Happiness and hardship of losing a smartphone

As my thoughts were getting entangled in the anger, disappointment and the
agony of losing my phone, I slowly opened my eyes into the realization that
my phone was getting smarter and smarter in the past years, while I was
heading exactly the opposite way. I couldn't remember any of the contact
numbers, my social media passwords, not even my bank account details. My
phone had it all. I could only sit and sulk in pain.

Cursing myself for getting into that crowded bus, which eventually led to
the pick pocketing of my phone, slowly gave way for the attempts to figure
the extent of my loss. No matter however hard I was trying to believe that
I could easily manage without it, my mind wouldn't just budge.

When I looked back, it was hard to believe that a small rectangular gadget
had a ubiquitous influence on my life. I was starting to feel disconnected
from the world, without it. The feeling that a whole lot of information was
evading me, kept on lingering in my mind. I terribly missed the
conversations in the group chatting applications, the frequent social media
updates, and the live bits of news and current affairs. The heinous
monsters from temple run made guest appearances in my nightmares.

Days passed by, and I recuperated from the emotional snub, gradually. Even
more importantly, I started not to miss my phone anymore and also, started
enjoying the extra little time that I had everyday, which, otherwise would
have been spent on poking the phone. I could watch TV, read for some time,
or even go for a jog in the morning. The tendency to look at the phone
while eating, died out slowly, and I started enjoying and appreciating the
food even more. Conversations never got interrupted with the sudden burst
of a ringtone, and life, altogether seemed better. I put brakes to my
research on which phone to buy, and started thinking, why I needed a
smartphone, in the first place.

All this, was not even the best part of having lost the phone. I discovered
how I could use it as an excuse on numerous occasions. I forgot friends'
birthdays and escaped the firing line, by giving a melancholy description
of how I lost the calendar events, with the phone.

I didn't have to remember anything anymore, I could always give an excuse
that I didn't have my reminder lists with me. Whenever I went out with
friends, I always got to be there in each of the photos taken, because I
didn't have a camera phone, and so I never had to take one myself.

The absurdity of my excuses crept up several levels and I started blaming
almost everything upon not having the phone. I hid my incompetence and
carelessness, and enthusiastically bluffed how a smartphone could solve all
of my issues. I vouched that I would get one very soon, while laughing
inside, thinking that I was never going to do it.

One day, when I was coming out of a movie hall in one of the prominent
shopping malls in the city, I saw one phone being displayed there. I had a
look at the specifications. Having a look was never going to hurt. It had
great a configuration, and some really cool features. It was then, that the
most enticing advantage of losing a smartphone, struck me. You could get a
new one!

From that day, it was all poking, and less of everything else, once again.

Culinary misadventures

Note :-  About the same topic as that of the last post. Might even have a couple of common points, what to do, that's all I felt writing about.


Being in your early or mid twenties and staying away from home, in a city, for work or for studies is probably one of the most decisive phases of your life. For most people, it’s the time when you start realizing, or at least start contemplating about where you want to head, and which waters you want to tread. Besides that, it could also be the time when you start having a serious stint in the kitchen. 

While I had started living in Chennai, eating out was a very convenient option. But later on, I started missing home food more and more, and trying out the different hotels and the roadside eateries, that Chennai is pretty abundant of, didn’t seem good enough. So I decided to test my culinary skills, in case there was any. Needless to mention, everything went catastrophically wrong, in the early days.

Cooking is an art. A unique vision on how the work of art will turn out to be in the end, is what separates an artist, from the others. Similarly, a good cook will have a vision on what kind of an experience the food is going to be, in the end; a quality that I completely lacked. My mind was always expectant of the impending doom, as I cooked. But the cooking maneuvers, or rather, misadventures, did teach me a few things.

During the early days, I used to order pizza, after I had messed things up in the kitchen. But soon enough, I learned that my cooking will never improve, and my confidence that I will never cook anything edible, grew manifold. So I would order pizza and then start cooking, so that by the time the disaster was complete, pizza would have got delivered.

As days passed by, I managed to develop a common procedure, to cook almost all of the vegetables, using only the essential ingredients. And by essential ingredients, I mean the things that are absolutely necessary to make it edible. For example, if you are going to prepare carrot fry, you can do without curry leaves or mustard seeds, but not without carrot, unless you are the people from my office cafeteria. There, they have these delicious meat rolls which, even if you dissect and examine, won’t be able to find any trace of meat. Also, I remember a hotel in my hometown, where you can consider yourself extremely lucky if your curd vada has either curd or vada. 

Sometimes, I used to call my mother, in order to ask for instructions. The conversation would go something like this.

“Amma, I have 350 grams of ladies finger, two onions and one tomato in the pan. How much salt should I add?”

“One and a half spoons”

“Okay”

I add one and a half spoons of salt, and later on, realize that the spoon that I am using is much larger than what we have at home, and probably I have added enough salt to shoot up my blood pressure to soaring levels.

“What about chili powder?”

“Which variety of Chili powder are you using? Is it Kashmiri?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“Yes. Can you check?”

I have already put the chili powder in a can and thrown the cover away, so I frantically search the trash to find the cover, while my dish continues to get cooked. I take out the trash once in a long while, so I am quite sure of finding the cover.  I find it finally, but by that time, whatever I had in the pan has already burnt, and there is no need to add anything to the lumps of carbon, anyway.  

As I try to gobble up whatever has been cooked, I think of my mother. I think of how she used to prepare breakfast, prepare lunch, pack it for my school, and then go to work by 10. That’s probably your story too. Remember how your mother used to cook something different and tasty, everyday. Have you ever thrown out the lunch that your mother had packed? Think of that.

 Try not to cry.

Now, cry all you want.

