Fanaa...
...Stay clear of it!
If you are a hopeless Kajol fan, put an extra pin-up on your desktop instead. If you like to marvel at Amir Khan's acting skills, go see those re-runs once again.
And if you have to watch the movie, just because everyone else is, go watch it on a monday night 10:30PM show. At least that will give me the pleasure of knowing, I ain't the only sucker around!!
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Friday, May 19, 2006
Friday, April 21, 2006
Dream
Sonu turned to her left and put her hand around the pillow. There was a smile on her lips and a content expression on her face. Life was good, at least in the dream that she was dreaming. Suddenly the shrill tone of the alarm bell pierced through her slumber, and brought her out into groggy wakefulness. She looked around surprised and at the alarm clock. Six AM only. Why had she put the alarm so early in the morning? Usually she never woke up before nine! As she was going back to snoozing after banging the alarm clock off, she suddenly remembered “Exam tomorrow!” She sat up suddenly, totally awake, and shouted, “Mummy!!”
The next hour and a half passed in a flurry of activities, bathing, freshening up, having breakfast, as her mother put everything in front of her. Finally, at seven thirty AM, she took out her book. A look at the fat book made her shudder. The topic was English, and she had not studied a page, yet! She made a quick calculation in her mind. Twenty four hours till the exam. Estimating about four hours for sleeping, and morning ablutions, she had twenty hours left. There were ten topics to cover. That meant that she could allow two hours per topic. She started with the first topic.
Soon she realized that all the material on that topic was not in one place. It was spread throughout the book. In dismay, she turned to the next topic. Soon she realized that all the topics were in the same state! In a state of despair, she shouted, “Mummy!!”
… …
Sonu was sitting in the examination hall. The invigilator was not yet in. She took out her pens and arranged them in a row. She tidied her desk up and got ready to write.
The last twenty four hours had been a period of frenzied activity which she could vaguely remember. Her mother had torn up the book into individual pages. Then she had put together the different topics, like Grammar in a bunch, Composition in a bunch and so on, and stapled the bunches. Her father had then taken these bunches and indexed them as per topic, and cross-referenced them with previous years’ question papers. She had taken up one chapter at a time and somehow she had managed to read all of it before stepping into the examination hall.
The invigilator came in. Everyone stood up to wish him a good morning. As everyone sat down, he went from bench to bench and distributed the question papers. Sonu took her paper and looked at it expectantly. She read the first question. She did not have any clue what it was about. She went to the next one. This one was also as unknown to her. She quickly skimmed through the rest of the question paper. Her heart started beating hard with anxiety. She did not have any idea about any of the questions. It was supposed to be an English examination, but the questions seemed to be all about the life of one person! None of it was there in the book that she had read.
The overhead speakers in the hall came to life, and an announcement was made. “In order to pay our respect to Rajkumar, who died yesterday, today’s exam will be on the life of Rajkumar. Thank you.”
- Adapted from a dream dreamt by my wife.
The next hour and a half passed in a flurry of activities, bathing, freshening up, having breakfast, as her mother put everything in front of her. Finally, at seven thirty AM, she took out her book. A look at the fat book made her shudder. The topic was English, and she had not studied a page, yet! She made a quick calculation in her mind. Twenty four hours till the exam. Estimating about four hours for sleeping, and morning ablutions, she had twenty hours left. There were ten topics to cover. That meant that she could allow two hours per topic. She started with the first topic.
Soon she realized that all the material on that topic was not in one place. It was spread throughout the book. In dismay, she turned to the next topic. Soon she realized that all the topics were in the same state! In a state of despair, she shouted, “Mummy!!”
… …
Sonu was sitting in the examination hall. The invigilator was not yet in. She took out her pens and arranged them in a row. She tidied her desk up and got ready to write.
The last twenty four hours had been a period of frenzied activity which she could vaguely remember. Her mother had torn up the book into individual pages. Then she had put together the different topics, like Grammar in a bunch, Composition in a bunch and so on, and stapled the bunches. Her father had then taken these bunches and indexed them as per topic, and cross-referenced them with previous years’ question papers. She had taken up one chapter at a time and somehow she had managed to read all of it before stepping into the examination hall.
The invigilator came in. Everyone stood up to wish him a good morning. As everyone sat down, he went from bench to bench and distributed the question papers. Sonu took her paper and looked at it expectantly. She read the first question. She did not have any clue what it was about. She went to the next one. This one was also as unknown to her. She quickly skimmed through the rest of the question paper. Her heart started beating hard with anxiety. She did not have any idea about any of the questions. It was supposed to be an English examination, but the questions seemed to be all about the life of one person! None of it was there in the book that she had read.
The overhead speakers in the hall came to life, and an announcement was made. “In order to pay our respect to Rajkumar, who died yesterday, today’s exam will be on the life of Rajkumar. Thank you.”
- Adapted from a dream dreamt by my wife.
Rajkumar
I had posted a blog on the day Rajkumar passed away, but on further reflection, I found the post unsuitable for publication, so I removed it a day after publishing. Given the number of hits on the website in the 24 hours since I posted this article and before I removed it, several people must have read the post. So here is a brief explanation on why I removed it.
The whole incident where one person died of old age, and several thousand others, as a show of their grief, killed away 8 more, injured hundreds and damaged property worth millions, is of course ridiculous, outrageous, and many more –ous words. My feelings about the incident are still as strong at they were on the day all this happened. However, the post on the incident was more emotional than logical. And I pride myself to be a very logical person. In the same lines, I had accused a whole population of a crime which a handful had committed. So, I feel that the post does not deserve a place in this public blog.
I will post another article on the same issue, if I can get myself to type it out. This one will not have any emotional bantering and accusations.
And yes, although several people have read the post, I am removing it entirely on my own will. No one posted threatening comments, I received no threatening phone calls or sms-es, no one threatened to sue me, or burn IBM laptops in front of the IBM office, and no one promised to wipe away the Amazon rain-forest if I did not remove the post.
The whole incident where one person died of old age, and several thousand others, as a show of their grief, killed away 8 more, injured hundreds and damaged property worth millions, is of course ridiculous, outrageous, and many more –ous words. My feelings about the incident are still as strong at they were on the day all this happened. However, the post on the incident was more emotional than logical. And I pride myself to be a very logical person. In the same lines, I had accused a whole population of a crime which a handful had committed. So, I feel that the post does not deserve a place in this public blog.
