Behind the block !

Funny, you think you make time and you actually get very very busy. I've been away from the blogging part of the world for a while, although have been reasonably up-to-date in checking out what my "regulars" have blogged of late. Even after choosing to work "reduced" (really ? does that work ?) hours this summer, I'm not finding time to write. So, I guess that does mean that I'm actually achieving the goal which I had started out to, when I decided to work reduced hours... (However, what would my BH say ?!!!). In any case, with the reduced hours, I find at work, I'm completely focussed at all times and getting to complete most things that I ought to; and have no time to do anything else other than work !! Although the work follows me home during off-hours, its at least at my beck and choice.

Going back to the reduced work hours and the goals for it, I've been reading a bit - also started another blog, about something thats very close to my heart.

Anyways, just back from a good vacation in the middle of nowhere (for about 6d), where no access to computer and net. When I touched the computer it was to transfer the photographs ! The time off was really good. I've a few things to write about:

• About 5-8 stories that I have the plot for
• On my thoughts on getting a puppy at home
• The Great Indian Apathy - a Contra view to Soliloquist's
• The novel that I promised to complete by end of this year, I've the total outline (any ideas on how to publish it on the blog - doing the whole novel would be tedious to read)
• About several other things

Will post something by end of this month. In the meantime, do not lose your finger nails and move back from the edge of your seat ! ;)

Prize Erosion

Everybody feels a warmth, when a 14 year old comes on to the scene, with a certain earnestness that binds you in a thrall, in spite of his prodigious talent, a certain humility that is endearing and that touches you and a certain sincerity that awes you. You adopt him virtually, watch him grow, watch him succeed, watch his intensity to say the right things and do the right things. He inspired generations - people of his time and people before him. You egg him on to be more successful, gloss over his errors, explain away his failings and glorify his successes. As the cliche goes, every mother would want him as her son-in-law and every father, as his son...

... then sh*t happens. He grows old - life's entitlement and insecurities catch up; leading to demands that is in the vicinity of presumptuous impudence. He starts thinking - "although I make tons of money, its sacrilege to have asked me pay for my (Ferrari) toy as per law of the land". Or "How low would these men stoop to question my commitment to my craft" (although what he's crafting these days are turning out to be quite crappy) and so on.

But then, like I said, age happened. The sheen is wearing down; the rust is showing on the humility and sincerity. With age, not only innocence erodes; with it goes a litany of other things too.

Oh btw, Happy Birthday Boy ...or whatever !

Quo Vadis Tu !

Having hit a block on writing, I took the easier path – write on what I’m up to… An update to the September’06 Quo Vadis…

I am reading:

• My experiments with Truth – M K Gandhi
  
• Smart moves - Carla Hannaford

I am listening to:

• My wife, as always… (this does not change)
• Mish mash of Tamil mp3, ranging from oldies to newies.
• FM 100.10 on my car radio – the Carnatic channel, a perfect antidote to the late evening traffic

I am amused by:

• This jpeg that someone sent me – brings a smile,

  

  without having to roll on the floor laughing!
  
• (On the lines of Devon Malcom’s or Courtney Walsh’s art of batting,) Rahul Gandhi’s attempt at politics (or realpolitik, if I may add). It, my friends, is worth ROFLing!
• Sachin Tendulkar’s outrage on being questioned. We, the lesser mortals, forget – God is next only to him.

I am looking forward to:

• Cautiously, restart of Karate classes; about a month into it and I’m feeling good, good, good!! (except for the closing 15m of the class, when I'm ready to drop dead and Sensei pushes for that last effort !)
  
• Hopefully, running the Bangalore mini-Marathon (at least 10Km) – not sure if I’m training enough.
• My “magnum-opus” – its just seems around the corner, just behind the (writer’s) block and clouded by the lack of motivation (to write, to complete)

I am frustrated by:

• Sometimes, Parenting – it’s a two-step-one-step thing – with forward and backward thrown in somewhere there. Wish could lay my hands on that book...
  
• Our tendency to admire the problem and not get into the details to actually solve it, methodically; but continue to talk of how the situation needs to change
  

I am impressed by:

• The Sri Lankan team – who have proven that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
• Even with two losses to Canas recently, Federer’s dismantling of Roddick in Australian Open and this shot by him (sorry, cant post the clip - but trust me, that return of Roddick's smash is just out of the world) !! Awesome!!!