Food for thought

I swirled on the living room couch, listening to the pleasant sound of a heavy monsoon rain. The tiny water droplets that rushed in through the window and lingered in the air, made me shiver. I kept swapping between the sports channels in TV, not stopping with anything for too long.

The aroma of ghee melting on top of a frying Dosa, on the pan, spread in the air. My mother knew that I was too lazy, even to get up and have my breakfast.  So, after some time, she brought me a plate, with a golden brown color, crispy Dosa rolled and kept at one end, and some onion chutney, which is nothing but a well ground mixture of fried onion, red chilies and tomatoes, next to it. I began to drool, as she brought me the plate.  The first piece of Dosa, dipped in the spicy chutney, went into my mouth, soon enough. 

I settled onto a channel, where a live telecast of an old cricket match was going on. In between, I took a sip of the hot filter coffee that mother had placed on the small table, next to the couch.

Bliss.

But not anymore. The society brings upon hundreds of restrictions on you, some of which are, hardly even fair, and the most exasperating among them is that, nobody will pay you, unless you work.  So, eventually I had to move away from home, first for my education, and then, for a job. The food that mother used to cook, became something that I could enjoy, only once in a long while.

The first thing that I learned, after moving to a city was that, the food doesn’t cook on its own.  Looked like, it took a lot of effort to create something that is edible, let alone, tasty. Often, I would make phone calls, asking for instructions.

 'Amma, how many whistles does the cooker blow before the rice gets cooked?'
 
'Four. You have poured enough water with the rice, right?'
 
'Ugh.  Was I supposed to add water, with the rice? But anyways, water is not an essential 
ingredient, is it? I’m sure it’s not going to alter the taste, much. By the way, who the hell is smoking, in my room?'


Practice makes things better, if not perfect, and so did my cooking. I did a permutation and combination of the chilly, turmeric, coriander and masala powders, everyday. Random vegetables cut up and cooked with all these ingredients, I proudly called them dishes. I was always willing to gobble up almost anything.


After my brave maneuvers in the kitchen for more than a year, what I realized was that, cooking is more or less of an art. An artist possesses an inner vision of how the creation will look or feel like, once it is finished. The same is the quality that a good cook possesses, and of course, the same was what I completely lacked.


Cooking, whenever I do it, gives me a sense of independence. I don’t depend on anyone else, at least to cook my own food. We, as a modern society, always tend to slip into a consumer culture, and fall into the fallacy that everything that we need for consumption, will always be readily available for buying. Living in a country where the national food security bill didn’t escape from getting stranded in the political quagmire, ensuring our own food security is something that each individual should be concerned about. Cooking on our own, could be the first step to that.


The infrastructure development is going exponential, but, what we often forget is that, unless someone cultivates, we don’t eat. To have our own fruits and vegetables grown in our own yard, may be, that’s how we should see ourselves in the future.

Now, that is some free advice, to the world, from me.


It’s dinner time. I am hungry.


Where is the nearest pizza shop?

The ultimate weekend bash

 Stop that. Don’t tell me. I have least interest in knowing how you spent your weekend. The movies that you watched, the delicious food that you had, the pubs where you spent your nights at, whatever it may be. I spent the whole weekend in my room, sulky and disheveled. I cooked, ate, and slept the rest of the time. I know you had a better time than me, but still, that wouldn’t give me the slightest temptation to go out, on weekends. All because of the one weekend celebration that me and my roomies had, couple of months back. 

It was during March, I think. Our training was still on. I stayed near to the training centre, with two roomies, S and V. A close friend of mine, A, who has already been mentioned in this blog before, would drop in, on all weekends. It was a time when all of us felt enticed with the mischievous and fun filled weekends that our friends used to have. So we too, planned one. We made a ‘to do’ list first, in which we listed out the different activities that we wanted to do during the coming weekend.

The list was very intelligently designed. We had plans A, B and C. And the first entry in the list was ‘Please remember that there is a ‘to-do’ list in place’ and that it is being kept between the 36^th  and 37^th pages of the playboy frontline magazine’. More entries resulted from our brain storming sessions together, and each entry was assigned a priority level.

And it was Friday. I went to office very early, so that I could finish my work and leave early, in a mood to enjoy the weekend. It was part of the plan.

I started my computer, and dug into work. Very few people were there on the floor, scattered here and there. After a few minutes, I heard an alarm sort of a sound. A beep sound, in high volume. I kept working, and just didn’t take my eyes off the monitor. After a while, when I looked around, nobody was there on the floor. Suddenly I started to panic and think that any hot female colleague in some other  floor might have come to office wearing a mini skirt. I got up and rushed to the elevator, and then, a watchman came running in, and started scolding me in Tamil. ‘Fire alarm’ was the only thing that I understood. 

Fire. God damn it. 

A thousand questions started to flood my mind. Why did I come to office early? Why the hell did I ignore the alarm? Will India ever win a cricket match against England? 

The last one being a deja vu for me now. 

What if I die now? I haven’t even married. Both are practically the same, but still I could have a life till that.

 

He pointed towards the fire exit and screamed something.  I galloped downstairs, in Usain Bolt-ish speed. And then, everything started to be in slow motion. Past moments of my life started to flash in my mind. In ultra slow motion. Perfect camera angles. Just like the scenes from Guy Ritchie movies. 

Hah! Not really. I ran and came out of the ground floor. A huge crowd was there. I stopped just when I was near to the compound wall, and looked back, at the building. I had already commenced to fantasize about the whole building collapsing under fire and the office being closed for an indefinite number of days, during which, all the employees get paid, as usual, and the Sodexho vouchers get couriered to the respective house addresses. 

I waited impatiently. But nothing happened. Couldn’t even see a wee bit of smoke.  Besides, none of the people gathered looked happy worried. All were relaxed, and talking to each other, as if nothing happened. Just then I overheard someone saying, fire exercise.

THIS WAS A DAMN FIRE EXERCISE!

