A Cold November morning

I like cold mornings. Come to think of it I also always like novels that start in the morning in a cold place. London or chicago or maybe Washington. I havent yet read a novel that is placed in Perth. Thats a nice cold place too. Most of the older English novels had some scenes in the fog, or about people sitting in front of a fireplace while the mist swirled out in the streets. London was once famous for its dense fogs in which it is said one couldnt see a person standing a few feet away. It is in these kind of fogs that Jack the Ripper prowled around the great city looking for victims to mutiliate. Sherlock Holmes's London was illuminated by gaslight and Hansom cabs went about on the roads.

A little later Agatha Christie used fogs elaborately to keep her characters inside the quaint cottages and mansions while her murderers had a good time planning cunning murders. Enid Blyton used the mist in "Five go to the Mystery Moor" for a climax of the childrens novel, Children roaming about at night in the deserted moors, blinded by the thick mists looking for the old rusted railway line to find their way home was enough to make that book sell.

Goa also has misty mornings, the Malim side of the Mandovi bridge is often covered in a light mist in november and on colder days the rivulet below the Banastarim bridge has a mist hanging over the still water thats reflecting the orange sunrise - Smoke on the water, A fire in the sky. That combined with the quiet Karmaili Railway station creates an Awesome Ambience.

For the present I will have to settle for Pune. The only serial killers this city has seen are the Jakkal and Sutar of Abhayankar Joshi killings. Back in the winter of 1976 this city was as scared as London was 100 years ago during the times of Jack the ripper, this was beacuse of the gruesome killings that took place. The culprits were 5 students who did it for the thrill and the money. At one point one of them carried a corpse on his motorcycle tied to his own body at the back, and when he was stopped by the police said that he was taking home a friend that wasn't well. He then went on and dumped the body into the mutha river. Even the Americans cant beat this.

The winter is just setting in and every morning is more colder. After the recent antics of the rain, the folks at the office say the winter will be freezing this year. I have clicked this picture at 7am, one can see the fog is hiding chandani chowk a quiet place in the hills and a lovers spot.

Test

I am trying to get cell phone images on my blog using my cellphone

The Indian Crow

This crow comes to my uncles place in mumbai every morning asking to be fed by hand. He comes at the same time punctually and then uncle feeds him a biscuit or two. It wasnt possible to click the moment where he actually takes it from the hand, also as can be seen from his expression he was wary of my presence. It shows that even the crows in mumbai aren't far behind in smartness compared to their human counterparts.
:-)

At one time South Mumbai used to be home to white pigeons, thousands of them literally. As kids when we visited relatives in mumbai the visit was just another trip for the grownups, For us it was something like Alice in wonderland, the rush of Mumbai was gigantic in contrast to the idle afternoons in Panaji. Then after meeting all the relatives and their friends and making friemds of our own, then on returning back there was a mumbai hangover. Most time was spent in talking about mumbai and its niceties the next few days one felt like a tourist to goa and a resident to Mumbai, and the only thoughts were about when the city could be visited again, but this line of thought only brought the realization that such an endeavour was subject to the whims of the grownups and that another visit would take ages.

The infinite line of second hand booksellers at Flora Fountain, local trains and the wide streets and the food vendors and the ancient establishments in the British stone buildings were delightful but one knew these things couldnt be possible in Panaji, also one couldnt see anything that reminded one about them. There were no booksellers at all, no cows tied by the roadside to feed. The only thing that irked me was the the trademark white pigeons or rather the absence of them. In Goa one could only see the regular, standard issue blue colored pigeons with no sign of the classic white birds, i couldnt find a single one of these in Goa. The blue (or whatever color it is supposed to be) pigeons were very heartbreaking.

I concluded therefore that perhaps the fair birds have their own standards to keep and inhabit only the cosmopolitan cities, and I was right for this habit of the Kabutars to stick to the cities with the limelight has paid heavy dividends. These pretty birds that were only seen momentarily in ancient hindi war movies as lowly messengers, slowly increased in standard to be the courier service for Bhagyashree in "Kabutar Ja" then after doing item numbers like "chadh gaya upar re" song in Dalaal the bird got lucky in "Lucky kabutar" and last year Sonam kapoor was being compared to it in "Massakali Massakali", what a great journey their darker friends preferred to stay in the smaller towns and the only scenes they get are as extras in which they have to peck at the grains on the road in large numbers to portray mumbai.

