Its All About The Way You Take It

So it is here.

2011-03-28T13:55:00.000+05:30

Well, almost here.

No hour-long breakfasts.
No post-lunch shopping and anjeer shakes at Big B.
No krishna dhabha on fridays and no more gossips on you-know-who.
No dowry-comparisons.
No foosball and no double horlicks or maggi at 5.

No sunday nights at the juice junction. No KV.
No more "buy 3 - get 5"s and "flat 60% off"s and group-shoppings. No Marathahalli.
No Pilani vs Goa cricket matches and no more weekend TT.
No 405 vs 407 bullshit and no more BABIG crap.
No AOM or WOW.
No night treks and no more long walks.
No purple hazes and no more idling at the corner house.

No more Bangalore.

I convinced myself that this was necessary. For my career, I told myself. The right step to get into a good b-school, huh? It better be.

Because "change" is here. And it is being a real b****.

Miss me Bangalore. For I will miss you. More than you could imagine. For all that you have given me.

The Cup of Woes: Part 3

2011-03-10T12:02:00.001+05:30

This is the last of the 3 part story. You can refresh your memory with Part 1 and Part 2

He sat there, rolling the pearls in his palms. He could not come to terms with the reality of it. He had never believed in supernatural things. He used to laugh away all those stories about ghosts, miracles, etc., that seemed to have excited all his friends during his childhood. He always prided himself on being a sound and rational person. Until now, at least. Who had sent him the cup? If the pearls were indeed, real, why didn't the person who had sent him the cup keep it for himself? Is this a trick? Should he go to the police? What would he tell them - would anyone even believe him? No, he did not want to get dragged into any kind of investigation at the moment. He cannot let Swetha and the baby go through all the trouble. Should he just throw them away and forget the whole thing?

He looked at the clock. It was 4.30 in the morning. He felt very exhausted. Quietly, he placed the pearls in his bag and decided to worry about the whole thing later. He checked on the baby, kissed her gently and crawled into his bed. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow, he would test the pearls.

--

"Are you sure?" asked Sri, trying not to sound too irritating.
"Yes sir. Of course, I am. This is one of the finest pearls I have ever seen. This one would fetch at least ten thousand rupees. I am willing to give twelve thousand for it."

He had been hoping to hear that the pearl was a fake. A tricky imitation. But no. It wasn't meant to be. He had taken one of the pearls to a pawn broker to get it examined and apparently, it was real and quite valuable. He felt miserable. He knew that his conscience would kill him if he sold the pearls and used the money. It just did not feel right.

"Thanks but I am not looking to sell it right now. I will come again, later."
"Okay sir. If you say so. But trust me, I offered you the best possible deal. No one else would give you such an amount."
"I appreciate it. I will definitely come to you when I do want to sell it."

Lost in his own thoughts, he exited the shop and started walking back to his home. As he walked, he saw an old lady down the street. Her clothes were torn and she seemed to be feeling quite cold. She wore a pair of broken glasses and had a stick to support her. There was a cloth on the road in front of her and there were several coins on it. As he got closer to her, he could see that she was saying something. He could not understand most of it but he thought she was narrating to an invisible audience, her story. People kept walking past her, ignoring her like they ignore hundreds of other beggars in the city. They can only donate so much. They are not gods, are they? They would help the beggars, if they had a lot of money, wouldn't they? They...

He raced back to the pawn shop.
"What sir? You did not get a better deal, did you?"
"Please take it and give me the money."
"Okay. Here it is. Remember sir, No one will give you a.."
"Yeah, right. Thanks."

Sri walked up to the old lady and quietly kneeled down beside her. She looked at him, seemingly happy that she found some one to listen to her story and started talking animatedly. He smiled at her gently, took out the money and placed it in her hands. The lady did not seem to understand what happened. She stopped smiling and started examining the money. She was engrossed in counting it when Sri got up quietly and left.

It felt good. Really good. And suddenly, it all seemed to fit in. How could he have missed it? He was "given" the cup. He was "chosen". This is what he needs to do. Whenever he is unhappy, he just needs to cry into the cup, take out the pearls and give them to the needy. And then he would feel happy about it. What a wonderful plan! Something good coming out of every misery! Unbelievable. And so simple. He smiled. And then laughed. Laughed hard. It has been a while since he laughed. And then he cried. Into the cup.

--

That was just the beginning. Srikar started to believe that he needed to, and could, change the world. Every time he saw someone in need, someone in poverty, someone who could use money, he would go home and try to remember Sudheer. And then he would cry.

"Please don't do this Sri! Don't do this to yourself!", Swetha kept begging him. She knew. He had told her. She cried. And then he did, looking at her. Into the cup.

Every night, before going to bed, he would go to his daughter's room. She would smile at him. How beautiful that smile was! All his pain would vanish. He knew he would do anything for her. For her smile.
He would sit there for a while holding her tight, in his arms, and letting her innocence and warmth fill him with the strength to go on. "Anything", he would tell himself. "Anything for her".

It was not easy. He was human, after all. As time passed by, he found it impossible to cry by thinking about Sudheer. He needed something more fresh. More painful at the moment. He would read about every tragic news that he came across, watch every sad movie he could and them imagine himself in the situation and feel the pain. How could he not? He knew very well how it felt to lose someone very close. And if he could convert that pain into something useful for someone so that they wouldn't have to go through it, how could he not try? He never gave up. He tried. He tried hard. And cried.

--

3 years passed by. Srikar could not cry anymore. In fact, he felt no emotion at all. He would stare blankly at the cup all day long. He was just a machine now. The only sign of any remaining emotion he would ever show was seen when he was with his daughter. He would smile. Just a slight smile. That's all. He would hold her, listen to her chattering and just smile. Swetha just had to come to terms with it - the cup had cost him her husband.

--

"What! But she is just a kid".
"Calm down Swetha. This is a 1-in-a-million case. I am very sorry but she has to undergo surgery immediately."
"Is it very expensive, doctor?"
"It will cost you fifty lakhs, at the least."

Swetha could not believe it. Why them? After all Srikar had done for the people around him, after all they had been through, was this the way god chose to "bless" them? Is a chronic heart problem for their beloved daughter a reward for losing the happiness in their lives to help the people around him?

--

She could not take the pain of the irony. She went home and sat beside Srikar. He did not look at her. She told him about their daughter's problem. She waited for him to react. Somewhere down her heart, she hoped that he would cry. For the first time, she wanted him to cry. To save their daughter. But he did not seem to comprehend the seriousness, the pain, the desperation in her voice. He just kept staring at the cup which was lying on the table in front of him. She sighed, kissed him and left. She would have to find another way to arrange the money.

3 days passed by and she could only arrange about one-tenth of what was needed. Srikar, stopped smiling. Not even when he was with his daughter. So he knows, she thought. May be there is a way.

That night, she slipped the letter she had written into his hand, kissed him on the forehead and went away. For good. From this world.

Srikar woke up, the next morning to find the letter in his hands.

"I am going to see the God, Sri. To understand his wicked sense of humor. I know you love me and our daughter more than anything else in the world. This was the only way I could think of.

Save her Sri. I love you."

Sri stared at those words for a long time. And then he wept. He wailed. And howled in pain.

--

"How is she, doctor?"
"She is doing good. She is out of danger now. You may go in and see her."

Two days later, Sri walked back into his home with his daughter in his arms. He went in, tucked his daughter in her bed, and went to his room. The room felt very empty without Swetha. Slowly, he opened his closet and retrieved the cup. The cup of woes. It looked exactly the same. He thought about the day he received the cup - when he first held it in his hands in the coffee shop and dismissed it as a prank. A joke, he had thought. A joke that cost him his wife. And his life.

He turned around and smashed the cup against the wall. It broke, streaming the room with shards of ceramic. He did not look at them. Calmly, he walked to his daughter's room. He picked her up, collected the bags he had packed earlier and left the house without glancing back.

Toastmasters' Speech 2: Communist Democracy - A Dream

2010-12-08T15:06:00.003+05:30

After I gave the speech today, I realized one thing - the writer in me is a lot better than the public speaker in me. I wonder if I should have chosen a lighter topic - something that did not make me refer to my notes constantly. Sigh! That's the way you learn, I guess. Nevertheless, here is the essay -

“At 20, if you are not a communist, you don’t have a heart. At 50 if you are still one, you don’t have a brain” - so goes a saying. Let me try and present to you, the wisdom that goes behind this quote by talking about one of the most fascinating forms of government present today!

China, the fastest growing economy today, is also the largest communist nation in the world. Do you think its a coincidence? Everyone today talks about that country. It portrays itself as one of the most envious nations today - the place to be in the 21st century. I have read many articles about how the Chinese government did something proactively, because of which its economy was able to grow a lot. On almost all those occasions, I wished that the Indian government did something like that too - I wished that it would stop worrying about retaining power and start doing something to boost the economy so that I too could be proud like the Chinese seemed to be. For example, China has a one-child policy where people who have more than one child are subjected to extra tax by the government. I thought it was a brilliant policy to control population explosion and I wished that we had something similar here in India. As I realized later, I was only looking at the brighter side of such a system and ignoring the darker and murkier side of it.