And everybody except me seemed to know about it. And it happened right on that day when I went early to office. I walked back, with a depressed mind. 

A usual day at office passed by. I reached room late. And we had our weekend plans, waiting to be executed, the next day. 

Hopefully, this will continue in the next post.

Dosas and a couple of other things

The author of this blog currently lives in a rented house in Chennai, and cooks by himself. Insignificant.  Just saying.

Last week, I was talking to a friend of mine. She was telling me about her love, and the hurdles that she would have to cross, in order to manifest it. Things were hard for her, since she and her lover belonged to different castes. Not as hard as the dosas that I make, though. (Pointless reference. Sorry for that). But we just can’t love, taking all the other factors into consideration. Love just happens.

“What to do, I fell in love” -She said in a naive and funny way.

Her parents had already started the groom search for her. She didn’t show any sort of interest and her mother accused that something was wrong with this whole generation.

When I heard that, my immediate response was, “Every generation thinks that the previous one is outdated and the next one is immature”

After saying that, I felt highly overwhelmed by my own ability to say something like that, spontaneously. Or at least, I could pretend that way, till you find out the source from which I copied.

Later on, when I gave it a thought, I felt that there are a couple of things that I don’t like about our older generation.

First one is that, they are, tech retards, mostly. Sending a text message from a mobile is a huge task for them. Just like making a circle shaped dosa is for me. But technically speaking, all the dosas that I make are all circles. They are circles with different radii in different directions, I would say.  And besides, in the Wikipedia definition of dosa, it has not been mentioned that dosas should always be perfect circles. So, I assume, the cook can have the liberty of choosing any shape that he or she wants. You people should have seen the one dosa that I made last week. In the shape of Africa. It was awesome!  

Am I deviating from the topic here? Considering the kind of a ridiculous heap of sentences that this post is, I presume there is no such thing as deviation, mainly because there is no topic as such, to this post.  

The second thing is that, the older generation is way too conservative. They stick to their principles, just like the dosas that I make stick to the pan, and refuse to come off in proper shape.

I don’t know if I have given you people a bad picture of my cooking. Whatever that I told you so far, are just minor glitches, that come along the way, during my usual routine of cooking dosas in the morning. I have done some fairly good work so far, and have received a decent amount of appreciation also. Last week, I uploaded a picture of the dosas that I cooked, in Facebook. After seeing that, my sister immediately sent me a text message. ‘hey, very nice Idlis you have cooked, there. Good effort. Even though the thickness is just perfect, the overall size should reduce. Take care’.

Not quite the kind of appreciation that I would have wanted. But still. Sigh.

So, that’s all about my life, at the moment. Adios.

Between, is any of the institutes offering a short term dosa making course or something? TIME, may be? No, not that I need it. It’s for a friend’s friend you know. It’s ok, if there isn’t any. I myself will give the poor chap a couple of lessons when time permits. That’ll do. That’ll do.

Stepping into the cubicle

The infrequency of updates in this blog has crept up to the standards of Aamir Khan movies. There is a lot to write about, but the busy routine of idling around and sleeping takes away all the time. There is a blogging spree around the corner, but before that, let me just write one about the recent turnarounds. 

So, after the highly enlightening engineering course, (ie, B tech in er.. what was it? Fashion designing? Whatever. Oh, electronics, it was. Anyways, both are highly inter related no?) I prepared and wrote CAT. Quite unfortunately, I couldn't attend my IIM L and IIM K interviews, only because I didn't get an interview call from both of those institutes, very much like the rest of the IIMs also. Almost joined Mudra Institute of communications Ahmedabad, but it didn't work out in the end. I would say, the whole MBA thing got a little too much 'the greatest football player in the world' in the end. Now when I say that all I meant was it got a liitle messy, you would probably want to strangle me, or smack your own head on the wall. I strongly suggest the second option. The unexpected series of events forced me to join for a job. And yea, after my highly commendable efforts in engineering, my parents thought that it was no more a good idea to invest money in my education. Fair enough. So I landed up in the office where I am working now. But not as simple as that.

Getting employed as a software engineer is not easy. First, you have to clear an objective type exam which is, specially designed to check whether you can stare into a computer screen for a fair amount of time, and click on random options, without starting to play solitaire, or browsing the web. That is a little tough, but if you have attended atleast 50% of your engineering lectures, you probably are capable of even watching a race between tortoises, without getting bored. Once you clear that test, you get to attend technical and HR interviews. Now, that's a complicated process. But let me simplify it for you, with an example. Have you seen any of the mutual fund TV advertises? The interview process is very much similar to that. In the advertise, they try to convince you that the best possible way to invest money is their mutual funds. After the ad, they read a statement, as fast as a human being can possibly read. Nobody understands a single word. Not even Rajnikanth. But still, everybody knows what it was all about. If you invest in their mutual funds and lose money, they will not be responsible. Even though totally pointless, it's not possible to avoid that statement in the end of the ad. In the interview, the panel asks you programming questions. You are supposed to answer, or in some cases, write down, the programs that you have learned byheart, the previous night. They might also ask you questions like, 'Why you want to work for this particular company' etc. and you are supposed to praise the company as much as you can. If you are as over promising and under delivering as me, you might also have read the wikipedia page of your company, and might have plenty of facts and figures to state. The whole process is pointless, you know that, the panel knows that. But that's the way things are. It just can't be avoided. 

Getting through the whole process was a wonderful experience. Employed with a software MNC. Looks good on my profile. Marriage profile, of course. I felt that I have also got into this elite group of Information Technology people. But soon enough, I started to realize that nine out of ten people I see in Chennai are working in IT companies. Take a stone and throw it in a random direction, it will surely hit a software engineer. There were even rumors that IT companies have started to recruit stray dogs and cattle, after running out of people. I heard this very, very scary story, last week. A software engineer threw a stone at a stray dog, and that dog, later turned out to be his project manager. Shudder.                        

