Life - collectibles, recollections, deja vu and a lot more...

A dad is born... Again

2012-01-07T17:20:00.001+05:30

Life has come a full circle in a short span of 5 years (boy it does seem a long time) when I got married to Paddu, whom I came to knowing only after the marriage was fixed (typical Indian style) and we had no definitive detailed plans of the future. The first transformation in our lives was when I was reborn as a dad (please read the first "a dad is born") and four years later I am born again as a dad. I thought that things would be different this time now that I have experience. But always the Universe conspired against me to make me happy in its own way. The waiting filled the time for the last few days. In anticipation of our second child, I finally stopped procrastinating and bought a car without knowing how to drive it. so off to car driving school to fill that competency gap. Then in the last month of pregnancy, I drop Paddu, my best half and

Prataparudhra, the apple of my eye at her mother's home in Mumbai while I stayed put in Pune. Please trust me this was her decision. I did not decide that. I fought that decision of hers, but like always she could win me over with impeccable logic-tis warmer in Mumbai during the winter months. My son is excited that he would get a baby brother(Could not understand why not sister?). Maire my colleague and friend wagers that because of all my sins in this birth, I will be blessed with another boy who will also make me dance to his tunes. The good doctor advices Caesarian again. But this time we have the luxury of deciding dates and this was a bad luxury as it turned out since the universe again conspired to rip apart our perfect plan for a birth on a perfect date (by the alignment of stars and planets). The doctor could not fit on said date and gave us 7th Jan 2012 as an option. By this time I had enough of star, planetary alignment from every other quack-anstronomers and their dog that I said YES. 7th is good. So drive down to Mumbai on my classic 500. You can start sniggering. The ass has a car and he went by motorcycle. You see sniggering people, this was a reconnaissance trip to learn the route from my home to my in-laws' home and Mumbai being what it is, a mayhem of people, I ventured to go by bike. I get my Paddu admitted in hospital and Through the evening and into the night I kept reassuring my son that Mamma is alright, she will be coming home soon, you will be taking care of the new baby and all the bullshit. I guess he realized that too because he said, take me with you to the hospital and promptly went to sleep. Then dawn came rosy cheeked and awoke me. I get ready and go to the hospital and wait for the doc.

1. The anesthesiologist comes

2. The doctor comes.

3. my best half is rolled into the OT

4. The door is shut on my face. The good doctor refuses to let me stand

in the OT and after some time the pediatrician goes into the OT.

5. I grab 40 winks when I hear a new born baby's banshee scream

6. I run to the OT door waiting expectantly with my in-laws thinking the door would open now and I will get a bundle of joy in my hands.

7. Bloody universe still conspiring.

8. Not knowing what to do, I start to bang my head rhythmically on the door hoping then at least some on will take notice that people are awaiting, but none of this could melt their heart of stone.

9. All this time I could hear the baby screaming and screaming.

10. 50 Minutes later, the door opens and a nurse comes out to say - pay the anesthesiologist. I draw my last reserves of patience and ask in a rising crescendo how is the mother, how is the baby. Is it a boy or girl? Thank you very much.

11. The good anesthesiologist comes out and tells us- baby girl, mom and baby are fine. We have a princess. We have a princess. Prataparudhra would be disappointed, but he would come over it.

After the euphoria settled, I went in search of the nurse who was the target of my anger and apologized, the arrival of my princess will not be marred by anger and hard feelings. The pediatrician comes to us gives us the baby stats. I thank her profusely and look at her expectantly like a little boy standing in the line for candy. She sees me and tells me to go in and pick my princess. I did not need to be told again. I ran in and took the little bundle which packs a whopping amount of joy and she yawned, she yawned in my hands. That did it and the dam broke and I let the tears of joy flow. Flow I said, na they were running like the godavari and krishna rivers and would not stop.My in laws were now used to seeing me with my eyes running rivers. I put her gently on the bed and kept staring at her. She opened her eyes, saw me(:P saw me) and went back to sleep again. I crooned some thing to her, tucked her wrap around her as she slept

This is not exactly the best of a post rather it is just rambling running thoughts that are still running through my mind.
So what will we name her -
This time my paddu did not let me choose names from History, so I turned to faith and belief in the hindu pantheon of goddesses and came up with two names; one starting with K and the other with T. We ran into a disagreement with regards to the name and so we are doing a blind voting with the members of the family. Dear reader, I will come up with the name which won through the voting.

8Th jan 2012:
the voting results are out. "T" won hands down. The universe conspired against us to make us happy yet again. So what is the name we chos? This is my blog and I will script it out my way. I looked at history again to give me a name for my princess and a princess needs a queenly name, but paddu stumps me and says "why not a godly name" so I fall back on my second object of intense reading, Ancient Indian thought and philosophy. This sphere of reading took me not just through Indian philosophy, but also Tibetan and Mahayana philosophy. I felt that since my super god is Lord Rudhra after whom I named my Son, I will name my daughter after my super godess, the MOTHER. By this time I had read Aghora by Dr. Svaboda quite a few times and two names stuck out as a strong affliation to the great MOTHER- Kundalini and Tara. The voting decided Tara as the name. The goddess Chinna Mastha Smashana Tara is the great mother who directs the soul towards moksha or oneness with GOD. So my princess will henceforth be called Tara after the great MOTHER.

Cheers

Much ado about Coffee

2011-11-07T11:29:00.000+05:30

Yesterday's Sunday eye of the Indian Express carried an article about Tea where the author boasted that coffee is just to pass the time where as tea is a culture or something like that. My first reaction as a tam brahm (Tamil Brahmin) was indignation and then a ruthless articulation "what would a northerner know about Coffee". But then again I thought over my words and pitied me over my indignation. The author was right about how I make tea. Just pile on everything and bring to a boil, strain and pour out in cups. I thank you sir for helping me know my ignorance in making tea. But when coming to making coffee, that for me is religion. Lovingly wash the filter (not your electrical contraption), a simple stainless steel affair which resembles a mini grain silo. Heat the strainer gently to clear the holes, dole out coffee powder measured to the last grain and tamp it gently. pour boiling water into it and let it drain through the filter. That my dear friends is how my day starts. My God in his pooja room has to wait till I finish this ritual first (I found god even in coffee, so that he could not complain). The next step in making coffee is pouring milk and sugar. How much milk and how much sugar. well that depends on how much coffee you would want to drink My first tumpler of the day is 200ML (Yes I measured it). Pour a little decoction/dikashan) from the filter (it should be still warm), taste a little (should taste like dark choclate, not dairy maik). Pour milk and the liquid mixture should turn from sepia to a shade darker than beige. Add sugar (not to make it sticky sweet). The flavor of coffee is bitter-sweet not sweet-very sweet-sticky sweet. Then add a little more decoction to bring the color to a shade of brown which resembles dark and white chocolate mixed in equal ratio. Mind you please use fresh hot milk not reheated milk. The contraption in my office dispenses this need, the milk is just plain dispensed. Pour it out in a broad tumbler, pick up the newspaper and over to my study where I spend half hour with coffee and newspaper. I would have enjoyed a smoke along with that but wifey dear had ensured that I never smoked at home (thankful for that injunction) and I also quit smoking. The thing about the first tumbler of coffee for me is the cool air around me, the very bitter-less sweet taste of coffee takes me to the seventh heaven riding on the ninth cloud, breathing in the quintessence of coffee. During the time I spend with my morning coffee, I am left undisturbed my son and wife. After marriage my best half understood my love for coffee and undertook to make my morning coffee. She like the author in Sunday Eye was a tea aficionado and was not particularly interested in coffee.In the beginning I was ungratefully critical of the output, but she put in patient effort to make it right every day and every time. Looking back I regret all the criticism I heaped on her earlier efforts . She now makes excellent coffee which I cannot find fault with. I was gifted an electrical percolator for our wedding which I use for mixing with my favorite poison - dark rum. But my morning coffee will never be insulted by being made in this contraption. I have drunk coffee at establishments like cafe coffee day, Costa, Barista and such. They can brew different coffee from aroun the world but still they would be fish out of water if they attempt a tam brahm coffee. For me they cannot and will not be able to match the exacting standards of Saravana Bhavan in Chennai or the erstwhile Gayatri hotel (Sob sob sob) in Hyderabad or Bombay Anand Bhavan in Secunderabad when it comes to making a tam brahm coffee.

Recommendations

Movie with coffee: Jim jarmusch's coffee and cigarettes

Book with Coffee: R K Narayan's Dateless diary especially the section which covers black and white (humph!) coffee

Liquor with coffee: Dark Rum (Old monk and especially contessa)

Pondering with Coffee: Don't ponder. Enjoy the quintessences of coffee

Music with coffee: Vivaldi's Four seasons.

Best Company to spend coffee time: Who else but the person with whom you want to spend the rest of your life.

Coffee powder to water ration: 3 tbsps coffee tamped and pour 150-200 ml of boiling water in the filter. If the decoction has not strained in 15-20 minutes. you have tamped too hard. poke with a fork gently so as to not distrub the coffee and water standing in the filter.

NOTE: I am grateful to the Muslim saint bababuden ( I am not sure of the spelling, so please forgive my ignorance) for bringing coffee to India and my parents for starting me on coffee when I was quite young.

The day I almost met the Dalai Lama

2011-11-02T11:51:00.001+05:30

A couple of days back I was watching two day old episodes of the food series - Master Chef Australia when lo and behold, I get to see the Dalai Lama which made me nostalgic and reminiscence about the past.

