-I write like I talk-

To Nash !

2009-08-02T05:39:00.001-07:00

“One thing I like less than most things is sitting in a dentist chair with my mouth wide open.
And that I will never have to do it again is a hope that I am against hope hopen.”

These are the opening lines of “This Is Going To Hurt Just A Little Bit”, by Frederic Ogden Nash.
Please note: I am no fan of poetry, and definitely not one who can quote some spectacled guy’s verse. This particular work was in the Class IX/X CBSE English Textbook during my schooldays (before they jazzed it the books up with colour and an “interactive” outlook), hence the obvious recall.

Well, as it turns out, I have a pretty old relationship with the dentist. I know more about dental care than my MBBS sister. Irrigation, tooth crown, GIC, root canal therapy, bone graft, LA (Local anaesthesia- My personal favourite, as supposedly I give an extremely effective reaction to it) are some keywords I would like to mention as evidence of my knowledge. I had my first cavity when I was eight years old. My mom thought my ass is still safe as it was a milk tooth, hence I would learn a lesson and mend my ways. Two more cavities followed in the milk teeth era. But I crossed 14, and God stopped giving second chances!! I have two crown caps for two cavity infested teeth. One of them is partially fractured and held together by a synthetic plaster. This was my situation for the past two years. Due to improved oral hygiene, there was nothing new after that.

The sins of the past come back to haunt.

During a routine dental check up(31.07.09), it was found that since the fracture in the tooth had occurred below the gum line, there are air pockets between the gum and the tooth, which are prone to infection. Hence, it was suggested that a bone graft be inserted in those empty portions. Rs 2500 only! (Dimensions of graft: Length=4 mm, Dia=0.5 mm). LA would be administered of course. Yippee!

2.08.09

After waiting for half an hour looking at awareness posters, a very cheerful man walks in.

“Hi............Nikhil right ?”, he said. Without waiting for a response, “ I am Dr. Anand. I am a Periodontist. “(my keyword list expands). I went inside and sat on my beloved chair. “So, what are you doing nowadays?”. I told him about my latest plans. He started smiling. “Guess what man, your bone graft is also made in France, hihihihi! Look look!”. I smiled back half-heartedly. Is this his way of cheering up his patients. It seemed like this coincidence had awakened a child in him, innocently playing with the plastic pack wondering how small this world is. He gave me LA and half of my mouth was numb within three minutes. Metallic instruments started going in one by one. I was quite cool, until I saw a perfectly clean probe (see picture) covered in blood when it came out. The fact that there was no pain made it look even weirder. Just the feeling that a lot of push pull is going on inside. My head was literally moving with the force. His glove covered fingers slowly started getting specks of red. At this critical juncture, when in spite of my veteran status in dental visits, I was shit scared, Dr. Anand said the unthinkable.

“Oh no!! I forgot my camera!”

“What?”

“This is a beautiful defect Nikhil. I mean beautiful! I would love to show it to my students.”

“Huh!”

“Arre, Dr. Sharma ka camera padha hai unke drawer mein? Check karna zara.”, he told the assistant holding the suction tube.

The assistant goes and brings back a black case.

“Sony ka hai na? Dikhao zara. Ohh yesss! Digital Macromode bhi hai.” He was elated to have that technological marvel with him. The thought that he can take 7.2 megapixel bloody pictures of my mouth made him high with joy. “Arre yaar! No battery. Chotu zara charge pe laga do.” Then we waited for full five minutes so that the studio session can begin. In between I thought I clarify some things.

“There will be a lot of post surgery pain?”, I asked. I obviously had the red tipped probe in mind.

“No no....I don’t think so. Waise bhi Nikhil, everybody has a different threshold of pain. We may say ouch by touching a thorn. But a soldier keeps on fighting even after a bullet hits him.” Now, I was expecting a simple yes or no but Dr. Anand was full of deep stuff which can put even a kgpian to shame.

“Charge ho gaya? Chalo aaaa karo Nikhil.”

I “aaaaed” so that the camera’s zoom lens can be thrust in. Click-Click. I could feel a mellow warmth of the flash bulb. After he checked the snaps on the display screen to satisfaction, he inserted the graft finally.

“Don’t eat anything hot today. Don’t brush your teeth tonight. Ok? Use mouthwash only haan. Eat with the right side for 4-5 days. And take the medicine 3 times daily for 5 days.”

My head was literally jammed and I couldn’t process more information. As I was about to go out-

“And most important.......come next Saturday, stitches need to be removed. We’ll take an X-ray to see everything is fine hihi!” He said with a twinkle.

The waiting room was full of people when I came out.

“And this, O Fate, is I think the most vicious circle that thou ever sentest,
That Man has to go continually to the dentist to keep his teeth in good condition
when the chief reason he wants his teeth in good condition
is so that he won’t have to go to the dentist.”

Vous comprenez ?

2009-07-29T07:35:00.000-07:00

Firstly, some updates :
1. I am going to Paris (yay !)
2. For higher studies (?)
3. And general merriment shall follow of course!

Now, the French are supposedly a bit cranky and obsessive about their language. They all know English. To tell you the truth, you can get away with English anywhere in Europe. It is just that the French often use French as a subtle mode of defiance against their century old rival.

