My quarter life crisis…

I turned 29 today… my orkut scrap book whose count accelerated up a few numbers today stand proof to the significance of 2 things – one that happened 29 years back and I had no control over and the other that happened maybe 5 years ago and in a moment of euphoric madness at being among the first to receive a privileged invite to join this social networking site… ever since I have not deleted any scraps on this site and have been trying my best to at least achieve a respectable scrap count… needless to say I have hopelessly failed due to many reasons (definitely not my vibrant social life) and which is not the reason I started this post so I stop the discussion right here right now…

Yeah I am 29… that is what I would say whenever anyone asked me for my age… well it is simple no… I just have to add up the number of years to 1980 and it is very easy to add something to a number that ends in zero… or subtract a number that ends in zero… whichever way you follow to calculate your age. Anyways, though I am proud of my arithmetic abilities, I am not going to give you a 101 ways to calculate your age – what I am merely trying to point out here is that I am 29 – and it is so easy to calculate that I have not made a mistake… so the next time you put your hand to your mouth and say “what… you are 29???”, I can at least understand that you are not doubting the accuracy of the number.

But yeah there is one person, or rather personified person, who lives inside me screaming at the top of his voice that my age is only 25… 25 – can you believe it? There are only two other persons in who achieved this not growing up thingee – Markandeya at sweet sixteen and probably Peter Pan – the boy who refused to grow up… though I lost the chance to achieve the world record of being the youngest to achieve this feat, maybe I could have tried for the oldest 25year old alive… had I not gotten jolted out of this a few days back…

Now don’t ask me why 25 in particular and why not 20 or 15 or even 30… maybe it was at 25 that I went back to school again or maybe 25 was the time I lost touch with reality or maybe just plain lost it… the point is the magic number was 25… or it could have just been an arbitrary number cloud around the number 25 which makes it into a hazy and maybe even an irrational number – but we all know that we cannot age irrationally – aren’t we all rational?

So there I was happily oblivious to my ageing process living a life without any major burdens, enjoying the in-between period from restrained childhood to a responsible adulthood… partying on weekends and partying on weekdays… spending without a worry whatever little I was paid at the end of the month… when there was no water available, we drank beer instead, taking a leaf out of the wise lady Marie Antoinette’s life… all my friends were quite like me living a life of reckless irresponsibility.

The group got constantly modified – people kept moving out and others came in to replace them. But I didn’t notice… they were all still 25 year olds like me. Until suddenly one day I sat up and took notice, I realized that others around me had been ageing all this while… suddenly my friends and cousins became uncles and aunts… the cute girls fresh from college or working in BPOs seemed like the ones to ogle at and I used to wonder that how women these days were getting pretty silly… while the ones I was used to ogling suddenly became the aunties with the constantly crying misbehaving kids… while the guys with whom I used to drink beer and hung out until pretty late into the night, were suddenly very serious about getting home early…

The telling blows came when these aunties and uncles introduced me to their kids as an uncle and the kids shamelessly called me uncle – far from the anna or bhaiyya which I was used to. And I started looking at the mirror more often to check whether I had any grays poking out of my head… but then after a couple of such false alarms, my brain kicked in dismissing the claims by the adults introducing me to their kids as “uncle” as a mere indication of the jealousy that comes up when older people see younger people having more fun… but by now i was confused on what to call them... i guess definitely not "aunties" as the "uncles" would insist on an explanation...

The final blows came from my mom – her favorite phrases being – “erumai/kazhudhai vayasu achu” (an old tam saying that compares you to a buffalo or donkey’s age - duh) whenever I am having fun… an admonishment which I never understood because I was acting my age… 25… the best part was when she used to say that I was irresponsible and that my dad was married (which is usually associated with being responsible – refer the example above where guys want to go home early) when he was 27… now though marriage seemed like a necessary evil, I was still ok with my present single state because I still had 2 more years to attain that maturity… no?

But, all good things must come to an end and so does my 25^th year… after running successfully for the last 4 years, I decided that I can accept the fact that I am actually older… though my alter ego who sits inside my head still might poke out and claim that I am only 25, I am slowly feeding him the shocking news of his age so that it does not come as a great shock to him...

PS. My luck seems to be changing on my 29^th birthday though. Something good happened – mclaren is back on top.

PPS. Throughout the post I was reminded of koundamani’s famous “take the 25” comedy… here it is on youtube…

The Chronicles of Varuna: The Line, The Ditch and The Downpour…

It is that time of the year again – where the sun the gets blotted out by shades of grey, and smell of wet earth hits you into a knock out sense of euphoria, the cold air makes you want to curl up under a thick woolen blanket, with the noise of the water pouring in the backdrop sipping noisily on a cup of hot ginger tea… no wait I am dreaming… I don’t have the tea or the woolen blanket… cut to reality – this is the time of the year I get to play cat and mouse with the rain gods…

Today, after so many days of careful meteorological planning and evasion tactics and having upgraded my arsenal with a car, I was exposed vulnerably to the wrath of the rain gods… I had to travel some 10kms through the evening peak hour traffic to get back home without a mobile roof over my head (if you don’t count the helmet as one that is) after I picked up my trusty companion on such missions – my pulsar 150…

And of course Murphy was waiting for one such opportunity… with the patience of a hungry wolf (please note Mr. Murphy that I am using the comparison in a complimentary way). Of course no points for guessing whether I got drenched or not today… but the bone chilling dunking I got through reminded me of the events of last year and the different strategies we played against each other… and I hope I will find time to put them all down here so that maybe some day in the future, i would have gotten into a better mood to have a good laugh…

One particular day's strategy went something like this –

There is this route through the main roads that I used to take to get home – a pretty long route, almost an unbroken but not so straight line, about 20kms one way interspersed with traffic signals to slow you down to give you the time to stop and smell the flowers – only they will be dripping wet like me and I already had enough water in my nose… but then it was usually safer to go this way because this particular route had something that the other routes did not – a road.

