When you're infatuated with someone, any reason is good enough to believe that you've found the love of your life. And then, again, everything seems obvious in retrospect. What I need, though, is a method by which I can introspect while I am in the middle of it. Was it introspection that made me see through the whole facade in this new, within quotes, "relationship"? I don't think so. It had been blaring obvious the whole time --- only I have been blind enough not to notice it. What the fuck was I thinking?
This one had to be the shortest "relationship" ever. And yes, among the best things I've realised, thanks to you, is that beauty and brains do not always go together. Or at least what I define to be brains. Yes, I've thought about it and it is true: being the understanding guy doesn't help. To be the guy who you can come and talk to about your past relationship, about your joys and sorrows... no, that isn't the way. You thought I was weak, didn't you? Because I agreed to what you said during these three days? Yes of course... how can I be a boyfriend if I don't veto your every decision and impose my way of life on you? Maybe I wasn't man enough for you: thats what you thought because I understood that there will always be ex-es and old flames, and that we should accept them as a part of life. I know, I know... that just doesn't work. You need a jealous, abusive boyfriend: that is exactly what you expect. Therefore, even though I don't mean any insinuations for whatever, I must see your screaming and offended face. You are right --- screaming is the answer. Quiet mature dealings: naah, they're old-fashioned.
Oh what a fool I've been to deal with you with patience and compassion! You never deserved them! How is it that we all like to think of alien invaders and super-powerful knights and heroes? Because you want to be enslaved: because the idea thrills you that you will be a footrug. Trust me, that is precisely what you'll get from now on. A jealous, abusive person: someone who can sweet-talk you in any way to get into your pants. And then somehow I will find a way to get rid of you. All the stories of such spoilt kids is true: and I will become one of those. I will abuse you, maybe even slap you once in a while. That will show you your position... sounds like fun, doesn't it? An equal footing, did you say? No... you will never get it: you just don't deserve it. What you deserve is a liar, a cut-throat and a perfect deceiver. You deserve to be ditched, to be abandoned when the juices have been plumped out. That is precisely what you're good for, bitch!
Monday, November 26, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
Raat kali
Raat kali ek khwab mein aayi
Aur gale ka haar hui
Subah ko jab hum neend se jaage
Aankh unhi se chaar huyi.
Aur gale ka haar hui
Subah ko jab hum neend se jaage
Aankh unhi se chaar huyi.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
You know its your birthday when
I knew it was my birthday when
- I woke up early in the morning and told my room-mate, "Something is wrong --- I feel like bathing so early on a weekend!"
- my orkut scrapbook and mailbox were flooded with messages from almost anyone I had contact with.
- a whole bunch of friends suddenly showed up at lunchtime, invited me to some gully cricket and then also plastered my face with cake all of a sudden.
- phone calls came at random times from around the world (okay, so there were only a couple of people from the US) wishing me on the occasion.
- some old collegemates came during the evening and discussed and exchanged notes --- that was seriously one of the best gifts I could get: the human touch.
- I gifted something to myself. Between all the humdrum in the evening, I quietly slipped out and went to the roof of the building with a little piece of cake in hand. Oh the night, the stars, the wind and the silence --- oh the full moon in all its heavenly glory. It was heavenly, really --- those 30 minutes I had with myself.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Cute but stupid
Damn it feels like moving a block to come out of hibernation and post. For some days I feared this blog might turn out to be one of those things you start with enthusiasm and then gradually the fad goes away. But lets hope not. To all my readers and friends, Happy Dusshera and Subho Bijoya as the case be!
-------------------
As a kid, you can get away with a lot. Especially since you get to play the part of the cute and innocent kid, you can act stupid and do silly things, speak your mind out and act out the part of the chubby-faced angel and still be cuddled by everyone but without being chided for being so. For some people, including me, it took some time to realize that I was not a 'cute kid' any more --- that I had grown up.
I used to play the part of the cute guy many-a-times... the one who seems so innocent that he can't possibly be scheming against you. Many people believed me, a small fraction did not. And I knew inside that this small fraction was right: I just pretended to be so. So every time when I let that ice cream remain on my cheeks and 'unmindfully' keep trying to lick it off, or maybe every time when I sounded like a hurt child when someone refused me something, they fell for it. They fell for it when they saw the childish spring in my steps, the crazy talk in front of the movie theatre, and when I was playing the part of the court jester in the company of my friends --- male and female. I admit, they did not want me to be this way: they looked at my opinion with enough respect. But gradually I had made a fool of myself, playing the un-serious, frivolous kind even when the situation demanded something else. It got me attention, and that was enough for me. I thought I was getting liked, I thought I was getting attention, and that had me in the clouds for so long.
The illusion shattered, however, when I gradually looked at myself as a detached alter ego. I often wondered, why didn't people pay attention to things when I was serious? What was I lacking? And more importantly, why was I trying to place the blame on someone else? It was me who was responsible, all along, for making a clown of myself. Yes I had been cute, but I had also been stupid. And the more I reflected, the more I was disillusioned. "Look", I thought, "here I was, like a doormat for everyone else: and others used me for exactly that purpose: trampling on and wiping their feet on me". It wasn't their blame... it had been me. And the last nail in the coffin was when I met someone like me: the frivolous, enthusiastic kind. I saw in him a reflection of myself, and saw what was wrong. The Scorpio male in me reacted violently, and I recovered.
This was during the time I was in high school... when I let myself be this in the very short time be littled and clowned in whatever company. Plus I suppose the nerdy image I grew helped that anyway. But thankfully the revelation happened right before I went to my engineering college. I consciously tried to change my image. Not to be the nerd, the fool and the cute but stupid guy you can walk all over and he'll go in a corner and hang his head. I learnt to fight back, to love as an equal and to nurture the geekiness to the right things and not to being the jester. Humour, I realized, does not need to make a clown of yourself at every time --- there can be other subjects. And I don't need to play the innocent one at every confrontation: I had my parents earlier to protect me when I was a kid, but now I must stand up for myself. I have written earlier about this, and I write again --- my engineering college friends would laugh out wildly if they knew about me from my 11-12 friends, and vice versa, definitely. But thankfully I think that now I am what I have always wanted to be: an equal with that extra spark in the eye. I have learnt not to trade my self esteem for a joke, and also not to over-react to harmless banter. I'm still learning, but I'm closer to the goal than earlier, definitely.
-------------------
As a kid, you can get away with a lot. Especially since you get to play the part of the cute and innocent kid, you can act stupid and do silly things, speak your mind out and act out the part of the chubby-faced angel and still be cuddled by everyone but without being chided for being so. For some people, including me, it took some time to realize that I was not a 'cute kid' any more --- that I had grown up.
I used to play the part of the cute guy many-a-times... the one who seems so innocent that he can't possibly be scheming against you. Many people believed me, a small fraction did not. And I knew inside that this small fraction was right: I just pretended to be so. So every time when I let that ice cream remain on my cheeks and 'unmindfully' keep trying to lick it off, or maybe every time when I sounded like a hurt child when someone refused me something, they fell for it. They fell for it when they saw the childish spring in my steps, the crazy talk in front of the movie theatre, and when I was playing the part of the court jester in the company of my friends --- male and female. I admit, they did not want me to be this way: they looked at my opinion with enough respect. But gradually I had made a fool of myself, playing the un-serious, frivolous kind even when the situation demanded something else. It got me attention, and that was enough for me. I thought I was getting liked, I thought I was getting attention, and that had me in the clouds for so long.
The illusion shattered, however, when I gradually looked at myself as a detached alter ego. I often wondered, why didn't people pay attention to things when I was serious? What was I lacking? And more importantly, why was I trying to place the blame on someone else? It was me who was responsible, all along, for making a clown of myself. Yes I had been cute, but I had also been stupid. And the more I reflected, the more I was disillusioned. "Look", I thought, "here I was, like a doormat for everyone else: and others used me for exactly that purpose: trampling on and wiping their feet on me". It wasn't their blame... it had been me. And the last nail in the coffin was when I met someone like me: the frivolous, enthusiastic kind. I saw in him a reflection of myself, and saw what was wrong. The Scorpio male in me reacted violently, and I recovered.
This was during the time I was in high school... when I let myself be this in the very short time be littled and clowned in whatever company. Plus I suppose the nerdy image I grew helped that anyway. But thankfully the revelation happened right before I went to my engineering college. I consciously tried to change my image. Not to be the nerd, the fool and the cute but stupid guy you can walk all over and he'll go in a corner and hang his head. I learnt to fight back, to love as an equal and to nurture the geekiness to the right things and not to being the jester. Humour, I realized, does not need to make a clown of yourself at every time --- there can be other subjects. And I don't need to play the innocent one at every confrontation: I had my parents earlier to protect me when I was a kid, but now I must stand up for myself. I have written earlier about this, and I write again --- my engineering college friends would laugh out wildly if they knew about me from my 11-12 friends, and vice versa, definitely. But thankfully I think that now I am what I have always wanted to be: an equal with that extra spark in the eye. I have learnt not to trade my self esteem for a joke, and also not to over-react to harmless banter. I'm still learning, but I'm closer to the goal than earlier, definitely.
Monday, October 8, 2007
If only you knew
You had a lot of potential. Even if the resume does not paint a complete picture and a book cannot be judged by its cover, your resume was very impressive indeed. In person, you were much more impressive. Actually, the fact that you got admitted into one of the best places for your degree was testimony enough that you had what it took to make a difference, to change the world. But you've sent it all down the drain. And every single day, you seek approval of your fellow beings that you're actually not such a loser --- that you're welcome whenever/wherever you go.
Lets start at the beginning. You thought, rebelling against it all was the way to go, to break your nerdy image. So you rebelled. Got a flunky hair colour, stopped attending classes, lived off fast food that took away whatever money you had faster, and then when you were almost broke, you found a job and went for it. Of course, since you're a single bachelor, the job paid the bills. It still allows you to indulge yourself once in a while --- you buy every item that catches your fancy. But that is what it is, in the end: your fancy. You have never had had determination enough to see something through to its end. Actually, you used to have it. Before you decided to rebel, you used to be a good student, a nice man with a lot of social skills. Along came the revolution, and it took down everything that you ever held mighty.
You talk gibberish and try to sound intellectual. There are sparks of brilliance, I know... but what I better know is that you doused the rest of the fire in you trying to prove a point to no-one. You cook up fancy arguments, and you like to believe that when you have those arguments you're actually winning them. As it turns out, if you close your head to the point of view of everyone else, you can never be defeated in an argument --- you will perceive your own triumph every single time. No matter what others try to tell you, you will always think you won the shouting match. But do we really care? Unfortunately, no.
Look around you --- you've bought everything that caught your current fancy. Guitars, electronic musical keyboards, multiple computers and laptops, wireless keyboards, video cams: you bought them all. When they were new, you spent a couple of days fiddling with them and professing that you are going to be an expert in that. But soon the euphoria passed; and now you rarely use them, actually. Once you're past their golden charm, they're just as useless as the pebbles on the roadside. I just don't think, I know that you will never ever use any of them for anything useful.
Yes you've got money. But what you don't know about yourself is that the money you get isn't worth yourself. You have a lot more potential, and you are capable of much bigger things. Don't sell yourself short --- wake up! That little job isn't worth your brain: you can do much better! The ones you call friends around you are just birds of the fair weather: they are here for a share of the extra money that you have. Right now you may think that you're their hero because they agree with whatever you say. But once you are broke they will not stand by you --- they'll be gone faster than you think. Listen to people who point out your follies, and realize that they are the true friends. Don't drive away the little well-wishers you have with your boasts of the money you have --- when the ego shatters, the glass pierces every step you take. Alas, if only you knew!