Now whenevr i visit Mumbai I miss the white pigeons, for they seem to have dissapeared from here too, outnumbered by the lower classed variety. Maybe soon we shall see them in hollywood movies. Adeus.

Golden horizon

I clicked this one from the bus on the way home from work.

November Rain

Pune 6:50am. Its raining here today. I am waiting for the company vehicle by the roadside. The sky is overcast and almost all the windows in the area have their lights on. Like me, most pedestrians seem to have been caught unawares and many of them now hurry past holding handkerchieves on their heads, with water dripping from the corners. At the other side of the road schoolchildren in wrinkled red and blue raincoats wait for their schoolbus. On the road itself the raindrops are causing fast bubbles in the sky colored puddles. The vehicles drive past slowly in the grey conditions the bright headlights seem extra yellow, the wipers work overtime to clear all signs of the raindrops that fall flat against the glass. The red tail lights leave a blurred red glow on the wetness of the road.

Chetan bhagat time!

Its Chetan Bhagat time again And i am reading '2 states'. I have just started it and I know that the next two days will be blissfully absent minded. I remember I finished 'Five point' at 3:48am and then went to work the next day, thats the magic of his books because you somehow identify with his characters and for this reason he can create emotions within you.
This book is about marriage in india and caste differences with the bhagat tadka.

Ok the bus has started, i have to get back to the novel.

She was the best girl in our college .... :-)

A suitable girl

In India the task of finding a girl for marriage is enough to put Hercules to shame, it is the reason why the engagement to marriage conversion ratio is so high here as compared to the US. No one wants to go through this ordeal again even if their life depended on it.

The process of girl-hunting starts with the sinister phone call the simple young man gets from home about a certain eligible daughter of some relatives, On attempting to defend his right to freedom he is warned to get married right now or else all the good girls will have got married. The reasoning is simple yet clever enough to scare the devil out of the devil himself. Our hero understands what the great George Bernard Shaw said "Get what you want or you will be forced to want what you get" He breaks down and succumbs to their will. The parents arrange a rendezvous between the two parties.

In the coming months our protagonist is subjected to reality show conditions National Geographic ishtyle. He is dragged from door to door of all eligibles, and meets many kinds of prospects, some seem to develop a sudden intense interest in the floor tiles when he starts to talk to them, others keep giggling and seem not to have any sort of idea what he is talking about, with some others offcourse he himself doesnt have any idea what he is talking about and finally there are those who dont understand why anyone who is not a software professional settled in the U.S would want to get married in the first place. Strangely he doesnt get a single rejection for all decisions are conveniently kept pending.

Our hopeful realises that time is of the essence he will have to find someone himself, he starts looking around for the perfect match, he visits places inhabited by the opposite sex but he understands the consequences if he were to walk up and ask them if they happen to be a kushamrit brahmin with no kuja dosha, So he lets on to his friends that he is looking, however his attempts at implementing this new strategy are hampered by a new unforeseen problem - compatability. An american has the world to choose from, he may marry a spanish-chinese woman with african kids, pakistani relatives and an eskimo for an ex-husband and still his parents and relatives would look bored at the wedding, not so for our man here.

Our indian realises that he may find a girl from the same religion, caste, and subcaste with matching horoscope and common interests who doesnt mind marrying him and who also happens to be related from the maternal side however the parents and relatives will still wish she had her Saturn a little more to the left. Since girls dont carry all this information printed on the front of their tops he turns to information technology and gets introduced to matrimonial sites.

Our candidate is now in awe of the way one may find women who are interested in marriage, and who have already declared their requirements, and who can also see him. The information is freely declared, Hell! there is even a column for weight and one for salary. There is an astonishing variety to choose from, He is sure he has reached the right place, this is the promised land. He surfs for the right match that will light the holy fire for his marriage, but suddenly realises that the opposite sex has as many choices as he does. Day after day passes until he realises that the site is no different from reality.

