Last month I saw a particular post all over Bangalore with the following statement:

"An evening with Dadi Janakai — the most stable mind in the world"

Now who is this Dadi Janaki. If this is a person, how can someone call oneself a superlative of anything? I think people should know that these kind of self-praises will only have people repelled.

Time to act

I am tired. I am tired of re-reviewing my requirements list; Of redefining and refining my process; Of moving items from the "Required" section to the "Nice-to-have" section; Of having to hear people saying that I am being unrealistic.

Note: Unrealistic = Finding an educated, no non-sense, no possessive, no highly sensitive, no introvert, individualistic and slim girl.

The need to do something different and radical is great. I can no longer leave my life to my nonexistent luck. It is time to act. Now...

One fine day (it better be a fine day) I will wake up a different man with a different mindset. I will have a different goal and strategy. I will short-list all the beautiful girls that I know (of course, those who are single and available) and I will zero in on one. I will keep the remaining names in the short-list for plan B, Plan C etc. I will no longer say, "If only I were to fall for looks, I will fall for her". Instead, I will fall for her.

The goal will no longer be "To find a girl who is worth falling for". Instead, the goal will be "To make the girl fall for me". I will tell lies. I will tell a lot of lies. I will try to find what she likes in a man than what she is like. I will never tell her anything about me without knowing what "kind" she likes. I will generously give her compliments. I will flatter her. I will make her think that I am the nicest man she has ever come across. I will pretend that I am possessive about her. I will let her be possessive about me. I will pretend that I do not mind her being possessive. I will compromise. I will compromise more. I will pretend that compromising is only as natural to me as waking up in the morning.

And another fine day, I will ask her if she will marry me. She will say "Yes". (If she doesn't then I will pursue Plan B and so on)

Final nail in the coffin! Mission accomplished!

And I will be married.

When principles don't mean the same anymore...

Long ago (Must be a really long time. Perhaps, when I was in primary school) I learnt the meaning of the word "principle" from the dictionary. I learnt that "principle" is basis for one's conduct. It said principle is something, which is widely recognized by everyone. It said truth and honesty are examples of principle.

It's been years since then and I am beginning to doubt the idea behind principles. I had understood that one can have only two options - honest or dishonest. Looks like I was wrong. In so many people's opinion, there seems to be an in-between state. I mean, you can choose to tell truth or lie as it suits you; as per your convenience. (I must admit that, though I am ashamed, I have been a victim of this plague too. I try to pacify myself saying that I at least make an earnest effort to be honest; to speak truth. But my mind misgives me.)

So, let's say that one is allowed to tell lies once in a while. But how much? Or how many, if one wants it to be measurable? What percentage of lies can one mix with truth and still be called Honest? Or, should we make the word "honesty" itself a relative, measurable term? Like, I can say, "Jay is 75% honest" and everyone will figure that one in four statements that Jay makes is a lie and can safely be ignored. But you may ask if Jay will also tell you which of those four is a lie? I don't know, (100%) honestly!

A couple of old people whom I know (My CEO and COO, who apparently do not understand their world yet!!!) keep saying that these things should be seen as "black and white". And very obviously those words are largely ignored. No one has time to listen to advices that are difficult to follow. Being right all the time is difficult, if not impossible. Taking the convenient path is more fashionable and easier. For those who have a problem with their conscience, you can safely dismiss the idea of honesty with an "impractical" tag. Does any of the Ayn Rand's readers say "practical" is nothing but what one wants to practice? Dismiss them too with a "psycho" tag.

I can not help but wonder how easy it is for one to mock at someone who is trying to stick to his principles. How easy it is for one to consider that such a person is crazy, impractical and out of his mind.
"Are you Mahatma Gandhi?"
"No, I am not"
"Oh, you are Satya harichandra, then"
"No, I am merely trying to be honest"
"You are nuts. But I am not Mahatma. Leave me alone. Will you?"

Sometime ago, I decided that when someone tells me that I do not have to tell truth all the time, I will ask them if they will say the same to their child. Though I am curious about their response, I never find the courage to ask.

Truth hurts, they say. Truth and roses have thorns about them, I reply. But we don't seem to convince each other. "Be flexible, boy. You have to be a bit more practical", I am told.

