twenty eight thoughts

Don't Look Away

2011-11-14T23:22:00.001+03:00

I know a girl
When she smiles
The rain comes pouring down

A longer day
I may stay my ground
Be drenched from head to toe

A younger age
I may have a dream
That tells me not to go

A smaller town
I may close my eyes
And see her once again

I know a girl
When she smiles
The rain comes pouring down

For Old Times' Sake

2011-10-25T23:16:00.009+03:00

I was eight when I first heard Boney M's Holiday songs. I've heard each of them a thousand times now, but one of them that instantly stuck with me was Auld Lang Syne. More so because I had no idea what it meant. No one at home seemed to be able to tell me. And since my only link to the outside world was Doordarshan and Akashvani, I had to learn it like one of those romantic spanish phrases, like Formas de Amor, like Besame Mucho, ones you never understood but just sounded cool when put in song.

And then I grew up and finally got to know what the words meant. It didn't really make much sense though. Old times' sake. "Should old acquaintance be forgot, for auld lang syne"? Shouldn't you rather be remembering your old buddies, for old times' sake? Someone else told me it just meant "a long long time ago". Mm, that made sense, I thought. And so that's what it meant for a long, long time.

After school you grow up a whole different way. The song remained forgotten for years. Life's what happens to you when you grow up, I've heard. Heck, no kidding. When I heard it again, almost twenty years after I first learnt to say the phrase, it wasn't so "senseless" anymore.

For the sake of some of the best times you've had, you have to let go of the past.

Are You Watching Closely?

2011-07-05T23:10:00.005+03:00

"We'll see you again, inshallah"

"I'm sure we will" I replied as I turned my T-card around for the last time. In a time not too long ago I might have got a little moist around the eyes. But Saudi and its experiences have hardened me somewhat. I've closed some doors around me which I will not open again. I've been warned the floodgates come unexpectedly and they're tough to stop once they come. But that's not today.

D and I talked on the drive back home. About nothing in particular. The new speed limits on the roads, the kababs at the new place downtown. "Five years have gone by real quick man." I told him as I parked the car and gave him the keys. "It's been five years?" His mouth opened like one of those colon-O smileys. "It hardly feels like two, chief."

"It feels like yesterday." I smiled as we hugged goodbye.

I handed over my passport to the customs officer. He looked at the picture on it, looked up at me. Turned to a page cluttered with older exit stamps and made his mark on one corner. "Ma salaama, habibi" he handed me back my passport and boarding pass. Go in peace, my friend.

It's not a place I've grown to love. It's probably not even a place I would yearn to come back to. But here, I have gained a little, lost a little, learnt a lot. Made some new friends, been forgotten by a few old buddies. Survived the red-brown sands and 62 degC. Eaten the most fattening meals of my life. Learnt to call a friend a brother. Seen some relationships last a lifetime, others not so much. The ride may leave you dizzy, it may leave you ecstatic. It may scare you to death, it may make you want to do something crazier. But the ride is the thing. As the brown city got smaller and smaller, it's neatly arranged streetlights fading to a mesh of criss-cross lines, a little part of me, I leave behind.

The Long Road Home

2010-11-14T23:57:00.007+03:00

Tell me a story
Of tomorrow
Of purple dreams
And orange hope

And a rainbow walk
Where I never tire

Image used without permission

Dance of Life

2010-08-13T08:11:00.001+03:00

"Nah, I'll come get you", K said just before she hung up. K and I met up for dinner a couple of weeks ago. It's been over five years since I met her. We ended up having a great time, probably one of my best dinners in and around Houston, and reminiscing the good old days.

We've both had our share of difficult times since then. And in their differences, they have been kind of similar. We chose to get over them in different ways. I buried myself in work, so much so I had no time for much else. K did the same, but with a difference. She buried herself in something she loved doing. She still does it today, almost a year later, with such enthusiasm that just bursts with freshness each time. In most of our trials, the ends justify the means. It's not to say that what one does is better than the other. But in our acceptance of what has happened, we often decide, unknowingly, what we were always meant to do. Hopefully a glimpse of what life has in store for us - for the better.

Otherwise K hasn't changed much. She's still as chic as ever, but worries about how good she'll look in every snap. Still dances as if no one's watching. Still has that mischevious honesty in her eyes.

One of my recent favourite songs played on the car stereo on our way back. "I've been doing some singing too of late. Let me sing along with this one, tell me what you think eh?" K was at it as we swept through the Houston night. In a little stray thought that played in my head, the night was suddenly silent, except for the wind through the trees whistling my admiration out loud.

I had a smile as I walked up back to my room at the hotel. Call me behind the times if you would, but independent, confident women always give me goosebumps.

Enough Already

2010-04-01T18:42:00.004+03:00

I'm not one to comment on socially sensitive topics. But this whole Sania news just doesn't allow me to do the same thing this time. Hate mails and comments and news just keep piling on day after day. Everyone suddenly thinks Sania should be the role model India never had. How can she marry someone who has previously been accused of match fixing? Doesn't she know cricket is an Indian religion? Doesn't an alliance with someone like this destroy and defile our nation? And does she know he's been married to someone previously? We as a nation are worried for her safety and security! What if his ex-wife attacks her and we lose our best tennis sensation!! And the worst part is OMG WTF he's a Pakistani! Surely being the responsible Indian she is she CANNOT even THINK of even associating with people that we are at war with??

Give it a rest guys. Let's forget the fact that what Sania does with her life shouldn't be anyone's business. It's like we've just gone back twenty years. To blaming everyone in the nation for something most of them aren't responsible for. To looking for reasons to find fault when there are better things to do. To just wiping out all those initiatives, all the music and lyrics for love, peace and brotherhood. These are people with us, people around us, people like us. When an enemy has a face, he shouldn't be your enemy anymore.

Guy Love

2010-03-08T16:29:00.005+03:00

For the ladies - if you've heard it it's true: guys can't handle emotion, at least not with other guys. We're probably crying the river inside and all that, but on the outside it's a whole different story. I've had a few of these "guy" experiences myself, and I thought it's about time they were put down.

Guide:
WWWTS: What we want to say
WWEUS: What we end up saying

G1: Hey, why do you have a palm pendant around your neck?
G2: Oh this is 'coz I got engaged a month ago. My fiancé has a similar one too around hers. It's supposed to go like - hand-in-hand, you know.
WWWTS: Awww, so sweet that is! *sigh* I wish we had this back in India too! *double sigh*
WWEUS: Neat! Fancy those Chinese traditions, eh?

G1: So how was your vacation?
G2: Awesome. Did a bit of traveling. Finished too soon though - now it's back to work and hell!
WWWTS: Yea, I know. But I'm glad you're back dude. Things are kind of tough right now. At least now there's someone I can depend on.
WWEUS: Tell me about it. So, 'sup?

G1: D tells me you're leaving?
G2: Yea, had enough of the oilfield man. And of this place of course.
WWWTS: Well, I had the best time with you around man. Will miss having you around. Am sorry to see you go, you know.
WWEUS: Hahah, true. I'll probably go next.

G1: How's L doing? You guys getting married soon or what?
G2: Oh, we broke up last week buddy. Some things didn't work out.
WWWTS: Nooo! But you guys were perfect, I thought. Been together for two years right? Are you sure it's not something that can be worked out? Everything's got to have a solution yeah? Surely there must be something I can do to help?
WWWEUS: Oh, bummer. Pizza?

I guess guy love doesn't go much deeper.

This Little Part...

2010-02-20T14:20:00.006+03:00

On those cold winter nights, five to eight years ago, anywhere between 300 to 700 adults would sit in their rooms, or in the institute library (fondly called Ref-Li for the BITS, Pilani nostalgic) poring over those books that would decide where they ended up the next day. Yep, the first series of tests were in action. On every one of those nights for the four good years I spent at Pilani, I have whined and cursed the unfortunate events that made me write these life-or-death tests. The day these endless series of tests would end, I decided, life would be worth living once again.

And yeah, it was good when they ended. I probably won't have to write another such test ever again. And everytime I missed college, the places, the friends, I wondered if I was forgetting a little reality-check of the countless tests I've had to write. I still feel though, everytime, that the fight for the grades, the sleepy tutorial hours at 8 am on a zero degree morning, the scanning through answer sheets for a couple of marks that would get you that elusive grade - would all be worth a chance for four years back in college again.

A few weeks ago, I saw a snap of N during his college days, sitting at a desk with a huge folder of text in front of him. One pen in his hand, another three of them lying around on the desk. A calculator open beside him. His watch on the desk. A notebook and a pile of other papers scattered across the same desk. And though I've known N for over two years, the brightest grin I've ever seen on him. And with a sweatshirt over him, a flashback of a winter evening. His comment, borrowed courtesy Will Smith, below the snap, revealing one simple truth - This little part of my life is called happiness..

For someone whose college life I was no part of at all, this snap and the little comment have become one of my favourites.

Ammi Jab Banati Hai

2009-12-05T00:40:00.003+03:00

Just after dinner one day, the three of us were sitting and watching Conan o'Brien on TV, sipping Naeem's signature after-meals chai. We'd just finished a meal of chicken curry and rotis from the local restaurant behind the compound. "Oops - almost forgot!" Naeem stood up and went to his room, and came back with the yummiest besan ka halwa I've ever eaten. "From home - friend brought it over today." Our mouths were already stuffed.

In between mouthfuls we got to reminiscing about back-home food. Nitin about his dahi-parathas and kadi, Naeem about his doodhi burfi and mithi lassi, and me about my puttu-kadla and mutton biryani. "The halwa's a little different from last time, yeah?" "Yeah, Ammi can never make the same thing twice. I asked her for besan ka halwa that's all - no point telling her 'the same as last time'! Lekin Ammi jab banati hai badi fit banati hai yaar!"

Amen. No arguments on that - go around the world eating your poulets, calzones, fajitas, dim-sums, chop sueys, sushis, kebabs, whatever - all that just melts away when you think of home food. I've already started counting down my 15 odd remaining days!

They say home is where the heart is. I'm sure for the most of us, home is where Mom's food is.

My Horizon

2009-11-12T12:42:00.003+03:00

Any minute now, my ship is coming in
I'll keep checking the horizon
I'll stand on the bow, feel the waves come crashing
Come crashing down on me

And you say, be still my love
Open up your heart
Let the light shine in
But don't you understand
I already have a plan
I'm waiting for my real life to begin
...
On a clear day
I can see
See a very long way

From Colin Hay's Waiting

Who Knows

2009-09-23T22:36:00.005+03:00

Six of us were cramped up in that little cabin on the truck. For the past eleven days we've been there everyday, at least six to seven hours each day. Watching the little weight indicator on the monitor, hoping for an answer and hoping for it soon. The chunk of metal downhole just refused to give up. We'd been pulling on it, smacking metal on metal, looking for that rapid drop on the scale, waiting for it to come free.

At the end of the day we were tired, upset and seriously considering the possibility of redoing everything we had done in the last six weeks. And then we saw the 9000 pound drop, and the coil rolling back freely.

"Al hamdolillah!* " Everyone of us cried out with our hands raised at our chests.

Frank is Chinese and an atheist. Håvard is Norweigian, and he's not been to church since his divorce. Fazil is from Azerbaijan, I don't have much to say about religion there. Mohammed has spent the last five years in San Francisco, but he's a pretty devout Muslim. And so is Ali, but he's been in Saudi all his life. I'm also quite the God-fearing Catholic.