He now learnes that there is scarce hope of finding the girl of his dreams. The hunt has made a man out of him. He lives a quite life. Then one night as he lies awake dreaming about a life of celibacy in the nature rich himalayas he gets another phone call from his parents. In a "where were you on the night of june the nineteenth" manner they ask him if he remembers the girl he had seen in september - the one who had done her B.Sc in botany ... yes! he replies trying hard to remember ... Well then they ask ... is it ok if the marriage is fixed in january?

American Business

I found this interesting and hilarious analogy in my mailbox that I wanted to share

It is the month of September, on the shores of the Black Sea . It is raining, and the little town looks totally deserted. It is tough times, everybody is in debt, and everybody lives on credit.
Suddenly, a rich tourist comes to town.
He enters the only hotel, lays a 100 Euro note on the reception counter, and goes to inspect the rooms upstairs in order to choose one.
The hotel proprietor takes the 100 Euro note and runs to pay his debt to the butcher.
The butcher takes the 100 Euro note, and runs to pay his debt to the pig grower.
The pig grower takes the 100 Euro note, and runs to pay his debt to the supplier of his feed and fuel.
The supplier of feed and fuel takes the 100 Euro note and runs to pay his debt to the town's prostitute that in these hard times, gave her "services" on credit.
The hooker runs to the hotel, and pays off her debt with the 100 Euro note to the hotel proprietor to pay for the rooms that she rented when she brought her clients there.
The hotel proprietor then lays the 100 Euro note back on the counter so that the rich tourist will not suspect anything.
At that moment, the tourist comes down after inspecting the rooms, and takes his 100 Euro note, after saying that he did not like any of the rooms, and leaves town.
No one earned anything. No one produced anything. However, the whole town is now without debt, and looks to the future with a lot of optimism.... .
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how the United States Government is doing business today.

Way Home

Its 5:15pm and yet another bus ride. I will be home in about 2 hours. Going home from work is about staring out from a blank window, and a lot of reflections about yet another day gone by. Its about reading the same signboards and about traffic jams in the same places. on the Pune Ahmednagar highway one sees wedding processions and deathly accidents, street fights and the crowded friday bazaars. On that day there are also colorful dupattas and shining bangles together with the small delighted faces of children.
The landscape is about political billboards and alternating with green fields and factories. In the distance one can see the expanse of the great deccan plains.
The photos here have been taken from the company bus whilst on the way home.
Now for a quiet nap.

Ganapati Bappa Morya!

I am trying to find a restaurant that isn’t closed by the swine flu scare or one whose owners aren’t busy at home with last minute Ganesh Chaturthi preparations. Outside a stall erected by the roadside they are selling Idols of Lord Ganesh and other accessories.
Unlike Goa, here they just go to a shop and buy the idol on chaturthi morning like a Narkasur Mask. There is no booking. They dont care that the idol isn’t the same as last year. They just buy the most convenient model they can find. Probably they bargain for it too. Just like in case of Narkasur masks.
On the road there are small processions of Hindu families walking grandly, dressed in their Thursday best carrying their Elephant god home whilst chanting Ganapati Bappa Morya. Everyone around seems to be smiling and pleased. Unlike Panaji, this place doesn’t seem like a war torn city. The air doesn’t smell of burnt fire powder. There is no distant booming of Dada bombs or the continuous chitty chitty bang bang of pistols across every street. Neither does one hear the staccato burst of crackers. There are no parachutes dropping down from the sky on unsuspecting civilians. There aren’t even harmless smoke screens of snake tablets. At night there will be no bright flares sent up and no rockets will be launched from old soda bottles. Chaturthi in this city is about lights and decoration. There is an atmosphere of victory and triumph. Drums, clangels and delighted shouts sound a happy feeling. Lezim performances in large roadside processions, and colors in the air create a festive fervor.
Strangely, in Goa we have the same kind of celebrations for Narkasur as they have here for chaturthi. We roam around the entire night amidst the sound of dhols and processions of jubilant dancing groups. We are more happy on Narkasur night than on Diwali the next day when we try to get some sleep. We are more united and spend much more time to construct a perfectly proportioned Narkasur than in organizing a social Ganapati programme.

