Random ramblings

Quotes again - Elementary

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sat, 21 Feb 2015 08:56:00 +0000

I don't think anymore, so no original posts. Just quote unquote

Ep1: Pilot

Joan Watson: How do you do it?
Sherlock Holmes: Do what?
Joan Watson: Guess things?
Sherlock Holmes: I don't guess, I observe, and once I've observed, I deduce.
Joan Watson: How did you know he had an affair?
Sherlock Holmes: Google. Well, not everything is deducable.

Joan Watson: I don't hate my job.
Sherlock Holmes: You have two alarm clocks, no one with two alarm clocks loves their job. Two alarm clocks means it's a chore for you to get up in the morning.

Ep2: While you were sleeping

Joan Watson (handing the violin to Sherlock): Well I just thought it might be a nice addition to your post-rehab regimen. Playing an instrument can relieve a lot of stress.
Sherlock Holmes (after setting fire to his violin): You were right about the stress relief. I felt like Jimmi Hendrix for a second there.

Sherlock Holmes (to Watson): Ty. Funny name, that. Noun, verb, nationality.

Sherlock Holmes (to Watson): Well I haven’t made my point unless you’ve absorbed it! Friendship is not a requirement of cohabitation. I’ll keep my secrets, you keep yours!

Joan Watson: Do you close yourself off to people and deny yourself things that might bring you pleasure, not because it makes you a better investigator, but because it’s some sort of penance?
Sherlock Holmes: Penance?
Joan Watson: For what happened in London; being addicted. I don't know. I guess it just occurred to me that it might be something someone might do and not even know it.
Sherlock Holmes: Well you always know it, Watson. If you didn’t, it wouldn’t be penance.

Ep3: Child Predator

Joan Watson: I thought that we both agreed that a little exercise would be a good addition to your sobriety.
Sherlock Holmes: For future reference, when I say that I agree with you it means I'm not listening.
Joan Watson: Do you know what else is great? Jazzercise. Get you some leg warmers, headband, you'll look awesome.
Sherlock Holmes: I agree with you.

Sherlock Holmes: You mustn't be so sensitive, Watson. The service you're providing is quite valuable. For a brief stretch in London I talked only to a phrenology bust I kept in my study. I named him Angus. It wasn't the same. I realized that when it came to listeners I preferred animates to inanimate. Quite a breakthrough, really.
Joan Watson: Angus. I'm glad I made it to the "animate" category.

Joan Watson: Your abbreviations are becoming borderline indecipherable. I don't know why, because you are obviously capable of being articulate.
Sherlock Holmes: Language is evolving, Watson, becoming a more efficient version of itself. I love text shorthand; it allows you to convey content and tone without losing velocity.

Ep4: The Rat Race

Sherlock Holmes: Your deductive skills are not unworthy of further development.
Joan Watson: I think that was a compliment, buried in a double negative, so thanks..

Sherlock Holmes: It has its costs.
Joan Watson: What does?
Sherlock Holmes: Learning to see the puzzle in everything. They're everywhere. Once you start looking, it's impossible to stop. It just so happens that people, with all the deceits and illusions that inform everything they do, tend to be the most facinating puzzles of all. Of course, they don't always appreciate being seen as such.
Joan Watson: Seems like a lonely way to live.
Sherlock Holmes: As I said. Has its costs.

Ep5: Lesser Evils

Joan Watson: Any luck?
Sherlock Holmes: Luck is an offensive, abhorrent concept. The idea that there is a force in the universe tilting events in your favor or against it is ridiculous. Idiots rely on luck.
Joan Watson: So that'd be a no.

Joan Watson: I was thinking sushi tonight.
Sherlock Holmes: Salmonella, vibrio parahaemolyticus, mercury poisoning, Anasakis simplex: all illnesses contractible from eating raw fish. Anasakis, of particular note, is a worm that can burrow into the wall of the lower intestine, often requiring surgery to remove it. But yeah, sushi's good.

Ep6: Flight Risk

Sherlock Holmes: I'm about to disabuse you of several notions, so please, listen very carefully. One, my father does not care about me; he does what he does out of a sense of familial obligations, big difference. Two, he does not care about you or what you think; meeting you would be a formality. And three, as I've already told you, your concern is unwarranted because he has absolutely no intention of showing up tonight.

Sherlock Holmes: Because he is a serial absentee; a pathological maker and breaker of promises. Been that way since I was a boy. Fool me one, shame on you, fool me ad nauseam...

Joan Watson: Can I ask you a question?
Sherlock Holmes: Can I stop you?

Joan Watson: Last chance to join us for dinner.
Sherlock Holmes: Last chance to accept there is no dinner. Dad never shows, say it with me, Watson, maybe it'll sink in. ... He's Lucy with the football, you're Charlie Brown.

Ep7: One way to get off

Edison (gardener of the rehab centre, Hemdale): He used to tell me I was the only person in this place without an agenda. I took that to mean he liked me.

Ep8: You do it yourself

Detective Bell: Yeah, tell me something I don't know.
Sherlock Holmes: A pig's orgasm lasts up to 30 minutes.

Ep10: The Leviathan

Micah Erlich: If you know our work, you know that we introduced a new flagship product in 2009, "The Leviathan."
Holmes: Yes, the safe that you marketed as "impregnable." Did you people learn nothing from the Titanic?

Quote unquote - 2

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 18:48:00 +0000

"If I found a job, a project, an idea or a person I wanted--I'd have to depend on the whole world. Everything has strings leading to everything else. We're all so tied together. We're all in a net, the net is waiting, and we're pushed into it by one single desire. You want a thing and it's precious to you. Do you know who is standing ready to tear it out of your hands? You can't know, it may be so involved and so far away, but someone is ready, and you're afraid of them all. And you cringe and you crawl and you beg and you accept them--just so they'll let you keep it. And look at whom you come to accept."

