In my free time...

2018 - Thattathin Marayathu to '96 and an Apple Watch

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Fri, 14 Dec 2018 08:34:00 +0000

The title of this post kind of sums up my 2018. I admit that I have been quite irregular updating my blog for the past few years. Having said that, I haven't completely abandoned it. At least not yet. I guess that would be difficult. I have too many memories attached to this blog which I don't want to get rid of right away. Okay, I understand that blogging about anything non-tech or non-food is passe these days but I guess I'm old-fashioned that way. While I would love to vlog one day, I haven't decided when that day's gonna come.

Coming to this post, as I mentioned, the title kind of sums up my 2018. Watching several regional movies and taking the fitness plunge has been the hallmark of 2018 for me. The year started off well and all was going good when things suddenly took a downward spiral and life was hurled into a new personal low in July. A freak accident jolted the family in the second half of the year and things continued that way into early October. Thankfully, the situation kind of evened out as the year progressed into November. Whilst I won't go into the details of the low phase, all I can say is that sometimes discovering that inner strength at a painfully difficult time can rebuild you into a stronger individual. At least after experiencing it first hand, I can vouch for that statement.

So, what did I do while life was taking the roller coaster trip? I struck off movies that were on my movies-to-watch (MTW) list and while doing so I also found time to join a gym. Before getting into the details, let me explain some things.

While I am a regular movie buff, I am an infrequent viewer. That might sound contradictory but that's exactly how it is. My annual quota has never exceeded more than six movies for the past 10 years. And that too in a good year. And this includes movies from all languages. And yes, I haven't watched a single Avenger movie after Thor. Still I will insist that I do love movies. Its like saying I love sweets but I do them in moderation if you know what I mean. Due to my moderation, I have a to-watch list that keeps growing and growing and far exceeds my self-imposed quota. This year happened to be different though. I bought a subscription to watch movies at home and also had some free time to watch them. So I started off at the beginning of the list. Thattathin Marayathu (TM). This Malayalam movie had been languishing at the top of my (MTW) list since 2013 after a person who was once close to me recommended it. And I am glad that I struck it off the list first. While I am not into romance, I do love my comedys. So I don't mind watching romcoms or tragicomedies. Thattathin Marayathu was a good start that way. It rekindled my slacking interest in South Indian and Hindi movies. So I decided to go down the list one by one. What followed were movies like Vikram Vedha, Newton, Naanum Rowdy Dhaan, Premam, Kshanam, Tholi Prema, Rangasthalam, Nibunan, Geetha Govindam and so on. The final one on the list that brought me up to speed was '96. Yes, that very beautiful movie (with no storyline if I dare say so) which made me take a U-turn (another movie that I watched this year) on life. I must admit '96 and Rangasthalam were two movies that I would love to watch again just because, well, I want to. I am not surprised that '96 received rave reviews all throughout. I still am haunted by that lovely scene where Janu finally sings the "Yamuna nadhi" song for Ramachandran, sorry, K. Ramachandran. Drumroll please. With that I averaged around 2 movies a month this year. That in itself is a record for me since we left Patna during my childhood days.

Coming to fitness, I am neither a fitness buff nor am I remotely interested in looking fit. I just loathe physical activity. I don't believe that a vegetarian like me can bulk up like an MCU (that's Marvel Comic Universe to the uninitiated) superhero or have any fitness goals that can be attainable. However, all this changed when I was smitten by the Apple Watch after I saw its reviews online late last year. And I was sold when my very tech-savvy friend, let's call him TFS, bought one and never stopped singing praises about it. So when I finally could afford one in April, I promptly bought one. That was the beginning. Of the change. In the initial days, I just used it for checking time, changing dial faces every hour and trying to make Siri understand my English. Then I discovered the rings. The Activity Rings to be exact. Since I have an OCD for all things symmetrical, I could not stand the fact that the activity rings were not closing at the end of every day due to my inactivity. Incomplete rings made me restless and sleepless. So, I decided to close them. After my sister's not-so-gentle push, I joined a gym. Just to close the rings. It was like entering a new universe through a portal I had discovered under my bed. This was the universe of resistance training, running, watching people pushing harder after a hard day's work. What started of as a toning and circles' closing exercise turned out to be a good stress buster. Here I will have to thank the personal trainer who helped me with this journey for the past 6 months. For the first time in a long time, I am seeing tangible results of hard work paying off. I might not be a MCU superhero, but I can now safely say that I am fitter than before. Bottomline, I feel good. The regimen also helped me cope through the tough personal months from July to October. And now I frequently (if not regularly) close the Activity Rings. Apple Watch, best gadget I ever bought.

In summary, 2018 will be a year I will remember for various reasons. But I would mainly remember it for rediscovering my love for movies and discovering the fact that fitness, like all those sportspersons say, is a good thing indeed.

Run with the wind and walk with a child

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Tue, 20 Feb 2018 13:43:00 +0000

There are times when you need to run with the wind. And then there are times when you need to walk with a child. Such is life. Like it or not, you have to adapt to the speed of the moment. Nowadays, one would naturally think that speed is of the essence. But this is definitely not true in case of city traffic. With the ever worsening traffic conditions the average speed during city commute seems to be in a constant free-fall. This means having a zippy small car to drive around has become less of a breeze and more of a liability. And that is exactly what happened with me and my zippy little city runabout. The fun of darting in and out of traffic was slowly turning into epic frustration thanks to never ending stop-go and unsafe traffic conditions. So, I decided to rethink my options. Essentially, I had two choices. One, I could Uber and forget about the chaos around me, or, two, I could spend a bomb and buy a car that would negotiate the treacherous city roads at reasonable speeds without being zippy. Considering that I am penny wise and pound foolish, I went for option two. I decided to upgrade. Rather, downgrade. So I swapped my my daily feisty little city runabout with a more sedate little car.

Whilst my friends are scared that I have lost my edge or in this case lost my zippy-ness (no pun intended), I can safely say that my sedate little car has helped me skip some anger management sessions. In the past, while the slowest car would be in my front, the fastest car would always be tailgating me. This meant there was a real risk of me rear-ending the guy in front just in case s/he decided to spill their coffee or veer off while live Whatsapping/tweeting their commute horror (while conveniently forgetting that they were not driving an autonomous Tesla). This also posed the risk of the guy behind rear-ending me. And a couple of times, the risk had become real. Now, such is no longer the case. Nowadays I get an immense amount of satisfaction in frustrating other drivers with my patented 'crawl' driving mode. I brake at my leisure because the fastest vehicle is already miles ahead of me and the slowest one, well, I am the slowest so there's no one behind me. So no question of me rear-ending someone or someone rear-ending me in turn.

Then there are the motorcyclists. They have this notion that the 2-second rule or the safe braking distance between two cars is actually a reserved driving space for their bikes. So they just plonk themselves in while discussing their evening plans (or sweet nothings) with their pillion riding girlfriends (or boyfriends as the case may be) while I would be left with 0.02 second rule or the really panic braking distance rule. Now, even the slowest biker seems to have zoomed off into the sunset even as I try to pick up speed. The safe braking distance is now twice of what it used to be before. Ergo, 2-second rule problem is solved.

Speaking of other advantages, I can stop well in advance for pedestrians who were never good at Math or Physics or common sense crossing at unmarked places. Remember, when a 1-tonne mechanical object (in this case, my car) travelling at a speed of 25-30 kph collides with another body (in this case, a self-propelled pedestrian glued to their mobile screen with a death wish) weighing 70-90 kg that is travelling at 5 kph perpendicular to the aforementioned 1-tonne object, the consequences for the 70-90 kg pedestrian would be a little more serious than for the 1-tonne object. This is Physics. Or one can do quick Math. Or if one doesn't know either, they can use their head i.e. common-sense. But since some peds are not mentally agile, having a slow car can make up for such lack of agility on their part. By the time I reach an unofficial ped crossing, all the peds and their cousins and their chickens have already crossed without causing any trouble to me. Coincidentally, my consumption of pepto bismol has also come down. Bliss!

I could go on about the virtues of being a cautious driver in a slow car but I must admit that I never realized that being a slowpoke was so much fun. Instead of always being in a hurry and never reaching on time, I now arrive fashionably late. The only downside, I have to hear myself karaoke-ing with the radio but that's nothing compared to being a zippy driver. My friends these days are betting that I am slower than the planes and trains arriving and departing from New Delhi during the foggy months of November and December. I wouldn't bet against them if I were you. All these days, I was running with the wind, but now, I am learning to walk with a child. Everything is normal once again.

Revival (of sorts)..

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Tue, 18 Jul 2017 09:18:00 +0000

If I had continued blogging this would be the 10th year of this blog. But after 2015, I took a hiatus from which I did not want to return. But then things change. I know I'm not perfect and my blog is as inconsistent as I am but sincere Thanks to all those people who happened to drop by and left some kind words even when I was off air.

So, for starters, without further ado, I will let this pic of the Canadian terrain I snapped from around 35,000 feet on a cold winter morning sometime last year do all the talking. Enjoy.

A cold winter morning somewhere over Canada.

So That Was 2015

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Sat, 02 Jan 2016 12:38:00 +0000

Like I mentioned in my previous post, 2015 had been a tumultuous year for me. But it has not been without its high points. The highest point being flying over the North Pole (can't get higher than this, literally) on a quiet summer day.

