riding the night train

So it is on the grass of the San Siro, Comes the match of our times

2011-02-23T08:05:00.000-08:00

Suddenly, a month had gone past...so..A week left??? No it was more like 168 gruelling, painstaking hours...

And its not yet over, As I write, 166 have gone past...Two hours more...

These 120 Minutes will go in what Logic states to be no different from the time to watch a movie or hear 7200 clicks on my Beige Wall clock..But I know better.. I will not be watching the movie but just staring at the status bar to calculate how many of that little box's infinitesimal movements makes two hours. I am not going to hear 7200 clicks but actually have the most teeth-gnashing countdown in the world ever, where, by the time I reach the last 10 clicks, there's a good chance that my nerves will just have had enough and call a day on me

So yeah, I am going to write, write and try not to see the little clock at the bottom of my screen, Write and try and expend this nervous energy into some ultra fierce typing, Write and try and understand why this is just so unbelievably exciting for me

Because, when two hours are past, When I finally hear THAT ANTHEM , sounding out at one of the Cathedrals of Sport, I will know it is time... Playing the team that beat us in our quest for the treble.... 4 Times Champions up against 3 times Champions...Playing in the Capital of Football home to 10 of these Cups..The Round of 16 of the Champions League... Bayern versus Internazionale Milan

Playing in Europe. Midweek. The words no Football Fan can utter without a hint of hauteur. Its the words that identifies your club to be in the clique. If All Football Clubs in Europe were college Students, Clubs that play in Europe Midweek are the Boys in a Harvard Final Club. Doors Closed, No one else allowed.

The incredible glamour of the Champions league is not just in its excusivity, also in the setting - Great European Cities that have seen many and much too real battles in years past, now see those age old European rivalries settled only on the Football pitch.

Finally I guess its the waiting that makes it so special. A team loses in the league and it has another shot this season and definitey two shots in the next. In Europe however, that second chance might take a year, two years or maybe not in the next 10

And these old European rivals might go about winning trophies, never meeting and Finally when they do meet, on a cold winter night in an old historic European City, they know they have to take this chance. The next one might be a while in coming...

Jogu...what Do you do????

2008-05-06T10:46:00.000-07:00

The premise of this rant is very simple...an easy question reallly...what does Joginder Sharma do when he plays cricket... He is called an all rounder, because he bats, bowls and fields, but so does my 4 year old neighbour. But he doesnt play for India or the Chennai "Super Kings" and when he sees Joginder strut his stuff, he must feel rightfully aggrieved.

See (and Dhoni, this is specially directed to u) everyone can perform the three disciplines...Its about doing them at a decent level. And joginder just cant. The poor chap is simply not good enough. I am sure Joginder's friends will testify to how he buys them free booze or his mother might say that he always buys the vegetables for dinner..Be that as it may..In terms of cricketing talent, this guy is nowhere close to international standard. And by nowhere close I am talking in terms of lightyears. Lets explore this a little...

Bowling...He bowls exclusively half volleys or full tosses at 120 kms/hr. While I am sure these were thunderbolts while playing in his apartment colony in Rohtak against fat 16 year olds, it is as scary as packet of cadbury gems, each one tossed into their mouth, to international, heck even ranji trophy batsmen. He also cant move the ball a centimeter in the air or of the pitch. In fact batsmen can actualy calculate an equation that determines every delivery by joginder. Lets see the parameters:

Speed- Between 105km/hr(slower ball) to 120km/hr(bending his back, extra effort ball)
Angle- No swing or seam movement so basically into the batsman from slightly wide of the crease
Pitching the ball - Well here again it used to be either a full toss or a half volley. But now he seems to have developed a bouncer that takes roughly an hour to reach you; by which time u can actually change ur gloves, ask the 12th man to get you a pepsi, place it down for a second, hit the ball for a six and finish your drink.

You see nerds from IIT or IISC can smash this guy out of the park. They just have to follow the Joginder Sharma Equation and he will oblige by following it as well.

His fielding is ok, nothing spectacular, though he did drop an absolute sitter against Rajasthan. But cant be too harsh on the lad. He is still better than VRV Singh.