For a long time, I could not really understand what Communism is all about? Finally, one simple sentence demystified it for me - “Communism is a form of government in which all people are considered equal”. In theory, such a society strives for equal sharing of all work, according to ability, and all benefits, according to need. In fact, it is democracy in its purest form - there is no central government. All major decisions would be taken by the society as a whole.

In a communist government, the community, or, in other words, the government, owns the major “resources” and “the means of production”. The goal of such a system is to prevent any one person or group of people from becoming rich, while others are extremely poor. The system attempts to eliminate the rich-poor divide that is usually rampant in a democracy.

Isn’t it very appealing? Doesn’t it sound too good to be true? That is exactly what communism is! It is too good to be true. It is too good to be “practical”. It is a system designed for a perfect world, where everyone is an idealist. We are not in a perfect world, are we?

In communism, the power is vested in a group of people who decide the course of action. It is this group of people who decide on the activities of the public and this is where, I think, communism fails in practise. They hold elections, but all candidates must belong to the one ruling party - thus the electorate really has no choice. Anyone who dares to speak out against them is subject to persecution, imprisonment, and/or execution. The people do not have a voice - there is no transparency in the doings of the government - entrepreneurship does not flourish - ironically, it degenerates into a form of dictatorship. The system which has its core belief in making sure that all the people are equal ends up in making all the people “equally powerless” except for those in power.

The government controlling the businesses means you cannot have a private sector at all. So it is not okay for anyone to be a shrewed business genius or a hard worker and make a lot of money. Imagine not being allowed to work over time in your office to earn some extra money and pay off your bills. Imagine having a world changing idea and having to give it up just because your government does not “want” you to change the world. Imagine the government controlling what search engine you can use on your computers and even what words you are allowed to use in your search queries.

I could not. I could not imagine living in such an environment. That was when I realized the power of democracy. That was when I realized the power of having the right to choose your own leader. That was when I realized the power of having the right to speech. If I make the same speech in a Toastmasters’ club in China, I am pretty sure that I will be put behind the bars.

I agree that democracy too has its own pitfalls. There can be no clear superior form of government. But, when it comes to choosing between living in a system that promises you the best economic figures and a system that guarantees that you will not be forced to do something against your will, I think, I will go for the latter.

Humans have come a long way in finding newer and more reliable ways of improving the quality of life over time. I hope a new system of “Communist Democracy” will arise in the future - one that combines the spirit and essence of communism and the flexibility and openness of democracy - one where my children - our children - can live happily.

Thank You.

Beyond the piggy-bank

2010-09-27T08:07:00.001+05:30

So, when Booba came back from Nigeria, everyone asked him how much he had managed to save during his 3 months there. After all, people make a lot of money when they go abroad, don't they? His reply surprised us a little. He told us that he had not made a single penny and in fact, he thought he ended up spending a lot from his own pocket.

Apparently, there is a big difference in the policy that governed his company (and mine, of course) and other Indian service-based companies. Here, we are not given any extra salary on a per day basis when we are sent abroad. In fact, no cash ever reaches our accounts as an allowance. You can only claim what you spend. Of course, you do not need to spend out of your own pockets - they give you a corporate credit card which you are expected to use for all the allowed expenditure. You save the receipts and you submit them for verification and then the company shall pay the credit card company, leaving you with little scope for any means you might devise to save some money for yourself. We cribbed a lot about it and complained about how unfair it was. We cursed our fate and slept thinking how cool it would be to go to the US, save a few thousands of dollars and come back home and spend them happily - after multiplying them with 47.

I have heard a lot of such "success" stories - about how so-and-so went to the US for 6 months, managed his/her food and other expenses with a mere 20$ a day, saved the reminder and returned home proudly. The other day, I was having dinner with one of my colleagues. We went to an expensive restaurant that served Mexican food - only because our expenses were taken care of. Our dinner there alone cost us 32.5$, each. Over the dinner he told me about how he had been to the US before, sent by his previous employer, and how he used to eat only Maggi (brought from India - cheaper) for most of his meals to maximize his savings and how all his friends did the same (if not Maggi, something else). And then, it dawned upon me. The simplicity of the realization was so amazing - it just left me smiling.

By giving us a corporate card and reimbursing our expenses, we are convinced to just have a good time! When people realize that they can't save this way, in a bid to make the most of it, they start spending well. They stay in comfortable hotels, have great food, go to nice places and on the whole, have fun! They are liberated from the burden of 'trying to save' and they do not feel guilty about 'trying to enjoy' and i think, that in itself is something every one of us deserves. I agree that many people have the need to save - responsibilities and all that. No offense intended at them for doing it. But, I think, if we have an opportunity to save, we succeed in finding a justification for it or do it anyway just because we are "supposed" to - its in our blood - we are Indian, and more importantly, human - it is natural.

All I am saying (mostly to myself and of course to all those people who might be thinking like I and Booba did) is, it is okay to have a good time for once. It is okay to spend. It is okay to not "save" - especially when you can't! I probably won't be any richer when I go back. I may have, in fact, spent a couple of thousands from my own pocket. But, if a few thousands of rupees is what it takes to go to the US and have a great time, I think I am okay with it. I think I am more than okay with it!

Interesting Conversations: Episode 1 - The Arrangement

2010-09-20T10:11:00.002+05:30

The scene: I just sat at the counter at the local Irish pub after a long day of shopping at the Mall of America. I was feeling very tired and just wanted to grab a quick bite and go back to my room. I ordered a bowl of soup and was waiting for it when a party of 3 people - an elderly couple and a young woman came in and sat beside me.

The lady: Hi there.

Me: Hello.

The lady: So whats up? What are you doing?

Me: Me? Im waiting for my soup.

The lady (leaning towards me a lot): Soup? What soup are you having?

Me: Split pea and pork.

The lady: Ooo. That is nice. I am leaning because I can't hear properly. I am an old lady, you know?

Me: Haha. That's alright.

Blah blah..went on for a while where the lady told me that she was visiting Minneapolis - she was from LA - grew up near the beach - her husband was a Minnesotan - they were in the town to catch the game (its the football and baseball season, btw).

The lady: How long have you been here?

Me: About a week. I will be here for 2 more weeks.

The lady: So, how do you like Minnesota/America?

Me: Its a really nice place. I like it.

The lady: So, what are you here for?

Me: Well, I work for Oracle, a software company (yeah, I had to tell the people outside work a lot here. Not a lot of people know/bother about the software companies). I came from India. I was sent on work.

The lady: Oh. Then you must be a smart guy. < turning to her husband > He works for Oracle, a software company. He is a smart guy. < the husband nodded his head in agreement >

Me: Haha. I hope so.

Blah blah..She told me about this woman she met when they were in South Africa - how she was full of life and hospitable - how she bought a sari from her - how colorful her shop had been - how the entire experience was unforgettable and a dear part of her life and so on. She went out to talk to someone else and the husband and I struck a conversation.

The husband: So you are from India, huh?

Me: Yeah.

The husband: I guess, you don't like the Pakistanis then.

Me: Haha. I haven't got anything personal against them but yeah, the two countries are kinda rivaled.

The husband: Yeah. I don't like them either. But if you guys go to war against them, I think the Chinese will go to war with you to support Pakistan.

Me: Yeah. That's what everyone says. In fact, India has got a lot of troublesome neighbors.

The husband: Yeah. But I'm with you guys.

Me: Haha. May be we will call for your help then.

The husband: Haha. Yeah. I don't really like the Muslims. You must be a Hindu, right?

Me: Yes.

The husband: Yeah. I've got no problem against the Hindus. < the lady came back > I was just telling him about the whole Muslim thing.

The lady: Yeah. We don't really like the Muslims. We've got nothing against them but we don't really like them.

Me: Hmm. < the lady went away again. She was kinda dancing to the music >

The husband: I like Gandhi. He was a good man.

Earlier today, when I was shopping, the guy at the counter saw some Indian currency in my wallet when I took it out to make the payment. He was so excited and asked me if he could see one of the notes and I gave him. He recognized Gandhi and kept fondling the note. I had a 10 rupee note in my wallet and I gave it to him and told him that he could keep it if he wanted. He was really excited and happy and thanked me like a hundred times. I was reminded of this incident when the husband talked about Gandhi and I took out my wallet to show them a hundred rupee note.

The husband: Woah! Is that Indian Curreny? Awesome! < he called his wife > Check it out. He has some Indian currency and there's Gandhi on them.

The lady: Really? Wow. How much is it worth? Like 20 bucks?

Me: Nah. Less than 2.5 dollars.

The husband: No way!

The daughter: Daddy, give him 20 dollars. Lets keep this.

The lady: Yeah. Give him.

Me: No no. I can't take 20 dollars from you.

The lady: Okay. Ten dollars at least then.

