Loose Reasoning

இனபெருக்கம்

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Wed, 25 May 2011 17:36:00 +0000

ஒன்றே குலம் ஒருவனே தேவன்....

சிவன் என்று ஆரம்பித்தோம்
துணைக்காக பார்வதி
பெற்றுவிட்டுப் போகட்டுமே என்று பிள்ளையாரும் முருகனும்
கூட்டுக் குடும்ப கலாச்சாரத்துக்காக சித்தியும் புத்தியும் வள்ளியும் தெய்வானையும்
வேறொரு பக்கம் பெருமாளும் லக்ஷ்மியும்
ஒன்றல்ல இரண்டு அல்ல...எட்டு லக்ஷ்மிகள்
பெரிய தெய்வங்கள் போதாது என
சிறு தெய்வங்கள் வேறு
பைரவர் வைரவர் என
கூட்டமாய் ஒன்பது கிரகங்கள்
காலம் ஓடியது
தெருவுக்கு ஒரு பிள்ளையார் எல்லைக்கு ஒரு அய்யனார்
மற்றும் பல அடுக்கன் சாமி விடுக்கன் சாமி இடுக்கண் சாமி
கடைசியாய் மக்களின் மனத்தை கொள்ளை கொள்ள வந்தார் ஒரு கடைக்கண் சாமி....

இதுவே எனது தெய்வங்களின் இனப்பெருக்கக் கதை...

The Lost Compass

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Tue, 16 Dec 2008 09:40:00 +0000

ம‌ற‌க்க‌ எண்ணி அதிர்ந்த‌ பொழுதில்...

நினைத்திருக்கும் நித்திய‌ப் பொழுதில்...

இல‌க்கின்றி வான‌த்தை வெறித்த‌ பொழுதில்...

நிலை க‌ண்டு மின்மினிக‌ள் ந‌கைத்த‌ பொழுதில்...

ம‌ன‌க்க‌ண்ணில் திருமுக‌ச் சித்திர‌த்தை

சில‌ நூறாயிர‌ம் முறை எழுதிய‌ பொழுதில்...

அழுகையும் ஆனந்த‌மும் ஆர்ப்ப‌ரித்த‌

அந்த நொடிப் பொழுதில்...

இப்ப‌டிப் ப‌ல‌ப்ப‌ல‌

பிற‌விப் பெருங்க‌ட‌ல்க‌ள் நீந்தும் பாவியேன்!

Kadavul Nambikkai

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Mon, 26 May 2008 13:19:00 +0000

Nambikkai pirakkum...
Arivin iyalaamai viLangum pOdhu....

Hooked

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 23:35:00 +0000

She wished to miraculously dissolve into thin ar.
She wished for a lightning bolt to claim her -- right that moment .
She wished for a volcano to erupt under her own feet.
She wished to be, atleast, transported to a distant world - even if it meant loneliness was her only companion and guilt was all she had to consume for the rest of her colorless life.

Ironically, her desire to live propelled her resolve for self-mortification.

Nothing happened.

A thousand eyes watched her curiously -- a curiosity derived from sadistic pleasure. The decision was hers to make. Her fate rested on the word she would utter. When the decision is made, only a vast sea of suffering awaited her -- only her. Everyone else will fall back to normalcy.

She stood there motionless, save the occasional blink of her teary eye. The acidity of the moment eroded her from inside out - like she had gulped acid and now the acid is eroding the skin through her ribs.

Oh! If only her husband was not there….She spent the last ounce of her energy to avoid his eyes. In that split-second, when their eyes met….she knew that the glory of their past and promise of their future, hung on a delicate thread, which will be cut loose by her word, in a few moments.

A lie, a simple 'No', was all she wanted to say, but for that lie-detecting, all-encompassing conscience.

To walk away in silence is to sacrifice herself on the altar. No better than the painful nod of her head. No better than the excruciating exercise of letting a 'Yes' slip through her tongue. Her lips felt heavier than ever.

What is she going to say?

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Suddenly, the frame freezes -- with a nagging 'thodarum' sign.

While I struggle to come back to reality, the paati next door sighs - "Che…enna irundhalum oru ponnukku ivLo sodhanai vara koodaadhu"

And then Chithra sings a poignant

"Oho ho Kavithai paayum Selvi ! Kanavu thorum Selvi !"

Gosh! How people get hooked to serials!!!!

Whats wrong with Forex Trading?

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Sun, 30 Mar 2008 01:12:00 +0000

If you had only two choices for a Sunday....

1. Attend the marriage reception of your Uncle, whose position in the family tree, would loosely translate to {Co-Brother's -- Sister's -- Onnu-vitta Chithappa's -- Maama's second son}, in tamil. (Or maybe he is your Anna…. I'm very family-tree-challenged!)

(Or)

2. Attend a seminar on Forex Trading,

I have two suggestions for you.

Suggestion 1 -- Go, get a life!!!

Suggestion 2 -- For the moment, instead of transferring heat energy from your body to the couch, go to the forex trading thing and pick a guy who happens to be the closest match to the following characteristics:

Apparently, "Aarva Kolaru" (AK) . I know, much of AK's meaning will be lost in translation, but I will give my best.
Aarva Kolaru = Super-active Mega-hyper-intense-over-enthusiatic. (Whew!!! Close enough!!!)