And his batting, well from what Ive seen, he can slog a spinner who flights the ball, doesnt turn it much and who doesnt have fielders in the deep. A trifle too demanding is my view. But I am fully confident that once such a spinner and captain play for any side internationally or in the IPL and if Joginder has prayed properly in the temple the night before, he might, just might hit a four.

So Why does an obvoiously talented and smart cricketer like Dhoni worship this man. Surely the reasons cant be cricketing. Yet he talks of him like one would talk of Malcolm Marshall (who am sure will come to haunt me after using his name here. Sorry mate, hope you will stop turning in your grave sometime soon)

My brain which has recently been subjected to many Zee TV soaps tells me that something's afoot. Were Dhoni and Joginder brothers who were separated during the family summer vacation in Mount Abu when they were kids? Does Joginder remind him of how his kid sister used to bowl when they were kids? OR is Joginder's bowling the only thing that brings laughter and joy to his otherwise morose, wheel chair bound, widowed (said) sister.

Whatever it is, Dhoni loves him, the media doesnt notice him and his team mates are too tired crying themselves into sleep at night. Joginder stays. And now if anyone could forward me Dhoni's mail id , my four year old neighbour is adamant on sending him a video of his bowling with a red plastic ball.

We two Ours one

2008-04-10T01:13:00.000-07:00

Today's a glorious day in India....27% reservations has been made to a group of people based on their surnames...
oh sorry did that trivialize the issue?...well when we have every single political party in India supporting this move, I should be given some sort of creative licence to vent some steam right? Not that ranting in a blog or screaming in a street is going to do much good...Naah..Lets face facts...we deserve it and ohh...so much more....

Arjun Singh is exactly what this country deserves... an Elsworth Toohey who could never cut it in any realm of life,
who has no personal achievements to his name and a "career politician" who at the maximum,can get elected through that glorious backdoor that is the Rajya Sabha.

And he is the "HRD" minister of this country ...rightly so...we deserve nothing better..

Every party right from the BJP, congress to the Communists (Indian communists it
must be said, strongly believe in caste and religion)and each and every regional party support this move for reservations...

And why not...Its the moronic citizens of this "country" like myself, that created parties who take votes based on religion, caste, gibberish(communists) and a surname(in a different context here, the congress ofcourse)

Do we have voters going to vote based on a party's policies towards free markets and more regulations, laws governing internal security, healthcare solutions, how they plan to generate employment and growth?
OR leave ALL that aside...Just, JUST whether in their opinion the local MP did a good job or not? Yeah right!!!
Our caste = Our vote is the brillaint, uncomplicated formula of the great swathes of this nation

Do we even have a tory or a labour or an Independence party(UKIP) like the UK, based on certain unchanging principles and well defined leanings?...Naah
DO we have christian democtrats or social democrats or the greens like Germany?...No way...

We did have one,long time ago, the swatantra party as my dad has told me before, with clear policies and which wanted to fight elections based on them.
But that was absolutely wiped out by my beloved countrymen in the elections.

So now, what we DO we have is, a hindus only BJP and Shiv Sena, a Sikh forever Akali Dal,a muslims only Samajwadi Party and Indian Muslim League,
a Gandhi licking congress, a hilarious and sometimes dangerously brainless left,a Casteist PMK, BSP, DMK and so many many more...

But thats the will of the majority...The hordes of idiots who go on to vote for people of their own caste and religion...
In short my dear, dear, fellow Indians...who might tomorrow go kill their neighbour as they suddenly realize he is of a different caste/religion....

See, with an electorate that is so enlightened, We should be thanking our stars that a few institutions like the Armed forces, the judiciary to some extent and the Indian cricket team are not yet representative of the bigoted and
absolutely warped minds that the majority of the people in this country have.

Yeah this is real democracy...Where if the majority is obsessed by religion and caste, how can we blame its representatives in parliament, who bless their souls, are their exact mirror images...In all their 70mm, technicolor, narrow minded glory

My beloved country...Where an incompetent idiot who would've struggled to earn an honest living goes about changing lives and playing god...

Cheers!

