Right to education

There is a lot of noise about the right to education bill and most of them in morally righteous tone and needless to say it received the usual praise and probably the congress mandarins would not hesitate to go to abysmal depths of sycophancy to make the right noises to extol in exalted language about the virtue and the nobility of the bill and would show their concern to the poor kids and of course would be extra busy in preparing elegies, eulogies, encomiums, panegyrics, paeans and what not!

What is a right? A right is the sovereignty to act without the permission of others. It is something that one is born with and will die with and inalienable. A right cannot be given by the state or king or others and it can only be recognized, respected and even revered. If not one is a slave and not a free man. A right is universal—meaning: it applies to all, not just to a few. It is not something that one can grant (by god or government or judge). A right must be exercised through your OWN initiative and action. It is not a claim on others. There is only one, fundamental right; the right to life—which is: the sovereignty to follow your own judgment, without anyone’s permission, about the actions in your life.

Right to education is not a right and not right either. Education is not a right that grows on trees for anyone to come along and pick it up. The RTE bill may well trample all the rights of the citizens of this country. It entails huge investment and the only source of income for the government is that of looting the innocent citizens in the name of a myriad of taxes. And not to speak of the ubiquitous and endemic corruption that is a constant companion of any government activity. Right to education, right to food, etc. are all means of enslavement; a mortgage on our lives and the government is the mortgage holder because it arrogates itself as the dispenser of rights. Soon it will arrogate itself with authority to dispense the right to life and the enslavement will be complete.

This is the beginning and the Indian government has surreptitiously introduced more draconian measures via the National population register. That’s for another day.

God save the people!

Perils of Volvo

Volvo town buses are a great hit in Bangalore, especially amongst techies (I can see some techies objecting to the term ‘town buses’ as condescending, after all IT guys are of a rare pedigree and isn’t town bus a trifle demeaning?). It will generally be not that wrong to assume that a travel in Volvo ought be a nice, cool and pleasant experience and especially after shelling out  quite a generous (or extortionate) fare. Alas, things are not that simple in this complex world. From outside everything looks swanky and great, but inside it’s a different story altogether.

The music system will blare all the inanities dished out by the plethora of radio stations and the ads repeated ad nauseam. The repeated requests to the conductor to tone down the volume will go unheard. You can’t do anything except grit your teeth and endure the torture. The office hours will be crowded like hell and if you don’t get a seat you really had it. You will have to sway as the bus sways and believe me this is not a laughing matter and more so as most roads in Bangalore are in perennial repair mode. Getting a seat is another issue and you may even have to indulge in some strategies to grab one. You have to watch with eagle eyes for the slightest movement like somebody putting their books, music headsets or such paraphernalia in their bags or making a gesture to get out. Also listen keenly for the slight rustles and so on, I think you got the point. Then you jostle your way to that place either brashly or subtly, even if it means trampling on someone’s toes. If the goddess of luck smiles then you can have the seat. But most of the time Murphy will always smile on you. The moment you move from the place where you were standing for a good 45 minutes, the seats in that vicinity would get vacated only for you to see someone who had just hopped on the bus to occupy it and you will let out a silent scream, curse your luck and what not!

The seats aren’t that wide and if by any chance a person of liberal girth sits besides, you really have a nice journey trying to wriggle and squirm in your seat in your futile attempts not to get your shoulders chaffed. The biggest peril of all is the backpack missile and you really need to be ultra alert in negotiating these perilous and pernicious things. Techies as is their wont, will stuff their laptops in the backpack, sling it on the shoulders with an air of superciliousness and care two hoots about fellow passengers. They are IT, and if you cannot see the bright halos and the mysterious aura around them, well that’s’ your fault. At every twist and turn of the bus, accentuated by the air suspension in Volvo, you will be scrapped, chafed, frayed, brushed, bruised, pressed, squeezed and even compressed. Some of these bags are made up of material that really cuts thru the skin! It’s really an art dodging these obnoxious objects. You have to keep watching them closely as you have no idea when the guy will shift the weight to the other leg or turn any side or slump on you. Whatever may be the case one thing is for sure - You will get hit if you relax your vigil.

Another quirky thing is the a/c, one moment you will be blasted with cold air and you would want to close the vents above you and to your dismay you will find that it does not work in most of the buses. The next five minutes you will turn the vents in different directions to deflect the cold air blowing on you and finally give up throwing up your hands. For the next 20 minutes you will not have any air coming at all and again you will fiddle with the vents hoping something positive happens, after all did not Alexander Pope say –‘Hope springs eternal in the human breast’. Finally you emerge out of the bus raked all over, bent and bruised and heave a really big sigh. Deliverance at last!

Random Pickings

Some funny things you read and hear

- IPS officers saying ‘ The law will take its course’ with with sickening moral self righteousness
- Politicians saying ‘My remarks was misquoted, misinterpreted and misunderstood’
- Police officers announcing, ‘Incriminating documents we seized’
- News anchors screaming, ‘The entire area has been cordoned off by the police’ (after a bomb blast and after scores of people are dead)
- Politicians announcing with righteous indignation after getting caught red handed and with their pants down, ‘The tapes were doctored’ or ‘The tapes were tampered and spliced’ and becoming a laughing stock
- Judges thundering at the government solicitors ‘We may have to pass severe strictures against you (Govt.)’ as if that is going to have any effect whatsoever
- The green mongers’ dire warning ‘We have only 20 years to save the planet’ (they want us to go back to the cave ages)
- TV channels stressing the word ‘ Exclusive’ and you bet the same program being aired in many channels simultaneously
- TV channels breast beating about – ‘First in this channel’, only you can find the same stuff in all other channels for sure
- The communists dubbing a budget as ‘pro-rich’ with an air for smug we-are-the-only-right attitude
- The moral brigade sanctimoniously declaring – ‘This is against our culture or religion’ and then behaving worse than animals

Religion

Religion has been and is the curse of humanity. If one cares to browse the course of history it would be self evident that most of the horrors, massacres, pogroms, injustice and destruction have been perpetrated in the name of religion. Whether religion advocates or sanctions such gruesome acts or not, they are invariably committed under the banner of religion. Without a shadow of doubt, religion has been the root cause of untold misery and pain, both voluntary and forced, whether it’s the Spanish inquisition or burning of witches or the incarceration of people for innocuous reasons (Galileo), or the rigorous punishment meted out to innocent people or people inflicting pain on themselves in all manners.