Sanity

Bore beyond

my eyes

Into my head -

See wires crossed

Neurons lost.

An inchoate mass

of ocean of thoughts

Rise in noisy waves

fall to a still-born end.

(I'm all pain)

Strident voices

In a cacophonous cadence,

Shutdown my senses.

I arch tense;

Body spins -

masking the din.

Past, tense twirls,

quiet unfurls.

(I'm all heart)

Senses rebound

coherent and sound.

Spy deep into my brain -

Beyond that pouring rain,

past the raging storm,

In that lucid calm,

I'm all heart...and pain.

suno.ai take on converting this "lyrics" into a song in my favorite genre - Version 1 , Version 2

The True Blue !

World cup is upon us, one more time. For someone who has followed all the world-cup closely since 1979, here are few of my predictions:

1. The media, afflicted by slightly altered mad-cow disease (aka foot-in-the-mouth disease), would whip up the mob hysteria (#2 below) and portray as if the Indian team is made up of 11 Daniel Craigs, draped in blue. They would gently goad every other expert they could lay their microphone on to say that India is the favourite to win. And every one of gullible us would fall for that.

2. Collectively, as a nation we will go into ecstasy when India wins a match, even if it is against Bangladesh and frenzy when it loses to far superior side like South Africa. After every win, the reporters from every news channel and otherwise, will interview a horde of supporters on the street, who will chant mindlessly, “jeetega, bhai jeetaga, India World cup jeetega”. Likewise, after every loss, the horde would want everybody’s head from the team, including the head of Kiran More, even though it does not matter if More has less to do with the team.

3. Shah Rukh Khan will appear for Pepsi, Videocon, Vicks, Dog Biscuits, Brooms and whatever brand he could make money on and urge India to win with a fake emotions and urge Indians to support the team with faker tears. Last heard, marketing gurus from those companies are getting together to create a pot-pourri of blue motif – that has SRK, in blue colors, gulping all those down and making a clean sweep of the opposition (with that broom, of course).

4. Every regional channel will ardently try to imbibe the fever; and do a poor copy of the original copy. You would the likes of Sadagopan Ramesh, Tinu Yohannan and Narasimha Rao (the cricketer) giving completely c(l)ued-in responses to completely inane questions from the completely clueless anchors. Yet, that would still be bearable compared to the motor-mouths!! (refer #6 below).

5. The morning absenteeism at conferences in cafeteria of already highly productive IT companies will rise; resulting in cricket ball-talks shifted to the post-lunch work session. At the same companies, due to better connectivity to the net and better TVs, a lot more people will stay overnight and work; and claim late-work dinner and tea. The midnight-oil will be burnt to make the net-work.

6. Motor-mouth Charu Sharma and his side-kick Mandira Bedi will be on again. They will, of course, ensure that they have their informed opinions heard ahead of experts, who have only played a bit more cricket than them. Thankfully, Set Max did not win the ICC telecast bid for the next umpteen years. But, yet again, the next set of motor-mouths would be as bad as the above two.

7. MMs would interview slightly-drunk and slurring Indian movie stars at the ground ahead of the game. The IMS would go, “Yes, India will win, blah, blah” – goes to fit the tag line perfectly – you can take an Indian out of the streets, but you cannot take the streets out of Indian (refer #2 above).

8. There will be horde of product-launches – all with a cricketer acting abysmally and endorsing them. And each one of the cricketer would be eulogized and their houses stoned. Some gullible (ref #1 above) would even believe that a cricketer did not turn up for a match, since he was shooting a commercial.
   

9. Dravid, Pawar, Vengsarkar, Sehwag and Chappel will all maintain that Sehwag is one big game away from huge score. Unfortunately, that is (but hopefully isn’t) the game, India does not get to play. Last heard, Kapil was to be recalled to the team, since he is also a “proven” performer in the past. Gavaskar wont be; in any case, he'd be busy criticizing the Aussies for their ethos and their work ethics.
   

10. Countless companies would seek viewers to SMS their opinion on Sehwag’s inclusion, as he’d play every match to reach that huge score in the next match. Everyone would make money off it, the business, the advertisers, the channel, the telcos and Sehwag. The billion blue folks would sit smugly, knowing that they have made a difference in Sehwag’s selection (team, not shot), through their SMS.