As usual the game began as soon as I left office, and the rain started pouring consistently… whenever I tried to race against it, Murphy stepped on the pedal too increasing the quantity of the water pouring from the heavens above… and slowing down back to the old rhythm as my speed fell in tune with the slow moving traffic… following me throughout the path I took…

That day I suddenly decided to experiment – I broke off at a signal, took a detour through another road perpendicular to the direction I was traveling and lo behold – a totally dry patch of land lay in front of me… really – not even the smell of wet earth… it was as if some water tanker lorry was spilling its way along my usual path and it did not turn in this new direction…

I was astounded to say the least at the availability of a non slippery dry road… but at the same time I got a new found elation pumping up my adrenalin giving me hope that today I might end up at my home less wetter than the previous days… I revved the engine only to realize that I can’t make speedy progress because of the enormous number of ditches all along the way… still I tried my best to make it home as fast as possible before Murphy realized I was not getting the water any longer…

But my euphoria was short lived, and as I turned the next corner to catch the general direction to my house, Murphy had finally caught up… he had realized that I was not on my original path any longer and he definitely was not a novice to the streets of this city… in a fury at being outsmarted by a mere mortal he sent forth a gushing torrential cascade that started filling up the ditches on my road… the downpour was not only making my visibility poor, but was also filling up the depressions in the road, disguising them to merge into an evenly flat surface smooth road… in order to avoid causing damage to my trusty steed I had to leave the path less taken and get back on to the main roads as soon as possible…

I did just that, rejoining my older path a few kilometers from where I had taken the diversion, only to realize that I was not exaggerating when I said I was being singled out and chased by Murphy… the road was dry as a new huggies diaper… and since Murphy’s GPS was maybe guiding him along the other path, I had a few seconds of dry and good roads to make my escape.

But yeah the traffic signals who were the good old friends of my enemy simultaneously slowed down my progress and sort of seemed to send a signal to the rain clouds to change their direction. So a short distance from my home, the rain had caught up… and this time in all out fury seemingly to compensate for the short dry patches in my journey trying to get me as wet as possible before I made it to safety…

Of course, once I got under the roof of my house, the game ends and both of us retire for the day to restart a new game the next day… I guess by now Murphy must have realized that his adversary will not give up without a fight…

written sometime back… forgot to post... now i can't remember it well enough to think of a good title... sorry for the period post…

(awesome... probably the first time anybody puts a disclaimer in the title)

For those who dinno yet – santro it is… the sunshine car reflecting pure white light…

Somewhere I read that a transaction happens when the buyer and seller feel that they got the best deal… to me it happened sometime in December, in the heart of the recession when heads of auto companies were trying to offload their stock and quickly bundle the cash into a clean white dhoti and run away to some obscure place before their line employees come back after their sudden pay-now-claim-later vacation that their usually tyrant boss had so benevolently insisted on them recharging their batteries…

Ok to cut a long story short… Hyundai offered a price cut and the government offered to reduce some of the tax burden… overall it seemed like a good deal to me… and for the dealer it seemed like a good deal too as apparently the discount was borne by the manufacturer (at least the papers said so) and he thanked god for sending in a dumb customer who was not bargaining for discounted accessories – not even the free ganesha idol he normally gave away in happier innocent times… the customer in turn thanked god for granting him the power to resist swiping the evil plastic to revel in some cheap thrills of pirated music and button press power windows…

So there it was, occupying the unused space I had being paying the rent and the maintenance for over 6 months… thanks to spiderman and yuppie-da for getting it home safely… yes I didn’t drive it home… in fact for the next few days I would be re-living those pre licecnse driving class days with a guy sitting to my left shouting instructions aloud to hide his panic, while I through clenched teeth and sweaty palms drove to office in the slowest speeds possible that tested the patience of my followers…

But yes… here I am… come a long way from that scared L-boarder to a scary L-boarder (yes I still retain the big red L – my dad, an ex law student, advised me against removing it so that I could have an upper hand in a situation if required) – 3123 kms to be exact… that too with a trip to Chennai (350kms one way) and one to Sivasamudram (about 150 kms from Bangalore) about which I hope to write some day too…

But, the new arrival in the family has not been accepted without friction. In fact barely had the one month deadline arrived for the first servicing, that I felt like a guy with two wives… after a month of aggressive driving around Bangalore and nearby, I just managed to cross the required run-in kilometers… a satisfied owner, I took it to the nearby service center for the regular servicing, again resisting offers of extended warranty which did not include parts I did not even know existed, got the “free service only” words out of my mouth and came back home to go to the office on my trusty bike…

Only he was not any more… yeah – the definitely male “HE”… but he did not hide his jealousy at being neglected all this while… refused to start till I kicked the s*** out of me… then within a few meters I felt a loss in the rear wheel stability… puncture… with that I felt my cheerfulness draining out with the air… had to please him with some new pretty expensive accessories to get him to behave…

But yeah… back to focus on the star of this post… after the first service, she was much more smoother… that is when we took her to Chennai… I was a bit apprehensive – all those nasty trucks and mean speeding vehicles on those highways… how would I cope with it all… in fact it was such an overwhelming fear, that I took a detour in between to visit a temple… haha gotcha… I did not go to the temple out of fear… I just wanted to soothe my nerves fill my tummy – heard their puliyogare and curd rice were very good… after this and a couple of drive arounds in chennai’s jammed roads (after which I patted myself on the back for living in the outskirts in Bangalore), I realized that I actually enjoyed the freedom of the wonderful highway from Chennai to Bangalore… so much so that I actually drove back in 4hrs straight… all those nfs trainings during the mba seems to have helped…

After this, there was no going back… huh… I mean… I love biking, but then I have to spend some time with the car too… a good amount of money has been invested… what is the point if I don’t use it… (s*** I have to now worry about diplomacy with my bike !!!)

