking about this he fell off to sleep.

After what seemed an eternity, the closet door flung open. He slowly opened his eyes. The light was too bright for him. After all he had been in total darkness for so long. He had even lost count of days. “How does it matter to me in this darkness?”, he had said to himself.

“Now where did I put it!!??”, he heard the irritated voice of his master. “Is he searching for me?”, he said aloud, to nobody in particular. But he knew the answer even before he completed the question.

“Gosh, look at him Aditya, he is all crumpled up. I have to iron it.”, it was his master’s voice again. “You atleast found it. Now can you come over and help me with this knot!!! I have a morning bus to catch!!!”

A smile of triumph formed on his face. After all he deserved to have the last laugh!!!!

(At my workplace on Mondays and Tuesdays I have to be dressed in formals which includes the tie as well :( However during the summer months starting from April to June their is a tie relaxation wherein you are excused incase you do not wear the tie. However on the 1st July the TIE makes a comeback and has the Last Laugh!!! This write up is related to my thoughts on 1st July!!)

R.I.P Oh, King of POP!!!!

2009-06-27T06:27:00.005+07:00

He came, He Saw and He Conquered!!! is what is said about Alexander the Great.

These words will not suffice Him. What will be apt according to me is as follows:

He Came, He Sang, He Break-Danced, He Moon walked, He Ruled, He fell from Grace and He will LIVE ON!!!!

MJ was the reason why I started listening to western music in the first place. I cannot imagine any other way folks of my generation especially in the Third World countries would have started following western music. I still remember the first MJ label I bought (in fact that was my first non Hindi cassette too) of the album "Dangerous" featuring hits like "Jam", "Why you want to trip on me", "Black or White" and of course "Dangerous". Only I know how I convinced my dad in buying me that. It cost Rs 125 at that time when other Hindi film songs cassette were worth a mere Rs 25. I still treasure that moment when I first played the cassette on my deck.

After that began the process of discovering MJ's music, be it Thriller, Blood on the Dance Floor, History. It was amazing.

The moon-walk, much has been talked, praised and written about it. But at some point of time I did believe that Neil Armstrong did do that on the moon. But I guess it was after Armstrong set foot on the moon that the moon-walk came to earth via MJ!!!

An artist who told us to "Keep the Faith" no matter if you are "Black or White". An artist who wanted us to "Heal the World" by asking us "Will you be there?"(all these are numbers from his album Dangerous. I just love all of them :) )

A life of merely 50 years and yet having so much. A life experiencing the glitz and glory of success and the disgrace of been termed a peadophiliac. A life as unpredictable as the moves of break-dance itself, off which he was and will remain the greatest proponent.

Micheal Joseph Jackson a.k.a MJ a.k.a Jacko The true KING OF POP will live on in our hearts!!!

I leave you with one of my favourite MJ numbers: Black or White!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZI9OYMRwN1Q

(Tomorrow I will be playing the album Dangerous on my cassette player and am going to try and relive those magic moments. Thank you MJ!!!)

Who says it is your legs that make you run faster!!!???

2009-06-19T21:34:00.002+06:00

Like most of the middle class Indian families having salaried parents in the early 90’s Bata was the official footwear of our family. Right from my parents, uncles, aunts and ofcourse me and my sister everybody was a proud owner of a Bata footwear be it sandals, slippers, school (read formal :P) shoes and also sports (read casual) shoes.

Getting a new pair of shoes was not an easy task. Feelings were not at all considered. It all depended not on the mental state (“want”) of the person who wanted new shoes but on the physical state of the item (read shoe). Also because my foot was still growing as I was only in Std VI the shoe which was purchased was already one size larger to accommodate any future increase in my shoe size. Even after 8 months my stubborn pair of Bata was in mint condition, so although I wanted one, I didn’t exactly need one. But Aditya (my childhood nemesis) had just got a new pair of shoes and he was showing it off in the colony much to my envy L. But how could I bargain with dad? I didn’t have a reason, the shoe though old was neither broken nor was it ill fitting me, plus I had too much of self-respect in me to cry and make a scene of it at home. Aditya would easily hear it all and make fun of it when I get my new shoes and brand me a cry-baby for good. I just had one respectable way to earn my new pair and I was going to get there without fail.

That night at dinner, I somehow had to broach the topic of the shoe.

At the dinner table, dad was busy listening to the evening news on radio. Though we had a TV, mother decreed that food was never to be served in front of the TV which was in the living room (that time it was known just as the HALL), and as dinner time clashed with the evening news, dad made up for it by getting the news on AIR. As I occupied my seat to the left of dad and in front of mom, my sister’s empty seat at the table caught my eye. I was relieved. Good that she is out for a CAMP with her classmates. She was sure to mess up the conversation.

After the newsreader read out the headlines, I started. Dad was more receptive after the headlines are done. Experience you see.

Me (to no one in particular) : I scored 10 runs today. Aditya ran me out with a direct hit. Rakesh was the umpire and I am sure he cheated. He always sides with Aditya.

No reply. This is bad. I have to sound a bit more interesting.

Me (to no one in particular) : I scored 10 runs today. Aditya ran me out with a direct hit. Rakesh was the umpire and I am sure he cheated. He always sides with Aditya.

(dumb me, I repeated myself with just a bit of increase in my volume)

Mom: Ohh that’s great. 10 runs is not bad. But run out. You should have ran faster, beta.

Yessss…mom you are the greatest. Right where I wanted to get the conversation. Run faster.

Me: You are right, I tried but the problem is that my shoes can take me only that fast you see. Aditya has these new Bata shoes, he got yesterday and they can take him faster than mine for sure. That’s how he got to the ball so quickly and ran me out na!!!!

Dad (with a look of feigned inquisitiveness): Ohh so it is the shoes which make you run faster and not your legs?

I knew it will be difficult. If Aditya had ran me out, Dad had sure bowled me and right now he was not even wearing any shoes.

Me: Ahh Mom, can you please pass me the chapattis.

Mom: Come on Advait, what is the problem with your shoes. They are good. I don’t even think they are torn. You just want new shoes for no reason.

Needless to say that the conversation ended there. In the next week, Aditya ran me out 5 more times :)

Barely 10 days since our last ‘shoe conversation’ Dad was walking me to the cricket ground in the evening. He was out for a walk as he was back from work early.

Dad: So Advait, how many times did you get run out after that. You never told us.

Me (with renewed vigor): 10 times. (I lied; I had got run out only 5 times)

Dad: That is too much. Your shoes are really slow. When did we buy them?

Me (now we are talking Dad. I love you): We bought them last Diwali. Its being 8 months I think.

Dad: 8 months.OK!! Did you try running harder with your shoes

Me (with a sad face): Yes dad, I tried but Aditya’s new shoes are faster.

Damn the ground had to come so fast and that Aditya why did he have to call me. The conversation ended again :(

That night at the dinner table.

Dad: So how did the game go?

Mom (even before I could reply): Don’t ask him about the game, he has not been studying regularly lately. For two days I am observing that he just goes out and plays once he is back from school and then returns home all tired and hardly even completes his homework.

Me: That is not true. You can check my books. I complete my homework.

Mom: I know how you do it, sitting in front of your class before the morning assembly copying it from your friend’ notebook. Ashu told me everything.

Ashu is my elder sister. I forgot to mention that the CAMP was of only one week and she was back occupying the dinner table seat in front of dad.

On hearing mom, she grinned from side to side and even winked an eye at my direction. I just made a sad face (what else could I do??)

Dad: Ohh that’s news. Btw has this Semesters prize been decided?

The Semester’s prize was one thing I always looked forward too. Every semester a prize was mutually decided upon by me and didi together with mom and dad and at the end of the semester depending on us fulfilling our part of the deal, the prize was given out. Our part was invariably related with performance in school. Sometimes it was the rank in the class, sometimes performance in a particular subject. Sometimes it was related to excelling in extra curricular activities. Thanks to this over the years I had acquired (or won) a brick game, a mitashi video game, a HERO RANGER, a waist pouch and I knew it when dad mentioned it at the dinner table that this time it was going to be the new Bata Shoes :)

Me: No, it has not been decided and I want new Bata shoes this time around.

I thought I just screamed and everybody looked at me with smiling faces.

Dad: Ok done, but only if you stand first in class. Do you agree?

Me: It’s a deal.

Standing first in the class was not difficult. I had already cut Sarang’s lead by 4 marks in the first exam. I could have surpassed him then but for that sum which I got wrong in the science paper. This time I was sure I could make up for the four marks and go ahead of Sarang.

I started studying in right earnest and even stopped going to my evening cricket games a week before we had decided to stop playing cricket because of the impending exams. Aditya had a great time when I was not around. He went around boasting that Advait doesn’t turn up to play because I run him out and he can’t run that fast in his shoes!!!! Plus Sarang never played cricket and always studied so if I had to beat him I had to do something drastic.

The exams went well and I was more than sure that this time Sarang was going to bite the dust and the new pair of Bata Shoes were mine for the taking.

1st May, I together with Dad entered my classroom. It was result day. I was not at all nervous and edgy like a few of my classmates whom I had seen in the corridor. Sarang was already there with both his parents. “He always likes to show off; what is the need to bring both your parents”, I thought. Now it was a different issue that my mother could never make it for my result as she herself was a teacher and had to go to her school to give out the results for her class J

My Dad and Sarang’s dad knew each other, so even when they started talking I and Sarang avoided each other.

My class teacher, Madam Thomas called me over and handed me the report card and congratulated me. Now it was sure, I had got the first rank, but then why was Sarang looking so happy and why was Dad looking at me when I was about to open my report card?

This is impossible, I was second. Sarang had again got the first rank. I could not believe it. I had scored a 648 out of 750. My percentage was better than my performance last time but Sarang had still out-performed me. With a shaky voice I asked Madam Thomas, “How much did the topper score?” I know it was Sarang but I did not want to take his name. “Oh you mean Sarang, he too got 648.” I was stumped. “Even I got 648, Madam then how am I ranked second?” I said demanding an explanation.

“Listen Advait, both of you finished on the same score but because Sarang scored more in the last exam and this result is after two exams, he was ranked first” explained Madam Thomas. “This is unfair” I muttered under my breath and stormed outside the class only to wait in the corridor with tears running down my cheeks. In a short while Dad came out and took my report card and looked through it.

He congratulated me, and hugged me. With this I started crying more. I could feel that Dad’s shoulder was getting wet with my tears. He looked at me wiped my tears and handed me a FIVE STAR. This was the ritual for every result day. But today I was crying because for the first time I had not fulfilled my end of the deal. “I don’t want the shoes, Baba” I announced in a tone which was bordering on sobbing. “We will see about that. Let’s get home” said Dad

By the time I reached home, my crying had stopped but my eyes were still red. Didi was already home and happy. I could see that she had fulfilled her part of the deal. She did not want dad to accompany her to her class to get the result after all she was in Std IX and could take care of herself and her emotionsJ. I flopped on the sofa not in the mood to talk to anybody. In a short while Mom got home and even she was happy with my performance.

I was not first and that was the plain truth. I didn’t deserve the shoes!!!! I didn’t go to play cricket that evening. When my friends came to call me I told them that I was not feeling well. My dad was watching all this. After my friends left he came to me and asked, “Advait so you are not going to try your new shoes!!!??”

“NEW SHOES!!! Baba how is it possible, I did not stand first!!!!” said I sinking low in the sofa.

“But you did stand first Advait, remember the deal was only for this exam and in this exam you scored 4 marks more than Sarang and you did finish first. Congratulations here are your new pair of Bata shoes like you wanted. Now wear them and tell me if they fit you or not!!!!!” said Dad.

I couldn’t believe what Dad had said. He was right I actually had stood first. This prize was only for this exam and not for the combined exam. I had beaten Sarang to it. I raced to the shoe rack and there was the box of shoes waiting to be opened by me. I pulled out the shoes and stood gaping at them. “They are too good” I shouted. “Thanks a lot Baba!!!”

I quickly wore my socks and put on my new shoes and ran off towards the ground. That evening everybody was impressed with my shoes. Aditya was quieter than usual. I scored 15 runs and remained not out. Aditya tried twice but he could not run me out.

Who says it is your legs that make you run faster!!!!???

Cristiano who??!!!!

2009-06-15T19:03:00.001+06:00

Finally CRy leaves Old Trafford for the greener pastures of the Santiago Bernabeu and becomes the second target of President Perez. After pocketing Kaka for a cool 56million gbp he has secured the services of Ronaldo too; all this to bring the era of the Galacticos back as he promised on his re-election to the top seat of Madrid football.