11. Regardless of all the brouhaha, the Television sales would go up. Stupidity would become the currency and people would fall for any marketing campaign and go in for better TVs , in a hope to see all of the above with much greater and crystal clarity. I did.

Home Alone

Peter was tired – he could not clearly make if he was tired, sleepy or jet lagged. He was tossing and turning in his bed for a while. He had drifted in and out of sleep several times. But now, he was very much awake, wide awake. He had just returned from his business travel far east, where all his firm's manufacturing has been relocated to. Peter managed the supply-chain for his company and he was quite good at it; and very successful. Although he has been typically traveling at least once in a quarter, recently, they have been becoming more and more of an ordeal. The enchantment and the mystique of the Far East no longer held magic for him. On travel, he yearned to be back home and he had started missing his family more – it looked to him that travel made him realize how little time he spent at home with his lovely wife, Simone and their kids – (just) teen-age daughter Jess and their son Jamie. On the flight home, he had played his long-forgotten favourite band, Pink Floyd’s music on his iPod. The lyrics,

Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
When I come home cold and tired
It's good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells

stuck and he replayed it over and over in his head ("Hmmm...I should get back to listening to them more often", he told himself). Come tomorrow, Sunday, he would be at Church hearing those soft spoken sermons, sitting close to his family. "Damn", he muttered, "if only I could sleep tonight".

He twisted around and looked on the other side – his 3 yr old son Jamie was sleeping against Simone. Jamie was special; literally he was a special child needing a different kind of attention and upbringing. Peter worried about Jamie a lot – mostly because, he had no idea what the future held for Jamie and if he would be independent, after they were gone. One saving grace for them seemed that he was the second child behind Jess; and hopefully Jess would be there for Jamie after them. But, Jess – Jess, Jess, Jess, he sighed aloud. He had stopped by her room, before getting to bed – she was asleep, but his lips seemed to be screwed in anger and brow arched in sleep – perhaps going through a bad dream. As he had stood by the door-way, watching her, he did sense some of the struggle Jess is going through – he had no time for her; and Simone was overwhelmed handling and taking care of Jamie. Even if Jess was going through some problem, neither of her parents would know; worse not only they did not have time, but were perhaps telling Jess on what she should be doing, without even understanding what she is going through. Deciding that he would spend some quality time with her this weekend, he had gone to closer her bed, bent down, looked at her closely – his heart swelled; he had softly kissed her forehead, adjusted the blanket – Jess seemed to cuddle up and relax in her sleep, lips uncurling and brows straightening out.

He sighed aloud again and swore – perhaps too loud, that Simone stirred in her sleep – she opened her eyes and smiled weakly at him. He already felt guilty to have woken her up, when he let himself in the first time. Now his tossing and turning had woken her up again. Peter was sure that Simone’s day would have been swamped working with Jamie, keeping up with him and various programs. As Simone drifted back to sleep, Peter continued looking at her – he ran his fingers through her hair; he loved her a lot and was constantly amazed at her dedication to the cause; although he could not recall the last time he told her that - that of his love and his appreciation. He resolved again – to create and spend some time with her. And with Jamie and with both of them. And with Jess. Simple, he realized, he just needs to spend more time at home.

This line of thought distressed him further and anguished him. Peter realized that he is not only going sleepless, but he was creating possibilities of waking up the family. He got up softly, paddled out – swallowed a sleeping pill and went and lay down in the guest room. As he slowly drifted back to sleep in the guest room, he thought tomorrow could be a different day. Atleast he was not in the foreign country amidst of a different culture and language. At least, he was home. In that knowledge, Peter slept… alone.

50 ways to Peeve/Grieve/Cleave your caller !

Excerpted from the yet to be published book of “50 ways Peeve, Grieve and Cleave your caller – how to handle the Tele-marketeers, who call you and solicit to sell something that you told them that you didn’t need yesterday morning, evening, today morning and 5 minutes ago”. Randomly picked a few of the methods, the same way my phone number gets randomly picked by the Soliciting Sally (aka Sai Lakshmi). The more and more these methods are adopted my more and more folks, we will hopefully see a drop in calls and these tele-marketeers truly forming "do not call registry" amongst themselves.

