when the RSS feed from http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/astropix.html showed up an image of a meteorite heading to Pimpri. Pah, those auto-drivers at Roxy's Family Bar and Restaurant won't have a chance of survival, while me, staying 200 metres away will. Also, my colleague has just stood up and with a i-give-up wave of the hands has declared that she's going home. Rules here - last one to leave has to knock off the lights and fans and deposit the key at security. I ain't gonna be that guy 3rd day in a row.
Hoping I've got my umbrella in place; never know if one moves closer than 200 m to Roxy's.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Of a pimpxx and a woe!
"Yeah, the project is in Pune!".
"4 weeks, max 5 weeks!".
Couple of the lines that the voice at the other end of the phone had uttered. National roaming rates are fairly high. But there was music in that voice - music that told me that I would be onto a project pretty soon.
I packed. I packed like I was heading out to camp in the Redwood trees in California. Two bags, one looking like something really bad had been done to it in prison. A laptop shoulder bag and the laptop standard bag itself. The former to take me on short trips to Bombay - the presumption being that I would be able to make it to Bombay every single weekend.
Bigger incentives had been mentioned - stay @ Ginger, the economic traveller's hotel from the Tatas. I checked out images and videos of it on the net. They had a gymnasium. THEY HAD A GYMNASIUM. Memories of those images ran across my eyes while taking a bath a few minutes later. Glee escaped the mind and a smirk landed on the face. I would lose weight I knew. I would work hard at the project and work-out harder once back to the hotel. It had all been well-planned. The plan looked snug and a silent prayer joined the steam, reaching out ot open skies through the window of the bathroom. Not the nicest place to let prayers out I understand, but heck , I haven't really been the most religous of folks. Not for someone who has let out sighs in churches and smoke rings in Udupi restaurants (I'm not a smoker, mind it! :) ).
The next few days, strangers let out condescending glances at my sight and friends noticed that I walked like I had a six-pack cleanly tucked in under the shirt. I told them that it was a sign of things to come.
Four days and two more visits to Java city later, it was a smooth, though a 45-minute delayed landing at Pune. "Pimpri" I said to the cab-driver and was looking forward to the one major(?) city I hadn't yet set foot in. Friends had told me that it was a smaller version of Bangalore, that the pubs are great here and the place has weather to die for (the last was right, the weather here sure can kill and my clothes stick to me). Small or not, I was sure the people were of the same size as the average Bangalorean (count me out - of late there have been these frequent visits to Pecos that threaten to skew the average).
Mr. Cabbie ("Gore" as called by the guy guiding customers to the cabs), drove. He drove at a pace that would make cyclists yawn. And I'm not even referring to the new range of geared mountain cycles that come by of late!
The woes began thus!
In fluent Hindi - my command over the language is so bad, that it sounded like Marathi for a moment, which is good :) - I asked him how far was Pimpri from the airport. 20 km said the voice without its owner having to turn around. The heart sunk. "Aur Pune city?" I asked. There was a nice poha of hope, anxiety and aloo sev thrown into the question. 20 km said the voice again. Reiterating the question, led to reiteration of the answer. "Aur city se Pimpri tak?!!". This was to be the decisive question. It wasn't a voice this time. It was more inhuman and emotionless. "20 km". An equilateral love triangle. The head went in circles to compliment geometry. The stomach threatened to digest the kidneys and the red blood cells were threatening to go back to the airport and join the strike they were predicting. Clarivoyant, these RBCs I say! But just when one thinks its pit-bottom, there comes this stone which would add injury to injury. The insult was still due. We shall get back to it.
It was the consultant who had booked me @ Ginger and the call was to tell me that the provisional booking didn't go through. Polite was the voice that requested me to report straight to office and squinted were the eyes of the listener. "L..La...Lunch available there right?" I asked with innocence. Funny thing about low-cost airlines - just because they charge such inflated prices for the servings inside, one feels hungrier. I had resisted those pangs, because lunch@Ginger felt like a much better idea, one that wasn't of the same social-good as Columbus' cruising the seas, but important to me none the less. "I'm sorry, but lunch would be over by the time you reach" came the reply. Had I seen the face of the speaker I am sure that helplessness would have been spelt in hieroglyphics and Pali on either sides of the face.
"Gore saab, kahi hotel hai jahan khaana milegi?". With complexion closer to mine, I wondered if his folks were being fair in calling him that. Between milega and milegi, its my belief that milegi serves the purpose better when the subject is food. Don't ask me why! I'm someone who takes calls a lot on gut feelings. Food - gut - food, you get the drift! Gore saab assured me of a royal treat on the Mumbai-Pune expressway. And 20 minutes later, promptly stopped at a wayside dhaba, that seemed to have closer resemblances to a saloon than a place for the stomach. I ordered a couple of vada-pavs, for lack of options. In return I let out a couple of burps and ten bucks. Reaching the client's site, a factory at Pimpri, left me with feelings of clear exhaustion. And herein comes the injury that I have mentioned earlier. I couldn't have got off without it, after all these days, one expects and demands end-to-end solutions. The injury had to be meted out, else it would be unprofessional and incomplete an experience - something I striclty look down upon.
Security wouldn't let me in and requested that I stay at the entrance for a beautiful 30 minutes. It being 2: 30 pm ('late noon' to qualify the same), the sun was up to his antics. He shone, he lit up and if I wasn't mistaken, there were a couple of neatly aimed sun-burns that I might have just escaped. 2 days (or 30 minutes, depending on perspective) I was a free man and could find my place under the fan ("a place under the sun"? pah!).
At Hotel Kala Sagar, the shower won't work after the morning goes by, and the food won't come, until the night is well tucked-in. And sometimes, visions of a Gingery gym dance past me during the morning bath. In such times, a glee still escapes my mind, a smirk still lands on my face and a prayer still escapes along with steam, through the meshed windows. And as the water falls on the face in uncertain sequences, I set my mind back to reality, minutes later heading out to hail an autorickshaw. Security doesn't stop me anymore. A silver lining did you say? Fuck you! ;)
"4 weeks, max 5 weeks!".
Couple of the lines that the voice at the other end of the phone had uttered. National roaming rates are fairly high. But there was music in that voice - music that told me that I would be onto a project pretty soon.
I packed. I packed like I was heading out to camp in the Redwood trees in California. Two bags, one looking like something really bad had been done to it in prison. A laptop shoulder bag and the laptop standard bag itself. The former to take me on short trips to Bombay - the presumption being that I would be able to make it to Bombay every single weekend.
Bigger incentives had been mentioned - stay @ Ginger, the economic traveller's hotel from the Tatas. I checked out images and videos of it on the net. They had a gymnasium. THEY HAD A GYMNASIUM. Memories of those images ran across my eyes while taking a bath a few minutes later. Glee escaped the mind and a smirk landed on the face. I would lose weight I knew. I would work hard at the project and work-out harder once back to the hotel. It had all been well-planned. The plan looked snug and a silent prayer joined the steam, reaching out ot open skies through the window of the bathroom. Not the nicest place to let prayers out I understand, but heck , I haven't really been the most religous of folks. Not for someone who has let out sighs in churches and smoke rings in Udupi restaurants (I'm not a smoker, mind it! :) ).
The next few days, strangers let out condescending glances at my sight and friends noticed that I walked like I had a six-pack cleanly tucked in under the shirt. I told them that it was a sign of things to come.
Four days and two more visits to Java city later, it was a smooth, though a 45-minute delayed landing at Pune. "Pimpri" I said to the cab-driver and was looking forward to the one major(?) city I hadn't yet set foot in. Friends had told me that it was a smaller version of Bangalore, that the pubs are great here and the place has weather to die for (the last was right, the weather here sure can kill and my clothes stick to me). Small or not, I was sure the people were of the same size as the average Bangalorean (count me out - of late there have been these frequent visits to Pecos that threaten to skew the average).
Mr. Cabbie ("Gore" as called by the guy guiding customers to the cabs), drove. He drove at a pace that would make cyclists yawn. And I'm not even referring to the new range of geared mountain cycles that come by of late!
The woes began thus!
In fluent Hindi - my command over the language is so bad, that it sounded like Marathi for a moment, which is good :) - I asked him how far was Pimpri from the airport. 20 km said the voice without its owner having to turn around. The heart sunk. "Aur Pune city?" I asked. There was a nice poha of hope, anxiety and aloo sev thrown into the question. 20 km said the voice again. Reiterating the question, led to reiteration of the answer. "Aur city se Pimpri tak?!!". This was to be the decisive question. It wasn't a voice this time. It was more inhuman and emotionless. "20 km". An equilateral love triangle. The head went in circles to compliment geometry. The stomach threatened to digest the kidneys and the red blood cells were threatening to go back to the airport and join the strike they were predicting. Clarivoyant, these RBCs I say! But just when one thinks its pit-bottom, there comes this stone which would add injury to injury. The insult was still due. We shall get back to it.
It was the consultant who had booked me @ Ginger and the call was to tell me that the provisional booking didn't go through. Polite was the voice that requested me to report straight to office and squinted were the eyes of the listener. "L..La...Lunch available there right?" I asked with innocence. Funny thing about low-cost airlines - just because they charge such inflated prices for the servings inside, one feels hungrier. I had resisted those pangs, because lunch@Ginger felt like a much better idea, one that wasn't of the same social-good as Columbus' cruising the seas, but important to me none the less. "I'm sorry, but lunch would be over by the time you reach" came the reply. Had I seen the face of the speaker I am sure that helplessness would have been spelt in hieroglyphics and Pali on either sides of the face.
"Gore saab, kahi hotel hai jahan khaana milegi?". With complexion closer to mine, I wondered if his folks were being fair in calling him that. Between milega and milegi, its my belief that milegi serves the purpose better when the subject is food. Don't ask me why! I'm someone who takes calls a lot on gut feelings. Food - gut - food, you get the drift! Gore saab assured me of a royal treat on the Mumbai-Pune expressway. And 20 minutes later, promptly stopped at a wayside dhaba, that seemed to have closer resemblances to a saloon than a place for the stomach. I ordered a couple of vada-pavs, for lack of options. In return I let out a couple of burps and ten bucks. Reaching the client's site, a factory at Pimpri, left me with feelings of clear exhaustion. And herein comes the injury that I have mentioned earlier. I couldn't have got off without it, after all these days, one expects and demands end-to-end solutions. The injury had to be meted out, else it would be unprofessional and incomplete an experience - something I striclty look down upon.