It endlessly talks about renunciation, self-abnegation, abhorring all good things in life in exchange for some intangible things that you are supposed to gain after your death. All religions preach simple things like love, affection, kindness, mercy, compassion, charity, altruism, forgiveness, simple living, truth, honesty, veracity, justice and righteousness. Look around and you can see that these tenets are not followed and the champions of religion embrace all negatives of religion, twisting and interpreting the incomprehensible teachings in their own mendacious and flagitious ways. That is why we witness an orgy of violence, death and destruction from these angels of peace and love. They spew venom, spread hatred, incite violence and instigate divisiveness day after day.

The other unsavory side about religion (the soft underbelly) is that, it has been usurped and hijacked by the mandarins of ritualism who believe in endlessly muttering meaningless mumbo jumbo, which nobody understands or cares. This has really reduced religion to a farce, which is supposed to be a guiding light for leading a peaceful life. Rituals have become a sort of identity for people to cobble themselves into communities, clans, cabals, castes, sub castes, sects, factions and what not. These factions clutch and cling to rituals as if it’s their exclusive private property. What a funny thing, instead of people giving meaning to such rituals, they think that these rituals give them a meaning! God can be forgotten, love and kindness can be thrown to the air, mercy and compassion can be disregarded, truth and honesty can be buried, forgiveness and altruism can be blanked out, justice and right can be mangled but rituals alone should be held steadfast and continued like zombies. God save the people!

Wish list for 2009 elections

Now that polls are round the corner, the poll fever would hit a feverish pitch. A myriad TV shows, endless debates, boring statistics, boisterous politicians, smug experts, supercilious TV anchors, eager audience and hapless TV viewers. We are here for the same old stale platitudes by the political parties, not even a semblance of old wine in a new bottle, no pretense at any ideology, save the ideology to come to power at any cost. If anybody is harboring any thoughts of getting a whiff of fresh air in this decadent, degenerated and stinking arena called politics, please switch off the TV and stay away from newspapers. You really need to be brave, obdurate and a strong constitution to weather the election typhoon which will hit you for the next 6 weeks. You will have to stomach the vituperative abuses the political brethren will hurl at each other and the unholy alliance they form and the strange bed fellows they sleep with. Have a great sense of humor and enjoy the once in a five year (not really anymore in this era of coalitions) political IPL filled with unending tamasha and non-stop rollicking hilarity. Sadly they influence our lives too much.

It will not be an uncommon sight to see some TV host thrusting a mike into your face when you least expect in studios, roads, college campuses, theme parks or even in your houses and asking your wish list from our political masters (drop any pretence of thinking of them as your servants). I am one of those unlucky blokes not have had the privilege of getting a mike thrusted in my face. So I have decided to take the matter in my hands and have spun of my magical and fertile imagination and I am giving my wish list for the election 2009. Here is the wish list which will save our country from the impending doom and lift it to the heights of prosperity.

- A moratorium on all new laws for the next 50 years (except some laws to deal with the self styled moral policing hooligans and thugs)

- Repealing of existing laws by 10-15% every year. Our law books should be slim (slim is today’s vogue as well – slim mobiles, slim notebooks, slim damsels, and so on)

- Abolish income tax and disband the CBDT. Income tax is the zenith of evil and immorality and illegal as well. It’s a cruel system which punishes good and penalizes ability. Only a depraved society can tolerate a nefarious, reprehensible, and despicable thing called income tax.

- The duty of the government is to govern, that is to protect the rights of the citizens. Period. And nothing more. And the government has no mandate and right to do anything else

- That is the government has no business to indulge in any economic activity thus trampling the individual rights. Government should get out of all forms of production i.e. it has no right to run railways, state transports, airlines, hotels, mills, steel plants and any industrial or commercial activity. It’s abominable to do so and illegal as well.

- Holding the individual as supreme and individual rights (do not confuse with human rights) is the most sacred thing in this world. Government should not trample individual rights in the most callous and cavalier fashion and with impunity as in the past

- Repeal immediately some comic acts like the right to education, right to work which are simply unrealistic and unworkable

- Scrapping MRTP, FEMA, COFEPOSA and host of other economic laws which has done more harm than all the jihadis put together have been able to do.

7 Taste Uthappam

7 Taste Uthappam

 Its not everyday one tries something new and ends up with a sort of egg on ones’ face, not really an egg, but something near to that, just that you did not expect something in this world and definitely not on the positive side or what you desired. That was what happened to me on the other day at Hotel Saravana Bhavan at Mylapoor. Something which cannot be so easily forgotten and perhaps not be forgotten either - Its all about a dish called 7 Taste Uthappam.

 Eating daily in hotels is not very inspiring, exciting or enthusiastic. Deciding what to eat becomes an arduous and Herculean task, taxing your acumen and sapping your energy. Thinking what you ate in the morning, or the previous day night, noon and morning and then trying all sorts of permutations and combination, to conjure some new or different combination which will have to be within the boundaries of your habits and tastes and of course your dogmatic prejudices, is a daunting task of gargantuan proportions and the very thought will bring you dread and wrinkles on your forehead (ippavey kanna kathudhey). And then it deprives you of precious time which otherwise would have been used to solve the problems of the world. What a pity for the world!!