#5: Seek every bit of info
Ask Sally for all the information about the product – each and every bit…every bit. AND the bit, OR the bit and XOR it, then ask again. If it’s a credit card, ask her to read out the rules and instruction at the back of the form and explain each and everything of what it means. Ask her for comparisons between various credit cards. If you feel like, ask her about the origin of credit card – if possible quickly google for it and set out to educate her. Here Sally may insist someone could meet you, politely decline, saying unless you understand of what it mean you could not waste time meeting anyone. But ensure that Sally understands that you are interested in the product. At some point in time in this analytical detail conversation with a scientific bent, Sally is bound to give up.

#15 Sell back to them
Pick a favourite product of yours or the product of the company that you work for. Pick a product that she is very unlikely to have – like a parallel processing computer – Ask here if Sally has one. If not, launch into a monologue as to how that would change her life and make her look good in front of her husband or boyfriend or both. Get to every detail. Ask her name, age and her address, so that you can send a sample. Sometimes these details can help transition into method #21, particularly if you are jobless on that day.

#21 Ask her out
Very effectively used by someone I knew. Patiently hear out all the details of the product and then finally tell her that you would buy the product only if she were to come and meet you personally and sell it. Feign innocence – tell her, you were interested in buying the product, since she was so interested in selling it. Insist that it is something called an “unique buyer-seller relationship”, that Peter Mucker talks about; and that is something pious that cannot be broken. Quote from some holy and quotable quotes of how such relationships are pure and blah

#28 Can you hold Please ?
Tell Sally that you are very interested with the product. Exclaim excitedly, “wow, that’s exactly what I was looking for… great, great, great”; sound a bit distracted and ask if she could “hold please”? Then leave the receiver on the desk for a while and go on with your work; after couple of minutes, repeat the “can you hold, please”. Repeat until Sally gives up; or alternately, you could be cruel and after the 3^rd hold, you could tell Sally that you just realized that you already have the same credit card. If you really want to have more fun, quickly glance at your mobile, note the number where Sally is calling from (most likely a board number) and give it back to her as a friend’s number who would be interested in the card.

#33 Indulge in Babble
Hear Sally out for 30s and ask her if she could answer a question – then pick up the nearest newspaper and continue to read a news item unhindered and without a break. Just go for it. Somewhere, you would see that Sally had disconnected

#42 Run a Survey
As soon as you figure out that Sally is a tele-marketeer, profusely thank her for calling you and tell her that you are doing a research on Tele-marketeers for your PhD and you just need to get a few details – ask Sally about whatever you want to from then on – her education, her location, what shampoo she uses, why she uses it, what other product she considered before making a decision – go on for a while, then profusely thank her and disconnect.

#48 The old and Trusted Method
Get angry that you were called in the middle of something that you were doing, shout at Sally, increase a blood pressure and stress level. The author apparently does not recommend this at all.

#50 Register your number in the upcoming TRAI’s “Do not call Registry”
You could do this and hence publish your number to every other telemarketer, who due to some quirk of fate or stroke of luck, haven’t laid hands on your numbers.

Strains of Silence!

I woke up this morning at around 7.30AM – there was something disturbing (for the lack of better word) that my morning sub-n-half-conscious-mind was not used to – I guess, that woke me up. I heard a myriad of voices - fortunately, those weren't in my head :) ; they were various calls of variety of birds. As I lay listening to those, those that seemed to morph into a rhythmic symphony, I could pick out the streak of various birds calling out. There was this long and plaintive call of the mynah; the hoarse caw of the crow – some unidentifiable voices of the birds – it would have been the perfect setting for an ornithologist. The best was yet to come; I walked out to the balcony and the air was s-t-i-l-l and fresh. There was this indescribable crispness to it – a cool whiff that touches you softly and washes over you. In the cusp of summer, the morning sun was gentle and trying to break through a light fog.

I stood enjoying, this musical in such a wonderful setting; then as wakefulness set in, it dawned on me. The usual cacophonies were conspicuous by their absence – no acrid smell of the exhaust smoke, no horns blaring, no sound of a macho-biker revving up, no bedlam of huge buses, and most importantly, no jangling of the nerves. The strains of the perfect morning had taken away any signs of stress.

