The Star Effect

I have always complained that bluetooth is over rated. Yes, I used to sell it – but that is a different thing altogether, right? I remember the weird look I used to give to my friends for using one. I thought it was a “show-off”.

And a few minutes ago, I heard myself telling my roomie that Bodyguard has made bluetooth a cool thing. Salman Khan with the bluetooth and black sunglasses looks dashing and has changed my opinion at the drop of a hat. Am taken aback but amused at the same time! Bollywood has a much bigger effect on our daily lives than we acknowledge. Our clothes, the jokes we crack, the swearing, gestures, slangs, haircut!

I know girls who went to salons and asked for the “Priyanka Chopra” haircut. I know a friend who manages to find the exact same looking clothes in the movie that he watched recently. Hrithik Roshan was telling Priety Zinta in one of those chat shows about how crazy he was about those blue glasses after he saw Bobby Deol wear it in one of his movies. There are a bunch of over romantics that Shah Rukh has created. The list is endless!

Am not complaining. Just marveling what it is capable of! Will we learn the good stuff too at the same pace? Or must it appeal to us as cool?

Project 1

Two weeks had passed in the new company. Ideally, I should not be feeling “all that new” anymore. There is this huge campus with all the greenery and extremely well maintained natural beauty. Also, there are these extremely helpful people out here. Still I have been feeling lonely. Oh, please do not get me wrong. There have been people to give me company. Most people out here taking an extra effort to make sure I do not feel left out. But, I guess it has more to do with what I used to do before than what I might end up doing here (only work intended).

But, the first fun thing came my way and I grabbed it. Having been brought up in Kerala, I have a special place for everything that is Mallu. Yes there is an exception to it – they way they say my name. I have always wanted to tell them, “No, my name is not Remya. It is Ramya with 2 As!!”. But, I have accepted the fact that it is impossible to correct them and have resigned.

Onam brings a lot of joy and fun and the best part is the pookkalam or the flower carpet. I have fond memories of having been extremely competitive to make the best. School, College and now at work – all the excitement has returned.

My team's pookkalam

This simple activity brought together people from all kinds of background and brought out the child in each one of us. It was a great experience planning and executing this awesome flower carpet. My team mates mock me saying this is my first project at Infy. If so, I loved it.

I have heard this story as a kid and it has stuck with me. I am bad at storytelling and hence you can skip this part.

There was this old man who sat at the reception of an inn on the way to Rome. One of the travelers asked him, “How is Rome?”. The old man asked him back, “How was the city that you are coming from?”. The  traveler replied, “It was terrible. The people are extremely selfish and rude. I am so glad am out of there.” The old man replied with a sigh, “Rome is pretty much the same my friend!”. Disappointed, the traveller went on.

Another traveler who came by, asked the old man the same question. The old man repeated his question in reciprocation. The traveler replied, “It is the best city ever! I had so many friends and I still miss them. I was so happy there and it was very difficult to leave.” The old man replied with a smile, “Rome is pretty much the same my friend!”

Maybe, the same thing would happen with me.

The right thing

It has been a while since I blogged. Lets face it – am very bad at it. To add to that, lethargy took over. Until tonight. I felt the urge to write. Maybe I do not want to forget this incident. It is more of a note to myself than to any reader who might accidentally stumble upon this post. I feel emotionally and spiritually challenged tonight.

I have been down with terrible pain and have not done much today – in spite of the fact that a Sunday without rain has become rare. Water being at the bottom of the Maslow’s Hierarchy, its depletion caused me to overcome my horizontality and walk across the lane to the shop and order a refill. As I almost reached my house, I heard a cry from far away. From the distance all I could see was a bunch of dogs barking, a woman screaming and walking on the same lane towards me. Everybody on the road went into their respective houses. It was about to rain and a few huge drops have given a sample of what was coming. They might have gone inside because they did not want to get wet… or because they wanted to ignore this woman.

She did not stop screaming. Neither did she stop walking. She approached and I saw that she carried an infant in her hand. Her clothes were dirty, worn out, perhaps not washed for days. She had a visible limp. Suggesting from her cries, I guessed that she must be hurt. Did the dogs bite her? Did someone hurt her? Did she fall? Or…

I wanted to help. I paused and stood at the gate waiting for her to get closer. She did not look at me. She did not look at any of those people who were watching her, not the security guards, not the guy sipping chai… none. She walked straight ahead. I did not know what to do. Suddenly, I felt more helpless than her. There was no sign of any blood or dog bite. I stood looking as she passed me, still screaming.

I walked into the shelter of my home, with a heavy heart. I did not do anything!

What is the right thing to do? What would you have done?