As the aircraft flew over the North Pole

North Pole

And a can of Coke that made me realize what I am (or not).

Am I one?

Here's looking forward to 2016. And to the new adventures that lie ahead.

Life With A Dash Of Lime

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Tue, 10 Nov 2015 18:55:00 +0000

Phew! It is almost the end of the year and looking back I would be hardpressed to say that this year has been anything but memorable. For various reasons. Managing health of loved ones, heartbreaks, moping, picking up the pieces and then finally finding solace in travel. Yeah, it has been quite a tumultuous year to say the least.

It all started on last year's Christmas Eve. Yeah, it does sound like that 'Wham!' song 'Last Christmas'. A routine check up for my Dad revealed an unpleasant surprise and what followed was yet another lesson in how to cope up with the unpleasant surprises life throws at you. Long story short, constant check ups and weekends after weekends of waiting in OPDs all the while managing a non-stop work schedule consumed hours, days and months. Thus went the first half of the year. As the year progressed and things began to quieten down a bit, I tried to focus on picking up my life from where I had left it (before Christmas Eve) only to realize that it was no longer there. Well, I wasn't expecting it to be as it had been teetering and was going south even before that eventful December. With too many false starts, too many bad endings and of course with a timing that couldn't have been more wrong, I guess it wasn't going to end with a 'happily ever after' ending.

The elusive horizon where the treelines meet

People say that everything happens for a reason. I disagree. In my opinion, things happen and then we try to find reasons to explain them. And in many cases, finding a reason or a bunch of reasons does not help. You just have to move on and rewrite your story. And it is the rewriting that is the hard part. Since you can never fully ever move on. But I digress.

Life gives you lemons. Period. Naturally, with lemons in picture, acidic thoughts are not far behind. They corrode away your mind and start eating away every little bit of sensibility you are left with. And during this time, if time slows down, which it inevitably does, it just gets worse. Speaking of which, isn't it strange that the goodness of your thoughts is inversely proportional to the time you have in your hands? The more time you have and the less preoccupied you are, the more depressing the thoughts? You just get flooded with sad thoughts, wicked thoughts, evil thoughts, more evil thoughts and all other sorts of thoughts that can create havoc with whatever little sensibility and intelligence you might possess as a person. In other words, a perfect recipe for a perfect disaster. With constant thoughts of what went wrong and what I could have done better to right that wrong, I was slowly but surely reaching that point of perfect disaster. So, instead of moping around, I decided to keep away from taking any decisions for some time come. At least till I came back to my normal senses. But that's easier said than done. It takes time to achieve normalcy (at least for me) and as they say, an idle brain is almost always a free rental for a certain bad guy waiting to set up his workshop.

Got ride, will travel

So on one not-so-fine rainy weekend, having resolved to do something about doing nothing, I stepped out. Spotting my vehicle, I said to myself, 'Got ride, will travel.' I do travel a bit but this was a different travel than other travels (by which I mean travels which I have shoddily chronicled elsewhere in this blog of mine). This travel was what I would call a 'life-gives-you-lemons-so-what?' travel. So I dusted my old school atlas, opened the map of the South Indian peninsula, closed my eyes and tried to blindly pick a place. And in my usual style I picked up a place somewhere in the middle of Bay of Bengal. A lovely place indeed. In a funny way, it couldn't have been more apt considering that this Bay is an epicenter for depressions (cyclonic and monsoon causing depressions, that is). But I am a landlubber. So is my ride. Plus I had had more than my fair share of depression for one year. So I decided to have another go at 'got ride, will travel' game. And this time I picked up some place in the vicinity of Kurnool. Not exactly a tourist's first choice but hey, it was depression free! Also, since I didn't want to keep jabbing my finger at oceans and other inaccessible regions, I decided to mark it with a big 'X'. And thus began my journey.

The road beckons

Weekend after weekend, whenever I found time, I began to discover places with history, culture, people and their stories. In the process, I started to rewrite my story. Kurnool, Ahobilam, Dharmapuri, Warangal, Nagarjuna Sagar, Bangalore and so the list went on.

Structures and their stories

With every place I traveled to for the first time, it felt like stepping on the moon. One small step, a giant leap. With every place I had been to previously, well, it felt like revisiting old memories. But more than the destination, it was the journey that had a more soothing effect. I experienced the joy of driving in midst of a downpour, in the stillness of the night, under pleasant overcast skies and so on. I discovered the joy of getting lost and getting back on track. I discovered the joy of slowing down to admire the scenery, feel the grass under my feet and got to see the stars in the sky. It may all sound a little clichéd but for me it was an experience in itself. Most of all, I met people who I would have otherwise never met. In the process, I discovered that unless you start seeing the world around you and discover the surprises it has in store for you, you would be only end up discovering the sorrows within you.

Ruins of a glorious past

In lemons and life lingo, when life does give you lemons, at least one should try to make the best lemonade in town. And for that, you have to go around the town to figure out who your competitors are. And for that, just step out of your world and discover the life around you. It might not always have a 'happily ever after' ending but in the short term, it definitely comes quite close. OK, a close third if not second. Because one can never completely move on.

Stopover Dubai

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Tue, 22 Sep 2015 15:04:00 +0000

One of my good friends who had lived in Dubai for a while once mentioned to me that living in Dubai was like living in a theme park. At that time, I wasn't sure what he meant because I had never been to Dubai.

Tall buildings, really tall buildings, really really tall buildings including the the tallest building in the world (a.k.a. TTBITW) Burj Khalifa (I had to crane my neck at an awkward angle whenever I wanted to see its top), a seven-star hotel, shopping malls the size of small cities, luxury cars, dune bashing in boys toys' SUVs, and all of this in the middle of a desert. This is the vision that conjures up when you think of Dubai. In short, a playground for the rich. Was all this true?

There was only one way to find out. So I packed my bags.

Day 1:

TTBITW by night

As the aircraft descends onto the runway of the Dubai International Airport, if you happen to sit on the right side of the fuselage, you experience a mirage-like vision of an oasis and a town appearing in your window - a mirage that one would normally experience after spending a long hot day in the desert - coming up to meet you. Only in this case, it seems to be a mirage of epic proportions sprawling for miles. And as the wheels touch the ground, it begins to sink in that it is not just a mirage but a real city with real people fighting hard against the elements to make it the greatest city on earth.

Burj-Khalifa from the Mall of the Emirates

And thus, the imagination seamlessly merges into reality.

Step outside and you are hit by an intense heat that reminds you that you are indeed in the middle of desert. And if you land on a regular day, you will see a haze created by sandstorms common in these parts. All in all, interesting first impressions.

Entrance to the MotE

So as my pal in Dubai kickstarted the tour of the city, I got more and more intrigued by the way city was being constructed. Yes, the metropolis is still a work in progress because wherever you look around, you will see a lot of new buildings (tall and really tall) under various stages of construction as you drive through the highways (the main being the Sheikh Zayed Road) and expressways of the city. You get the feeling that the stories you keep hearing of a global slowdown are just that. Stories. Apparently, the city was gearing up for some international convention that is supposed to happen in 2020. In some strange way, all those construction cranes, construction pits and skeletons of upcoming buildings reminded me of Las Vegas where at any given time some hotel gets torn down and a new one keeps coming up on the so-called 'Strip'. I realized that the skyline I was seeing on that day would no longer be the same if I ever happened to return to the city again. Like shifting sand dunes during a sandstorm, the skylines would keep shifting as the construction companies would try to outdo each other in making the next prominent address enclosed in a glass skyscraper. Surreal. So much for summer afternoon sight seeing.

Shifting skyline? Dubai Marina

And then there were the shopping malls. Well, they are in a league of their own. Because of the kind of heat you face when you step outside, people prefer the shelter of the air conditioned malls to a nice walk around the city. And honestly, the heat outside is difficult to deal with. You need to flit from one air-conditioned structure to another without getting caught up in the heat. And as long as you do that, your life is as comfy as a silkworm's in its cocoon. One can't help but spare a thought for all those construction workers - whom you happen to see as you pass by - who spend most of their time in such harsh environment to make life better for the rest of the world. Apparently some of the companies operate construction activities in the night to avoid heat exhaustion. Good for them. But I digress. Coming back to the shopping malls, it is not an exaggeration to say that you get everything you can imagine under the roofs of these mega structures. Books, electronics, clothing, accessories, food, more food, cinemas, entertainment zones (for all ages), you name it, you have it. Such is the scale of these malls that it almost took me a whole day to see half of Emirates Mall a.k.a. the Mall of the Emirates (MotE). And all I did was window shopping. I must admit that most of my time was spent at the Kinokuniya bookstore. If you are a book lover then this bookstore is a must visit. It is almost like a small library. Make that a medium library. The remaining time was taken up in walking along the enclosed concourse from the Metro station to the Mall and back (Gosh! It IS a long walkway). MotE is the closest you can get to Burj Khalifa if you are not ready to pay a small fortune in going to the top of the world. But did I mention that you end up craning your neck to an awkward angle to get a good shot of the Burj Khalifa a.k.a. TBITW?