The daughter: Oh yes, you can. < she snatched my wallet - took a 10$ bill from her dad and put it in my wallet - gave it back >

Me: Oh, you guys! Well, let me give you one more then. At least take one more.

The husband: Thats great. Okay. I will have one more then.

So, I gave them one more. The lady was so happy - she told me that she would never forget me - she would frame that note in a glass box and keep it in her living room and finally she went back to dancing.

The husband: That was sweet of you. You are good kid. < to the others > He is a nice kid.

Me: Haha. Thank you. I hope I am.

The husband: So how old are you?

Me: 23.

The husband: Is there the whole arranged marriage thing still in India?

Me: Haha. Yeah. Its more of a choice now.

The daughter: Marry me. Daddy, "arrange" my marriage with him.

Me: Haha. Are you younger to me?

The daughter: No. But how old do you think I am?

Me: Uhmm..25-26?

The daughter: F*** you!

The husband: Haha. You are right. She is 25.

The lady: Yeah. She likes to think that she is still 21. She feels bad that she is getting old.

Me: Haha. < to the daughter > If it helps, you don't look 25 though. You look a lot younger.

The daughter blew me a kiss and looked happy.

The husband: You are a really nice guy. Your parents raised you well.

Me: That, they did sir.

The husband: I like India. The food and then bolloywood.

Me: Haha. So you know about bollywood then.

The husband: Of course. I am into the movies. I work for MGM. We put movies on the planes.

Me: Oh. That's cool.

The husband: Yeah. Did you watch Inception?

Me: Of course. Opening week.

The husband: And Shutter Island?

Me: Yup. I watched that too.

The husband: Hmm.

And then we talk a bit about movies - about Aishwarya Rai - about India and Indian food in general - Indian restaurants in the town and so on.

The husband: You are a really nice guy. If you don't mind me getting personal, how much do you make in your job? 50000 dollars a year?

Me: Converted to USD, its about 15000 dollars. May be a little more than that!

The husband: Really? That's all? < to the others > He makes less than 17000 dollars a year!

The daughter: Hire him. < to me >You will be a rich man now - my dad will hire you.

The lady: Honey, please hire him.

Me: Haha. In India, its a decent salary. Its more than what a lot of people make.

The husband: Hmm. Have you got a card with you?

Me: Oh. Let me see. Yep. I got one. The designation on it is old but everything else is valid.

The husband: At what time do you have to go to work tomorrow?

Me: 8 I guess.

The husband: Hmm. That's quite early. Here is card. I will send you an email or I will give you a call sometime.

Me: Okay. Thank you.

We were kinda done with our dinner and were getting ready to leave. I really enjoyed the whole conversation. We talked for more than an hour but it never got stale. I did not want to forget these warm people. I remembered that I had a camera with me and asked them if I could take a picture with them. They were more than happy to do it and we got a picture clicked. I was feeling a little awkward when we got close to pose.

The lady (sensing my dilemma): Yeah, we are going to have this pic taken in the American way. Put your arm around me.

The daughter: Yeah. Around me too.

Click!

Them: May be this meeting between us was "arranged" ;)

Me: May be.

We hugged and said goodbyes and then I left. They were, by far, the nicest people I have met in Minneapolis. Now I am not saying this because they might get back to me with an offer or something but its because I really mean it. I was having such a good time that I hung back for more than 50 minutes after finishing my soup. God bless them!

Travelog: A for America

2010-09-16T09:27:00.003+05:30

"Are you okay there, honey?", asked the waitress. She was talking to me. I was kinda staring at a bunch of guys in business suits having drinks and watching the baseball game on the big TV - so I probably looked a little lost. Yeah, I was more than okay. I was just thinking about the world's most famous country - the food, the culture and the people and what a fantastic mix it all was.

I am reminded of a conversation (more of an argument, actually) I had with one of my aunts a few months ago. It was about the Americans in general. She had been living in the US for more than 20 years and she was in love with the country. She had embraced the whole American lifestyle long back and constantly vouched for the Americans. I had taken an opposing stand and we kept debating on which was a better country. She kept talking about how warm and helpful the Americans were while I was being pretty naive by pointing out the recession, the high divorce rate, the crime rate, the fast food, the obesity, the junk food and every other cliched negative thing I read about the country. I was being supported by the others in the room and she couldn't take the bombarding anymore. She just said, "You know what, you can say all you want but they are still some of the nicest people in the world. You need to be there to believe". How true!

The two words that came out of my mouth (and that I heard from other people's mouths) more than any of the other word in the past 3 days were "Thank you!". The politeness is infectious. A lot of people who are not used to it might get irritated by it over a period of time, but I am not one of them. Not yet, at least. A more narrow minded person might wonder if the person greeting you actually knew you from somewhere or if it is mockery or if she (or he) has a crush on you. You might think its all pretentious, but trust me its not. It might be simple customary courteousness which is no big deal for them, but it is genuine. We (people from the east) feel so pampered and respected. At least I did.

I really love the way they treat each other. For us, waiters are waiters and janitors are janitors. For them, the waiters, the janitors or anyone for that matter, are people. Ever wondered why its an American way to address everyone at work (including your boss and of course his boss) with their first name (and not "Sir") or why you are expected to tip around 15-20% on the bill amount? To me, its dignity of labor and professionalism in action.

We keep debating about the excessive consumerism of the Americans, but I think it is more of a choice. If they want to spend all their money and by doing so, live life king size, I don't think there is anything wrong with that. Its one life you got, after all and it is okay to have such an attitude. Saving and being conservative is something which we taught ourselves and I think it is wrong to judge the others on that basis. We have no reason to expect them to follow our philosophy. We are happy this way and they have the right to be happy that way.

Coming to the much talked prevalence of junk/fast food, I think we fail to realize ta=hat they have an equally large selection of the healthiest foods. A joint that serves burgers and fries also serves salads and soup. Percentages can be quite misleading. If one in every three Americans is obese (which gives us about 30% obesity rate), one of the other two is really really fit. In India, if one in every ten Indians is obese (which gives us only a 10% obesity rate), at least five of the others are fat/not fit/"on their way to being obese" and only one qualifies as being "really really fit". Oh, we have a lot of junk (if not "fast") food too. Its just in a less popular form - its not burgers and fries - its puris and samosas.

I agree that three days in one city and that too among a very niche crowd in downtown is not a great sample space to make all these impressions. The cynic in me mocks at the impressed me. Of course there is bad too. There are jerks among these people too, where are they not? All this rosiness is likely to wear off with time but this wonderful "first take" is worth cherishing. For a visitor like me, its always a far more defining experience as a lot of things which the Americans take for granted are not quite so back home. We kinda tend to have an ideological advantage, which, when combined with all these nice things here, can leave you feeling content and wise.

I wonder if I can enjoy an evening at a pub back home where most of the the bartenders and the waiters think it is cool to be rude and aloof. Like I said to one of my friends, "One is tempted to wish that you belonged here, but much remains to be seen yet."

Wake me up when September ends..

2010-09-09T18:00:00.000+05:30

People keep congratulating you. You are provided with a big list of "things to buy" by your friends (which keeps getting longer and longer). Relatives call you up to check if you have packed everything. Your parents try and dig up long forgotten contacts and make sure you carry their phone numbers and addresses with you. Some shopping and a lot of packing.

This, precisely, is what happens when you are about to travel to the US for the first time - especially on a short trip. So I am about to travel abroad for the first time - 3 weeks in Minneapolis, Minnesota on a B1 visa. In about 84 hours from now, my flight shall take off from the Bangalore International Airport and in about 22 hours from then, I shall be setting my foot on the American soil (or concrete, may be). I might look very naive in making this sound like a big deal but I think it is a big deal if you want it to be and I want it to be.

It has always been my dream to go to the US. To go to the No. 1 country in the world. To go to the country that made movies like 'The Titanic', 'Pearl Harbor', 'The Lord of the Rings', 'Avatar' and 'Inception' (yes, I do realize that I am not actually going to Hollywood - just dramatizing). To the country that, allegedly, started the "recession". To the country that gives us most of our IT jobs. To the country that created GRE and GMAT and all that. To the country everyone around you seem to be traveling to or planning to travel to. And finally, I got a chance.

So let me live this dream I have been "incepted" (I still can't get over "Inception") with. Wake me up on the 1st of October when I would be flying back. Wake me up when September ends :)

Zzzzzz....

Feeling Green

2010-08-23T12:05:00.002+05:30

Image rights: http://greenbydesign.com

A not so happy feeling. It is not painful. But it is not pleasant too. Very uncomfortable. A feeling which we rather everyone else around us feels. It makes us wish we were not in that place, at that moment, experiencing that inexplicable sense of longing towards something which we know we cannot possibly have. It tends to bring out the devil lurking in our minds. It tempts us to abandon reasoning, to get back at it by urging us to take certain decisions not out of necessity but to implant this very feeling into the people around us. We do not want to experience that feeling ever again but we want everyone else to feel it. We want to know that they are feeling it and we want to, and probably will, feel happy about it. This, I think is a very sad paradox. Envy. It is sad that it had to be associated with a lovely color like green.