PS Navjot Singh Sidhu...I might feel like strangling your throat most of the times you talk, but you were the only MP who stood with those students unequivocally in Delhi..Thank you Sir...Thanks for trying...

bloody, lazy monday

2008-04-01T05:18:00.000-07:00

Sharjah airport...After a four hour flight where as true Indians, me and 130 odd passengers expertly frustrated all attempts of stewardesses for donating, buying, renting or in any way reaching down to our wallets for anything close to money, I was finally here. The UAE.

Why did those two words merit a sentence; well one reason could be that its been my only and thus favorite holiday spot for the last decade, more importantly it could be because its one strange, funny place...

The worst thing UAE does is that it totally misguides you in the beginning...Once you enter the airport, most of the security, passport control and immigration officials are locals and there is a lot of arabic in the air and on the sign boards...False start...See UAE is this dry and rich kerala where instead of coconut trees you have petrol pumps, instead of autos you have toyotas and instead of the CPI(M) you have productive employment.

But the core remains the same...malyalis in all shapes and sizes With the addition of migrants from tamil nadu, north India, arabs from the assorted countries on the great arab peninsula and miscellanious firangs who couldnt make it in their own country.

However it is kerala with another difference...It is endearing...right from the advertisements showing the happy, care-free 7 member strong all-arab family either wolfing down mcd burgers or trying their best to fit into a Toyota Land cruiser, this fantastic country never ceases to serve up a chuckle, especially to the narrow minded, boorish migrants who make up its majority.

Take the passport stamping officials for instance...They are one of my favorites...And It always turns out the same way....

Arab Passport official:"Nekkhst"
Me: (Hurrying to the counter)
APO:(Laughing away, talking animatedly in arabic to his friend in the next counter and absently opening my passport)
Me:(controlling an urge to join in the fun with some sounds I perceive close enough to pass as arabic)
APO:(glancing at my photo and glaring right back at me as if dumbfounded as to how could I look so hideous in the passport pic)
Me:(Defensively looking back trying to convey "fine you caught me, I photograph badly, but damn you, that snarling vampire-type is me!")
APO:(Resigning himself to some vague resemblence, Stamps the passport and starts scribbling in arabic)
Me:(starting to giggle uncontrollably)

Some explanation is in order - See, This is the part where I always lose it. Coz I swear that every time I come here, they scribble something entirely different
in my passport. I am convinced that Arabs play some sort of international prank on visa officials worldwide, confident in their belief that no one can read arabic and I wouldnt be surprised if my passport read something like..
"My reccomendation for today is Lord of the rings directors cut DVD with speciallly enhanced arabic subtitles" or "I, Rashid made out with suleima in Sahara centre behind the gummy bear rollercoaster"

Anywho, after the merry go round with the passport officials, its baggage claim and into dad's car, fully knowing that the next time I will be walking another 500 mts at a stretch will be in a month or so when I am back in this airport..
Lazy holiday...Here I ...Yawn..nevermind...

Stevie wonder

2008-01-06T03:05:00.000-08:00

Steve Bucknor; I have tried holding my tongue about this Jamaican for a long time but after the last day at the SCG, this face-cream loving moron is just asking for it.

Steve Bucknor really is one of the most incompetent professionals in any walk of life. You know come to think of it, ICC has to be the best employer on the planet, no appraisals, no problems sleeping off during work, just show up half drunk at the office and yeah, the check's ready.
Let me point out four basic qualities that I think an umpire must possess and judge the tall one(well tall is about the only positive adjective I can use for him and even calling him human seems a bit of a slur on the 4 billion strong ape descendants on this planet) on that:

Eyesight: Ok here theres no doubt, the man's blind. He has to be, Dravid's bat and glove were actually NOT VISIBLE when the aussies appealed. It just wasn't in the umpires line of sight while the ball was harmlessly flirting outside off stump. The Aussies grinning profusely as their beloved Stevie Wonder was umpiring appealed, and the blind man promptly lifted his finger.

Hearing Range:While the blindness can be debated in terms of severity of its condition, one things a certainity, the man's completely deaf. Andrew Symonds' nick was about as loud as a nick can get. I know Bucknor will say not loud enough, and I kind of sympathize coz Steve's expectations of a nick (off an Indian bowler) in his hearing range is something like a blistering Iron Maiden guitar solo on Bose speakers at full volume with powerful vibrations on the ground just so that he can be sure.