But it didn't really matter. Sometimes, you can have a ton of experience in the work you do. You can explain everything, plan ahead, do something you can to the best of your knowledge and ability. And still, sometimes, we find ourselves desperately waiting for a miracle that we know with all our technically programmed minds will just not happen. And yet, when it does, there is something in the way it all worked out that makes you wonder. In the same way that the world has its perfectly random order. Maybe this is what all of us can call God.

* A common phrase which praises Allah. Translated, it roughly means, "This was possible, by God's mercy."

The Space Between

2009-09-23T13:56:00.003+03:00

"What's the reason you're being so weird lately?"

"I guess... I don't know. I'm really happy for you, I am. I was just... hoping, I guess, that this day wouldn't come."

"You don't have to distance yourself because of that. We're still who we used to be!"

"Then tell me things will be the same."

(cell phone rings)

"I gotta take this, buddy. You're right. Things are going to be different. But different doesn't always mean bad. Different just means different."

Dream Catcher

2009-06-26T18:21:00.003+03:00

You will live it out in time

But God forbid

That among the dreams of tomorrow

And the memories of yesterday

You forget the reality of today.

Tamizh

2009-06-19T14:26:00.006+03:00

A gave me a birthday gift two weeks ago. Ah, I should probably say that the original gift that I was supposed to get dissolved into thin air on account of the fact that my visit to India was unprecendented and unexpected at the time of her arrival, and realizing that it was almost impossible that the two of us would meet during her trip back home, and calculating carefully that the postal department would make a killing on parcel registration almost nullifying the value of the gift, she had come to the conclusion that it would be better to give me this gift the next time we met, which could not be longer than another two years in time (I have simplified her original explanation which ran into seven and a half pages on standard A4 size paper - front and back).

So after a million whines of self-pity on having no birthday acknowledgement from someone I have known forever, she agreed to put together the one thing I really have wanted for a long while. A CD of tamil songs. Not that I've not heard tamil songs before, but not like this. The CD has pretty much blown me away - you could call it an obsession I guess.

On the other hand, I think whoever said mallu is tougher to learn than tamil knew nothing about either language! I'm a little language shy and A scares the hell out of me every time I try to speak two words. So a few days back I manage a Innu onnum pannala * and she's on it straight away -

"No! What Innu? You should say innukku!"

"But innu is passable no?" (hands a little sweaty)

"NO! It's not passable! And what onnum pannala? This is not your mallu - say innukku onnume pannala * !"

"OK..." (My voice is shaking and I can't say another word)

Hah, this is just the tip of the iceberg. If it's I it has to be pannitaen ^ , if it's he it has to be pannitaan ^ , if it's she it has to be pannitta ^ (oh, actually in very pure tamizh it has to be pannittaal ^, but in conversation pannitta is passable :P ) And elders you have to respect, OK? No enna pannara ** and all... it has to be neenga enna pannareenga ** !

Where does my paavam mallu compare to this where a simple Endhu cheyyuva ** ? would fit everyone and everything!!

But I'm having fun inspite of all the domination and humiliation. And for that, A, you're officially forgiven for everything ;)

* - Did nothing today

^ - various forms of did

** - What are you doing?

V1/16

2009-06-16T13:00:00.006+03:00

The strands in your eyes
That color them wonderful
Stop me and steal my breath
Emeralds from mountains
Thrust towards the sky
Never revealing their depth

Today completes three years since I left Bangalore - then and now one of my cities of dreams. The place where I gained a little, lost a little, and still continue to learn - a lot. This is a dedication to everything that makes the city what it is - the traffic, the streets, the double meter auto rides, the restaurants, and more than anything else - the people who made my life the way it is now.

Lyrics from Goo Goo Dolls' I'll be

Colourblind

2009-06-11T17:34:00.011+03:00

The balloon seller was filling up his balloons with helium. He had a daily ploy to attract his young customers. Just as children started coming out of school, he would grab a dozen balloons of various colours and let them loose into the air. It always worked. One hour's work in the evening and he would make enough money for a decent meal three times a day.

On one such day, just as he was about to pack up, he felt a little tug on the bottom of his shirt. Looking down, he saw a little kid looking up at him with his dark brown eyes. "Uncle, if you fill a black balloon with air and leave it, will it also fly like the others?" His small voice brimmed with innocence.

The balloon seller patted him on the head. "It doesn't matter what's on the outside, son. It's what's inside that counts."

***

I heard this story in church today. I've heard a lot of them before, with long winded parallels and implications that would finally give a moral science lesson. But this one surprised me. Like that one-in-a-hundred story that makes you smile, just because it is so simple its truth can't be denied.

And I suppose that however late, we all realize that it's true. It's what's inside that counts.

Mayflower

2009-05-15T16:44:00.003+03:00

Strange but wonderful, that sometimes -

- in the loudest of places, you can find just the silence you wished for.
- it really is possible to sleep your worries away.
- music and lyrics can take off a day's weight.
- friends are the only reason you need to make a decision.
- you can miss someone even though you're hardly in touch.
- memories of yesterday make up for the expectations of today.
- you can dream about something you know won't come true.
- acceptance can be the simplest form of love.

Taglines

2009-05-01T18:44:00.005+03:00

(Tagged by Pareltank and Angels, Stars 'n Dreams, but I should probably modify it to "ten honest beliefs" or something like it. And oops! could come up only with 7!)

And I know it aches
And your heart it breaks
You can only take so much...
Walk on
***
There's a place where love
And feeling good don't ever cost a thing
And the pain you feel's a different kind of pain
... Home
***
If all of the stars have faded away
Just try not to worry you'll see them someday
Just take what you need and be on your way
And stop crying your heart out
***
We were moving mountains
Long before we knew we could
***
No matter what they tell you
No matter what they do
No matter what they teach you
What you believe is true
***
I tried so hard to set things right
But then years later when I looked back
The only things that turned out right
Were those I thought I'd just let be
***
I dream that love will never die
I dream that God will be forgiving

Onion Pakoda

2009-03-30T08:15:00.005+03:00

"Yaar aaj to pakoda khaana hi padega!" Naeem, Nitin and I are sitting in our living room watching the rain pitter-patter outside. Rain. In my part of the world, that's rare. Nitin's the one who made the pakoda remark. That's how it is with him - most things are impulsive and based on parallels. This time it's the badiya mausam - ghar ki yaad - pakoda on a rainy evening parallel.

But this time everyone's enthusiastic. Somehow it does seem like a pakodi ka din. And so on the first weekend all of us have in almost a month, we decide to have a doing nothing - doing everything day. Naeem takes us in the morning to the local Pakistani Street which has the best aalo ke parathe I've had (prejudiced opinion because I'm in Saudi - but what the hell!).

But Nitin's right. The weather is awesome. The only time Saudi has actually looked romantic. The rain has cleared the air. The sky is dark but when you look out to the distance, you can almost touch the peace it casts on the ground. Sitting at the Corniche sea face, sipping at our coffees, we can see through to the Bahrain causeway miles away. Mornings have never been so lovely.

A drive and a movie later, we remember to end the day with what started it - Nitin's pakodi. At the little restaurant downtown, dabbing our onion pakodas in its red chutney and chana-dal, there're no worries of work, of people in distant lands, of money or relationships. Life feels momentarily peaceful.

Latika!

2009-03-14T15:37:00.003+03:00

(Yep, finally saw it!)

My love for Slumdog isn't because it provides the world hope in it's time of recession, or because it tells you that you can reach great heights no matter what your history. It is in the simplicity of the love Jamal and Latika share. It doesn't matter how they were brought up, how they survived the dark days of their youth, how the Mumbai gang wars tore them apart - when they're finally together, the emotion they share is so natural, so easily innocent.

"Where are you?"
"I'm safe."
"I knew you'd be watching."

How many of us would accept a Ye hi hamari kismat hai justification at the end of a Bollywood movie? But Jamal's This is our destiny seems absolutely all right - because he makes us believe that even though it is written, you just cannot stop trying.

Right and Wrong

2009-01-16T18:29:00.003+03:00

India's first golden globe. And perfectly dedicated to "the billion people of India". No one deserves it more. Rahman - you the man.

Sachin ranked #26. The ICC should suck on a lollipop while they redo that primary school formula they used.

My Window

2008-12-29T14:33:00.013+03:00

Beside this window I spent nine years of my waking hours. Or minutes - being a last-minute-you-really-can't-afford-to-sleep-anymore kind of late riser I've never really got the time to enjoy a beautiful morning.

Every weekday at 5:45 my dad would wake me up when he left for work. Amma is probably the most optimistic person on the planet - all through these nine years I've asked her everyday to wake me up at 6 am. And she's done it whenever I asked her to - and continued it every 15 minutes till I finally wake up at half past seven, twenty minutes before the school bus is scheduled to pick me up at my doorstep. Most mornings are a blur to me. Three minutes dashing in and out of the shower, five minutes searching desparately for ironed clothes, twenty seconds in front of the dressing table trying to look presentable, one minute gulping down breakfast with no respect for what was served. To this day I consider it among my top achievements that in nine years, I can still count with one finger the number of times I've missed the school bus.

But the window is special. On those lazy mornings on the weekend when I'd just woken up, I'd prop my pillow against the head of the bed and stare for hours at the backyard. Somewhere along that timeframe there was a mulberry tree that grew just next to the wall. I remember the excitement when one day, after having learnt metamorphosis in biology, I saw among the deep red and the green of the tree, a fat green caterpillar. This was my obsession for weeks, till it finally disappeared leaving the thin shell of its cocoon behind.

On the days India played cricket and I got to stay home and watch, I always watched it by the window. The window was my little lucky charm for the Indian cricket team. The match would start off with the windows closed, and the room in darkness. And then it all depended on how we played. If we kept losing wickets or were getting trashed on the field, the two panels of the window would open by varying amounts - casting those "lucky shadows" about the room. The challenge was to get the shadows just right - like the stars being in place or something.

There are other memories. On the road behind our backyard, the neighbour taking his two cows out to the field. Somedays, a battered white Ambassador car visiting our backies. Other days, the crows pecking at all the ripe mangoes that always made Ammachy so angry. In the evenings, Amma watering her precious cinammon plants.

I no longer live or sleep by my window of nine years. The house has undergone a massive refurnishing since then, making it lots more beautiful and almost unrecognizable to someone seeing it after a while. But when I go visiting, this is my favourite room of all. The room with my window - because when I look out through it I can almost see the mulberry tree with its green and deep red mulberries, leaves half gnawed through by the caterpillar infestation. I guess that sometimes, all of us wish we can go back to a simpler time.

About Love

2008-12-27T21:23:00.003+03:00

Never heard it said better.

If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

From 1 Corinthians 13

Rain and Shine

2008-12-14T10:23:00.006+03:00

It's strange that when time moves so quickly, you look back at it and feel you've learnt a lot more than what those four months could have taught you. In fact most of them are not lessons, they're just realizations. And these realizations help you to deal with yourself more than any effort to set things right.

Somewhere along the way, we all see - that it's not the world that is unfair to you, it's not people, it's not yourself - that's just how it is. No one's life is perfect. That trying to feel happier is not the answer sometimes - it is to be happy with the way you feel. That friends you're hardly in touch with are as much a part of your life as those you always talk to. And that when you learn to let go of the past, the future looks a lot more peaceful.