 In this somber mood I and Srinivas graced hotel Saravana Bhavan in Mylapoor one night in January 2009. After going thru the motions of scanning the same old menu, I was on the verge of ordering the plebeian rava dosa when suddenly my eyes caught some quirky item called 7 taste uthappam. With a jerk I sat upright, read it again (not that it was in Greek or Latin) and then toyed with the idea of having that. People don’t understand what amount of courage and bravery is required to do such things. I called the waiter with a bit of fizz and I suspect the decibel level of the beckoning was a trifle more. And in a transient moment of injudicious enthusiasm and audacious daring bordering on reckless folly (this I only realized later) I ordered the 7 taste Uthappam, which I thought to be an exotic item. The waiter gave me a sort of smug smirk and scurried away or rather I thought he did. I was sort of beaming; you know the kind of mood when you make a momentous decision to try some great thing, something like a great adventure into uncharted waters (to use a cliché), like having done something very great. Now, it’s not the smugness which George Bush talks about WMD or the Iraqi - Al-Qaeda link or about ushering democracy to the barbarians of the Middle East. I am not that unenlightened nor can stoop to such abysmal depths. But I still had a sort stiff neck as if I have done something smashing. With this disposition I sat humming and drumming. Did I smack my lips in anticipation? Perhaps I did.

 Then the dish I ordered with so much zeal, a bit of smugness and a dash of adventurism – the so called 7 taste Uthappam came. I looked at my plate, shook my head, blinked, rubbed my eyes, and looked at it again. In awe struck consternation, unconsciously I let out a whistle or may be a shriek. In front of me were seven dosais, each one the size of Horlicks cap. Hmm! on second thoughts, even smaller than that. On top of each of this giant dosai were seven side dishes. The crowning glory of my great choice was in front me. On the top of dosais were dashes (you really can’t have less quantity than that as that would require the services of a magnifying glass) of white chutney, green chutney, red chutney, potato masala, Kissan jam, Ketchup and some other concoction. I wish I had looked at myself in the mirror at that moment. You bet! My countenance would have been really worth watching. My jaws didn’t close, for how long I don’t know and I am sure my eyes were quite wide.

 Did I look sheepish! Of course! My god what a moment! And what a crash to my vaunted intelligence, knowledge, wisdom, erudition and what not! What a splendid way to smash an ego to smithereens!  Wa! Wa!

I never wouldn't dare to order a 7 Taste Uthappam anywhere in the universe. Once is enough. Indeed!

 

English, the Beautiful Language

English is a beautiful and versatile language, a great language to express your abstract thoughts very clearly and lucidly. English is the bridge to the future, to all advancement, improvement, progress and betterment. The latest scientific achievements and technological advancements are brought to your doorstep, of course no prizes for guessing - only in English. You cannot speak for a few minutes without using a single English word (excluding aachi thamizh pechu). As Rajaji said English is the gift of goddess Saraswathi and one of the very few good things our colonial masters have left behind us. It really is a wonderful experience to hear a stirring and eloquent speech in English or read an article written in the most grandiloquent or magniloquent style. It isn’t that easy to be pompous or bombastic or ostentatious in your writings, though without a shadow of doubt, it you will invite attacks and criticisms all around for that.

Millions, at least in our country, surreptitiously harbor pangs of desire to speak English fluently if not flamboyantly. This desire burns brightly or dully, but burns nevertheless. They would find it difficult to admit, except to a close few, that mastery of this beautiful language has eluded them somehow despite their best efforts. They literally  pine to misery and wish that somehow they gain mastery of this exotic language. Of course without the requisite effort or by a miracle - a la makakavi Kalidass.

But how does one gain mastery in English? Or for that matter how does one gain mastery in anything? Most self-development books delve deep and come up with the usual plethora of adjectives – dream, determination, devotion, dedication, sheer will power, burning desire, perseverance, passion, love, lust, interest, never say die and so on. The key is to have unending passion and an unquenchable thirst and a childlike curosity. The only catch in that is, nobody can teach you how to be passionate, how to be madly in love or how to acquire the burning desire. So all start with a bang, with great josh and even a bit of sporadic ferocity and but eventually fizzle out in a whimper. Sustaining the velocity and intensity is the problem. Very few get into the groove! Did not Calvin Coolidge succinctly put it ‘Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent’?

Casting aside all those issues, let me venture to suggest a few practical things.

Bacon said, ‘Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man and writing an exact man’. So read, read and read. Start with newspapers, magazines and then slowly move on to light novels. Anything serious like management, philosophy in the beginning will make one more interested in the subject and lose focus on the enchanting and everlasting beauty of English.

 

For heaven's sake stop using SMS language, which will destroy the thought process for sure! Start writing a few letters to newspapers about anything. With Internet at your disposal, this should not be a tall order at all. Increase the frequency and keep churning out letters.

Write generous comments (no need to be parsimonious) on the blogs you read and probably the best place to start is with this blog. So go ahead and comment on this blog, right Now!

You can graduate slowly to writing articles on topics you love and like

Finally you can start your own blog at some point of time.

Then there is always poetry (if you can come this far, kudos to you) the refugee of all dreamers. Plato said that poetry is twice removed from truth, though I may not agree with this. I would go with Aristotle who gave a spirited reply to Plato - of course by writing a great treatise called poetics. And of course I also indulged in poetry.. Hmm looks like eons ago!!

Projects & Global Warming

Times when I descended into throes of agony & pangs of anguish when questioned about delays in projects!

I used to dish out the valid reasons (obviously not so valid for my bosses) about resource crunch, hazy and nebulous requirements, Customers changing requirements like a town bus driver shifting gears, the ubiquitous attrition, the mediocre skill set of the developers and so many other things under the sun that I have lost track of it. Probably it was not that convincing to bosses and sure there were the occasions when strands of doubts about capabilities, efficiency and effectiveness criss-cross in my mind.