Is already filling up the 72nd page of his 80-pages unruled notebook (that he bought just this morning), with notes (notes as in pearls of trading wisdom), as the speaker goes on to prove how degeneratively simple, insanely effortless and negligibly volcanic forex trading is.

Ranks top on the "Gape counter". Expresses emotions ranging from disbelief to total derangement, as the speaker makes predictions for USD. He gapes so much that flies and mosquitoes are having a field day!!

Would sincerely believe you, if you were to tell him "China is altering trade agreements with USA because Chris Tucker refused the deal with Jackie Chan for Rush Hour - 5".

…..well, you got the idea!!!

Get that guy out for a coffee break and start this conversation:

You: All is well in trading Forex. But, after a while, it gets kinda boring, you know?

('Aarva Kolaru' gets hyperactive once again. Expects you to drop him another pearl of trading wisdom.)

AK (Aarva Kolaru): Oh, really...why???

You: Hmmm...

(Give a big pause, even better, combine that with a sigh. It adds an amazing effect!)

There are no IPOs.

Give up or Keep trying?

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Sat, 29 Mar 2008 23:44:00 +0000

If you were him,

What will you do?

Keep Trying.....

Or "Just Give Up"??

P.S: If you think its not funny, I apologize....for my poor painting skills. I urge you to read THIS. After that, (Warning: only after that), read the next line.

You still think its not funny? I need better audience. Thanks for coming!!!!

Just Give Up

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 22:22:00 +0000

...
...
Never give up!
...
Try, try and try again, until you succeed!!
...
When the going gets tough, the tough gets going!!!
...

Calm down! This is no motivation therapy. If you hate those phrases, like me, stay on. I need your support.

Don't you think these pep-talk phrases have been over preached.

Now, half the world is crowded with people who are as stubborn as spam mail, who never give up, who believe success is just a feet away...a sacrifice of one more night's sleep away...one more sales pitch away... one more missed call away..., who try harder when they actually fail harder, who just live their whole life in self-deception.

The other half of the world is filled with cool dudes, like you and me, who (in fact) give it a try. When the going gets tough, we just bid good bye, lock the door behind…….. and cry???

Hell, No!! Bid good bye, lock the door behind, get a cold beer, relax in the couch, watch HDTV and happily live ever after. Only a few, blessed few like us, understand that success is just one more excuse away!!

Honestly, it pays to give up. To acknowledge failure, move ahead and not succumb to self-deception is nobler than pumping your fist, jerking your head and trying to self-motivate the dumb-ass out of you!!!

How? Examples offer better perspectives.

Bad Example : Alexander, the Great - Look at the modern world map. The poor dude left home, backpacked all the way across Turkey, Armenia, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, parts of Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Pakistan and India, only to get his ass busted, with malaria and typhoid, in a small town in Punjab. Had he given up anywhere in between and headed back home, he could have lived life king-size.

Good Example : Christopher Columbus - This cool dude left home to find a new route to India. The moment he left the Portugese shoreline, he was as lost as a "forgotten password" in the Atlantic. After sleepless nights and quite a bit of panicking, when he landed in Bahamas , deep in his heart, he knew it wasn't India and could have carried on with the voyage. Yet had the guts to keep shut, secretly call it quits and go back to Portugal to spread the discovery of his new route.

From whose decision did humanity benefit the most? Alexander or Columbus?

For the sake of argument, lets just say Columbus moved ahead to find India from Bahamas. Sure, he got tough, when the going got tough. What were the chances that Columbus wouldn't get lost again?

Mind you, till date, there is no direct flight from Los Angeles to Chennai, let alone Bahamas. You have to stopover once to cross the Pacific, which is roughly two times the size of Atlantic. If he managed to get lost in Atlantic, he was twice as likely to get lost in the Pacific, never to go back home.

I hear someone quoting Edison..."I found 2000 ways not to make a bulb". I agree. Edison tried, tried and tried hard until he succeeded in inventing the bulb.

Let me ask you? Wasn't he American? But for Columbus, would there be an America? If there wasn't an America, there are no Edisons, no Alexander Graham Bells, no Fords, no Bay Watch, no Cokes, no Pepsis, no McDonalds, no Google, no computers, and as a result, no bloggers. I wouldn't be ranting and you wouldn't be reading!

We would still be awaiting the arrival of Columbus in Marina Beach.

October 21, the day Columbus reached Bahamas, should be celebrated as "Just Give Up" day. How about this logo?

Benign backflip!!

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 03:24:00 +0000

In the emotional drama that unfolded following the e-mail on "Postponement Strategy", I plunged from the highs of hopes to the depths of despair.

Once I recovered (in 18 mins), I came up with my own (sarcastic) definition for Postponement Strategy.

"Its all about prolonging the rawness of your raw material.
Just in case customers ignore you, you can always return raw materials to your supplier.
Pass the buck! Its that simple!!"

Life is a strange teacher. Its lessons do not always follow the "Problem-Solution" paradigm. In an occasional backflip, that often goes unnoticed, you are presented with the solution first. The problem would arrive on a later date.

Almost a year before I came across "Postponement Strategy", I learnt about its application in restaurants - a rather benign backflip.

Exactly a year ago

Late in the night, at almost 11, when most of Los Angeles would have tucked itself under the bed, I was dining at a famous South Indian restaurant.