The Ramayan Challenge

Memories of listening to good old stories, sitting on my dad’s lap, are awesome. Its impossible to imagine the amount of patience one needs to repeat each story – especially those of Vikram Aditya, Mahabharath and others, thanks to my tormenting nature. But, there he was, always telling me those stories, with the same smile on his face, rocking me on his thighs and repeating them, as if he was telling them for the first time. Maybe he knew that those repetitions will carve those stories in my mind and I would grow up someday to think and question the paradigms that they have set.
Ramayan, of those bedtime stories, has always disturbed me and so has its teachings. It confused me with its contradictions. It could have been my shallow thinking or ill understanding, but thoughts are meant to be pondered with and expressed. Hence, I take this bold step of publishing them without anymore glitches.
Intention – Let us examine the purpose of the story Ramayan. As elders put it, the epic is an example set for all men through the remarkably impressive protagonist-Sri Ram. It shows us how to lead our lives with righteousness and respect. God himself takes up the task of demonstrating this to his people by investing one of his avatars for the purpose.
Impact – Sri Ram, as mentioned is the personification of an ideal man. Lets evaluate him as a person, forgetting for a moment, that he is an incarnation of Lord Vishnu. There are 4 phases of his life that must be studied – As king, as a son, as a husband and as a father.
Sri Ram has been praised through generations for the remarkable son he has been. An obedient one who left the palace and luxurious life to the seek the woods. There has always been ambiguous stories about his dedication as a father and hence, without the knowledge of the right story, I am not eligible to comment. What I do have to say is about his role as a king and as a husband. Towards the end, I shall also reflect on the purpose of creating such a character.

He was a remarkable king in the sense that he practiced the then version of democracy. He was not only a good listener but also believed that he must practice in the light of that knowledge. He ended up sending his own wife to the forest. We shall get there in a while. As a king who does the best for his people, he stands high up. But, wasn’t he too democratic? Isn’t it the ruler’s discretion to distinguish what is right from the wrong and not just go by the words of people just to be appreciated and trusted? He was not a representative but a king. Wouldn’t it suit a king more to take educated and mature decisions rather than get emotionally tangled with them and hence lose objectivity?
A husband takes vows to protect his wife till his last breathe and take care of her with all his might. Was the decision to let her go on the premises of a rather irrational justification – after the humiliating test of purity, sensible? I am aware that these questions have been much discussed and exploited. But, by bringing them to light once again, I am just pushing the thought that somewhere, there has been a serious error in judgement – in distinguishing what one might call mere circumstantial crisis to sheer lack of rationale.

This brings us to the question of the purpose. If Ram was to teach men how to live for the generations to come, is it right for him to err? Were principles of such a just human being susceptible to alterations when he killed Bali through deceit? Could we justify our Lord, if he has portrayed the worst example of a husband?
If the purpose was to teach men to be righteous, isn’t it expected of the character to at least prove that it is possible?
What harm has Ramayan done?

If even God fails, how can man, with all his fallacies, manage not to?  Does it means that the power we pray to, cannot resist succumbing to his own creations? Has it not, incidentally justified human error?

I am confused if it a mockery of our beliefs or sheer human error and incapability to portray the all-powerful in the best possible way.

Colors

A few months back, I had to give an welcome speech to an event which had colors has its theme. In an attempt to pen down my deepest thoughts on it, I had come up with the following. Since then, this thought has haunted me, inspired me and made me look at myself through a different eye. Hope readers relate to my thought.

It goes like this…

I have always wondered what nostalgia could mean. In that quest to find out the theoretical implications of the much spoken about concept, I realized-it is the intra-personal expressions of the self that subjectively provides one with a sense of continuity. It mystifies the past, directs the future and imparts longevity and meaning to the present.

But there was one thing that eluded easy explanation-why it has always been incessantly pictured with dullness and vapidity.

If colors do not affect the expressions of the past, it can never brighten the future. If the conspicuous road of nostalgia is not tinctured with the colors of our life, it cannot navigate the contemporary. It is a crime to impart this insipidity to the slices of past that has colored our lives.

What one must do is to dare to challenge  the suavities and paint it with bold colors.

Let me know what you think.

The Bus Crisis

“Moving you most economically” – rings a bell?? At least honks a horn??? Nope??? Its the slogan of the much used Bengaluru Metropolitan Transport Corporation – lovingly called BMTC.

Disclaimer – If you are a “born and brought up in Bangalore, you should probably not read this – especially so if you have never travelled in any other city other than Bangalore.

There is a reason to the disclaimer. I wouldn’t want to be blamed for giving away the Spoiler Alert. Your life is good and let it be till you see the world for yourself!

My experience with these buses are three types – The Vampire Thirst, The One Rupee Loot and The Incomprehensible Clamor.