Tis was 1997 and I was just out of college, job less, self-respect had reached the nadir, my worth in societal eyes was zero and I learnt from The Hindu that the Dalai Lama would be coming to Hyderabad for the installation of the massive Buddha statue.It later transpired that he did not consecrate the statue (that happened much later in this post). I read about the Dalai Lama a few day earlier in the Reader's Digest magazine and was much impressed by his fight against the Chinese. He is also one of the reasons why I have some respect for Nehru. When the Dalai Lama rode into India, Nehru gave him sanctuary much against the political wisdom of those times. Some say this act of Nehru ensured the Sino-India war actually took place. I have neither the information nor the bias to say anything about that war. Anyway back to the Dalai Lama. I wanted to see the Dalai Lama when he came to Hyderabad. Now to do that I needed some transport money and hence went to ask my amma and she ticked me off with a good word lashing. Any way, I managed to sneak out old newspapers, sold them for the fare and went to see the Dalai Lama. Murphy ensured that "everything goes wrong". I took the wrong bus, went to the wrong place and trudged 4 Kms to see the Dalai lama and by the time I reached the venue, the Dalai Lama had left. On the journey back home, disappointed and weary with thirst, I pondered on why I wanted to see him. What did I hope to achieve. I still am pondering. Fast forward to 2nd January 2006, the Dalai Lama was going to consecrate the Buddha statue. This time I was not in hell's hole. I was earning comfortably and was the master of my ship. I booked myself on a bus from Pune to Hyderabad on 30th December 2005, put an action plan to meet the seer and was quite happy with the thought that I was going to meet the Dalai Lama. On D-Day I left home early (my mom didn't bother asking where was I off to) so that I could grab a good place. Reaching the venue, I noticed it was filled with people, careful probing and questioning revealed that most of them were "babus" who were to ensure that protocol was not breached. Whose protocol I still am not sure. Anyway I sat myself down and waited, waited, waited and then I got a glimpse of the seer. I tried to nudge closer but the security personnel ensured that I did not breach protocol. I moved slightly away, managed to get closer to the cordon, close enough to touch him and waited with abated breath. Then I managed to go into a time warp and ponder "why am I doing this?". I finally got out of the warp with the realization that it was just a whim. By the time the warp closed, the Dalai Lama was on the boat going towards the statue.

Back to 2011 and Master chef Australia. The cooking was good, The seer did exactly as seers do-bless everyone and everything and I am still pondering why did I want to meet the Dalai Lama

Anthology of two wheels

2010-12-16T17:30:00.005+05:30

I belong to an age where possesing a cycle was a sign of prosperity. Back then to be called really rich - one had to posses a car; one of the two models, the aunty (Ambassador) or the kid (Premier padmini). Two wheelers were a rarity on the roads and then again most of them were either a 50cc affair or a bajaj scooter. Appa then bought a 50cc affair called the TVS50 XL model.

TVS is to South india what Bajaj was for the north of the Godavari river. Looking at the image today I wonder how the four of fit on to it and zoomed around. Time flowed and appa bought me a bicycle - not your fancy multi-geared multi colored contraption. A simple device which took me from point A to point B. Through junior college and sometime after I was pedalling away or sometimes to save energy held onto locking chains hanging from the rear of any truck or turn goofy and hold a friends hand who was riding pillion on a scooter. Race against smoke spewing buses (if you don't want the smoke in your face, you have to rush past)

Children today would look at this and exclaim - "But this has nothing in it to provide an experience". I dont want to sound a reverse snob, but in our times we defined experience by our effort and not dictated by a contraption. Hummpppphhhh!!!. Signs of modernity I suppose. The mills of the gods grind at a very slow pace and appa procured through Jugaad a Bajaj Scooter. Rahul Bajaj supposedly grinned at slow pace of production and arrogantly exclaimed that the people of India will wait for their scooter. I have been assured many times that this is an urban legend. You dear reader can decide what to believe. I care two toots my bike horn.

And dont even start asking about colors. Looked like Mr. Bajaj took his color lessons from Mr. Henry Ford. Back then nobody really cared about colors what with the dirty green buses operated by the state government or the black or white amby or padmini which an occasional imaginative and resourceful person would get them painted in garish colors. Mind you we were still a two wheeler income family. A car was still out of our measly range. (Dear reader, don't start and tell me that most families are still so. Stop grudging my hard work and efforts to get out of that range). But scooter compared better to a TVS 50 on the social scale. And a Bajaj chetak signalled that you have arrived. People would envy you as you zoomed;well actually trudged along the roads. Appa was never confident of driving fast and the roads ensured that you do not even think about speed. I coined my first gem at this time - the shortest distance between two pot holes is called a road. Around this time we did not even stop to think that there might be other two wheelers on the road, but mind you they were there. Not making a mark but still successfully transporting people - The Bajaj-M80 is the first zip drive(not your pants zip or storage devices) I can think of. Then there were others like Enfield Mofa (I bet dear reader you are trying to figure the wheels) Hero majestic, Kinetic Luna, Silver plus and a lot more.

A few images

Bajaj M80	Hero Majestic
Kinetic Luna
Enfield Mofa- Touted 90KMpL	Enfield Silver plus. A teenager's desire

As you see not much of a choice among bikes even in dreams. The mills of the gods kept turning and in one stroke I saw something which altered my choices and hence even dreams. - MOTORCYCLES - another few years from now we will stop seeing the likes of such. Rajdoot, mini rajdoot, Jawa, yezdi (names which make me drool in anticipation) Just riding pillion on one of these was a cathartic effect. We went to Chennai to my uncles place and I saw the real first love of my life - A jawa motorcycle - ooooooh! the chrome, the thump of its engine and everything enthralled me.

Its gear lever doubling up as the kick-start for the bike, the big mud-flaps et al made it an object of desire. My uncle took me on a ride on the bike and I was head over heels on the sounds she made. Rev high, go on a high gear and let go of the accelarator and the sound would be like buuuddd!!!zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!!Buhd and then again the same sequence till you hit the accelarator again.


The Rajdoot	The mini-rajdoot made popular by the movie - Bobby

Now these beauties on the road were there long before I was as tall as them and so driving one was out of question. I moved into my teens and there were a couple of more brands on the roads and suddenly the roads were teeming with two wheelers. The age of transport-migration had begun. Leading the brand pack were there - Yamaha RX100, TVS Suzuki and Hero Honda CD100. We had television at home by now and a color tv at that-the brand is long lost and was called Binatone. On this invention we would see different ads and we were moved by the jingles and automatically we would choose our bikes by their jingle. I chose Yamaha! Well they had a nice tune - Listen to the heart beat of the YAMAHA. She was a beauty.

Time passed. I went into serious studies, preparing and flunking examinations while my sister found a job and with her new found income she bought a beauty (well she was red in color). The TVS Champ. And as luck would have it, she quit her job soon after and went for further studies. I was still figuring out "what am I doing here in this world". And that champ became de-facto mine.

Within two months of this coming into my hands, I got the hooter removed and the read brake lethargic and many a pillion rider have lost their wits riding behind me as I zipped in and out of traffic. At this stage the mills of the gods seemingly stopped especially for our family as we plunged into a crisis. we sold our house and also the champ. For a few miserable years we pulled along and my means of transportation were relegated to the two beautiful legs god gave me and the dinosaurs which the state run transport gave us. Jostling and butting, getting on and of the bus while it was running, raising tempers all added to the misery. Then the gods had mercy on

us and we were spared further depredations (moralists stay of). my sister came back from her studies, took up a new job and bought yet another gem - the Kinetic K4. This remained loyal to me until a year ago when appa in my absence sold it of(Poor thing was rusting at home).

My sister's luck with regards to automobiles ran out and she got married leaving the poor thing (which by the way I called Basanti in honor of the character from Sholay) and orphan. For 5 long years she served me faithfully. Came out stronger after surgery(met with a couple of accidents due do other jealous stupid gits). I moved to Pune from Hyderabad and took up a job and I was thinking why not buy one of my dreams. During my indecisiveness during this period, I saw a couple of monster gems on the road. They came from the stable of Royal Enfield Motors. The Bullet series. (kisses flying all over). In addition to the bike, the other road users were careful around them. The respect factor is massive. I wanted one and after enquiries figured out that I was not yet ready. Colloquially speaking mere paas "chaddi nahi thi".

Ruefully I checked other options and found a bike more towards my liking and chaddi size. The Baja Pulsar DTSI. Now this mini-monster whom I christened Dhanno(make the link - Basanti-Dhanno) was my best bike till now.

By now I came to understand a little about bikes. All they ask for is a little care and they serve for ever or as long as you find a better love. 5 long years viru was with me and we faced weather and man together. Never once did Dhanno ever strand me (taang diya)

I got married, am raising a son and in the midst of this I fulfilled my dream of buying one of the emperor's version. The Royal Enfield Classic 500. A dream come true. I raised my chaddi high enough to accumulate the neccessary funds and procure my dream.

This is mine and I am saying it so. My son, Prataparudhra is now three years and he staked a claim the very next day I brought the emperor home.Why did he do so? well it was his birthday. Driving on the emperor is a veritable pleasure. The respect from the other road users is immense. Fewer honkings and no one trying to edge you off the road.

I can go on and on about the emperor whom I have named - Pinaka after the great bow of my god, the supergod Shiva. This might turn out to be the last two wheeler I ever buy. I am also running out of names for them.

