Found this piece of comic-dialogue extremely amusing! Reproducing from Calvin & Hobbes:
Calvin: "Today at school, I tried to decide whether to cheat on my test or not.
"I wondered, is it better to do the right thing and fail...or is it better to do the wrong thing and succeed?
"On the one hand, undeserved success gives no satisfaction...but on the other hand, well-deserved failure gives no satisfaction either.
"Of course, most everybody cheats some time or the other. People always bend the rules if they think they can get away with it...Then again, that doesnt justify my cheating.
"Then I thought, look, cheating on one little test isn't such a big deal. It doesnt hurt anyone....but then I wondered if I was just rationalizing my unwillingness to accept the consequence of not studying.
"Still, in the real world, people care about success. Not principles....Then again, maybe thats why the world is in such a mess. What a dilemma!"
Hobbes: "So what did you decide?"
Calvin: "Nothing. I ran out of time and I had to turn in a blank paper."
Hobbes: "Anymore, simply acknowledging the issue is a moral victory."
Calvin: "Well, it just seemed wrong to cheat on an ethics test."
Sunday, April 29, 2007
April 2007
April of 2007 for me has been one of the most eventful months in recent times. There were lots of weddings but alas! lots of sad news too.
The very first day of April, while I was enjoying a nice bath in Iruppu falls near Nagarhole after a small trek amidst the Brahmagiri Mountain Range near Wayanad, Kerala, my grandparents met with an accident and passed away. The next few weeks involved active participation in the sad performance of the religious rites. This entailed my absence to my good friends Abhishek and Archana’s wedding on April 5th.
However, I was able to attend the weddings of my other good friends Ceby on April 12th and Mani on 25th. But April 26th being a very auspicious day (5 weddings on that day including Mani’s!), I managed to spend more time only at my cousin Jyotsna’s wedding and just flashed a smile at the grooms in two (Manjunathan & Jayant) other weddings. Thankfully the last one was away from Bangalore, although the telepathic wishes remain all the same!
On April 21st-22nd weekend, enjoyed a great deal with office colleagues in the small quaint little village of Kullanjawadi (perhaps misspelt) near Cuddalore and Pondicherry. A memorable trip which mainly involved multiple baths at farm pump set! The beach at Mahabalipuram and the Pondicherry Ashram also were "sites of nice time"!
But apart from all the joy in April, there were lot of deaths that touched the soul. And sad part being most were by way of accidents. Apart from my grands, nine people died on Bangalore-Mysore road when the vehicle tried to avoid a dog and went over the median. 3 professors waiting in a bus-stop died when a vehicle jumped the signal, lost control and rammed into them. A kid fell down an unused well and was found dead when it was pulled out after 56 hours. A massive shoot-out at Virginia Tech University killed 32 people including a celebrated professor who had carved out a success story, coming from a remote village in India, and 26-year old Mumbai girl.
Apart from the few days of celebration of the union of the blessed couples and the two trips, April of 2007 has been a sad, sad month.
I sincerely hope that the days to come embrace peace and tranquility, and makes the World a happy and joyful place to live…
The very first day of April, while I was enjoying a nice bath in Iruppu falls near Nagarhole after a small trek amidst the Brahmagiri Mountain Range near Wayanad, Kerala, my grandparents met with an accident and passed away. The next few weeks involved active participation in the sad performance of the religious rites. This entailed my absence to my good friends Abhishek and Archana’s wedding on April 5th.
However, I was able to attend the weddings of my other good friends Ceby on April 12th and Mani on 25th. But April 26th being a very auspicious day (5 weddings on that day including Mani’s!), I managed to spend more time only at my cousin Jyotsna’s wedding and just flashed a smile at the grooms in two (Manjunathan & Jayant) other weddings. Thankfully the last one was away from Bangalore, although the telepathic wishes remain all the same!
On April 21st-22nd weekend, enjoyed a great deal with office colleagues in the small quaint little village of Kullanjawadi (perhaps misspelt) near Cuddalore and Pondicherry. A memorable trip which mainly involved multiple baths at farm pump set! The beach at Mahabalipuram and the Pondicherry Ashram also were "sites of nice time"!
But apart from all the joy in April, there were lot of deaths that touched the soul. And sad part being most were by way of accidents. Apart from my grands, nine people died on Bangalore-Mysore road when the vehicle tried to avoid a dog and went over the median. 3 professors waiting in a bus-stop died when a vehicle jumped the signal, lost control and rammed into them. A kid fell down an unused well and was found dead when it was pulled out after 56 hours. A massive shoot-out at Virginia Tech University killed 32 people including a celebrated professor who had carved out a success story, coming from a remote village in India, and 26-year old Mumbai girl.
Apart from the few days of celebration of the union of the blessed couples and the two trips, April of 2007 has been a sad, sad month.
I sincerely hope that the days to come embrace peace and tranquility, and makes the World a happy and joyful place to live…
Silence
The silence of the night sky
The silence of the dawn
The silence of the Ocean
The silence of the Universe
The silence at the Lotus Temple
The silence at the Aurobindo Ashram
The silence at the Grand Canyon
The purity of silence
The innocence of silence
The sweetness of silence
The silence of the Idols
The silence of the dead
Silence speaks more than words
Silence is more divine
At the end of it all…
…we all become one with silence.
The silence of the dawn
The silence of the Ocean
The silence of the Universe
The silence at the Lotus Temple
The silence at the Aurobindo Ashram
The silence at the Grand Canyon
The purity of silence
The innocence of silence
The sweetness of silence
The silence of the Idols
The silence of the dead
Silence speaks more than words
Silence is more divine
At the end of it all…
…we all become one with silence.
Monday, April 16, 2007
27
Turned 27 today.
Matter of fact, its just another day.
Yet, its somehow special.
Everyone giving attention.
Feeling somehow important.
New hopes; new aspirations; new year.
As one of my good friends reminded:
“We turn not older with years but newer every day”
Matter of fact, its just another day.
Yet, its somehow special.
Everyone giving attention.
Feeling somehow important.
New hopes; new aspirations; new year.
As one of my good friends reminded:
“We turn not older with years but newer every day”
Monday, April 09, 2007
A tribute to Ajji & Thatha
On April 1st 2007, both my mother’s parents passed away in a car accident. After the darshan at Tirumala, the car was on its way from Tirupati to Srikalahasthi when it hit a stationary truck on the side, toppled due to the quick swerve and the impact threw my grandmother out of the car. She died on the spot. My grandfather passed away a few moments later due to shock. It is the first time I am seeing Death in such close quarters. I guess as we all grow older, we get used to it.
Ajji had a high impact on me since my birth. Strictly religious and utterly devoted to God, she has visited many famous shrines throughout India, and many a time, me being a kid, tagging me along with her. I have lost count how many times I have gone to Tirumala with her, equipped with rave-unde and kodbale and mixture being main source of food! I owe to her for having taken me to Brahmotsava. I owe to her for having taken me to Srisaila, where she gave me a green-hued glass Shiva linga, which I still pray to daily. I owe to her for having taken me to Udupi where she gifted me a cute little idol of Lord Krishna with flute, which I still pray to daily. And of course, each trip also resulted in either a plastic-strap watch or a finger-ring or a plastic motor car!
She introduced me to the concept of banking. Whatever money I got as a kid (be it pocket money or Re 1 coins in Thambolas), I used to give it to ajji. Plainly because she was my bank. She gave a tremendous amount of interest, and although it didn’t make much sense to me then, I knew enough that I would get more money than what I had given her! She finally rounded it up to ten grand and gave it to me when I finished my Tenth!
But I must admit, I used to dread every summer holidays. For my mom used to send me packing to ajji mane at Yeshwantpur! I didn’t want to spend weeks altogether there although a day or two of visit was welcome! Ajji was also too much into relatives. However far they might be related and geographically located, she used to visit them without fail on a regular basis. Each visit involved a tight grip on my wrist and a strenuous bus journey accompanied by hours of chat whence I used to get bored to death.
But thatha was refreshing in his own way and made an impact on me too. He always spoke on a ‘Need-to-know’ basis and was to the point. He didn’t involve himself in idle chatter. His journey in life is remarkable in itself. A full biography can be written which can emphasise the complete life that he has led. Coming from below poverty family, having numerous siblings, some of them even cunning enough to deceive him, he almost single-handedly came up in life, often working round-the-clock in multiple jobs.
He was in film industry, red label tea, auto business, taxi business, life insurance and off late renting houses. This is what I knew but he was much much more than all this. Highly respected, for he had come up in life the hard way, he was also most sought after. Constantly there were visitors at the Yeshwantpur house.
Fiercely independent, he never left the small Yeshwantpur house even till the end although he could have afforded a bungalow, or even stayed at any of his three son’s houses. While he could have roamed about with a chauffeur-driven limousine, he preferred a battered, old Fiat for a long, long time, after which he chose auto as a better transport.