I enjoyed three luxuries - one: being a regular, two: too familiar a face among the waiters (a consequence of luxury number one) and three: the most priciest of all, a friend of Nag, the cook - that had, long ago, bumped me up from the rank of a "faceless customer" to a habitué whose eccentric sense of time would be entertained with a smile.

At the strike of 10, while an arbitrary customer was greeted with a line-up of red halogens displaying a nightmarish "CLOSED" sign (a nighmare because hunger pangs will then be left to the mercy of McDonalds and Taco Bells of the world), I was given the concession to walk right past the nightmare and occupy a vacant table. That I cannot choose what to eat and have to accept what was given, only seemed a trivial price for such big a privelege.

That day, at a dimly lit corner, I devoured a delicious serving of Pongal.

Approaching my table, with a plate of Pongal in one hand and cups of Sambar and chutneys in the other, Nag exchanged pleasantries and sat down to have his dinner.

I always held a stereotypical vision about cooks in mind. That they are the most difficult people to handle, unpredictable, drunk half the time and on drugs rest of the time, poor conversationalists. Perhaps, I had read too much of Anthony Bourdain's days as a cook.

Nag had broken my prejudices. A warm person, he was.

"Vaanga Sagaa, Is the Pongal good? You should add some more ghee. Good Fat!!", he exclaimed and dropped a teaspoon of ghee in my plate.

"I would be surprised if Pongal is not good. But, what really surprises me is your patronage to communism. I thought cooks don't care to have a political inclination"

"Illai Sagaa, the inclination is more of a social kind. Why don't we save that for another day?". Picking up his plate, he asked me to follow him to the kitchen. "Come, lets have a hot Pesarattu".

Drooping red eyes and slowness in speech indicated that he had been having a hard day, while the restaurant management was trying to step things up to meet growing demand. So I offered to drop him at his apartment and he readily accepted.

As we stood at the threshold of the kitchen, munching on crispy Pesarattu, I turned the conversation towards running a restaurant.

When a cook talks, listen. When a cook talks sense, shut up and listen!!!

He talked about late hours, work pressure, assistants that do not turn up, complaining customers and unsympathetic management. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn't slacking at work. This guy was running the show almost single-handedly – a restaurant that people are willing to drive 60 miles to.

While I'm no globe trotter, with the amount of travelling I had managed, I was left with a few burning questions about Indian cuisine in a foreign land. I chose this moment to get Nag's say on them.

Across the Atlantic, North Indian food dominates as the face of Indian cuisine. A gross under-representation, a skewed identity for an eclectic gastronomic giant of a country. Tandoori and Tikka Masala soaked up the limelight while Gongura, Gojju and Kootu were left lurching in the dark. Samosas and Rasmalai deserved the master bedroom while Vadas and Paayasam occupied the basement like a loyal servant. On occasions, few and far in between, a Dosa would stand up to give Rotis and Naans a run for their money.

For the food-lover that I believe Iam, don't visualize me as a crusader of South Indian cuisine. I love curries, therefore I eat! I love tandooris, therefore I eat! I love Rotis, therefore I eat! I eat, therefore I love food!

Nevertheless, every curry consumed, though filled the gut, left much to be desired in my fulfillment metrics. Back home, the same Malai Kofta would pack a lot more punch! Here, it was a vague concoction of spices that offered no hopes of an ethereal connection to homeland. Isn't ethnic food expected to provide just that?

As seekers of good food, I and many others choose and loyally patronize a restaurant. The loyalty even has a tinge of childish vengeance, that make us believe that every visit and every new friend we bring here resutls in a repayment of sorts to Indian food. A minor corrective stroke on a grand skewed picture!

Standing at that kitchen threshold, right in Nag's empire, I poured out my burning questions: "Why don't you cooks give Indian cuisine the place it deserves? Why not repair curries and give North Indian food a facelift? White people who find love in South Indian food, stick to it! What can be done to make more people fall in love?"

What Nag had to say? -- In the next post.

After all, we are talking about Postponement Strategy, right?

Post-lunch dominos

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Sun, 16 Mar 2008 04:36:00 +0000

Idle mind - A devil's workshop? Not always!

A room with dominoes neatly stacked all over - how about that?

The slightest disturbance - small thought, random word, vague picture, faint smell or even a missed call - could set off a long lasting frantic action.

Heavy lunch on a friday afternoon. Combine that with zero inclination to work. There I was, staring at the montior, doing nothing but "alt tabbing" random windows.

Then it happens. A mail appears in my dormant inbox - like vital pulse in a dying person. It was a company circular about some knowledge sharing session on "Postponement Strategy".

Now thats what I call a buzzword. Enough to cause a domino effect in my drained, drowsy head.

In particular, "Postponement" was the word I bonded with - right away!. It was love at first sight!

The two words together - "Postponement Strategy" - offered tremendous hope. Everything else seemed unreal and unimportant, my world converged on that portion of the monitor carrying the "promised word".

Mastery of the strategy seemed the only "magic wand" I needed to delay and diminish every problem in life - No more project deadlines, no more payment due dates, no more alarm clocks.

The promise that time could be an elastic band in my hand, that I can stretch at will, sounded tempting.

Hey! When I'm dead-tired, I can even delay a trip to the bathroom!!!

Question for you. What people normally do on coming across a puzzling buzzword?

Take a wild guess. No clues here....