I will post another article on the same issue, if I can get myself to type it out. This one will not have any emotional bantering and accusations.
And yes, although several people have read the post, I am removing it entirely on my own will. No one posted threatening comments, I received no threatening phone calls or sms-es, no one threatened to sue me, or burn IBM laptops in front of the IBM office, and no one promised to wipe away the Amazon rain-forest if I did not remove the post.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Football
People still ask me, “How?”
I still reply, in one word, “Football!”
They smile, grin, laugh out loud or stare incredulously. I smile back.
It has been four long weeks. Earlier, on an average fifty people used to ask me everyday. Then it became twenty. Now it is one or two per day. And I still smile and reply. I never knew I had so much patience with people!
It was four weeks ago. After a long day at work. The bus was at 7PM. There was a call at 7:30, which I had decided to take from home. As fate would have it, the call was not for me to attend.
There was still some time for the bus. We decided to do something different. We used to play football often in the evenings. We decided to shift our venue to the new sports building which is coming up near our office. It was not yet ready, work was still going on. The basketball court was almost ready. We decided to play there. It was much larger than the place where we usually play.
The game started in good spirit. Teams were distributed with the usual toss of hands! Everyone lift their arms, bring them down and hold them near waist height. Those who keep their palms facing downward are put in one team, the rest in the other. The toss is repeated till an appropriate combination is reached. We had an odd number of people that day, seven. So results were reached faster. I started in the four member team.
The game started like any other day. Subrato, Anant and Anupam were our opponents. The game was pretty even to start with. Anupam and Anant are two of our better players and in spite of being one player short, they matched us pretty evenly or more. Subrato’s extra enthusiasm more than overcame his lack of skills. I was particularly sluggish to start with that day. We also had the rookie Sachin in our team. Then there was Anand whose ventures in to the football field are about as sporadic as a solar eclipse. Santosh was of course there, but he could not match the combination of Anant and Anupam.
They scored a goal right at the beginning. A few wrong passes, total lack of any semblance of team work, and a few of the worst defense mistakes, and there we were, one goal down. This is where the memory gets a bit fuzzy. I think we scored back. Rather, I should say, I feel, we scored back. I don’t remember scoring or coming anywhere close to their goal. And then I became excited and launched into one of the better moves of my footballing career!
I trapped a ball at our defense area. I don’t remember whether it was a successful tackle or an intercept, but there I was with the ball, in our defense. The ball was bouncing, and not rolling. I had it perfectly in control. I lifted it over the head of Subrato, who was approaching me fast, rushed past him, and trapped the ball again. As I ambled along towards their goal, Subrato, incensed at being passed, charged at me. This was where the inherent snaily sluggishness of the human mind came into the picture.
If the mind could think really fast, I would have thought, “What’s the point of trying to out-run Subrato? Running fast on a hard surface is so dangerous! There is a chance of injury, and over the long run, even the knees may get over-stressed. I would be much better off if I were to slow down, let him pass, then maybe dribble past him. Of course I can dribble past him! And even if I cannot, what’s the big deal? I mean it’s only a game. It’s not like this is the end of the world! So I should slow down with the ball, maybe even stop.”
If the mind could think really fast, Subrato would have thought, “He is going really fast, probably faster than me. What can I do? Maybe I could pull his shirt and stop him? Nah! That would be unfair & unsporting. Maybe I should put my foot in front of him somehow. No, that wouldn’t do either. Whether I get the ball or not, I will bring him down. He may get injured. He is after all my friend, and more importantly, my supervisor! There is an off chance that I may just get the ball, but is it worth risking a serious impact on my career? Let alone my career, I don’t want to hurt him, he is such a nice guy! No that’s also out. Maybe, I could…”
But as my luck would have it, the human mind cannot think so fast. All I thought in those two seconds was, “Subrato! Run!!” And all Subrato thought was, “Stoppp!” So I ran, and he put a foot in front of me…
The rest happened as if in slow motion. Or perhaps the mind is capable of speeding up, but does so only at the wrong moments, just to jeer us! I saw Subrato putting his foot ahead of me. I moved the ball to my right foot and beyond his. I didn’t have enough time to change the line of motion of my left foot. It got caught in his foot. I could sense myself falling … the mind was fast, the body wasn’t. I couldn’t propel myself to a better position. I came down crashing at a hundred miles an hour, and hit the deck with my left elbow. I probably have a very strong left elbow, so not much happened to it. The force however, as Newton tells us, got transmitted through the bone, and pushed it out of the socket at the left shoulder.
It has been four long weeks. People still look at my arm in a sling, inside my shirt, and ask, “How”? At least one person asks me the same question every day. Today was no exception. I, however, changed my reply today!
I smiled and replied in one word, “Soccer!”
I still reply, in one word, “Football!”
They smile, grin, laugh out loud or stare incredulously. I smile back.
It has been four long weeks. Earlier, on an average fifty people used to ask me everyday. Then it became twenty. Now it is one or two per day. And I still smile and reply. I never knew I had so much patience with people!
It was four weeks ago. After a long day at work. The bus was at 7PM. There was a call at 7:30, which I had decided to take from home. As fate would have it, the call was not for me to attend.
There was still some time for the bus. We decided to do something different. We used to play football often in the evenings. We decided to shift our venue to the new sports building which is coming up near our office. It was not yet ready, work was still going on. The basketball court was almost ready. We decided to play there. It was much larger than the place where we usually play.
The game started in good spirit. Teams were distributed with the usual toss of hands! Everyone lift their arms, bring them down and hold them near waist height. Those who keep their palms facing downward are put in one team, the rest in the other. The toss is repeated till an appropriate combination is reached. We had an odd number of people that day, seven. So results were reached faster. I started in the four member team.
The game started like any other day. Subrato, Anant and Anupam were our opponents. The game was pretty even to start with. Anupam and Anant are two of our better players and in spite of being one player short, they matched us pretty evenly or more. Subrato’s extra enthusiasm more than overcame his lack of skills. I was particularly sluggish to start with that day. We also had the rookie Sachin in our team. Then there was Anand whose ventures in to the football field are about as sporadic as a solar eclipse. Santosh was of course there, but he could not match the combination of Anant and Anupam.