Personally I am more happy than even CRy to see him go. First because he caused a lot of heartburn to Arsenal and according to me in more ways than one was responsible for the kind of season Manchester United enjoyed this time around. Second, though I like his footballing skills I could never come around to respect him for the arrogance he portrayed. Not to mention how he regaled audience and referees alike with his diving attics. So all and all I am happy that he is not in the EPL anymore. Though I wish Arsene's men get some through him in the Europa league next season :P

But on the money front Manchester United got a more than a decent deal. Remember Man Utd signed this kid from Sporting Lisbon for a mere 12 million gbp and today if i am not wrong after only 2 seasons they are getting returned 80 million gbp. Great return on investment especially in these times of recession.

The United faithful will feel dismayed because they lost a real talent but then I think they knew that Ronaldo's heart never bled the United RED. Another interesting thing to see is that what number jersey will Perez give his new starry-eyed boy. Will he get no.7 to carry on with CR7 which now many will acknowledge is a brand in itself? But giving no 7 to Ronaldo will not be easy for no.7 belongs to the second (i think the first) most powerful man in Real Madrid and that is the King of Spainish football Raul!!!!! I am waiting for Ronaldo to work up some histrionics there too. I am sure that he will never cease to impress us both on the field and off it too.

Also see: http://www.espnstar.com/football/primera-liga/news/detail/item281959/CR7:-I-love-to-hear-the-insults/

But It Seldom Comes True

2009-06-14T18:24:00.001+06:00

(Heres continuing on my Farewell poems :) )

With a tearful eye you bid them aideu;
In return they promise to meet again.
But it seldom comes true.
But it seldom comes true.

You write farewell messages for them;
In return they promise to call you the very next day.
But it seldom comes true.
But it seldom comes true.

You watch them leave with dreams of a bright future in their eyes;
In return they console you saying, “Its not that difficult yaar, even you can make it.”.
But it seldom comes true.
But it seldom comes true.

After the ordeal you get back to your desk and stare into your monitor;
In return you resolve, that tomorrow will be different.
But it seldom comes true.
But it seldom comes true.

For You TiTo

2009-06-07T11:01:00.003+06:00

(This is my 3rd poem in the For You series. Over the years this is my 4th poem which I have written for or dedicated exclusively to a single person. TiTo is a nickname for Tirthadeep. He is a Bengali :) I know that you all know that I am not on all that great terms with Bengali boys (girls is a different matter. I mean Bengali girls have that innocence on their face and damn the eyes they make me go week in my knees. Sorry for losing focus :( .Anyways Tito sat next to me in my cubicle for a better part of his Infosys career and this is the least I could do. As he moves on to IMT Ghaziabad. Here wishing him all the best!!!!)

The cherubic dark face will remain,

Ever smiling, sometimes irritating.

The bespectacled eyes will stare back,

Ever inquisitive, sometimes childlike.

The forged bisceps and the forearms will remain,

Ever taut, sometimes paining.

The stories of how the weekend was spent will stare back,

Ever interesting, sometimes boring.

The "Ohh puhlease" and the "Bloody Hells" will remain,

Ever sarcastic, sometimes amusing.

The "My name is Tirthadeep, but you can call me Tito" will stare back,

Ever so wannabe, sometimes stylish.

The "Last Day" mail in my pst will remain

Ever longing, sometimes clichéd

The time you spent with us here will stare back,

Ever cherished, sometimes "too short"!!!!!!

The W/C (Water Closet)

2009-06-06T10:41:00.006+06:00

English is not my mother tongue. Whatever little knowledge of English I have has been courtesy to my convent schooling and my hobby of reading novels but there are certain words or terms of the English language which I came to know pretty late in my life (by my standards. After all I was good at English in my school and was always a couple of exercises ahead in my Wren & Martin compared to my peers at school) and the "Water Closet" was one such term

I think I must have been in Std VI when I happened to pore over the plan of a bungalow which my friend's dad was constructing. So on the paper I was looking at rectangles marked as living room, dining room a small square marked as bathroom and there in a corner of that square was written W/C. "Hey Aditya, what is that W/C?" I asked immediately. "Kya Advait, tujhe itna bhi nahi malum" said my friend. It's a water closet. "Ohh yes yes!!!" is what I replied nodding my head. I didn't understand it completely then but I didn't want my friend to know it after all even he came to know ,what W/C stands for when he overheard his dad talking about the plan to one of his friends. The next six months I was imagining what a W/C would be like. Must be some closet I had gathered that much, I mean I was never devoid of logic you see. But a closet for what? Water??? That would be strange. I mean why would people store water in a closet? Is it not better stored in a tank or better still in bottles which are kept in a refrigerator?

I had to wait for 6 whole months in which time I passed a semester in school without knowing fully what exactly a W/C looked like. Now the bungalow was ready and as I was being lead through the living room to the master bedroom I tried to recollect where exactly on that paper W/C was written. I tentatively put the question across, " Hmm, Aditya where is the W/C exactly located.". "Ohh sorry I missed that." replied my friend. He turned around and flung open the door. "There is the W/C" he said. "Ohh wow!!!" I replied. That was not the most appropriate reply I know but I didn't know how to react that was the first time I was seeing the W/C J J J. "We went for the Indian style only, its cheaper na" added my friend. (Remember: We are talking about a middle class family in Nashik in the year 1996 building a bungalow out of the savings of a father who had got a pay hike a year back). "Ohh that's OK yaar, even this looks good." I said in a tone that according to me was to placate my friend. "Go ahead you can use it. No problems" he said almost pushing me inside. "Arre nahi. I was just curious" I said. Thank God he didn't force me into it or it would have been even more embarrassing.

So now I knew what a W/C meant. But somehow the Indian style W/C did not fully satisfy my logic of a closet. A closet according to me should have a door which should open and close and that the Indian style W/C does not have. The puzzle was still not entirely solved. But my thirst to get to the bottom of the ultimate W/C was to be quenched very soon.

Two months later I was busily gulping down one bowl of "aam ras" after another at a reception in a 3-Star hotel. I was dressed in my favorite jeans which was a bit bigger and longer for me. (those were the days when clothes for me were purchased keeping an eye on the future. After all I was a Complan boy;)) and my new t-shirt.

"Advait, I think that will be enough. Jar shee lagli tar mala sangu nakos"

(English translation: Advait, I think that will be enough what if you feel like crapping) said my elder sister.

"Kahi nahi honar, aaj me karun aalo ahe ghari aadhi" said I pompously.

(English translation: Don't worry nothing will happen, I have already don't that at home before coming here.)

With bowl number 6.5, my stomach missed a beat and I turned to my didi. Its amazing how the colour or even the size of the face changes when your tummy misfires. She gave me one look and instead of asking me what happened she started laughing.

"Me sangitle hote tula. Ata kay karnar??, Hehehehe".

(English translation: I had warned you before. Now tell me what you are going to do?)

I was not going to even open my mouth lest some air escapes causing a catastrophic which would scar me emotionally forever. She understood that the danger was grave and looking at my condition she decided not to waste time in referring my case to higher authorities (read my parents). I still owe her for that ;)

She quickly shepherded me to the nearby restroom and assured me that she would wait for me outside. I needed that physiological backing, it was my first time in a public place for a crap.

Inside to the left were the stalls. They were of no use I knew. It was behind the doors which lay to my right that my destiny was hidden. I opened the first door and what I saw inside was alien. How do I squat on this?

"Why does God have to test my mental ability and logical reasoning at such a critical juncture!!!!" I cursed under my breath.

Without a moment of indecision I decided that I would not squat on this. I decided instead to sit on it!!! The moment I sat, I knew that this was meant to be that I had won!!!!!

As I stood up feeling relieved and serene the lid caught my eye. I put it down and the alien thing on which I sat closed. At that moment I knew that this was the closet I was looking for. The W/C (Water Closet) had finally revealed itself to me. When I came out of the hotel restroom, I saw my sister waiting for me. I just glanced at her and with an air of "I know everything now" I proceeded to the lawn to join the others J

The Jersey

2009-05-24T19:05:00.004+06:00

Right from the time I woke up I knew that this Friday morning was to be different than any of the Friday mornings I had experienced before. Now as I was standing in front of the mirror I couldn't help but feel proud that finally I had bought it. No doubt it was expensive but then it was what I always wanted to own. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath I slipped into it and then I opened my eyes slowly to look at my reflection in the mirror.

The logo was the first thing which caught my eye together with the characteristic Nike SWOOSH. I ran my fingers over the logo and took in the name of the sponsor printed in white at the middle of the jersey and then under my breath I whispered, "Go Gunners Go!!!"

Yes it was the Arsenal jersey which I was wearing and yes this is the 4^th season that my team has gone without any silverware L I have every reason to be disillusioned that may be some where my manager has trusted the young guns too much. Maybe consistency is a virtue of an experienced few. But, I can't let go of Arsenal just like that. Maybe the next season will see our fortunes reverse, maybe next season we will land a trophy and if everything goes right then we might even be crowned the champions of Europe. There was a saying which I read once and it goes something like, "When you win wear your jersey with pride. When you lose wear your jersey with pride" and it is this pride in me which makes me hope that there will be a better tomorrow.

It must have been a good 8 years or so since I started following the English Premier League. Its been the last 3 years when I have been closely monitoring the progress. But then now when I rewind to the days when it all started I think, "Why was it Arsenal?".

I had just got FIFA2000 from my school friend installed on my computer in the year 2002. I know I was not exactly with the times at that time J. What could I do, we got a desktop at home only in 2002 after my Std XII exam so that I would not be distracted. Anyways coming back to the question, "Why was it Arsenal?". Playing FIFA2000 for the very first time, Arsenal was the team I selected to play only because the teams were listed out in alphabetical order. So playing with or for Arsenal on my computer I got accustomed to Bergkamp, Parlour, Henry, Viera, Seaman, Pires. Then I made it a point to look out for the Arsenal games in EPL and used to watch them. All of a sudden I got hooked to the real life Henry's, Bergkamp's, Seaman's et la. Then after watching a few games I came to know that the manager of the team was one Arsene Wenger.

Arsenal and Arsene, the two names were so similar that my amateur brain drew a conclusion that Arsene was the owner or better still a founder of the club. I sure had a desktop in 2002 but no internet and I never doubted my conviction so the question of googling this up never ever crossed my mind.

The beautiful game which Arsenal played both on the field in the EPL and in my computer (with loads of help from me) made me an instance fan of the team and one another thing contributing to my following was that this was the time of the Arsenal Invincibles J J J Arsenal was giving Manchester United a run for its money, Liverpool was making waves in Europe but not in England. Chealsea was there and there about. It was Gunners everywhere.

But the dream was too good to go on. Pires left and so did Viera. Seaman retired and I felt disheartened. Henry was still there to pull us was what I felt. The Champions League final against Barcelona in 2006 was the high-point where we were beaten and after that it has been a free fall of sorts for the Gunners (according to me). Moving into Emirates was a matter of pride, but it depleted our resources (not to mention that Henry moved on to Barcelona) and for me that was a major reason which limited Arsene to go for established names. He chose to sign unknowns developing them and hoping that they click. But the young guns have left me gasping. I agree with Arsene when he says that this young team went 21 games unbeaten in the EPL, finished among the top 4 teams in Europe, what more do you expect?

But the only thing I expect is consistency. Somehow when I watched Arsenal playing even a 2 goal lead made me shaky that the opposition would come back and either level or win this. And when we were a goal down I was never confident that we would make a comeback. I felt that I was watching the Indian Cricket team of the mid 90s. Not sure of what it possessed and how to go about things? L

It is fine if in the next season we don't win trophies but I want the team to be up there rubbing shoulders with the winners, looking them in the eyes and not wither away into oblivion.

When I paid for the Arsenal jersey which I now proudly wear whatever the circumstances, a thought crossed my mind. If I am buying this Arsenal jersey for myself, then I pray that Arsene buys us a couple of established, experienced names and changes our fortunes next season. Because in Arsene I still trust.

But isn't his contract with the club only till 2011, were there not rumors of him been pursued by Real Madrid this season. That eventuality will dawn upon all the Arsenal fans when Arsene will move on and some other manager will take his place, but I am sure that he would not leave us without atleast one European Crown. Arsene should leave Arsenal only after winning the Champions League.

Today when I get back home, I am going to take off my jersey and keep it safely only to be taken out when the next season begins. I pray that things will be different then.

Go GUNNERS Go

The Obituary

2009-05-06T22:52:00.001+06:00

The newspaper comes to my doorstep everyday,
I also spend time in reading it each way.
But yet sometimes I try to make more sense,
And to wear a minute lens.

Off all the sections in the daily rag,
Which are the pages read by a very few ragtag?
Is it Business, Classifieds even some publicity gag,
Or is it something even more scant?

And then my eyes rested on one,
I have found it, it was right there with another one.
Two young passport sized photos stared at me;
Why they were there was for everybody to see.

One met with an accident and was only 24
Until I turned to the other my eyes became sore
These days I open first that page of the daily,
Close my eyes tight and ask what was their folly?

