Everyman's Diary

Coming back to life..trying to..

2011-11-16T20:49:00.002+05:30

It's been days, months, more than a year actually..and to think that this blog was once my one big link to virtuality. And then came along a lot of other things, both online and offline, that just took away, and are taking away a huge chunk of my time.

Not that all those things are not important. Some of them are..work for instance..Lol! Wouldn't have a reason to look forward to the end of the month otherwise. Then there's my wife, and anyone who's married would know that time spent with your wife is time well spent....rather, you better spend it there.

And then there is Daya, or Nina, as we call our girl. She is my one big time-killer. I have to spend time playing with her..but then she dictates the game, and the rule..just one rule..I have to sit on the floor along with her..past few days I have been escaping under the guise of a back ache..I did have a bad back for a couple of months though..and a very serious and morose looking doc told me (after I'd paid him around 300 bucks, plus another 500 to the hospital for an x-ray) that I had a very mild disc degeneration..Nothing unnatural he said..just a natural sign of aging..

So there it is..I am growing old ...come to think of it, half the people mentioned in newspapers,are younger than me..the people for whom I've been taking sessions, or now managing, are now products of 1989-90!!!It's not a very disappointing or discouraging thought..it's just that it never hit me. Now it has..

Changes at work too..I have moved out of my current role, to a more generic one..Change is very difficult, a bit scary too..coz u never know what u are gonna see on the other side..but then, change i must..am a frog in a well otherwise..so this change will see me move out Trivandrum to Chennai..That will happen come January..new year, new things..same old me..

Ciao..

Shain

"Ashaaane!!"

2010-02-02T23:21:00.002+05:30

What is it you like about your comedians? Some like the split-second comic timing, some like the comic contortions they make with their faces, and hell, some people just laugh at the way their favourite comedian look. If I think about Cochin Haneefa, who left Malayalam cinema viewers today, I would think that it was the buffoon-who-wanted-to-be-a-thug persona that I loved.

Here was a guy who was built to be a bouncer, rather a street rowdy,but who's on-screen IQ always equalled that of an eight year old. How could you not help laughing at him in his garish red kurta, handkerchief tied around his neck, sleeves rolled all the way upto his armpits, and a silly excuse for a pocket knife twirling in his hand? And the way he would go 'Ashaane!!!' (roughly translated as 'sir' but yeah, not quite the same thing at all)

He invariably played a lovable rowdy, and invariably came with his chest puffed up, and left with his tail between his legs. Of course, he didnt start off this way. He started off as most wannabes started - as the villain's side kick and partner in crime and rape. Sometimes, he was the only rapist on screen. But I felt that he truly found his groove in comedy. Nobody even remembers his villainous roles - heck I don't. But I know his comic roles. Can't forget them.

There are people who can move you with their acting. Cochin Haneefa will never be known for being a great actor. Far from it. But will he be missed? Profoundly.

You will be missed Ashaane..

tweet!

2009-09-23T20:03:00.002+05:30

I just made my first tweet. That was five minutes ago..and now I've got three tweets to my name..the second was a reply to a tweet from Orange Fling..and the third was my reply to Shashi Tharoor's tweet. Now that's something, isn't it? To be able to share the same room (errmm) with someone like him. He'd come by our office once here in TVM. I must admit, I was overawed by his presence.

To come back to my first tweet though..and Twitter..Sure, I'd heard about Twitter quite a while back, and even seen it on one of my friend's (Phoenix)blogs..But there's something about me and things that are new and catching on..I take my own sweet time with them..it was that way with Harry Potter, Five Point Someone, Orkut, mobile phones..ok, the last one was a question of money..and that was the way it was with Twitter..I wasn't going to be tweeting like that irritating little yellow bird in Tom & Jerry!! And then the papers started going "Tweet tweet" a few days back..AS though they weren't bird-brained enough to start off with.

Tharoor's tweeting did catch the media's attention quite fast really..I guess from the time of his election campaign..but his 'cattle-class' remark seems to have touched all the wrong nerves. What was probably meant as a humourous remark went and did what it does to all self-respecting politicians of our motherland. It made them suddenly aware of the dignity of the common man - and woman. One gentleman was so disturbed that he thought Tharoor should resign..The Congress, seeming to be in an impregnable position these days, suddenly started sounding imperious. Some spokesperson said that action would be taken against Tharoor, called it a crass remark; Our Prime Singh Manmohan chose to call it a joke, and Big Brother Sonia Gandhi sternly warned Tharoor to stay clear of controversial tweets - at least that's what the papers have me believe.

They say that once you are famous, you no longer have the rights of the common man. Once you are famous, you don't need these rights anyway do you? Why do you crave the right to travel in a train swarming with people? Why would you crave the right to sit on your bike for almost an hour waiting for some God-forsaken VIP(!!!)to take his/her equally God-forsaken behind off your road? Why tolerate power cuts, scary and obese policemen, recession? Why listen to Arun Lal's inanities that are termed 'commentary' when you could fly your way to South Africa and sit in the celebrity box?

Yup...why is it good to still be a commoner? Because, you can call Air India's bug-filled Economy class "Cattle Class" or even "Swine Class"( What with all the H1N1 apparently having flown into India) and nobody would bay for your blood! You still have your freedom of expression and you don't have to be careful of what you say - unless your boss is around of course..
javascript:void(0)
So there - I've made my tweet. It's cool to be common!

After thought - First letters, then mails, then scraps, and now tweets....the last one isn't even asking for a reply...what are we coming to?

Stuck!

2009-09-16T20:50:00.002+05:30

Jeez..this is harder than I thought. Forget blogging regularly...just blogging seems like a challenge right now...I just don't know what to write down here..other than the fact that I don't really feel like blogging. Yeah..may be I should leave it at that..for now..

The Twerp Who Bought The Ferrari

2009-07-27T21:01:00.001+05:30

Living during these economically tough times has made me ponder over ‘alternatives’. Though those miserably repetitive and inane news channels have not aired a story on “Just How Secure is Your Job” in the last couple of weeks, my mind has been toying with the question of if not this, then what. In what would probably go down as my bleakest, or perhaps most audacious, thought, I even considered going back to my good old hometown, wear the trademark white sleeveless vest and the lungi, and start a bakery-cum-stationery shop-cum ‘cool bar’.

You could do that, or, if you have just a wee bit of imagination, you could write a self-improvement book.

Go to any bookstore, read any supplement that talks about books, and you will bump your eyes into yet another book that tells you what you apparently need to do to get to wherever it is you are apparently going – and of course, how to make yourself some money while going there.

If you haven’t yet mastered the art of writing self help books, here are a few tips to guide you along the highway to success:

1) “The quality of intention on the object of attention will orchestrate an infinity of space-time events to bring about the outcome intended” – if your language can compare to Greek and Latin, then you are on the way to becoming a writer of self-help books. It doesn’t matter if most of your readers are left with a heavy head at the end of it all. After all, you can’t have a clear head unless your brain is muddled to start off with.

2)Choose an animal or an insect or even an invertebrate – anything that moves- and weave a yarn around that. Dedicate your title to that animal. You already have books dedicated to mice, fish, frogs, whales, elephants, etc. But then there are plenty of species out there. Sample titles could be “ Woof: Canine Wisdom Un-canned” or “Moo-A magical fable about asserting yourself”. Which brings me to point 3.

3)Use the word ‘magic’ or ‘magical’ in your title. Else,use ‘fable’, ‘tale’, ‘secret’, ‘gift’, ‘mystery’ or even ‘fairy tale’. Some of these readers can be really childlike. Using such words will easily win them over. Nothing like a bit of magical fantasy to boost your sales.

4)Use the number 7. This number has been used by many to great effect. “The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People”, “ The Seven Laws of Spiritual Success”, “The Magnificent Seven”, “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers”… the last two, I admit, are movies. But you get the point. Seven is a magic number. Period. Sample these, “The Seven Circles of Success”, “Seven Steps to a Positive You.”

5) Quote some Eastern Philosophy – Indian, Chinese, Mongolian, Babylonian etc. The more exotic the better. However, since these countries would already have been tapped, you might have to really scour your atlas to find untapped countries.

Follow these points if you like. But regardless of what you don’t do, you absolutely must talk about how to achieve your dreams, how to believe in yourself, how to get in touch with the ‘real you’, how to become successful, how to stay positive, and, never forget to talk about how all this will help you make more money. Throw in a chapter on meditation and you are on the way to selling Ferraris, cheese and fish to all the twerps out there.

If you think all this is too complicated, all you have to do is believe in the power of your hidden self! You are Magnificence!

Happy Duping!!

Why I Blog(ged)

2009-05-31T20:44:00.003+05:30

My last post was in February. I don't think I've spent such a long time away from my blog. Ever. It's not that I really don't have the time. Blogging doesn't take too much time. And it's not as if I don't come online. I do that almost every day - night rather. So what kept me away?

I started blogging in August 2004, when I was slogging it out alone in Coimbatore. I had just about joined my present company, and I was shipped out to Coimbatore, a place I had last been to when I still wore shorts to school. There was nothing to do, nowhere to go, and nobody to be with. That's when I came across the world of blogs. Here was something new. Write just about anything you want to, and keep it open for just about the whole world to read. Imagine, suddenly your world is populated with people who aren't even in your part of the universe. I had a personal diary back then- that I still have the same personal diary with more than half of it empty is testament to how regular I was/am - but this was the other side of the earth! Write about your deeply personal life, and leave it out there! In the open! The comfort of being anonymous in virtual world. And the chance of making new friends, without the barrier of geographic space coming in between. So I started my blog in rediff. And here are the last few lines from my very first post:

"I am going to try to find adventure and life - no matter how commonplace or routine things probably are. I walk down the same street every morning to office. I get up on the same side of bed with the same odd dry feeling in my throat. I eat at the same place atleast once a day. The same boy serves me my breakfast. I get my tea at the same teashop at the corner. And darn me if i don't see the same faces as i do daily. Whatever, i am going to see if i can find something worth writing and posting. And if i can prompt you, my reader, to look into your own life and see if you couldn't do the same without thinking that life is just 'ok, nothing new, all the same as yesterday', then i should think that my fingers aren't going crazy by typing for nothing."

Five years from then, nothing's the same anymore. New place, new people, one of them new-born. Is it that I find nothing interesting anymore? Is it that I get no time to stand and stare? Is it that I don't feel lonely anymore? Did I start blogging to stop feeling lonely? The answers aren't all a 'yes'. My blogging was a way out of loneliness, and I don't feel that anymore. My world is full now. And I find it hard to keep a watch on Time flying by on his winged chariot. But my world is still interesting. What I see out there, whenever I get to go out, is still interesting. I guess I just needed some time to see what this new life was like.

My friend recently asked me if marriage and fatherhood had left me with no time for myself. My answer was an overwhelming yes. I wonder if that is true though. I think I can still make time. I think I still want to blog.

Hot Wheels

2009-02-09T20:45:00.004+05:30

My jaws dropped when I saw this one at the railway station in my hometown..and I couldn't resist recording it for posterity. Turns out that this sight is apparently not a too uncommon one, and that you will find many like this in our wonder of a country. But just in case you haven't laid your eyes on this hot pair of wheels, then here you go - FEAST!

So Where Have You Been?

2009-01-21T19:55:00.002+05:30

You know that you've been dead and forgotten in the blogworld when even the friendly spammers stop disturbing your shoutbox. I took one look at my neglected shoutbox and decided that it was high time that I made my appearance again..

So where was I all these days... a new year has come in, so has a new US President, a movie with something Indian about it has received a lot of attention in the west, and yes, we now have our very own 9/11 - atleast that's what all our enlightened media say, and Pranab Mukherjee seems to think it's of the same magnitude. So where was I these past couple of months...

I was very much here....December was very slow..There wasn't any real Christmas spirit here in the Trivandrum air..but then you never find anything apart from smoke in the air..even after the Health Minister so publicly banned smoking..I took a long break from work...the whole week before and during Christmas...realized a bit too late that it was perhaps too long a break..was quite bored at home. The only person who was excited all the time was Daya..she was quite dumbstruck by all the stars that she saw at home and ofcourse, wherever we went...

Back in Trivandrum after Christmas, my health started going downhill...there was this fever that would hit me every evening..My wife pushed me to the hospital that last weekend of 2008. A flurry of expensive blood tests later, the doctor stated that I had Dengue fever...sounded damn serious..very serious..so much so that when I called up the office and said that the doctor had advised a week's bedrest, I was given the option of a couple of weeks. Sounded too good to be true. But I recovered in a week's time..but yes, New Year's eve was lousy...had to do with rice gruel (kanji!!!) instead of a peg of Remy Martin or Absolut.

So that's what was keepin me away all these days. I know it doesn't sound like much but then, we don't need too much of an excuse for not doing something. Will be more regular...Atleast once a week here on...that's a new New Year Resolution. There was one other resolution that I had decided on last year - that was to hit the gym first thing this year..but then the first thing I hit was the bed. So much for a healthy start to the year. Hope the year gets better off as the days go by :-)

Tag 20

2008-11-25T23:10:00.004+05:30

It's tag time again..this one's from 3inone..some of the questions would have been more appropriate for a singleton and so, just for the sake of objectivity, I've assumed the perspective of someone who's single..just for a few questions though...

1) If your lover betrayed you, what would your reaction be?
Ohh I’d be mad..for a while..then I’d come around..and walk right out..

2) If you can have a dream come true, what would it be?
Can’t remember any of the ones I see at night..as for the ones that occupy my days now and then, it would be to be able to earn quite a decent living on my own terms, be able to hit the road when I want to, to take a break when I want to, to switch off when I want to…

(If dreams include fantasies, and if I could turn back time to more than a year ago, then, there is one that involves me and two pretty young nurses I knew when I was an impressionable adolescent :-D )

3. Whose butt would you like to kick?
Any guy on four wheels who cant see us poor guys on two wheelers..I’d like to have him squat on Saidapet bridge, and kick his butt and send him tumbling into Cooum.

4. What would you do with a billion dollars?
Go to South America, then off to Australia, uhhmm..Mongolia, Scotland.., invest enough to last me reasonably well enough for my lifetime..and do my teenie weenie bit for charity :-D

5. Will you fall in love with your best friend?
Once did..with great short term results..so yes..very much possible..

6. Which is more blessed: loving someone or being loved by someone?
Since I have to choose, I’d choose the second..we all could use a little loving..just enough of it though..

7. How long would you wait for someone you loved?
Going by how easily distracted I am, she better not keep me waiting too long….I am not a very focused person by nature..

8. If the person you secretly like is attached, what will you do?
Curse my luck, curse the other guy even more, and wish him all the rotten luck that life can throw his way..no two ways about that..

9. If you could root for one social cause, what would it be?
The treatment of the fairer sex towards the lovestruck, infatuated male..I wish they made confessing an easier ordeal to go through..

10. What takes you down the fastest?
Gravity

11. Where do you see yourself in 10 years time?
If I am lucky, alive…luckier, married and still happy..at my most optimistic, married, still happy, and stinking rich..

12. What’s your fear?
Fire..water..getting electrocuted, a toothache,..anything that involves intense physical pain :-D

13. What kind of person do you think the person who tagged you is?
Cheerful..and orange

14. Would you rather be single and rich or married and poor?
Can’t I go for a combo here? Married and rich?? Oh well..married and poor..it’s worth it..as long as you don’t live on just love and fresh air that is..

15. What’s the first thing you do when you wake up?
First try and locate that blaring phone of mine .Then, when I am really awake, look at my sleeping wife and child..and feel blessed….and then it’s me and the paper in the loo..

16. If you fall in love with two people simultaneously who will you pick?
She who loves me back of course! If both of them do, then I would be one helluva lucky person now..

17. Would you give all in a relationship?
Errmm..what’s all…???? I’d say not ALL..you have to keep a bit of yourself for yourself…

18. Would you forgive and forget someone no matter how horrible a thing he has done?
Forgive if I have to....but I won’t forget…to forget is not human..and I don’t care if it’s divine..

19. Do you prefer being single or in a relationship?
Tough one..very tough one..Everything has it’s time and place…there’s a time to be single, and a time to mingle..

20. List of 6 people to tag:
Appu, Sumo, Riaan, Jimbo...anyone who's interested in a little bit of confessing..

Everyman's Quick Fix

2008-11-13T22:06:00.000+05:30

There comes a time in everyone's life when you can not afford to take things lying down...when you can not hang around and wait for someone else to solve your problems - in my case, the tap that had inexplicably burst out of its rightful place in my bathroom. Another time, another place, I would have perhaps waited for the plumber to take his own sweet time to plug the leak. But this was early morning, I had to get ready for work, AND, nature was about to call - but the tank was empty. All the water had leaked out of the hole left behind by the tap that was now lying senseless on the floor. If I needed to pump the water into the tank, I had to first plug this leak. I was reminded of a story from my primary school English text - of a boy in Holland who spotted a leak in the dyke and used his finger to stop the leak from getting any bigger. Heroic and the stuff legends are made of. However, I wasn't keen on creating a legend in my own humble bathroom. Moreover, I couldn't hang around in the bathroom all day. I had to think hard - and that is not an easy task at 7 AM.

I tried the following two options first:
1) Old newspaper stuffed into the gap. Looked solid. Only till I turned the motor on. Once the water started flowing, the paper(the whole thing!) flew out in glory.
2) A sidey looking wooden stick. This seemed to be a stronger proposition. It wouldn't wilt under pressure. But hell no, it didn't have the right proportions. It stayed steady for a while before water started spurting out the sides.

With time, and more importantly, water, running out, I was left with no more options. There I was tool-less and skill-less. And as I looked around, I had a wild idea..it didn't seem the proper thing to do, but what the hell..desperate times call for desperate measures don't they....

There you have it people - Everyman's quick fix guide to plumbing

PS: The author is not responsible for ANY accident arising out of the use of this particular method. It's not dangerous, and you CAN try this at home, but you better stuff that brush in quite well!!

The Seventh Day

2008-10-28T23:08:00.003+05:30

Sorry about that folks!!! That my blog had been inactive for over a month now was a thought which would strike me every time my mind had time and space to think – which wasn’t too often. Thinking isn’t very easy to come by when you have a baby (your baby) demanding your full attention. If she isn’t demanding your full attention, then she is sleeping..and if she is sleeping, then you better be sleeping too. That's the only time you will get to sleep.

So this past three day weekend was something I looked forward to. After all, a baby can not possibly take all those 72 hours for herself, can she? There were quite a few things to be done too – washing my clothes, my bike (which I hadn’t personally done after having bought it) and, most ambitiously, bake our very own pizza – pizza base and all.

For someone for whom lighting the gas stove is a constant adventure, a pizza would seem a foolhardy task. But then, I wasn’t alone this time – that’s the plus of a marriage and moreover, it wasn’t to be on a stove. It was going to be courtesy our brand new, full-options, swanky, (not to mention bloody expensive) microwave.

Now, neither of us had more familiarity with the pizza other than the familiarity you have when you eat it. So we had to start from scratch. We did our bit of online hunting for the recipe. Information overkill ensured that we weren’t anywhere near figuring where to start. Then I decided to fall back on that most reliable of gourmets – Mac. I remembered reading something about a pizza somewhere in his blog, and so I mailed him for the recipe. He forwarded me a recipe from a friend of his. The first milestone was conquered.

Step two was to get hold of the ingredients. The toppings weren’t a problem, neither was the olive oil. Though I did think it was a tad expensive at 250 bucks. What confused me was some of the names. I went hunting for mozzarella cheese, but I couldn’t find any- was cheddar cheese the same? Could it be very different? Cheddar cheese would have to do, I thought..and I bought it. But then I went hunting again the same evening and this time, I found mozzarella cheese himself. As for the pizza sauce, I had a tough time finding that one too. Sure enough, the shelves were stacked with different types of sauce – BBQ sauce, pasta sauce, then some obscure names from China sauce, but I couldn’t find anything called pizza sauce. I then espied a bottle titled Pizza Paste. I wasn’t too sure but then the label said that it served the same purpose as what the recipe told me pizza sauce did. So that was the end of that.

Sunday was the day we chose to experiment. Fortunately, that afternoon was one of those rare days when Daya was content conversing with the bright yellow curtains in our drawing room. Sausages, shredded chicken, corn, cheese and of course, the indispensable onions and tomatoes were cast as toppings. Once we got the base ready (or thought we’d gotten the base ready), we spread the toppings and into the microwave it went. We placed the base on one of our dining plates. The recipe said 400 F for 20 odd minutes. We did just that. Twenty minutes or so later, after the microwave gave off its beep, we took it out. The base didn’t seem cooked. We figured that maybe we should have kept it for a while longer. So back it went. Another 15 odd minutes. In between we could hear odd crackling sounds from inside. I wondered if it was the corn. When we took it out after fifteen minutes, this is what we had:

We spent the next 5 minutes scraping off the toppings from the pizza – eating the toppings alone is tasty business. We haven’t quite figured out what was wrong yet. It perhaps could be the plate. It probably didn’t conduct heat too well. As for the crackling sound we’d heard, it was the plastic coating on the plate coming off.

I am not giving up on the pizza though. I have enough olive oil, pizza sauce and mozzarella cheese to last me plenty more experiments. Where else would I use them? Plus, man was never meant to succeed at first try – was he now?

Burp

2008-09-01T21:41:00.001+05:30

This evening, I thought I'd go off to dinner to this north Indian joint that we have here in Trivandrum. I don't think it would look very North Indian next to the real Mccoy, but hey, this is Trivandrum we are talking about. You gotta be damn lucky if you find something not cooked in coconut oil and that's not an idli.

Ramji's Bhojanalay is not your average Punjabi dhaba. For starters, it serves only vegetarian food. But that was what I was looking for tonight. So, the minute it was eight PM and the lights went out (no, it wasn't timed by me, I got the government in Kerala to do it for us - we have half hour power cuts now!) I walked out towards my destination. The place was more or less empty when I got there. They had a pretty big blackboard with the menu scrawled over it -it pretty much mentioned every usual veggie dish you could think of. And that had me confused. I can never choose when presented with a choice. Yes, I know that sounds pretty odd. But that's me.

It took me all of a minute to tell him:"Two parattas and one aloo mutter". He repeated the order, I nodded and he walked off. Five minutes later, and that was fast, he places a dish of aloo mutter in front of me. And then he placed one paratta on my empty plate. There was something wrong there. It wasnt that I had ordered for two and that he had got only one. The paratta didn't look all right. The size and shape were different from what I had last remembered it as. And as I bit into it, I realized what was wrong. This was aloo paratta - stuffed with potatoes! And just as soon as epiphany struck me, me slowly pushing down the paratta down my throat, came the next blow - a second aloo paratta.

I don't know where I went wrong. I spoke right, he heard right, but I ate wrong. I walked out half an hour later. That's how it took me to wade through two parattas stuffed with potatoes, and a plate of curry -again full of potatoes.

And I don't for the life of me, want to see another potato again.

*BURP*

Hold My Hand

2008-08-05T23:10:00.000+05:30

I always had a thing for holding a woman's hand..this is my girl holding mine..on the day I saw her..of course I had to encourage her a bit, but trust me..she held on for quite a while :-)

Daya

2008-07-28T22:09:00.000+05:30

When she becomes old enough to understand I will tell her that I had imagined her birth very vividly. I would have been outside the operation theatre, and the nurse would come out holding my baby in her arms and say: “It’s a girl” (or “It’s a boy”). There would have been loud cheers and congratulations doing the rounds. Very filmy. She would agree.

No nurse came with a baby though. Can’t blame the nurse. I wasn’t at the hospital in time. The time was 1.34 AM, 13 July, Sunday. I was around 300 kilometres away on the upper berth of a train heading home. A call would have been fine, given the circumstances. That didn’t happen either. No network. An SMS is all I got. I couldn’t have imagined something as big as this getting conveyed through a less subtle medium. “Congrats. We have blessed with an angel – a girl”. So much for those mobile networks claiming to follow us wherever we go. I had nobody around to share my joy with. I thought the occasion called for a shout of joy, but I figured the other passengers wouldn’t appreciate my reaction in the middle of the night. A quiet prayer of thanks took the place of celebration. And then I tried to go back to sleep. Tried. There was after all, nothing else I could do but wait to get to the hospital. Huge anticlimax.I will tell her that when I reached the hospital next day, and I wanted to see my wife, her mother, the stern nurses wouldn’t let me. It was a caesarean and she would have to stay in the ICU for at least 24 hours they said. There went my kiss. I just saw her from a distance, and she smiled – a weak but immensely satisfied smile. And then I asked to see her, my baby. She was elsewhere on the same floor – at the NICU. A glass window acted as a transparent barrier. The curtains parted and a nurse held up a delicate little thing from behind the window. That was as close as I could get to her. Seeing the nurse holding my baby sort of reminded me of Michael Jackson once dangling his baby from a balcony. But that picture didn’t last long. What I saw before me now was my own, was me, a part of me. Small, calm, blissfully unaware she was. Part of me, yet outside of me. What I felt then is something I can’t describe best in words. Awe would come closest. I could have stood forever outside looking at her right then. But the nurse was getting rather tired of holding my little one. And she had other ones to dangle for display.

I will tell her that we decided to christen her Daya. We were swaying between Nina and Daya, my wife preferring the former and I the latter. We settled it by deciding to call her Nina at home and Daya otherwise. It was again a disyllabic name, but at least it meant something.

And I will tell her this: Over the next couple of weeks as I watched her sleep, as I saw her smile, and as she occasionally opened her little eyes to look out into this new world, not understanding anything yet, I felt a familiar tug at my heart. Of course, she would grow up, I would grow old, and lots of things would change around us. But at that time of my life, and I hope it remains that way for a long time to come – I was in love all over again.