Anyways, there are some side-effects of getting the car… the rain god thinks I played spoil sport… so he has roped in his friend the sun god to cook me inside the glorified solar cooker… But yeah… another way to show the finger to the autowallas in bangalore…

feelings on the valentine’s day

It was a bright sunny morning… wait... it was not supposed to be so bright… oh no we were late already… so a few hurried phone calls to wake up the other eligible bachelors who were accompanying me, and another set of hurried morning procedures we were on our way to the great indian aeroshow… after all the hype generated by the press giving us photos of dazzling display of gravity defying and pure foolhardy stunts, who would not have their brain floating in adrenalin already.

When you set your heart to something the whole world conspires to help you achieve it is a popularized myth created by a equally hyped author and his mindless readers… the truth is generally just the opposite… when we set our heart and mind to buy those ridiculously overpriced tickets, the whole world was conspiring against us… first it was the alarm that didn’t go off loud enough, second it was the traffic police… looking up google maps I had charted out a nice course along the much touted superfast national highway to the airport when we found a few totally tacky banners which had an arrow pointing to a right much before the right shown on the google maps…

Anyways, despite our mind telling us not to follow that route, madness took over and we turned… we did realize the mistake immediately… traffic was crawling not because it was overcrowded, but it had to move ever so slowly for fear of hitting the people who had set up shops so close to the road, making it a drive-through market… and they had put in a lot of craters like any other major road for good measure… and of course the traffic police were conspicuously missing after that stupid sign that made us take that right turn.

A pretty bumpy ride followed during which we met a lot of people who were absolutely ignorant in geography, and finally we managed to catch a caravan of cars following a huge overloaded truck which was trundling along slowly negotiating the craters like a huge rolling ball. And since this was a Monaco grand prix track, overtaking was literally impossible. Somehow we managed to stumble into the elusive NH7, but the elation was short lived as we had to slip into another narrow service road to enter the parking lot… ok, not so fast… we had to drive through some long winding dirt road in a slow procession as people who had managed to wake up earlier than us tried to find their parking spots…

Finally we did too, passing the scrutinizing eyes of the tired sunburnt security guards and the indifferent nose of the sniffer dog. Ignoring the shade provided by the tents we eagerly made our way towards the fence to be as close to the jets as possible… and we waited for the show to begin hoping to witness the famed defense punctuality.

And begin it did I think on dot at 1000 hours, since there is no way to ascertain the exact time by our highly inaccurate personal times and the inaudible voice from the tents, let us assume the indian standard time effect has not yet affected them. The first jet was already parked a few minutes ago and it rolled on to accelerate for take off… the cheers of the crowd seemed to contest with the booming of the engines as the mighty metal machine took to the skies.

It came back, flipped over – once, twice, thrice… and then in the opposite direction… then a straight pull up and an apparent free fall… and a smoke trail drawing lines and circles in the sky… then it came straight at us and then did a few more back flips intertwining the smoke trails behind it… then proving that it could also do a slow motion fly past drawing audible gasps from the crowd at every pass, before coming back one last time to land, parachute extending and all that. Again the crowd cheered, despite the sun beating down upon us. And for a few minutes, the pride of being able to witness the amazing capabilities of the indian airforce swelled my heart, brought a shortness of breath, like when you watch a super patriotic movie of Sunny Deol, and a curse to my lips about why I could not have joined the defense forces.

Then a second jet went up in the air, a slightly different looking one but still the same grayish blue colored body which camouflaged perfectly with the clear gray sky behind it (pardon me for my illiteracy in identifying models from their looks). It came back, flipped over – once, twice, thrice… and then in the opposite direction… then a straight pull up and an apparent free fall… and a smoke trail drawing lines and circles in the sky… then it came straight at us and then did a few more back flips intertwining the smoke trails behind it… then proving that it could also do a slow motion fly past drawing audible gasps from the crowd at every pass, before coming back one last time to land, parachute extending and all that. Again the crowd cheered, despite the sun beating down upon us.

Then a third jet went up in the air, a slightly different looking one but still the same grayish blue colored body. It came back, flipped over – once, twice, thrice… and then in the opposite direction… then a straight pull up and an apparent free fall… and a smoke trail drawing lines and circles in the sky… then it came straight at us and then did a few more back flips intertwining the smoke trails behind it… then proving that it could also do a slow motion fly past drawing audible gasps from the crowd at every pass, before coming back one last time to land, parachute extending and all that. Again the crowd cheered, despite the sun beating down upon us.

No the last 2 paragraphs are not a copy-paste error… this is how the show went on. As each jet answered its roll call and did the same set of maneuvers, the sun beating down upon our heads seemed a little more relevant now. And with each passing model, it seemed to take away my patriotic pride that had sort of reached its peak at the second jet. After the third or so jet, I lost count, and my mind started wandering much like it does when you are attending the marriage of some distant relative at around the same age.

There were 2 changes from the normal routine, when a jet sported the indian tri-colors over the gray of its body came into the tarmac – of course there was no change in the routine, but seeing a difference in the colors and that too the tricolor seemed to send a short spike in the patriotism-vs-time graph. And then one jet seemed to send out a challenge to the anti-anti-indian-culture-upholders by drawing some hearts in the sky… maybe it was hearts, or maybe due to the hot sun and my muddled up brain it looked like hearts, some respite from the routine.

Then there was a huge plane which had the US Air Force painted on it, which drew gasps from the crowd mainly due to the fact that it was a US Air Force plane and in size it resembled a boeing passenger jet. The flight took off as the crowd waited with built-up expectations of the same routines. Then it came back, and passed us, took a turn, came back and passed us and took another turn much before than last time, and again came back and took a turn before finally landing. No flips and the maximum tilt achieved was when it took the turn. Being an engineer, I had not built up my expectations on the bulky plane doing acrobatics, but hope is such a wonderful thing…

Then came the helicopters and the crowd heaved a sigh of relief, as the press had put up nice pictures of the chopper formations. As the crowd expected some death and gravity defying feats from the helicopters, the helicopters surprised the onlookers by disappearing behind some trees in the distance. After some time, when the crowd was getting excited over contemplations of a pakistan planned abduction of the indigenous technologies, they reappeared in the horizon flying damn too slow for someone who was low on impatience and tolerance to the hot sun, with nothing else to distract the mind as by now the distractions with all their boyfriends and/or escorts had retired to the safety of the tent shades.