Day 2:

Mirdif City Center

Shop of Lights - MCC

The skylight at MCC - Very nice use of natural light

But my instant favorite hangout spot was the Mirdif City Center. In my opinion it fully utilizes the sunlight with it its unique architecture and space management. I would highly recommend it to a visitor. It is far from the madding crowd of the MotE plus it is much more relaxing.

An evening boat ride at the Dubai creek

And that's how the boats get decked up for a leisurely evening.

Day 3:

Atlantis is another place people would want to visit because of the unique place it is located in plus the monorail that takes you passing right through the heart of the exotic Palm Jumeirah. Highlight: An ATM that dispenses gold. However, if you are not a guest of the Atlantis, you would be constantly put off by the discreet 'guards' who keep popping up from nowhere (one popped out right from a bush like a creepy zombie) to 're-direct' you from areas which are out-of-bounds for visitors. Reminded me of Las Vegas. Yet again. Thankfully, the view of the sunset over Persian Gulf is not 'off-limits'.

The Atlantis - Notice the bushes? That's where the 'guards' are stationed :-)

Bling box - ATM that dispenses Gold.

Of course, there is the Burj-al-Arab. Off limits again if you don't have an appointment at the 7-star hotel. I didn't have one. So I gave it a miss and took a passing glance while travelling from MotE to Atlantis in the metro. Some other day, some other time.

Sunset over the Persian Gulf

Day 4:

More bling - Gold on display at the Gold souk

Covered walkway at the Gold souk

But what one should not miss is to taste and buy dates and a visit to the Gold and Spice souks. Gold Souk is the place where you get the feel of the authentic Dubai. A place where you see people a little less dressed up, a little less ostentatious and a little more business minded unlike the folks you'd see in the starry Malls. The shops are quite normal and do not have a pretty face to welcome you. A place that is not decked up like the city center and the Jumeirah. In short, a little less 'westernized'. Plus you get to see lots and lots of gold in one place and lots and lots of spices to smell at one place. So much so, that you get the feeling that the gold here smells like spice. Gold Spice. Hmm. That sounds like a nice name for a cosmetic business. Nevertheless, this is the true business district of Dubai and the real deal if you ask me.

As I wrapped up my trip, I began to realize that Dubai has its own charm and offers a little bit of something for everyone. It is a melting pot of cultures and people come from faraway lands to start a life or improve upon their existing ones. Dubai is also a good oasis and has enough glitter and glamour to attract tourists, shoppers, tourist shoppers and business. As long as you don't mind that you are in the middle of a desert.

So, coming back to my friend's opinion about it being a theme park, well, I do have to admit that there is a fair bit of truth in it. It is indeed a playground for the rich and the famous as Piers Morgan proclaimed. But like I mentioned, it offers a little bit of something for everyone. For me, well, Dubai is an oasis where I happened to drop by for a little look-see (of sorts).

Roman Sudoku

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Tue, 15 Sep 2015 09:12:00 +0000

Now that I have proved myself to be a dud in crosswords without external help and other things related to life, I decided to do something about the situation. With more time on my hands, and with little progress on the crosswords front, I diverted my attention to the other popular daily newspaper puzzle, Sudoku. However, don't for a moment think that I am good at Sudoku. Somewhere in my earlier posts, I had mentioned about how the Sudoku mafia had totally put me off Sudoku. So the return to Sudoku was kind of ironic. Like the return of the prodigal puzzle solver. Rather, an amateur 'puzzled' solver. Sudoku always tested (and continues to test) my limited mental faculties. And also my very limited patience. Whenever I try to solve a Sudoku puzzle, I end up with enough mistakes that the grid becomes one big mess of scratches and dirty ink blots. It never ceases to amaze me that I commit a mistake (or mistakes) that stares right back at my face but I am not able to figure it out until it's too late. So much so, that I finally throw the newspaper away in disgust. So it was high time I fixed this. And worked on my patience too.

Roman Sudoku :-)

Thus started a train of thought. It was a long train and a whole lot of thought went into it (about 2 minutes worth of it) and just when I was about to give up, it hit me like a Roman column falling on my head! (just like that legendary apple that fell on a scientist's head) Why not use Roman numerals as opposed to Indo-Arabic numerals? Ancient Romans, like me, must have hated Math. And Indo-Arabic numerals (maybe because they did not invent them). And maybe that's why they tried to demystify counting by using the Roman alphabet instead. Of course, they didn't know about the zero '0' but who needs a '0' in Sudoku. And that's exactly what I planned to take advantage of. I decided that I will use Roman numerals to fill in the Sudoku grid instead of the regular numbers. You see, when you think of it, it kind of makes sense. For example, it is far easier to change a '2' into '3' when you use Roman numerals. Suppose if I put 1 instead of 2 or 3, all I would have to do is add another 'i' next to 'i' or add 2 'i's to make a 'iii'. If its a 4 then its still easier. All one has to do is add a 'v' on the right of 'i' without striking anything off. So, 'i' can transmogrify to 'ii', 'iii','iv', even 'v', etc., and sometimes even 'iii' can be changed to 'iv' (with a little bit of artistry, of course). But then you would ask, what if it was a 1 instead of a 2? Well simple, all I have to do is strike off one 'i' and the grid will still have one 'i' standing. At least it won't look like a messy ink blot anymore. And with practised hands and a little creativity you can change 'iv' to 'v' (or 'i') or 'vi'. Or 'iv' into 'ix' and vice versa. I am yet to figure how to change 'v' to 'i' but eventually I will get there. But I guess you get the drift. At the end of it, I'd still have a reasonably clean grid and a solved puzzle. Veni, vidi, I solved!! Nice, no? Ave, Caesar! Or is it Q. E. D.?

The Duckback Detective

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Tue, 23 Jun 2015 08:03:00 +0000

It is monsoon time and the clouds are slowly gaining the much needed momentum to shower the parched earth and its inhabitants. While the clouds go about doing their job and the flowers are in bloom, the onset of monsoon season always reminds me of my childhood years in Calcutta. I must have been 11 or 12 years old and I had just graduated from Enid Blytons and Hardy Boys to Sherlock Holmes (and a little bit of Agatha Christie though I found the slow pace of her novels a tad boring at that time). To call myself a fan of detective/crime fiction would be a crime of epic proportions. I adored it and I worshipped Sherlock Holmes. I even started to save money in my piggybank to visit 221B Baker Street in the hopes of becoming an apprentice to the greatest detective in the world.

A slight monsoon shower and the flowers bloom

And it was around this time when Dad got me one of the greatest (perhaps THE greatest) wardrobe item I could ever think of. A light olive green double-breasted Duckback raincoat which came right down to my shins to cope with the Calcuttan rains during my daily commute to school. In function, the raincoat made sure that not a drop seeped through and kept me dry as a bone even in a heavy downpour. The downside, considering it was made of rubber (which made it smell like erm.. rubber) and heavy duty canvas, it weighed a ton and made me sweat bullets on the inside regardless of the pleasant temperatures outside.

But to me it was more about the form and less about the function. Because in form, for me, it was the universal uniform of a detective. Like I said earlier, I had read enough fiction and had seen enough movies to know that detectives wore shabby raincoats (or tweeds, based on the continent they worked on), hats and occasional dark glasses to make themselves inconspicuous when following suspects and leads.

And now I had one such raincoat (and a matching cap) that automatically qualified me to be a detective. As if by magic (and a little bit of imagination), upon donning it over my school uniform, my portly build and round face transmogrified into a thin frame topped by a sardonic square-jawed face with a permanent deadpan expression. For me, it was a superhero costume. And Calcutta was my hunting ground! Well, make that South Calcutta. I was forbidden to go north of Kalighat without adult supervision as this was beyond my school zone. Thus started the adventures of the Duckback Detective. I loved it every time it rained and grumbled while the sun was out, for the detective came into being only when it rained. An invisible, unknown observer in an obscure raincoat who frequented playgrounds, scampered surreptitiously in the bylanes (or jumped in puddles), left no stone unturned in Tollygunge and rode trams on SP Mukherjee Road to keep the area free of crime. In between these adventures, I also found time to shadow the girl in my class on whom I had a massive crush. And that is how I realized that she lived in an area north of Kalighat. The forbidden zone. My quest and shadowing always ended at the invisible line that divided Kalighat from the rest of the northern world. And thus I never was able to discover where my Irene Adler lived. Shame! Well, you win some and lose the rest. But in all these adventures, the one that still irks me (since it remained unsolved) was the 'Park Street Pickpocket'. Till date, I have not been able to unravel that super-criminal and mysterious pickpocket who relieved me of my cherished faux leather wallet and my tram fare. I am sure it was a cohort of Dr. Moriarty (or maybe his Indian version, Dr. Morarjee). Still gives me sleepless nights. Nevertheless, life was exciting. Never a dull moment as I conjured up one adventure after the other.

As I was just warming up to the field work of detection and the science of deduction, I also gradually began to outgrow my raincoat by becoming little more portly and a little more taller. I also began to discover the genius of Agatha Christie's Poirot who did wonders with his 'gray cells' while being impeccably dressed. And being portly. But if you'd put a gun to my head and ask me who's the greatest, I'd still swear by Holmes. The raincoat no longer fitted me after a couple of monsoons but I squeezed in whenever I could. When we moved from Calcutta, I had to finally hang up my raincoat though I badly wished we'd moved to Cherrapunji where I'd still find some use of it. Eventually, I lost my raincoat and along with it went the superpowers of deduction and observation. I became an ordinary struggling-at-Math schoolkid again. My days as a detective were officially over. Sigh!