A last thought

2008-07-11T16:20:00.003+05:30

I wonder: When I have a child of my own, can I continue to play the child anymore?

Just a last minute thought right before my part of the galaxy has a radical makeover again - for the second time in a year. Boy! Life is fast!

Leaving Chennai today folks..hope I get a reason to post before the next week goes by :-)

Shain

Yaara Silly Silly

2008-07-02T16:39:00.002+05:30

I have been in Chennai these past few days. And everyday I look for someplace to be in other than in front of the TV. Coz in Chennai, we have CAS-where they conditionally give you access to just those channels you never ever wanted to watch. I’ve got 70 odd channels on the TV in my guesthouse, and almost 60 of them are either Tamil or Telugu –languages that I just don’t understand well enough to appreciate what they are showing. That leaves me with the so-called 24 hour “NEWS” channels. I wonder whether the word news means something else for these channels whose only purpose in life is to say the same thing, over and over again, hour after hour, and make you feel that they have told you something new. Here is what these experts specialize in:
Breaking News: Almost everything is breaking news. Sportsmen doing this, actors doing that, politicians doing nothing. Why, they would call it breaking news even if somebody famous enough farts –well, maybe that last activity there is eventful enough to warrant some space on a channel that’s equally not-happening.

Headlines: This word is acquiring new dimensions with every different news channel. For one particular channel which funnily enough claims that the other channels are all blah blah, headlines mean Khali. Who is Khali? Hell, I didn’t know till I watched this channel. Now all I know is Khali.
Sting Operations: These would put the humble bee to shame. Dangle a tantalizingly beautiful woman before the most stoic man. If he doesn’t bite (no pun here), then get her to tease, seduce and tempt him. Else provide him loads of money. When the poor ass can take it no more and makes a false move, the channel gives him more fame, or infamy, than he would have ever dreamed possible. They would pull a sting on a poor dead soul if they could.
The Audience Poll : This has got to be the brainchild of some intelligent super-life form in the industry. Kamal Hassan released his latest movie, and this was the intelligent and oh-so-relevant question doing the rounds: “Is Kamal Hassan our greatest actor ever? We want your valuable opinion.”. Following an unfortunate dumb reality show on TV where a girl got paralyzed (apparently due to the criticism received from judges): “Who is to blame for Shinjini’s plight –judges or parents?” ???!!! What place does an audience poll have on a news channel? Does anyone give a rat’s ass (hard thing to catch these days, mind you) about what people feel anyway???
There’s a story about a man who used to go to this tailor all the time to get his shirts stitched. One day, he wanted more out of his deal with the tailor and told him that this time, he wanted to get 5 shirts stitched out of the same piece of cloth which earlier used to fetch him just one. The tailor agreed. And what did the man get? He got the five shirts that he asked for alright. Only, they were just about the size of his palms. But we never asked them to provide us breaking news by the minute, did we? Guess sometimes we also get what we don’t ask for.

By the way, did you know –never mind…they probably told you already :-D

Shain

Quick Notes From a Gonnabe Dad

2008-06-17T21:56:00.001+05:30

I come home to an empty house once again. My love is at my hometown now, getting all geared up to face the frightening prospect of labour, and beyond that, the even more worrying prospect of motherhood. She was due on August 6th. I was actually hoping for August 8th. Then we would get an 08.08.08 you see, but it wasn’t to be. The last time we went for an ultrasound scan, the report said that the child had 3 weeks of extra growth. That meant that she would now deliver 3 weeks earlier –which is one month from now, on around the 15th of July.

Try and think as I might, I have not been able to picturize myself as a dad. I can’t imagine doing the things a father should be doing. Hell, I can’t even imagine my child. In a way, I don’t want to do that. I find that whenever I imagine something, that never happens. Plenty are the times that I’ve used this to my advantage. If I wanted to pass an exam, I would imagine myself failing that exam. On flights, I always imagine my plane crashing. So far, it has worked. I’ve never crashed J. So here, I don’t want to imagine. Moreover, I’ve got a far more pressing worry to think about – a name.

Before you even think of quoting the Bard and his “What’s in a name…”, let me assure you that there is plenty in it. Lots have been written about this subject, including blogs by me, Jimbo, Mac (on different lines), and pretty much every haggled owner of a bisyllabic meaningless Malayalee name. So I don’t want my child to go through the same tribulations that almost half the Mals born in the mid 70’s to 80’s have faced. And there are plenty of good names out in the market too. Our previous generation didn’t have much to choose from. That’s probably why they resorted to rhyming most of the time – you know, call your eldest daughter Titty and then her younger brother Shitty (I have these two names on good authority!). But we are spoilt for choice. There are plenty of sites with baby names. We are on the lookout for Indian names which don’t sound too Hindu – I’d have a tough time convincing my mom otherwise. There are some pretty good Christian names too, but I’d prefer something Indian. The Net spoils you for choice I tell you. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better to stick to a proper, conventional Christian name like Mathew or Sarah or Teresa. Suggestions are welcome!

Around 30 days left…No sooner had I left one countdown behind me, than the next one’s started. My metamorphosis continues…sadly though, my worries are not done yet..

Life is Cruel..

2008-05-17T11:48:00.000+05:30

You buy a new charger, an original mind you. You buy it not because your previous charger died of old age. It would have been ok if that was indeed the case. But no, it died a premature death at the hands of your ignorance. And so you buy a new charger. Life goes on as usual-but only for a few days. For a few days later you take your charger to office. You had forgotten to charge it at home. That day is a Friday. Things are crazy at work. You don’t even get time to remember whether at all you charged your mobile phone at office like you thought you would. Your cousin from Bangalore and a bottle of whiskey come home that evening. You talk late into the night. The next day goes by like the wind. It’s a weekend after all..they always go by fast. It’s not until late night on Saturday that you realize that your phone is dying out. You look for your charger. Your casual look becomes an earnest search. Your earnest search becomes a desperate hunt. The hunt takes all of Sunday. But to no avail. The charger is nowhere to be found in your small home. You figure that you left it at office. But Monday brings no cheer either. Neither from office nor from home. You wait out Tuesday and Wednesday, hoping that your charger will somehow magically appear from wherever it is hiding. It does no such thing. On Thursday, with a slightly heavy heart, you head to the showroom and get a ANOTHER new charger. Life after all has to go on. And so it does.

Only for a day though…

On Friday afternoon, as you plod your way through an irritatingly long day at work, your wife calls you.

“I’ve got some bad news dear” she says. You wonder what could be worse than a long Friday. She tells you of an unexpected discovery at home – tucked away in the deep recesses of your cupboard in your bedroom, comfortably but obscurely nestled in your boxer shorts – your lost mobile charger.

You now have the luxury of two new authentic Sony Ericcson chargers. Life can be so cruel at times J

Shain

The Hunt For a New Charger

2008-04-17T21:16:00.001+05:30

My mobile charger was giving me trouble for the past couple of weeks. Initially, it would work only on some plug points…and I thought that maybe there was something wrong with the others. Then one fine day, all the plug points at home stopped working - for my mobile alone. My wife's phone was charging just about fine. I did the next obvious thing. I shook my charger to see if there was something running about inside. Sure enough, there was something doing the rounds inside. It did not sound like anything big, but i guess that was big enough to screw the charger up. I felt pretty bad, as the mobile and the charger were all pretty new. My big bro had magnanimously gifted it to me when i'd crossed over from my hell hole in Riyadh to his oasis in Dubai. This crisis called for a very painful step - spend money and get a new charger.
My initial thought was to get a duplicate charger. The real one would cost around 300 bucks I thought. We've got a thriving bazaar near our place called Chalai. You get almost anything there...fruits, fish, vegetables, electronics, clothes..just about anything. I stepped into the first mobile store I saw- a rather small and un-posh looking one. Asked the storekeeper whether he had a Sony Ericcson charger..he said he had..and showed me a non-descript and shady looking thing.."160 Rs" he said..it wasn't the real Mc Coy, but a very poor cousin..Putting on some airs, I asked him if he didn’t have the original. He didn’t but he said that this would work out just fine. Moreover, the charger had a one-year guarantee. I gave him my phone to check out if it would work. He plugged the charger to my phone and connected the other end to the switch. It charged alright. I decided to buy that one, to hell with getting the original. And then he tried to pull the charger out..the jack of the charger, the part that was hooked to my phone, came out as two separate pieces..he mumbled something about the charger having some vague complaint and took out another fresh charger..this one had the same problem. It came out in two when he tried taking it out. "Aah..these chargers are like that only" he finally said..”this is how they are made” I offered a lame apology and I walked out. The neighbouring electronic store had the same kind of charger..a different brand..if at all something called “Super Charger” could be called a brand. But this one too came out as two. This wasn't working out well I thought..It was better to spend around a 100 bucks more and get an original charger. So off I went on my bike to the nearest authorized showroom.
Now this was more like it. An air-conditioned showroom, lots of attractive models on display (phones I mean!) and there was even your must-have good looking female customer with your equally must-have three shop attendants waiting on her. Consequently there were only two guys behind the counter and I asked the guy who was free for a new charger. He said that they only had the original Sony charger. I half-thought of taking offense at his hinting that I couldn’t probably afford the original but I let that pass since his hint was equally half-true. I told him that I was looking for the original itself. He then looked around and retrieved a spanking new charger – packed in an air-tight plastic pouch. I asked him how much it was. “ 490 Rs” was the reply. “ How much???” I enquired politely again..as though I didn’t really hear him the first time..I didn’t want to rule out the possibility of having probably misheard him. “490 Rs.”came the equally polite and firm reply. After having pointedly asked him for the original, I couldn’t possibly pull out now and lose face. So I told him that I would take it and I asked him to test the product for me.
He plugged one end in and hooked the plug to the switch..It worked alright. “ You have to be careful while disconnecting the charger from your phone” he said as he was taking it out. “ You have to bend the jack like this, and then pull the charger out of your phone.” And he bent the jack that was connected to the phone and pulled it out. “ Is this a new model, the charger?” I asked. I didn’t have to do this for my old charger after all. He said it wasn’t. All Sony Ericcson chargers had to be pulled out like that..even the headphone apparently had to be bent and then pulled out. I was quick to disagree and pointed out, “But my old charger comes out easily enough without bending it”
“Oh it will come out if you yank it, but then the charger soon loses the lock it has and then it becomes useless. Didn’t your dealer tell you this?” I sure didn’t remember the dealer telling me anything at all..except handing over the bill to my brother. For the six months that I had this phone with me, I had been yanking the cord out of the phone every single time. No wonder it died a premature death.
I’ve often wondered if anyone really ever read the user’s manual. They probably didn’t. I didn’t. As I walked out of the store, 500 bucks poorer and mobile charger wiser, I decided to pay more attention to those boring booklets hereon. You should too. They can, as they could have in my case, save you a fortune..

Cheerio folks..

Shain

Many Ants Make Light Work..

2008-03-28T20:35:00.005+05:30

I was just lazing around on my roof top last week when i noticed this busy team pass me by.

How the mighty fall..Tell me if i am wrong, but isn't there an uncanny resemblance between my microscopic snap here to the left,

and this macroscopic one here below..if you don't recognize this, this is Saddam's statue being pulled down:

Guess your size don't really matter...once you're dead meat that is ;-)

Shain

There are some things money can't buy...

2008-03-24T21:29:00.001+05:30

An All-Out pluggy – 100 odd rupees (thing doesn’t really work when you want it to)

Mosquito repellent skin cream – 50 rupees (smells funny, non-kissable surface, and doesn’t last too long)

Green mosquito net – 1200 rupees (yup..sounds expensive, doesn’t it?)

Bright yellow rechargeable mosquito bat (my personal favourite) – 140 rupees

Home with a collapsible grill for a front door (an oversight) – 5000 rupees per month

The delight of smashing a gluttonous mosquito so bloated with your blood that it can’t move – BLOODY PRICELESS

I suppose that ad has got it half right..there are some things which money just can’t buy….

On a related note though..I wish someone would gift me a loaded Mastercard for every other thing that money CAN buy

Cheerio people….

Shain

The Cup of Life

2008-02-22T16:55:00.000+05:30

Have you ever felt overwhelmed by life? I have been feeling this way for the past few months now. There has been such a lot happening and going on and I want to stand still and think, sit and ponder, but life just doesn’t give me the time to do this.

The change in status from “single, perennially ready to mingle” to “not single, not wanting to mingle” is drastic. No: drastic would be an understatement. This has been a giant leap in an entirely different direction. People spend months thinking about it, hoping, praying, wondering..I didn’t. I walked straight in, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. That I am having a fabulous time now with my sweetheart is an entirely different issue. Point to be noted is: I didn’t get time to let this sink in. That I was going to spend the rest of the days in wedlock (this last word conjures the image of a prison if you ask me) didn’t occupy much of my mindspace.

No sooner did I start to understand and realize all the implications of married life when Life threw the next promotion my way. Another five months from now, I will be (inshallah) a father. There. It sounds so simple. Just another disyllabic word. Just another father. That’s what men do after all, isn’t it? Father children? That’s the great cosmic purpose of every man( pun not intended here people!!!). But I just can’t imagine it. I can’t picture a part of me, or someone that is partly me, being outside of me, cradled in my arms. I can’t picture my child. How can I, when it was almost just the other day that I had no woman to return an ‘interested’ glance? I have gone way beyond that point now, in almost no time.

It’s not that I am afraid. I am eager, we are eager. She more so, since the baby has literally rocked her world . The thing is, I was just about getting used to sharing my life with someone else. Very soon, we will have a little one sleeping in between. Going by the accounts of my brothers though, it seems like I will end up spending my nights on the cold mosaic floor of my bedroom. I just want to have time enough to relish this future, to think about it, to picturize it.

I want the world around me to stop revolving and let me savour this feeling. I am going to be a dad.
Cheerio folks!
Shain

The months that were...

2008-01-21T18:36:00.000+05:30

I dont want to give the impression that married life has kept me busy. Frankly though, life has become a bit..what do i say..fuller now? Work has become very busy...and my office having blocked access to blogger hasnt helped things one bit. I can access blogspot and read blogs, but I can not access blogger and neither can I comment on other blogs. Wordpress and typepad arent yet blocked and I did consider changing my blog from here to there, but for the time being I will stick to blogger.

There has been a lot happening that I dont know where to start in terms of an update:

1) Bought a new bike...the Bajaj XCD. I bought it because I decided to play badminton. Yes, I know it sounds a little hard to believe, but it's partly true..I did toy with the idea of buying a more expensive bike like the rugged looking Apache..but I already had a very expensive bike in the form of my old RX 100. It's been drilling holes in all my pockets for some years now. With my new bike promising to give me around 65-70 kms per litre, I am looking forward to patching some of those holes.

2) Got a mosquito net fixed up over my bed..my home is the mosquitos' Heathrow Airport. Such a lot of them take off and land every couple of minutes that I had to take this extreme step. My landlady told my wife that the net had to be tucked in with the bed..that was ok..but then once you tuck it in, it's a little tricky getting in yourself :-) And when you finally do manage getting in, you might find that you have brought a couple of those little blood suckers along with you. And then you got to get them out. And, AND..if at all your body happens to touch the net, then rest assured, the mosquitos will get in touch with you..literally..

3) Christmas and new years were relatively quiet affairs spent at home..could nt really have a blast like in the days of old..I tried my hand in making a ramshackle crib for Christmas. We didnt have enough pieces (the kings, shepherds etc) to fill the crib and so mom decided to plant a toy brontosaurus there as well..It did distract visitors from my sorry excuse of a crib...

So that's a little of what happened over the past couple of months..I really should be posting more, atleast once a week..but it's becoming more and more of a challenge as days go by..

And..uh..did I say that I'm gonna be a dad in August? No? Aah well...I'll leave that for the next post I suppose :-)

Ciao people..take care..and do drop in a line...

Shain

The Wedding Day

2007-11-26T18:21:00.000+05:30

I suppose it wasnt too wrong on my part not to have blogged for over a month now. I am a newly married man you know. My identity has suddenly assumed new dimensions. I am now not alone. There is someone with me when I am back home from work. Waiting for me. And there is something very cozy about that thought.

The days after September 29th have been a blur. The wedding went of pretty well I thought. I did undergo a lot of mental anguish over the issue of the mangalsutra (or 'minnu maala' as we call it in Malayalam). Apparently, there is a particular way of tying the knot when the man ties the thread around the woman's neck. And it had to be that particular way and no other. So on the eve of my wedding, my uncle showed me how. He said that the knot should be such that if you pull it out, it should come out cleanly. So I learnt it that way. Early next day, even as I am getting ready for my big event, another uncle comes in

"So, have you learnt how to tie the knot?" I showed him how. "It's wrong,"he said and proceeded to show me how else I could tie the knot. Now I was confused. But I learnt the second method. By the time all guests had come home and we were ready to leave for the church, my brothers come inside. Same question again. They had tried to show me how to tie the knot the previous night, but we ended up nowhere. Now we were at it again. I showed them the second method. It's all wrong, they said. You have to tie it in such a way that the knot should not come out if you try to. How do you like that? Here I was, just about to leave home for church, tie the knot in just about an hours time and I still didnt know how exactly to tie it!!! And trust me, this is one hell of a nerve wracking task. And I didnt know how to go about it. When it finally was time though, I just tied a rudimentary double knot. But I still took a good one minute tying it. The first knot happened easily enough, but when I took the ends around for another knot, it just wouldnt go in. After much coaxing and cajoling, one end finally went in and it was done. People later asked me why I took so long in doing that. I quipped that I was making sure it was a knot for a lifetime.

Just after this time consuming act, fireworks filled the air. It wasnt as fluent as I had hoped it would be. There had been some light rain that morning and that dampened the crackers a little. So some sputtered, some stuttered, but they went off all the same. I was damn lucky that our parish priest didnt put a stop to proceedings then and there. During a previous wedding, he had temporarily suspended the service and gotten angry. He had resumed only after giving the crowd in general a good dressing down. My mom's long hours at prayer paid returns. The priest said nothing, at least, not that week. Two weeks later, while talking about how people paid a lot of attention to materialistic preparations (and not to spiritual preparation) he mentioned "a wedding that we had here a couple of weeks back. Crackers went off right in the middle of the service..." and he didnt stop for the next five minutes. I could have used some publicity but not at my local parish!

Post April 2007,I hadnt really spent much time thinking about the implications of marriage and how that would change my world. The married Everyman is now around 40 days old. And he still hasnt gotten around to thinking about it. Life goes on - in a different fashion though.

Later...

Shain

PS: I had written this around a week back..it was only now that I managed to come around to a net cafe and actually post this!!!

Married, no longer looking!

2007-10-04T14:14:00.000+05:30

It's done....

Home Free

2007-09-18T23:12:00.000+05:30

I am back amidst the coconut trees again. The place has changed a little bit. I see fewer coconut trees. New buildings have taken their place. But the rains are the same. The monsoon is just on its way out of here..

I saw the last of Riyadh on the 3rd of September. The problem that I was facing at work didn’t cause as much a problem for me as I feared it would. But then, I was lucky to leave before things had a chance to explode. And I don’t want to know what is happening there nowadays :-D. The flight back was largely uneventful. May be it was because we were flying at midnight and most of the passengers must have passed out after the free alcohol that was on offer. Yes, it was Air India again.

There was this little course I had to attend - a three-day marriage preparation course conducted by the Catholic Church in our region. It is compulsory for Catholics to attend this course; else they will not be permitted to marry!! So off I went for three days, back to school – but of a different kind.

The courses were interesting – sexual morality, family psychology, the 21st century family, the family and communication, and of course, a very interesting sexual anatomy and natural family planning among others. This last course was taken by a very nerdy looking doctor. He had come in towards the end of the second day and all of us were looking forward to end of day. I thought here was one course which could have been a really interesting one, and it was being taken by this dullard.

Appearances are always deceptive. The next 3 hours were amongst the best I’ve spent on a classroom bench. He started off on a very somber note with describing the male and female genitals, but when it came to talking about the sexual act, he was howlarious. He talked about the more normal sexual positions, about how a man should not go all ‘wham bam thank you ma’am’ , about how it was highly likely that the guy could ‘lose it’ in a few minutes or less, virginity, penis size, and a lot more. Most of the guys were laughing through this. But some of the girls were so embarrassed. Sex is such a taboo subject in our part of the country (most parts of the country really!) and here was a guy talking about it in such detail and that too with such distracting gestures and body movements!!! I am pretty much sure though, that everyone was paying a good deal of attention ;-)

I am in Trivandrum now till tomorrow... and on leave from Thursday onwards. My engagement is on this coming Saturday. The Saturday following that, the 29th, will alter my status forever. And, heck yeah, I can’t wait for that day to come :-)

Shain

Down

2007-08-28T20:12:00.000+05:30

Screwed up big time at work...it's a very long story people, but to put it in a very brief manner : I bungled up big time!! So feeling quite a bit down today. I didnt know what to do, so i ended up smoking 3 cigarettes, realising that it wasnt doing anything to reduce my depression, but still smoking anyway..

Then i felt that I should be just pouring my troubles out onto this blog of mine..what else is a blog for? Perhaps you would read and make me feel better eh :-) ?

I am supposed to be leaving this country on Friday, the 31st of August. But now, I dont know..maybe it will get postponed by a week. Maybe more. But I definitely need to be leaving by the 20th atleast. If not for good, atleast on leave..I have just about a month to go before I bid good bye to my bachelorhood. No, I am not sad about no longer being a bachelor. I am quite looking forward to married life in fact..quite looking forward.

But hey, this post is about me being depressed. I am feeling quite a bit down people. I dont know what tomorrow will bring me at work. I might face a lot of heavy artillery. My ass, neck and the rest of me may be on the chopping block. No, I dont think I will lose my job :-) The client was quite pissed today. And I think he was around 70% justified in being pissed. The way i see it, my major bungle was that I didnt communicate things openly. I made some decisions, without thinking of implications, and now they have misfired badly.

I am feeling a bit better already. I will put this whole work issue into its own compartment. Will think of it later..am feeling better..

Shain

Sandcastles - From The Vine

2007-08-05T17:43:00.000+05:30

I subscribe to 'The Vine' - a site which gives me my daily dose of spiritual support. The daily articles are generally motivating and guiding. But I found today's especially valuable. I think it deserves a wider audience. This is a gem. Here it is, verbatim:

Max Lucado writes: "A little boy is on the beach. He packs the sand with plastic shovels into a bright red bucket. Then he upends the bucket and a sandcastle is created. A man is in his office. He shoves papers into stacks and delegates assignments. Numbers are juggled, contracts are signed, and a profit is made.
"Two builders - two castles. They see nothing and make something. And for both the tide will rise and the end will come. Yet that's where the similarities cease. For the boy sees the end while the man ignores it. Watch the boy as dusk approaches. As the waves near, the wise child begins to clap. There is no sorrow. No fear. No regret. He knew this would happen. He is not surprised. And when the great breaker finally crashes upon his castle and his masterpiece is sucked into the sea, he smiles, picks up his tools, takes his father's hand and goes home. The grown-up however, is not so wise. As the wave of years collapses on his castle he is terrified. He hovers over the sandy monument he protected. He blocks the waves from the walls he has made. Salt-water soaked and shivering he scowls at the incoming tide. 'It's my castle,' he defies. The ocean need not respond. Both know to whom the sand belongs… and I don't know much about sandcastles. But children do. Watch them and learn.

"Go ahead and build, but build with a child's heart. When the sun sets and the tides take - applaud. Salute the process of life, then take your Father's hand and go home."

It's not easy, but being able to accept our sandcastles being washed away by the sea would make our lives much less stressful..We need to learn to let go when the time is right.

Splash

2007-07-22T21:51:00.000+05:30

A splash of colour in an otherwise barren land. This was a feast for my eyes which had been dulled into a senseless stupor. My eyes, which had been subjected to a torture of just three colours - the black of the all obscuring abeyas, the whites of the thobes worn by men, and the dull brown of the desert-, finally had something to cheer about. So what if it was just a bunch of bags and carpets?

Life takes a new turn

2007-07-07T01:18:00.000+05:30

And Mom saw that Everyman was all alone and decided that it was not right. She ( and dad too, to a lesser extent) decided that it was time to find Everyman a companion.

Before I stepped on to the flight from Riyadh in April, I had a strong feeling that I would not come back without a pending change in status. I tried to fight it too-but not too much. I was not having any success at all finding someone on my own. Any girl that I even remotely liked ( and there were many :-D) was already taken. And whatever little chances I had were cruelly annihiliated when my company sent me to this barren land. Perhaps it was time to actually start to mingle. Yet, I ensured that I would not be home for too long. Ten days was all that I gave for staying at home. But then, God made the whole world in seven days. For my folks, ten days was more than enough.

Bride watching has got to be the most embarassing activity in the average single Indian's life-cycle. It doesnt matter nowadays if you are male or female. You see a lot of smiling faces, strangers suddenly trying to like you, trust me, it's quite odd.

The first girl I saw was actually quite cute. But I didnt get to ask her the usual "where do you study?" "Can you sing" type of questions. Reason: she was doing most of the talking. I ended up spending most of the time nodding my head sagely. My mom was pretty hopeful of this one working out. When it didnt, she had a strong suspicion that it was because I had told her about my ex-girl. And even though i tried to explain that this girl had said that she wasnt ready for marriage, mom wasnt very convinced.

I thought that would have been it. But I was wrong. Turns out that there was another proposal waiting in the wings already! So off they took me on another car journey. And this was a journey that I would undertake a few times more.