"Have you seen how your best friends love everything about you--except the things that count? And your most important is nothing to them, nothing, not even a sound they can recognize."

"Every form of happiness is private. Our greatest moments are personal, self-motivated, not to be touched. The things which are sacred or precious to us are the things we withdraw from promiscuous sharing."

"Wheeling his bicycle by his side, the boy took the narrow path down the slope of the hill to the valley and the houses below. Roark looked after him. He had never seen that boy before and he would never see him again. He did not know that he had given someone the courage to face a lifetime."

"Every loneliness is a pinnacle"

"To sell your soul is the easiest thing in the world. That's what everybody does every hour of his life. If I asked you to keep your soul--would you understand why that's much harder?""

"I often think that he's the only one of us who's achieved immortality. I don't mean in the sense of fame and I don't mean that he won't die some day. But he's living it. I think he is what the conception really means. You know how people long to be eternal. But they die with every day that passes. When you meet them, they're not what you met last. In any given hour, they kill some part of themselves. They change, they deny, they contradict--and they call it growth. At the end there's nothing left, nothing unreversed or unbetrayed; as if there had never been an entity, only a succession of adjectives fading in and out on an unformed mass. How do they expect a permanence which they have never held for a single moment?"

Sing me a song

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 17:42:00 +0000

Ever so often I catch myself staring at my ipod in wonder. How the deuce does it pull up the right song, the PRNG debate notwithstanding. Playing 'Everybody hurts' now.
Either AI is here already or it just knows me too well.

Dream on

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sat, 10 Sep 2011 11:42:00 +0000

Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you are hurting or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful. There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around. You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you because they love you for who you are. The things that seem insignificant to most people such as a note, song or walk become invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to cherish forever. Memories of your childhood come back and are so clear and vivid it’s like being young again. Colours seem brighter and more brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was infrequent or didn’t exist at all. A phone call or two during the day helps to get you through a long day’s work and always brings a smile to your face. In their presence, there’s no need for continuous conversation, but you find you’re quite content in just having them nearby. Things that never interested you before become fascinating because you know they are important to this person who is so special to you. You think of this person on every occasion and in everything you do. Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon. You open your heart knowing that there’s a chance it may be broken one day and in opening your heart, you experience a love and joy that you never dreamed possible. You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it scares you. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life.
-Bob Marley
And then reality b(y)tes when a friend calls up and rants about life - some friends. err... did i just lose the last friend i had :-)

Another day in paradise

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 09:22:00 +0000

Recently had a pretty rotten 'Murphy and his laws wreak havoc on me' kind of day. Yes, again! No kidding, convinced i have a stalker on my hands. Mucked up pretty much everything there was to, in the 12 hours I spent in office - sense prevailed and decided to leg it home before I inadvertently did an rm *.* on one of the boxes (that's a recurring dream, wonder what Freud would have to say to that). Rains, no umbrella. Aah well, surprise me. Flag down a rick. The conv goes: Me - Mulund? Rick driver - Andheri. Me - Kanjur? Rick driver - IIT. Me - Chalo. Maybe, I ought to be on hostage negotation calls.

As we near Hiranandani, the rick driver gets a call on his cell. I wait patiently while he enquires after his wife, chotu, bittu, bhaiyaji - Oh all right, better switch to another rick before he runs through the state of affairs of every home in his hamlet. Walk down to Galleria and board another rick. This one reaches the Hiranandani hospital gates and stops dead. "Madam, out of gas".

By now, am tired, got mason drumming away inside my head and am trying my best not to lose my temper at ricks in general and MH03-2403 in particular. Remember reading somewhere that counting from 1 to 10 generally controls the temper bit. Hmmm... well 10 is way too less, so count upto 25, take a deep breath and begin the trudge to the nearest bus stop.

20 mins later and at the count of 410, my bus ambles along. Once in, fish around the bag for change, dig out a 500 rupee note. The conductor grimaces - change please, poore bus ka ticket lena hain kya. Try explaining to him that good ol' Murphy is responsible for emptying my bag of change. He says - Ma'am, yeda samjha kya, I did see change in your purse. I go - my dear chappie, that's uk currency, pounds u see, I have to return the whole lot to the Finance dept. else I get no salary this month. He condescends to dole out the change muttering 'Aajkal ki ladkiyan'. Should I sue him for gender bias. Naah, risky, the odds (and ends) are stacked heavily against me.

Count is at 449…450… this too shall pass. Get a call from x saying he's arranging a call to sort out some issue and could I please attend - tell him it's past my bedtime, he can chair the call and attend it himself, stopped short of telling him that he could go jump off the roof and take his precious interface doc with him for company. Yeah apologies and all that jazz, but connect now didn't figure in my scheme of things at 11.00 IST.

575…576. Home finally, reach for the newspaper - the guy had delivered a Gujarati edition. Why am I not surprised? Skip dinner and decide to settle for a cup of hot coffee to kill the buzz in my head. Admiring the moon slipping in and out of the cloud canopy when I hear a mild sizzling sound. The milk has boiled over, spend the next 10 mins cleaning up. The count is now 650. Sip black coffee and spend the rest of the night wondering how to source horseshoes, maybe peacock feathers, and for good measure, a water fountain and a small bamboo plant - stretching things a bit too far all right, but there's no such thing as excessive good luck - and one of the above mentioned bloody charms better work.

Oh, if you haven't noticed yet, the title has no relevance whatsoever to the article which followed. Just happens to be my anthem for the day.

On Silence

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sat, 20 Aug 2011 16:29:00 +0000

Too many women in too many countries speak the same language, the language of silence - Dasgupta

Silence - Anon
She sits alone amongst the ruins
Ruins of a dream they once nurtured
Vacant eyes stare into the vast emptiness
Eating away at her very soul

The terrifying silence screams
as raw pain washes over her
The evening shadows close in
Enveloping the remains of yesterday

Silence - Anon
Silence is the best speaker
Hear the sound by heart.