We are different from the others in the fact that we celebrate Narkasur more than Chaturthi. We want to celebrate the 500th anniversary of the coming of the Portuguese our invaders to goa.
Well considering these facts, since Goa is called the Rome of the east. I think i will tap my head like goscinny’s Obelix, shake my head in exasperation and exclaim 'these Romans are crazy!'.
Ok fine, we Romans are crazy.
I have to leave for work now, when the company vehicle passes through the city I will probably see the other artwork and the bigger idols, till then Ganapati Bappa! ...

A Quiet Thursday

Thursday is about vegetarian food and load shedding, its a weekly off too. These three things guarantee an uneventful day. The government has shut down all multiplexes and that means no movie going like i used to do on other thursdays.
The picture i've taken is of a cloud formation above chandni chowk whilst on my way to lunch. My usual restaurant has been shut down by swine flu so i have to walk a lot extra to earn my lunch. I think i will read a book today.

Independence Day pune

Its yet another independence day. The annual mass conducted for a dead
country. The good news is global recession is wearing off according to
the times of india. Germany and france are out of recession probably
this phenomenon too will be hailed as an achievement of the congress
goverment. "humne, humara government ne, aam admi ka liye france aur
germany ko vishva uh ... Vishva ... Ok global recession se bahar
nikala, aisa NDA govt. Nahin kar saka tha unke karyakaal mein"
whatever.
Suresh Kalmadi the MP of pune has asked everyone to take precautionary
measures against swine flu. He has started a very good example by not
visiting any of the affected areas and hospitals and has stayed
indoors. Swine flu masks are being distributed free and the collector
has announced that three of the recorded deaths are not due to swine
flu but due to some other disorder. That brings the national toll
down. Thats supposedly good news here.

Like i said yet another independence day.

Test 2

Now to see if i can post photos with my mobile device

Testing

I am trying to see if i can mail my posts to my blog.

Testing

I am trying to get cell phone images on my blog using my cellphone

Appraisal

My appraisal is going to take place today, clutching a plastic folder i wait outside the VP's cabin. The folder contains documentary evidence of my activities throughout the year. I somehow know exactly how this appraisal is going to be like. Facing two appraisals is enough to qualify anyone to talk about these damned ordeals.

This case shall be known as "The people of the company v/s the apraisee". The apraisee who shalt hitherto be known as the accused sits clutching his folder in nervous hands, whilst everyone else in the room are greeting each other gravely. Then they settle down and a hush spreads over the cabin. The immediate boss who shalt hitherto be known as the Victim smiles and begins his opening speech starting with some small talk about how many things have been kept pending because of these appraisals etc. They should understand that he is to be counted as one among them and not to be seen as a confederate of the accused, also that he does not endorse the views of the accused in any way, this helps to make sure that his own appraisal wont get affected. Finally the chief stares at the accused and in a "where were you on the night of june the nineteenth?" manner asks him about his activities throughout the year. Taking advantage of the kind attention appraisee slides Exhibit A - Appraisal form onto the table.

The chief picks up the document appearing to be extremely interested. He can be only as interested as someone who has done nothing else but examine such forms in the last two days). He remarks about some flaw in spelling, formatting or the content to remind everyone that he is THE BOSS and that none else in the room should entertain a similar delusion.

The number of items and the length of each item in the achievements column of the form gives the chief an idea of how long it will take him to deal with this crisis. He immediately asks the accused if he has anything to say about the matter.

The accused, not knowing that what he says can be used against him starts talking. He starts with what he had been told to achieve last year i.e his KRA's. The cabin remains silent as he speaks while the chief gives sympathetic nods for encouragement. He listens carefully, for it is here that he will obtain points for his case.
By now the accused has finished with the preliminaries and begins with his first achievement. While he is talking the immediate boss sits quietly looking around with a "forgive them god for they know not what they do" look on his face
. This look doesnt go unnoticed.

Like in the famous saying, the chief too looks after his own kind so he takes the cue. The accused has just finished with the first achievement and the chief gives him a look bus conductors are known to give when handed a 1000 rupee note for a 3 rupee ticket.
That is when the show begins.
Somehow the chief cannot understand how the accused had anything to do with the achievement. There is insufficient evidence. Firstly concerned people havent witnessed the achievement, those who did witness werent concerned, and those witnesses who were concerned arent allowed to testify by law. There are documents offcourse but these should have been presented earlier, before the accused knew he would be asked to prove his case. Its a clear case of fraud, however these things happen and anyway that is another case.

