UberT-Blog

Why I've chosen to be (somewhat) inactive on Social Networks.

2014-12-13T12:50:00.000-05:00

Much over a year ago, I decided it was pointless to explicitly blog on a public forum, a view I still maintain. However, much like the sportspersons who come out of 'retirement' for one last hurrah, I find myself after all this while, opening up Blogger and typing this post - simply as a rant about a feeling of total disenchantment and discord with how people 'keep in touch' these days. Maybe I've fallen behind the curve, maybe I'm not as 'cool' as most others portray themselves to be on social networks, or maybe I'm just a sad, lonely soul with nothing better to do on a cold Saturday morning - but that happens to somehow link to the theme of this one-off post.

With time, I've realized my life isn't as eventful and worthy of sharing as everyone elses. I have nothing to say about what my girlfriend/wife means to me, and have no pictures or photographs with them, checkins at airports with them which I made during trips to share on my Facebook timeline or Twitter feed. I don't have the time or inclination to participate in pointless keyboard debate and diatribe over India's politics, cricket, status of women, infrastructure, poverty, etc. I'm unable to outrage at the drop of a hat like the majority of socially active masses, like most of my very capable peers on social networks. I find it impossible to succumb to the view that my comments on a nondescript social network news feed actually makes a difference in the larger scheme of things - considering I'm not as popular as others around and I have no interest in working towards being that popular. I don't find it necessary to incessantly share on a social network my views on a new movie, simply because everyone on my network is doing it. I'm officially a part of zero WhatsApp groups, maybe because I've never been included in any by anyone, or maybe I'm not considered worthy enough.

I don't find it necessary anymore to post pics on Instagram with a million hashtags (#cool, #friendsforever, #etc), that serve no real purpose except getting one more like on the picture. I do not consider myself a worthy photographer to 'watermark' my pictures and share them on social networks, even though I own a good high end digital camera. All of this has pretty much has meant that over a period of time this year, my active contribution to social networks has steadily dwindled, and was reduced to (mostly) content consumption, rather than content creation, considering I'm not as worthy as some of my peers.

I find some of the posts on social networks these days downright stupid, ridiculous and cliched, and simply illustrate the gullibility of the average 'aam aadmi' (Mango Man apparently). Contributing to such activity with both commendation and criticism or simply a like is encouraging such stupidity even more.

I'm also done with sarcastic Facebook posts, wisecrack comments and retorts on Facebook posts, likes on such posts and comments therein. I'm not even that pretty, handsome or popular that whatever I post will automatically be noticed by all my friends. Finally, I'm also sick of reading (or writing) long rants like this, regardless of what they mean to the writer. I find the whole social network experience cliched, plastic and fake.

The fact of the matter is that we're now akin to a herd of sheep, and no matter how much we say to the contrary - most of our social network activity is all about validation of our actions and activity with the expectation that people will read what we post and be impressed at the quality of life we're living.

To everyone who read this via Facebook or Twitter (however ironic that sounds, I don't really care) - consider this a universal 'like' to your social network activity - past, present and future. I just don't think I socially fit in anymore. Maybe I was guilty of trying to fit in in the first place, but common sense has hopefully prevailed. This is the beginning of the end of social networks for me - until I have a life or a phase of life that is worthwhile sharing on social networks. 'Acche Din aayenge' hopefully.

Keep Talking.

2013-07-19T22:30:00.000-04:00

Theres a silence surrounding me, I cant seem to think straight. Ill sit in the corner, No one can bother me

Countless times over the past few months, I've wanted to write what's on my mind. Countless times, I've attempted to. Countless times, I've decided not to. Countless times, you get the drift...
Regardless, with the exact sentiment in the second sentence above, I've refrained. But the more time I've spent with myself, mulling over the thoughts in my head, I've found the drive to write this post, with the faint expectation that it would perhaps, make sense. Not to the reader, but to me. Which essentially is what this writing is going to be about. Me, Myself.About how I believe hypocrisy is inherent in each one of us. And how each one of us will rationalize that hypocrisy, with a thought that floats our boat and helps us sleep at night. And why I'm increasingly loving the power of silence, save that occasional moment of weakness which brings this entire mental psyche down. Like writing this post. And how silence is the ultimate, utopian reality - something that I strongly yearn for.

I think I should speak now, I cant seem to speak now, My words wont come out right

What is the purpose of writing what's on my mind on a public or a selectively public form? Let's be really honest here - in the larger scheme of things, who really gives a fuck about what some random dude scribbles on his piddly-two-shoes blog or posts on Twitter/Facebook? What am I writing for? For praise? For a mental release? For fun? Simply because I want to? If I'm writing for praise, then clearly, I will never write something that's on my mind - because what's on my mind will surely not elicit praise (case in point, this). Mental release just to feel lighter? Why would I then post it on a publicly available forum? For fun? I think my activity on Facebook/Twitter is 'fun' enough for people, who perhaps naively believe that to be the real me. But then, the more I think about it, the more it seems clear. Constant source of entertainment. Here's where human hypocrisy comes in. We all claim we hate Facebook, but truth be told, we all partake in the social tomfoolery anyway, silently reading everyone's Facebook posts but otherwise claiming Facebook to be a 'blatant invasion of privacy'. It's amazing how even temporarily deactivating one's online presence directly and automatically equates to some strong emotional upheaval that has occurred in one's life. Why? Because that source of entertainment is lost. I've deactivated my social accounts (Facebook, Whatsapp) a few times before - as a 'social experiment', which has been met with misplaced concerns. Nevertheless, all that personal online writing does in my view gives others an even more meaty source of entertainment. Good, bad, notwithstanding. Just like this post is probably giving whoever has bothered to read this post until now - entertainment. And if I'm lucky, a Facebook like. Or a Twitter retweet. Or long lost friends coming to me and asking the obligatory 'Dude, is everything okay?' question. And then forget about it. And move on with their own life. Truth be told, much as we may say we don't give a fuck about what others think, in reality - what drives us from within is the acceptance that very social activity, either via Facebook likes, Twitter retweet. Whichj makes us come back. And post more. For even greater acceptance. Like I have come back now. To post this.

I feel like I'm drowning, I'm feeling weak now, But I can't show my weakness

Learning to keep my real thoughts to myself is something I've slowly learned to master. I've learned that most people will only care about someone else's feelings when their own life is peachy. One's own adversity takes clear priority over someone else's adversity. What purpose then, does showing your weakness to anyone have? You just let yourself be vulnerable. And your feelings become like a lump of clay in their hands. They're free to mold it the way they want, which they will most likely mold to their advantage. Hence, over time, before mentioning anything about my life - I pass it through the 'does this person honestly give a fuck about what I'm talking' filter. But by default, I hate speaking my mind. By default. For the fear of having to go through the painful exercise of explaining why I feel how I feel. And I fear I already may have made public way too many of my thoughts. Or already have whoever has read this judge me. For this post. Or my posts on social networks. Regardless of how well they know me.