Lets start at the beginning. You thought, rebelling against it all was the way to go, to break your nerdy image. So you rebelled. Got a flunky hair colour, stopped attending classes, lived off fast food that took away whatever money you had faster, and then when you were almost broke, you found a job and went for it. Of course, since you're a single bachelor, the job paid the bills. It still allows you to indulge yourself once in a while --- you buy every item that catches your fancy. But that is what it is, in the end: your fancy. You have never had had determination enough to see something through to its end. Actually, you used to have it. Before you decided to rebel, you used to be a good student, a nice man with a lot of social skills. Along came the revolution, and it took down everything that you ever held mighty.
You talk gibberish and try to sound intellectual. There are sparks of brilliance, I know... but what I better know is that you doused the rest of the fire in you trying to prove a point to no-one. You cook up fancy arguments, and you like to believe that when you have those arguments you're actually winning them. As it turns out, if you close your head to the point of view of everyone else, you can never be defeated in an argument --- you will perceive your own triumph every single time. No matter what others try to tell you, you will always think you won the shouting match. But do we really care? Unfortunately, no.
Look around you --- you've bought everything that caught your current fancy. Guitars, electronic musical keyboards, multiple computers and laptops, wireless keyboards, video cams: you bought them all. When they were new, you spent a couple of days fiddling with them and professing that you are going to be an expert in that. But soon the euphoria passed; and now you rarely use them, actually. Once you're past their golden charm, they're just as useless as the pebbles on the roadside. I just don't think, I know that you will never ever use any of them for anything useful.
Yes you've got money. But what you don't know about yourself is that the money you get isn't worth yourself. You have a lot more potential, and you are capable of much bigger things. Don't sell yourself short --- wake up! That little job isn't worth your brain: you can do much better! The ones you call friends around you are just birds of the fair weather: they are here for a share of the extra money that you have. Right now you may think that you're their hero because they agree with whatever you say. But once you are broke they will not stand by you --- they'll be gone faster than you think. Listen to people who point out your follies, and realize that they are the true friends. Don't drive away the little well-wishers you have with your boasts of the money you have --- when the ego shatters, the glass pierces every step you take. Alas, if only you knew!
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Tag time
Once upon a time, there lived a king, the Black King. One day he was wandering around his kingdom secretly, when he spotted Madhavi. The Tag Genie had been busy making her confess a lot of things. Like a chivalrous knight, the King volunteered to comment and he too was tagged in turn. And thus began the chronicles of the Black King and the Tag Genie, which you little children might have read as the tales of Vikram and Betaal.
The genie was perturbed when he had a good look at the king. "Say, king, there are many scars on your body --- pick out a scar and tell me, how did you get it?", he said. In reply, the Black King had a smile on his lips: "This scratch you see running down my thigh: thats the oldest one. I had jumped off a roof just as one of my friends decided to move a rusted piece of tin lying around. We were looking for our cricket ball, actually. And then that tin can landed right below me, and tore through my thigh". The genie was very happy to know that... "Aha!", he remarked, "first blood!".
"My dear king", he went on, "you've already shed blood from a wound made by iron!". The King hadn't understood why he was asking the obvious. "Yes, of cou..." he began to say, and before he could finish, the Genie shrieked, "Which means I can look into your thoughts... hahhaa... lets play a game of occlumency and legilimency, shall we?". Before he knew it, the king found his vision blurred. The genie was running around inside his head, randomly picking thoughts and memories.
"Lets see... what does your phone look like?... hmm, Nokia 6610: pretty nice and efficient... lets look at your room... oh empty walls all around your bedroom? Tsk tsk... such a shame: almost like your mind, how come most of it is turning blank around here? Oh I see something... your company's laptop, is it? And the desktop picture here is... oh come on! The company logo, for God's sake!!"... and the Genie stopped ranting. The King was glaring at the Genie, and the latter was cowering. "My apologies, O great king", said he, "I didn't know that you were a skilled Occlumens as well!". The king's glare didn't go away for a long time.... and the genie decided that it would be in his best interests to keep shut for some time.
The cold and foggy night drifted across as the King continued to walk, firm and sure footsteps echoing across the blogdom. "Do you believe in gay marriage?", the Genie asked suddenly. The king was not caught off guard. A moment later, he answered: "What do you mean 'believe'? If you mean whether I think gay people should marry each other, the answer is yes --- I don't care". The Genie was getting puzzled... this King was a very difficult one to figure out, and he didn't want to venture inside the King's mind again. "All right, I give up", he confessed: "Tell me, what do you want more than anything right now?". The king thought for a moment. "More than anything, RIGHT now? Hmm... a sweltering humid summer night with a fan thats whirring overhead as I sit on my bed and type on this laptop: I want an ice cream: nice chocolatey with little nuts and crispies sprinkled over it. And I want to lick and chew it, and when that little smudge spreads across my cheek, I want to reach out and go Sllurrrpppp... aah! Thats what I want! :)". As the king finished describing, he could sense the Genie to be lost in thought himself, picturing that little creamy milk smudge on the cheek. He suddenly shook himself and regained composure.
"Hmm.. okay... looks like you're a tough one... lets try the rapidfire round", the Genie proposed this time. The King was ready. He said, "Shoot!"
- What time were you born?
- 2:00 a.m.!
- Are your parents still together?
- Yes!
- The last person who made you cry?
The King faltered before he answered this one. "The regular readers or subjects of the kingdom of black will perhaps be able to guess this one. But all I can say is, I don't blame anyone for making me cry. It was me, for being such a fool to believe in it all --- I made myself cry. No-one else!".
The Genie thought he had a chance this time, of catching the King off guard. "Oh no-no-no, no long answers! Come, lets resume our little game". The King nodded his approval.
- What is your favourite perfume/cologne?
- Old Spice aftershave!
- What kind of hair/eye color do you like in the opposite sex?
- No preference: black is just fine!
The Genie was nodding this time. "Yeah, I can see... you've got jet black hair and brown eyes yourself!". The King grinned, "I thought you were asking questions?". The Genie said, "Oh, yes yes... right! So, what was I saying?". The King replied, "I think you were about to ask me what I am listening to right now, and the answer is 'Ajeeb daastaan hai ye... ' sung by Lata". He hummed on... "Ye roshni ke saath kyun, dhuaan utha chirag se?". And it was then that the Genie suddenly realised something and spoke up, "Hey, you've been looking inside MY mind!!". He went ballistic, "How could you look inside the mind of a genie, that too the best of them... ME???". The King said, with a twinkle in his eye, "What can I say, I'm the king! :)".
The Genie was desperate now. He asked in earnest, "Do you get scared of the dark?". The King questioned back: "I'm the Black King... should I even be?". "Oh, okay... but at least, do you take or like pain-killers?", the Genie asked, hoping to find one chink in the armour. "No, I don't take them: I can choose not to feel pain, and I rule my body with my mind!", came the firm reply. The question of love and romance should at least stump him, thought the Genie, and played his trump card: "Are you too shy to ask someone out?". The King was not falling for the trap. Pat came the reply, "No, I'm not... I've changed myself. Being shy doesn't help one bit. If I like it, I'll fight for it and get it".
The Genie was crestfallen now. No-one had survived his barrage of questions this far. "Okay, so if you could eat anything right now, what would it be?", he asked. "Why, your head seems tempting!", said the King... and the Genie was aghast! "Please, please tell me... who was the last person you made mad?", he asked, hoping to find some support from somewhere. "Oh a friend of mine, she was down that day and I consoled her at first and then pulled her leg for a long time. She was mad at me, but she had also forgotten her worries. She thanked me later for doing so" --- the King replied. He had seen through the Genie's plot here. And the Genie, in a final act, asked, "So, is someone in love with you right now?". The King was smiling as he saw the Genie drift away. He told to the fleeting shadow, "I wish someone was... there's no-one that I know of, who's in the romantic love with me". And thus the Tag Genie was banished from the Kingdom of Black, where the Black King reigned happily ever after. :)
My apologies for the rather unusually long post --- I just had to mould it differently. Thanks for surviving this far.
The genie was perturbed when he had a good look at the king. "Say, king, there are many scars on your body --- pick out a scar and tell me, how did you get it?", he said. In reply, the Black King had a smile on his lips: "This scratch you see running down my thigh: thats the oldest one. I had jumped off a roof just as one of my friends decided to move a rusted piece of tin lying around. We were looking for our cricket ball, actually. And then that tin can landed right below me, and tore through my thigh". The genie was very happy to know that... "Aha!", he remarked, "first blood!".
"My dear king", he went on, "you've already shed blood from a wound made by iron!". The King hadn't understood why he was asking the obvious. "Yes, of cou..." he began to say, and before he could finish, the Genie shrieked, "Which means I can look into your thoughts... hahhaa... lets play a game of occlumency and legilimency, shall we?". Before he knew it, the king found his vision blurred. The genie was running around inside his head, randomly picking thoughts and memories.
"Lets see... what does your phone look like?... hmm, Nokia 6610: pretty nice and efficient... lets look at your room... oh empty walls all around your bedroom? Tsk tsk... such a shame: almost like your mind, how come most of it is turning blank around here? Oh I see something... your company's laptop, is it? And the desktop picture here is... oh come on! The company logo, for God's sake!!"... and the Genie stopped ranting. The King was glaring at the Genie, and the latter was cowering. "My apologies, O great king", said he, "I didn't know that you were a skilled Occlumens as well!". The king's glare didn't go away for a long time.... and the genie decided that it would be in his best interests to keep shut for some time.
The cold and foggy night drifted across as the King continued to walk, firm and sure footsteps echoing across the blogdom. "Do you believe in gay marriage?", the Genie asked suddenly. The king was not caught off guard. A moment later, he answered: "What do you mean 'believe'? If you mean whether I think gay people should marry each other, the answer is yes --- I don't care". The Genie was getting puzzled... this King was a very difficult one to figure out, and he didn't want to venture inside the King's mind again. "All right, I give up", he confessed: "Tell me, what do you want more than anything right now?". The king thought for a moment. "More than anything, RIGHT now? Hmm... a sweltering humid summer night with a fan thats whirring overhead as I sit on my bed and type on this laptop: I want an ice cream: nice chocolatey with little nuts and crispies sprinkled over it. And I want to lick and chew it, and when that little smudge spreads across my cheek, I want to reach out and go Sllurrrpppp... aah! Thats what I want! :)". As the king finished describing, he could sense the Genie to be lost in thought himself, picturing that little creamy milk smudge on the cheek. He suddenly shook himself and regained composure.
"Hmm.. okay... looks like you're a tough one... lets try the rapidfire round", the Genie proposed this time. The King was ready. He said, "Shoot!"
- What time were you born?
- 2:00 a.m.!
- Are your parents still together?
- Yes!
- The last person who made you cry?
The King faltered before he answered this one. "The regular readers or subjects of the kingdom of black will perhaps be able to guess this one. But all I can say is, I don't blame anyone for making me cry. It was me, for being such a fool to believe in it all --- I made myself cry. No-one else!".
The Genie thought he had a chance this time, of catching the King off guard. "Oh no-no-no, no long answers! Come, lets resume our little game". The King nodded his approval.
- What is your favourite perfume/cologne?
- Old Spice aftershave!
- What kind of hair/eye color do you like in the opposite sex?
- No preference: black is just fine!