It is, in a way, like a bubble in the financial markets. There is no real happiness. There are only depictions of happiness, by some people. These depictions in turn, cause envy in other people. They in return, fueled by a deep desire to retaliate, portray stronger depictions of happiness. They try to satisfy themselves in doing this. They do it to get back at the others, even if they have to undergo some pain – even if they have to sacrifice some other real satisfaction or happiness. And the vicious cycle goes on, destroying whatever real happiness is actually present.

I see this quite predominant today. The culprit – social networking. Yes, social networking portals are like incubators of envy. We think someone is cool in doing something, be it witty status messages or colorful photographs which try to say that the people in the photographs are having a lot of “fun” or relationship updates with “hot” members of the opposite sex or achievements or something else. We burn (with envy). We want to be the objects of envy too. So we take a lot of pain to sound/look/feel cool. And then we wait, for a more challenging object of envy.

I probably sound like a senile cynic in blaming the social networking platforms for spreading envy but just think about it. At some point of time, everyone of us would probably have done something similar to what I have talked about here. May be not in such a dramatic way, but in more of a subtle and sub conscience driven manner. The point I am trying to make is – do not, at any cost, intentionally or unintentionally, be driven by the desire to feel happy by causing envy around you, and in the process, lose any little happiness you already have. Envy is a negative energy and nothing good shall come out of it.

So, think twice before you go on that trip you have been planning for a very long time, just to flood Facebook with pictures from the trip :P

A walk to remember

2010-06-29T19:38:00.002+05:30

A hot Sunday afternoon back in Vijayawada. Everyone at home was taking a siesta. Power cut. Not having anything to do, I decide to take a walk. It had been some time since I had gone around the house. In fact, I did not remember the last time I was in our backyard. Its high time, I decide and step out.

Fond memories started pouring back (minus the spiraling and music, though). The portico. The place where we used to hold a "skating" competition. Pour a lot of water on the smooth slab, take a run up to it and slide on your knees. The one to slide the maximum distance wins. Bruised knees, wet clothes and angry elders are just collateral. Cheering cousins and a chest swollen with pride upon winning are all that mattered. That was "skating", during which I broke a part of one of my teeth (yes, still visible).

A pic of my home I had taken sometime back.

The backyard. The legendary mango tree was no longer there. Being the fat kid I was, I could never climb up the mango tree to hide during hide-and-seek. I was terrified of that tree as it was always dark there and all my friends used to go hide on top of it. When it was my turn to seek, I would wait for them to get frustrated and come down the tree and then catch them ;)

The park opposite to my house. I had probably spent half of my childhood in Vijayawada (before I was sent to Vizag) in that park. The park to us, was a place to make money. Marbles, cricket, 7 stones, everything was played for a small bet. On my day, I would take 5 rupees in the morning and come back with 50 rupees. In the evening, I would throw a grand party of bhajjis and pakoras to the friends. It was from here, we broke 2 windows in my own home, often entering into a quarrel with my own granma (who used to drive my friends away when I had a fight with them, even when I was the culprit. Miss you granma. RIP.). Incidentally, the park is now named after her.

The park! No longer a cricket ground. It has been turned into a big garden with slides and swings now :(

Finally, the circuit! You see, I was always fat as a kid. My parents did everything to make me lose weight (quite unsuccessfully, though). During one such phase, I was supposed to do a 20-round brisk-walk on the road that went around our neighborhood. My grandpa would stand in the portico and count the rounds (to make sure that I did not cheat). When I complained that it was boring to do it alone, I was told to take one of my friends with me (the poor chap. He never forgave me for that). Bah! They though they had cornered me. They were not aware of a shortcut which effectively cut the total distance to less than half. Me and my poor friend would pretend to walk seriously while passing my house and when we were out of sight, take the shortcut, wait at the end of it for sometime (to avoid suspicion due to the ridiculously small "lap time"), chat and gloat over our brilliance and finally finish the lap when we thought enough time had passed to make my grandpa think that we had finished the lap. Muhahahahah (sly psychotic laugh)!!

Sigh! Call it cliched but I miss my childhood. I am glad I took the walk. To remember. Literally!

\m/usic

2010-06-04T23:13:00.001+05:30

Without it, the world would be a very sad place. Without it, there would be one less medium to express. Without it, there would be one less art. Without it, 60 years would probably be a really long time to live.

Music to me, is priceless. I am sure it is so, to all of us, in one way or another. It is probably one thing where everyone's taste is quite unique and yet, totally justified. I am yet to find a person who would say, "Nah! I don't listen to music". Someone with a really weird taste (again, weird according to ME), with whom I do not have a single song in common: yes, but someone who does not listen to any music: NO! There is always something to fill in the "Music" section of your Facebook profile. And what's more, everyone of us is passionately possessive about the music we like. We vouch for it, we evangelize it, we sing it aloud and we sing it to ourselves. And somewhere, at some corner in our hearts, we want, wish and hope we could make music like that. At least, I know I do.

My life was never the same after "Rock On!". The music just struck a chord in me and I was possessed by this irresistible urge to learn music. Any instrument. The guitar, I decided. After coming home, I realized that I was not alone when Karteek and Giri confessed that they were going for it too. Well, if we are going to do it, why not put some sense into it and form a band? After much discussion, I settled for drums while Karteek was up for guitar. Giri did not want the keyboards and he was going to learn to play the drums too. Well, it was some start at least. So we googled for the best music school in Bangalore and found some good reviews for this place called "The Unwind Center". We called them up and registered. We would start the classes in two weeks.

After 6 months, I graduated. Karteek picked up the guitar wonderfully while Giri left it midway in pursuit of other priorities. I myself was not bad and every evening, our flat would resonate with the sound from my drum kit. I would carry my drumsticks everywhere. I was a part of a band formed at work and I got a couple of opportunities to perform on stage. Karteek bought an electric guitar and an amp to go with it. We were all set to jam regularly. All this, while I was constantly trying to lose weight. Slowly, it became too much of an effort to practice regularly. And now, after almost a year since I had given my first performance, my drum kit now, is a mere structure to hang wet clothes while Karteek's electric guitar caught dust in its stand (he is doing better than me, though. He still plays his acoustic).

One of the pics of my drum kit which I took long back

Five peice. DB. 18k! N its and entry level one!

My hands tap to the beat involuntarily whenever I listen to a song I could relate to. Guilt would swell within me. I still remember every piece, every crash and every roll for "Nothing Else Matters". First the gymming, then the work, and now my GMAT prep: all of them managed to play a villain in my romance with the drums. Maybe I just let them. Let them make me and my drum kit feel like awkward friends who meet after a very long time. And now, I am even contemplating unassembling it to make room for a study table.

Zildjian drumsticks. 600 bucks!

One day, we shall do a cover of "Nothing Else Matters". Me, Karteek and hopefully, 2 others for the vocals and the bass guitar. Even if it has to be before our friends and family alone, we will do it. Even if it has to be in the dramatic way of "Rock On!", we will do it. I know we will. Its probably going to be the loser in me vs the wannabe in me.

I am sure it will be an interesting battle.

The Cup of Woes: Part 2

2010-05-16T18:18:00.002+05:30

After much thought and dilemma, here is the second part of the story. Earlier, I had planned to end it in 2 parts. But as it turned out, I could not help dragging it into the third. The first part can be read here.

His mobile rang loudly, bringing him back to this world. He had been thinking about his future while idly turning the cup in his hands. About his daughter and his wife and all the wonderful things that they would do together. He picked up the mobile. It was from Sudheer. It has been half an hour already and he had finished two rounds of examining the cup drowning 2 large mugs of coffee in the process.

"Where the hell are you, Sudh..."

"Hello?"

"Hello? Is that you Sudheer?"

"Am I speaking to Mr. Srikar?"

"Yes. Who are you? Where is Sudheer?"

"Sir, I am inspector Ramesh. Your friend had an accident. We took him to a hospital but he was declared dead upon reaching there. I am very sorry. I found your number in his mobile. It was near..."

The world around Sri seemed to be spinning. This had to be a bad dream. How could this happen to him? An hour ago, he thought he was the happiest man on the earth. Surely this has to be a bad joke. Like the cup. He sank back into the couch and stared absently at the window. He never felt so helpless, miserable and desperate in his life. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He did not know how long he sat there. After what seemed to be a really long time, he got up, put his things in his bag and walked out of the cafe, all blurring in the background. Unknown to him, a few tears had slipped silently and fell in the cup.

It has been 4 days since the accident. Probably the longest ones in his entire life. Swetha and the baby had come home that day giving him something to feel cheerful about. He went to his daughter's room where she lay in her craddle, oblivious to his misery. She looked at him, with her big brown eyes filled with wonder. Being with her calmed him a little and he couldn't help smiling. Suddenly, he remembered the frock he had bought for her and went to get it. He had not opened the bag ever since he came home that night and had totally forgotten about it. He opened the bag and fished out the frock when he noticed a faint sound. Like coins in a piggy bank. It seemed to be coming from his bag and he emptied all its contents on the table. Out came the cup and 3 white pearls.