The people@SAS R&D INDIA PVT LTD - secunda parte- DRINKING binges

2009-11-04T17:54:00.002+05:30

Where were we. Oh! yes staying drunk. Folks do you remember the binge we had at Partha's place before he was to join the Cary office??? Wasn't that a blast. God I miss those kinds of binges. Then the different bachelor's party starting with No Beginning, no end fella- Anantha's. We went with something else in mind and reached a place in Pune camp(don't know why it is named so. Pune has many quirky names). This place; the ambience was bad, the liquor was good and the prices sky high and since Anantha was footing the bill, why would we care. By the time we split for the night, we were drunk for good and there was no need for "one for the road". Boy those were the days. After that binge, the team broke apart and we moved to Sakar place. Now here is where I went on many binges starting with my bachelor's party. Boy that party was a blast where we only drank, shouted hoarse and thankfully did not break anything. Venue was Sigri and as usual we always leave late. Chirag ali come along a lot later. I still don't know if he was already drunk by the time he came or he was play-acting. Sample this... Chirag comes and asks the steward to turn on the lights and poor chap he does that but the light points away from us. Chirag immediately turns on him and asks him "Kya dikhara re". Light is taraf kar. Tu bhi piya hua hai kya?". Anyway John schemes with the others and presents me a gift. If you know John, you would know what was the gift he zeroed in on. On seeing the package I knew instantly what it was - yes, a pictographic Kamasutra edition. "Ass**** (&()&^%^*($#$&@". Mahesh and usman ali wouldn't drink as usual. John completes his two-pegs, Anup and me and Partha (after three he is at his hysterical best) go on and on and on, so much so I could not know if I was sitting on the table or the chair. The banter I don't remember much, but it revolved around and around only one topic - How did I meet my fiance, how did I woo her with a lot of details of minutae thrown in . The bhadakaus around me would not relent in their persisting with questioning me. I am sure even my wife did not ask me so much. Sample this
John: Why do you like her?
Me: Because she chose me.
Partha: Kya! sharm kar (followed by a hysterical laugh)
Chirag: Typical laughter mixed with "Ladki tu hai ki who". Tujhe pasand karna hai, usko nahin. Tu aur ek peg peele.
Mahesh: Twirling a straw in his mocktail (he has been licking the rim for an hour now)
Usman: Snapping photos from somewhere
John: Abhe saale, seeda seeda bol kyon pasand kiya. Aaltu phaltu jawab mat de(trying to imitate Sanjay Dutt in vastav)
Me: Nahin bolta ja (at my worst petulant imitation)
Everybody together: ye kya baat hai, Tu aisa bolega to bhi ham nahin chodenge, tujhe batana padega, Hum log kay idar hilane ke liye aay kya and then started all the drunk gaalis.
So I relented and told them a few incidents just to keep them happy. God I miss those days.
After that more binges followed, some at Khyber(speciality is you can drink as much as you want, but you will have no after effects. Saala chadta hi nahi), some at Kapila, chuck wagon (now closed) and lots of other places. The topics would range from cribbing about work-place, pulling legs; always Seetha would be the prime target for this. The drinking gang would roughly be the same. The rest were all visitors. Navin's Bachelor's party was a thing to remember - the bill shot through the roof and we had to chip in to alleviate the pain. Navin do you still carry your schooling certifcates in the car instead of the vehicle documents?? He he ehe ehe he eh ehe eh e

This picture is taken when we were drinking and shouting hoarse on the night when India one the first T20 cup - read more at T20 Champs

Wish there were more such pictures

KEEP DRINKING Fellas -

Dadhood and how- handling child's ill health

2009-10-01T13:43:00.000+05:30

I am going to start this post with a rant against GOD. Why did you create illness along with angels? Why for God's sake why? When my son becomes ill, I am not sure who is affected more; him or us, his parents. Why GOD why? Were it not suffice you that we appreciate the beauty of your creations as is? Why? why? why?

I am not sure if I am not able to handle my child's ill health or does his ill-health disable me. I become so disoriented and lost that nothing gets done by me and even if I try I make a mess. But I learnt something in this ordeal - "You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance and how much patience I can reap more". I proudly acknowledge that I have become more patient with him. When he was ill and blasted duty beckoned to me every morning, I was torn apart and wished I could be at both places at the same time. I am reminded of Golda meir - "At work, you think of the children you have left at home. At home, you think of the work you've left unfinished. Such a struggle is unleashed within yourself. Your heart is rent". A struggle which I much desire to leave, but alas cannot. During his ill-health days. Anxiety is your friend and does not leave your side-couple my anxiety with my wife's and I have many ill-friends at that moment. The day is spent with ministering medicines and watch him scowl first and then bawl with dislike due to the taste. Further anxiety since his appetite is ruined with the medicine intake and feeding him is a session in pain and sound. Pain because I have to force feed him, sound because he bawls with every mouthful. After a couple of bites he does not want more and spits out stuff pushed in. You collect that, keep it aside and try with another morsel. Keep repeating it till the discarded pile is big enough to frustrate you. Why God why? I keep looking forward to his being better again driving me mad with his cyclonic destruction of peace and order. Blessed indeed am I that when I reach home, Prataprudhra beams me a smile, reaches for me desiring me to pick him up and gives me his cheek to kiss.

Give a little to love a child, and you get a great deal back

Dadhood and how - Managing my son

2009-08-25T16:19:00.004+05:30

As a father I soon realized that taking care of my son is not so easy matter after all. Doing it helped me understand how Padma, my wife abstract it from me day in day out. My hats of to every mother out there who does the same and to every dad who manages to do it. My son is a cuddly tyke and cyclone mingled into one. A week ago my wife took to the sick bed and what with the swine flu scare in Pune and the rains playing havoc with my son. He took to common cold. The ten days she was recovering from illness I was pinned at home. No working from home either. It was taking care of wife and kid. Those ten days showed me what housekeeping is with a cyclone in your midst. I admit I failed miserably in the attempt. All ten days i was feeling something or the other beneath my feet - biscuits, water, dosa, bread, grains, vessels, toys, clothes and lot more knick knacks. Cleaning will ensure that you only get more. I thought selling cigarettes, bar tending was back breaking work but actually they are nothing compared to taking care of your son. Oof! my back still hurts with the cleaning, picking up things, stopping him from throwing things out of the balcony. A few days back he threw a new bottle of oil out and I could only helplessly watch it fall and break; thankfully not on anybody's head. I did not know his timetable and wifey dear was out of commission to help me out and so it was all trial and error. Early morning milk ,10 AM breakfast cereal or cerelac, 1 PM lunch (typical south Indian) 4 PM - fruit, 6 PM evening milk, 9:00 PM - dinner only chappati (unleavened bread) mind you and nothing else. 11 PM bed time milk. For all these things you have to sit with him. Especially feeding him solids - he will take a bite and start goofing about, try to catch him, he skips and gives you a sly smile. Get hold of him it is all shrill thunder tearing my ears asunder. At bath time, it is a pleasure to watch him play with water and a frustration to get him away from the secrets inside the commode. But all of these frustrations vanish when he sleeps in your arms and when there is a draught blowing in, he curls and snuggles in my arms, I can only let the dam break and tears fall on their own. Tears of happiness.
He is yet to start talking and my wife is worried that he might have a talking problem or a listening problem, but I know (and I also know that I can never convince my wife) that he is alright because he responds to me quite well. He throws liquid down, I ask him to mop it up and he goes to the laundry, gets the mop cloth and mops the floor (not properly though). Before marriage I thought I had a theory about bringing up our child, after marriage, I have a child and no theory at all. I realise that raising kids by theories and philosophies is a big mistake.
Once Padma complained that Arudhra ignores her and I remembered Ogden Nash's opinion "Children aren't happy with nothing to ignore, And that's what parents were created for" (Parents, 1933). When I dared mention it to her, all I got in return was being transparent to her for some time. In these ten days I was exasperated by him often but once I could take it no more and I gave him a rap on his bum with my palm. Boy did it hurt (me I mean to do it). The guilt haunts the living daylights out of me. Next time and everytime I am inclined to raise my hand again on him I will remember this quote "Never raise your hands to your kids. It will leave your groin unprotected". It pays for you to remember the same.

The people@SAS R&D INDIA PVT LTD - Part 1

2009-05-21T14:44:00.012+05:30

I wanted to write this as a single post decided not to. This is one long post, so you will get this in multiple parts.

Cut back to March 2005, Convocation day @ XLRI. That perhaps is the only occassion in my life till date that I was in full formal regalia.

Just before my convocation I had resigned from my job at CSEL after 5 years of association. Took a month break and went on a holiday. After the holiday joined SAS@Pune. Entry to SAS was facilitated by my brother in law. The first person I meet is Shilpa, our administrative front desk. From there to Priya and then the first friend there - John George, my manager to be. First time I saw him, the thought that ran through my mind was "wow!! He has a lot of face to wash". It is difficult to describe John in a sentence or with few words. Perhaps four years of association has rendered me speechless. He did nothing to put me at ease in a new place. Showed me my desk and left. Couple of hours later he comes to me and drops a plate of problems on my lap which he wanted solved yesterday. This was to be my fate - solve today's problems yesterday. I am still doing the same. This ability of his enabled me to become a quicker learner, shed my inhibition in approaching learned collegues with questions, code better and a lot lot more. Along the way I realized why I found John to be a good manager is because, he puts in an equal effort as me to learn and understand what solution I provide. Secondly the one factor why I would put John on higher rating than others is his mantra of - "Let your work advertise" along with facilitating the environment and resource needed to produce beautiful and excellent codes and solutions. Mind you, he just does not give you a mantra, but also enable you to achieve. Another facet is his drive to push yourself beyond "what you know" and get into the unknown and he breathes dwon your neck till you have completed what you have been tasked with. I can go on and on about my admiration for John and his style of management. I would call him the benevolent dictator. Riding along we see many people, some I admire and some are well strangers. From the initial team along with me only Mahesh is left. When I joined the team I was a prima donna and had all the snobbery, aloofness and tantrums of the worst of the kind. This team (in alphabetical order); Anantha, & Aniruddh (Both along with John had a lot of face to wash), Anup, Deepak (Chirag ali), Partha (Reminded me of my Stats professor, will talk about him later on) and Rasmita and Mahesh from Anna Land(as John puts it) put in every effort to change me.