The Genie was nodding this time. "Yeah, I can see... you've got jet black hair and brown eyes yourself!". The King grinned, "I thought you were asking questions?". The Genie said, "Oh, yes yes... right! So, what was I saying?". The King replied, "I think you were about to ask me what I am listening to right now, and the answer is 'Ajeeb daastaan hai ye... ' sung by Lata". He hummed on... "Ye roshni ke saath kyun, dhuaan utha chirag se?". And it was then that the Genie suddenly realised something and spoke up, "Hey, you've been looking inside MY mind!!". He went ballistic, "How could you look inside the mind of a genie, that too the best of them... ME???". The King said, with a twinkle in his eye, "What can I say, I'm the king! :)".
The Genie was desperate now. He asked in earnest, "Do you get scared of the dark?". The King questioned back: "I'm the Black King... should I even be?". "Oh, okay... but at least, do you take or like pain-killers?", the Genie asked, hoping to find one chink in the armour. "No, I don't take them: I can choose not to feel pain, and I rule my body with my mind!", came the firm reply. The question of love and romance should at least stump him, thought the Genie, and played his trump card: "Are you too shy to ask someone out?". The King was not falling for the trap. Pat came the reply, "No, I'm not... I've changed myself. Being shy doesn't help one bit. If I like it, I'll fight for it and get it".
The Genie was crestfallen now. No-one had survived his barrage of questions this far. "Okay, so if you could eat anything right now, what would it be?", he asked. "Why, your head seems tempting!", said the King... and the Genie was aghast! "Please, please tell me... who was the last person you made mad?", he asked, hoping to find some support from somewhere. "Oh a friend of mine, she was down that day and I consoled her at first and then pulled her leg for a long time. She was mad at me, but she had also forgotten her worries. She thanked me later for doing so" --- the King replied. He had seen through the Genie's plot here. And the Genie, in a final act, asked, "So, is someone in love with you right now?". The King was smiling as he saw the Genie drift away. He told to the fleeting shadow, "I wish someone was... there's no-one that I know of, who's in the romantic love with me". And thus the Tag Genie was banished from the Kingdom of Black, where the Black King reigned happily ever after. :)
My apologies for the rather unusually long post --- I just had to mould it differently. Thanks for surviving this far.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Insecure
I have a lot of friends. Some of them are guys, some others are girls. And I bond easily with almost anybody: be it a guy or a girl. I share a laugh, but also share their griefs. At any time, when you're down, you can come and talk to me. I have noticed that to 'be there' for someone, you don't really need to say much while you're by their side or on the phone or even on some chat/google talk call. All you need to do is to listen: everyone is happy when they find a place where they can unburden themselves. Most of the time, I can play that perfect listener, occasionally offering my opinion. And that brings me close to a lot of people.
The other day, one of my friends accidentally let slip that she has had a few arguments with her boyfriend over me being present in her life. I was very surprised... and although she quickly hushed the matter up, I reminisced that this isn't so new. One of my "muh-boli" sisters who was about to get married last November too had to do a lot of explaining to her husband after she had joked to him that I was her 'boyfriend'. So when this friend of mine revealed that her boyfriend had been very angry over me and all that, I was silent for a while. I started thinking of all the moments we had shared, and a lot of other things. After a while in my silence she became panicky: kept mentioning that she shouldn't have told me this, was scared of me getting to meet her boyfriend sometime and all that. I forced myself out of the reverie and began talking to her again... I postponed the train of thought for later calmer analysis.
I tend to get caught in these little quagmires. I can't help it --- I just somehow land up in these. I am just average looking, and am good company. I can make you laugh even when you're down, and am usually fun to be around with wherever you are. But it is my nature, and I can't help it! And neither do I want to help it. When I'm with friends, sometimes the couples are also there. When I crack a joke that makes the girl laugh, I can almost sense the guarded smile from the guy. One day we were playing cards and I managed to trump everyone else: somehow the atmosphere just tensed up after that. What can I do about it? I am not trying to prove myself superior --- for God's sake it was just a game!
The funny part is that I understand these guys' insecurities. Any guy too friendly with my own girlfriend, whenever I have one next, is bound to ruffle my feathers. I'm a guy, and I know how I think, and I'm sure thats how almost any guy thinks. The basic survival instinct, the basic competitive instinct is bound to be there: and I think from this stems the insecurity. No matter what my friend does and/or tries to do or say to convince him, only time can assure him of the limits of my presence in her life. I wish I could somehow go up to these guys inside their heads and tell them, "Dude, I'm not trying to steal your girlfriend!".
The other day, one of my friends accidentally let slip that she has had a few arguments with her boyfriend over me being present in her life. I was very surprised... and although she quickly hushed the matter up, I reminisced that this isn't so new. One of my "muh-boli" sisters who was about to get married last November too had to do a lot of explaining to her husband after she had joked to him that I was her 'boyfriend'. So when this friend of mine revealed that her boyfriend had been very angry over me and all that, I was silent for a while. I started thinking of all the moments we had shared, and a lot of other things. After a while in my silence she became panicky: kept mentioning that she shouldn't have told me this, was scared of me getting to meet her boyfriend sometime and all that. I forced myself out of the reverie and began talking to her again... I postponed the train of thought for later calmer analysis.
I tend to get caught in these little quagmires. I can't help it --- I just somehow land up in these. I am just average looking, and am good company. I can make you laugh even when you're down, and am usually fun to be around with wherever you are. But it is my nature, and I can't help it! And neither do I want to help it. When I'm with friends, sometimes the couples are also there. When I crack a joke that makes the girl laugh, I can almost sense the guarded smile from the guy. One day we were playing cards and I managed to trump everyone else: somehow the atmosphere just tensed up after that. What can I do about it? I am not trying to prove myself superior --- for God's sake it was just a game!
The funny part is that I understand these guys' insecurities. Any guy too friendly with my own girlfriend, whenever I have one next, is bound to ruffle my feathers. I'm a guy, and I know how I think, and I'm sure thats how almost any guy thinks. The basic survival instinct, the basic competitive instinct is bound to be there: and I think from this stems the insecurity. No matter what my friend does and/or tries to do or say to convince him, only time can assure him of the limits of my presence in her life. I wish I could somehow go up to these guys inside their heads and tell them, "Dude, I'm not trying to steal your girlfriend!".
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Prove it
My apologies, people, for not having visited your blogs and not writing here as well for this long. I was away at my grandparents' place and lived without the internet for 10 days. Yes, I do sound like a complete addict, but I believe that it was an achievement. Anyway, without further ado, here's a post, and I promise juicier posts lined up for this weekend or a little later:
We all have our personal bars and standards. We live by them, and go to incredible lengths to see to it that they aren't violated. Some of it is a personal preference. Some of it --- we just want to test the limits. We test not just us, but everyone around us. To be accepted at a position of authority in our lives, we need these people to pass these watermarks. Those who exceed these become our heroes, and those who do not: they can never make it to a position of reverence.
I remember the time when I went to this neighbour who claimed he could help me with my maths problems. I had produced 3 problems as 'difficult' problems... claiming that I couldn't solve them. In reality, one of them was a tricky one: it had been solved in class and I knew that it was difficult. This neighbourhood 'uncle' got stumped at this one... and although he could solve one of the other two problems, he never really reached that position of reverence for me --- he remained just the "neighbourhood uncle" who can do some math.
We all do this, don't we, in some form or the other? And the desire to prove oneself also rouses us from slumber when the object of special attention is near. I knew this boy in our colony who used to bowl ferociously when his girlfriend passed beside the cricket ground --- and you could actually see him fume if you hit him to the ropes at those times.
Somehow we tend to seek approval of our own beliefs when we present these challenges to others. All those little romantic games of playing hard-to-get, maybe taunting the guy to do something that you know he wouldn't normally do: it is all a part of the judgement process. Perhaps nature designed us this way: if we have something to give, we want to know for sure that we're investing in the right lot. And if we have something to get, nature ensures that we fight for it to earn it. Don't you remember the twinkle at the corner of the eye of the girl when her classroom crush answers a question correctly which no-one else can get right? Do you miss the coach's grin when his best player is praised by all after the soccer match?
The lesson to take home is that we must be prepared for the challenge. Some like me love challenges --- I like fighting it out: to dive for that ball even on asphalt, or to prove the teacher wrong by scoring a 10/10 on a test (although I suspect he used to do it on purpose). Some others among us are the challenge themselves. Every single time you want to lead, you must do it from the front. You have to prove your credentials: pedigree doesn't count for much on the actual battlefield --- the true hero's character will show through any day. Prove it to your team that you can lead, and that when the time comes you can call a spade a spade. Prove it to yourself, that you practice what you preach. As they say, one ounce of practice is worth twenty tons of big talk.
We all have our personal bars and standards. We live by them, and go to incredible lengths to see to it that they aren't violated. Some of it is a personal preference. Some of it --- we just want to test the limits. We test not just us, but everyone around us. To be accepted at a position of authority in our lives, we need these people to pass these watermarks. Those who exceed these become our heroes, and those who do not: they can never make it to a position of reverence.
I remember the time when I went to this neighbour who claimed he could help me with my maths problems. I had produced 3 problems as 'difficult' problems... claiming that I couldn't solve them. In reality, one of them was a tricky one: it had been solved in class and I knew that it was difficult. This neighbourhood 'uncle' got stumped at this one... and although he could solve one of the other two problems, he never really reached that position of reverence for me --- he remained just the "neighbourhood uncle" who can do some math.
We all do this, don't we, in some form or the other? And the desire to prove oneself also rouses us from slumber when the object of special attention is near. I knew this boy in our colony who used to bowl ferociously when his girlfriend passed beside the cricket ground --- and you could actually see him fume if you hit him to the ropes at those times.
Somehow we tend to seek approval of our own beliefs when we present these challenges to others. All those little romantic games of playing hard-to-get, maybe taunting the guy to do something that you know he wouldn't normally do: it is all a part of the judgement process. Perhaps nature designed us this way: if we have something to give, we want to know for sure that we're investing in the right lot. And if we have something to get, nature ensures that we fight for it to earn it. Don't you remember the twinkle at the corner of the eye of the girl when her classroom crush answers a question correctly which no-one else can get right? Do you miss the coach's grin when his best player is praised by all after the soccer match?
The lesson to take home is that we must be prepared for the challenge. Some like me love challenges --- I like fighting it out: to dive for that ball even on asphalt, or to prove the teacher wrong by scoring a 10/10 on a test (although I suspect he used to do it on purpose). Some others among us are the challenge themselves. Every single time you want to lead, you must do it from the front. You have to prove your credentials: pedigree doesn't count for much on the actual battlefield --- the true hero's character will show through any day. Prove it to your team that you can lead, and that when the time comes you can call a spade a spade. Prove it to yourself, that you practice what you preach. As they say, one ounce of practice is worth twenty tons of big talk.
Friday, August 10, 2007
The many faces of me
Every place I go to, it seems as if I forge a new identity. Somehow old contacts are forgotten, and the whole identity starts from scratch, from zero. Meeting new people, first impressions, the 'gang', and the whole new cup of socie-tea that I have to gulp down --- they never cease to amuse me. And the best part is, these first impressions go a long way in deciding what the rest of the stay will be like!