Security wouldn't let me in and requested that I stay at the entrance for a beautiful 30 minutes. It being 2: 30 pm ('late noon' to qualify the same), the sun was up to his antics. He shone, he lit up and if I wasn't mistaken, there were a couple of neatly aimed sun-burns that I might have just escaped. 2 days (or 30 minutes, depending on perspective) I was a free man and could find my place under the fan ("a place under the sun"? pah!).
At Hotel Kala Sagar, the shower won't work after the morning goes by, and the food won't come, until the night is well tucked-in. And sometimes, visions of a Gingery gym dance past me during the morning bath. In such times, a glee still escapes my mind, a smirk still lands on my face and a prayer still escapes along with steam, through the meshed windows. And as the water falls on the face in uncertain sequences, I set my mind back to reality, minutes later heading out to hail an autorickshaw. Security doesn't stop me anymore. A silver lining did you say? Fuck you! ;)
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Fingers..twitch..blog.. need.. to.. aarghhhhh!!!!!!!
The project has moved to that phase of its life where team members working late hours and yawning would be stuffed pizzas and lots of work into their open mouths..
Time being a constraint, I haven't been able to pay a visit to my blog - as visitor or writer..
something shall soon follow.
In the meanwhile, brother got married.. :)
Time being a constraint, I haven't been able to pay a visit to my blog - as visitor or writer..
something shall soon follow.
In the meanwhile, brother got married.. :)
Monday, January 08, 2007
Classifying the gym species
In terms of self-confidence about what the gym can do to me, I'm fairly high on the scale of failing on this. In about a month it would be Dr. Reddy garu (MBBS, Central University) who would be doing the lifting - of scalpels. Chop-chop and I'll be done with my fat :).
Sunday, December 31, 2006
New Year Resolutions
Its gonna be another 15 minutes before I move out of home and try to get some beer. Amongst other rich seasonal Bangalore traditions is the hooliganism that one displays at Brigade-MG Road junction the last 2 hours of new year's eve and a couple of hours into the new year. Of late though, like other traditions, this one has been diluted with the entry of too many families during the graveyard shift.
With 15 minutes left to leave, I thought I could fill in my new year resolutions. Doesn't deserve more time than that I guessed :-)
1. Stop consuming alcoholic drinks
2. Stop smoking
3. Work harder
4. Get myself a new six-pack (of abs, clearly!)
- The previous purchase order made from TeleShopping is stuck in the Shaolin Temple apparently. Chinese relations I hear!
5. Go easy on the imagination with new year resolutions.
On that note, happy new year folks! :-)
With 15 minutes left to leave, I thought I could fill in my new year resolutions. Doesn't deserve more time than that I guessed :-)
1. Stop consuming alcoholic drinks
2. Stop smoking
3. Work harder
4. Get myself a new six-pack (of abs, clearly!)
- The previous purchase order made from TeleShopping is stuck in the Shaolin Temple apparently. Chinese relations I hear!
5. Go easy on the imagination with new year resolutions.
On that note, happy new year folks! :-)
Friday, December 22, 2006
An hour with the Idiot-box
The Day Begins -
Wake up.
Get ready.
Attempt to go easy on breakfast. Fail!
Hail auto. Fish out a tenner!
Attempt to work. Fail!
Call for kadak chai. Pay.
Attempt to work, again! Partial success!
Lunch.
Attempt to work. Succeed.
Call for kadak chai. Pay.
Check if manager has left.
Affirmative! Slip into his room.
Slip out of formals. Slim into work-out wear.
Work out. Get home. Bathe.
Attempt to go easy on dinner. Fail!
Smoke.
An hour with the Idiot-box! Outcome of time-slicing the hour.
Health Minister Anbamani Ramadoss has a problem with Baba Ramdev, yoga guru, saying Yoga can cure cancer. If more people take to Yoga based on that, cure or no cure, is there an issue?
Hot hostess of “Entertainment Newz” (sic!) tells Vinod Khanna has taken risk. Smart pun she thinks. It’s his new movie’s name – “Risk”. It doesn’t matter what Khanna names any of his movies, watching them is always about taking Risk…for the audience.
The History Channel in Hindi! Lip sync indicates the original is in English.
Usne dilchaspi se kaha goes the red-head…..My senses feel like the sensex!
Japanese cartoons... Telugu voice-over! Moving on from this channel... into a minor depression! Prozac rules!
Guy with a six-pack on his abs, wearing Numero Uno jeans walks into a beach-volleyball match featuring…. Sigh!...bikini models. Bikini babes walk away with him. Jeans or genes! I’m too late for the latter.
Good ad about Tata Sky’s gaming content. Reminds me of Zapak’s (www.zapak.com – online gaming co.) advertising strategies. At Brew Bar’s toilet, they have level 1, 2 and 3 stuck into the toilet bowl. At eye level is level 4 with a sticker indicating “Zapak”. It’s a take on the “If you can piss above this line, join the fire brigade” joke from all our school days. But it’s packaged well…considering it’s the toilet they were advertising in.
IBM’s advertisement – “It sure looks good on paper! Who is gonna make it look good on stage?”
Great! So now we have it covered on paper and on stage. Wonder who is going to help out in the actual implementation.
Lok Sabha channel.
Nehru set up the IITs on the lines of MIT. Seeds sown then are blooming now and will bloom for many years to come. But it’s not over. In his words “As long as there are tears and sufferings, our work is not over”. Great words from a great person
A golf coach was complaining that the government is not doing much about promoting golf in India. His idea was that the government should set up golf courses for the public and anyone interested can come and play.
What about the golf clubs? Ever tried playing golf with a wooden plank when your bare foot. The caddie will kick the public where it hurts.
In the past hour there have been telesales ads to promote products that help reduce weight, provide great abs, teach English in 30 days, promote hair growth and stop dandruff, teach you to teleport yourself the Orion, and even rule the world if you like the option.
Watching TV late into the night could get fairly daunting.
Sleep.
Wake up.
Get ready.
Attempt to go easy on breakfast. Fail!
Hail auto. Fish out a tenner!
Attempt to work. Fail!
Call for kadak chai. Pay.
Attempt to work, again! Partial success!
Lunch.
Attempt to work. Succeed.
Call for kadak chai. Pay.
Check if manager has left.
Affirmative! Slip into his room.
Slip out of formals. Slim into work-out wear.
Work out. Get home. Bathe.
Attempt to go easy on dinner. Fail!
Smoke.
An hour with the Idiot-box! Outcome of time-slicing the hour.
Health Minister Anbamani Ramadoss has a problem with Baba Ramdev, yoga guru, saying Yoga can cure cancer. If more people take to Yoga based on that, cure or no cure, is there an issue?
Hot hostess of “Entertainment Newz” (sic!) tells Vinod Khanna has taken risk. Smart pun she thinks. It’s his new movie’s name – “Risk”. It doesn’t matter what Khanna names any of his movies, watching them is always about taking Risk…for the audience.
The History Channel in Hindi! Lip sync indicates the original is in English.
Usne dilchaspi se kaha goes the red-head…..My senses feel like the sensex!
Japanese cartoons... Telugu voice-over! Moving on from this channel... into a minor depression! Prozac rules!
Guy with a six-pack on his abs, wearing Numero Uno jeans walks into a beach-volleyball match featuring…. Sigh!...bikini models. Bikini babes walk away with him. Jeans or genes! I’m too late for the latter.
Good ad about Tata Sky’s gaming content. Reminds me of Zapak’s (www.zapak.com – online gaming co.) advertising strategies. At Brew Bar’s toilet, they have level 1, 2 and 3 stuck into the toilet bowl. At eye level is level 4 with a sticker indicating “Zapak”. It’s a take on the “If you can piss above this line, join the fire brigade” joke from all our school days. But it’s packaged well…considering it’s the toilet they were advertising in.
IBM’s advertisement – “It sure looks good on paper! Who is gonna make it look good on stage?”
Great! So now we have it covered on paper and on stage. Wonder who is going to help out in the actual implementation.
Lok Sabha channel.
Nehru set up the IITs on the lines of MIT. Seeds sown then are blooming now and will bloom for many years to come. But it’s not over. In his words “As long as there are tears and sufferings, our work is not over”. Great words from a great person
A golf coach was complaining that the government is not doing much about promoting golf in India. His idea was that the government should set up golf courses for the public and anyone interested can come and play.
What about the golf clubs? Ever tried playing golf with a wooden plank when your bare foot. The caddie will kick the public where it hurts.
In the past hour there have been telesales ads to promote products that help reduce weight, provide great abs, teach English in 30 days, promote hair growth and stop dandruff, teach you to teleport yourself the Orion, and even rule the world if you like the option.
Watching TV late into the night could get fairly daunting.
Sleep.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Words of Wisdom!!!
Today
7:10 PM - Thoughts about writing a blog! Gathering what goes in mind when I'm in the gym
7: 23 PM - Abrupt meeting called about a status update in the project
7:25 PM - Body shifts to the further parts of the room - If you close your eyes long enough, would you go unnoticed?!!
7: 27 PM - First hint of a new Shakespeare in the room - client side manager says "Aye, shhh.. the computer is the most intelligent person for theees wark"
7: 28 PM - Large body sits upright in chair again, after going into hiding and brief hibernation, unable to prevent laughter
7: 33 PM - Second hint of the 6 minute old Shakespeare in the room - client side manager says "You think in theory...you think like a broad little more" (be broad-minded!?)
7: 39 PM - I vanish once the statement is completed and emerge later in the basement of the building, running wildly and am stopped by security - I get the broader picture of the past 6 minutes
7: 41 PM - Eager participation in the meeting, with hopes of sufficient provocation of the manager to get some more beauties
7:10 PM - Thoughts about writing a blog! Gathering what goes in mind when I'm in the gym
7: 23 PM - Abrupt meeting called about a status update in the project
7:25 PM - Body shifts to the further parts of the room - If you close your eyes long enough, would you go unnoticed?!!
7: 27 PM - First hint of a new Shakespeare in the room - client side manager says "Aye, shhh.. the computer is the most intelligent person for theees wark"
7: 28 PM - Large body sits upright in chair again, after going into hiding and brief hibernation, unable to prevent laughter
7: 33 PM - Second hint of the 6 minute old Shakespeare in the room - client side manager says "You think in theory...you think like a broad little more" (be broad-minded!?)