I sometimes wonder, Where do we go from here

I've thought long and hard and come to this decision. This blog shall no longer be maintained anymore - until my belief system changes, if it ever does. I'm going back to pseudo-posting on social networks and reveling in that momentary glory of the appreciation received via the said posts. I no longer have the drive to write what's on my mind anymore. Pages upon pages, reams upon reams of paper have been written, describing my feelings. The fact that they perhaps shall never be understood, or never be read, shall be a minor regret.

It doesnt have to be like this, All we need to do is make sure we keep talking

Yes, I will continue talking. But only when I deem the exercise is beneficial. Either to me, or to us. But not to them alone. Besides, greater challenges lie ahead. Greater battles to be won. The quest for excellence continues. The quest for appreciation through my writing skills however, does not. I simply do not think it is a worthwhile exercise anymore. The irony of it all is, if you've read this post until the end, you've probably clicked through via Facebook, or Twitter. Which was shared by me. :)

Sayonara, UberTBlog - you were good to me. But this is a fresh start, and there's no place for you in my life anymore. Shit happens, we should forget it - and move on :)

The hypocryptic Twitter Client Metaphor

2013-04-19T20:03:00.001-04:00

After a lot of deliberation, "I should finally take the plunge", he thought. He'd been seeing everyone around him jump onto Twitter lately. He'd heard of the benefits of Twitter, and how it made life so much easier, worth living, served as an emotional outlet, would always be by him whenever with least possible effort, and would even satiate those periodic carnal desires. Not wanting to be left out of this exhilarating phenomenon, he started actively researching for 'best Twitter client' out there, that he could use. Zeroing in on one, he thought, "Let me try this, this seems so awesome". Proceeding to tweet with it, he thoroughly milked the experience of being on a social network that let him be himself. One among the crowd of thoroughly satisfied Twitter users, he shared a special bond with the Twitter client he used, which he had customized and tweaked to suit his preferences. Gradually, he realized his choice was right. What he was using was indeed the most awesome Twitter client for him. Granted, it crashed on him a few times, but "Hey", he convinced himself - "That's how software is. You can't always predict how it will be. It's bound to make a mistake sometime". He participated in Twitter debates about everything under the sun, including, of course, discussing how awesome his Twitter client was and how happy he was being on Twitter with it.

A while passed. Debates continued. His interactions on Twitter widened. He met many fellow tweeters and their experiences with their respective Twitter clients. He began to notice equally awesome Twitter clients out on the Internet, that lay unused. Twitter clients that provided features his own beloved Twitter client did not. One such Twitter client caught his eye. Enticed by this new features and in awe of how brilliant it was, but firmly held back by the fact that awesome Twitter client had served him so well and was equally as good, if not better, he subdued his desire to have a second Twitter client. Secretly though, he wished he could have this one too. All he had to do was download it, and it would be his. As time passed, his resistance waned. His original awesome Twitter client still served him very well, but in his mind, his interest in using it subsided. The same features that excited him so much were now boring him, because his mind, he was deeply enchanted by this new Twitter client. "This new one is so much better than the one I have right now", he thought. Spending most of his time exploring the new Twitter client, he began to ignore the one he had, even though it was still as awesome as it always was. No more tweaking, no more customization. The strength of the bond between him and client ebbed. Rapidly. He began to look for excuses to stop using the one he had right now, comparing at every possible instant, what it offered to what he'd assumed the new brilliant Twitter client did. Variations of"My Twitter client isn't giving me what I want anymore" is what he used to tweet pretty frequently.

One fine day, original awesome Twitter client crashed, as it always occasionally did. This was his chance. He decided he'd had enough. He uninstalled it from his phone right away. "Finally, an excuse to stop using it" he thought. Proceeding to download the new Twitter client and interacting with it, fulfilling his long held-back desire "this is so much more better, and this makes me so much more happier", he thought. Happy that he'd made this decision, he proceeded to enjoy this new experience, before another new Twitter client, which he'd never seen before, came along. Enticed, yet again, but the features it provided over the previous two Twitter clients he owned, he thought maybe, yet again, it was time to change....

What I've described above isn't a mindless collection of words but pretty much an analogy of what quite a few people perceive as dating and being in a relationship. (Gender insinuations are merely demonstrative). Enticed by a few good qualities we 'perceive' in someone else, we let go of what we have already, forgetting why we have them in the first place. By the time we realize what we've lost and realize that the someone else we were enamoured by isn't as fantastic as we originally thought, its almost always too late.

Meanwhile, original awesome Twitter client, continued being as awesome as it was, continually evolving with new features, based on its reviews and experiences with finicky and capricious users like him. And yeah, it no longer crashed, and lived happily ever after with someone who appreciated it for what it could do, rather than judge it for what it could not.

Eighteen Years On.

2012-12-14T12:05:00.000-05:00

You were the one person who kept me sane given everything that had happened until then.
You were the one person who understood me completely.
You were the person I try to emulate in vain, even today.
You were a better mother to me than the mother who gave birth to me.
You were the one who shielded me from uncontrolled rage and wrath.
You were the one who wanted me to be as perfect as I could in everything I did, an attitude that I try and keep up to even today.
You were the one who made me believe that despite everything, I would come up on top - and you were sure as hell right.
You have left a void that never ever could be filled.

Mere words cannot do justice to what I feel about you, they are hopelessly incapable. How much I miss you even after all these years, is simply unfathomable. How much I remember your constant motivation and advice, utterly inexplicable. Every time I am successful, and every time I fail. Like that Marathi class test on 11th December 1994 - where I scored 8/10, and you admonished me for not performing to the best of my ability.

Today, eighteen years later I look back and think - am I person who you wanted me to be? I think I'm close - after losing the plot for so many years in between.

Wednesday, 14th December, 1994. 10:35pm IST - you left forever. But you will live on - in my memories, in my thoughts - and perhaps, through my actions. I can never thank you enough - no matter what I do or what I achieve. The least I can do is write a tribute to you on this excuse for a blog - set to go out at the exact same time, 18 years later.

To the woman who always believed in my ability and knew the reason for my rage, taught me to never ever give up, instilled the never say die attitude in me, always taught me to do what I thought was right and not think about what others around me think about what I'm doing, posthumously inculcated in me the art of patience, an art which I perfected much later - I miss you a lot even today. Rest in peace to the woman who gave birth to my father - you will always be the epitome of patience for me.

PS: - I topped the Marathi class test two days after you died, just so you know. Not like you're ever going to read this - but the show has gone on, and how!

And the Marathi class test is just a mere euphemism for the one ability you have instilled in me - the ability of resurgence. No matter what may be the odds.

A dream or two (or more), realized.

2012-10-13T21:02:00.001-04:00

One always gets a feeling of contentment and satisfaction when dreams that were close to your heart are realized. My case has not been any different. Six years ago, when I started my career in the Information Security Management department of Reliance Communications, I had numerous people remark to me that Security Consulting was something I should consider as a serious career option. Apparently, I had a passion for the field, and people seemed to think that is where I would do very well for myself. This post is just to update this blog about the numerous dreams that have been realized, for the sake of posterity.