They scored a goal right at the beginning. A few wrong passes, total lack of any semblance of team work, and a few of the worst defense mistakes, and there we were, one goal down. This is where the memory gets a bit fuzzy. I think we scored back. Rather, I should say, I feel, we scored back. I don’t remember scoring or coming anywhere close to their goal. And then I became excited and launched into one of the better moves of my footballing career!
I trapped a ball at our defense area. I don’t remember whether it was a successful tackle or an intercept, but there I was with the ball, in our defense. The ball was bouncing, and not rolling. I had it perfectly in control. I lifted it over the head of Subrato, who was approaching me fast, rushed past him, and trapped the ball again. As I ambled along towards their goal, Subrato, incensed at being passed, charged at me. This was where the inherent snaily sluggishness of the human mind came into the picture.
If the mind could think really fast, I would have thought, “What’s the point of trying to out-run Subrato? Running fast on a hard surface is so dangerous! There is a chance of injury, and over the long run, even the knees may get over-stressed. I would be much better off if I were to slow down, let him pass, then maybe dribble past him. Of course I can dribble past him! And even if I cannot, what’s the big deal? I mean it’s only a game. It’s not like this is the end of the world! So I should slow down with the ball, maybe even stop.”
If the mind could think really fast, Subrato would have thought, “He is going really fast, probably faster than me. What can I do? Maybe I could pull his shirt and stop him? Nah! That would be unfair & unsporting. Maybe I should put my foot in front of him somehow. No, that wouldn’t do either. Whether I get the ball or not, I will bring him down. He may get injured. He is after all my friend, and more importantly, my supervisor! There is an off chance that I may just get the ball, but is it worth risking a serious impact on my career? Let alone my career, I don’t want to hurt him, he is such a nice guy! No that’s also out. Maybe, I could…”
But as my luck would have it, the human mind cannot think so fast. All I thought in those two seconds was, “Subrato! Run!!” And all Subrato thought was, “Stoppp!” So I ran, and he put a foot in front of me…
The rest happened as if in slow motion. Or perhaps the mind is capable of speeding up, but does so only at the wrong moments, just to jeer us! I saw Subrato putting his foot ahead of me. I moved the ball to my right foot and beyond his. I didn’t have enough time to change the line of motion of my left foot. It got caught in his foot. I could sense myself falling … the mind was fast, the body wasn’t. I couldn’t propel myself to a better position. I came down crashing at a hundred miles an hour, and hit the deck with my left elbow. I probably have a very strong left elbow, so not much happened to it. The force however, as Newton tells us, got transmitted through the bone, and pushed it out of the socket at the left shoulder.
It has been four long weeks. People still look at my arm in a sling, inside my shirt, and ask, “How”? At least one person asks me the same question every day. Today was no exception. I, however, changed my reply today!
I smiled and replied in one word, “Soccer!”
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Rain
Rain
On the walk back, it started to rain.
It was not a heavy deluge, as we usually encounter in our part of the world during the monsoons, it was not a light drizzle either, that one could care to not pay any attention to. The steady stream of water soaked us to the skin in a matter of minutes. Wet, shivering, teeth chattering, we trudged back along the hilly terrain, clutching each other's arms, and huddling together for warmth. The woods on both sides of the road looked fresh and green, newly washed! The smell of the wet soil mingled with the smell of the not-so-distant sea, we were on earth, but we were also in heaven.
We soon came back to the sea, and the hotel on its shores. It was still raining as hard. Through the vertical sheets of water, the sea loked strangely calm and inviting. She agreed that we could hardly be any wetter or colder than we already were! Still in each other's arms, we walked into the sea!
The greenish-blue carpet of still water was warm and comforting as we stepped in. She was afraid to go too far in. She doesn't know how to swim, and it took all my persuasive skills to walk in till we reached waist-deep water. There we sat, up to our necks under the calm sparkling surface, looking at each other, speaking softly into each others ears and laughing occasionally as one or the other would lose footing and fall. The steady torrent splashed continuously on the shimmering surface. Time was an illussion. The rest of the world was an illussion. There were only two lone, content souls in the middle of a wide green bay, and there the universe ended.
Paradise is there on earth and we had found ours. It was the perfect ending to the brief sojourn, before we were to make it back to the bustle of city life, to the hectic schedule of daily activities.
On the walk back, it started to rain.
It was not a heavy deluge, as we usually encounter in our part of the world during the monsoons, it was not a light drizzle either, that one could care to not pay any attention to. The steady stream of water soaked us to the skin in a matter of minutes. Wet, shivering, teeth chattering, we trudged back along the hilly terrain, clutching each other's arms, and huddling together for warmth. The woods on both sides of the road looked fresh and green, newly washed! The smell of the wet soil mingled with the smell of the not-so-distant sea, we were on earth, but we were also in heaven.
We soon came back to the sea, and the hotel on its shores. It was still raining as hard. Through the vertical sheets of water, the sea loked strangely calm and inviting. She agreed that we could hardly be any wetter or colder than we already were! Still in each other's arms, we walked into the sea!
The greenish-blue carpet of still water was warm and comforting as we stepped in. She was afraid to go too far in. She doesn't know how to swim, and it took all my persuasive skills to walk in till we reached waist-deep water. There we sat, up to our necks under the calm sparkling surface, looking at each other, speaking softly into each others ears and laughing occasionally as one or the other would lose footing and fall. The steady torrent splashed continuously on the shimmering surface. Time was an illussion. The rest of the world was an illussion. There were only two lone, content souls in the middle of a wide green bay, and there the universe ended.
Paradise is there on earth and we had found ours. It was the perfect ending to the brief sojourn, before we were to make it back to the bustle of city life, to the hectic schedule of daily activities.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Manipal
Manipal
I had intended to write a detailed account of our trip to Manipal, in the form of a novel. As always, I gave up soon after starting. Browsing through the old files and folders, I came upon the first chapter that I had written sometime in Dec '03! I am publishing it as it is here.
As usual we were late.