After I got selected, I had to undergo an online training process. It's objectives were like, to prepare us for the highly competitive work environment and equip ourselves with the essential software technologies. In my case, it served the purpose. After the training, I found myself being well versed with java. I had this profound insight that 'Marjawa' and 'Mitjawa' have actually nothing to do with Java, and the song writer wasn't actually describing his software coding experience, unlike as I thought earlier. I used to be a gifted one, with a natural flair for writing bugs. But things got better, later on. My coding skills improved a whole lot, and I learned two languages. Java and Tamil. Tamil, I can understand while java I can read and speak. That's good enough, I guess.

The only complaint that I have about the office is that I am not allowed to use any browser other than internet explorer. I used to think that IE was only for downloading Firefox.

Jokes apart, office life is so far, so good. Not that I am contented. But still, I am happy with the numerous possibilies that life is offering, at the moment. I have made some good friends and have had a few fun moments. Financial independence feels really nice. Wanderlust is taking over, so some weekend travelling will happen, soon. Looking forward to that. ;-)   

  



  

Update

Nothing much to update. Have a couple of half written posts waiting in the drafts, but when I read them, I just realise how lame they are. Have been to Coimbatore for a couple of days. That place is not too far from the border of Kerala, but the difference in culture just amazes me. And yea, the diffrence in bus charges, too. I could travel ten kilometers for 3.5 rupees, while that is just the minimum charge here in Kerala.

Btw, I got my perkytweets Tee. In case you don't know, it's a contest conducted by Blogadda, in Twitter, for writing crispy one liners. The one that I wrote was, 'Dabangg broke 3 idiots' initial collection record. An idiot alone, defeated three idiots'. Ok, I know what you are thinking. If I could win a T shirt for that lame joke of mine, the funny people among you could probably win a textile shop itself. I don't know how I won the prize, but I really appreciate their kindness for sending me a free T shirt. I would appreciate it even if any of you did the same. Wanna check? Try sending me one.

For an amatuer Unix user, is Ubuntu the better choice? Let me know, in case you have any idea.

Simply try Googling the word amatuer. Aha! What results!

What a day, in other words, Wordpress or Blogger

What a day. Serene. Beautiful. Just can't refrain myself from typing a few lines.

In the morning, my sister prepared a hot and sour chicken soup for me. It was so spicy, that simply the fumes from it could probably burn a paper. But once she cooks something for me, I must have it. That's what the deal is. Besides, I just can't disappoint her. So, I had it, managing a smile on my face, and also, nodding in appreciation. I saw the love which was served along with it, and, hopefully, nobody saw the smoke that was coming out of my ears.

Then, while taking bath, I applied this mixture of shikakai and I don't know what all other things, on my hair, as a part of my persistent duel with dandruff. A bit of that mixture oozed into my eyes. If I had to wash my eyes with either this mixture or the soup that I had in the morning, I would have chosen the soup. After a frantic effort to wash the eyes, everything looked ok to me. I could see everything, and that was a strong indication of both the eyeballs being in the respective sockets. But, alas, my eyes had turned red.

I switched on the TV hoping to see a good mallu movie, and tuned into the mallu channels. There, they had this superhit movie, which was featuring in the mini screen, for the first time, as they said it. But I had seen the movie four times, in the same channel.

I switched on the computer, which was the last asylum. Opened my blogger account. Decided to check the newly introduced 'stats' section in Blogger. Got encouraged, seeing that my blog has got a total of 862 pageviews till now. For a moment only. Very soon, realised that 600 of those pageviews could be mine itself, and got discouraged by the same amount or more, by which I had got encouraged, earlier. I dug into further details, and had a look at the search terms by which people found my blog, in Google. The top two entries were these.

1. Mayanti Langer cleavage
2. Grand mathur fucking

Aha. What is this, a porn blog? The first search had this post as a result. I had written a review of the book, 'Inscrutible Americans' by Anurag Mathur, long back. The second search had that post as a result. Aargh!

So what a day it was! Agree, folks?

But apart from all that, I want to tell you something. I have started to think about the future of this blog. I created this blogger account, two years ago, while I was in college. Purpose was to write a story or rather an exaggerated description of a funny incident that happened during a lab exam, in the class blog. Then, wrote a couple of similar posts there, about some other incidents. Writing felt nice, and I started posting in this blog. I enjoyed writing, and it helped me learn, considering the fact that I had studied in Malayalam medium schools, till tenth.

There are two types of posts, here. First one, which are inspired by the incidents in my life, and also, random updates about my life.

Second, inspired by the stuff that I read. Mostly current affairs.

Over the time, I have learned that I enjoyed writing things that belong to the first group. All my friends who were forced to read, acted like enjoying, the same posts. So, I will not write anything about current affairs, from now on. And yea, none of the National and International leaders seem to care. So why would I give them more valuable inputs? Let them sort things out on their own.

Now, the next thought is whether to continue posting here, or shift somewhere else. All the embaressing things that happen in my life, always made nice posts. So, if I were anonymous, I could write more freely. Thinking. Suggestions invited.

Is Wordpress better than Blogger? In case I am shifting. Where? Again, suggestions invited.

Anyways, a few changes are on the cards. And in the meantime, I have loads of other work to complete. Adios, for now.

A 'not so good' experience.

A quick note, this is. After quite sometime.

Whenever I get an opportunity to travel, literally, I pounce at it. Traveling, books, movies - all make me go crazy. Equally. Around a couple of weeks back, I had a chance to be at the city where I spent four important years of my life. One of my friends was with me, the experience that I was referring to, happened on our way back.