Any luck?

Answer is "Google". (Doh!)

Ask and Ye shall receieve!

I summon the Google daemon. One link gives me this snippet:

"Many manufacturers and retailers today are turning to postponement or delayed differentiation strategy to strike the right balance. By holding inventory in a less finished state - that is, postponing final product assembly until actual customer demand is known - companies can more quickly respond to market opportunities and offer greater customization options"

Another link gives me,

"Postponement and speculation strategies offer opportunities to achieve delivery of products in a timely and cost-effective manner by rearranging the conventional production and logistics structures, which are often designed and managed autonomously"

Heavy dose of jargon, was all I got so far.

"When digging for diamond, don't mind the debris", I pep-talked my way into more googling.

A few jumps and I get this,

"....relevancy/feasibility of the postponement strategy in food supply chains. .....windows of opportunities for the growth of use of postponement by identifying the factors/drivers/enablers in the adoption of this strategy....."

Believe me! Someone had written a whole book, of course in abstract terms, on application of this strategy in Food Supply Chains. Did I say, it costs over USD 50? And Oh....shipping charges extra.

Anyways, I was realizing, painfully, that Postponement Strategy was all about manufacturing and logistics, not even intangibly related to the magic wand I dreamed of.

My hopes crumbled, and with it the love.

More searching, shoved even more despair down my throat. The promise vanished into thin air.

I hated all open browsers. I hated the monitor, the mouse, the phone, everything around me. Most of all, I hated the mail that carried "Postponement Strategy". I rushed to give it, the source of all evil, a "Shift-Delete" treatment.

Unwillingly, I gave up.....

Shit! I'd still have to walk to the bathroom when I don't want to.

In the midst of all this domino effect, the words "food supply chain" triggered another domino action, in another part of my mind.

More on that, in the next post!!!

Caught Silly

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 22:40:00 +0000

When an event is worth happening, it happens - often more than once. One such class of event is my "moment of stupidity". Not only do the frequency and grandiosity of these moments seem to get better, but also my effortlessness in producing them.

Not long ago, did I pay the "once-a-year" visit to the optometrist to get my vision checked. Life has rarely sprung any surprises on these occasions. My vision was not getting better (both literally and figuratively) and it was time to order new glasses.

Two days after not long ago, I ordered a new pair of cool-looking lenses at a nearby optical store.

Three days after not long ago, I was supposed to pick the lenses up from the store.

As it turned out, that day, I was in a totally upbeat mood - the kind of mood when I'm prone to be loud-mouthed, pompous, joking, questioning.....

The attendant at the opticals, a middle aged man, seemed to move slowly but with assurance. His way of speech was the kind of slow, that would put you into a lull.

As he handed over the lenses to me, in my kalaichifying mood, I interrupted.

"Can I try them now?"

"Ofcourse, Sir" he said invitingly.

"Looks good, doesn't it?" I remarked. In an effort to feel the new lens (and the new look) I looked up, down, left, right and all over again in jerky movements.

"But you see...the lenses are not aligned. It slopes down on my left eye", I peeped through the glasses, that dangled on my nose like a one-side-loaded scale, and complained.

"That is one reason I hate lenses. I prefer contacts...", I kept talking while he made adjustments to the lens.

As I tried the second time, "Better now. Not exactly straight though. I could still feel the tilt", I continued to complain.

"When the lens is not straight, the field of vision is altered. When the field of vision is altered, eyes have to overwork. When eyes overwork, optical nerve gets tired. When optical nerve get tired......" There was no stopping me. I went on while he worked on the glasses.

"Can you try now, sir?", he asked calmly.

"Yeah, sure", I readliy tried them.

"Perfect", I exclaimed in a short-lived enthusiasm. "Oh no! not quite there. The glasses feels heavy on my left eye". I went back to the loud-mouthed complaining mode.

None of it seemed to bother him. He took back the glasses and examined it.

"Do you have a different power in one of your eyes, sir?", he asked in an even tone.

"Yeah. My left eye. How does that matter?", I questioned.

Now, he threw a spinner at me. "No, its your right eye!!!"

"Whatttt????....Impossible. Outrageous. Did you ever look at the prescription before you made the lens", I was screaming .

"Are these glasses mine or someone else's. Whatever happened to customer satisfaction?....". It was too late before I bit my tongue and sheepishly asked, "What did you say, sir?"

He gave out a loud laugh and answered, "I asked if one of your eyes have a different power. You said left. I said right. And both of us were correct".

For the next few minutes, I had to apologoze profusely. I left the store with a new cool look and a dented self esteem, wondering if I had reached terminal maturity.

Indiran சந்திரன்

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Sat, 08 Mar 2008 03:30:00 +0000

"மச்சான்... நான் இன்னிக்கு ரொம்ப சந்தோஷமா இருக்கேன்டா...Iam on cloude nine da"

Having known his friend for years, Chandran was quite excited to hear Indiran happy.

"சூப்பர்டா..இதை கொண்டாடியே ஆகணும்டா.."

The friends got together at their usual hang out place.

"என்னடா இவ்வளவு சந்தோஷம்...அம்மாவுக்கு cataract operation வேண்டாம்னு doctor சொல்லிட்டாரா?"

"ஆமாம்டா... இப்ப தான் நிம்மதியா இருக்கு... ஆனா the real reason for my happiness is not that...Why don't you guess?"