All the other achievements meet a similar fate. The chief dispels each appeal with stern words, ridicule and disbelief in the reverse order. The victim in the meanwhile sits thinking about how hard the world is. He can only smile wearily at the stark reality of life, at the lies, the false petitions and the treachery thats going on. After all that he got done, after all the late hours that he made his subordinates put in this is what he gets in return, how can they lay claim to having done anything at all when he got it done? This thing thats going on is nothing but an attempt to delay the course of law, he has faith though. Justice will be done.

The accused has just finished with his last achievement and he is now exhausted, every one of his nimble arguments have been dealt with by able hands. He stares back like a stripper caught in a police raid. Everything has been proved false except for two things. First one is that the accused was in the company for the last one year, here the chief grants the benefit of doubt, besides one cant be too hard, criminals are human too. The other fact the chief doesnt refute is that the accused is employed in the company for that would mean a mistrial on grounds of jurisdiction.
The appraisal ends and the accused is sentenced to yet another year of rigorous imprisonment. The victim keeps a grave face, one cant grin from ear to ear and show a noble composure at the same time. All that the accused laid claim to will be granted as compensation to the victim.
Justice is blind, anyone who sees with their ears is blind. Like bats.

The people who pass by smile sympathetically, like the other patients before an operation. Through the glass door of the cabin I can see the proceedings for yet another execution. Wish me luck.

adventure of imagination

I am at a place called Nagamod, its called so because of the way the winding road snakes through the mountains. As the bus puffs its way along the winding road, i get to gaze for some time at the vast valleys and the dense forest. For a moment i wonder how difficult this place would have been in the distant past.

at a time when the mountains were pristine and untouched by the caresses of the ebony roads. When the ghats were still to enter the imagination of men. these mountains must have been manly and forbidding.

at such times Shivaji and his men had their numerous adventures, their proud horses galloped through the passes whilst their riders thought of yet another trick to outwit the enemy. These guerrillas ruled these jungles then.

the bus has entered a small town where an ancient shop displays a blue sign that informs me that i can buy NOKIA mobiles here.

Ungodly hours

why am i up at this time? I work, i go to work in an office. I have a job in a company like eight hundred others, most of them are sleeping now or are involved in unmentionable creative activities. Why am i up? That question has been keeping giving me company for sometime now. how many people stay up like me? ok typing this blog has helped me feel sleepy. I have a feeling that reading it will make you feel sleepy as well. Gutt nakht

Hallelujah

The rains have arrived today. Pune is wet and i am sitting in the aforementioned udupi hotel awaiting my candlelight dinner. Its raining outside and i am typing my blog. Couldnt get better than this, sitting in the dark blogging whilst the general public stands under every available piece of tin roof stunned by the rain. No greater pleasure than knowing that you are not in it. Thats what makes me feel cozy. Whats more i've got an umbrella. umbrella as in 'mere paas gadi hai bangla hai bank balance hai, kya hai tumhare paas?' ---- aaj mere paas umbrella hai. Bad joke. Must be the rain.
This reminds me of the cover of upamanyu chatterjee's novel -- 'English August' a painting of a confused looking young man holding an umbrella. I realise at this moment how similar my life is compared to agastya the main character of that story. Convent educated, away from home, alone, in a different work culture, meeting people that he finds strange and what he thinks of these people. I do find it all too similar. But then that is what makes writers click doesnt it? Characters that people can identify with.
Ok my food has arrived, its steaming and looks delicious. Kindly note that i have called agastya the 'main character' and not the protagonist.

slumdog the aftermath

is slumdog really a hell of a movie or is it just the indian in me trying to find some greatness in everything western. It may be my insecurities trying to find acceptance with that part of the world which called it a great film.

Till a few days ago, i like many others thought this movie as a reminder that we still belong to the third world. It seemed like a well disguised Indian movie on india.