He also appreciated quality life. He made time to attend Carnatic music whenever and wherever it occurred. He had an avid knowledge of slokas and mythological stories. He taught me to chant some slokas too, which I do daily. He liked watching sports and visiting places. He was a connoisseur of movies, be it any language, and liked dance sequences very much! He enjoyed his food. Potato chips should always accompany lunch or dinner! If we complain that too much oil is bad for health, he used to justify with a smiling grin: “Body needs lubrication!”
His typical retired day started off with a long morning walk, rigorous (rather funny!) exercise with body oil, multiple morning activities including meeting customers, banking, etc. followed by a sumptuous food. And then there was always a 3-hour sleeping session after which came the movie session on any of the TV channels which replaced the very-used VCR! And then the after-dinner walk, a tradition which he passed onto me.
While ajji introduced me banking concepts with my own money, thatha took me to real banks with him and showed me to how to deposit cheque, how to withdraw cash, etc. And then he used to send me to bank all by myself, giving me an all-important status.
He treated all his children with the same respect. My mom recalls that he never once scolded her. Being the only daughter, he encouraged her to learn classical music, dancing and even to have a job of her own, much to the chagrin of ajji! [A girl being independent on her own in 1970s was unheard of and was considered bordering rude!] Countless tales can be recounted with respect to his benevolence towards his children and grandchildren, whom he used to fondle with his prickly beard!
He never really stopped working. He never really retired. Infact, he started earning more after he retired. He had to his credit about 8 houses. Apart from this, many modes of business (including pawning) which the general public never came to know about. He always used to keep himself busy. He was one of the most industrious men I have ever met.
But he was prone to a lot of vehicular accidents and diseases! He has had about 3-4 minor accidents in his scooter! He had arthritis which nearly crippled him, and Chicken guinea recently when he became bed-ridden. But yet, he stood up each time, as if defying age. Such was his strength; such was his will power. “Nothing could come in his way” was the general feeling.
Same can be said about ajji. She had a near-fatal blow to her head in 1994 when she fell down the slippery stone stairs in Sonda. Even after being almost crippled with immobility, she maintained the robustness of life and ensured to attend all important family functions. In her own pace, she never stopped climbing stairs when needed. In her own pace, she kept visiting Tirumala in spite of the crowd.
Ajji had a high impact on me since my birth. Strictly religious and utterly devoted to God, she has visited many famous shrines throughout India, and many a time, me being a kid, tagging me along with her. I have lost count how many times I have gone to Tirumala with her, equipped with rave-unde and kodbale and mixture being main source of food! I owe to her for having taken me to Brahmotsava. I owe to her for having taken me to Srisaila, where she gave me a green-hued glass Shiva linga, which I still pray to daily. I owe to her for having taken me to Udupi where she gifted me a cute little idol of Lord Krishna with flute, which I still pray to daily. And of course, each trip also resulted in either a plastic-strap watch or a finger-ring or a plastic motor car!
She introduced me to the concept of banking. Whatever money I got as a kid (be it pocket money or Re 1 coins in Thambolas), I used to give it to ajji. Plainly because she was my bank. She gave a tremendous amount of interest, and although it didn’t make much sense to me then, I knew enough that I would get more money than what I had given her! She finally rounded it up to ten grand and gave it to me when I finished my Tenth!
But I must admit, I used to dread every summer holidays. For my mom used to send me packing to ajji mane at Yeshwantpur! I didn’t want to spend weeks altogether there although a day or two of visit was welcome! Ajji was also too much into relatives. However far they might be related and geographically located, she used to visit them without fail on a regular basis. Each visit involved a tight grip on my wrist and a strenuous bus journey accompanied by hours of chat whence I used to get bored to death.
But thatha was refreshing in his own way and made an impact on me too. He always spoke on a ‘Need-to-know’ basis and was to the point. He didn’t involve himself in idle chatter. His journey in life is remarkable in itself. A full biography can be written which can emphasise the complete life that he has led. Coming from below poverty family, having numerous siblings, some of them even cunning enough to deceive him, he almost single-handedly came up in life, often working round-the-clock in multiple jobs.
He was in film industry, red label tea, auto business, taxi business, life insurance and off late renting houses. This is what I knew but he was much much more than all this. Highly respected, for he had come up in life the hard way, he was also most sought after. Constantly there were visitors at the Yeshwantpur house.
Fiercely independent, he never left the small Yeshwantpur house even till the end although he could have afforded a bungalow, or even stayed at any of his three son’s houses. While he could have roamed about with a chauffeur-driven limousine, he preferred a battered, old Fiat for a long, long time, after which he chose auto as a better transport.
He also appreciated quality life. He made time to attend Carnatic music whenever and wherever it occurred. He had an avid knowledge of slokas and mythological stories. He taught me to chant some slokas too, which I do daily. He liked watching sports and visiting places. He was a connoisseur of movies, be it any language, and liked dance sequences very much! He enjoyed his food. Potato chips should always accompany lunch or dinner! If we complain that too much oil is bad for health, he used to justify with a smiling grin: “Body needs lubrication!”
His typical retired day started off with a long morning walk, rigorous (rather funny!) exercise with body oil, multiple morning activities including meeting customers, banking, etc. followed by a sumptuous food. And then there was always a 3-hour sleeping session after which came the movie session on any of the TV channels which replaced the very-used VCR! And then the after-dinner walk, a tradition which he passed onto me.
While ajji introduced me banking concepts with my own money, thatha took me to real banks with him and showed me to how to deposit cheque, how to withdraw cash, etc. And then he used to send me to bank all by myself, giving me an all-important status.
He treated all his children with the same respect. My mom recalls that he never once scolded her. Being the only daughter, he encouraged her to learn classical music, dancing and even to have a job of her own, much to the chagrin of ajji! [A girl being independent on her own in 1970s was unheard of and was considered bordering rude!] Countless tales can be recounted with respect to his benevolence towards his children and grandchildren, whom he used to fondle with his prickly beard!
He never really stopped working. He never really retired. Infact, he started earning more after he retired. He had to his credit about 8 houses. Apart from this, many modes of business (including pawning) which the general public never came to know about. He always used to keep himself busy. He was one of the most industrious men I have ever met.
But he was prone to a lot of vehicular accidents and diseases! He has had about 3-4 minor accidents in his scooter! He had arthritis which nearly crippled him, and Chicken guinea recently when he became bed-ridden. But yet, he stood up each time, as if defying age. Such was his strength; such was his will power. “Nothing could come in his way” was the general feeling.
Same can be said about ajji. She had a near-fatal blow to her head in 1994 when she fell down the slippery stone stairs in Sonda. Even after being almost crippled with immobility, she maintained the robustness of life and ensured to attend all important family functions. In her own pace, she never stopped climbing stairs when needed. In her own pace, she kept visiting Tirumala in spite of the crowd.
I was supposed to go in that trip but I backed out as I had been to Tirumala recently. Two small cousins of mine in the same car (one aged ten and another aged one) escaped with minimal injuries. One gets the feeling that they gave their lives away for the young ones.
It is a pity she never saw any of her grandchild’s wedding, which was her main topic off-late. She fell short by about 6 months when the eldest grandchild is due to be married. Much loved by all, much teased by all, she shall henceforth remain in our memories. Their absence is palpable in every occasion. So much so that when their final rites were happening, and the whole family is there, I was looking around to see where Ajji Thatha were…Its only later I realized that it was their own final rites that was being performed.
It is only the blessed few couples who live hand-in-hand and who die hand-in-hand. It is even fewer who die in the premises of Lord Venkateshwara. It is only befitting that Ajji-Thatha happened to be this blessed couple.
As one of the admirers mentioned in the funeral, just like how a good batsman can get out only by run-out, the only way Raghavendra Rao and Ramabai could die was through unnatural death. For them, no natural death could be scripted. They would have just lived on and on and on. Hale and Healthy.
Dear Ajji & Thatha…
Rest In Peace…
It is a pity she never saw any of her grandchild’s wedding, which was her main topic off-late. She fell short by about 6 months when the eldest grandchild is due to be married. Much loved by all, much teased by all, she shall henceforth remain in our memories. Their absence is palpable in every occasion. So much so that when their final rites were happening, and the whole family is there, I was looking around to see where Ajji Thatha were…Its only later I realized that it was their own final rites that was being performed.
It is only the blessed few couples who live hand-in-hand and who die hand-in-hand. It is even fewer who die in the premises of Lord Venkateshwara. It is only befitting that Ajji-Thatha happened to be this blessed couple.
As one of the admirers mentioned in the funeral, just like how a good batsman can get out only by run-out, the only way Raghavendra Rao and Ramabai could die was through unnatural death. For them, no natural death could be scripted. They would have just lived on and on and on. Hale and Healthy.
Dear Ajji & Thatha…
Rest In Peace…
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Hundred and One
Its been exactly a year since I started blogging and this is my 100th post!