As I write this post, I realize I've made innumerable sacrifices, lost everything that I thought I was living for, found new reasons to live, resurrected previously destroyed relationships (the works, basically, which I've whined about so many times before here) - I've eventually landed up with that exact job role that I dreamed of six years ago, at the end of it all. As I started my new job with PricewaterHouse Coopers LLP, Canada, one of the world's biggest consulting firms, on September 17th, I couldn't help but exult at the sheer sense of achievement that enveloped me. Never in my wildest imagination did I imagine that what I dreamed would turn out to be true, and I would be sitting and writing this post in my own one bedroom apartment in the heart of Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

The apartment by the way, was another dream. I always dreamed of having my own, meticulously self-designed apartment, starting from four walls and ending up with a place which I would love to come back to every evening from work. Countless visits to Ikea's website, innumerable color combination browsing on Adobe's Kuler, a dozen opinions and a cool $1500 later, I've ended up with what I can actually call, another dream to be crossed off my to-do list. There should be pics on Facebook, after the house warming party at the start of next month.

They say life has a strange way of balancing things out. I guess, if life has been extremely unjust to you in your early days, you reap the benefits as you grow older. I'm witnessing this first-hand, as the counter-balancing experiences present themselves. Dreams that I had almost given up on, dreams of experiences that I never ever thought would ever be fulfilled in this lifetime, dreams that I thought would remain just dreams, one-by-one, appear to be making a transition into reality. I think it all boils down to being patient, facing up to the challenges and never giving up. And of-course, waiting until you have the upper hand.

As I hang my two Masters degree certificates on the wall across my bed, I also have two empty frames that accompany them. To keep reminding me each morning as I wake up, of the dreams that have been realized - and the challenges to fulfil dreams that I have as I type this post. Dreams which will be met, with the same passion and vigor that I've come to be known for, until they're fulfilled. For the more abstract challenges and dreams however, sadly, there shall be no certificates that I can put up after they complete.

Another task that remains is to marry the woman of my 'dreams'. That of course, before I forcibly have my profile put up on one of the marriage portals. My own friends have now started telling me to settle down, though my own parents would never ever put me under pressure to get married. On a lighter note, that's probably because if my parents try to tell me about the benefits of being married, there's every chance I might burst out laughing uncontrollably at the irony of it all (That's the benefit of having divorced parents :P).

Nevertheless, on a serious note - certain personal goals and dreams remain - and only then will I think of marrying and settling down, hopefully to that woman. Maybe by sometime next year, maybe by 2014. Let's see what life unravels next. :)

Three zero, Thirty.

2012-06-14T00:00:00.000-04:00

Another year gone by. Another compelling enough reason to write something lengthy here today - probably to serve as a milestone post to me if I read this post a few years down the line. A far cry from the emotionally driven post last year on the same day.

To begin with, it's one of those days when I can't help but juxtapose my life today, with my father's life when he was exactly my age. Justifiably so, given the date. Obviously, memories about it are not exactly what you would call vivid, but then they do make for a fair comparison. At the same age, my father had just bought his own house. He was married for a little over 5 years to the woman who he loved (the prettiest woman I know) having fallen in love 5 years before he decided to take the plunge. Well settled in his career as a flight purser with Air India, he was living what you could call, the good life. As was the norm in those days, my parents had a child around a year after they married. Yours truly, who at this exact moment, was probably cutting a cake for this fourth birthday.

26 years later, fast forward to me. Same age. I'll sum it up in short by saying the only things I've done better (in itself questionable) than him at this stage is having thrice the number of degrees he has and smoking thrice the number of cigarettes he's smoked. Let's not even get to financial stability, love, relationships and all of that jazz. Understanding the futility of comparing my father's life with mine at the same age given the hopelessly one-sided nature of the comparison already, I think it's best to digress and compare my own life from two, three or four years ago with what it is today. Given that this is a milestone post and all that, and noting that I find myself to be a totally different person from who I was when back in India. My approach to people, my behavior around people, my expectations from people - have all changed. I thought it was worth penning down in a few paragraphs, because it reveals to me how much I've evolved over the years - going with the whole milestone theme of this post. I've moved to a point where I'm extremely cautious and think multiple times before letting someone into my life, in any form of a relationship - and how deep. I don't expect anyone to read this post further, instead skip directly to the last paragraph - because what follows over the next four paragraphs is essentially a conglomeration of alphabets to illustrate the ramifications of the so-called 'changes' described above. If you choose to go ahead and read anyway, keep in mind that what follows may or may not make sense - and can very well be perceived as harangue.

Nevertheless, over the past couple of years, as I've repeatedly posted earlier - I've come to appreciate the value of putting yourself before others, the futility of (mostly) any argument and the virtues of unwavering patience. Quite simply, unless the person you're arguing with actually thinks they may be wrong, a sensible reciprocation of even the most carefully constructed logical argument is impossible. I've discovered there's no purpose in arguing and making your point, except, of course, self-satisfaction. However bullet-proof your argument may be, it is sure to fall on deaf ears. At such times, I've learned it's better to simply say 'okay' , say nothing further and walk away saying as less as possible, because saying anything further in itself is enough fuel for an argument. Granted, people will form opinions about you on the basis of what you've said or done, just like people who've read this post thus far are already forming an opinion about me right now. You cannot stop people from talking or thinking as they please, but you can sure stop yourself from reacting when confronted with opinions which may or may not be true. There are two kinds of people we all come across, one set that interacts with you for what you do (which is why they would argue with you), and the second that interacts with you for who you are. I choose to now go that extra mile for people who interact with me for who I am and consequently, whose opinion I value - invariably giving the impression to the rest that I'm self-centered. There is a fine line between being self-centered and putting yourself over others. I've begun to consciously try to tread that fine line. To keep myself happy, rather than perpetually act in a manner that makes others happy.

Eventually, you realize the only possible outcome of being silent, minding your own business and avoiding argument is overwhelmingly positive - even in the case when it is obvious the person is blatantly lying right to your face. Granted, in the short term this indifference is bound to ruffle a few feathers - piss people off, make them say stuff that's bound to hurt you, bound to give you grief. But that is mostly because they thought they knew you better than they actually did, and made their impressions about you on the basis of that. In reality - all they were doing is possibly taking your perpetual availability and your infallible presence for granted (perhaps involuntarily), maybe because that is the impression that you originally gave them. But once you've mastered the art of setting all or most of those brickbats and criticisms aside, and know that you're doing what you're doing simply for self-preservation - you'll always be at peace with yourself, nevermind the fact that you'll probably be branded self-centered and self-obsessed. I've made quite a funny observation - the first reaction of most people is to automatically think you're 'ignoring them' or that you 'don't really care' when you don't respond when they needed or expected you to, yet these are the same people expect you to 'understand' and would get pissed at you when an exact role reversal occurs. Why is it so? Is it because they simply can't bear it when they were paid back in the same coin? Or is it because they simply cannot put in practice what they preach? Or is it that they lack the interest or drive to put themselves in your shoes, considering that they apparently know you that well? When you know losing an argument is inevitable, it's better to lose by doing what it takes to keep your conscience clear - in most cases by not going that extra mile, lest you regret doing that post-argument. To sum up in short, the moment you put yourself above others, the world seems a very different place.