It has only been the 20th century when the pretentious show of friendship started, probably because the Brits hated the Germans even more and took sides with France when Hitler’s troops came for a walk in Paris (1940). Before this era, these two nations fought so many wars that it seemed that all they did was fight. Plus, the French always believed that they are culturally, linguistically, architecturally superior to Britain(which in my opinion is true), even though Britain ended up having the bigger empire and English being spoken by more people. So, yeah! It is understandable that they dislike each other. No one can say that in the open; especially with the emergence of the European Union and European identity as cool things to talk about.

The trouble is that I have to know some French as a result :)

Now, on the face of it, there is no need to worry. I did study it during school (4 years..........................impressive huh!!). But that ended almost 7 years ago. I have already forgotten half of my Hindi and expecting a similar treatment for French is just fair. Anyways, I arranged for some books to brush up. For people in a similar situation, I would suggest the “Collins French Traveller’s Dictionary & Phrase Book”, which even has a romantic footnote on the cover just to cheer things up-“the first comprehensive language companion for travellers”.(The image shown is the cover of the copy I have, scanned. I assume it may serve as a proof of the degree of idle time I have.) My uncle, who stayed in Paris for almost 2 years gave it to me and said that it is much more valuable than any grammar I learn later. This book has chapters according to the situations which a traveller generally encounters- Airport and flight inquiries, Buses and subways, Food and drink, Chemist, Bank .etc and has phrases in French with their pronunciation and English translation, which one would have to say for conversing in those situations. Some of my personal favourites are:

Je ne parle pas très bien français. (I don’t speak French very well.)

Parlez plus lentement, s'il vous plaît. (Please speak more slowly.)

Vous comprenez? (Do you follow?)

Est-ce que je dois? (Do I have to?)

J’ai écrasé un chien. (I have run over a dog.)

Un paquet de Marlboro, s’il vous plait. (No translation needed)

Je pars. (I am leaving.)

2009-06-08T12:32:00.000-07:00

I just rediscovered the pleasures of television. The wait for a movie to start, commercial breaks when one can get something to bite are a welcome relief from the “on-demand” nature of LAN. I remember how many times in kgp when I planned to watch a movie, but ended up getting short term satisfaction from an episode of Prison Break or Seinfeld. The sheer lethargy that crept in by the thought of sitting for 2 hours used to be very overwhelming. Now I just switch on and bump in the middle of something going on and keep watching. Have seen so many pending movies on “HBO” !! Shameful after bringing 1.2 Tb of DC’s best :)

F.R.I.E.N.D.S

2009-01-04T10:32:00.000-08:00

I once read somewhere that nostalgia can be a tricky affair. It is like an edited recollection of past events where you only remember the pleasant moments, where you felt loved and missed by those around you, and where there were no overpowering unpleasant moments to get distracted. Even though this outlook always captures one’s imagination with the vocal “Oh yeah !! So true !”, I beg to differ. I generally recall the total package, with dominance of the bad days. The good ones are taken for granted. One of the biggest factors that affect “my” nostalgia consists of the people around me. I mean who am I kidding? We all know that man is a social animal and I am no exception. Presently I feel the moment to be appropriate nostalgia-wise to pen some thoughts about this aspect of my life.

There have been three main phases of friendships I’ve had up till now. All of them are classified according to geography. My father has a transferable job and hence my past 22 years have consisted me moving from one place to another. I have never had a clear answer to the question of “Where is your hometown?” It obviously led to many embarrassing moments during the senior-junior “interactions” in college, especially with excessive sweat and no pants and the desire to be honest. This is my personal identity crisis. I am a Punjabi by birth, Hindi by tongue guy who has spent the majority of his time in Rajasthan. This has evidently created problems in terms of group-ism, as there was never a clear cut group among my peers which I could join.

Phase I of F.R.I.E.N.D.S was in Jaipur starting from year 1994. I was in class II and a lot more innocent and gullible as compared to the current situation. I was expecting to meet many people as innocent and gullible. Unfortunately this wasn’t the case and after studying in Jaipur for 6 years, I was always the most innocent and gullible kid in spite of getting my ass kicked left, right and centre. My mother still misses my former self as that was when I never argued with her and did what she desired and of course because of the baby pink hue of my cheeks. My memory of phase I in general consists of my lonely recess sessions having food, the acute nervousness in terms of conversation with my outspoken peers and the sorry, pathetic staring at the two girls (crushes) at the next desk within a span of three years. It was during class VII when I suddenly started opening up, but it was too late as my family was shifting to Delhi by the end of the year. Nostalgia again started playing tricks on my mind as I could only remember the recent burst of extrovert-ness. I conveniently forgot my moments of misery because the incoming change was freaking me out. I mean Delhi meant meaner kids and tougher times. My mother actually went to an astrologer with a query regarding any possibility of change in my present punching bag status. I don’t know what the old man said, but there were definitely going to be a difference.

Phase II begins in the year 2000 with admission in my cousin sister’s school. I starkly remember my conversation with SP (for protecting his identity).

SP: So you’re new!!?

Me: Yeah.

SP: Okai, Hi dog !!! My name is S.

Me: You’re a dog !!
(Please note my immediate defence mechanism and the lamest counter statement ever made. This was mainly due to the bunch of hypocrites I spent time with for the past 6 years who bitched about everyone behind their backs but considered swearing equivalent to crossing the line.)