Although I write more for myself than for others, as I have stated in one of my previous posts, I also am a big fan of statistics. Hence I incorporated Sitemeter into my blog. Apart from keeping track of the overall count of visitors, it provides weekly stats of number of people who visited my blog in that particular week. And not just that, it even tells the actual location of the visitor!
And with regards to that, I must admit, I am flattered to have visitors from many parts of the world. While it is common to have visitors from US, it is still surprising to see visitors from states like Missouri, Arizona, North Carolina, Minnesota, Iowa, Texas, Nebraska, California, etc where I do not have much pals. But the killer astonishment arises to see visitors from places like Iceland (Reykjavk, Gullbringusysla), Cote D'Ivoire (Abidjan), Australia (Dandenong, Victoria), Africa and even some countries that are labeled as ‘Unknown’!!
Be that as it may. This post is just to celebrate the anniversary as well as for reaching the three figure mark! And no, I shall not stop blogging…not just yet!!
Although I write more for myself than for others, as I have stated in one of my previous posts, I also am a big fan of statistics. Hence I incorporated Sitemeter into my blog. Apart from keeping track of the overall count of visitors, it provides weekly stats of number of people who visited my blog in that particular week. And not just that, it even tells the actual location of the visitor!
And with regards to that, I must admit, I am flattered to have visitors from many parts of the world. While it is common to have visitors from US, it is still surprising to see visitors from states like Missouri, Arizona, North Carolina, Minnesota, Iowa, Texas, Nebraska, California, etc where I do not have much pals. But the killer astonishment arises to see visitors from places like Iceland (Reykjavk, Gullbringusysla), Cote D'Ivoire (Abidjan), Australia (Dandenong, Victoria), Africa and even some countries that are labeled as ‘Unknown’!!
Be that as it may. This post is just to celebrate the anniversary as well as for reaching the three figure mark! And no, I shall not stop blogging…not just yet!!
Sunday, March 18, 2007
The Unspoken Language
I rode along on my bike in the heavily congested road. ‘Congested’ is the right word. Not only does it state the population but also has a tilting connotation to pollution. I weaved through the chaos with utmost concentration and the summer heat topped by the mandatory headgear added to the frustration and perspiration.
I neared a junction and the red traffic light commanded the overflowing traffic to an abrupt halt. We all at the forefront of the road knew it was going to be a long wait and shut the engines. The traffic light number began at 120 and slowly started trickling down to 0. Funny I said ‘slowly’. A ‘second’ is in fact SI unit of time. There is nothing slow or fast about it. Yet, the relativity of the movement of traffic on road, the urgency in everyone, the need-for-speed attitude makes one feel even the standard ‘second’ slower than the pace of life.
My gaze turned to the right and I found myself very close to a yellow mini-van. The window closest to me was completely open. I could not help looking inside the window and from the angle at which I stood, I had a clear vision of the inhabitant beside the window. She looked up and my heart did a quick somersault when I saw her face. To put in a few short words, she was just ‘simply’ beautiful. There was nothing too gaudy or made-up about her. It seemed like a simple but wonderful artwork of Mother Nature.
A nice soothing face, perfect features and neat, obedient hair tied behind her back. But the thing about her that won hands down was her eyes. She had one of the most pleasant eyes I had ever seen. It was perfectly curved and deep set which seemed to look at everyone in a calm, peaceful manner. It was a pair of eyes which seemed to melt all the violence in the world into a sea full of everlasting tranquility.
She felt my eyes on her and looked up at me. She looked at the girl beside her and they both giggled, furtively looking at me. She became shy and embarrassed at my innocent stare. She looked down at her hands and fiddled with it. Then she saw me again and I smiled. She smiled, and looked at her friend and giggled again and turned her head down once more. The same pattern continued a couple more times. I couldn’t help smiling at her childish awkwardness.
I turned towards the traffic light. The number had come down to 10. I looked back at her one last time, flashed a nice smile and waved my hands, signaling that it was time to move on. She understood, returned my gesture by flashing an enthusiastic smile and waved back at me.
It occurred to me as I moved away from the kindergarten yellow mini-van how the unspoken language of a simple smile can bridge souls.
I neared a junction and the red traffic light commanded the overflowing traffic to an abrupt halt. We all at the forefront of the road knew it was going to be a long wait and shut the engines. The traffic light number began at 120 and slowly started trickling down to 0. Funny I said ‘slowly’. A ‘second’ is in fact SI unit of time. There is nothing slow or fast about it. Yet, the relativity of the movement of traffic on road, the urgency in everyone, the need-for-speed attitude makes one feel even the standard ‘second’ slower than the pace of life.
My gaze turned to the right and I found myself very close to a yellow mini-van. The window closest to me was completely open. I could not help looking inside the window and from the angle at which I stood, I had a clear vision of the inhabitant beside the window. She looked up and my heart did a quick somersault when I saw her face. To put in a few short words, she was just ‘simply’ beautiful. There was nothing too gaudy or made-up about her. It seemed like a simple but wonderful artwork of Mother Nature.
A nice soothing face, perfect features and neat, obedient hair tied behind her back. But the thing about her that won hands down was her eyes. She had one of the most pleasant eyes I had ever seen. It was perfectly curved and deep set which seemed to look at everyone in a calm, peaceful manner. It was a pair of eyes which seemed to melt all the violence in the world into a sea full of everlasting tranquility.
She felt my eyes on her and looked up at me. She looked at the girl beside her and they both giggled, furtively looking at me. She became shy and embarrassed at my innocent stare. She looked down at her hands and fiddled with it. Then she saw me again and I smiled. She smiled, and looked at her friend and giggled again and turned her head down once more. The same pattern continued a couple more times. I couldn’t help smiling at her childish awkwardness.
I turned towards the traffic light. The number had come down to 10. I looked back at her one last time, flashed a nice smile and waved my hands, signaling that it was time to move on. She understood, returned my gesture by flashing an enthusiastic smile and waved back at me.
It occurred to me as I moved away from the kindergarten yellow mini-van how the unspoken language of a simple smile can bridge souls.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Wheels
One of the truest joys I experience is when I am in an automotive and the automotive moves by itself! The onset of such an experience is during the era of me driving bicycles. I used to carefully select routes which involved maximum number of decent descents such that I did not have to pedal and the cycle used to move by itself, and I always felt wheels is such a wonderful invention. I mean the very thought of moving from point A to point B without doing anything, and at the cost of nothing is - for me - simply magnificent!
I experience similar joyousness even in train journeys for I always feel the movement of the bogeys is all by itself although it is in fact pulled by the engine! Come to think of it, even in a train, after the initial pull, and when one can hear the ceasing of the acceleration, the train moves by itself in momentum and it is this automatic momentum that sort of gives me a unique joy!
People akin to my driving would have noticed how haltingly I accelerate and thereby enjoy the consequent automated momentum of the vehicle moving by itself! There is a stretch in Banashankari which we encounter en route to Padmanabhanagar from Jayanagar which I used to ride in my Kinetic with the ignition off for almost a mile! And every time I do that, I am in awe of this simple beauty!
The US car that I had was of automatic transmission. Such cars have built-in acceleration and left to itself will move at about 10 mph. If the road is empty and there are no cars behind me, and in places like the parking lot, I never used to accelerate and would allow the car to go on its own accord! I remember the time in office parking lot (which was sloped) where I used to wait to pick up people. Due to the upward slope, the built in acceleration was sufficient for the car to move constantly at about 1-2 mph till it reached the top of the slope which was the door to the office! Since I was in effect waiting, it was a nice pastime to see the car move by itself by no manual force!
But going back to the roots, so many other inventions followed the invention of wheels like bicycles, engines, motorbikes, cars, trucks, railways, aero planes, etc. It has generated so much of employment in areas like creating asphalt roads for hundreds of thousands of miles, shops at bus terminals and Road-side plazas and Railway stations and Airports. In aviation alone, it has bred pilots, Air Force personnel, Air Traffic Controllers, flight engineers, Air hostesses, etc. It has eased life in so many ways such as ease of commute, moving of parcels and packages, making travel easier and bringing remote areas of the beautiful world to man’s easy grasp. It has created enjoyment and encouraged competition in terms of Grand Prix Formula One racing events, and not to mention the layman’s version of go-karting and dashing-cars which is a popular sport in amusement parks. The list is endless.
Just felt like giving three cheers to man’s one of the most wonderful inventions: Wheels!
I experience similar joyousness even in train journeys for I always feel the movement of the bogeys is all by itself although it is in fact pulled by the engine! Come to think of it, even in a train, after the initial pull, and when one can hear the ceasing of the acceleration, the train moves by itself in momentum and it is this automatic momentum that sort of gives me a unique joy!
People akin to my driving would have noticed how haltingly I accelerate and thereby enjoy the consequent automated momentum of the vehicle moving by itself! There is a stretch in Banashankari which we encounter en route to Padmanabhanagar from Jayanagar which I used to ride in my Kinetic with the ignition off for almost a mile! And every time I do that, I am in awe of this simple beauty!