**just happened to come across a couple of obituaries of young people, accidental deaths. This poem is what came out. Really the obituary section is something which I think would never be looked at in a newspaper, but then when you do glance at it by chance and see somebody young lose his/her life in an accident you cannot wait but ponder as to what exactly would have been there folly?

FUCK the SUN!!! - A tribute to Sanman a.k.a Sunny

2009-05-03T21:42:00.005+06:00

The mercury is giving no signs of going down. With the maximum day temperatures in Pune touching around 44 deg Celsius, this summer is sure sucking the life out of the city. Its hell being on the road in the afternoons with the hot breeze pinning you down. A multitude of stalls selling Neera, limbu pani and the likes have come up on the roadside no doubt but the heat is killing nonetheless.

"Yaar par tujhe kya problem hoga heat ka. Tu toh software main hai na. Full AC office main baitha hoga" this is what even you will think. But don’t forget these are difficult times we live in. Software companies are vying with each other to be innovative in coming up with ways of cost cutting. So one company takes out the toilet papers from its restrooms the other does the unthinkable, they regulate the AC’s and it so happens that the floor on which I am seated gets the cold shoulder and not the cold air.

So software or no software….the fucking heat is everywhere (pardon me the expletives, but its damn irritating, who kya hai India main spring naam ka season nahi hota na ;) ). So how do you beat the heat. I have a cosmic way of doing it (I have learnt it from Sunny) and I have put it in the blog so that it helps a wider audience. Also this is my way of paying tribute to Sunny, one of my dear friends.

In the first year of engg I shared a room with Sunny. This dude had a major issue with the heat. Well back then the mercury level was not that high, but then we were living in the COEP hostels which were to some extent devoid of decent ventilation and may I add working ceiling fans too. Plus we did not have vehicles so in the heat we had to walk down to the college too. And all this did take a toll on poor old Sunny. He became cranky and edgy and then in a moment of creative glory, while he was applying some prickly heat powder to his underarms he gave out a cry, “FUCK THE SUN!!!!”

I don’t know how, but the moment the exclamation was made a cool breeze made its way through the windows. There was a sort of calmness which descended over Sunny’s face as if after the mantra had been said, no heat, no sun could make him sweat!!!!

And so the remaining summer went with the invocation of this mantra whenever necessary and the heat could do us no harm!!!

The other day in the afternoon when I was enjoying a cold glass of sugarcane juice this mantra came back to me (after 6 years). How foolish I was; I always had the wisdom to counter the heat but I was ignorant. I closed my eyes, concentrated a bit and there came Sunny in front of my eyes, dressed only in his boxers applying that prickly heat powder to his underarms. He looked at me and then he shouted “FUCK THE SUN!!!”

That cool breeze I experienced when the first time he had uttered the mantra came back to put me at ease. I gulped the remaining juice paid the money and looking up at the sky shouted "FUCK THE SUN. This is for you SUNNY!!!! "

Sunny is not in India these days, maybe the heat doesn’t bother him much there in the U S of A but he very selflessly has given us all a mantra to survive this global warming. As they say “Its All in the MIND!!!”

What to BLOG?? - Confessions of a naive Blogger

2009-04-27T11:49:00.000+06:00

* but what to blog about!!!!???

I have a blog-page of my own, no doubt,
But I don’t know what to BLOG about??

This question has always come to my mind on and off from the day I posted my first blog and today I take it up only because I think I have an answer.

Atleast from the word BLOG.I can infer that it refers to a 'log'. A log which simply put means records of what you have done, what you wanted to do etc. etc. So basically a blog is your dairy on the net. But then why would you want to maintain a dairy (which seems to be always a personal dairy) on a very public domain like the internet. It was this thought which prevented me from posting my daily happenings on the blog. Another thing was that who will be interested in what I did daily. Would it not be a bit more than trivial and yes after a certain point of time all too monotonous? They say that change is constant but then they can never say when change will come ;)

But wait who says that the BLOG has only to be a record of what happened to you or what you want from life? It can also be a forum where you can showcase your literary zeal. You are a great poet, a budding author go ahead post your creations. You will be satisfied that atleast you got a chance to ‘publish’ something. This idea seemed plausible and I, a self proclaimed ‘decent poet and author’ in my initial posts (actually a lot many posts) posted only poems and stories.

The flip side of this was my posts began to be few and far between. I just waited for that spark of creativity before logging into my Blogger account. There was a time where I forgot my blogger password too (that was before you could log into your Blogger account with your Google (gmail) credentials.) This was shameful I know :)

There is another reason why people blog. To answer critics, voice opinions and yes with that create stirs. But these types of blogs are more suitable for celebrities. My blog-page url has the word ‘celebrity’ in it but I aint no ‘celebrity’ :) :)

Therefore I blog using the middle path, which for me stands for putting your creativity into your day to day things and by that weaving incidents which may not necessarily be very true but would be interesting nonetheless.

After reading this you might say that, “All this while, I was reading lies?” and then maybe decide that from now I aint gonna read this blog.

Don’t do this please. I beg of you ;)

13 Shades of 13

2009-04-25T11:55:00.000+06:00

I got this compilation of 13 chosen shades of mine on my birthday (26th March) from Neha. She has taken quite an effort with this :)

Thank a ton for this!!!!

The Chinese Nook!!!

2009-04-24T14:30:00.000+06:00

J L Nehru very famously said, “HINDI CHINI BHAI-BHAI” and what happened after that is as they say ‘History’.

But my connection with China is not intertwined with the relations between India and China. It is a bit more personal than that. My connection with China is via “The Chinese Nook!!!!”

The Chinese Nook has been there for many years. I have known it for the last 6 years and I am sure that it has been there a good four years before that. You would have guessed it right; The Chinese Nook is a Chinese fast food joint near my house in Nashik. The term “fast food joint” seems too sophisticated I know. Well to tell you the truth, it is simply called “Chinese cha GADA” in Marathi. GADA is masculine of a gaddi (vehicle in English)

*chef @ Chinese Nook!!!! (jus kidding) :) :)

There is one thing which you should know right away about the Chinese Nook. You never go to the Nook, you are always taken there. It is strictly a ‘by invitation’ place. In that sense I can proudly say that the Nook is in a way like GMAIL was in its earlier years, ‘strictly by invitation’.

What will happen if you go directly uninvited? Nothing much, you will be ignored until you stand up and shout. In short you will not be given the premium service. Does that not affect the customer relationship? No it does not. Already every evening the ‘by invitation’ crowd has to wait for there turn to get a table. Plus if you are a first timer, that too in the ‘not invited’ category and you get impatient then you don’t deserve to be in the Nook in the first place.

The more ‘by invitation’ crowd you bring in with every visit to the Nook, the more you will be respected. So when my friend took me to the Nook for the first time, he had already taken a few other friends before and by then had earned enough respect of Ramchandra. Ramchandra was the proprietor of the Nook. Don’t be surprised, he was a Nepali citizen serving Chinese food (authentic(?)) to Indians – globalization anybody????? Maybe but definitely not ‘outsourcing’. I am sure he was not employed by a Chinese firm and India was not his Onsite :)

I apprehensively sat in front of my ‘respected’ friend who with pride was looking around as if he owned the place. “Arre chotu, jara table saaf karna toh!!!” he ordered a kid who was cleaning tables and gathering empty dishes off another table. “Sir order?” enquired a waiter. “Order kya re, tu naya hai kya? Pata nahi tereko!!!” my friend gave me a wink in between. Bemused the waiter looked around towards Ramchandra. “Arre sahib woh naya hai, kal hi aaya gaon se. Usse nahi pata.” Ramchandra turned to the chef who was to his right and said , “One by two Chicken Manchaw soup aur uske baad one by two Chicken Triple rice” “Barabar na Chinmay seth?” Chinmay’s (my friend) chest was about to burst with pride. Ramchandra remembers my name. This was the final hint, Chinese Nook was his place now. He and his accompaniment will be treated royally each and every time they come. Only now he will have to tip chotu and yes during alternate visits strike up a conversation with Ramchandra. For that he was even thinking of buying the Nepali daily, “Nepal Samachar”. :) :) :)

We were treated royally not only that time but each time after that. Chinese Nook became a place where we used to throw birthday parties to our friends. It was economical and if the extra money which mom gave was saved then everybody was ready for a round of matka kulfi.

Chinese Nook was the place where we discussed our first love affairs. That was the place where we talked about cricket, national-local politics and yes that was the place where I also bumped into a guy who on hearing that I had flunked in Graphics came up to us and offered to change my marks. He gave me his number, all I had to do was to put the paper for re-evaluation and give him a call with my seat number. He said, “Abhi Nook main mila na tu isliye, nahi toh main aasani se padak main aata hi nahi!!!” I did put the paper for re-evaluation but never called him. He met me at the Nook sometime later and said , “Yaar re-evaluation ka samay toh ho gaya, tune phone nahi kiya yaar. Bass kya bharosa nahi kya tereko??”. To which I humbly replied, “Nahi re-evaluation main nahi daala. Agli baar padai karke nikal dunga”. “Kya yaar tu bhi??” he said and went back to his soup.

Chinese Nook still stands where it used too. It has weathered many a “no hawker” drives of the munipical corporation. Ramchandra’s brother Randhir took over a couple of years back. Before going Ramchandra introduced us (me and Chinmay) to Randhir or to it more correctly introduced Randhir to us. We knew the Nook more than him at that timeJ. The royal service still continues.

I never really relish the taste of Chinese anywhere else; I like the taste of the Nook. I like the people who serve me with innocence, who enquire about my well-being each time I go.

Even if I ever end up in China, the Chinese food at the Chinese Nook will always be AUTHENTIC.

VOTE or shut up!!!

2009-04-23T14:10:00.002+06:00

This 23rd day of April 2009 will always be remembered. Today for the very first time I voted!!!

It was not much of a task. I stood in the queue for 5 minutes in which time I chatted with a couple of my friends who also were first timers and then after finding my name in the electoral rolls (which took half a minute) I proceeded towards the EVM (Electronic Voting Machine).

A push of the button and you are done. I don’t know why but as I pressed that button I did feel a tinge of pride in me, I did feel that yes with this trivial seeming gesture I was making a small difference.

Indian Politics has always intrigued me. I have never been a student of Politics but following a couple of general elections and a few state elections on News channels have really made me a political buff.

Indian Politics is one big drama, with many plots, sub plots and everything is on show when elections are announced. The Election Commission an independent body conducts the elections and let me tell you that is no mean feat.

My vote; more than a vote to this party or that party is a vote of appreciation to the Election Commission and to all the other agencies who have for years staged a free and fair election. I chatted with a policeman who was manning my booth and I got to know that just yesterday he has returned from election duty from Gadchiroli, was posted in Nashik today and will be moving to Mumbai tomorrow. Tough is the only word that comes to my mind.

My vote is a vote to the change which I have seen around me in the last 5-10 years which has instilled some hope in me that the leaders are not all that hopeless. If Lalu Prasad Yadav accused and convicted of corruption and scam can make a success story out of the Indian Railways then why should I not harbour hope?

The recently concluded CYG games changed the face of Pune, no doubt there would have been kickbacks taken and given but nonetheless work was done. It is this that again gives me hope.

The power of the Indian voter came to the fore beyond doubt when in the last general elections the NDA govt was overthrown. The voter asked serious questions of the NDA, the “India Shining” campaign did not blind the voter and this is what tells me that the voting is not a mere ritual.

There are cynics everywhere and there will be always. India can change only if the hopefuls outnumber them and VOTE!!!!

To all the cynics out there I just have one line of advice, “VOTE or shut up!!!”

The ICE BREAKER- TM project 1

2009-04-13T12:01:00.001+06:00

The journey of a Toastmaster begins with Project 1 where he is to deliver his first speech in front of his fellow toastmasters. Below is my speech. I drafted it today and would present it mostly by the end of April. The allotted time for the speech is 4-6 minutes:

Standing at Pune station waiting for my local just a few days back my eyes rested on a weighing machine. I am not a health freak (well you can make that out looking at me I think) but then once in a while curiosity about my well being gets the better of me and so I decide to get my weight checked. The thing about these weighing machines which amazes me is that on the card that comes out there is your fortune written on the reverse. So you look at your weight start worrying and then you turn the card and there it is printed, “Today a beautiful girl will ask you for a lift”. And you start looking out for that elusive beautiful girl. So hoping for the best, I push the rupee coin in the machine and out comes the card. I am not going tell you how much I weighed but this is what was written on the back of the card. “Get ready, very soon you will need to introduce yourself”.

And today that prediction has come true. Good evening fellow toastmasters and guests I am Toastmaster Advait standing in front of you to talk about myself.