SP: Okai…….I am a dog then. That guy is a dog ! The entire world is full of fucking dogs !! Happy ?

Me: Huh !

SP: Listen dude….how would you feel if we met 10 years later and I address you by your first name? I mean friends don’t do that ! Swearing is symbolic of the deep bond we share that we don’t mind calling each other dogs.

This conversation simply explains the kind of people I met in Delhi. They were frank, in the face, and said what came to their minds. If they disliked someone, they would say so, instead of pretending anything. Secondly, there were no groups or clubs. I met many people who were facing a similar identity crisis as me. It took me hardly one week to get adjusted and then started the most significant part of my social life. I started to talk and lost my outer damaged shell. Even though I didn’t succeed much in telling some girls my true feelings about them, it was still a big step up at that moment. There were of course off days when I came to know of the materialistic pretense of many of my friends. I could see how conscious they were of their shoes, their fluency in English, or the overall demeanor which makes one differentiate between the “popular” and the not so popular geeks. I could find similarities in my school mates with characters from so many teen movies, getting both interested and repulsed at the same time. Our school trip to Pondicherry really kicked off my first moments of actual friendship and camaraderie, which are still part of my happy place. My two years of JEE preparation of course reduced my interaction with the popular guys due to key difference of priorities. I often had the sadistic outlook of pity towards the rich kids who sucked at studies and played basketball throughout the day thinking with pleasure how I have found focus in my life and they have not. It turned out to be fruitless labor as these kids were too rich to struggle in life. They are still partying in American and British Universities as we lesser mortals look at their pics on Facebook with envy. This was how I realized the giant gap between the upper and middle class. It can be seen that this phase of F.R.I.E.N.D.S is filled with elation and joy of finally being accepted somewhere and also the confusion and fogginess of adolescence.

My most important phase started in 2004 with admission at IIT. I have mentioned before many times that this place is a great leveler and I will now state why. I was suddenly shifted from a place of pretense and showiness to a merit based institution in the vast rural-ness of Bengal. In spite of being barren and devoid of the pleasures of a metropolis, I cherish something very invaluable about this place. For the first time, I witnessed people not being judged by looks, clothes, money, proficiency of English, but for who they really are. Guys/Girls who on the face look like cannon fodder for places mentioned in phase I/II are appreciated and respected for their abilities and talents. As hostel life enables one to be 24x7 with other people, character becomes very important. I myself judged so many people in the beginning, only being bogged down by their genuineness. Even though there were many social mishaps, but five years is a long time and I never claimed to be perfect. This has been the phase which I hope won’t fade in it’s impact for a long time. This is perhaps the last phase of it’s kind in my life.

Vellapan ke side effects

2008-12-25T12:25:00.001-08:00

"Those were really tough times."

This was something I always dreamt of saying.

Aren't we all subconsciously impressed by a person born in say 1921 and still living. I mean this guy must have witnessed and been affected by so many historical events…………………………………British Rule, WW II, the Indo-Pak wars, emergency, Amitabh Bachan's almost fatal injury on the sets of Coolie. There is always that calm wisdom embedded in his conversation, lines of hardship on the forehead, reassuring firmness in the handshake.

THE financial crisis (TFC) has been a stepping stone for me in that journey. It can be a similar thing for countless students all over the country seeking employment, if they are ready to take it in my spirit.

I will not lie like every company's HR person during a PPT.....we were not immune at all :) It affected our health, wealth, and happiness by bringing changes in time tested trends. All the corridor discussions, analysis, conjectures regarding placements were turning out to be pointless. They just became a sadly prosaic way of killing time which was available in plenty. I owe so many good things to TFC though. I renewed some of my interests like cricket, TT, hurling stones at tree trunks, gossip, watching movies having too many sequels/prequels (Rocky, StarWars, Rambo), spying on orkut scrapbooks, thinking of ways to beat people I dislike.etc.

After three weeks of being involved in the above mentioned activities, some arab guys came and selected me and five of my batch mates as Architects. I came home two days after this miracle. I had some plans for home this time. I wanted to read a bit, spend less time online and on TV. But my indulgence and pre-selection interests are lingering on. I strain myself to wake up every morning, creating temporary wrinkles on my forehead. HUHHH !!!

Starvation by chance

2008-10-25T10:20:00.000-07:00

7:32pm- Saturday night

I have that weird feeling in my stomach.....the one that indicates a void.....the sense of craving for something.............anything.....................before I lose the energy to get it myself...........I wan't food !!!

The Hall Nescafe guy is unwell......allergic cold i think. My selfishness makes me immune to his troubles. Can I get something from the tuck shop downstairs ?? Naa........I am too sick of the Hide and Seek, the Bingos, Merri?cake. I need something that fills me up. Some real carbs, roughage.

Got dressed up..........my wallet is heavy for a change- money shouldnt be an issue today.

8:01pm- Sahara Restaurant (take note of the irony :))
The order number is 72. I try to find a pattern in the food being brought out. 12, 43, 23, 21, 57....beats me ! I guess I could have asked for something simple and functional instead of the elaborate affair. How could I forget the first rule......lesser is faster....shucks !

9:50pm- the unnamed savior came with my lot. I couldn't identify half the things. Everything was luke warm and I didn't have the energy to complain.