Then if flashed to me one day, like Buddha getting enlightenment under the bodhi tree, sort of feeling Newton must have had when the apple dropped on his head or the excitement Fredrick Kekule should have experienced when he divined the structure of benzene. It dawned to me what is wrong with projects, project management and the world in general.

The scientists, environmentalists, ecologist and good measure of two bit socialists, politicians of all hues, the blokes in research institutes and academic universities like the JNU have all singing the same tune for such a long time that I chided myself for being so naïve and blind to such a glaring and obvious fact.

If it rains cats and dogs and brings Bombay to a standstill or if it does not rain, if arctic ice caps melt or do not melt, be it famines, droughts, cyclones, tornados, typhoons, heat waves, cold waves, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, mudslides, low rainfall, excess rainfall, dry river-beds, rivers in spate, tidal waves, tsunamis, fog, smog or any phenomena - it all because of only one thing – Global Warming. Blame it all on GW, anything and everything under the sun. Man is such a messy animal interfering with Mother Nature and incurring her terrible wrath. How dare these puny creatures even think of conquering her?

I had grossly underestimated the effects of global warming. I thought it was only to do with rain, temperature and earthly things, but I did not realize that its effects are all pervasive and all encompassing. At least our venerable folks have painted it to be so with some generous help from the media who come up with grim titles about the impeding doom and disaster.

On reflection I need not have made my mind a swirling cauldron of negative thoughts, undue worry and stark pessimism, after all my projects were not completed in time only because of global warming. So all project managers RIP.

Quirks ah!

Quirks ah!

Many a times I wonder about our quirky nature. House or hotel we have sambar and drink water as well but if a small drop of sambar falls into the glass of water we immediately call the waiter and ask him to remove the glass and replace it with a new one. What a strange thing, since we pour ladle-full of sambar and drink water by the gallons but a not if an unfortunate speck of sambar goes in the glass of water. An unprivileged speck indeed. Some time ago electric line men and believe me even policemen used to were trousers (another quirky thing as trousers in English means what we call pants, but here I mean the shorter version of the trousers or what we call shorts) and we have a dim view of adult wearing half pants and especially if they belong to working class. We are of course a class apart. But now we wear Bermudas and in fact the more goofy the Bermudas the better. Our village belles not wearing blouses would rightly be dismissed by our educated and enlightened eves as uncouth and rustic, but have no qualms wearing ‘sleeveless’ and exhibiting their wares – stunning or plebeian.

Our manja pai is very famous and every saree shop used to give it not very long ago till it was swamped out of the market by the now ubiquitous plastic carry bags in all hues and shapes. One (eves in particular) has to really descend from their lofty pedestal and condescend to carry that in the streets. Demeaning indeed! Now how do they carry the plastic bags? – not by the loops which form a sort of handle but twist the top portion and crush it and they carry it. It’s supposed to be a fashion statement. Not very long ago huge eardrops, nose studs would be a sure ticket for supercilious raising of eyebrows. And then you can hear them defending our customs and traditions in the most vociferous manner. Hypocrisy I presume.

Misfortunes never come single

Misfortunes never come single

The old proverb was at the back of me on October 19, 2006 or rather was on my head so to say. On second thoughts its Murphy’s laws all the way. I started for the Deeepavali (I hate calling it diwali, sounds awkward and rustic) holidays. Anticipating a maddening rush in the evening I wanted to get out by 5.30 and Murphy smiled at me. We were holed in a meeting with boss and any meeting with bosses finishing on time would qualify for a Guinness record. Arun fidgeting in his seat as if it was an over heated oven and after excruciating moments squirming finally his patience wore thin and he excused himself and now I was in the hot seat. A call saw me dash to my desk, closed my system, barked a few things to the team leads and developers which I am sure would have been incomprehensible and made them curse me (not the first time I m sure and I had a momentary premonition that it was not going to be the last either). Went inside again wished him a happy deepavali and then tagged along sushith who was ready.

Sushith is the kind soul who ferried me on more than one occasion to the Bangalore railway station as well as listening to my rants and raves, a journey on bike best not mentioned. It’s absolutely amazing that we still retain a modicum of sanity even after commuting in Bangalore (other way of saying that we are pachyderms – sorna illadha jenmam). Generally he is good hearted to even cranky and quixotic creatures like me and he drops me near the backside ticket counter in the Bangalore central station. This time he told that it would be a Herculean task to come out of majestic. So I disembarked on lalbagh west gate and for some time did some gymnastics flagging auto drivers. No empty ones. Then went near the signals and started soliciting autos with single passengers and my luck did not desert me completely and another kind soul agreed to transport me to the railway station. Seems my past has not been that bad. After interminable waits in the traffic signals our auto moved inexorably towards my destination. I gritted my teeth, cursed all and sundry, squirmed and writhed in the seat and the auto driver moaned about the state of things, corruption and what not.