That word makes me sick. Usage of that word, to be precise. I ask them, “So, you do not want to practice it, do you?” I know I will not get a reply. And I do not. Truth does hurt, it appears.

Books and Bangaloreans

Yesterday was the last day for the Bangalore book festival. Most of the time, Bangalore's biggest books shops-Landmark and crossword being my favorites- are good enough. However, there are two good reasons why I did not want to miss this event.
1. You get a lot of books in an exhibition like this that you don't find anywhere in Bangalore. Mostly the Tamil books, which would otherwise need me to visit Chennai.
2. They give a good discount on a lot of books.

So, I did visit the exhibition this year also. Surprisingly (though not very surprising for someone who knows Bangalore) the last day of the exhibition was not half as crowded as the forum mall on a weekday afternoon. And guess what, the most crowded stall around was the one where they were serving hot filter-coffee. They were people at books alright. But most of them were parents who accompanied their children, who are probably in school or preparing for some XYZ exam. And then few IT folks who were looking for the 'dummies' and 'mastering' series. Reading does not appear to be the most favorite for a modern-day Indian. No, I am not talking about the reading you do at work; hundreds of forwarded mails, technical documents and articles etc. etc. And everyone says that the habit must be inculcated at a young age. But nevertheless, situation is grim. I really wonder if the number of academic related reading that a kid is forced with, has something to do with this. May be yes.

When I was in school it was different. I went to a school, where basic education and good behavior was given highest importance. I had only two languages in school, Tamil and English and Tamil was my first language. I never had loads of homework, neither for the evenings nor for the weekend. When I didn't find a company for cricket, I always had a comic book at hand. My father used to get me books from library for my summer vacation. They were really big books and would take a small boy only in his 5th standard days to finish. But I never minded. They were interesting. When I have nothing else to do, I would just read. When I have nothing to read, I would take the LIFCO dictionary (my first dictionary that my father gifted for me which translated English-Tamil) and read. Just cram word after word into my head. Such was my passion for reading.

Coming back to the topic at hand, I must say that these are good days for Tamil literature. Publishers are trying a lot of good things to attract readers. Tamil books these days are neatly bound and wrapped. Gone are the days when after reading just once, you will have the book in two parts, one without the back cover and one without the front. The paper and printing quality has improved too. Every other book almost certainly draws a second look. It's good that they have realized the importance of making the books presentable apart from high-quality writing.

Only complaint I have, though, is that it is difficult to find books on your particular interests, for the stalls are set-up by publishers themselves and finding a specific book might require you to check out more than a few stalls. And after spending four or five hours, your legs will be in rebellion and the last few shops are unlikely to get as much attention as the first ones :)

The autowaalah was a young chap, who was kind enough(!) to take me to Koramangala. The weather was good and I was in no mood to find if the meter was tampered or not. Usually I paint a serious picture of myself once I am in an auto and do not open my mouth so as not to encourage the driver to indluge in any conversation.

As we were cutting through the streets of Jaya nagar, I noticed that the driver understood the concept of joy while working. He didn't fail to give at least one glance to every girl that was on road. At one point, looking at one reasonably good-looking and modernly dressed girl, he shook his head murmuring something. I didn't hear what he said nor did I see the expression on his face. I assumed, perhaps, he was overwhelmed. May be he was new to Bangalore.

Then that happened. We crossed one of the popular girls' colleges in Bangalore. So many beautiful girls and that perhaps was too much for the driver. He said aloud, 'Did you see, sir, how they dress?' It was a question to me and I had to respond, which I hated. 'Yes', I mumbled. Just as I would do with a stranger traveller in a train who tries to pull me in to a conversation, I added a good proportion of disinterest towards any further discussion. Unfortunately the autowaalah preferred to ignore that!

'Time has changed a lot, sir. All these modern girls wear what we men wear. Why don't they be content with what is good for them.'
I said nothing.
'They don't seem to have any shame at all. You see,, sir, how short their t-shirts are. ', he went on.
I was still not ready to get involved in. After all the heated argument I had exchanged with a friend of mine who supported the universities in Chennai for banning sleeveless t-shirts and jeans inside college. I had always had the opinion that people/organizations should not force things on which they can only recommend. I wanted to tell the driver that they would do as it would please them not as per what he thinks is right for them. But I refrained.