Somewhere in my old chest of notebooks lie my greatest adventures. 'The Chowringhee Chinaman', 'Trouble at Tollygunge Railway Station', 'The Strange Incident on the Hazra Minibus 251', 'The Black Market League of Ballygunge and Lake Gardens', 'The Esplanade Escapade', 'Robbery at The Grand Hotel', 'The Diamond Harbour Heist' and the list goes on. What can I say? Those were busy times for crime-fighters. And here I must mention that since I was saving for my trip to Baker Street, I cut the cost of hiring an assistant and chronicled my own cases. So no one but me knows the fate of these cases and the villains apprehended. And in the best interests of humanity and those involved, the case files will continue to remain unpublished. Till the right time comes.

Buzzy Ideas - Finding My True Calling

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Mon, 01 Jun 2015 08:41:00 +0000

After years of meandering around with different ideas, I think I have finally zeroed in on what I would love to do once I am freed of this regular humdrum of a 10-5 job. I have decided that I will become a beekeeper i.e., I will start an apiary. The idea, at least for me, certainly does have a certain buzz to it. Why? Several reasons.

Bees love good weather and so do I

Like me, bees love good weather. So if I wanted to start keeping bees, I'd have to relocate to a climate that would suit me as well as the bees. Which means that I can escape the summer heat waves of the Indian plains and plateaus. Plus, I can be far away from the madding crowd. And keep the crowds at a safe distance too.

Apiary is better than a cattle farm

Being a fan of Westerns (spaghetti and otherwise), for a long time I seriously toyed with the idea of chewing on cheroots, wearing stetsons, hip holsters and lassos and riding one horse-powered horses. However, after reading about troubles with big cattle farms and their even bigger carbon footprints, I was a little put off. Plus, managing a supply chain of animal fodder and dairy output is a logistical nightmare even if you happen to be a lasso throwing, stetson wearing, cheroot chewing horseman.

Bees on the other hand, mind their own business (I think). They search for their own food, work on their own hives (as long as they aren't provoked, again I think) and of course do a whole world of good by pollinating the flora around the area. And at the end of it all, you get your fair share of their hard work for treating their queen like one. Nice creatures.

Bees keep people away

A big incentive. Someone you are not a big fan of wants to visit you for holidays? No problem. Just let them know that the bees are behaving strangely this year and there is every possibility that unsuspecting visitors might receive more than their fair share of bee stings. And soon enough you'll stop getting those calls for invites. In my opinion, there can never be a bigger deterrent than the thought of an angry swarm of bees coming after you.

Bees bring people together

By the same token, you can always invite people (you'd love to hang around with) over by saying, 'Let's make some honey, honey!' Okay, that was kinda cheesy but the end result will not be Parmesan or mozzarella, that's for sure.

Bees make people talk about birds and bees

Well, not exactly in that sense but more from an environmental awareness kind of way. On the other hand, it sure would be fun to see parents squirming to explain about birds and bees to their kids when they'd visit the bee farm. Tee hee!

Profit or not, there will not be a bitter aftertaste

Well, yes, profits would matter, but regardless of the toplines or the bottomlines there wouldn't be a bitter aftertaste at the end of the day. You'd still put some honey on the table to wipe out any bitterness off the balance sheet.

Bees would put a DSLR to good use

I recently discovered that there exists a branch of photography called macro-photography (no wonder they call me a noob when it comes to photography!). Apparently this is a good hobby to pick up if you happen to have a DSLR (which I happen to have) and if you are surrounded by tiny fellas like spiders, bugs, insects, bees, etc. So, one shot two birds erm.. bugs.

The most logical man there ever was became a beekeeper

And here's the kicker, the mother of all reasons. The most logical man there ever was, that famous detective, Sherlock Holmes, retired to the chalk cliffs of Dover to become a beekeeper. Can there be a bigger excuse than this to start an apiary? It was purely elementary to start with!

Now there's a bee in my bonnet.

Kintsukuroi - A Flawless Philosophy About Imperfections

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Tue, 26 May 2015 18:33:00 +0000

In one of the episodes of the TV series 'The Mentalist', Teresa Lisbon gifts Patrick Jane his favorite tea cup on his birthday. Not a new one but Jane's own tea cup that smashed to pieces (in an earlier episode) as the FBI was shutting down CBI's operations. Apparently, Lisbon painstakingly re-pieced every shard together to restore the cup (one of Jane's very few possessions) to its former glory. Naturally, Jane is overwhelmed. So was I. In my opinion, the tea cup and Jane's habit of brewing tea (plus lounging on the couch) were as much a part of the storyline as the characters themselves. For me, normalcy was restored. Thanks to the tea cup.

The episode also reminded me of that beautiful Japanese term kintsukuroi. A term with which I got familiar by chance, through a very charming wordsmith I once knew. Kintsukuroi, in its simplest definition means 'to repair with gold' or 'golden repair'. But it also alludes to a broken item that upon being repaired with gold, becomes more beautiful than before. If one were to dig a little deeper in wikipedia for a more technical meaning, they would find that kintsukuroi is "the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum and is based on the philosophy that breakage and repair is treated as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise." The flaws make it more beautiful than before. Nice. A little more digging and one would find a fable associated with the term here. I found the story Thanks to a feisty Blue Gecko's beautiful blog.

So, coming back to 'The Mentalist', in a way Jane's repaired tea cup was a great example of kintsukuroi. It had become more beautiful (and more precious) after being repaired by someone he loved.

However, when it comes to life and all things real world, we do not find things that once broken, and mended, to be more beautiful than before. We treat them as glaring examples of gross imperfections that can never be repaired or restored to former glory. We discard such objects. And sometimes, by the same token, people as well. We are especially unforgiving when it comes to people.

Many a time, we see people point out other people's mistakes and blunders and criticize them like its nobody's business. And often times we forget that we might have committed such bloopers ourselves. We only see the scars and flaws of others as irreparable imperfections and nothing else. Perhaps, we were wired that way. To weed out imperfections in others as a part of survival of the fittest or whatever evolution meant it to be. But isn't such thought process of ours itself fundamentally flawed or broken? Don't we assume that we are far too perfect to be broken no matter how humble we are? After all, like they say, nobody's perfect.

In this regard, one must appreciate the Japanese for their appreciation of perfection (and imperfections) and the pains they take to make even the most imperfect objects, well, perfect. And they do so by highlighting such objects' imperfections! With gold!!

Perhaps it's time we changed as well. And mend ourselves. To become better than our former selves while still displaying our vulnerabilities and scars. Alas! For now there exists no kintsukuroi for us. Perfect!

Getting Lost in the Heartbreak City

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Fri, 15 May 2015 04:57:00 +0000

Of all the places I have been to in my lifetime, the one place that never fails to cheer me up and disappoint me in equal measures is Bangalore or Bengaluru as it is now called. No, the city has got nothing to do with it. It's just me. Being a small town guy, the city lights of Bangalore always dazzle me. So much so, that I get blinded by them. Just like Dick Whittington and his cat getting mesmerized by London. Great weather, great (looking) people, good parks, sprawling greenery, good food, great malls, nice places to visit around, in short, all things great. Flipside, too expensive and too crowded. The Garden City, once a haven for retired and gentile folks, today looks as if it is the center for a never ending Youth Fest for entire youth of India to gather around. In short, a very hot and happening place. Which is good. And bad.

Great Weather... or so they say...

Having travelled to Bangalore several times over the past few years for special and not-so-special occasions, I always resisted the temptation to publish my Bangalore chronicles. I wanted to forget every unforgettable moment I experienced so that I could create better ones the next time I was there. Thus far I must say I had been very successful in creating great memories. However, this time was different.

To start with, it was a trip that was long overdue and well past its proverbial expiry date. Over the past few months, several situations beyond my control had cropped up whenever I planned the trip and so I would have to put it off to a later date. Like they say, when it rains, it pours and you can't do anything about it. Hence the outcome of this much delayed trip was unknown and chances of any form of success were close to impossible. But then I had just myself to blame and nothing to lose. Nevertheless, it was a chance (in a billion) I was willing to take. So, finally when I saw a streak of sunshine slip through the dark clouds, I picked my already packed bags and trudged Bangalore-wards. Just like Dick Whittington and his cat making their way to London.

But then folklores are just that. Folklores. So unlike the future Lord Mayor of London, I didn't get lucky and got confined to my loneliness. I ended up being an ordinary lost tourist with an almost useless and outdated map that seemed to scream 'GET LOST!' in more ways than one. And so get lost I did.

I got lost in those myriad mazes called the Bangalore one-way streets which sometimes even the local Bangaloreans can't comprehend. Crossing the streets was a military operation in itself. Bangaloreans, usually polite and docile people, become pedestrian hunters when they are riding or driving. And I was fair game during the open season. Survived but barely, I must say. Eventually I learned a few tricks of the trade of urban survival and warfare.