Finally by 6.55 we were met with a solid wall of traffic near majestic bus terminal. I sat contemplating my plan of action for 1 min perhaps. The other passenger already left. He had already expressed his opinion of being prudent enough to walk instead of squirming in the auto. In other words he was plainly saying don’t be a damn fool, you idiot. Suddenly I realized that the train will leave in 1 minute and then gave the auto guy his fare and then started running, leaping the stairs in twos and threes I ran on the foot bridge towards the railway station. I bumped into others, stepped on their toes, pushed a few, got pushed by a few, hit their bags, twisted, turned, and wove my way past a sheet of humanity – I had no time about TMS song – kovil arugunil koodia kootangal thalaiyaa kadal alayaa – I descended the stairs to the subway like a devil possessed and then ran all the way in the subway and emerged on the other side with nothing on my head save reaching the backside counter where I had enough commonsense to ask Babu to buy a ticket and wait for me. Making a split second decision I avoided the main entrance as I had the premonition that I would just run into a massive wall of people which was impervious even to air. Now I ran past hundreds or people and again into the subway. I forgot to mention that my slippers already was torn a little at the back and since it was something like a shot it held though made my running a bit difficult.. I got out of platform 6-7 and then ran past bewildered policemen and I could see Babu prowling the vicinity of the counter like an angry cougar and he was already gesticulating wildly with his right index finger pointing at his left wrist – the allusion was obvious. He thrust the ticket into my hands. No time for niceties and pleasantries and he urged to get along and I am not sure I uttered a thanks or not

Normally next to the counter was a small opening which will lead to platform 9-10 and on that day it was sealed, I ran along the compound wall and at the first place where there was no fence I jumped and ran to the end of the platform. I was about to cross and exactly the Hindupur train trundled along blocking my way. I could see one brave soul running in backwards, to go to the place where the train left, to jump on the track and then jump on the platform 9. I grit my teeth and cursed till the train rolled past and then I crossed and moved over to platform 9 only to be greeted by an empty track and a serene platform – much different to the pandemonium of the previous one hour. I blinked for a while and I thought I saw a red light at the other end of the platform. May be my eyes or mind were playing some tricks and may the gods wanted to teach me a lesson for all my past arrogance and haughtiness. I started to ran, for what I have no idea. I couldn’t see the train; in fact I could see nothing. My mind was a seething cauldron of boiling anger. Mad at everything I ran and I had the commonsense to pick my glass, my mobile and my purse one by one and transfer it to my hand bag. I stopped and asked a guy if the Mysore train left? He replied in hindi which maddened me like hell and I ran making me a spectacle of all those in the platform – those souls wondering if things in the world were so bad that here is a guy chasing a phantom train and had a good laugh to release their tension. What a sight I would have been, running in a haphazard fashion, age having caught up, a pair of slippers, torn and impairing my stride (not that it was graceful on any day), grabbing my hand bag in one hand and swishing my free hand in all sorts of directions. I have absolutely no idea what was my countenance like. Panting, body not willing but mind not ready to give up I ran for how many interminable minutes I had no idea. Then at the other end of the platform I could see the train stopped and some humane and kind souls (lots today) waving at me to run fast and catch the train. I was completely out of my breath and when I was near the train, maybe 5-10 feet the train jerked on its forward journey. Enraged at this grossly unjust colossal scale of conspiracy the entire world hatched at me, my mind roared with feral ferocity and summoning the remnants of my last reserves of energy I made one last burst and jumped into the train. Hurrah I made it in typical Thamizh, Telugu and kannada movie only a damsel was not at the other end, not that I would have cared for at that moment. Dazed and enervated I stumbled into the aisle only to find it completely occupied. I asked them to make way and they glanced at me and quietly acquiesced to my request. Probably I presented such a grotesque appearance that they thought that discretion is the better part of valor. The space was not enough and one lady had kept a bag as a sort of a barrier between her and the man sitting next to her. I brusquely told them to remove the bag and then I settled down and started huffing and puffing for oxygen. Did so for a long time and before long was bathed in perspiration. OOps what an experience!!

Procrastination

Have not blogged for quite some time now. It's all a combination of mood and time and of course the ubiquituous albatross round our neck - procrastination, the curse of humanity. Why we procrastinate, god knows. Seems we seek an enormous pleasure in put off things. Sometimes I feel we enjoy the shadow boxing with ourselves putting off things which done on time would definitely precious time, headaches and tension later. I remember the proverbial stitch in time saves nine. Needless to say, I have a nasty memory. Somewhere we do not learn the lession of taking the bull by its horns. Maybe we're afraid of injury. We ought to learn the art or whatever it is to roll up the sleeves and plunge into that which necessitates our attention, for failing to learn this important art is very costly in the long run, though we all just die in the long run.

Why the inexplicable reluctance to tackle our priorities immediately is something I can't fathom. To ease the immediate pressure, maybe but our thinking minds should ring the alarm bells quite loudly as the pressure only accumulates and deaden us like taxes after some time. More often than not we are not quite interested in the work we do and so anything which can divert our attetion is godsend. One spends endless hours in orkut but would not bend his mind to finish the work on which many things depend. We have no qualms about chatting and yet we will not devote much time to finish the documentation. Browsing internet is sweet but reporting about our work status is like eating neem leaves.

Procrastination is very costly and ruins our confidence in others and generally bad for our mental health. All we need is a change in our attitude - maybe a sea change would do a world of good.

Maths

On the other day I was speaking to Poms and asked him how his homework was going on (His homework is something I would not like to miss). He said it was ok and generally reduces the decibel level of his voice when that subject is broached. He told he was doing maths and I asked him whether he liked maths. He paused for sometime and then declared that he did not like it. I was not amused as I think he generally fares well in maths though he goes nuts when we ask him some subtraction stuff.

His answer sent me off on to a thought trail about maths. What a clean and rational subject and what an exhilarating joy in solving some of the toughest problems. No wonder most womenfolk dislike maths (according to a myriad surveys). I remember tackling geometry in school and then I was so fascinated by application of integration. In fact I was the only one who attempted all the questions in that section in my class and everyone left that section in ‘choice’. My college mates looked at me as if I was a weird (euphemism for a nut) creature not to be allowed to roam the streets of Salem. It was a special kind of joy doing all those Maths stuff. The adrenalin pumping and the excitement when the answer is near is something that words cannot describe. You feel like announcing to whoever you find that you have cracked it – of course not when you write the exams. That’s what I felt when I did the queuing theory equations. Took a long time to understand what Ramu pillai was teaching in his rustic way in the class. I still remember lying prone upstairs ( when the upstairs was being constructed) and staring at all things for hours together trying to understand the fundamental principle behind the equation which ran a mind boggling 3 pages and I think my grin and my eyes were the widest when I understood the basic principle.