As they passed by each other in slow motion, this way and that way, letting out smoke to remind us of the unforgotten paths taken by them, the patriotic feelings were slowly entering into the regions of irritation. We moved on closer to where the aircrafts were parked, but were stopped by the fence a few kilometers away from them. Those (#%*% exorbitant tickets could not even buy us a closer view of the planes. Meanwhile some parachutists also emerged out of nowhere and appeared and disappeared in spots as the blue shaded fabrics merged with the sky in the background.

Now a totally new feeling had taken over – hunger. So we just moved on, found our car thanks to the remote locking mechanism, and after a few roundabout routines trying to diligently use the map printed behind the tickets to find the exit, gave up and exited through the entrance. Saturday afternoon did not seem to hinder the people taking to the roads and crawling through the signals of NH7, finally reached the restaurant for a decent meal and huge glass of spiced buttermilk.

Our hunger satiated and tired out of the drive in the sun, the new feeling that took over now was sleepiness. As I retired into the cooler confines of my bedroom, darkened by the curtains, I drifted off into a dreamless sleep, the forgettable aeroshow already forgotten.

 

“chocolate exhibition in bangalore”

Today, like a well read and well informed local that I am, I got to know of a chocolate exhibition going on here, that was started some 5 days back, from a source in Delhi… so immediately I embarked upon a journey to gather as much information on the event as I could so that maybe over the weekend I could take a break and spend some time in the midst of my favorite food.

google google google…

Being highly lazy efficient, I just copy pasted the last part of the headline “Hundreds of enthusiasts throng a chocolate exhibition in Bangalore“ into the text box and voila… for a second I thought hundreds of journalists had thronged the exhibition and they had just floated the same article over to hundreds of papers… but no, it appears as if Mr.Jaipal Sharma had just sent a mass mail to all possible magazine/newspaper houses and crossed his fingers hoping that he would get lucky… much like an engineer’s dream of getting a paper published in some such journal which they can later claim to be on par with IEEE…

As luck would have it, Mr.Jaipal Sharma seemed to have overcrossed his fingers… almost every state’s journal has published his article. I will just put in a few prominent links to prove my point…

http://in.news.yahoo.com/139/20090210/824/tnl-hundreds-of-enthusiasts-throng-a-cho.html

http://www.topnews.in/hundreds-enthusiasts-throng-chocolate-exhibition-bangalore-2122747

http://www.andhranews.net/India/2009/February/10-Hundreds-enthusiasts-88882.asp

http://www.sindhtoday.net/south-asia/61555.htm

http://www.newkerala.com/topstory-fullnews-90230.html

http://story.chinanationalnews.com/index.php/ct/9/cid/b8de8e630faf3631/id/464559/cs/1/

http://videosfromindia.smashits.com/view/6238/hundreds-of-enthusiasts-throng-a-chocolate-exhibition

awesome!!!

I am glad that Mr.Jaipal Sharma has not only been able to spread the awareness of namma bangalore to other major states like Andhra, Kerala and Sindh, but also crossed international boundaries to China… and Indian boy little Karan is world famous now thanks to his creative and amazing witty wordplay while expressing his views on the chocolate exhibition’s importance in the world arena especially in the current economic downturn situation…

PS. While reading the article on kerala news, got to know that cute actress Kavya Madhavan is no longer single… sighhh… 

the great indian olympic challenge

Michael Phelps is my new role model and beacon of hope. The recent rekindled interest in the Olympic legend, by the papers, has brought a new ray of hope into my otherwise uneventful meaningless life. I have decided to train for the next Olympic swimming events and have an ambition and quantified objective to work forward to. A look at the diet work-out plan of Phelps has made me drool energized and given me enough hunger inspiration for success. And not to mention the by product that will put all those bollywood six packers to shame and send them packing (haha, good pun no? a little humor in such serious training hurt no one).

Michael Phelps displaying his 64 packs abs and the small mouth that caused it thereby proving size does not matter.

 

I have googled about Michael Phelps and here is what I found out about how he won the Olympic golds.

       1) He ate eggs, cheese, fried onions, mayonnaise, pasta, chocolate cakes, pizza and lots of coffee.

       2) And yeah he spent some time in the pool everyday, even on holidays. 

It is not that difficult. I love all the stuff mentioned above… except the fried onions… but I find that he didn’t eat the fried onions alone. mmm maybe I could have them with fried potatoes…  yeah, I guess that is ok. Potatoes are a source of carbohydrates... I think. Yes that is what I will do… just thinking about those huge sandwiches with melted cheese makes me super inspired to dig jump in into the pool and start off right away…

I just love eggs… and mayo and… and… of course swimming too… when our school gave me a chance to learn swimming I grabbed it with both my arms and legs too… so now if u threw me into the water I can survive for a few minutes till you threw me the lifebelt… no hurry, you have 3 minutes before I empty the swimming pool with my synchronized thrashing…

But I have taken care of that so that I can train independently (and hence protect my privacy). We have a pool in our apartment complex which is about 5 feet deep. And since I am a foot taller I won’t drown and hence I won’t need that life jacket. Though a nice inflated rubber raft (with an umbrella attached) will be a good idea… so that I don’t have to travel all the way into my house to eat all that food I need for my training. I can just lie on the raft and eat throughout the day – that saves me a lot of time and this way I can spend more time in the pool.