I've always wondered how one could make a life-altering decision in a day, or sometimes, in even less time than that. Do we say yes out of indecision, desperation or out of sheer impulse. I didnt make my decision in a day. She certainly is not someone I share a 'wavelength' with. She finds my Malayalam very funny and I am yet to see her use English. She has never really stepped out of Kerala and I have not really stepped in. There's a big cultural chasm. And I thought whether that would make a difference. I figured that I didnt want someone I could discuss movies, blogging, books or music with. All these were things I enjoyed at a personal level. And as for those things where I needed company, I had my friends. What I wanted was someone whom I would like being with, and someone who would like being with me in return. And no, it wasn't love at first sight..but now, around three months later, I think I am getting there.

And so life takes a new turn..

Back To Arabia

2007-06-21T02:12:00.000+05:30

Well, I am back in Riyadh-bang in the middle of an Arabian summer. Considering that I have taken a fancy to writing about my flights of late, you might ask me how my flight was. I am not exaggerating or making anything up, but I had a very interesting flight as usual.

For starters, I was flying Air India. Things could only get better.

The flight was to leave Mumbai at 8 AM. By around 8.30 AM, we had been sent to our seats by the grumpy looking old airhostesses and a portly steward. The aircraft taxied onto the runway, and the only air hostess below 30 made the usual announcement about namaskar, the duration of the flight and she took care to point out that we were flying to Riyadh. What if someone had by mistake boarded the wrong flight after all those elaborate security measures?

Anyway, the plane taxied to the runway, but it didn’t take off. We waited there for nearly half an hour. Those of us who were near the windows got a chance to admire the slums surrounding the airport. We were getting curious as to why the flight refused to take off when we heard this announcement:

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am afraid that there is a small technical problem with the aircraft. One of the engines isn’t working.” Boy was that a relief that we heard it then! What if he had made that announcement 5000 miles above sea level. They said that it would be resolved shortly and that we could sit in the plane itself. And so Air India returned to the airport with its tail firmly tucked in between its legs. To make us feel better, they served breakfast on the flight. I had decided that I would cut down on non veg food, but I opted for the eggs all the same. Wrong decision. The eggs were lousy!

After more than an hour of sitting in stuffy Air India, we heard yet another announcement: “Ladies and gentlemen, we have some good news and some not so good news. The good news is that we have decided to let you sit in the lounge while the problem is fixed. The not so good news is that we will not be leaving any time soon.” Now wasn’t that nice of them? I got to spend the next 6-7 hours watching a 100 odd wonderstruck Bangladeshis milling around the airport. As for women, those who weren’t covered in black were on the far side of 60.

The flight was to take off only at 3.30 pm and so I thought of walking around the lounge. There was a commotion near the Air India transit desk a slight distance away. Even then I could hear a guy shouting. That meant a fight. That meant entertainment and that meant I had to be there. Turns out that ours wasn’t the only Air India flight that had been delayed that day. Another early morning flight to New York via London was also late. And it was one of those passengers that was causing much more noise than the rest of the crowd. A very angry bald guy.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? I WORK FOR THE I&B MINISTRY. I KNOW HOW GOVERNMENT OFFICES WORK. BUT THIS IS TOO MUCH. WHERE IS YOUR SUPERVISOR. I WANT TO WRITE A MEMO RIGHT NOW. WHAT’S HIS NAME?”
The moronic Air India clerk on the other side was scarcely bothered though. Then the baldie got a hoarse throat and another took up: “I had to be in London by noon today for a very strategic business meeting. What will I do now? I have a wife and daughter to feed. How will we survive?” My heart went out to him. His life and his wife (not to mention his daughter) all depended on a business meeting in London.

A while later the supervisor came down. “THERE YOU ARE! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? I WORK FOR THE I&B MINISTRY. I KNOW HOW GOVERNMENT OFFICES WORK. DO YOU KNOW MR. SHARMA (name changed to protect victim’s reputation), THE FORMER HEAD OF THE CISF? HE’S A GOOD FRIEND OF MINE. IF YOU WANT I CAN CALL HIM NOW. DO YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN? DO YOU WANT ME TO WRITE A MEMO?”

It was getting repetitive and boring. And it was time to board our flight. At 4 PM, we were back in our seats. At 5 PM we were still in our seats and the plane was still on the ground. A few first timers wanted to take a tour of the craft. They asked if they could be let into the cockpit. The airhostess had a hard time convincing them otherwise. At 5.15, passengers started getting angry. And the crew weren’t forthcoming with info. Why weren’t we flying? Then came another announcement:

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know you have had a long day. So have we. We assure you that we will soon take off. We are just waiting for the pilot to come”. Yes. He actually said that. All the crew were there in the plane –except for the chief pilot! That was incredible. But we bought it. At 6 PM, the pilot made his way into the cockpit. Don’t know how he landed there. It was then a passenger’s turn to entertain us. He demanded to be let out of the flight. He couldn’t wait any longer for take off and so he took off by himself. That was another 45 minute delay.

Finally at 7 PM, Air India took off for the skies. From my window seat I could see the wings of the plane. And I kept looking to assure myself that those fan-like things kept turning.

Four hours later, I was at Riyadh airport. Immigration officials shouted gibberish, the air was hot, feminity had disappeared. Yes, it was great to be back!

Eye in the Sky

2007-05-29T15:32:00.000+05:30

I was flying from Cochin to Mumbai last weekend – via Kingfisher airlines. I feel that I should take up permanent residence in one of their flights. The interiors are THAT enticing. So when I was traveling this time, I carried my camera along. I asked the enticingly attractive (aren’t they all?) air hostess if I could click a few snaps. She smiled. “Let me check with my crew captain sir.” I waited. She came back again. “Sir, you can –but only of the sky.” She smiled again.

I must admit, I was a little disappointed. Nonetheless, here are a few sights outside of the aircraft, which I found matched the beauty inside.

Pee-Wee

2007-05-15T13:39:00.000+05:30

So a Cambridge-man and an Oxford-man were taking a leak in the men’s room. After peeing, the Cambridge-man walks straight out of the loo, but the Oxford-man washes his hands, wipes them dry and then leaves the room. Once outside, the Oxford-man remarks, “At Oxford, they teach us to wash our hands after peeing.”
“Is that so? Well at Cambridge, they teach us not to pee on our hands.”

No moral here. Just a joke that I often remember when leaving the men’s room.

Enjoy the F(l)ight

2007-05-14T08:42:00.000+05:30

My stay in Dubai lasted only three days. On the fourth day, after the customary hugs and farewells from my brothers, I was in the airport – waiting for my Air India flight to Trivandrum.

You know what this one is going to be about, don’t you?

A few reasons why more people should fly Air India from Dubai to Trivandrum

1) The flight was delayed by four hours. This gave me plenty of time to contemplate on the nature of the Universe, my role in it, whether the air-hostesses sitting and smoking at the table in front of me were Russians or from some more obscure country of the erstwhile Union, and on whether I should have informed the guy at the coffee shop that I wasn’t part of airport staff. The guy had first told me that coffee cost two bucks, and when I answered that I was a traveler, he promptly hiked the price of coffee to ten bucks! Yup, Air India gives one plenty of time to think.
2) You learn the value of doing things well in time. As I had plenty of time to kill, I decided to do my shopping from the duty-free earlier. So I went and bought a couple of bottles of Scotch for dad, and chocolates and other knick knacks for the rest of India. The lady at the counter asked me if I was traveling Air India and I said yes. She took my bottles away from me and assured me that it would be returned to me at the departure gate. On being reassured by this angel, I handed over my bottles. I would have handed over myself to her care had she smiled once more. Two hours later, I was standing in the queue at the departure gate. Lots of disgruntled Malayalee passengers. “They didn’t allow me to buy liquour! What nonsense is this?!”. “Yes, even I didn’t get any. They said the counter was closed for Air India”. I told them, in a very smug and self-assured tone, that I had got two bottles, and that they would be handed over to me at the gate. They were outraged on hearing this. They called over one of the hapless Air India guys standing there and demanded justification. “He did his shopping early. The counter closed at noon. You should have gone before noon. This is part of Air India’s new security policy.” The unfortunate few grumbled, the fortunate us thankfully got our bottles at the gate.
3) You learn that you don’t always get a second chance. Once we were airborne, the pretty airhostess came with the drinks cart. She came to the “uncle” in front of me and asked him what he wanted. He said 2 pegs of whiskey. She said that he could have three and that she wouldn’t be serving liquor again. He said that he wanted only two and not three. She gave him his two. She came to me and I asked for a peg of vodka and orange juice. She said that there would be only one round of serving and that if I wanted more, I should take it now. I said I wanted only one. Sure enough, an hour later, the uncle pinged for the airhostess and when she came, he demanded his 3rd drink. “I told you so” she said, and refused to serve any more liquor. She went away and left him disgruntled. An hour later, he buzzed for her again. Same question, same answer. This continued throughout the flight. A couple of times later, she stopped bothering.
4) You have live in-flight entertainment. Sure, they were showing a humorous Malayalam movie. But who was watching?? After the alcohol had it’s intended effect on some of my fellow travelers, live shows started. A guy a few seats ahead of me started brawling with a steward. The hapless steward didn’t know how to handle this chap who looked like Shohaib Akhthar –long hair, tight T shirt meant to show bulging biceps and all. The steward tried to pacify him, but this man kept raising his volume through out. A very curious middle aged man had gotten up from his seat at the back of the plane and made his way to the scene. On his way back to his seat, he said “The guy is drunk.Can’t handle his drink. Simply making a scene.” He walked back with an amused look, shaking his head in disgust.

A little later, there was a big commotion at the back. Again, I missed the start. But this time it was no argument. It was a full blown fight – replete with punches missing their mark by a mile, kicks, and the choiciest words in Malayalam and also a few words like ‘stupid’, ‘fool’ and ‘you shut up’ in English. And no prizes for guessing who was one of the two people in the fight. It was the curious uncle who had commented on the earlier argument. Now he was vigorously trying to land a punch and abuse another equally outraged fellowman from coconut land. Once again, we were curious as to what happened, and nobody knew what had really happened.

We finally reached Trivandrum at 9 PM local time. We were to have landed at 5.30 PM.
“I really enjoyed your flight” I told the smiling air hostess as I left. This time, I meant it!

Roadtrip-Stopover at Dubai

2007-05-10T10:42:00.000+05:30

Ever since I left Riyadh on the 15th of April, my life has been in a tumult. Most of the time I have been on the road, half that time in the air (one of the small mercies my company has deemed fit to bestow on me).

The three short days in Dubai were spent catching up with my brothers and also a couple of friends. Dubai has changed drastically since I left it as a 15 year old in 1994. Glitzy malls, towering sky scrapers and private taxis dot the landscape. I remembered a 39 storeyed building called the Dubai Trade Centre as being the largest building there. Back then, it towered over the Dubai skyline. Hell, Dubai had no skyline till ’94. But this time, when my brother drove me past the area, the Trade Centre was pygmied by the giants around it. I am now amused at the thought of something with just 39 storeys enjoying the status of the tallest building.

The larger part of Dubai is a literal showcase. You see the best of everything – buildings, cars, roads, and yes - women! After all, who on earth, leave alone someone coming from the neighbouring wilderness that is Saudi Arabia, would pay any attention to the vainglory that is man? I was deluged by all the visual images that were bursting into my head. From seeing shapeless bodies underneath a black robe, I was now seeing skin and flesh bursting out. Much to my pleasant surprise, I was able to limit myself to the usual ‘checking them out’ process and not the ‘leer and gawk at them’ process.

As we continued that drive, we came to an older part of town. No big buildings here. I saw a white compound wall on one side, and a petrol bunk on the other. “Do you recognize this place?” my bro asked. “Home?”. He pointed to a run down building, it’s interiors all torn out, and apparently on the road to demolition. That building was where we had grown up. Our house. A complex of modest two-bedroom apartments, one of which was inhabited by a family of five. Back then, there was a wide open ground in front of our building. Where we used to play football and cricket with our friends. Now there was no ground. The road had expanded to eat our ground up, the rest of the space was taken up by the parking lot.

Both my brothers have now moved into their own apartments. Both with fledgling families of their own. Our folks are back home in India, living out a largely lonely and uneventful life. As for me, well, you know what’s happening.

All of us, as I saw in Mel Gibson’s fascinating Apocalypto, sooner or later seek a new beginning. As I was typing this, I figured that, in a strange way, perhaps that’s what both my brothers are doing…making their own new beginnings.

Out on Parole

2007-04-14T20:15:00.000+05:30

I have been granted parole. Am leaving Saudi Arabia tomorrow. Hope (not really..'have' is more like it) to be back by the end of the month. I will be in Dubai for three days. Looking forward to meeting my brothers and their families..esp the kids..not that they would jump up and hug me mind you, but I havent seen my niece Leah at all, and as for my nephew Aaron, the last time I'd seen him, I had to keep following him around the house for fear that he would come to some harm. I hear that he's a regular brat now! Three days in Dubai followed by Kerala..home to mom and dad..I look forward to that too, except for the possibility of impending 'match fixing' (pun quite unintended there).

Work here is quite a mess, and I dont really like how things are shaping up over here at work. Dont have a team mate to back me up in my absence, and the only person in my team who's here right now is tooooooo senior to do my kind of work. So I am not looking forward to hearing about how things are shaping up here while I am away.

It would be nice to see some color for a change though. Something other than black :-)

Take care all of you..I leave tomorrow, the 15th..and back in Riyadh by the 30th..i think.

Shain

Run Everyman!! Run!!!

2007-04-07T22:26:00.000+05:30

One fine day as you are getting ready for office, you realize that trousers that once fitted you quite well now require you to pull your tummy in before you can buckle them on. Another day, again as you are getting ready for office, you realize that you have to struggle to draw your knees up so that you can comfortably put your socks and shoes on. On especially bad days, you have to literally be on your back so that you can put them on. You wonder what’s happening to you and you realize that you are expanding your horizons. To be specific, your tummy is expanding its horizons. But you can’t just stand there and do nothing. You have to take matters into your own hands. It’s time to take drastic measures. It’s time to don the costume again. It’s time to reach into your closet and retrieve your ill-used tracksuit. It’s time to go jogging.

So I decided to go jogging. The last time I made a similar decision, it lasted around ten minutes. I was still in Trivandrum, and it took me just 10 minutes to realize that I couldn’t put up the fight. The time was wrong – it was 6 AM. The place was wrong – the milkman, the old ammachis I passed by on the road, and the appachans sitting in their ‘sit outs’ or verandahs – all looked at me as I passed them by and gave me a weird look. And the ‘jogging track’ was all wrong too – past small houses, curious and restless dogs, an uphill path, and ending up in an alley. I didn’t even venture into thinking about jogging the next day.

But this time it was different. I found a friend who was willing to jog. We decided to jog in the evenings, and we even found a suitable place – a jogging-cum- walking track around a huge hospital compound nearby. And I even have an mp3 player to complete the picture.

The first day was predictably a disaster – we reached our venue and ended up walking for 10 minutes, decided we were tired, and returned exhausted. The next day, we jogged a third of the distance, walked the remaining two-thirds. And two days back, we jogged two-thirds.

There are plenty of people giving us company. Most of them walk around the track once or twice. That would take you a good 45 minutes at least. Half of them are women – yes, they still wear the all obscuring black abeya. Some of them leave their faces uncovered and cause more than momentary distraction. If their faces aren’t pretty enough to veer you off your track, then their perfumes are guaranteed to. Beneath their abeyas they wear jeans and sports shoes; some carry water bottles, others carry music players, and still others have their children in tow. There is a middle-aged man who wears sunglasses and walks around the track swinging his arms around like a windmill. And, believe it or not, there is one young lady who jogs in her abeya! I saw her on day two. She passed by me twice. I’d have wished that she was taking a second look at me but no, she was on her second round when I was walking the reminder of the track.

So have I stuck to this healthy resolution atleast? Going by the last two days I’d say no. But then yesterday was the second day of the weekend and I needed rest. And today was really a stressful day at work. You believe that, don’t you? I know you would.

More than a Mouthful

2007-03-26T22:03:00.000+05:30

Eating camel’s meat was one of the points on my ‘things to do in Saudi Arabia’ list. May be I should rephrase that a little..the list should be called ‘just about the only things you can do in Saudi Arabia’ list. Though I am yet to do that, I have had a few interesting situations at restaurants I have been to

The first few times I went to the local restaurants, I was literally lost for words. The guys there couldn’t speak English, I couldn’t speak Arabic, and they didn’t have many pictures I could point to. So I would do the next best thing – look around at what other people were having, and then point to that. Then the waiter would go something like “dajiwerdegh??” and I would go “daji…?” and he would repeat ““dajidarjierblahblahwerdegh?? I would point to the dish again, nod my head vigorously, raise my index finger, point towards me, point it towards that dish again..and just say ‘YES!ONE!’ and hope he understood. I’ve been lucky so far.

Two days back, my roommate and I headed for yet another local joint. When we reached the place, we were dismayed. There was just one other customer, and he wasn’t eating anything. We knew the names of just a couple of dishes and we didn’t want to have those either. We looked around for pictures and luckily, found one we liked (pictures always look nice and that’s something someone should do something about) and pointed to that. The picture was that of a juicy grilled chicken sitting amidst a plate full of colorful rice. You know, the one that keeps rotating and roasting over a fire.. “Dajiwerblah blah shawayya?” the waiter asked. We nodded our heads in unison, and tried a combination of Hindi, English and Arabic. “Rice?” – English!!! We were ecstatic and burst into English..now it was his turn to look confused. Turns out he didn’t know too much of English. “Rice” we confirmed.

Ten minutes later, the waiter returned with a huge plate. When I saw huge, I mean HUGE. Picture a plate around 3 feet long, and picture a full grilled chicken smack in the centre. And all around that unlucky piece of chicken, ALL around it, was rice – rice for as far as the eye could see. We went WOAH! Why have you brought so much of rice??? There was rice enough to feed the beleaguered and luckless Indian cricket team and we were just two Indians who were looking for a simple square meal. The waiter gave a quizzical look, seemed to ask us to go ahead and enjoy the meal and took off. We just stared at the plate in front of us. Neither of us said anything. I was wondering where to start my campaign from. From the edges, and gradually, hopefully in another 3 hours time, reach the chicken in the centre? Or from the centre and then slowly work myself outwards? Neither choice looked tempting. Especially since our apartment was a good 15 minute walk away.

Ten minutes later, we walked out of the restaurant. The juicy piece of chicken was reduced to a pile of bones. The rice was left unharmed. The waiter was not very happy, but then we were not concerned about that. Better an unhappy waiter than a terribly stuffed (and that too with rice!) tummy.

It’s true what all those ‘success gurus’ say - It’s all about having your priorities right.

Paperback

2007-03-15T21:56:00.000+05:30

I am afraid that I don’t read as much as I used to when I was still studying. Blame it on the internet, on orkut, on blogging, on work, on computer games, but MOSTLY, blame it on me! As I’m typing this, I have 3-4 books gathering dust beside me, but I know that I wont be reading them anytime soon now..but here’s my take on the list of 100..wonder why is it that these books and none else made it to the 100..are all these the new Canon? I first saw this list on Me’s blog, and then on 3inone’s. For all you book lovers, plod on..

Type "READ" beside the ones you've read.
Type "WANT TO" beside the ones you'd like to read.
Leave blank the ones that you aren't interested in.
Type "AGAIN AND AGAIN" beside the ones you could read again and again.
"TRIED" for those books that you've tried to read...again and again. (This one Rob put in!)
"??" For those books you haven't heard of (This one, Paperback put in!
"SAW IT" For those books you shamelessly watched the movie of instead (This one, me put in)
"NEVER AGAIN" for those books you ploughed through and wish you hadn't. (This one, 3inone put in - if I pick up a book, I just have to finish it, no matter how bad it is.)
READ & SAW! – (My contribution) – For those books which you read and then had to see, (or vice versa J )
1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown) "SAW IT"
2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
3. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee) "WANT TO"
4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
5. The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Tolkien) Again and Again / READ & SAW
6. The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien) Again and Again / READ & SAW
7. The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers Again and Again / READ & SAW
8. Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery) ??
9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon) ??
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry) ??
11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling) Read
12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)Read
13. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling)
14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving) ??
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden) Read
16. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (Rowling)
17. Fall on Your Knees(Ann-Marie MacDonald) ??
18. The Stand (Stephen King) - Again and again
19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban(Rowling)
20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
21. The Hobbit (Tolkien) Want to
22. The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger) Want to
23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold) ??
25. Life of Pi (Yann Martel) Read
26. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams) Again and Again
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte) Read
28. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck) ??
30. Tuesdays with Morrie(Mitch Albom) ??
31. Dune (Frank Herbert) ABOUT TO ( Got me hands on it at last!!!)
32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
34. 1984 (Orwell) Tried
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley) ??
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett) ??
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay) ??
38. I Know This Much is True(Wally Lamb) ??
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant) ??
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho) Again and Again
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel) ??
42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini) Read
43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella) ??
44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom) ??
45. Bible Read &(SAW)
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy) Read & SAW
47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas) Read and SAW/ Again and Again
48. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt) ??
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck) Read
50. She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb) ??
51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver) ??
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens) Read
53. Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card) ??
54. Great Expectations (Dickens) Read
55. The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald) Read
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence) ??
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough) ??
59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood) ??
60. The Time Traveller’s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger) ??
61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky) Again and Again
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand) Read (PHEW!!!)
63. War and Peace (Tolsoy) Tried (And how!!!)
64. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice) SAW :-D
65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davis) ??
66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez) Again and Again
67. The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (Ann Brashares)??
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller) Tried!!
69. Les Miserables (Hugo) SAW
70. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery) ??
71. Bridget Jones’ Diary (Fielding)
72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez) Again and Again
73. Shogun (James Clavell) ABOUT TO (Got me hands on it at last!!!)
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett) ??
76. The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay) ??
77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)??
78. The World According To Garp (John Irving) ??
79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence) ??
80. Charlotte’s Web (E.B. White)??
81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley) ??
82. Of Mice And Men (Steinbeck) Want to
83. Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier) ??
84. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind) ??
85. Emma (Jane Austen)
86. Watership Down(Richard Adams) ??
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley) Read
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields) ??
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago) ??
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer) Read
91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje) ??
92. Lord of the Flies (Golding) Again and Again
93. The Good Earth(Pearl S. Buck)
94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum) Read and SAW
96. The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton) ??
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)??
98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford) ??
99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield) ??
100. Ulysses (James Joyce)

There you have it..the whole list..Looks like a whole lotta question marks if you ask me :-D

Shain

"The Camel is the Ship of the Desert"

2007-03-03T20:01:00.000+05:30

The camel is to Arabia what the elephant is to India. A stereotypical image. You encounter as many camels here as you would elephants in India. There are slight differences though. You won't find yourself walking down the street only to be suddenly confronted by a camel looming large over you and waiting to be fed or given money. And if you venture outside of the city limits, like I did last weekend, then you will see herds of camels occasionally - standing there looking rather quizzically at all that's whizzing past them on four wheels or more. I came across this rather furry camel at a cultural festival. It's owner, the guy you see in brown, was offering rides -for a price of course. Sadly, I didn't know that until the next day when I got back to office. That should tell you loads about the kind of enthusiasm that man showed and the amount of Arabic I know. But then, there's always tomorrow. The only thing that looks a little disturbing is the sight of the camel's mouth. It's got a rather unpicturesque mouth - probably one of the reasons camels don't kiss that much. So as long as you don't get up close and personal with it, it's quite a beautiful animal - as are most of the others on four legs.

The title should remind you of your GK lessons in primary school. One of the easiest questions during quiz time!

Fingers of God?

2007-02-26T23:39:00.000+05:30

I have been doing some shooting around in Riyadh lately, and have got a few snaps to show for my efforts. At the risk of sounding vain, here is one that I especially like. It's magical the way the sun rays find their way through the cloud and shine through..A writer in Readers Digest once called this phenomenon the "fingers of God". I wouldn't know about that, but it seems a little preposterous to ascribe such beauty to just a cosmic explosion that took place eons ago..

Other news
It's been a time for milestones- Mac's World turned one, and it's been a year or so since Phoenix arose from the ashes. And I have a milestone of sorts too. Everyman's Diary has now become a 100 posts old. Of course if you count the first version of Everyman's Diary it would amount to much more than 100, but that's ok. Sometimes I think that taking almost 3 years for just a 100 posts is too long, but then i just dont have enough of spunk in me to blog more frequently than once a fortnight or so. I am not going to turn all senti here, but there is one person without whom, this blog would have taken a longer time in coming. My princess set up this blog for me, when I once complained of rediff causing me one headache too many. She doesnt blog too much nowadays, but she's my patron saint. Thank you princess!! And of course, thanks for droppin by once too often :-)

Just Kidding

2007-02-23T18:46:00.000+05:30

Last week I'd been to my relative's place. I am not sure of what name to give to the relationship..they are not cousins. What would you call your elder brother's wife's elder sister and her husband? They have two kids - both girls, one around 8 years old and the younger one about four. We were watchin TV, it was Asianet - a malayalam channel, and they were showing some talent hunt stage show that was held in Bahrain. There was this girl on stage, wearing a sleeveless shiny top and tight black pants, and she was dancing like Christina Aguilera in Dirty. If you have not seen that, then picturise Beyonce Knowles in any of her songs. If you have not seen Beyonce dance either, then you've really missed out some of the best posterior moves in humankind. Let me just say that this girl on tv, who must have been around 18 years old, and probably had her proud mother watching on, was doing a lot of shaking and grinding on stage. Now the whole family was watching this show, and so were these two kids..After seeing the girl on tv flash her armpits one time too many..the younger one asked her dad,"Won't her armpits smell?". Her dad didnt have an answer. And not too suprisingly, she who flashes her armpits was one of the two winners.