The racking of your brains and thinking in all sorts of ways to find the solution is an extraordinary feeling of joy and pleasure. The mind racing in different trails simultaneously, weighing the options, pursuing it and then discarding it. All this in a trice and then repeating it all over again. Like love, in solving maths, the pangs of ecstasy and the throes of agony coalesce into bizarre indescribable sensation.

And you haven’t even scratched the surface. I wish I could see the inside of Karl Jacobi, Euler, Srinvasa Ramanujan, Newton and the likes. What extraordinary minds!

Home work

I called poms and as usual asked him what he was doing and the usual reply he gives is that he is deep into his home work. His home work is great stuff. He will sit on a small plastic stool ( its always plastic now and we get them in an assorted colors and the women folk at home pick them to match them with the hall color and then that stool will be in any room except that intended room) and spread all his books on a round plastic table. Then after 10 mins of hemming and hawing he will want another table. Table gets substituted with a another stool ( no prizes for guesses, its also the ubiquitous plastic) and then he will start writing english, maths, evs and what not. His handwriting is - again no prizes for guessing - is as shabby as mine and the only the difference is that you can read his whereas you have rack your head for deciphering mine and then going bonkers as to whether its greek or spanish or some extinct language or even extra-terrestrial language and I would not be surprised it you thoughts meander in the direction of the animal kingdom.

Then he writes a line and then has a doubt unrelated to anything to his subject and then a stern voice will direct his thoughts back to the note book. Then he will want to sharp the pencil which already would pierce the skin without much ado. A pencil sharpener would be there and in goes the pencil and the lead would be broken. Then he would want it be sharpened with the electric sharpener which I bought from saudi at not so a pleasing price for which I am still being reminded and again in not so pleasing phrases. The moment I say yes he would be off the stool like a olympic sprinter takes off the blocks in a 100 meter dash. With a grin as wide as a barn door he would setup the sharpener and of course his entire interest is in plugging it into an electric outlet from which he derives an enormous pleasure which we can't fathom in a 100 years. One cant even feebly imagine how such a mundane stuff would enthuse anyone. But poms is made of entirely different mettle and he goes bonkers when it comes to electricity. That is for another day. The pencil is sharpened and the the writing starts. Some letters dive deep and some soar majestically upwards and the spaces given between letters ooze with extraordinary magnaimity. Encomiums are showered on him by the way of screams and yells and the eraser now flashed all around the notebook and he starts his calligraphy all over again, his enthusiasm a bit dampened and face a bit puffed and the twinkle in his wolf eyes a bit duller.

In between he will hear a car horn and would contemplate whether it was a indica or a scorpio and then he would be brought back to the world of home work by some vociferous shoutings. After a few lines the unmistakable hoot of a train horn would stir an hornet's nest in his mind and he would start whistling and then would want to know whether the train is going to dharmapuri or madras and if so how long it would take and how many wheels it has and whether train wheels would get punctured. His train of thoughts would be shattered by another round of castigations from a stentorious voice and poms would sulk for a few mins and in a sudden rash of boundless energy would zip zap and his small fingers would race across the note book at lightning speed.

Lo and behold his home work is done and the whole place looks like battlefield, chairs and stools amidst the strewn note books, erased rubber fillings and the pencil wood flakes and his page will look as it it had been raked all over.

Seems ages since I blogged and as usual a myriad things happened serious and hilarious, joyous and distasteful, interesting and banal and life moves on though I keep saying ( monologues to be frank) that we are the prime movers and that we are the ones who should move. Hmmm! And of course I keep justifying and rationalizing about the paucity of time while at the same time sermonising (grabbing every odd chance passing by) about the very same thing. Hypocrisy at its best I presume. Seems I have been induling a trifle more pulling legs and a bit or sarcastic humor, of course passing at as banter and persiflage. No idea what people say at my back. I have a sort of prestiment that the number of people who would like to strangulate me or do something akin to that is on the ascendancy.

Pramod Mahajan finally succumbed to the bullets today. John Kenneth Galbraith passed away a few days earlier. Thamizh nadu is witnessing unprecedented theatrics now. I am an incorrigable optimist and I am inclined to believe that our politicians are good in heart and that they are very considerate and humane. The sun is scorching the people of TN and literally baking them, our beloved finance minister may use his ingenuity and will even impose some tax on temperature and then he can collect an enormous amount of revenue which he can use it to service the fantastic and mind boggling promises the political parties are coming out every day. MK came out with rice at rs.2/kg and JJ ridiculed and poo poohed it in the most contemptuous and sarcastic manner only possible for her and which can be superseded only by her haugtiness, arrogance and mendaciousness. Vaiko the new joker picked up the threades and poured scorn and emptied buckets of slime only to be rendered speechles and thunderstruck a few days later when JJ startled even the dead by offering 10 kgs or rice free. MGR would be turning or rather spinning in his grave. MK vowed to put a color idiot box in every room of the state whether they have electricity or not and if they have whether its supplied for more than a few hours or not. What a vow indeed and now we move to the next comic scene. JJ comes out with 4 grams of gold for the thaali for poor brides. Now TN is shining like a supernova and the world has woken from its slumber. TN has not got a 440000 volts zip zapping the state in the 40+C heat and is electrified beyond description. Probably a whole betting racquet is going on as to what sort of comic opera is in the offing and what will be the largess. I think it would be a roaring one raking hundreds of crores and who know they me even make the irish sweepstakes pale into insignificance. The TN folks who are sweltering in the heat, without power and groaning under the yolk of chidambaram's service taxes have a nice comedy film scripted by a seasoned writer and a consummate actress and we are roaring with laughter eagerly awaiting for the next goofiest offer and more interestingly their rational, logical, reasonable and feasible methods of achieving it. No one should ask why they did not do it when they were/are in power. What a tamashaa!!