Now i realise what that movie is. firstly, yes it deserved the awards. This movie deserved all it got for being an epic movie on indian films. This movie is a collage of all that indian films are about

Gallit gondhal

Gallit Gondhal : Its been a long time since I've laughed so much for a Marathi movie. Anaspure is on a killing spree with his wisecracks at every second line. The film makes me laugh especially because the place where i work relates so much with what is depicted in the movie.
The movie is about politics at the village level and the story of a village youth(Anaspure) who is in the middle of it all. The small scuffles and the game of one upmanship between the two village leaders and how the youth takes advantage of that is funny but the truth is that this is what really happens here in Maharashtra and I can vouch for that.

Hell! the other day they even put up posters to wish the local leaders kid on his birthday, and one can see the extravagant marriage processions by the Ahmednagar Highway, they have camels to carry the children (yes camels as in humps) and elephants and a Chariot for the groom with live DJ (jeez they would have loved this in the Mahabharata) and the long procession dancing wildly by the roadside. Alternatively there may be a lezim troupe accompanied by Dhols and trumpets. All this I am told, is done only to show off power and wealth with an aspiration to a political career. For the same reason they move about in flashy high end SUVs with paan stains on the seats.

Here achievements are measured by what company a person keeps. The locals talk about those successful people who are close to some leader.

A special mention has to be made here about that phenomenon called Banners. In this state no social event can be called an event until it is proclaimed by at least ten banners by the roadside. The events have also to be thanked for later by ten other banners and the main idea behind the banner is that no one be left out. The thin glossy banner carries the egos of several burly people who stare out lovingly but whom the local people often point out to as the murderer of someone or the other.

There is a lot of business here in loudspeakers, lighting systems, DJ's and especially banner making. The best business still remains at the top of the food chain, in politics.

Meeting Jeffrey Archer

Hallelujah! He has come. He walks in with bodyguards and the other officials, while the entire hall is clapping wildly, finally he reaches the podium looks around smiling and then requests all the photographers to stop flashing. He then begins to talk and the hall falls silent trying to catch on to his every word. I discover that besides being a master storyteller and a wonderful novelist Jeffrey Archer is a fantastic Orator. He invents jokes and wisecracks on the spot while he is narrating some hilarious incident in his life.

I have now moved to the sides of the hall, though i have to stand the place is much much closer to the stage. As he nears the end of his speech about his latest book "Paths of glory" he asks for questions and just about every hand in the hall goes up. All kinds of questions come up, but two lucky ones are most notable. The first comes from a middle ages woman who wants to know how difficult it is to be a writer, he answers that by asking how many of the people in the hall have thought of writing, all hands go up, then he asks how many have actually written anything, half the hands go down, next he asks how many have written a full length novel, and only two hands stay up, How many have got published and there are no more hands standing. Then he mentions that for every thousand published novels there is one that makes it to the best sellers list. The question is answered.

The next question comes typically from a sardar who wants to know/state that the endings of all of Jeffrey Archers novels are predictable. Archer pretends to be in awe of someone who could predict the endings because he himself couldn't predict the endings until he wrote them. When the laughter dies down he tells us how imperative it is to reach a good ending, and that he is lucky to have got good endings for all his novels. He then looks about to pick the next person with a question. I think how lucky these people are for being able to talk. Yes I am stupid but i wont be realizing that until later.

"Ok, you there ..." Jeffrey Archer says and suddenly everyone is looking at me, thats when i remember my hand is still up. Someone passes me the mike, and Jeffrey waits patiently, After introducing myself, I ask him if it is important to have been to the place that one is writing about. He says it is handy but not important before narrating his own experience. 

The mike passes on to someone else and after a few more questions the signing session begins and although Jeffrey has promised that he wont leave until he has signed every book everyone wants to push around and get to the front. I get my copy of "Kane and Abel" signed and leave the place. Like the British would say what a wonderful evening!!

Writer

I have been sitting in this chair for the last half hour. I want to but cant go to the loo, i cant even afford to stand up and walk around. Somebody else in this packed bookstore may take my place. Cant take that risk either. But as i sit here i understand all those people who wait for hours to catch a glimpse of their favorite filmstar. I wont snigger at that sentiment anymore. I have bought a copy of kane and abel to get it autographed by the man himself. Jeffrey archer. There is still an hour to go.