What a girl can't do

2008-12-09T15:53:00.004+03:00

Tagged by Pareltank

DB, Tunisian - My kid's six months old now. No, my husband doesn't work - my job's enough for the both of us now. Someone has to stay home and take care of our baby.

AE, Saudi - You're not getting married for another two years? That's too long, man! I'm getting married in two months - can't wait! No more cleaning rooms, ironing clothes, cooking meals - you get someone to do it all for you!

AR, Indian - Oh well, it's one thing whether your husband says it up to you whether you still want to work after getting married. I wouldn't want to get married to someone who feels its OK to give up my job and relocate where he is if it's OK with me. Doesn't that mean he pretty much doesn't care?

MB, Sudanese - It's really tough to manage women, my friend! Before they get married they seem accomodating and understanding. And then once you're married, suddenly there's this big career complex - about who's working and why there should be any sacrifice on either side. And then a kid comes along - and complicates matters even more!

FF, Omani - Nah, it's really not fair to ask her to quit her job and come here to Saudi. What's she going to do here? If I don't get a transfer out of here I'll probably just quit this job and take up a peaceful government job somewhere in my little town.

Notes:

1. I made this post the way it is to bring out one thing I realized - people's views on feminism are part of the life they've seen growing up, part of their culture and tradition. As cultures and traditions change, so do these views. However, I can never claim that one person's view is the entire country's view - they're not even a sample space. And while you have your own view, to some extent all of us are influenced by what people who are part of this sample space think.

2. All these lines are from real-life conversations - none of them are made up. :)

3. FF is now happily married and settled in Oman, running a private business with a few of his pals. His wife is a computer engineer.

Signs

2008-12-09T14:51:00.006+03:00

I love the safety signs on a rigsite. It's also kind of impressive to visitors who think rigs don't really give a damn about safety. All that has changed.

This one at the safety induction tells you that time is important, but more important than time is safety:

There is no work so urgent or important that we can't take the time to do it safely.

I saw this one on a rig floor - encouraging you never to be shy when you have a question:

When in doubt - ASK. The only wrong question is the one you did not ask.

Of course some are great sources of entertainment - like this one which tells you to smoke only in designated areas.

Please do not smoke in here. Smoke is the waste left behind from your cigarette. You know what I leave behind after I drink water? How would you like it if I stood on top of you and pissed all over you? Respect my preference like I respect yours.

Of course no one really cares about swearing or cursing here. Why else would you see this in the main office?

How about a nice big cup of Shut the F*** Up? THINK before you say something stupid.

And then finally there is that sign which makes you think that inspite of all the safety they're promoting, there's always one sign too many. One that makes it seem like you're three years old and/or retarded. Like this one posted 35 feet above the ground on the rig floor:

Do not jump. Use stairs.

Starboard Sunrise

2008-11-08T12:31:00.003+03:00

The golden yellow on the horizon
We spend a lifetime trying to get there
But why is it we fail to see
That it's everywhere on the ocean?

A little bit of green

2008-10-29T12:33:00.003+03:00

Money is not everything in life. But it is most things. I remember telling A - The only people who say money is not important are the ones who have enough of it. Or the ones who've always had enough. For everyone else, we choose to believe it doesn't matter - because it is the right thing to believe. No one likes to sound materialistic.

But the truth is that in the satisfaction of being able to afford - your dream car, a birthday gift, an expensive dinner - you find your happiness.

Dreams

2008-10-26T16:06:00.004+03:00

What you decide to do with your life doesn't have to be anyone else's business.

(Scene taken from The Pursuit of Happyness)

Lifesparks

2008-10-08T13:32:00.002+03:00

Smile - even if it doesn't make you happy.
Weep - it's because you care so much.
Dream - it keeps your world alive.
Share - two hearts are stronger than one.

Lunar Depression

2008-10-07T12:22:00.004+03:00

Eight days in Shaybah - tiring. Ten hours of sleep in the last four days, food eaten out of a paper plate in the middle of a million dirty tools, a rig floor covered in drilling mud. My clothes still smell a little like hydraulic oil. At least now I'm back at the airport and waiting for a flight back to town. Mujeeb and I are talking about the peace we're hoping to have over the next couple of days - "They're having Eid holidays in town man - peaceful. No waking up at 6 am, no sleepy morning meetings, no job preparations. Office opens only on Sunday." That's three days away.

On the taxi back home I have pleasant thoughts - wake up really late, a visit to town, a little pending shopping, cooking the next evening. Office - well, maybe for a couple of hours in between.

Life's different at 7 am the next morning. I wake up red-eyed to a ringing cell phone. Ali H. I curse loudly. I'm pretty sure I know why I've been woken up so early. And sure enough - another job, and leaving in a couple of hours. I'm PISSED. All in caps. Pissed through getting ready, through the short trip to office, through the three hour taxi ride to the heliport, through the half hour chopper ride offshore.

But then it ends there. Going down after checking in at the radio room, I join Thamer and Hussain who got there four days ago - guys who've been fasting almost fourteen hours a day, every day for the past one month, in preparation of their biggest festival of the year. Fasting - without food or water - when back in town, when at office, or when working on the rig floor in the middle of summer. And at the end the only thing they really want is to celebrate Eid with their families. They're not complaining though.

I don't prepare a tenth as much for Christmas. And yet I never learn to shut up. :)

Two Days Apart

2008-08-25T21:42:00.004+03:00

Sometime in 1986

We're both at our grandparents place, digging tunnels in the pile of sand that's in the backyard. We started at opposite ends of the pile, and the objective is to make the tunnel pass across the pile so we can reach through it and shake hands with each other. "Oh mom was telling me that to be twins, you've got to be born on the same day." "What! That means we're not - " "Yeah! Can you believe that! She says you have to have the same parents also!" After a moment's disappointed silence, we get back to digging our cave.

Summer of 1989

"Yuck, throw properly for once! Look at where the ball has gone - go get it!" I pause at the edge of the stone steps, looking at the mess of mud, twigs, fallen leaves and fruits that lie heavily on the path ahead. I gingerly take a step forward and jump back with an Ouch! "I've got nothing on my feet!"

"Oh come on already!" In half a minute Matt has sprinted across the path and back in his bare feet, and we're playing Catch again.

Christmas Holidays 1994

"Hah! Gotcha!" Matt holds up the ball triumphantly. I'm as usual the horrible sportsman. "No! Didn't it bounce off the wall? I saw it!" Matt looks at me in disbelief. "You're joking, right?" He throws the ball up and catches it in his other hand. "No! You caught it off the first bounce!" (shamelessly persistent). Matt smiles. "Right." He shakes his head disapprovingly as he goes back to bowl.

April 2001

Both of us are sitting across a table in the hostel common room. "I hate this section in Math! How the hell do you find the distance of this line from the z-axis!" "Oh I can tell you that! But you tell me how to integrate this thing first."

As we're working on our sums, our friend walks in. "Hey, Nitin and I were thinking about starting another round of 28. You guys want to join us?" We look at each other and drop our pens.

So much for 3-D geometry.

Dec 31, 2007

"I'm thinking I should give the ticket checker guy some money. I need an AC seat!" "Dude, it's like a three hour ride - and it's not that hot!" We hug goodbye. Towards midnight Matt calls to tell me he's got back safely. "Oh and hey I got that AC seat halfway through the trip!" I shake my head and smile.

***

Given how infrequently we talk to each other, with Matt, I never really feel out of touch.

Our Space

2008-08-22T15:15:00.007+03:00

You know, I believe if there's any kind of God, it wouldn't be in any of us. Not you, or me... but just this little space in between. If there's any kind of magic in this world, it must be in the attempt of understanding someone, sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed, but who cares, really? The answer must be in the attempt.

- Céline in Before Sunrise

Olive Green

2008-08-18T14:37:00.005+03:00

On my first day of every trip back home, I pick up a dusty pair of green suede shoes from under the stairs. Inspite of efforts to keep them in good shape, time has worn them out. The little label that says POWER is still there on the sides. But the soles are coming off, the olive green has gone to a dust-mixed-with-green colour, and they can be worn only in dry weather. I still use them on every one of my random daily walks though.

It's surprising how attached you can get to some things, and how much you end up loving them even though they are long past throw-away time. This one for me is a reminder of a wonderful year. Of running behind crowded Bangalore buses to make it in time for those weekend meetups. Of standing outside a theater on MG for a Rs. 50 front-stall ticket. Of Chinese food at a little restaurant on the first floor. Of aimless walks down the main roads. Of getting wet in the rain. Of daily trips to the office holding a newspaper in one hand and a water bottle in the other. Of strawberry smoothies and chocolate fantasies in the cafe below. Of walking through malls buying nothing, eating something, talking everything. Of sitting on bikes that don't belong to you. Of rickshaw rides that cost the earth. Of one-day trips that never cost the earth. Of early mornings at the bus station. Of ice creams and milkshakes.

And among all this, of someone who taught me that no matter how you felt yesterday, or how you will feel tomorrow, all that's important in your life is the way you're feeling - right now.

Vandana

2008-07-28T16:44:00.007+03:00

Vandana joined classes two days after I did. Standing at one corner of the 4-feet deep pool, I smile seeing Aravind bring her along. Pink flowers on her swimsuit, pink goggles, pink shower cap, pink wristwatch strapped on to her little hand. I always like pink on a girl, but this blast of pink makes me smile again.

Aravind picks her up and dips her into the pool. "Close your mouth. Close your mouth!" That's his I'm-going-to-dip-you-into-the-pool line. Vandana resurfaces gasping for breath. "I got water in my nose!" she whines a little. She runs up the pool steps and stands on the shore. "Enough for today sir!" She whines again. "No problem... no problem Vandana!" Aravind assures her.

Yesterday, ten days from when she first joined, Vandana is bursting with love for water. Aravind holds her high above the water at the 6-feet edge of the pool and throws her in. "Swim Vandana, swim!" he shouts from the edge. Vandana is off like a bullet. Five seconds later she's covered the breadth of the pool. "Let me jump again sir!" she screams, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

For me, who still needs every muscle working to death to swim three-quarters the length of the pool, 3-year old Vandana is my superhero.

A Moment's Silence

2008-07-20T22:24:00.006+03:00

(Some of these thoughts have been borrowed)

"Rads! Guess who's calling?"

For a few seconds he hears nothing on the other end. "O my God! Roy?" Rads was almost screaming "I don't even remember when I talked to you last, it's been so long! When did you get back from Singapore?"

"Back home on a short break now. Thought I'd give you a call... remember how inseparable we used to be?"

"Mm." Rads is thoughtful "That was a long time ago."

"I guess. So what have you been up to? Weren't you trying for that job in Singapore? You should absolutely come there. We can have so much fun."

"Yea... I'm not too sure though... getting kind of cozily comfortable in Mumbai. You got something for me?" Rads laughs weakly. Suddenly the conversation feels a little heavy. She rests her forhead in the palm of her hand.

"Is something wrong Rads? You sound a little tired"

What makes your closest friends fade out with time? Why do they always say a long-distance relationship is so difficult to survive? Is it that love fades out with time? Or is it that people change with time and you feel uncomfortable with this change? Probably the two of you haven't changed at all. Maybe some of us find it easier to "move on", find closer friends and learn to relate to them better. While for some others, those closest to us are those relationships we made three years ago. Is it that in all the closeness we share, we don't understand this about each other?