I am not sure if it was a deliberate attempt nontheless I am glad they did. Within six months I was a different person- I now love being part of the chorus. Looking back I am a better person and better at battling technology due to my interactions with them. But I am jumping the gun here. Lets go chrono as long as I remembers the dates and times. Couple of days later I meet the guy who had a rapid fire technical interview with me. Prabodh Navare was my first taste of what life would be @ SAS. My interview was hilarious. I was called over to Pune for a HR round. I reach the office straight from the airport and it became a marathon 3 hour technical round . At the end of it I was both hungry and thirsty. (Guys provide some snack and water if you do this to someone else). Anyway moving ahead Prabodh was to be my mentor and guide of SAS technologies. Prabodh comes across as a different person to many people, but to me he would provide an answer and a lot of links to research further. I am honored to be esteemed so high by him. Lets ride along and meet others - Anup Desmukh. Anup is no longer with SAS but we shared a desk and some camaraderie since we were the only two Java programmers, he before me was all alone literally and that too all new and fresh maal out of college. Suddenly one fine day the product we were working on was scrapped and the team distributed. We were pulled in different directions and Mahesh, Rasmita, Partha, Anup and me were left holding "no baby". This period was my honeymoon at SAS all of 2 months and then John goes across two ponds, gets back 2 kinds of work - one immediate - "code to show us how good you are" and the second kind was the actual work to be done based on judging our competence by the powers to be by our 1st kind of work. In the mean time Dinesh Sonsale joins us. After a couple of weeks I christened him Osman Ali (Last Nizam of Hyd notorious for his respect for time) and a couple of months later we moved to SAKAR office. The current setup was not enough to hold all our joie de vivre. It was during the two years at SAKAR that I made a lot of new friends and a lort more acquaintances. Friends who were there since the time I joined SAS but took me an year to find. Friends, My Friends, my good friends (Think you can identify them) Motor Mouth, Motor mouth's office wife (its a he by the way)Kunju, Warm beer, John's-Phone-A-Friend, Oh! Baba (this is easy), Silky, Thalaivars 1,2,3, Correct focus, bong brothers, and of course the hotsy maam from Fab India was a good motivation to get away from work and boy was there competetion to get to the basement to catch a glimpse. It was while at SAKAR that I got to go for binges with others, started of with Uncle and Motor mouth asking me first and then the gang just grew - Babu Bhai, Thalaivar 2, Bottle ki dukan, Bhattu, Ak56 (he had left SAS by then) and boy the Rum never tasted so nice before. Heres to all those binges and drinks we shared fellas.

Should God ask me what I desire most, I will ask him, One drink with my friends and every drink after that too. Fellas you guys rock. Leave you guys with Khalil Gibran's immortal words, "When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight."
That which gives me sorrow is the separation from friends and the same thought gives me pleasure to be reminded of them and think about Those Times"

Stay Drunk Fellas

Dadhood and how - Part Tres: Happy birthday Prataparudhra

2008-12-15T11:02:00.011+05:30

Its 13th December. The day our son was born. An year flew past me in a flurry of watching our son growing. I bet every parent feels an over-whelming happiness which consumes everything else. Work pressure, traffic, discord; everything is transformed into happiness. I am reminded of a quote by Salinger J D which goes thus.

"I am a kind of paranoiac in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy"

Marcus Aurelius put it in a very simple line "Very little is needed to make a happy life."

That "little" is my son, my prince, my Prataparudhra.

One year passed and he transformed from a sleeping bundle of joy to a hyper energy propelled naughty, inquisitive, attention seeking, full of mirth reason for happiness. The image created for his birthday show all of these attributes. He drives his mother crazy with his zeal for exploring below the kitchen sink, the bathroom drains etc. Anytime one of us go out the front door, he is to be taken else we are driven insane by his high voltage, high decibel rebellion.

All our frustration, anger, irritation is lost in a jiffy when he beams his angelic smile. What more shall I tell you. He has a lot of toys but they are no good if they are not in his parent's hands. He wants only those things which we use - cups, glasses, spoons etc. He has discovered sound. Sound made by banging pots and pans. All day he goes bang, bang, ting, ting, trang bang......

In the risk of quoting Marco Polo again and again - "What more shall I tell ?" I risk re-writing Schiller's 'Ode to joy'

The cup of joy brimmeth,
But never spills,
As kith and kin share,
And are joyful for us.

Prataparudhra, the apple of my eye,
Watches with wary eyes,
All those who greet him,
And bless him.

Smiles at everyone
Who comes to see him
Wanting them to come again
And cuddle him

Rudhra
after whom you are named
keeps goddesses Strife and Fury
at bay

You are our happiness
which we share and spread
like the sun god spreads
warmth and light.

Dadhood and How Part Deux

2008-07-16T17:23:00.014+05:30

Part one of this series is at "Dadhood and How"

Suddenly yesterday I realised that my son is all of 7months now and has started his eighth month. Time has flown by I never noticed. Cuddling him every day I would feel the effect of happiness (sometimes preceded by despair) flowing through me. You might ask how despair? well some days he just goes yaan! yaan! yaan! for hours together and a few times into the night. What ever you do, there is no solace for him and he goes yaan! yaan! to yyyyaaaaaaaaaaannn! If this does not drive you to despair what will? And then you get a brain wave and you do something right and he just sleeps in your arm and you feel the happiness flowing through you. I sang to him a couple of times and he actually liked my voice. I crooned and he went to sleep in my arms. I was worried that if I laid him in the crib he would awaken I slept in the armchair with him in the crook of my arm. The emotions welled in me and I went to sleep with a happy mind. Waking up every joint creaked but the mind was fresh and the heart was well hearty!!!

To take him out for walks we bought a pram for him. And he just loves it. Only thing during his walks he stares at people who want to cuddle him during. He does not like it one bit if somebody pinches his cheeks and says "choo chweet". But bring him back from his walk and you see his happiness to remain in the pram

This is the exact stare that he has on his walks.
A few days now he is enjoying all the attention at his granny's place and I am left forlorn without him. (my wife teases me that I am more forlorn without him than her).

Does anyone out there know why my baby doesn't like clothes??? Beats me. I tried to clothe him and with the amount of writhing he does we can churn butter out of milk. But anyways the ordeal starts with putting on his nappy/diaper. He would stay on his back and so I hold him with my left hand and diaper him up with my right. That is right all ye women out there, I have actually mastered one handed diarpering a baby. But he likes it not one bit. After the diaper, the shorts/trousers/pants are a cake walk. Then starts the real trouble his shirt/vest.

I nimbly put in one of his hands into the shirt.
Then for the next one. He holds it ramrod stiff in the air.
So I remove the first hand and put it in the second one (the one that is stiff).
He knows me by now and the first hand goes stiff. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
So start from beginning again.
But now I am crooning to him.
So in goes the first one
He is very happy listening to me that he forgets to stiffen his other hand.
Before he realises it, the other hand is in and the shirt is buttoned up.
Then he knows that he is all clothed up.
Resigns to the fact and he is all y gumdrops.

Somedays he just exasperates his mother so much that she decides it is a crime for me to be so happy all alone and she plunks him on my hands. Even if I am sleeping. This has happened a few times enough to make me an expert with him playing in my hands and me sleeping soundly. (Tongue out to all those EXPERT mothers).

He likes me talking to him in adult language (not baby talk) see his expressions
What do I talk to him about. I ask him how he has troubled his mom during the day. Did he do this? Did he do that? I tell him about my day. During this time you should see the expression on my wife's face. She has stopped asking me "how was your day" after getting repeatedly grunts and hrrmphs, huh! huh! and many such primitive expressions from me.

I actually well up with pride when my wife says "Sometimes you are a better parent than me". "SOMETIMES" I ask. EVERYTIME I assert. Her answer to this is an irritating TONGUE OUT.

Oh! I almost forgot to mention, he loves water.
You can watch the slide show here.

Indian History - Woe betide those who write the text books

2008-04-21T15:13:00.032+05:30

I was forwarded a link about the great Mahadji Scindia (Shinde). It berides the talk of heroic English army which was routed by a horde of native barbarians led by Mahadji Scindia. you can read the full text here. I came to know the existence of Mahadji Scindia a few years ago courtesy Sanjay Khan's "The Great Maratha". Till that time I knew not that the third battle of Panipat was fought by the Marathas against Ahmed Shah Abdali (Durrani). Till my 10th standard I did not know much about the Marathas except for Shivaji and his unnatural and unwanted (sic) hatred for Aurangzeb. After 10th Indian history became that - history till again when I appeared for the UPSC. That is when I became a full fan of history. I would devour every known material and post reading conclude ruefully - Indians to be born and those already existing will die knowing not what legacy they hold. The only legacy we seem to have is the sacrifice of the freedom fighters (that only a few well named ones). I doubt anybody north of Tamil Nadu (and may be even within) have heard of VOC (V O Chidambaram) or the Kakatiyas/Satavahana of Andhra desa or Andhra Kesari Tanguturi Prakasam Panthulu, Alluri Sitaram Raju and many more such unsung heroes. Government after government does not even recollect them but also panders to the neo-historians and ensures that the true heroes are never recollected.

When I came to Pune and with Gods good graces took up accommodation near a temple. The temple is called Shinde Chatri. When I went there knowing not what or whose temple it was; I was pleasantly surprised. I had with me my young nephew who went gaga seeing the pictures. We spent 2 hours there re-living the third battle of Panipat and the battle of Wadgaon. Google maps link to Shinde Chatri, Pune

After reading the current post, I believe that like all those nations who have lost their connection to the past, we will be coming to a face when India will have to resurrect in all glory. What the honchos who decide and write Indian history forget is that they will be gone in oblivion, but the truth stick like the monitor lizard or Goh.

Woe betide those who want the great people of this once-upon-a-time great nation to be ashamed of the centuries of British rule and also those who look at the British rule as nostalgic.