Meeting- Holistic View

The best way to kill an idea is to take it to a meeting. I am in a meeting now. The only good thing about it is the cool breeze from the AC just behind me, after the heat of the workshop this feels like paradise. In front of me many people are arguing with each other. I understand that its about the distribution of responsibilities.

Its becoming a game of water polo with everyone using colorful management terms and trying to shirk workload whilst trying to justify it in the most honest manner. The seniors speak about holistic view. This view i understand has nothing to do with holes or his holiness the pope. Its a term used as pre emptive strike to make your subordinate look narrow minded and is the best way to drive the point home that "you got to do it coz i am saying so"

It is used right after someone has finished explaining the utter unfeasibility of a particular suggestion made by you, thats when you say "try to see the holistic view" a better variation would be "why cant you see the holistic view" In a second you have proved to everyone arond the table that

1)the suggestion is viable

2)the subordinate is too low to understand intellectuals like you.

Also, it has acted as a silent message to everyone that whatever happens this thing is got to be done.

The people around the long table, are arguing heatedly. I can hear a lot of holistic views. I am sitting calmly though. If they see me now they see a man who is listening. I know thats the way they like people, those who sit serene and tranquil ...

Under the table my hands work furiously. I think i have learnt how to type on my keypad without looking.

Two hours for life

It was the company annual gathering yesterday. It was a good evening, although i mean that in a meteorogical sense. No social outing can be enjoyed while ones own stomach feels like an aquarium.

The entertainments started by sundown. The people performing on stage werent professionals and this fact was clear by their performance. They are employees of the company and were chosen to participate after a gruesome selection process.

They were now performing in front of 2000 people.

Some of them may have had performed before and were veterans, some others may have enough experience for this to be just another performance.

However for those doing it for the first time this was a great evening. They dont know it yet, wont realise it for some time.

These two hours are going to be theirs for life. This evening will be with them always whenever they are down in life, this evening will remind them that they are something. The beauty of this setup is that they donot know this yet. They are fidgetting, worrying and scurrying about to make sure everything is perfect for their performance.

Maybe one late night one of them is lying on his/her bed wondering about themselves, and what they are this evening will answer. The people around me were grumbling, discussing how mediocre the whole show was, How could this be allowed. They didnt know the significance of this evening to all the people on stage.

I personally will remember this evening as the only time in modern history when i didnt have reshmi kababs while they were offered to me. Upset stomachs dont like reshmi kababs.

Early morning

Its early morning and I am at chandani chowk waiting for the company vehicle. The NDA- National Defence academy is 1.5 km. Away. And the view is vast. I am thinking about something else. I am thinking that if we are in a haunted house we should make ugly faces to scare any ghosts that may be around. To let them know that you are going to do it to them and not they to you. If life hands you lemons make a lemon powered battery and give it an electric shock. I havent had enough sleep last night.

Udupi Manchurians

Its a south indian restaurant and i have ordered Mushroom fried rice. Thats the only chinese item i can eat here. Udupi people are meant to make dosas and sambhars and not veg Manchurian. I am saying this because the manchurian here looks like vada sambar. The vadas smell like napthalene balls. The overall effect is of watching Rajnikanth in a Jackie Chan movie.

 In Pune finding a good restaurant is a mission that takes some time. Firstly one has to find a good place ... Anyways the steaming rice has arrived. The mushrooms look like they have been in a bar fight. Now for a fine dinner.

The Bitch

I am looking out of the window watching the fields and small houses pass by as our company bus races along the highway. I am thinking about the bitch. And why they did that to her. Today morning i read about the bitch that was caught by the PMC dog catchers and dragged after their vehicle with a rope tied around her neck. 2 kilometres later she gave up and died. She was unwilling to go with them because she had to look after her eight puppies. They are now lying by the roadside. Motherless. We have once again surpassed all expectations. When slumdog didnt have characters like these. The bus is now passing by the Ambedkar institute for tribal studies. Outside the gate itself are a few slums, or maybe they are the labs.

Done

Yes, it does work.

Test

I am trying to blog through my cellphone. That way i can maintain my blog better. In a few minutes i will know if this works.

Have

Back from Work - Pune Room
It was the first day of work after vacation. I am back to life in Pune. The heat here is bearable only because there isnt any sweat, clothes dont stick to you and you feel fresh. I'd still prefer to be in Goa despite the sweat, and despite everything. Nothing like being at home.

