A whole New Year

An ode to the by gone days,
Reflecting on a whole calendar year,
Wallowing in success achieved in many ways,
No misery, no glum feelings, no dark fears.

Looking forward to a year anew,
With so many promises to keep,
With each day paid its due,
There really is going to be no time to weep.

Like a beautiful dew filled rose bud,
A whole year has folded in,
And a new flower blooms from earth and mud,
Promising to spread happiness to kith and kin.

Musings of a soft weary kind

Saw them in those white coats and black bags,
A scalpel and green gags,
“Mummy Mummy”, All I wanna be
Is a doctor you see.

Saw them making those bridges et al,
Standing on construction sites real tall,
“Mummy Mummy”, All I wanna be,
Is an Engineer you see.

Saw them spinning yarns with mere pens,
As mighty weapons,
“Mummy Mummy”, All I wanna be,
Is a writer you see.

Saw them making stories of the day,
Interviewing politicians and bureaucrats being child’s play,
“Mummy Mummy”, All I wanna be,
Is a Journalist you see.

Never once gave a damn about a comp or software,
Not once about a piece of code did I care,
But, “Mummy, Mummy”, All I will be,
Is a Software Professional you see

Phoren Maal in a Desi Household

Sleek has been the buzz word at home for the past 2 weeks. The reason, my dear sister who is doing her Graduation at NUS (Singapore) has come back home for her semester vacation. Being the nice kid that she is, has done loads of shopping and now there is a mini Singapore sitting at home. Everybody from my grand dad to the neighbour's dog has been bestowed with those foreign goodies. The Fridge is loaded with chocolates, a few of them stashed away in this secret corner for me.
The person who is really excited about the whole “Return of the wild from far away lands” (a la sis) is mommy dear. My sister has impressed her with a Cordless phone, which in my mom's own words reads, “a sleek phone, not the usual big black one but a lovely grey”. All the goodies, and my guess includes the T-Shirt which was acquired for my dad, Lacoste not Crocodile I can hear my mom and sis sing in unison, have found their way to the Living Room showcase. There is this festival during the Navarthri Season, where dolls are put on display and neighbours and family will be invited to have a look and will be sent back with some tasty snacks. This in all probability resembles the festival, what with neighbours and friends pouring in to pay a visit to the “daughter from abroad”. To add to the creative look and feel, my sis can pretend to be a mannequin and be the prime object on display. Mom will show them around and point
There, there , there you see,
A lamp there, a bag here all for a small fee.
A phone so sleek,
Makes the big black one seem so bleak.
That fundoo Thinkpad,
Carrying it around being the latest fad.
All the foren maal,
Stacked in a Desi Hall.
A trip down memory lane and I can remember those days when I used to get back from Pilani between semesters, huffed, puffed (donning an entire cupboard of winter wear), when the whole home coming ritual used to be a quiet affair. No sis coming all the way from Mangalore to visit, no plethora of endless aunties and second cousins making the “So how is the weather there” enquiries, not even the occasional raise of the neighbour's eyebrows. Umm, so much for (Vi)Desi edgeucation or like those Now and then Returning Indians prefer calling e-du-cation!

A “make” believe world

We have all heard of “make love”, the supposed slow and sensuous form of having sex, been unfortunate or fortunate enough to witness someone “making out”, unfortunate cos we are never the one, it is always some other lucky bitch or bastard, fortunate ‘cos that way u get to catch some action in real life. If you belong to the species called fairer sex you would be only too familiar with the so called make-up, stuff that you spend enough time applying only to realize that u have to spend twice the amount of time to peel off. Even if you are not a woman, you would still know it, 'cos it would have been the very reason u missed that all too interesting first scene of the movie.
But there is this newly coined word, which I heard for the first time in an e-mail sent to this all too pretty friend of mine, “make friendship”. I might be sounding very sexist in my generalisation, but it is a phrase used only by the menfolk, and a very silly one at that. All you men out there are waiting to rage your battle against me! I can see that coming (No that was no typo!).
Coming back to the topic in q, How do you “make” friendship in the first place? What exactly did he mean when he said it? Was it a mistaken reference to make love? But wouldn’t it be too much to be asking for in the very first mail that he had sent to this mind blowing beauty and remember the guy in all probability would be this totally quiet, shy, non existant person. So possibility 1 ruled out. Ok the man spots the beauty, was taken in by her extremely good looks, was swept off his feet in all of 30 seconds and then decided to ask her if the two of them can make this lifelong, platonic, totally out of the world, best of friendship, haan? Is he willing to go to that extent for the fleeting 30 second glimpse? Naaa! Agreed my friend is this real nice girl and beautiful, and has this amazing figure, and is really intelligent and is quite smart and is really capable of managing a whole household and 2 dogs but he could not have known all of that in 30 seconds. The world of men is so weird and they call us the weird lot. Phew Whew!
Neways, I shall proceed towards “making” dinner…….

Phraseology

Invitation Ex-tended :- When your ex decides to give u this sweet surprise by "ex"-tending an invitation to you for her wedding!

Marriage:- ****ed for Life!

Overheard
Ass:- "But" of course

Fare-well

Goodbye we all sang
Holding back those tears,
No sooner than that and we hear “Bang! Bang!”
Look who is here!