The US car that I had was of automatic transmission. Such cars have built-in acceleration and left to itself will move at about 10 mph. If the road is empty and there are no cars behind me, and in places like the parking lot, I never used to accelerate and would allow the car to go on its own accord! I remember the time in office parking lot (which was sloped) where I used to wait to pick up people. Due to the upward slope, the built in acceleration was sufficient for the car to move constantly at about 1-2 mph till it reached the top of the slope which was the door to the office! Since I was in effect waiting, it was a nice pastime to see the car move by itself by no manual force!
But going back to the roots, so many other inventions followed the invention of wheels like bicycles, engines, motorbikes, cars, trucks, railways, aero planes, etc. It has generated so much of employment in areas like creating asphalt roads for hundreds of thousands of miles, shops at bus terminals and Road-side plazas and Railway stations and Airports. In aviation alone, it has bred pilots, Air Force personnel, Air Traffic Controllers, flight engineers, Air hostesses, etc. It has eased life in so many ways such as ease of commute, moving of parcels and packages, making travel easier and bringing remote areas of the beautiful world to man’s easy grasp. It has created enjoyment and encouraged competition in terms of Grand Prix Formula One racing events, and not to mention the layman’s version of go-karting and dashing-cars which is a popular sport in amusement parks. The list is endless.
Just felt like giving three cheers to man’s one of the most wonderful inventions: Wheels!
Monday, February 26, 2007
Checkmated
It began there.
It ended there.
The Up and the Down; a full circle.
I saw the complete cycle.
A perfectly staged show; like a beautiful animation.
The perfect retribution.
Him the audience; we the puppet.
Me the goat.
The gentle touch with full of hope.
Helps thee prosper and successfully cope.
But high and dehydrated.
Is how I lay withered.
It is all false.
Medals nary say the truth.
Been a hypocrite for long enough.
Who am I kidding?
Neither here nor there.
Neither good nor bad.
Neither rich nor poor.
I am neither for the rich nor for the poor.
Strip me naked.
Scorch me with blazing Sun.
Take me unto you.
I lay checkmated.
It ended there.
The Up and the Down; a full circle.
I saw the complete cycle.
A perfectly staged show; like a beautiful animation.
The perfect retribution.
Him the audience; we the puppet.
Me the goat.
The gentle touch with full of hope.
Helps thee prosper and successfully cope.
But high and dehydrated.
Is how I lay withered.
It is all false.
Medals nary say the truth.
Been a hypocrite for long enough.
Who am I kidding?
Neither here nor there.
Neither good nor bad.
Neither rich nor poor.
I am neither for the rich nor for the poor.
Strip me naked.
Scorch me with blazing Sun.
Take me unto you.
I lay checkmated.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Man and Woman...
There are some things which you read and it keeps haunting you for a long time. Truth is bitter. This is something which I read a long long time ago and yet I could never forget the words used. I agree with every word of what my good friend Mani has written.
Man and Woman are equal. Period.
Man and Woman are equal. Period.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
The Elements of Universe
The Sun is just rising to a cloudless azure sky.
The climate is just about perfect.
The birds chirp happily.
The river flows steadily.
A few steps ventured into the river and the small pail is filled with water.
In one quick heave, the pail is above the head and the body is completely splashed.
Successively, the pail is filled and splashed from head downwards.
The repetitiveness is so spontaneous that there is no time to inhale.
Gasping for breath and splashed with water, over and over and over.
Like a vehicle being washed, thoroughly getting rid of dirt.
The cleansing feeling of sins of the body and mind and soul getting washed away.
The sense of Ultimate Purification.
Dried and fresh, a few soulful minutes in front of the morning Sun.
The quick walk to the nearby shrine.
Gratitude in eyes, knees genuflected and palms for alms.
The Healing Touch.
At the end of the day;
There are no parents, no siblings, no spouse;
No cousins, no relatives, no friends, no colleagues;
It is just the Elements of Universe.
The climate is just about perfect.
The birds chirp happily.
The river flows steadily.
A few steps ventured into the river and the small pail is filled with water.
In one quick heave, the pail is above the head and the body is completely splashed.
Successively, the pail is filled and splashed from head downwards.
The repetitiveness is so spontaneous that there is no time to inhale.
Gasping for breath and splashed with water, over and over and over.
Like a vehicle being washed, thoroughly getting rid of dirt.
The cleansing feeling of sins of the body and mind and soul getting washed away.
The sense of Ultimate Purification.
Dried and fresh, a few soulful minutes in front of the morning Sun.
The quick walk to the nearby shrine.
Gratitude in eyes, knees genuflected and palms for alms.
The Healing Touch.
At the end of the day;
There are no parents, no siblings, no spouse;
No cousins, no relatives, no friends, no colleagues;
It is just the Elements of Universe.
Cell Phones
I reached the theatre well before the planned rendezvous time. I parked the vehicle and positioned myself under the shade of a tree and gazed at fellow “wait”-ers. There was the usual hustle bustle of the crowd with an excited air that is always present in any Indian theatre prior to the show start of a comparatively good movie. The ticket collector at the door was waiting for the right moment to let the crowd in.
Call it curiosity or call it impatience, for I knew he would be here any minute, I picked up my cell and called my friend to know the ETA. 5 minutes he told. The call was just an assurance, a sedative to the impatient mind. Like Crocin for Fever.
I continued my gaze of the crowd. It occurred to me that everyone I saw had a cell in their hands. I recalled that about 10 years ago, I was in the same theatre in pretty much the same scenario: waiting for friends. And in that era, cell phones were either non existent, or if it were, were pretty much unknown to me. And hither or thither, there was a lone telephone booth. And yet, while we used to just wait, life went on in its own normal pace.
But life now without a cell phone is unthinkable. After coming back from US, I delayed getting a cell by a fortnight and people who asked me my cell number gaped open-mouthed when I used to reply I didn’t have one. Cell phones have become such a part and parcel of life that it is almost akin to having an SSN in US. Imagine that! Moment a baby is born, a cell phone number is assigned to it!!
However, it is due to the remarkable advancement in technology that the comfort of calling whomsoever at whatsoever occasion whenever possible has been achieved. The telephone booths being queued up with hundreds of people is an unfathomable thought. One needs the comfort of ‘Simply talk maadi’! Who knows, ten years later I might blog about the then latest technology and ‘how once upon a time we lived in the era of good-for-nothing cell phones and blackberries!’
There does seem, though, another tricky point of consideration. The other day I was waiting for the company bus when I saw two girls, apparently friends of one another, walk by. From the place where I stood, I could see them walk almost a full 10 minutes from one end of the road to the other. The thing that caught my attention was that both were chatting on their cell phones all through the walk. Now how ironic is that! Since when has the cell phones invaded the pure joy of “walking the walk and talking the talk” with a friend?
Are we ruling the cell phone or is the cell phone ruling us?
Monday, February 05, 2007
A month in India…
Its been a month since I came to India. Time to jot down the things which I hadn’t done for a long long time…!
Attended a traditional South Indian wedding along with its customary feast.
Achieved the life-long ambition of attending at least once the Tyagaraja Aradhana festival.
Finished one round of sore throat, cold, fever and cough – necessarily in the same order!
New activities in Office!
Gradually learnt to drive…..again!
Nostalgic, cleaned out the shelves from the Class X and PU books.
Blood donation count reached double-digits.
Went to a refreshing classical music concert in city.
Saw the movie Guru with capacity-crowd at Urvashi Theatre.
Went biking as a pillion-rider at over 100 kmph without a helmet with oncoming traffic on the same road!
Smelt the nice country air and felt the joy of freedom from the weather!
Visited the Divine at Udupi, Sringeri and Horanadu after over 3 years. As before, was once again stunned at the Annadhaana Scheme [Free Food] prevalent in such places. Felt what one of my friend had said so true : “Jeevanadalli Artha Kalpiskobeku.” [Add meaning to Life] Furthered my resolution.
Was stupefied at seeing the institute at Manipal with its Café Coffee Days and fountains and jazzy buildings, and its Anglicized hep-crowd.
And then I saw Basrikatte. A small poor village, on the way from Sringeri to Horanadu, placed on top of a mountain, with a back drop of another towering mountain gave the whole setting a resemblance akin to the Swiss Alps minus the snow. Lush greenery all around. Felt the richness! Added to this was the genial attitude of people all around. Everyone most helpful in their native way with open, fresh and welcoming smile!
The distinction of the “High Society” and the “Low Society” and being rightly told to which society I belonged!
Somehow felt Basrikatte could not have been better if a chain of MacDonalds, Burger Kings, Subways had positioned themselves at this quaint little country village which truly resembles India in its purest and soulful form.
That’s the verdict on India after a month : Soulful.
Attended a traditional South Indian wedding along with its customary feast.
Achieved the life-long ambition of attending at least once the Tyagaraja Aradhana festival.
Finished one round of sore throat, cold, fever and cough – necessarily in the same order!