Wow man… I am so clever that I can optimize my time by multitasking… plus my sense of humor will get me the girls… Phelps watch out man… you have competition…

Phelps with no sense of humor says - "hey watch it lady... i just ate… am still digesting… so my swimming will not be as good as… huh… later on…” (which as we all know is a plagiarized dialog from the movie kung-fu panda)

 Olympic golds, and of course lovely ladies, here I come!!! 

 

 

why i didn't blog about the pink umbrella...

Happy new year…

Better late than never goes the old proverb, heh heh…

I have been thinking why I actually don’t get time to blog any more – at least that is the excuse I have been dishing out to people who actually are so bored that they land up on my blog sometimes which true to its name has not changed much…

But much as I try to reason out, “NO TIME” is not the actual valid reason. If I look back at my archives and put an effort into bringing back my memories of the past, I realize that I have gotten most of my tasks done when I was the busiest – in terms of the number of tasks accomplished I mean. When I seem to have a lot of time on hand, and a to-do list to add to my guilt, things never progress beyond the to-do list I have created. Sometimes these to-do lists also disappear and I live in the constant fear that some day they will surface to embarrass me…

The more I think of it, time is not the issue I have with blogging or not blogging. I have come up with an interesting theory – information overload. Sometime back I had mentioned that I had wanted to blog about anything and everything I see/hear/feel/smell or taste. That is true… I believe every second in my life could be converted into a page long maybe longer and boring blog post. But then you may ask why I don’t blog more often and you don’t see a hundred posts a day.

Now the reason is something like aamir khan’s short term memory loss in Ghajini…  whatever I decide to blog about I seem to forget within a few seconds… now before you start questioning me about why I am not having a close shaven head with an L shaped tramline cut or tell my parents and scare the shit out of them, let me clarify. I don’t suffer from retrograde amnesia. What I suffer from is limited storage capacity.

Now the brain apparently has small pockets where it stores different kinds of information. The space allocated to my “blogging inspirations” would also fall into one of these pockets and obviously it is limited unlike the terabytes of storage available for USB drives these days. So any new information tends to over write the existing ones. So effectively every second I am going around thinking “hey I should blog about that pink umbrella” and the next instant I am saying “hey I should blog about that lady holding the pink umbrella” and slowly with a couple of more inspirations like “hey I should blog about how sexy that lady with the pink umbrella is” and “hey I wonder if all ladies with pink umbrellas are so sexy” the focus entirely shifts away from the pink umbrella… got it?

Anyways, I don’t think I can tattoo myself to blog about everything like aamir khan does here. But then I tried using a small scribbling pad, but now I don’t remember to update it. Actually, I even thought of blogging about my scribbling pad…

And then when I was trying to explain this to srk the other day, he gave me another view of things – I am not blogging becos my parents live with me? Mmm actually that is a pretty valid reason. I can only blog when I have no one looking over my shoulder to see what I am doing. That is just not exactly the way it happens though, let me elaborate.

So when my mom comes into my room and sees me furiously typing on my laptop, she is first of the impression that I am wasting my time on my laptop… which is sometimes the case when I am working… but other times when I am watching a movie or playing some games it gets irritating when somebody brands that as wasting time when that time can be spent in a useful manner by either sleeping or exercising or just having a nice and relevant talk about current affairs with your parents. So assuming that I do manage to cross over all this minor distractions and convince my mom that I am not “wasting” my time chatting with friends or doing office work and that I am blogging, next question that pops out is “WHAT !!! what is that?”

So I explain how a blog is something like an online journal/diary or just a place where you put up your views and opinions, all I get is a blank stare… that is when my dad who had been disturbed by that loud noise from his game of solitaire, comes to my mom’s rescue – “is that like a letters to editors of papers like The Hindu?” displaying that he is a true descendent of my grandfather who used to read the hindu for 8hours a day from the first character to the last and fold it perfectly into an A4 sized bundle and store it away in a cool dark place for the guy who comes once in 2 months to collect the old paper…

“Huh”, I come back to the present, while automatically making a mental note to blog about my dad’s age old eccentricities, I try explaining that it is nothing like that, and I just put it up there, and I don’t think anyone even reads it except for some guys who are equally vella like me… “Oh” is the only word that comes out in reply from which I understand that my dad ha s just dismissed off one of the most popular and powerful medium of communication in our generation as a utter useless waste of time, and casually returning to his job of saving the world through winning the solitaire game.

My mom seeing that I have been wounded by my dad’s callous remarks tries to pacify my ego blissfully unaware that things are going in the other direction actually. “Hey what are you doing? Mmm you are writing something? Wait let me read what you have written so far… mmm why are you writing about ghajini and short term memory loss like a disease ridden person… why can’t you write something else… something nicer about say the old movies of Sivaji Ganesan who is a much better actor than your aamir khan… oh what offensive words you have used here… don’t do that… I hope you are not writing about that drinking habit of yours for everyone to see… I will have a tough time finding a girl for you who also boozes hahaha”.

As she laughs hysterically over that PJ of hers, I am trying all in vain to maintain my cool… how do I tell her that I am not playing Dr.Jekyll at home and a Mr.Hyde in cyberspace… that I am no longer the scared school-kid she left all alone in that wilderness called engineering college some time back…

I just do a ctrl+S and put it in one of the labyrinths of my “My Documents” folders only to  forget the document totally and look at it after a few months have passed and totally forgetting what the lady with the pink umbrella looked like and I just do a shift + delete on that document. The details of the pink umbrella are now lost to the world forever…

PS. I would request the blogging community to kindly refrain from informing the authorities that I am a victim of parental abuse. I would like to diplomatically term it as a case of the generation gap. Or else somebody is going to get hurt real bad…

a street car named dzire

warning: slightly long post… but hey, it is material of almost a month since my last post

no ! i haven't bought a swift-dzire... that is just clever wordplay… nor have i got anything else too... but yeah, i have been thinking... after a long thoughtful consideration i sort of started feeling that i might need a car... what with haggling with the auto drivers here (my bike does solve some part of the problem, but it is not always possible to go to places in twos...), mom complaining that i am not taking her around this #%#@%%@^&& up city and a sort of fear of hearing "what??? you don't even have a car?" after spiderman's warning, the need became real...