We were supposed to be in front of Manipal Hospital by 9 pm sharp. We didn't have any idea how we would be going except that there would be some bus coming there, and there would be a person called Basavraj, who was from Karmic and who would accompany us to Manipal. The coincidential similarity in names of our destination and the starting point of our journey had been a topic of conversation and a topic of jokes among us for the past few days.
By the time me and Anant had a hearty dinner of Egg Biryani at Vishal's (it was then a newly discovered eat-out for us) and trudged along to the Hospital, it was 9:15. We were greeted by a number of loud voices cracking jokes at our punctuality. Amidst the confusion, I noticed one stranger, a heavy-set fellow with curly hair and a thick moustache. He came over and introduced himself as Basavraj from Karmic. We shook hands with him.
Most of us had come alone, but there were several of Sumeet's room-mates, who had come to see him off. (Sumeet's alleged innumerable room-mates are a source of continuous entertainment to us, at his expense, even to this day!)
The wait for the bus was not all that bad. The group was a mixed one. We did not know each other all that well then. But through a series of meetings that had happened before the trip, we were at least familiar with each other to different degrees.
There were eleven of us. Koushik, Anant, Sumeet and I had been working on the same project for the past one and a half month. We were quite familiar with each other. Of course Anant was my room mate. Koushik stays with his parents in Rajajinagar. His home is the furthest, among us, from our office on the airport road.
I used to know Ashish as a joking, bantering kind of guy with a cheerful spirit. He was the loudest in the group, cracking jokes, laughing loudly. He had brought his guitar along with him, and I was trying out my inexpert attempts at producing music on it as we waited.
The tall shy Lokesh (Lokerson) was to me 'the dancer'. His numerous other interests and talents were as yet unknown to me. The contrasting nature of Ashish and Lokesh was highlighted all the more by their great friendship. Both of them were from the same college, and had known each other for long.
Ankur Saboo was an enigmatic character. I knew almost nothing about him. That there will always be difference of opinion between me and him, whatever be the discussion about, I could sense. That I will be so friendly with him later, I never anticipated.
While the seven of us were from the WLAN group, the other four were from DSL. Krishnakanth or KK was the actor. His exemplary acting skills came to light when we put up a half-an-hour stage show a few days back, for the benifit of the rest of BSTC. He was another guy who was always in good spirits, and never ceased to smile.
Bhaskar was the one who had raised his hand when Vivek Pawar had asked for volunteers to lead the group for the expedition. So had a couple of others (probably Ashish and someone else, I don't remember), but it was Bhaskar, who would be our voice when communicating with the seniors of TI and the people in Karmic.
Subhash was a totally unknown factor. It would be quite some time before his 'bloodthirsty' spirit would break though, but he was and is a nice person to be with.
Venky or Venkatesh was another local guy. He was called Batani by everyone. He had had that name since his school-days, ever since he mentioned 'Batani' among the different sciences, as he told us one later day over a cup of coffee at the mess 'Akshay'.
The bus came at 9:45 PM. It looked nice and new from the outside, with the word 'SUGAMA TRAVELS' written in bold letters. 9:45 was the right time but knowing our tendencies to be late for everything, they had asked us to come at 9. After putting all the luggage in the boot under Basavraj's supervision, we piled onto the bus, cheering and shouting. Basavraj had already told us the seat numbers booked for us. I was the last to board. By the time I had started looking for my seat, all the others were already seating in pairs in the seats of two. I sat down in the last (frontmost) seat, and slid to the window. Basu came and sat beside me.
"Which one's mine and which ones's yours?" I asked.
"The window one is mine, but its okay, you sit there."
The bus started almost immediately. I took out my new mobile phone from my pocket, and sent an sms to someone. Basu asked me, "Who all among you have mobiles?" I told him what I knew. At that time, probably me and KK were the only two people to have mobile phones. Basu took down the names on a piece of paper. I was wondering why. It had been impressed upon us that Dr. Mahant-Shetty, the person who ran Karmic, was a simple person. I somehow felt that owning a mobile while we were going for training may not be looked upon very nicely. From then onwards, till the day we came back, I always made an effort to make the mobile as less evident as possible.
Some of us had some food and snacks which we all shared. I think I also had some stuff. For the first half an hour we were pretty noisy. I think there were a few attempts at playing Antakshari and singing, but gradually those died down. Once the bus left Bangalore city limits, the driver switched off all the lights. One by one everyone dozed off. Owing to the discomfort I always feel when travelling by road, I was up till late. Next to me Basavraj was sleeping peacefully as if he was sleeping on his own bed at home! I tried looking out of the window for some time. For the first few minutes it was interesting. But slowly it started becoming dull and monotonous. I gradually eased into a state of restless slumber.
The roads down here are very nice. They are much better than the highways near Calcutta, which are so full of potholes that if there is a smooth stretch, people look out of the windows in amazement, wondering why the bus has come to a sudden stop! For the first time in my life, on this journey, I travelled for eight hours on a bus and didn't suffer from nausea!
I was woken up by the sound of people talking, and a lot of movement around. The bus had come to a stop. It was one of those road-side bus stations where all long distance busses have a pit-stop, so that passengers can get down, stretch there legs, and freshen up. I could see a lot of food stalls outside. Several sleepy eyed people were wandering about outside. I wanted to get down. It also seemed to be a good idea to make use of the toilet while the oppurtunity was there, we had another good 4-5 hours of journey left. But somehow, I didn't feel like moving from the seat. One gathers this lethargic inertia in the uncomfortable sweating semi-seated posture after being that way for hours. I debated with myself for five minutes about whether to get down or not, and ultimately decided to make a move.
As soon as I alighted, the driver boarded the bus and pressed the horn. It was a signal for everyone to get back on board. I made a pretense of stretching myself, and got into the bus. Other people filed in behind me. The conductor came back and did a quick head count to make sure everyone was there. Satisfied, he gave a thumbs-up to the driver, who immediately started backing out of the place. This time I went to sleep pretty quickly.
When I opened my eyes, there was a hint of light in the horizon. I looked around to see if anyone else was up. Apparently, no one was. I drew aside the curtain and looked out. The view outside was beautiful. The trees shining in the early morning light, the sparkling streams that we crossed every now and then, the foggy morning atmosphere, saturated with dew, it was perfect. So far the main attraction for Manipal, to me, was that it was very near to Goa. Suddenly, I started looking forward to spending time in this heavenly place.