New activities in Office!
Gradually learnt to drive…..again!
Nostalgic, cleaned out the shelves from the Class X and PU books.
Blood donation count reached double-digits.
Went to a refreshing classical music concert in city.
Saw the movie Guru with capacity-crowd at Urvashi Theatre.
Went biking as a pillion-rider at over 100 kmph without a helmet with oncoming traffic on the same road!
Smelt the nice country air and felt the joy of freedom from the weather!
Visited the Divine at Udupi, Sringeri and Horanadu after over 3 years. As before, was once again stunned at the Annadhaana Scheme [Free Food] prevalent in such places. Felt what one of my friend had said so true : “Jeevanadalli Artha Kalpiskobeku.” [Add meaning to Life] Furthered my resolution.
Was stupefied at seeing the institute at Manipal with its Café Coffee Days and fountains and jazzy buildings, and its Anglicized hep-crowd.
And then I saw Basrikatte. A small poor village, on the way from Sringeri to Horanadu, placed on top of a mountain, with a back drop of another towering mountain gave the whole setting a resemblance akin to the Swiss Alps minus the snow. Lush greenery all around. Felt the richness! Added to this was the genial attitude of people all around. Everyone most helpful in their native way with open, fresh and welcoming smile!
The distinction of the “High Society” and the “Low Society” and being rightly told to which society I belonged!
Somehow felt Basrikatte could not have been better if a chain of MacDonalds, Burger Kings, Subways had positioned themselves at this quaint little country village which truly resembles India in its purest and soulful form.
That’s the verdict on India after a month : Soulful.
Friday, January 26, 2007
One day at the Detroit Airport…
There are always some incidents in our life which remain etched in our memory. For me, a collection of such interesting incidents occurred in Detroit Airport on October 8th 2006. I just kept postponing writing about it till now.
To start with, I was slightly concerned as my itinerary involved a transit in Baltimore on my way back from Detroit to Boston with the transit time being less than an hour plus a different airline, which meant, I thought, me having to check in again at Baltimore. With butterflies afloat in the stomach, we (My family) left my brother’s house at 3.45 pm for the 5.25 pm departure.
En route, there was a deviation of almost 15-20 miles to airport, and it caused a slight delay in arrival at the airport. Quickly bidding adieu to the family, I went to one of those machines which provides the boarding passes if the e-ticket number is punched in. It displayed an error message, saying flight already departed.
Nonplussed, I went to the counter and gave her the printout of my e-ticket. She apparently was new to her job and had no idea what was going on. With less than 20 minutes for my flight departure, I was getting freaked out. She mumbled something about me being booked at a 12.30 pm flight and that she can give me a direct flight to Boston at 7 pm. I thought she just didn’t know what she was doing because there was no way I could have been booked at 12.30 pm flight (when my e-ticket clearly said 5.25 pm) and also there was no way the airline could give me the 7 pm direct flight at the same cost if indeed I had missed my flight. If I couldn’t afford a direct flight in the first place when I was booking the tickets in Orbitz, why would the airlines provide me the same just because I missed my flight? Not that I would mind, because, I did need a direct flight compared to all the circus I had to go in Baltimore!
The attendant called another senior attendant and both of them quickly punched in something in the monitor and gave me my boarding pass without any further talk. I assumed everything was resolved and I could still make the 5.25 pm flight. I rushed to the security counter. The security officer scrutinized my T-shirt (which had the caption This is the worst day of my life) and gave a smirk: “I can make it bad for you, if you want.” I just managed a mirthless laugh.
With the security check completed, I analyzed where I was and where I had to go. Detroit airport is like an H-shaped airport with the 2 layers in the first vertical of ‘H’. I was at the centre of the second vertical of ‘H’ and my gate was at the top of the second vertical. The best way was to take the inter-terminal train. I got onto the train and thought “Only a few minutes from now I would be on board.” It was then that I saw my boarding pass.
It was a boarding pass to Boston direct in the 7 pm flight and not the 5.25 pm flight! A surge of relief went through me. The flight attendant had been actually able to give me the direct flight without any extra cost! It even spared me the trouble of changing airlines at Baltimore amidst the rush of time! This was the best thing that could happen. [It was only later that I came to know that there was a disclaimer in the e-ticket which said ‘Itinerary is subject to change. Please check mail 24 hrs before the actual departure.’ The itinerary had indeed changed and I had been booked for the 12.30 pm flight instead of the 5.25 pm flight!]
But just to confirm, I went to the gate corresponding to Baltimore flight and confirmed that indeed I was booked onto the Boston flight direct at 7 pm. The gate to Boston flight was at the lower end of second vertical of ‘H’. I went all the way walking to the other end just to pass time and window-shopped. I still had about an hour and half to kill. So I thought I might as well see the airport in its entirety. All terminals and all gates. Plus I had to have dinner as it would be pretty late by the time I would reach home. With these tasks in mind, I set forth with my camera to walk around the terminals and click away at glory.
My pace was slow and measured. Like I had all the time in the world. I looked at everything and anything, appreciating beauty in all its hidden camouflage. Like watching two small kids play with the walking conveyor. A beautiful fountain which switched on and off at different places to create a steady and rhythmic albeit unpredictable swoosh of water keeping anyone walking by it in rapturous attention. A pure pleasure just to watch it. Its amazing how beautiful a simple stream of water can be. Its such a boon to have eyes to appreciate it.
Having walked hither and thither all through the airport and exhausting myself I placed myself comfortably in a posh leather cushion couch and relaxed. There was still almost an hour to go before my flight departure. I have been in such situations in my life many times. Waiting for a transportation in a busy industrious area, and more often than not, I derive enjoyment just by looking here and there, and watching different people, the young and the old, the rich and the not-so, the husbands and wives, the children and their siblings, the busy ones and the ones sleeping away to glory, the young love birds and the teenaged youthfulness. It is much more engrossing and so much filled with life and activity than hearing an iPod or even reading a novel. It resembles so many of those cinematic scenes in which the actor just stays put and everyone and anyone moves about him in a fast forward sequence. You are just a mere lifeless pawn in the whole gamut of life and its activities. Like a standing by-passer watching everything around with great interest and yet emotionally involved with nothing. It was a moment of simple yet inexplicable glory.
The couch happened to be near a big glass window, as most couches are in US airports, overlooking the tarmac where airplanes waited for mounting or dismounting passengers at the numerous gates. The plane nearest to the window where I was placed, had just arrived and there were lot of activity going on like removal of baggage, of cargo, of food, of human wastage, etc. One small group of people that caught my attention was the team that was unloading the cargo.
If you have noticed this activity, you will be able to relate that there are 2 main things involved in removal of cargo from airplanes. One is the wide, flat machine which elevates itself to the level of the cargo door in the airplane so that cargo can be easily shifted from the airplane to the flat machine which then goes back to ground level to be transported to a waiting cargo vehicle. The cargo vehicle, again, if you have noticed, is like a small 1-bogeyed train with the bogey being small cargo-carrying flat, open, wide area and it being connected to the driver by links. The storage area in both the machine and the vehicle will have directional rolling rods controlled in its movement by a panel to place the cargo in the right position.
Now, the operator operating the first machine (the wide, flat machine which acts as the intermediary transport agent from airplane to the cargo vehicle) had his act done in a couple of minutes. He had the controls like an expert and got the machine elevated, the cargo onto the machine and the machine depressed back to ground level. Creativity spewing in him, he was even making the cargo dance at his fingers, although I am sure it was weighing tons. What a fascination it is to make tons of load dance by a simple set of levers and rotating floor-balls!
He was ready to offload it to the vehicle but the driver of the cargo vehicle apparently had tremendous difficulty in reversing the vehicle such that the bogey was perfectly aligned with the cargo bearing machine. Since the bogey is connected by links, even a slight change in the maneuver of wheels, puts the train-like vehicle in an awkward position and the cargo cannot be transported to the vehicle.
He spent almost twenty minutes in reversing the vehicle, this way and that, almost tried every possible option and tried to his level best but just could not get his act right. It seemed such a simple task to reverse the vehicle and position it properly but he just couldn’t do it however hard he could try. The machine operator, waiting to offload was getting frustrated. The next set of two cargo-vehicles was already waiting for the driver to get the cargo moving. But the driver was just unable to reverse appropriately. The other set of drivers came to offer him help but he waved them away. His prestige, apparently, was at stake. Finally, he gave up and one of the other drivers reversed expertly into the right slot within a minute. That set me thinking.
In any profession, there will always be non-performers. Or rather, putting it more diplomatically, in any profession, there are always experts and then there are those who need to put in just that little bit of extra effort by investing more time. Be it in analytical reasoning or be it manual labour.