7: 39 PM - I vanish once the statement is completed and emerge later in the basement of the building, running wildly and am stopped by security - I get the broader picture of the past 6 minutes
7: 41 PM - Eager participation in the meeting, with hopes of sufficient provocation of the manager to get some more beauties
Monday, December 04, 2006
Manjunath Shanmugam
Manjunath, as most of you'll would know was killed by the petrol mafia in UP last year. The reason - being honest and straightforward and unwilling to step out of the path of honesty. He could have been richer quicker had he shielded his eyes from what he saw. But only monetarily..not as a person. He chose to stick to his principles and threatened to fight it out. The threat was ended and he lost his life to some pathetic souls to whom life meant nothing and money was all.
In his honor, a trust has been established - The Manjunath Shanmugam trust. Among other initiatives, these are the ones taken by the trust in remembrance of him:
1) Launch of a national RTI helpline that will help people across the country in using the Right To Information Act. (9250-400-100)
2) Manjunath Shanmugam Integrity Award.
The objective of Manjunath Shanmugam Integrity Award is to honour and encourage person/s or institutions who are working to uphold the values of truth and honesty in the Indian public life.
The trust is looking to award deserving candidates who have reported and actively rectified/have worked to rectify corrupt practices in government, public or corporate life.The nominees will be evaluated on the following parameters
a) Gravity of the situation and its impact
b) Corrective action undertaken , not merely reporting the situation
c) Extent of difficulty faced by nominee in correcting the situation
The valid entries will be assessed by a panel of distinguished jurors, drawn from the corporate sector as well as public life. Nominations will be accepted from 19th November, with details and form available on the MST's website www.manjunathshanmugamtrust.orgThe award carries a citation and a cash prize of Rs. One Lakh.
Please support the process by nominating candidates you think deserve it. The monetary award and recognition would only help bring more awareness about the fallacies of today's political system and society and action that would help rectify the same. It is through little steps that everyone learns to walk the full mile. The award maybe one of the little steps that our society can take before it can walk to its maturity, to a society free of such crimes. So please support it with the nominations.
If you wish to nominate someone, please download the nomination form and send it to the address mentioned. You can also spread the word around through your emails/blogs. There's a lot that even a few like-minded folks can achieve if they set their hearts to it. Many of us are constrained by time and other factors to be involved in the activities of the trust and on a larger scale, in eliminating societies vices, but even the small contribution and effort in the right direction, through such activities, would go a long way. Extend your hand....
Reiterating, the site is www.manjunathshanmugamtrust.org.
On behalf of the trustees.
In his honor, a trust has been established - The Manjunath Shanmugam trust. Among other initiatives, these are the ones taken by the trust in remembrance of him:
1) Launch of a national RTI helpline that will help people across the country in using the Right To Information Act. (9250-400-100)
2) Manjunath Shanmugam Integrity Award.
The objective of Manjunath Shanmugam Integrity Award is to honour and encourage person/s or institutions who are working to uphold the values of truth and honesty in the Indian public life.
The trust is looking to award deserving candidates who have reported and actively rectified/have worked to rectify corrupt practices in government, public or corporate life.The nominees will be evaluated on the following parameters
a) Gravity of the situation and its impact
b) Corrective action undertaken , not merely reporting the situation
c) Extent of difficulty faced by nominee in correcting the situation
The valid entries will be assessed by a panel of distinguished jurors, drawn from the corporate sector as well as public life. Nominations will be accepted from 19th November, with details and form available on the MST's website www.manjunathshanmugamtrust.orgThe award carries a citation and a cash prize of Rs. One Lakh.
Please support the process by nominating candidates you think deserve it. The monetary award and recognition would only help bring more awareness about the fallacies of today's political system and society and action that would help rectify the same. It is through little steps that everyone learns to walk the full mile. The award maybe one of the little steps that our society can take before it can walk to its maturity, to a society free of such crimes. So please support it with the nominations.
If you wish to nominate someone, please download the nomination form and send it to the address mentioned. You can also spread the word around through your emails/blogs. There's a lot that even a few like-minded folks can achieve if they set their hearts to it. Many of us are constrained by time and other factors to be involved in the activities of the trust and on a larger scale, in eliminating societies vices, but even the small contribution and effort in the right direction, through such activities, would go a long way. Extend your hand....
Reiterating, the site is www.manjunathshanmugamtrust.org.
On behalf of the trustees.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
I find working out in the gymnasium, especially doing weights a very philosophical thing. There are certain things I do, and certain things I don't out of sheer respect towards my fellow beings. For one, there is this equipment that helps in building the back muscles and shoulder muscles. It involves being in a seated position (like on a chair) and lifting weights behind your back and in front of you. There is a stack of weights that are connected to the suspension wires and the number of weight units (each of 10kg) chosen decides the weight one is lifting. I understand that a reader of this piece, gets a feeling that the author assumes him to be one without knowledge of basic physics in lifting weights and of gymnasium equipment. The reader could not be further away from the truth. I am a novice when it comes to gymnasiums and their perpetually plotting equipment. Plotting to make me feel weak, week by week!
The previous 'gym' I had been to was in reality an akkada. Called Iyer's Gym and in one of the 'tougher' parts of Bangalore, it had the rowdy elements of the area working out on a daily basis. All of them had bulging stomachs of pure muscle. Weird! I think I draw my current shape from those folks there. My friends had suggested a certain routine to me on the eve of my tryst with Iyer. It included that one exercise I despise the most - ab crunches. Along with me was a debutant who I swear looked like he was a product of lean manufacturing concepts. Shockingly (for me) both of us were given the same routine. Like hell I was going to follow that. But, along with 'love thy neighbour', I am a strong believer in the tenet 'Listen to thy gym instructor'. After 2 days I had added an extension to the tenet and it read 'Listen to thy gym instructor... when he is present physically in the gym'. I started doing the crunches inspite of him telling me not to do that, as soon as he went out for his morning cuppa. 20 minutes later on his return, I realized he was staring at me with bloodshot coffee stained eyes. What I lacked in brawn, I made up in brain back then. (now I strongly feel I lack both). What had happend was that Kumar, the friendly 200 pounder, 6 footer had ratted on me and told the gym owner that I worked on abs in his absence. There have been very few occasions when strangers have attached street vernaculars to my name. Iyer was an early bird into this list. The next day, I had voluntarily quit the gym. There was a nagging doubt about me getting back my princely 50 bucks, paid for the first month (Yes, there indeed were gyms that charged that much). I suspected there would be more vernaculars to describe me, and the fraility of the pectorals and the sensitivity of the self didn't let me take the risk of seeking refunds.
This is my third attempt at working out. Seems good until now. 8 consecutive days (sparing the Sunday when the gym is closed) I've been to the gym. My first question to mezher was 'I'm a smoker, is it going to affect my work-outs?'. Most folks with IQs in the 30-45 range get the answer to that one right! Mezher isn't your regular bloke. He's got an IQ higher than 4 or 5 heads of such average folks, strung together with a skipping rope from the gym. 'Smoking ... its ok, it burns calories, it should not be a problem'. 'But for holistic health, I think you should stop'. I'm not lying folks.. I'm not! My fellow 'gymmer' Rahul will vouch for that.
I also am a strong believer in following the right diet. Every alternate day, after a fairly rigorous work out, I have had energy drinks. Last friday, it was beer with masala peanuts, french fries and some other starter I can't recall. Skipped dinner! Last saturday, I had to change the routine. I settled for some whiskey, without experimenting too much from the Friday haul of starters. Dinner skipped again! Sunday, as God wants it, was a rest day for me and the gym.
Monday and Wednesday has seen me appreciating the finer fizz in beer once again, with a different friend this time. Unfortunately I had to have dinner on both these days. I find myself feeling heavier everytime I have beer and masala peanuts as a combo deal. I think the masala peanuts don't go well with me. Will try the salted format this time.
So folks, do remember, its not just sufficient to go to a gym! Its necessary to go to the right gym! Its not just necessary to go to the right gym, its pertinent to have the right energy drinks after working out. Eat healthy, be healthy! Right!!
Monday, November 27, 2006
Dweepa - award winning movie
One of the best movies I've seen in a long long while. Not that I watch too many movies. Surfing through the channels late Sunday night, I struck upon DD1. They were showing some regional fare with the usual English translations scrolling at the bottom of the screen. Paid some closer attention and realized the language being spoken is Kannada. The movie was "Dweepa" by Girish Kasaravalli. They were speaking in the Kodagu accent which is different from what I've grown up on, so it took me more than a couple of seconds to figure out what they were saying. Initially I had planned to watch the movie for a few minutes and surf on. But those few minutes went onto become the entire length of the movie. Nagi lives with her husband Ganappa and maviah (father-in-law) Duggayya on an island (dweepa - hence the name of the movie). The government asks all folks on the island to move out of it and onto safer locations since the dam being constructed will submerge most of the island and make the rest inhabitable. In exchange is a mediocre compensation. Like the mice that followed the pied-piper, each of the families leave the island accepting the meagre compensation being given, with the fear that even that may not reach them if they refuse to leave now. Ganappa is the temple priest on the island, a job that he's assumed as a family responsibility. With the passage of people, nema, the prayer offered through the priest by the devotees becomes less frequent. Inspite of being coaxed by all his fellow villagers who have long left the island, Ganappa decides to stay put since Duggayya does not intend to leave the village. He believes the river goddess will protect him and the island from submersion. The rainy season is at its onset and soon the family realizes the rising water levels. Also looming large is the threat of a tiger that has entered the jungle atop the island. Unable to manage the physical labor on their own, Nagi brings along with her Krishna, a youth who wants to have a change in the environment after personal failures in Mumbai. Krishna though a simpleton like the rest of the people around him, is slightly more aware of the worldly affairs. The four of them are the only ones on the island. Nagi's brotherly relation with Krishna is mis-understood by her husband Ganappa who asks her to send him back. She refuses saying that it is they who requested him to come here. The beautiful relation shared between Nagi and Ganappa soon begins to sour. Duggayya is still adamant about accepting the compensation and moving out of the island. The waters by now would have consumed their hut on the shores of the island and they move to higher grounds and occupy a bigger home that has been vacated by the deserting villagers. Ganappa rows Duggayya to the temple one night on his request. Duggayya intends to perform a night long nema to ensure the island's safety and to bring happiness back to the family. In the morning, when its time to bring back Duggayya, Ganappa refuses to go and asks Krishna to bring him back instead. The hatred he has for Krishna and the suspicion he has about Nagi is now complete. Krishna refuses to go, upset because Nagi now refuses to speak to him. Nagi herself rows to the temple, only to find the temple submerged and her father-in-law dead, separated from the nema attire made out of leaves and other things from the forest.