Some images

V O Chidambaram Pillai

Andhra Kesari Tanguturi Prakasam Panthulu

Alluri Sitaramaraju (Could not locate a bigger picture of him)

Links to the Kakatiyas
kakatiya_dynasty
On Wikipedia

I am so much enamoured by the Kakatiyas that I named my son after one of their greatest kings - Prataparudhra

Links to the Satavahana
http://www.salivahana.com/The%20Satavahana%20Rule.html

More Indian Dynasties (Does not include the Nehru Clan - You have enough sycophants for them)
http://www.gloriousindia.com/history/

Dadhood and how

2008-04-07T17:07:00.029+05:30

You read the precursor Post "A Dad is born"

My Cutie pie, my Rudhravatar, My Prataparudhra. Thats my son sleeping contended and happy. Seeing him sleep gives me a lot of pleasure and happiness. What more can a man ask when his child smiles and bids adieu every morning and welcomes you back with a smile after a hard day's toil. I did not believe my sis when she used to say "All frustrations are washed away by the divine smile of your child". Now I understand what she meant. If any day Rudhra my son does not smile and bid me adieu, I feel down in the dumps. I was hoping that we would have our child atleast 2 years after our marriage, but God and nature decided otherwise. Please!!! I am not complaining. Its just a fact.
He pouts, he cries, he bawls, he scratches and he has a mighty kick. At least one every day when I lift him up to burp him. Of late his cries have turned a notch higher in the pitch. they come out as a shriek. And the fact that he mouths a lot of shrieks before going to sleep is making it difficult to ascertain if he is crying or communicating (Is there a difference). My wife is very good at understanding what each kind of shriek means and what does it communicate. I am learning. for example

1. Hand in mouth and creating sounds - Nothing much but just pacifying himself. Check if he has colic. If no then relax. My granny says he is communicating with the gods.
2. Turn around on his belly and try lift his head and shriek. This depends on when he had his last feeding. If he had a belly full and does this then it is a sign of happiness and contentment. Otherwise it means, stop fooling around and give me some food and put me to sleep. Any delay in this process means - high pitched angry shrieks and scratches and kicks. I learnt it the hard way.
3. near tears crying - usually means very hungry. Mujhe Khana Do. You can see him bawling.

For more videos visit Them here. When he cries I cry because I cannot bear to see him cry. The other day my wife had a tough time consoling me. We went to the good doc for his vaccination and When the doc used the injection syringe a high pitched cry emanated from him and I could not stand it. This was the first time I had seen it live. A few minutes later he stopped crying, but I would not. I held him close and would not give him to my wife to console. All through the journey back I could not stop the tears from flowing.

Watching him play is another joy. he keeps flexing his arms and legs and then slowly goes to sleep. Oh! what joy in watching little things.

He bawls, He cries,
He kicks and scratches
But I won't complain since
he is my bundle of joy.

Made in the Image of God
To rule over our lives
And makes changes galore
to our life style
But I won't complain since
he is my bundle of joy.

A prince among people
A king who lords over others
The slightest wish needs to be fulfilled
But I won't complain since
he is my bundle of joy.

Night or day is the same for him
Tis matter not if it is different for us
All that matters is my Prince, my king.
My PRATAPARUDHRA, the lord of valour.

There are times when exhilaration strikes you. One such time was when Rudhra turned over when I was watching and I could capture that. Enjoy the videos below.

Start the operation

Finished Turning

And the glee after that.

What more Can one ask for? Watching your child grow I suppose is one of the greatest happiness ever .

Travails of a S/w programming position Interviewer

2008-01-16T17:13:00.041+05:30

I was reading a back dated copy of the Indian Express. There was a quote from the Nasscom chair: Mr Karnik saying that the rate at which the IT sector is growing is a cause of concern since the needed skilled people are in short supply. This was corroborated by a report in the TOI (A paper I still detest, but dare say makes a good packaging material) which talks about the rising cost of IT-labor force in India. But the grade of interviews I take makes me think - either I am a gargoyle or the people sent to me to be interviewed just do not have IT. I seem to have set a record of sorts at the place I work - 4 selections from over 200 interviews and I am glad to say barring one the rest are with us still.This puts a lot of strain on the HR team managing the recruitment process. Time and again I bowed to the temptation of reducing the level of questions I usually posed the candidates and (sigh!!!) all the time I was disappointed. To top it all I get a feedback that the questions I ask are very difficult. That decided my dilemma. I took a sabbatical from interviews for about 3 months. And was I glad that I stood vindicated when I started taking interviews again or was I sorry that the story is still the same. All interviews were bland and we are still looking for our candidates.

That being given, I did a unscientific random sampling from the resumes that reached my desk and here are the findings. Mind you they are rather discriminatory, biased and not very flattering. Biased because I am one of those at the receiving end of interviewers who did no believe that a person with a non-tech academic qualification can be a good programmer.

Have Fancy designations : 80%
From Known IT Corporations : 90%
Have Completed some certification or the other : 70%
People claiming more than 5 years of experience in programming : 70%
People claiming an Engineering degree from BIG ENGG Colleges: 40%

Given that above demographics, the findings are

Know the Work/Deliverables in code : <>
Know even the basics of programming : < 1%

Number of people selected from the 1% -Just 1

A glance would hurl these details outside the window. These are not stupid people. They find me a gargoyle because what I ask them they have not even heard of. The range of candidates I have interviewed span from
Mute Lamb to "I am doing a favour to you by getting you to interview me". In India the number of years of experience count more than what you have actually done and learnt during those years. So a person with more than 7years of experience carries an attitude of "Don't touch me. I am a senior".

Then you have the next category: I will not work in these technologies. I have one advice for them. Don't call yourself a programmer. Lets face it, call yourself a s/w specialist or s/w engineer with a senior, junior, chief, principal tag attached, but you are first and foremost a programmer. I have interviews candidates calling themselves, team leads, module leads, PL, TL, PM and more, but none of them were a programmer not even remotely.

The category that makes me angry the most is the "Rote". How can anyone with say 90% and above score in a Sun certfication be so withdrawn from technology. Asking them about the understanding of a question (which was asked in the certification) is like showing Kryptonite to super-man. What these people have done is read up whole question banks and transferred the answers to memory using magnificent technique called "ROTE". Realise one thing - A certification might pull your resume higher in the stack, but it aint guaranteeing a job.

People with lot of experience or "BIG" quallifications tend to make up for their lack of programming and technology skills with "Attitude of the wrong type"

What you have is a classic "All steersman and 1 rower" situation. Why don't people realise that so many managers are not needed and if they are needed then that job is not worth doing. Vice president Grass cutting does not make the job very rosy it still remains dead brown and alive green. I recollect that during college days when pursuing a PG Diploma in MIS (which I did not complete by way for reasons similar to my diatribe) technical growth of a programmer was illustrated as follows

Trainee Programmer--> Associate S/w Engineer-->S/w Eng--> TL-->PL-->PM and so on. According to this continuum a person stops being a programmer after 2 years of working in an IT company in India. And that is a fact.

Sample these answers to the questions "You are in a good position. Why are you looking for a change?"

less than 35% of respondents have said "I want to get back to technology"

Technology graduates don't work in technology, they work with technology.

God help all those MCA, IITians, Msc Comp science and all those with a Non-IT academic qualification, you have only "your" help. Nobody else will help you.

A Dad is born

2007-12-16T14:16:00.000+05:30

Note: This post is moderated by my wife.

Days of waiting are finally over. We have been promoted to be parents.

Prelude: In April 2007 we had been married since 6 months and we were going for our much needed holiday at the end of May and my wife springs a surprise on me "We are not going. Cancel our tickets". I am surprised since I am the one always asking to cancel plans. And she gives it to me on a platter - "we are going to be parents". Wow thats a cracker of a surprise. I felt as if I had a few tots of Rum and I am on a high. That euphoria lasted a few months and the period of anticipation/expectation had started.

Nov 27 2007: Start date for us to be ready says the good doctor. So everyday visit to the doc or was it alternate days. Forgive me since I am still euphoric. Days pass and we cross December 11th still no baby. I am mighty worried for my wife and the child. The doctor is hapless "mother is not yet ready, but the baby is ready to come into this world. We will wait". Now what is that supposed to mean. I ask that to the good doctor and he gives me a few doctory jargons. Note them down, google them, ask my doctor friends and then try to get the meaning that the doctor wanted to convey. But trust me that did not alleviate my tension. On the contrary, the tension became all the more palpable. And then yet another doctor visit, a stress test and the baby decided he/she has had enough of dark places. The good Dottore advises "Caesarian" and now I am in my elements, I decide in 5 minutes and say, if you are ready to operate now, I am ok with it. No muhurat (Good time) for me, my wife and baby are more important. In goes the mom. argue with the good doc and said I want to be with my wife. Relenting to my stubbornness he lets me stand behind a curtain behind my wife. He warns me that it is not a pretty site. Like I care.

15 minutes pass by and no news yet. And suddenly bawls my kid, I yet don't know if its a boy or a girl. Hmmmmmp like I care. My first instinct, check wife, check kid and then sit down and cry, yes cry. Tears of Joy came running down.

I have just shown my wife this post and she sends me flying kisses.

By the way what is this post about?
Reams and reams have been written about how women change to mothers, the feelings that change run through them. I am going to write about what runs through me now at this moment sitting watch over our prince.
I am over-whelmed just sitting and watching him get comfy and sleep, sleep and sleep.

Now I know how it should feel like a dad. In days of yore (i.e. when we were born); in India, more often than not, the dads would not be there to see our birth. But I am glad that I decided to chuck that custom/tradition/practice or whatever else you call it. But I have a mighty problem on hand. My wifey can go on and on and describe how she feels about been a mom (But in actuality saying nothing), but I cannot even do that. But still I will try to express in words what emotions ran through me.
Moment 1: Baby is born - Concern for wife and baby and how are they doing. I know Baby is fine because he is bawling
Moment 2: Allowed to meet my wife - Contentment and a deep sigh of relief. Poor thing she has been through a lot of turmoil in her mind when the doc says she is not ready.
Moment 3: See my son - I see him and call him Rajakumara (Sanskrit for Prince and the moniker stuck). We are yet to name him. Rajakumara is just the first word that came to me when I saw him first.
Moment 4: I envelope my son in my hands. - My kid wraps my shirt lapels in his baby finger and opens his eyes at me. The flood gates open & tears of joy come running

These are the four discrete moments that I could recollect.

What are we calling him? What name do we give him?
There is a quaint tradition of ours which allows us to give three names to the baby, two are soon forgotten. I cannot say why the three, but it makes sense, One name by the parents, one by the paternal grand-parents and one by the maternal grand parents. And the name given by the parents is the one used always. So what is the name? Patience dear reader, this is my blog. So we had to decide on two names. Why two? We did not know the gender of the baby. They would not tell us and I did not want to know. So one name if the baby were to be a girl and the other if he were to be a boy. The name with which my rajakumara, my prince will henceforth be called is PratapaRudhra. Pratap means valour and Rudhra is the super God. (Wait for a theological post on what this super-God business is). So PratapaRudhra means the over-lord of valour. A prince should have a name fit for a King!!!