A farmer’s son set out from his home because he wanted to study further. He made the cut for the Indian Navy only to be rejected at the last hurdle because his eye sight was not up to the mark. He had watched a partial solar eclipse using a tainted glass during his childhood, unaware that this mistake would cost him his carrier. He finally retired last year as the Head of the English Dept of the most reputed college in Nashik. That is my father.

She deftly managed her kids and work and presently serves as the Head Mistress of a Govt aided school in Nashik and it is a pleasant coincidence that even she teaches English. She smiles knowingly when somebody comes to her and complains about work-life balance. That is my mother.

Both my parents teach English and this fact has been a source of many funny moments in my life. My friends and people around me have always felt that I have a command over the language; reason being both my parents teach English. To tell you frankly I am no Shakespeare nor am I Churchill, in fact I don’t remember my parents breaking their heads over my English studies. And somebody please tell my friends that knowledge is not transferred genetically :). Then there was this person who once approached me and asked, “Are you Professor Borate’s son?” I said “Yes”. He very innocently enquired, “Don’t get me wrong son, but tell me do everybody in your house talk in English?” I couldn't control my laughter.

Parents who are teachers are a bit tough to handle especially for an adolescent and more so for a teenager. Teachers are known to everybody in a radius of 25 kms from their residence and more often than not their workplaces also fall within that limit. Teachers make it a point to admit their kids in the same institutions in which they are teaching. Though my school, St Xavier’s High School was not were my mother taught but then a few of my teachers in school had been my father’s students. Everybody knew me and if they did not then hearing my last name they always wanted to know me. Imagine this, you bunk a lecture in college and instead of the lecturer asking you, your father would ask you the reason for the same. A tight situation you would say.

Then there was an identity crisis. They did not know me or did not want to know me as Advait, they wanted to know me as Prof Borate’s son or Madam Borate’s son. All this seems funny now but I remember I used to storm in the house and narrate this to my parents.

After my 12th I got admitted to the Govt College of Engg Pune. New city meant nobody knew me and nobody wanted to know me. I was eager to explore my new found freedom and the 4 years in college I enjoyed like anything. I studied whatever was required to take me through the exams comfortably. That was where I learnt the significance of effort saving.

From my first salary I bought myself a black 2GB Ipod Nano. Thanks to the Nano I can indulge in my hobby of listening to music. My job gave me the courage to fulfill two more of my wishes. I got an eye brow pierced and a permanent tattoo on my right forearm. I couldn't get this done during my engg. Imagine the impression you would make in front of an external examiner during your orals with this stuff. I love reading and bored of American paperbacks am recently exploring the works of Indian authors.

Together with my Ipod there is one more thing which is precious to me and that is my Bullet. I am a rider at heart always looking for anything that would make me hop on my Bull. I have roamed quite a few places around Pune, and Hyderabad. Its amazing when you just leave everything and go out riding in the horizon with no worries on your mind. It’s my dream to someday ride upto Leh-Ladakh.

I am a person who is more into the present than the future or the past. I worry of what is happening right now than what will happen next because it is our present that shapes our future.

Don’t let that make you think that I don’t believe in fortune cards especially the one which come out of weighing machines.

I am still looking for that elusive beautiful girl who is going to ask me for a lift!!!

Back to you Mr. Toastmaster

I joined Toastmasters!!!!

2009-04-12T01:47:00.000+06:00

On 9th April I joined Toastmasters International. It is involved in public speaking and nurturing leadership skills through a worlwide network of meeting locations. Infosys Pune boasts of a very active Toastmasters club. They meet twice evey month. There is a framework (10 projects) laid down tracing which you achieve certifications like CC (Competent Communicator), CL (Competent Leader), DTM etc. All these certifications are recognised at the corporate level. Each project mentioned above teaches specific traits in public speaking.

Infosys Pune toastmasters also anchor the various functions which happen at the Pune DC. Be it presenting or any activity which involves any form of public speaking.

I will be speaking publicly again after a gap of 4 years. I last stood on stage at MIT where I returned with the 3rdprize :) :)

Hoping that the experience will be rewarding. By the way I am going to post my speeches here :) One more reason for me to increase my blogs :) :)

Here is the dope on ToastMasters:

http://www.toastmasters.org/Members/MembersFunctionalCategories/AboutTI.aspx

The Great Purge

2009-04-11T10:57:00.004+06:00

They said we have never done it before and will never even consider it in the future.

They said we have seen such situations before and come out of it unscathed and undoubtedly stronger.

They said even if we do not get any new business for a year we have reserves enough to pay all our employees salary for a year.

They said and I believed, I never asked for any written proof. I thought values were to be upheld and not be put down only on paper.

Extra-ordinary situations require extra-ordinary measures and so finally at the Great Indian Software Firm the Great Purge begins.

Let this be my shortest post ever. Aren’t the market pundits telling us to save.

Let me save my words for times merrier. :( :( :(

The Household Lizard- Much Ado About Nothing

2009-04-09T10:03:00.005+06:00

George Orwell in this famous novel “Animal Farm” writes “Four legs good, two legs bad!!” I don’t agree (well I know this is being taken a bit of context). Out of the four legged creatures roaming on the planet the species which I despise the most is the cockroach and the species which I fear the most is the Household Lizard. This does not mean I am not scared of the great hunters like the tiger, lion cheetah etc. but the thing is that I have never encountered them outside a zoo and therefore I am not really in a position to comment.

Day before yesterday around 5:45AM when I was sleeping a bit too soundly in my bed (bed meaning only the mattress, I don’t own a bed and so sleep on the mattress spread on the floor) I got a tingly feeling near my right ear. After a few moments I jerked my head to get rid of the nuisance and behold!! Right next to my head and near my iPod laid a small household lizard. I am sure it was a lizard and nothing else as in the early morning light I could make out the shape of the vermin :(

I woke up with a start and immediately switched on the lights of the room, but predictably the lizard was nowhere to be seen. It had concealed itself under the loads of “pasara” (marathi word meaning “a mess”) I had so effortlessly assembled around my bed :) . I went to bed after half an hour thinking if the lizard is intelligent enough to trace the same path again and again. I knew that at least elephants have a sharp memory to remember the path they took earlier and also to avoid a particular path incase of any dangers they had sensed there earlier.

I think the lizard is not intelligent enough, as yesterday night I never got a tingly feeling or maybe it is even more intelligent, it is playing the waiting wanting me to believe that it will never and then it will make a comeback and maybe bite off my ear or something.

Bite off my ear!!!! Are household lizards harmful or do they believe in peaceful co-existence with human feeding on flies, and other small insects? I don’t know but then to tell you the truth I never thought of it. Maybe the adjective ‘household’ is meant to convey something. But then I cannot be sure until I get some dope on this. I goggled and this is what I got:

Household lizards are not at all dangerous on the other hand they are pretty useful in controlling the spread of small insects like flies and cockroaches. Now my flat has cockroaches, this might be a good sign :) :) :). Nonetheless below are the techniques to get rid of lizards!!!!

Using Peacock Feathers: (By far the most imaginative technique I have come across ) The funda is peacocks feed on lizards and also it is not feasible to have a peacock as your pet so use peacock feathers. The lizards will be scared. So stick peacock feathers on the ceiling and on the walls or places where lizards frequent in your house and wait did I mention that peacock feathers being colorful will add an aura to your place :)

Scaring Pests with Pets : (I don’t have Pets .No elaboration here)

Lizards follow Lights: (And I thought Lizards were nocturnal :) :) ) Lizards are usually seen in well-lit places. Turn off the lights in your room when you’re not around so they won’t hang out in there. Turn off the lights when you go to bed. This way, you do not just save power; you also give the lizards a curfew. Always keep places dark where you usually see them, as often as you can. Lizards often run away to escape. To find them, turn off the lights inside the room, get a flashlight and light up a corner of the room. You can easily find them because their big eyes reflect the light, twinkling like stars. If they do not make a move when you direct a light on them, then that is the best time to terminate them.

Keeping your place clean: (Hell, I ain’t ever gonna do that. No elaboration here)

Use of Pesticides: (NO..I am a nature guy ..psst..I don’t take ayurvedic medicines though once in a while I use MEDIMIX :) :))

5 ways to get rid of lizards!!! Can you believe it…
As Shakespeare rightly said “Much Ado About Nothing!!!!”

The Modern Nomad!!!

2009-04-09T09:57:00.002+06:00

A youth of about 21 years lands in the city with his luggage not knowing what lies ahead of him. The rickshaw-wallahs crowd around him screaming to take him places in the city. One intelligent rickshaw driver knows where this confused youth dressed in casual clothes belongs and shouts out the name of a respectable IT firm in the city. The youth laps it up and loads himself along with his baggage into that rickshaw. Throughout the ride he is peering out trying to take in as much of the scene as possible. The rickshaw finally halts and he gets down. He has never being to this place before. However the name of the locality matches the address he has printed on a sheet of paper in his jeans pocket. His father’s acquaintance who he has never met before opens the door of the flat and asks him to be comfortable.

A week from that day; the youth takes leave of the acquaintance and loads another rickshaw to take him to another locality. He does not seem jittery now. A week in the city has helped his confidence however he still has to work on learning the local tongue. He pays the rickshaw driver the amount which the acquaintance had agreed upon before with the driver. A thought that maybe the previous rickshaw driver duped him earlier crosses his mind for a moment. He smiles (out of helplessness) and moves on. A few hours later he is done arranging his wares in his new flat. “My place”, he says to himself. Only to realize few moments later that he is a tenant on lease.

He is happy to know that a swimming pool and a gym have been opened in his building. The next day he makes his way to the building gym only to return dejected when the security at the entrance informs him that these amenities were only for flat owners and not for the tenants. He does not understand the logic but feels too awkward to raise his voice. “Why was the security guy talking to me with disdain?” he thinks. He again smiles (out of helplessness) and moves on.

Six months pass by. He is not sure if the other beings in his building are aware of his existence or not. Being a tenant he is extra careful not to create a nuisance for anybody, more so the security. He drinks no doubt but only at his friend’s flat (who owns the flat) returning the next morning worried what impression would it create on the others (owners) had he returned home feeling high. A month later he wakes up to find a society notice pushed under his flat door which says that he is to vacate his flat in a month’s time. There was no word from the owner of the flat about this. The notice says “In the Annual General Body Meeting convened on 4th April 2009, it was decided that the society will no longer allow the flat owners to rent out their flats to bachelors. Only families will be allowed.” "What Annual General Body Meeting?" he thinks to himself. He remembers reading a notice about the time and venue of the meeting but then tenants were not allowed there too. Were the victims not even allowed to present their case? He calls up the owner who is equally surprised. His owner lives in a different city and he too has no idea. The owner confirms the news and glumly asks him to vacate the flat in a month’s time. He tries to smile but in vain!!!

A few weeks later the youth again loads himself along with his belongings in a rickshaw which takes him to another address. He is not sure how long he will be able to call that address his own. “I am more of a Modern Nomad than a software professional” he thinks to himself feeling proud about the originality of the thought.

Mee Shivaji Raje Bhosale Boltoy

2009-04-04T19:16:00.007+06:00

* (click on the movie poster to see the Teaser!!!)

Bapu did it in Munnabhai-II and now Shivaji Raje will do it exclusively for the Marathi Manoos :) Dinkar Maruti Bhosale (played by Sachin Khedkar) is your typical Marathi manoos (typical meaning as a marathi manoos is always potrayed by the media or the others around him) who is used, abused and more used, more abused..even more used, even more abused.....

This is how the Marathi Manoos is introduced in the flick (I gathered this from the promo):

Eke kali dinosaur sarkha disnara..pan aata chilta evdha zhalela..

hach toh Marathi Manoos

Dinkar Maruti Bhosale!!!!

Shivaji raje Bhonsale comes to the rescue of this Marathi Manoos and what follows is well to be seen.

I will be watching the flick tonite and it promises to be entertaining. This is the first Marathi movie after Dombivali Fast and Saat chya aat Gharat which has grabbed my attention. Also it looks like a big budget film from the sets and also the publicity it has generated.

With the elections round the corner this movie is sure to have some political overtures what with the MNS chief being the self-assumed messiah of the Marathi Manoos. I was not at all surprised when I got to know that the MNS chief was present at the premiere of the film in Mumbai...

...thoughts after the movie:

Upside:

A powerhouse performance by Sachin Khedkar. Now I am feeling so sorry that I missed his Jabbar Patel directed Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose :(

The monologue where Sachin Khedkar loses his cool and finally screams "Laaj vatte mala mee Marathi aslyachi!!!!" is awesome. Hats off to him. In the monologue he is surrounded by the busts of greats (hailing from Maharashtra) like Savarkar, B R Ambedkar, Bal Gangadhar Tilak, Sant Dyneshwar, Jyotiba Phule and each time he delivers a dailogue the busts move as if shaken by his admission. Here is the still from the scene:

Mahesh Manjrekar as RAJE aagdhi SHOBHUN distat. Makarand Anaspure as Raiba (his trusted aide) is witty with his one liners and delivers a punch.
The sequence which showcases how Shivaji killed Afzal Khan has been very beautifully done. I heard that 1 crore has been spent only on that.
No where the movie seems to be baised against the so called outsiders. Marathi pana nahi Maharashtriyata neat sambhali ahe.