Read 'On the Blue Shore of Silence' - Pablo Neruda

To be or not to be

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sun, 14 Aug 2011 16:50:00 +0000

To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: aye, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come...

Mock Turtle

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sat, 28 May 2011 18:00:00 +0000

Reading a book where the principal characters are discussing a book titled 'Mock Turtle'. The basic outline of the book is decidedly hilarious - how long before an author comes up with a book based on it.

It is about a swimming instructor at a watering place, who had contracted such an unfortunate anti-nudity complex through watching so many bathing beauties that it completely inhibited all his natural emotions. So he got a job on a whaler and fell in love at first sight with an Eskimo, because she was such a beautiful bundle of garments. So he married her and brought her back to live in a suburb, where she fell in love with a vegetarian nudist. So then the husband went slightly mad and contracted a complex about giant turtles, and spent all his spare time staring into the turtle-tank at the Acquarium, and watching the strange, slow monsters swimming significantly round in their encashing shells.

Altogether, significant.

To dos

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sat, 19 Feb 2011 16:43:00 +0000

bike ride to Leh/Ladakh,
feel snowflakes, build a snowman,
laze on a beach the whole day - Ibiza?
stand on the edge of a cliff and feel the wind on my face - Irish coast,
catch the northern lights,
drive a bike at top speed on the highways of Germany,
travel the length of New Zealand and not meet a living soul (cows don't count :-)) - just nature ,
travel on a Concorde (erm, not possible now),
stay in the Ritz,
catch a show of Mousetrap,
learn to enjoy life,
learn French and Spanish,
visit Paris, go to the Louvre,
have coffee at a roadside cafe and spend 3 hours over the coffee,
lookup all the great paintings,
walk barefoot on grass covered with dew,
try bungee jumping and/or para gliding,
write a book,
play the violin,
attend a concert in Austria,
learn to trust,
take a one month leave and only watch movies and read books,
gorge on Swiss and Belgian chocolates,
have a pet dog and go for long walks,
let my hair down for a day,
try snorkelling,
learn to love myself,
watch a Fed match live on centre court, wimbledon and he better win it,
watch a football match - Man U / Chelsea,
build a new product,
adopt a child,
one life :-)

Why

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sat, 19 Feb 2011 16:24:00 +0000

Saw this piece in the TOI and liked it.

Why don't all Indians have one common prayer?
Why is school admission more painful than child birth?
Why do we find more animals on our roads than in our zoos than in our forests?
Why does a rapist only get 7 years imprisonment and the victim, a life-term?
Why do we take tuitions from the same teacher who teaches us in school?
Why do we see music more than we hear it?
Why can't our rivers be clean enough to swim in?
Why do you have to die to be praised?
Why do we have to be married to live together?
Why isn't there a compulsory politeness course for all Delhiites?
What about downsizing the parliament?
Why don't we ban ragging?
Why are our beautiful outdoors treated as one big giant toilet?
Why can't there be capital punishment for makers of spurious drugs?
Why are massive shopping malls being built with micro parking lots?
Why are we wearing mental corsets?
Why does it take Madonna to make yoga popular?
Why don't politicians have a retirement age?
Why can't we learn how to stand in a queue?
Why are TV promos more exciting than the actual film?
Why are schools allowed to function without a playground?
Why do all government offices look like government offices?
Why do we take ourselves so seriously?
Why are we more concerned about building temples than schools?
Why do we have statues only of politicians?

Truth

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sat, 19 Feb 2011 15:39:00 +0000

Came across this line recently - The notion of the truth as an idea that exists in the singular is being hollowed out. Truth is now very clearly an account delivered from a vantage point. The opposite of the truth is not a lie but another wannabe truth.

And the skies opened up

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sun, 26 Dec 2010 18:28:00 +0000

First rains have a sense of lovers meeting after a long bout of separation - those first tentative droplets splashing down over the rain-starved earth, lingering for that one tantalizing minute around the cracks before being sucked in, dry leaves soaking in the attention and coming alive to the ministrations of the rain, birds huddling over their nests, little outstretched hands and upturned faces - the expression saying it all.

Of all the seasons, the rains never fail to amaze me, it seems to bring nature alive - swaying trees in all hues of green, the mountains going from a dull brown to a vibrant green, overcast skies, emerging rivulets. If you really want to experience rains, you should go down south, Kerala during the rains is bliss. There's nothing crazier than standing under a banana leaf and still getting soaked to the skin. And then sipping hot tea spiced up with some herbs to protect you from the flu.

Today is different - the rain is falling in sheets, to the accompaniment of a crazy wind determined to make even the most sturdy trees bow in subjugation. Had come to the garden to walk barefoot over the dew-kissed grass when all of a sudden, the skies opened up. There's a small wooden shelter in the middle of the garden and I sat on the bench waiting for the storm to pass. Only it seems to be in no mood to let go. As the rains lash and pound on the roof, there is a feeling of being completely isolated, civilization suddenly seems miles away. It rained non-stop for a good hour before it decided to make peace with the world and move on.

They say every man is an island, in that all too short time, I savored that feeling.

(Dated post - too lazy to hit the submit button :-))

My first day at school - After more than a decade

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sun, 20 Jun 2010 07:53:00 +0000

Shivam is all of three years - a well rounded personality, meant that more as a comment on his physical attributes than anything else :-) He's a hugely popular kid, especially among the female populace. They love tugging at his chubby cheeks, he hates it and makes his displeasure very evident, turning away haughtily, though I am sure that's an opinion he'll revisit 10 years down the line. His best friend is Rambo (Note: Anybody who agrees to play ball with him is a friend, the rest unworthy of his attention; exclusions are his Amma, Appa and Paati, also anyone who can tell a good Superman story) and his fav passtime is running aimlessly in the nearby park, chasing butterflies, or riding his tricycle like he owned the world.