Soundarya and Avinash in Dweepa
In the movie, Girish Kasaravalli has done as much as he has with the interplay of words, as he has with silence. The feelings of hatred and suspicion that Ganappa has towards his wife and Krishna, is captured in one cynical look that he throws towards Nagi. With things getting worse, Nagi asks Krishna to leave them and go away from the island. Upset that on returning to his own village, he would be considered a failure in both the cities and the villages, Krishna leaves the island on boat, the only way by which Nagi and Ganappa might have escaped the wrath of the waters. Kasaravalli intercepts the dialogue and the visuals with powerful lines from Akka Mahadevi's works (a 12th century Shiva Devotee and Kannada poet).
When they reach the shores, who remembers the boatman
A lake at the back, a snare in front
Can there be peace, tell me.
Still water behind, full stream ahead,
What's the way out, tell me.
With Krishna and the boat gone, the rising waters threat the higher parts of the island too. And like the overflowing waters, their troubles increase too when the tiger kills their only source of milk, a buffalo. Ganappa has given up all the hopes he has of a survival and refuses to help when the tiger approaches their home in the night, when the shed in which the buffalo calf is kept collapses, trapping the calf beneath, and when debris blocks the only drain for the water to go out. With gusto and a heavy heart, the strong arms of Nagi continue to work hard at fighting all these troubles, not once does she keel down.
The morning reveals to her the receding waters around the island and she runs to the top of the island to find out the reason. The dam levels have been breached and the waters have been released. Tears fighting her eyes, she runs down to wake her hopeless husband. The news invigors him and he becomes ecstasic. Words of thankfulness flow out of his lips to the God above and he credits the God for saving them. Nagi is shocked! Not one of her efforts have been acknowledged and Ganappa tells her that she was only the tool in God's schemes. Her effort was nothing. The movie ends, with Nagi remaining disheartened.
I've not seen better action than this from Soundarya and the rest of the cast are equally brilliant too. The old actor portaying Duggayya has done a fantastic job with his toothless smile and sullen grimace. His panic run to the interiors of the house when he sees the cops approaching the island by boat, is a brilliant metaphor for the common man's fear of the unyielding government.
Many from Karnataka believe that Kannada film is dead and long gone. For every 100 pathetic commercial movies made in the state, if even one such movie is delivered by a Kasaravalli or Karnad, I would say that the art of film-making survives. The industry may die, but the art won't!
Soundarya and Avinash in Dweepa
In the movie, Girish Kasaravalli has done as much as he has with the interplay of words, as he has with silence. The feelings of hatred and suspicion that Ganappa has towards his wife and Krishna, is captured in one cynical look that he throws towards Nagi. With things getting worse, Nagi asks Krishna to leave them and go away from the island. Upset that on returning to his own village, he would be considered a failure in both the cities and the villages, Krishna leaves the island on boat, the only way by which Nagi and Ganappa might have escaped the wrath of the waters. Kasaravalli intercepts the dialogue and the visuals with powerful lines from Akka Mahadevi's works (a 12th century Shiva Devotee and Kannada poet).
When they reach the shores, who remembers the boatman
A lake at the back, a snare in front
Can there be peace, tell me.
Still water behind, full stream ahead,
What's the way out, tell me.
With Krishna and the boat gone, the rising waters threat the higher parts of the island too. And like the overflowing waters, their troubles increase too when the tiger kills their only source of milk, a buffalo. Ganappa has given up all the hopes he has of a survival and refuses to help when the tiger approaches their home in the night, when the shed in which the buffalo calf is kept collapses, trapping the calf beneath, and when debris blocks the only drain for the water to go out. With gusto and a heavy heart, the strong arms of Nagi continue to work hard at fighting all these troubles, not once does she keel down.
The morning reveals to her the receding waters around the island and she runs to the top of the island to find out the reason. The dam levels have been breached and the waters have been released. Tears fighting her eyes, she runs down to wake her hopeless husband. The news invigors him and he becomes ecstasic. Words of thankfulness flow out of his lips to the God above and he credits the God for saving them. Nagi is shocked! Not one of her efforts have been acknowledged and Ganappa tells her that she was only the tool in God's schemes. Her effort was nothing. The movie ends, with Nagi remaining disheartened.
I've not seen better action than this from Soundarya and the rest of the cast are equally brilliant too. The old actor portaying Duggayya has done a fantastic job with his toothless smile and sullen grimace. His panic run to the interiors of the house when he sees the cops approaching the island by boat, is a brilliant metaphor for the common man's fear of the unyielding government.
Many from Karnataka believe that Kannada film is dead and long gone. For every 100 pathetic commercial movies made in the state, if even one such movie is delivered by a Kasaravalli or Karnad, I would say that the art of film-making survives. The industry may die, but the art won't!
Thursday, November 23, 2006
More on the gym!
Gymmie is my name.. gyming is my game.. and the next few lines talk of my fame. There's this machine that I think Hercules (Heracles, for the Greek friends I don't have) might have worked out on in his 6th task. It involves trying to lift several pieces of uniform stacked weights, behind your back and it apparently helps in developing the pectorals or some such muscle. I say 'apparently', since if done wrongly, it helps in developing a whole lot of other muscles assymetrically, make you seem like a subject from Picasso's paintings on Cubism. Not a bad choice I suspect. You'd be posthumously worth a few million dollars and would get fondled with soft brushes by hot art-renovators a few years later. But that's not the point of this piece of blog..
After a fairly rigorous warm-up session (where I suspect I might have gone into 'heat' mode due to the girl warming up by me), I went down to meet my destiny for the hour - the back-cruncher or.. more subtly put, the bone-breaker! 4 sets of 10 repetitions each said Ishwar. (Read previous blog for intro on Ishwar and why I should not listen to him). I agreed. Rule 1 of the gym - Don't argue with the instructor!
Into the 3rd repetition of the 2nd set I think, a good samaritan with biceps at 20 picked up the locking pin that was fallen on the ground and gave it to me. He mentioned that I had forgotten to plug it in, meaning, I wasn't lifting any of the weight units. I counter-pointed out to him that it wasn't a mistake. With my current strength abilities, all that I could lift was just the equipment handles or a bottle of beer, depending on what was closer to my hand. He failed to comprehend the concept. I simplified it for him - "can't lift any weights". He nodded.. and felt embarassed himself. Rule 2 - In the land of the six-packs, if you are the only one with a spherical presence, compromise on the self-respect and ego parts.
Post the repetitions, I took the pin from the ground and placed it at the bottom most weight in the stack and walked off with the hope that the stranger wouldn't discover the truth.
I am now 15 minutes away from reaching the gym, and am fervently praying that the guy who pointed out the missing pin is not around. After all, self-respect can be compromised, but not on consecutive days. I'm missing gym tomorrow.
After a fairly rigorous warm-up session (where I suspect I might have gone into 'heat' mode due to the girl warming up by me), I went down to meet my destiny for the hour - the back-cruncher or.. more subtly put, the bone-breaker! 4 sets of 10 repetitions each said Ishwar. (Read previous blog for intro on Ishwar and why I should not listen to him). I agreed. Rule 1 of the gym - Don't argue with the instructor!
Into the 3rd repetition of the 2nd set I think, a good samaritan with biceps at 20 picked up the locking pin that was fallen on the ground and gave it to me. He mentioned that I had forgotten to plug it in, meaning, I wasn't lifting any of the weight units. I counter-pointed out to him that it wasn't a mistake. With my current strength abilities, all that I could lift was just the equipment handles or a bottle of beer, depending on what was closer to my hand. He failed to comprehend the concept. I simplified it for him - "can't lift any weights". He nodded.. and felt embarassed himself. Rule 2 - In the land of the six-packs, if you are the only one with a spherical presence, compromise on the self-respect and ego parts.
Post the repetitions, I took the pin from the ground and placed it at the bottom most weight in the stack and walked off with the hope that the stranger wouldn't discover the truth.
I am now 15 minutes away from reaching the gym, and am fervently praying that the guy who pointed out the missing pin is not around. After all, self-respect can be compromised, but not on consecutive days. I'm missing gym tomorrow.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Crunch!
Having wallowed in self-pity, hiding behind layers of adipose for many a year, I've finally decided its time for a change. 'Crunch' was the answer that I found to the cellulate questions - 3 floors above the ground, 1000 bucks deep into my wallet and a 15 minute chauffered drive (autorickshaw, I pay the chauffeur on a daily basis, mostly depending on the meter that runs as well as I do on the treadmill) away.
'O beh******th us saand ko dekh' was the first of the wise remarks I passed while waiting for the elevator. Ishwar, the subject in question, was later introduced to us as the gym instructor. With bisceps like his, I feel in retrospect that I should reserve my comments to appropriate forums - mostly those that permit anonymity. If Ishwar ever runs a blogger I think I'll reiterate my observation after selecting 'anonymous' in the comment section. And then I'll tie myself to the lats worker in the gym and drag it into the ocean along with myself and blogger's servers.
I'm afraid Ishwar might have overheard the remark..my staring, with 3 parts disgust for every 2 parts awe, didn't help. I'm afraid the routine he'll ask me to follow could leave me a demented dwarf with a biscep growing near my thigh..
The 'warm-up' session involved us bending at our images in the mirror and trying to tickle Narcissus. Felt like being punished in nursery, where a frustrated 'miss', unable to give you the thrashing she so much wants, isolates you and makes you stand facing the wall for the rest of the period. You cast nervous glances at the otherside through out the time.. in nursery and in the gym.