As I enjoyed the moment, I realized this was how the world was before the industrialization took over; perhaps this was how my forefathers woke-up every morning in their villages when they took off to till the lands. It occurs to me now, that it is really not a very bad idea for us to have bandh, at least once a month, that closes down our city and opens up the world, instead.

The Rebel's End.

My soul has always been
A lush lawn of green
Tended and watered by
My perennial dreams -
Dreams of promises and freedom,
For all, plenty and then some.
Then came the summer
Of hard truths
The drums of gunner’s
beating to shattered myths.
Incarcerated, cruel reality
Stared back hard at me -
The facts, pinning me down,
With a cruel frown,
Buried the faith in me
deep into the barren brown.
Broken, regret swells up to choke
down my fears
My Utopia dissolve up in smoke
In Triumphant's boos and jeers.
The hope, after a wait in vain,
trickles out of my heart;
Only the silt of sorrow remain
(with a noose) To rend me apart.

Elevators!

Usually Sport is looked up as an entertainment and that helps us to break away from the ennui and routine. However there are few times, when sport elevates itself above the usual and provides a true inspiration and glimpse of the power of spirit; and brings out an innate strength, what human being is capable of achieving, when one sets ones mind on it. At that point in time, the sport uplifts itself and provides something more than an ordinary and true entertainment. It inspires.

The Perspiration

Case Study #1: Excellence
Just before this semi-final there is lot of talk about how the gap has been narrowed - either he has improved or Federer did not develop any further to increase the gap. Thus thought the contender, Roddick. He had just beaten Fedex in an invitational off-the-record-book tournament. Roddick was meeting Fedex in the semi-finals of Australian open and coming into the match assuming he had a legitimate chance at beating him. The first set did not seem otherwise - Federx broke Roddick first, Roddick broke back Fedex; that seemed to spur Fedex on; he just elevated himself to a zone and then won 11 games in a row, including a second-set 6-0 demolition, destruction and devastation of Roddick. It was so obvious, when a point that was seemingly lost by Fedex turned around. A Roddick fore-hand drive at the net had pulled Fedex beyond the forehand tramlines; Then, Roddick seemed to have put-away Fedex’s return into the open court; Fedex scrambling back, improvised (rather innovated) a back-hand passing shot. Crowd erupts; and the man, permits himself a smile and an acknowledgement with his raised-racquet. In mid-game, quite rare. The match clearly showed that Federer comes into every match truly believing, without an iota of doubt, that he can beat anyone. To me, that itself gives him a "set" advantage. Pushes his opponent to win 3 out of 4 sets – that is almost impossible at this level; Secondly, Fedex seemed to have this great ability to evolve and dynamically change game-plans during the game.

At a young 25, his confidence, toughness and importantly, his tennis-intellect is extraordinary. I’m sure behind all these, there are tons and tons and hours and hours of practice and hard work; coupled with a steely mental determination. Sometimes I can’t make out if he is perfecting excellence or excelling in perfection. Maybe that’s an upwardly moving bar for him.

Case Study #2: Reinvention
There is one other young man, I am very impressed with. Dinesh Karthik. He was the wicket keeper of the Indian team, and then he had lost his slot to Dhoni. Seeing Dhoni perform, Karthik decided that it will be tough for him to come into the team as a keeper. So he decided to reinvent himself – he started concentrating on his batting and opened batting for his state and zonal team and made good enough scores to come into the team as reserve keeper. When he got a chance as a keeper in a tour match, he performed well with the bat; well enough for him to get into team in a 20/20 match and score runs that won him the man of the match. Then into the test team against RSA when Dhoni was injured – took his chances and into the Indian team as a pure batsman; there made a winning score to get the Man of the match one more time. The point I would like to highlight is this – there are many examples of how players have reinvented themselves as batsman. But in Karthik’s case there is another aspect that stands out, deserving italics :); Keepers, throughout their lives have stood behind and close to the stumps – hence they do not develop a strong throwing arm and cannot field in the deep. Karthik seems to have worked that one through and he is now acknowledged as an outstanding fielder either at close or in the deep; his fielding ability is talked about in the same breath as that of Yuvraj and Raina.