Sometime later, the elder girl asked me, "Do you know what yesterday was?" Well, "yesterday" was Valentine's Day and "yesterday" had come and gone as uneventfully as most other Feb 14's of my life. But I didnt want to tell her that. So i innocently replied, "Yesterday was the 14th of Feb".
" I know that too,but do you know what is the importance of the day?"
"No I dont, what is it?"
"It was Valentine's Day"
"Really? What is Valentine's Day?"
"What do you mean what is Valentine's Day? It is a day like Republic day, independence day, Christmas and Easter..just one such day"
"But what do you celebrate - Independence day we celebrate India becoming independent, Christmas the day when Jesus was born..so what do you celebrate on Valentine's day?"

Ooh, but here she couldn't say anything! Just eight years old and the girl was
blushing!!

Kids - they may not always say the truth , but they sure pose some interesting questions, and yes, they are getting much smarter these days. Reminds me of the time when i was in the 12th standard, and my cousin brother had come to India for his summer vacations. He was in the 5th grade or something- he was a kid too. Once during that vacation, he showed me "the finger" and asked me with an all-knowing grin, "Achaacha, do you know what this means?". Of course he had a sore middle finger for the rest of the day!

The times arent changing, we are just getting smarter at an earlier age. But would that make us duller at an earlier age too? I wonder...

All My Valentines

2007-02-13T20:11:00.000+05:30

A colleaugue of mine was browsing the net for a boquet of roses to send to someone very special across the miles..And then i realised that tomorrow was the 14th of Feb! The day when you start seeing pink or red ( depending on what love means to you) all around you..Roses spring up all around you, heart shaped* balloons hover around you. Well, this is what the "capitalistic forces" would want you to see some cynics would say..

I told my colleague that he shouldn't be waiting till Valentine's to be sending flowers to his woman. After all, tomorrow is when women normally receive flowers! They'd probably love it more if it came as a suprise. And there was nothing suprising about sending flowers on Valentine's - you are expected to do that! " Aah! but, you have to meet expectations as well!!" quipped my hooked colleague. I had no answer to that.

There was just one time, when I really had a Valentine. This was 2003. But then too, it wasnt your normal Valentine's day. I was in Mumbai and she was in Bangalore..but i remember that she sent me 3-4 cards in succession. As for the rest of the Valentine days that I have seen pass me by, they've been pretty uneventful - no dates, no flowers, no chocolates, the odd card yes..but nothing that you usually see in the movies or hear about from the people around you.
And this year, in Riyadh, I dont even feel anything in the air - no roses, no balloons, nothing..the atmosphere is bleak. There was a slight chance that things might have been different, but that didn't work out, I was a little late, by around two years I guess. But that's not what this post is about.

I dont really believe what people say about who all can be your Valentine..you can express your love for your parents, your siblings, friends etc etc they say..I dont really believe that..Let's face it, your Valentine can be just one kind of a person - the kind you (am at a loss for words here)..i donno..wanna go out with, wanna be with..you get my drift!

I am very single, but there are a few women I'd have loved to wish, send some flowers, and ask out on a date tomorrow. Here they are in random order

- The girl in the front row in my 3rd grade
- Two young nurses who shared our apartment when I was in high school ( nothing much happened..My mom was around too :-( )
- The girl with a cute ponytail in the 8th grade when i was in the 9th
- The Goan girl who was in my Catechism class in '92. Am sure she'd be looking gorgeous now.
- The girl who once was, and now is someone else's ; AND....
- The girl who could have been

To all you special people in the list above on whom I've had either a crush on you or something much more ---

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY! I LOVE YOU ALL :-)

Shain

*imagine if a balloon looked like what a heart really looked like..Yeuck!

The King of Wishful Thinking

2007-02-05T20:06:00.000+05:30

There are times when I wonder if things would go the way I want them to,
Then things look like they are going the way I want them to,
And then I realise that they weren't really going that way..not really..

I too am a king of wishful thinking!

Arabian Nights

2007-01-31T18:45:00.000+05:30

This is a scene from the balcony of one of our apartments.It pretty much symbolises night life out here - roads, cars, food and bright lights.
The roads are never short of cars over here - and you have just abt every variety here. The Saudis have a weakness for American cars so you find plenty of Fords, GMC's and even Hummers . I once spotted a bright yellow Hummer with wheels twice my height ( ok, so I am not exactly a very tall guy at 5'7, but double that and you will have an idea of what I mean) and I wondered how anyone managed to climb into that vehicle. I figured you could jump out of the vehicle, but I couldnt picturise jumping in. The Asians seem to prefer the more economical Nissans, Toyotas and Hondas.

Driving here is pretty much a lonely exercise. Most cars dont carry more than one person-the driver. You occasionally see teenagers or young guys hangin out together in a single vehicle, but otherwise, you are a lone ranger..Of course there are vehicles where you are the only male, and you have five to six females behind you. But trust me, that would hardly be a driving hazard. You'd have to SEE something to be distracted you know! If at all something can kill someone driving in Saudi, it is the absolutely stupid and lame-brained road sense that some people seem to display.

I know that we have crazy drivers everywhere, but here its entirely something else.Picture a traffic light..you have cars who are right in front, and from the far lane, you have a car creeping in and then he parks himself broadside to the cars in front, even ahead of the traffic light..so how does he know when it turns green? Easy, the other cars start honking, and then he waves his hand and goes on his way. Other times, you have a car in the right most lane, and when the signal turns green, you have him zipping to the extreme left..as though he just decided to change his destination!

Late nights, the roads become more interesting..coz thats when the speed kings come out. You rarely see bikes on the roads here, coz with speeds of 120-140 Kmh, you wouldnt trust the guy driving the car behind you if you were on a bike..but at night, the superbikes hit the road, and sports cars as well. The bikes are quite a treat to watch.Young men in leather jackets (and jeans too-lest you picture them minus their trousers!) vroom in silently through the traffic and make their way to the front of the queue at the signal..and when the lights turn green, these guys take off to kingdom com..the front wheels go up in the air, and the two wheeler becomes a one-wheeler..and you always have atleast two bikers...there is always a race on. As for cars, its all about drifting at the kerbs and traffic junctions. If at all there is a cop nearby, he seems to ignore these happenings. You would too, when you think that people need to do something to let off some steam! And you wish that if at all you have to see something splattered on the road, it's a cat and not something on two legs.

Black&White

2007-01-20T19:40:00.001+05:30

Two people – the guy dressed in flowing white robe; the second person in a flowing black robe. The person in black resembles the ghosts that you see in cartoons. It seems that a black cloth has just been dropped over the person’s head. And then you look below and you see feet. She isn’t a ghost after all.

This is how the average couple looks here. But hey, things are not always this bad. Sometimes you do get to see eyes.

Highwaymen

2007-01-13T17:36:00.000+05:30

Fuel prices are probably the cheapest in Saudi Arabia. You can get one litre of petrol for 60 halala (errmm..that’s what they call paise here) and for 15 bucks, you can have a full tank. Understandably, a car is as common here as an auto would be in India. And you can’t think of cars without thinking of the people behind the wheel. This is the first of a God-alone-knows-how many part series on this species. You have a few interesting specimen too. Let’s start with the most conspicuous of them – the taxi driver.

If you are from Mumbai then you would picture a beaten down black and yellow Premier Padmini. If you are from Kerala, then you would think of those white, or grey or golden colored unbreakable Ambassadors. But if you are in Riyadh, you would be riding in either a Toyota or a Hyundai. You find plenty of taxis here. No wait, you don’t have to find them, they find you. Taxis cause half the traffic jams in the city. The lane closest to the pavement would be choked with these white cabs slowing down beside every bystander with an inquiring eye.

Almost all the taxi drivers I have traveled with are Pakistanis. Some of them make very interesting conversation too. The day after Saddam was hanged, one Pakistani driver asked me who I thought the biggest terrorist was. I figured what he wanted me to say, and so I mumbled something about how it depended on your perspective. Quite expectedly, he said that Bush was the biggest terrorist, and then, a little unexpectedly, he also mentioned his own Prez Musharaf as the next biggest terrorist! Not all of them discuss politics though. I was on my way to a working class shopping hub called Battha. The taxi driver asked me why I was going there and I said that I had some shopping to do. And then he said that if I was going for shopping then it was ok, but that most Indians seemed to do nothing there but stand beneath the overbridge and just talk all day. And most of these Indians were from Kerala! They would do nothing, it seems, but stand, smoke, drink tea and just talk till late at night. He just couldn’t understand why they came out into the streets to talk. He said that if a Pakistani wanted to talk to his friend, then he would go to his friend’s place or call his friend over. They wouldn’t go out into the street to hold a press conference. I couldn’t think of a good enough reason to explain the Indian’s love for the overbridge and street corners, and so I didn’t offer any. Another taxi driver was cussing his boss, and another was talking about how his family was back in Pakistan and how he ran losses in his business and was now down to driving the streets.

Not all of them speak so much though. A few of them are just morose and grumpy. You try to break the ice, they would just grunt in reply. But these taxi drivers are generally a likeable breed. And where in India would you get to travel in a Toyota or a Hyundai without having to pay through your nose for it? Here you get away with just 10-15 bucks. Sounds quite cheap till you do the normal Indian expatriate thing and convert it into rupees. Don’t do that, and you can have an enjoyable taxi ride.

Back at the Start

2007-01-05T14:58:00.000+05:30

Five days into yet another year. I sometimes wonder what is it that makes us so look forward to the ending of one year and the beginning of the next. What makes us all wish each other, sometimes rather mechanically, a happy new year. And sometimes we go a bit further and wish people a happy, prosperous, and successful new year; or something on those lines. But the essence of the message is this – wish you have a good time this coming year.

When exactly do we start a new year? Shouldn’t it be on our birthdays? Shouldn’t that be the time when people wish us a happy new year? But then that’s the time when people wish us “Happy birthday”. And then there is the mysterious message “Many happy returns of the day.” I have never been able to understand what that means. What does that literally mean? I am just not able to connect the words together to arrive at a meaning.

So what is it about the dawning, apparently, of a new year that makes it a collective act of anticipation of happiness? May be it is the fact that, unlike our birthdays which we individually celebrate, the new year is something that we all share. It’s probably sort of like a universal birthday – something that is celebrated by the world at large. There is a minor exception here though – some countries celebrate the new year on different dates. So you have the Chinese new year, the muslim new year, and so on. But that doesn’t take away the sheen from January 1st.

For the major part of 2007, I will be here in Saudi Arabia. I don’t really look forward to a lot of happy things happening to me over here. There isn’t much I can look forward to except a trip to India. The rest of my world here will be taken up by work, and that is something I don’t really look much forward to. But what the hell, there are plenty of things that can possibly happen. I don’t know what they are; I will just have to wait and see.

As for the rest of you, here’s wishing that this year proves better than the last one. That’s what we all want, isn’t it? For things to keep getting better? I wish you all just that!

Season's Wishes...

2006-12-24T18:21:00.000+05:30

Tomorrow is Christmas.

Christmas means very different things to different people, but this is what I wish for you:

Here’s wishing that you are filled with the sense of hope, love and life that Christ brought into this world.
Here’s wishing that you find happiness, love, and satisfaction in all that you do.

Here’s wishing that you bring happiness, love and satisfaction to those around you.
Here’s wishing that you are able to retain this feeling beyond the 25th and the 1st of January.
Here’s wishing you the best of life (and blogs) in 2007!

Here’s wishing you all a MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A JOYOUS NEW YEAR!!!

CHEERIO!

Shain

Thank God It's Wednesday!!

2006-12-16T18:09:00.000+05:30

From the air, Riyadh looks like a giant IC chip. What caught my eye from the window seat of the otherwise lousy flight I was on were glittering lights in almost every direction. You can see lights running on for miles on end, that too in a straight line. Some of these lights are from the powerful street lamps and others are from all the snazzy buildings. But they are all arranged in geometric fashion, and where you see the lights coming to an end, that’s where the city ends too.

Like I said here, Riyadh is an interesting place. There are quite a few things which you wouldn’t see elsewhere. For starters, all restaurants have a singles section-which is where unfortunate rudderless souls like me have to sit. But only men here, no single women (now THAT would hv been something, a singles section where single men and single women could sit, eat, chat, and if things went well, ….hmmm…very interesting concept.)Then there is a family section, which is where the man comes in with his masked wife and kids. I hear that inside the family section too you tend to have cabins. So even if you are married and in the same room as other women, then too you wouldn’t get to see anyone but your own wife..yea that sucks! As for restaurants which have no family section, well, families just cant enter. So you have a lot of men coming and buying loads of food and getting it packed to take away. Then there are malls which are strictly meant for families and I guess for women. But no stags allowed in there. If they are not family alone malls, then I guess they have days reserved for women and family. On those days we single men wouldn’t be allowed in. I still have to get this thing confirmed. But yes, there are family only malls!! And it doesn’t stop with malls. You also have parks with the same principle. No singles allowed in here either. But who would wanna go in a park in the evenings and then see black all around?? So that’s not such a big deal.

The other day, I went to a snazzy complex. It doubles up as an office complex cum shopping mall. Had actually gone there on work, to meet a guy from another company, but then we went down for lunch in the food court. And the place was swarming with people and yes, many women :-D There were the ones with their hoods on, but there were quite a few who literally let their hair down. Their hoods were off, and they had the prettiest faces. I guess it’s the deadly combination of very fair skin, jet black hair and sharp features. And some of them know how to make themselves look good. Their abayas have some art work on them. That’s their way of being trendy. But that’s not all. Beneath those cumbersome things, you can see jeans, tights, sneakers, and even knee length boots. Now I wasn’t leering at them to be able to report all these things. It was just the way they walked. You could see that they wanted you to see. Some of them dye their hair blonde, others brunette, others leave it black. But really fine hair. Unfortunately they had another section of the food court for themselves. We were stuck with other men! But the bottomline is that there ARE some very good looking women out here. They are just like works of art in a gallery – see, but do not touch.

Then you have Salah.

I guess people here take their religious life very seriously. Am not going to speak about that though. But what is interesting about this is how it impacts everybody’s daily life. Muslims pray five times a day, and each time it goes on for about half an hour. And when that happens here, almost everything comes to a standstill. And that includes all the shops too. So if you are in a shop and its time for prayer, then you are either locked in or asked to leave the place. They have to down their shutters for that period of time. It doesn’t matter if you are at a restaurant, a barber shop, or an internet café. No work can take place then. You can walk around though, or if you have a car, drive around. It’s just that no transactions can take place then. So if you wanna go shopping, then you have to keep the prayer timings in mind. Else you will have to wait quite a while for the shops to open.

I am sorry that I haven’t been very regular on the blog scene. Work has been quite a bug here. Its been bugging me no end. Things are hectic, and by the time its time to leave the office, you still aren’t done with the work! That’s why I’ve been missing from your blogs as well. Will make up, I promise J

What would you like to hear about next time though?

Still alive people!!

In other news: I was thinking of coming over to India and change to my work permit and then return for good. This was until someone in power here reminded me that my business visa could be extended and asked me to be ‘sensitive to the client’s needs’- read “you cant go home now!” . So I am gonna be spending a very merry Christmas here. Yes I know its gonna be fun. And yesterday was a very happy day for my family..my second bro is now a dad! A baby girl :-) When I talked to him over the phone, he was still coming to terms with becoming a dad. All he said that was she looked so fragile…guess its entirely something else to see a part of you in front of you, and realize that you have given life to someone else, someone of your own..this is one of the best things in life, and yes, it’s free too!

Shain

Shain in Arabia!

2006-11-28T17:35:00.000+05:30

Saudi Arabia – land of sun, sand and burqas. That’s how I picturised this foreign land. I now realize that I was perhaps being a bit too categorical. I haven’t seen the sun in the past two days that I have been here. No, I wasn’t apprehended by the religious police the minute I landed and thrown into jail. Nor have I been overburdened with work such that I cant get out of office during the day time. It’s been two overcast and cold days here so far. And its really cold. And here I thought that since I was going to desert country, I wouldn’t need my jacket. Result being – I go to the nearby Malayalee restaurant for dinner in my jeans and sneakers, with my formal black blazer. Neither was sand anywhere to be seen. Instead in its place you have sprawling shopping malls and other kinds of buildings for miles around. There are some buildings which look like toy castles. And there are some other buildings which defy definition. I haven’t been able to make out what these are because the signs are largely in Arabic. There is one interesting sign though..it says “Services for Women” (ahem). Which brings me to the third of the trinity-women.

Frankly, I haven’t seen many women here yet. I haven’t seen them walking on the streets, I haven’t seen them driving cars. I saw one particular station wagon though- there was this Arab guy driving it, and it had four hooded women sitting behind. I tell you, there are a few sights yet in this world (and not just that beautiful woman walking down the street like Salma Hayek in Desperado) that can halt you in your stride and cause you to think whether you are not really seeing things. It’s early days yet I know, but compared to where I was just two days back, this place seems like the desert it was meant to be. But yes, it is true what they say about women having to be covered fully by their black flowing burqahs or abeyas. But I caught sight of some faces in a telephone booth I had gone to. They are beautiful. Very beautiful. Fair skinned, hands done in elaborate mehndi, one of them was blonde! She must have been Lebanese perhaps. But it doesn’t matter. She was beautiful. Couldn’t keep looking for long though. You never know when and where the religious police are. And what they can probably catch you for! Talk about forbidden fruits – that’s what women are here.

I should tell you about my flight to Riyadh. The last time I flew an international flight was in 94. So I was taken aback by the sheer size of the jet. The seats seemed to go on for rows. But that wasn’t what I wanted to tell you about. I flew by Air India. If you have seen those old TV ads for Air India, you would be picturising a beautiful smiling face, the epitome of Indian hospitality, her hands folded in a namaskaar. Get a load of this. The first air hostess that I saw was dressed in a churidar(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), and I am sure that she would make a very good traffic police officer. She was asking each of us for our boarding passes, and was busy extending her hands in the direction of the seats. As though we couldn’t read! Hell, she even asked one passenger if he could read!!! Whither the heartwarming welcome? Whither the reassuring and charming smile? AND WHERE THE F@#K WAS MY NAMASKAAR????? It’s not about beauty mind you. It was about everything else. The food lived upto its rumoured reputation of being lousy – it was cold and tasteless. I enjoyed the butter the most. Thankfully, the movie display was working. For one of my unfortunate colleagues who had flown earlier, even that wasn’t there. There was one redeeming grace though and that persuaded me that perhaps hope still floats. Natasha – air hostess with Air India. Somewhere between fair and dusky, orange bindi, a similarly coloured saree, slim, but not thin, an occasional smile ( that happened only when I asked her something..and I had to do that twice!) and the best part of it was, she was sitting right across me. I was in one of the first rows, and the flight attendants have their seats right opposite. I watched her as she sat waiting for the flight to lift off, I watched her as she sat talking to Traffic Police Constable who unfortunately (for me) was also sitting opposite, and I watched her as she made those familiar announcements. As I left that wretched flight 4 hours later, I tried hard to retain her picture in my mind.

But bah!! That wasn’t possible. The minute I landed at the Riyadh airport, I saw women in black and that’s all I have been seeing, whenever I see them that is.

It’s not all bad though..Riyadh has its bright side. And you know where and when that’s coming…right here, but not right now…

Ciao…

Shain

Waiting to fly...

2006-11-16T16:47:00.000+05:30

People say that it is very frustrating when you have to wait for something to happen. Waiting for someone to turn up, waiting for the bus, waiting for your turn at the ticket counter ( a ticket counter would be fine, but a wait for your turn at the loo would be slightly uncomfortable I think)..and yes, waiting for your trip out of the country and to your new assignment.

I was supposed to have gone quite a while back, last month in fact, but then that got delayed, and now, looks like it will be delayed a few days more..till around the 25th I guess..and all these days, from around the beginning of this month, I haven’t had much work to do. Sure there has been a fair share of meeting members of my new team and getting briefed on the project and all that..but that doesn’t take weeks! And the last few days especially, I have been pretty amazed at how I have spent the days doing nothing. Time spent in office has been pretty uneventful..And I know that a lot of people envy me because I have nothing to do. These days at office would be amongst the more satisfying ones in my career. But time outside office has been interesting. Now what hv I been upto..

Malls: Mumbai has plenty of them..you could spend hours inside and not buy a thing.The stores are expensive, the food courts, more so...but they sure are tempting. What catches my eye though are the women. Plenty of good looking women…some of them not much more than girls..I sometimes wonder whether they are all unconsciously competing against each other…each trying to stand out of a crowd of good-lookers..but I am not complaining..enjoying my last few days of appreciating feminine beauty…And yes, even the displays are quite an eyeful..not the mannequins, the hoardings!

Trains: Mumbai is probably the only place where you need to know which side of the train the platform would appear..you need to know that so that you can stand near the door on that side..Else you probably wont make it out of the train. The system is quite user friendly too. You neither have to manually get in nor out of the train- just stand somewhere near the entrance and other people will ensure that you get in or out.

Movies: Caught two last weekend. Don and The Departed. The first one was good for its ‘all style’ approach. It’s the kind of movie you can enjoy without having to wrack your brains or your emotions too much. The Departed reminded me of Gangs of New York..same Irish theme, same infiltrating the ranks, only, neither infiltrator gets caught..but everyone gets shot!

Bounce: What’s this? The game on my Nokia 6610. Yes, in the age of Playstation 3 and Xbox 300 (or some number like that) I am busy bouncing a red ball up and down over various obstacles..Have cleared 11 levels so far..and I have also discovered a cheat code!! Should things get messy, I now know how to find a way out!

So nothing happens, no one comes, no one goes, but it’s not awful..it’s blissful..

Shain of Arabia*

2006-11-04T18:06:00.000+05:30

The time has come to at last shed some light. I am going away into the wilderness. People, I am going to Saudi Arabia – the land of sun, sand and burqahs. Now that is about the worst deal life can throw at you. Add to it prohibition and moral police and you pretty much have yourself a 100 ways to get beheaded or mutilated, or stoned (literally!)

I haven’t skipped jobs. My company is sending me there for a year. And I might travel within the next 10-15 days. Leaving Pune for Mumbai, and then off to Riyadh from there.

Saudi isn’t exactly every traveller’s dream. There are, like I mentioned above, a lot of factors that can curb your freedom of …errmmm..action. I am not very upset though. There is always a bright side, especially in a country like Saudi where the sun is always shining rather brightly on you. Here’s looking forward to :

Learning to appreciate the beauty of a woman’s eyes. I haven’t thought of what I will do if women there wear shades as well. I guess then it would be a hopeless case.
Staying off beer, and perhaps, just perhaps, reducing this beer belly of mine.
Learning a little of Arabic, and teach them a little bit of my version of Malayalam
Camel meat and unrestricted access to beef! SLURP!
A desert safari (sadly, minus the all-important belly dancers)
Rediscovering the art of e-mail.**
Trips to other countries in the middle east – IF my visa allows it
Mental exercises in imagination. With the all–obscuring burqah, there will be a lot left to my imagination :-D

Every country has it’s oddities, and Saudi is just another on the list, may be I will get to learn a lot from the land, and may be I will return a richer man – in more than one sense of the term. I wont disappear from the Blogosphere. Why, I could even start a Saudi Diary! It's rather a good deal now that I think of it.

So till we meet again, Ma'asalaamah! (that's good-bye in Arabic)

* The epithet was coined by Musafir, when he came to know of my plight…

**Yes, it’s official, the email is now an antique. Sms’s and orkut have destroyed it. We hardly mail nowadays, do we? It’s always a ‘hey, how u doing’ or a ‘what’s up’ scrap on Orkut. That’s what we’ve come to –scraps..Saudi, in a wise move, has blocked Orkut! Throughout the kingdom!

Signs

2006-10-26T09:42:00.000+05:30

"I am pleased to meet you,
I've got meat to please you."

"Meet me anywhere,
but eat me only at Blue Nile."

Is it just my dirty mind or are these words (I saw them displayed at a renowned restaurant in Pune) not exactly appropriate when appealing to your palate?

But don't let these give you the wrong notion about the restaurant. They've got one of the best mutton biriyanis in India!

In other news: I will soon be posting (hopefully) from the wilderness. Will wait till it actually happens to spill the beans to all of you! Wish me luck. *gulp*

2006-10-13T12:21:00.000+05:30

Delightfully colorful buildings, somber forts jutting out into the sea, names like Briganza, De Souza and Mascarenhas featuring on name boards, quaint old ladies in quaint frocks, temptingly cheap liquor, and yes, sunny beaches – there is more to Goa than its beaches.

Old Goa – My friend remarked that you could take a snap in front of the Se Cathedral in Old Goa and pass it off for one taken in Europe. I thought the whole Old Goa setting looked like something out of the Da Vinci code. Huge churches, buttresses that looked like they belonged on a fort, numerous altars, each unique in its own way and exquisite paintings. There were four churches within metres of each other. My favourite though was the spartan St. Catherine’s Church, bare, silent, and drowned out by its bigger and more colorful neighbours – Se Cathedral, Church of St. Francis of Assissi and the Basilica of Bom Jesus. Something about them made me get down and pray. The Church of St. Francis had a museum adjoining it. A giant statue of some Portugese poet (I just cant remember his name) stood right in the center. There were also plenty of paintings depicting different phases of Goan history. Many of the paintings showed the martyrdom of priests. It made me wonder about similar atrocities carried out by Christians in the name of Christ. It made me wonder whether religion had anything to do with it at all..

Panaji – We spent not more than a couple of hours here. What is fascinating in Panaji are the colourful buildings. The Central Excise office here is an outstanding (pun intended) blue. You would rather imagine government buildings to look drab..not so in Panaji..walking by the waterfront and driving through the empty Sunday streets were the highlights.

And yes, we got royally drenched on our way back from Old Goa to Panaji. As usual, we were on open ground with no place to duck for cover. As usual, we just stood there and got wet.