Understanding Rules of the game: Again the big SB draws a superb blank. I have concluded that he interprets the game's rules by his own standards and ideas. I think this is best illustrated when Ganguly was "caught" controversially by the slip fielder. Now Benson could have asked Hellen Keller at square leg and that would have been the normal procedure. However the generally incompetent Benson still had enough sense in him not to do that. He knows Bucknor hasn't understood the principle of a catch. For Steve, its mood dependent. You can never say. Sometime the ball may be rolling on the ground, the fielder picks it up and hey presto the batsman is out caught!nothing its just 957 bounced catch just like Steve gives 1 bounce, 2 bounce catches without batting an eyelid. Any questioning them and u are questioning the "human" element of the game. "Cmon" says Steve "isnt it more fun when rules are interpreted differently, doesnt it add to the unpredictability and fun to the game???"

Impartiality: Now this is the mysterious one. What exactly does he have against India? I am convinced that a quick raid into his house by the Jamaican police will not only unearth clues for Woolmer's death( to be fair anybody investigated by the Jamaican police run that risk) but also some vicious Anti India propoganda, Some Burning Indian flags, an ISI id card and a voodoo doll in tricolor stacked with pins. Yes the loony hates India and for what reasons we can only speculate. Maybe a guy of Indian origin made out with his college girlfriend while he was tying his shoelaces one day or a gang of Indian kids made fun of his blindness, deafness and overall stupidity in the playing pen in kindergarden. One can never tell, but one thing's for sure, the idiot in the white coat aint fond of India and he expresses himself on the pitch ruining the game for millions.

Way to go ICC, now tell me how in god's name can I apply for my dream job - Test Umpire in the "Elite" panel. Heres my resume- Oh yeah theres none. Thank god! now if you could just tell me when to start?

A prelude to the wonder that is "thebnagardude"

2007-05-03T09:40:00.001-07:00

I hate titles that are blatant and obvious but this, ladies and gentlemen deserves an exception to that self-imposed rule..and one more thing, not many of you will be able to fully appreciate this post but I will try to compensate that with as many bad jokes about telugu people as I can; as far as golts go..err.. sorry, nothing there for u folks...so without further ado let me present
ABBBBEEEEE( or How I went to art class, made my friend a watchman, painted the town whiiite and ended up with worst kept secret in the world)

Well he started out his career as a dashing 8 year old who fell head over heels in love with a girl in his class..Now eight year olds have a unique perspective to life, while people generally associate glasses with old people, telugu heroes(brightly colored ones), manmohan singh, telugu heroines(even brighter ones) and so on; eight year olds especially of the variety who grow up to ride unicorns when they are older, think its the deal to get the girls...And the rest as they say is history... he spent 12hrs a day 6 inches from the TV, got the glasses, a power of -1 for his efforts and didnt get the girl.

But abbbbeee was made of sterner stuff, and this had just whetted his appetite for a career of scintillating comedies to enthrall me and his many friends for years to come. So our hero ended up one day suddenly in an art class. Before I proceed further, the one rule you should all know to fully understanding our hero's psyche is:
abbbe getting out of his chair can only mean one of the following:
1. He has to pee
2.His mom/dad/granny/gf/humans in general are not home and he has to move to get food (sometimes he prefers starving till someone comes along to do the needful)
3.He is trying to/ going to meet a girl, mostly whom he would be in love with...not that his filtering process was very strong..he "left his heart"( his peculiar quote to indicate that he fell for a girl) at many places including mmm.S...mmm...R..mmm..M.....??? (I said was.. mrs. abbbee :), and on that note, no offence to the golts too, oops, it slipped out again!)

OK, returning to our theme, abbe went to the art class regularly, only missing the floor altogether each time and going one story up to accidentally run into this girl at 5pm sharp on wednesdays, fridays and sundays..Then our brave hero would give her the good ol stare , drink her in slowly, give her one more clean head to toe stare, and then after telling her verbatim the few words he had prepared at home last night, he would go back to the art class dreamily and start work on the next few words to say the next time they met.