For a young man of 22, this is truly exceptional. He could have been a victim of circumstance. Instead, he chose to be a player – in his mind, there was no option, but to get back, even if he were to redo things completely. Including having the courage to relearn new skills. In that, he has made himself more versatile and hence increased his sustainability. I believe this has started with his mental outlook of refusing to be a victim and seeing possibilities, truly believing in his mind he can get there. And he has. Even if he never plays for India again, he has shown what the potential of a human mind is and how high it can scale and soar.

The Inspiration

As I was on my morning run, a streak occurred to me. I usually do stretches, walk a while and then jog 3 laps on the track. As I was on the first lap, thinking about the above two gentlemen, I wonder if I could push myself. I decided that tiredness would not be an option today; and I ended-up finishing 9 laps. At the end of it, I realized that I have a legitimate shot at, what I assumed to be an impossible physical activity for me – running the mini-marathon (7km) - I will run this year at the Bangalore event. I realize it is not just physical, its mental. I have been inspired. Thank you, Raja Federer and Dinesh Karthik.

Hers and Hiss !!

Her View:

I have dreamed about this my life time – perhaps all women do. In another few minutes I will be marrying someone of my dreams; well, not exactly, but will do and importantly, I am glad that I’m marrying him. I had met him in a function at our workplace, about two years ago. He and I belonged to the group that had volunteered to organize the event for the company. This is where I had met him. Initially he seemed to be quite a nice guy; eventually, he just turned out to be nicer!! We are doing fairly well at job and his family seemed nice, with him being the lone-son. There was also some kind of excitement as I look forward to my life with him. In spite of all this, I still have butterflies in my stomach. I suppose, there is a certain amount of apprehension when one commits to something as big and as lifelong as marriage :-) … The past few days were hectic, with all the running around, invitations, shopping, fixing up stuff and so on. At the same time, the emotions over the past day were on a roller-coaster and sometimes were very confusing. There a just a few moment left; in a minute or two, I would be Mrs. Somebody... I wish I could walk to the groom’s room and talk to him one more time; and how I wish, I could peep into his room and see if he is going through a similar predicament…

His View:

I was going through a predicament. Just two minutes or so to go. Two years seems as if I’ve waited for this for a life time. I’m quite apprehensive and anxious. I look at the TV in the room. It was a CCTV showing the marriage pandal. I absent-mindedly look for the remote; perhaps I can switch channels and get rid of this tension. There is just so much anticipation here and I can hardly sit; there was excitement and lot of nervous energy; I pace around the room, look at my clock; perhaps very little time is left now! I wonder what the future would hold… as I pace around, I hear the beep of my mobile. and there is this text message from my friend: “2 passes with 19 & 14 yards. 1^st down at Mid-field and 22 seconds to go… AND Brady is intercepted!! Game over!!! Your Indianapolis Colts are in the Super Bowl”! Yessssss!!!!…. As my mother enters to call me into pandal, I stumble along there in a daze and in excitement. It is done, after 9 years in the league, Peyton Manning is finally in the Super Bowl !!!

Ps: Part of the story is true, since I was the one who sending the periodic text message; However, the groom and bride’s thoughts are a result of my imagination...

B-Road Rules!! (Ok, just guidelines)

I had the opportunity to drive a car on Bangalore roads after a long break. Here are some advices, I doled out to all and sundry, in that surreal, half-hour experience:

• Dear Mr.Hep Hariharan – That painted line on the road is not something meant to bisect your car in two halves, with amazing precision and stillness, with your wheels straddling on either side. That one divides the road into lanes.
• Dear Mrs. Crouching Kamakshi (no Hidden Dragons) – Clutching the wheels, with an intense wo-maniacal look fixed at the bonnet and going at pace that has cycles overtaking you, is NOT the concept of safe-driving.
• Dear Mr. Made-IT Madhavan – Glad you are going places in your job, do you have to do that on the roads too ? Remember, you have graduated to a car ? It is NOT a four-wheeled bike...
  