Forts: Aquadem and Vagator – two of the forts that we visited. Both overlooking the sea on one side and the river at another. Aquadem was a typical tourist spot. Plenty of tourists walking up and down and posing for snaps. There were a large number of pretty women there on Sunday (talk about being at the right place at the right time) . The day was pretty windy and laced with drizzle. And half the women, more young girls on the verge of womanhood really, were very concerned abt their short skirts doing a Marlyn Monroe.

Vagator was much quieter. If you have seen Dil Chahta Hai and if you’ve seen those three sitting atop the walls of a fort and gazing out at the sea, this is where they did it. We sat too, and yes, there was a ship in the distance. To jolt you back to reality, a Tamil film was being shot there. Thankfully, it was happening a little distance away!

I was back in Pune by Monday. We had spent three whole days there in Goa and I still get the feeling that there was plenty that evaded us.

Hope there is a next time….

It's better in Goa...

2006-10-09T19:35:00.000+05:30

Pub Thumping!

2006-09-29T10:08:00.000+05:30

God saw that Everyman was spending his days alone and saw that this was not good. So he decided to give him company. But India being a land where the right woman in the right palce at the right time seems to be a rarity, He decided that it would be a much less demanding task to simply give him 3-4 friends to spend the weekend with. Turns out, it wasnt that bad a deal.

Last weekend, my friend came to Pune. Buddy’s (not his name of course, but this is better than relegating his identity to a mere letter like 'D') visit was a long-awaited one. He was a local boy and knew all the right places in the city. And a good pub was on top of my list. So come Saturday night, we were on our way to 1000 Oaks, one of the most frequented pubs in Pune. We reached pretty early, by around 8.30 PM. There were 3 of us, Buddy’s cousin also having joined the party- and we were expecting another two guys to join us later that evening. The place was empty save for the odd couple snuggling in the corner of the bar. I had expected some loud thumping music, but it was MLTR , Richard Marx and co playing. The atmosphere reeked of mush. Quite a few tables were empty, and we were about to sit at a table when the head waiter, a large, somber looking man looking even more somber in his black and white outfit, came and curtly told us “You cant sit here, stags are not allowed at this table.” I looked at the table for signs of stag-unfriendliness. The seats did not seem made for any other purpose, and especially not for making out. Buddy’s reply was dismissive, “We are expecting some girls”..Aah, if only that were true..(truth was, we were expecting some girls, only, they weren’t going to be sitting at our table). A couple of minutes later Mr. Somber Head Waiter comes again. “You will have to pay a cover charge”. This guy didn’t seem to relish the thought of 3 innocent slightly young men sitting in the pub. Pretty soon though, he saw Buddy talking to the owner’s younger brother, who was old school chum. Mr. Somber Head Waiter never came near us again.

An hour and one pitcher of beer later, we were joined by the other 2. The music started to become heavier, and the crowd started pouring in. Right behind where I was sitting, was a young couple. The girl was pretty cute. The guy didn’t seem to deserve her (Life is never fair in such cases!). A few minutes later, the guy tapped me on the shoulder and asked for a cigarette. The cigarettes belonged to another of us, so I asked him if we could give him one –I spoke loud enough so that lover boy heard, and my friend took a good look at lover boy and nodded his head in agreement. That was the first of 3 cigarettes that he borrowed from us that night. I later learnt that he just lit them up, took one drag, and handed them over to his pretty girlfriend.

Two hours and three pitchers later, the pub was packed. The music was thumping. MLTR gave way to rock and some retro music from the 80’s. The mood was picking up. A couple of tables away, a pretty someone was dancing in gay abandon. She had on a black dress that just about struggled to reach her knees. Her face was lit up, and she was having a great time. She was dancing in front of a small group of friends I suppose. Couldn’t see clearly coz who she was dancing for was hidden behind a pillar. But who cared about that. My eyes were glued to her. I don’t know if I was watchin the dance or the dancer, it’s hard to say. She was pretty yes, but her dance made her seem prettier somehow. When I looked her way a few minutes later, she had disappeared.

It was now close to 11.30 PM. The pub would close in another hour’s time. We were into our 5th pitcher and spirits were pretty high. The music was getting to us and we were singing along to virtually every song. Jon Secada, GNR, Metallica, Freddy Mercury, heck, the DJ even played ‘Tub Thumping’, an early 90’s hit by a band called Chumbawumba. I don’t remember the last time I sang so loud and free. And it did feel good. It felt very good. I looked around to our lovers. The guy was not to be seen, the girl was sitting alone. Holding her head in her hands. Was she high? Was she crying? I blinked, I looked again. She was no longer alone. The twerp of her guy was right beside her. He looked equally lost. The music reached a crescendo and then it all stopped. They turned the music off. It was time to go home. We returned to our seats, there was still some unfinished beer to take care of. We looked at the couple. They were headlocked. No they weren’t kissing. That would have been ok, and normal. Their lips weren’t locked. Their foreheads were. Picture it if you can. The girl holding her head, and the guy’s forehead touching hers and he holding his head. Nothing else touched. We still felt like we wanted some music, and so we started singing. Since the couple looked like they could use the ambience, we decided to sing mushy numbers. Bryan Adams’s and our version of Heaven. I guess it wasn’t very bad. Nobody threw anything at us.

Half past midnight and we were out of 1000 Oaks. Didn’t have much place left for dinner and so I just had a humble paav-omlette to follow up the beer. My tummy was full, but my head was kinda light. A pretty woman dancing away, a rather drunk and in-love couple, plenty of good beer, and even better music.

It was a pleasant evening after all.

Dilemma at the counter

2006-09-25T09:53:00.000+05:30

A couple of days back, I decided to take a walk. Nothing great about that, apart from the fact that it reminds me that I’m getting older. You think ‘take a walk’ and you think ‘OLD’. It was not the desire for exercise, but for money. I needed to go to the ATM which was a bit too close to catch an auto and a little too far for just a short stroll. It was about 10 minutes away. It was around 7 PM, after office, mid-week, and my tryst with the ATM was very quickly done with. Too early for dinner yet, and I didn’t feel like having dinner at the company guest house yet again. I figured I would walk a little more and walk into a restaurant on the way.I took a road that looked like it had brighter prospects.

It took me around one hour of walking (I just happened to keep walking and walking) till I came to what was one of the more happening places in the city. MG Road. I later found out that I had walked for around 3-4 kilometres. Women here were at their attractive best. I kept walking, a little slower though.

It was a meaningless stroll, no actual sense of direction, but I soon found myself on a familiar street. And a very familiar looking building too. I recognized the street and the building as where I had been the previous weekend. A pub. I wondered whether to walk in. This would be the first time in my entire life when I would be having a drink alone. That sounded very lonely. I pictured myself sitting on the bar stool and sipping my mug of beer in isolation. Didn’t look very bright a picture, but I was thirsty and the prospect of finally sitting on a barstool was appealing too. So I walked right in. The place was slightly crowded and Coldplay was playing over the speakers. And yes, there was a vacant bar stool right at the center of the counter. I walked straight over and plonked myself there. I ordered for a mug of beer. I observed the bartender filling up a mug from what looked like a slightly ornamental tap. If only I had a tap like that in my house.

I took a look around..the usual suspects were there..in front of me, behind the bartender, was a lavish display of arty bottles and other knickknacks. There are 2 sardars to my left, engaged in animated conversation over a bottle of beer. And to my right..to my right, at the corner of the counter, seated on a bar stool, leaning against the pillar, was a single woman…Was it opportunity knocking?? There was an empty stool between us, and I wondered whether I had blundered in not taking that straightaway. And she certainly didn’t look like she was expecting someone. My mind harked back to all those English movies, where this was just the time when the two strangers struck up a conversation. Would this be one of those times?? I was just about telling myself why I should (alternatively should not) occupy that next stool, when suddenly she was obscured from my view. I just saw a flurry of blue for a very short while. When my eyes regained their focus, and I stole a stealthy look out of the corner of my eye, I saw that there was a guy between us. And she no longer had that vacant expression in her eyes. She was all eyes..her mouth was laughing a little, coyly smiling a little..

I turned my attention back to where it should have been – my beer mug and the television. Look at the bright side, at least he wasn’t a stranger to her. Now that would have been unbearable.

I...

2006-09-13T20:51:00.000+05:30

I am thinking about…a scene I saw on my way to work this morning..two dogs, hard at ‘it’, and inextricably stuck! A third dog trots over, observes the union, sniffs around, and trots disgustedly away..He was probably thinking of why dogs had to do it in public, and that too right in the middle of the street!

I said...something once and then later on, much later on, I wondered if it was worth saying it considering what happened in between..And I realized that in spite of what happened, it was still worth having said it. That brief period of my life has been my peak till now.

I want to...walk up to a stranger on the street and ask him what the future of Indian sport is…I want to ask a waiter if he would eat what he was serving at the table..I want to shout out loud in the middle of the street..I want to be on top of the world..literally..on Everest..I guess it would be slightly cold there though, and I don’t like too much cold..I want to go home to something more than a TV.. I want to be with that someone, and I want to hold that someone’s hands…I want to feel what it likes to hold someone’s hands again..

I wish... we were a much better species at heart..I wish we could settle problems over a fist fight and nothing more..I wish we left children out of the picture..I wish I could meet all my friends again..not all of them together in the same room as though I was Bilbo Baggins and that I was to disappear..I wish friends from each time of my life would come together and we could meet in the same place, and just be together for about 4-5 hours..and just yak away about our carefree yesterdays..I wish I could see more of my family..I wish I could rebuild my house from scratch..I wish I had enough money to do it..I wish we laugh or atleast smile oftener..

And yes, I wish I had more hair, and that I had a much much flatter tummy, and that I was taller, and more handsome..lol..I wish I was (now who is the sexiest male of all times???)…darn..no wonder these things never come true :-D

I hear... that left-handers like me are smarter, brighter, and more creative..I reply that people notice only because there are lesser of our kind and that there is nothing special in us…

I wonder.. what exactly are we waiting for in life..I guess most singletons like me would be waiting for that special someone to be dropping from the sky and into our laps (painful if you consider the gravity factor). But what about the rest of us, those who already have that someone..what would the rest of you be waiting for? We should be waiting for someone or something..but what? And what then?

I regret... not having learnt to play a musical instrument when I was young.. I ESPECIALLY regret not having learnt to play the guitar knowing how easily ladies get impressed by someone who plays it..Why, even guys get impressed, but who is bothered about them anyway?

I am... a nice guy really :-) I SWEAR!!!

I dance...usually within the confines of my mind… I also ‘dance’, when I’m slightly high, and when there are people to get me into the mood..Though I’d love to do the tango like Pacino did in Scent of a Woman..

I sing... just about anything that comes to my mind…I sing when I am in a good mood..I currently Karaoke with Pune FM..and then I think that I don’t sound that good..but then who cares..the only person listenin in is me..and I certainly don’t care..

I cry... on rare occasions..I cry very little..when I do, tears well up and they dry out as quickly.I guess I cry only when people who were around no longer will be..ever..but I get over them quickly..does that make me cold?

I am not always .. the person I want to be..

I make with my hands... bubbles of soap when I take a shower..I blow them up as big as I can and then try to blow them up in the air..havent been doing that of late..don’t get enough time..

I write... so that I can meet new people..I write so that I can reach out to old friends again..I write so that I can get out of the loneliness of my physical world and be part of a small crowd …I write so that I can discover myself.. And I write, so that, some day, when I need it the most, I can read Everyman’s Diary again..

I confuse…some people sometimes just to see them arrive at a conclusion..but that’s only at work....I get confused when it comes to making decisions, and then I say my prayers and jump headlong one way and hope I don’t end in a black hole.

I need... people in my universe to know that I am happy that they are all there..wherever they are..and that I would really miss them if they were to disappear…Of course, I also need to go to a pub and listen to some really great music and have a mug of beer, but I would do that anyway..Right now though, I need you to return the favour and fill out this little list yourself….

C’mon, expose yourself…

The Adventure On Kahooli Mountain

2006-09-05T19:44:00.000+05:30

That isn't the name, but it sounds better that way

Two weeks into Pune and I had my first 2 day weekend. I don’t always get two enjoy the weekend..it is usually the ‘end’ by the time I get there. This called for celebration and I and two close buddies of mine decided to head out to Lonavala,a nearby hill station. They were to come from Mumbai and I, well, was to move from Pune.

The train ride from Pune to Lonavla took just 13 bucks..but, first time traveler-cum-tourist (read ‘sucker’) that I was, it took me 80 bucks to get from the railway station to the bus stand, in the same darn town, where my friends were. And this inspite of me putting on my ‘knowledgable look’*

We decided to do away with the tried and tested tourist routine..No dams, no suicide points(every hill station is bound to have a suicide point! Wonder what it is with high places and jumping!) . . Jana suggested that we head to Korigad -.a fort not much frequented by tourists but ideal for trekking..Aparna and I were game.

The ride to Korigad was errmm..rather uncomfortable.It wasn’t a taxi in the conventional sense..it was more like a pickup truck which locals used to transport goods and themselves to their far flung villages...The problem wasn’t that we 3 had to squeeze in next to the driver, and it wasn’t that he was charging us 150 bucks (our return cost us only 60..so we were suckered again)..it was that I was sitting next to the driver..and as the front seat was made for 2 passengers and not 3, the gear stick was right between my legs..It wasn’t a problem most of the time..but whenever the guy switched to second gear, it was ..well..it was very discomforting to say the least..and on top of that, the ride was uphill all the way!

When we got down at Korigad, the fort stretching way above our eye levels, we wondered how we would get on top..it looked unsurmountable – that was until Jana said that there were steps going up the fort..Didn’t sound very adventurous when he said that..

I couldn’t have been wronger..

There were steps alright, the problem though was that there were cascades of water running down those steps, and when you have running water, you have smooth slippery stone steps..and when you fall down steps, you keep falling down..well that was the image I had in mind, and needless to say, every step was taken with great care..we stopped every now and then to take a breath, and take in the “view”..there was the odd cave too, full with echo and lovers’s names scrawled on the wall for that authentic effect..fortunately or unfortunately, there weren’t any lovers around that time..there were only the 3 of us..except ofcourse for the security guard we saw on the way up..

Nothing prepared us for what we were to see and experience on top..I know I am starting to sound like one of those awful serial-story writers, but it’s true..If the steps leading to the summit of the fort were pure stone, and water running down, the grounds of the fort, high above man’s usual ground, was breathtakingly green..there were small yellow flowers, and we were reminded of the fields our filmy couples used to run through before the flowers used to kiss each other. If you want a more classical simile think Lord of the Rings and Gladiator..green, mist...Beautiful was an understatement..

We climbed onto the wall of the fort and looked down into the valley..it is difficult to describe..you are the only people there, it’s all silent, you hear only the sound of the wind asking you to make way for him, and before you, you have this splendid creation of God and Man..You think back to an era when people who stood where you did didn’t have the luxury of enjoying the view – but they lived up here and looked down at the valley all the same..

The rest of it was a blur..there we were, 3 of us, on the high walls of the fort, looking at the canvas before us, and rather quickly I thought, clouds moved into the frame..I thought it looked like two lovers kissing..converging from two sides..Appu thought there were more than two.. Soon, the colorful scene before us had vanished, and it was replaced by a somber and moody grey.. We looked behind us, and it was grey there as well..

Slowly but steadily, it started to rain..we were stranded..

I don’t know if you have ever been caught in the rain, on top of a high fort, that too on the very edge of the fort, with nowhere to go. I was worried about the wind getting all excited at that height, and of us toppling over..it was quite difficult to see the way ahead of us, and we couldn’t go back either..and no, we couldn’t jump of the wall either..one side of it was like 12-15 feet high, the other was like 2000 metres high. Neither was enticing. Luckily, there was a little stone cover behind us on the valley side, and that protected us from being toppled over, in case the wind grew that strong..so we decided to remain there, and we squatted, in a huddle, heads down, braving the gently pounding rain..

The rain god’s show lasted around 20 minutes where we did nothing but crouch, wait, and get wet. We had windcheaters on, but that wasn’t of much use up there..thankfully, there was no thunder and lightning as part of the package. When it was all over, we were very very wet…but it was a relief to know that it was over..atleast we could get off the wall now..we didn’t savour the thought of being caught yet again..

Our jeans were soaking wet, and weighing us down and we half thought of leaving the fort, beautiful and isolated as it was,..but Jana wanted us to see the lake too..yes..the place had a lake..this was where the little waterfalls came from..With the rain gone, the place looked renewed and greener than before. And then it started raining again..

We longed for some sun, but he never came..we climbed down the fort..coming down was dicier than going up..chances of slipping were higher and this time, we were tired..but we made it down without incident..We were in the mood for some hot tea but there were no tea shops in the area..there was a shop, and when we asked for tea, the good shopkeeper complied…nothing like steaming tea when you are soaked to the bone!

It was time to head back into civilization now and we wondered how we would get back..there weren’t many vehicles going that way..I thought that it would be cruel of our wet clothes to leave an impression in any car that stopped to give us a lift..but I was unnecessarily worrying..no one stopped.$#%#%^#ers!.

What finally stopped was another pickup..this time we got into the back. There were no seats and we had to stand inside..there was just enough space to stand straight..we had 4 villagers and 3 sacks of coal for company..the driver was Schumacher’s long lost brother..that was the way he drived, that too downhill. We were hanging on to whatever railings there were inside. Everytime there was a bend, our bodies would go in that direction, the only things holding us from falling over were our grips on the railings.

Half an hour and 60 bucks later, we were back amidst civilization..Teeming tourists, noisy cars, street side vendors..all a far cry from the rained out and isolated hill top where the only faces we saw were ours..I was to go along with Aparna and Jana to Mumbai, and return the next day. But we all had more than our share of adventure, we were all tired, and were not in the mood for anything more other than a warm bed..so I decided to head back to my den in Pune..

Moreover, I SO needed to get out of those wet jeans and squishy shoes!

The next weekend is also a two day affair..and yes, plans are open!!!Coming???

*knowledgable look - this is where you don’t gape all around you with your jaw dropping in wonder..you just put your hands in your pocket, look straight ahead, and keep walking straight..you can always backtrack and turn right once you make discrete enquiries about the way.

Is it just me????

2006-08-25T19:23:00.000+05:30

The security personnel, a gun that looks more like a relay baton in hand, scrutinizes my ticket… He looks at me and then back at my ticket..

It was the 20th of August. I was supposed to be in Pune on the 21st..a two month deputation to one of the better places to be in India. You bet I was looking forward to it..the flight (flights actually, there was no connecting flight), the airhostesses…the food, and most of all, the pretty sights in Pune..I had put in my travel request weeks before and the travel dept had given me my tickets..and all I had to do was sit and wait for the day of my journey..

When the 20th finally came, I was still not done packing. All I had to do was just throw in all the stuff into the bag..but it was very hard to decide whether I needed 5 shirts or 6..6 would have meant less washing..or wait..would that have meant more? And such other philosophical questions..my friend came over..he wanted to see me off, and then go off and catch a movie..I was to hand my keys over to him.. The flight was at 1.30 pm..i needed to be there atleast an hour earlier..so that meant, 12.30..and so I needed to get out atleast 11.30 to be on the safe side..but then, my friend had to catch his movie at 11.30..so I had to get out by 11..and that’s what I did.. we got into an auto (first we hauled all my luggage for abt 10minutes till we got to the auto)..i gave him my keys and dropped him en route..

I reached the airport by about 11.30 . I take my bags out of the auto and I pay that very convincing auto driver the whole of 120 bucks to drive me to the airport. He succeeded in convincing me why exactly I had to pay the double charge (or the return fare). He had kept saying , “educated people like you will understand”..i didn’t want to disagree. Anyway, I put all the bags onto a trolley and walk up to the security check.. and I give that slightly stocky security guy my ticket..he takes a look at it, then looks back at me, then looks back down on the ticket..

I wonder what’s wrong..

“Any problem?”
“Your ticket is for the 21st”
“Yes, so..?”

Have you ever made a painful moment of epiphany? This was mine..

He doesn’t reply immediately..he doesn’t have to..Realization suddenly dawns upon me..the ticket is for the 21st..today is the 20th..i was to travel tomorrow..I cant believe it..I knew that I was reckless, but this careless??!!!! I hadn’t even checked the ticket before coming all that way!!! Normally people check tickets the moment they get them..but oh no, not me! I kept it safe within the leaves of the Hunchback of Notre Dame, left it there for 2-3 weeks, and then open that book at the airport and give the ticket for examination!

People have queued up behind me, and I move aside and roll myself and my trolley over to the Jet airways counter..I wish the earth would swallow me..and my bags..The pretty lady at the counter smiles at me..I feel better already..

“You can travel today, but you will have to pay the difference.”
“that’s great..how much more should I pay?”
“Just a moment……………………………………………………..6000 Rupees”

A cup of coffee outside the airport costs 8 rupees..I sit there..sipping my cup..and pretending to read the Hunchback of Notre Dame..There is a dusky (and very pretty) young lady sitting a few rows ahead of me.I am sure she was charming too...every now and then she turns back to talk to her family..She’s got nice eyes too..I think she saw me stealing a glance at her..I bury myself in my book..

So there I was at the airport. About 24 hours early for my flight..I could nt go home coz my buddy was at the cinema and would be out only by 2..I read for a little while more..then the dark lady leaves with her family..her gait resembles a catwalk..5 minutes later, I cant stand it anymore..I hail the next auto..I decide to go and leave my luggage with my house owner downstairs..

The return trip cost me 80 bucks..and the auto trip the next morning cost me 100..this time though, the guard let me in..

In Pune now..more coming..and much sooner…

Shain

BLOCK THIS!

2006-07-19T17:48:00.000+05:30

Two days back, I was desperately trying to access my blog. Of course I wanted to see if the number of comments had gone up by atleast one. Of course, I was sadly wrong -it hadnt- but that is another story. But the page just wouldn't load..my generally obliging computer kept taking eons to take me to the page, u know that blue bar which shows you the page is about to come, and is usually like a blue flash, was worming along like a blue slug. And then it said, page not displayed..or some such unintelligible IT mumbo-jumbo..and i thought it was a problem with just my blog. But then, I realised that other blogspot blogs were blocked as well..I was aghast!

HAD OUR EVER VIGILANT AND CONSCIENTIOUS AND UPRIGHT NETWORK GUYS FINALLY GOTTEN AROUND TO BLOCKING BLOGSPOT AS WELL???????

That would have been fatal to my existence. I didnt want to believe that. So i tried accessing my blog through my dashboard. Surprise surprise! That worked! Accessing my dashboard that is. The blog still didnt display..

The next day at a browsing centre, and I still couldnt access my blog. I realised that other bloggers were facing the same problem.Then I did the brightest thing I could think of. I googled for " Blogspot blocked" ?And got around 700 results..turns out the Indian government has got all hyper after the bomb blasts and has turned up with this revolutionary idea of blocking blogs and thus block all terrorist activity..now isn't that the brightest thing the dodo's calling themselves the Government of India could think of. Or may be it wasnt the Govt of India, but it certainly was one of those Dodo's there...Well, Dodo , your idea is as timely as your species is. IT DOESNT WORK!!!!

Anyone who has a problem accessing their blogspot blogs can try pkblogs.com

And this is what I have to say to those who want to block blogs in the name of trying to check terrorist and other anti-national motives : Guys, your hearts are in the right place..but your brains seem to have taken a ride down the drain..quite literally!

TRY BLOCKING THIS!

Man-kind?

2006-07-12T11:02:00.000+05:30

Another black day in Mumbai and Kashmir yesterday. This is just another addition to the never ending list of black days that we've been seeing in different parts of the world. It never affects us..never - unless it takes away one of our own. I kept seeing those messages on the news channel yesterday..people anxious to tell their folks that they were ok. I wondered about those people who were unable to send any kind of message..ever again..

I dont want to ask why these 'terrorists' or 'freedom fighters', or whoever /whatever they are, do what they do. I dont want to ask them what they gain by proving that they can kill innocents. I dont want to condemn them as cowardly. I dont want them to lay their arms down and be like Gandhi, or to be more contemporary, to be like the exemplary Tibetans. And I dont want to appeal to them for mercy. They would never see this blog, and they would never listen.

There is a Sci fi short story..by the name " Houston, Houston, Do You Read?" by James Tiptree Jr. Three astronauts find themselves through a time warp and into the not so distant future. They are rescued by another spaceship 'manned' by women alone. They soon come to learn that there are no more men on Earth, and that women run the show..they clone and produce more women. There is no place for man, our three astronauts learn..

" They were good men," Lorimer repeats elegaically. He knows he is speaking for it all, for Dave's father, for Bud's manhood, for himself, for Cro-Magnon, for the dinosaurs too, maybe." I'm a man. By god yes, I'm angry. I have a right. We gave you all this, we made it all. We built you precious civilization and your knowledge and comfort and medicines and your dreams.All of it. We protected you, we worked our balls off keeping you and your kids. It was hard. It was a fight, a bloody fight all the way. We're tough. We had to be, cant you understand? Can't you for Christ's sake understand that? "
...

The lady says " Of course we enjoy your inventions and we do appreciate your evolutionary role. But you must see there's a problem. As i understand it, what you protected people from was largely other males, wasn't it?..But the fighting is long over. It ended when you did."

On days like yesterday, I wish that something like this really happened..that man would simply wither away..atleast the killing would end..

I am really pissed.

Shain

Impossible is Nothing

2006-07-01T10:36:00.000+05:30

Walk into your home at just about any time you please. As soon as you close the door (don’t have to bother really), you unbutton your shirt and drop it on the chair in the hall. Sit on the chair, remove your shoes and casually nudge them to a side..socks still on, you lounge a bit longer in your trousers..sit on the same chair and put your feet on the bed. The sole purpose of the bed is to serve your feet, and the newspapers, and the bag, and the mobile phone, and just about anything you decide to put on it. You certainly don’t sleep on it.