Well I promised a sneak peak and thats what you got. Any further queries on telugu wardrobe, the gods they worship, or Abbbee in general will have to wait till I am as jobless as I am now and as vengeful -to stake revenge on something he did earlier- as I am now.

Sweat, Blood and Tears

2007-03-02T13:38:00.000-08:00

Well I am in a Bschool, actually have been for almost a year now...So the 11.76 lakh (average salary) question....Whats it like?..er.. rather cool really....

" Sacrilege!!" "burn him at the stake" I know, I know, such thoughts inevitably follow in the average Indian's TOI and NDTV programmed heads...But just hold on...leave the average salary, highest salary, IIM student spotted flushing money down the toilet thing for just one second...could it be that some normal blokes who mugged thru a particular exam really well, are ya know just...there...

First few days at the insti was a bit of a shock and kinda set the tone for things to follow. Bulk deals for everything from laptops to tooth brushes were scrupulously done and we were witness to hazaar presentations and by the end of three days we were dying for classes to start. Well by the end of the first week, the gangs were formed, the DCPs (Desperate Class Participants) were isolated and after the results of the first quiz, the academic hierarchy was set in stone which apart from the occasionally presumptuous dick, none of the Tom's and Harry's bothered to question.

One sure way to test if you would thrive on a Bschool diet for a couple of years is to add the number of times your hand shot up since grade school when a teacher asked:
a question/for a class monitor to spy on the class/for a volunteer to clean the corridor/went up when she didn't ask anything at all. If your answer has you reaching for an excel sheet, boy will you enjoy a BSchool. There's something on All the Time, on an average there are 353 committees in a Bschool, with another 600 interest groups, add to this equation lots of free time for students in a residential set up with a large dose of naive, wide eyed first year enthu cutlets and you have a heady concoction of activities happening day in and day out with ungodly amounts of participation.

But the kids learn and a month of seeing the mysteriously high and jobless seniors, they learn the essential gift of giving the finger to committees, spamming on laptops in class, giving up on quizzes and inebriated weekends of movies/sitcoms/cricket on hostel corridors.

But being presumptuous is one of the perks assumed as a given with an IIM education and a few years later, business magazines are soon full of reports of nostalgic accounts of alumni breathlessly working out fin problems through the night while munching ops cases for breakfasts peppered with the amounts earned by 22 year olds in the current batch. Enamored by this, gullible 4th year engineering students mug a bit more and the cycle continues....

An Eternal optimist

2006-04-15T10:09:00.000-07:00

After agonizing hours in turns spent waiting,praying,screaming in frustration and waiting again and after an IIM gave me the kick eventually, has given me the requisite gloom and the necessary bleak philosophical outlook to have a look in retrospect of the sometimes painful but mostly inertia filled years of my..er..yeah engineering...and has led me to present You Can Live-A must read for all those who are
a. On this webpage
b.All those who satisfy a. and who are about to join/doing/have no idea about engineering..Hmm...yeah I guess only the first condition
So here it is
You Can Live-How to beat the odds/and a suicide during engineering
(In the order of the least insane)
5. 5+5=75
2*2=75
This is a sneak preview into the math of a 4th year engg. grad.. Thats coz 75 is the golden number.. the attendence percentage required for the Univ exam...this will be your preoccupation for the next 4 years...Any engineer worth his salt will be able to tell you whether any fraction is less than or greater than .75 with a passing glance..

4."And...Out of the ground....never mind TT's hard"
This was the dry humour of a friend when I first had a shot at the game..Since nobody can possibly start on a worser note in sports,take it from me..A sport is the only thing that can keep you from despair in engineering.Probably the only clean pleasure you will get, so play any sport you can get your hands on no matter how you suck, at the end of four years the only thing you will carry with you is your backhand slice...