Trivandrum central railway station. Me and my friend, call him A, were waiting to get into Maveli express in which, we had booked two sleeper class tickets. Around ten minutes were left for the departure, and we located our compartment, and looked for our names in the chart outside it. A was looking at the chart very keenly, and I said, "What are you looking at man? Let's get in".

A gestured me to wait. "There is one right next to our seat, dude."

"what?" I didn't get it.

"F 18" A replied, with a smile.

"Whoa man, Let's hope she is beautiful. She might already be there at her seat. Come, let's get in" I pulled A and we both got in. But her seat was unoccupied.

"You shameless idiot. Why do you look for girls in the reservation chart?" I started an arguement with A, just to kill time.

"Oh I know the kind of a saint you are. You also do the same, don't ya?" A hit back in the same tone.

"Well, I have done it, sometimes, while traveling alone" I had to confess. "Ok, leave all that. Just five minutes left for the departure. She might come in, any moment. Don't look at her too much ok? I hold the rights for that"

"Aha. Keep holding the rights. She probably might look at me, and never at you." A replied.

"But I do have an edge, pal. My station arrives at 2 o clock in the night. I'll get up, and watch the sleeping beauty, before I get down from the train. By the time you get up, she might not be there" Just when I finished saying that, she came in.

She was fair, and beautiful. Wearing a peacock blue dress. Accompanied by two people, her grand parents, probably.

A lightning passed across my stomach. My heart sank, instantly. She couldn't walk, or stand properly. Her hands and legs were dangling, as if she had no control over it. Her grand father was carrying her, and she was trying to walk, without much success. He made her sit on the side lower birth. She was talking to them, but, it wasn't clear at all. I saw her grand mother holding a white cover on which it was written 'Department of radiology, Trivandrum medical college'

I could sense the drop of tear that was there at the corner of my eye. I looked at A. He is a religious person, and he was already aplogizing to Jesus. Both of us, silently, walked to the door. Train had already started moving.

When I woke up at 2 o clock in the night, I did look and smile at her.

Here I am, a fellow human being with countless number of imperfections and weaknesses. I live, each and every day, fighting with each of those, trying to be a better person. She does the same. The challenges that she has to overcome, is much tougher, though. But who decides that a few people have to fight a tougher battle than most of us? Why can't they be like the rest of us? I don't know. And I will never know.

Worldcup hangover : Things that I miss

FIFA WC 2010 has just come to it's conclusion, with Spain having the last laugh. well deserved, I would say.

For the last one month, on almost every day, I had one or two international football matches to look towards, and that was really nice, especially when the hectic time that I was having, almost jeopardized the sanity of my mind. But not anymore. Now, I am suffering from the post world cup hangover. Missing the vigor and passion of hard fought football matches. So, here comes a list of the things that I miss very badly after the exceedingly well organized one month football extravaganza in South Africa. Pardon the nonsense.

1. Shakira



Shakira and her theme song were really magical. The best thing (arguably, I know) about this world cup. There was a bit of a controversy regarding FIFA not approaching an African singer to perform the theme song. But who wants to see an African singer like Akon or K'naan perform? Not that they aren't good enough. But still, can they be as hot and sexy as Shakira? Not in my perspective(Em kinda straight, you know), and I don't know about the girls out there.

Just watched an interview of Shakira in Youtube where she talks about her WC theme song, football in general, and work that her foundation does to provide education to poor children. Find the video here. The interviewer appreciates all the philanthropic work that she does, or at least she claims to be doing. Even I appreciate the same too. But I've never seen anyone appreciating the philanthropic work of Vicente Ferrer Moncho or Jamini Bhushan Ray. The rule is quite simple. When you are an exceedingly hot female, the probability of your philanthropic/social work being appreciated is very very high.


I need to move on to the next item in the list. Let me conclude this one first.

Providing education to poor children is a great thing. Education helps us to live on this planet in a better way. Earth is such a beautiful planet and we need to conserve it. Because, earth is the only planet where Shakira exists. Damn.

2. Vuvuzela



Vuvuzela needs no introduction, for those who have been watching FIFA WC 2010 matches. Vuvuzela is the large blowing horn which produces a highly annoying buzzing sound. It is very commonly played during football matches in South Africa. The sound is so annoying that, certain television networks had to try to filter it out.

Google has even introduced a Vuvuzela button in Youtube. While watching football videos, you can blow a Vuvuzela. If you haven't seen that button yet, check out the highlights video of the Ghana Uruguay quarter final here. You can start blowing the Vuvuzela by clicking on the football shaped button seen near the pop out button.


3. Paul and his predictions

Paul is the psychic octopus who predicted the outcomes of several matches correctly. He is a maverick, indeed. He entered the field of astrology, and no other octopus has done it before.
If the Paul prediction thing had happened in India, won't the west have accused us Indians of being superstitious? Anyways, I enjoyed the buzz around his predictions, and all the lame jokes surrounding it. I miss Paul, and I am sure he is disappointed too. He hasn't got any more predictions to make. He has to live as an ordinary octopus now. What would have Paul said on the situation, if he could speak? Here comes the answer.

"Ahem.. Thanks for all your support. Now my future looks kinda empty, as the world cup is over. But on the other hand, er.. I mean, on any of the other eight hands, I have noticed certain opportunities in the form of Indian premier league. I could predict the results of those matches"

How about that? Shall we begin a campaign 'Paul in IPL'? Or shall we use him to predict the things that are likely to happen in our Indian politics, where the happening are unexpected and illogical most of the times? That could work out very well, considering the fact that Paul also doesn't have any logic or skill behind his predictions.

So, these are the things that I miss, mostly. The withdrawal symptoms are so strong that, despite not being a keen observer of club football, I have decided to keep track of all the English/Spanish premier league matches this year.

Nuggets of nonsense

I am enjoying the World cup football pretty well, especially because My fav team, Argentina is doing well. Premature exit of Italy and France was very sad. But this is not what I want to talk about.