When we moved to a new colony, I met a new group of kids. Suddenly my old image of ''good batsman" was gone, and I was relegated to the position of a lackey fielder who was always placed in the ignominious corner of the field. Perhaps it helped me: because I shifted my attention to studies and did well in academics. However, I also lost that prime position in the field: no more opening batsman slots for me! Times changed, and along with them the circle of friends changed, too. When I shifted schools for class 12 and engineering entrance tuitions, everything suddenly shifted into academic mode. I used to see free-body diagrams in everything, and discusses similar things with friends. Consequently, the circle of friends I had there consisted exclusively of people who would think alike. I passed off as the mild-mannered gentleman who never swore, never mind the 'other' life that I lead. During a social gathering, one of my cousins actually asked or rather challenged me to swear aloud, and was really surprised to see that I could do that.
Then came the engineering college, where post ragging and post the unusual company of friends from all over in a hostel, it became difficult not to say a swear word as a placefiller for other words. And I found myself leading the verbal offensive in more than one occasion --- so I got a repute for myself. But then things toned down a lot, and I realized that it was actually not worth swearing when I could express myself otherwise. This, and coupled with the fact with my recent job suddenly brought to me a "good guy" image.
The fun part happens when people I know from different times met each other or had a glance of the other sides of my personalities. Friends from the engineering college are surprised to see a chivalrous me sometimes when I help others. Friends from my high school find it equally intriguing to see me swear aloud. My ex-girlfriend almost fell out of her chair when I talked dirty to her (she confessed she had expected that to never happen: thought she was stuck with a geek). My present room-mates burst out laughing when they met an old friend of mine and heard him describe me as the poster-child of good manners. And through this all, I observe them all like a detached observer, standing amidst all that happens around me, smiling to myself.
I wonder, who am I? Which of these faces is a mask and which is real? When I curse from within but the outside remains calm and serene, is it me? Or is it me when I am shouting obscenities to the black-marketeer at the cinema while I'm ashamed of all I utter inside? Is it me who goes down as the pinch hitter in crunch situations in the field? Or is it me who swears worse than a fishwife when someone manages to drop an easy catch in those situations? People have confessed to me that they haven't been able to figure me out: like the endgame challenge to the art of understanding people. I don't know --- the only person who perhaps knows and understands me is my mother. But I doubt if she knows it all, or will even believe if she sees it. I don't care, because I'm trying to find that out myself.
When we moved to a new colony, I met a new group of kids. Suddenly my old image of ''good batsman" was gone, and I was relegated to the position of a lackey fielder who was always placed in the ignominious corner of the field. Perhaps it helped me: because I shifted my attention to studies and did well in academics. However, I also lost that prime position in the field: no more opening batsman slots for me! Times changed, and along with them the circle of friends changed, too. When I shifted schools for class 12 and engineering entrance tuitions, everything suddenly shifted into academic mode. I used to see free-body diagrams in everything, and discusses similar things with friends. Consequently, the circle of friends I had there consisted exclusively of people who would think alike. I passed off as the mild-mannered gentleman who never swore, never mind the 'other' life that I lead. During a social gathering, one of my cousins actually asked or rather challenged me to swear aloud, and was really surprised to see that I could do that.
Then came the engineering college, where post ragging and post the unusual company of friends from all over in a hostel, it became difficult not to say a swear word as a placefiller for other words. And I found myself leading the verbal offensive in more than one occasion --- so I got a repute for myself. But then things toned down a lot, and I realized that it was actually not worth swearing when I could express myself otherwise. This, and coupled with the fact with my recent job suddenly brought to me a "good guy" image.
The fun part happens when people I know from different times met each other or had a glance of the other sides of my personalities. Friends from the engineering college are surprised to see a chivalrous me sometimes when I help others. Friends from my high school find it equally intriguing to see me swear aloud. My ex-girlfriend almost fell out of her chair when I talked dirty to her (she confessed she had expected that to never happen: thought she was stuck with a geek). My present room-mates burst out laughing when they met an old friend of mine and heard him describe me as the poster-child of good manners. And through this all, I observe them all like a detached observer, standing amidst all that happens around me, smiling to myself.
I wonder, who am I? Which of these faces is a mask and which is real? When I curse from within but the outside remains calm and serene, is it me? Or is it me when I am shouting obscenities to the black-marketeer at the cinema while I'm ashamed of all I utter inside? Is it me who goes down as the pinch hitter in crunch situations in the field? Or is it me who swears worse than a fishwife when someone manages to drop an easy catch in those situations? People have confessed to me that they haven't been able to figure me out: like the endgame challenge to the art of understanding people. I don't know --- the only person who perhaps knows and understands me is my mother. But I doubt if she knows it all, or will even believe if she sees it. I don't care, because I'm trying to find that out myself.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Nothing left to burn
You, have made me bleed. Not my body, but my soul has bled. My body has only shed tears. Tears of private grief, uncontrollable howls and sobs wrenching my heart have pushed me into depression. I have lived in a state of darkness; I have feared the unknown future. I have not been able to stand up and accept that it was really happening to me. Hope, desperate hope had filled my heart at the time. I hadn't protested against all the wrongs that you did to me --- covering my weakness for you, perhaps. I believed in you, truly and sincerely. I had submitted to the slightest whims and the most outrageous and humiliating demands, somehow trying to prove my faith and loyalty for you. Alas, you only judged me: when I opened my deepest secrets and fears to you, all I got back in return was a judgement: that I wasn't good enough, wasn't man enough. I almost got it ingrained into my psyche that I was a coward, a fool and a squib. You had shook my conviction in the power of goodness.
But then, time healed my wounds. Only after I brushed and shook off the burden of your judgement was I able to see and judge for myself. I have been able to judge in my own light what life has been around me: what I did wrong, and when I was right. The separation was painful, but it was simultaneously a leap of freedom as well. I didn't know if I had lost something or gained my light once more. How, I wonder now, had my carefree spirit wandered into those shackles, and how had I not seen through the guise? Why was I begging to state what I felt to be true, knew to be true? Why did I think that the chains that kept me from flying were actually golden beads on a necklace? What the fuck was I thinking?
It is over now. A year past of tumultuous times, when I had had some of the happiest moments of my life, to one of the saddest ever: I almost killed myself one day --- remember? But now I'm free. And although you killed a part of me, you have also given strength to a new part of my identity. I have known now when to stand up and fight for what I hold true, even against my near and dear. You have been my Krishna, unleashing me from my own fears; and you have also been my Kansa, killing seven innocent alter egos before you came for me. The hurt that has been will remain inside, locked in the iron chest of my own soul. Outside, my spirit shall soar --- the free bird minus a few dead feathers. What happens to you doesn't affect me any more as it used to: for I have learned how to not care about people. At this dark hour of the Friday night, I resolve not to even acknowledge the wounds: for confessing about them would mean giving them weight and importance. I will not acknowledge, never... and I mean NEVER tell anyone or even myself that I have had a dagger into my chest. That knife is as much a part of me now as my heart itself. I am beyond you now --- there's no wood left to burn.
But then, time healed my wounds. Only after I brushed and shook off the burden of your judgement was I able to see and judge for myself. I have been able to judge in my own light what life has been around me: what I did wrong, and when I was right. The separation was painful, but it was simultaneously a leap of freedom as well. I didn't know if I had lost something or gained my light once more. How, I wonder now, had my carefree spirit wandered into those shackles, and how had I not seen through the guise? Why was I begging to state what I felt to be true, knew to be true? Why did I think that the chains that kept me from flying were actually golden beads on a necklace? What the fuck was I thinking?
It is over now. A year past of tumultuous times, when I had had some of the happiest moments of my life, to one of the saddest ever: I almost killed myself one day --- remember? But now I'm free. And although you killed a part of me, you have also given strength to a new part of my identity. I have known now when to stand up and fight for what I hold true, even against my near and dear. You have been my Krishna, unleashing me from my own fears; and you have also been my Kansa, killing seven innocent alter egos before you came for me. The hurt that has been will remain inside, locked in the iron chest of my own soul. Outside, my spirit shall soar --- the free bird minus a few dead feathers. What happens to you doesn't affect me any more as it used to: for I have learned how to not care about people. At this dark hour of the Friday night, I resolve not to even acknowledge the wounds: for confessing about them would mean giving them weight and importance. I will not acknowledge, never... and I mean NEVER tell anyone or even myself that I have had a dagger into my chest. That knife is as much a part of me now as my heart itself. I am beyond you now --- there's no wood left to burn.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
The book that was never mine
I was in Class 9 then. Very early at the beginning of the academic session, we had our annual prize-distribution ceremony for the previous year. Due to some mix-up, the person who had won the English recitation competition wasn't present that day in school and my name was printed instead on the cover paper. I had participated in that event, but I knew that I hadn't won the prize. Therefore, during the ceremony when my name was announced, I was so surprised! I ran a thousand theories through my mind as I went up to the podium to collect the book: "Did they tally the points later and find me to be the winner?", or "Maybe they ordered a special prize for me?". However, those thoughts didn't last so long in my head. I ran up to the podium, bowed and took the prize all shining and bright, and then returned to my seat in the audience all gleeful. Friends beside me slapped my back, a few people mouthed "Congrats" from afar, and one girl even shook my hand! I was having a very bright day of my life!!
I came back to my seat, and looked at the cover. I deftly cleaned a little speck of dirt on the cover, and watched with pride as the plastic cover on the book shone in the sunlight. I gently brought it up to my nose and smelt the book --- aah the smell of new books! I noticed the small card inside the wrapping, that said my name on it: "First Prize in English Recitation". I was so glad: "Mom would be so proud when I reach home and show this to her", I thought! I looked at the title of the book, "My Master as I saw Him", by Sister Nivedita. "Hmm... ", I thought, "maybe I will read it sometime: but it will definitely be something worth showing off on the bookshelf!".
However, the doubt in my head kept nagging me. And it didn't help matters that a friend of mine who was just a row behind me asked, "Didn't ____ win the prize? How come they gave it to you?". I didn't know: I shrugged it off. All through the rest of the presentation, I clung on to the book and kept it close to my heart. I clapped with double the glee whenever someone went up to get any prize --- I wished everyone had clapped like that when I went up for the prize.
Soon afterwards, we were back in the classroom for the second half of the day. I had forgot all about the book until the headmaster's peon came in with a little chit in his hand and gave it to the teacher. My name was called out, and all eyes turned to me. I was suddenly so self-conscious... being on stage was a different thing, but this was creepy. The peon came up to me, and asked for the book. For a second I feigned as if I didn't know what he meant. But there was no escape --- "You didn't win the prize, did you?", he asked, with the whole class listening, and held out his palm. Very slowly, my face turning all red, I reached into my bag and fished the book out. It seemed a little too heavy then: but I just gave it up and sat down with a sigh.
Oh, the eyes of my friends did not seem to leave me in the class. Whatever the teacher was saying, I couldn't concentrate any longer. Every single second I was conscious of some eyes from some corner of the classroom looking at me, as though asking what I had been sneaking up to. I felt as if I had stolen something and had just been convicted. And there was the dread, of what everyone will tell me right after the class, during the break. I sat uneasy and dejected, waiting for the class to get over. And it did get over after sometime. Most people had not turned up for the recitation competition itself: it was on some holiday and some had opted to stay at home rather than listen to recitations. And then now they had, within the span of a couple of hours, found that I had both won and not won something. Thankfully, they understood. Friends came up and told that it was surprising to see that the school had committed such a mistake; someone also commented that they should have let me keep the book. And the cordial way in which people actually sympathised with me made up for all the hollowness of the lost prize. At the end of the day, I thought, the book was never mine.