He could not believe what he saw. He must be missing something. He definitely did not put the pearls in his bag. Swetha came home just that day. His house has been pretty much locked for the past 4 days as he was at Sudheer's place all the time. This left him with only one possible conclusion. He did not want to believe it but the pearls seemed to have come from the cup. The cup of woes.

"Sri?", called Swetha entering the room where Sri was standing rooted, still unable to comprehend what he had just concluded. Should he tell Swetha about the cup? No. Not yet. At least, not until he was sure.

"Are you okay, Sri? You look pale."

"Yeah. I am fine. I came in to get this frock. I had bought it for the baby."

"Its beautiful. Come, I want to see her in it."

They dressed their little daughter in the frock and stood back and took a long look at her. She looked like an angel. Swetha slipped her hand into Sri's. They stood there for a while holding each other and letting the weariness they had experienced over the past few days drain a little. Sri's mind, however, would not stop thinking about the cup. He had to make sure. He would test it. Tonight, he thought.

That night, after Swetha had slept, he slipped out of his bed quietly. He fetched the cup and put it on the table in the drawing room and sat on the couch facing it. How was he going to test it? Apparently, he needs to cry. He thought of Sudheer and all the good times they had shared. He thought of their childhood, of the days they had spent flying kites on his terrace, of the days when they skipped school and watched movies, of the days nights they had spent together studying, of the day when they went on their first double date, of the enthusiasm and delight in his voice the day he told him about the baby. Before he knew, tears trickled down his face. He missed Sudheer. His absence pained him a lot. Slowly, he became aware of his surroundings and his eyes fell on the cup. He leaned forward, closed his eyes and let the tears fall in the cup. He heard the dull thud of his tears meeting the ceramic. He was scared to open his eyes. He felt foolish for even trying this out. After a long time he wiped the remaining tears off his face, composed himself and slowly opened his eyes.

In the cup, he saw a handful of shining white pearls.

[To be continued..]

Update: Part 3 can be found here

Roti Burji

2010-05-10T11:33:00.000+05:30

Mom: I made egg burji for your journey. How many rotis do you want me to pack with it?

Me: 2. Not more than that.
Mom: 2? Do you plan to starve to death? 2 won't be enough.

Me: Mom, please! 2 is good. Okay, max 3.

Mom: Fine!

-----

At about 9 PM, I start feeling very hungry and decide to have my dinner. I fish out my packet, eat all the 4 rotis and silently thank mom.

Moms. They know us. Bless them!

Tee-thing troubles

2010-04-29T10:35:00.001+05:30

I have always hated t-shirts. Especially the crew-neck types. Not because I don't like them. Its because I could not wear them. I used to get a little self-conscious and feel very uncomfortable whenever I wore a tee. And then one day, I resigned. I decided that I would not wear them any more. That was very long ago.

Yesterday, it was the first time I wore a crew-neck tee which I bought for myself. I did wear some old ones to the gym many times but this was different. I wore it to work. It was a feeling I would probably not forget for quite some time. Nervous, excited, conscious(very). And happy. :)

Kushmanda!

2010-04-04T17:52:00.000+05:30

Well, if the villain dies screaming that word, there has to be some significance to it. So I come back home after watching Varudu and google for it and guess what, it IS something. More on it here for those of you who are interested/jobless enough.

Okay. So I heard some really bad reviews about the movie. Horrible, to be more precise. Still, we go ahead and watch the movie because thats what we do in Vijayawada. We inquire about the movie, discuss the reviews but yes, we still go and watch the movie. Anyway, so we enter the theater expecting 2+ hours of torture. But I must admit, we were pleasantly surprised by the movie. At least, the first half. It definitely did not deserve the lavish abuse that was showered on it. Of course, it did not miss out on the typical and hopelessly romantic cliches that infest Tollywood and it definitely has a very awkward cast (except for the parents of hero and the heroine, who I thought were perfect). But as I said, it was definitely not horrible. Judge me for this if you dare to but I did like the movie. May be not in a tell-your-friends-to-go-watch-it-right-away way. But yes, I was definitely not disappointed. I think that Varudu is one of those movies which crumble under their own hype (considering that it was one of the most anticipated movies of the season).

This experience made me realize a powerful phenomenon which we all know exists, but fail to apply most of the times. Perception or prejudice changes everything. Yes. When I go out and watch a movie, the experience would be unique to me. There are a million things which affect my experience directly or indirectly. I might relate to the movie based on my personal experiences, tastes, interests, etc. People were shocked when I declared that I did not like Ye Maya Chesavo. They probably even thought I was a heartless psycho. My friends still tease me for considering Kotha Bangaru Lokam an entertainer. Most of us still dont get why Banda would un-follow Chetan Bhagat on twitter or why bachi would have his twitter user name as bachi_Khan_SRK or why Vamsi cant stop irritating us with is BABIG crap. In our own little weird ways, all of us are freaks!

When a movie critic goes out and watches a movie, his liking or not-liking the movie is pent to be based on various factors. Like whether he/she is prejudiced against any of the cast/crew of the movie or the comfort level of the theater where the movie is being screened or very simply, his/her mood that day. I am sure most of the famous critics out there are professional enough to filter out all this noise when they work on their reviews but yeah, there are bound to be some exceptions. It can be the other way round too, like in my case when an absolutely shitty movie might actually appeal in its own special way.

Am I implying that one should not follow movie reviews? No.
Am I saying that one should go out and watch every damn movie that is made? No.
Well then, whats my point? Well, all I am saying is that if a movie really appeals to you, be it through trailers or its cast or some damn reason, do not let a "review" spoil the experience for you!

P.S: Subtle hints at Rajeev Masand were indeed, intended :)

The Cup of Woes: Part 1

2010-03-27T12:26:00.002+05:30

This is the first part of a three part story. All the characters in the story are of course, imaginary and practical resemblance to anyone is not a possibility :)

"Its a girl, sir. She is beautiful. You should be a proud man", the nurse said to him.
"Thank you, Sophie. Thanks a ton!", he replied, walking towards Swetha's ward. She was asleep with a look of content on her face. He walked towards the small cradle beside her bed. There she was, neatly wrapped in a clean white towel. She was beautiful, indeed. Just like her mother. He slipped his little finger into her tiny little hand. She stirred a little, holding the finger tight. Standing there with his daughter's hand wrapped around his finger, he realized how happy he was. He closed his eyes and let the feeling sink in.

"Yes Sudheer, its a girl", he whispered into his mobile, walking out of the ward.
"Oh my god, Congrats Sri! I am so happy for you guys. I am coming right away", came the reply from the other end.
"Thanks yaar. Yes, I will wait at the coffee place down the road. Don't be late"
"I won't. See you soon."

Srikar or Sri, as he was called by people close to him, was the closest thing to what we would call "a happy man". At least, that was what he thought. He had a decent job as an accountant in a bank, a beautiful wife who loved him and whom he loved of course and now, a little angel for a daughter. He thanked god for all of it and thought he did not need anything else in life. He wondered if he deserved all this happiness.

After updating his parents and in-laws, he exited the hospital after leaving a small note telling Swetha that he would be back in an hour, in case she woke up. He started walking down the street towards the coffee place where he was supposed to meet Sudheer. Sudheer was his best friend for as long as he could remember. They grew up together, went to the same school, studied in the same college and now work in the same bank. In fact, he was the one who introduced Swetha to him. Bless him.

He was passing by a small garment shop when something caught his eye. It was a small frock. A bright yellow frock with white satin ribbons on it. It was the prettiest thing he ever saw and could not take his eyes off it. It would be beautiful on his daughter. He walked into the shop and checked the price. 500 rupees. Damn! He did not have much cash on him and the shop would not take cards. The bank where he worked was just a block away and it had an ATM. He hurried towards it. He withdrew the cash and was about to head back towards the shop when Ali, the mail guy called him.

"What is it, Ali?"
"Srikar saab, you have a package"
"A package? Who is it from?"
"I don't know. It was left at the front desk with your name on it. I guess someone must have left it when I was in the bathroom"
"Okay. I will take it. By the way, it's a girl, Ali"
"Inshahllah! Congrats Srikar saab. I will come after my shift to see her"
"Thanks Ali", said Srikar taking the package and walking towards the shop.

He picked up the frock and reached the coffee place. Sudheer was not there yet. He sat at a corner table, waiting. He ran his fingers on the frock he had bought, feeling its softness and imagined his daughter in it. He smiled to himself, content. He then remembered about the package and fished it out from the cover. It was a small box wrapped in a thick brown paper. No name or address on it too. He opened it to find a small cup and a note in it.