Downside:

In the bid of not being baised, the movie seems lengthy. Dose jara jast hota ase vatte at the end. They could have easliy done away with the last scene which tries to educate the masses to vote and that too vote contructively. But apart from that there does not seem to be any downside to the movie. And after 2.5 hrs another 25 minutes should not be that big a concern.

Surely worth a dekho........btw just one more point...apart from the background score of the movie (which is good no doubt, especially jeva RAJE screen var yeta) JAI SHIVAJI JAI BHAVANI chya garjannani cinema hall (multiplex suddha :) :)) aagdhi dhum-dhumte!!!

Addu Booker Prize 2008

2009-04-03T13:26:00.004+06:00

Arvind Adiga created history by winning the Man Booker this year (2008), but I feel critics got to the prize before Arvind Adiga :) There were critics who said that the Man Booker book this time around is way below par the previous winners and maybe the short-listed books itself were not all that great. And then there were some saying that it was a Western Conspiracy of sorts to give the award to an Indian, don’t forget that after this the Oscars went to "Slumdog Millionaire" (nothing to take away from A.R. Rehman and Rosul, they deserved there individual awards) which to me seemed to be a Slumdog in front of the other competitors. But I would not comment on the Oscars as I have not seen the other nominated films.

But considering the Man Booker, this is what I am going to do. I have instituted an Addu Booker prize. I am going to read each of the short listed books and after I am done reading I am going to give away the Addu Booker award. The only thing which I am going to use from the Man Booker committee is the final shortlist :)

Here is the shortlist for 2008 Addu Booker Award:

My take:

1) White Tiger (Arvind Adiga):
Synopsis:
Born in a village in heartland India, the son of a rickshaw puller, Balram is taken out of school by his family and put to work in a teashop. As he crushes coals and wipes tables, he nurses a dream of escape - of breaking away from the banks of Mother Ganga, into whose depths have seeped the remains of a hundred generations.
The White Tiger is a tale of two Indias. Balram’s journey from darkness of village life to the light of entrepreneurial success is utterly amoral, brilliantly irreverent, deeply endearing and altogether unforgettable.

What I felt:

I don’t know how this one made it to the Shortlist. One thing is sure White Tiger would not win the Addu Booker Prize 2008 (this is before I read the other books). Too simple a subject, written in very simple language. Too simple for the Addu Booker award L The feel I got after I finished the book was one of boredom. The journey of Balram from Dark India to the India of Light is not riveting. The twists were expected and so were the turns. Like Slumdog it talks about the dark underbelly of India. It is not what India is presently..

…Next I will be taking up Sea of Poppies (Amitav Ghosh)

D R U J injury...will be on a 21 day haitus

2009-04-01T10:32:00.004+06:00

Saturday 28th march 2009 on my way back to Pune from Harihareshwar, my bike left the tarmac and skidded over a patch of gravel. I have suffered a possible wrist bone dislocation on my right hand which is pending further medication. That means I will be out of action (read..not riding my bike) for the better part of 21 days :(

It is a D R U J injury (Distal Radio Ulnar Joint), below is the x-ray image which illustrates the same:

The dislocation is in the highlighted part. Btw that is not my X-RAY, i googled it up ;)

Details of how it happened will follow shortly as and when I get the patience to type with my left hand...

Until then I am praying and saying..GET WELL SOON ;)

IPL: Nothing INDIAN About it anymore :(

2009-03-22T21:35:00.003+06:00

IPL moves out of India :(

http://www.espnstar.com/cricket/indian-premier-league/news/detail/item229475/IPL-moves-out-of-India/

The Downside (My view):

I am just taken aback by this. How can the Indian Premier League not be played in India. If the matches are not played in India how then will it be the Indian Premier League. I agree that the league is not totally Indian with top foreign players making a beeline, but at least the matches must be played in India :(
I am not taking sides either with the political establishment which says that in the election season and against the backdrop of the recent attacks on the Sri-Lankan Cricketers in Lahore providing security will be a problem vis-a-vis the BCCI who would lose millions if the league doesn't proceed as planned (that too it should not be forgotten that the Champions League T20 got scrapped thanks to the Mumbai attacks) and also April-May provides a good window because the international cricket schedule is not busy then. But then DIL NAHI MANTA :(

I had planned to watch at least one match of the later stages in Mumbai (a semifinal or the final) with the firm belief that Mumbai Indians will make it there and Sachin (read GOD) will provide the necessary fireworks. Alas that dream will remain only a dream :(

Also with the game going to England and SA and the present market recession I have good reason to believe that the team merchandise will be more expensive :( :( I also wanted to buy the Mumbai Indians jersey (here I want to cry out loud :( :( )

They say that the matches will be played in England or South Africa so I have reason to believe that the final will be played either at Lords or The Wanderers, but then what is the use of seeing Mumbai Indians lifting the trophy in Lords or Wanderers :( Wankhede would have been a whole different experience.

The Flip Side (My view):

The moment I read the article, and once the gloom which I have mentioned above subsided I think there will be certain pluses too....

1) Cheer-leaders: You must have got the point by now. With the kind of puesdo moral policing which goes on India every now and then, the firangi cheer leaders who came down in the last year couldn't really let their hair down and cheer the teams (or the audiences) as they would have liked. But in England or SA I don't think that would be a problem. But then as far as the cheer-leading goes I would prefer the venue to be SA. I still consider the Englishman to be snobbish and in your face, pardon me.
2) Pitches: T20 is a run fest and if it is not then it is boring. Both England and SA have conditions different than the Indian subcontinent. If I am not wrong you will seldom find a belter in these regions. So either its a challenge to the batsmen or the organisers. But again if BCCI can muscle in and make some real batsman friendly pitches there I would suggest after the IPL, India should tour these countries. This would help our ICC ODI and Test ranking ;)

But all and all..the Downside bears more on my mind than the Flipside. Why the ECB or CSA should benefit :( :(

Living Out of a Suitcase

2009-03-07T19:59:00.001+06:00

Its been nearly six years since I set foot outside my home in Nashik and looking at things right now I don’t think I will ever be able to get back to my home in Nashik as it used to be six years ago.

I left Nashik to pursue my engineering studies after Std XII. Mom did insist to take admission in the engineering college in Nashik itself. Not that it was bad but then the college in Pune was much better and also I had scored well in Std XII exams to get the coveted engineering seat.

In my initial years in the engineering college I used to go home as and when time permitted, many times bunking classes, planning common offs etc. But then as time passed that 5 hour journey started becoming boring. Me, who earlier didn’t mind taking any bus to Nashik started becoming picky about not only the bus but also the bus timing. To avoid the boredom experienced in the journey, night travel became the in thing. Was it all about convenience or was the start of my detachment from Nashik? I never could answer that completely. Convenience is what I labeled it but a few of my friends back in Nashik knew better than that. All of a sudden the CCD’s and the Pizza Hut’s and the newly acquired freedom of roaming the city in nights acted as a worthy kick than my nearby playground or even the building parking back in Nashik where me and my friends used to spend hours together just chatting.

After my engineering I got a job and I moved to Mysore for a period of 4 months and after that I got back to Pune. Its been nearly 3 years since I am working in Pune and the feeling of disconnectedness towards Nashik has definitely increased. But even after spending close to 6 years in Pune I cannot call Pune my home. I look at people around me and I still perceive myself to be an outsider. If, I, who hails from Maharashtra, from Nashik feels this then I cannot imagine what my brethren from outside the state might be going through. But then that is a different issue altogether.

During my engg college days I was termed the hostelite. I was recognized by my unshaven look and half asleep eyes. I also made myself conspicuous by my absence from lectures.

I thought things would change for the better when I got a job but they changed only marginally. I was told be quiet as there were families around. I was a tenant who cannot use the building amenities like the gym, swimming pool etc. I was plainly declined accommodation because I was a bachelor. At the end of the day I was not wanted.

But still I stayed on because my job was here not because I wanted to here. Now I am planning to start my family here. I am planning to buy a house here. With my pay I can afford a bit more luxury than my parents could. But when I look at the flats around me one of which I will surely buy if not today but tomorrow, I do not feel cosy at all. The flats with all the modern amenities seem to me like a hotel room where I would not want to stay forever. How then can I imagine to make a home out of this?

Living out of a suitcase will be a better option I feel. You go to a new place after every 2 years. It would be awesome, a new place, new people, new surroundings. One thing which I don’t know is how viable that can be!!!!!

Random thoughts of a demented mind..Part I (LOVE!!!)

2009-02-12T09:53:00.002+06:00

Last Saturday I got myself a permanent tattoo on the forearm and to cap a perfect Saturday I also watched Dev D. A sexed up, modern take on the epic DEVDAS. Looking at Abhay Deol (Dev D) gulping down glass after glass after bottle after bottle of vodka first with coke (where thums up was not available) and then thums up (when coke was not available) I could not help but feel nauseated myself. And the camera work after Dev D gets up and moves where the camera is concentrated on his face but also revolves is breath-taking to say the least!!! Watching that I was trying to figure out whether somehow the same thing happens to me when I am drunk…… And as luck would have it Sunday came and me and my roommate (Sagar, he had just given his GATE 09 that day and had decided to drink to death if not to glory) got to work pretty early:)2:30pm and we ended at 6:15pm. 5 quarters of Mc Dowells between us and DEV D started building up in me…and then began a series of RANDOM THOUGHTS IN MY DEMEMNTED MIND!!!

I start with LOVE..(people remember I am drunk)..LOVE according to me is a very flexible word. By flexible I mean it can be defined in so many ways. Refer any of the LOVE IS.. forwards you receive and you will figure why I say it is flexible. Apart from being flexible according to me it is also very convenient. Yes people read my lips when I say in caps….CONVINIENT (funny how I did not mess up the spelling :)). Let me spell out what all is needed to fall in LOVE…
1)A boy
2)A girl
3)Both should stay close-by. If they stay on their own(without families)all the more simple and easy.
4)TIME

Though I have mentioned TIME on number 4 let me tell you that it is point 4 which helps you weave magic and say that you are in LOVE!!! More time more LOVE (atleast in the initial stages ;) ) So the sum total is that LOVE is a heady mix of the 4 components mentioned above. Well what about emotions. Wait….don’t brand me an emotional-less freak. Emotions are a by-product of proximity and time and a bit of compulsion nothing more and nothing less.

Here is how LOVE happens (I am forced to use the word HAPPENS here because I cannot say here is how LOVE is made, that will give the post an entirely new spin). Boy meets (or sees girl) or vice-versa. As they live close by they notice each other pretty often. As luck would have it. Oops sorry rewind. How did I miss LUCK in the components. It should be right at number 1. After all I believe that you don’t have to always run out of luck to get into trouble.
So here is the revamped list:
1)LUCK
2)A boy
3)A girl
4)Both stay close-by. If they stay on their own (without families) all the more simple and easy
5)TIME

So back to the start of the previous para. With LUCK on his side, boy notices girl, the girl also notices the boy. They stay close by so they notice each other often and then the ice breaker :) After that TIME comes into the picture and then LOVE happens and it is as if the boy and the girl are made for each other and that they were already destined to meet and marry!!!!! LOVE so flexible so convenient.. Do I hear you talking something about the grapes being too sour or something…..hell as if it matters!!!!

TAUBA TERA JALWA…TAUBA TERA PYAR…TERA EMOSTIONAL AATYACHAR!!!!! Ohh man I should not drink so much…got to go office tomorrow…wht the !@#$, its Monday already!!!!

National Language v/s Official Language

2009-01-20T10:16:00.003+06:00

This is very interesting stuff I came across one fine day while reading the Indian constitution and I cross verified too. Am putting it up on the blog.

According to the Indian Constitution there is no concept of a NATIONAL LANGUAGE however there are OFFICIAL LANGUAGES.

Article 343 of the constitution talks about Hindi and English being the Official Language of the Union, however every State can have her own Official Language which can be same or different than that of the Union. As of now there are 22 Official Languages of India which includes Marathi too. Need I say there is nothing like a REGIONAL LANGUAGE.

And this was contrary to what I studied in school that Hindi is the national language of the country. Below is the brief of Article 343:

343. Official language of the Union.—(1) The official language of the
Union shall be Hindi in Devanagari script .
The form of numerals to be used for the official purposes of the Union
shall be the international form of Indian numerals .
(2) Notwiths tanding anything in clause (1) , for a per iod of fifteen years
from the commencement of this Constitution, the English language shall
continue to be used for all the official purposes of the Union for which it
was being used immediately before such commencement :
Provided that the President may, dur ing the said period, by order
authorise the use of the Hindi language in addition to the English language
and of the Devanagari form of numerals in addition to the international
form of Indian numerals for any of the official purposes of the Union.
(3) Notwi ths tanding anything in thi s ar t icle, Parliament may by law
provide for the use, after the said per iod of fifteen years , of—
(a) the English language, or
(b) the Devanagari form of numerals ,
for such purposes as may be specified in the law.