I came back to my seat, and looked at the cover. I deftly cleaned a little speck of dirt on the cover, and watched with pride as the plastic cover on the book shone in the sunlight. I gently brought it up to my nose and smelt the book --- aah the smell of new books! I noticed the small card inside the wrapping, that said my name on it: "First Prize in English Recitation". I was so glad: "Mom would be so proud when I reach home and show this to her", I thought! I looked at the title of the book, "My Master as I saw Him", by Sister Nivedita. "Hmm... ", I thought, "maybe I will read it sometime: but it will definitely be something worth showing off on the bookshelf!".
However, the doubt in my head kept nagging me. And it didn't help matters that a friend of mine who was just a row behind me asked, "Didn't ____ win the prize? How come they gave it to you?". I didn't know: I shrugged it off. All through the rest of the presentation, I clung on to the book and kept it close to my heart. I clapped with double the glee whenever someone went up to get any prize --- I wished everyone had clapped like that when I went up for the prize.
Soon afterwards, we were back in the classroom for the second half of the day. I had forgot all about the book until the headmaster's peon came in with a little chit in his hand and gave it to the teacher. My name was called out, and all eyes turned to me. I was suddenly so self-conscious... being on stage was a different thing, but this was creepy. The peon came up to me, and asked for the book. For a second I feigned as if I didn't know what he meant. But there was no escape --- "You didn't win the prize, did you?", he asked, with the whole class listening, and held out his palm. Very slowly, my face turning all red, I reached into my bag and fished the book out. It seemed a little too heavy then: but I just gave it up and sat down with a sigh.
Oh, the eyes of my friends did not seem to leave me in the class. Whatever the teacher was saying, I couldn't concentrate any longer. Every single second I was conscious of some eyes from some corner of the classroom looking at me, as though asking what I had been sneaking up to. I felt as if I had stolen something and had just been convicted. And there was the dread, of what everyone will tell me right after the class, during the break. I sat uneasy and dejected, waiting for the class to get over. And it did get over after sometime. Most people had not turned up for the recitation competition itself: it was on some holiday and some had opted to stay at home rather than listen to recitations. And then now they had, within the span of a couple of hours, found that I had both won and not won something. Thankfully, they understood. Friends came up and told that it was surprising to see that the school had committed such a mistake; someone also commented that they should have let me keep the book. And the cordial way in which people actually sympathised with me made up for all the hollowness of the lost prize. At the end of the day, I thought, the book was never mine.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Blaarrrp!
A client was coming to visit our office. A British bloke, he had taken up our project very recently and was scheduled to visit his off-shore offices to check how the work was progressing here. Project excel sheets, slideshows were prepared, a cube identified for the man to come and sit right beside the manager (to shield us poor developers, that is) and the general mood of the whole project team shifted into a jumpy gear with the singular objective of getting the guy to be a little happy. Besides, with the client visit, there was definitely a party happening down the line: so the general mood was upbeat.
Along came the spider... err, sorry... the client. Hairy and bearded dude, this man seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face. Our team had been doing better than the other teams at other global locations, but still there seemed to be this nagging dis-satisfaction on his face about everything. We had the regular client meeting, and our manager here introduced him and gave a general overview of the team. This man was sweating continuously as though someone had a gun at his head all the time. When his turn to speak came, you could almost see the misery in his face, and somehow that translated into a really jarred voice and a foul temper. Thickset glasses, dishevelled and stubbly beard with a coat that he had to wear because of his "business" status made a totally hairy appearance: nothing short of Hagrid's spiders.
The man had brought along some weird PPT (I think he was recycling an age-old PPT anyway), and so half of what he said made little sense to us. Who was interested in that blabber anyway? We were rather looking forward to the mmmmmm-ing pizzas whose smell was floating in from the corridor outside. When he finally finished, the atmosphere of the room wasn't exactly a cheerful one: like you had one of those Dementors nearby that had sucked all happiness out of the room (no points for guessing who, though! :P). And boy did those spicy chicken tikka pizzas make the man's face contort!! We had huddled into groups and were talking in hushed tones, somehow the man's overall body language had intimidated us!
Food was quickly over, since the usual chatterboxes were silent. I went into the men's restroom to wash my hands and contribute some liquid to mother earth when I saw my friend S there. A brief nod, and we got busy with our jobs --- men's restroom golden rule: don't make a single noise or utter any word. I was almost done and zipping up when guess who walks in? Hairy-man!! Oomph, that ugly look from his eyes as he went into the comode stall made me want to slink away as soon as possible! Why the hell could I not get another project? S too seemed to be having similar thoughts as he finished drying his hands.
I was about to dry my hands and S was headed towards the door when it happened. A monstrous, upheaving, thunderous "blaarrrp" sound came from the stall where the magical creature (errmm... I mean the client) had disappeared. It was a combination of a downward windburst, a sudden explosive dumping of semi-solid material into water and a belch. And add to that the acute cry of "Aaaargggh" that the man had shouted from the stall --- S and I were flummoxed as we looked at each other. And that bugger S, without a single care of the world burst out laughing right in the middle of the restroom, after which that &$#**% ran out!! And the laughter was so infectious... I stood there with water dripping from my hands while I desperately tried to control my laughter: going "Hmmp, khee khee khee... hmmmppp..." and I too ran away from the loo as fast as my legs could carry me! I ran and ran, straight on to the project bay!! And there S and I laughed our guts out. It took us 15 minutes to settle down properly before we could narrate that incident to the others. Apparently when our manager was told this and he went for another session of meetings with this Spider-Man, he had a tough time keeping a straight face. Thank God we didn't come face to face with this hairy "blaarrp" beast again --- I would've totally lost it!! :D :D
Along came the spider... err, sorry... the client. Hairy and bearded dude, this man seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face. Our team had been doing better than the other teams at other global locations, but still there seemed to be this nagging dis-satisfaction on his face about everything. We had the regular client meeting, and our manager here introduced him and gave a general overview of the team. This man was sweating continuously as though someone had a gun at his head all the time. When his turn to speak came, you could almost see the misery in his face, and somehow that translated into a really jarred voice and a foul temper. Thickset glasses, dishevelled and stubbly beard with a coat that he had to wear because of his "business" status made a totally hairy appearance: nothing short of Hagrid's spiders.
The man had brought along some weird PPT (I think he was recycling an age-old PPT anyway), and so half of what he said made little sense to us. Who was interested in that blabber anyway? We were rather looking forward to the mmmmmm-ing pizzas whose smell was floating in from the corridor outside. When he finally finished, the atmosphere of the room wasn't exactly a cheerful one: like you had one of those Dementors nearby that had sucked all happiness out of the room (no points for guessing who, though! :P). And boy did those spicy chicken tikka pizzas make the man's face contort!! We had huddled into groups and were talking in hushed tones, somehow the man's overall body language had intimidated us!
Food was quickly over, since the usual chatterboxes were silent. I went into the men's restroom to wash my hands and contribute some liquid to mother earth when I saw my friend S there. A brief nod, and we got busy with our jobs --- men's restroom golden rule: don't make a single noise or utter any word. I was almost done and zipping up when guess who walks in? Hairy-man!! Oomph, that ugly look from his eyes as he went into the comode stall made me want to slink away as soon as possible! Why the hell could I not get another project? S too seemed to be having similar thoughts as he finished drying his hands.
I was about to dry my hands and S was headed towards the door when it happened. A monstrous, upheaving, thunderous "blaarrrp" sound came from the stall where the magical creature (errmm... I mean the client) had disappeared. It was a combination of a downward windburst, a sudden explosive dumping of semi-solid material into water and a belch. And add to that the acute cry of "Aaaargggh" that the man had shouted from the stall --- S and I were flummoxed as we looked at each other. And that bugger S, without a single care of the world burst out laughing right in the middle of the restroom, after which that &$#**% ran out!! And the laughter was so infectious... I stood there with water dripping from my hands while I desperately tried to control my laughter: going "Hmmp, khee khee khee... hmmmppp..." and I too ran away from the loo as fast as my legs could carry me! I ran and ran, straight on to the project bay!! And there S and I laughed our guts out. It took us 15 minutes to settle down properly before we could narrate that incident to the others. Apparently when our manager was told this and he went for another session of meetings with this Spider-Man, he had a tough time keeping a straight face. Thank God we didn't come face to face with this hairy "blaarrp" beast again --- I would've totally lost it!! :D :D
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Road to Nirvana
Rishi was smitten by it --- simply smitten. He was in awe of the job, the company profile, the pay, the amenities and what it promised as a brand name. Most importantly, for him at least, everyone else thought that this job would be the crowning glory of their careers, and they were quite in awe of the job, too! Therefore, it had to be good.
Rishi tried then to find out all about it. He checked all the quick routes he knew: googling for question papers, looking at yahoo groups and firing off an email to anyone in any college he knew where this company had visited. He got hold of all the urban legends about the interviews, what they grilled about, what sort of dress code was expected, he wanted it all! And what he really wanted was a shortcut: somehow to trick the interviewers and sneak in. Rishi's time in the last few days oscillated between memorizing answers to questions they had asked earlier and finding out the latest rumours about the company. Who cared about the textbooks and what he had learnt? He knew the answers to the questions that they had been asking, and that was all that was going to matter! What if they asked him to elaborate the answer? Umm... he'll manage something.
Finally, D-day arrived: the company visited their campus. But fate had dealt the quirkiest blow to his dreams --- Rishi wasn't shortlisted at all! And why so? Because apparently his resume didn't show promise. He was on the borderline of the marks requirements, but the recruiters were looking for something else. "What the fuck else??", he echoed along with many of his friends. He never really understood how that uncool nerdy Kapil was selected! He even had lower marks than Rishi did! Yeah fine he asked a few intelligent questions in the class --- but how, just how?? How did they see promise in him whereas they didn't do in Rishi?
All his notions were disabused now. Rishi openly proclaimed his hatred for the company. How it made disasters out of its employees, how they had no social life. He hunted on Orkut for all the "I hate ___" communities, told everybody else all the rumours he could find there. When asked, he would say, "I don't care!". But he did care. Even though he never told anyone, he still cared. He expressed glee when the stocks fell even by a single rupee, he grinned secretly when he read a newspaper article about how that company might face competition in the future from some other startups. But he still knew its worth, and wanted to be a part of it. Oh, he didn't want to work for it though: "I'll sneak in" is what he thought and applied again, in secret this time.
When the second rejection came, however, Rishi was truly beyond caring. He had a job from another mass recruiter, and he was content. He had applied himself to his studies, he found the new concepts really interesting. He even succeeded in getting the highest marks in one subject! Oh, it was all so interesting to him now: he even wrote and presented a paper about it in the IIT Techfest. There was so muc to learn, to explore and find out. There couldn't be a doubt --- he liked what he did. Sometimes he even smiled to himself how he had hankered after a petty job. He had honestly stopped caring about the job now, any job! He wanted to go for an MTech, or maybe an MS in the USA if he could. There was a certain peace within himself now that he didn't want the job any more.
And then, one fine morning, he found in his inbox an email from the HR of that ____ company. "Dear Mr. Rishi, we are pleased to offer you .... ". They were offering him a job. Apparently their management had been very impressed with him during his paper presentation and wanted him to come and continue his work at their company. As he finished reading through the email, Rishi smiled. It had come to him only when he didn't need it any more --- his detachment had made him worthy of the job itself.