What a match it turned out to be between the proteas and the aussies yesterday - 872 runs in a single day - mind boggling and dizzying to put it midly. What gumption and what guts by the south africans. Not the actual win itself but the belief that they can have a go at that mammoth score without being daunted and intimidated is something really great. Gibbs went on the rampage after smith savaged and blunted the vaunted auzzie attack and them boucher sliced through the bowling like a hot knife would slice through butter. The guys who were there in the stadium would have never dreamt that they would see such a contest and probably would never stop talking about it I guess.

Back home the indians routed the english with munaf patel the great kumble skittling out the barmy army and then marching home without much fuss and this in a truncated test match. Anil the indomitable fighter has gone past 500 wickets. What a man, what determination and what endurance especially being dropped in the ODI's and always getting the stick of the so called critics who endlessly churn out the same old stale and plebian and sickening stuff of kumble not spinning the ball , not turning enough and so on. Well what did those who turned do? did they take 500 wickets. A great salute for Anil Kumble.

Time and agian the judges have come down heavily on soft targets. They will sentence a man who mixed water with milk for 3 months after 15 years, now zaheera but they will not put jayalalitha or kps gill or any ias/ips criminal in jail. They will order all car drivers to wear seat belts but auto drivers, lorry and bus drivers can go on without that. They will order euro II or III or even euro 7777 for cars ( the least polluting amongst vehicles) but will not do so for state buses literrally spewing the most toxic gases nor for the autos who go about adulterting petrol with even furnace oil. They will send to jail the owners of any private building in case of fire or building collapse but no govt offical will be sent to jail even if thousands die due to crass negligence of the officials - Did we see any arests in the recent stampede in thamil nadu where scores died? did we see any arrest when an army ammunition dump exploded, do we see any arrest when hundreds due to floods, storms, etc. But let one guy die in a hospital the judges will never let the doctor in bail for months to gether. A judge refused bail to a guy who was jailed for 37 years for a flimsy reason that the police could not trace his records. Why refuse bail? why not send the DGP, commisioner and the station head to jail for not producing records. What kind of judges do we have. Judicial activism - nay judicial tyranny..god save this country.

Went to prometh's annual day celebrations on tuesday, jan 31 at jagmohan palace hall, mysore. After a long long time I was in such a place. As usual paens, praise ( flattery) were heaped on the guests. They stopped short of an elegy or a panagyric simply coz no one had the talent for those esoteric things I guess. Then every chief guest, there were plenty of them, extolled the virtues of the school and then launched into their own monotonous drone. What struck me was the absence of wit and humor in their speeches. Prizes were distributed to all the kids and some were there in the costumes which added color and glamor. The cheruby kids were a delight to watch just not caring two hoots for stage etiquette and behaving their own self in absolute nonchalance. Prometh came in and gave a shy and solemn bow after getting a certificate for a prize. I was sitting in the first row with my behemoth of a handycam positioning myself at all sorts of angles to get a clear view which were often blocked by someone or the other suddenly appearing in front me like a ghost with a gizmo in their hand. Them poms as usual started going near the electrical guy and the sound mixer guy and wanted to take it apart.

The cultural show started and it was a beautiful spectacle. The tiny tots in all their angelic and cherubic innocence swaying hither and thither, with gay abandon and past caring for any rhythm and discipline. The solo show was superb, a small kid calm recited a poem, cracked a few jokes with cool and elan that would put a few of us to shame. The dances for the songs were really enojoyable even though a boys was battling with his garment, which was bent to obey the newtonian gravity. He did it with remarkable adroitness and adeptness that I had no other choice to marvel. Deepu started getting calls and finally I told him to pack off for a movie. Then poms choir singing came and needless to say he was the odd note. Probably he was looking for me but I had gone to the other side to get him into the frame of my handycam ( not handy at all) and he was there swinging his hands and murmuring something. It was over in a trice.

Then Poms cooly wandered sipping a bottle of water into the stage where a drama was going on and one of the characters had to push him off the stage. But he still stood at the steps uncaring and not bothering about anything in the world and shaking his water bottle. Then he sat down and stared gazing at the sound mixing unit there.

To round off the function they had a superb pyrotechnic display. Nice to watch the crackers shooting up the sky, bursting and then bathing the night sky with a spectacular display of fireworks. The lights shooting in a myriad directions of varioud hues. Some of them did a bit of crazy somersaults also. Some glowed in all its resplendence, some twinkled, some sparkled, some coruscated and some scintillated - but all fizzled on their lazy trip back to earth, reduced to embers.

The third cricket test between india and pak started off in karachi an hour back and the indian seamers have sent paks packing literally. They have skittled the top order and reduced pak for a palty 44 /6. Pathan got a hatrick in the first over, only the second time in history.

The budget is round the corner and our arrogant fm is already talking about budget bias for the rural sector. When did the business and industrial sector got any bias, they have borne all sorts of discrimination, brutal taxes, evil laws, byzantine rules and have been harassed, harried and persecuted by 2 bit burueaucrats. Added to the already suffocating and strangulating maze of eveil and immoral laws of this country was the addition of an abominable evil called t the fringe benefit tax concoted by mendacious and flagitious and deranged minds. And now our compassionate comrades wants to tax diesel supplied to private cars, tax 5 star hotels and a list or what they call elite consumption. Its a shame that we still have communist parties and they have the brazen effrontery to talk with sickening self righteousness. Its time we banned this evil called communism.