It cannot escape one’s attention that the minute you get into a BMTC bus, the conductor haunts you for the money as if he is a vampire. It doesn’t matter if you have a huge bag and you are struggling with it, or if you are getting crushed by the crowd or for that matter, you are searching for your purse. They tend to scare you with their urgency to collect the money within seconds of you boarding onto the bus! I call this The Vampire Thirst.

Fine. You have payed the guy and helped him quench his thirst. However, there is another element which you might have missed. He is hungry too. Interestingly, most of the tickets of BMTC buses are of the denominations Rs. 9, Rs. 11 etc. And no prize for guessing, the change is a loot. You have in addition, satiated his hunger too. You pay Rs. 10 for a ticket of Rs. 9 and there he goes with the change. It is just a rupee from you, today. But, considering the cumulative effect, it amounts for a good pocket money – service charge probably, for the promptness. This in my opinion is The One Rupee Loot.

Oh… almost forgot! If you try asking for the change – I challenge you to retrieve that money. Its no more yours buddy. You are not only treated Chindi and looked down like a cheapster, but also get screamed at. There I come to the last accusation I have for them. How many times have you heard that clamor in a language you cannot make out? I must say, even if you don’t understand a language, you are gifted with the ability to figure out if you are being screamed at. This act of kindness is inspired from thin air. They need no reason to instill this on you – doesn’t matter if your day is just starting and you DO NOT want a stranger to give you those galis, if you know what I mean. This is what I call, The Incomprehensible Clamor.

——

While we discuss this, I let myself wander back to the days I was in Chennai. Call it idealization of nostalgia (more on this later), but then they have a unique and interesting way there. The bus conductor sits at the back and every single person passes his/ her change for the ticket from person to person until it reaches the conductor who then dispenses the ticket and the change if any. There is a physical transfer (cash) and verbal transfer (place to go to), which is passed through, with a lot of patience. It is amazing to watch the amount of involvement the travellers have. Surprisingly, for such a system, the level of cheating is extremely low. On the contrary, everyone is keen to get their tickets done!!! One of the reasons -Rs 500 fine if caught cheating, does not entirely explain this behavior. I do not say there is complete peace on the buses. Its a horror when tamilians start screaming at each other. But, what interests me is the intention.

And that makes all the difference.

To blog or not to blog

This has always been a thought that has haunted me for a long time… to blog or not to blog. When I interospect, I derive that I am “writing” person, I mean to say that I communicate relatively better when I try to pen it down rather that try to burn someones head (more often my own) by speaking it out. I am a slow thinker – I got to spend like a lot of time thinking and devising what one calls “my opinion”.

While I was working, it was easy. I had a lotta time- endless amount of it spent in front of a computer and with the basic necessity of internet in place, I used to write a blog at least once a week. MBA changed everything. I became more lazy, ran out of topics to write cos earlier there were a number of funny incidents that could happen to me (refer to humourous frustrations). God bless us – my sense of humor is dead too So, I guess, the best way was to stop writing. But then came 21st Oct 09 and a prof of mine gave this assignment to the class – start a blog and feed in stuff that will be evaluated for 20% of the marks. Funny as it sounds, I thought why not! Sadly for the prof, he has no idea (at least till he attempts to read mine), what kind of a mishap he has just fostered.

For gaining confidence, all it took was to realize the exact meaning of MBA. We used to call ourselves Maha Bakwas Aadmi. But then, to make it more suited for the task at hand, let me chose to call myself – Master of B***S*** Articulation. And henceforth, let me attempt to articulate in as much a deadly way possible – all kinda B***S*** that comes to my mind.

Which world to belong!?!

 

Today was a funny day. Funny because, we ended up discussing about the various worlds in telecommunication class. And more funny because for the rest of the class, I sat thinking about it.

Here is what I thought of:

 

THE WORLD OF THE NOSTALGIC

The older generation of any world. The ones who still hold on to the world they were born in, the world which no longer exists. The world in which they were young and healthy, smart and better than a bunch of others. A world where they were the ones who kept asking the key question “WHY?” for which nobody had an answer. These are those who would refuse to quit smoking but refuse to sweep the floor after 6 in the evening just because it was prohibited in their times. These are the people who do not want to adapt. They let go of their age but continue to drift back in time where their idealized nostalgia takes them. These are the ones who do not appreciate any improvements and keep saying, “There is wisdom in the words of our ancestors”… the same ancestors they proudly disobeyed when they were young. They are the ones who convert the people who could have been in the world of dreamers into the frustrated bunch in the world of the stagnated.

   

THE WORLD OF THE STAGNATED

 

The majority of the world that physically and mentally live on planet earth.

The set of people who are happy with what they have around. Not that they don’t crib about it. Yes, of course they do. In fact their major part of the day passes on complaints. But, the stagnation happens because they cease to think. They cease  to dream. They crib but do not imagine the world it would be when they no longer have to crib. These are the stagnated. The ones stuck in their own unhappy worlds, their world of compromises, compromises because of the choices they have made. A world of stagnation because they chose to block it. The world of parasites because they chose to stop thinking and waited for the others to think for them while they continued to live their lives.