"I'm all right Roy. Can we catch up over lunch someday?"

Rads's lips broaden in a faint smile. Sometimes in failing to understand others, you understand yourself so much better.

An Evening in Nuayyim

2008-07-13T19:57:00.004+03:00

On a hot summer evening, Ady and I were tidying up our container before doing our pre-job checks. Ady gave me a "I'll go call the electrician, mate!" holler before walking up to the rig offices. He got back around ten minutes later with a medium-built man with a moustache and a toolbox in his hand. "Anil" he said, shaking my hand. His face and the name put together were pretty much a giveaway. "Malayali aano?" - Are you a Malayali? - I asked. My guess was right. And then there was a lot of talking - talking before work, talking while dragging our 480 volt cable up to the mud tanks, talking while checking our circuit breakers. Work done, he left, and Ady and I continued what we had got there to do.

About half an hour later, Anil returned. "Joseph Chettan is here. He's from your same place, he said he'd like to meet you." I wasn't in much of a tearing hurry anyway. For the next twenty minutes or so we talked about things I now associate with every Malayali acquaintance - Where in Kerala are you from?, How many siblings do you have?, When did you last visit home?, Do you plan to get married soon?, Politics there are a bitch, eh? - among tons of others.

Joseph is in his early forties, he is the man in charge of bringing food supplies to the rig. He would drive his pickup three hundred kilometers, bringing in fresh vegetables, fruit, milk, meat and poultry for those three-course meals everyday. Anil, in his mid-thirties, is the chief electrician at the rig, had what is to me one of the most dangerous everyday jobs - everything concerning power, high voltage, anything that could go Boom! in your face the next minute. I was the youngest of the three, pretty much a rookie at my work on the rig floor compared to the other two.

In those twenty minutes no one talked to me like I was a kid, and I didn't think much about how old they were either. We were among those million other Mallus in the "Gulf", talking and laughing and glad to have met each other at one of life's crossroads. "I get off next week. Back home for five weeks!" Anil says with a broad smile, "Excited to be seeing my family again. They're the ones who you work so much for, right?"

"They're the ones." Joseph and I agree, and the three of us smile faintly at each other. In the middle of the Nuayyim desert under the moonlit sky, we share a brief moment of brotherhood - separated miles in the work we do but united by that common purpose.

This Side of Paradise

2008-07-10T00:59:00.001+03:00

Somewhere within each of us, we have the desire to spill our thoughts, share our feelings, speak our mind. Not just to anyone around, because we know most of them don't care. Or even if they do, it just doesn't feel right talking about everything with the guy sitting next to you. In life, we all try to find someone who can relate to and understand our words the same way we feel it, with the same intensity and passion that we first thought them. It could be your sibling, your friend, someone you're in love with. Or who knows, maybe the guy sitting next to you after all.

It's a tough search. One that involves disappointments, expectations, dependence, misunderstandings and miscalculations. The answers to many questions in your life are not that difficult. When you tell someone your problem, you don't expect them to provide a solution. You can usually do that yourself. No, you expect them to share the way you feel. When you cry, you want them to cry with you. When you think, you want them to think with you. You're not trying to set everything right, you're only trying to share everything that's wrong.

It can surprise you where you find that answer. Maybe in a dusty old photo album under your stairs. Maybe in the squeaky red sandals your roomate wore to school. Maybe in a land far far away. Maybe in turning the pages of your favourite book for the hundredth time.

Some friends can never really be described. Simply because everytime you try to, you can't believe how lucky you got.

Getting Back

2008-06-29T23:55:00.004+03:00

54 degrees and sand in your ears.
Cracked lips despite a ton of lip balm.
Smelling diesel and drilling mud.
Drinking like a million soft drinks a day.
June wasn't exactly peaceful.

Home has never felt better. * sigh *

Don't Judge Me

2008-05-21T15:14:00.000+03:00

Formas de Amor

2008-03-03T10:02:00.010+03:00

In taking your parents for granted.

In the tears and smiles that your memories bring.

In the support you've got when you never expected it.

In the understanding you hope for when you're in love.

In the happiness you share just knowing friends.

Forms of love that we understand. Only you and I.

Written in Pink

2008-02-10T09:16:00.010+03:00

Loud music played at the open-air cafe. Walking out of the 13-floored building, we took a look around us to take in the essence of the cold Bangalore night. A 40-something man in a T-Shirt that had a caricature of Lennon with "Imagine" scrolled under it, reading a book, sipping coffee. A couple holding hands, sharing a single large cup of cappuccino and a sandwich between them. Bigger groups sitting around tables talking, laughing loudly, some throwing straws around the table.

And then a little girl, four feet tall, hair plaited, nail colour cracked, with a thin and inadequate-looking brown sweater wrapped around her, standing at the gates. In her hands she held a bunch of roses and a faded white plastic cover with something-TEXTILES printed on it. Under the bright streetlight, the weight of the building in front of her made her seem smaller than the little thing she was, the darkness of the evening making it way past the bedtime of any other child her age.

"Bhaiyya, buy a rose please." We looked at each other and then at her. "How much for one?" I asked. She streched out the bunch to me. "Buy them all no bhaiyya, then I can go home also." There was something in her voice that melted our hearts. "OK, how much for all of them?" We smiled at her. Her eyes suddenly lit up, the prospect of an early trip back home and the warmth and joy of sleep suddenly in front of her.

"One, two, three..." we watched her count every rose to the end "... eighteen. One rose is ten rupees... so eighteen... umm... (frantic calculation with her fingers lest us prospective customers lose interest and walk away)... 180 rupees bhaiyya." She thrust them out to us as we handed her the money. "Thank you bhaiyya!" There was no scream of joy in her voice, no childish reaction of having finished the day early, but we sensed the gratitude. In that one impulsive moment I wanted to lift her up and swirl her above the top of my head, and hear her laugh out loud with nothing holding back her five or six years.

I didn't do that, but in the next half an hour of a rickshaw ride back home, with the eighteen pink roses clutched in one of our hands, we both knew it was the perfect end to the best day we'd had in almost two years.

Without You

2008-02-07T12:12:00.000+03:00

I'm learning to live without you now

But I miss you sometimes

The more I know, the less I understand

All the things I thought I knew, I'm learning again

I've been tryin' to get down to the heart of the matter

But my will gets weak

And my thoughts seem to scatter

But I think it's about forgiveness

Forgiveness,

Even if, even if there's no reason anymore.

- Eagles, The Heart of the Matter

Citrus Fresh

2008-01-26T13:34:00.000+03:00

Dressed in sunshine

Kissed by rain

Meadow green

and orange spray.

Home Coming

2007-12-14T17:12:00.000+03:00

Cuz everything I want - is everything that's here
And when when we're all together - there's nothing to fear
And wherever I wander - the one thing I've learned
It's to here - I will always return

From Bryan Adams's This is Where I Belong

The 6th of December

2007-12-10T13:41:00.000+03:00

Have you ever woken up one morning and felt nothing can go wrong? Not just on that day... EVER. Felt that everything is beautiful/perfect the way it is, and that was NOT because of the colour of the morning sky or the great day that's ahead of you. Decided that NOTHING would make you unhappy, not as a resolution for the next one week... for EVER. Realized that forever is not really that long a time, and for life as you know it now it's probably too short for you. In that one minute when you've just woken up, in those twenty four thoughts that have changed your every day since then, you finally feel you know yourself more than you ever did before.

Today, I woke up to that morning.

Thin Red Line

2007-12-05T07:59:00.001+03:00

There's a thin line between friends and acquaintances. Love and not-so-much love. Happiness and thoughtfulness. Enthusiastic and disinterested. Perfect and never-good-enough. Impressive and hard-to-please. Sensible and weird. Logic and speculation. Understanding and amateur. Smooth and difficult. Forever and doubtful. Talks and acknowledgements.

If better was then and worse is now, you've probably crossed the line called Expectation.

Learning to Say No

2007-11-29T11:16:00.017+03:00

Hear the request. Wait for a maximum of four seconds. Look up and say you can't do it.

If you wait any longer you're either going to say Yes or a horribly apologetic version of a No, you'll wish you were a thousand miles away in an empty beer barrel weighted down with an iron ball and sinking to the bottom of the sea when the question was asked.

A Hundred Racecars

2007-11-23T11:32:00.036+03:00

"I don't want to play your stupid game!" Kevin had that pout on his lips and his hands on his hips which meant he was not happy at all. The little girl he was staring at was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking at her dollhouse she had just set up in the middle of their playroom. Her face was red and her hands were shaking a little, and Kevin knew she was about to cry. He hated seeing that.

Still with the pout and his hands on his hips he turned around and stomped down the stairs to the living room. Dad was watching the basketball playoffs. He tried to look sulky, so that Dad would ask him what was wrong. That's how he always got to tell him what he felt.

"What happened Kevin?" This was the time. He had to make sure he got it right the first time. "I hate Susan! I HATE her!" "Why, what did she do this time?" Dad was still focused on the game. "She's always doing things her way, Poppa! She's taking up all my space!"

"But she's just four years old, Kev. She's your little sister... don't you want her to be happy?" Kevin was still sulking. "Mmm yea I guess. But I don't want to drink tea with her stupid dolls... I want to race my car!" Dad turned down the TV volume all the way. "Come here, sit with me."

"You're 7 now, Kev. When I was your age, I didn't have someone younger to take care of..." "Hmph, lucky you!" Kevin pouted his lips even more. Dad laughed softly. "It's wonderful to keep someone happy, Kev. It's the best thing in the world. Just that sometimes you have to understand, that to put her happiness first, you'll have to put yours second. But imagine how you'll feel when you see her happy." Kevin stopped pouting and looked at Dad "Really Poppa?"

"Can I play House with you Susan?" Kevin was standing in front of the dollhouse where Susan was still arranging her little tea cups on the dinner table. Susan didn't look up. Her pretty face was still moist. "But you hate dolls. And you hate House!"

"You can make me like it, Su."

In the bright red glow of the setting sun that filtered through the Plexiglas window, in the little smile that Susan had when she turned her face up and looked at him, Kevin felt happier than racing a hundred cars.

n Weddings and a Crazy Poem

2007-11-22T11:11:00.050+03:00

Hold me tender, kiss me true

Know my sweetheart I love you

Tell me with a voice so true,

Tell me that you love me too!

When two thousand miles away

This knotty news it comes my way

I find it tough just to believe

How fast the years they come and leave!

I wonder how soon it will be

Before this news will regard me

The thought is scary, as of today

I hope that day's far far away!

Yet I love the news, I love it now,

That buddies who their love have found

Have chosen right and chosen true

My blessings always are with you!

~ Everyone's getting married!

Happyness

2007-11-18T07:52:00.050+03:00

In your pocket money you saved to buy your first bicycle. In the phone call to an old friend after eleven months. In the movie that brings tears to your eyes. In the smell of the earth the first rain brings. In the hug you give your parents when you return home. In your manager's appreciation for a job well done. In your first ever copy of The Secret Seven. In that chicken recipe you got right the first time. In the cricket match that was won on the last ball. In the realization that God's out there somewhere. In your first paycheck you hold in your hand. In a relationship that's lasted over five years. In the unexpected upgrade to business class. In waking up in the morning after that magical dream. In the Calvin strip that made you smile.

Somewhere along the way in the pursuit of happiness, we all get to have our moment.