I was so enraptured by the activity on the tarmac – and its telescopic significance in life – and was wondering how would it indeed be to lead a life in an airport (like how it is portrayed in the movie Terminal), that I suddenly realized it was almost 6.30 pm. In my planning what-to-do, I had missed the fact that boarding starts 30 minutes before the flight departure. And I was yet to have my dinner. I quickly went to a café nearest to my gate, again in the inter-terminal train (en route being appreciated by a bunch of young teenagers for my T-shirt “I like that caption!” and within a minutes rebuffed by an old lady “Surely its not your worst day!”) and found to my dismay that there was a big queue to place the order.
Just when I placed my order (token number being 135), I heard over the PA that first class passengers for the flight to Boston can start boarding. And I was hoping that I can quickly have a bunch to bite when my token number was called at the counter. Just as I approached to take my order, a young lady gave her receipt and took the food.
Did I hear the number correctly? Or did she make a mistake? Or did the person giving the token numbers make a mistake? Or did the person providing food shouted the wrong token number? Just as I was contemplating which one of the above happened, I thought the best bet would be to approach the young lady to confirm if she got what she ordered. And as I scanned the crowd, I saw her on a table, talking on the mobile while at the same time biting into the burger. In all probability, she did get what she ordered. Or she just didn’t care. And I couldn’t care any more as the call for all passengers to board came on the PA.
Sighing, and hungry, I boarded the plane. Thankfully, the flight to Boston was sleepily uneventful and upon reaching the airport at 9 pm, all I wanted to do was to get home, which was another two hours away. With my hunger temporarily forgotten, I headed home and then again, upon reaching at 11 pm, with no mood to cook, nor to eat frozen food, went to bed directly. What an irony it was that I, who had all the time in the airport to roam around and laze on a leather couch, had to go to bed empty-stomach!
Overall, it was an interesting, blog-worthy evening!!
To start with, I was slightly concerned as my itinerary involved a transit in Baltimore on my way back from Detroit to Boston with the transit time being less than an hour plus a different airline, which meant, I thought, me having to check in again at Baltimore. With butterflies afloat in the stomach, we (My family) left my brother’s house at 3.45 pm for the 5.25 pm departure.
En route, there was a deviation of almost 15-20 miles to airport, and it caused a slight delay in arrival at the airport. Quickly bidding adieu to the family, I went to one of those machines which provides the boarding passes if the e-ticket number is punched in. It displayed an error message, saying flight already departed.
Nonplussed, I went to the counter and gave her the printout of my e-ticket. She apparently was new to her job and had no idea what was going on. With less than 20 minutes for my flight departure, I was getting freaked out. She mumbled something about me being booked at a 12.30 pm flight and that she can give me a direct flight to Boston at 7 pm. I thought she just didn’t know what she was doing because there was no way I could have been booked at 12.30 pm flight (when my e-ticket clearly said 5.25 pm) and also there was no way the airline could give me the 7 pm direct flight at the same cost if indeed I had missed my flight. If I couldn’t afford a direct flight in the first place when I was booking the tickets in Orbitz, why would the airlines provide me the same just because I missed my flight? Not that I would mind, because, I did need a direct flight compared to all the circus I had to go in Baltimore!
The attendant called another senior attendant and both of them quickly punched in something in the monitor and gave me my boarding pass without any further talk. I assumed everything was resolved and I could still make the 5.25 pm flight. I rushed to the security counter. The security officer scrutinized my T-shirt (which had the caption This is the worst day of my life) and gave a smirk: “I can make it bad for you, if you want.” I just managed a mirthless laugh.
With the security check completed, I analyzed where I was and where I had to go. Detroit airport is like an H-shaped airport with the 2 layers in the first vertical of ‘H’. I was at the centre of the second vertical of ‘H’ and my gate was at the top of the second vertical. The best way was to take the inter-terminal train. I got onto the train and thought “Only a few minutes from now I would be on board.” It was then that I saw my boarding pass.
It was a boarding pass to Boston direct in the 7 pm flight and not the 5.25 pm flight! A surge of relief went through me. The flight attendant had been actually able to give me the direct flight without any extra cost! It even spared me the trouble of changing airlines at Baltimore amidst the rush of time! This was the best thing that could happen. [It was only later that I came to know that there was a disclaimer in the e-ticket which said ‘Itinerary is subject to change. Please check mail 24 hrs before the actual departure.’ The itinerary had indeed changed and I had been booked for the 12.30 pm flight instead of the 5.25 pm flight!]
But just to confirm, I went to the gate corresponding to Baltimore flight and confirmed that indeed I was booked onto the Boston flight direct at 7 pm. The gate to Boston flight was at the lower end of second vertical of ‘H’. I went all the way walking to the other end just to pass time and window-shopped. I still had about an hour and half to kill. So I thought I might as well see the airport in its entirety. All terminals and all gates. Plus I had to have dinner as it would be pretty late by the time I would reach home. With these tasks in mind, I set forth with my camera to walk around the terminals and click away at glory.
My pace was slow and measured. Like I had all the time in the world. I looked at everything and anything, appreciating beauty in all its hidden camouflage. Like watching two small kids play with the walking conveyor. A beautiful fountain which switched on and off at different places to create a steady and rhythmic albeit unpredictable swoosh of water keeping anyone walking by it in rapturous attention. A pure pleasure just to watch it. Its amazing how beautiful a simple stream of water can be. Its such a boon to have eyes to appreciate it.
Having walked hither and thither all through the airport and exhausting myself I placed myself comfortably in a posh leather cushion couch and relaxed. There was still almost an hour to go before my flight departure. I have been in such situations in my life many times. Waiting for a transportation in a busy industrious area, and more often than not, I derive enjoyment just by looking here and there, and watching different people, the young and the old, the rich and the not-so, the husbands and wives, the children and their siblings, the busy ones and the ones sleeping away to glory, the young love birds and the teenaged youthfulness. It is much more engrossing and so much filled with life and activity than hearing an iPod or even reading a novel. It resembles so many of those cinematic scenes in which the actor just stays put and everyone and anyone moves about him in a fast forward sequence. You are just a mere lifeless pawn in the whole gamut of life and its activities. Like a standing by-passer watching everything around with great interest and yet emotionally involved with nothing. It was a moment of simple yet inexplicable glory.
The couch happened to be near a big glass window, as most couches are in US airports, overlooking the tarmac where airplanes waited for mounting or dismounting passengers at the numerous gates. The plane nearest to the window where I was placed, had just arrived and there were lot of activity going on like removal of baggage, of cargo, of food, of human wastage, etc. One small group of people that caught my attention was the team that was unloading the cargo.
If you have noticed this activity, you will be able to relate that there are 2 main things involved in removal of cargo from airplanes. One is the wide, flat machine which elevates itself to the level of the cargo door in the airplane so that cargo can be easily shifted from the airplane to the flat machine which then goes back to ground level to be transported to a waiting cargo vehicle. The cargo vehicle, again, if you have noticed, is like a small 1-bogeyed train with the bogey being small cargo-carrying flat, open, wide area and it being connected to the driver by links. The storage area in both the machine and the vehicle will have directional rolling rods controlled in its movement by a panel to place the cargo in the right position.
Now, the operator operating the first machine (the wide, flat machine which acts as the intermediary transport agent from airplane to the cargo vehicle) had his act done in a couple of minutes. He had the controls like an expert and got the machine elevated, the cargo onto the machine and the machine depressed back to ground level. Creativity spewing in him, he was even making the cargo dance at his fingers, although I am sure it was weighing tons. What a fascination it is to make tons of load dance by a simple set of levers and rotating floor-balls!
He was ready to offload it to the vehicle but the driver of the cargo vehicle apparently had tremendous difficulty in reversing the vehicle such that the bogey was perfectly aligned with the cargo bearing machine. Since the bogey is connected by links, even a slight change in the maneuver of wheels, puts the train-like vehicle in an awkward position and the cargo cannot be transported to the vehicle.
He spent almost twenty minutes in reversing the vehicle, this way and that, almost tried every possible option and tried to his level best but just could not get his act right. It seemed such a simple task to reverse the vehicle and position it properly but he just couldn’t do it however hard he could try. The machine operator, waiting to offload was getting frustrated. The next set of two cargo-vehicles was already waiting for the driver to get the cargo moving. But the driver was just unable to reverse appropriately. The other set of drivers came to offer him help but he waved them away. His prestige, apparently, was at stake. Finally, he gave up and one of the other drivers reversed expertly into the right slot within a minute. That set me thinking.
In any profession, there will always be non-performers. Or rather, putting it more diplomatically, in any profession, there are always experts and then there are those who need to put in just that little bit of extra effort by investing more time. Be it in analytical reasoning or be it manual labour.
I was so enraptured by the activity on the tarmac – and its telescopic significance in life – and was wondering how would it indeed be to lead a life in an airport (like how it is portrayed in the movie Terminal), that I suddenly realized it was almost 6.30 pm. In my planning what-to-do, I had missed the fact that boarding starts 30 minutes before the flight departure. And I was yet to have my dinner. I quickly went to a café nearest to my gate, again in the inter-terminal train (en route being appreciated by a bunch of young teenagers for my T-shirt “I like that caption!” and within a minutes rebuffed by an old lady “Surely its not your worst day!”) and found to my dismay that there was a big queue to place the order.