And boy, can he talk - when he's not asking questions, he's regaling us with stories, his expressive face with quicksilver expressions of emotions renders words pointless. He has this endearing quality of asking a question, then looking at you with his clear deep eyes taking in your reply, turning it over in his head and then coming back with his next argument. If (and he rarely is) satisfied with your reply, his face will light up and he'll bestow u with a broad smile saying 'nee best'. But this same questioning kid has never questioned why Superman flies and the rest of us don't. Superman hero, Superman flies, Superman beats bad people, end of story. His dad is known to all as Shivam's dad and I suspect he's only too happy to lose his identity to his junior version.

Today was Shivam's first foray into the hallowed portals of learning. It was a momentous occasion for him - the learning aspect did not exactly interest him, the accompaniments did. He'd spent the whole of last week shopping - new uniform, Mickey Mouse bag, Pokemon water bottle, flourescent pink compass box with a Superman sticker, new raincoat, shoes, books, the list goes on - and he insists on prefixing a possessive 'my' to each one of 'em. He'll drag the items out of his wardrobe, display them proudly and declare - They had a Ninja bag but I like Mickey Mouse better, Appa refused the coloured shoes (thank heavens some sense prevailed), and so on it goes. His enthusiasm is infectious, u'd think he was off on some very important mission; well actually this is no less.

I was starting for office when Shivam stepped out, clad in his starched and ironed uniform, looking every inch the superhero he aimed to be when he grew up (In case u haven't figured out yet, he's a Superman fan). He waved importantly at the watchman and neighbours explaining - I am going to school. I tagged along, the school was a welcome diversion. Everything was fine till he reached the gates. That's when he realized something was not quite right - most of the kids were in various stages of breakdown. It is the same story every year - everything's fine, then one kid starts crying and the others follow in unison. You could picture his mind working at a furious pace - Amma and Appa had said school would be fun, but here u had kids crying and refusing to enter. Alarm bells went off in that lil head of his, his eyes taking in the imposing edifice standing before him, the ominous wrought iron gates, the teachers standing on the inside and his mom on the outside - the enemy lay within.

He finally decided to go with the majority opinion and shook his head resolutely, clutching at his mother's hand. She tried to reason with him - you'll make many new friends at school, the teachers are very helpful, no luck. Once he'd made up his mind, no one could make him change it. And when she threatened him, he first tried pleading with her (making a very strong case I must admit). When that failed, he played his ultimate trump card - his face fell, lips quivered and his bright eyes, which minutes before had shone with happiness, filled with tears and then the dam burst. He clung to his mom and cried - his tears feeding an imagined sense of isolation in a cruel adult world. Even the most stoic of guys have succumbed to his tears, lesser mortals like us didn't stand a chance.

By now, the teachers had decided it was time to step in. They talked to each of the kids, tempting them with colouring books and pencils. The tiny tots reluctantly allowed themselves to be led into the classroom. One of the teachers smiled at Shivam and said they would play games the first day and the winner would get a Tom and Jerry colouring book. The flow of tears slowed to a trickle, he wiped his tears away with the back of his hand and ruminated over the offer. He was still not convinced this was not a ploy to lure him into the evil den. His mom prodded him a little, and thrust his hand into the teacher's. He stood for a full minute measuring the teacher mentally and decided to take up the offer. And so Shivam and his mom parted, but not before she had promised him that she'd wait outside the school for him to return.

His mother looked at me - the understanding was implicit, going back home was out of the question - the vision of her teary-eyed kid being led away would not afford her any peace till she saw him again. We had company, most of the parents had decided to stay back, some dads were on their cellphones, explaining that a family emergency had come up and they'd be late reaching office.

Two hours later the bell pealed, the din submerged by the joyous screams of kids pouring out of the classroom. Shivam ran into his mom's arms, shrugged away his bag, took a big gulp of water and began a dramatic explanation of the proceedings over the past 2 hours - I sit next to Karthik, we are good friends (in 2 hours?), the teacher is romba nice (+1), the big teacher (principal) asked our names, i drew an apple (this a blue coloured blob which resembled an alien in a Bollywood movie - Dali had competition), we played games, teacher told me good (ummm... but why?), i won a colour pencil - in short, he approved. A new phase of his life was beginning.

Back at office, a colleague called up to say he wouldn't be coming, personal problems he said. On a hunch I asked, Aryan's first day at school? He laughed sheepishly - yes, he's crying and refuses to go, he was fine till now. I smiled inwardly and tried to reassure him - He'll be fine, they adjust fast.

Right now, I am siting in the park listening to Pink Floyd's Another Brick in the wall, while Shivam, school forgotten, is back to doing what he does best - running down the length of the park and doing cartwheels squealing loudly, and there's Rambo trying to chase his own tail. Nice pair they make :-) Education and his parents' grand plans can wait, he's too busy enjoying life.

Die Another Day

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sun, 06 Jun 2010 08:08:00 +0000

His expression was that of a guilty schoolboy who'd been caught copying and he looked no older than one - this kid in the driver's seat of a Honda City.

I was later than usual leaving office and decided to take a rick home, too exhausted to wait for the bus. Despite the late hour, the road was still pulsing with traffic, no jams but flowing traffic, the orange-tinged glow of headlights accentuating the light drizzle.

We hit LBS and clearly luck was on our side, all the lights kept turning green as we approached. Rare occasion that. The rick had crossed Nirmal Nagar and was navigating the last stretch towards Johnson when the black car zoomed in out of the blue from a side lane cutting right into the rick's path, the kid driving the car was talking into the phone cradled in his right hand and was oblivious to the traffic flowing toward him. He turned to look to his right too late and braked right in the middle of the road. The rick driver muttered an oath and slammed his brakes, coming to a screeching halt, the rick nearly grazed the car. He was shaken badly and angry as hell. The cars behind us had also stopped and other drivers were coalescing on the spot, hurling abuses at the boy.