I was just another victim of monopoly; but in this entire mess, there was something chillingly pleasant.
You can be the golf links, aviators sporting dude........or the person who prefers buying a new refil instead of a new ball point, you would have to wait for 2 hours to be served junk that saturday night :)

This place is a great leveller

blank

2007-08-15T13:09:00.000-07:00

Things are never clear........but i am expected to focus. Its like a soup out there.............................people also call it "life". hahh!! Of course it is full of stuff. Lets not talk about love; too complex and tedious.
Four years with pencils and lines wasn't that bad. It was scary in the beginning........afterall i wasnt supposed to do it, i didn't slog for it. It was a compromise with which i learnt to live, and eventually liked to a certain extent. The hard work and time invested has given it some value. It is now something I don't want to leave point-blank. But still cannot see myself doing it for the rest of my time. Is this a student mid-life crisis :) ?

Summer pics

2007-07-22T03:21:00.000-07:00

A compressed album......................there were many more buildings :P

http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/niks269

Diary #??

2007-07-12T08:05:00.000-07:00

I labeled my previous post “Champaign Diary #1” with steep expectations of updating it regularly with #2,3,4 etc etc. Urghhh….I am a lazy bum…QED !
Sight seeing in Champaign was limited to the nearby Indian Grocery store called Annapoorna, which had a decent collection of Hindi DVDs, calling cards, frozen paranthas, frozen samosas, frozen everything for people who just cannot go beyond the microwave. Another exciting place was the CVS store(it is like a younger sibling of the Walmart, located at every street corner throughout the country), where I used to get into the homely-domestic mode, pushing the trolley through aisles and looking for cereal, 2% fat milk(hehe), bread, chips. I could instantly visualize myself as the helpful, caring life partner every woman dreams of.
I went to Chicago again over the third weekend. It was even better than the first time, even though I broke many records when it came to going around. I took a one and half hour boat tour through the Chicago river, saw three museums, went to a planetarium right next to Lake Michigan, attended a baseball match(Chicago White Sox vs Houston Astros………….as if I care :) , and also watched a movie, all in one day. Even though I was dead tired, it was nice to walk around the downtown, using the subway, talking to random people at the roadside café. It felt funny to just sit sipping great coffee, watching other people rush here and there, having all the time in the world.
The next week in Champaign was in a way eventful. My roomie’s friend just got her dissertation accepted and there was party at home. It was my first house party, and of course I was curious ;) The best thing was the unlimited supply of beer, and the house was full of people who just needed 2 bottles to open up. It was interesting to be the only twenty year old among thirty somethings. We talked, danced and got wasted :D
Work meanwhile was becoming more and more hectic. After trying to get an idea of TRACE 700, I was given a lot of data to streamline and convert it into graphs for analysis. It was all familiar MS Excel which wasn't such a problem. I also worked on a lighting modeling software called Lithonia which calculates things like max, min, average lumens on various surfaces with a particular lighting arrangement. After two days of searching google for various luminaires and doing a lot of guesswork(intuition :)) I showed the results to Ben. He said “hmmm…ahmmmm…….good job”. Americans they say are dumb.

Champaign diary#1

2007-06-11T12:19:00.000-07:00

I was standing at Customs in IGIA…..my suitcase relaxing in the aircraft’s belly. The officer looked at me, scrutinizing and trying to find similarities with the photo on the passport(The pic is almost 8 years old, pink chubby cheeks and all, he was bound to be surprised) . Relax dude….I am from your country , I felt like saying. The flight was pretty long, with no stoppage at Frankfurt or London like the good old days. To add to that, the seat besides me was empty, which of course is a nice thing from comfort point of view but keeping quiet for 15 hours was something new. An aunty sat with me for sometime. I have this talent of hitting off immediately with middle aged women. She was an English teacher in DPS RKP who asked a lot of questions. Why are you going there? Where do you study? Oooooo….you are the IIT category..nice nice. We in general discussed the CBSE curriculum, high school education system blah blah. Meanwhile, I saw her alpha male getting red with fury. Is my charm a gift or curse?
The flight landed on time, exactly 5:15 am at O’Hare Airport, Chicago. Flight to Champaign was to leave at 11 o’clock, which left me plenty of time to wander around. I went outside the terminal building to look for cigarettes. I asked a guy as to where can I find them. He didn’t have a clue, but offered me one of his own. God bless him ! Then went on to look for a telephone card to call mom and inform her that I am okay and in good health.
Champaign reminded me of some place familiar, where I spend 8 months of my life every year…..yaa….kgp. It is a university town, with nothing much except that. Chicago plays the role of Cal, being just 2 hours away. But of course it is devoid of any dirt, bad roads, places like cheddis(sad huh) etc. It is like those small American towns, with green avenues, wooden houses and country music that we see in movies so often. I dumped my luggage in the apartment, met the roomies, and since it was like a long weekend, decided to go to Chicago. The railway station was at a walking distance and there wasn’t a soul there. The reservation counter was empty, and when the dude arrived, he seemed elated...like seeing someone after a very longtime. The train was as expected vacant, with more staff than passengers.
After disembarking from the Union Station, I took a cab for my uncle’s place in downtown. Usual queries about the flight, time of stay were asked and replied to immediately. It seemed like a recorded message. After freshening up, my next stop was somewhere in downtown where I saw a red double Decker open bus. I don’t remember the exact location as the bus was sufficient to divert my attention. I took one of those city tours, full of Chinese tourists with digital cameras. We saw many famous houses, mainly those of Oprah Winfrey, Michael Jordan etc. Oprah’s house seemed out of place being a bungalow amidst high rises…..portraying her image as someone who is down to earth and sensitive. Bullshit !!! She lives in a huge penthouse on top of a 100 storey skyscraper!! Another great thing to see was the old office of Al Capone.
Downtown Chicago is like the opening statement of modern architecture(gotta thank MB for that funda). Everything from neo-gothic to slick glass and steel showcased itself. The most wonderful place was surely Lakeshore drive. Lake Michigan on one side, with luxury yachts and tons of greenery. Enough of tourism….I sound like a guide !!
I also went on top of the Sears tower and heard all its praises like how it “used to be” the tallest building in the world and still in one category out of four, it IS the tallest building etc etc. Be happy guys....it still is pretty TALL :) The top was disappointing because they had a stupid gallery surrounded with glass instead of the open thing. After all that, and a lot more, I went back to Champaign to finally get started.
Roomies were nice…pretty and helpful (I wanted to write “pretty helpful” but after adding the “and” by mistake….it still is a true statement :P). My abode was all stripped down with nothing besides a futon frame, but there was a slick attached bathroom, so considering the hierarchy of spaces in terms of importance, I didn’t complain. On May 28th, I went to meet my prof. Now this guy looked cool, wearing three quarters and moving around on a cycle. He showed me the lab and introduced me to everyone. He then started discussing what I was supposed to work on with another guy. Tricky questions followed:

“What do you plan to achieve out of your stay here Nihkill ?”
“Have you worked on energy simulation programs before?”

I gave some middle of the road general replies, and they concluded that I should start learning TRACE 700, an energy simulation program with the help of a 400 page manual. Hence, my future was decided :D
The program was interesting and I used to get breaks from it when Ben(my boss) gave some other work like preparing spreadsheets or streamlining electrical, water supply data to plot graphs. After office, I went to the downtown in order to try a new restaurant every day. On the third day, I went to this place called “The Bombay Grill” to get some Indian food. But this place served the stereotypical crap, with loads of butter,curry and every gora asking just one thing,”1 chicken tika masala please" :) A chaotic incident took place at McDonalds the day after. Now guys I am a shudh shakahari. I have alwways been...untempted to jump on the other side. Hence I looked at the menu and ordered the safe sounding Double Cheeseburger. I concluded that if they have mentioned a minor ingredient like cheese, surely cheese is THE only thing it has. After having ¾ th of it, I just looked at the covering paper which said “100 % pure beef I’M LOVIN IT!”. What a smashing debut !! This can more or less sum up my first few days here.

dreams

2007-05-20T12:16:00.000-07:00

I like to dream. They make my nights eventful. It is like a television is switched ON while you slowly doze off. You acknowledge the sounds but rarely try to make anything out of them. Dreams have often led to interesting conversations with my friends in kgp. They go along excellently with things like cigarettes and tea, which are abundant there. I am very sure I was dreaming that morning when mom woke me up. I can't remember what, but it was something pleasant. I was smiling while opening my eyes. It went away immediately. My grandfather had collapsed on the breakfast table. We laid him on my bed....his eyes still open. The doctor was called. After couple of injections, thumping of chest, ECG scans........he announced that he was no more. My grandfather was not doing well for the past couple of years. He was 82 and every problem that comes with old age were bothering him. To be honest, I wasn't very saddened by his death. Ever since his health deteriorated, he had become indifferent towards everyone around him, and so had I. My relationship with him was like that of an old friend, with whom I had lost touch. I only met him when my mother told me to. Once in his room, I wanted to leave as soon as possible due to the sheer lack of conversation. There was this silence which filled up the space between us. But not always, I still remember the days when I used to accompany him to the market, feed the pigeons on our rooftop, wander around when he was giving Urdu lessons to my sister on the dining table, trips to his room to watch TV while my parents were asleep. These were some pleasant memories. The last few years were more like a dream....hazy, oblivious and something I cannot really recall.

Ayn Rand+Floyd

2007-03-12T11:35:00.000-07:00

Studios (engineers-read labs) in the afternoon are always painful, especially during summer time. The class at 12:30, followed by the speedy run to the mess….yikes!! My two wheeled contraption makes sure that I sweat it out to maximize the “after lunch-before class” time. Heat wanders my mind. As I climb up the stairs to CTW, I picture my room like an air conditioned mall everybody loves to enter when on a treeless sidewalk.

Time of entry-1:00pm

t-25 minutes and counting……

The newspaper wasn’t there, so a possible option was a short nap. As I lay sideways, “We the living” by Rand caught my attention, kept carelessly on the shelf. I had it for sometime now, but always felt that anything by Rand needs a mood. It’s not light, not casual, not really FFUN so to say. Don’t know what made me pick it up. Perhaps too much wandering :)). The best part of a book is undoubtedly the beginning. The publisher’s name, copyright, acknowledgements foreword. One tends to expect something. It’s only in the middle that conclusions are made, whether it is dragged, or use of over the top words.etc Otherwise, every book is nice for the first ten pages.

I took a seat and inserted the floyd folder on my playlist.