Just when I placed my order (token number being 135), I heard over the PA that first class passengers for the flight to Boston can start boarding. And I was hoping that I can quickly have a bunch to bite when my token number was called at the counter. Just as I approached to take my order, a young lady gave her receipt and took the food.
Did I hear the number correctly? Or did she make a mistake? Or did the person giving the token numbers make a mistake? Or did the person providing food shouted the wrong token number? Just as I was contemplating which one of the above happened, I thought the best bet would be to approach the young lady to confirm if she got what she ordered. And as I scanned the crowd, I saw her on a table, talking on the mobile while at the same time biting into the burger. In all probability, she did get what she ordered. Or she just didn’t care. And I couldn’t care any more as the call for all passengers to board came on the PA.
Sighing, and hungry, I boarded the plane. Thankfully, the flight to Boston was sleepily uneventful and upon reaching the airport at 9 pm, all I wanted to do was to get home, which was another two hours away. With my hunger temporarily forgotten, I headed home and then again, upon reaching at 11 pm, with no mood to cook, nor to eat frozen food, went to bed directly. What an irony it was that I, who had all the time in the airport to roam around and laze on a leather couch, had to go to bed empty-stomach!
Overall, it was an interesting, blog-worthy evening!!
Friday, January 19, 2007
Saint Thyagaraja's Aradhana
Being at Thiruvayar for Thyagaraja’s Aradhana when Pancharatna songs are sung was one of my biggest dreams. This dream was fulfilled this year when I planned a month in advance, and positioned myself at the place of ceremony 30 minutes prior to the commencement to the program.
Thousands of people had gathered to celebrate the 160th Aradhana and it was great to see that international press had a section blocked off for themselves. Considering the police staff and their infrastructure, it was a pretty well organized setting.
The program began sharply at 9 and it was beautiful music for the next full hour. Many in the audience had lyrics in their hand (yours truly included) and tried mumbling as best as one could along with the professional artists.
Although Jagadanandagaraka, Dudukugala, Sadhinchane and Kanakanaruchira are equally nice, there is always a change in the atmosphere, at least for me, when Endaro Mahanubhavulu is sung. There is this strange feeling of greatness that comes about whenever this song commences. Like, world coming to a stop for a second.
But, alas, everything good comes to an end. Much too soon, the program got done. This was followed by a quick visit to Thyagaraja’s samadhi amidst the rushing crowd as well as a short trip to the house where Thyagaraja used to stay. And then it was time to visit Thanjavur and see the World Famous Brihadeshwar temple.
Parting thought – it was worth it all!
Reference link.
Thousands of people had gathered to celebrate the 160th Aradhana and it was great to see that international press had a section blocked off for themselves. Considering the police staff and their infrastructure, it was a pretty well organized setting.
The program began sharply at 9 and it was beautiful music for the next full hour. Many in the audience had lyrics in their hand (yours truly included) and tried mumbling as best as one could along with the professional artists.
Although Jagadanandagaraka, Dudukugala, Sadhinchane and Kanakanaruchira are equally nice, there is always a change in the atmosphere, at least for me, when Endaro Mahanubhavulu is sung. There is this strange feeling of greatness that comes about whenever this song commences. Like, world coming to a stop for a second.
But, alas, everything good comes to an end. Much too soon, the program got done. This was followed by a quick visit to Thyagaraja’s samadhi amidst the rushing crowd as well as a short trip to the house where Thyagaraja used to stay. And then it was time to visit Thanjavur and see the World Famous Brihadeshwar temple.
Parting thought – it was worth it all!
Reference link.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Soap Opera
A family friend visited our house a couple of days back. She was known to be a sucker for the multitude of the soap opera on the idiot box. So when we teased her about some of her favourite serials, we were surprised to hear that she had stopped seeing them all. Thus she spoke, “The portrayal of the depths to which a human being can go to find happiness in others’ faults and making others fall for one’s own upliftment was too much for me.”
The statement had so much truth in it. We have to just stop and think about it for a second. Why is it that most family serials, irrespective of the language, tend towards the blackness and villainous aspects of the human society? All one has to do is just see a few scenes in any serial, and one can feel the negative vibes coming out of it. What kind of happiness can be derived by being a sadist or by showing sadistic actions amongst one’s own relatives?
A kid, oblivious yet to the good and bad in this world, watching such an episode can learn so many negative actions and behavior, and on top of it, shall also consider it to be the norms within a family. Shouldn’t we be highlighting the positive energy, celebrating happiness, portraying the goodness of family bonding and strive to popularize the making of better citizenry all around us?
I am reminded of wonderful serials like Small Wonder, The Full House, Darpan, Malgudi Days which invariably brings a smile to the lips at the end of each episode. Those serials, to me, were of great moral value, and each episode was like a gem of knowledge and understanding. Shouldn’t that be the goal of the serial-maker?
Instead the serial-makers create a plot that absorbs the middle-aged populace with such a grip that they cannot let go of the serials in the middle – somewhat akin to a smoking addiction – and at the same time, create this disharmonious ambience in which even the viewers themselves keep shouting at the actor, director and the whole crew of the serial, by way of trying to add some sense in a scene completely devoid of it, and even go to the extent of cursing the same episode which they are seeing, but are just unable to stop seeing it altogether…
The statement had so much truth in it. We have to just stop and think about it for a second. Why is it that most family serials, irrespective of the language, tend towards the blackness and villainous aspects of the human society? All one has to do is just see a few scenes in any serial, and one can feel the negative vibes coming out of it. What kind of happiness can be derived by being a sadist or by showing sadistic actions amongst one’s own relatives?
A kid, oblivious yet to the good and bad in this world, watching such an episode can learn so many negative actions and behavior, and on top of it, shall also consider it to be the norms within a family. Shouldn’t we be highlighting the positive energy, celebrating happiness, portraying the goodness of family bonding and strive to popularize the making of better citizenry all around us?
I am reminded of wonderful serials like Small Wonder, The Full House, Darpan, Malgudi Days which invariably brings a smile to the lips at the end of each episode. Those serials, to me, were of great moral value, and each episode was like a gem of knowledge and understanding. Shouldn’t that be the goal of the serial-maker?
Instead the serial-makers create a plot that absorbs the middle-aged populace with such a grip that they cannot let go of the serials in the middle – somewhat akin to a smoking addiction – and at the same time, create this disharmonious ambience in which even the viewers themselves keep shouting at the actor, director and the whole crew of the serial, by way of trying to add some sense in a scene completely devoid of it, and even go to the extent of cursing the same episode which they are seeing, but are just unable to stop seeing it altogether…
Sunday, January 14, 2007
A child's play
The kid in front of our house is very cute. It has nice chubby cheeks and a rotund robustness! It mouths words of only two syllables; sometimes mumbling to itself and sometimes to elders, as if with great importance!
The moment it sees me in my balcony, an unhindered, spasmodic joy overcomes its body, and its face churns out a huge smile, the hands and legs suddenly starts bouncing about and if her mother is nearby, the kid runs out to her mother and buries her face deep inside the saree acting shy but inwardly being tremendously happy! And slowly, the face comes out again with that same smile.
Sometime then, the face comes out in the wrong angle, the sweep of the eyes suddenly sees a vegetable vendor on the road, and momentarily I am completely forgotten! The vegetable vendor notices the kid’s eyes on her and gives the kid a small carrot. The kid happily takes the carrot and starts munching.
During this munching, the face starts moving hither and thither, and suddenly I am in its radar again! Once more, as if it’s the first time she has seen me that day, an uncontrollable and unparalleled joy comes over her in a fit and she starts running and jumping again. It is all smiles, and hand-waves, and its as if she is at the pinnacle of all happiness! Looking at me is like turning a switch of abundant joy to her!
Such innocence, such joy, such forgetfulness, such happiness…
Why is it that we lose it all? Is losing it all a part of “growing-up philosophy”?
We stop laughing and playing because we became old. But…
We become old because we stop laughing and playing…
Reference link.
The moment it sees me in my balcony, an unhindered, spasmodic joy overcomes its body, and its face churns out a huge smile, the hands and legs suddenly starts bouncing about and if her mother is nearby, the kid runs out to her mother and buries her face deep inside the saree acting shy but inwardly being tremendously happy! And slowly, the face comes out again with that same smile.
Sometime then, the face comes out in the wrong angle, the sweep of the eyes suddenly sees a vegetable vendor on the road, and momentarily I am completely forgotten! The vegetable vendor notices the kid’s eyes on her and gives the kid a small carrot. The kid happily takes the carrot and starts munching.
During this munching, the face starts moving hither and thither, and suddenly I am in its radar again! Once more, as if it’s the first time she has seen me that day, an uncontrollable and unparalleled joy comes over her in a fit and she starts running and jumping again. It is all smiles, and hand-waves, and its as if she is at the pinnacle of all happiness! Looking at me is like turning a switch of abundant joy to her!