The rick driver was out in a flash, murder on his mind I am sure. The kid reacted quickly. He waved at us and took a quick U-turn disappearing into the inky blackness of the night before any of us could gather our wits, let alone think of jotting down the number. A bike rider muttered in disgust - It is the indulgence of rich parents which is responsible for spoilt brats like him.

As I sat at home nursing my decaf, for some strange reason, I kept wondering about the kid's parents. Did they know their son was misusing their trust. How much longer before his luck turned, how much longer before he either ran over somebody or got run over. And all this for the thrill of driving rashly and breaking a few rules, a bet with some friends maybe. Surely life is a lil more precious than that. And my mind went back to another mother - my aunt - who still waits for her kid to come back, knowing he never will. Another joyride which ended in disaster.

A ban on soaps and reality shows please

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sat, 15 May 2010 13:39:00 +0000

Turning out to be a nightmarish weekend. The tube has a never-ending run of reality shows and / or soaps celebrating Mother's Day. Can't believe people watch this trash. Got a nasty sprain so can't leg it to the park, but if this continues another day, it's either the TV or me in this house - and as of now, the TV is winning :-(

Old Spice theme song

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 14:17:00 +0000

Heard the same piece of music 3 days in a row on the Discovery and have been trying to place it - finally tracked it back to the Old Spice theme song, which in turn is from 'O Fortuna', part of the collection known as the Carmina Burana. The composition by Carl Orff has been used in quite a few movies and TV spots to highlight a dramatic conflict.

Quote unquote

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 06:42:00 +0000

Fond of collecting quotes - these are related to software, which inherently lends itself to being lampooned. Thanks to stack overflow and google.

There are 10 kinds of people in the world, those who can read binary and those who cannot. – Anon
Perl - The only language that looks the same before and after RSA encryption. - Keith Bostic
In order to understand recursion, one must first understand recursion. – Anon
If debugging is the process of removing software bugs, then programming must be the process of putting them in. – Edsger Dijkstra
A computer lets you make more mistakes faster than any other invention in human history, with the possible exceptions of handguns and tequila. – Mitch Ratcliffe
If builders built buildings the way programmers wrote programs, then the first woodpecker that came along would destroy civilization. – Gerald Weinberg
Nine people can’t make a baby in a month. – Fred Brooks
There are two major products that come out of Berkeley: LSD and UNIX. We don’t believe this to be a coincidence. – Jeremy S. Anderson
The gap between theory and practice is not as wide in theory as it is in practice. – Anon
In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is. - Another version of the above
We have a deal with God – he doesn’t produce software and we do not produce miracles – A s/w engineer
Why do we never have time to do it right, but always have time to do it over? — Anonymous developer
Software and cathedrals are much the same – first we build them, then we pray — Samuel T. Redwine, Jr.
The three chief virtues of a programmer are: Laziness, Impatience and Hubris. – Larry Wall, in the Programming Perl book
Always code as if the guy who ends up maintaining your code will be a violent psychopath who knows where you live. - Rick Osborne
Some people, when confronted with a problem, think "I know, I’ll use regular expressions." Now they have two problems. - Jamie Zawinski
If Java had true garbage collection, most programs would delete themselves upon execution. - Robert Sewell
On a clear disk you can seek forever. - Anon
The most amazing achievement of the computer software industry is its continuing cancellation of the steady and staggering gains made by the computer hardware industry. - Henry Petroski
C++ : Where friends have access to your private members. - Gavin Russell Baker

Demotivators

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 05:43:00 +0000

Friends say I am too much of a cynic for my own good. So living upto my rep
Making a living out of demotivating others :-)

Moving on

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 08:59:00 +0000

Had been over to an old friend's place over the weekend, helping her parents pack - my last trip to her house in fact. Well actually, this friend has long since moved bag and baggage to the US, but I continued to be an irregular visitor to her place. The initial visits had me playing the role of a postman, this was the pre-Internet era when the landline was your only means of communication with the outside world. I had a VSNL connection and would shoot off mails regularly to my friend, who would in turn use me as her customised 'Ask Jeeves' search engine
- Can you check with Amma why my Rasam doesn't out as spicy (dolt, how can u go wrong with Amma's rasam podi, I'd be tempted to scream)
- My throat keeps getting worse, what do I do?
- Ask Amma to send some Sambar and Molaga podi, Sriram is flying out next week (Sriram who? would be met with a cryptic - Roll no.27, first ranker, glasses poduva, duhh..., and how was any of that supposed to help)
- Rema, X has asked me out, damn, I don't have anything to wear
- Think my grades are gonna be bad, just not prepared

Those mails ensured I'd land up at her home every once in a while. Her Mom would stir up the best coffee while I plied her with colourful stories - dorm incidents, pics of her daughter's first trip to California, her first road trip, campus capers. After the first year, slowly but surely, the interval between her mails started increasing exponentially - I got busy with my non-existent career and she got busy juggling between the afore mentioned X (now her hubby) and her studies (Update - she insists the order should be reversed :) And my visits to her house also decreased - I'd meet her Mom at the park sometimes, where she'd come for her morning stroll, and we'd discuss common friends. My visits were restricted to functions or when I felt low and needed her tongue-tingling rasam to wash away my blues.

She had recently been to the US to meet her daughter and son-in-law but the climate did nothing for her arthritis affected knees. She came back and declared - That place is inhospitable, it snows there, wonder how anybody can stay there :) The neighbours don't even talk to each other, the list of complaints was interminable - I happily dug into my second helping of sweet rice as she rattled on. Uncle's only contribution to the conv. was 'X is a good boy'. I nearly fell off my chair, jeez, X had achieved in 1 month what I hadn't achieved in years - gotten into Uncle's good books.

Uncle retired a month ago and they decided to go back to Chennai, back to their roots - Bombay had always been a career choice, it was never home. And so we sit huddled, deciding which artifacts need to be retained and which discarded from the mind boggling collection of knick-knacks people collect over the years - a box full of albums - school snaps, slam books, old birthday gifts, her letters home. Uncle is busy calling up the MTNL guys, the Mahanagar gas chappies - methodical as always, nothing could harry him.