Certain experiences that have hurt you over the years can never be forgotten for a lifetime, no matter how much you think you've moved on, no matter how much you chose to remain silent, independent of the fact whether you've forgiven. 'Forgiving and forgetting' in my opinion is the biggest cliche and the single most freely abused term when giving advice. When the bad experiences have eclipsed the good, I don't think it is ever possible for one to genuinely forgive anyway, because you won't be able to forget - unless there is a valid explanation or an in-time apology that tilts the balance back in favor of good. The basic principle to keep yourself happy, above everyone and everything else - might be violated by forgiving and forgetting. Your subsequent interactions reveal whether you can indeed forget those experiences, no matter how much to the contrary your verbal utterances might have been. Strangely enough, I've observed the experiences, and the words contained therein, however emotionally charged one may have been during their original utterance, have the tendency to come back and bite right back when least expected, without the recipient of the original words having to consciously make an effort. That time, I believe is the point where one must realize it's time to apologize. Disregarding it means the recipient eventually reaches a threshold where they can possibly forgive, for the purpose of greater good, but most definitely cannot forget. Even if possible, forgiving and forgetting is then merely akin to joining a string or rope that's been cut into two - the knot that has been used to join will always eventually show no matter how well you try to hide the knot. Whether you're alright with that knot showing or not - depends on how badly you want the string or rope back in the first place.

The apparent verbal silence to brickbats has its own disadvantages, just like a clear conscience does. Pissed-off people are bad enough, but people who go about distorting the truth are worse. That too, just because you've not reciprocated in the manner that they envisioned you would, in spite of being overwhelmingly clear at the outset. Taking advantage of your silence, spreading lies about their experiences with you - because you choose to remain silent and continue to do so, even though you clearly know what they've been doing. Irrespective, even in such cases, it's best to distance yourself and still remain silent. As my father always taught me, "Give people a long rope, but when you tighten the noose, make sure there is no escape". That's not being vengeful by any sense of the term, but rather being patient and waiting for the right time to convey your point of view. When one didn't think twice before their actions, they're left with two choices. Drop their ego and apologize, or be prepared to face the consequences of their actions and not whine about the unfairness of it all. Karma is a bitch, As you sow so shall you reap, and all that. The trick is to know with pinpoint accuracy when, and precisely where to strike back, if you think you must. Whether I wait for my chance and personally blackmail someone in this manner is an entirely different question, completely at my discretion, completely dependent on the fact whether I've merely forgiven - or forgiven and forgotten. Lesson that I learned? Always dish out to others only what you can digest if done to you.

Nonetheless, at the same age as my father today, I might not be as settled, I might not have already have a girlfriend/wife who I actually loved for long, I might not be as financial capable like he is. While most of friends my age are either (happily) married, perfectly responsible, financially stable men, fathers-to-be, or fathers already, just like my own father was - I'm still evolving. As a trustworthy friend who can be unflinchingly depended on. As a reliable son who his father can (maybe) be proud of. As an elder brother to an amazing younger brother. As a keen student who will never forget the invaluable lessons life and experiences have taught him. As a companion to the most amazing girl a guy could ever wish to have in his life. (Okay, I made this one up). Evolving, with the belief that one day, I will have achieved what I have envisioned for myself. Evolving, shaped by my experiences and driven by an undying belief. My Dad's mistakes have taught me, and I'm making sure I don't repeat them - instead choosing to model my own life on those mistakes. I know it's been one hell of a ride for the past twenty-two years, to this date, ups and downs, lows and highs - I'm still learning. Slowly having got here, I can finally say I'm closer than ever, at the cusp of the final frontier. The future can only be better. Wait, did I just say twenty-two?

Thirty, indeed. With hopefully a lot more to come. Thanks for reading.

Happy Birthday to me. :)

Two Masters Degrees and two many realizations. Or some crap like that...

2012-05-01T02:19:00.001-04:00

Drawn into the backdrop here, You could fade, you could fade away
Bright lights on a starless night, Burn a hole in the dying day
Looking at life through a loaded gun, Take your best shot, aim it at the sun
Looking at life through a loaded gun, You know you’ll find,
You’ll find yourself, You’ll find yourself alone.

As this track (Find Yourself - State of Trance 2009 Disc 2, Track 1) repeatedly played, both in my head and on my Zune HD, I moved to Montreal, Canada in September 2010 with one whole and sole aim. Resurrection of shattered dreams. Restoration of lost belief. Picking up the leftovers of those shattered dreams, finding that lost belief and rebuilding from scratch. Rediscovering a purpose to life. Believing that emotional indifference and geographical detachment was the only way out, I embarked of what was my toughest challenge yet. One and a half years have passed, and through this time, I've realized the only thing that I needed to change was the way I saw myself, put myself before others and learn to say NO. These realizations basically rendered the track playing into my ears pretty much meaningless, and consequently the rest of this post, pointless.

Nevertheless, over the past one and a half years, I did manage to do something very few people I know have done, while this entire realization bullshit was happening. I managed to get a second Masters degree, after working in the Information Security industry for four years. Putting myself back into education, leaving a well settled career in India - rebuilding from scratch, both financially and professionally, part 1 of the journey is complete and successful. Granted, I haven't managed to get the research-based Information Security Masters degree that I sought at the start of it all. I would have loved to publish a couple of more papers than the one paper I currently have somewhere close to being published in a scientific journal - but I presume the designation below doesn't look too bad either.

Prasanna Sambasivan,
M.Eng. Information Systems Security.
M.Sc. Distributed Systems and Networks.

Academically, the above two degrees would be no big deal, considering half the world has questioned the need and purpose for a second Masters degree. But for a kid who was repeatedly told 'You're only fit to be a ragpicker' when I performed below my potential and scored around 90% consistently in all his exams, and eventually almost believed what was told was indeed true - it's a pretty darn good achievement. Thank you Dad for repeatedly being savagely critical of my performances, because what you obviously said in a fit of anger helped me redefine the limits of my own expectations, pushing it to levels which I never thought was possible. You probably knew what I was capable of, much better than I did. Besides, as you've always taught me, actions speak louder than words, I've just tweaked it so I perform the required actions - and then write it in words :)

While it is customary to attribute your success to the ones who've been there for you through thick and thin when you believe you've achieved something significant, I'll deviate from what's the custom, instead choosing to thank genuinely from the bottom of my heart, each and every one of those people who've punished me and put me through hell for mistakes which I never made, or mistakes which I made because I simply caved in under the overwhleming stress, mistakes for which I repeatedly redefined the term apology in vain, bending over backwards until the point of ridicule and lunacy; for if it wasn't for those people who at some point in time were dear to me, I wouldn't have ever had the motivation to become better by correcting what was apparently, intolerably wrong. (Yes, that was one sentence, feel free to go back and read). Perhaps I'm alone today, perhaps I'm not - but the fact of the matter is that coinciding with the completion of my degree, the resurrection is also, complete, in a manner that could have never envisioned when flight BA0065 landed into Montreal on September 1st, 2010.