Rishi tried then to find out all about it. He checked all the quick routes he knew: googling for question papers, looking at yahoo groups and firing off an email to anyone in any college he knew where this company had visited. He got hold of all the urban legends about the interviews, what they grilled about, what sort of dress code was expected, he wanted it all! And what he really wanted was a shortcut: somehow to trick the interviewers and sneak in. Rishi's time in the last few days oscillated between memorizing answers to questions they had asked earlier and finding out the latest rumours about the company. Who cared about the textbooks and what he had learnt? He knew the answers to the questions that they had been asking, and that was all that was going to matter! What if they asked him to elaborate the answer? Umm... he'll manage something.
Finally, D-day arrived: the company visited their campus. But fate had dealt the quirkiest blow to his dreams --- Rishi wasn't shortlisted at all! And why so? Because apparently his resume didn't show promise. He was on the borderline of the marks requirements, but the recruiters were looking for something else. "What the fuck else??", he echoed along with many of his friends. He never really understood how that uncool nerdy Kapil was selected! He even had lower marks than Rishi did! Yeah fine he asked a few intelligent questions in the class --- but how, just how?? How did they see promise in him whereas they didn't do in Rishi?
All his notions were disabused now. Rishi openly proclaimed his hatred for the company. How it made disasters out of its employees, how they had no social life. He hunted on Orkut for all the "I hate ___" communities, told everybody else all the rumours he could find there. When asked, he would say, "I don't care!". But he did care. Even though he never told anyone, he still cared. He expressed glee when the stocks fell even by a single rupee, he grinned secretly when he read a newspaper article about how that company might face competition in the future from some other startups. But he still knew its worth, and wanted to be a part of it. Oh, he didn't want to work for it though: "I'll sneak in" is what he thought and applied again, in secret this time.
When the second rejection came, however, Rishi was truly beyond caring. He had a job from another mass recruiter, and he was content. He had applied himself to his studies, he found the new concepts really interesting. He even succeeded in getting the highest marks in one subject! Oh, it was all so interesting to him now: he even wrote and presented a paper about it in the IIT Techfest. There was so muc to learn, to explore and find out. There couldn't be a doubt --- he liked what he did. Sometimes he even smiled to himself how he had hankered after a petty job. He had honestly stopped caring about the job now, any job! He wanted to go for an MTech, or maybe an MS in the USA if he could. There was a certain peace within himself now that he didn't want the job any more.
And then, one fine morning, he found in his inbox an email from the HR of that ____ company. "Dear Mr. Rishi, we are pleased to offer you .... ". They were offering him a job. Apparently their management had been very impressed with him during his paper presentation and wanted him to come and continue his work at their company. As he finished reading through the email, Rishi smiled. It had come to him only when he didn't need it any more --- his detachment had made him worthy of the job itself.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Changing perceptions
BoogerWormie pointed to a very old post of mine, where I had sort of declared that I will suck up to all bloggers by commenting on their comment spaces. Many of you might have noticed that I started commenting only off late. And regular comments --- I don't know when I will find time to write them as well. But this is something that needs to clarified.
As some of you might have noticed, I started my blogger account sometime in 2005, and then rarely had posts after that. I knew about blogs and blogging from then, just that I never commented. Neither did I write much, the reason behind which even I am not sure about. A couple of friends knew about this blog... but they have forgot about it, I'm sure. So, after long, I've started blogging. And commenting on others' blogs too.
The question is --- did I post comments on all your blogs to suck up to you? No, definitely no. I commented because I started commenting and exploring the blog space. If you are a reader of the 2 or 3 recent posts of this blog, you'll notice that the other people who are commenting here are the ones you usually visit too! And the reason is that I have been following your own friends' links. All of your blogs give such a nice window into your personalities. Your thoughts, your wishes, your fears and your cravings --- it is all out there. And I like reading them. And commenting on them. When you write a blog post, you don't know what kind of a person will be reading it, or how you may be judged. But still you write: unfearing and uninterrupted. And that is what gives your blogs the flow that I like to read. Because here on the cyber space there isn't much that you need to hide, except personal details maybe. The rest of your personality is out there on your blog. And that is what I like to read, and to identify as friends. I may never meet you in person, but it feels good to know that there is someone who thinks like I do, and someone who has the same convictions and way of looking at life like I do.
The other point is, I too want my own share of comments on the blog! If I spend time browsing and randomly hopping through other blogs, then I too will want that someone comes and visits my blog. I like to know your comments, your views and arguments on what I've written. It feels good, especially since as the blog author I am the one who initiates and leads the discussion topic. That is why I am trying to blog regularly. I may have had my accolades in creative writing all through as a student, but I am still a newbie into the blogging world. Thanks for all the welcome you folks have accorded to me.
Finally, it is interesting to see how my own perceptions have changed over the years. Only a couple of years ago, I used to look at bloggers and their blogs much more differently than what I do now. I may have only a couple of posts, maybe 5 posts in the last two years. But still as I read through them, I realise what I thought then was very different from what I think now. Maybe I would even have an argument with the 'me' from two years back over the whole issue of blogging itself. What do I believe in now? Well, you'll have to keep reading to find out.
As some of you might have noticed, I started my blogger account sometime in 2005, and then rarely had posts after that. I knew about blogs and blogging from then, just that I never commented. Neither did I write much, the reason behind which even I am not sure about. A couple of friends knew about this blog... but they have forgot about it, I'm sure. So, after long, I've started blogging. And commenting on others' blogs too.
The question is --- did I post comments on all your blogs to suck up to you? No, definitely no. I commented because I started commenting and exploring the blog space. If you are a reader of the 2 or 3 recent posts of this blog, you'll notice that the other people who are commenting here are the ones you usually visit too! And the reason is that I have been following your own friends' links. All of your blogs give such a nice window into your personalities. Your thoughts, your wishes, your fears and your cravings --- it is all out there. And I like reading them. And commenting on them. When you write a blog post, you don't know what kind of a person will be reading it, or how you may be judged. But still you write: unfearing and uninterrupted. And that is what gives your blogs the flow that I like to read. Because here on the cyber space there isn't much that you need to hide, except personal details maybe. The rest of your personality is out there on your blog. And that is what I like to read, and to identify as friends. I may never meet you in person, but it feels good to know that there is someone who thinks like I do, and someone who has the same convictions and way of looking at life like I do.
The other point is, I too want my own share of comments on the blog! If I spend time browsing and randomly hopping through other blogs, then I too will want that someone comes and visits my blog. I like to know your comments, your views and arguments on what I've written. It feels good, especially since as the blog author I am the one who initiates and leads the discussion topic. That is why I am trying to blog regularly. I may have had my accolades in creative writing all through as a student, but I am still a newbie into the blogging world. Thanks for all the welcome you folks have accorded to me.
Finally, it is interesting to see how my own perceptions have changed over the years. Only a couple of years ago, I used to look at bloggers and their blogs much more differently than what I do now. I may have only a couple of posts, maybe 5 posts in the last two years. But still as I read through them, I realise what I thought then was very different from what I think now. Maybe I would even have an argument with the 'me' from two years back over the whole issue of blogging itself. What do I believe in now? Well, you'll have to keep reading to find out.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
From the other side
Ladies and gentlemen, as promised... the story from the other side.
You had caught side of this cute fella in the morning, he was entering the office after he swiped his badge and offering his opinion on the cricket match from a week before. "Men!", you mutter to yourself, and mentally roll eyes while you move along. But then in the afternoon, as you approached the cafeteria and walked along the glass of the corridor, you saw him again! "Oh my God he's cute", you tell yourself and smile to yourself. Hush, hush!! Can't let him know that you saw him... look away when you enter through the door!
As usual, you're stranded again in the cafeteria... waiting for your friend to come and join you for lunch. You hate this guy's sense of timing: can he never come on time? But well, you have stolen two glances at the cute guy by now, and it seems that his friends have noticed you as well. When will he see you, sighhhh... looks like they are discussing something funny. Why isn't he smiling? Oh... that cold stare literally froze the other guys and their words stopped! Gosh... you wonder how it would feel to experience that firsthand.
And then your eyes meet! God has a weird sense of humour, he did grant you that stare. Hmmf, all men are the same... this dude was ogling at you too! Well, maybe not: you think. After all, he might be looking around just like that. What was he looking at, anyway? You look around. Oh that girl from HR: she's here. Gawd she has no dress sense at all. What made her think that orange top will suit her ochre yellow sandals and heels? She's a real bitch, you're sure. And although you hate to admit it, you are a bit jealous because when she had visited your bay, you had found your team-mates looking at her. Hmm.. the slut!
Speaking of team-mates, ahh there he is! Your friend has arrived. He comes and sits down beside you. He reminds you of the funny email forward, quoting lines from it. You laugh up. Yeah you know, he's funny... but you never look at him 'that' way. He's a good friend, thats all. Anyway, looks like the cute guy isn't looking any more. :( :( "Don't flatter yourself...", you mutter to yourself: he probably has a girlfriend already! So now you start telling your friend about how you surprised your best friend the other day on her birthday. How you threw the surprise party, how the cute puppy white doll came out, how she was so happy.
Hmm, lunch is over. You hate to admit it, but you are still a little hungry. Doesn't matter: a little dieting is good every now and then. Your table has become silent now, your friend has also finished lunch. "Lets go", you say --- and the two of you move out. What happened to the hottie, you wonder... and sweep the room with your glance. Your eyes meet again, but now this dude seems to be looking at you constantly! Oh My God!! Sigh... sigh... this can't be true. Your heart has skipped a beat, but you must maintain the countenance. You walk outside, and then purposefully choose to walk away from the corridor leading to your bay. The silent beating heart, the glances stolen from the corner of your eye, and the little sigh from your lips: they all melt away as you walk on. You note the time: the man must take the hint and be here same time tomorrow.
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P.S. - Ladies, please tell me how accurate the above was. I can tell you that the last post from the guy's side does happen to me sometimes :)
You had caught side of this cute fella in the morning, he was entering the office after he swiped his badge and offering his opinion on the cricket match from a week before. "Men!", you mutter to yourself, and mentally roll eyes while you move along. But then in the afternoon, as you approached the cafeteria and walked along the glass of the corridor, you saw him again! "Oh my God he's cute", you tell yourself and smile to yourself. Hush, hush!! Can't let him know that you saw him... look away when you enter through the door!
As usual, you're stranded again in the cafeteria... waiting for your friend to come and join you for lunch. You hate this guy's sense of timing: can he never come on time? But well, you have stolen two glances at the cute guy by now, and it seems that his friends have noticed you as well. When will he see you, sighhhh... looks like they are discussing something funny. Why isn't he smiling? Oh... that cold stare literally froze the other guys and their words stopped! Gosh... you wonder how it would feel to experience that firsthand.
And then your eyes meet! God has a weird sense of humour, he did grant you that stare. Hmmf, all men are the same... this dude was ogling at you too! Well, maybe not: you think. After all, he might be looking around just like that. What was he looking at, anyway? You look around. Oh that girl from HR: she's here. Gawd she has no dress sense at all. What made her think that orange top will suit her ochre yellow sandals and heels? She's a real bitch, you're sure. And although you hate to admit it, you are a bit jealous because when she had visited your bay, you had found your team-mates looking at her. Hmm.. the slut!
Speaking of team-mates, ahh there he is! Your friend has arrived. He comes and sits down beside you. He reminds you of the funny email forward, quoting lines from it. You laugh up. Yeah you know, he's funny... but you never look at him 'that' way. He's a good friend, thats all. Anyway, looks like the cute guy isn't looking any more. :( :( "Don't flatter yourself...", you mutter to yourself: he probably has a girlfriend already! So now you start telling your friend about how you surprised your best friend the other day on her birthday. How you threw the surprise party, how the cute puppy white doll came out, how she was so happy.