"ம்ம்ம்.. சரி let me try.... Ok. அப்பா VRS வாங்க கடைசியா ஓத்துக்கிட்டாரா? பாவம்டா...இவ்வளவு காலம் கஷ்டப்பட்டது போதும். இனிமே நிம்மதியா வீட்ல rest எடுக்கலாமில்லே?"

"ஓரு வழியா அப்பாவ convince பண்றதுக்குள்ள போதும் போதும்னு ஆயிடுச்சு..Atlast, he has agreed to retire in three months"

"It should be a big relief for all of you...இல்ல? இப்போ புரியுது... நீ ஏன் சந்தோஷத்துல குதிக்கறேன்னு..."

"ஐயோ... Thats not the reason"

"அப்போ வேற என்னவா இருக்கும்?...US-la settle ஆனாங்களே அக்கா...She was expecting-னு சொன்னியே....குழந்தை பொறந்துடுச்சா? பொண்ணா? பையனா?....Congrats da மச்சான்...Sorry "மாமா"...."
Chandran winked

"அட..அத உங்கிட்ட சொல்லவே இல்லியே? அக்காவுக்கு பையன் பொறந்திருக்கான்டா. Akka and mMama spoke to us yesterday. மூணு மாசத்துல ஊருக்கு வரேன்னு கூட சொன்னாங்க. ஆனா......"

இந்திரன் இழுத்தான்.

"ஏன்டா இழுக்கறே? அதுவும் இல்லியா? Let me think...."

"அண்ணனுக்கு பொண்ணு பாக்கறாங்களே...கல்யாணம் fix ஆயிடுச்சா? உனக்கு route clear-னு சொல்லு"

"route எல்லாம் clear தான்.....But your guesses are nowhere near"

"அதுவும் இல்லையா?... தம்பி GRE-ல நல்லா score பண்ணியிருக்கானா?

"....."

"Hahahaha.." Chandran jolted.

"கண்டுபிடிச்சேன்...கண்டுபிடிச்சேன்..காதல் நோயை கண்டுபிடிச்சேன்... Harini உன்னோட love-க்கு okay சொல்லிட்டாளா?"

Atlast, Chandran was quite sure that he had struck the right chord.

"இல்ல்ல்லடா...". Indiran lost his patience

"I give up... என்னால இதுக்கு மேல யோசிக்க முடியலடா. உன்னை இந்த அளவு சந்தோஷப்படுத்தக்கூடிய incident வேற என்ன தான்டா? மரியாதையா சொல்லிடு" என்று உரிமையுடன் இந்திரனின் கழுத்தைப் பிடித்தான்.

"அதுவா...." இந்திரன் ஆரம்பித்தான்.

"நான் சொன்னேன் இல்லடா...ஓரு complex project.. It was in a hopeless situation...I took over and made it a big success"

"அதை தான் போன வாரமே சொன்னியேடா...."

"ஆமாம்டா...Client இன்னிக்கு appreciation mail அனுப்பினான்டா... The client was all raving about me...Everyone attribued the success to me...My managers are all happy...I looked like a rock star, you know??" என்று பூரித்த இந்திரனை ஏற இறங்க பார்த்தான் சந்திரன்.

"போடா பரதேசி...forbidden fool. Check your priorities...".

கோபத்தில் கத்திவிட்டு "Bill எவ்ளோ ஆச்சுபா?" என்று சர்வரை கேட்டுக்கொண்டே வெளியேறினான் சந்திரன்.

How many days in a year?

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 00:52:00 +0000

Perhaps, the timing of this post couldn't be more awkward.

How many of you celebrated the Independence Day? That’s hard to quantify.

Now, please raise your hands if you celebrated any of the these days

1. Valentine’s day
2. Friendship day
3. Mother’s day
4. Father’s day
5. "Pets gone crazy" day
6. "Don’t skip breakfast" day
7. Love you Neighbor day etc…

AND also the Independence day.

How much more easier to count, huh?

A day for a day

365 days a year is not enough anymore. Our calendars are over-flowing with the constant deluge of symbolic celebrations that last for a day and are forgotten until a later convenient occasion. It probably started with Valentine’s Day, then came the Mother’s day, Father’s day and many many more. A lot more days are being invented every day.

The invention, history or chronology of these days does not interest me. Most of these days seem to have come into existence not based on a painful need but as a poignant reminder of forgotten responsibilities.

Some, like the New Year Day, are occasions for “unwinding”, are once in a year chances to get awfully drunk, to roam about in anonymity with partners in anonymity, to coo and boo at the strike of the chime and to ultimately encounter the primates in us!!!

I, for one, had never believed in these celebrations. Remove Mother’s day from my calendar, but my love for her will remain unchanged. Remove Friendship day from my calendar, but my friends will remain as near and dear to me as they have been.

Now, remove Independence Day from all our calendars!!! That tears our pride, crushes our dignity. We are no more what we think we are. We will go back 60 years in time and will surrender all of our advancements to settle for a life governed by the vagaries of a mind – a mind to which our welfare is a discarded objective.

Friendship day (or any similar day) is only symbolic. It’s a dream. It’s the product of an imagination or a fairy tale.