People, I discovered that Pink Floyd and Ayn Rand are made for each other. I flipped through the pages like I was on the cycle twenty minutes back. Reading about Irina, Kira, kulaks mixed with a dosage of psychedelia freshened me(okai, I admit I have this thing for anything Russian, don’t know why).

My phone rings

“dude…..the prof has come, where the hell are you? sleeping? “

“No man….didn’t sleep, that’s the problem.”

Exit 1:45pm

I saw it..........

2007-01-08T10:05:00.000-08:00

I have noticed that majority of content on my blog is about events that took place in delhi. I confess that spending 5 years in this city doesn’t qualify as being a true “dilli-walah”. I hardly know about places outside south delhi and strongly detest travelling in DTC buses. It is a place our media loves to loathe, perhaps due to the million expectations which they have from our capital, but the one thing that makes it so seductive are the contrasts visible on every street. Comparisons with beer can be made-bitter in the first sip but tends to get smooth as one goes on.

This December, I was walking around CP with a friend, getting really excited about the efficiency of the metro garnished with the well landscaped central park above the station. Any visit to CP is literally fruitless without stopping at Wenger’s, which is almost an institution in selling the tastiest breads and pastries. We both grabbed our swiss rolls, and walked out to enjoy them in the crisp winter. CP has wide sidewalks besides the shops with scattered benches to sit. We found a good spot and took out the rolls from the boxes. The ambience was festive. Fat aunties and uncles with fatter children were buzzing here and there. Everybody seemed so well fed and prosperous. Three street children were playing right next to a garbage can. They were all waiting for some spoilt kid to throw chunks of his/her pastry for reasons like insufficient cream,change of mood.etc etc.

[The sheer irony of the situation just hit me. I guess we have all been through this at some point of time in our lives. A rainy night-the busy traffic signal-a hand tapping on the fogged window of the car-no change in the purse......Our attention span in such cases usually lasts no longer than a second. Some pleasant topic of discussion always comes which puts that snippet of reality behind.]

One of them came to us. My friend gave her a five rupee coin. She said something in the ear of the other two. They came running as well. I had a tenner. I gave it to the elder one and told her to share it amongst themselves. She very politely agreed. But after getting the money, she predictably didn’t. The third one came and I was like “what the hell, lets go sit somewhere else!!”. But then I looked at her and looked at my roll. I gave her a tenner. She started dancing and mocking the elder girl with the note fluttering in her hand and they were having a good laugh.People say one should find happiness in the worst of circumstances, I just saw it…..

A travelogue

2006-07-12T13:29:00.000-07:00

After one month of intense (???) training in Delhi, I just needed a break. Despite Kharagpur being a sleepy town existing in the laziest state of India (no offence!), life there is excessively hectic. At times, even taking soap to the washroom after relieving oneself can be stressful and demand effort. Summer vacations were supposed to recharge my batteries, but due to the reasons mentioned in my previous blog, I landed in a genuinely hectic place…. pretty much comparable to kgp;).
Hence a trip to Mussorie was planned, and even my dad who famously loves his office chair took a vacation after 4 years and decided to come…oh yeah…. he loves me like anything!!!!
I know family trips have their limitations, but at least 2 things are guaranteed…. nice place to stay and loads of food coz parents are so particular about them.
After exiting Dehradun, we were welcomed by the following messages:

“Mussorie- Pahadon ki Rani mein aapka swagat hai- Uttaranchal Tourism”

“Durghatna se Der Bhali”

“Whisky is Risky”

I must give credit…. these guys are creative. The probability of one getting killed due to distraction caused by reading them is pretty high.
The hilly drive starts and my cousin sister, who happens to be with us, and who just loves to get sick (no cynicism here…. its just plain fact, she had even taken the anti-nausea tablet before leaving!!) feels like puking …… so the car is stopped, and the majestic hills get a serving of her breakfast, what a start!! We reach a place called Jharipani, about 4 km before Mussorie where our cottage was situated. The place was heavenly, clouds literally going past us…. a Tibetan monastery nearby, with sounds of prayer bells and hymns made the atmosphere so ethereal, words just cannot describe it.
After resting for sometime, the first stop, like in all the hill stations was the mall road. Even though the tourist season was nearing its end, the sea of humanity there was overwhelming. The most annoying part was the presence of the “darling-ji” crowd….newly married couples, with brides all flaming in red declaring to the world that they are no longer available, and guys holding them tightly as if every male or female(in some cases) in the surrounding wants to take her away. This crowd also includes people who prefer to bring their cars, bikes on the mall road which was once strictly reserved for walkers…stopping at every make shift mela, riding on the giant wheel.etc.etc.
Hence, we concluded that the mall market was the area to ignore. I caught hold of a local tourist brochure and short listed some lonely spots which consisted of long walks and short treks.
The next stop was the Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration—my dad’s college during his probationer days. It was a nice campus, spread over a huge area, planned at various levels. The aim of showing the academy was to instill some inspiration(in me) to try for the UPSC exam after graduation. I feel it will take more than just some buildings to convince me to take that path…. anyways, it was pretty nostalgic for pops, especially when Hari, the canteen man recognized him immediately. These sorts of events make me think of the feeling I will get when I come to kgp say after 15 years with my wife/companion(hopefully, I will have some lady in my life at that point).
After seeing every place worth seeing in Mussorie in the next couple of days, I would just describe some interesting incidents.