He picked up the cup. It was unlike any cup he had ever seen. It was clean and white. It did not have a handle and a single silver line ran around it near the brim. It felt light and delicate in his hands. Keeping it on the table, he picked up the note wondering who would give him such a weird gift.

"In your hands is the cup of woes

It shall turn your tears to pearls

Pass it on if you are happy enough

Break it if there is no place you can think of"

He looked for a sign or a name on the note but he could find none. He let out a small muffled laugh. It must be a joke. A prank by one of his friends. The cup of woes, what a fancy name! He held up the cup and turned it round in his hands. It glinted at the brim catching a ray of sunlight from the window. It was certainly pretty and intriguing and for a moment, he almost felt that there was something really magical about it. Whoever had done this to him, did a good job with the selection. He put it back in its cover, ordered a coffee and sat back, waiting for Sudheer.

He did not know that his life was going to change for ever.

[To be continued..]

Update: Part 2 can be found here

Booba and the Ross-Rachel affair

2010-03-16T09:33:00.004+05:30

It was a little colder than usual that day, may be signifying the impending.

About six months ago, Booba came home from work with news. He was asked to move to Nigeria for a few months. Haha. Of all the countries, he got Nigeria!

We were really excited. He was the first one who got an on-site (well, even if the site is in Nigeria. Would you judge us if I told you that we would have been equally pepped up even if one of us was asked to go to Pakistan?) opprotunity among us. Booba was not really looking forward to the assignment, though. It was only a matter of minutes before we realized why. We got our laptops and started googling away.

Nigeria is one of the poorest countries in the world. Frequent communal riots and high crime rate are normalcy in the country. People roam about with guns, we heard (one more reason to go there, we kept telling him. It is like living in a movie, isn't it?). We were told that kidnapping and mugging are a day-to-day activity in some parts. If Booba were to go, he would be provided with a couple of personal security guards. How cool is that!

Me: "Its still a democracy, though."

Kisna: "Dude, hot black chicks and all, huh?"

Pelli: "The first thing you need to do after getting there is take a pic of yourself with your security guards (with guns, obviously) and send it to us"

Karteek: "One Indian rupee is 3 nairas. Ahh, you rich ass!"

Chotu: "Carry a lot of you-know-what. You never know when you might need one buddy"

And it went on that way for a few weeks till we got bored of the whole thing. The trip never came. Booba just kept telling us that it got postponed. He was trying to get out of it even after getting a visa and a vaccination for yellow fever. None of us believed that there is a chance of this trip being a reality anymore. So our two-cool-guards-with-guns fantasy had to wait. Until last friday.

Booba had a big fight with his manager and his superiors. They wanted him to go to Nigeria that friday. Yes, a day after 500 people were reported to be dead in communal riots. He wouldn't go and offered to resign. They wouldn't accept his resignation. Even if they did, they told him, he would be sent on the trip during his one month notice period. Poor Booba. His parents were so worried. He had to take all the pressure and still go on the trip even when he offered (and threatened) to resign. So he got ready to go. We were worried for him. We tried to cheer him up telling him that on the brighter side, he would get to live our fantasy. No, he wasn't amused.

Finally, it was time to leave. We all went to the airport. Even on the way to the airport, we (Booba excluded) were not really sure that this trip would happen because it had been on and off for a long time. The trip got postponed/delayed more number of times than we could remember.

It was like the Ross-Rachel affair, we thought. But this time, it did happen. After an awkward ten minute see-off at the airport (during which none of us cried, btw. The whole guy thing, you know!) he was off.

Yes, Revuru Venkata Siva Sai Kiran left for Nigeria. All Eeez Well so far and we are waiting for the pic to come! :)

The Audacity of Hope

2010-02-26T10:08:00.000+05:30

The audacity of hope! I always liked that line but never really believed in it. Somehow, it did not seem real. It is one of those lines which belongs to the books and is cursed to remain there. Well, that was what I thought until a few days ago.

Imagine this: you get up in the morning, finish all your ablutions, put on your uniform, go to school, get taught in the class, have lunch, play in the evening, study for sometime, have dinner and finally go to bed: a typical day for a child. Yes, you get to wear "civil dress" on fridays too. You get to draw and paint and read story books and comics. You get to show off your new pencil box your mom bought you or the new school bag u were gifted for your birthday or the cool new radium watch that glows in the dark, which your uncle got you from the states. Isn't that plain happiness? Now imagine doing all that with your eyes closed. Difficult? What if you were further told that you cannot open your eyes ever, even if you wanted to, that you cannot see anymore? Scary? Would you be able to be in a room filled with people who can see and still be confident? Would you still want to go to school? Will the prospect of studying still appeal to you?

No. At least, not for many of us. But, about 40 kilometers from Hyderabad, there exists a small isolated place with a cluster of buildings which houses close to 50 blind children who are not daunted by their disability. They had passed the 10th standard (some of them with a higher score than many of us) and are now preparing for their PUC (+1, +2) exams. They go about their routine with surprising discipline and almost all of them consider a graduate degree as their career choice. "How?", we wonder. "Why not?", they say.

The place is the first junior college in Andhra Pradesh, exclusively for the blind & visually challenged. It provides free education along with free boarding, clothing and basic medical facilties for underprivileged blind students. For the first time in the world, students of Nethravidyala Jr. College of Hyderabad appeared for their board examinations using laptops and not scribes (Telugu and Sanskrit are an exception). These students get educated with the help of JAWS, a software for the blind: one of the most convincing usages of technology for a social cause I have seen in a long time, coupled with the good old braille language. Powered by a laptop and a pair of head phones, they go about their preparation, typing faster than most of us.

It was high time we made this visit. We have been contributing to this institute for some time now, thanks to Chakri who first told us about it. Since then, we have wanted to visit the place and see first hand, how they were managing the whole thing. Finally, we did manage to make the effort to travel all the way there last weekend. The visit coupled with the movie "Leader" (thanks to Bachi) left me in high spirits and changed my perception of blind people. It was as if they were telling me, through what they were doing, "Manoj, dude, after all, its all about the way you take it!". I was really impressed by these children. They only had voices for their friends and their hands for support. But the immense talent and hope they possess is simply out of the world. You can't help but smile at their sincere and innocent efforts. The audacity of hope is written all over them!

If you want to check out their website, click here and if you want to talk to someone about the place, you can get in touch with Chakri or me.

Guest Post: Rahul Jain

2010-02-26T10:03:00.000+05:30

My manager and a passionate advocate of 'The Art of Living', Rahul was on a trip to Arunachal Pradesh for a couple of weeks on an AOL mission(more on it shortly). He is back now and a changed person. In this post, he talks about his experience there, the political complications and the wide gap between the seeming and the actual in the beautiful state. Brace yourself for an enchanting read which will leave you high with utter awe! Thanks a ton Rahul, for taking the pain of making this post for me and my friends.

Two weeks in Arunachal Pradesh … and what an experience!! I was there as part of my TTC project … and here’s my account:

Article 370 applies to Arunachal (as it does to Jammu & Kashmir), which means no one from outside can buy land in Arunachal … and the locals don’t need to pay tax.

China has multiple interests in the Kashmir-Tibet-Arunachal-Sikkim region … (1) China forcefully occupied Tibet in 1951, which had been an independent and autonomous region since the 12th century. With Tibet in its pocket, China controls the waters of Brahmaputra, Sutlej and Indus. (2) In the 1962 Indo-China war, China pulverized India, and entered deep into our territory. They later withdrew from Arunachal, but they kept Aksai Chin … This is the part of Kashmir under Chinese control. Aksai Chin is strategically important for Beijing as it is its only link to Tibet. (3) China also claims that Arunachal is its territory, unlawfully occupied by India. For 2 reasons – it may barter Arunachal for official control of Aksai Chin; or if it gets Arunachal, then it has greater control of Brahmaputra waters (Siang and Kameng rivers in Arunachal are big tributaries to Brahmaputra).

China is building international pressure and opinion about Tibet and Arunachal. Meanwhile our MEA (Ministry of External Affairs) has been caught on the wrong foot on several occasions … first by not being strong / vocal about Aksai Chin, next with Tibet, and now by being a silent witness to loss of territory in Arunachal …

The border between China and Arunachal is a joke … there’s no check on the Indian side, and the Chinese allow free passage to Arunachal locals and their own citizens … you just need to look Chinky, and you have free passage both ways. And guess what – the rest of India requires an “Inner Line Permit” to enter Arunachal … it’s like requiring a visa to enter your own country! So I got a permit with 1 month validity before I could enter Arunachal.

There’s very little infrastructure on the Indian side … narrow un-tarred roads (if at all), bare minimum transport, barely anything … contrast this with the Chinese side - 4 lane highways coming right to the border, Dams and hydro-electric projects, retail shops …

Arunachal locals call themselves tribals, but boy are they modern! Since very little is available on the Indian side, and since the border is open to them, they just walk over to the Chinese side … buy the latest jeans, skirts, fashion accessories, electronics, food – all at Chinese rates – and walk right back in. I had gone to Jullang village with my TTC buddy Jayant … I saw very modest, shanty looking houses made of bamboo. The outer walls are made of Bamboo skin … just 2-3 mm thick … built like a net … with holes in it. In winters when there’s fog outside, there’s fog inside the house too! It just moves in through the holes in the bamboo net. My friend Jayant, who spent most of Nov and Dec in one such hut, used to have fog in his room every morning … and he’d have to take bath in 4-5 Deg C cold water! Some steel.