Counting to 10

2007-11-15T10:05:00.006+03:00

10. Is it really worth it?

9. Are you thinking only from your point of view?
8. Is this going to help you in any way?
7. Are you being fair to the other person?
6. Is it something you would’ve done and not worried about?
5. Do you think you deserve so much attention?
4. Will things get better or worse with an explanation later?
3. Is there any sense in the way you feel?
2. Do you know that life doesn’t always have to be perfect?
1. Are you even thinking?

0. Get over it. It’s never worth it.

Lines and Circles

2007-11-07T14:16:00.044+03:00

Life goes on. I've said that like a million times and I still do. But somewhere I know it's really not true. At least it's not entirely true. Most of the time it's just time that goes on. Life just seems to go on because of the relativity. With life, you're probably still where you were a week ago. Or a month ago. Whatever. And usually it's not one of those It always comes around kind of situations. It's a feeling like when you visit the same place again. Sometimes it's a place you like, sometimes you'd rather not be there. But you're still there is the thing.

Like you're running down an endless road, but the sights around you are those you've seen before. The endlessness just tells you you'll be seeing them again. And then you're just looking for a side lane. Not because you're tired of the road, but because you're tired of the sights.

Quote Unquote

2007-11-05T12:35:00.001+03:00

Faith in God is like drilling an oilwell. There's nothing to make you see and believe, you just hope you've got your calculations right.

Sticky Numbers

2007-10-27T08:18:00.016+03:00

1234 – The only reason I was spiritual so far from home

2212 - For a freshers' period like no other
3201, 2214, 3215 – For a prof who revived my dying love for Math
3245 – One year that made a lot of right decisions for me
221 – For 12 guys and the simplicity of being friends
115, 116 – Partners in crime, in good times and bad
123, 124 – Two heavy drinkers whose rooms were the perfect refuge the night before a test
224, 113 – The happy well-fed guy whom I’ve irritated more than everyone else put together
2158 – For the best sams and sweet lassis around
2160 – For late nights, burning eyes, crazy conversations and mild steel rods
5101 – For the only course I truly understood during my CDCs

All Good Things

2007-10-19T13:41:00.000+03:00

I'll always remember -

- sleepy mornings in classroom 15
- going around France for 6€ a day
- the joy of being under 26
- evenings at 502
- complaining for no reason at all
- the tortilla chips & guacamole combo
- Ratatouille and Amélie
- 6 weeks and 11 friends

All good things have to end sometime. :)

Yours and Mine

2007-10-04T01:04:00.000+03:00

You and I in this beautiful world
Green grass, blue skies in this beautiful world
You and I
Winding lanes as streams go by

You and I in this beautiful world

- From Hutch's You and I

Beyond Reason

2007-09-19T01:54:00.000+03:00

A silent tear in a shattered sky.
An unsure walk through a foreign street.
A day that gives you no excuse.

For you my friend, I pray for strength.

Objects in the Rear View Mirror

2007-09-12T23:52:00.000+03:00

As a kid I loved those Sunday afternoons. Get back from church after Sunday classes, have a long and elaborate lunch, and wait till 4 pm when the regional movie would be played on DD-1. Remember those "handovers" from national to regional television?

"The next transmission from this kendra will be at 8.30 pm.
Over to regional kendras"

But five minutes before a bright blue screen displayed this message, almost every week you would see this:

Then the age of DD-1 passed, and the song lay forgotten like a dusty old book that had fallen down the shelf into the corner near the wall.

Today listening to it brought back a wave of memories, many of those of the good old DD-1 days, when the indo-pak cricket match would be interrupted by the half an hour news I didn't give a damn about. Of tuning my TV over and over again to listen to the Superhit Muqabla countdown on DD-2 even if I couldn't get the video. Of running out of the school bus to watch that children's show at 5 pm every Wednesday. Of Chitrahaar and the "a gift for someone you love" Amul ads. Of the Piyo Glass Full Doodh song.

And that when you're so far away from home, joining everyone together with one voice seems to make a lot more sense than it did ten years ago.

Just a Short-Term Thing

2007-09-12T00:06:00.000+03:00

Ever had the experience where you can say anything to people to hardly know? It's not because you suddenly discover some hidden connection that sparks to life. Probably it's knowing the fact that even if they know every dark secret of your life you still wouldn't care.

For me that's the beauty of short-term relationships. You can tell them just about anything and not worry about it. That you smoke 20 cigarettes a day. That you once fell asleep on the college sidewalk after a night of heavy alcohol. That you've fallen in and out of love four times. That the ring on your finger was actually a gift from an ex-girlfriend which you never bothered to return. Pretty much anything you want to say, because you don't care about what they think. And they don't care about what they think either.

Life's good.

Disclaimer: The examples above are just that: examples. I have (probably) never had anyone/most/some of those.

More Oomph

2007-09-08T12:39:00.000+03:00

P.S.: Hema, to refresh that memory! ;)

To Live For

2007-08-30T15:59:00.034+03:00

~ Dancin' on the rig floor to Rain Rain Go Away
~ Aloo-mutter masala and chicken tandoori two thousand miles from India
~ Working at 52 degC and 83% humidity
~ gtalk-ing thru a dial-up connection
~ Knowing the right time at seven places in the world without checking timeanddate.com
~ The Afghan cab driver's story on the way to the airport
~ The "call a friend a week" resolution
~ Petrol that's cheaper than water

In Its Own Way

2007-08-16T09:48:00.003+03:00

One Voice

2007-08-15T08:16:00.018+03:00

I hear the wind call your name
It calls me back home again
It sparks up the fire - a flame that still burns
Oh it's to you I'll always return
I still feel your breath on my skin
I hear your voice deep within
The sound of my lover - a feeling so strong
It's to you - I'll always belong

From Bryan Adams's I Will Always Return

To Do the Right Thing

2007-08-11T14:45:00.011+03:00

I've always thought that I'm a good listener (arguable). But listening to how people who you think have a better time than you place their lives in the pits makes you wonder what to make of your own.

Either you can just sit and stare into space, wondering whether you ever make the right choice.

Or else, you can thank God for giving you memories, good or bad, that'll last forever.

Unspoken

2007-07-31T11:24:00.050+03:00

On this day, six years ago, we stepped into a world we called our own. A world we loved, a world we shared with so many wonderful people I can't write all their names down.

And between us over three and a half years we were together, we shared an unspoken closeness, never expressed in words or feelings, either to each other or to anyone else. We've never classified each other as best friends, it seems absurd to do so. Just part of a group with changing members: talking about nothing, cribbing about everything, letching at cycling girls from the hostel front wing, calling meetings to discuss "official" events, saying "to hell with grades" when secretly we knew it mattered the most. A hundred other things which still remain part of my best memories.

Felt, but never expressed.

Today when he's leaving, there are no tears to say goodbye. Just a heartfelt smile at the amazing journey we've made.

~ For D ~

Different Strokes

2007-07-28T13:30:00.001+03:00

Oh, Love to some is like a cloud
To some as strong as steel

For some a way of living
For some a way to feel

And some say love is holding on
And some say letting go
And some say love is everything
And some say they don't know

Taken from John Denver's Perhaps Love

Drip Drip Drip

2007-07-26T13:31:00.009+03:00

Water everywhere. I look around me, and I see nothing. Just the thick, heavy air. But it's wet, uncomfortably. Flowing down from your hair, your face, your %$^^#&#.

Water by itself is great. But when it comes out of you, YUCK.

I hate summer and I hate the humidity. (Four months later I'll hate winter as well.)

Buddies of a Time Gone By

2007-07-23T15:52:00.003+03:00

For two years when I was aged 16 and 17, I lived in a place which changed my life forever.

Looking back at life, I'm not very fond of myself till I reached 12. Since then I think I've become better [questioning sideward bend of the head to everyone who's known me since then]. But as I heard from AJ recently, I didn't exactly have the good guy image right upto when I was 16.

Six guys in the one school, in two rooms, and in three a little later. A hostel with people starting out on their Class XI thru practising doctors. Each of the other five has taught me, in one way or the other, something that I have carried through all the way till my 24th.

During the times we banged on each others doors to sleepily run to those tuition classes at 6 am. From when we stooped under the barbed wire fence to save two kilometers of walking. From when we ran back to get our breakfast ten minutes before the start of school. The walk through an eternally shaded field of rubber trees on the way to school, talking about how the rubber was processed on one day, how one of us should become Indian President the next.Evening TT and volleyball sessions in the backyard.Trooping down at 7.30 every evening to the mess hall for the best food I've eaten in any hostel to-date. The religiously allocated one hour of TV watching that was permitted each day. The weekend outings to movies or relatives' houses. Talking about girls without talking to them. The "finger-lickin' good" Christmas candlelight dinner in the courtyard. My dear roomie who swore to God he wanted to change the Indian administrative system. The kid from Kuwait who remains till today one of the best dancers I've known. The guy from near my place who had the largest stock of PJs ever. The purebreed mallu who true to his dream, managed to work his way up the CA ladder. And the dude who calls himself DB, who has, unintentonally, taught me a lot about just how to be.

Five friends and two years, that made me who I am today.

The Reader

2007-07-18T09:02:00.040+03:00

It's a quarter past six. I'm inside a 20' x 10' container. To my right on a laptop screen a series of blue and red numbers run side by side. Each minute of this sequence rakes in approximately USD 10. To my left a little away from my chair a door is partly open, giving me a view of loud machinery and screaming men 30 feet above the gound. In my hand I'm holding a paperback edition of The Namesake, bought on Residency Road, Bangalore for INR 60. 50 more pages to go, and for me it'll take no less than fifty minutes. I've always been a slow reader, even before I lost my close association with books ten years ago.

As a kid I had my own timetable. Never written it down, but more or less followed it religiously. Get back from school at 5 pm. Eat a really late lunch (I normally took sandwiches to school for the "lunch break") with a book beside me, and then flop on the bed beside my study table till the clock hits 7. This is my formal "study time"... till about 9 or 9.30 every evening. Homework, mostly. If there's a test, a little reading. No tuitions (thankfully) so crazy hours of endless assignments my classmates used to have were spared for me. And then back to books again. I had this schedule since I was nine.

Then Class X came, boards came, Plus-2 came, hostel life came, crazy tuition assignments came (yup, to me too!), movie mania came and my reading kind of died, unable to handle the load. Since then till today, I have read at the most ten books.

But when I read them I enjoy them. Like today. Now. As I turn the pages slowly (realizing my reading speed is dropping by the day -- isn't it supposed to go the other way round?), from the corner of my eye I can see the satisfying blue and red train. More money.

In ten minutes I'll have to put on that white hard hat, wear those black-dotted gloves, snap on those uvex safety glasses and walk sixty steps to a crazy floor above, where I have to shout to make myself heard. But till then, I'm in a place two thousand miles away, a time twelve years ago, with the light of a 60W bulb overhead colouring my 3 Investigators paperback yellow, feet propped up against the bedside wall, a bowl of salted peanuts beside me, struggling as always to finish a couple more pages before the news on DD-1 tells me it's time to get up.

Watch Me

2007-07-17T10:01:00.009+03:00

I've been told there are three kinds of people in this world:

1. The ones who watch things happen
2. The ones who wait for things to happen
3. The ones who make things happen

As I sit back and watch the world go by, I wonder if it's OK that I don't regret it.