I had always wanted a car… a nice contemporary design like the swift… that is my definition of a small car… or the nice and majestic SUVs like the endeavour, pajero or even our own local boy the safari… in bright white with grey bumpers… or a nice sports sedan like a verna or civic… or a good big luxury car like a bmw or a merc – doesn’t matter which one, anything will do… all of their models fall into the same category for me – unaffordable… hah for that matter so do the Ferraris and Lamborghinis… btw, did I mention the swift should be in red with those sports stripes… and that sort of gives you my ambitions…

I actually wanted a car and the principle deciding factor is, well my affordability… and yeah it should comfortably seat at least 4 and maybe squeeze in a fifth… a small happy family car… and yeah sometimes I would take it to my office on rainy days and some important occasions… only… so I would not be using it everyday, but yes I would use it frequently… on most days I will conservatively drive my bike to save on fuel (indignantly denying the eventuality that I would start using the car more frequently once I have it). So these are my specs…

Looking at this, the nano came as a big boon… it was supposed to have more space than the small car I was hoping to buy – the alto… and it was at one-third the price… but I was a little skeptical… most tata cars start with a lot of problems, and problems irritate me… plus I figure that since nano is pretty cheap, it would definitely require care in the terms of proven sturdiness of the existing cars… plus thanks to a great people’s person the tatas are gonna delay its launch… I want the car now… you see I am also impatient…

So the next obvious choice is the alto… I eliminated the 800… only a second-hand 800 wud fall into the price range of the nano, but it wud give me a bigger headache than the nano which would probably come with the new-car-warranties… and a new 800… well the car seems to be finally getting old and getting phased out… plus alto seems to be a slightly better car at almost the same price… now this “slightly better car at almost the same price” is going to be the cause of my downfall, but I am blind to it…

So now I am looking at the alto… of course I will go for the highest end model… with power steering and the works… what… I don’t get a music system? That will cost me another 10k… then some more essential accessories will cost me another 15-20k… awesome… so ultimately I end up spending a lot more than the actual price I was initially looking at… and maruti being maruti wont bend over backwards to give me even a free toffee let alone the accessories… so at about 3.6lacs I will get 4 wheels and enuf space to squeeze in 4 people and stuff in one more with some more effort and tolerance from the earlier 4… mmm… what are my options?

The santro… yeah definitely it is slightly bigger… and 5 people can be squeezed in a little more comfortably than the alto… and the current offer price would work out to something that is just about 40-50k more than the alto… so here I was getting a slightly better car for just a little bit higher price… actually it is a pretty good deal considering that I am not just getting extra space, but the engine can deliver much higher power too… so in case the Schumacher in me just one day decides to poke his head out, I will be ready… plus their new petrol-lpg version is a slightly better car which is at almost the same price…

I also considered the seemingly matiz-converted-to-spark of GM… but I don’t think it is worth buying it… they don’t have enough service centers all over the country… so in case I break down in some place where there is no service center I would be screwed… unlike maruti which supposedly has a very good service network… the santro too would be okay because it is a much familiar car to the indian mechanic than a GM… and some wise know-it-all has said that alto is better than the spark because it has an electronic powersteering, while this is just hydraulic… and the resale value was also pretty low – so if, you know, I was hoping to upgrade… you know… (I know what you are thinking – this skinflint bugger definitely cannot go beyond a second hand 800… yeah maybe you are right, but there still exists that small probability called hope, that I can one day… you know… vroooooom!!! ) if only the old zen was still there… the new one seems so cramped for so much money…

Ok, so santro seems like a good choice… but then wait… the sales guy is saying something… the i10? Test drive… yeah why not… mmm a smoother and more powerful engine… electronic power steering over santro’s hydraulic… slightly seemingly bigger interiors… and beige interiors, like that babe in the ad says, it must be something worth aspiring for… how much extra? Oh that is a very small difference… plus there are so many guys out there who are encouraging me to be the guinea pig – if that is not positive response what is?

ok, so what do I get here… only standard fitment? How much more for the extra features? Adds up to around 5.5 lacs? For this car? Come on!!! for 5.5 I can get a swift, from the above dreamy ambitions paragraph, and since it is a maruti I would get better service too… but when I read the reviews the people in the back seat are supposed to find it uncomfortable over a long distance travel… with a hereditary backache problem running in the family, that is a risk that should not be taken when I am buying a happy family car… maybe a hedonistic purchase after that Harley I can think of it…

at 5.5 I can get that new wide bodied Renault… with 2 consecutive f1 championships their quality cannot come under question… but apparently the build quality seems slightly inferior… at least that is what the critics say… and it has almost come to the indica cab status, albeit a luxury cab, but a cab nevertheless. So no Renault. How about an accent or a ikon… naah… old models… I think I should consider a verna or a fiesta… or for that matter, the SX4 because it comes with the maruti service network… see I am still a very practical man… I won’t go for the Dzire – I don’t like its design… see I am still in my senses…

huh how much? 7.7 ex-showroom? And on road will surely cross 8.5 lacs. Come on!!! For that I can get a scorpio – what was the last ad – the price was some 6.7 lacs right? mmm at least it would suit my height… and I think the safari was around that price too… and I think I would go for at least the power steering and some addons, else I won’t get even a practical mileage… but a scorpio also had that modified open top model… that was around 10lacs – almost the same as the high end safari… but wait that negates the rainy day concept… this falls into the hedonistic category… so I will have to go for a safari only because it is closed…

but wait… if I am going for a 10lacs safari, why not spend a little more and go for a more reliable maruti SUV – the vitara? After all it comes with the maruti service network… it costs only around 14 lacs I think? While I am on the topic of SUVs, why not go for something like a pajero or a endeavour or for that matter why not a lexus or a hummer… ok, I think I am getting a bit sarcastic with myself… for this price I could buy myself a small house here… wait… I should not change the topic… back to cars… and reality…