As we stood at the airport, saying goodbyes, Uncle hugged me and said - You have been more of a daughter than a friend to the two of us over the last few years. I'd never ever seen Uncle getting emotional - there's some truth in the phrase 'There's always a first time'. Felt a pang of guilt as I tried to count the number of times I had visited them over the last few months, never realizing how much each visit meant to them.

I called up my friend from the airport and told her I'd never felt half as bad when she left Bombay. And as always it was her hubby who had the last word - Rema, they'll miss us for a few days but life will go on. Each one of us has to move on, some in search of careers, some in search of a better life, but move on you must. Like hell. Damn, hate bankers and hate airports - the first species spout logic when u are in no mood to listen and the second has flights running on time when u'd like to spend some more time with loved ones.

Come tomorrow

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 10:44:00 +0000

Over the past couple of months, commuting to & fro from work has been a never ending series of traffic jams. Waiting patiently for the traffic to clear teaches u the art of zen, the way no other teacher can. And so day after day, I stand patiently in the bus, staring into the unseeing beyond, dreaming of the future.
Dreaming of a tomorrow
- where travelling from Point A to Point B using teleportation is reality;
- where I don't have to reach home at midnight and find there are no coffee beans - the container should have sent out a notification and a refill sent across;
- of virtual offices - imagine sitting in a park and coding;
- where software is all it was meant to be, about making life easier for people, not about profit margins and dumbed-down websites. Computers were meant to do much more, tomorrow's internet shouldn't be only about computers talking, it should be about physical objects interfacing.
- where collaboration really means real-time : gwave seem to have got it right but then don't they always. Was re-watching the gwave demo and kinda found cool the bit they had where i can watch a message even as it is being typed. As Lars mentioned, a friend recently complained that given the size of my messages, he got tired of the task bar showing i am typing and typing and typing :)
- where being friends is not equated with sending pokes on facebook and being connected is not about sending a tweet stating u're having dinner and watching 'Friends' (there, think i lost my last friend :)
- where i can pluck out my thoughts and save them somewhere so I can retrieve the thread later;
- a harry potter kind of self-updating newspaper interface with clickable links which allows me to drill down and read associated articles;
- where touch-interfaces are ubiquitous, they're so intuitive, i'd give anything for a software which allows me to pull out objects to build a uml diagram from a dashboard by holding it and dropping it, the mouse never gets it quite right, but that's a personal quirk;
- a robot of my own.

Remember reading about 'Internet of Things' and the concept of 'Ubiquitous computing'. I think I'll like the future when it comes, may not be around, then again, may be around in another form.

A bus ride and some memories

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 15:41:00 +0000

Was travelling by one of the newly introduced KingLong buses to Chandivili on a Saturday morning. It was near Bhandup that this elderly looking man got in - he was dressed like a villager, carried a shoulder bag and had a packet of biscuits in one hand. His indecision as he entered the bus was palpable, he looked around for a minute and then moved hesitantly towards the conductor and enquired - Will this bus go to Powai. The conductor replied in a rather haughty tone - Yes but it will cost u 20 rupees. Why don't u take the BEST bus, its cheaper.

The old man opened his bag, pulled out a knotted piece of cloth, and counted out small change amounting to Rs.20. And then he replied to no one in particular - I've been saving up for this. Its way beyond my means, but I wanted to get a feel of how it feels to be inside an AC bus. That minute, every passenger on board the bus must have felt ashamed for having mentally sized up the old man as he boarded the bus and wondering - What's this ill-dressed farmer doing here.

Stood up to offer my seat to the old man. He touched me lightly on the head, at the same time refusing politely - Sit my girl. I am used to toiling under the sun for hours, I look old but am stronger than you.

During the walk down to office, I couldn't stop thinking about that old man, for whom 20 bucks meant a lot, in all probability his daily wages, and his wish to have a ride just once in an AC bus. About the things we take for granted and which are out of reach for the vast majority. About the way we judge people. And then I thought about grandpa and holding his hand tightly as he took me on a bus ride just because I loved the feel of the wind on my face - grandpa who knew all the answers, even without hearing the questions. Suddenly I missed him a lot, missed the aimless walks to nowhere, where and when does all that innocence disappear.

Wish it would rain

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 12:40:00 +0000

Wish it would rain, oh, no altruistic reasons there - like it gotta rain if the lakes have to fill up and such, rather just cos I miss a lot of things I associate with the rains.