Hmm, lunch is over. You hate to admit it, but you are still a little hungry. Doesn't matter: a little dieting is good every now and then. Your table has become silent now, your friend has also finished lunch. "Lets go", you say --- and the two of you move out. What happened to the hottie, you wonder... and sweep the room with your glance. Your eyes meet again, but now this dude seems to be looking at you constantly! Oh My God!! Sigh... sigh... this can't be true. Your heart has skipped a beat, but you must maintain the countenance. You walk outside, and then purposefully choose to walk away from the corridor leading to your bay. The silent beating heart, the glances stolen from the corner of your eye, and the little sigh from your lips: they all melt away as you walk on. You note the time: the man must take the hint and be here same time tomorrow.
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P.S. - Ladies, please tell me how accurate the above was. I can tell you that the last post from the guy's side does happen to me sometimes :)
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
The crush
I'll describe this from the point of view of a guy for now. The next post might be from the point of a girl, or as far as I understand their psyche. ;)
It all begins with a "wow"... a complete open-mouthed jaw dropping wow. You see a girl in the distance, maybe standing alone or eating her lunch at the office canteen. And something about her haunts you... those wonderful eyes, the innocent gaze, or maybe even the smooth glowing skin. She seems to be waiting for someone, a friend maybe? Does she need some help? Can you do something to help? You wonder.
Your friend notices and follows your gaze. Almost always asks for certain, "Dude, she looking good to you?". You blush a bit, ears going red that the friend had actually discovered the stare. You immediately take your eyes off, and stare back at your friend. Maybe if it is a good friend, you say "Yeah, she looks good" and the two of you go on; just guy talk, you know! The friend tries to bring up the topic as you settle down yourself, to tease you, but your cold stare or the fun you make of yourself on the topic stops the conversation.
In the meantime, you have been surreptitiously looking towards her, stealing glances, so to say. And once your eyes meet. Voila, the world has gone blank! You hastily withdraw the gaze: she's caught you! You suddenly become very interested in the discussion at the table you are seated at... be it a Rajinikanth movie or the Indian cricket team. But the crazy one in your heart wants you to steal a couple of more glances... anything for that beauty! Between munches of roti or asking the neighbour to pass the salt, you look up and sweep the room with your eyes, lingering just that extra second on the jewel.
By now, the friend of the girl has arrived --- lucky dawg, you mutter to yourself. Oh yes, she looks so good when she smiles. But you don't like the fact that the "friend" in question is sitting so close to the girl. Cracking jokes, eh? Damn!! You want to go up and wring the neck of that guy right then and there... you want to go up and tell him, RDB style, "Oye, bhabbi hei teri". But that is a distant dream. The guy has stopped talking now, and the girl is animatedly telling him something. Oh boy... you could have given anything to be in that guys shoes right now, listening to whatever she's saying; right from her nailpolish to how she found a bug in the code! But, unfortunately... you're stuck.
Hey, hey hey... hold on! The duo are moving out! Why does she have to leave? Oh, that smile!! She looks around the room once again, and your eyes meet. This time, you don't give up the gaze... you're staring. She immediately looks the other way and continues talking to her 'friend'. You follow them out of the door with your eyes, and then as they exit, you realize that you had been holding your breath for some time. A sigh escapes your lips... and it is then that you realize that the table where you're seated is really silent. Everyone is looking at you... like you're the smitten kitten! What the heck... you ignore the sly smiles of your friends, try to wriggle out of the mischievous questions asked in conspiratory tones, and eventually give in. Looking down and avoiding everyone else's gaze, you admit, "Okay okay.... so I had a crush on that girl who just left!!".
It all begins with a "wow"... a complete open-mouthed jaw dropping wow. You see a girl in the distance, maybe standing alone or eating her lunch at the office canteen. And something about her haunts you... those wonderful eyes, the innocent gaze, or maybe even the smooth glowing skin. She seems to be waiting for someone, a friend maybe? Does she need some help? Can you do something to help? You wonder.
Your friend notices and follows your gaze. Almost always asks for certain, "Dude, she looking good to you?". You blush a bit, ears going red that the friend had actually discovered the stare. You immediately take your eyes off, and stare back at your friend. Maybe if it is a good friend, you say "Yeah, she looks good" and the two of you go on; just guy talk, you know! The friend tries to bring up the topic as you settle down yourself, to tease you, but your cold stare or the fun you make of yourself on the topic stops the conversation.
In the meantime, you have been surreptitiously looking towards her, stealing glances, so to say. And once your eyes meet. Voila, the world has gone blank! You hastily withdraw the gaze: she's caught you! You suddenly become very interested in the discussion at the table you are seated at... be it a Rajinikanth movie or the Indian cricket team. But the crazy one in your heart wants you to steal a couple of more glances... anything for that beauty! Between munches of roti or asking the neighbour to pass the salt, you look up and sweep the room with your eyes, lingering just that extra second on the jewel.
By now, the friend of the girl has arrived --- lucky dawg, you mutter to yourself. Oh yes, she looks so good when she smiles. But you don't like the fact that the "friend" in question is sitting so close to the girl. Cracking jokes, eh? Damn!! You want to go up and wring the neck of that guy right then and there... you want to go up and tell him, RDB style, "Oye, bhabbi hei teri". But that is a distant dream. The guy has stopped talking now, and the girl is animatedly telling him something. Oh boy... you could have given anything to be in that guys shoes right now, listening to whatever she's saying; right from her nailpolish to how she found a bug in the code! But, unfortunately... you're stuck.
Hey, hey hey... hold on! The duo are moving out! Why does she have to leave? Oh, that smile!! She looks around the room once again, and your eyes meet. This time, you don't give up the gaze... you're staring. She immediately looks the other way and continues talking to her 'friend'. You follow them out of the door with your eyes, and then as they exit, you realize that you had been holding your breath for some time. A sigh escapes your lips... and it is then that you realize that the table where you're seated is really silent. Everyone is looking at you... like you're the smitten kitten! What the heck... you ignore the sly smiles of your friends, try to wriggle out of the mischievous questions asked in conspiratory tones, and eventually give in. Looking down and avoiding everyone else's gaze, you admit, "Okay okay.... so I had a crush on that girl who just left!!".
Friday, June 15, 2007
Yet another software guy
A common theme I see in many blog posts is that of some people getting married, or their friends getting married and such. Which is all very rosy, until the groom in question is a software professional. I've seen people posting things like 'monotony', 'boring', 'yet another software guy' and such things without the slightest hesitation on these topics... like such people are the scum of the earth. The pseudo-intellectuals go out to give advice, asking their friends to think twice before they marry that guy. Your life will be ruined... you will give up everything you could be and will be stuck, and so on and so forth comes the advice. And this sort of gets me mad.
Yes, a lot of software engineers do the same stuff all day: ponder over and write code, when they are not attending meetings. But who the hell are you to judge all such people under your enormous intellect? You don't even know what they think about, learn and work with --- but you are the first to come up with an opinion on ALL software professionals! Do you think that becoming an engineer is easy? All the toils of going to the tuition classes, surviving exams where each professor thinks theirs is the only subject the students have, living through hellish conditions in hostels and messes just to get that degree --- all that is a farce? People spent the prime time of their lives learning how the immense machinery works, how all of it fits together, and you come there and pass your sacred judgement: yeah they're all the same!
Who the fuck gave you an authority to judge everyone, eh? What the hell do you know or understand of software that you pass your smart-ass comments? How many times do you think and ponder a moment before you fish out your credit card? Do you ever wonder what helped the contractor decide which cement will support the building you're in right now? Does your fat ass ever wonder about how the car you rode to work today was designed, what softwares aided that? Do you even know that your life insurance premium and all the people who depend on that insurance are safe because some bloody software engineer wrote the code to track them?
Dear armchair visionary, please step down from your ivory tower and look at the human before you pronounce your judgement. All the time you hear women wanting someone who will love them for the person they are and not their breasts. Well, reciprocate that --- don't judge a guy just because he is a software engineer. Look at the person, and know him! There is enough life beyond the office that you'll find in the guy. Stop being foolish, and stop your juvenile antics decrying anyone because he is working in the software industry. He has earned every single penny that comes in his fat paycheck... he deserves it! You don't want to marry someone financially stable --- that is your lousy problem. Stop being a loser and calling the grapes sour --- you don't deserve them!
Yes, a lot of software engineers do the same stuff all day: ponder over and write code, when they are not attending meetings. But who the hell are you to judge all such people under your enormous intellect? You don't even know what they think about, learn and work with --- but you are the first to come up with an opinion on ALL software professionals! Do you think that becoming an engineer is easy? All the toils of going to the tuition classes, surviving exams where each professor thinks theirs is the only subject the students have, living through hellish conditions in hostels and messes just to get that degree --- all that is a farce? People spent the prime time of their lives learning how the immense machinery works, how all of it fits together, and you come there and pass your sacred judgement: yeah they're all the same!
Who the fuck gave you an authority to judge everyone, eh? What the hell do you know or understand of software that you pass your smart-ass comments? How many times do you think and ponder a moment before you fish out your credit card? Do you ever wonder what helped the contractor decide which cement will support the building you're in right now? Does your fat ass ever wonder about how the car you rode to work today was designed, what softwares aided that? Do you even know that your life insurance premium and all the people who depend on that insurance are safe because some bloody software engineer wrote the code to track them?
Dear armchair visionary, please step down from your ivory tower and look at the human before you pronounce your judgement. All the time you hear women wanting someone who will love them for the person they are and not their breasts. Well, reciprocate that --- don't judge a guy just because he is a software engineer. Look at the person, and know him! There is enough life beyond the office that you'll find in the guy. Stop being foolish, and stop your juvenile antics decrying anyone because he is working in the software industry. He has earned every single penny that comes in his fat paycheck... he deserves it! You don't want to marry someone financially stable --- that is your lousy problem. Stop being a loser and calling the grapes sour --- you don't deserve them!
Friday, June 8, 2007
Find the FoBs
It is always easy to pick out the FoBs in any place --- be it an office, a college, or any place. Now, since you don't know what a FoB is, I shall save the full form till the last. The following will guide you in discovering them, especially in an office:
- Always moves in a group, never alone. As though the others will try and eat them up as soon as they're available in a dark corner!
- Stares about open-mouthedly at everything. Be it a tall building, a hot chick, or a fountain; so long as he's not seen too many of those before, he'll stare.
- Always diligently appears on time at work. The concept of stretchable time takes a lot of time to settle in.
- Wonders why he is not assigned work... actually goes around looking for some work if he can.
- When you cut a joke, always wonders if you are taunting him or if it is just a joke.
- Diligently takes care of all office stationary, including the little piece of post-it notes you gave to him to tell him the name of the nearest bus stop.
- Is skeptical to approach the free coffee/tea machines --- as though he's stealing from them.
- Thinks a thousand times before he decides to swap his cranky chair with one from the meeting room.
- Believes that getting a laptop from the office is the greatest achievement.
- Looks condescendingly at other (fresher) FoBs when the new guys come in.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Should I take it out for you?
I went into this pizza shop and the lady at the counter took my credit card as I paid for the food. She wanted to see my photo id and I flashed out the State identification card inside my wallet. She was squinting her eyes to see it, and I asked, "Do you want me to take it out for you?"
She blushed a bit, a sly smile played across her face as she looked up at me. I smiled, and then after 5 seconds as I returned to my seat I suddenly thought about what I had said.