Actually I could probably only comfortably afford an alto… and santro would be worth the budget stretch… a wagonR maybe too, but since I have personally witnessed its instability at high speeds, I am not too keen on it… plus I have a very valid reason – an unjustifiable prejudice… so santro it would be… but the dealers are not giving me any discounts… it would be great if they could save me the costs of the seat covers and a music system… cheapos… they won’t even give up a 10k on their margin… but discount or no discount, I think I will have to go for the santro…

Hey wait!!! What is that in today’s paper? Almost 58k off on the price of a spark??? That is cool!!! Didn’t the dealer say that it was only a hydraulic power steering on the santro too? So maybe I can get a santro like car for the price of an alto…

PS. Did I mention that I was also a little bit greedy???

a day in the life of a singapore steward…

ok. It should be “a night in the life of a singapore steward”, but technically it is not night yet... just a little late in the evening… so maybe it is still within the rules to call it a day…

call it a day? You are kidding… the day has just begun… haha got you… but yes that is the job, and when I signed the job agreement I did not expect this. Maybe it is a fine print legalese, but then I don’t have time to go back and read the 5 pound agreement that I signed… I remember I signed every page… there were a million at least… maybe come to think of it, I don’t even remember whether I got a employee copy of the agreement…

ok, what am I talking about here? Yeah that particular clause where I am supposed to have sold my soul to the devil and that I have to leave my conscience at home or some other place safe so that it does not interfere in my decisions and that I could make a un-biased decision that would make my employers proud…

who are my employers? Oh I actually always wanted to be a top race driver. But as a thick spectacled non-athletic guy who definitely could never meet the rigours of the sport financially, I had to apply for something else. Did I mention I was not very well off academically too? So engineering or anything like that was also ruled out. And I was too slow to be a pit crew…

I always wanted a hot sports car. Hot sports car attracted hot babes and I always wanted a hot babe too. Somebody told me that if you worked for some auto majors they sometimes gave cars at very subsidized rates, sometimes even free. And hot sports cars usually came out of racing companies. Maybe I could get lucky. I became a race enthusiast. But my dream of working for an auto major was not to happen since I did not possess much talent that were desired. Or so I thought…

There was one more thing I was good at – finding fault. There never was enough cheese in my cheese burger, the traffic police always picked on me, the teachers were incompetent and the subjects were tough, the buses were always late, the cabbies overcharged, the metro was underground and the flights were too high above, I didn’t have a girlfriend and my parents were not rich. Ok, got it? So this talent of mine was noticed by someone who said I was just the right person for this job. Apparently there was a very heavy turnover of people in this position and they could not take the stress.

What was my job? I just had to find fault. Find as many faults as possible to make my client’s team win. It was easy. I was so cut out for this job. But yes the stress is pretty high. Like today for instance…

The day was hot and humid – a typical day near the equator. There were predictions of rain, and that caused greater panic in my client’s team as their most significant competitor had cars and drivers that were very good under rainy conditions. Yes, that is how they tried to win the last race, but my colleagues and I did a very good job. We even got a small bonus which we promptly spent in some stock purchase as the markets were down… so we were all the more keener to get more bonuses.

Today’s race was very important to my client because it was a new track and they had to win to prove that they were ready for any challenge and that their expertise was not just due to the excessive practicing they could easily afford. So we were all glued to the race through our window, doing what we did best – finding fault.

The race started ok. Our team’s cars were up in the front places and they did not lose their positions. But then our client felt that we cannot press the panic button so early even though our closest competitor was sandwiched between their 2 cars. They felt that the people would call it unfair. I did warn them that all is fair in love and war and this was war. But my bosses and clients’ sentiments were to be respected (I would have called it their whim, but they paid my stock market investments). So we had to cut them some slack before I started doing my the thing.

I went to get myself a cup of coffee when pandemonium broke out. Some idiot had crashed out and brought out the safety cars. Luckily it was not my client’s so that only eliminated some competition. Still the race was slowing down… but my coffee was doing a good job. I was wide awake and fully prepared to find the tiniest of mistakes. What is the situation now? Oh, some early riders are jumping into the pit lane and they will get an early mover advantage over my client who has not pitted yet… haha, gotcha… the lane is not open yet under the safety car – drive through penalty. My client smiled a half smile and gave me the thumbs up – that power company which is at an all time low… here I come with my bonus.

But then the unthinkable happened. My client’s car pitted in the next round and everything was going fine when suddenly the immature upstart hastily left dragging the fuel line with him. Disaster!!! And look at the other competitor cars driving so dangerously close to this car. I mentally made a note for the suggestion of the month – when my client is making a pit stop, the others will have to wait outside the pit lane, till my client leaves it.

Ok. The crazy upstart competitor will have to be punished. Where is the rule book… where is it… aah got it… can my client be excused? oh no… I am scr***d… my client will definitely be angry for punishing his driver… how do I do this without endangering my bonus… mmm I need time to think… send that message out “stewards investigating…” that buys me some time.

There is only one way. Relative grading. I have to give the client a drive through penalty, if I don’t the crowd will just mob the stands. The hell with it, of all the days they had to be in their highest numbers today. I will give the client a drive through, but for the other competitors a drive through plus a stop go… haha… the boss will be pleased. I am a genius.

But now my client’s driver is pushed really back. The hell with him. Why could that driver not just wait for them to pull out the fuel line? I am not a magician. How do I make this @$$ of a driver win? I could do a better job than him and all those pit babes will be fawning over me… focus focus back to reality… I will really have to keep my eyes peeled to make sure that all the others can get eliminated. Suddenly my bonus seems that bit unreachable…

Damage control is the need of the day. It is impossible for the client to finish on the podium, unless they start counting from the back. And that will happen when the sun rises in the west. But how do I explain this to my dumb client??? Let me try reasoning with him. Let us try to keep them in the championship race. There are 2 ways – eliminate the closest rival’s cars and move the client’s cars into the points range.