So there you sit in the evening (or night) reading the morning’s paper..you read the sports section as usual, and if you are reading the Sunday Indian Express, then you also read (more drool actually) the Reader’s ask section..and you run your sinful eyes over all the pictures on the page. You feel bored. You walk over to your music system in your bedroom and play your favourite CD. That’s a hard thing to do since all the CDs there are all your favourites..Music is playing. And then you remember that football is showing too. So you switch the TV on. The TV is conveniently placed right next to the music system. The remote lies where you left it, on the mattress on the floor. You walk over and plonk yourself there. FIFA is happening. You switch channels. A lazy cricket ground. Sanjay Manjrekar at his confused and ignorant best again. Switch again. FTV. This time you watch longer. But you switch channels again. AXN, HBO, Star Movies, you watch them all.

Time for dinner, or perhaps, time for a ride. You change into jeans, leave the trousers you were wearing on the same old chair, take your keys, and you are off on your bike. Where will you have dinner today? You are spoilt for choice. You take your time to decide. You’ve got all the time in the world.

It’s 10 PM now. You munch on snacks on the bed while you are watching TV. When you are done, you don’t bother to leave what’s left of it back in the kitchen. Leave it by the bed instead. Continue to watch TV. Switch it off if you want to. Lay your hands on a book. Any book. Read it for a while. Get bored. Put it aside. 11.30 PM. You have office the next day. Turn on the music system. Listen to Eric Clapton. Turn off the lights. Hope you dream.

Such are the joys of bachelorhood. Live how you want. Do what you please. Impossible is nothing.

Weird and weirder..

2006-06-16T19:59:00.000+05:30

Mac tagged me. Of all the things he could have tagged me on, it had to be on 6 Weird Things About Me. I thought it would be hard. Thought I wasnt that weird a guy. Turns out I am..but then again, that would depend on what you think qualifies as weird..This is my list...here they come...as they always say, in random order (wonder what random order means!)
1) I hate food that just sort of powders in your mouth. Not all at once like biscuits do, but in some viscous way..things like liver, the yolk of the boiled egg..it tastes so..GAWD..sick!
2) I am obsessed with what people will feel like when they die. Its not that I think about this all the time, but yes, at times I do think about how my body would feel if it ‘died’ in a certain way..like how would my head feel if it got run over.(I am sure you get the point by now).. this one is morbid..i know..
3) I feel very uncomfortable when I sleep over at someone else’s place..I need to sleep in my own bed (well..my own mattress really, considering neither I nor any of my friends at whose place I have slept have a ‘bed’*)
4) I am absolutely comfortable with silence. Period.
5) I am very easily impressed by most women. They just have to smile at me and there I go!
6) I don’t know how to describe this one – I spend close to two hours at a bookshop just browsing through the shelves and bracing myself against giving into temptation and buying a book. Just as I am about to leave, I walk briskly to a book that I had set my eyes on, and grab it off a shelf. I act the same whether I am at a music store, a garment store, a supermarket..hell..almost anywhere I am window shopping. What would you call this?

I would be failing in my sacred duty as a blogger if I didnt pass on this curse to another 6. And the six lucky ones are :

1) Aparna
2) Arjun ( u better post something soon..it's been a while..)
3) Reprobate ( he sure can come up with 60)
4) Sumo
5) Vikki
6) Whoever wants to take it up!!!!

Should be interesting you know..it helps u to..what is it that they say..yea..'discover yourself'!

Ciao..

Shain

Cardinal Numbers

2006-06-02T16:31:00.000+05:30

826 – Two years of hitherto unknown freedom. The freedom to get out of uniform, the freedom to answer the roll call and THEN to jump out of the same class, the freedom to laze around beneath the shade of a big banyan tree and gaze longingly and in vain at girls walking to their MA classes. In vain ‘coz they would never notice us ‘kids’ of the pre-degree course. The thrill of being chased (once in a car!) by our Reverend college principal whenever he saw us lazing around. 86 guys in class. No girls. Courses like Syriac that were literally Greek and Latin. Mundane physics lab sessions. Gingerly dissections of cockroaches and frogs. The unexpected discovery of a rather interesting book called ‘Venus in India’ in the library of my catholic college. Pre-degree in Physics, Chemistry and Bio. I was 826.

510 – From a batch of 86 to a class of 14. Classes that were no longer boring and tedious monotones of Thermodynamics and Organic Chemistry. Professors who acted out Othello and Oedipus Rex instead. Three years in this band of 14. Still all guys. Attending ‘camps’ wherever we could-some in the name of academics, others in the name of personality development..all with the common agenda of meeting fairer members of our kind. Meeting with some success. A crazy trip to Pollachi in Tamil Nadu to meet and interview Malayalam superman Mammooty. Eventually succeeding in doing that too. Combined study sessions on the eve of the exams in the hope of trying to remember what happened in class the past semester. Combined liquor sessions immediately after. Hours spent in the ‘language lab’ watching cable TV. A BA in Communicative English. I was 510.

223 – Across the Western Ghats and into the hot and dry city of Chennai. A room in a Hall ( it was not, as they told me, called a hostel). Not part of the main hall, an annexe rather.My first ‘mixed’ class. Not that it made much of a difference. Going off to the city to attend German classes (!) in the city with Phoenix in the hope of bettering our (atleast mine) fortunes. Finding some sort of consolation in the form of a sub-demi godess. Journalism classes spent chatting away with the professor himself. Going out to the city to ‘headbang’ at late night rock shows.. Scaling the walls of the hall to get in. My first experience with www. An email id called shine420@123india.com. Introductions to heavy rock, campus walks and water packets. A PG Diploma in Journalism and Mass Communication. I stayed in 223.

127 & 165 – Migration to the main block in the Hall. Two years of fabulous fun. Singing bass in the college choir. Making a lot of good friends. Some of them girls. Not that it still made a significant difference. 3 guys around one cigarette. Late night singing in the outdoor auditorium in the company of a guitar. Parties in the Hall Chairman’s balcony. Setting a whole bottle of Old Monk Rum on fire just to see it burn. Dunking and getting dunked and running away from getting dunked in the hall ‘pond’. Two rooms replete with posters from top to bottom. Replacing a couple of those posters on the occasion of Hall Day ( the only day when female guests were allowed in our rooms). Two years of class sitting next to the same girl. Two years of happiness. I stayed in 127 & 165.

+9198’s – The first job. One year in 4 cities. First forays into the big cities outside Chennai. First mobile phone. First many mobile numbers..the +9198’s. The pubs in B’lore, the phat-phats in Pune, the winter in Delhi and the locals in Mumbai. The girl who was in the next seat in college comes much closer than that. A long distance love affair. Sms’s, mails, cards and letters. A blissful night in a bus trip with her from Pune to Bangalore. A miserable night two months later at the B’lore railway station. A forlorn me watching her go off home – alone.

131 – Back in the old college at Chennai. Back in a familiar hall. In an unfamiliar role. The student becomes a teacher. First experiments with the blackboard. Trousers covered in chalkdust. Sitting on the table in a gallery like classroom trying to teach Bernard Shaw to 85 first-years – some brats, some angels, some somewhere in between. Sitting in the department beside my ex-professors. Getting an insider’s view of department politics. Old memories lurking around the classrooms. Faculty room – 131

145167 –A new job. A big Indian company. Corporate environment. Lots of people come and go. Some of them very pretty too. Yet again, it makes no difference. Some people stay on and become good friends. Trips to Coonoor, Ooty, Bekal, and the odd trip to Chennai and Blore to meet old friends. The ghost of an old flame making the odd guest appearance. A new look. A weird beard. Everyman's Diary. This is me. For now.

Oil's Well...oh well...

2006-05-20T14:24:00.000+05:30

I had always wanted to have a massage. It had been on my ‘Things to do atleast once in my life’ wishlist for about the past 5 years. Tourist brochures showing lazy foreigners being given the royal treatment by Indian masseurs in idyllic locations would always scream out for my attention. Another source of temptation was movies. They always show the villains being massaged into ecstasy by some moll or doll. I wasn’t tempted by the villain part, but the offer of having a couple of beautiful women run their hands over you was enough to agree to even play the part of a villain (of course, even THAT doesn’t come my way..yet another of the tragedies of my life!). So when I made it to Varkala for my short ‘break’, a massage was right there on top of my list. And unlike numerous other instances in the past, this time, I managed to achieve an objective.

But then, where’s the ordinariness of it all if things go just as you want them to?

Somewhere in the deep dark corners of my mind, I had a picture of a masseuse. Oriental, extremely beautiful, gentle hands, and err..a host of other features. That was my vision. Reality sucked. Not the massage, mind you..that was definitely good..the person doing it though, could have done with quite a few changes-starting with gender.

The masseur was a man dressed in white. Sort of looked like a male nurse. He led me into a room which had a wooden bed-like structure. He asked me to undress and handed me a ..well..i don’t know how to describe the cloth that he gave me..it looked like something out of God’s Must Be Crazy..if you remember how the tribals were dressed in that..Let me just say that once I actually managed to ‘wear’ it, there wasn’t much left to imagination.

This Ayurvedic (Swedish was not an option) massage was something called ‘Abhyangam’. There was a lot of oil doing the rounds on my body. Right from the head down to the soles of my feet. And, to complete the atmosphere of relaxation, there was soft Indian classical music playing in the background. The massage in itself was very clinical. Not harsh, not rough, yet very clinical. He would do my left hand and then my right. Then my left leg, then my right. His hands would go clockwise, then anti clockwise. All very calculated. The massage done, he led an oil covered me to the steam bath and left me there for close to 10 minutes. I’d never previously seen sweat creeping out of my skin and dripping down. I saw it then. The grand finale was a disappointingly ordinary shower to get rid of all the oil that remained.

One hour and about 1600 bucks later, I came out of the Ayurvedic Massage Centre at Taj Garden Retreat, Varkala. My body was feeling great ( I’d like to think so after having spent so much of money!) my wallet was feeling not so great. I mentally struck out one item off my wishlist. A filmi version of the massage though, someday, would be just great…

Shain

My Conversations with a Bellboy

2006-05-06T17:51:00.000+05:30

Checked in one fine morning at the Taj Varkala for what was going to be a rather interesting 2 day vacation. My cousin was to join me later that day. I had just a small satchel with me and I didn’t mind carrying that. But the bellboy would have none of that. I didn’t want to disappoint him. He opens the door to my room and gracefully ushers me in.

“Your room, sir”
“ Thank you”
(He walks across the room to the other side and reveals an exit to the garden)
“You have a door to the garden on that side sir”
“Oh yes..thanks..”
(He points to the television on a table)
“You have a color television on the table sir”
“Aah..yes..thanks” (yet again)
“ Is there anything else sir?”
“ No, that will be all..thanks..”

He smiles and makes his exit. I wonder why he was pointing out things that I could already see. I was just about to close the door when he came in again..

“The bathroom is to the left sir.”
“Ok..I can see that.”
“The mini-bar is beside the bed.”
“Err..thanks.”
“Your TV remote is on the table, sir”
“Thanks.”
“Is there anything else sir?”
“Err, no” I reply..a bit more emphatically..

I politely close the door after he leaves.

Analyse that!

Watch This Space...

2006-05-04T17:46:00.000+05:30

Take a look at the bottom few lines...I have more to say on this picture and the place where i found this....but for want of time, it will have to wait..I absolutely promise not to make you wait beyond tomorrow...(and yes..i know that tomorrow is relative to when you read this :-D )

See ya around people..

Shain

In other news : Life is going on just fine...a bump here, a dip there, but yes..just about fine...

The Great American Movie

2006-04-17T16:55:00.000+05:30

The year is 2076. The world is an abysmal place to live in. Poverty, street fights, crime and filth reign supreme. It is raining. A white male, well into his 50’s, marches in to the scene. He literally marches. He’s dressed in a Harley Davidson –style biker’s outfit. Only, the glasses, the ear studs and the long hair is missing. And so is the beer belly. Our man has closely cropped white hair, no earrings, and is tall and well built..With every step he takes, we can hear the voices of a chorus of men going “Ho! Ho!, Ho! Ho!” not the way Santa goes, but rather the way the background score in our Hindi movies go when they introduce the villain. This is no ordinary villain though..this old man is a cyborg. Yes..he is not your next door villain, oh no he isn’t. He is a lean, mean killing machine- quite literally.

The old cyborg goes marching to a wall panel..Does the mandatory retinal scan and voice recognition routine. And then he shows you the finger (since this is not an A rated movie, it isn’t the middle finger). He’s extending his index finger. Out the tip of his index finger comes a thin metal rod. He inserts this rod into the panel, gets some info, and is on his way…

Cut to a basement laboratory. A team of scientists in (what else) white uniforms are busy loading a foetus into a knapsack. Yes..these are troubled times. What we are witnessing is a valiant effort by mankind to preserve the last human foetus. America has become infertile and it is upto our heroine to transport this foetus, her foetus, to the safer and healthier shores of Europe. And the cyborg is all out to stop her from doing that. To cut an interesting story a little short, the cyborg kills all of our heroine’s team members, except the heroine herself. She manages to escape only to land in between some low lying scum of the earth who want to do bad things to her. “What’s in that bag, sweetheart?” goes one of the meanies who is dressed in spandex drag. We are desperately worried about the chastity of our heroine and , worse still, the future of that helpless foetus in a bottle. Just as they snatch the bag from her and are about to lay their dirty hands on her, we hear a booming, manly voice, “Leave her alone!”. Long hair, blue eyes, well built and young –yep..he is the hero we’ve been waiting for. A few karate kicks and American punches later, he drives the bad guys away. Our heroine is impressed and asks him to guide her to the seafront where she has to meet her European friends. He disagrees at first, but after she bribes him with some tablets(!), he agrees. So of the two take off, and, accompanied by the Ho Ho’s, our old cyborg takes off after them.

There are numerous confrontations between our hero and the old cyborg. Guns are of no use against the villain. So our hero uses his wooden staff. He impales him , he drops a huge ton of something on him, but every time our pair makes their escape, this guy gets up, dusts himself, and follows them. In one of the fight scenes, our hero has almost vanquished the villain. The cyborg is dangling from the edge of a pit and has a vice like grip on the hero’s arm. He refuses to let go. And we see the hero’s arm extending! Yes! It’s extending. His arm comes off and along with that, the cyborg goes hurtling down that pit to his doom! The hero is in excruciating pain. He looks at his arm, or rather, at the stump that was his arm, and what does he see? He sees wires and dying sparks! In a moment of epiphany, he realizes that he too, is a cyborg! Our heroine is horrified. “You betrayed my trust! You are one of THEM!” she screams and runs away from the scene. Our hero, who was in love with her, tries to tell her that he never knew that he was a cyborg. But before he can say “STOP!”, she is gone. He looks around and he finds the villain’s amputated arm( he managed to cut that off somehow). He looks around again, and he also finds some needle and thread. He sews on that arm to his shoulder. He is ready to move again..with his new-improved arm.

We are almost at the end. Our beautiful ( I’d forgotten to mention that) heroine has made it to the beach. Suddenly she hears the Ho! Ho! And she turns around. Our villain was still alive. And he has got two arms too! Looks like two can play that game Mr. Hero! Ha! He runs after the heroine, snatches her bag from her, and throws the foetus in the bottle into the sea! “My BABY!!!!” our heroine wails. He is just about to kill her, when our hero jumps on top of him and engages him in a fight to the finish. Our hero cyborg is now wiser. So this time, he finishes him off with explosives. The villain is obviously no T 2000. He can’t regroup. The boat arrives, and the heroine, who has managed to retrieve the foetus from troubled waters, has safely placed the foetus in the incubator. Mankind is now safe!

“Join me in Europe, Jason! We can start a new life there ( you bet you can do that with a cyborg!) She says..
“No, you’ve got your work cut out for you, I’ve got mine. I know the “system”. I can help the people here to fight” he replies..

They kiss. Our cyborg knows how to do the perfect French version..And our heroine has not been electrocuted by any stray wires in his mouth. She gets into the boat, the boat takes off into the sunset and our man (cyborg, really) stands stoically watching them before he walks off in the opposite direction-back into the hell that he came from…

This amazing movie, people, is American Cyborg Steel Warrior. I had the good fortune of watching it thanks to my very close buddy Jimmy. I thought such great entertainers were made only in India. But looks like I was wrong in my assumptions.Hollywood is close behind..very close.

Orange Crush

2006-03-29T15:38:00.000+05:30

I have fallen in love. This entry was not meant to be about her. I was going to write about something else. But then I visited Phoenix's blog, and whatever was, no longer was. My mind has been usurped by Ziyi Zhang. I don't even know how to pronounce her name right, but I am sure that it sounds as lovely as she does. I don't know what is it in this snap that has me stuck on her. Those small oriental eyes, those high cheekbones, that silky black hair, those kissable lips, or is it the combined efforts of all of these and perhaps something above and beyond. She looks a little elfish here, with that ear looking pointed and jutting out.

This is, in all probability, nothing more than a fleeting few moments of hopeless schoolboyish infatuation. But heck, I thought that this deserved recording - that today, at 10 AM thereabouts, Shain's world stood still.

*sigh*

When Death Becomes You

2006-03-24T16:14:00.000+05:30

Call me morbid, but of late Death has been on and off my mind. No, I haven’t been having any suicidal tendencies. Suicide is something that I probably will never be able to bring myself to do..think of the options you’ve got : throw yourself down a building or a bridge, electrocute yourself, set yourself on fire..brrr..that’s a lot of scary stuff. Would never be able to do any of that. So it’s not that I’ve been harbouring thoughts of my departure from this funny but nice place that we call Earth. It’s just that I’ve been thinking…

I suppose it started sometime early this month with the death of a guy I knew. He died in a bike accident. Was killed on the spot. And as is usual when we hear of anyone’s death, I was shocked. Too early, too unexpected and other usual thoughts…and then I thought that people who die never really get to say goodbye. At least those who leave us without any prior notice. They never get to say things that they probably would have wanted to say before leaving. I know that we all get these awful forwards which go something on the lines of “If you love somebody tell him/her..blah blah..” but hell, we never get the chance to think of last words. Unless of course you are a hero in an Indian movie, in which case you might even get the entire second half of the movie to do and say all your stuff. So I’ve been wondering about what I’d like my last few lines to be..something like Everyman’s final message or something..What would I say? Well I donno for sure, but about 4-5 girls who have ABSOLUTELY no memory of me would get to know that I had a crush on them. Then of course I would think of something on the lines of “I’d like to thank Mom and Dad, my family, and all you lovely people out there” (throw in a black tux and a golden statuette and I’d finally be at the Oscars). Oh yes, a final message would be an interesting thought. What do you say when you finally leave this world behind?

Another weird thought that struck my mind recently was the concept of a Happy Deathday. Of course, this would not be an annual event (wait..perhaps ghosts have this event in their err..life calendar). For us mortals, it would be a once-in-a-lifetime event. Quite literally. This would be the day that you’re going to die. And you know it. You are surrounded by family, friends, dog, well wishers, and preferably, you are not in much pain. Perhaps feeling a tad uncomfortable, but you definitely would not want to be bleeding or hurting too much. You perhaps get a lifetime achievement award from somebody..doesn’t matter who. Your people could perhaps even think of screening a pic starring YOU! And you get to watch your whole life go by you once again (yes just like in the movies). If you are fit to eat ( I mean, you doing the eating) then you get your fave dish as your last meal. Have a last (or first, as the case may be) drink, and your last smoke, and then, finally, you are good to go. And late at night you get to get into your bed one last time and then go off peacefully into the night. Of course, all this is assuming that you would know when you are about to die and that you would die peacefully in your sleep. Doesn’t ever really happen this way though.

We lose people we love, like, ( or never really hated) all the time. And it makes us feel awful. Wonder why we really feel that way. Are we sad for them or for us ? Or for both of us? Why can’t we see it as a natural outcome of life and live on..perhaps if death didn’t always pain so much, it would’ve been a much easier pill to swallow. Lol!

Shain

On Days Like These....

2006-03-09T12:13:00.000+05:30

Over the past few days, I have been feeling increasingly powerless. I do agree that I am just a speck of sand in the otherwise slightly larger scheme of things, but that does not do wonders for my confidence. Things that might have been now never will..or that’s how some of them seem.

For one, I’ve been trying, and very unsuccessfully at that, to wake up at 6 AM. Now if you are one of those who’ve been with me for a while now, this would not be news for you – that I’ve been trying. Sadly for me, it still remains in the ‘trying’ stage. I’ve not yet got around to successfully doing it. Today my alarm was set for 6 AM. I woke up at every 15 minute interval. I finally left my magnetic bed at 7 05 AM. My bed is no king sized bed. It is just a thin mattress on the floor. I can understand wanting to stay in bed if there is a good enough reason* But I find myself extending my bedtime for no good reason at all! What’s worse is that unless I wake up early enough, I can’t go jogging..that brings me to grouse number two : I haven’t been going jogging for about a year now. Forget jogging, I have not been doing pretty much exercise except for typing! And those muscles don’t count for much when it comes to physical fitness. Grouse number three: Smoking. Will not comment on this subject any further.

It’s not that I have lost all hope of salvation. May be there are some things in life that are not meant to be. But in their place, other things are. And then there are things which can be, but you’ve got to keep trying. You might fail just about every time you try but hey, you got to keep trying. What else have you got to do otherwise?

Tonight, I am going to set my alarm for 5.45 AM. Let’s see…It’s not a perfect Universe, that I agree. But then, neither am I. Nor are any of you for that matter. Lol!

Ciao people!

Shain

*Good enough reason =) Read “particularly tempting circumstances” ..this can be highly subjective and can vary person to person: From, for instance, an extra body in the same bed, to an extra pillow.

In other news:

Turned 27 some time late in Feb. Got some gifts for a change..hehe..Bought a handful of books..still to even start reading some of them. The TV is still a major temptation ( when your life comes to a stage where TV becomes a 'temptation', you know that something's really not right!). The threat of bird flu is still looming large in this part of the country..so my diet has been pretty vegetarian. And yes, almost ran over a dodo of a woman who was crossing the road. No, I was not jogging.

PS: A small request people..please comment at Blogger itself..Haloscan, the place where u've been commenting all this while, has this annoying habit of swallowing up your old comments...don't want to lose any of them from now on..

Check - Mate

2006-02-22T04:11:00.000+05:30

Here I was, for wont of a theme, and Rapunzel tagged me! I have been asked to perform a most painful task people. She asks me to list down 8 qualities that I would want in my perfect lover. That should not be a hard task you'd say. But then, you take a look at the number 8 and you think again. Just 8????What is this??? Some kinda game????????!! After all, a guy has needs!! ( errm..and so do women!) So here I have been, staring into vacant space ever since Rapz tagged me, thinking about how on earth would I shortlist 8! I wouldnt have been able to shortlist 80! And here goes:
(i've forgotten something..ah yes!) I am also supposed to declare the gender of my perfect lover so that comes next :

DEFINITELY FEMALE!!!

And now that we have that cleared, here is my 8 point wishlist for Her (in random order :-D):

1) Should be ...(boy! this is difficult!)...AWRIGHT! SHE SHOULD BE GOODLOOKING!!! phew..now that wasn't so hard.

2) Should be unmarried ( inspite of all the added qualifications that married women seem to have, I will have to pass them over).
3) Should have plenty of money.
4) Should be willing to spend it on me.
5) Should have a place of her own.
6) SHOULD have a sense of humour.
7) Should be (as of now) between 24-27.
8) Last but not the least.....should have a smile worth living for.

There's the lot..it took a little bit of effort though..but its done..Wait a minute!! Is lover = future life partner??????!!!

This calls for some cut, copy and paste…or may be just a few modifications…

1) stays the same..especially when you’re talking about someone you are going to wake up next to for the rest of your life!
2) Should be able to cook what I can eat, and, equally importantly, should be able to eat what I CAN cook ( as of now, noodles)
3) Should be the only daughter..we don’t want petty squabbles over who gets what now, do we?
4) Should fulfill conditions 6, 7 and 8 from the list above (pretty smart move huh?).
5) Should be a good singer.
6) Should know to play the guitar (something I will never be able to achieve!)
7) Should be very accommodating (of me!).
8) Should be head over heels in love with me.

Ok. Now, I really AM done. That was the checklist for an ideal lover/life partner. But hey, my life has been far from ideal and I don’t really want it to be ideal either…so, as long as the gender criteria is met ( refer to the two BIG, BOLD words above list no. 1 ) , and conditions 1 and 8 from list no. 2 are fulfilled, I would be a reasonably happy man.

It would be good though if Nos. 2 and 3, then perhaps 4, and possibly 5 with 6 to go along…hell…here I go again…

Am supposed to tag 8 other unfortunate souls here..so here goes..i donno if I have eight though..Arjun, Aparna, Seema, Claytonia, The Reprobate, Dreamz...i guess i've run out of regular readers who blog! so whoever comes by here, feel free to put ur wishlist down in my comments box..( I promise to keep an eye out..)

Cheers!

Shain

Been there, done that..

2006-02-15T17:18:00.000+05:30

I never thought that I would see the inside of an operation theater. At least, I never thought that I would see it this early in life ( 27 is still early in life you know) . Unfortunately for me, the trend of things unexpected and unyearned for happening to me with unflinching regularity continues. There are quite a few things that I look forward to in life and they, with the same miserable regularity, never even look in the direction of my universe. So, see the inside of an operation theater I did! And what’s more, I even got to lie on the operating table! And surprise!! Surprise!! I was operated upon!!!

Ok..perhaps I sound a bit too excited..it was not all that exciting really..the whole thing took just around 10 mins.