Anyway, coming back to my visit to Jullang village … I go there and see these shanty looking bamboo huts, and as we step inside … it’s a sight … most of the old folks are dressed in their native dress, but many youngsters are dressed in fashionable clothes … girls wearing short denim skirts / tight jeans and fashionable tops. And they call themselves tribals!! Jayant and I were wearing kurta-pyjama, and we looked like villagers.

Arunachalis are short in height … and shorter in temper. They eat meat morning, noon and night. And they drink their local liquor – Apoomb – made of rice – morning, noon and night. The men drink, the women drink, they even give it to their children … as young as 2 years old! Ask them why, and they’ll tell you – it’s so cold here … with all the holes in the bamboo net walls … with the fog moving into the house, drinking ain’t a matter of luxury, it’s a question of survival … Well, all I can say is that all the meat and liquor makes them rather short tempered and unpredictable. Many tribal men carry the Dao, which is a 2 feet long iron machete (much like a flat and straight sword) with a bamboo handle. The Dao is kept in a bamboo sheath, hanging across the shoulder. One edge of the iron blade is very sharp and the other edge is thick and blunt to give weight to the weapon. If a tribal gets into an altercation with you, it won’t take him long to draw out the Dao, and it won’t take him long to use it either. With all the meat power behind it, the first blow, very likely, is a death blow. No kidding. When 2 tribals get into a fight, the first thing they say to each other is “let this fight remain between us, let it not go to our families” … bcos at least one of them will get seriously injured or will die. It’s quite the law of the jungle.

Officially, crime rate is low … but hey, the Dao fights don’t get reported to the police.

In the main market of Itanagar, called “Ganga market”, I saw a most disgusting sight … heaps of dead rats and silk worms being sold … to be cooked and eaten … apparently they were “fresh” catch. Arunachalis speak Hindi … and at heart they are Indian … but their temper and their food habits are definitely not.

They enjoy the best of both worlds – China gives them free entry … so they can buy clothes, electronics and other stuff real cheap … and the Indian govt gives them special protection, so they don’t pay taxes … and now listen to this: When an election happens in Andhra Pradesh, I’m told, a liquor bottle and Rs 200 reaches every house. When an election happens in Arunachal, a Maruti 800 car, or its equivalent money reaches every house. With such largesse, where’s the need to work? … one of the reasons why Arunachalis don’t want to be a part of China … bcos the Chinese Communist govt will make them work!

From where do all those Maruti cars come from? The answer lies in India’s annual budget … Arunachal has a huge land area, but a very small population – just 12 lakh. In fact Arunachal has the biggest land area among all north-east states (even bigger than Assam), but the lowest population. Every annual budget, Arunachal gets a disproportionately high budget allocation. In return Arunachal pays nothing back. There are no industries, so there’s no way for the central govt to collect taxes … and remember locals are exempt from tax anyway. The high budget allocation has to go somewhere … majority of it goes into the pockets of corrupt politicians and babus, and a smaller fraction, when distributed among a small population, is still big money per family.

Everybody’s happy with the status quo …

- China continues to build military installations and infrastructure on its side, meanwhile India is sleeping. China also has a long-term plan to control the waters of mighty Himalayan rivers.

- The Congress party keeps winning all the elections, its politicians keep siphoning off majority of Arunachal budget every year.

- The locals keep getting free money from corrupt Congress politicians … and they buy their essentials cheap from China.

- Meanwhile Sonia Gandhi keeps working on her agenda silently – to convert all of Arunachal to Christianity (much like Mizoram)

The only loser is India and the Indian tax payer … If Sonia Gandhi’s puppet – Mr Spineless Prime Minister (some still call him “Mr brilliant finance minister”) - has enough sense, he’s do something to tap tourism and natural resources in Arunachal. If hydro-electric projects are setup in Arunachal, it can provide electricity to entire north-east and have surplus for the rest of India … Siang and Kameng are mighty rivers in their own right. Also surplus water can be used for agriculture. Tourism has huge potential … and can bring revenue to the state and the center … if only we had good roads and transport in Arunachal.

Otherwise sooner or later, China will walk in … divert the waters of Brahmaputra, Siang, Kameng, Sutlej, Indus … and 25 – 30% of Indians will be left high and dry. Literally. Consider this - with all the 4 lane highways that China has built right up to the border, they can deploy their army within hours. On the other hand, every Indian battalion will have to walk 4 days to reach the Tawang / Siang / Kameng / Dibang border.

I sometimes wonder if it’s only some Divine power that holds India together …

I’m told the other agenda China has (apart from control of water) is to Balkanize India. They want to split India into 20-30 pieces, so that we’re not a threat to them economically or militarily. Read this interesting article, which though not an official version … but it’ll give u some idea of what the Chinese may be thinking … I tell you I don’t trust the Chinese.

Anyway … enough political commentary …

So we were in Arunachal for 2 weeks … our mission was (1) to reach out to maximum people, (2) to create a sense of friendship and camaraderie between the locals (tribals) and the rest of India, (3) to teach Yoga and Sudarshan Kriya to as many people as possible, and (4) to gather maximum people for the visit of His Holiness Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, the founder of Art of Living.

So 6 people from my TTC batch land there. 3 of them were in Arunachal since Nov 2009 … I and two others came over for just 2 weeks. We had some local support … and with their help, we were able to conduct Sudarshan Kriya & Yoga courses for 700+ people. On 19-Feb-2010, there was a grand function in Itanagar titled “Harmony in Diversity”. It had a musical ensemble and a fusion dance that presented 15 different dance forms of India fused in one sequence (dance forms of all 7 north east states were represented, and so were Bharatnatyam, Mohiniattam, Kathak, Bhandga, etc). A little less than 5000 people had gathered for the function … our target was 10,000 … so we could achieve only 50% of our target. His Holiness gave an inspiring talk, which was very well received by the locals … everybody was on their feet, clapping and dancing at the end. His Holiness also conducted a 20 minute meditation midway through the function, which was also very well received by everyone.

Considering that the population of Arunachal is just 12 Lakh … we thought 5000 was a good number for starters.

It doesn’t end here … Art of Living will continue doing grass-roots work in Arunachal. Art of Living is opening a number of Ayurvedic clinics (too many health problems with all the meat consumption), and will continue to teach Yoga and the powerful Sudarshan Kriya to the locals. Meanwhile His Holiness had met the chief minister and the governer, and hopefully they listen to his suggestions about developing tourism in the state … this will bring revenue for sure, it will also build better bonds between the Arunachalis and the rest of India!

And now I’m back in Bangalore … keep thinking what a learning experience I had!!! Meanwhile 2 of my TTC buddies who’ve been there since Nov will continue for another 2-3 months … before the rains begin, and bring everything to a grinding halt. I so admire Jayant and Dona and Geetha for their grit and determination … for the selfless social service work they are carrying out. I so admire them because they got results in alien territory!!! For 2 weeks, I was just a little helping hand …

Vahe Guruji da Khalsa, Vahe Guruji di Fateh!

In service,
Rahul

PS – to be fair to Arunachalis … it does take time to win their trust … but once you’ve won their trust, they’ll stand by you in life and death.

Guest Post: Harsha Konduri

2010-02-19T10:51:00.005+05:30

One of the most successful entrepreneurs of BITS Goa, he has been quite an iconic figure for many of us. He has agreed to make the first contribution to the guest post series on my blog. In this post, he talks about entrepreneurship and some of the challenges against it in our country today. Enjoy the post while I sit back and sink my sinful teeth into a really huge bar of fine dark chocolate presented to me by Guru, who is back from the US :D. Thanks a ton Guru and welcome back!

"I play the game for the game's own sake." - Sherlock Holmes, in The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans.

Its been a while since I've been able to write few sentences about a freakonomic view on anything that's come my way - but there was one certain thing - next time I sat down to blog - it would definitely take the title straight out of Sherlock Holmes mouth - as a tribute to the Guy Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes effort.

It is customary to write why : but this time it was more 'who' : it all is , where you are reading this from.

But 'the why' is nonetheless significant :

Why are the Google phenomenon or Yahoo trend not from India?

By asking this very pertinent question , we are eventually forced to answer three daunting retrospective questions

Can the next-likes of them,come from India?
Could they have been from India?
If they can,When would it be?