The best is yet to come. And no, I don't plan to return to India - like I did the last time from the UK, supposedly 'inspired' after watching Shahrukh Khan's Swades at the wrong time.

PS: - One and a half years have passed, and in these one and half years of over-educating myself, I've also realized almost everyone my age is married, and something needs to be done about the fact that I potentially will be the only unmarried guy entering a hypothetical high school reunion in the near future. Ah well, as I said above - the best is yet to come.

Posthumous pensiveness.

2012-04-12T15:04:00.002-04:00

It's been more than 17 years since I lost my grandmother. Previous posts on my blog, on her death anniversary, birth anniversary and what not are ample evidence of how close I was to her when I was a kid. Her death in 1994 marked a big turning point in my life. Though it's been more than a decade and a half since she passed away, I have no bones in admitting that thinking about her still makes me shed tears. It's inexplicable. Even after all this while, What is it that makes me miss her? Why does thinking about her still bring a tear or two to my eye? Was it her capability to absorb truckloads of shit from people, silently bearing it all - something that I've gradually begun to learn over the past two years or so, only twisting that very quality to make sure I strike back at whoever has put me through shit at the time when it's going to make the most sense? Was it that I was so used to her presence, and had gotten so accustomed to her, that losing her has left a void that simply cannot be filled?

As I wondered, a more generic thought occured to me. What is it that makes us miss people after they're dead and gone? Is it how much we value them in our lives now, long after they've gone? If that's the case, can we actually say that we valued them as much as we do now, when they were alive? For a moment, let's put aside the most abused word in mankind - 'Moving On', which I think is farcical in most cases anyway, and think. Do we really appreciate the people who we deemed close to us, counted on for being there for us whenever we've needed them, have always lended a listening ear no matter what they've been doing, or heck, for even being who they are? It's obvious that we will take the people closest to us for granted, but can we accept the fact that they can take us for granted too, without losing our mind and our temper because we think that they don't understand us anymore?

The fact of the matter the way I see it, is that we always tend to find excuses for our actions and behaviour that make us feel better, irrespective of whether our conscience tells us we're right or wrong. In the quest for feeling better about something we've done, we bury our conscience and instead choose to go with the thought that's going to make us sleep without restlessly tossing and turning over. Don't believe me? Here's a small example. Think about the last time you actually admitted that you did not study enough, because of which an exam did not go well. I'm fairly certain we've only said 'The paper was tough', but never admitted that we did not study enough. Juxtapose this very sentiment with our behaviour around the people who we claim matter to us. You can draw quite a few parallels.

And then, when that person is no longer alive - we shed tears on their death bed. Or like me, perpetually shed tears, even 17 years after they've gone. Because it is only then we realize, what that person's existence really meant to us. Unfortunately by then, it's too late. People seldom realize what they've lost - when the person in question is alive but probably does not share the symbiotically enriching, increasingly endearing relationship, like once upon a time. It takes death to realize what they really meant to us.

So, to those of you who happen to be extremely close to me and will be throughout this lifetime, here's a small message. You all know what you mean to me. At every possible opportunity, I make sure I'm there for you - to the best of my ability. An ability, that is defined by my conscience. A conscience, which I believe has never let me down. Conversely, for those of you who think I'm always there for you, it's not necessarily because you're extremely close to me, but maybe because I'm keeping my conscience clear.

Which makes me wonder further, how many people will cry when I die, and genuinely miss me, and not miss me because I was always available for them when they needed me?

It'd be nice if there was some kind of mechanism that ensured that the only ones who could shed bucketful of tears are the ones who could honestly touch their heart and claim they were there at my beck and call, just like I always was, when alive. At which point those interested could view this very post and figure the facts. In all futility.

PS: - The views expressed in this post do not reflect the state of my mind. So quit worrying, I'm not going to kill myself or hope I die soon. Fought and won too many battles to give up so easily.

Writer's block - Or not.

2011-11-01T15:32:00.001-04:00

Furiously typing away at the keyboard, overusing the backspace key, he gave his clouded thoughts a much deserved outlet. He was pretty certain he had the right thoughts, but it was almost certainly never the right words, neither was it ever the right time. No matter how hard he tried, the words never really carried the message he wanted them to carry. Pages after pages of pouring out his heart, in prose and verse, had been written earlier, but they only served as harsh reminders of a horrendous past gone by, living a wretched life where he constantly put others above him, fully knowing he would not get anything in return. These very words now served little or no purpose as mere collections of sentences now, which impressed most who read them. They were nothing but laments and rants, something that he'd grown out of, but for some explicable reason, still were there for everyone to see.

Lessons duly learned, he still had chosen to write. Why, he had no idea. Was something again, was on his mind? Did he know what words he had to use? Was he sure that these words would not end up like an apparently intelligent conglomeration of alphabets? Was there a fear that he would be misunderstood if he said what he had to? Was it his propensity and affinity to write so cryptically, that he had to explain to people what he wrote really meant?

Select all - Delete. Restart writing from scratch. Maybe he needed to portray what he thought differently, for people to understand what he meant. Or maybe not. Who was he writing for? What was the reason? For himself? For others to read and appreciate? Why must he write at all? Whatever happened to his best writings? They lay in a cupboard, unread, collecting dust. The very words that he had once written, from what he thought was the bottom of his heart. Multitude of thoughts flowed, while he struggled to find the right words. Perhaps ironically then, he thought of what people criticized him the most for. Thinking too much. Analyzing what need not be analyzed. He diverted his mind, instead focussing on the Whatsapp messages that he'd received. It was someone's birthday, and he had to wish them, but he could not let them know his mind was preoccupied with writing, something sensible. But he was adept at multitasking. Hurdle crossed.

And then a brainwave. He found the reason he wanted to write. Because writing made him happy. Because even random collections of words that he wrote, seemed to make sense. Somehow. Besides, he had now finally learned to live, for himself and do things that made him happy. He'd learned to love himself, rather than expect to be loved. As he explained this very fact, very cryptically to a friend who was feeling low lately, he realized, somewhere, he'd killed two birds with one stone. Perhaps. Perhaps not.

As he hit the send button on the post, as if befitting the ocassion, the music player crooned:

'Jo bhi main, kehna chahoon, Barbaad kare, alfaaz mere'
(Whatever I want to say from my head, my words destroy them)

Back to reality.

Misplaced messaging.

2011-07-11T16:57:00.006-04:00

There was a time when I was accused of being anti-social, often spending more time (apparently) on my cellphone than in real conversation. Now when I see the world around me doing the exact same thing and the hilarity associated with it, it gave me an idea for writing yet another boring, idiotic rant, mostly with an intention of insinuating pseudo-activity on my blog.