'Do you understand Kannada, sir?' He asked me in his broken Tamil, 'I am more comfortable with Kannada'. I said 'ok' leaving the answer to his guess.
'You know, sir, last week I dropped few girls from Koramangala to Marathahalli. They all were dressed like these. They care not about showing their waistlines. All those girls were giggling all the way non-stop, you know. I asked them why they all are dressed up like this and they said it is fashion.'
I doubted his guts to have asked that question but said nothing.

Then he had a question (for me) again. 'Won't their parents reprimand these girls at home, sir?'
As fate would have had it, something forced me to retort and I said, 'May be they are modern-like-this too.'
'You are right sir. Once, two ladies got in to my auto. Mother and daughter, they are. And both are dressed like same. No difference. I look at the daughter. I look at the mother. They are equally badly dressed.'

Fortunately for me, that was the end of the ride and lesson on Indian tradition. But that summed up the mindset of most of Indian people. What is right for a foreign girl is not right for an Indian girl. What is right for an Indian man is not right for an Indian girl. What is right for an Indian girlin her opinion is not right for her either. What one thinks as right for her is right for her!

Long way to go!

I can't help but keep looking at my ring finger. The more I look at it, the more I hate how it looks. I can't help but compare it with the one on my right hand. The feeling is worse. Not that I have the most beautiful fingers in the world. Nor am I saying that it is as important to me as to girls. But it's a blemish.

It looks ugly. It's leaning to the left, as though having an affection towards the little finger-Apparently the doctor didn't like it and asked me to strap it with the middle finger till it mends.It wouldn't bend;stubborn like me. It's ballooned-in-the-middle shape is funny, though, at times. From a particular angle, it looks like a boomerang; a somewhat straighter boomerang. Only that I can't detach it from my body and use for a weapon.

The doctor has fooled me; he said it would become normal. I mutter. May be I can spend few thousand bucks more to set it alright. May be I can go for a surgery! But the idea of not being able to use one of my hands for some more time is a nightmare.

“It is not appropriate to ask a man his salary or a woman her age”, they say in India. (I am not sure if they have the same belief in other countries too)

Contrarily, a man would always want to know a girl's age and man's salary is an important information for the girl too.

So, why on earth did they say this? Does anyone have a clue?

A short break

My doctor has advised me against using my left hand for 3 more weeks. He says, a fractured finger takes 4 weeks of time to mend. Though I can type (with some struggle, of course) with 6 fingers, I think I better let my finger heal completely.

So, I shall take a short break now and be back soon.

World - Through my granny's eyes.

I do not know how old my grandma is. I do not know when her birthday falls. I never tried to find out either. But what I know is she is the sweetest woman on earth. And perhaps, sweetest thing I will ever know. Can someone be nice to everyone in the world? She does it and does it all the time.

I remember when I was a small boy; I was very emotionally attached to her. I always thought I was her most favorite grandson. May be that's what all my cousins felt. But that doesn't matter, does it? It used to be full of excitement when she visited us from her village. And the summer vacations... It spreads like a dream in front of my eyes when I think about those days. Sure, there were a lot of other exciting things apart from my grandma's love. A lot of things I still remember and will remember for ever.

The rice fields and coconut trees, mulberry fruits and silkworms, the just-hatched-chicks (you take them in your palm and you instantly get goose bumps), my cousins, my grandpa and uncles' special treatment towards me, my mother's brag about my grades in the school, my father's occasional smile at my mischief and what not. Those were the days of my life. And to crown them all - my grandmother. Even falling ill was something I would look forward to if my grandma was there for me. Even now I feel the same way. I remember - when I was in Hyderabad and got typhoid, the only thing I could think of was going to my grandma's village and spending some time there. I know no one else can take better care of me. Not even my mother. Such is her love.

Off late, I am getting a guilty feeling that I am not spending as much time with her as I should. And I think it's true. You grow up and you find lot of other things that excite you and you tend to forget what you are not supposed to. You know, sometimes her feelings for you overwhelm you. She always has good and only good things to say about you. Your most-horrible mistakes don't change her impression on you. She thinks you have the sharpest and perfect nose. She thinks any girl who refuses to marry you is the unluckiest. She sheds tears when things don't go so-well for you. She spends hours praying to god for your well-being. At times, she mutters that everything should happen on time for one's own good. She usually means my marriage. But when I explain to her that finding the right girl is more important than time, she understands. She says she is still sticking around because she wants to see me married. And I know she means it. She lives to see us live happily.