--My secret attempts to smoke were indeed memorable. Disappearing midway during walks to get some fag must have made people suspicious, but I guess I pulled it off pretty well. The real test of control took place when dad, sitting in the living room of the cottage at 10 pm, his scotch on the table, asked my uncle

“Yaar shailey……cigarette hai kya ??”
“Bhaiyya, I thought you had left longtime back.”
“Yaar…..inna changa mausam hai…..peene ka mann kar raha hai.”
“Haan haan zaroor….ek minute.”

There came my uncle with a pack of IndiaKings in his hand. Dad lighted one up, and since he was sitting besides me, the magical aroma literally flew past me. The mettle of men show up only in dire straits…..so true!!!!

--The only magazines available in the cottage were-femina, elle, cosmo, savvy, society.etc. They were interesting to read, and eventually made me respect women even more.

-- For once I decided to give god a chance…..and voluntarily went alone to visit the Tibetan monastery. It turned out that the entire temple was a part of the residence of some Tibetan lady, to add to that she was also the proud owner of 4 alsatians…who somehow detected the atheist waves being emitted, and chased me back to the cottage.

--The 5 km walk upto Cloud Nine-a house made by a British Major in 1838, now converted into a resort- was exquisite. It was drizzling slightly and the road was really steep. Inside the house, only two things were available for consumption- tea and pakodas– PERFECT. An old radio, Chinese crockery over 125 years old, and photographs showing people like Sunil Gavaskar, Rahul Gandhi, Rajiv Gandhi as the proud visitors… all elements of a classy retreat.

Overall, the stay was beneficial….lots of food, lack of smoke, friendship with canines and much needed rest.

Da Vinci Code:Pain in the neck

2006-06-13T10:05:00.000-07:00

Ever since I spent my summer vacations idle in first year, there was an enormous urge to be occupied this time. The problem with holidays exceeding 20 days is the gargantuan amounts of laziness that creeps in. The day usually starts at 10:00-10:30, breakfast(or brunch) at 11:00, and bathing by 12:30...at the end of the ablution and the daily release of excreta, lunch time comes. This is followed by a siesta as in summers, one gets tired pretty easily. By the time you wake up, again its some snacks or tv etc. To cut the long story short....you are always in this vicious cycle of consuming food, releasing it some other form, sleeping, consuming food again blah blah blah!!!

Hence, i made this bold decision to spend quality time with professionals, thereby getting some "first-hand practical" exposure. So i join this firm created by ex-kgpians in Vasant Kunj, Delhi. Two problems arose on the very first day:

1.Saturdays were not off(only second Saturdays: wtf,even my college has the courtesy to provide a full weekend break!!!!)

2.Proximity to PVR Priya:A place full of chicks, bars, movies....all the distractions necessary to divert my already confused mind.

Anyways, after concluding that life is not a bed of roses, i decide to give it a go. The beginning is disastrous....the work hours are long and the things to do are really boring. Result:i dont attend office on Friday and Saturday in order to get a long weekend and think about it. But, as someone once said "god has his strange ways", i just start liking my time in the office. The work quality improves and i get some importance...even though the firm will manage pretty well without me also. I stopped bunking office for a full day but started doing the same on 5 hour basis.i.e attend it till lunch time,then just dissapear.
It was one of these occasions, when i along with a friend decided to watch the Da Vinci Code. On reaching the ticket counter, the famous row paradox showed itself in full glory.

"2 tickets for da vinci code,4:40 show."
"yessirr, tht wud be 300 rupees."
"which seats?"
"sirrrr.....row B,seat no.3 & 4."
"sabse aage waali row kaunsi hai???"
(a moment of hesitation)"aaa mm sirrr, A."(he appeared too disappointed that i didn't fall in his trick)

300 BUCKS for 2nd row seats......for a movie surrounded by controversy, whose story we already know.....ufffufffufff. But, it is only under pressure that mettle of a man is tested.
After the transaction is done, we headed towards barista, as it the best place for spending quality time without spending money. Still, when the clock stuck 4:10, we came at the entrance of the theatre. Now, some seriously frustrating crap takes place. First, the guard at the door tells us that he will let us enter after 5 minutes---this was not the entry to the screen, but the main door of the multiplex---NO WONDER PEOPLE BOMB THESE PLACES!!!!

When we return after 5 minutes, this guy says, "Sir, you cannot take this bag in."(Since it was a office bunking exercise, i had a small bag on my shoulders.).I sadly part with it and get it deposited in the nearby locker facility(It was just a paan waala who took 10 rupees for keeping bags and cameras).Finally, we enter.
Near our screen stood the usual line of counters serving popcorn and beverages. The World Cup fever was visible, with giant posters, free demo of XBOX 360 etc. Then we look for the cheapest option available for satisfying our stomachs.
1 Popcorn+2 Pepsis=Rs.120
Not bad, i said.
Then i saw something written in small print: Couple combo

Now that was embarrassing.......but being proud kgpians who are above things like girls etc, we took one.
When we finally take our seats in the theatre, this 3 tonne dude with his 2 tonne gf occupy their seats next to me. The problem was that the seats were not designed for these creatures and hence they were overflowing everywhere, making the entire row of mortal humans around them move along. This stole the joy of movie watching as i was always waiting when his arms will spank my cola. To add to that, it was a neck straining exercise to watch Tom Hanks and his long hair from the 2nd row. Credit goes to the director, inspite of the circumstances, i liked the movie a lot.