Funny how many ways you can read the same sentence. :D
She blushed a bit, a sly smile played across her face as she looked up at me. I smiled, and then after 5 seconds as I returned to my seat I suddenly thought about what I had said.
Funny how many ways you can read the same sentence. :D
Sunday, May 6, 2007
The lure of the wilderness
Every time you step outside the little area of comfort, you have a set path to follow. But, do you dare step outside that? What can make you step outside that? Money? Power? How much do you dare bend the rules? Are you even aware of the punishment that awaits you when you choose to do so?
What powers do the wild hold over us? Why are we afraid? Why do we think that stepping beyond our comfort is not something you would want to do normally? There lurk in the shadows the riches and thorns untold, the jewels that lure us, the beasts that challenge us to slay them. That is why we take the risk --- because the thrill is in the chase, the decisions to be made along the way, without thought or concern. They may turn out to be poor decisions, but at the end of the day you will know that you have made decisions yourself, and you alone are responsible for what you have chosen. Therefore, be it the jungle or the sea, the wilderness beckons --- calling out to you to step up and see the outcome. You must leave your seat, gather your tools, and run: run head on into the waters or the storm, and face the brute! Let it toss you ten thousand times: stand up and return back, and come back to fight it off yet again! Who cares what happens? You rule, you rock... and you are the master of what you see around yourself. Go, go go... what are you waiting for?
What powers do the wild hold over us? Why are we afraid? Why do we think that stepping beyond our comfort is not something you would want to do normally? There lurk in the shadows the riches and thorns untold, the jewels that lure us, the beasts that challenge us to slay them. That is why we take the risk --- because the thrill is in the chase, the decisions to be made along the way, without thought or concern. They may turn out to be poor decisions, but at the end of the day you will know that you have made decisions yourself, and you alone are responsible for what you have chosen. Therefore, be it the jungle or the sea, the wilderness beckons --- calling out to you to step up and see the outcome. You must leave your seat, gather your tools, and run: run head on into the waters or the storm, and face the brute! Let it toss you ten thousand times: stand up and return back, and come back to fight it off yet again! Who cares what happens? You rule, you rock... and you are the master of what you see around yourself. Go, go go... what are you waiting for?
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Letting the world know
It is somehow easy to let the thoughts flow on this blog than on a personal diary --- somehow the anonymity the internet offers you is too precious to waste --- it must be guarded completely and diligently. So, this blog hasn't given anything away all these 2-3 years (although scarce little has been written anyway), and it will not.
The point of this post is different, actually. The thing is: I was wondering how many of us actually disguise references in our blogs: leave hidden messages, veiled references to events and things and other stuff on things we do or write or speak publicly. Take a radio jockey for example: he or she can leave a lot of hidden messages in the way they speak, tease friends, play the favourite songs of somebody, or even just speak the damn thing out! The question is, how many actually do that? I bet many do. But how many of us actually get the references, the jokes, etc?
I tried dropping some references in some of the conversations I was having with a group of people some days ago. One friend who I was targetting actually gave me a quick look as I kept cutting jokes and laughing in the merry of the group. And that brought a slanted smile on my face: mission accomplished!
I might try this on the blog as well, but first I need to get some people to read it. Haven't had any comments till now, and I really doubt if any of the first readers of the blog remember about it anyway. I would be sort of happy if they don't, because then this would be completely anonymous ---- something I wanted all along. Till then, take care and get a hold on yourselves. The black king shall be posting more often!
The point of this post is different, actually. The thing is: I was wondering how many of us actually disguise references in our blogs: leave hidden messages, veiled references to events and things and other stuff on things we do or write or speak publicly. Take a radio jockey for example: he or she can leave a lot of hidden messages in the way they speak, tease friends, play the favourite songs of somebody, or even just speak the damn thing out! The question is, how many actually do that? I bet many do. But how many of us actually get the references, the jokes, etc?
I tried dropping some references in some of the conversations I was having with a group of people some days ago. One friend who I was targetting actually gave me a quick look as I kept cutting jokes and laughing in the merry of the group. And that brought a slanted smile on my face: mission accomplished!
I might try this on the blog as well, but first I need to get some people to read it. Haven't had any comments till now, and I really doubt if any of the first readers of the blog remember about it anyway. I would be sort of happy if they don't, because then this would be completely anonymous ---- something I wanted all along. Till then, take care and get a hold on yourselves. The black king shall be posting more often!
Sunday, February 18, 2007
What you missed
Dear darling,
Late as I am, I wish to tell you what you've just missed this Valentine's day. I wasn't expecting any calls from you, neither any mails, etc. And then you emailed, wishing me a happy Valentine's day. Ah well, happy indeed. Strangely, though... the pain wasn't so much as it had been just a month back.
I know we are separate, and that you need some time, etc and all that crap. But imagine what could have been if I could wish you a happy valentine's day. You would have found flowers and chocolate delivered at your doorstep, you would have suddenly found balloons hovering over your mailbox with your name on it. I could have called you up, told you how much you matter to me and how much I love you. I would have ensured that every girl around you turned green with envy looking at the amount of pampering you received that day, and that too from a boyfriend who isn't even there. You know, this is the first time I'm in love with anyone... and I sincerely hope this to be the last. But things are not so rosy any more... somehow I feel a distance growing between us now, a sad distance that makes me miss you less and less. This Valentine's day, if I wasn't under this oath of silence, you would have thought you were the luckiest girl on earth. I don't know... but it seems ironic to me that I could not do what I wanted to do on this day all my life --- my first Valentine's day when I actually had a valentine.
Ahh... but so is life. I am not saddened too much... have sort of got used to the pain. I had started off this blog more to create my secret identity... I guess that can be managed some other time. Right now... this blog will only contain stuff that I wished I could tell people. I don't want any comments on this one. I am fine without others' smart opinions. At the end of the day, if you and I don't end up together, I'll keep this as a reminder for times to come. My internship is no longer certain, and however much I wish I could go there and be there for the summer, a certain part of my head wants me not to do that, wants me to stay away from you and everything that reminds me of you. I am doing much better now, without you... I just wish I could shower my love on you. It is your loss, dear... not mine. One less year of receiving unconditional love
Late as I am, I wish to tell you what you've just missed this Valentine's day. I wasn't expecting any calls from you, neither any mails, etc. And then you emailed, wishing me a happy Valentine's day. Ah well, happy indeed. Strangely, though... the pain wasn't so much as it had been just a month back.
I know we are separate, and that you need some time, etc and all that crap. But imagine what could have been if I could wish you a happy valentine's day. You would have found flowers and chocolate delivered at your doorstep, you would have suddenly found balloons hovering over your mailbox with your name on it. I could have called you up, told you how much you matter to me and how much I love you. I would have ensured that every girl around you turned green with envy looking at the amount of pampering you received that day, and that too from a boyfriend who isn't even there. You know, this is the first time I'm in love with anyone... and I sincerely hope this to be the last. But things are not so rosy any more... somehow I feel a distance growing between us now, a sad distance that makes me miss you less and less. This Valentine's day, if I wasn't under this oath of silence, you would have thought you were the luckiest girl on earth. I don't know... but it seems ironic to me that I could not do what I wanted to do on this day all my life --- my first Valentine's day when I actually had a valentine.
Ahh... but so is life. I am not saddened too much... have sort of got used to the pain. I had started off this blog more to create my secret identity... I guess that can be managed some other time. Right now... this blog will only contain stuff that I wished I could tell people. I don't want any comments on this one. I am fine without others' smart opinions. At the end of the day, if you and I don't end up together, I'll keep this as a reminder for times to come. My internship is no longer certain, and however much I wish I could go there and be there for the summer, a certain part of my head wants me not to do that, wants me to stay away from you and everything that reminds me of you. I am doing much better now, without you... I just wish I could shower my love on you. It is your loss, dear... not mine. One less year of receiving unconditional love
Monday, January 22, 2007
Where are you?
Where have you gone, my dear? I cannot write an email to you, because it will disturb your peace. I cannot write a regular blog post, because it will be available for all and you to see and know. I cannot do anything... I am helpless, hopeless.
There is a pain, in knowing that you are in pain. And that I am so helpless against it. I have been doing my part, trying to remain unresponsive, trying to forget that you ever existed as someone more than a friend in my life. But I cannot --- I really cannot. I cannot drive away dreams that I had about you. I cannot forget that you have that special position in my life and heart. See, even as I type this, my eyes well up and make me want to shout out and cry. I want to shout out loud, howl in pain because this is as bad as losing you. What about the silent prayers that go up sometimes, the wishes, the yearning for a little company? Every time you tell me that you'll call, I look forward to that day and time like my life depended on it. I can forget anything, but not when I will get to hear from you.
There is a lot of pain, my dear. I wish you understood. I wish you you understood that not getting a new years message from you after 5 days from new year is heart-rending. I wish you understood that I was looking forward to my birthday for a simple reason that I will get to talk to you. You know what, that day I had almost thought that you had forgot about it all. I would have been happier then, perhaps. Because then there wouldn't have been any loss. But you couldn't call during the day. You couldn't waste 5 precious minutes of your monthly quota to call me up! And when you do call during the free minutes, it is still a 5 minute call.
I cannot --- really cannot bear this much longer. It is really painful. You will not understand. You never will. And I don't know any way of growing out of this. For the first time in my life, I find something haunting me. I cannot let go: however calm I may be externally. And sometimes I wish I had never been into a relation with you at all. So that I would have been free and calm, living life my own merry way. But I am in now; and there is no way out
Please, please GOD: make her life better. Please take away all miseries from her life and give them to me. Please make her happy, cherubic and loving. Please take away all her worries, all sorrow and throw them upon me. I cannot be happier if that can happen. I honestly pray, dear God, please make this happen. Please bring her back to my life.
A year gone by, and a new beginning to the blog
There is a pain, in knowing that you are in pain. And that I am so helpless against it. I have been doing my part, trying to remain unresponsive, trying to forget that you ever existed as someone more than a friend in my life. But I cannot --- I really cannot. I cannot drive away dreams that I had about you. I cannot forget that you have that special position in my life and heart. See, even as I type this, my eyes well up and make me want to shout out and cry. I want to shout out loud, howl in pain because this is as bad as losing you. What about the silent prayers that go up sometimes, the wishes, the yearning for a little company? Every time you tell me that you'll call, I look forward to that day and time like my life depended on it. I can forget anything, but not when I will get to hear from you.
There is a lot of pain, my dear. I wish you understood. I wish you you understood that not getting a new years message from you after 5 days from new year is heart-rending. I wish you understood that I was looking forward to my birthday for a simple reason that I will get to talk to you. You know what, that day I had almost thought that you had forgot about it all. I would have been happier then, perhaps. Because then there wouldn't have been any loss. But you couldn't call during the day. You couldn't waste 5 precious minutes of your monthly quota to call me up! And when you do call during the free minutes, it is still a 5 minute call.
I cannot --- really cannot bear this much longer. It is really painful. You will not understand. You never will. And I don't know any way of growing out of this. For the first time in my life, I find something haunting me. I cannot let go: however calm I may be externally. And sometimes I wish I had never been into a relation with you at all. So that I would have been free and calm, living life my own merry way. But I am in now; and there is no way out
Please, please GOD: make her life better. Please take away all miseries from her life and give them to me. Please make her happy, cherubic and loving. Please take away all her worries, all sorrow and throw them upon me. I cannot be happier if that can happen. I honestly pray, dear God, please make this happen. Please bring her back to my life.
A year gone by, and a new beginning to the blog
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