Lessons from Life

2007-07-12T13:46:00.007+03:00

In 9 months I have learned…

... that in one way or the other, traveling is what life is all about
... that in any job, paperwork is the most important thing
... that some things are meant to change and some others won’t
... that relationships are more about trust than anything else
... to say salaam alaykum without thinking about how it sounds
... to like Avril Lavigne and Christina Aguilera
... that no one works at a rig for “love of the oilfield”
... that there’re a lot more movies to be watched
... to enjoy the kharouf from a plate for six and the laban afterwards
... to put family above everything else
... that everyone has something good to teach you
... that if the problem is not choice, it is because you don’t get to choose
... that most Chinamen are friendlier than what they are made out to be
... that no tears and no speeches make saying goodbye more special (D: This I have to learn from you!)
... that friends will be friends whether they’re right next to you or half way across the world
... that life would have sucked without e-mail
... to enjoy my cooking and the time that goes into it
... that home is where the heart is.

I wonder what the next 9 will teach me.

Rain

2007-06-16T14:11:00.019+03:00

Let the rain fallin’ on your face
Run into your eyes
Can you see the rainbow now
Through the stormy skies

Like two rivers flow
to the open sea
Someday we’ll reunite
for all eternity.

~ For A & G, and what they share

- Taken from Avril Lavigne's Two Rivers

Oomph.

2007-06-13T08:40:00.006+03:00

Dust in the Wind

2007-05-26T09:10:00.012+03:00

June 16, 1999

Espresso bars. Man, talk about an idea. Though I’ve never been a coffee freak, this seemed like the right place to be now. The place looked nice, an inviting coffee shade on the walls. Couples sat at the tables, talking, some of them holding hands. Quiet laughter. Happy moments. I walked across them and took a seat at the bar, ordered a Cappuccino. I couldn’t stand black coffee. Dropped a coin for the jukebox and chose an Eagles song. Didn’t really care which song it was. They always played the right songs.

Looking back at life was an easy thing. But today, it seemed painful, almost unwanted.

I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment’s gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes in curiosity…

Yeah, they always sang the right song. Two years and a traditional break-up later, there really was nothing more to dream about. Somehow all worries come when a woman is on your mind. Mmm… where have I heard that before?

Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind…

Oh, but we were more. I have always felt this whole concept of being a “tiny speck in the universe” is full of bullshit. A term coined by a man who had nothing more to look forward to in life. But right now I couldn’t feel smaller. Inside and outside. The reason seemed smaller and smaller suddenly. You don’t love with permission. Why would you break up for fear of permission? You live your life, why does someone else get to decide who you live it with?

Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea…

No! That’s not what I want to hear!

Aren’t these people who make your choices the ones you owe your entire life to? The ones who brought you up, the ones who appreciated your every decision, the ones who stood by you no matter what happened? Maybe all that doesn’t matter now… but leave them for a minute, what would you do? What would be your choice?

All we do
Crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind…

It’s I who made it crumble. Not her, not anyone else. I pressed my temples to make the pain go away. But there was a throbbing so intense, and my thoughts were now coming faster than they could be processed.

Not because I have to, but because I want to, she had said once, and I don’t know why I remembered that line now. Maybe it was just one among the million lines I could have picked, but two seconds later, it was the right one. I had to get back. There will be no better choice. Even if there was I didn’t care.

Now don’t hang on
Would nothing last for ever but the earth and sky?

I stood up and dropped a couple of bills to cover my bill.

Nothing will last forever but the earth and sky. But it doesn’t matter if it’s five minutes or fifty years. It’s you who has to live your life fully.

As I walked past the door I was desperately trying to remember the movie which had that line. The song faded to an end.

Dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind
… In the wind…

I blocked it out.

***

July 14, 2003

Déjà vu. I couldn’t quite remember when it had happened before or what exactly had happened, but I felt it watching the late night show of If Only at the multiplex. Maybe nothing had actually happened. Or maybe it had just been a thought.

With her head on my shoulder, she was sobbing softly when the movie ended. Girls are such cry babies. As the lights came on I casually brushed a tear forming at the corner of my eye.

As I held her hand and walked to the parking lot, we were talking about tomorrow, how she had to reach office early and how I had to drop her off one hour before our usual morning schedule. A couple of whines from me and around seven from her later, she had got her way. I smiled. Two years into our marriage, holding her hand was more special than ever before.

People do understand. Even though they worry a bit at first, and ask you a hundred questions. But they deserve to ask. They’ve known you since you were born.

Strange how one song can change your life. But it’s stranger, when it’s the wrong song. But probably such things aren’t meant to be understood.

58 Days

2007-05-26T08:24:00.006+03:00

4 hours, knowing you are going back.
2 days, feeling life will be worth waiting for.
54 days, more better than worse.
2 days, at crossroads.
4 hours, hoping for the future and wishing for the past.

I’m back now, and praying.

The Ride of Your Life

2007-02-06T16:28:00.000+03:00

Life is truly a ride. We’re all strapped in and no one can stop it. When the doctor slaps your behind, he’s ripping your ticket and away you go. As you make each passage from youth to adulthood to maturity, sometimes you put your arms up and scream, sometimes you just hang on to that bar in front of you. But the ride is the thing. I think the most you can hope for at the end of life is that your hair’s messed, you’re out of breath, and you didn’t throw up.

Jerry Seinfeld in SeinLanguage

Can't Shut Up

2007-01-29T16:45:00.000+03:00

It was a strange conversation. And yet uncannily familiar.

I remember being here before. The time is different, and yet not so different that I don’t remember the last time. Not that we particularly enjoy them. To be honest, it’s not really enjoyable. Probably the word is not enjoy. Come to think of it, I don’t even know what it is. But you keep talking. You have to.

Why?

Broken Skies

2007-01-25T14:22:00.000+03:00

It was a lovely morning. The weather was a pleasant 152 degrees, with the air pressing down on my head at just over 102 times the atmosphere’s. Neat.

I got up and stretched myself, too lazy to start my day. Today was a day off, just like any other day for the past 203,000 years. I had worked really hard to get my life going. And work had not been pretty. Everyday had involved dirt, slush, disembodied body parts, and corpses over a hundred thousand years old. Working at perfecting this technology of mine which had spread so far and wide, it was now almost universal. And I was at the center of this huge revolution, which made our life two miles below the earth so energy rich, that none of us would have to worry about it for at least the next three thousand years. Now we just called it the ocean. It was our mother, our life.

But there had been problems. There still were. We called them intruders. Bandits . Plunderers. Outlaws. Shameless pirates who destroyed our skies and looted our life. We planned and plotted as to how we would destroy them. Take back our rights, and get back what was rightfully ours. Maybe tomorrow…

My thoughts were interrupted by a raging noise from above which was all too familiar to me. It couldn't be. It couldn't! I rushed outside. O God!

The hundreds of us there could only stare in anger and shock as the brown skies rained themselves down. Rock and debris thudded our rooftops, reducing our houses to another chunk in the ocean where we lived. Now they wouldn’t stop till the ocean was dry.

The noise got louder and louder, and in less than ten minutes the skies had shattered. The monster had penetrated it. The monster, with seventy five teeth and three heads, and a neck that was several thousand feet long.

Humans. Goddam you bastards.

***

7,200 feet above the brown skies, the human wiped his forehead. It had been a long month. He walked down wearily to the company man’s office.

“We’re done with the drilling, sir. It’s looking good.”

“Let’s get on with it, Ahmed… start laying down the drill pipe. We need to start producing before the end of the week. This well’s got amazing oil reserves.”

Killing Me Softly

2007-01-08T16:20:00.000+03:00

No experience. And yet.
Wow.

Yen Dee Tea We

2006-12-16T08:05:00.000+03:00

I used to hate news. Or rather, The News. I wasn’t exactly proud about this apathy, but there wasn’t much I could do either. At home, they were just channels to get past, while stabbing madly at the Program+ remote button and quickly, cursing under my breath all those members of the family who chose to include just about every news channel in the Top20 list, before I reached my zone. Movies, music, television, and that included everything except “events from around the globe”!

But Man!, how things change! Now, five time zones west of India, I can claim to know more about what’s happening in the country than most guys or girls my age.

Dirty politics (almost everyday). Neat politics (a couple of days). Corrupt godmen. Angry crowds. A cricket-desperate country. Kabul Express. Dadagiri. Tainted ministries. An even more tainted opposition. Agrarian crises. Heroes being born. Heroes being convicted. Market corrections. Reservation shit. Goan Al-Qaeda. Orkut in trouble. Golden globe nominations. Tata factor. Responsible media (almost everday). Irresponsible media (a couple of days). Navjot Sidhu. Mamta Banerji. Laloo Yadav. Manmohan Singh. General Musharaff. John Abraham. Saurav Ganguly. Sania Mirza. Barkha Dutt. Srinivasan Jain. Monideepa Banerji. Arunachalam Vaidyanathan. Sunethra Chaudary. Vikram Chandra. Rahul Srivastav. Vir Sanghvi. Prannoy Roy.

So I happened to mention this to one of my friends a week ago. It’s been a while since I’d talked to him. About how news channels were making my life seem “complete and occupied”. He listened patiently. Too patiently, actually. Five minutes of my blah-blah later, he spoke for the first time:

“So, you living alone, huh?”
“Yup! Hey, how did you guess?”
“Oh, I was just asking.”

Two minutes after we hung up, I could swear I heard him say “Gotcha, sucker!”

Damn, I should get a life.

We

2006-12-03T14:42:00.000+03:00

How far we’ve come is for the world to see.
How much we share is for us to know.
How long we’ll last is for time to tell.

But if we could decide, we’d say forever.

Another Day

2006-11-25T10:05:00.000+03:00

Live another day
Climb a little higher
Find another reason to stay
Ashes in your hands
Mercy in your eyes
If you’re searching for a silent sky
You won’t find it here
Look another way
You won’t find it here
So die another day.

taken from Dream Theater's

Another Day

4 Years

2006-11-18T16:06:00.000+03:00

It was a long time ago. I guess for some people memories never die. Damn how I wish it did. Time and thoughts, you can’t stop them.

Winamp and I have this deal. Couldn’t have heard a better song now:

I took a heavenly ride through our silence
I knew the moment had arrived
For killing the past and coming back to life.

Two different deserts. Not easy.

Life lasts four years. My friend A back in India would give me a Hi5 on that.

Spark of Life

2006-10-26T22:47:00.000+03:00

The world comes to life, 1130. Good morning, sunshine.

First nurtient intake, 1210. Lunch should be a no-no now.

Crappy hindi movie, 1230. So these guys get paid for acting?

Assignment procrastination #1, 1250. Later.

Extraaa Innings, India v/s West Indies, 1305. "Cricket weds Entertainment"?

Deciding India's fate through a crystal ball, 1325. Oh My God.

Abhishek Bachchan gives away the shirt he wore in Dhoom2, 1350. OK, I love him.

Assignment procrastination #2, 1420. Later.

India bats, 1445. Join the blue billion.

Neverland beckons, 1525. No, I gotta watch this.

Assignment procrastination #2, 1630. Later.

223/9, 1840. Hmmm.

Thunderstorms, 1930. Walk that mile.

Phonecall from Bangalore, 1940. Joy.

West Indies 224/7, 49.4 overs, 2240. Tears.

Dinner, 2250. Food and consolation.

Water on me, 0025. Squeaky clean.