As I look back now, a sense of remorse fills my heart. Could I have done something which would have made her happier? I know not, for she never seemed to expect anything from people. And I don't know what makes me think that she was not happy. May be it's my selfish way of looking at everyone from my own perspective. She always had a lot to give us than she would require from us. Our philosophies about life and relationship are different, mine and her. She gives and does not expect a return. I look for mutuality in every aspect of a relationship. But you see, that does not make a difference. Because she is my beloved grandmother and I am her most favorite grandson.

Diamond

Some facts about diamonds.

1. Diamond is the hardest substance found in nature.
2. Diamond is a polymorph of carbon.
3. Diamond is very expensive.
4. Diamond is usually bought by men for their new girl friend or new wife.
5. Diamond is a girl's best friend.
6. He who does not know this (point 5) is not romantic.

When they do that...

These two questions have been nagging me for a long time. But I never found the guts to 'seek the source' to find answers.

First, when girls wear strong perfume, what is their motive?
Is it that they want men to keep some distance from them or they want men to go closer to them? I wonder. I know there are men who are mentally and physically allergic to strong scents. In fact, I won't be surprised if there is a majority. I have always had a serious problem with this.

But then, there are some benefits too. For instance, when you are with girls who have them covered with fragrance, you can practice your breathing exercise and find your limits. I mean, you can try how long you can hold your breath. 30 secs, 60 secs, 90 secs...You can go on counting till dying without wanting to inhale. I used to do that in my Hyderabad apartment whenever I happened to travel for 7 whole floors in the lift along with a neighbour-lady and her daughter. (Both of them equally smeared with perfumes) One of those times you realize the importance of fresh air, I bet.

As an after thought, I think the reason may be as simple as that girls just like perfumes and no more than that. Fortunately and unfortunately, none of the girls whom I consider friends bother me in this aspect. I say unfortunate because, I am less likely to find an answer to this.

Second topic: When "Indian girls" (this 'Indian' pronoun is important) wear T-Shirts with something written on them what do they expect us (men) to do? To read or not?

Though I have a lot to say about this I would like to hear from you as to what you opine. I think they will be valuable.

This is an interesting blog.
http://photo-a-day.blogspot.com/
What is interesting about the photos is the angle the photographer chooses. More than the composition or the subject itself, the angle seems to add a glamour to his photos.

Everytime I visit my new house, my love for the house is growing doublefold. It's like a dream coming true. I have always wanted to have a house like this. Well, somewhat like this. I am sure, I can live here all my life, not getting bored. Nice and quiet. Most of the time, all you hear is birds chirping and then an occasional call from a mother for her kid.

These days, I try to spend few hours every weekend. And while I am there, I make sure I keep all windows open. And guess what! I get visitors too. Invariably, in the form of tiny winged creatures. Pretty are they! You can sit there and watch them skittering along the window grills for ever. I am proud. All my life, I never minded waiting to get what I wanted rather than hurrying in to a decision. My first ever camera was a Minolta SLR with every feature that a photographer would need. My first ever music system was a 5.1 surround sound home theatre equiped to fill a room of 300 sq feet with high quality sound. I hope my first wife too...


As I was standing on my balcony and looking around aimlessly, I saw two crows perched on a tree side by side. Very close to each other, I must say. They appeared tired and looking to get rid of the dirt and pests on their body. They plouged through their feathers and picking the insects. When one could not reach to their back or nape, the other would help. After some ten minutes or so, something struck me. I started noticing even more closely. Yes, I was right. While one crow was taking the service of it's mate, he/she was not returning the favour. Strange! This lucky crow would tilt its neck, lift the wings, turn around and show it's back and the other one will run the beak around the body of its mate. I know not why the other was not caring enough.

I am just wondering, which was the male and which one was female. Should you have any idea, please let me know.

IT sector has no reason to complain: Karnataka (??!!)

Instead of asking what the Government has done to improve Bangalore, why cannot the industrialists ponder over what they have done for the city," the Deputy Chief Minister asked.
Read the outrageous statements that this person has made.

http://www.hindu.com/2005/09/14/stories/2005091404890600.htm

Making me wonder about the future of Bangalore as the IT hub.
Me going to Chennai!