Where did I pick this name from?
Where else but from my hobby - Indian History. PratapRudhra was a mid-dynasty king of the Kakatiyas in South India.

Here are a few Links for those interested in history
http://prabhu.50g.com/southind/kakatiya/south_kakatiya.html
http://www.cambridge.org/catalogue/catalogue.asp?isbn=9780521254847
http://www.hinduonnet.com/thehindu/br/2003/03/04/stories/2003030400100300.htm

How do I pronounce the name?
Pr-a-ta-pa-Ru-dh-ra

Pr as in 'Price'
a as in 'a-round'
ta as in 'tar'
pa as in 'europa'
Ru as in 'Rumour'
dh as in "Dharma'
ra as in "era"

Now say it all once, Easy isn't it. :)

Ciao.

India Are the World 20-20 Champs

2007-09-26T18:15:00.000+05:30

For this post I am going to user Browning's poem Incident of the French Camp. I am using the style and a few words to tell us what goes on in our mind.

You know, we Indians stormed the Wanderers stadium (South Africa),
A 1000 miles away, In a desi (Indian) -bar, we (my friends at office and me),
stood, danced, drank shouted hoarse on our storming day (the finals),
With attitudes out-thrust, you fancy how,
Glass of Rum/Beer in hand, Mind running perms and combs,
As if willing our team to fight, fight to win, not to fall,
Oppressive with the cloud of defeat.

Just as perhaps we mused,
"Our glory that soar, to earth may fall,
Let once M S Dhoni, our captain, guardian of our honor
waver a yonder cricket pitch,
"-- Out 'twixt the "sixes" barrage there flew A rider,
bound on bound, Full galloping; nor bridle drew,
Until he reached the bowling wicket.

Then off there flung in business-like attitude (take the last wicket)
and bowled a neat ball,
after judging the batsman's intention,
you could hardly suspect him to take the wicket,
(So tight, lips compressed,
eye-brows clouded with sweat),
you looked twice ere, you see our own Conan,
Place the then high-flying, but now falling ball
into the hands of the fickle Goddess Victory.

"Well", cried the team "India i.e. Bharat", by God's grace
"we got you the World cup"
We are in the ground, where to our hearts' desire
Perched our Flag; Tiranga by name,
For all world to see.

Our eyes flashed, our Glory; like fire soars high,
The euphoria lasts for some time to come,
Presently senses reined in
unbridled pleasure and joy,
we raise a toast to our,
Boys in Blue,
who are now the men; nay the team in BLUE.

***

What more shall I tell you! a migraine was spoiling to mess up my plans for the night. But I will not be denied the Glory. I leave early, grab a nap. but get up late and reach the rendezvous - Kapila restaurant where Vikas, babu Bhaiyya, manu, Silky bhai, seetha, srini and uncle were already present. I miss the Indian innings, but watched it three times the next day. Oh! by the way, I am not the usual cricket fan. Lost all interest in cricket in my "those" days. But this team grabbed my fancy with their "Play-To-Win" attitude. As I take the seat, Pakistan lose their first wicket. Wow! thought I, can there be a grander entry. Pardon the images. (A little extra rum can do that to you.)
The bar all smoke-filled, they had provided a big-screen for our viewing pleasure. The place soon turned into a shouting match. Shouting what you dare ask??? just about anything. Sample these
"Bhhaaaaaaaaajjjjjjjiiii Wiiiiiiiickkkkket"

"Jeetega bhai Jeetga" asks one
India Jeetega reply the rest in chorus.

"bolo Bharat mata ki Jai" say one
Jjjjjjjjjjjai shouts the crowd.

But the one that rang true every time was

"ganapati bappa" - "Morya" - hail the elephant trunk.

What else did we do. well we were competing with everyone else in the out-shouting match that was going on. In this picture we were sitting silent (only those very very few times). a few drinks were already imbibed. Don't ask how many. I cannot remember. Then the lull set in. Wickets were not coming in for sometime. we are feeling despondent and unfairly criticizing our players, Conan the most. you can see srini wipe the perspiration from his balding head (Sorry for this Dora. But I had to. Your pose is too whatever..) Silky lights up yet again and babu bhaiiya uses the opportunity to asks for more bottles. Of what!!! if you don;t know, then you needn't know.
Manu needs some help by now. His voice has become hoarse and seetha is in his calculations (Sorry again) and explaining them to a fuddled-brain Manu. Where am I, taking the snap. Hands are bit shaky now what with all the jumping, dancing and shouting match we were indulging and of course because of good "spirits". Then a line of Pakistani keeping falling and each time babu Bhaiiya asks "Misbah?". No we say. "G****" abhi nahi gaya! Arre G**** usko out karo. and we are off to another shouting spree.

And then another wicket, but still no Misbah!!!!! "G**&$#^" goes babu bhaiyya again. Srini tells of my avocation to "India lifts the cup" with a lift of my own glass of good rum. This picture is the moment when India needed 1 wicket to win and Pakistan were needing a lot. Yours truly predicted that the wicket would fall and the picture is snapped. Then Bhajji goes on a generous spree of offering runs. 3 sixes in his penultimate over and Pakistan looked as if to give us an acidic stomach rum et al. Last over Joginder Sharma, India's dark horse who was running a bad luck streak on his back

bowls India to victory. The euphoria is yet to drain. The credit for predicting the victory wicket goes to Babu Bhaiyya, He stands up, picks up his glass, takes a swig and predicts, ab yeh B***C*** out hoga and we all jump up in joy and ecstasy. First I did not realise that we won. I only thought Misbah is out and now we will win. But we have won. That called for an extra round of drinks (Number count lost). We went on and on chanting "Dhoni" "Dhoni" "Dhoni" "Dhoni" "Dhoni" "Dhoni" "Dhoni" "Dhoni". And the whole restaurant took our chant. The victory lap by the team is one which we will cherish for a very long time to come.

The euphoria last for the night and the rest of the day. I watch the highlights thrice and still it is not enough. The hangover stays till the next day. The office chat still revolves around our victory.

This was last snap we took. The effect could be due to the Rum or the win.

A Fiasco called the MA Team River-Rafting program

2007-09-14T17:02:00.000+05:30

Well, well, John proposed and we accepted, but God disposed our plans peremptorily.
Date of trip: 8th Sept 2007
Place Kolad Village, Kundalika River
Offer: River Rafting, kayaking, Rappelling, and many more mountain water sports
Opted for : River rafting
Result: no River rafting
People: Employees of SAS - John, Deepak & Deepak, Navin & his BIL to be and of course yours truly.

Whats the story!
As Marco Polo would say, "What more can I tell you??"

The day started with The pick-up service coming up to my place (John and me are neighbors) and John comes 15 mins late.

Off we go to Navin's place to pick up his pair and the day starts on an Ominous note:Cannot reach him on phone. So cannot tell him we are on our way. Reach his place and wake him up. (Khadoos!!! He should have been awake and ready) the time 7:25 AM By the time we leave the place we, it is almost 7:45 AM and on the way, we stop for fuel and we notice we were driving with a flat tyre. What more can I tell you? A cigarette stop was in the offing. We lookup towards heaven and ask father above, "Is that all you got, bring them on?" and this was the beginning of the end of all our rafting - plans. We are behind schedule and finally near the edge of Pune we all are assembled in a rickety Jeep which had many undesirable features -

Auto-Honking (Every time we hit a ditch, it honks baaaank baaaanak)
Low-battery (Push start the goddamned vehicle)
Auto-radio on off (Same story, hit a ditch and it starts blaring, cannot stop it)
And a Homilies Non-comprehende of a driver we hired - he was all the time thinking we are on our way to boozeland - GOA

What more shall I tell you?

The drive was very scenic. You cannot complain of everything though and up whipped by camera-phone and shot this very nice picture. The moment I click, the jeep enters another hole in the road and you can see the effect.
The edge of the window peeps into the shot. But still it came out good. You can see more pictures in picasa.

Well we move on towards our destination and we see a host of cloud kissed mountains. At one point we had to stop to see the scenary, a cloud moving down a valley. We stopped here to have some breakfast and we lingered for sometime as the view was breath taking. City dwellers do miss out on the beauty of nature.
after breakfast we start again towards our goal. Along the way we the river meandering alongside our road and we had to stop yet again. This was something we will be missing for a long time to come. For posterity sake I needed some pictures. Forced the driver to stop (BY now he was confused and in a hurry to reach the end). The river is part of the TATA group's hydel project owning. Took some pictures with my phone from the moving cab before I decided enough, I need to get down. The pictures can be viewed here - picasa. by now everyone was in a trance - the effect of nature at it's virgin best.
got down and started clicking photos and here we found we have more to face. John's cam wouldn't work, Batter down a la' jeep.

And here i decided we need more pictures and we took our first people picture at this point with the river in the back drop.

We moved on and reach the destination just before lunch time. Our guide leaves us to inquire about our rafting program and we settle down for some chow. Post lunch we move and we acquire another Flat tyre. The jinx is still there. we top up the tyre with lots of air as the guide tells us we need to go only a short distance. We reach the starting point on a FLAT TYRE. and learn that the water levels are low and we need to go a bit up hill to enjoy the rafting. Yes the JINX is still with us. So we shift to another rickety JEEP and go uphill and enjoy the vision of a DRY RIVER BED. The jokes were on us now. Our driver, nice chap sounding incredulous asks us, You came all the way 100 KM (About 150 miles) to watch some mountains, trees and have lunch? Snigger!!!!

So we settle down for something second best - a dip inside a water fall. The road was littered with a host of waterfalls and we pick one which we liked

We pull up on the side and settle down in the water. Getting in was tricky, velvety smooth rocks did the trick on us, So gingerly we go in and then nobody wants to come out.