Whereas, Independence Day is absolute, concrete, a product of reality. It is an opportunity to revel in our achievements, to judge our values, to inspire ideas, to repair our shortcomings, to honestly acknowledge our failures and to seek ways to improve the lives of billions. That automatically accounts for our benevolence towards our Mother, Father, Friends, Lover, Neighbors and pets!!!!

Alas, its only a human weakness, to fail to recognize something’s value until its lost.

Spritual Blackmail

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 05:41:00 +0000

I don't believe in Charity

For a pint-sized existence, like mine, that's mighty broad a statement to make, the enormity of which will bite my behind unless I scale down and be specific.

So here I go….I don't believe in giving to beggars at temples.

Its Oh-So-Obvious that it promotes laziness and creates more beggars. More than that, I see begging at temples as a subtle execution of "Spiritual Blackmail".

Why at a temple?

In the Hindu way of life, everyone carries along an invisible "Virtue Meter".

Sin you commit, down it goes.
Good you do, up it goes.
Swat a mosquito, down it goes.
Feed a dog, up it goes.
Up. Down. Up. Up. Down. Down.

Life, in itself, is reduced to a series of tiny deliberations to keep the meter going up. Of all things, temple-going ranks top among the list of "Virtue Meter" boosters.

Temples are treated as fertile hunting grounds, by beggars, not for this reason alone.

In one's life time, there is no way of knowing the actual meter reading. Positive or negative score, no way to know. But for this uncertainty, life would be uncomplicated.

So, isn't it better to be on the safer side? To always indulge in itsy-bitsy good deeds like, paying a beggar. Who knows, if you refuse to pay him, your meter might go down. Why take the chance?

Beggars feed on this insecurity.

Its almost like asking -
"Hey. You might pray all you want. The God inside may answer your prayers. May be not, for he might be too busy. Why not pay me a rupee or two and boost your meter. I'm only selling you an insurance policy".

If the devotee cultivates any tendency to ignore the beggar, an innovative display of utter poverty -ragged clothes, dirty bandages on non-existent wounds, squeezed eyeballs, howls of hunger - awaits him.

Now the beggar drives his point home.
"Do you see? You are better off than me. Why not pay me a rupee?".

A direct invocation of guilt in the prey.

The unsuspecting devotee, falls for this blackmail, buys the insurance and leaves with a false sense of satisfaction, thinking

"The meter may not go through the roof. Atleast, it wouldn't go down through the basement".

Why wouldn't the same beggars target a Bar, which is as (if not more) crowded as a temple? Is a bar a spiritual barren land, that doesn't nurture the sort of insecurity and guilt that beggars trade on? Because, virtue meters are conveniently switched off, much like a mobile phone, in bars?

குட்டிக்கதை

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Fri, 08 Feb 2008 07:45:00 +0000

வருங்கால சுமைகளின் வரவு செலவுகளை கணக்கிட்டுக் கொண்டு சுடு வெயிலில் நடைபோட்டு வந்தது ஒரு கழுதைக்குட்டி.

கணக்குகள் நேராகுமோ, நிறையாகுமோ வளைந்தோடுமோ என்ற கவலையில் துணையாய் நடைபோட்டது அதன் நிழற்குட்டி.

மேலிருந்து பார்த்த வெளிச்சத்திற்கு குறைப்பிரசவத்தில் திடீரென்று பிறந்தது ஒரு சபலக்குட்டி.

"நானின்றி அணுவும் அசையாது" என்று சிவன் மட்டும் தான் திருவிளையாடலாமோ? நானின்றி நிழலும் கிடையாது" என்று நீ கொஞ்சம் சிறுவிளையாடக்கூடாதோ?

இப்படி பிறந்ததும் தந்தைக்கு பேதப்பால் புகட்டி தெற்றுப்பல் காட்டி சிரித்தது குறைப்பிரசவத்தின் ஜாதகப்பலன்.

வரிந்து கட்டிக்கொண்டு, "அழித்தேன் பார்" என மேலும் கீழும் கிழக்கும் மேற்கும் வடக்கும தெற்கும் நர்த்தனமாடிப் பார்த்ததில் நிழற்குட்டியோ சிறிதும் பெரிதும் நீளமும் குட்டையுமாய உருமாறி கெக்கலித்ததே மிச்சம்.

கண்ணில கோபம் வழிந்தது. சரியென்று உச்சியில நின்று "Anger Management" செய்து பார்த்ததில் நிழற்குட்டி அழிந்தது போல தோன்றி உற்சாகம் பொங்கியது.

நிலைக்கவில்லை.

கழுதையின உள்ளங்காலில் நிழற்குட்டி ஒளிந்து கொண்டிருந்தது தெரிய நெடு நேரம பிடிக்கவில்லை.

புருவத்தில் துளிர்த்த வியர்வையின் உப்பு அரிதாரம் நெய்து கொண்டிருந்தது. "மறைத்தேன் பார்". தங்கத்திரை ஒன்றை எடுத்து கழுதையின் முன்னே விரித்து "கெக்கெக்கே.." என்று கோரப்பல் காட்டி சிரித்தது வெளிச்சம்.

சின்னதாய் இருந்த நிழற்குட்டி பரந்து விரிந்து நெளிந்து திரிந்து வழிந்து பூதாகரமாய் பெரிய திரை வடிவம் பெற்றது.

சும்மா இருந்த நிழற்குட்டி வாழ்வு வந்து "தங்க நிழற்குட்டி" ஆனது.