Our way of LIFE

2009-01-04T10:40:00.000+06:00

Fast asleep was I way before the midnight chimes,
For I had no promises to keep nor did I have to sing any rhymes.
If a tryst with destiny had already been made,
Then why bare were we laid?

Shooting earned us fame,
But the shoot-out after the blasts was the name of the game.
Nothing changed for us,
For our indomitable SPIRIT was our unfailing ruse!!!!

Our hotels were back up on their feet,
A nearby café was now decorated with bullet marks near the seat.
We acted tough for sometime,
Opposing the deadly slime.

But soon the frenzy will be made to die down,
The SPIRIT will be smothered into submission without a whimper or even a sound.
For this will be our way of life,
Where insecurity, malice and terror will be rife.

-Advait

(These are my musings on the last night of 2008, pessimistic I agree but only HOPE without actions is same as DAY-DREAMING)

Where the hell is my COFFEE MUG!!!

2008-11-16T14:34:00.001+06:00

You wake up still asleep,
With many promises to keep.
You think today might just be different,
But soon you get swept with the current.

You make it just in time for the journey,
Thinking “ Jaisi karni waisi bharni”.
Half an hour still to go
But sleeping now will be a definite no-show.

The journey ends and the day begins,
Unaware of what awaits you in the bins.
Slowly you approach your fate,
The one you have now learnt to hate.

With a pretense of freshness on your face,
You greet him with a good morning instead of a slap on the face.
With the opening of the Inbox begins the war of tug,
You stand up and shout, “Where the hell is my Coffee Mug!!!!”.

The Credit Card was already swiped…

2008-11-16T14:23:00.002+06:00

Rahul couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Standing in the parking of his school building, holding his std VIII report card in his hand, he wanted to shout out with joy but then he didn’t do it. It was not the first time he had not expressed what he wanted to express. Looking at his progress in the final exam of Std VIII, his father had finally agreed on fulfilling his long pending promise, that of buying his son a TV video game.

Rahul’s father had promised him the video game more than a year back, but there were many reasons which prevented him from getting the video game. However for Rahul, all these reasons were invariably related to acads, behavior and the likes.

But today the wait was over, he had secured the first rank in the class and that too by a margin of 25 marks. His teacher to the delight of his father had said that this is the first time she had seen such a huge difference in the marks of the 1st and the 2nd rank holder. The teacher’s words confirmed Rahul’s convincing victory in the exams.

The ride to the shop which was some 20 mins from the school took less time than what Rahul had imagined. However it was more than enough for Rahul to decide his future course of action with his new TV video game. First of all he will be showing it off to Ashish. It still hurt him how Ashish had not allowed him to play when he had got his Video game. He was going to invite Rohit, his best friend (who had secured the 2nd rank) to come over and play with him. He was looking forward to this and many more things in his summer vacation.

The electronics shop was run by an affable Sardarji, he was used to expecting kids at this time of the year. The moment he saw Rahul, he started taking out boxes of video games. Samurai, Nintendo, Mitashi etc. Rahul’s father should have been surprised about this, they had not uttered a word about what they were looking for, but Rahul’s father guessed that Rahul would have visited the place earlier doing some groundwork. He did not mind it either. ‘You have to be careful with were you spend your money’ was his motto.

Rahul wanted the Samurai one. But he knew there was a slim chance to get it. It was the costliest of the 3. Ashish had a Samurai but then he was ready to compromise (Rahul was aware, his choice didn’t matter. If he didn’t agree to what his father was saying he might not even get the video game ever.) The Sardarji as always had started his pitch for the Samurai. But Rahul wanted to get it over with early. He butted in and talked about liking the Nintendo. However at Rs1000, Nintendo was costly for his father. His father did not say it, but Rahul could guess this from his looks. He instantly showed interest in the Mitashi and at Rs 600 ( his father bargained for a Rs 200 discount) Rahul walked out with a smiling face (forgetting about how this was his third choice) and a TV video game.

The summer vacation were fun filled. He and Rohit had fun playing CONTRA, ALLADIN, MARIO BROS. He lent the game to Rohit for a couple of days. This gesture elevated him to that of and of messiah in the colony. Almost every kid in the colony had played on the Mitashi. Ashish was isolated. Rahul’s victory was now complete. But even then he avoided Ashish, lest he started bragging about his Samurai. The Mitashi was his most prized possession till date. He had to go through so much for it.

“What’s wrong dad. Don’t you like it”, Rahul came back to his senses. Sameer was tugging at his jacket sleeve. It was Sameer’s eighth bday today. Dad had promised him a play-station (the TV video games were no longer available). In the swanky mall, standing near the play station stall, Rahul couldn’t help but think what all he had to do to get his TV video game. That was some 20 years back.

Was Sameer being pampered? he thought. It didn’t matter anymore- the credit card was already swiped!!!!

DONKEYS and the proverbial IRONY of LIFE!!!

2008-10-25T14:01:00.002+06:00

The recently concluded CYG-08 games in Pune, not only catapulted Pune into the limelight as a city which can host sports events of international repute but did loads for the improvement of the infrastructure in the city. As was predicted the area immediately in the vicinity of the games village was polished like never before and to give a biased view, the most significant change which happened in Pune was to SUS ROAD.

I know there is a grammatical error in the last sentence of the para where I have written “which happened in Pune was to SUS ROAD” and that the purists would argue that as SUS ROAD is a place the sentence should have read “which happened in PUNE was at SUS ROAD”, but then I am referring to the actual ROAD and not the place J

I have been in Pune for the last 6 years now. I did my engineering from Pune and after 4 years I was pretty confident that I at least heard the names of all the places in Pune. But when I started hunting for my living quarters after I came back from Mysore, I heard of SUS ROAD and I made a face which conveyed not only disdain but outright dejection too. When I was taken to Sus Road (by my broker of course, without him I would never gone there to get a flat) these were the things which I saw:

(Forgive my level of detail, but then I was very skeptical of the place and was eager to take in every single detail)
1) A few completed buildings with people staying in them….good sign :)
2) 2 hotels and a few road side hawkers. 1 hotel had a bar…..awesome :)
3) Many garages….whatever…(I didn’t have a BULLET then)
4) Infosys, Wipro buses parked at the side of the road…cool…less of walking
5) Shepherds…(STUMPED??????)

The 5th item really hooked me onto Sus road. Hang on, the shepherds were not herding goats or cattle but DONKEYS!!!!!

I tried to relate one thing to another and found out how the Sus Road ecology needed the DONKEYS so much. There were many construction sites which needed a constant supply of bricks and other building materials. But then the obvious question; what happened to the trucks? Well the DONKEYS carried the material as a supplement to the trucks. Also with the apparent lack of dogs on Sus Road at that time, the DONKEYS found it a less menacing place.

A bit of deep thinking on the DONKEY issue gave me immense satisfaction. Sus Road was (and even is today) thronged by software professionals, the exponents of the so called KNOWLEDGE ECONOMY of INDIA. Having hordes of DONKEYS (considered a symbol of foolishness and stupidity) alongside them (or should I say us) was LIFE’S way to humble these KNOWLEDGE WORKERS!!! The proverbial IRONY of LIFE!!!

However the ecology of SUS ROAD was disturbed some 25 days before the games began in Pune. Kalmadi’s men took over the road and changed the face of Sus Road. Let me tell you, CHANGED is a very subtle word to express the changes which happened. The roads were widened, pavement with power-blocks were made, dividers were introduced, signages and neon signs were put up, zebra crossings were painted (even if there were no traffic signals, for future expansion I feel :) ) and most importantly the road was cleared of all the hawkers who on the earlier narrow roads were contributing to traffic snarls. There was one more thing which was changed maybe for ever, the DONKEYS vanished, without a whimper, without a bray L

“Ekdum foreign main hai aisa lagta hai”, “This must be Pune’s best road, dude” were some of the comments I heard from people.

After the games, the hawkers came back to there old positions. The power block pavements serve them well. The widened road with streetlights help smoothen the traffic, the benches fitted after every 100m at the far end of the road comfort the love birds.

But there are no DONKEYS around anymore :( . The IRONY of LIFE which was staring the KNOWLEDGE WORKER in his/her face is lost :(

But then wait do I sense an ECONOMIC SLOWDOWN coming….

The HAIR CUT and the 5 STAR

2008-10-11T12:07:00.002+06:00

Back in the days when cable TV had not invaded our imaginations and when in std V, I had cried hoarse for a cable TV connection and on not getting one would secretly go to a friend’s place to watch the afternoon movies, Sunday mornings on DD-1 were much more than delight.

Having completed most of my homework on Friday evening and also on Saturday, I would sleep on Saturday night with only one ambition, one dream and one goal, which was watching DD1 from 7am onwards.

Sunday morning I wake up with a start. Its 6:45am, don’t worry I could read a clock from std IV (lol!!!), just so that I don’t miss the start I switch on the TV and rubbing my sleepy eyes I gaze at it. The NIRMA add, followed by LIFEBOUY, then HAMAM and then the TV switches off….its 6:55am…..no no no!!!!

Its not a power cut, its mom :( :(

I got 5 mins to wash my face, brush my teeth, drink my morning mug of milk and catch RANGOLI….can I do it…ohh no just remembered I had to shit too :( :( :( Somehow I managed to convince mom that Ill do all this but just let the TV be. I will listen to it while I am doing all my morning chores.

Finally at 7:15am I am back it front of the TV, MERE SAPNO ki RANI song is on and I start shouting (I wont say singing, kya hai unn dino meri aawaz develop nahi hui thi na :)). Two stanzas done and just when I start enjoying myself; enter dad; to interrupt my Sunday morning :( :(

Time for a hair cut he says. Why today why couldn’t we go yesterday? No answer. It was my mistake I should have not told how Gonsalves Sir (our PT teacher) cut Mahesh’s hair in the class because it was too long :( :( . Now I got to pay the price, its too heavy a price…nahiii..and I start crying cos there is no way out besides I am too young to argue with my parents(lol!!).

Finally I stop crying after being promised a 5 STAR..(5 STAR cannot compensate the loss I would go through on forgoing RANGOLI but then next Sunday there will be no hair cuts and plus I get a 5 STAR too, not a bad deal right??)

Enter Vijay Hair Dressers. I didn’t like the guy Vijay. The only reason being he used to pull my cheeks with such force that my cheeks pained :( :( and he used to do that not only when I went to his saloon but also when I used to pass by :( :( . But then that was the only saloon close by.

Me and my dad sit on a stool waiting our turn. There is quite a crowd and we are told that we would have to wait for some 45 mins before our turn. Thank God, dad is here with me today, the last time I came; Vijay made me wait an hour. My number was conveniently given to others who came after me. I was too young to ask for explanations and I found it too trivial to complain to dad about it plus that Sunday we had a power cut so I was not exactly missing on RANGOLI and all :) :)

But this Sunday I was at a loss. The wrist watch on my dad’s hand read 8:00am. When Vijay says 45 mins it is an hour or even more. That would shatter my next plan too. I had planned to get home by 9:00am so that I could catch MOWGLI but that was not going to happen and plus I was gonna get only one 5 STAR. That would compensate missing RANGOLI but how do I get compensation for MOWGLI? I had to get home in time for the show!!!

8:15am and still no plan…think boy think…and finally at 8:20pm I had a plan and I went into action right away..the following is the conversation that took place, it has been translated into English:

Me: Baba, how much more time? (with a sorry look on my face)
Baba: Another 10 mins. Hold on
(I could see that even dad was growing impatient. That’s a positive sign. Time: 8:23am)
Vijay: (Butting in between) Bass Sir, iss ke baad ek daadhi banani hai aur phir aapka number. 10 mins max.
(No reply from dad. Another good sign :) :) )

the remaining conversation in Marathi, I don’t want it to lose meaning in the translation
Time- 8:30am
Me: (in hushed tone) Baba,……Baba….shee lagli (with a constipated look… )
Baba: Kay??? Sakali nahi keli ka..
Me: Keli hoti pan tari lagli…(more constipated look)
Baba: (looking at the watch) 20 mins thamb, cutting zhalyavar ghari jaun kar…aalach number aata (consoling tone)
Me: Jorat lagli ahe :( (more more constipated look)

Baba to Vijay. Time-8:45am
Baba: Arre me ek 20 mintat yeto. Number thev
Vijay: Sir, aata kuthe jata. Aalach ki number and asa number nahi thevat me. Pudche bomba marta
Baba: Asa ka…barr

Only 15mins more. This is my last chance.
Me: Baba, me jato khup jorat lagli ahe…(more more more constipated look. I manage to roll a tear down one cheek.Yesss!!!!)
Baba: Barr chal..(dad is frustrated and angry but he cant show it in the saloon. I am praying that by the time we get home the anger would subside.)