With the advent of QWERTY devices (read Blackberries), and the resultant proliferation of associated apps (BBM, Whatsapp) and what not, being "Available" has taken a whole new meaning. Everyone and their grandmother has a smartphone with a data plan these days. "What's your BBM pin? and "I'll add you on Whatsapp" are the new buzzwords. I personally know of people who use group messaging on BBM to communicate within the same workplace (probably justifiable for women - BBM is the safest haven for gossip. Make an all girls group on BBM and gossip away :P).

I for one, do not enjoy lengthy conversations on a mobile device. If a conversation is stretching too long, I prefer calling instead. One minute of voice can convey ten times more than what one minute of typing a message to someone can. Of course, the Whatsapp /BBM equivalent of 'sexting' is an exception to this rule.

On a serious note though, I cannot type when in motion as dizziness creeps in, and secondly, I just think that the whole concept of 'continuous mobile messaging' is plain stupid. I use Whatsapp to keep in touch with a few friends back in India, as a replacement for SMS. That too because they can't text back for free in the traditional manner. That's how such technologies were intended to be used anyway. How this wisdom is lost on people, and how people's lives have started revolving around mobile messengers is a mystery to me. Of course, BBM/Whatsapp and all such technologies will be a boon to people in long distance relationships, and all of the above would have held true for me too when I was making the biggest mistake of my life - but that's a whole different story.

Instead, what you have is this false notion of 'being in touch with someone', by attempting to have full fledged conversations with people on mobile devices from mobile devices, irrespective of whether either party involved is working, watching a movie, out for a coffee, taking a dump and so on. What's worse is that when someone chooses not be involved in such conversation, either because they were busy, or simply were too involved in the real world tasks around them to pay significant attention to the messages on their smartphone - they pass off as being rude or pricey for not partaking in what has basically now become in my view 'a social circus'.

Indeed, I have a smartphone. Indeed, I enjoy technology and gadgets. But my smartphone is for my convenience, not for the convenience of the person pinging me on Whatsapp/BBM expecting an immediate reply - and judging me because I did not reply and chose to tweet or update my Facebook status instead.

Thankfully, none of my friends are party to the fallacies I described above. (Umm, mostly :P). Which brings me to why I wrote this post in the first place, a beautiful article written by my friend: 'Enabled or Enslaved by Technology'. Have a read, I think we're closer than ever to being enslaved.

Also, I do not have a Blackberry - so no BBM pin.
Also, try expressing the above views during a conversation on a mobile messenger. They are intended to be replacements to SMS - Short Message Service, and for that only.

Update: - I've been getting feedback saying that I'm anti Blackberry. Just to clarify, I'm not. I knew what Blackberrys were even before most BB users today know what QWERTY keyboards are. All I'm against is the herd mentality - exemplified by the indiscriminate abuse of BBM, and the solitary purpose of getting a Blackberry being BBM. Heck, I know of people who don't have a full blown data plan on BB - but have a special plan just for BBM. If you do not understand it's use and are still getting a product, you're just looking for social acceptance - because everyone around you has it.

Happy Birthday to me.

2011-06-14T00:00:00.003-04:00

So. I'm 29. Yes, Twenty Nine. And I'm celebrating my birthday with this post, gifting myself this new blog. Writing this piece has been on my mind for a while now, incoherent abstractionism be damned.

As I look back at each and every incident that shaped the human being I am today, a gamut of emotions passes through my mind. Most emotions are sour, some not - but then as they, if life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Well, with the number of lemons life gave me - I could have started a manufacturing plant that could serve half the population of India. Everyday. For a year. Hyperbole aside, that was the past - and lessons have been duly learned. Some harsh (I learned the meaning of the word emotional blackmail much before I could spell both the words together, incidentally 21 years ago on this day), some that had the potential of driving me insane (I was once told 2 years ago 'it's best for my own good that I visit a shrink'), some just plain surprising and unlike me (the fact that I'm writing this somewhat personal post on a public forum).

Today, I'm proud of what I've achieved, despite every single obstacle that has come my way. Most of these obstacles were none of my fault. No wait. one of them was. Unconditional love, to be precise. The fact that I ran behind people, salivating for affection, much like the hungry, lonely dog that licks the feet of anyone that has petted and cuddled it at any point in time.

Sometime through the last year, I realized I was human, and not a dog, and that formed the crux of change.

I'm proud of the person I am today - more so, because finally I've learned that there's no upper ceiling to what you can achieve when you 'put yourself first'.

So, yeah, welcome to UberT-Blog, hope to update more frequently. And Happy Birthday to me. And since its my day and all that, here's a bit of a warning bell to go with the theme of this post:

Well it ain't over till its over and my world shuts down
But that came close I'll have you know, it was just a matter of time...

Goodbye, Severeanomaly.

2011-03-27T18:40:00.000-04:00

Here we are. 5-odd years after severeanomaly.org was first launched. To announce the death of severeanomaly.org.

As well as the continuation of UberT-Blog.

Such is life.

A younger sibling..

2011-02-12T02:30:00.000-05:00

Twenty three years ago - Mamta Nursing Home, Garodia Nagar, Mumbai. 7.30am.

At the hospital, early in the morning, me all of six years old. Both my grandmothers stood next to me, as I carried this little bundle of joy in my hands. It was true, I was now an elder brother to the best younger brother anyone could ask for.

Happy Birthday dude, have an awesome day and a great year ahead!

And yeah, sorry for that permanently broken front tooth. :-)

Birthday Wishes.

2011-02-01T19:33:00.000-05:00

Happy 76th Birthday to the world's most awesome grandmother. Ever. Wish I have the patience levels you had, with everyone and everything around. Wish I had the ability to absorb insane levels of stress like you did, throughout your life. Thank you for everything you did for me through my childhood, thank you for every game of Snakes and Ladders you played with me. I admit today that I cheated everytime I won. Thank you for every time you gave me Re.1 to go buy chocolate from the store downstairs, on my way to school. Thank you for everytime you've been there for me when I've needed you.

Also, please note that I really really really really really miss you, sitting all the way in Canada.

Wish you actually get around to reading this, if they have Internet access in heaven, considering you've left us all and gone, 17 years ago. Also please note that I really need you. Now. Wishes, blessings, divine intervention. Anything.

PS: - I'm now doing my 2nd Masters degree and am almost 29 years old. Like you always wanted, I am successful today.

A waste of writing talent, perhaps?

2011-01-26T02:53:00.000-05:00

Whenever I write, people tell me I should write more often, because apparently, I have a way with words. While I (mostly) appreciate the positive feedback, unknown to most people till today - there's this threshold I can only dream of crossing - the threshold that's defined by a piece of writing one of my friends sent to me around three years ago. This for me ranks among the best pieces of amateur writing I've read. There's nothing special about it, it's just a simple portrayal of one's emotions. This friend of mine is someone who I only knew through the Internet, from my days in the UK when I used to blog pretty regularly, and who was quite impressed with my writing style. (Besides, blogging then was among the cool things to do).