By the time the bus came to a halt and the conductor looked in and shouted 'Udupi! Udupi!' almost everyone was up. There was a big gate kind of structure with the sculpture of a lion. About half the people in the bus got off. It was about 5:30 / 6 in the morning.
Manipal was the last stop. The bus stopped at what appeared to be a kind of junction of roads. Basavraj informed us that this was Tiger Circle. As we would later find out, this was the town centre, and we would be coming here all the time.
There was a Tata Sumo waiting for us. As we removed our luggage from the bus, we discovered that Koushik's leather suitcase had a big gash on one side, courtesy a few pieces of rusted iron that was also there in the boot of the bus. A few of us got into the Sumo, and they were taken away. The rest of us waited there for a second trip. All the while Koushik kept cribbing about his torn suitcase. Some of us cracked a few jokes at his expense.
The Sumo came back for us. We all piled in. We drove along a narrow road with a lake (rain-water) on one side and jungle on the other! We soon came across a small T-fork, where we took the left. The car stopped in front of an yellow two storeyed house. Mallickarjun, who was accompanying us on the car, took out a piece of paper and read out a couple of names, "Somshubhra Paul and Anant Shankar Kamath!" We acknowledged.
"You will be living here."
We got down from the Sumo. The Sumo started off, with the others. I took in the surroundings for a moment. The house looked pretty nice from outside. It had a sloping tiled roof. There were a couple of glossy brown-tiled balconeys, one on each floor. Inside the gate, to the right hand side was a small lawn. The rest of the courtyard was tiled. Opposite the house, on the other side of the lane was the jungle. I was half expecting some wild animal to step out from among the trees, when I heard the main door open behind me.
I had intended to write a detailed account of our trip to Manipal, in the form of a novel. As always, I gave up soon after starting. Browsing through the old files and folders, I came upon the first chapter that I had written sometime in Dec '03! I am publishing it as it is here.
As usual we were late.
We were supposed to be in front of Manipal Hospital by 9 pm sharp. We didn't have any idea how we would be going except that there would be some bus coming there, and there would be a person called Basavraj, who was from Karmic and who would accompany us to Manipal. The coincidential similarity in names of our destination and the starting point of our journey had been a topic of conversation and a topic of jokes among us for the past few days.
By the time me and Anant had a hearty dinner of Egg Biryani at Vishal's (it was then a newly discovered eat-out for us) and trudged along to the Hospital, it was 9:15. We were greeted by a number of loud voices cracking jokes at our punctuality. Amidst the confusion, I noticed one stranger, a heavy-set fellow with curly hair and a thick moustache. He came over and introduced himself as Basavraj from Karmic. We shook hands with him.
Most of us had come alone, but there were several of Sumeet's room-mates, who had come to see him off. (Sumeet's alleged innumerable room-mates are a source of continuous entertainment to us, at his expense, even to this day!)
The wait for the bus was not all that bad. The group was a mixed one. We did not know each other all that well then. But through a series of meetings that had happened before the trip, we were at least familiar with each other to different degrees.
There were eleven of us. Koushik, Anant, Sumeet and I had been working on the same project for the past one and a half month. We were quite familiar with each other. Of course Anant was my room mate. Koushik stays with his parents in Rajajinagar. His home is the furthest, among us, from our office on the airport road.
I used to know Ashish as a joking, bantering kind of guy with a cheerful spirit. He was the loudest in the group, cracking jokes, laughing loudly. He had brought his guitar along with him, and I was trying out my inexpert attempts at producing music on it as we waited.
The tall shy Lokesh (Lokerson) was to me 'the dancer'. His numerous other interests and talents were as yet unknown to me. The contrasting nature of Ashish and Lokesh was highlighted all the more by their great friendship. Both of them were from the same college, and had known each other for long.
Ankur Saboo was an enigmatic character. I knew almost nothing about him. That there will always be difference of opinion between me and him, whatever be the discussion about, I could sense. That I will be so friendly with him later, I never anticipated.
While the seven of us were from the WLAN group, the other four were from DSL. Krishnakanth or KK was the actor. His exemplary acting skills came to light when we put up a half-an-hour stage show a few days back, for the benifit of the rest of BSTC. He was another guy who was always in good spirits, and never ceased to smile.
Bhaskar was the one who had raised his hand when Vivek Pawar had asked for volunteers to lead the group for the expedition. So had a couple of others (probably Ashish and someone else, I don't remember), but it was Bhaskar, who would be our voice when communicating with the seniors of TI and the people in Karmic.
Subhash was a totally unknown factor. It would be quite some time before his 'bloodthirsty' spirit would break though, but he was and is a nice person to be with.
Venky or Venkatesh was another local guy. He was called Batani by everyone. He had had that name since his school-days, ever since he mentioned 'Batani' among the different sciences, as he told us one later day over a cup of coffee at the mess 'Akshay'.
The bus came at 9:45 PM. It looked nice and new from the outside, with the word 'SUGAMA TRAVELS' written in bold letters. 9:45 was the right time but knowing our tendencies to be late for everything, they had asked us to come at 9. After putting all the luggage in the boot under Basavraj's supervision, we piled onto the bus, cheering and shouting. Basavraj had already told us the seat numbers booked for us. I was the last to board. By the time I had started looking for my seat, all the others were already seating in pairs in the seats of two. I sat down in the last (frontmost) seat, and slid to the window. Basu came and sat beside me.
"Which one's mine and which ones's yours?" I asked.
"The window one is mine, but its okay, you sit there."
The bus started almost immediately. I took out my new mobile phone from my pocket, and sent an sms to someone. Basu asked me, "Who all among you have mobiles?" I told him what I knew. At that time, probably me and KK were the only two people to have mobile phones. Basu took down the names on a piece of paper. I was wondering why. It had been impressed upon us that Dr. Mahant-Shetty, the person who ran Karmic, was a simple person. I somehow felt that owning a mobile while we were going for training may not be looked upon very nicely. From then onwards, till the day we came back, I always made an effort to make the mobile as less evident as possible.