The other time I got lost, I happened to wander into this coffee shop called 'The Square' (run by Cafe Coffee Day) where the service was ho-hum but the security was so ridiculous that ordinary pedestrians could not walk past the glass facade because the footpath was 'private'! It took some persuasion on my part to let the security understand that I was a wannabe patron and not a pedestrian trying to gain entry into the coffee shop. Here, I would like to mention that I have had easier passage through customs of some foreign countries than getting into 'The Square'. Anyways, upon entering, I spent a considerable amount of time - over a cup of coffee - thinking about what security measures I should undergo to exit the shop. Thankfully, there were none excepting for the fact that I had to pay a king's ransom for the frappe. Did I mention that Bangalore is expensive?

The Square

Returning from the 'Square' I got lost again and stumbled across a bookshop that only sold magazines. I felt sorry for the guy running a bookshop in this age of digital tablets (speaking of which, our civilization started with stone tablets, graduated to papyrus and paper and now we are back to the tablets, but I digress). Besides me, there was nobody else excepting for the glum looking bookstore guy. I decided that I'll buy a magazine just to cheer him up and see a gleam of happiness in his eyes. I felt that if the glum-me could make the glum-bookstore-owner happy then some of my glumness would go away. Instead, at the billing counter all I got was a once over (that would make TSA proud!!) from the bookstore owner to ascertain that I hadn't shoplifted any expensive imported dirty magazine from the shelf and slipped it inside my shirt or trousers while pretending to pay for a dirt cheap weekly I had bought. So much for feeling sorry about bookstore owners!

The next time I got lost, my friend rescued me with a metro ride and made me step into a mall of epic proportions! Yea, I still have friends I can count on. And I am glad that I do. But I digress again. What a mall it was! I just couldn't see one end of it standing at the other end. Amazing.

Sri Someshwara Temple

Then I got lost (yet again) and came across this 1000+ year old temple of Sri Someshwara (arguably the oldest temple in Bangalore) nestled between a strikingly new high-rise decked with a helipad on one end of the street and the elevated metro line on the other. Apparently, these days, thanks to its pedestrian hunting traffic even the Gods prefer the aerial routes to the overcrowded streets of Namma Bengaluru.

And thus my 'Lost' saga continued. I lost a lot and got lost a lot but in the process I also rediscovered the forgotten art of being guided by the stars and the sun. The stars being my friends and the sun being, well, the sun. Needless to say, I also ended up discovering something new at every wrong turn I took.

And as I turned away from the Garden City, I just wished the bells would toll for my return just like they did for Dick Whittington and his cat. They never did. Or perhaps I never heard them. I was lost and dejected as I left the Heartbreak City....

Interstellar: Of Galaxies, Stars, Black Holes and Love

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Sun, 07 Dec 2014 05:28:00 +0000

Finally, after several weeks of its release, I got to watch the much appreciated and much debated 'Interstellar' yesterday. Though I was planning to watch the movie since the first time I saw the trailer on IMDb, the initial post-release word-of-mouth kinda left me quite confused. Apparently, one had to take a refresher primer course in Physics, Theoretical Physics, Relativity, Time-Space curve, Science, Intergalactic Travel, Gravity and what not depending on the people you spoke with. Someone was kind enough to even put a big chart on Facebook trying to explain the timeline of the movie. Which I simply did not understand. Considering that my science is rusty these days, I felt that even if I were brave enough to watch it, any attempt to understand the movie's plot would be an exercise in futility. On the other hand, since I religiously follow Neil DeGrasse Tyson on twitter (mainly to enjoy his humorous tweets, if not his science), watch 'The Big Bang Theory' without missing an episode, understood Stephen Hawking's 'A brief history of Time' (in parts) and last but not the least, consider myself a 'Star Trek' fan (a. k. a. trekkie), there was this little voice inside my head telling me that the movie should be worth a dekko. Plus there was also this little thing of choosing between 'Exodus: Gods and Kings' and 'Interstellar'. So there wasn't much choice.

So finally, when the time came, me and my movie buddy fortified ourselves for a 3-hour, no-restroom-break, movie expecting nothing more than an visually spectacular Chris Nolan film on a big screen. But how wrong was I proved to be! And I'm glad that I got it all wrong. On various counts. The movie did clear some of my misapprehensions about the story and the science behind it. First of all, it is not a sci-fi flick. I repeat, it is not a sci-fi flick! At least so far as I am concerned. Yes, it talks about wormhole travel for finding habitable planets in other solar systems in other galaxies and what happens to time in space and so on, but for me, the main undercurrent was about a Dad trying to get back to his daughter (on time) as promised. In time. Literally. For that, he is even ready to venture into a black hole and beyond. Sweet.

Some parts of the movie really tug at your heartstrings. For example, the daughter not ready to let her Dad go, but the Dad going out (of the galaxy) nevertheless intending to save his daughter's future despite the fact that he knows that he might never see her again, receiving blurred videos from earth indicating how time is running for earthlings and the explorers even as the explorers are caught in a gravity-of-black-hole-slowing-down-the-time conundrum and running-out-of-fuel dilemmas. And of course, a dad reaching out to his daughter from another dimension.... Christopher and Jonathan Nolan must have realized that movies these days need a bigger canvas than Manhattan to portray human drama. And according to me, they were right. The tall skyscrapers were getting a bit, well, time worn. No pun intended.

Coming to the Physics, Theoretical Physics, Relativity, Time-Space curve, Science, Intergalactic Travel, Gravity and what not part, I think the debate will go on and the scientific community has been prompt to explain the science behind the movie. So I won't talk much about it. I am not the expert. You can hear the expert speak h ere and here. Like I said, for me, the movie was not about science fiction. But about human drama. Relativity might be a cool science speak but we humans are all about relations. I just wish we kept our egos aside and let bygones be bygones and cherish our life.

Which brings me to the crux of the issue. The value of time. And love. Yes, Love. That one emotion, - as Dr. Brand (played with such finesse by Anne Hathaway) aptly summarises - the one thing we are capable of perceiving that transcends time and space. Beautiful.

I'll know when I get there...

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Fri, 18 Jul 2014 19:44:00 +0000

For the past few months, things just have been moving at an uneven pace. Some days just whizzed by, some crawled on and some just stood at standstill waiting for me to kickstart the day. I had some highs and some lows but hardly a day that could be described as boringly quiet. Thankfully, since Newtonian laws do not apply to human emotions, I can safely say that such sudden drastic changes of direction, speed and momentum did not physically affect my limited grey matter. But there were some simple but valuable lessons learnt. I for one am not a preacher, but I definitely would want to note down the gist of these disparate but useful lessons for my future reference. Hence this post.

Hard work pays, but smart work pays better

All these days, I was being told that hard work pays. And pays well. But then the myth slowly started to crumble. Like an over baked cookie. Apparently, if you are a slave of your work then you get paid like a slave as well. History corroborates this fact. A valuable revelation indeed. Of course, there was this exception of the slave dynasty that ruled India for a while but still, not all slaves were that lucky. And as every slave toiled to survive, the only bonus he/she got was, you guessed it, more work. While I got more and more depressed with this thought, along came a wise man who helped me tweak the saying a bit. Thus said the wise man, 'In reality, hard work might pay well, but smart work pays better. When you do the right thing at the right time, the rewards versus effort put in ratio is obscenely and disproportionately high.' But there is a slight catch here. And that is, figuring out what is the right thing to do at the right time? And sometimes, it takes a while figuring out if it is really the right time to do the right thing till the right moment passes by you. At other times, right things and right times just do not coincide. In short, the odds of the right thing and the right moment coming together and me grabbing that moment by the scuff of its neck seem to be astronomical. So if it is bound to happen, then it will be one darned lucky coincidence! I'd no longer be a hard worker but a smart one. So till I get all these things right, I have no option but to work like a slave. And get paid like one.

There are more important things in life than a nice view

Every morning I spend some time going through my twitter account checking out what's happening in the world. I particularly look forward to what beautiful picture of a beautiful place @ThatsEarth has posted for the day. Needless ot say, the views and landscapes in these pics are awesome. And so I look out of my window daydreaming about these places. But then there are more important things in life than dreaming about these views. Important things like, being there. Important things like saving for a ticket to travel to be there. And other important things like earning to save for a ticket to travel to be there. Till such important things occupy my mind, a nice view is well, just that. A nice view. Sigh! How much I wish right now I was at the 'Seven Sisters Waterfall' in Norway!

Courtesy: @ThatsEarth

People like to tell people about things they shouldn't be telling them

Such a profound observation. People (Doctors excluded) like to tell people about things they shouldn't be telling them. I first came across this phrase in one of Stieg Larsson's Millennium trilogy books. It happens to you. It happens to me. It happens to everybody. Psychologists and anthropologists might have done a lot of study on this strange trait of humans but we are yet to find a cure for it. We just can't resist the urge of telling people things we shouldn't be telling them. Sometimes we don't realize the damage it does to the people we tell. For instance, I cannot digest someone discussing how their bad tummy ache finally resulted in a long drawn throwing up marathon while having my morning cup of tea.

There are better anti-depressants than anti-depressants

Finding what anti-depressant (not of the drugs variety) suits you is always a good thing. It not only makes you happy, but also helps you get back on to your feet when the odds are piled against you. You get up to fight another day. And that's not a bad thing. In one of my posts, I mentioned that I always enjoy reading 'If Tomorrow Comes' by Sidney Sheldon when I am feeling a bit low. I think it is one of the best anti-depressant in my medicine cabinet. But there are others too. The other important one being 'Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara', a Bollywood movie that rekindled my faith in light hearted Bollywood fare. Its been one of the important go-to movies in the past few years. For some reason, I always feel refreshed after watching it. And just today, a friend of mine recommended 'Golmaal', another great movie from yesteryears as happiness therapy. I wholeheartedly agree. And will add it to my 'medicine cabinet'/video collection.