Profoundity abounds.

2011-01-20T07:18:00.000-05:00

As the plane approached the landing runway in the dead of the night - a gamut of thoughts ran through the mind, as A State of Trance 2006 Track 3 By Armin Van Buuren played forth:

In my mind I hear you calling, But my response won't be received
Wasn't aware you were falling, Oh, when nature said delete

When we spent this time together. Was it worth it in the end?
I bet you did your part when noticing, A tear from a friend.

The musical arrangement on this song, superb. The emotions it generates - priceless.

Towards Utopia.

2010-12-06T18:30:00.000-05:00

He exists in a world beyond your world
What we only fantasize - he does.
He lives a life where nothing is beyond him - nothing is beyond him
For all his charm and charisma, his wild and expensive toys...

..He is a driven, unflinching, calculating MACHINE.

Me, myself and my passport renewal.

2010-11-01T17:16:00.000-04:00

Still remember the day clearly, July 7th, 2009, a typical Mumbai monsoon morning. Woke up at 7am to get to the passport office at Prabhadevi before 8am, before the queue at the passport office got so long you couldn't figure which was the line for the passport office and which was the one for the Siddhivinayak temple.

So here's a bit of a background. I'd planned a vacation abroad in the 1st week of September, and the visa would not be issued unless I renewed my passport. Air tickets were never a problem for me - my Dad's 25+ year old career with Air India ensuring that I flew abroad at prices cheaper than a 750ml bottle of McDowells No.1 (Business Class, mind you). This vacation had been planned way back in April that year. I'd been waiting to take this vacation for ages now. Leave from work? Sorted. My boss had told me to confirm my dates, mostly because I guess he wanted to take a vacation when I returned. Froze on Sept 3rd as my departure date, and considering Tatkal (Immediate) passports are supposed to arrive in less than a week, I was well within time to process my visa. So here I was, a demand draft for Rs.2500, a notarized affidavit for Rs.300 and 10 classic Milds in my bag, standing at 7.45am in a queue that was already longer than the usual one at the ticket counter at Kurla station. 9am - counters opened, and after the initial scuffle with the dumbfuck who tried to break the queue, I was almost there at the passport counter. This was easy, I thought. Little did I then realize, that it was just going to be the start of my troubles.

Submitted all my docs to kind lady at passport counter, which is when I was presented with Shocker #1. Apparently, since my passport was issued when I was a minor, there was no police verification done, and thanks to Kasab and co., it was now mandatory to have police verification even for passport renewals, even for people who had a passport since the time they stopped peeing their pants (read me). Effectively, I was not eligible for Tatkal - and would have to go through the normal, lengthy route - taking a maximum of 45 days. Quick calculations and one Classic Milds later, I thought I'd be safe, and still have enough time for the visa. In hindsight, I'm sure God must have been rolling on the floor laughing at that thought, because what transpired later was utter chaos.

So here's the deal. My workplace was in Pune, while I lived in Mumbai, which I came back to on weekends. Police verification would take around a week or two, so after duly informing folks at my place in Mumbai to call me if the cops came home, the normal, mundane IT professional work life resumed. A week or so later, call from home in Mumbai. Random cop had showed up home, and folks very conveniently, inspite of clear instructions, told him that I stay in Pune. Hara-kiri was committed, I immediately realized. Shocker#2, blunder even. The cop had told me to come and meet him at the police station, and I duly obliged, driving back from Pune the very next day. And to top it, I was coming down with something like a flu, and was running a fever.

Expectedly, the cop questioned me about why I had lied about my address in the passport application. After 'explaining' my situation to him, which incidentally took a grand total of two days, he relented, only to direct me to the actual cop who would do my passport verification the next day. So, the next day, after deciding to work from home, considering I was supposed to be the team lead and all, there I was, armed with everything from my birth certificate, ration card, PAN card, Driver's License, roudly parking myself in the chair opposite verification cop, only to be told to go back home and get Telephone bills and Electricity bills for the January of every year, for the past 4 years. Tough ask I know, but since my father has a habit of storing every possible bill neatly organized into files, it was just about finding the right bills. Done. Presented to cop. Then, Shocker #3. My passport showed my place of birth as Mumbai, Maharashtra, while my birth certificate showed my place of birth as Dombivli, Thane. Our man here had a problem with that, and apparently could not pass my application unless I got some kinda affidavit that said that the details entered on my earlier passport were wrong, and there was an error. Ran around again, with spent Rs.500 on getting an affidavit (again). By now, the flu had taken toll on me, and I was running a 102 degree fever, where Maggi Noodles could have been cooked in 4 mins or so just by placing the bowl on me. I was surviving on Paracetamol tablets. The fact that it was raining cats and dogs was not helping at all. July 18th or so, the nightmare was finally over, with my police verification report thicker than my final year engineering project. Drove back to Pune on the following Monday, expecting this to be a cakewalk now. Or was it?

This is when things started doing downhill really bad, in more ways than one. July 28th - Call from Dad, saying I was not eligible for free tickets anymore, since Air India does not fly to the destination and they had stopped issuing staff tickets on other airlines for children over 25. July 30th - Passport website. Big, bold words.

Police Verification report incomplete.

Shocker#4 with free Shocker#5. Now, not only was my police verification report incomplete, I also had to buy tickets a month in advance, which would mean they would be all that more expensive. And of course, I still had to get my visa. What next? Drive to Mumbai on the night of July 30th and hit the passport office on July 31st to find what the eff needs to be done. My answer? Only the police station that sent the report will know why it was rejected, and I'd have to wait. Used the meantime to scout for cheap airfares, but none less than Rs.37000. Great, I thought. I waited a couple of days, and when nothing moved - visited the police station. The cop told me my application was perfect and there was nothing wrong. August 7th or so, my application was sent back to the passport office.

Less than a month to go for the trip, and I had neither ticket, passport, nor visa. I could not postpone my trip, since I'd already committed my trip dates to my boss, and besides, by now circumstances had ensured this trip had become something I simply HAD to do. Oh and by the way, driving Pune- Mumbai at the drop of a hat became my favorite pastime, things reached such a stage that my boss actually said that if I don't show up at office, he'd assume that I was back in Mumbai for my passport work and would be working from home. Long story short, tickets were purchased, for Rs.37,500 only, with a minimum cancellation charge. What followed the next week was probably the worst week of my life, ever.