The moment we are out of the saloon I start running towards the building. Dad doesn’t know that I got just 10 more minutes to 9:00am. He thinks the boy was right and smiles. Anger subsided.

I charge up the steps, enter the house and panting switch on the TV. 8:55am just in time. Yess.!!! Thank God mom is having a bath or I would have had to explain the whole thing to her.

9:05am: Dad walks in. Baghira is saying something.

Baba: Kay zhali ka shee (he is nearing the truth it seems)
Me: Ho..attach alo (matter of fact expression)

He doesn’t say anything. Saved. He doesn’t want to spoil his Sunday morning.

I got to see MOWGLI but a couple of things changed from that Sunday onwards. My dad never accompanied me to the hair cutting saloon again. With this freedom I started going to a different saloon (on my bicycle of course) where the barber was more interested in his work than pulling my cheeks and who took customers strictly on first come first serve basis.

But on the down side, I never got a 5 STAR again for any of my HAIR CUTS…

JUST FLY!!!

2008-10-11T09:39:00.002+06:00

It is our dreams that shape our destiny,
To achieve them, many times we have to mutiny...
We have to go to unknown lands,
And may be sing along with unknown bands..

Its all a part of the game, they say;
After all to win, you have to play.
As you try to reach out for the sky,
You have to leave something behind and fly..

There are too many things, you want to say..
Too little time..
It's perfectly fine my friend,
Its not a crime!!!

Standing at the terminal, ready to fly..
Don't look back now, don't even cry..
Waiting for you is the sky,
So go ahead and JUST FLY !!!

(this one's for YAM, as a farewell gift!!!! Sorry i couldnt be there at the terminal)

HAPPY TEACHER'S DAY

2008-09-05T10:41:00.001+06:00

5th September always had a special meaning for me at least in the academic calendar. Teacher’s day celebrations were always a think I looked forward to in my school. A special feature on that day was that for half a day the students would be taking up lectures in the classes. Typically students from the 9th or 10th std were picked up for this job. Sitting in my std 5th class and trying to concentrate on what the guy in front of me was telling me I was always in awe as to this guy must have done something really great to have replaced Shailendra sir to teach me Mathematics. After all in those days for me Mathematics started from Shailendra Sir and ended with him. He was my Aryabhatta, he was my Pythagoras. I always wanted to take up a class when I grew up on Teacher’s Day.

Teachers and the principal were closeted in the staff room where they would enjoy samosas, pakodas, tea and sweets too. I didn’t mind them eating that; after all my teachers deserved all this for there hard work. Also we had been given a cream-roll each!!!. What more can a 5th std student expect and to top it up even Shaila Tr (my science teacher) had gratefully accepted the dalia which I had got for here. She was another good teacher I had in my formative years. Even in std 5th she encouraged us to try to look beyond the textbooks. She was what led me to the school library where I opened my first ‘Tell me WHY?’ volume.

Of course there were some teachers we liked ;) Pardon me if you think I am going off track here but then it happens to every boy I guess around std 8th -9th (ahem, ahem) and considering that we were a all boys school (proud to hail from such a place !!!) we did like some of our teachers a bit more. It was a coincidence that most of these were from the computer department (and may be there I decided that my future lay with computers ;) , this is a filler please ignore) and a few were teaching in the primary sections. I didn’t understand why we used to like teachers who recently joined ;) Hehehe!! It was these teacher’s who got the maximum flowers on teacher’s day. I always connected this somehow to the rose days’ I latter witnessed during my graduation days ;) .We even caught a couple of parents (wanted to use the singular but that would have been out of place J) sneaking a flower or two to these likable teachers. That made for good lunch time discussions.

Finally on the 5th Sept in Std 9th I was picked up to take a class of geography in std 7. That was a challenge. Guys in Std 7 were good. I mean they were definitely better than the primary section guys in questioning. They were going to listen to me real hard and not gonna take any shit. I mean I had done that when I was in std 7th. “Full le liya yaar Advait tune usko”, was the compliment I had received then from my bench partner ;) Now I was at the other end.

Nothing spectacular happened that day. Meri kisine nahi phadi. After all there is only one Advait; I thought and smiled. I had prepared well for that half hour lecture. It was related to the grasslands; the Pampas, the Prairies and all. I had taken loads of extra information and the guys were hooked on. It was a delight to say the least.

This Teacher’s Day I woke up late. And only now I realized that it was Sept 5th. Now-a- days the dates don’t matter much, the days are important (especially the weekends). I miss my teachers. I still feel that jus one more lecture would do no harm. I want to go and sit on my bench back in school, want to solve those Pythagoras equations. I want to pin point the coal mines on the map of India. I want to solve integrals and derivatives at lightening speed and that too at 5:45am in the morning under the nose of Gadgil sir. I want to understand again how the DC motor works.

All I need is jus one more lecture.

I salute you my teachers. Naming you here in my blog is my way of saying THANK YOU for what you have done. HAPPY TEACHER’S DAY to you all

Fr Fuez
Fr Leo
Tr Shaila
Tr Kanta
Sir Shailendra
Sir Katale
Tr Vaibhava
Tr Marilyn D’souza
Tr. Sheela
Tr Shinde
Tr Lone
Gadgil Sir
Ugale Sir
Dhale Sir
Kurode Madam

The TICKET

2008-09-03T15:28:00.000+06:00

He held the reservation ticket in pride as if it was certificate of his merit. Well of course it is a certificate of my merit he thought. Didn’t it take merit in planning ones trip home before hand? Didn’t it take merit in planning to go to office late so that one could go to the ticket counter in time to get the reservation and that too a window seat. Not everybody could do it and precisely that was the reason he had got the ticket. He smiled at his own thoughts and waited for 2nd Sept -11:00pm. It was precisely a day and a few hours away.

On the 2nd Sept at 10:30pm he was standing near his house waiting to catch a rickshaw to take him to the bus stand. From the last 15mins he was standing there checking his watch a bit too frequently. Finally he caught sight of a rickshaw nearing him. He flagged it and it stopped. The Rs 120 which the rickshaw driver demanded was a bit too much but then he did not have time to get into a discussion about how the rickshaw-wallahs or for that matter everybody conspires to get more money out of a software professional.

At 10:56pm he was near the ticket counter where a day back he had got his reservation or as he thought of it his certificate of merit. But now he was in a hurry. He enquired about the bus and was told the bus had already left a minute back. He was confused; he had not planned for this. Well the logical thing to do was to ask about the next bus which left at 11:30pm. The man at the counter got the drift and promptly gave him the seat in the 11:30pm bus after making the requisite entries. He hadn’t hoped that this would be smooth but then he had done it. If the reservation was a certificate of merit this turn around was definitely the WINNER’S CUP!!!!

The bus started on time. He was a bit surprised about this. In the last 6 years of his travels from Pune to Nashik this was possibly the first time any asiad had ever left on time or before time. Things changing for the better he thought to himself and increased the volume of his ipod.

He did not like or despise the Pune Nashik journey but then he had done that journey maybe a thousand times before and would have to do it a thousand times in the future. He just prayed that sleep would come to him easily. He had a hectic day tomorrow starting with getting the Ganpati idol and all the decoration which goes into it. Sleep was what he needed the most. The time his eyes closed the bus had just started off from Nashik Phata. That was the last time he would sleep on the bus.

The hooting of horns, people talking and the lights in the bus broke his sleep. He opened his eyes and instinctively checked his watch. It was 2:30AM and Linkin Park was blasting his head off. He looked out but he could not make sense where the bus had reached. It must be near the Chandanapuri ghat, a traffic jam he thought that is so common in these rains and he prepared to close his eyes. There was some commotion going on near the driver’s cabin, he looked up and saw that some people were getting into his bus. That was not usual for sure. Wasn’t the bus kinda full? And from when did the asiad guys started taking people on board without a ticket? Anyways I have my seat he thought and threw a look of disdain at the people standing.

But then a sight caught his eye and he could not close his eyes the remaining journey. He say a man holding a handkerchief to his head. Blood was dripping from the handkerchief and the man was in great pain. He looked at others and there were people with cuts, bruises, swollen foreheads all looking disoriented. What had actually happened? He enquired about what had happened and he was told that the 11:00PM asiad had met with an accident and that the driver had died on the spot while many passengers were injured.

He could not believe his ears. He went numb for a few seconds. That was supposed to be his bus; he had blamed the rickshaw wallah when he came to know that he had missed the 11PM asaid at Shivajinagar. Now he did not know what to do.

He felt regret at the initial thoughts which had come to his mind when he saw these people boarding the bus. He quickly shifted a bit and offered a part of his seat to the person who was standing near him. The person standing near accepted it gratefully. His seat was no longer cherished, if luck or whatever they say wouldn’t have been on his side he would well have been on the other side.

The person to whom he offered was saying something he thought, but it was not audible and he was not in a position to listen to anything. He was just staring out of the window into nothingness.

Images of the ticket counter when he got the reservation done, the rickshaw ride which made him miss the 11PM bus, the delight on getting the seat in the 11:30PM bus on the earlier reservation without having to haggle for it and finally regret on seeing the condition of his co-passengers started flickering in front of his eyes. They just came by randomly, no connection nothing.

He did not understand how much time passed but on seeing the Nashik Road flyover approaching he got up from his seat fumbled a feeble TAKE CARE to the person next to him and got out of the bus.

He put his hand in his shirt pocket took out the EPITOME of PLANNING (the reservation ticket of the 11:00PM bus) and tore it into countless pieces. He flung the pieces overhead.

All this was never planned was the only thought which came to his mind.

(This write up is inspired from a true story which happened with me on the night of 2nd September 2008. Some facts have been distorted for the sake of story telling.)

CHOTTE TENSION DENEKA; LENEKA NAHI!!!

2008-08-17T11:00:00.000+06:00

The recent episode of an IT professional commiting suicide at one of the reputed software cos in India due to WORK STRESS really had me panting. Whatever the media, blogs or all will say I think that it was an act of absoulte immaturity i.e if only work stress is in question.

I understand that like any other sector the IT sector also has the capacity of throwing stress when there is 100% dependency on you, timelines are too stringent, the requirements are changing and must I say that when the management is not capable to handle the escalations which come from the client effectively. And then there is also a very big question about you setting very high standards for yourself.

Even in all of this, i dont think anybody can ever force you to do work atleast in the IT sector. With whatever experience I have here, the IT sector is the place where you can very easily put in your papers if you feel stressed and scout for a better pay scale (even in times of economic slowdown). I myself have taken day off when I felt that I was getting too bogged down by work.

And for a person who has won 3 star performer awards and who has handles a couple of onsite assignements, ending once like due to work stress sounds outright stupid. The moment he felt he was stressed he could have reported it to his line manager, if that was not of help he could have gone higher up in the chain. Almost all software firms have a open door policy when it comes to greivance redressal. All it requires is an e-mail. Or he could have been irresponsible and take a couple of days off to get your thoughts together. You can always report in sick. Its simple. Or you can resign, there are many software cos who would have accepted a visa ready, IIT educated IT pro. This option was both simple and highly lucrative.

No but he chose to end his life. An act of cowardice. The more I ponder on it, the more baffled I am. This just does not add up :(

I am tempted to quote a dialogue from a B grade Hindi movie of which I don't remember the name. All through the movie the VILLAIN has only one dialogue for everyone:

"CHOTTE, TENSION DENEKA; LENEKA NAHI!!!!"

45 mins....kya kare kya na kare!!!!

2008-07-13T09:27:00.000+06:00

With the monsoons setting in, I relegated my bike to my building parking and started taking the company bus. The last rainy season I did endure the rains to get to office and back but the entire episode was not exactly comfortable. Sitting wet in a Air Conditioned office for some 8 odd hours is not a joke. Well thank God I didnt catch pneumonia the one which is so often mentioned in Bollywood flicks...
So after getting the feel of the discomfort this time around I decided to take the bus to the office starting 1st of June (that officially when the monsoon begins atleast for me.)
But I was soon to find out that if the bike ride to office was ridden with traffic snarls, rains, potholes and the occasional encounter with the traffic policeman the ride in the bus was more painstaking.
On the very first bus ride i understood that to get a seat in the bus you have to be at the Infy bus stop some 10 mins early. I am fortunate that a bus starts from my place or it would really not matter if I am there 10 mins early or 10 hours early. Getting to the bus stop 10 minutes early was the easy part.
The bus takes some 45 mins to get to the office. On the first ride after securing the window seat (for the first ride too i got 10 minutes early..was actually skeptical about the timing) what struck me was that; what was I going to do for 45 mins!!!! Thats hell lot of a time..and whatever i do in these 45 mins is surely gonna impact my enire day in office. If I sleep, I will be feeling sluggish to start with in office if I try to think too much looking out of the window, i might exhaust myself too much. If I call somebody up to while away time talking the only thing I would be shouting will be "Kai, zhorat bolte ka!!!" (What , will you please speak up). So I had to have a plan to pass these crucial 45 mins of the day. And then in my first ride with nothing to do I started chalking out a plan as to how to while away those 45 mins...