There I see that competitor… how do I eliminate him… he is not even driving his usual aggressive style. And the other car is unlikely to cause any problems to my client’s drivers who are totally having a good time driving at the end of the line without anybody at their tails. I think I should look in the pit lane. Aah I see that driver’s dad… what is he doing there? Is that illegal… no… now he is picking his nose… aha in singapore you will be fined, maybe even arrested – is that a reason enough to suspend the driver? Hmmph no… pit crew check… no they are also fine. Who is that guy with the giant circle at the end of the stick? All the other teams are using it too… my team does not have that… so can I eliminate them all together in one master stroke so that we can have more fun with our automated technology that replaced that guy… my client is a smart cost cutter…

Focus focus… the race is almost over… I need to find something. Night race, what can I do. Hah… that silver paint? It is actually reflecting the lights and giving additional illumination to the driver… that is an unfair advantage definitely… all other cars have other colors, only silver is a metallic shine… moreover that dazzle is causing a disturbance to other drivers when they try to overtake… but that guy is not trying to overtake too… I am tearing my hair. But that unfair advantage is definitely worth exploring. Maybe after the race we can again strip him of the title…

I can’t control my glee… the bonus seems back within reach again…

PS. Sometimes I feel my client’s drivers got their licenses by bribing the officials to pass the driving test… but then I would be out of a job.

f1 revisited…

f1 formerly known as formula-1 requires a rechristening… no points for guessing what it will be – “ferrari-1” (yeah I am being sarcastic – no points for guessing this too)…

from now on Ferrari cars will be designed like this…

The other team cars will be designed like this…

The design of the cars is frozen at the beginning of every season and subject to approval of the management authorities. Any changes from last season’s design will be closely inspected and any intentions of an advantageous change will be removed failing which the team can be disqualified from the races in the season.

However the above rule does not apply to Ferrari cars and they can continue extending their design advantage throughout the season also. They can tweak their engines and make other design modifications to their cars as and when they please. They are also allowed to take the design of competing companies if required. But then Ferrari will have to submit the report on which team’s design they have used so the FIA can disqualify the competing teams from the constructor championships but they can still run around the tracks as dummies so that Ferrari can benchmark and test their design changes and whether they have made perfect copies.

And yes coming to the race rules, safety is the utmost priority of all FIA sponsored races; safety of Ferrari cars an even higher priority. So if there is any hint that there could be a potential danger on the field, the safety car will be deployed and no cars will be allowed to overtake any other car in front of it. However, Ferrari cars are allowed to brake suddenly and hit the car behind them or hit the car in front so that they can eliminate those drivers who could be potential threats once the safety car is removed. However care should be taken so that the safety car is deployed at such a time as would seem advantageous to Ferrari car positions. To pacify the fans announcements will be made that the decision regarding the offending cars will be made after the race as there were other far more significant rule breaks the stewards will have to attend to – like dismissing the pilot of the airplane that went off course to hit a skyscraper – so that after the race when the champagne and other alcoholic beverages are consumed the fans would either forget the incident or their shouts for justice will fall on deaf inebriated ears.

In case of non-ferrari cars, so much as a slight chance that the driver could have hit a Ferrari car would entitle disqualification of that car from that race. But he may be handled with a certain amount of leniency if the affected team is not Ferrari.

When the race is on, no cars will be allowed to overtake Ferrari cars. But in case of a mistake on the part of the competing teams, they will be let off with un-appealable penalties like drive through penalties or stripping down of the finish positions. The rules will be accordingly modified to make the driver’s actions as illegitimate. Like for instance, upon overtaking a car by cutting corners or jumping chicanes, the position must be immediately ceded to the overtaken driver. If however the car that ceded its lead to the overtaken car, overtakes the car again after relinquishing its advantage, then the rule will be changed as the relinquished position should be maintained for at least one corner. However, if the car still manages to overtake again despite giving the lead away for one corner, another corner will be added to the rule. This will ensure that the total number of corners available will eventually get exhausted and the Ferrari cars will get the maximum advantage till the end of the race.

If however by some impossible chance a car overtakes a Ferrari car towards the end of the race and still manages to finish the race ahead, its position will be unceremoniously stripped and the prizes will be snatched away from the driver and the constructor and given to the bawling Ferrari and its drivers in an attempt to pacify them.

In all cases the Ferrari drivers will be treated on par when dealing with other team drivers. But within the team, the designated number 1 driver decided as the one who is tall, handsome with blue eyes, well built and popular among the female fans as compared to the number 2 driver who will be someone who is pot bellied and balding and almost gives a toothless smile that is repulsive to the female fans. In cases involving disputes between the Ferrari drivers, the number 2 driver would contest like any other non-ferrari driver.

Last but not the least, Ferrari will be allowed to add more manpower into its racing team with people who are the most important part of a winning team – lawyers. This is necessary to protect the rights of righteous companies like Ferrari which is hounded by its vicious competitors. The lawyers will be present everywhere trying to find anything remotely linking to a possible sabotage of the competing teams against Ferrari, and immediately presenting evidence or the lack of it in court so that the competition can be eliminated. An example of grave sabotage includes but not exhaustively, a situation where a Ferrari driver’s pit crew member’s aunt’s cousin’s grandmother’s friend’s granddaughter is present in same premises as a competing driver’s parent auto company’s finance department’s outsourced employee from india has come looking for discarded bills for his income tax submission. Thus we see that lawyers are very essential for a racing team’s success.

At all times and not just during the race FIA nominated authorities who will closely monitor the drivers so that non-ferrari teams can be penalized for any small foot-out-of-line rule breaks so that the high safety standards for the Ferrari drivers and the concept of fair play for can be ensured for them. May the spirit of motor racing be respected.