Genesis : One fine day in November, I was doing the usual thing in front of a mirror ( I said ‘USUAL’) – I was staring at the reflection of my face..and out of nowhere, something that looked like a pimple was found occupying centrestage on my forehead. Bang in the middle. Funny, I thought..that wasn’t there the previous day. Rather, I hadn’t noticed it the previous day. Wonder how long it had been squatting there. It didn’t really look like a pimple..it looked more like an insect bite. It would probably go off in a few days….. I thought.

And days became months. I grew rather used to the swelling on my forehead. It didn’t pain. It was just there. Every now and then I would try and push it down in the foolish hope that it would disappear into my forehead. I also tried using my finger nail on it. But it remained where it was..the centre of attraction..

This past Saturday, I finally made it to the doctor of the hospital in my home town. “Sebaceous cyst” came the expert opinion. He told me that it was some kind of oil accumulation which my skin wasn’t in a mood to let out. So…can we have it removed? I ask. Sure, he says. When? I ask. I wondered if he could just suck it out with some syringe like thing. Not now, he says. You could come over to the Operation Theater in the afternoon and we could get it done then. Just like that? Yea..just like that.

The way he said it, it sounded as though I was to walk into a grocery store, buy yet another pack of noodles, and walk out. So it was that at around 2 PM on Saturday, I finally saw the inside of an operating theatre. No urgent shouts, no nurses running helter skelter, just abt 3-4 people in the room. There was a nurse, but I didn’t get enough time to ‘check her out’. I was asked to lie on the table. When I looked up, I could see the bulbs..looked like 3 or 4 headlights tied together.

Then all went dark around me. No, I didn’t pass out, nor did I pass away. They had just put a cloth over my face..with a small hole in the cloth through which they could get to the cyst. The only part of the whole procedure which pained was when they administered the anaesthetic. Felt like a big mosquito with a metallic proboscis poking into me 4 times. Then onwards it was all smooth operating. The doc and I even had a casual chat, the green cloth on my face notwithstanding, he was quite relaxed about the whole thing. I too hardly felt anything..well..i had been anaesthetized after all.

A few minutes later, the cloth came off my face, and I saw bright lights again. I was alive! The doctor showed me what he had scooped out of my forehead. It looked quite harmless and silly really. Looked like a very small ball of fat. For half a second, I thought of taking it home as a souvenir..then sanity and good taste prevailed. I left it there…

Walked out of the hospital with a rather loud bandage across my forehead. The bandage is gone now..Five stitches remain…And I’ve lost count of the times colleagues have asked, “What happened to your head? Did you fall down? Did you get hurt? Did you…”

Life has become faster I guess..and there is a lot to show for it..but a walk in operation almost takes the cake.

Ciao.

Shain

On the wrong track...

2006-02-03T18:19:00.000+05:30

I was rather starting to like the evening on Jan 25th. This was why (in random order):
1)The next day was my friend's wedding.
2)I had managed to leave office early enough to catch the 5 PM train home.
3) I actually reached the station in time.
4) The whole journey was gonna take me one hour and 40 bucks less than it took usually took me

AND hell, I was not feeling bored!

The train wasnt very crowded, though I was still standing. Had a book to give me company -yes..I agree that having only a book for company and that too always-is not saying much about my social life. Anyway, fact is, that I was pretty much occupied with Jeffrey Archer's 'Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less'. The train was moving along pretty fast and going at that rate, I would be home by 8 o'clock. Visions of steaming chicken curry and fish fry smiled at me from the pages of Archer's book.. Mmmm..

It was seven when the train reached Kayamkulam station. Two more stations and I would be home..the chicken started appearing more frequently. One hour passed me by, and I was done with the book. I shut it and was just looking out when we reached the first station. I looked at the board and it read Allepey. The name was jarring on my senses. It was not supposed to be there..Allepey I mean..uhmm..well..you could rather say that I was not supposed to be there. I had caught the wrong train...But no, I dint panic. I casually walked out as though getting on the wrong train at 5 pm was the most natural thing in the world. This was just a minor setback. I would go to the bus terminus and catch a bus home from there. It was 8 PM.

A short auto ride from the railway station to the bus terminus cost me 30 bucks. And an agonisingly vibrating ride.

10 PM saw me home. I was not too displeased. The trip cost me 50 bucks more than a usual trip did..And I spent 5 hours travelling instead of the normal 4, but the chicken curry and fish fry were now a reality ..

*SLURP*

Time Out!

2006-01-16T21:46:00.000+05:30

I thought life in Trivandrum would be slow..I thought that time would, for once stand still..or atleast, that it would not fly on a winged chariot and that it would drag its way past me..

I couldnt have been more mistaken (err..well..u never know abt that though..u can always be more mistaken)
What I am tryin to say is..time flies even in Trivandrum. Yes it does..atleast thats how I've been feeling ever since 2006 entered the scene. Think of it, I am actually at a browsing centre keying this in..no time at work to stand and stare. No time to blog..not to talk about blog hopping..It's just been work, work and some more work..and work too doesnt show any signs of getting bored with my desk. It shares genes with Ravana's head(s)..keeps reappearing at a steady rate whenever i think i have done away with some amount of it..

New Years was great..spent 2 days in the northernmost district of Kerala..Kasargod..you can catch a snap or two at Shain's World . Dint do much..except for a couple of trips to forts, and one helluva heavenly ride through the backwaters..went all the way till the point where the sea met the backwaters..or rather, became the backwaters..

One funny thing about the place, Kasargod, though..say you feel hungry in the morning and you wanna have some breakfast..if you are the average south indian, you'd say idlis, dosas and the rest of their species..but if you are from kasargod, you are more likely to say Chicken Biriyani..even at 10 in the morning..anytime you go, you get Chicken Biriyani, even there is nothing else in the hotel..

Shain

In other developments in Trivandrum, I managed to bring my 14" tv to my house here..have already set it up (ok so it doesnt take much to 'set up') and i also managed to treat that pack of noodles (read earlier post) with the respect that it deserved. I cooked it. I've also taken a firm resolve to wake up at 5.45 in the morning now onwards. It still remains a resolve..atleast that part of it is firm..

On What Could Have Been Cooking...

2005-12-24T18:47:00.000+05:30

Tired of going to the same old place in Trivandrum, and even tireder(they should hv a word like that somewhere!!makes more sense) of having the same masala dosa for dinner, I thought I'd cook my own dinner for a change..No, i had not gotten the idea of being a self-reliant all of a sudden, and no, I wasnt about to charm any woman with cooking dinner for her too..If anything, I'd have killed someone with my own cooking..there was just one slight tempting reason, I had no one to eat dinner with..J,my friend, colleague, and flat mate, had gone home for the weekend, and I had the place all to myself, and nothing in particular to do..so i thought I might as well do some cooking..

So, went with Appu to Foodworld. And laid my hands on the easiest thing to cook up..2 minute maggi noodles (funny, it always tends to take more than 2 mins to get that done). Of course there was the usual dilemma of whether to buy Noodles or macaroni or Maggi noodles or Top Ramen snoodles or something of that same species..I finally opted for Maggis..the next thing was some ketchup...looked for a small satchet,couldnt find it (wasn't available)and then I had to settle for a 10 Rupee pack that looked more like a toothpaste container ( wonder what it would feel like, to brush your teeth with tomato ketch-up..mmmm)..Appu suggested eggs,but Foodworld wasnt selling loose eggs ( not wanton eggs you know..i mean, you couldn't buy just one egg..)so eggs were out..

Was home in a jiffy after that..changed my clothes, turned on the music, turned the kitchen lights on, and rubbed my hands together in professional preparation. The first question i had to ponder over was how much water to boil..

May be this is where I make a confession :

I dont exactly cook all that often..err..I should modify that, the only time I tried to cook on my own, I burnt half the rice..

So, the water...I read the pack and it said 250 ml..now that was easy..or perhaps not so easy..but then it also offered a tip..it said two tea cups of water..but then, I had no tea cup either..so it was back to square one..made a random estimate and then filled up a container with some water..put in onto the stove..

Next was the most important part..turning the gas on..I gingerly reached for the lighter..it was one of those long pointed things that looked more like a ..err..cross between an ink filler and a pipe(bad comparison, i know..but hey, you know what I am talking about..so there!)..I turned the knob on the stove, and pressed the lighter's button..........

no fire.

pressed it again, same result. Now i must admit that I am a tad scared of dealing with fire that is any bigger than what comes out of a matchstick or a cigarette lighter..well not scared exactly, but i've been seein too many movies where people get roasted in the kithcen! so I wasnt exactly very comfortable on not seeing fire when i pressed the lighter..so i went a bit closer and tried to smell out any gas..my nose dint get no smell..i turned the knob off, and then turned it on again..pressed the lighter, no fire again..hell!it was almost 10 pm now..i had been standing in front of the stove, with about 250 ml of ready to be boiled water, for about 20 mins now..still no sign of what Prometheus brought mankind..

Half an hour later, a humbled and more worldly wise me was seen eating a masala dosa at a nearby rundown restaurant.

1 hour later, as I was wondering what probably went wrong, J called up..asked me what I'd been upto, and other pleasanteries, but I was dying to ask him sthin else.

Me : J, what's wrong with the gas
J: Why, nothing I guess..
Me: Err, is the gas over then?
J:nope
Me: Errmm..duh...how do you turn the fire on?
J: You got to turn the gas regulator knob on, and..
Me:the gas what?
J:the regulator..on the gas cylinder..
ME:Oooooo( in sagely understanding)

I'd forgotten all about the regulator. How wise of me! I'd hv made a great cook otherwise!

Shain

PS: Tis the season to be jolly people..so my cooking woes apart,
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!HOHOHOHOHOHO!!!

Hehe

2005-12-14T10:36:00.000+05:30

From His Own Country

2005-12-08T16:21:00.000+05:30

Monday came and went before I knew it and it’s two weeks past already. Not only is it two weeks already, it’s a new place and a new office environment too!! Yes people I have shifted base-yet again. This time it’s further south-as south in India as you can preferably be- Trivandrum-more complicatedly known as Thiruvananthapuram.

The place is even slower compared to the slow place I came from, but it has its plusses
1) Auto drivers still go by the meter charge
2) No traffic snarls. So it takes you only half an hour to cover 10 kms-not 2 hours.
3) We have ONE Pizza Corner, ONE coffee pub (okie 2-3) , and ONE not too bad pastries/burgers/ what not shop.
4) We also have one Nike and Reebok showroom ( am yet to make a purchase there though…on the other hand, who ever buys anything from there..you just go there and drool at what you could have worn if your wallet was ever heavier..)
5) And..it’s quiet at night..

Still, it’s slow….or is the word ‘monotonous’ more appropriate..all evenings have been similar so far- we start from the office at around 6 pm and end up at the same old vegetarian restaurant at around 9. We reach home by around 10.

Of late though, Musafir and I have taken to playing badminton. It started off as a desperate attempt to attempt to make it past the first round of a competition we had at office. Needless to say, the attempt was in vain. Like the great philosopher said, it was like chasing the wind..we ended up losing quite fast..but that made us take up badminton more regularly..there’s a club nearby and we’ve been going there regularly for the past few days now..in fact, we thinking of taking a membership there. Hidden agenda: atleast next year, we should be able to make it past the next round. And we are not doing all that bad too..yesterday, we managed to meet and beat a hapless team of two. We kept beating them and they kept asking us to play yet another game. In the end we beat them three times in a row! (okie..so THREE isn’t exactly a big number. But considering the number of losses we had before that, it IS.)

Dinner is at the same veg restaurant as earlier. And the menu is usually the same. You cant hope for too much variety when you are dealing in dosas and idlis..and I am trying to keep off meat till Christmas. Hope I stay faithful to PETA.

It’s been a case of so far so good…the bird scene doesn’t look too promising and that’s a bummer..but then like Shakespeare said…Ah! what the hell!..forget it (no that wasn’t Shakespeare, that was me..authentic Everyman)

Shain

2005-11-25T18:11:00.000+05:30

Day Two

The morning was cold enough to make anyone wanna stay in bed..but as there was no more pressing reason to stay in bed than the warmth of a blanket, I found myself awake by 7 itself. Went over to my friends’ room and knocked. No response. I knocked again. No response still. I looked up at the room number. It was the wrong room.

Not a very good start to the day you’d say. You would have said rightly too. But that one inconspicuous event apart, the rest of the day went quite well. Helga an I wanted to go for a walk. Maria was slightly reluctant..she has quite an affinity towards stayin in bed on a cold winter morning..but we dragged her out all the same. Plans were on for Coonoor and the Ooty lake. We decided to go to Coonoor in the morning and be back in time for going to the lake in the evening..

Now I’d gone to Coonoor once before with Musafir and I knew the place a little. So we landed up at the very same place where I’d gone before..Smart of me, wasn’t it? Hehehe..But it wasn’t all that bad..Had a long, but pleasant walk to Highfield Tea Estate..nothing much had changed in the last few months since I’d been there- they were still cultivating tea. Helga went gaga over the golf course that lay at the foot of the tea plantation. There was a tea factory and we made our way towards it. Right outside the factory there was a sales outlet where they were selling medicinal oils, herbs and tea leaves. There were some very interesting medicines too..ointments, for hair growth, for hair loss, for weight loss, weight gain, for piles, heck there was something for everything!! It was every hypochondriac’s dream…

Had a short educational trip to the tea factory..the education cost us 5 Rs each..but was worth it..cant say I can create tea powder outa tea leaves though…

We then went for a walk through the tea plantation..After 15 mins of walking through a lil bit of slush, a lil bit of potential snake breeding ground..and plenty of tea plants (Helga insists it be called a tree) we finally reached somewhere..

“Where have you brought us?” they asked
“Nowhere in particular..this is just a nice place to sit..”

I almost got kicked..thankfully, after that long walk, neither of them were charged enough to do that.

It was around 4 by the time we returned to Ooty…In between Maria went missing in action – read ‘searching for an ATM’..went in for a very late lunch and by the time we reached the lake, it was already dark.

There were horse rides on offer at the lake and Helga wanted to go horsing around right then, but Maria, sanity and I prevailed on her. It was too dark and it made no sense to go galloping away into the night ..atleast not yet..so we promised the guys that Helga would return the next day.

The rest of the day, or what remained of it, was spent shopping for chocolates and hunting for wine. Dint get the latter and got a lot of the former. Had such a lot of chocolates for samples that my taste buds went rather numb. I spied a pub rather aptly named Bacchus..wanted to go in too..and we did that too..only to come out rather soon…they weren’t serving any Breezers (which Maria and Helgs were rather too insistent upon:-( ) and I wasn’t fancying drinking alone either!

What happened when we reached our rooms would sound rather scandalous to my mom. I was in a room with these two ladies and the lights were off!

We were just talking…

I SWEAR!!!!!

Day 3 would have to wait till Monday..

Shain

Holidays Were Here Again....

2005-11-22T21:39:00.000+05:30

There is a time for everything (this is NOT my quote..the Bible says so)..There’s a time to laugh and a time to cry. There’s a time to smile and frown. There’s a time to blog and then there’s a time to slog (This one is original!!!!)..and once in every while, there’s a time to holiday too..The last two days have been just that – a getaway from it all types holiday..

I’ve had this strange habit of being in certain cities and not going to must-see places..I was at Delhi and didn’t make it to the Taj, I was at Mumbai and I didn’t make it to Khandala, I was in Bangalore and I haven’t been to more than a couple of pubs, I BELONG to Kerala and I haven’t been to most of the places there, and I’d been in Coimbatore for more than a year and I hadn’t been to Ooty..well, I’d not been there before last Saturday. And I had two charming blogland friends, Maria & Helga for company…

Day One – November 19, 2005 – 3 PM thereabouts.

Budget tourism was the name of the game so the first leg of our journey to the hills started at the Coimbatore bus stand. It cost us 30 bucks for a 5 min auto trip through a dull but noisy city road to the bus stand. And it took us just around 90 bucks for a 4 hour climb up the Queen of the Hills. Doesn’t say much about my negotiation skills with auto drivers now, does it?? (You don’t have to really answer that…) The journey was interesting alright..Maria seemed to have lost her mobile for a while and we tried to locate it by calling her number..the phone was ringing, but it sure wasn’t easy to find…Eventually we had a couple of rows of people helping out to fish the mobile out from beneath the seat. I had the same old luck with people sharing my seat. This time it was a guy who looked quite doped out. He was asleep and as usual almost dropping onto my shoulder every now and then. Surprisingly, he too woke up during the cell phone incident and offered expert advice. My friends found an old lady sharing their seat. She was old alright, but she was yapping away to glory..I didn’t understand a thing of what she said though..It didn’t matter anyway-she wasn’t talking to me. But what caught me eye more was the tattoo on her forearm. No it wasn’t a snake or a dragon..it was just a tamil word. It caught my eye more than once all the same..

Climbing up the hill on a State Transport Bus is guaranteed to put you in St. Peter’s evil doers list. The bus sounded so in pain! It was grumbling, moaning and groaning all the way up till Ooty!! Every now and then the bus driver would look out the window to glare at an apparently careless driver coming on the way down, but he was relentless in his goading of his old green warrior (a slight exaggeration..J) ..And what sights from out of the window. I’ve seen drops before, but man oh man, these were stuff that dreams were made of. But I just had to look at the inadequately protected sides of the road to stick my head back inside the bus and look the other way.

We reached Ooty by around 7. Walked our way through the crowded market place and to the club where we were to stay..The rooms were so cozy that I would have loved to crash straightaway..it was warm enough inside to do just that..I would have too, if it weren’t for a stronger call..that of hunger..Found our way to a Chinese restaurant whose walls were decorated with the Zodiac..My zodiac sign, pisces, looked kinda odd if u asked me..there were two fishes alright, but there was something like a pipeline coming outta the mouths of one of them fishes and into the mouth of the other one! Looked almost vulgar!!

Found a CCD* on our walk down after dinner. This outlet is the most sittable and enjoyable of all CCD’s in India..(that maybe a presumptuous statement to make considering that I have gone to only 3-4, but I will take my chances)..Quite big, cozy chairs, sofas, very few people, and A FIREPLACE!!! A couple of fireplaces in fact. The fireplaces were occupied, but we managed to wedge ourselves near one of them anyway. It was all very good till our fire started to die a slow death. Maria wanted to stoke it and she tried her hands at it. Was doing an ok job I guess (gotta be safe with words now!!), but then one of the CCD guys came and poured some kerosene over the fire. That sorta upset the equilibrium. The whole place was then as smoke filled as one of those bars in Chennai. Couldn’t keep our eyes open at all, and we were literally smoked out of the place.

We did the tourist routine and tried our hands at taking snaps out in the night. The moon was shining and blah blah..but we came out with more than our share of bloopers. Couldn’t see for nuts in the night after all! Walked back down to our rooms. It was almost 11 now but we were not alone. There was a huge group of fellow tourists walking ahead of us. They were neighbours from Coconut land. How did I guess you ask? Well, one of the guys was wearing a wildly printed dhoti. To top that, he had it folded such that his claim to manhood was in all probability freezing to a very unmanly death..How on earth did he manage to walk like that in the cold, I’ll never know. But by the time he reached the junction below, he had wisely covered his legs and , in the process, his manhood too..there were also a couple of ladies who looked very much drunk. They were wrapped in a single shawl, had their arms around each others backs, and were swaying this way and that….I am sure that both were ladies!!! Both had churidars on!!!

On reaching our rooms, it was a quick lights off..there was a tv in my room though..and that kept me awake for some while more..they were showing one of those funny movies on Zee TV again…

Day two- will come tomorrow..hopefully!

Shain

Here I Go Again.....

2005-11-03T09:33:00.000+05:30

Well it's that time of the year when I take on yet another venture..or should I say..blog!! In case you haven't noticed, I've got a sidebar to this little blog of mine. And in that side bar, there IS a section which says "I Also Blog Here". Now the more ardent readers ( I do give myself airs !!!) have visited those two obscure blogs only to find nothing much new (in spite of one of them screaming "New Post- I swear!!" ) constantly...Well..that's me..persistence and diligence and ..heck..any 'ence' was never my middle name!! It's come to a state where I post at my first blog at rediff as frequently as I go jogging-which is 'never'..

News is I've started another blog. This one is titled "Shain's World"..And it is as insignificant as it sounds...Thanks to Big B, I now am the proud owner of a humble digicam. And I'd been trigger happy ever since..With the result that I had a lot of snaps and no one to show them to..Then came along Shain's World..

I won't bother you with self-portraits. I am yet to manage the art and effort of using the timer and then running into position..so these are just snaps of what I see (or saw) around me. I've tinkered with a few here and there (Four Cheers for Picasa!! and another four for the digicam!!!)

I just hope this one lasts a while! Touchwood...

Shain

Coffee, Tea, or is it just ME?

2005-10-29T21:10:00.000+05:30

Coimbatore is starved of yuppie hangout joints..One of my friends in fact went to the extent of saying that the only place where people hung out ( or should it be 'hanged out'?? I wonder....) was a glorified supermarket..Her comment wasn't altogether without basis....yours truly himself has been seen frequenting that place with forlorn eyes and a chicken burger for company...

But Coimbatore does have a few attractions to match that of bigger cities. For instance, it has it's very own Cafe Coffee Day(Henceforth called CCD)!!!!! ( So you think that's not very impressive?? Wait till you get to Tirupathi or my hometown!) And it was to this place that my colleague and I found ourselves. We were looking for a place to just sit and relax. And we were tired of the glorified supermarket.

Now I've been to this CCD quite a few times...and it does have a reasonably decent crowd worth the price of the overpriced coffee they serve there. But on the last couple of occassions I'd been there, they had mysteriously been unable to serve Cappuccino - the cheapest item on the list. Whenever I would ask them, they would say that the machine had broken down or that they had run out of some ingredient..blah blah..you know, the kind of mumbo jumbo that personnel throw at you and then you have to nod your head in profound understanding unless you want to expose yourself for the ignorant customer that you actually are. So whenever they said "No Cappuccino", I would look for the next cheapest thing..that would cost 30 bucks. A Cappuccino costs 20 bucks (if it is available, that is).

So there we were, waiting for the menu card. The guy comes with a card, and I notice that the menu card has dramatically shrunk. Not in size, the card was of the same size. But there was lots more of blank space between the items on the list. There was no mention of Capuccino or any other 'ccino' in fact..Hell!! There was no item below 40 bucks on that list!!!! I very casually and coolly asked about the missing items..Pat came the technically bombastic reply. And equally as pat came two wise and profound nods of the head. The items which were priced at 40 went something on these lines:

Ethiopian Coffee
Kenyan Coffee
and something else..

That was it. Nothing more..the next level started at 50! We dint look further. I asked the guy what exactly was so Ethiopian and Kenyan about the coffee..He mentioned that one of them had a blueberry flavour and the other had a fruity flavour. I hadn't tasted blueberries before so I thought I would go for the one. My friend went for the other. We placed our orders.

20 minutes and a cigarette each later, we were staring down at two huge cups of coffee. However! the coffee filled only half of these huge cups. The cups were imprinted with bits and pieces of, I'm sure, doubtlessly significant pieces of coffee history. They hadn't left the saucers alone either. The saucer spoke of such weighty questions like why Arabs liked coffee and why coffee was called coffee. I am sure that many a CCD coffee drinker would have been enlightened by staring at his cup and saucer. But we werent interested in coffee history, we wanted our 40 bucks worth coffee!!! And this wasn't it. I sipped at my coffee tentatively. I didnt want to finish it all at one go. It tasted like ordinary coffee. Only, it was slightly stronger. There wasn't no blueberry or any other flavour. I asked my friend if his had any fruity flavour. He was relieved that I asked. He was wondering whether he was the only one with tasteless taste buds. This was ordinary coffee. Nothing remotely Ethiopian or Kenyan about it. It probably hadn't crossed the borders of Coimbatore leave alone reach the shores of distant Africa.

We stoically drank our cups of suffering all the same. I was determined to atleast have my share of people watching (OK OK!! I rephrase that. Woman watching!Leching! Call it what you want!!!!)

When we asked for the bill, the guy comes up and asks, "Sir, do you want the bill?" My friend and I can't believe our luck! "Not really..." I volunteer..The server grins sheepishly and says that he has misplaced the bill but that our bill has come upto 83 bucks. It wasn't enough that they were serving coffee for 40 bucks, they were even charging us for the fact that they were overcharging us. They called it service tax!

A coffee at our roadside tea-stall costs 5 bucks. CCD makes me pay 35 bucks more. And what do I get in the bargain? A chair, a round table, an absurdly huge umbrella over it, a roadside view and a glimpse of some of the fairer sights in town. Is it worth the price? I must admit:

YES!!!!

2005-10-29T20:28:00.000+05:30

Am I getting mushy? Or is this a sight that would melt anyone's stony and stoic heart??? This is my proud, aristocratic, ungrateful, purple-blooded and even more standoffish cat with her three new born young 'uns..Home would have been flooded with these things if my mom were as sympathetic towards these furry creatures as me or my dad were. Since she isn't, she made sure that two of these lil' ones left home for other homes early..Rumour has it that they have been housed at the parsonage to try their luck at chasing the churchmice away...you dont think that just because my last two posts have been pictures I am getting lazy...do you???

2005-10-27T20:56:00.000+05:30

The Sun Temple at Konark

I'm It!!

2005-10-23T10:05:00.000+05:30

Guess it had to take a stern reminder from Arjun to get me back on the blogwagon. It wasn't that I had run out of creative juices or that I had rammed into a Writer's Block or anything of that sort...

I had just fallen sick..

How boring! (yes)
How unromantic (yesser)
How SO unexciting, unadventuring (???) and un-awe-inspring!!! (yessest!)

But very everymanish!