Is this what i want? If not, then what do i want?

In other ways Do we want to want what we want?.

Like If i want to build a heat exchanger in record time, is that what i actually want to do? Am i wanting to build a heat exchanger only because someone else (or everyone else) wants to build it in record time. If i want to build it fast just because everyone is doing the same, is that what i want?

do i want to do something just because everyone else is doing the same?

So, do we want to want what we want?

If we dont get something is it because someone else wanted it more? Are successful people better at wanting their success than unsuccessful people? Sucess is getting what you want to get. In that way people who get what they want are successful. Arent lazy people the most sucessful? For want to get out of work and actually doing it?

Is it then that to achieve sucess we have to go after what we really want? Why do we hesitate to want what we want. Is it possible to extract in single piece our own pure desires and wants from those of others when they are mixed so badly? Are the lazy people so sucessful (in theory) only because they have managed to isolate their wants? isolated their wants so much that accept them as their own.

The fan is loosing speed, the room is suddenly silent. There is one other thing that Goa doesnt have, electricity load shedding. Its a long night ahead. Good night.

History

10:00pm. Mumbai

I am standing at the entrance of a local train going to Vashi. Its speed is making it rock from side to side. there isnt much to see but fields and the odd cluster of buildings. Only the humid wind feels good on my face. Behind me is the man sitting on a stack of photo albums. He hasnt found a seat, but is working at slipping photographs into the albums. He pushes the snaps into the polythene covers, thats what he does for a living putting snaps into polythene covers.

The people in the pictures are all smiling, i think its the bride and groom. The album in the mans hand is probably the most eagerly awaited piece of documentation for them. The entire family are going to pore over each page carefully, joke over every captured moment. There may be quarrels over turning the pages and taunts about the clothes make up and jewellery. Then the bride and bridegroom will go through it fondly, the groom will make naughty remarks about her poses while she tries to point out her relatives to him, this will go on for some days before the bride places it amidst new sarees in the shelf of a brand new cupboard that still smells of oil paint.

It will be retrieved often in the days to come for the benefit of visiting guests who couldnt attend the ceremony. By this time the plactic on the cover will come off at the corner. Someone else will get married or the couple will go on a trip and the album will then be outdated. It will be placed further back in the cupboard or maybe placed in a bottom drawer together with other papers that are "needed but not now".

A couple of more years while the couple is cleaning, the kids will find the album and go through it, wondering when such a big function took place and more importantly why they arent in it. The most basic study of history. It may be puzzling to find their parents so happy together like they have never seen them. A lot of innocent questions may follow, the mother may give some story even promise to take them for the next such function if they are good. They may be too busy cleaning and let the children figure out things for themselves.

The album will then be "needed but not here" It will be placed in a box and the box will go to the attic . It will stay there throughout the childrens growing up years, and it wont be retrieved while the parents are busy working though their middle age and their ungrateful teenagers argue with them over everything. The album may see daylight during routine cleanings, and if the family decides to shift. The grownups will be gone and the parents will now be alone and too tired to be cleaning the attic. The album will have to wait while they watch their television.

The grownups will come back one day and one afternoon decide to clean up. They will wonder whats in the old boxes and wonder if it is required. Parental gratitude if not paternal love will make them stop the cleaning and go through the entire album. For the parents it will be a revitaliser, a sudden reminder of sweet nothings and starry eyes and soft holding of hands at the sunset. It may also remind them silently of the dreams they had shared. The album will be a part of those dreams, the only scrap they have; like the reciept of the dreams that destiny took away. The grownups will leave in a day or two. This piece of sepia documented history will remain on the coffe table.

The train pulls into Vashi station. The man is now playing with his handset. The photos have all been put into the albums. All history has been documented. A young couple suddenly gets up and come to him, "chalo, lift the albums we have to get down here" The bride says and then frowns. They both appear puzzled as to why i am smiling at them. The train grinds to a halt and i walk away.

First post

I was trying to get a better name for this blog but they have all been taken. There is no real reason for this name, only that it was available and i wanted to start a blog. There is a reason behind choosing this though i think you'll figure it out by the background color.