The Mailer, 0045. Contact information.

Assignment procrastination #3, 0120. Tomorrow.

beta.blogger.com, 0140. Dump.

20 moments. 19 forgotten.

One spark. I'm alive. :)

Not My Choice

2006-10-21T21:42:00.000+03:00

Ups or Downs.
Highs or Lows.
Smiles or Frowns.

Laughs or Tears.

Joy or Sorrow.

Work or Play.

Now or Later.

Questions or Answers.

Yes or No.

You don't always get to choose.

Conversations of a Different Kind

2006-09-22T01:13:00.000+03:00

“Can you know someone so well, it seems nothing can ever come between the two of you?”

“I don’t think so. And frankly, I don’t think I ever will. These are things you only dream about”

“I think so too.”

[timeframe]

“It’s weird. Sometimes I think the best things happen with you around. Sometimes I think I know you more than I know most people. And it’s not like we spend every day together…”

“It’s not weird. It’s just that we relate. To each other.”

“I guess you’re right. I hope it stays this way.”

“I hope so too.”

[timeframe]

“I know it’s true. And now I know for sure nothing can be wrong. And that nothing can go wrong. Nothing can come between us.”

“It’s true. And now it feels better knowing we both believe the same thing.”

“Absolutely.”

[timeframe]

“Things aren’t really the same, are they? What happened? What changed?”

“Does distance really make a difference? Didn’t we both believe it never could?”

“Beliefs change.”

“You did, too. So did I.”

“Is this the life we thought we would live? Is this how everything is supposed to end? Is this how you want it to be?”

“Is this how you want it to be?”

“Answer my question first.”

“I don’t want to.”

[timeframe]

“I feel I hardly know you anymore. I never thought it would come to this.”

“Neither did I.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“I don’t know.”

[timeframe]

“I want things to be better with us.”

“So do I. So do I! What do we do about it?”

“Accept that life has changed. Accept that we have changed. That’s where we should start from.”

“We should. We will.”

[timeframe]

“Things are better now. A lot better.”

“They have to be. We’re better than to not let it be.”

“What if things go wrong again? How will we take it?”

“The same way we’re taking it now. The same way we realized that when we get back, it means much more than if things were always perfect. We’ll be all right.”

“Even if something goes wrong?”

“Even if everything goes wrong.”

Life's a road. Keep walking.

5 Minutes.

2006-09-19T01:47:00.000+03:00

OK, I’ve never been a die-hard patriot… never made speeches about how much the motherland means to me, never told people about the nation and its glory, never talked about how I would give up my life for the country. None of that is even remotely me.

But then there are times.

The time when I made a fuss about the guy who thought it would be interesting to make faces when Jana Gana Mana was sung. The time when, along with the rest of the crowd, I booed the Britishers all through the cricket match of Lagaan. The time I ran out my hostel to make it in time for the Independence Day flag hoisting. The time I pitied our country in the hands of the politician who said the order of colours on the tricolour is green-white-saffron.

There are times.

But this is not about how patriotic I am. It’s about how, sometimes, a commercial film can bring about that feeling, even though you know there is nothing true about it. Swades started off for me as a normal, Shah Rukh movie in which all I would be able to do was sit through a boring (though novel) story for three hours. Now, when would those days come when Hindi movies would be worthy of the money spent!

And so these thoughts I kept repeating to myself, over and again, so that I could get everything across to the first person I met or called. This was going to be one bashing session! And then twenty minutes before the movie ended, the thoughts were no more. They just ceased to exist. All in five minutes:

Rahman magic? Art Direction? Camera work? Scene timing? I don’t know. Suddenly Mohan Bhargav was a hero. Suddenly the movie was a feeling. Suddenly India was a heartbeat.

In five minutes.

mydictionary.talk.pilani

2006-09-13T23:50:00.000+03:00

Jul 26, 2001:
Surprisingly, what caught my attention most on entering BITS, Pilani was a yellow-white T-Shirt worn by a senior... and so much, that five years later, I'm still able to reproduce it here without getting a word wrong:

A to Z of BITS

Anc Bogs Crash Duck
Enthu Fundu Ghotu Hols Interface
Junta Kela Lacha Machi Niteout
Oht Psenti Qt Rod Stud Thadi
Uppi Vetti XCom Yo Zuk

I had no idea what those words meant, of course. But well, if this was what BITS was all about, I should find out soon, I made a pact with myself.

But I didn't need to, is what I realized. Less than a month later, these had replaced words that were part of my usual English vocabulary.

Aug 15, 2001, 0330:
A: Machchan, tomorrow's Independence Day celebs at C-Lawns da!
B: Sac it, machi. One day off and no way I'm giving up my crash!
A: Vetti b*****d, where's your patriotism da?
B: Yo India! Good enough?
A: But junta's gonna be there da!
B: Abe saale, lacha karke saade theen ho gaya... kal subah tera baap udaayega kya mujhe?

BITSian lingo comes with its realzations. Certain four-letter words, you discover, fit into every aspect of everyday speech and answers to everyday questions... and they can conver anything... happiness, sorrow, anger, amusement... you name the emotion, you get it!

Feb 3, 2002:
A: How the f*** was LinAl?
B: F***in bad da. Below av for sure machi.
A:Guss da. It's a f***ed course anyways.
B: Yea, but f***in grades matter man!
A: I've better things to worry about... have a f***in practice session today... gotta go.
B: F***in good da... enjoy!
A: Sure thing. You f***in take care OK?

Regional phrases are a rage as well. Never before was the desire to learn another language so strong:

Apr 2, 2003:
A: Kemonacho macha?
B: Ommala pee re. Got screwed at my seminar.
A: Guss podu machi... think about better things!
B: Kay kartoys tonight? Movie dekhe?
A: Illa dey. Ghotting to be done.
B: Anyaaaya over da. Sac out sometime!

So also, you're responsible for the evolution of the language. No one's content with using the hundred-odd words you already have. So you bring up your own, and then it's the rage of the wing then:

Oct 26, 2004:
A: How was OASIS macha?
B: Good shit da! Psenti OASIS and we really kicked butt!
A: Prof shows, the like?
B: Para good shit again... nothing like your psenti sem to freak out!

Now, what the HELL is good shit people ask. It's nothing, just a word coined up because the common variations like "sexy!" and "ommala god level macha!" seem to have slightly lost its charm over the years. And then you make efforts to make it a used word, and so now it's just goodshit, and no more good[space]shit.

Tough to get it unless you're a BITSian. But it would do well to keep a few words in mind... because when you're talking to one, he will invariable drop off a couple of these words. Now, this isn't thadi. It's just that he doesn't remember the actual words anymore :D

Gen: Generally. Simply. For no reason. Nothing special about it.
(usage) I'm gen sitting around. the movie's kinda gen, da. The grub was gen.

Da: More like a full stop. Tough to end a sentence without using this one.
(usage) Nothing, da. Fine, da. What's up, da? Take care, da. (basically any sentence has this added to this to give it a hint of concern)

Fuck: NOT an expletive. Used everywhere when you need to emphasize anything even remotely. It is understood there's no better alternative.
(usage) F***in' sexy morning da. F***in' good T-Shirt machi. F***in' irritating da.

Sac: Chill. Relax. Don't worry about it.
(usage) Am sacing out for a while now. That's sac da, just get the ropes tight. Sac out, I'll be there in a hour.

Hazaar: The set of all natural numbers excluding 1. The element from the set can be identified and picked out according to the needs of the speaker. Sometimes used in conjunction with junta, which carries a somewhat similar meaning, but more often refers to a crowd of people, or also to all people.
(usage)
How many people were there at the Kumbh Mela? Hazaar. [thousands]
How many people came for the RAF movie show? Hazaar. [hundreds]
How many people came to class today? Hazaar. [around 20-30]
How many answers can you think of to my question? Hazaar. [2 or 3]

Other variations include combining words or parts of words together so that their meanings change to suit the occasion... viz., goodshit means great or awesome, gen means nothing special... now pick out the shit from goodshit, and put it together with gen to make genshit, and now the word means hopeless/intolerable... or adding an "-ation" at the end of the word for better emphasis, viz., fuckation, sleepation, talkation and so on... but let's save further lessons for another time :D

Of a Sitcom and an Addiction

2006-08-24T17:43:00.000+03:00

The theme music has played on my computer at least a thousand times. Non-watchers of this show have been driven to madness listening over and over and over again to the same music, the same words being looped every 23 minutes as we incessantly shuttle from one episode to the other.

We're feeling young today. Like it's 1995. Twelve years old. Season 2.

My CD pack is neatly stacked and labeled with a diligence that I have shown nowhere else, and to no one else. Flipping through the rack I finally find myself... Season 2, CD #1. The episode selection is random. Both of us don't care. We never did. Everything's been enqueued on Winamp anyways.

Shuffle.

Episode 2-06 starts. The One With the Baby on the Bus.

The outside world's gone. We're lost now.

...

Chandler: Please tell me you know which one is our baby.
Joey: Well, well that one has ducks on his t-shirt, and this one has clowns. And Ben was definitely wearing ducks.
Chandler: OK.
Joey: Or clowns. Oh, oh wait. That one's definitely Ben. Remember, he had that cute little mole by his mouth.
Chandler: Yeah?
Joey: Yeah.
Chandler: Hey, Ben, remember us? OK, the mole came off.
Joey: Ahh!
Chandler: What're we gonna do? What're we gonna do?
Joey: Uh, uh, we'll flip for it. Ducks or clowns.
Chandler: Oh, we're gonna flip for the baby?
Joey: You got a better idea?
Chandler: All right, call it in the air.
Joey: Heads.
Chandler: Heads it is.
Joey: Yes! Whew!
Chandler: We have to assign heads to something.
Joey: Right. OK, OK, uh, ducks is heads, because ducks have heads.
Chandler: What kind of scary-ass clowns came to your birthday?

Laughter. Disastrous. Uncontrollable. Infectious. Clutching each other. Holding our stomachs. Tears in our eyes.

Cynics smirk. Like we care.

Of course, everyone is entitled to an opinion. That's why when someone says "Dude, how can you watch that show, the humor is so retarded!", all we say in reply is "So are we!" The way these six characters have influenced lives and our humor sense is out there for everyone to see. Not that we disrespect these varied opinions. There're no "This is the best show EVER!" or "HOW can anyone not like it!" lines that you'll hear from us. But if we have a bunch of these CDs and a couple of hours to kill, we won't have to think twice about what to do. :)

Just caught this video on YouTube... nothing great about it, but if you've followed every season with as much devotion and emotion as we have, then the sentiment will not be out of place...

For us, it's changed life in the perfect way... made every day a little happier... kept away every sorrow a little longer.

Ten years. If it's lasted us that long, it will last us forever.

Heeeeere, Kitty Kitty Kitty!

2006-08-23T02:30:00.000+03:00

Try this with any feline that walks on four legs. But never try this with the CAT... there's no way you can get away with it. This is one kitty you can never tame. With every passing year this national test has made a habit of throwing a surprise in every test that not one of those coaching centers can think about. And these dudes (the guys who frame the paper HAVE to be called that!) are throwing the challenge wide open.

Think, junta! Think your brains out! Speculate. Take tests. Practice all you want. But on that fateful third Sunday of November, it's going to be anything but easy. We're going to give you something that will require you to keep your mind wide, WIDE open. And we're gonna make sure that's the only way you get into India's best B-Schools.