The cleavage showing girl Mayanti Langer (Am I right?) who hosts the pre and post match show in espn/star sports freaks me out. Come on.. this is about football and all of us clearly know that she is not the best expert that we can have. She claims to have some knowledge about football, but she's far from the best. Isn't she?

Ok, men usually like cleavages and all, but why,why in a football related show?


***

Me : Do you have jeans of hip size *censored* ?
Salesman : Sorry sir, we don't.
Me : Sigh, but there in that shelf, I can see size *censored*
Salesman : That is ladies jeans, sir.
Bro chuckles. Immediately made silent with an angry stare.
Me : *^$$^%$@^#
Salesman : Sir, why don't you try the largest size in the kids section sir?
Me : (mutter) Fuck you (Normal voice)No. I'll gain some weight and come back.
Bro : (On the way back)Hey, don't walk near that dog. It might get tempted by the bones in your body. They all are too visible.
Me : Ohoho.. great joke.

Any short cuts to gain weight?

***

My bottom is on fire for the next ten days. But I can't reveal why. Being an anonymous blogger sounds like a better and better idea to me.

***

I always find facts which are contrary to the reasons when I follow reasons far enough. Do you think that it's logically possible? I need to get some sleep, I know, I know.

PS.1 - The author of this blog is not that lean as this post indicates. Actually, he is a muscle hunk, with these six, eight, I don't know how many packs and all.

PS.2 - I seriously wish if PS.1 was true

If I were..

If I were a Month, I would be December ;
If I were a Day, I would be Monday ;
If I were a time of the day, I would be morning ;
If I were a Direction, I would be Up ;
If I were an Element, I would be Mercury ;
If I were a Liquid, I would be Water ;
If I were a gemstone, I would be a Diamond ;
If I were a Tree, I would be a Mango Tree ;
If I were a Bird, I would be a Phoenix ;
If I were a tool, I would be a knife ;
If I were a pair of shoes, I would be a pair of floaters ;
If I were a color, I would be black ;
If I were an emotion, I would be Happiness ;
If I were a Fruit, I would be An orange ;
If I were a Sound, I would be Laughter ;
If I were a car, I would be Volkswagen Beetle ;
If I were a Food, I would be Gulab Jamoon ;
If I were a Taste, I would be Sweet ;
If I were a place, I would be My home ;
If I were a Body Part, I would be the brain ;
If I were Music, I would be a melody ;
If I were a Dance, I would be moon walk ;
If I were an Animal, I would be an elephant ;
If I were an Element Of Earth, I would be the Air ;
If I were a Historical Figure, I would be Udham Singh ;
If I were A Famous Actor, I would be Russel Crow ;
If I were a Book, I would be Fountainhead ;
If I were a Poem, I would be "Miles to go before I sleep" ;
If I were a Room of the House, I would be The Study Room ;
If I were a film, I would be "12 angry men";
If I were a game, I would be "Hitman";
If I were a business leader, I would be Steve Jobs;


And,
If I were some other common person other than me,







No way!! There might be hundreds of similar people, but there's only one 'me' in this world. So don't miss out on meee.. ;-)

Down the memory lane

Joblessness makes me do weird and needless things. Today, I scanned all the old photo albums.

Most of my childhood pictures were in a pathetic condition. There were only very few good ones. One among them was this. A birthday celebration when I was in 4th standard. Later on, when I started to stay in a hostel, after my 10th standard, I wouldn't even remember my birthday, unless my mother called and reminded me in the morning.

The pictures made me think about my childhood. I was the most troublesome kid around!

I still remember my first few days in school. I refused to obey the teacher, and ran out of the class several times. My parents had to request the teacher, not to compel me to read or write. As a result, I learned to read and write, very late.

The pediatrician who used to treat me during those days, had warned my parents that it was quite probable that I would end up being a criminal or an anti social element. The nurse in that clinic used to have very tough times, trying to give me an injection.

I can remember all that, but can't really figure out the way in which I used to think.

My parents had tough times, too, bringing up a maniac like me. But, I grew up to be a very soft spoken and reserved person. My mother tells me that it's her prayers that have done this. In that case, there has been an overdoing of it, I suspect, because I am a little too much reserved now.

The vishukkani that I had

I am angry. I am sad. And it's Vishu today. A very inappropriate day to be in a bad mood. But I think I have enough reasons.

I love Vishu! I always did. Much more than any other festival. During my childhood, all my relatives used to get together at my ancestral home, to celebrate Vishu. Each group of people would have their own departments to take care of. Me and my cousins would be in charge of the crackers. May be it's those memories that has made me love Vishu so much. Each and every year, I want to be back in my village and celebrate Vishu, the traditional way.

And where am I now? Bangalore. In my cousin's house. The more annoying fact is that my sister is back there in the village, celebrating Vishu, with a wonderful Vishukkani and all.*frown*

Now, if you are wondering what is the relevance of the dog's picture, I'll tell you.

Yesterday night, when I was going to sleep, I had certain plans in my mind. I thought that I would open my eyes in front of the idol of Lord Krishna. I wanted to have at least that much of a Vishukkani.

And what happened? Today morning, I woke up with a feeling of moisture on my face. When I opened my eyes, I saw the face of the bugger (whose picture you can see above) up close. He was licking my face. Yuk!! (It's my cousin's pet dog, Sandy.)

Idiot! What the hell have you done? You destroyed my Vishukkani! And I have told you a hundred times that I hate the smell of your saliva. Wouldn't have minded sharing your saliva if you were a beautiful girl. But you are not! bah!

What? Don't try to calm me down with that innocent look of yours. Looks can be very misleading. I, myself am an example of that.