3.The roulette wheel
Thats how predicatble your exam results are going to be.Just imagine buying a lottery ticket, now imagine doing this twice a year, for four years with the victory being in giving Rs800 as exam fees for next sem and losing being giving anywhere between 900(a arrear) to a legendary 2000(12 arrears..by a noted and falicitated worthy of my coll)..and you dont even get a frequent purchaser benefits(regular arrear)..So not too profitable, is it??...You will flunk, fear not;but the key is to flunk judiciously in well spaced intervals and being arrear free some time during placement season...If its too hard forget it..jobs are dime a dozen anyways..just work on your prayers/lucky charms/weird exam routines..yours truly always cracked his knuckles on both hands before an exam with inconclusive results but kept doing it all the same out of boredom especially after 2 hours of an exam when I have answered whatever questions I knew...

2.Self Stimulating Intellectual pursuits
Chalk throwing, hangman and crossing the dots are my personal favourites.These are specially useful during lectures of profs whom you haveta attend due to low attendence...As you will grow so mutually bored of one another talking to your classmates will not rank as one of your options..
Of these chalk throwing is the most entertaining but exercise due discretion as some prof may just not be public spirited enough to give a kindly smile and join in...And thus you might stand losing all that you have sat for...Attendence...

1.There is a world outside...
When all fails remember that these 4 years will come to an end eventually..Like in prison keep a count till D-day outta college..Like all good things all bad things also do eventually come to an end...Every single inertia/boredom filled moment that has marked your engineering has had its value, you have dealt with inane classmates and pathetic profs and whats more you have come out alive..It will be a lesson in resilience and Just like a man who just escapes death, your first thought at the end of these four years will make you feel atleast one thing..I have known how my future should never be like...

Well I have Tried to hard sell engineering allright.. Any takers????

Sittin in here in a boring room...

2006-02-11T11:15:00.003-08:00

Just having been on the receiving end of an iim interview has led me to delve into the psyche of the other side...

Time-9.20 am
yup,there sit the suckers,and haveta babysit em..well they havent met an iim prof yet..
"you eight people get into room 3 and take ur seats in anticlockwise direction on the table in the order told"
ok a gd topic..hmmm...
"your gd topic is "the blue curtain in my room is actually a television"and your time starts now"
well its always fun having a gd with an inane topic....atleast it ends fast..The scheduled time was 10 minutes but within the first 40 seconds there was a deafening silence and the the squirming and swallowing was proceeding in earnest..I let them feel the slow fading of hope of ever getting into the institute by just allowing the eerie silence continue for another couple of minutes....
"ok people..time up..now wait for me to call you one by one..wait outside please.."
now interviews are great fun especially after a gd like this..The reason being before such a gd there are 2 categories of candidates..
1.confident wiseass(cw)
2.nervous diffident(nd)
well after a gd like this both categories metamorphise into-
1.quivering wreck(qw)
well as all the candidates are of the same category the interviews usually proceed in a similar predictable pattern..
me-"good morning ________"
qw-"g..good m..morning sir"
me(chuckling heartily)-"how would you rate the gd?"
qw(weak smile)-"It.. co..could have been discussed with more varied perspectives.."
me-"really!!my congratulations, you hid your perspectives really well in the gd..care to share them now???"
qw(shaking)-"er...ahh...(gulp).."
me-"dont bother,I was just kidding,so you are an engineer?"
qw(thrilled..squeaking away)-"sir,yes sir, I have done my computer engg.."
me-"So, define the central limit theorem and explain its context with quantile-quantile plots".
qw(definitely gasping for breath)-"but sir..I havent done probability in such depth..."
me-"ok so you are an engineer who doesnt know math, fair enough..I trust you atleast know your core subjects at the minimum"
qw-"Sir..I...."
me-"ok write for me a program in java where you dynamically allocate memory to an array from the users input and store numbers in it"
qw-"Sir..its not possible..we dont have pointers in java"
me-"so you mean to say that I am wrong"
qw-"no sir..but.."
me-"so let me get this straight not only do you gape like a goldfish in a gd but you repeat that performance in the interview and when you do exercise your vocal chords you insinuate that my question is wrong..am I right?"
qw(almost paralysed and incapable of speech..)
me-"ok ____,great talking to you..all the best..call the next one on your way out"
and then is the crucial defining time-how many marks do I give the candidate..sorry folks..my professional integrity dictates me to be silent.oh shucks here's the next one..

Not quite...