Some of us had some food and snacks which we all shared. I think I also had some stuff. For the first half an hour we were pretty noisy. I think there were a few attempts at playing Antakshari and singing, but gradually those died down. Once the bus left Bangalore city limits, the driver switched off all the lights. One by one everyone dozed off. Owing to the discomfort I always feel when travelling by road, I was up till late. Next to me Basavraj was sleeping peacefully as if he was sleeping on his own bed at home! I tried looking out of the window for some time. For the first few minutes it was interesting. But slowly it started becoming dull and monotonous. I gradually eased into a state of restless slumber.
The roads down here are very nice. They are much better than the highways near Calcutta, which are so full of potholes that if there is a smooth stretch, people look out of the windows in amazement, wondering why the bus has come to a sudden stop! For the first time in my life, on this journey, I travelled for eight hours on a bus and didn't suffer from nausea!
I was woken up by the sound of people talking, and a lot of movement around. The bus had come to a stop. It was one of those road-side bus stations where all long distance busses have a pit-stop, so that passengers can get down, stretch there legs, and freshen up. I could see a lot of food stalls outside. Several sleepy eyed people were wandering about outside. I wanted to get down. It also seemed to be a good idea to make use of the toilet while the oppurtunity was there, we had another good 4-5 hours of journey left. But somehow, I didn't feel like moving from the seat. One gathers this lethargic inertia in the uncomfortable sweating semi-seated posture after being that way for hours. I debated with myself for five minutes about whether to get down or not, and ultimately decided to make a move.
As soon as I alighted, the driver boarded the bus and pressed the horn. It was a signal for everyone to get back on board. I made a pretense of stretching myself, and got into the bus. Other people filed in behind me. The conductor came back and did a quick head count to make sure everyone was there. Satisfied, he gave a thumbs-up to the driver, who immediately started backing out of the place. This time I went to sleep pretty quickly.
When I opened my eyes, there was a hint of light in the horizon. I looked around to see if anyone else was up. Apparently, no one was. I drew aside the curtain and looked out. The view outside was beautiful. The trees shining in the early morning light, the sparkling streams that we crossed every now and then, the foggy morning atmosphere, saturated with dew, it was perfect. So far the main attraction for Manipal, to me, was that it was very near to Goa. Suddenly, I started looking forward to spending time in this heavenly place.
By the time the bus came to a halt and the conductor looked in and shouted 'Udupi! Udupi!' almost everyone was up. There was a big gate kind of structure with the sculpture of a lion. About half the people in the bus got off. It was about 5:30 / 6 in the morning.
Manipal was the last stop. The bus stopped at what appeared to be a kind of junction of roads. Basavraj informed us that this was Tiger Circle. As we would later find out, this was the town centre, and we would be coming here all the time.
There was a Tata Sumo waiting for us. As we removed our luggage from the bus, we discovered that Koushik's leather suitcase had a big gash on one side, courtesy a few pieces of rusted iron that was also there in the boot of the bus. A few of us got into the Sumo, and they were taken away. The rest of us waited there for a second trip. All the while Koushik kept cribbing about his torn suitcase. Some of us cracked a few jokes at his expense.
The Sumo came back for us. We all piled in. We drove along a narrow road with a lake (rain-water) on one side and jungle on the other! We soon came across a small T-fork, where we took the left. The car stopped in front of an yellow two storeyed house. Mallickarjun, who was accompanying us on the car, took out a piece of paper and read out a couple of names, "Somshubhra Paul and Anant Shankar Kamath!" We acknowledged.
"You will be living here."
We got down from the Sumo. The Sumo started off, with the others. I took in the surroundings for a moment. The house looked pretty nice from outside. It had a sloping tiled roof. There were a couple of glossy brown-tiled balconeys, one on each floor. Inside the gate, to the right hand side was a small lawn. The rest of the courtyard was tiled. Opposite the house, on the other side of the lane was the jungle. I was half expecting some wild animal to step out from among the trees, when I heard the main door open behind me.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Achtung! Arachnoid!!
| "ACHTUNG! |
| wrik may actually be a spider-human hybrid |
From Go-Quiz.com
Apparently I have arachnidan traits! Don't know about that, but since I haven't posted anything for a long time, I thought I will post this!!
Monday, July 18, 2005
The high ball landed a few feet in front of Anant and the defender. A few quick steps, Anant reached the ball first. There was no time to control the ball, a small jump, Anant headed it towards the center. The ball bounced high, another defender made his way towards it. I jumped up and tapped it with my head, downwards, towards Anant, who was now some distance away from the guy marking him. A perfect trap with the right foot, control the ball to keep it with himself and pass along the ground with his right foot, Anant knew where I would be, and I was there. But there was another guy in front of me, I tried to go forward but didn't get enough free space. Sapto had come up from behind, I could see him to my left from the corner of my eye, but the defender had also seen him, and was between the two of us. I pulled the ball backwards between my legs, turned back, took a couple of steps and tapped hard with my left foot towards the right, of course Sapto was there in the clear for the pass. Sapto took the ball with his right foot, shuffled it a couple of times between right and left, pirouetted through 360 degress, with the ball glued to his left foot, to leave the hapless defender behind, rushed past the other guy, and there he was with only the goal-keeper in front. The rest was, of course, simple, the same routine, the goal-keeper coming forward to cut the angle, Sapto making as if to shoot straight, but passing cross-wise instead along the ground, no one marking me, a tap with the side of my right foot, the goal-keeper, still with Sapto, watching as the ball rolled smoothly between the two make-shift posts six feet apart....goooooaaalll!
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Idiocracy. Or is it Indiocracy?
* This story is based on real life, and is perfectly possible. However, some of the incidents mentioned below haven't happened yet! *
The clerk sitting behind the table with a pile of folders with A4 sheets of paper bursting out of them looked at me through his thick glasses and blinked twice. My brain somehow started believing that I was an alien from Jupiter, or worse still, Uranus.
"Four wheeler license ...." I started.
"LL or DL?" Sharply!
"Pardon me?"
"LL or DL?" Contemptuously!
"I have an US driving license ..." I started.
"Door 3." Close of conversation. He went back to leafing through the million pages in a purple folder. I went in search of door 3 and soon found it. Inside, there were a row of glass counters.