Every year the CAT has thrown in the most unexpected of surprises, ones that would make the most prepared of candidates marvel at the way these test setters never seem to be short of ways to open the gift wrapper. That's why it's still the most marvelled-at admission tests of the times.

CAT 2003: "Each question carries one mark. In distributing your time across the various sections, you are required to demonstrate your competancy across each of these sections."

Coacher line: "Whatever the case, each question carries the same marks. Scan the paper and do the ones you think are easiest..."

CAT 2004: "Questions x1-x2 carry half a mark each. Questions x3-x4 carry one mark each. Questions x5-x6 carry two marks each."

Coacher line: "Umm... Two mark questions. Best scoring. Make sure you attempt as many as possible. But the two markers are gonna be few. Make sure you get loads of them one markers, they're the ones high on the numbers! Half markers... do them in the end..."

CAT 2005: "In all there are 90 questions. Each section has 10 questions of one mark each, the remaining 20 questions are worth two marks each."

Coacher line: "Err... So, we hope you attempted all of those two markers..."

CAT 2006 bulletin: "... The test will be of 150 minutes duration..."

Coacher line: "Join us. We prepare you for anything that's in store!"

It's anyone's guess how much they can prepare you for! Everything just comes back to the same thing. The way, year after year, how the paper makes you go "Man!!"
You guys sitting there and framing the question paper, I bow to thee! :)

Home.

2006-08-21T23:45:00.000+03:00

Well, a break of two and a half months again. And not without a reason.
Home, sweet home, could never have been more appropriate as it has been in the past ten weeks. So you have all the time in the world. So why don't you mail everyone you know, talk to everyone you would like to, and blog everyday and let the world know about what is happening in your life? Well, frankly, I couldn't care less! Who cares what you have (or don't have) to do at home! It's the best place on earth, no matter whatever you may think at any point in your life. Two months at home at a stretch, at this age... I won't say I haven't been irritated with the constant postponement of my joining dates on my job, but I keep telling myself: "When can you DREAM next of another two months like this?"
And I know the answer to that. At least not soon. Definitely.
Years later, when you get back from the places you are, things would have changed. People would have changed. Lives would have changed. But Home remains. Somehow it's the perpetual non-changing entity... something that lasts forever.
You have to leave home, but someday you'll to get back to it. That's when we all realize there's no place... like home.

Paradise Lost

2006-06-06T12:23:00.000+03:00

Because that you are going
And never coming back
And I, however absolute,
May overlook your Track

…

Significance that each has lived
The other to detect
Discovery not God himself
Could now annihilate

Eternity, Presumption
The instant I perceive
That you, who were Existence
Yourself forgot to live

The "Life that is" will then have been
A thing I never knew
As Paradise fictitious
Until the Realm of you

The "Life that is to be", to me,
A Residence too plain
Unless in my Redeemer's Face
I recognize your own

Of Immortality who doubts
He may exchange with me
Curtailed by your obscuring Face
Of everything but He

…

If "All is possible" with Him
As he besides concedes
He will refund us finally
Our confiscated Gods.

- from Emily Dickinson's

Because That You Are Going

Smile! :)

2006-06-02T17:32:00.000+03:00

Ever felt how a smile means so much? How much you can make every worry fade away. How much it can make you not want to care. Every felt the way it speaks everything by saying nothing? Sounds clichéd? It did, to me too. But when you experience that which you thought was repeated and told a million times only by the author of a book who had to keep it, because there was no better way to describe it, then you begin to think… hasn’t the line become clichéd because people have felt it a million times, maybe more? Because the truth has been told the same million times and now everyone’s saying it? But someday you will realize how much of a reach these seven muscles really have.
Spread your joy. Drown your sorrow. Soften your anger. Ease the pressure. Hold hands. Walk down the road. Sit. Think random. Think nothing. Think everything. Stare. Laugh. Cry. Scream. Sleep. Dream. Every emotion, so beautiful, you would like to keep it forever.
If someday you feel it, let me know. :)

Afterthought: If this post hasn’t made much sense to you, you probably haven’t seen her smile. :)

Everyday...

2006-06-02T09:14:00.000+03:00

Completed the Parsing and Decoding of Frame 0
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Repeat this a coupla hundred times, and my day is made... :)
Interesting life, don't you think? :D

Acceptance?

2006-05-30T13:12:00.000+03:00

Remember the old school days?
Remember the time when you used to pen down in slam books “Friends Forever”?
Remember the times when you felt things would always be the same?
Remember how u thought you'd never realized that couldn't really hold?
Remember when you came to Pilani?
Remember when you thought “Soon I’ll be out of this place” and smiled?
Remember when you thought four years would make no difference to life?
Remember when things changed?
Remember how you met the people who did make a difference to your life?
Remember how the place meant more to you than any other?
Remember how the bonds with people just kept getting stronger and stronger?
Remember the precious few who you realized you’d have a tough time without?
Remember how four years passed like four weeks?
Remember when you thought “Soon I’ll be out of this place” and cried?
Remember the times when you felt things would never be the same?
Remember how you told yourself “It’ll be OK” without believing it?
Remember when you told others “It’ll be OK” wanting them to believe it?
Remember how you knew nothing would be?
Remember how you hoped everything would be?
Remember how you realized “the best days of my life” was an understatement?
Remember life as we knew it?
Remember?

And then Winamp plays this for me:

There’s so many different worlds

So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones

-Brothers in Arms, Dire Straits

Music… and a lot more…

2006-05-24T12:19:00.000+03:00

Today morning I was sitting at my desk trying (as usual) to make sense out of the hexadecimals spread across the screen. The minimum interest I show in it is due to the fact that dear faithful Winamp runs constantly in the background. Nothing better than hitting the shuffle button and letting the songs play one after the other, not caring which comes next and letting randomness rule! And this is what has made me listen to songs on my playlist which probably never hit the top of the charts, but nevertheless, ones which you can relate to so much. Three weeks ago I heard this:

All that you reason
All that you care
You've got to leave it behind
And I know it aches
And your heart it breaks
You can only take so much but you have to
Walk on…

- Walk On, U2

Maybe it was because I was in such a “phase” then, but it really struck a chord. And that made me listen to more songs of the band. First there are bands and singers who sing volumes about love and the things it has done for them. And I have also been an admirer of most of them. I’ve happily sung MLTR, Bryan Adams, Boyzone and lots more… and I still do. Definitely the softest and strongest emotion on earth demands so much attention! :) And then there is Metallica, GNR, Iron Maiden and Pink Floyd who have defined my rock music.
And then U2, who dares to experiment like no one ever has. Each song I listen to makes me realize how different all their songs are, and how much they have worked towards that difference. It hadn’t taken me long to sing along with With or Without You (thanks: Soundz@BITS, Pilani!), and I don’t suppose many could ignore that song. But now there are many more that I cannot ignore… One, The Sweetest Thing, All I Want is You, Walk On… the list has plenty. In fact, this made me listen to entire albums The Joshua Tree (’87) and Achtung Baby (’91). (For the beginners, let me suggest you listen to U2: The Best of 1980-1990) Awesome music, but what made me even more of a fan was the lyrics. Awesome, again. Over the last three weeks, Bono and U2 have become very much a part of my daily “cubed” life... time to tell Ojas, my wingie-U2-die-hard: “Now I know what you see in them!” :)

Fresher no more?

2006-05-23T13:02:00.000+03:00

The best gift that you can be given is to get used to the changes that happen around you. From the studious and focused student up till 10th, the drastic school-hostel split personality in 11th and the 12th, the hater of tests in Pilani, to the city corporate here in Bangalore, that is where learning to live life shows itself to me as the most important thing around you.

But how easy is it to get used to changes? “Why is it even a problem?” would have been my quickfire question back three or four years ago. Now it’s not so easy to ask such a question or give a similar discarding answer. And it took me four years in a place with a temperature range of over 50 degrees to realize that. 333031 has changed me in more ways than I thought could be possible. It is now the life of yesteryear, but it stays with me today, and surely will for many a distant tomorrow.

And then the corporate started, and it was, to say the least, promising. Two months into work I lost the “fresher” feeling. Two more months later this was how life was to take its course. Come December 2005, and the change was starting to sink in again. Two weeks later everything had changed. A new job came up, and there was now a tough choice to make. Is it that life doesn’t let you settle for the easier choices? Or is it that after you’ve made them, the other seems to have been the easier choice? I try not to think too much about that. But as I see things now, change is around the corner again. One month later I will no longer be sitting in my comfortable blue-and-grey cube typing out code and verifying their outputs (didn’t I say that was extremely boring sometime earlier? I still choose not to change my mind, but heaven knows what awaits me next!), and what I will be doing is tomorrow I have no idea about.

And the people around you? How will you get used to never seeing them again, get used to the fact that you’ll be having an old beginning over and over again? But let me save that for later… :)

Getting used to change: life’s best gift.
Change: definitely not anywhere close.
Fresher: a word you'll use a million times in life.

The Bridge…

2006-05-23T11:02:00.000+03:00

My solitary post completes nine months of its existence tomorrow. Surely, the blogger in me is not very much of an active person! But now there’s a need to get this back up and running. Have thought of why I even need to have a blog in the first place… I don’t discuss burning issues and give my two cents on anything even if it’s an issue I personally feel strong against. It’s not that my life is exactly what can be described as “hot and happening”. And personal opinions, are, surely, meant to be just that: “personal”? The more I think, the less I think I need a blogspot. But things change and so do thoughts, is the excuse I always give for changing my mind. Now I see this space as the best to dump the madness of thoughts that I prefer not to keep within… and let me now bridge the time separated by the two hundred and seventy days, and welcome myself back! :)

"We the Corporate"

2005-08-26T05:30:00.000+03:00

Welcome to the world of the corporate! How rosy a picture of this life can we paint... The company loves you, and of course, how happily we return the favor! And quite rightly too. Where else would you receive the abundant luxury of those hissing coffee machines that look all the more inviting with every drink it gives you; the huge 25" monitors that seem to say that a computer should be nothing less, of course with the broadband ligament that comes along with it; the buffets that are laid out every afternoon inviting you to have your stomach's fill; well well, so who wants home, sweet home anymore!

A week later, I'm rethinking all that I just wrote above. A rosy WHAT? The luxury of coffee machines? Surely I must have been out of my mind when I wrote that. And it seems to getting worse with every sentence. Broadband superspeed? Now who needs that anyway? Ah, those wonderful times at home when I could just click on a link and see how it got loaded frame by frame, with every image and every icon fitting so neatly into their space... but of course, now the page opens even before you click on the link! And why don't those buffets seem so tempting anymore? So they've got three varieties of rice and three kinds of your favourite vegetables and sweets you otherwise pay an easy ten bucks for per piece, SO???

Well, surely this is a case of the grass being greener on the other side yet again, but it upsets me when I wonder if I will ever see the other side again. Will I, or will I just sit in front of my (wonderful and massive) 25" monitor looking at codes and comparing their outputs all day? (Which I must say is an awfully drawn out and booooooring job!) Or will I, someday be able to sit at my desk, looking at my screen and finding it filled with words and terms that make some sense to me? When will my freedom from those hexadecimals come! Oh sweet Satan of Numbers, fly thee at once to my wicked aid!

So FF23 EA78 5B6C 9912 and D7EF 2CD6 AA31 665B, before I end this formally!