2005-09-27T07:26:00.000-07:00

screech! yup thats my banshee alarm I say to myself..which could mean only one thing..Another day has begun.Yeah the past 4 years have had about as much variation as kumbles bowling..get up cursing the clock..the daily battle of heart and mind(ie heart saying"come on go back to sleep...just this once..for the sake of this soft fluffy pillow..cmon" and mind retorting"Listen u bastard u bunked the last 2 days..anymore and u outta a degree and a family"..The mind winning out..and after deciding the category of shower to be had ie- a. pissed off(26 seconds)b.bettergetclean(55 seconds)...i start the long journey to the bus stand..here again meet the same old cronies, nice guys but mutually sick of seeing each other first thing every morning and scouting eagle eyed for the 3 year old ritual of seeing the babe in the black tracksuit while waiting for the bus to come.The daily dose of super rock a baby bus sleep comes to an abrupt halt as the sickeningly white buildings of my college loom on the horizon.

Could go on about my classes too but that would require heavy duty recollection on my part.I mean its hard trying to remember something
you attend once a fortnight and even then only lured by the promise of eating my classmates super lunch or to engage in super fun strategic chalk-missile attacks on my enemies(all of whom satisfy the important criteria of being extreme fun to target ).Anyways continuing, the sense of dejavu gets creepy beyond words when my friends and I start talking the same things as the previous
day and thats when I decided enough is enough..Running as fast as my legs could take me,I run to the sports block and after some intense haggling I get hold of a squash racket and ball and proceed to beat the hell out of it for an hour.Get freaking tired but I know that this is what i need,something to beat the scary sameness of it all,to get out of the wet cement like lethargy,just to have a blast on my own terms.Then i glance at my watch,college is over, time to go home.Well it started out routine but it was not the same...not quite..And with a smile I walk back to my bus.

"Look at him all hoarse and tired"
"Yeah past one week has been the same,he comes, takes the racket plays till his legs give way..Poor guy, wonder how he doesnt find it monotonous"

Sick and bored??sneak peak of hell...

2005-09-11T06:39:00.000-07:00

Yes its right the guy whose blog you all were waiting for so long is back.ok, the waiting for, is debatable but the fact that I am back is definitely not.My absence was marked by a spell of malaria lasting a week and getting screwed in mock cats but then now cured of malaria and realizing that I will continue to get screwed in mock cats I am back on a cheery note.The malaria experience brought home some salient observations to me

1.Gazing at cieling fans is underestimated as a past time
2.At certain times in life kit kat can be refused voluntarily
3.After the initial novelty,talking to urself gets creepy
4.Hospital staff hate the hospital as much as patients
5.Wheel chairs are super fun
6.Sania Mirza and Maria Sharapova are not Salvation army material
(I mean,come on a handshake after the match!!!what about the hug,the kiss??they could have brought joy to many a sick boy...)

And you have malaria if-
1.You start the morning nice and healthy turning the ac on,shiver and sleep in the afternoon without fan and insist on airconditioning at bed time again.
2.Start saying no to fried aalu curry while looking forward with relish at the blandest curd rice.
3.When u reply a pensive "its all in the game" or a more spontaneous but less coherent "blghusrt" to innocuous questions like "how are u" or "wat u doing da"
however the third is also a symptom of mental derangement so definitely pray that its the malarial parasite in case the third symptom recurrs!!!!

Stay Healthy!(Gee I must be really getting old to say such stuff)

Here I go again

2005-08-29T09:52:00.000-07:00

Irritating,obnoxious and vain to the core,
A girl whose wit never got off the floor,
Never would the twain meet was what I thought,
Then the large eyes opened and it was all to nought.

The obvious was just about her limit,
And that too broken down,fed bit by bit,
Her arrogance in contrast rose to the heavens,
Only stopped on the way by the question is 5+2 seven?,

Finally I decided couldnt take it any more,
Unanswered calls brought my feelings to the fore,
To which she replied by giving me the sack,
And told me to go hunt for another rack.

Angry and relieved I looked forwards towards a future,
Not to explain that(rubber)stamps are not made of rubber,
Then my eyes caught sight of the curves attired in red,
Who knows this could be different,naah here i go AGAIN.