Yesterday night was my first session at the gym. Today I woke up feeling refreshed and with a new glow.. a new intellect.. one of discovery! While attempting to brush those teeth I discovered 6 new muscles and all of them ache with the grace of a Rakhi Sawant on stage- at all the wrong times. And as I speak I feel a heavy muscular hand on me.. my friend who joined the gym yesterday with me. He was a puny 140 pounder day-before. Time to go!
'O beh******th us saand ko dekh' was the first of the wise remarks I passed while waiting for the elevator. Ishwar, the subject in question, was later introduced to us as the gym instructor. With bisceps like his, I feel in retrospect that I should reserve my comments to appropriate forums - mostly those that permit anonymity. If Ishwar ever runs a blogger I think I'll reiterate my observation after selecting 'anonymous' in the comment section. And then I'll tie myself to the lats worker in the gym and drag it into the ocean along with myself and blogger's servers.
I'm afraid Ishwar might have overheard the remark..my staring, with 3 parts disgust for every 2 parts awe, didn't help. I'm afraid the routine he'll ask me to follow could leave me a demented dwarf with a biscep growing near my thigh..
The 'warm-up' session involved us bending at our images in the mirror and trying to tickle Narcissus. Felt like being punished in nursery, where a frustrated 'miss', unable to give you the thrashing she so much wants, isolates you and makes you stand facing the wall for the rest of the period. You cast nervous glances at the otherside through out the time.. in nursery and in the gym.
Yesterday night was my first session at the gym. Today I woke up feeling refreshed and with a new glow.. a new intellect.. one of discovery! While attempting to brush those teeth I discovered 6 new muscles and all of them ache with the grace of a Rakhi Sawant on stage- at all the wrong times. And as I speak I feel a heavy muscular hand on me.. my friend who joined the gym yesterday with me. He was a puny 140 pounder day-before. Time to go!
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Water behind the glass window
Staying away from home has both, its beauty and its beasts. Its been about 4 years since I moved out now. These 4 years have been interspersed, to my happiness sometimes and sometimes only as a need-to-do thing, by, travels. Travels that begin in the place I am located in and always end up in the by-lanes of a Bangalore whose smells have changed from begonias to a mix of smoke from vehicles and the smell of begonias and finally to the pure lung-choking power of pollution. How frequently I travel to Bangalore is purely determined by the distance I am from my beloved city. When in Bhubaneshwar, it was in about 6 months and when in Lucknow, the calendar for movements was determined by what Prof. Mulky decided.
Now, in the land of the Nizams, I find myself travelling more frequently. Travel includes many modes and an even larger number of difficulties that each sets in. They all find their panacea in a cuppa when I reach home the morning after.
My routine now has been to take a Volvo at 8 30 in the night on Friday and reach Bangalore by 7 30 or 8 00 am in the morning.
Of all the things and people I have found a bonding with in my life, this would surely be in the most surrealistic one. Seat number 24 of the 8 30 pm Volvo drawn by KSRTC. Would I find the same guy to my left, with his fancy mobile phone, the one that sets of vibrations in most parts of the bus everytime he gets a call - missed or not? Will the same waiter at Reliance Dhaba (A-1) refuse me all the items I ask and try to convince me that omlettes are best?
Sitting in my shack for 11 hours, insomnia engulfing me like the very blanket I was wrapped in, all I could feel were the silent snores of the person behind. The only entertainment I had was to see the water from the rains, meandering aimlessly, choosing and changing directions by the centimeter, as they rolled down the windows made of plexi-glass, on the outside. Trying to trace the path of the head of these rivulets-in-small, I found myself lost in thought. Sounds very much like a scene out of the movies, with the darkness brought in by using opaque scenes around the bus, with the water being sprinkled by high sprinklers.
Outside night had embossed everything under its cover. Though not really a jungle outside, it clearly was acres and acres of greenery, as far as I could see in the dark. And all acres looked perfectly even, showing that one farming community after the other had planted the crop at around the same time, give or take a day or two, the length changing an inch or two. I wondered what they would be doing in the dark now, with the suffocating heat and stillness of the night being their only company. They must have been used to it by now, just as much as I am not to the claustrophobia of a corner seat.
I wonder if taking a pill for the sleep will help. If I don't get enough sleep with the pill on, I would feel groggy the whole of the next day, spoiling half of the weekend in effect. Only coffee and a good night's sleep later that night would be of help.
The bus makes two stops - the first at Reliance's dhaba called A-1, and the second, a place close to Adoni, where they serve cigarettes ("ultra milds nahi hai"), tea and unruly orange juice.
And each time I return back, there is little that changes in the settings - the plexiglass remains the same, the water occasionally is visible, though in small globulets, and for many many miles all I can see is reduced to one single color and dimension, not green, but a color born from the kaleidoscope of all that one can see from 20000 feet up in the air. I still retain my claustrophobia and giving company to it, is the fear of heights.
Now, in the land of the Nizams, I find myself travelling more frequently. Travel includes many modes and an even larger number of difficulties that each sets in. They all find their panacea in a cuppa when I reach home the morning after.
My routine now has been to take a Volvo at 8 30 in the night on Friday and reach Bangalore by 7 30 or 8 00 am in the morning.
Of all the things and people I have found a bonding with in my life, this would surely be in the most surrealistic one. Seat number 24 of the 8 30 pm Volvo drawn by KSRTC. Would I find the same guy to my left, with his fancy mobile phone, the one that sets of vibrations in most parts of the bus everytime he gets a call - missed or not? Will the same waiter at Reliance Dhaba (A-1) refuse me all the items I ask and try to convince me that omlettes are best?
Sitting in my shack for 11 hours, insomnia engulfing me like the very blanket I was wrapped in, all I could feel were the silent snores of the person behind. The only entertainment I had was to see the water from the rains, meandering aimlessly, choosing and changing directions by the centimeter, as they rolled down the windows made of plexi-glass, on the outside. Trying to trace the path of the head of these rivulets-in-small, I found myself lost in thought. Sounds very much like a scene out of the movies, with the darkness brought in by using opaque scenes around the bus, with the water being sprinkled by high sprinklers.
Outside night had embossed everything under its cover. Though not really a jungle outside, it clearly was acres and acres of greenery, as far as I could see in the dark. And all acres looked perfectly even, showing that one farming community after the other had planted the crop at around the same time, give or take a day or two, the length changing an inch or two. I wondered what they would be doing in the dark now, with the suffocating heat and stillness of the night being their only company. They must have been used to it by now, just as much as I am not to the claustrophobia of a corner seat.
I wonder if taking a pill for the sleep will help. If I don't get enough sleep with the pill on, I would feel groggy the whole of the next day, spoiling half of the weekend in effect. Only coffee and a good night's sleep later that night would be of help.
The bus makes two stops - the first at Reliance's dhaba called A-1, and the second, a place close to Adoni, where they serve cigarettes ("ultra milds nahi hai"), tea and unruly orange juice.
And each time I return back, there is little that changes in the settings - the plexiglass remains the same, the water occasionally is visible, though in small globulets, and for many many miles all I can see is reduced to one single color and dimension, not green, but a color born from the kaleidoscope of all that one can see from 20000 feet up in the air. I still retain my claustrophobia and giving company to it, is the fear of heights.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Music Yogi!
Here's one to the entrepreneurial spirit within all of us (if it does exist within all).
Aadarsh Hariharan is a friend of mine from the good ole engineering days. Peeing in neighbouring comodes back in college, I remember him asking me during placement season - "Suri, how the f*** do I get better in quant man! All these companies want quant and I need some more practice in it I think". Though the content has not been put up here verbatim (fearing copyright violations and other potential physical abuse I might face from Aadi), I do remember that this was the gist of what he wanted to know. And I gave him the usual crap about quant books to refer to, areas to be covered and blah blah!
Here's what I would say and want Aadi to say now - F*** quant! It doesn't matter one inch. If you're out there to get something real bad, you're going to get it by all damn means. If you find yourself lacking in something you really will work towards improving in that area and getting yourself ahead right there, right then. Passion drives the world. Gaining knowledge and finding knowledgeable people, though equally important would be the next thing to do. And your attitude is the third thing to take care of.
Aadi quit his job in the Gulf region (he's mallu :), so gelf is his home town, Kerala is his adopted place) and came back to Bangalore with a smile pile of cash. Over a period of a year Aadi has invested all his earnings and more i.e. his friend's earnings and their combined appreciation of music, to start off his own company - MusicYogi.com.
The duo now depend purely on mouth-of-word publicity in getting some visibility and hits on their site. It is of course being run for profits, but clearly with a co-objective of helping out the upcoming bands within the country. Do check out their site for other info and order some cds, dvds, tapes when at it.
The idea in posting this one, was to contribute my 2$ 3cents in making www. musicyogi.com successful, and more importantly to ensure that I pick up some preferential stock a few years later, cash in on them in the next dot com boom and retire early with all and sundry in Malibu.
So here's hoping that Aadi and friend rake in the moolah and make one and all happy. Here's to you Aadi!
Addendum: The spirit of wanting to be one's own boss, of wanting to lead your own life and have that sense of ownership is a tremendous one. How many of us have honestly wished that one day we'd start something off on our own but haven't had the guts to quit the current job? Understandably obligations do step into the picture - of both a personal and professional kind. But only those who dare to put their neck on the guillotine and walk the talk, will have a chance to be successful on their own terms.
I'm really proud of pals from college like Sandy and Co. ( www.indigoedge.com ) and Satya who were willing to take the risks. Hats to all of you and I hope more of us follow suit.
Aadarsh Hariharan is a friend of mine from the good ole engineering days. Peeing in neighbouring comodes back in college, I remember him asking me during placement season - "Suri, how the f*** do I get better in quant man! All these companies want quant and I need some more practice in it I think". Though the content has not been put up here verbatim (fearing copyright violations and other potential physical abuse I might face from Aadi), I do remember that this was the gist of what he wanted to know. And I gave him the usual crap about quant books to refer to, areas to be covered and blah blah!
Here's what I would say and want Aadi to say now - F*** quant! It doesn't matter one inch. If you're out there to get something real bad, you're going to get it by all damn means. If you find yourself lacking in something you really will work towards improving in that area and getting yourself ahead right there, right then. Passion drives the world. Gaining knowledge and finding knowledgeable people, though equally important would be the next thing to do. And your attitude is the third thing to take care of.