Show the world how beautiful it is. Sometimes, it just doesn't know.

Sometimes, people and the world around you just don't know how beautiful they are. Its your responsibility to show them or remind them of that particular strength of theirs. And one of the best ways to express it is with your photography. This was the lesson I learnt from a photographer friend of mine. I wouldn't argue with that. Photography gives you a great opportunity to praise and compliment someone or something. Which is why, I think everyone should have a go at it. As long as they capture the moments and help letting the world around them know how beautiful it is, it will become more tolerant and enjoyable. The world as we know it, will be beautiful once again. Even if it does not know that it is beautiful.

So, from a slave in a dull world to a person who is able to tell the world how beautiful it is, there has been quite a change of thought process already. I think these five mantras should be good enough to help me tide over my daily journeys for now. The list is not exhaustive or contiguous but as I learn more lessons out of life, I will keep adding them to this list or maybe add them in separate posts. It is a work in progress but I'll know when I get there....

Distant Sun, Distant People

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Tue, 25 Mar 2014 05:46:00 +0000

An evening at a beach not far away

Free Fallin'

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Sun, 23 Feb 2014 14:04:00 +0000

Having a little bit of time on my hands, I am nowadays devising new ways to amuse myself. For instance, today I suavely convinced my friend to get myself invited to his friend's housewarming just because the invite extended invitations to family AND ('AND' being the operative word here) friends. Similarly over the weekend, on a whim I asked some of my friends from school to get together for a dinner. Though such things might not seem unusual for a guy who's always been popular, for a guy like me (who's not popular), they are quite unusual.

If you knew me well enough, then you would know that me trying to gatecrash events or hosting a get together is kind of like, well, me not being me. When I am me, I spend much of my time doing things such as figuring out ways to crash my PS3, keeping away from important conference calls and social affairs (or networking as they call it), checking out how the companies I have not invested in are faring (because invariably the stocks I buy never fare well), reading or YouTubing car reviews of cars I can't afford (because my stocks didn't fare well) so that I can cite bulletproof reasons for not buying them, or simply plucking overgrown hairs out of my ears (and nose too sometimes) ... well, you get the drift. Most of the activities involve me interacting with erm... just me. The kind of status updates I scrawl or the sad selfies I post on facebook and instagram and WA, I won't be surprised if one of these days I will get a mail from Mark Zuckerberg politely asking me to take my profile someplace else, or else...

Hardly surprising then that all these years of non-partying and non-wild weekends are beginning to take their toll on me.

Not adding social events to my calendar has not taught me how to live a proper sinful life. I'm beginning to notice that age is no longer a number. My knees are still strong for a good sprint to catch a city bus every once in a while. And I haven't developed bags under my eyes or got any crow's feet due to excesses of youth. Not good. Not fair. I curb any wild urges I get by using the miniscule wisdom and reason I have developed over the years. I think twice, thrice, and keep thinking till I find enough reasons to stop myself from buying a ticket to somewhere out there. And the little travel I have done has conclusively concluded that I was never meant to be an outdoorsman. Or for that matter even a regular city slicker. When I'm driving, I don't like people darting across my right of way. When I'm not driving I don't like vehicles darting across my right of way. I just travel like a mouse and return home without a squeak. And when I'm partying, I don't like loud music. So much for travelling. So much for partying.

But I am getting used to it. Slowly but surely, I am beginning to see some sense in getting off my couch and exploring the world around me. I am also enjoying with amazement as to how rapidly the world is changing. Which is why I felt it was high time I changed. I had to start somewhere. Inviting friends for a get together or getting myself invited was a kind of a start. A start I had to make. And so by killing a few grey cells to curb my age-induced wisdom, I am making a fresh start. A start that will no longer stop me from doing what I do best. Be myself. In a new avatar. Or better still, be myself version 2.0. So bags under my eyes and those craggy Clint Eastwood-ish crow's feet, here I come!

The Day I Stopped Dreaming

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Tue, 24 Dec 2013 09:52:00 +0000

I have always dreamed (during those times I slept more and dreamed more) of working hard and getting somewhere some day. And truth be told, my dreams are coming true - at least about the working hard part - the part that hard work will get me somewhere is yet to happen. Apart from getting somewhere (by which I mean avoiding being nowhere), working hard comes with a set of side affects as byproducts. First of all, you end up working long hours which saps out whatever little juice you have left. Secondly, you can't compensate those long hours of work with long hours of R&R. Thirdly, and most importantly, it affects sleep. That's because you can't have two sets of long hours in one 24-hour day. So considering that I am working a wee bit harder these days, saying that I feel a wee bit tired would be wee bit of an understatement.

I also always dreamed (again during those times I slept more and dreamed more) about travelling to far and distant lands and making friends all over the planet. Today, this dream of mine has also been realized (again to some extent) by the one universal connector of choice, the Internet. Over the years, Internet has been one medium that has successfully helped me get nearer to distant things and people. But the Internet has also NOT helped by distancing me from people near and dear to me. Honestly, I never dreamed about the distancing part. Side affects again. Like many of you out there, I can chat and talk with people on the other side of the planet on my phone and iPad while having a nice leisurely Sunday afternoon lunch with my family but can barely participate in any conversation with people seated around the table. Similar is the case when I am at work. I can now hardly put a name to a face but I can always tell by the emoticon as to who just pinged me.

And funnily enough, being overworked and overly-online, I have developed two distinct personas. My online friends emphatically claim that I'm a party animal but the people around me say that I have withdrawn into myself and have become a total recluse. Gosh! It's like Bruce Wayne and Batman! Like Superman and Clark Kent! Like Peter Parker and Spider-man! Like Norman Osborn and Green Goblin! Well, you get the drift. And like all these superheroes (plus supervillains), you can't please them all with what you are or what you are not. Dr. Bruce Banner didn't become 'The Incredible Hulk' for nothing! It seems as if my virtual alter ego has sucked up all my good energy and left me with a plateful of broccoli without any seasoning. For breakfast, lunch and dinner. To use the only French phrase I know, 'c'est la vie'.

All in all, in a way, with my careless usage of precious man hours at work and staying online, I have effectively accomplished my dreams. And I can now alternate between a superhero (or supervillain) and a mild-mannered and reticent alter ego, online and offline respectively. Again to an extent, that is. In the process, I have effectively curbed my sleeping hours. And thus, I have effectively curbed my dream time. With no proper sleep and no dream time, life has become a bit more pragmatic and lot less dreamy. For me, the adage, 'if wishes were horses...' no longer means horses (or whatever that was supposed to mean). Essentially, my dreams have now become a reality in which I can't dream anymore. Well, never in my wildest dreams did I ever dream that such a thing would happen! To paraphrase Annie Nielsen from the movie 'What Dreams May Come', 'Sometimes when you win, you lose.' I seriously think I should sleep on it. Now. And dream a dream about not working hard or be online but just stop for a bit and smell the roses. Before a rude wake-up call comes, that is.

A Day To Note...

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Thu, 14 Nov 2013 10:40:00 +0000

Captain's log, 4:08 pm IST, 14th November, 2013. Watching TV.

On Different Opinions And Difference Of Opinions

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Sat, 02 Nov 2013 13:46:00 +0000

So, there are opinions and there are opinions. I do like opinions. I like them because they help you look at things from one's own perspective. I believe that one's opinion about something or everything is defined by one's outlook and the environment around them and of course, one's own personal bias. I know so because that's how I form my own opinions. So, if I ever get dragged into a debate or am asked to give my 2-cents worth, in order not to disregard someone else's opinion, I always start with 'IMO....'. Considering how sensitive people are nowadays in nursing their opinions, the IMO phrase helps me skirt away from long-winded arguments about why one's opinion is much better and more important than mine. In recent times, the frequency of me using 'IMO' has increased so much that I am starting to feel that this phrase was especially invented for me.

However, whilst I do admit that every once in a while I get influenced by others' opinions because they seem to be honest, useful and good eye-openers, there are also times when I don't like opinions being imposed on me. Especially when I feel that such opinions are ill-formed due to a very narrow-minded approach to the subject or is based on limited (make that very limited) knowledge.

In this regard, one of the most common opinion that I frequently come across and vehemently oppose is that a person's academics are a direct indicator of his/her intelligence. And the reason I oppose this notion is because that every once in a while the smartest people ( by which I mean people who can think logically and use a bit of that uncommon sense called common sense) I come across are the people who barely scraped through high school. Unfortunately, in a corporate world that worships academic meritocracy as a religion, such an opinion does not hold much water. Which is sad. Sadder still is the fact the latitude that is given to these so-called academically distinguished smart people. Apparently, one should discount any visible lack of intelligence in a 'highly-educated' person as a sign of modesty whereas a neon-sign like intelligence from an 'average local college grad' or a dropout is considered as pure fluke. Having said that, surprisingly, these very same people who look down upon dropouts deify Bill Gates and Steve Jobs as the saviors of modern day mankind. Not surprisingly, more often than not, I get to see such biased opinions in people who always wanted to excel in academics and in life in general. But didn't. Normally, I can tolerate such people but for the fact that they try to be so assertive about their beliefs and opinions that sometimes it becomes exceedingly difficult to stay in the same room with them for more than two minutes. For this reason, I reserve my opinion about such people and also their blind worship of academia. IMO, their opinions seem too fickle to matter.