...And then there were none

2005-08-18T10:48:00.000-07:00

“Dai wake up!,time to go to audi”..Half asleep I glance at my watch and strike out 17.

Yup I am one of those rare species found at SSN today-the unemployedusnohopeus.First a few facts noted about this almost extinct species-
1.It can be identified by perenially being well shaved and in
formals with a file in hand
2.Noted for its unique ability find its way blindfolded to library
and audtorium from anywhere in campus
3.A disturbing tendency of naming voodoo dolls after HR
managers.

Me and the other five members of our tribe start the now well beaten path of canteen to auditorium.Abandoning the usual favourite-“hum honge kamyaab” the groups ebullient cheerleader raja strikes a more sombre note with “winds of change”.Thus whistling lightly we make our way to the now more familiar than home auditorium.
The ppt and the very difficult aptitude test get over without too much incident except for the HR being witness to a highly entertaining but touch out of place display of break dance by suraj on hearing that there will be no C in the aptitude test.
Then all of a sudden came the bombshell-of all the 3 colleges students,15 students were selected including all six of us were shortlisted.And now there was no stopping Suraj, He decided to not only give us a glimpse of MJ but threw in a couple of somersaults and took the oppurtunity to hug everyone in sight and only the combined strength of all of us prevented him from giving HOD a sample of his considerable affection.
Actually it is fair to say we were all shocked.It was the first time all six of us got selected togather for the second round and the first time ever for Suraj.But the sobering thought was the company never recruited more than three people and with 15 shortlisted and a GD and interview to go we knew it didn’t look too bright.But we were just happy to be togather however short or long it may be from now.
The GD was our collective nemesis.None of us ever cleared a GD and so our attitude at the prospect of another one was not of high cheer and optimism.Giving final handshakes like soldiers going to war we trooped manfully into the library with the assurance of Anil Kumble facing Brett Lee without an abdomen guard.
Then the unthinkable happened,the company for lack of time abandoned the GD all togather and said there was only going to be an interview.The other college guys went in first and before we knew it all six of us went in and were simultaneously interviewed by six panellists.
My interviewer took me to task in circuits and networks and for thirty minutes he gave me hell asking me question after question even if I could answer only a couple in between. Finally he said “you know how you have performed here.Give me one good reason to pick you”.To which I said “Sir I have been rejected at 16 places many for which I still don’t know the reason why but I have never stopped believing in myself and that’s the best reason I can think of”.
He just smiled and wished me all the best.
The rest is just a blur.When they announced they said they had picked six people and as he called out five and every single one of my mate’s names I could see all of them praying for me and then there was a scream like I had never heard.We had done it.

We partied with the hostellers all night.I was taken to task by 10 guys four of whom I didn’t even know who tore my lip and then proceeded to break my backbone but all I could do was smirk and smile.And as a battered suraj decided this time to opt to be a low flying aeroplane and ran around for a mile and the rest of the guys went to get something to eat,I made my way back to the canteen and next to the 17 scratched on the wall put a full stop beside it and then began to sleep.

Riding the night train

2005-08-14T23:35:00.000-07:00

1 am in the morning and I just cant sleep.The lights are off and from the middle berth I just look at the street lights and the dark emptiness as they whiz past me.The compartment sways rhythmically and the distant hoot of the train whistle just completes the setting.I think to myself, it cant get any better than this.

Why? Probably because riding a night train is the best metaphor I can think of, of how I want my life to be.A great screamer of a journey,fast and purposeful and enjoying every single damn minute of it.

As the train flies past another bridge and the cool wind hits me smack in the face,I wonder if its also the emptiness.Suddenly the earth seems like an empty canvas,dark and noiseless and I feel like I am its only owner.To paint on the canvas feels too presumptuous and all I want is to just gaze at it all alone for just that one second that the train affords in which a small snapshot is etched in my brain.Not an image of great detail but still clear somehow.In the sense of not wanting to know the details and ruining it.The fact that it exists as in my conception of it and nothing else.

Then all of a sudden the sky turns blue and the sights are visible.They are beautiful and the ride is still great but somehow the moment(or the moments as it were) is lost.Presently a voice calls out "chaay" and I begin to yawn.