How could you do that? huh? How could you? No wonder people call you a dog. Looking at my face, you felt that this is something worth licking? Oh.. fine. I do understand that it's your way of expressing love. But was it essential to lick my face? About 165 (I wish if I could say I80) centimetres away from that, my feet were there. Didn't you see those? Why didn't you lick it instead of my face? Oh.. leave that idea. Considering the kind of idiot that you are, you would have done that with your ass pointing towards my face and that would have been my Vishukkani. Perfect!

Come on.. To whom am I telling all these? You don't read my blog do you? But I got to give vent to my anger somehow. Try reading my blog sometimes Sandy. Too many human beings don't read it anyways.

Ok.. ok.. no fights over that. You are a very adorable dog. But, only when you are not licking my face.

Happy Vishu folks! Hope you all had a wonderful Vishukkani!!

Ahmedabad journey

Somehow, I have managed to get a B tech degree certificate. What next? Haven't decided on that. Still, when I got the interview call from MICA(Mudra institute of communication, Ahmedabad), I didn't have to think twice. Being a travel enthusiast, a trip to Ahmedabad sounded really nice. So I set out, on 5th night. The interview was on 8th.

***

Off to Mumbai, by a night train with an RAC ticket. The Gujrati gentleman, who shared the side lower birth with me, kept talking to me, about the unique features of the exhaust fans that the company he was working for, manufactured. I had no choice but to pretend to be listening. He also told me that the full form of RAC is nothing other than 'Ro aur chillao' for the night. Later on, he offered me the whole birth, told that he would sleep on the floor.

There was a beautiful girl in the next seat, but of course, with her boyfriend/husband. She was in the upper birth for the night, her bf/huby in the opposite upper birth.

***

Late night. Myself in deep sleep. Suddenly, something fell on me and I jumped up. Whoa! none other than the beauty. May be she was trying to get down from her birth.

"Sorry" . She said.

(No problems, girl. You could fall on me like that a hundred times, and I wouldn't complain. I should've known that you were going to fall. I would not have slept, in that case. )

"It's ok."

Her bf/huby was up by that time, and offering a helping hand would have been a disastrous idea. I swirled back on my birth.

***

Mumbai! I love this city. From there, to Ahmedabad. 6th night. This time, dad is with me, and nobody fell on me at night. While I was waiting for the train at Mumbai central, I kept fidgeting with the number lock of my suitcase, opening and closing it several times.

***

In the hotel room at Ahmedabad. 7th afternoon. I tried to open my suitcase, in which I had kept all my certificates and the dress for the interview, and got astounded, finding that the number had changed, while I was playing with it, the previous day. Three digits, 1000 possibilities. Took a deep breath, started to try out each. Started from 999 and tried backwards. Came up to 600. Then, started from 000, and eventually, found that the number was 070. great! A self pat on the back, for that perseverance shown. Didn't have a choice also.

***

At MICA campus on 8th morning. First, they had the registration process. After that, a short essay writing for fifteen minutes. A business case was given and we had to suggest a solution. I wrote, the most sensible things that I could think of, didn't know how sensible it was, according to the general standards.

***

Then, there was this group exercise. We were divided into groups of 8, and had to perform the given task. They called out the names of my group members. Damn!! seven girls.

"I take a lot of time to fit into a group. Now, that's a group of girls. Makes things worse"

Before I could say something to my group members, there started the GE. (They were all familiar with each other, since all the girls had sat together for the registration.) "Design a garden which promotes harmony and good health." Girls were calling out each others names and were having furious discussions. "Heck!! Why such shit happens to me all the time?"

I tried to give suggestions, but who listens? There went everyone, around the table. There wasn't enough space for all of us to stand. I went and squeezed myself between two of them. wow.. that wasn't bad ;)The girl standing on my right was wearing a sari.

I took a sketch pen in my hand. Didn't have any idea about what to draw. Heard someone talking about a jogging track. So, I started drawing a jogging track, which was nothing other than two parallel lines, along the boundary of the chart paper. I pretended that I was doing something really important. Tried to spend maximum time, drawing it.

"ok, time up" said the professor. There was some kind of a mess on our table.

It was very obvious that I was the odd one out. Straight away, the prof asked me "So Sudeep, please explain what was happening. And also explain how this garden will promote harmony and good health"

Garden.. er.. oh.. this thing on the table. I was sandwiched between two good looking girls all this time. And the prof thinks that I could keep a track of all that happened. Fuck. No way.

I started the explanation, and before I could finish, prof knew that I didn't have much of a clue. He told me to stop.

So, the GE was pathetic. I knew that I didn't stand a chance of selection.

***

I had lost all hope of getting a selection. So just wandered around the campus, alone.

Interview was pretty much ordinary for me. Panel consisted of 3 people, one lady and two gentlemen. The first question was to tell a good thing and a bad thing about Kerala. I said "Kerala is a beautiful place, but people are too conservative." Then, B tech project, tell us about urself, hobbies and some usual questions like that.

Before concluding it, the lady in the panel said. "ok, I'll give you a chance. Ask me a question, and try to make an impression."

I couldn't think of anything impressive. Had a prepared question in my mind, asked that.

"I can look at the emblem of your college in 3 different ways. It can be one triangle placed over another, It can be an 'M' which stands for Mudra, or even it can be an arrow directed in the left - down direction. So what does it actually represent?" (Have a look at the emblem here)

She explained some complicated things with the help of some huge words, and I didn't understand anything, as usual. Kept shaking my head, and pretended that I was really interested in what she was saying.

That concluded the interview.

***

All the candidates were asked to sit in a hall, for the announcement of the results. There was a girl with curly - curly spring like hair, wearing a green top and black pants. My attention was fully on her. Her parents were with her, but I had managed to talk to her once during the day, and so I knew her name. I was listening if her name was there, while the merit list was being announced. There goes my name in between, but I didn't hear it. "Dude you are through" The guy next to me pushed me with his elbow.