The Old fashioned point of view

2006-04-13T12:12:00.000-07:00

After spending 6 years in Delhi, looking at such a huge demographic strata of people, it is easy to conclude what defines as "cool" or "in". Strolling near PVR cinemas can be an enlightening experience. I'll just sum up my observations regarding the kind of "characters" visible there.

- Guys wearing jeans at such a low altitude that it is not difficult to see the brand of underwear. Some meticulous observation can also reveal the size.

-Spiked hair with a streak of maroon or orange.

-Conical shaped sideburns or.....no sideburns at all.

-There are always 3 or 4 cases where the male deliberately walks with a stoop, iPod in place, showing off his newest nikes(i bet if those beauties ever made contact with a basketball court!!). Common greeting: ssup??

-Although most of these lads dont have a speck of hair on the body, facial growth rulzzz! Keywords: spotted,french, goatee, imperial,stubble.

One may argue that this is what fashion is , but somehow i feel that it is too stereotyped. Every second youngster seems to have the above listed features on them.
All the effort of writing a blog about this seemingly useless issue makes me look like an orthodox person. Well...yeah, i may be the clean shaven, otherwise hairy,
spectacled guy, but atleast, the garment beneath my pants is a secret.

The Iron Fist

2005-12-23T12:10:00.001-08:00

Its 1:40 AM and the sole purpose of writing this crap is to show the world that I have not started blogging as it is trendy or “in”, but in order to put my creative thoughts on paper(don’t take the sentences literally!!).

Let us discuss one of the biggest dilemmas faced by mankind…both young and old. This is regarding the Indian Railways and their unforgivable law of No-Smoking in the trains and platforms. Even though I used to think that there are ways around it, but my recent experiences have proved me wrong.

The standard technique was to stand on the circulation space between two compartments, have a friend on guard and get your kick. But the TCs have somehow got smart, and they have started roaming in civil, ready to fine and get their pockets heavy. I sometimes wonder how such an act should bother anyone. Smoking in trains is usually done near the doors, so passive smoking is out of question, mainly due to the excessive air flow which tends to dissolve the exhaust. It also results in a bunch of happy and satisfied individuals.

This leads to the dirtier solution, the washroom. The basic problem in this scenario is the faulty ambience. The sloppy floor, fragrances of excreta, lack of ventilation etc. kills the very essence of fag. But some recent experiments have provided some improvements in the system. While traveling from Ahemdabad to Pune, I…along with two of my friends discovered that the sliding window in the lavatory can be removed from its frame with some effort applied at the sides. This indeed lead to remarkable changes, particularly due to the regular changing of air which brought an open feeling.

Therefore, try to perform this exercise in your travels, but always put back the window in its place…because at the end of the day, we are all law-abiding citizens.

reality of life

2005-10-09T10:10:00.000-07:00

The setting was ironic....soft music, aroma of coffee, presence of beautiful people. I was sitting all alone, waiting for the mocha to arrive. It was a depressing scene to be surrounded by couples, holding hands and talking mush. Even the brownie didnt seem well-heated. The glass doors opened, and in came the goddess. She was wearing a black top, had subtle makeup, with a classy way of carrying herself. The floor was set on fire. Sitting on the opposite table, i kept staring at her. A friend once said, "don't wait for magical things to happen, just grab the opportunity with both hands". I thought,this was the time to throw away all the shyness crap...be a man and ask her in filmi style," can i give company to a beautiful angel such as you?"(inspiration: scent of a women). I gulped the coffee bottoms up, pretending to have whisky in my hand. Just as the man stood up, the lady in black started walking towards him. Sweat poured like rain, this was too good to be true. The lady said, " can i take this chair??". I replied,"aaaa...ya".A hairy hirsute, about 6 feet tall walks in, hugs the girl of my dreams, and they both order sandwiches. I quietly paid the bill, went out and blew my sorrows in smoke.

delirious

2005-09-10T07:42:00.000-07:00

When one thinks of sickness, a number of words and expressions flash infront of you. One tries to make the mental picture of the entire experience. Sympathy rules the air.

It was a Sunday morning. My head was spinning when i woke up. The odour of domstals and norfloxes filled my room. The room-mate, afraid of contracting some deadly disease from me, was spending his weekend in a cleaner environment. I went to the loo, puked and brushed my teeth, in order to give myself fake satisfaction.

The worse thing about getting ill in a hostel is lack of attention. When parents are nearby, there is someone who forces you to eat, even if have lost your appetite, there is someone who will remember when you have to take medicines. Life in general is simpler.The phone rang. I took the cell and walked into the volleyball court to avoid the initial disturbances. It was my mother. She started enquiring about my well being. I lied in order to avoid the barrage of questions that generally follow. But.....the cough gave way. I almost broke down. She told me to come to delhi that same evening. You may dislike your mother's constant worry, but parents are the only people who care. I took the flight and reached my house. My mother was standing infront of me, with her mouth wide open in shock. My dehydrated body was too much for her to bear. I hugged her and whispered," I just want to sleep." A cozy bed was prepared and that night, i forgot the world and entered deep slumber. Ignorance is bliss.