Aadi quit his job in the Gulf region (he's mallu :), so gelf is his home town, Kerala is his adopted place) and came back to Bangalore with a smile pile of cash. Over a period of a year Aadi has invested all his earnings and more i.e. his friend's earnings and their combined appreciation of music, to start off his own company - MusicYogi.com.
The duo now depend purely on mouth-of-word publicity in getting some visibility and hits on their site. It is of course being run for profits, but clearly with a co-objective of helping out the upcoming bands within the country. Do check out their site for other info and order some cds, dvds, tapes when at it.
The idea in posting this one, was to contribute my 2$ 3cents in making www. musicyogi.com successful, and more importantly to ensure that I pick up some preferential stock a few years later, cash in on them in the next dot com boom and retire early with all and sundry in Malibu.
So here's hoping that Aadi and friend rake in the moolah and make one and all happy. Here's to you Aadi!
Addendum: The spirit of wanting to be one's own boss, of wanting to lead your own life and have that sense of ownership is a tremendous one. How many of us have honestly wished that one day we'd start something off on our own but haven't had the guts to quit the current job? Understandably obligations do step into the picture - of both a personal and professional kind. But only those who dare to put their neck on the guillotine and walk the talk, will have a chance to be successful on their own terms.
I'm really proud of pals from college like Sandy and Co. ( www.indigoedge.com ) and Satya who were willing to take the risks. Hats to all of you and I hope more of us follow suit.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
It's Operations Dr. Zhivago!
When I started off with work here, I didn't think I'd find operations interesting. That was about half of my area of work, maybe a little more. The other component would be IT related. Ops wasn't really a fascinating subject for me even back in college. Just about took one elective, coz the seniors told me it'll help in u're sales and marketing career.
Emotions gave way to rationale and I picked up, what I think now, is a great job. Now at work I figure out that I find ops a lot more fascinating than what I thought it would be. Goldratt takes a good amount of credit for that. For once, I didn't start off learning the nuances of ops the conventional way. Most of my current learning is from this one book The Goal. It was one of those books that I would never ever have touched with a ten foot pole, but have now read due to the need of the job. And I did enjoy every darn moment of it. An awesome concept which kicks miles and miles of balance sheets and profit and loss statements right in their guts.
His key philosophies are the Theory of Constraints, Thinking Processes and Critical Chain Project Management. Most of them have been used widely in some geographies and industries with great success.
Refer to www.goldratt.com to figure out more about the man or his theories. The concept that I find most endearing (though I find the others equally practical, rationale and lucid) is CCPM - Critical Chain Project Management. Below, I'll make an attempt at explaining the same through a suitable example:
Let's say I'm making an attempt at copying in an exam.
My guess is that these are the following steps I have to go through -
1. Identify the target that I want to copy from. This would limit it to mostly 4, the guy to my left, right, in front of me and the nerd behind.
2. Ensure that the invigilator is not watching me. This is outside my control.
3. Peep into the paper of one of the targets and read sufficient volumes of the written script before condition (3) gets violated
4. Make a note of all that I could read, with sufficient improvements in terms of use of language and bringing in originality
5. Repeat the sequence
After I have repeated the sequence a sufficient number of times, I would have to stop at step 4 ideally, unless of course the invigilator's favorite number is 2. Each step above would take a certain amount of time (Step 1 - 4). I would in my planning process allocate a certain amount of time to each of the steps. This allocated time would be greater than what might be really needed, i.e. I would be buffering each of my steps sufficiently, just to be on the safe side.
In CCPM, the idea is to take away the buffers (or safety) from each of the step, aggregate it and place it at one single point. Typically this would be placed at the end of the longest sequence of tasks. (In a typical project scenario, there would be many such 'sequences of tasks' and the longest would be critical chain. For simplicity I have chosen a one sequence project).
Now due to the separation of the buffer from each task individually, the amount of time to finish a task would reflect a more aggressive but probable measure. It's like the fixed component of the task, whereas the buffer snatched away from each individual task would be the variable component.
Due to the mathematical properties of aggregating, the aggregated buffer would be a lot lesser than the sum of the buffers maintained for the individual tasks. Hence, while still retaining the safety net, I would be able to enrich myself in the art of copying in a shorter time. Neat!!!!!!? :)
Here's another advantage - If I take up a part time job for a small slot of time during those 3 hours, like ogling at the hot 'resource' in front, I would be eating into my aggregated buffer.
But now I'd have to only measure one parameter (the aggregated or project buffer) to find out how I'm placed in my attempt to get through the exam. There!
OK, what I've given here is a very common example - a project executed by many students across the world on a quarterly, semi-annually and annual basis. In the industrial world, there would be projects involving hundreds of task sequences, individual resources, office politics and the likes.
Here's a good blog about all of Goldratt's philosophies - www.focusedperformance.com
Well let me see how far into these management philosophies I would be able to go!
More later!
Emotions gave way to rationale and I picked up, what I think now, is a great job. Now at work I figure out that I find ops a lot more fascinating than what I thought it would be. Goldratt takes a good amount of credit for that. For once, I didn't start off learning the nuances of ops the conventional way. Most of my current learning is from this one book The Goal. It was one of those books that I would never ever have touched with a ten foot pole, but have now read due to the need of the job. And I did enjoy every darn moment of it. An awesome concept which kicks miles and miles of balance sheets and profit and loss statements right in their guts.
His key philosophies are the Theory of Constraints, Thinking Processes and Critical Chain Project Management. Most of them have been used widely in some geographies and industries with great success.
Refer to www.goldratt.com to figure out more about the man or his theories. The concept that I find most endearing (though I find the others equally practical, rationale and lucid) is CCPM - Critical Chain Project Management. Below, I'll make an attempt at explaining the same through a suitable example:
Let's say I'm making an attempt at copying in an exam.
My guess is that these are the following steps I have to go through -
1. Identify the target that I want to copy from. This would limit it to mostly 4, the guy to my left, right, in front of me and the nerd behind.
2. Ensure that the invigilator is not watching me. This is outside my control.
3. Peep into the paper of one of the targets and read sufficient volumes of the written script before condition (3) gets violated
4. Make a note of all that I could read, with sufficient improvements in terms of use of language and bringing in originality
5. Repeat the sequence
After I have repeated the sequence a sufficient number of times, I would have to stop at step 4 ideally, unless of course the invigilator's favorite number is 2. Each step above would take a certain amount of time (Step 1 - 4). I would in my planning process allocate a certain amount of time to each of the steps. This allocated time would be greater than what might be really needed, i.e. I would be buffering each of my steps sufficiently, just to be on the safe side.
In CCPM, the idea is to take away the buffers (or safety) from each of the step, aggregate it and place it at one single point. Typically this would be placed at the end of the longest sequence of tasks. (In a typical project scenario, there would be many such 'sequences of tasks' and the longest would be critical chain. For simplicity I have chosen a one sequence project).
Now due to the separation of the buffer from each task individually, the amount of time to finish a task would reflect a more aggressive but probable measure. It's like the fixed component of the task, whereas the buffer snatched away from each individual task would be the variable component.
Due to the mathematical properties of aggregating, the aggregated buffer would be a lot lesser than the sum of the buffers maintained for the individual tasks. Hence, while still retaining the safety net, I would be able to enrich myself in the art of copying in a shorter time. Neat!!!!!!? :)
Here's another advantage - If I take up a part time job for a small slot of time during those 3 hours, like ogling at the hot 'resource' in front, I would be eating into my aggregated buffer.
But now I'd have to only measure one parameter (the aggregated or project buffer) to find out how I'm placed in my attempt to get through the exam. There!
OK, what I've given here is a very common example - a project executed by many students across the world on a quarterly, semi-annually and annual basis. In the industrial world, there would be projects involving hundreds of task sequences, individual resources, office politics and the likes.
Here's a good blog about all of Goldratt's philosophies - www.focusedperformance.com
Well let me see how far into these management philosophies I would be able to go!
More later!
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Java City - for those Saturdays and Sundays
Thought I'd write something about some great places to visit in Bangalore - far away from the malls and the usual visiting places that a new-comer to the city might have heard of.
Java City is a coffee place on Church Street. Church Street where?!! Church Street is the narrow lane that branches off Brigade Road on its right side, as you come down from MG Road. Part of the old world of Bangalore, it still, though only in bits and pieces, retains some of its erstwhile charm. The lane is also home to Blossoms, the book shop for old books and other celebrated eat-outs like KC Das. Koshy's, on St. Mark's Road is only a stone's throw away from any of these places. More about these places later.
Java City is a place for some great music and coffee. Adorning the walls are frescoes in sepia of Art Blakey, Miles Davis, Louis Armstrong and some of the best Ponappa comic strips that I've seen. Even the overblown cartoon strips are a reflection of the state of the city currently. Come Saturday or Sunday and bang at 5 o'clock in the evening, just when birds from the neighbouring parks decide its time to head home eastward, Lester and co. pick up their guitars, drum kit, keyboards and trumpets and start off into the mike, to the 30 odd folks gathered. Some great coffee and something to go by with and 3 blissful hours begin. What drew me most to the place is the passion that these guys on the stage come out with. I'm sure they have day jobs somewhere and play gospel music with the same instruments at Sunday church. But I'm sure that none of them would be able to go to sleep happily over the weekend if they didn't spend those 3 hours playing to an eager and involved audience.
They may not be the greatest of Jazz players that the city has to offer, but I'm sure the heady mix of coffee and jazz, makes up for it all.
If you're in the groove to sing something or play one of the instruments, the band is more than willing to let you experiment and the audience will surely give you a supporting hand. Requests are also entertained.
Give this place a shot and let me know what you'll think of it.
Java City is a coffee place on Church Street. Church Street where?!! Church Street is the narrow lane that branches off Brigade Road on its right side, as you come down from MG Road. Part of the old world of Bangalore, it still, though only in bits and pieces, retains some of its erstwhile charm. The lane is also home to Blossoms, the book shop for old books and other celebrated eat-outs like KC Das. Koshy's, on St. Mark's Road is only a stone's throw away from any of these places. More about these places later.