Experiment 1: Newspaper
To while away time in the bus I decided to read the daily newspaper. It was not a original thought, I had seen many peeps in the bus do that. I buy a copy of the TOI and get in the bus. Now TOI comes with a complimentary copy of the Pune Mirror: a cheapo tabloid... Anyways I get in the bus, get a window seat and keeping the Pune Mirror aside start skimming the paper. The bus starts filling in and very soon I get a neighbour who it seems is trying to occupy more than his share of the seat. This usually happens because many software professionals cannot be classified as a single entity especially when they occupy seats in the public transport. After minor adjustments we kinda fit in and settle down. I am waiting for a pothole or a speed breaker to unsetle us so that I can immediatley seize more of the ground (read seat).
I am done reading the first page..now what....who and how will anyone turn to page 2. That would take an enormous effort. First Ill have to disengage my right shoulder which was stuck behind my nieghbours left shoulder and risk losing ground. Also with the wind blowing in from the window kya guarantee that I would be able to turn to pg 2 and fold the newspaper without getting it all in my face. In that eventuality it will reqire even more effort. On top of all this my neighbour was sleeping, it was not worth it at all. Newspaper scrapped.

Experiment 2: Reading a novel
With the newspaper out of the window, i switched to reading novels. I figured that novels being smaller than newpapers would not involve much page turning effort and also that way I will not have to curb my curiosity till I got back home to continue on my story. I was nearing a solution I felt.
So the next day I started with the novel. I was engrossed in it, I was happy too that i had found the solution but just then I heard the blaring of the bus speaker. It was RADIO MIRCHI. It was also there with the newspaper experiment just that it hadnt registered in my head. Now that I didnt have issues with page turning this blaring radio was getting to me. I looked around and my colleagues were enjoying it. It was foolish anyways to expect that the driver would lower the volume or switch it off because only one passenger was getting DISTURBED. I tried to concentrate more but i was an effort, also i was losing grip on the novel. I shut the novel and gave a disgruntled stare to speaker. I mocked me I think with a boring SUD (call me sudharshan) PJ.

Experiment 3: Music
I will counter the BUS SPEAKER with high definition music. My apple ipod was the answer.ha ha ha (i gave a devilish laugh..). So the next day i came all decked with the ipod (my own), cool looking headphones (borrowed from my roomie) and took the window seat. I started the ipod and couldnt hear even a bit of the radio. I was happy even though my ears were beginning to hurt thanks to the high volume i had set to counter the radio. But the happiness was short lived. I got a pat on the shoulder and my neighbour asked me to turn the volume down. The ipod was blasting and the music was ripping out of the headphones and disturbing my neighbour. I had to lower it. But then for the rest of the ride I listened to AEROSMITH+Abhijeet, IRON MAIDEN+Shankar Mahadevan.....

Experiment 4: Shut up and look out
This was the last option. Atleast in the monsoons it is green and good to look outside, so I think I should not have any troble in doing this. But many times I dont get a window seat then I have to stare at my neighbours face when he/she is looking out (because his/her face is blocking the view) or gaze into nothingness. I started to read the instuctions pasted on the inside of the bus but then they remain the same and I have memorised most of it. So if I dont get the window seat I just SHUT UP.

And then they ask me in office, "Hey Advait, why you seem so quiet when you get in?" and I whisper to myself, " SHUT UP!!!!"

The FE Diary..

2008-05-10T12:53:00.000+06:00

27th Jan 2017, VVIP’s, corporate moguls’ and the media were all crowding the already crowded gateway of the Taj Hotel in Mumbai. It was not a ‘Filmfare Night’ but even more important if not glamorous. Tonight one of India’s best entrepreneurs was to be chosen from a list which was not less imposing than the 2002 Brazilian Line up which won the Soccer World Cup. Inside the ‘Dhirubhai Auditorium’ the tension was mounting. I could see the tension on others faces but something in me still made me feel comfortable.
After the initial ‘speechery’ of the ‘distinguished’ guests (most of whom didn’t know anything about business); the ever cheerful hostess called upon Mr. Anil Ambani to present the ‘Best Entrepreneur Award’. The whole gathering went into frenzy and the next thing I remember was that I was flocked by all the ‘money-makers’, reporters the public waiting outside was already shouting for me. With some help from the security I made my way to my Benz and drove away to my parent’s place. In my house, the reception was no less heart-warming. I could see the fulfillment in my mother’s eyes and the happiness on my father’s face, their confidence in me was finally bearing fruit. Among all the celebrations, my mother did not forget to remind me of my formative years at (arguably) the best engg. institution in the country; no marks for guessing- The GCOEP!
Yes, the GCOEP had indeed done a lot in shaping my personality and character. The unusual ‘tension-freeness’ I experienced at the awards ceremony even when others were sweating due to the heat of the moment, was all because of the GCOEP. No, I had not forgotten anything of those four glorious years at the college. Those were undoubtedly the best days of my life.
Suddenly, I remembered that immediately after the Std. XII exam and all through the FE I had maintained a diary which had every major incident explained in detail. But was it possible to get that diary after a gap of almost 15 years? I gave it a shot! I looked through all my old books, right from the then outdated MS Office Manuals to the ever-reliable Manorama Yearbooks. Amidst the ‘dust and heat’ of bygone days I spotted a brown coloured book. You are right; it was my ‘treasure chest’. It was the key to my glorious past. It was my FE Diary.
My happiness knew no bounds. I felt the same joy and satisfaction which our Graphics lecturer must have felt while delaying my submission because it was flawless! [Caution: - Never submit a near perfect submission. Some obvious errors must be present so that the intelligent lecturer may correct them after hours of scanning and finally take your submission with the same errors but with good marks.]
The ‘CAUTION’ statement was at the fag end of the diary. I noticed it as I quickly browsed through the yellowing manuscript. I settled down immediately and opened the first page; [don’t get bored, the ‘Preface’ and ‘About the Author’ columns were not included in this abridged edition.]. The diary came straight to the point.

22nd May 2002:- ‘JUDGEMENT DAY’
“The final verdict is passed; Advait Borate scores 288 in his PCM group.”
288 did to some extent disappoint me but there was no reason feeling sorry for the train had already left the station. I desperately wanted COEP (Mech.); but the above aim was fast becoming a dream.

28th June 2002:- ‘THE ADMISSION ADRENALINE’
“The application forms for engg. admissions were up for sale. Got one for myself.”
What followed were a series of debates regarding the admission rounds. The above programs were a daily show on ‘Advait T.V’ and more often than not Advait himself was the host.

15th July 2002:- ‘ADMISSION MAGZINE: THE TRUE STORY’
“Round IA begins. I went to Pune to COEP today, saw the campus and more importantly got a seat in Electrical in the same college. My aim is partially fulfilled.”
Well, the initial disappointment about the std. XII setback was forgotten to some extent. But the seat that I secured was also due to the help of ‘Vasantdada Patil’ (Ex-CM of Maharashtra). Had he not given permission to start private engg. colleges, getting into COEP would have remained a dream. The subsequent rounds (only two to be precise) didn’t bring great news. So finally I became ‘Advait @ GCOEP (Electrical)’ [Not my e-mail ID]

5th Sept 2002:- ‘THE HOSTEL HOTCH-POTCH’
“I am in Pune; the hostel admission list was displayed 4 hours late (quite early by govt. standards). I did not get hostel had to find alternate accommodation.”
Well, it was the most disgusting day of my life. After waiting for 4 long hours I find that I am ‘hostel-less’. I bet I can never understand how they calculate the seat distribution as far as the hostel is concerned.

20th Oct 2002:- ‘THE RAGGING RAGA’
“In the hostel, I was ragged (Shh! talk silently, ragging is prohibited at least the sign boards say so!). It was the usual stuff. Hope I can do something innovative the next year.”
I must say that after this experience I am ready to face the rigours of the world. I certainly feel that ragging (not of the extreme kind) does help personality development. The ragging continued till the end of the first semester and it all culminated with a ‘Fresher’s Party’. After this, all our ‘Sirs’ were reduced to ‘Pals for Life’.

27th Nov 2002:- ‘THE SUBMISSION HEAT’
“The heat is on and even an AC can’t cool it. The lights in all the rooms are on throughout the night and the boys never look tired”.
The submission does help us to know how long the nights are. After the ordeal ends, the room is littered with a bucket, a glass, a bulb and yes many sheets (which finally end up being used for the college gathering promotion campaign). It is a nice experience and after this you understand what the song ‘Raat Baki’ really meant.

2nd Jan 2003:- ‘CROUCHING PL’s HIDDEN EXAMS’
“The joy of the New Year celebrations were diluted due to the pending first semester exams. The PL’s were really demanding”.
In the PL after slogging for 16-17 hrs. a day, in a pensive mood we do think “If only I had studied regularly”. But this never happens. Every semester result is decided in the 15 days of the PL. The actual exams went as usual but with less surveillance (to everyone’s surprise).
This diary reading experience was even more interesting than a Sherlock Holmes novel. Each and every incident was unfolding very slowly just like a newly wed bride during her nuptial night. It was all so comforting.
The next thing as far I remember was ‘Valentine’s Day’. I quickly turned the pages, but could not find the relevant entries. I checked the page nos. and found some pages missing.
I remembered the fight I had with my roomy; as he was secretly reading my diary and the missing pages were a casualty of this battle. I did not feel sorry for the casualties but now the loss seemed irreparable. I just sat there looking at the setting sun, thinking of all the fun I had at GCOEP and as the day ended, another chapter in the life of a COEPian had ended with a promise of a new day full of worthy challenges for a COEPian.

Go find!!!!

2008-04-18T22:04:00.000+06:00

When everything crumples down there is only gloom and dust,
Why then do I harbour faith and trust?
When each passing second feels like a ton
Tell me why should I not point a gun?

Its just a deep haze around me,
Nothing but plain barrenness for miles to see.
Tell me then why should i search for an ounce of glee?
When everybody around me has decided to flee.

Is this cowardice creeping in me?
I think yes, I am trying to run from me...
But then there is only one thing I foresee
Its jus me, me and only me...

On the once busy intersection of life,
Aloofness is only rife.
Is this my doing? Was I never kind??
Well my mirror smiles at me and simply says, Go find!!!!

If only you would have faced it dear...

2008-01-02T18:54:00.000+06:00

Is it really hard when somebody just says no?
Or is it that you think so?
Do two no's make a yes?
Is life like a game of chess?

You pretend to have the answers to these,
And you sit back and munch on your cheese.
But then out of the blue IT comes to the fore,
and says, hey there try making 2 and 2 four.

You are dumbfounded, and u are slow,
For you never excepted it to hit you so low.
You try hard to add up your numbers,
But all you can see is a field of cucumbers.

IT gives you chances to look around and learn
But each time you show little concern
Then IT starts robbing you one by one
Expecting that atleast now you will stand up and say that, "I am the one."

But you just sit there looking at the cucumbers,
Even smiling as you enjoy your slumbers.
IT tries to wake you up by laying a trap,
But you are too slow to even react.

It all ends one fine morning,
When IT comes all demanding.
You try hard to remember your numbers
But all you can manage are again cucumbers.

All that remains of you now is a distant memory,
That too,not amongst all who attended the last ceremony.
A few still visit you sometimes to shed a tear
and say , "If only you would have faced it dear..."

For you MY LOVE

2007-11-25T11:31:00.000+06:00

I don't know what took me so long,
and this ain't even a song.
You may call it a rhyme if you wish,
but all i want to give is a LOVE YOU kiss.

Don't ask me why and how much I love you;
I just want you to know that I care for you.
I may not call you up 4 times a day,
But hey quality is rare, what say?

I still remember that first cofee we had,
I was all agressive and in innocence you were clad.
I thik I made a mess out of it, I even worded it bad;
But it was a burden off my shoulders , and I think even you were glad.

For you MY LOVE, I put my CREATIVITY to the test.
I hope you like it, even call it BEST.
In my life, My LOVE, you are the only BEND,
You are the start and you are the only END.

{Its been more than a year and a half since i wrote this one, thought I had lost the original manuscript but I bumped into it and here it is posted.As could be anybody's guess, this one is DEDICATED and ofcourse written for my DEAREST.
I LOVE YOU GIRL, KEEP THE FIRE BURNING.}