We all do a bit of introspection one fine day. The other day I was doing just that and was wondering about many things. One thing that crossed was why is that we do not do things as we would like to do or even could do. Where do they go wrong. Its not exactly rocket science to decipher. We all develop a sort of a comfort zone and for most part of the time unwilling to venture out of this. if anything is suggested or required of us and if we percive that it means disturbing the comfort zone, immediately our negative antennas are out and we sort of build walls and try to deflect those things. A frog in the pond might not be that inappropriate. We dont want the excitement of the unexepected, we dont want the taste of the unknown, we dont want to sail in unchartered waters and no ruffling of our comfort feathers. How do we go about tackling this? Its pretty easy to throw words like passion, commitment and similar things but how exactly one goes about aquiring these qualities and then put into practice? Right now its a tough call and there are a hundred books in the market which dwells on this subject but the answers remain elusive. Probably all it needs is a spark to kindle the fire in you. Pray the new year does for all of use and we shall move out of the realm of ordinary to the extraordinary.

Went to manali, but could not go to ice point as there was no transport and we reached late at manali around 1 pm as my developer had some health problem and does not get up early. He is engaged and so now is engaged with the phone and keeps talking very late in the night.

We went to a nature park built as usual built around a river and there we could only see honeymooners and well I dont have to say what they would be doing. Seemed a bit amusing to me as these are the people going to fight like hell in the days to come. Half of them were just in embraces and of course the chivalrous menfolk guiding their consorts with all graciousness while negotiating the river bed, rocks and what not and whether they are slippery or not. Needless to say we were a pretty odd sight there. And from there we proceeded to Hidamba temple by auto and simply walked back to the bus stand which was more interesting in fact. We could not go to rautang pass ( maybe this is the ice point) as there was no time. I will regret not making this trip for a long time I guess.

Today we went to another project site, deep in the bowels of the mountain. The trip was perilious and fraught with danger as the roads are very narrow and road slips here and there with just a foot or two from the edge of the abysmal valley, breathtaking in sight and as usual the lights played a fantastic game with the mountains bathing them in all hues. As the mountains are literally packed so clse that one of them recieves the sun and the other dark and livid and the shapes of the rocks and trees is a feast for the eyes. Nature's awesome might is manifest at every bend and curve and corner. We returned after it was dark and saver our jeep's headlights there is not a speck of light but for the shimmering stars and some lights in the yonder. It was an eerie experience and to top it some guys were trudging back home and for the devil I can't fathom how they find their way in total darkness. I dont have to mention about the chill wind.

More on this later

Went to one of our project sites near kullu. It's a tunnel project to bring the water from parvathi river and the company has to carve a tunnel out of a gigantic mountain for more than 20 kms. We went about 1.9 kms inside the mountain i.e the tunnel. It was an eerie experience indeed as it was dark, lit by the powerful lights of the blasting and excavation party. A giant boomer drills holes up to 4 meters in the rock and then stuffed with explosives and finally blasted. The might of nature overcome by the mind of man, albeit destructively. After the blast the enormous pressure i.e the 1200+ meters of solid rock starts telling on the top of the tunnel and the tremendous pressure makes the loose rocks burst intermittently when it no longer is able to resist the strain. It plops with a terrifying sound and I was just meters across and it seemed that any time the whole thing might cave in or the debri flung in all directions as nature vents its fury at man's blasphemy of even thinking and then attempting to tame mother nature.

The workers were holding their lives and working, in fact they did not work as we witnessed this phenomenon which does not occur daily, lucky for we were able to see first hand of nature's fury. The whole trip to that place was just breathtaking, valleys everywhere, mountains of different shapes, sizes and colors, the sunlight playing a myriad games basking the moutains, rocks and trees in different hues, a feast for eyes, for once this phrase has some real meaning. Rivulets and streams meandering all over the mountains battling with the rocks. What beauty and and what splendor. The mountains towering and leaping to the skies in all its grim majesty, a magnificence that leaves us in awe and incredulity. We returned after night fell and the trip back the meandering ghat roads was fraught with danger lurking at every bend. It was not so easy to take the thing off our minds.

Where is my previous Blog. All my work gone in a jiffy? Ok I will go about it again. Ravi took me to Ludhiana market yesterday and what an experience it was. Went by a thing called share auto and the driver was so magnanimous that he never says no to any one and somehow makes room in that. Got down in a crowded street lined with shops where you can get everything under the sun, cds and dvds littered like fruits. Picked up a couple of sweaters from a 4 floor shop just piled with sweater and sweates of all size, shapes, colors and price. Then we went to have some sweets. Thats when I was stunned. The whole street was just nothing but heads , a sea of humanity stretching for as long as the eye can see. Stunned and amused we started weaving and meandering in the that roard, which actually means broad market.

Another stunning thing happened just a few yards in front of me. Suddenly a buxom lady slapped a tall young guy, the guy went terribly silent and started slithering as if nothing happened, but where to go, so our intreped girl leaned forward and smacked a few hefty blows to that guy's nape and poor guy cant retaliate lest he be savaged in that crowd and somehow sneaked ahead. Pity the guy who marries her. While returning the snail paced crowd stopped dead on the tracks and we got stuck for a long time consciously guarding out pockets.

Then we finally made it to the main street and hopped in a share auto. One guy wanted to get in with a long steel bar (gadaparai) and tried to prop near the driver and then had some better sense and got off. The shrewd driver beckoned the guy and gave him a what-a-fool-you-are look and then asked him to push the steel bar from the back, dividing me and ravi and resting on the floor of the auto, a good one foot projecting out at the back. God save some car or any vehicle coming at the back and our guy slamming the brakes. Oops and then got out and went back to SPS apollo hospital and the kind soul ravi came till the lift, actually I asked him to come so that I dont have to deal with the security in punjabi. An eventful day it was.