"Er.. I am through! Seriously, I don't know why they selected me. ain't a big deal since this doesn't conform the admission. It just enhances the chances of selection"

***

Flashback.. A few days before I started the journey.

"Dad, get me a flight ticket back from Ahmedabad."

"No way.. travel by a train"

"I want to be in a flight. I've never seen the inside of a flight except in movies. at least once. pleeease"

"start earning by yourself and travel. You know, when I was of your age.."

"Stop that dad. Ok.. fine.. I am a worthless idiot and all. But still, can I travel by a plane?"

"Why are you pleading? Earn your own money and do whatever you want"

"Oh come on.. ok.. now let us assume that the speech about growing up independently is all done. now, will you get me a flight ticket?"

(silence)

"Yay!! Em gonna fly!!"

And in the end, I got a ticket, from Mumbai to Bangalore.

***

Inside of Kingfisher Mumbai - Bangalore flight. I was sitting in a window seat. Excited, but tried to act cool, just to make others feel that this is just day today affair for me. I looked around, ensured that no one is looking at me, and clicked a picture of another plane, through the window.

Few more minutes for take off. "Oh my god! who is walking in? Ain't that Konkona sen sharma?. It is..She is not that gorgeous and all, but of course, I like her. Why am I having this feeling that she is looking straight at me?"

My jaw dropped. 'Close your mouth, idiot' I reminded myself

She walked straight up to me and asked "My seat is a few rows behind. will you please go to that seat so that I can sit here?"

"Oh yea.. why not?"

I walked to her seat.

During the flight, I tried to yawn in between to show that I was bored. I even told the gentleman in the next seat

"When will this flight reach Bangalore? I am too bored. I am traveling too much these days"

***

Back at Bangalore. Back to the routine of eating, sleeping and writing meaningless things like this! Hah!

Birthday!

It was my birthday yesterday. The one with lesser importance. At my home, we always celebrate birthdays according to birth star. And it was on March 30th. So, one celebration was already over.

Having your birthday on April 2nd is never an easy thing. Right from your primary school, friends tease u saying that You were one day late. And sometimes, I, being the most absent minded person on earth, justify that. So, it worsens things. But I am pretty much used to it now.

I, myself don't think that birthdays are worth celebrating. What's so special on a birthday? Isn't it a remainder of you being older? In my case, I've turned 22 now. Have to look back at the nonsense that I have done, gotta do better than that. (not bigger nonsense). Gotta be more responsible.

One good thing about birthdays is that, if you remember someone's birthday, and wish them, or give them any gift, they will feel really happy. Especially when that person doesn't expect you to do that. This time, I had hidden my birthday remainder from orkut, just to see if someone remembers it or not. Six people, excluding my close relatives.

Yesterday, I was very keen about not having any celebrations, especially because I've already had one, two days before. But still, my sister bought a cake, hid it from me, and and gave me a surprise. And it made me happy as well.

How to transport a sofa

Isn't that a brave thing to do? I thought that he might be trying to transport it to some 2 - 3 buildings away by pushing the scooter. But, after sometime, he started the scooter and drove off. That too along the roads of Bangalore! The thing should have been resting on it's center of gravity :-)

The way I used to dress

I have been in this city for the last one week. When I call my friends in Kerala, the first thing that they ask is about the chicks around. And this city is full of beautiful girls, indeed. All of them are very well dressed, and are very keen in showing their beauty to the people around. That makes a huge difference also. It's not that the village that I am hailing from didn't have good looking girls. There, none of them are concerned about make up and all.

Now, talking about the make up, how far do u think a girl will go for maintaining good looks? I don't exactly know, but quite far, I think. Whenever I go to a shopping mall here, I see girls walking on high heels, and some of those are so high that I start feeling that they are walking with stools under their feet.

It's quite evident that people, especially girls, in this city(In other cities also), do care a lot about dressing. And when I compare it with my personal standards, I am deeply embarrassed. When I was staying in hostel, during my B tech days, I used to wear the same jeans for three weeks. Each and every morning(Er,.. okay.. 9.30 is morning.. isn't it?) I would frantically search the heap of clothes in the room and the sole criteria of selecting a particular shirt(pants is fixed for 3 weeks) will be how it smells. Whether it is possible to suppress the smell with my deo. That would be the question being raised.

At least four or five times, I decided to change myself, and started to wash my clothes regularly. It would work fine for two weeks, then again, slowly slowly, it would fall back to the old track.

Such things are forgivable, when you are in a hostel, I think. Now things have changed. I am still pretty unorganized. I still spread chaos all around. I am still absent minded as ever. But I do care a little about my dressing. ('A little' is by my own standards only). Otherwise, I would have easily got thrown out of my house.

What I've done

***
what i`ve Done
I've faced myself
To Cross out what I’ve Become
Erase Myself
And let Go of What I’ve done
Put to rest
What you Thought of Me
While I clean this Slate
With the Hands of Uncertainty
***
When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I've done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed

And don't resent me
And when you're feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest, leave out all the rest

Don't be afraid
I've taken my beating
I've shed but I'm me

I'm strong on the surface
Not all the way through
I've never been perfect
But neither have you
***

This means only two things
1)I'm listening to LP right now
2)I'm totally f****d up

Happy!

Em happy, of course I am. But I can't tell you why.(I, myself am a bit confused about the reason, actually) Of course, nothing has changed. I am still wandering around, jobless, and clueless about future. No turn arounds in love life, it's still empty. And it seems like there are quite a lot of butterflies in my stomach.. damn.. I hate it.

Ok, But I want to know the reason, just like you do. Hmm.. lemme think.

It's nice to be associated with good people, people who are actually good at heart. Sometimes, I just sense truth and sincerity in others heart, without taking much time. And it is quite a nice experience as well.

I guess my happiness comes out of that sort of a feeling.. it must be..