Anyways, Arjun's tagged me..apparently he had tagged me a while back as well..but by the time I had come to know that I had been tagged, quite a lot had happened in this world of ours..so I let that by..this time around, though i was not exactly ON the buzzer, I was not all that late either..

He's tagged me to find my "23rd post (or closest to), find the fifth sentence (or closest to) and post the text online." Well..thankfully..i have been blogging for over a year now..and I did have a 23rd post! What's more, it did have a fifth sentence too..here it is:

"Spent a quiet and relaxed Christmas at home with my folks even as people elsewhere were recovering from having lost everyone and everything they had."

That was from Swept Away, a post I had written on December 30, 2004, in the wake of the Tsunami..That line looks odd..doesn't seem to fit in with most of what else I've been writing..seems more serious..guess that's me then :-)

I want to end this here post with an SOS: I CANT SEEM TO FIND MY POST EDITOR TOOLBAR ON MY COMPOSE PAGE. CAN ANYONE TELL ME WHERE TO FIND IT?????

Oh..and i guess I have to tag a few in turn..since I dont have many to choose from..here you go you lucky people you (HAHAHAHAHA)

Seema, Bhagya, Dreams, Musafir, Helga (ermmm..do u have a 23rd????), Gem, and Aparna..

Now you guys are it!!!!

Ciao till next time...

Shain

Oil's Well that Ends Well

2005-10-04T19:03:00.000+05:30

I was at a South Indian restaurant last night with my colleagues. The place looked decent enough..It was appropriately named too..the place was called Uduppi- after that home of all things flat and round and made of rice...

Now this was not the first time I had come to eat at Uduppi. I had had a not so pleasant experience the last time I went there. I had ordered for Vegetable Fried Rice and Gobi 65! Like my friend told me after the meal ( I had stated that the rice was too dry and that the Gobi looked like it had been welded together), what else could I expect after I ordered Chinese at a South Indian restaurant?? So this time, I decided to play safe and order normal South Indian food instead...

Idlis are the fastest to reach your table. So I ordered for a plate of idlis. And the Idlis lived upto their reputation of early birds. I got my order faster than my collleagues..But upon laying my eyes on what lay in the plate, whatever smile I had on my face disappeared...

Idlis are normally white..these were very much off-white.
Idlis are normally not very large..these were very very large.
Idlis are normally soft..these were so hard i could put them to lethal use (ok..so that one was a weee bit exaggerated).
I didn't have a good time eating it. So i had to order something more. It had been a very long time since I had had a plate of pooris. So I asked Waiterman to bring me a plate of Pooris. He nodded his head vigorously as if to say that it would reach my table in the next one minute.

One minute transformed itself to 20 minutes.

When finally it came, my Pooris were dripping in oil. If they had bones, my pooris would have been soaked to those bones. They didn't, but the oil was dripping from them nonetheless.I first tapped my pooris three four times. A few more drops of oil dripped from them. I wondered if I should perhaps squeeze the oil out of them. I tried. The two oily pooris started to crumble under my mighty squeeze. I had mercy on them and tried a more humanitarian approach. I borrowed tissue paper from my colleague and started wiping the oil away from the pooris. 5 minutes of cleaning paid off as I had a reasonably oil free but still glossy pair of pooris on my plate.

The owner of the restaurant was passing by. I beckoned him over and showed him my plate which had quite a lot of oil in it. I told him that the pooris had too much oil in them. I told him that i had managed to remove some of the oil with the help of tissue papers.

His response was: " Shall I provide some more tissue papers."

I looked back at him in disbelief.

He looks at me, realises it was a bad response, and mumbles something about things going wrong once in a while, and slowly, very stealthily, makes an exit from my table.

Bhubaneshwar Dairy

2005-09-26T18:22:00.001+05:30

You won’t believe where I am now…No…I am not at the Whitehouse and neither am I at lunch with my old girlfriend and I definitely am not prancing around topless on a beach in Australia with one hand in my armpit singing “Salaam Namaste” (kinda makes me wonder though, where WOULD I like to go, if I had the choice that is)..I am at Bhubaneshwar now…here for the next two weeks…came in flyin from Chennai..the carrier was something called Alliance Air..never seen or heard of it before..Now I have seen plenty of planes in my time (by the last two words I mean my childhood), but never had I seen something as small as this particular plane..I didn’t have too many expectations abt the airhostesses either..but I was in for a charming surprise. There was one with a very pleasant smile ..if you have seen the Singapore Girl campaign, you would know what I mean..She had a smile that just made me melt….

A smile can not solve everything though..the flight was still lousy..

Bhubaneshwar is funny when u think it’s a city..I’ve been told that public transport hardly exists..people rely more on autos…have hardly seen any buses or heavy transport. And after a looong hiatus, I’ve come to see cows lazing around on the roads. This was something that I had left at Delhi..I’m still to come to terms with the Oriya script...but then, I don’t have to. I would be here only for the next couple of weeks.

One stray thought here..pls excuse the lack of direction..what is it abt a girl who brings her hair around her neck and down her chest that makes her beautiful..I’ve known abt this before, and I’ve seen plenty who have made use of this..but today I saw a girl with her hair in this fashion and she looked a grand sight for my sore eyes…Was it her hair, or was it seeing the back of her neck, or was it the look in her eyes..I wonder...

Jaded

2005-09-13T15:23:00.000+05:30

Lunch at a fast food joint. Me and my colleague. I order a minimalistic chicken burger, a bread roll, a bottle of slice, and a (!)butterscotch doughnut. Two young things, one of them apparently looking somewhere in my general direction ( the female gaze is hard to decipher), seated a little distance away.

I finish my burger and take on the bread roll. A bottle of ketchup to my right. The roll is dry. I reach for the ketchup. I tilt the bottle. The ketchup is yellow in colour. It runs down the roll. And spills over my hand. The ketchup is quite cold...too cold. I look at the bottle in my hand. It says slice. My colleague does not notice.

I'm getting jaded.

Rain Drain

2005-08-25T19:24:00.000+05:30

It's raining here...or rather, it just finished raining. Now it's just pretending to rain. But in the time that the rain was really doing it's stuff, it managed to leave behind quite an impression. The roads are clogged, especially AND ironically, just where ordinary mortals like yours truly have to walk on - the roadsides. Why doesn't Rain-Man ever leave the sidewalks alone? People in cars anyway donot get their feet wet. So can't he just as well wet the middle of the roads and leave them in a puddle and let pedestrians be?? I figure that that would involve redesigning the roads a wee bit. Should be making the roads concave instead of convex. Then atleast we would be walking on higher ground..quite literally too..

Everybody romanticises (HELL! Had to correct my spelling 4 times for that last word!!) rain. Especially the movie makers. Why! Right from Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain to Raveena 'Oomph' Tandon in Mohra we have people 'doing things' in the rain. No doubt it would be a heavenly sight to see Raveena or Sreedevi or more contemporaneously, Bipasha (I melt!)in a saree and doing their tantalizing rain dance( Funny thought though, I always thought rain dances were meant to invoke rain.). But if any of them were to attempt any such thing in real life, then they are more likely to get mud splashed all over them. Or if at all they manage to find a lonely park to dance in, then they are very likely to find the whole place water logged. And there would NEVER EVER be a cave for them to dry off in. AND DON'T EVEN THINK OF A PILE OF MAGICAL DRY LOGS TO BEAT THE COLD.

And now that I think of it, you even have nursery rhymes to support you..the one which starts with,

Rain, rain, go away,
Come again another day,
Little Johny wants to play"

Sure, the rain has it's beauty..but I guess it would have to be at another time and another place. Make that a place atleast 100 kilometres away from human habitation and anytime before what we call the developed world came into being. Or else, you would probably have to be a movie star..and I could use that last one any day...provided I were the hero of course...and Bipasha were dancing in a park quite near me!

Shain

Stumped?

2005-08-18T19:31:00.000+05:30

Man has been plagued by dilemmas throughout his troublesome stay on this planet. Before you scream "CHAUVINIST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!", let me add, so has woman. Okkie, so perhaps Adam didn't think twice before he ate the apple. Eve perhaps had a very..err..umm...convincing sales pitch. But Eve took a long time getting convinced by the master vendor of dreams Lucifer.. And as the planet hurtled along its orbit throughout the ages, different people were doubtless faced with different dilemmas.
1)Abraham had a terrible time figuring out whether or not to sacrifice his only son to God.
2)Socrates had his dilemma of whether to continue shooting his mouth of and get a cup of hemloc down it or whether to shut it up and live longer.
3)Then of course you had Hamlet famously (and to the agony of megazillions of literature students worldwide later in history) wondering whether to be or not 4)The Indian cricket team captain often has the dilemma of whether to lose or to lose.
5)The dog on the street can't choose between the smooth and firm telephone pole on the street and the warm and round tyre of the Toyota..

Hell..everyone has dilemma's. I've had so many that I never counted. The trivial ones are usually the ones that I have over what to order for food. Coimbatore offers you such a mind-boggling variety of dosas that even if you hear the names rolling down the waiter's tongue on a daily basis, you would still think it over : "Now do I go for the plain roast, the tomato roast, or the ghee roast, or the masala roast, or.." And at the end of it all I usually order the same old stuff..a dosa..

Then there was the more worth pondering over question when I was in college: should I be telling her or do I remain 'just a friend'. Spent the better part of two years over that one..I told her anyway..What followed didn't last as long..

Shopping, especially for others, has me in three minds too..It's not as bad when I am shopping for myself. When it comes to the latter, the hard part is when you mull over whether to buy anything or not. Once I've decided to buy, I usually know what exactly it is I want to buy. But when it's another I buy for, I am clueless. I have to look at the object of my dilemma's affection from every possible angle...quite literally..then I walk away from it, walk back to it, head towards the exit, then my feet change their minds, and walk back..its a complicated process!

Ever wondered..after having decided on what to do..and then it doesn't exactly go your way.."what if?" ?

After all..what if Eve had decided NOT to take the apple? ( Aah..life would have truly been bliss..imagine the possibilities)

Shain

Shot at Coonoor

2005-08-06T17:24:00.000+05:30

Shain's Eye View

PS: Please to read the post below

And...Coming Down...(Finally!)

2005-08-06T16:50:00.000+05:30

Awright! So I am not that honest a boy as i thought i was..this post was burst onto the screen ( powerful turn of phrase there) about 10 days back!! So what's new there? Haven't you heard of the proverb "Patience is it's own reward?"**

We had boarded the bus at Coimbatore at 3.15 PM. 5. 45 PM, we set foot on Conoor....

As I took in my first shot of Conoor, my first feeling was that of being in one of them movies that're shot at these hill stations. You know, you see all the people in sweaters, jackets, monkey caps and what not..Hell..even the burly policeman was wearing one of them..All that was left to complete that I-am-in-a-movie feeling was a beautiful companion, night time, slightly cold outdoors, a fire burning (outside)...err..you get the picture...onto more practical things now..

We had to find our way to our Company guest house. One of the good things that come out of working in a BIG company.We were lucky to get a room there in fact..the place is normally booked most of the time (wonder why EVERYONE wants to run to the hills!!)We were just looking for a place to sleep over and it just so happened that a room in the guest house was free for a night..The place was about 10 minutes from where we'd got down. So a small bus had the fortune of taking us to our immediate destination. And yes..before I forget..as we were waiting for the bus, two ladies were seen giggling at us..(No, I didn't pursue the matter..they weren't worth the trouble )

We had a little difficulty identifying the guest house.Got down at Sims Park. Asked for the way to our guest house..but ended up walking a little more down the road that was pointed out...retraced our steps, and then decided to try a house that looked a potential candidate.The place didn't have a board which anounced its identity. So we decided to take a chance. Knocked on the door. A frail man in his middle ages opened. He looked cautious..I guess my skinhead look wasnt helping matters..so we asked if this was the place and he said that it was..what do you know! he was expecting us!!God bless my colleague in Coimbatore!!

The caretaker, his name was Gopalakrishnan, was quite living upto his profession. He immediately started taking care of our needs. A cup of steaming tea soon found its way into my hands. Hot tea trickling down your throat while the world outside is tethering on the colder side has got to be one of the things you were made for. Gopalakrishnan was quite talkative after he found out that we spoke the same language-literally...told us about the places to see around Conoor too. We had brought the traveller's bible, Lonely Planet, along with us (It remained in my bag all the time. And my bag remained in the guest house for both the days that we were at Conoor).

It was around 6 PM when we got out of the guest house for a walk. I finally had an opportunity to wear my jacket!!There was the slightest of excuses for that..Had a hot snack at one of the many roadside vendors near Sims Park..We took one of the winding roads from Sims..As we walked, the air grew quieter with the sounds of civilisation and louder with the sound of nature...B had an interesting thing to say..about how the air was so free of smoke that we could actually feel the freshness..I nodded wisely in agreement..the road forked further on our way..and we took the one that looked quieter.It said "No Thoroughfare".the trees that lined the road were HUGE! Took me back to my Gulmohar text book that talked about huge coniferous trees. We soon reached a guest house..belonged to the Forest Department..we were just trying to see if a friendly soul would probably offer a cuppa tea when yet another cautious face greeted us..wonder why all caretakers look cautious at first sight. This one was Raja. We asked him a few visitorly questions to put him at ease, and very soon Raja was on talking terms with us! He even told us about the bison trail that went up the slope behind the guest house.B wanted to try it then and there. I did not! I won.

Dinner was a delicious and heavy affair..sleep was heavier. Woke up early on day two..4 in the morning! We were out by 6 for an early walk. Came across a couple of joggers too..no, they weren't women..one of them was cruel enough to make his poor dog run along with him too..I wonder if the dog shared his enthusiasm..the poor mutt certainly dint look like he needed the exercise. Looked mean enough to me for sure.

The larger part of the day was spent at the Highfield tea estate. We jumped the gate and went right into the tea gardens that were sprawling on either side of us..later on, we went to the tea factory there..had a schoolboy's tour of the place for 10 bucks..and had a sample of the tea produced there..even bought some of it..folks say it isn't all that bad too!

We had planned to return to Coimbatore by the Nilgiris Rail that evening.The train was at 4 and we reached the station early. Saw a worker cleaning the engine of a locomotive. Right out of a movie that one!! The trip down the hills would have been unbearable without a seat on the toy train..and a seat was impossible without a small 'gift' to the Ticket Inspector...but the price was way too small for the return journey...lots of 'oooh-aaah' sights on our way back too..B even managed to catch sight of a bison..Every now and then the spray from the engine would hit our faces..and every now and then we would enter a tunnel when a bunch of lads in our compartment would start acting like they were doing one of those tribal dances that we see in movies..

It was 8 PM when we were back in Coimbatore. B left the next evening for Trivandrum..Had a lot of snaps to remind me of our trip. Had a packet of Highfield tea too...And now..i have these two entries..

Shain

Going up!!!

2005-07-20T19:55:00.000+05:30

Three days of non-stop warming the seat of my cushiony-chair-on-wheels, plus a solid two - day weekend!! Somebody up there must really love me..I mean what more could a working guy want (Okie..i realize that I just made a categorical statement there. There definitely is more that a guy would want)? But every cloud, unfortunately, has a silver lining. Ten days from now and I would be working till Kingdom come. For now though, I am just gonna continue warming this seat..

A two day weekend is supposed to be a given..a taken for granted thing..for most people in my company that is..but for some trigonometric (read ‘I-can-never-fathom-why’) reason, I rarely get that privilege. When it comes it’s a weekend in the garfieldian sense.. I generally spend the two days doing what I do best-nothing. And, as most of you would know, doing nothing is supremely satisfying. Nothing quite like it. The last time before this that I had a two day weekend though, I went to Conoor.

Conoor is a hill station at about a two-hour drive from Coimbatore..which is where I am. It’s not very far..and it had been my past one year’s ambition to go to Conoor. Procrastination is one of my redeeming qualities and it saw to it that I never managed to go there till last month. Something always would come in the way –an empty wallet, an irritating throat, a raging-mad stomach, an enticingly dreary Saturday morning-something..anything to keep where I was ..in the plains…but this time..Musafir(M)* came between me and Procrastination. Most of you wouldn’t know Musafir, so this is where you can see more of him. Let me just say that he is a newly found friend who also happens to work with me..though he works at Trivandrum..capital of Coconut land. He had some work here at Coimbatore on Monday. We planned for him to come here on Saturday itself. We would leave on Saturday morning and return by Sunday night.

Of course it didn’t quite happen that way!

By the time M reached Coimbatore it was noon. Why and how that happened is a story in itself which I wouldn’t want to put down here (No its not because of any explicit content..its just ‘coz I wouldn’t want to digress…I am already doing so..i better get out of these brackets) phew!..Let me just say that by the time we actually set out, it was about 3 PM. We stepped out of my room and rain poured down. Bummer!

It wasn’t raining..atleast not in the ‘you get all drenched, cold, clammy and sneezy’ kind..It was the annoying ‘now you see me-now you don’t’ kind. The one where you can actually count the drops..(okie..exaggeration again. You can’t count them)..but it was heavy enough to make you think about your next move. And I don’t like rains that make me think. Neither, I presume, does M. So we stepped out anyway. We were on our way to the bus stand from where we would board a bus to Conoor. A colleague working in the local office here had in fact offered a car for our trip but he said something on these lines “I will send the car and you can take care of the rest”. Economics, an anti-bourgeois mentality (oh yeah!) and the desire for a slow and steady journey prompted us to decline his offer and opt for a bigger set of wheels in the form of Public Transport.

The journey, if nothing else, certainly made economic sense. What would have cost around 800 Rs. by car cost us 50 Rs. by bus. Apart from that we were also lucky enough to get the last couple of seats on the bus..and last would mean the last..the seats we got were in the last row of the bus..plenty of bumps and aching backs guaranteed. It wasn’t all that bad though..there was plenty of catching up to do and when we were not talking we were listening to the radio on M’s mobile phone..After 5 minutes of the local FM though, we had enough of that..As the journey left the plains behind and entered the inclines of the Nilgiris, the journey became progressively slower and more breathtaking. The bus made most of the climb on the second and first gears. There were a lot of hairpin bends which showed you sights worth ‘ooohing and aaahing’ at** I realized why they were called ‘hairpin’ bends. Every now and then we would see a vehicle coming down stopping so that we could pass. Any vantage point along the way was occupied by atleast one private vehicle..people proudly beaming in front of cameras, or seriously studying the sight thru the camera lens. I got to see my first pair of wild elephants that day..two very dusty and brown looking specimens (Ooooooh!!!Aaaaaah!!!) Sadly..the bus driver was not in a mood to stop. If he would have stopped the bus, the bus would have started rolling in the reverse direction..and that didn’t sound very enticing I guess.

We stopped once enroute to Conoor where M and I immediately got off the bus. There were a bunch of colorful shops cluttering the area where we stopped. Shops selling tea, snacks, fruits, flowers and the like..We had a cup of tea and I had my customary cigarette. It is an unwritten rule that when you feel the slightest cold, you got to light up. Of course I don’t do it now, but that day it was a heavenly feeling.(.I wish heaven feels like that now and then..would be interesting). There was something in the air and it wasn’t Love..an odd combination of jackfruit, banana somehow formed part of the atmosphere at that place.wasn’t a bad combo though. But we couldn’t stay long .the bus was soon on it’s way further up the hills…

We had boarded the bus at Coimbatore at 3.15 PM. 5. 45 PM, we set foot on Conoor.

And with that it is me, your host, signing off for the day!!***

Shain

* Musafir is the one who took that snap that you see below in the previous post..that is another reason why that snap looks good..the first reason is ..why..me

** I was talking about the view from the hill tops..now… what on earth were you thinking about???

*** Will continue the story tomorrow. Or maybe the day after..I so absolutely promise you..I am an honest chap, I am!!

Life in the Foreground

2005-07-13T20:36:00.000+05:30

Had gone to Conoor recently..and my Musafir friend took this one..what do you know..there's a world outside of me as well!

Shain

I AM NOW FAMOUS

2005-07-08T14:39:00.000+05:30

I was not going to blog anytime soon (blame it on work!!) but this i just had to write..I AM FAMOUS!!! You don't believe me? Suit yourself then!Hrumph! (Just in case you do believe me, read on)
Well..there I was..no..here I (baah!)..there I was in my office after a rather insipid and parliamentarian lunch of two dry chappathis and gravy that passed for some kind of vegetable stew..I felt rather in a good mood (dont ask me why..I don't know )and so I gave myself an ego boost**

In fact, it was my blog which got the ego boost. I googled for everyman's diary and this was one of the results which came up.

It looked odd to me so I thought I'd investigate it..The page was about backaches or somthing of that sort. Under Resource listings on that very page, I saw my words immortalized!! They had listed my blog!! Not this one, but the one that I have (it's still there..ignored,unused, unblogged) on rediff. My blog had actually been quoted!!

Dilemma: If you have clicked on that link, tell me this: do I laugh or cry?

On a more everyday note, life is just going fine people..and one more bit of good news:

I have quit smoking!!! Into my 8th day as a non-smoker now!! And this time, it will go beyond 30 days!!

** "How do you do that?", you ask? Well, it's quite simple, just google for your name and exult over the number of results you get..don't go too much into what exactly the links are about..you may be disappointed

I AM FAMOUS!!!!

2005-07-08T14:32:00.000+05:30
For more details, pls refer to post above.

Regards,

Shain

Tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow....

2005-06-17T20:43:00.000+05:30
You know what feels good? I mean really REALLY good? When you finally get down to doing something that you thought you would never get done. You get that smug looking smirk on your face as you smile to yourself and tell that twerp inside, " And you said I would NEVER get around to doing it." Oh boy I would love to see the look on his face (if at all my inner voice has a face) now.

The fine art and craft of procrastination has always been my boon..i mean bane ( NO! I really mean it!!)..Putting off things always came naturally to me..it still does..whether it was studying for my exams, or that niggling assignment, or that promise to go jogging, OR, as has been the situation these last few days, this big clutter of paper on my table. Those papers are still catching dust as I type, staring at me as I stare away into this screen of mine. They can wait..oh yes they can..this post had been waiting for much longer than they had ever been.

The first person to ever tell to my face that I had the gift of procrastination was my first boss. I was a 21 year old fresher then..all wide-eyed (not because of the women in the office..there weren't any worth the name..and NO! it wasn't because of the men EITHER!) and eager to learn about my nascent profession. This man would give me all sorts of reports to work on..without any specific deadline. And whenever he had the chance to pass by me, he would ask , "What's the status on that report I had asked you to write". And I would say something about something else having come up.."Always procrastinating and procrastinating...It will be the end of you..you will never get things done!" and leaving these words hanging in the air for more than their undeserved 15 seconds of fame, he would walk away shaking his head...

Now ofcourse I am wiser..I no longer say that it isn't complete. Instead I say that I had already mailed it across and that I can't figure out why it hasnt reached yet...and then I say that I shall send it over "immediately"..and then I get my posterior to work (pun NOT intended)..

This post was something that I had been putting off for such a long time..but something kept coming in the way..dont ask me what..but you know how it goes..you come into your room, you flex your muscles ( you dont do that before you type???you really should..does wonders for your blogging confidence!)..and sit down before the monitor..then you wait for the blogger homepage to open. you are just about to login when the horribly green damned to damnation telephone starts ringing its ugly head off..it never fails to repeat history..or else it would be some misguided visitor.THERE! I am not lying but my friend just walked in..i can forsee the future! I can see!! My eyes are open!! Okie I might have overdone it a bit there...but my friend DID walk in now to go for dinner..i sent him off for a smoke instead..bought five minutes..

Other things that I have been putting off for a while now:

1) Quitting smoking - 7 years (High time!!)
2) Confession - 2 years ( Can wait!! dont want the priest being held up)
3) Sunday Mass - 5-6months
4) Jogging - More than a month
5) Trying out some of those tips from The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari ( I felt so charged up when I was reading it that I felt that the next day would see a new me)- two weeks atleast
6) Office paper work - 4-5 days now..( I am going to pay for every single sheet of that!!)
7) Dinner - Can't wait any longer..friend is back after his smoke...

Procrastination is also an Art..but unlike most other things, I never had to work it..never!

Shain

Can't Stop This Thing We've Started

2005-06-13T14:43:00.000+05:30
It's been a long time since I have been wanting to blog. Everyday I would faitfully pay my blog a visit, lock my eyes on the page, keep watching as though for an entry to automatically appear, and then just surf away. Today, I decided to finally get something on to it! I do have determination after all! It's just that there is hardly an ounce of it in me!

Well, to fill you up on what's been happening since I went on a break from work, my second bro got married, as an excuse for that, we had a long awaited family reunion-replete with catching up on old times as well as old fights (you dont get one without the other..sadly!)

Got to see my nephew too..If I had carried him for any longer than those few days, I would have developed some biceps for real! Bugger was more than just a bundle of joy..he dint like to be picked up..which was easy on me malnutrioned arms ofcourse. But the problem then was that he wanted to climb up the stairs, and then down them..and then up them..and then down them..and then up..and you could not let him do it alone..he's just a lil more than a year old...so someone had to be with him as he indulged in his version of rock climbing..and that GREAT RESPONSIBILITY was very calmly thrust on me..It wasn't that his dad and my big bro told me to run behind the kid..(though at times, my sis-in-law would very politely and sincerely ask if I could look after the chap for a while)...But somehow or the other, whenever lil Aaron was on his Odyssey up and down the stairs, I was the only person around..and I was like "Oh oh..here he goes again!!!"

Family matters apart..i got myself a new look..I look like a Muslim-Capuchin Monk combo now..devoutedness of the two previous characters apart. And may I, reader, dare say, it doesn't look all that bad (vanity of vanities!)..

There is a lot more to add, but I would want to leave it for later..I just wanted to get out of this rather jaded state i was in and post somethin on my stagnant blog...after all, can't just stop this thing we've started now, can we?

Ciao..

Shain