The man who finds his homeland sweet is still a tender beginner; he to whom every soil is as his native one is already strong; but he is perfect to whom the entire world is as a foreign land. — Hugo of St. Victor, a 12th century Saxon monk

Borrowed humour

hair·va·na (hâr-vänä)
n.
1. Complete liberation from all hair on one's head.
2. A psychological and spiritual condition where one no longer feels any attachment to their hair.

examples :
1. Anita found Deepak's new found state of hairvana particularly enjoyable. She couldn't stop rubbing his smooth shiny head.
2. Stephen embraced hairvana, yet liberation eluded him, as he became addicted to the habit of polishing his head with beeswax every morning.

(Thanks Rahul Korlipara)

Friday, I happened to sit through and watch a Salsa class (No No, not sauce. It's the dance I am talking about). Well, to be honest, I went there under the pretext of accompanying my friend. She had just joined the classes and that was only her second day.

Being a horrible dancer and having an extraordinary creativity to come up with the same step for every different beat and music, I am usually more than happy to sit aside and watch my friends dancing. Often my friends turn into villain trying to persuade me in to dancing. These are the times when only your physical strength (like holding on to your chair firmly etc) can save you. And these are the times I realized that two girls are stronger than one guy. Anyways, this time I was certain that no one will compel me to dance. After all, it was a paid-service. I mean the dance classes.

So, there I was sitting, watching people trying the steps they had just learnt in the previous classes. They say you usually have to have a partner to dance with. That makes it even more difficult, I wondered. Anyways, It wasn't my problem and I was comfortable and relieved at the place where I was sitting. A much better and safer place to make your observations!

First of all, there were more men than girls, which meant that guys had to await their turn to get their partner. And guess what! You get to choose your partner. I mean, if you are not shy about going and standing in front of the man/girl you like, with a grin on your face. The grin is not mandatory, of course. And so...It looks more like those old days of princess and swayamwara - men waiting to be chosen in line for the girls.

For some inexplicable reasons, girls seemed to enjoy the set-up more than men. I would not understand why. I had the idea that one should look at their partner in eyes. However, a lot of dancers, mostly men, were aloof in their body language, as though saying that 'I am dancing with you only because I have to'. I had a feeling that some of the men were shy when it came to brushing shoulders and arms with their partners. On the contrary most of the girls were having a good time, with a genuine smile on their face. Note for men here: You got to keep your pride aside before stepping in to the dance room. Be natural. If you are having a good time, nothing wrong in letting others know that you are.

As far as dance itself was concerned, I was not expecting Jim Carry and Cameron Diaz in action, like I had seen in "The Mask". (Thanks for correcting, Bhavana & Sangeeta. Except Helen Hunt, I don't seem to remember any other Hollywood actress' name) The movements were to be slow-paced and measured, I am told. I noticed some people were graceful in their movements while others always found their feet pounding the ground a fraction of second earlier than they had expected.

One last and most important remark. There should be a rule stating that only girls with long hair should be allowed for Salsa and more importantly with their hair untied. It's a lovely sight that a girl whirls around with her hair flying freely. I am sure my co-spectators will agree with me on this.
*grin*

I tell myself once again, 'No matter what your intention is, an action is considered right or wrong based on the effect it has on yourself and others'

The boy knew a lot of people in the city. That was what made travelling appeal to him-he always made new friends, and he didn't have to spend all of his time with them. When someone sees the same people every day, as had happened with him at the seminary, they wind up becoming part of that person's life. And then they want the person to change. If someone isn't what the others want them to be, the others become angry. Everyone seems to have a clear idea of how other people should lead their lives, but none about his or her own.

- From The Alchemist, a novel by Paulo Coelho

Lal bagh visit

I came back with some decent pictures after my last weekend visit to Lal Bagh flower show. Some of them here.

Time and Money

After a lot of contemplation, I conclude.
The pleasure you get from both Time and Money is not in how much you have got. The pleasure is in spending them the way you like.

Freedom

Aug 15th, Independence day.

I am in the process of moving some of my furniture to my new house in Hosur in a small truck. As Hosur is inside TamilNadu, we have to go past the security check post. The truck driver tells me that we have to pay tax to cross the border.