- The smell of freshly drenched earth,
- The sight of people w/o umbrellas scurrying for cover,
- The interminable traffic jams, frayed nerves, bikes and cars stuck in potholes, everyone agreeing that the BMC, MMRDA, the state and central governments are populated by cheats who should be soundly thrashed,
- Jogging barefoot in the early morning drizzle,
- Sipping hot tea from a roadside vendor while waiting for some form of transportation to reach me home (what with the ubiquitous ricks doing a Houdini act during the rains),
- Trying to find shelter under a tree and exchanging sheepish smiles & inane pleasantries with complete strangers u'll never meet again - u mean u too stepped out w/o an umbrella, yeah didn't look like its gonna rain, the met dept can never be trusted, its global warming i tell u - before walking our separate ways,
- Trying but failing to shake off that weird deja vu feeling of sights and smells all too familiar,
- Kids in uniform dancing with gay abandon in the rain when schools call it a day unable to cope with the rising water,
- Adults looking wistfully at them and wishing they could follow suit but surrendering to decorum,
- Watching kids caked with mud play football - scoring a goal seems a secondary goal, the main aim is to wrestle in the slush for possession of the prized ball,
- Glimpsing a raindrop the size of a pearl nestled in the palm of a leaf,
- The sight of a carpet of red crushed gulmohar flowers,
- Wondering where all the butterflies disappear when it rains,
- Sitting by the window sipping hot filter coffee or rasam with my hand stretched out to catch the wet raindrops before they fall to the ground and merge with the emerging rivulets,
- Travelling from here to Pune just to catch the amazing view from the top,
- The feeling that the trees just got greener and the air cleaner, the dust and fumes beaten down by the pelting rain,
- Watching the angry waves at Marine Drive crash against the rocks, the howling wind threatening to blow you away (and never succeeding :)
- Hopping onto a double decker bus & making a beeline to the top deck - two round trips from VT station to Nariman Point and back just so u can stare at the choppy sea some more,
- Stepping out of home on a Monday morning and finding that the road has disappeared under two feet of water thanks to the torrential rains overnight,
- Explaining to the BT guys that Bombay has not yet gone under as the media keep reiterating, and yes the team is safe,
- Explaining to Mom that the flooded Milan subway is not THE symbol of Bombay, no matter what NDTV and Aaj Tak say, Chandivali is nowhere near Kandivili and yeah her precious daughter is safe,
- An unplanned holiday spent curled up lazily on the sofa planning to read a book or watch a vintage movie and finding its tomorrow already,
- Standing on the terrace in the pouring rain - eyes shut tight trying hard to shut out memories, at the same time savouring them, and finding that the raindrops streaming down your face are suddenly salty,
- Looking at couples sharing an umbrella and much more and wishing things would work out fine for them (presumptuous yeah I know),
- Peering out the bus window into the pitch dark black outside on the way back home and being assailed by the not-so unwelcome feeling that I am all alone in this world.

But what I love most is to just stand facing the sky with my hands spread out and get totally totally drenched in the pouring rain, that minute you are one with the elements, not a care in the world (till u wake up the next morning with every single bone creaking in protest, a burning fever and having to drink an awful looking green concoction, the sight of which makes u feel even more sick :)

As a child, I held this naive belief that rains were meant to cleanse everything it touched, grandma would say - its nature's way of washing away the bad, the belief stayed I think.

I wish it would rain. The world could do with some cleansing.

What's your favorite form of self-flagellation

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 07:10:00 +0000

Was watching CSI the other day. Like the way they clinically work with clues to nail down the murderer, but these days the show focuses more on the human aspect, am fine with showing the psyche of the murderer, but draw the line at a demure cop fluttering her eyelashes coyly at that special colleague - boy, that's not done. U have a show dedicated to murder, I expect murder, not two cops holding hands and exchanging sweet nothings over a cuppa. Give me a good corpse any day. Friend says i must be a psycho, actually me thinks he's convinced and wouldn't be surprised at all to hear that I've stabbed someone (I'd never shoot anybody, its too impersonal). Hell, there I go rambling agin, lady, stick to the story u set out to tell, dissecting your messed up head can wait another day.

Yeah, so this CSI episode had the cop failing to nab a murderer, which leads to a second murder. And so, the cop blames himself for the second one. He keeps muttering - But she didn't have to die.

What caught my attention was his superior's reply. Name was Langston, played by Laurence Fishburne (Morpheus to all:)

He says: I knew you were a fellow masochist. Tell me what your favorite form of self-flagellation is? I'll tell you what I like to do, get on the internet, go on a website, movie site, find my favorite movie of the moment. And then I like to read all the comments telling me why I'm wrong, have such terrible taste and when I really can't sleep, I like to sculpt orchids because it's the only thing that will silence the voices in my head.

Kind of echoed my thoughts that day. No, I don't go to a movie rating site (think that's a horrible idea), but for the past few months, I've been going through this cycle of playing replaying the sequence of events on and on and thinking that maybe if I'd acted in a certain way, things would have worked out differently. Why didn't I see it coming? Must have been blind. But could I have done something to avert it, wouldn't whatever happened have happened, no matter what. I am responsible for my actions and should take responsibility for the results, however good or bad they are, yes, but could I have done something to change the results. The voices in my head just don't go away, and I don't know how to sculpt orchids to silence 'em :)

Reminds me of an Aunt May line (in one of the Spiderman series). She summed it up aptly - If you've hurt someone, u begin by doing the most difficult thing, U forgive yourself. Extend that to if someone has hurt u, u do not go down the 'What If' route and hurt yourself even more. Try to move on. Life was meant to flow, not stagnate. Easier said than done :)

Big brother and licensed software

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 06:36:00 +0000

My office comp is a repository of every possible software - freeware, shareware, pirated ones, u name it and i have it. Ergo, my hate relationship with our company's idiotic software policies and its implementing arm - TIM. Live in mortal fear of losing all the software i've collected over the ages. But that doesn't stop me from distributing stuff to the new kids on the block, u just have to ping me the software name and, if available, the folder lands up on yr desk.

The other day (which happens to be 2 weeks ago), guy lands up at my desk, no greeting, he cuts straight to the point, and that, in a thick mallu accent - u have weblogic?
me - u want it?
guy - u have weblogic?
Brevity could have been his second name. Well all kinds.
Told him - yeah dude, have weblogic - versions 7 sp4, 7 sp7, 8.1 sp4, 9.2 sp2 and 10 sp3 - which one? Yeah ok, admit I was positively gloating then, but kinda proud of my collection, and like to show off, another dumb human trait :)
guy gave a rare smile (mental note - gold cap over the molars, dad must be dubai returned) - u have weblogic. (notice its now a statement, not a ques)
By now, i seriously begin to think he's gifted with a very limited vocab. But being the friendly sort (where s/w is concerned), I nod in agreement.
guy - i want control of your pc
me - huh, wait a sec - u want weblogic, u'll get it, no one's talking about handing over the entire desktop
guy - i am TIM
I sit still for a moment, silently running thru' my 4-letter collection in a span of 5 seconds, and all the while he's smiling serenely.
me - but i need it for my local development
guy - u belong to pranoob?
me (yeah, would have found that statement positively funny and be rofl but those were grim circumstances; and btw, pranoob is a pm to whom all the kids on my floor, but me, report) - err, no
guy - then i have to uninstall
me - so why does pranoob get preferential treatment, just cos he's a fellow mallu
guy flashes the gold tooth again - pranoob good man (nodding sagely)
Yeah right, tempted to indulge in some character assassination, but my thoughts are bought back to the matter at hand by the guy who's back to parroting - i have to uninstall
me - can't this wait
chap - tomorrow audit, i have to uninstall now
know when i am beaten, this chap was one of the autobots who'd been keyed in with only one word - uninstall, and been set upon unsuspecting kinds like me. and so, it came to pass, he went thru' the pc with clockwork precision, uninstalling everything with a bea tag.