Java City is a place for some great music and coffee. Adorning the walls are frescoes in sepia of Art Blakey, Miles Davis, Louis Armstrong and some of the best Ponappa comic strips that I've seen. Even the overblown cartoon strips are a reflection of the state of the city currently. Come Saturday or Sunday and bang at 5 o'clock in the evening, just when birds from the neighbouring parks decide its time to head home eastward, Lester and co. pick up their guitars, drum kit, keyboards and trumpets and start off into the mike, to the 30 odd folks gathered. Some great coffee and something to go by with and 3 blissful hours begin. What drew me most to the place is the passion that these guys on the stage come out with. I'm sure they have day jobs somewhere and play gospel music with the same instruments at Sunday church. But I'm sure that none of them would be able to go to sleep happily over the weekend if they didn't spend those 3 hours playing to an eager and involved audience.
They may not be the greatest of Jazz players that the city has to offer, but I'm sure the heady mix of coffee and jazz, makes up for it all.
If you're in the groove to sing something or play one of the instruments, the band is more than willing to let you experiment and the audience will surely give you a supporting hand. Requests are also entertained.
Give this place a shot and let me know what you'll think of it.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Project Gutenberg and World Book Fair
For all you bookophiles out there, there's some great news! If you haven't heard it by now, Project Gutenberg and the World Book Fair are coming together to put online close to a million books for free. Yes! Absolutely free for downloads. They don't even ask you to get registered like the other 'free' sites do.
These two organizations are non-profit ones and along with the likes of google and yahoo are waging wars against the publishing world, to get expensive and not-so-easily-available books straight to your desktop. So don't let go off the opportunity. The reference sites are here
1. Project Gutenberg - www.gutenberg.org
2. World Book Fair - www.worldbookfair.com
If any of you are the kinds who use PDAs or any other fancy instruments, downloads into these are also supported.
I'm not one to really read books online. Half the magic in reading a book, according to me, is in holding down those pages, smelling them as one flips through them, and going back to lines that suddenly hit you after your well past reading them. That magic cannot be replicated by technology no matter what. Its the same reason why I never watch a movie if I can read the book form of it. Inevitably, in a cause-effect relation, books would be the cause and movies the effect, with rare exceptions. The only 3 books converted to movies, that I have watched and liked are
1. Lord of the Rings (Peter Jackson did a job that would put most of our imaginations to shame, and the locales!!!)
2. One flew over the Cuckoo's nest (Sheer brilliance of Jack Nicholson)
3. Godfather
I have vowed to never watch the movie 'Hitchhiker's guide..' after a friend who watched me told me that Zaphod Beeblebrox has just one head in the movie. Sigh!
Two cribs about the two sites mentioned above.
First - bad interface. The search boxes aren't right up front and neither is the keyword 'search' used on gutenberg. Though catalog is the word book-lovers would more associate with, when you put them online, you got to act like you're online too. What was that about being in Rome and acting like one.
Second - Some of the all time greats are not available. I haven't checked the world book fair site though, since it wasn't up at the point of posting this blog. But Gutenberg did not have any Garcia on it. That considering that his 'One hundred years of solitude' was listed in the top 10 of most 'Top 100' lists at the end of the last century.
Happy reading folks!
These two organizations are non-profit ones and along with the likes of google and yahoo are waging wars against the publishing world, to get expensive and not-so-easily-available books straight to your desktop. So don't let go off the opportunity. The reference sites are here
1. Project Gutenberg - www.gutenberg.org
2. World Book Fair - www.worldbookfair.com
If any of you are the kinds who use PDAs or any other fancy instruments, downloads into these are also supported.
I'm not one to really read books online. Half the magic in reading a book, according to me, is in holding down those pages, smelling them as one flips through them, and going back to lines that suddenly hit you after your well past reading them. That magic cannot be replicated by technology no matter what. Its the same reason why I never watch a movie if I can read the book form of it. Inevitably, in a cause-effect relation, books would be the cause and movies the effect, with rare exceptions. The only 3 books converted to movies, that I have watched and liked are
1. Lord of the Rings (Peter Jackson did a job that would put most of our imaginations to shame, and the locales!!!)
2. One flew over the Cuckoo's nest (Sheer brilliance of Jack Nicholson)
3. Godfather
I have vowed to never watch the movie 'Hitchhiker's guide..' after a friend who watched me told me that Zaphod Beeblebrox has just one head in the movie. Sigh!
Two cribs about the two sites mentioned above.
First - bad interface. The search boxes aren't right up front and neither is the keyword 'search' used on gutenberg. Though catalog is the word book-lovers would more associate with, when you put them online, you got to act like you're online too. What was that about being in Rome and acting like one.
Second - Some of the all time greats are not available. I haven't checked the world book fair site though, since it wasn't up at the point of posting this blog. But Gutenberg did not have any Garcia on it. That considering that his 'One hundred years of solitude' was listed in the top 10 of most 'Top 100' lists at the end of the last century.
Happy reading folks!
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Saala, roads ithna gandha hai ki...
Another peaceful day went by at office. Reaching MG Road by about 8 30 I knew that our plans of some pub-hopping weren't far fetched. 10 00 pm and it was time to go home. Hopped into an auto near the Cubbon Road - Kamaraj Road (erstwhile Cavalry Road) junction.
"Lavanya Theatre, guru!", I muttered, with a Kannada accent thrown in for good measure. The signal went fluroscent green. An insect's high-frequency flutter could be made out with vagueness, set against the green. His day had just begun! Mine was coming to an end!
At Lavanya theatre I got off the auto and ran through my wallet looking for the odd coin or two to pay off exactly. Three strangers walk in a goose-flight combination towards the auto. The two behind, seem to be waiting and following every move of the guy in front. Must be in his early 30s. Certainly well to-do. Paan in mouth and attitude on the sleeve.
His huge head, goes past my peering one, towards the auto-driver's face. "Kailaspal", he said. "Kalaspalya", I played in my mind. The auto-driver didn't as much as look up towards his potential customer. He nodded his head in semi-circles. It means a "No!". It doesn't mean ambiguity in Bangalore.
Big_head looks to cross the road. I yell out "Boss, go this way". Thumb stuck out like Moriarty, I wave staggeredly in a direction, hundred metres down which is an auto stand. Most autos from there go to the place Big_head wanted to. I know, because I've lived close by for about 22 years now. I don't expect a thank you. But I certainly didn't expect what came next. With nonchalance and a condescending look, he stares at me and utters "I know that!" and heads off in the opposite direction. He didn't know his bleeding kidneys from his bloody larynx, I bet. I hold a mild grudge against him.
By nature I think most folks and communities are xenophobic. It's only an intrinsic part of society, certainly not something that's bad. It exists everywhere. I only wish that when a person comes down or goes out to a different place, he still understands that people are nice and wouldn't mind helping. The least you can do, is to have the maturity to appreciate someone's gesture and recognize those who genuinely want to help, from those who are out there for a con job. It never hurts to be helped or help. When any of you guys go out to a different place, from your place of comfort, just remember to appreciate those who have already been there for ages. Don't complain about the bad infrastructure, food not to your liking or the lack of a social life. If you do that, even New York City or Amsterdam might sound like a place you'd pray your enemies would go to. After all, its a new place and gives you newer experiences, greater learnings, and makes you a traveller. Be a traveller, not a darn tourist. The difference is subtle, yet large. And only when you recognize and acknowledge it, will you have fun on your away trips.
"Lavanya Theatre, guru!", I muttered, with a Kannada accent thrown in for good measure. The signal went fluroscent green. An insect's high-frequency flutter could be made out with vagueness, set against the green. His day had just begun! Mine was coming to an end!
At Lavanya theatre I got off the auto and ran through my wallet looking for the odd coin or two to pay off exactly. Three strangers walk in a goose-flight combination towards the auto. The two behind, seem to be waiting and following every move of the guy in front. Must be in his early 30s. Certainly well to-do. Paan in mouth and attitude on the sleeve.
His huge head, goes past my peering one, towards the auto-driver's face. "Kailaspal", he said. "Kalaspalya", I played in my mind. The auto-driver didn't as much as look up towards his potential customer. He nodded his head in semi-circles. It means a "No!". It doesn't mean ambiguity in Bangalore.
Big_head looks to cross the road. I yell out "Boss, go this way". Thumb stuck out like Moriarty, I wave staggeredly in a direction, hundred metres down which is an auto stand. Most autos from there go to the place Big_head wanted to. I know, because I've lived close by for about 22 years now. I don't expect a thank you. But I certainly didn't expect what came next. With nonchalance and a condescending look, he stares at me and utters "I know that!" and heads off in the opposite direction. He didn't know his bleeding kidneys from his bloody larynx, I bet. I hold a mild grudge against him.
By nature I think most folks and communities are xenophobic. It's only an intrinsic part of society, certainly not something that's bad. It exists everywhere. I only wish that when a person comes down or goes out to a different place, he still understands that people are nice and wouldn't mind helping. The least you can do, is to have the maturity to appreciate someone's gesture and recognize those who genuinely want to help, from those who are out there for a con job. It never hurts to be helped or help. When any of you guys go out to a different place, from your place of comfort, just remember to appreciate those who have already been there for ages. Don't complain about the bad infrastructure, food not to your liking or the lack of a social life. If you do that, even New York City or Amsterdam might sound like a place you'd pray your enemies would go to. After all, its a new place and gives you newer experiences, greater learnings, and makes you a traveller. Be a traveller, not a darn tourist. The difference is subtle, yet large. And only when you recognize and acknowledge it, will you have fun on your away trips.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
We pity the plumage, but forget the dying bird!!! - Reservation?!
Arjun Singh seems to have decided to make a chicken out of the peacock and pluck it off its multi-hued beauty.
The line in the subject is from Tom Paine. On the IIM Lucknow alumni group, there was a mail sent containing the text of the resignation letter sent by Mr. Pratap Bhanu Mehta, Convenor- Member of the NKC (National Knowledge Commission) to the PM.
Mr. Mehta in his letter quotes Tom Paine and the quoted line is "We pity the plumage, but forget the dying bird". Apt! Just the right way to define what really is happening due to reservation.
I'm not pasting the entire text here since it is already available in multiple places. I could write my opinion about reservations here. To what purpose! This is not to underplay the effort thousands of students, professionals and other folks are putting in through literature, to bring the issue further into light. The media, both TV and print is doing a great job of it.
I hope I'm able to contribute in action. I'm not sure how this would be possible, but if there is an opportunity to join a strike, or a peace protest on any road, I will surely be there to support the issue.
Here's hoping that justice prevails and all strata of society (upper caste or lower caste) are given justified opportunities to perform to their limits.