"How much do they charge?”
"Around 300 rupees", he says, “and that excluding 100 rupees for the officials"

He continues, "They won't let you go if you don't pay them, you know?" I don't ask any further as I kn0w the way things work here in India. As we approach the counter, I tell the driver that I will deal with the payment part.

There are three men, two at each counter and one across the table. He is in Khaki uniform and his name batch reads "Ravi Kumar"
The man at the counter looks at the truck documents, takes a piece of paper and writes down the tax charges.
He writes 250 + 5 = 255. At the end of the seemingly tough calculation task (for him) the man murmurs "And 100 rupees" and half-corrects the result as 355. I smile to myself as I move on to the payment counter.

I take three 100 rupees bills and shove it across. The driver looks on quizzically. I ignore him. I rummage through my wallet in search of five rupees and I tell the cashier, "I do not have five rupees, sir". Meaning, I want the remaining 45 rupees back. Though probably disappointed the cashier says, "That's alright if you don't have five rupees", in a tone sounding magnanimous. He says he would settle for 45 rupees, 55 lesser than what I am SUPPOSED to give him.

This is not the first time I have faced something like this. I tell myself I need to do better than before. I stand there with a curious look on my face and making it clear that I will not budge with out getting my money back. Finally the cashier gets the message. But the approval has to come from the officer in uniform. He looks at him. They exchange few words through eyes. Finally the cashier takes out my money reluctantly. With an air of disbelief around him, he thrusts the money in my hand. "uff", so much for being right.

As we walk back toward the truck, the driver does not say anything. I wish he had. At least something like, "You are crazy."

Future

Whenever I think of future, this thought crosses my mind. Just brilliant!

"The future is not some place we are going to, but one we are creating. The paths are not to be found, but made, and the activity of making them, changes both the maker and the destination. "

-John Schaar

Driven by Values

I have always had a high regards for my maid servant. She is a nice lady in her forties. Despite language problem and her regular absence I liked her work. Neat is the word I find appropriate.

Whenever I leave something uncovered in the kitchen, she will always do it. Occasionally when I leave the newspaper on floor, she will fold it neatly and put it on top of the table. I never had to demonstrate how to mop the floor cleanly, like I did once to my previous servant. She will always notice when cobwebs appear and get rid of them instantly.

What happened today is something I will remember for a long long time in my life.

This month she was absent more than usual. Though I wanted to tell her that she is becoming increasingly irregular, I never felt like. I know I was not a good employer. I never told her that she does a good job though I should have. I never told her she should be more regular. I never gave her a hike.

I usually pay her within the first 2 days of every month and try not to delay beyond that. This month I failed to visit the ATM every day and could pay her only today, the 5th. When I gave her the money, I said to her in an apologetic tone, "Sorry, late aagiduchu". (I talk to her in Tamil and she speaks Kannada)

She dismissed my apology with a smile on her face and said, "I was not regular to work either, this month"

I was stunned. Not many people have the guts to accept that they have not done a good job. Not many people can recognize the association between duty and rights. These are the people who reassure me that life should be driven by one's values. These people are one of the reasons why I still have faith in human beings.

I am proud to have met someone like her in my life. I really am.

I don't crib any more!

One of the reasons (in fact, the only reason) for me to create this blog page is that I wanted a forum where I can crib, crib and crib.

As you see, I am coming back to this blog after few months after seeing someone else's blog by chance. All the while, I did not feel like coming here and crib. This raises a couple of questions (to myself).

1. Have I found another medium as a vent for my complaints?
2. Have I stopped cribbing at all?

Honest answer to both the questions are 'no' . Then it must be that I have stopped cribbing, which I feel is not good for a human being. It's not that the whole world has become a nice place and I find everything and everyone perfect. If that was the case, I have a valid reason not to crib. But that's not the case here.

When you stop cribbing, that may mean that you have lost interest in the world. To me, the amount of "cribbing" you do is directly proportionate to your attention to the happenings around you. You just can't stop looking at the world. You just can not take things the way they are. You have to crib when there is a chance.

Now that I have reopened my blog, you are welcome to add your cribbing here :)

*sigh*

Another frustrating day coming to an end. Fortunately, it's weekend.
But not a good sign that you are anxiously waiting for the weekend.