End of story. Not quite. Exactly a week later, i get a call. Impossible not to recognize the distinctive mallu accent.
I go - Hey its u? Go on (like we're long lost friends :)
he - u have Tod? (he meant TOAD)
Am in one of my rare humourous moods (had backed up all the installables onto another box, ha ha :), so retort cheekily - i wish i had Tod
But the humour is wasted.
He repeats - u have Tod?
Aah well, might as well get on with it.
I go - yeah buddy, i have Tod and Rose and MQ and ...
Can picture him rubbing his hands in glee.
Will take me a day to setup all the software back again, but heck, feels good to have made somebody's day, they don't call me magnanimous for nothing :)

Atonement

noreply@blogger.com (Rema) — Sat, 27 Sep 2008 10:31:00 +0000

His grand parents fondly named him Sivaramakrishna, practical folks - they didn't want to take any chances. If one of the gods failed him, the other two could pitch in :) Aside - Think kids ought to have a say in their names, c'mon you don't want to go through life with a moniker like Valmiki (I have a friend by that name and he has a tough time living upto his namesake's reputation). Which reminds me, bro has vowed to name his son Olonga. Sigh, insanity surely is hereditary. Coming back to the main thread, the suffix Ramakrishna dropped out of his name somewhere along the way, and Siva morphed into Shiv. I call him SRK, love TLAs :)

He's kinda my partner in crime - expect no confessions on a public domain :) (anything I say can and will be used against me) Our fav. pass-time is playing with remote controlled cars and looking longingly at high rises - I have visions of all the managers I ever interacted with, plunging down at varying speeds, depending on the number of calls I attended during the day; and Shiv dreams of his weird jetix superheroes jumping off rooftops and saving the world. Thankfully, the kid's stunts are limited to jumping off the refrigerator wearing a superman mask and a cape, and discovering that gravity rules as he goes tumbling down, but that doesn't deter him, he climbs back and repeats the exercise. That's the best way to learn the laws of physics, me thinks.

And when he's not breaking his limbs, he's plonked in front of my PC - my is a misnomer, I own it, Shiv rents it. I am allowed half an hour of browsing per day as per an unstated deal - the duration varies, depending on the imp's mood, and the size of the dairymilk I get him. Scoundrel! There have been days when he's played pacman for 4 straight hours, now he's graduated to Battlefield Mars or some such jazz. Its a daily ritual - he guns down somebody, does a small war dance around the room and progresses to the next level. My poor mom is convinced she's sheltering a future terrorist, the kid has no such grandoise plans, his Geography teacher is the only living person he wants to annihilate for now.

Had been on short term trip to UK recently, lugged back 10 kg worth of chocolates. No kidding, am a confirmed chocoholic (if there's such a word). Cadburys would do well to appoint me as a brand ambassador - one per day and 2 on Sundays is par for the course. Shiv shares my passion for chocs, so Sunday morn found us sprawled in front of the idiot box, watching Jetix, with wrappers flying all over the place. His mom was clearing up the place and inspected a wrapper idly. Heard a muted oath followed by a shreik - Shiv, did u eat this? The li'l imp recognized the tone which signalled danger and promptly pointed a finger at me. Err, auntie, chill, we only had about 10 between the two of us, honest, he won't fall ill. By now, his dad and grandpa had come running out, hearing the commotion. Bala, what's the matter. Our Shiv, our poor Shiv, she mumbles.

Now wait - I am confused. Where's this leading to? All we did was eat a few extra chocolates? But that I have done something not quite right is evident from Shiv's mom's reaction, I'll be dashed if I know what it is. Uncle looks confused, I am maha confused, Shiv is the only person lapping up all the attention. Auntie, what? I mean, the suspense is killing. She offers the wrapper to me - Oh hell, the chocs were the kind laced with rum and whisky. Shiv is a Tam Brahm, and his family are the ultra conservative kind. Hell, hell, hell! Damn, auntie didn't know, honest, but 3 pairs are eyes are burning through me, am summarily dismissed. Auntie invokes her fav. dieties and promises to feed a Brahmin, if her kid is absolved of his sins.

Feel terrible, but the dark deed's done. Meet Shiv's dad and grandpa in the evening - Uncle, it was a mistake, anything I can do to make auntie feel better. The sandbox is turning, its thatha who comes up with an idea - Rema, Bala is looking for a tuition teacher for Shiv, his exams are round the corner and he's flunked in Geography. You are the only person he listens to, so why don't u teach him. Sacrilege - teach Shiv, he's driven 3 teachers insane with his antics, only a fool would volunteer. There's a 2-minute silence, the kind u maintain for a dear departed - grandpa looks imploringly, uncle's smiling - he knows my guilt will not let me refuse. Oh, alright, but only till the exams. And even as I speak, I know I am screwed.

And so, its come to pass. Bright sunny Sunday morning, blue cloudless sky, the squirrel is back to his daredevil acts on the cable wire, in short, the 'feels good to be alive kinda' day. And me cooped indoors poring over a Geography school book, wondering if learning by rote the names of plateaus in Maharashtra would help him in life. Shiva in the meantime, has nuked another guy and is onto his nth war dance. Feeling homicidal :(