In my pursuit to try to get to these questions - I get the perspective from the way I've seen or been a part of the various interactions with startups which operate from Bangalore to Boston :

The Social Setup

The top pick in the blame game would be the way whole societal structure is interlinked for example :

Take a look at this :

1)A Brahman Boy - out of a well to do family narrowly escapes repeating 7th grade - we hear this : this fella should be caught in the exception block of the Indian caste system - Brahmin's are born to be brilliant at education and NOTHING else.We leave every other good bit of the Vedic chaturvarna caste system and its responsibilities and cling on to only the single glorifying characteristic of them.

2)Gets 12/75(16%)in Maths 1A in Grade 11 - has a brother who raked 100% in every possible exam in the very school - the younger brother went to.The instructor puts both of them in a COMPARATOR but the call to such a function is just with just one parameter 'MARKS'.The problem is we expect all siblings to be W'right' Brothers and their stardom - easily reproducible.

3)They guy next door syndrome - this actually stems from the fact that parents (most of them) try to identify the success/failure of their own son and that of others in the ward himself and be very attributive of this to the son and expect him to excel and protect their pride

An aggregation of the attitude we demonstrate in each of these situations will lead us to putting the premise this way - we force the son to choose the virtual 'path of glory' - which is often over crowded - more so because we are more than 100 billion people in which we belong to 2 distinct categories - 1)being the 'wandering generality' and the 2)wanting to push our son into the class of 'wandering generality' which sums upto the 100 billion - which is a reason enough that our Service Industry flourishes - not taking anything away from them that we've been able to build Infosys,TCS,Wipro,erstwhile Satyam.

The key element that goes missing here is the 'ability to risk anything,to do what you'd love to do'

Which is a amalgamation of discovering your work love - which is often inhibited at the roots because we are forced to take the path often traversed , the moment the lookout starts - the outlook changes.

Risk taking ability - Imagine if Sabeer Bhatia - wouldn't have given up the much respected BITS Pilani degree in between to go to the US - it would have taken much longer for us to see free web-based email.If the shackles of societal pressures would have played too much on Evan Williams(of Pyra Labs fame - which created BlogSpot.com) , Manoj would have had to forward this piece of thought to all of you.

While this is the 1st part of the series of why we need to play the entrepreneurial game for its own sake - would like to thank Manoj for having me guest blog on his 'very soon will be' famous blog-spot.

P.S. Dark Chocolate rocks!! \m/

Why The F ?!

2010-02-12T10:05:00.001+05:30

It kept returning to me. No matter how hard I tried to push the uncomfortable question to the back of my mind, it just kept coming back. I knew I had to answer it eventually. But, it was not going to be easy.

"Why should anyone read my blog?" Its probably a haunting question for any blogger. At least, for most of the casual bloggers like me. Am I the geek who shares his wisdom with the world and whose every post is a tip, hack, or some kind of a value addition to the reader's expertise? NO. Am I a celebrity whose views on an issue, incident or the current state of an affair matter? NO. Am I an analyst whose mere way of deciphering a topic gives a unique and valuable insight into it? NO. Am I a gripping story teller? Do I even have a niche area or scope defined for my blog? Are my posts at least so abstract and confusing that the readers are actually tricked into believing that I am in some way, aloof and far more sophisticated as they are and embarrass them to be thinking "WTF does that post even mean!!"? Unfortunately, NO!

Praise or abuse, active criticism is a writer's way of asserting that he/she had touched someone with their work. Its an assurance that his work had not gone unnoticed. What would it take to motivate the modern audience, who thinks twice before clicking on a link as to whether it is going to do him/her any good (rightly so), to make the effort to take a moment and key in a few words of support? What would make them want more? Apparently, its a tough question.

I shall try and show to you, that there is ONE MORE different way of looking at things. That there can be immense joy in stupid jokes. That there are other things that can lighten up your day apart from cheery forwarded e-mails. That you can have awfully long and time wasting conversations without a purpose and still not regret it. That you can learn from the things and people around you without making an effort to do so. That good blogs are beyond information, reviews and prep material for GRE or CAT. That you can simply open my post, read it, smile and get on with your work feeling better :) and that I can get amusingly (read hopelessly) philosophical at times.

So, here is the deal. Every friday, when you come to work saying "TGIF" to yourself, I am going to make a new post. Something funny or something which happened over the week or something interesting or something rather silly. There shall be guest bloggers too, at times who will share their thoughts on my blog. Let me know what you think about it. Everyone wants appreciation. Geminians more so than anyone else. So, be assured that there shall not be a meaningless post here.

TGIF! Have a 'love'ly weekend. Keep an eye out for the Mutaliks and the Thackreys ;)

So long till next friday.

Hail Google!

Two States

2010-02-05T17:29:00.002+05:30

A flurry of emotions engulf me as I sit back and start typing for the first post of my re-entry into the blogosphere. 2 years. Has it been so long? When and why has it all stopped? Was I really unable to make time for the one thing which I have always enjoyed? Seems so.

Almost two years of work experience behind me, I could not have been a more different person. Physically and psychologically. Those of you who havent seen me in a while will probably find it hard to see me now and acknowledge that I really am the same person. The Manoj you have known. Now, when did it all start?

-----

It was the 2nd year in college. Counter Strike, a game which occupied a considerable portion of our engineering life, has just started gaining popularity. Good CS players were gods, like the south indian film stars, for the rest of us. We were having a match, one with all the major players and I was really excited to have been included in the final 15(or was it 16?). We were losing badly.

Me: KoD, do something. We are losing.

KoD: Patience is a virtue, my friend.

Me: LOL.

Yes, I did laugh out loud at his reply. So typical of him to say anything that comes to his mind. After all, he did pride himself on being able to make up bull shit real fast, dint he? 'The Blabberer'. Somehow, that sentence was safely embedded in my mind. I did not realize the importance of that statement. Not yet. Not in the old state.

-----

August 1st, 2008. Finally, it was time. This was the day I had been promising myself that I would start working out. There was a gym at work, it was well equipped and it was free. 'You have no excuse to not work out', I told myself. 35 minutes. Thats all! I was gasping for my breath. I cursed myself for over-estimating my stamina and pushing myself so hard on day1. Patience, I said to myself.

-----

September 1st, 2008. The past one month had been the longest one in my life. I did not check my weight since the day I started gymming. I was super excited. A little tensed too. Wearily, I stepped on the weighing-machine. 104.4. Not bad. 3.5 kgs. Way to go, Manoj! My sense of euphoria did not last long. I realized that I still have atleast 30 kgs to loose. A really long way. I was not sure if I could do it. If only I had a way of seeing the future! Slap. Back to this world. Maybe I can get a lipo. Its not very expensive. 1 more month. If I maintain the rate of weight loss, I will continue. If not, I will get a lipo done.

-----

The new year. It has been more than a month since I stopped going to the gym. My conscience was killing me. 'I was really busy with work', I protested in denial. It was partially true. We just finished all our trainings and have been given an assignment, to assess our progress. We had to develop an internal tool on a relatively new technology and the deadlines were threatening. I quit the gym and started working overtime. I assured myself that it was only temporary. Finally, the project was over and I was heading to the gym. I havent checked my weight after I stopped gymming at 101. I could not bring myself to do it as I was scared that I might have put on. I stepped on the weighing machine ready for the unpleasant truth. I will probably have to start all over again. Sigh!

98.3. What? After checking 10 times and making all the people in the gym check theirs to confirm that the machine is not broken, I still could not believe it. Double digit weight! YESSS!

-----

Puff..Pant!..It was a saturday and I was just back from a morning jog. There was a weighing machine in our apartment complex and I dragged my feet towards it to check my weight. 83. I smiled and rushed up to my flat, switched on my laptop, signed in to gtalk and updated my status message: 'Celebrating 25 kgs of weight loss'.

I knew I had come a long way. It has been more than 8 months since I had first started working out. Month after month, as my weight loss continued at a wonderful rate, the exhilaration was intoxicating. I was addicted to working out. My roomies started worrying that I had turned into a fitness freak. They would not tell me but they dreaded having dinner with me because I had a 1000 conditions to be satisfied before I certify something to be edible. I would embarrass them by irritating the waiters with my specifications on how to prepare my order. I would not let them have pizza. I would nag them to submission on observing 'fruit-day's. They did bear me. Bless them!

-----

75. Finally. The figure I never imagined I would touch. It was blissful. I treated myself to biryani and ice cream.

-----

71. Oh no! Not again. I could not stop losing weight. I did start eating properly(atleast, thats what I thought) and I was concentrating on weight-training. But somehow, my body would not come out of the weight-loss mode. Everyone started complaining about how I started looking skinny and sick. My mom was very worried. Hell, I was worried too. I was just clueless!

-----

Today. A healthy 72.5 and a decent amount of muscle on me. I am obsessed with protein and I dream about dumbbells. Yes, still a fitness freak. I give tips and instructions on how to loose weight to all the people at work. Did I ever imagine the present 'me'? Hell, NO! Did I enjoy every moment of the transformation? YES! As 'The Blabberer' said, patience is definitely a virtue!

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the second innings of a slimmer, older and balder Manoj who has also learnt to play the drums(Hell, yeah! More on that soon..) along the way. The new state.