On a similar note, I have a different set of opinions about travel too. I usually like to go off the beaten track and skip the touristy spots. For instance, when I went to Las Vegas, I was a touch underwhelmed by the city. For me, it was not like how I had seen it in the movies. And definitely (and thankfully, in a way) nothing like how they show it in CSI. Maybe one of the reasons being that I got my first glimpse of it in daytime. But for my friends, it was like as it was advertised, a Sin City. They were bedazzled by the lights and the slot machines. And of course other forms of entertainment as well. So as we were driving back, while my friends extolled all the finer things of Vegas, I was slumped in the back seat keeping my thoughts to myself. IMO, the trip was a complete waste of time. And money. Darn those slot machines at Bellagio! Speaking of which, I kind of liked the musical fountain there. Which of course was a free show unlike all those popular shows which were apparently sold out. Anyway, as I kept my opinions about LV to myself and remained silent about it, my friends committed the cardinal sin of trying to impress upon me their views of LV as the greatest playground on earth. They should have known by now that what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Now I hated LV even more. So much so that on my next trip there, I preferred to drive further down to explore the sleepy streets of Boulder City and Lake Mead instead of nursing the previous night's hangover. Truth be told, I loved Boulder City. In fact, I loved it so much that I promised myself to go there again if my friends ever planned another trip to the Sin City. With me, that is. IMO, the chances of being invited on such a trip are quite remote now. Nevertheless, I must admit that my discovery of Boulder City happened due to a difference of opinion.

In this way, I could go on about people I come across regularly who try to impress upon me their beliefs and strongly-worded opinions about things as varied as religion, godmen, politics, sports, cricket (especially cricket), movies, movie stars, and even girls without ever considering my opinions. They simply expect that I should agree to their views and be their follower the next time onwards. Needless to say, I find a lot of peace in avoiding such people the second time onwards. IMO, when you can't stand them, better avoid them. Truth be told, I have strong opinions myself, but at least I don't thrust them on others the way they do on me.

Well, whatever be the case, the point I want to make here is, even when one is passionate about what he/she thinks, they should not impose it on others, especially when they know for sure that the other person's opinions will differ from theirs. It only widens the rift. And causes people to drift apart. Opinions should be respected and if not likable be politely ignored. I have seen people with widely differing opinions come together and have a great time while keeping their opinions to themselves or not making too big a deal about their views. They do differ in opinion and not with each other. IMO, I think that it is good to keep it that way and just move on. Don't you agree?

Non-medicinal, Therapeutic Anti-depressant

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Wed, 14 Aug 2013 18:38:00 +0000

The rain steadily beating down for days with no sunshine in sight and a personal dilemma that is not going to get resolved any time soon have ensured that I smile less often these days. It is at times like these that I feel that I need a mild anti-depressant to uplift my sagging spirits. Though I am not the kind who'd be easily knocked down by small setbacks and roadblocks that I come across in my daily life, I must admit that sometimes, the sum of all these small setbacks and roadblocks can overwhelm me. And coupled with incessant rains and personal dilemmas, these dark forces take the shape of a dark mood angel that threatens to swallow me up at a slightest slip.

And at such times, to rescue myself from the clutches of the dark mood angel, I turn to my twenty-plus year old anti-depressant. This particular anti-depressant happens to be a book titled 'If Tomorrow Comes' by Sidney Sheldon that I got from a used bookstore several years ago. Fortunately, it has had no expiry date so far.

To the uninitiated, 'If Tomorrow Comes' by Sidney Sheldon is a pure out-and-out fiction and a total page-turner paperback. And I am not ashamed to say that to this day, it remains my most favorite(-st) and best(-est) anti-depressant despite having some seriously inspiring biographies and autobiographies on my bookshelf. Yea, and favorite(-st) book in my bookshelf too. I am not aware about what critics thought about it when the book was first published but when I first read it, I was blown away by the story-telling. Without giving too much away, when the story starts, we see that Tracy Whitney, the protagonist of the story, is staring into an extremely bad nowhere-to-go and black hole like situation. And as the plot unfolds, her fortunes change mainly due to her phenomenal ability to think on her feet and most importantly, her will to fight. Without fail, every time I pick up this book, a smile that slowly appears on my face (without my knowledge of course) remains plastered till I reach the last line on the last page. And continues to stay on till much later (again without my knowledge of course).

I am not sure why I got fascinated by this book the way I did but I guess for a tenth-grader who had just graduated from Hardy Boys, this book was a revelation. Since then, it has remained my de facto anti-depressant. So whenever I am in the dumps, or feel that I'm falling behind in the never-ending race, I dig out this dog-eared and yellow-paged book from the dark recesses of my bookshelf and immerse myself into it. By the time I'm finished with the adventures of Tracy, the dark mood angel is all but vanquished and like I mentioned earlier, I end up with a satisfied smile on my face. Most importantly, there's a nice feeling in my head. The world starts to look good again and I'm all set to go off on an adventure to seek my fortunes. It is surprising that even after several years and several books later, an 80's pageturner fiction can cheer me up thus after every read. But that's what this book is all about. To me. An anti-depressant plus something more. So, If tomorrow comes, I'm ready.

A Reader's Gift to VJ

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Fri, 07 Jun 2013 14:40:00 +0000

Someone was kind enough to send me a subtle hint
after going through my posts.

And here's some good news. With some bad news. Good news first. At least someone out there is reading my posts. And the bad news? Well, they sent me a subtle hint by gifting this book you see in the pic above. Yes, yes, I get the hint. I promise that I'll post my next article only after I read the book in its entirety. Not that you will see a major improvement though, but still worth a try. As they say, 'Watch this space!'

The Reluctant Workaholic

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Sun, 26 May 2013 05:17:00 +0000

Running around government offices, networking with people, traveling during midday hours in the month of May and trying to steal some me time for a few minutes every day. This, in short, has been my routine for the past 20 days. And the more I look back and recollect the things I was involved with, the more I am convinced that these past 20 days have been the busiest 20 days in a while. In the process, I could have inadvertently silenced many of my critics a.k.a. people who know me well enough. That's because people who know me well enough keep telling me that I'm not a guy who likes hard work and so hardly works. According to them, I'm the guy who likes to take it easy and delegates stuff to minions like that guy from the movie 'Despicable Me'. I politely beg to disagree. When push comes to a shove, I act. So if they had seen me running around the way I did these past few days, they'd be amazed beyond words. Truth be told, I was amazed beyond words myself.

To start with, my friends should have seen the persistence I showed at government offices. As a result of this persistence, I was able to get most of my work done at a breakneck pace of a tiny snail crossing a six-lane highway. That in itself would cause them to shake their heads in utter disbelief. Again, truth be told, I myself am in a state of utter disbelief about how I could request, push, coax, be rude enough and still manage to get a move on things and get the job done in days which otherwise would have taken a few weeks (or probably months) to even get initiated. Now I know what it means when they say, 'Truth, sometimes. is stranger than fiction.'

Speaking of which, getting things done in a government office also means working with people. Make that working with a lot of people. And the right people at that. My critics have also complained quite often that I am not a people person. Hah! The guy on facebook with a gazillion friends could not have held a candle to me. Internet social networking might be a skill, but trying to get things done on the same day using proper face-to-face networking at a government office? Now that is a black art. And I can safely say that I am now unofficially a sorcerer's apprentice in this black art. There is still some time before I can be promoted as a sorcerer though.

For all those people, who even after reading all this, still remain unconvinced about my work related skills, I just have one word. Or rather ten. The challenge of traveling by road in the month of May. May is a month of true Indian summer in a true Indian context. Temperatures can soar beyond 43 degrees Celsius (that's 109 in Fahrenheit scale). May is also a month of vacation for schools. Which means it is vacation time for people with children. Which essentially means vacation time for most of the families out there. Vacation time for families means vacation travel. Result: Overbooked trains, planes and buses. Which leaves one with only one form of land transport. One's personal vehicle. But driving a few hundreds of kilometers on a hot summer afternoon of May with the sun blazing down on you through the non-tinted windows is something not many people look forward to. Least of all, me. But then I did drive a few hundreds of kilometers on a hot summer afternoon of May with the sun blazing down upon me through the non-tinted windows. Non-stop. Twice. On two successive days. Not something I'd want to do everyday but immensely satisfying nevertheless. Especially when you know that your destination is coming closer by the minute and there is a nice authentic syrupy sugary liquid called chai awaiting you there like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Well, not to digress from the main topic, it was a journey not many people who know me would believe I'd take up. Ever. But I did.

Well, I did all that. And more. What can I say? Except that I can rise to the occasion. Rest of the time, I'm just another couch potato. Speaking of which, it does feel good to be back on that couch.