There was a queue at the nearest counter (number 8) and no one behind or in front of any of the others. I stood at the end of the queue. Everyone in front of me had a filled up form or two and I was feeling oddly out of place. I awaited my turn patiently behind five people. The guy at the counter seemed oblivious to the fact that there may exist some other activity in this world that might require the presence of one or more of these people standing at the queue. He took his own time in leafing through the forms, yawning between every two pages, stopping to share a joke with another guy inside the glass enclosure between every two yawns and peering suspiciously at each person in the queue.
In about what seemed like half-an-hour (one should not actually measure time when one is in a place where time has no value and doesn't exist, but being as I mentioned earlier, an alien, I could not but help glancing at my watch every once in a while), I was at the head of the queue.
"I have an American DL, and I want to get an Indian four wheeler license."
"Please go to counter number 4." This guy seemed to be very courteous. I glanced at counter number four. There was no one there in front of the counter or behind, or for that matter, anywhere within a mile radius. I looked back at this guy. "Don't worry, someone will be coming there soon."
By this time, I had lost all hope of going to office on time - anyway, I never go to office on time - so I went and waited at the counter number four. For fifteen minutes, I had no other occupation but to glance around and 'take in' the room. There was nothing much to take in, it was just another government office, with cobwebs and paperwork strewn all over the floor, ceiling, desks and window sills. There was by now a pretty long queue at the counter from which I just came. At the end of the room, there was an open door bearing the legend "Assistant Officer In Charge, Regional Transport Office" and a pretty fast moving queue at the door. Some way off inside the room with the glass counters, where two ladies were sitting across a desk and chatting.
Presently, one of the ladies took pity on me and came and sat at the counter at which I was waiting. She moved about a few things on the desk, took out a pin cushion, and made preparations for (what appeared to be) a day's work ahead. Thus customizing the desk for 5 minutes, she looked at me and asked, "Yes?"
I repeated my request.
"Please go over there and talk with the Assisstant Officer in Charge."
I knew better than to protest and I went and joined the long queue. I was relatively certain that the Assisstant Officer in Charge didn't really have anywhere to redirect me to because the Officer in Charge was nowhere to be seen. Being a (mis)believer of the doctrine of Patience and its payoffs, I waited patiently. Soon (within fifteen minutes) I was in front of the great man himself.
"I have an American DL, and I want to get an Indian four wheeler license." I repeated.
The person at the desk nodded. "I need your driving license, a couple of passport-sized photographs and your residence proof. What residence-proof do you have?"
"I have this BSNL land line telephone bill here..."
Shaking his head ... "It has to be either a Passport or a Ration Card or an LIC policy."
"But ..." if I have a land line telephone connection I surely must have a residence!
The guy was shaking his head.
"But my Passport and Ration Card are in the Kolkata address."
"Then get your license at Kolkata."
"But I live here now."
"We have no proof that you live here now."
"But .... okay I have my Rental Agreement ..."
"We do not accept a House Rental Agreement as a residence proof." You may have rented the house for, I don't know, not living there perhaps. Perhaps you have too much money and just want to spend some of it as house rent!
"Well, I also have this proof of residence certificate given by my office on our official letterhead."
"Do you work for any government office?"
"No."
"Then the certificate is not acceptable." Only the government offices are honest and incorruptible, everyone else is a liar!
"But I can't really get a Ration Card here ..."
"I can't help you ... Next please."
***
After a discussion for about an hour and a half, we had narrowed down the possibilities to the one perfect policy for me. I was happy that I will soon get a Life Insurance Policy as well as an address proof. The agent sitting in front of me was happy that he had made one more sale, which means more commission in his pocket.
"Now to get to the paperwork. I need a couple of passport sized photographs, a medical fitness certificate and a proof of your residence. What residence proof do you have?"
"I have a BSNL telephone bill, a certificate from my office and my rental agreement."
The guy nods. "Yes, I understand. We do not accept those."
"Wha..what? Why?" Then why are you nodding?
Still nodding. "Yes, it has to be your passport or your ration card. Your driving license will do also."
"But I don't have a driving lincense." That is why I need the LIC policy! "And the other two are in my Kolkata address."
"Sorry, I can't help you then. You need to get an address proof." Still nodding.
"But I do have proofs of my residence here. My telephone bill..."
"No it has to be your Passport or your DL."
"That means I can't make an LIC policy here?"
"Of course you can, sir. You just need the address proof."
***
The corridors looked similar, the counters looked similar, the clerks behind the counters looked and acted similarly. All government offices look the same.
Finding my way to the correct counter was easy. The signs on the wall bearing the legend "Change of Address" all pointed to the same place. The clerk at the counter looked strangely similar to the one at the RTO. Wondering if it would be polite to ask the guy if he had many twins, each of whom worked at a different Government Public Service Office in Bangalore, I approached the person.
"I want to change the address in my passport to my current address."
That is the only thing done at this counter. Of course you want to change the address in your passport. The guy looked at me severly. This person was markedly less polite than his twin brother at counter 8 in the RTO. "What address proof do you have?"
By now I could answer this question as a reflex and didn't have to think. I replied.
"Not possible."
"Why?"
"We do not accept those as proof of residence."
"What do you accept?" Of course I knew what they accepted.
"Your Driving License or your Ration Card. Even an LIC Policy will do."
***
I was at the RTO in Kolkata.
"I have this American DL. I want to get an Indian DL. I have two photographs and I have my Passport or Ration Card as address proof."
"We need three photographs."
"Okay I have three."
"Do you stay at this address?"
"I ... uh ..."
"This is a government quarter. Do you work for the government?"
"No my dad does."
"Are you a dependant?"
"No."
"Then I need your address proof."
"Can't I stay with my dad? I have got all the proof that you want here."
"Do you stay here in Kolkata? Most young people like you are going out these days."
"I ... "
"Where do you work? Do you work in Kolkata? Bring me a proof that you work here. Otherwise I will not accept this proof of residence. You do not live here."
Congratulations, Somshubhra, you don't live anywhere any more!!
* This story is based on real life, and is perfectly possible. However, some of the incidents mentioned below haven't happened yet! *
The clerk sitting behind the table with a pile of folders with A4 sheets of paper bursting out of them looked at me through his thick glasses and blinked twice. My brain somehow started believing that I was an alien from Jupiter, or worse still, Uranus.
"Four wheeler license ...." I started.
"LL or DL?" Sharply!
"Pardon me?"