The line in the subject is from Tom Paine. On the IIM Lucknow alumni group, there was a mail sent containing the text of the resignation letter sent by Mr. Pratap Bhanu Mehta, Convenor- Member of the NKC (National Knowledge Commission) to the PM.
Mr. Mehta in his letter quotes Tom Paine and the quoted line is "We pity the plumage, but forget the dying bird". Apt! Just the right way to define what really is happening due to reservation.
I'm not pasting the entire text here since it is already available in multiple places. I could write my opinion about reservations here. To what purpose! This is not to underplay the effort thousands of students, professionals and other folks are putting in through literature, to bring the issue further into light. The media, both TV and print is doing a great job of it.
I hope I'm able to contribute in action. I'm not sure how this would be possible, but if there is an opportunity to join a strike, or a peace protest on any road, I will surely be there to support the issue.
Here's hoping that justice prevails and all strata of society (upper caste or lower caste) are given justified opportunities to perform to their limits.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Big Bazaar!
Tie worn to the IIM L interview - 55 bucks @ Big Bazaar (worthless)!
The feelings when I swapped it for a hand-stitched silk one of Italian make during final placements from foolish friend - priceless!
The first time Big Bazaar made an impact in my life when I wasn't expecting it to, is captured in those lines above. Big cricketer places crotch-guard before innings, small corporate fry try cheap-silk noose a.k.a. tie before innings. With such parking area metaphors taking afternoon naps in my traffic-torn mind, I walked into Big Bazaar, Koramangala in Bangalore. When I did walk out of the place, I was the proud owner of a skin rash, an extra plastic cover with the BB logo on it, a fake leather belt for 59 bucks and hyperactive brain cells figuring out how the bloody loop of the belt works.
But what shook me up were the 30 odd minutes I spent inside the place itself. Everyone worth their salts, right from paan-wallahs in street corners to media professionals are screaming loud about the influx of people from across the country into the city. If there were 5 places in Bangalore where you wanted to see this for reality, BB would have made it to the 3rd place atleast (any cross-section of MG Road would be ranked 1 and rank 2 would be taken by a sampling of any multiplex's restrooms).
After winding up two stairs, playing i-stamp-your-toe-you-stamp-mine with strangers, friend and me reached the men's accessories section. The broader term of accessories did not, unfortunately, include magic potions to make people invisible or Israeli smoke bombs. Had they, I would have used the smoke bombs on all those around and the potion on myself thereby decreasing population and as a side-effect contributing to global warming. Crowds were choc-a-bloc on all three floors with the most furious mobs reserving their presence for the billing queues. On more than my fair share of occasions I have played both observer and observed in the game of jumping queue lines to get forward. Today I donned the clothes of the former. Breathing down the neck of a certain gentleman who was holding aloft 3 'Vicky' underwear for 99 Rs. and 2 pcs of Vicky 'banian' for 82 Rs., murmuring obscenities in Kuvempian kannada, was me. The queue refused to me any further, partly due to the constant barrage of calls the personnel behind the billing machine was getting and partly because of consistent failures of the billing machine.
In steps graceful Bong lady! I was under the impression that she was looking around for someone, when it occured to me. Her eyes were in search of a fool who would let her into the queue, with or without consent. Our eyes met! Her search ended... abruptly. I was the chosen fool for the day. With grace she slid herself between me and the person in front. I got off his back. Vikram and Betal, episode 2, slipped out of mind in silent animated movements. Her hubby nudged her forward. She moved further and conquered fool 2. V&B, episode 3 was on. I was again on his back. We made small conversation. Big jokes followed. Three Coimbatoreans who minutes ago remarked about how vyaraitea was available in Coimbatore's Big Bazaar and not here stood ogling at Bong lady. They were loud, used gestures to good effect and had bought black shoe polish, purple socks, other paraphernalia and 3 pairs of jeans. Only minutes ago, two queues were converging at a distant point. I took the one less taken... however the other queue had me overtaken. I cursed .. in Kuvempian Kannada so the neck may understand. Not my neck.. Vikram's from the V&B rap team.
I hated Bong lady for breaking queues.. sacriligeous. I disliked Coimbatorean brothers for crude comments. More sacrilege. New roll of billing paper was strung into failing machine. Bong lady unabashedly acts like she was born in a queue, with the queue, for the queue. Billing personnel take out the first piece of garment.. from its middle slips out kinky cloth. It was 'first piece of garments' and not 'first piece of garment'. Coimbatoreans giggle, gush and crack vulgar vernaculars. Bong lady does not understand. Bong lady is embarasssed. Only women behind me in the queue. She might not have been embarassed had she been where she was supposed to.
She leaves puffing! Coimbatoreans come forward in their part of the queue. They picked the wrong size of denim and had stayed in the queue for 30 mins to get it billed. The queue must go on. Theyr'e sent packing from the counter. The things they bought weren't.
Coimbatorean brothers and Bong lady had proposed. Billing counter-boy had disposed. Justice was done. The man in front of me looked at me with eyes that seemed to reflect my thoughts. I closed my eyes momentarily and nodded my head simultaneously. He followed the ritual while facing me. We knew that justice had been served.
The belt was packed. I asked him for a spare cover then sneezed loudly. Allergens in the air. But all I could smell was sweat. Big Bazaar, just a stone's throw away from a swanky mall. A mall in its own right. A place where families came, perhaps every weekend to make the same purchases of commodities like rice. A place with hands of a kirana store but the skin of a mall. Middle-class India's big answer to their upper class cousins who want weekends with fine dining.
Friend and me stepped out of BB. We walked towards the Forum, appreciating the easy pick we had on the fake-leather belt. It was only 59 bucks. The 4 o'clock sun, shone brightly on us!!
The feelings when I swapped it for a hand-stitched silk one of Italian make during final placements from foolish friend - priceless!
The first time Big Bazaar made an impact in my life when I wasn't expecting it to, is captured in those lines above. Big cricketer places crotch-guard before innings, small corporate fry try cheap-silk noose a.k.a. tie before innings. With such parking area metaphors taking afternoon naps in my traffic-torn mind, I walked into Big Bazaar, Koramangala in Bangalore. When I did walk out of the place, I was the proud owner of a skin rash, an extra plastic cover with the BB logo on it, a fake leather belt for 59 bucks and hyperactive brain cells figuring out how the bloody loop of the belt works.
But what shook me up were the 30 odd minutes I spent inside the place itself. Everyone worth their salts, right from paan-wallahs in street corners to media professionals are screaming loud about the influx of people from across the country into the city. If there were 5 places in Bangalore where you wanted to see this for reality, BB would have made it to the 3rd place atleast (any cross-section of MG Road would be ranked 1 and rank 2 would be taken by a sampling of any multiplex's restrooms).
After winding up two stairs, playing i-stamp-your-toe-you-stamp-mine with strangers, friend and me reached the men's accessories section. The broader term of accessories did not, unfortunately, include magic potions to make people invisible or Israeli smoke bombs. Had they, I would have used the smoke bombs on all those around and the potion on myself thereby decreasing population and as a side-effect contributing to global warming. Crowds were choc-a-bloc on all three floors with the most furious mobs reserving their presence for the billing queues. On more than my fair share of occasions I have played both observer and observed in the game of jumping queue lines to get forward. Today I donned the clothes of the former. Breathing down the neck of a certain gentleman who was holding aloft 3 'Vicky' underwear for 99 Rs. and 2 pcs of Vicky 'banian' for 82 Rs., murmuring obscenities in Kuvempian kannada, was me. The queue refused to me any further, partly due to the constant barrage of calls the personnel behind the billing machine was getting and partly because of consistent failures of the billing machine.
In steps graceful Bong lady! I was under the impression that she was looking around for someone, when it occured to me. Her eyes were in search of a fool who would let her into the queue, with or without consent. Our eyes met! Her search ended... abruptly. I was the chosen fool for the day. With grace she slid herself between me and the person in front. I got off his back. Vikram and Betal, episode 2, slipped out of mind in silent animated movements. Her hubby nudged her forward. She moved further and conquered fool 2. V&B, episode 3 was on. I was again on his back. We made small conversation. Big jokes followed. Three Coimbatoreans who minutes ago remarked about how vyaraitea was available in Coimbatore's Big Bazaar and not here stood ogling at Bong lady. They were loud, used gestures to good effect and had bought black shoe polish, purple socks, other paraphernalia and 3 pairs of jeans. Only minutes ago, two queues were converging at a distant point. I took the one less taken... however the other queue had me overtaken. I cursed .. in Kuvempian Kannada so the neck may understand. Not my neck.. Vikram's from the V&B rap team.
I hated Bong lady for breaking queues.. sacriligeous. I disliked Coimbatorean brothers for crude comments. More sacrilege. New roll of billing paper was strung into failing machine. Bong lady unabashedly acts like she was born in a queue, with the queue, for the queue. Billing personnel take out the first piece of garment.. from its middle slips out kinky cloth. It was 'first piece of garments' and not 'first piece of garment'. Coimbatoreans giggle, gush and crack vulgar vernaculars. Bong lady does not understand. Bong lady is embarasssed. Only women behind me in the queue. She might not have been embarassed had she been where she was supposed to.
She leaves puffing! Coimbatoreans come forward in their part of the queue. They picked the wrong size of denim and had stayed in the queue for 30 mins to get it billed. The queue must go on. Theyr'e sent packing from the counter. The things they bought weren't.
Coimbatorean brothers and Bong lady had proposed. Billing counter-boy had disposed. Justice was done. The man in front of me looked at me with eyes that seemed to reflect my thoughts. I closed my eyes momentarily and nodded my head simultaneously. He followed the ritual while facing me. We knew that justice had been served.
The belt was packed. I asked him for a spare cover then sneezed loudly. Allergens in the air. But all I could smell was sweat. Big Bazaar, just a stone's throw away from a swanky mall. A mall in its own right. A place where families came, perhaps every weekend to make the same purchases of commodities like rice. A place with hands of a kirana store but the skin of a mall. Middle-class India's big answer to their upper class cousins who want weekends with fine dining.
Friend and me stepped out of BB. We walked towards the Forum, appreciating the easy pick we had on the fake-leather belt. It was only 59 bucks. The 4 o'clock sun, shone brightly on us!!
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