• Dear Shri. Cleaner Kannan – If you insist that the truck would be on the right lane, why do you still flap your hands out of the left window? If you want to fly, should you not have clearance above your head?
• Dear PYTty Pamela – Do you really have to be mobile and mobile stuck between your ears and your shoulder? “தலை சாaithu பார்த்தாயே, தடுமாறி போnaene” and had to screech to a halt...to AVOID the drifting you.
• Dear Shri Auto Anna, are you fine saar? You are on the wrong side of the road and wrong direction on an one-way… But, please go ahead saar, I'll wait. Ella ok, rules yaake?
• Dear 20-something Horny Harry – That 17-something on the pillion, that you are wearing as the shirt, may be the engine that’s spurs you greater heights and faster speeds; May I suggest that you perhaps ride, taking your eyes off the (adjusted) rear-view mirror? Its scary!!!
  
• Dear Shri. Nervous Narayanan – Thank you for your presence – we are honoured!!! Can you please stop honking? NOW ??
  
• Dear Shri Bus Basavaraju – I agree… Neevae Doddavaru. Please, swalpa down nodutheera? That speck that you look down on is a car. Swalpa brake saar... SAAAAR !!
• Dear Edgy Engeetham – Like your niece says, Chill. Simply, drive maadi, stress yaake?

I reach my work in one piece, navigating 10km ride in about 45m, really relaxed and mentally refreshed, all set to take on work and on the world. Well, another ride, another chaos, another jam, another cacophony, struggling policeman, another pothole ... All's normal. Perfect driving conditions in Bengalooru.

The Red Planet

(This was published in 3rd June 2007 Sunday edition of Deccan Herald. Online version is at:
http://www.deccanherald.com/Content/Jun32007/artic200706025321.asp
)

Reclined lazily on her side,
gazing at the verdant around,
Feeling the warmth seeping inside.
Suddenly, out of the blue,
come the armies slicing through
the silent calm, rushing to claim,
Her land, dark gold and gains.
Before she could shout, ‘Look out…”
trampling feet finds her mouth,
cutting her cry short.
That cry drowned in mindless and fury,
Instead, wells up in her eyes.
With their spoils, they have left in hurry,
The green in them and around in atrophy.
She tastes the blood salty,
From that deep wound,
and the scarring all around
that will take a long time to heal.
The blood and tears stifle,
The warm embers; The hope in her fades.
The ugly red spots in the crushed glades,
Mirrors mutilation, she has over eons seen.
She forgets yet another wracking pain,
gathers herself, tending to bloody liens
wonders, “Will I ever be green again?”

The First-Indians !

Few days ago, a news-story on one of the premier English news channel caught my eye. The fact that I’m writing about it, does imply that there was something that I do not agree on ! :) - not that they care, but it has kind of become my favourite whipping horse.

Maybe I should start that Media-Watch blog !

Coming to the point here. The news item that got about 5 minutes of air-time in the news and several re-runs was about an Indian born, US emigrated Gujarati girl getting into the US Army. The news-story was title, the “first Indian Girl in the US army”. This is what gets my goat. I do think there is nothing Indian about that girl. She was with Indian origins – it was very very obvious and extremely crystal clear, that she has severed her links with anything India and Indian and has chosen to become a citizen of some other country. So where is the first “Indian” coming from? I find such links quite irritating. There seems to be awe with anything American that the news-channels seek with their eyes wide-open in some kind of childish wonder. That is really not Candy, folks!

I found the same with both Kalpana Chawla and Sunita Williams. They are not Indian citizens. They have nothing to do with India now – God bless them, they have made a different choice and that is clearly not India. I have no grief regarding their personal choices; the grief I have is how we continue to be proud of the Indian-ness that they have, in a way, rejected. So why do we hang on to that tenuous link and be proud? I recall the days, when there was a joke on the #cricket on the internet-relay-chat (IRC). If one could prove mother of one’s twice removed cousin of one’s father’s sister-in-law is English, then one could become an automatic eligibility to play cricket for England – this was during Hick’s time. These channels claim to such links also seem as absurd as those.

There are lots more of India in a few others who are in India who toil for India living in India. Can we highlight those, please? Can we be proud of such people, please? For example, there is one Mr.K.R.Datye, who has done pioneering work on Solar/Thermal units that is capable of producing heat up to a point, where it would extremely useful in our rural areas; how about the one on composites out of Bamboo, that has near-steel strength and that can bring down the cost of construction and thus an affordable housing?

Those are the real “First-Indians”, literally and figuratively speaking.