On second thoughts, it is better that I do not advertise such huge achievements. My critics would never believe me. And even if they did, they would expect me to do more of such stuff every day. I don't think I can handle such great expectations. So for now, for all that effort and man hours I put in for these not-so-insignificant chores, I will have to give myself a quiet pat on the back and silently congratulate myself for a job well done. And recline comfortably on my couch to watch TV. After all, the IPL 6 match fixing saga is turning out to be more exciting than the IPL 6 itself.

Don't Like the Weather? Give it a Couple of Minutes.

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 15:29:00 +0000

'Is it really as dark as they say it is out there without me?' So pondered the sun
peering through the dark rain clouds.

It is sometimes amazing to watch how quickly the Weather Gods can change their minds. One moment it was a warm, sunny, humid summer afternoon and the next it was a windy, overcast rainy monsoon-y evening. And throughout this magnificent transformation, it felt wonderful to watch the sun and the rain clouds fight for dominance over the skies. Thor must indeed have landed with his Mjǫlnir somewhere nearby.

Cleaning Skeletons In My Cupboard

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 09:17:00 +0000

In my opinion, of all the things we like to treasure and hide in our cupboards, the one thing or a bunch of things that would easily top the list would be skeletons. Figuratively, that is. And this despite the fact that we don't want them to be there in the first place. Such is the problem with these dark incidents of our past that lurk inside the dark recesses of a cupboard. You can't keep them, you can't throw them.

Needless to say, everyone of us has had several such really-really-want-to-but-cannot-forget experiences that we'd like to lock away in a cupboard, throw away the key and try to forget about them forever. Unfortunately, if our luck runs out and someone happens to find that key we thought we threw away long ago and figure out which cupboard that dreaded key unlocks, skeletons start to tumble out. By then, it is a bit too late for us to admit our guilt or acknowledge our embarrassment about our not-so-proud moments. And so we wallow in a sea of denial like that proverbial scared cat burying its head in the sand to escape danger.

I for one, also have quite a few such skeletons to hide in my own cupboard. And as I grow older, I'm realizing that the cupboard's getting smaller and the skeletons are beginning to show. So before they start tumbling out skull first, I've decided to do something about it. Of course, I can't start a straightforward spring cleaning process and throw them all out because that would mean owning up to a lot of bad and embarrassing things I have done in my life with vehement denials. I can only think of doing selective spring cleaning by denying stuff I can deny without getting into too much trouble. I will try to laugh off a few of them and try to forget. A few, I will try to forget with time. The rest, I will surely keep so that they act as constant reminders of the mistakes and blunders I have committed in my life. Such stark reminders will surely help deter me from repeating them again.

At the same time, I don't want to increase the size of the cupboard because space is indeed always a premium. Instead, from now on, if there seems to be a potential new entrant into the closet, I'll own up to it and forget about it. Because, its easier to forget when you do something good (like owning up) unlike when you do something bad (like hiding it) and get haunted by it for most (if not for the rest) of your life. But owning up is easier said than done. The pain of owning up is not small. I would have to first admit to myself that I was wrong and then confess to others. I would have to overcome the habit of searching for scapegoats in case something goes wrong because of me. But this is only one side of the story. A bigger contribution should come from others who are affected by my blunders. They would have to forgive me even if they cannot forget. Whilst it is in our nature to ask for forgiveness when we mess up, it is not easy for us to forgive someone else if they commit the very same mistakes. In my own case, I have had several instances where I was reluctant to forgive others for their goof ups whereas I was fortunate enough to be forgiven by big-hearted souls who didn't think for a second while doing so. But I'm learning. It takes quite a big heart to be forgiving. And as I am growing older, phrases such as 'go with the flow', 'enjoy the moment', 'travel with/without friends' are slowly but surely replacing words like 'responsibility', 'maturity', 'conservatism', 'aggression' and 'prudence' in the diary of my life. Perhaps, I will add 'forgive and forget' to the list of to-add phrases as well. And thus, I will be able to hopefully reduce the skeletons in others' and my cupboards as well. After all, it's not fun to know that some day they will tumble out to haunt me at the most inopportune time. With a vengeance.

Of Friends, Movie Genres, Popcorn and Soda

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 15:02:00 +0000

So I like a good movie. I like movies which make me wonder, frown, think, ponder and laugh. To cut the dramatics, I like mysteries, comedies, dramas and the usual good action flicks like the ones that come out from Hong Kong. What I am not is a fan of sci-fi (the only exception being the original Star Trek TV series). Sci-fi's kind of make the future look gloomy. Too gloomy for my taste. So far, I've not seen a good sci-fi movie that shows a happy future. And I hate zombie movies and vampire movies. Also add horror movies to the list. I get scared easily and I hate being scared easily. And of course the tragedies. I hate it when I end up crying in a hall full of people when I know that it is just a movie. So at the most, my movie taste is pedestrian and does not leave me with a long list of must watches.

So once my seasonal must-watch list is exhausted, I reluctantly agree when my friends ask me to join them if they are going to a movie. If it has a good story that is. And it is for this reason that my friends easily con me into watching movie from genres (that I otherwise would prefer to skip) with an offer I usually can't refuse. An offer of a free popcorn and soda. And so far it's been a mixed bag. While there were some movies which I absolutely liked, there were others which I simply detested. Popcorn and soda notwithstanding.

For instance, a couple of months back I was conned into watching 'Hobbit 3D'. Though fantasies, trilogies are again something I don't follow much, my friend, a follower of 'Lord of the Rings' or 'LOTR' as the Ringies (or is it Ringlets?) call it, kind of laid an elaborate trap for me and being the naive genius that I am, I simply walked into it. Grudgingly and wearing those silly red and blue glasses, I watched the Hobbit chronicling his journey. But all in all I was not disappointed. I liked the way the movie was presented. Though a bit too long for my taste, I still liked the way the journey evolved on screen. Especially the fight of the stone mountains. It was simply spectacular in 3-D. So all in all, I inwardly and outwardly I ended up thanking my friend for the invite.

'Oblivion' on the other hand was the complete opposite. Like 'Hobbit' I was pulled into this movie by my friend who had supposedly read good reviews about it. I for one read reviews after I watch a movie. As it turned out, 'Oblivion' was a case in point as to why I stay away from sci-fi. The movie was as dull and desolate as the landscape it was set in. By midway, I wasn't too sure as to what was happening or why exactly was I still sitting in the theater while the movie never bothered to end. Or take off. By the time it finally ended (or so I thought as people started to leave), I was convinced that 'Oblivion' was an apt title for the movie or very soon it would be consigned to one.

These are but two bitter-sweet experiences out of maybe a dozen or so times I've been out to movies with friends. So far the score's been even between the good and bad ones. But considering the movies that are coming out, I'm sure the scales will tip in favor of movies that deserve rotten tomatoes. So the next time, I get conned into watching a movie that does not belong to the genre I like, maybe I'll think a bit. For about two seconds, maybe. And then I will throw caution to the winds and go ahead anyways. After all, its not just the movie that matters. But also the popcorn munching and soda gulping that goes in parallel with the onscreen activity. Its one complete entertainment package. Till the popcorn and soda last, that is.

Sorry To Eavesdrop. Equally Sorry to Overhear.

noreply@blogger.com (VJ) — Mon, 25 Mar 2013 10:29:00 +0000

Once, while I was in Grad School, I was told in not so many nice words by my roommate that I shouldn't be eavesdropping on his calls or trying to second guess from whom he received mails based on the handwriting on the envelopes. The only problem was that when he talked even our neighboring grad mates and their neighbors on the other side knew with whom he was talking to. And the mails would come almost everyday cluttering up the mailbox.

So expecting me not to be curious about his business was out of question until and unless I was blind as a bat or deaf as a post. But an advice is an advice. And so I had to take it. From then on, whenever he asked me if he received any calls while he was away or if he had received any mails, I used to feign ignorance. To the extent that his friends began to complain that I never recognized their voices anymore and asked them their names every time despite them calling up at least half-a-dozen times everyday. Similarly, I stopped picking his mail from the mailbox. Not my bad. Definitely not my bad. Unfortunately this move of mine also frustrated my roommate to no end. But then it was no longer my business to take his calls or pick his mails. All things considered, it was a lesson learnt, for both of us.

Nevertheless, I do agree with him with regard to phone calls. Every phone call is personal, and the person talking should be given due privacy. Even if it is a telemarketing call. But when the person is making no attempt to keep the conversation discreet, then he or she should not expect others to ignore it altogether. So unintentional eavesdropping should not be considered as eavesdropping but as a conversation that is being shared with the people around or is meant to be overheard. I've overheard agitated conversations in hospitals which made me scream 'Too much information!' in silence, I've overheard conversations in railway stations that helped me figure out which train to catch, I've overheard conversations at malls that informed me which store was offering the best discount on what items, and I've overheard conversations in office corridors about how much bonus was to be expected this year. I've even overheard juicy conversations in meeting rooms while a very important meeting was going on. But I must mention here that all of these conversations happened to take place in my immediate proximity while I was cornered and without an escape plan. And thus, despite my best attempts, I get sucked into this vortex of overhearing things. But thanks to such incidents, I've learned to be more discreet with my own phone calls and if need be I ask the caller to call back later rather put the other people around me in a state of undisguised embarrassment.

For this, apart from thanking my experience, I should also thank my Grad School roomie for that piece of advice. Loud or not, frustrating or not, he was right.