What did we do?,
Nothing just sit there. And I quote Anon
Doing nothing, but sitting and enjoying the bounty of nature's beauty is I suppose the best thing in the world

Spent a few hours under another fall before starting for home and I did not want to lose this so from the back of the moving jeep I clicked a few more. We saw two Rainbows parallel to each other and I wishfully thought, when can I go back to the stay in the lap of mother-nature?? Sniff!! Sniff!! Note: You will have to peer to see the second rainbow. It is faint.

Don't show your riches says PM Manmohan Singh; Crap says I

2007-06-01T12:34:00.000+05:30

World over, since time immemorial, people have been striving to get a better life than they have currently. When they get more disposable money to spend, they would want to spend. In the Indian context, marriage institution is a blatant example of better prospects - a rickshaw puller wants to marry his daughter off to at aleast a Taxi - driver and from this derives the rest of the society's intent too. Every parent would like to see their children earn better than their peers, have a better (read bigger) standing in society, to wed in more influential families etc. On the other side of the spectrum, we have people who don't want that or are not allowed to want that - people who survive day by day on the welfare doled out by the government and the nasty tribe - politicians. Where does the government get money for welfare - we the tax payers give that money. What is more troubling is the ingratitude of the government towards the tax payer- asking us to have some restrain since the government is inapt to raise the so-called-weaker sections' standing in society. We must have a rebate for the taxes we pay since we see all the money either eaten off or paid into welfare (read doling out) only. We are paying taxes for charity work. The UPA govt. brings out a report card, prepared by them and invariably they talk about only what they did, but no mention about what they did not - for example - inflation control, mis-handling of power crisis, mis-handling of home affairs. I am not talking about bomb blasts if you may. What I am talking about is the after effect of the blast - Compensation for the victims or their next of Kin. Compensation is not bad. what is bad is the way it is portrayed and implemented. I would want compensation in the form of earning my lively hood and keeping my self-respect. Not just some Cash which runs out quite quickly and then you are reduced to begging on the streets. The respected finance minister talks about un-marked money among people who do respectful Jobs. What about the begging-economy.

Another galling fact is the leaders-of-minorities : In Hyderabad we have the Salar - Salauddin and his Son Asaddudin Owaisi who run Schools, colleges etc. The fee there is so exhorbitant that I fail to understand why do they need additional funding under the minority institutions tag. Why are they unable to raise their "so called minority" brethren to a better social standing, simple because my dear in India like everything else Education is a business and not charity which I fully support.

Then we have our Honourable HRD minister who is bothered only about Quotas in institutions. But his ministry does nothing about basic education in non-urban areas, backward areas etc. Many of the institutions that have been targeted by our Minister (Sniff) are the ones who actually do some thing for these areas. If you need proof check out IIM Kozhikode. Student and faculty indulge in bringing students to a level where they can compete with peers in the IIM.

Then we have Honourable minister for AIIMS Anbumani Ramdoss (Oops! he is the honourable health minister). But he doesn't act like one. Polio cases are on the rise, but the minister is worried only about bringing down the dean.

And lastly Dr. Maran who had to step down as telecom minister because his uncle and DMK supremo did not like people's opinion; yes people's opinion as brought out in a opinion poll in a newspaper run by Dr. Maran's bro. Dr. Maran really did something for telecom sector and we the aam-admi (Normal human being) were happy in that one area atleast. Now we are back to being the aam admi -a.k.a in Tamil Maanga Madayan (Fool).

Honourable prime minister, are you listening to the drums. Drums always give warning.

And the icing on the cake - When the Legislative does nothing, the common man looks towards the judiciary and the legislative does not like that.

Failures of the Government -
1. No mention of building better road infrastructure - is work on the golden quadrilateral of the previous governmen still on or stopped because it was not started by the Holy INC.
2. Needling in affairs which would enable them to get votes for the next election and do nothing after that
3. Power: States which were selling excess power to others is now reeling under the lack of it.
4. Water resources and planning
5. Poor visualisation of SEZ - this one is worth mentioning - Using arable land to build industries. Dear Prime minister and his team; where do you want the farmers to go.? Suppose for every acre of arable land acquired for a an SEZ, the farmer is given 3 acres of barren land far away from water, would he be able to grow the same yield??? Why don't industries pick up barren land; simply because it is barren.
6. Law and order: I give up on this.

Dear Government of the aam-admi; the very same aam admi who now feels that he/she is a Maanga-Madayan, When will you stop interfering and meddling and start governance. Good governance does not mean you tell us what to do and you do the opposite. Look at your own legislators; a few of them puts the whole bunch to shame. Oh! you will wash hands saying they are not from our party. Crap!!!!

The aam junta of this once-upon-a-time (When was that) great nation - you have a choice - grovel on the mud or stand up. Prince of Hamlet remarks (or was it some one else - I know not) some one else is great because you are on your knees. To add to that, you bend your knee to some one who doesn't deserve even an iota of respect.

Jinhe Naaz hai Hind par woh Kahaan hai?? Kahan Hai, Kahan Hai, Kahaan Hai??? (Sniff!!! Sniff!!!!)

Maestro L Subramanyam makes me think....

2007-03-28T09:53:00.000+05:30

This Morning I was listening to Dr. L Subramanyam play the violin and as I was listening to his soulful playing, a thought wandered into my mind. "Where have all the great musicians and great masters gone ?" TV doesn't talk about them except posthumously, "The Hindu" which I consider a great news daily doesn't talk much about musicians as they used to previously. In my child days, I used to scour the week's collection of the Hindu and collect articles on different topics and columns that were published. But not anymore. The columns are not as vivid. TV is much left alone, the more I talk about TV the more depressing it is. All you have now is "Serial" killers and just more "Serial" killers. At an age when I could not appreciate music much, TV was just one option : DD National and now with this plethora of channels, I wish we could get back those days. The spirit of Unity concerts of Madras Telugu Academy and Bharat Cultural Integration Committee are a boon to music lovers. Why a boon since the concerts do not discriminate on region, culture or any other such parameters. They have proved that art and music transgress borders and "mean" thinking. Forgot who said it, but the quote runs thus "There is no such thing as good or bad music, there is either music or there is noise". Well said. I am sure there are more people in this country and still more people in this globe who appreciate music for what it is and not from where it has originated. Why is it that Indian classical music has more appreciation from "Non-Indians"? Why is it that we have only the "Tyagaraja festival in Tiruvarur and the Bal Ghandharv Mahotsav in Pune? Why is it that a Shakira or a Iron Maiden has more promotion, sorry not just promotion but promotional blitzkriegs? Sure their music and songs and dance are great, but what I am ranting about and what I want to find out is have Indians lost touch with their roots? Have Indians no appreciation for their own music? Is "Indian Art" losing ground because of its own brethren? I have not the answer. I only have complaints. I wish I could be a TVK Shastry ?

This "wishy" thinking is making me ashamed. I just wish but do nothing about it.

The worser thing that is making me mad is so called artists loot the government by using the "artists exemption" from paying income tax, make tons of money; that too because fools like yours truly are foolhardy to buy their stuff and on top of it I have to pay income tax because I am salaried. Truly maddening.....

Cricket, India and the world

2007-03-27T14:49:00.000+05:30

I am not much of a fan leave alone being a cricket fan. But I could not help but notice the ire of Indians against the heroes we created albeit paper heroes. I do play some sport, but cricket is not my cup of tea or coffee. A lot of discussion went into "the viability of this team winning the cup" and a lot more discussion is going on as to what went wrong. Either case the demi-gods of Indian sports have become mere mortals with vandals going ahead and abusing families and breaking into houses, damaging property all because the gods are not coming home with the trophy. My question is "So what if are out of reckoning?", "so what if the paper heroes are mere mortals and have failed?". Indians as a bunch are responsible for this debacle as much as the team that went for the tourney. As far as I am concerned, what ails Indian cricket is Indians themselves. stop praying to the demi-gods that you have created, and if not full, atleast to a large extent the team would start playing cricket rather than adverts and albums. The "Times of India" - once upon a time a news daily I respected and now a paper I would wrap my tiffin box with shows photos of Zaheer khan driving his SUV and mentions his girlfriend in the caption. Can't you just leave them alone and treat them as people first and sportsmen second. I give a damn to who is Zaheer khan's girlfriend and give more to his bowling abilities. Wakeup ye brethren of India, wake up!!! Give the demi-gods you have created a chance to be people and sportsmen first.

Gandhi - Relevant or Dinosaur

2006-09-11T14:20:00.000+05:30

Saw Lage Raho Munnabhai the other day and entertainment apart, the movie raises pertinent question - Gandhi, the Mahatma (by the way) is he relevant today or is he a dinosaur? And as an ironic co-incidence I was reading an article- the New Gandhi; in Outlook (Issue dated Sept 11 2006) where the youth (I don't mean pumped up teens) of today is re-discovering Gandhi and I mean re-discovering. The way they do it and how Munnabhai does it is very similar. No Gandhi caps, Khadis stuff (pity the cloth has now turned to be a totem pole for Corrupt politicians). Normal, average everyday person you meet on the road, the stranger for whom you don't waste a second thought are trying to find out the meaning of Gandhism or as Munnabhai says - Gandhigiri (Will be using this word; kinda like it). Using India's current core-competency - Information technology to idealise Gandhigiri, these young folks are ringing in a new revolution - a revolution against "chalta hai" attitudes, a revolution against the so-called "don't look the elder in the eye" generation. And what are the values that the movie and the article talks about. Oh! nothing vedic about it. Plain truths and simplicity, and love for your motherland is what the movie and the article talks about.

As an after thought, Raj Kumar Hirani must be credited with re-inventing the Hrishida kind of feel-good films.