"LL or DL?" Contemptuously!
"I have an US driving license ..." I started.
"Door 3." Close of conversation. He went back to leafing through the million pages in a purple folder. I went in search of door 3 and soon found it. Inside, there were a row of glass counters.
There was a queue at the nearest counter (number 8) and no one behind or in front of any of the others. I stood at the end of the queue. Everyone in front of me had a filled up form or two and I was feeling oddly out of place. I awaited my turn patiently behind five people. The guy at the counter seemed oblivious to the fact that there may exist some other activity in this world that might require the presence of one or more of these people standing at the queue. He took his own time in leafing through the forms, yawning between every two pages, stopping to share a joke with another guy inside the glass enclosure between every two yawns and peering suspiciously at each person in the queue.
In about what seemed like half-an-hour (one should not actually measure time when one is in a place where time has no value and doesn't exist, but being as I mentioned earlier, an alien, I could not but help glancing at my watch every once in a while), I was at the head of the queue.
"I have an American DL, and I want to get an Indian four wheeler license."
"Please go to counter number 4." This guy seemed to be very courteous. I glanced at counter number four. There was no one there in front of the counter or behind, or for that matter, anywhere within a mile radius. I looked back at this guy. "Don't worry, someone will be coming there soon."
By this time, I had lost all hope of going to office on time - anyway, I never go to office on time - so I went and waited at the counter number four. For fifteen minutes, I had no other occupation but to glance around and 'take in' the room. There was nothing much to take in, it was just another government office, with cobwebs and paperwork strewn all over the floor, ceiling, desks and window sills. There was by now a pretty long queue at the counter from which I just came. At the end of the room, there was an open door bearing the legend "Assistant Officer In Charge, Regional Transport Office" and a pretty fast moving queue at the door. Some way off inside the room with the glass counters, where two ladies were sitting across a desk and chatting.
Presently, one of the ladies took pity on me and came and sat at the counter at which I was waiting. She moved about a few things on the desk, took out a pin cushion, and made preparations for (what appeared to be) a day's work ahead. Thus customizing the desk for 5 minutes, she looked at me and asked, "Yes?"
I repeated my request.
"Please go over there and talk with the Assisstant Officer in Charge."
I knew better than to protest and I went and joined the long queue. I was relatively certain that the Assisstant Officer in Charge didn't really have anywhere to redirect me to because the Officer in Charge was nowhere to be seen. Being a (mis)believer of the doctrine of Patience and its payoffs, I waited patiently. Soon (within fifteen minutes) I was in front of the great man himself.
"I have an American DL, and I want to get an Indian four wheeler license." I repeated.
The person at the desk nodded. "I need your driving license, a couple of passport-sized photographs and your residence proof. What residence-proof do you have?"
"I have this BSNL land line telephone bill here..."
Shaking his head ... "It has to be either a Passport or a Ration Card or an LIC policy."
"But ..." if I have a land line telephone connection I surely must have a residence!
The guy was shaking his head.
"But my Passport and Ration Card are in the Kolkata address."
"Then get your license at Kolkata."
"But I live here now."
"We have no proof that you live here now."
"But .... okay I have my Rental Agreement ..."
"We do not accept a House Rental Agreement as a residence proof." You may have rented the house for, I don't know, not living there perhaps. Perhaps you have too much money and just want to spend some of it as house rent!
"Well, I also have this proof of residence certificate given by my office on our official letterhead."
"Do you work for any government office?"
"No."
"Then the certificate is not acceptable." Only the government offices are honest and incorruptible, everyone else is a liar!
"But I can't really get a Ration Card here ..."
"I can't help you ... Next please."
***
After a discussion for about an hour and a half, we had narrowed down the possibilities to the one perfect policy for me. I was happy that I will soon get a Life Insurance Policy as well as an address proof. The agent sitting in front of me was happy that he had made one more sale, which means more commission in his pocket.
"Now to get to the paperwork. I need a couple of passport sized photographs, a medical fitness certificate and a proof of your residence. What residence proof do you have?"
"I have a BSNL telephone bill, a certificate from my office and my rental agreement."
The guy nods. "Yes, I understand. We do not accept those."
"Wha..what? Why?" Then why are you nodding?
Still nodding. "Yes, it has to be your passport or your ration card. Your driving license will do also."
"But I don't have a driving lincense." That is why I need the LIC policy! "And the other two are in my Kolkata address."
"Sorry, I can't help you then. You need to get an address proof." Still nodding.
"But I do have proofs of my residence here. My telephone bill..."
"No it has to be your Passport or your DL."
"That means I can't make an LIC policy here?"
"Of course you can, sir. You just need the address proof."
***
The corridors looked similar, the counters looked similar, the clerks behind the counters looked and acted similarly. All government offices look the same.
Finding my way to the correct counter was easy. The signs on the wall bearing the legend "Change of Address" all pointed to the same place. The clerk at the counter looked strangely similar to the one at the RTO. Wondering if it would be polite to ask the guy if he had many twins, each of whom worked at a different Government Public Service Office in Bangalore, I approached the person.
"I want to change the address in my passport to my current address."
That is the only thing done at this counter. Of course you want to change the address in your passport. The guy looked at me severly. This person was markedly less polite than his twin brother at counter 8 in the RTO. "What address proof do you have?"
By now I could answer this question as a reflex and didn't have to think. I replied.
"Not possible."
"Why?"
"We do not accept those as proof of residence."
"What do you accept?" Of course I knew what they accepted.
"Your Driving License or your Ration Card. Even an LIC Policy will do."
***
I was at the RTO in Kolkata.
"I have this American DL. I want to get an Indian DL. I have two photographs and I have my Passport or Ration Card as address proof."
"We need three photographs."
"Okay I have three."
"Do you stay at this address?"
"I ... uh ..."
"This is a government quarter. Do you work for the government?"
"No my dad does."
"Are you a dependant?"
"No."
"Then I need your address proof."
"Can't I stay with my dad? I have got all the proof that you want here."
"Do you stay here in Kolkata? Most young people like you are going out these days."
"I ... "
"Where do you work? Do you work in Kolkata? Bring me a proof that you work here. Otherwise I will not accept this proof of residence. You do not live here."
Congratulations, Somshubhra, you don't live anywhere any more!!
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