Passport office website checked from Pune on August 10th - Application incomplete - Please meet passport officer - or something on those lines. No prizes for guessing who drove down to Mumbai that night. Met the passport officer the next day, who like any typical Indian government officer, told me she was busy and made me take an appointment on August 13th at 10am. Now, August 14th was a holiday for some reason (don't remember why), and honestly, time was running out now, considering the only thing that was certain was that I'd bought my tickets apart from the fact that I was badly effed. I'd had enough of playing by the book. Used a few contacts through my uncle, just in case things mess up on August 13th. The day arrived. I met the passport officer. The problem in my application? My place of birth on my new passport application did not match the one on my earlier passport. Yes, the same one the cop made me spend Rs.500 to change. Fun, right? Plus, the earliest I could come in was August 17th, Monday - since the next three days would be holidays. I was nothing short of devastated. As I dejectedly walked away and plonked myself on a bench outside the passport office, wondering what to do next - I blanked out. The stress was becoming too much to take. What wrong had I done? I was so immersed in these thoughts, I did not even notice my phone ring - it was from my uncle's contact who told me to go upstairs immediately.

So, what would have been done on Monday, was now happening, on a Thursday afternoon, after office hours. Still, there was no guarantee I would make the trip on time, considering after the passport application is approved, it takes a week to get a passport number, and upto a week after that to get the physical passport in hand. And of course, I still had to process the visa.

A tense week later, August 24th - passport number issued. Now all that remained was to get the physical passport in my hand, and then process the visa. August 29th, 2009. Finally, my passport had arrived, after having running through hoops for no real fault of mine. I almost kissed the postman who delivered the passport home, don't ask me why.

As the plane lifted from Mumbai on September 3rd, I thought the worst was over. But my opinion about actually continuing to live in India had changed. This incident proved to be one of the final nails in the coffin, for quite a few bits of my life.

So, to sum it up like those 'priceless' MasterCard ads:

Passport Application - Rs.1000

Affidavits, et al - Rs.1000

Running around to police station and passport office - Rs. 2000

Greasing the right palms - A bottle of Jim Beam plus Rs.500

Mumbai Pune trips at whim - Rs. 12000

Plane ticket - Rs.37,500

What was priceless? I leave the people who know me and read this article to decide.

Belief.

2010-10-19T22:21:00.000-04:00

Trapped alone on a remote island, she feared for her life. She had no idea how she got there, but knew she had to get out of there somehow, but as far as the eye could see, all she could see was the clear blue ocean. The island was filled with savages, who would ultimately devour her, for they were but savages. Days passed into months, and just as she was about to give up to her fate, a heavenly voice seemed to whisper "There is land 900 miles away, straight ahead. I'll be your guide that will help you swim to safety". Her eyes lit up. She finally saw hope. She believed the voice was true. Besides, she had no choice. The more she listened to the voice, the more drawn towards it she felt, and surrendered to it's warmth. Making the voice her beacon of faith, she plunged headlong into the shark infested ocean, eagerly wanting to swim to safety.

She could swim pretty well, thankfully, for she was an expert swimmer, having aced the art, swimming mile after mile as a young girl. The savages saw her escape, she dodged them all. The sharks came, and went. She withstood it all. She believed the voice was true. The voice egged her on. Half the distance passed. Her arms grew tired. The voice still encouraged her to go on. The voice was her only bond with life, her only hope. For every stroke she made with her tired arms, her patience was growing thin. The voice was not as continuous as before. The savages were not giving up. They were gaining. The voice returned, inspiring her again. Every time the belief wore away, the voice renewed it. 800 miles passed. 850. Eight hundred and Eighty Six. Ninety. As five miles remained, she rejoiced, for she had almost reached her destination. She would be safe again, and would owe it all to the guiding voice, that she so firmly believed.

Then the guiding voice spoke in a grim tone, "Forgive me, for I have lied to you, there is no land a few miles away". It then added, "But I'm sure you can continue swimming, for you're the best I've seen, and you're mighty strong. As you continue swimming the length of this vast ocean, I believe you will find land. Somewhere. Ahead." Then the voice disappeared, and she never to be heard it again.

The very belief that made her plunge. Shattered.

She had never felt this close to giving up. If she stopped swimming now, she would die. If she slowed down, the savages would catch up and she'd return to where she started. But inexplicably, something never let her give up and resign to her fate. She summoned every final bit of energy she had, and moved ahead.

She swam. On, and on, hanging on to dear life. The savages were soon far behind, and so were the sharks. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, she saw land. As she swam safely ashore, the voice returned, congratulating her on her success. The savages too, suddenly, seemed to appear friendly, applauding her courage and endurance, forgetting that they were the reason she took the plunge in the first place.

She had survived the ordeal. Turning a deaf ear to the voice and a blind eye to the savages, she had learned a bittersweet lesson. Believe in your abilities, and trust no one else, except yourself. Success will eventually, invariably, follow.

Updates, Return to Blogging, et al.

2010-09-15T23:27:00.000-04:00

So, it's been more than a year since I posted, the last sensible post on this blog being on July 16th, last year. What's happened since then, until today, has been a long journey, where I've learned a lot, have had radical changes to my life, both good and bad, and for the lack of a better word, have metamorphised into a new individual. I don't want to get into details (most people who need to know, know anyway). As always, I stick to my policy of not blogging about personal stuff on this blog - considering I'm supposed to be a geek with an insane passion for gadgets.Read more »

Turning a corner.

2010-09-08T22:15:00.000-04:00

Some "I'm back to blogging" post, this. It's been around 8 months, since I've posted. In the meanwhile, life for me has changed, head over heels. Not that it should bother the three or four readers of this blog and a bazillion spam bots, but I'd like to believe I've changed for the better.

More soon.

Look who just posted!

2009-12-22T08:55:00.000-05:00

July 16th, 2009. The last time I posted. About 5 months ago. I could make excuses and say I was busy, had a lot of work, and what not, but I know that's not the case. Been a roller-coaster of a ride since July, a ride which has redefined the way I look at life. I stick with my policy of not discussing personal life on this blog, but hey guys, I'm back. Or something like that.

The End.

2009-08-15T21:00:00.000-04:00

The day it all ended, and the day it all began.

The Most Irritating Bug on Nokia S60 V3 phones?

2009-07-16T06:32:00.000-04:00

This is something I've wanted to blog about since eons now. I'm stumped as to why Nokia cannot correct this on their phones with a firmware update. All the v3 phones I've used from the N95 onwards have had this bug.
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The first image shows the screenshot of a contact. Note the icon that appears next to the number, to denote a landline number. Now, if I go ahead and call this number, I'd obviously have this number in the call history. Navigate to the call history and now check the log. The contact now has a mobile phone icon! This IMO, is very irritating, and misleading to say the least.

Lets assume I get a missed call from a contact for whom I have multiple details, including a mobile phone number and a landline number. By looking at the call log, how am I supposed to figure out what number did I get the call from? The different icons are there to identify the type of number, in the first place. This bug totally defeats the purpose.

I wonder if Nokia is listening?

Bandra Worli Sea Link Video.

2009-07-12T07:27:00.000-04:00

The Bandra Worli Sea Link opened last week, and now that they charge a toll, there is really not much traffic. End result? A drive on the Sea Link with a couple of friends, captured on video end to end on my Nokia N82. Its sad that only 4 lanes are open, when the intention is to have 8. A night video has also been shot on my friend's Nokia 5800XM, will upload that shortly. In the meanwhile, enjoy...