Does Indians as a Nation Have an erect Spine

2006-07-14T09:17:00.000+05:30

Post the recent Mumbai train blasts, there was this vehement argument between me and my colleagues that we don;t have a spine to defent leave alone attack and mind you I am not talking about the DEFENCE forces who are beyond reproach; but rather I am talking about the average normal Indian i.e. you and me. The talk veered to the recalled op-parakram whose objective was terrorist camps in POK (Hell! I hate that abbreviation). Please excuse the profanity. The much touted nationalistic pride of the BJP fell flat on the face after the pull back. My point was how much longer are we going to accept "this as a normal affair and that if there is no blast somewhere, then something is wrong somewhere". My collegues contend that it was a good step by not going in as world repurcurssions would have been terrible. Bullcrap (please excuse me again). And as time progresses, my respect for the Mumbaikar has only been increasing without a slight dent. For me Mumbai was always an enigma, it was a place I never wanted to be seen dead. But now, crisis after crisis, the winner is not INDIA I regret to say but Mumbai. If anybody have a spine I must say it is the Mumbaikar. Hail Mumbai! I Kneel in respect to you.

Pasted below in verbatim is a forward I got and I must say it answers the question, How could Mumbai come back to normal so soon. And I wish (I never wished this ever) that the Coward(s) who did this fail in their maksad what ever it may be and by God, I am sure they have failed.

Dear Terrorist,

Even if you are not reading this we don't care. Time and again you tried to disturb us and disrupt our life - killing innocent civilians by planting bombs in trains, buses and cars. You have tried hard to bring death and destruction, cause panic and fear and create communal disharmony but everytime you were disgustingly unsuccessful. Do you know how we pass our life in Mumbai? How much it takes for us to earn that single rupee? If you wanted to give us a shock then we are sorry to say that you failed miserably in your ulterior motives. Better look elsewere, not here.

We are not Hindus and Muslims or Gujaratis and Marathis or Punjabis and Bengaliies. Nor do we distinguish ourselves as owners or workers, govt. employees or private employees. WE ARE MUMBAIKERS (Bombay-ites, if you like). We will not allow you to disrupt our life like this. On the last few occassions when you struck (including the 7 deadly blasts in a single day killing over 250 people and injuring 500+ in 1993), we went to work next day in full strength. This time we cleared everything within a few hours and were back to normal - the vendors placing their next order, businessmen finalizing the next deals and the office workers rushing to catch the next train. (Yes the same train you targetted)

Fathom this: Within 3 hours of the blasts, long queues of blood donating volunteers were seen outside various hospital, where most of the injured were admitted. By 12 midnight, the hospital had to issue a notification that blood banks were full and they didn't require any more blood. The next day, attendance at schools and office was close to 100%, trains & buses were packed to the brim, the crowds were back.

The city has simply dusted itself off and moved one - perhaps with greater vigour.

We are Mumbaikers and we live like brothers in times like this. So, do not dare to threaten us with your crackers. The spirit of Mumbai is very strong and can not be harmed.

Please forward this to others. U never know, by chance it may come to hands of a terrorist in UK, Israel, Sri Lanka, Afghanistan, Pakistan, US or Iraq and he can then read this message which is specially meant for him!!!

AND WESTERN PEOPLE SAY MUMBAI IS THE RUDEST CITY IN THE WORLD. DROP DOWN YOUR PANTS IF YOU CANNOT SEE WITH YOUR EYES AND FEEL THE DIFFERENCE!!!!!

With Love,

From the people of Mumbai (Bombay)

Leave you with a song from Border; ;Yeh Mera Watan, Yeh Mera watan

This one is on Music and my attachment to it.

2006-07-03T18:03:00.000+05:30

The other day went to PlanetM to add to my collection of Violin performances and this time opted for Vanessa Mae and wasn't I pleased to see a set of 3 CDs to take home. On an impulse made a decision to grab them and boy did they make a dent in my pocket you bet. Well the purchase was worthwhile. But imagine my shock when my MP3 player wouldn't play them. Looked up CD and found a nice picture of Copyright Control, which effectively means that I have to buy a player which can read those cds. And the bull crap (please excuse the profanity) the CD mentions is to protect the artists interests by not pirating or copying or duplicating the CD. Well I don't intend and have not done it before. but if protecting the interest of the artist is to deny the pleasure to the audience, then I know not whose interest is protected here. Do you? Had to borrow a compatible player from my friend (God bless him); may all the unfortunate ones (of copyright-control i.e.) have such friends nearby, to listen to them, 4 hours of ecstatic music with Fraulien Vanessa Mae playing the Fiddle/Violin. God bless her and her music. I must say the music is divine. And this teaches me a thing or two about buying music CDs anywhere. First ask the shop assistants about the Copyright-control part and if they are not in the know, check the logos and nothing is there and you are in doubt-DUCK. Don't buy or if you must first find a friend who has a CD player that can play it.
While at PlanetM, somebody told me that Kishori Amonkar's albums are available there and that hit the lid. I was not a big fan of Classical music (Carnatic, Hindustani or Western). I was only interested in filmi music (minus the ghazals - boy I hate those things except for a very few ones). One of my good friends and well wishers whom I call Papa bear/My Moses (Sorry papa bear had to say it) saw this trend and took me home where he gave me a cup of divine coffee and Yanni playing in the background. That started the trend. He introduced me to the track of Prince of Thieves; since then I became interested in instrumental. Showed my collection to another friend of mine(don't worry I don't have many) who introduced me to carnatic instrumental and then Mile Sur mera tumhara happened on DD - remember that track where all the known musicians happen to be giving a small treat to the viewers; well that happened and I hit the post and so started my small collection; a track here, a track there and so on. When I attended the Gandharv Mahotsav (I am stationed in Pune) last year, I was ready to forgive Pune for all its lapses and cold and distant attitude. A city which still hosts the vestiges (I must say vestiges) of Indian music deserves respect. And didn't someone say music is the language of the divine, well I agree with them. The artists send you to raptures and I wish them well. Can somebody bless one who is already blessed with musical talent.
Music lovers out there -> suggest you also lookup Bond (1 Cello, 2 viola and a violin)
Golden Krithis - Colors (Jugalbandi between Shri. Zakir Hussain and Shri Kunnakudi vaidyanathan). Forgive my lapse of not putting in their "DESGINATIONS", but I believe that they have trancended such requirements.

Brahmanism and anti-Brahmanism, Castes and reservations

2006-06-19T09:21:00.000+05:30

I was forwarded this link
http://ia.rediff.com/news/2006/jun/15franc.htm?q=tp&file=.htm
from Rediff and I am not sure of the intent and nature of the author(I am sorry sir, I don't know you and as such cannot take articles at face value), though I am fully in agreement with his conclusion, and I would put it up as "For India that is Bharat" to be great, Indians have to be Indians first and their caste members next, politicians be damned. Those persecuted have now turned persecutors so we are ending the full cycle. Whether history was recycled and reproduced differently, or is it being marginalised now is a different argument altoghether. I am reminded an incident (Narrated to me, I don't know if it is true, but the words keep ringing in my ears) during the Razakars terror regime just before Liberation of Hyderabad - Operation Polo; Shoebulla Khan, editor of the Imroze who was assassinated - on asked why does he oppose the struggle for an independent nation for muslims, even though he is a muslim, Shoebulla khan replied "Qubul Watan, Mazhab, Iman". So when will we be Indians, Bharatiya, Hindustani first and then (If it is needed by the common man - not as told by the godless politicians), Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Brahmins, Shudras, Vaishyas etc. I shed tears not knowing the answer and not knowing what to do. By the way I am a Brahmin and was not born with a silver spoon and like every average mortal (Mortal as in forgotten very soon after death) Indian; I had to struggle during my years of education. I sold cigarettes for a living to pay through college and also worked as a bartender. The two means of living together paid more than my first proper salary as an IT professional. My point is that with an English and I mean English education, many of the city bred have turned true burra Sahibs (If you think you are not, then you are not, don't blast me). Or is it that Dr. Arjun Singh is feeling ennui, that he has to rake up the Country to a frenzy?? Beats me anyway.

I am a member of a group Inter-culturalinsghts on Yahoo and doing the rounds was a link

http://www.callcentermovie.com/

Go through it if you must. My point is that there are many in the group who are Indians and a Lady, I must say Lady for her fair representaion; well a Lady who is not an Indian has to take up cudgels on behalf of the aggrieved party i.e. Indians. It was dismissed as a Joke outright and I agree with the lady who asked the group to explain "Sense of Humour" when she mentioned that the movie is a cheap(Can you hear the negativity with the word) production. Right on, my question is "What is Sense of humour"? Keep smiling when young people are sacrificing their youth to earn money to keep up a good life style and they are lampooned in the media. Keep smiling and laughing because their social life is all screwed up and many of them don't keep a normal life (Bloody depressing Night shifts). Keep smiling and laugh at yourself when your esteem is bruised. All I can ask is to ask yourself - what will you laugh at and what will you not.

So long fellow countrymen and my brethren of the world.

The lost species of Freedom Fighters

2006-04-25T09:18:00.000+05:30

Have our generation of Indians lost contact with those involved in the Freedom Struggle. Barring a few who made up the coterie of decision makers we don't know any body else. Tis makes it look as if a handful of people took on the British, drove them out gracefully and then declared we are free, set up the constituent assembly, adopt the constitution (Oh! such marvellous words - "we give unto ourselves this constitution...") and whoosh we are independent nation. What about the next gen the Y-gen or Genext or whatever mishmash name you give them. Don't we owe more than a token remembrance to the freedom fighters. I was forwarded a link and boy am I glad. You bet. that link was more to me than a link which points out Panditji' books or something else. It started a thought - who are our freedom fighters??? Who really are they? Where are they? or as Guru Dutt would say "Jinhe Naaz hai Hind, par who kahan hai, Kahan Hai, Kahan hai?????

Debt Trap of Microfinancing Institutions in Andhra

2006-04-20T10:42:00.000+05:30

Read this article in the Hindu and culled out the webpage. It makes me shudder after reading it. Where is the accountability, interest rates going up to 50% by these so called NGOs are really very usuric in nature. Since when have MFIs become shylocks.

http://www.thehindu.com/2006/04/20/stories/2006042005220900.htm