Such innocence, such joy, such forgetfulness, such happiness…
Why is it that we lose it all? Is losing it all a part of “growing-up philosophy”?
We stop laughing and playing because we became old. But…
We become old because we stop laughing and playing…
Reference link.
Music
There is something magical about music.
It affects each one of us in some way or the other.
The tune or the lyrics or the rhythm or the frequency.
Classical or Hindustani or Hip-Hop or Instrumental.
Hearing to music suddenly makes the world look bright and happy!
People seem to be laughing and jovial everywhere.
One feels like dancing and jumping around.
Brings about a sprightly spring to the feet.
Soothes the mind and soul.
There is calm, smoothening effect.
Has the power to bring tears.
Speaks the language of Divine.
Well, what can I say, other than just -
"Thanks for the iPod!"
It affects each one of us in some way or the other.
The tune or the lyrics or the rhythm or the frequency.
Classical or Hindustani or Hip-Hop or Instrumental.
Hearing to music suddenly makes the world look bright and happy!
People seem to be laughing and jovial everywhere.
One feels like dancing and jumping around.
Brings about a sprightly spring to the feet.
Soothes the mind and soul.
There is calm, smoothening effect.
Has the power to bring tears.
Speaks the language of Divine.
Well, what can I say, other than just -
"Thanks for the iPod!"
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
InfoSys
Eight years ago, when I joined Engineering, I used to leave home early in the morning to catch the college bus. On my way to the bus-stop, I used to see with pride and respect, a blue bus bearing the name InfoSys going by. I always used to consider people sitting inside the bus to be highly intelligent and most respected. They belonged to the cream of the society. They were the ones who uplifted the nation, the economy and brought forth world-wide recognition.
Four years later, I least expected myself to be leaving home early in the morning, with tie and formal shoes, to catch that same blue bus. It was (and still is) the period when InfoSys was on a hiring spree, as was most IT companies, and hence, it rubbed off some of the prestige that I once held about InfoSys and its employees, but yet, it was a great honour. Just as how any cricketer treasures wearing the Indian cap when he is out on the field, so was the InfoSys badge to me.
People looked up at me. They recognized the brand name. Even without the connotation to the pay packet, InfoSys was a world famous company, known even in remote villages thanks to the company’s IT-training projects in rural areas. Layman started looking at me in awe, as if I had climbed the Mount Everest!
Two years later, came the period when anyone I meet was bound to say, after exchanging the customary greetings, ‘My nephew also is in InfoSys. His name is xxx. Do you know him?’ Every family had at least one person within InfoSys. In fact, I know a family, where all brothers and even one of the brother’s wife – all are in InfoSys. True, InfoSys considers all its employees as one big family. But, we now have ‘actual-blood-related’ families within the ‘Big Family’!
Then came the time when I started getting forwards degrading companies like InfoSys and its likes. People then started blaming InfoSys for giving lack of respect to Kannadigas, and exploiting Bangalore. Sometime then, ‘awe’ got replaced by ‘disdain’. Articles started coming in the newspapers about how IT professionals were being murdered just for the mobile phone, laptop, credit card and the iPod that they are carrying. Terrorists with AK-47s started coming from across the border and from small villages to gun down InfoSys employees, amongst others!
And today, due to work, I came back from office late in the last bus and reached my stop at 10 pm. It’s a 5 minute walk from the bus-stop to my home, and the thought never leaves me that there might be someone there lurking who can kill me for the worldly items that I possess. So, I removed my InfoSys badge, hid it in my pockets, and stealthily walked, looking carefully hither and thither and safely reached home.
Technically, there was not much difference between me and an Al-Qaida terrorist.
Four years later, I least expected myself to be leaving home early in the morning, with tie and formal shoes, to catch that same blue bus. It was (and still is) the period when InfoSys was on a hiring spree, as was most IT companies, and hence, it rubbed off some of the prestige that I once held about InfoSys and its employees, but yet, it was a great honour. Just as how any cricketer treasures wearing the Indian cap when he is out on the field, so was the InfoSys badge to me.
People looked up at me. They recognized the brand name. Even without the connotation to the pay packet, InfoSys was a world famous company, known even in remote villages thanks to the company’s IT-training projects in rural areas. Layman started looking at me in awe, as if I had climbed the Mount Everest!
Two years later, came the period when anyone I meet was bound to say, after exchanging the customary greetings, ‘My nephew also is in InfoSys. His name is xxx. Do you know him?’ Every family had at least one person within InfoSys. In fact, I know a family, where all brothers and even one of the brother’s wife – all are in InfoSys. True, InfoSys considers all its employees as one big family. But, we now have ‘actual-blood-related’ families within the ‘Big Family’!
Then came the time when I started getting forwards degrading companies like InfoSys and its likes. People then started blaming InfoSys for giving lack of respect to Kannadigas, and exploiting Bangalore. Sometime then, ‘awe’ got replaced by ‘disdain’. Articles started coming in the newspapers about how IT professionals were being murdered just for the mobile phone, laptop, credit card and the iPod that they are carrying. Terrorists with AK-47s started coming from across the border and from small villages to gun down InfoSys employees, amongst others!
And today, due to work, I came back from office late in the last bus and reached my stop at 10 pm. It’s a 5 minute walk from the bus-stop to my home, and the thought never leaves me that there might be someone there lurking who can kill me for the worldly items that I possess. So, I removed my InfoSys badge, hid it in my pockets, and stealthily walked, looking carefully hither and thither and safely reached home.
Technically, there was not much difference between me and an Al-Qaida terrorist.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Dear Enginjo...
Enginjo. That’s how she used to call herself. Engineering Jyothi, it stood for. She has always been a dear friend of mine. The respect for each other has been mutual. Whenever we spoke of each other, it was always in the order of highest esteem.
We were classmates in engineering and over the period of four years, we came to know more about one another. We used to compete over one another for our literary excellence. And although she used to make me equal to her, personally, I always felt she was way way above me. Her command over English was awesome. She had a clear-cut thought process which enabled her with a fluent dialect. Needless to say, she belonged to the cream of the class.
I got to know more of her in our college trip in the final year. We grew fond of one another, and found that we shared a lot of mutual interests and desires. We had lengthy and intellectual conversations, accompanied by even lengthier and magnificent emails, studded with high-end Anglicism!
We joined InfoSys on the same day and belonged to the same batch in Mysore. Upon completion of training, we went our ways and got geographically separated. Over the period of next four years, we had our share of fights, laughs, ups, downs, and suddenly somehow, got totally isolated. All forms of communication stopped. My only last remembrance of her was our long rendezvous in Mangalore when I chanced to visit her.
And then I got her wedding invite! Marriage was with the same person about whom she used to talk for hours together. There was only one issue. He was of a different religion. And I was most glad when I came to know about her wedding: she had overcome everything, inclusive of her most orthodox family. She had convinced one and all about what is good for her. The wedding in itself was most memorable. Happy faces all around!
And there I was in the wedding hall, just like others, looking at her, feeling insignificant, when she suddenly saw me. And recognition led to smile. And the smile covered up all the years of isolations. It was as if there was no isolation in the first place. It was a smile of relief, of success, of happiness. And it was a smile which said “Thanks for making it to the wedding!” And that made me extremely happy…
Here’s wishing Enginjo a happy married life and very best wishes…
We were classmates in engineering and over the period of four years, we came to know more about one another. We used to compete over one another for our literary excellence. And although she used to make me equal to her, personally, I always felt she was way way above me. Her command over English was awesome. She had a clear-cut thought process which enabled her with a fluent dialect. Needless to say, she belonged to the cream of the class.
I got to know more of her in our college trip in the final year. We grew fond of one another, and found that we shared a lot of mutual interests and desires. We had lengthy and intellectual conversations, accompanied by even lengthier and magnificent emails, studded with high-end Anglicism!
We joined InfoSys on the same day and belonged to the same batch in Mysore. Upon completion of training, we went our ways and got geographically separated. Over the period of next four years, we had our share of fights, laughs, ups, downs, and suddenly somehow, got totally isolated. All forms of communication stopped. My only last remembrance of her was our long rendezvous in Mangalore when I chanced to visit her.
And then I got her wedding invite! Marriage was with the same person about whom she used to talk for hours together. There was only one issue. He was of a different religion. And I was most glad when I came to know about her wedding: she had overcome everything, inclusive of her most orthodox family. She had convinced one and all about what is good for her. The wedding in itself was most memorable. Happy faces all around!
And there I was in the wedding hall, just like others, looking at her, feeling insignificant, when she suddenly saw me. And recognition led to smile. And the smile covered up all the years of isolations. It was as if there was no isolation in the first place. It was a smile of relief, of success, of happiness. And it was a smile which said “Thanks for making it to the wedding!” And that made me extremely happy…
Here’s wishing Enginjo a happy married life and very best wishes…
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