கணக்குகள் நேராகுமோ, நிறையாகுமோ வளைந்தோடுமோ....?????தெரியவில்லை. கேள்விகளின் கனம் மட்டும் குறைந்தது.

ஊரே சிரித்தது. "நிழலுக்கு திறையிட்ட கோமாளி வெளிச்சம்" என்ற பட்டமளிப்பு விழா அரங்கேறியது.

.........................................
குட்டிக்கதை முடிந்தது.
கழுதைக்குட்டி வளரும்.சபலக்குட்டியும் வளரும்.

Sadist on a mission

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Wed, 06 Feb 2008 14:16:00 +0000

Ever like to piss off an American? Praise communism.

If you are a sadist (like me), talk to him about Communism in America. Don't just stop there. Give him enough proof. Atleast that’s what I did.

Not just one. I gave a hard time to three Americans. At one fell swoop.

How did I do it?

We were all in one car and had to reach LAX airport in 40 mins. Mission almost Impossible!!
Given the time of the day and notoriety of LA traffic, I, the youngest, volunteered to drive. Even by Indian standards, my driving was way beyond crazy.

Changed lanes countless times.
Didn't use the indicators on many occasions.
Zipped through yellow lights.
Skipped a red light.
Drove through parking lots.
Honked a lot.

Violated every conceivable rule…Thank heavens, I did not get 17 points!!! Considering my fellow men's age, all above 50, I was lucky no one suffered a heart attack.

Its unusual for the four of us to not have a conversation. Ever!!

But then, not a word was uttered.

I broke the ice and one of them asked….
"Do you drive like this back home (in India) ?"
"Hell…yeah!!!"

"Gosh…Do you follow lanes?"
"No"

"Do you stop at lights?"
"No"

"How about Right of Way?"
"Hell No"

"How do you maintain order on roads?"
"Survival of the Fittest"

I continued.
"Survival of the Fittest. Isn't that principle the backbone of Capitalism? Use of available resources in the most efficient manner. Minimal wastage. Free markets. Free to produce and free to consume. No quotas. No rationing. No reservations.

If you agree, Indian traffic system is the epitomy of Capitalism.

Now, Isn't Communism all about equality of opportunities? Full of reservations and quota systems. Full of lanes, "Right of Way"s and Four Way stop signs. What a criminal waste of available road space?
Doesn’t America promote Communism on the roads?"

We reached the airport, without dents or scratches. Both on the car and on ourselves.

Mission made possible!!!

The Fizz Factor

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 13:28:00 +0000

Location: A bank in Tidel Park.

The counters are close to being empty. Me and two other gentlemen are filling out forms. Of the three of us, I was the first to enter the bank.

As soon as I get my form filled out, I approach the counter. Number One: Something seems to be missing near the counter space. No ropes, No lines to mark any sign of a possible queue.

But then, why is a queue so important? Apart from setting business in order, a queue gives the customer an identity. A presence. A queue recognizes the value of time and prevents the abuse of it.

Nevertheless, I wait to get attention from the lady behind the counter. Number two: My presence goes unacknowledged. The lady takes her own time to look up. No big deal.

Right then, the first gentleman props his documents, past me, at the lady. The second gentleman stands right beside me, competing for the same attention I have been trying to attract. All the while, the two gentlemen act like no one else exists. Number three: Complete lack of courtesy and patience.

The two gentlemen seemed to be acted upon by a force. An uncontrollable, madness-inducing force, much like fizz in a coca-cola bottle. Every bubble in its own mission. Nothing to spare. Nothing else to care.

Not just the bank. Not just this time. The fizz is everywhere. Its in everyone. On the streets, bikes, cars. In the theaters. Much to our shame, even in the temples.

What should I say? We’ve got a long way to go? I hate to sound like a recently-returned-from-US. I don’t expect people to hold doors for others. If only a little, just a little, courtesy and patience were to be followed, life would be....should I say “easy”? Nope. CIVILIZED.

English with an accent. Burgers. Gucci. Tom Hanks. Angelina Jolie. Nike. Jazzy cars. Community Apartments. Armani. Extra Virgin Olive Oil......so on and so forth. For all the religiousness the youth practices in being modern and western, an Indian wouldn’t look cool if he cuts the line. Believe me. Been there. Seen it.

Hangover Redeemed

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Sun, 16 Dec 2007 17:27:00 +0000

This is an excerpt from a chat conversation that happened not too long after I had read Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged

Friend: Hi
Me: Hi
.....
.....
.....
(Been chatting for 30 minutes now)
.....
.....
.....
(Time to sign off)
.....
.....
.....
Friend: cya...and good luck :)
Me: thanks...but I don't care for luck :)
Friend: Gosh...i think you should stop reading those books :)

Hangover Redemption complete :)

An unrelated question:

By the way, why do Ayn Rand's protagonists (Howard Roark and Hank Rearden in Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, respectively) sport the HR initials ?

Saving in America, save my likes

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 07:17:00 +0000

Come thanksgiving!!! Wallets go blazes. Black Friday casts its dark, ominous shadows on unsuspecting, spendthrift consumers.

I guard my wallet with my life because I like to guard my life with my wallet.
(That quote deserves to be printed in Reader's digest, doesn't it? Please, for once accept that I can also sound wise).