 

THE WORLD OF THE DREAMERS

 

Great thinkers, scientists, innovators live in the world of future – a hypothetical world where things are much more than what it is now. More advanced, more complex and still ironically better!! They envision a world which could be much more awesome than what they live in according to the world of the stagnated.  They live in the pain of a dream taking time to materialize, or maybe a dream that they realize, would not materialize in their life but later… They live for those moments of joy that take form when days, months and years of struggle to make the world a better place, brings results. They live in a virtual world where only a few people could reach not because of distance, but because of their vision. They live in a virtual world now, so that the rest of the world could live in it in future… 

   

Each category justifies their existence. Each is willing to prove their school of thought. Each believe they are right.

It is for us to choose which world to belong to. 

The world of the creators, the world of the parasites or the world of the depressed.

Virtual world…

 

There are a few occasions, no, many occasions when I get to think of the technological applications that a computer has brought to us. And, when biocomputer science and eco-computer science get defined, I shall rejoice. I shall pay a fortune to own the technology. 

If one wonders what this school of thought could be… then you need to understand the human world without this technology. We all know, necessity is the mother of invention. I would tell you why it is necessary for me.

There are times when I wish I could just LOG OUT of certain places. Imagine, if only could we make a choice of not to be in places for long which only has the potential of giving you limited information or entertainment. 

I wish I could just SPAM people’s conversations with me. I need not even attend to them! What a world could that be! 

I wish I could BLOCK certain people from reaching me at all! 

I wish I could even MOVE TO TRASH a few people. Oh! Sorry, I guess for the public interest and understanding, let me use DELETE. This is the case when they are in your immediate environment and cannot be blocked.

You can even perform a SHIFT DELETE and be sure never to see them again. Oh, dont take it as murder. They will still continue to live, but not for you. I guess, thats all that matters.

Man! Amazing! 

 

But for the others I love, I wish there is as efficient a RETRIEVAL and TRACKING mechanism between people.

If only I could SEARCH AND FIND those loved one back who made me laugh everytime they spoke, just like the wonderful humourous forwards that you get.

If only I could give a KEY WORD and all of them would appear in front of me and I could spend as much time as I want with them.

If only I could DOWNLOAD all the wonderful people who made a difference to me, but are far away.

If only I could just press a key that could take me BACK in time and let me ALTER the silly mistakes that I might have committed but had cost me a friend.

If only I could POP-UP at a friends place and remind him/her that I’m there.

If only I could become virtual and remain so, defining my beautiful world and WIDGET my loved ones together.

I guess, if this could happen I would never be writing this blog.

The art of getting addicted

 

There is no one who is not addicted. It could be anything like a cigarette, drinks, coffee or even coke. And, for me?

 

Those were the days when a mug of coffee at as late as 2-3 a.m. was a trademark.  And as if to complete the scene, Rosh – my darling friend, with her share of the power drink sat with me. Those were the best days when I was so comfortable with myself, more importantly, discussing myself with no apprehensions. Over a coffee mug, there could be no topic left under the sun that must have escaped our eyes, ears and mouth. From then on, coffee mugs were an integral part of my life, at least for a few years. 

Years rolled, change of environment had affected my regular visits and quality time with coffee. Work does this to you. But, this was till I moved into a new place. This was where tea was the most popular and sought after hot drink. Tea could be served to my roomies in baltis and still would not satiate their longing for it. I got glued to it as well. 

Again, a few light moments got associated with tea, the making of it – the appropriate proportion of tea powder, right quantity of milk, water and then, the estimation of the boil. Having done all this the right way, when one holds a mug full of it and sits back… it feels great. Greater still after the first sip. And before you realize, its all gone into the gastro-intestinal cavity for further processing, simultaneously releasing an energy burst that you didn’t know existed within you.

 

Till date, I cannot start a day without a tea. It frustrates me, makes me feel poor, deprived and agitated without a sip of it every morning and evening. Do I call this an addiction?

 

Let me define addiction for the benefit of the discussion in my own ways. An addiction is what that can fail you when you try getting rid of it. It is a parasite that eats on you, nags you while you feel helpless, both in its presence and absence.

What tea is to me is not a parasite. It is to me the reminder of those beautiful moments that could necessarily not have contributed to my intellectual capital, but tremendously to my emotional capital. A living and close example of what I had enjoyed and still enjoy. 

 

But, the only question that taunts me is, though Rosh is still the most wonderful friend I have,  loved and adored, what has happened to coffee? If that is so, when shall tea leave me? Or rather, will I abandon tea as well? If yes, what next?