I have never been a big fan of the black friday shopping. I celebrate the in-born laziness for keeping me away from those stand-in-line-at-two-in-the-morning exercises.

The big cynic in me refuses to believe that goods are really on SALE at this time. How great is it when every enterprise, from mom-and-pop shops to super-duper supermarkets (I like the rhyme, by the way), mimics a "once-in-a-life-time" sale, offering the so-called deep discounts to the tune of 75% to 99%. The dis-believer in me strongly believes that either those goods are worthless or their proces have been jacked up by 200%.

Sometimes, the shops even throw things away, like the alarm clock my friend managed to pick up (for free) at Best Buy. You must have seen him beaming with pride on his feat. A sight to cherish. My bad. To me, the alarm clock looked like a bait and my friend like a salmon. He never told me about the flat screen TV he bought at a bargain ($1750 at 50% off). Wonder whats bad about the deal??? Two weeks later, the same "steal" was selling at $1500.

If I'm given a chance to wear my Economist hat, I would gracefully occupy the podium and enlighten the audience about what's macroeconomically wrong with people rushing in to buy those bargains. And yes...I would sip on Evian water once in a while. That gesture adds even more grace.

Isn't it the situation where supply increases and demand increases, rather obediently, for ever? Aren't supply and demand supposed to strike a balance somewhere? Am I smelling something or is it just me??

Okay. Let's for the moment accept that its just the cynical me.

Lets talk about need.

I go to a particular shop and the particular item is on sale. The ad next to it reads:

SALE

WAS $199.99 NOW 99.99

SAVE 50%

My blood boils and I leave the place. Alright, alright!! I do over-react sometimes.

I would buy that particular item, if and only if, I really need the item. period. My need dictates how much I save - 50% if I buy or 100% if I shy away.

Why do so many people default on their credit card bills?? Do the defaulters fall for the "SAVE 50%" tag instead of over-reacting like me?? Should we credit the capitalists for the clever wording??

Saving, a primer

To me, spending less on something I don't need is not saving. Not spending in this case is the real saving.

My "bokkai" (toothless) grandfather goes shopping and finds a pack of toothpicks on sale. A voluptuous savings of 75%. Should he buy it??

No wonder, in the US, the real meaning of saving is twisted by the capitalists for the sake of spendthrifts.

Atomic experience

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Wed, 12 Dec 2007 01:12:00 +0000

Faintly sweet!!!
For one whole minute, it kept me wondering if I can get any kick out of it...

Sweetness fades away slowly....and then I feel nothing. The feeling doesn't even qualify as "Sweet Nothing". Someone is trying to SPAM me.

Then the unexpected happens...like sudden downpour on a sunny day.
What starts as a tingling sensation elevates to mild uneasiness...then irritation..then flames...then burning...then numbness all over....then burning again ...

I cannot pass it down...its too hard and big for me!!
I cannot give up...its too late for me!!!

I'm painted red all over...Can I get some water to drench me? to cool me off?

Moments later....I'm wondering if its going to last forever. Hope not!!!
May be I'm getting used to it...May be I'll get to liking it!!

Oh wait!! I can feel an iota of sweetness. And its getting smaller...and smaller...and smaller.

Few minutes pass by...

I'm alright!!!!

I'm ready to go through it once again....It was a good bumpy ride, after all....

------------------------------------------------------------

My mouth's narration of its experience when I first tried an "Atomic Fireball" candy. I wonder what Habanero will taste (burn) like ;)

Balls to "try-to-convert"-ers

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 05:18:00 +0000

For the lack of better word or till I find that better word, that guy goes by "try-to-convert"-er

...
...
...
TTC-er: Do you believe in God?
Me: Yeah....I do...sort of....

(Iam quick to grasp where the conversation will lead to....I want to get out of this situation ASAP)

TTC-er: Do you believe in our GOD?
(GOD is pronounced such a way that it ignores the existence of any other God)
Me: I don't know....
(Kelambittangayya....Kelambittangayya)

TTC-er: You are a sinner. I was a sinner, too. I didn't realize being a sinner would land me in hell...but GOD absolved me. Now, I'm a free man. Do you want to be free of sins?
(Nalla kelappuraangaiyaaaa...beedhiiii)

Me: I'm sorry, but I don't care AND I need to go....

TTC-er: Did you know that sinners burn in fire when they go to hell
?
Me: Oh really? Thats so scary...Its okay you tell that secret to me, but don't tell that to your god....he would shit in his pants, man!!!!!
(Walk away...with a smirk!!!)

Faith in a religion is personal choice. The word "personal" goes bold, italic, underlined, Font size - infinity.

DBA alias...

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 04:57:00 +0000

Recently blabbered during a conversation with a guy, who has supposedly met Brian Kernigan, Dennis Ritchie and Steve Jobs....

"A Database Administrator is like a brain surgeon.....the DBA doesn't care about the functional aspects of the database...the brain surgeon doesn't care about the functional aspects of the brain vis-a-vis emotions".

Any takers?

Laziness inspired

noreply@blogger.com (Sporadic Icon) — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 04:50:00 +0000

Too lazy to type them again....I wrote them sometime in 2006.

Here it goes...
Ctrl+PrtScreen....Start+Run...mspaint....Ctrl+V....Cut.....
Ctrl+C....Ctrl+N....Ctrl+V...Alt+F+A....