And now for some background! This team mate of mine was leaving for the US of A, for some real long term project*. So when he pronounced that he was going for a good long term, we nearly buried him alive, thinking he was gone for good, conjuring up images of him with a white wife (just that the wife is white), and he loaded with a Green Card. The possibility of a few kids was of course not ruled out.
Plans were immediately made about all those send off parties, which translates to mean gift giving sessions. We even contemplated the usual cutting of a cake but decided he was too old for that. Hastily scrawled greetings containing phrases like “Have a ball”, “We will definitely miss u”, “The project would not quite be the same sans u”, were given out. A sentily senti speech was also churned out. What is a send off when the poor guy just gets our wishes and no monetary benefits and so a gift was purchased, and quickly made its way to his bag, after the usual “Photo 4 Posterity” session. The wrapping paper was taken off hastily, (so much haste might not even be there when a real hot couple undress each other too I suppose) and he feigned surprise (one is supposed to right?) and said the usual “Just the thing I wanted”. This done, we managed to extract a dinner treat from him, a fat bill largely owing to the “high-spirited” people we had for company. Finally! The guy boarded his flight to Mumbai ready to take off from there to the US a day later.
Here is where the whiz-bang twist in the tale comes. Our pal calls his ex-roomie (who would not be the ex for a while now) and says,

Our Pal: “Umm, actually there has been a small change in my plan”.
(While the not so ex roomie listens our man continues)
Our pal: “Actually some small issue with the project. Ummm… Nothing really much but you know how they hype up these things. Just that for some silly reason the project got scrapped”.
Ex-Roomie (Rendered speechless, clears throat and asks meekly): “That means?”
Our pal (As cheerfully as he could): “umm…Trip cancelled!”.

There would be this moment of awkwardness between us when he comes back, we eying the watch we gave him considering reusing it for the next “send-off” and, he, eying our stomachs and doing the calculations as to how many Monthly Project fund contributions he can go about without paying. So much for Change of plans!

* Short Term Project:- A short term project as the name suggests is any project for which one hits the land of opportunities for a period of time extending from as short as 2 years to about 3.5 years
* Long Term project:- Near life long

A new form of "Hindu"ism

While I was blog-hopping, this morning I came across this particular blog which prompted me to post a comment and then I thought, "Heck, why not convert that into a blog". The topic in q was of course an issue really close to my heart (Reading between lines not quite allowed). Urs truly has been this ardent follower of the Hindu, the paper not the religion and have held on to it through college years, where there were many an opposing voice vouching for the other sleazy ones.

The reasons these others offered me were anything from

It is not colorful enough
(I know they simply mean the skin revelation is not “deep” enough)
There are not too many pictures
(Hello, this is a newspaper for God’s sake not some third class kid’s cartoon book)
The newspaper assumes these serious tones
(This, dear opposer, is a newspaper not one of those “101 jokes” book )
There is no Page 3
(I guess you need to refresh some of those counting skills)
There are not enough “scoops”
(No! They don’t pounce on some rumor spreading around town about some pretty actress whose boyfriend was sighted in a vague restaurant with dim lighting, with his girl friend. This would occupy 2 to 3 whole pages with pictures et al about the lovey dovey coochie cooing in those other “news”papers)
They are very biased towards Chennai
(Fair Aryans it has its very roots in Chennai)
to
I am not preparing for Cat and other competitive exams
(I was just left speechless)

I would patiently offer very many arguments citing good language, high class journalism, no melodramatic style of reporting covering just the bare facts (no pun absolutely), a good editorial section blah blah. At the end of all this, the monosyllabic response that I get is “Whatever!” in those Poo of K3G fame, tones.

A newspaper is such a part of your growing up that you tend to grow so attached to it. It comes as a package along with your grandparents and a full sized family. It is the first sight that greets you and its absence in the morning, would increase your discomfort levels. After all these years of a filter coffee and The Hindu early in the morning (as early as 8 on weekdays) replete with its Nirmal Shekar sports coverage and the Crossword and off late Sudoku, it would be very difficult to switch tastes. But maybe this is precisely what their argument is also, “After all these years of sleaze, cheesy news clippings how can one start reading a newspaper which offers so much for the intelligentsia, in a serious reporting format”. Each to his/her own taste! For now I am content having a try at today’s Crossy in the Hindu.

The static and dynamics of it all

The earth is revolving, so are the planets and the whole wide world, but there you a constant. Let me stop being cryptic. It is just that this is just one of those perfectly imperfect days. You come down to the office, which by itself is becoming a mammoth task and then you see that there are so many changes happening around you, which of course does not include you at all . Person A is traveling, Person B would be leaving owing to “personal constraints” and Person C has decided to pursue other interests while yet another Person D has decided to come back for good (whose good his/her own or mine??). And there you are, as always, saying those very many byes or in a few cases “Hi, so how was the weather in England, Germany Switzerland etc etc”. It sometimes gives me these feelings of “deja ju”, have been there and done it so many times that it comes as second nature to me.
The world seems to be going past you making this whoosh sound and there you are, not part of any of that flux. You are always the static presence in every one of those treats, “Hey! Have a ball! ” exclamations, part of the so-called coveted gift choosing committee but there you go away from all the dynamics of change. I can see those raised eyebrows and the thin smile on each of your countenances pronouncing “This, my dear, is Life for you!”

Sweet Innocence

As I sit in front of this geometrical object of sorts, a flat thin monitor staring back at me, I am overcome by memories of those days of yore when innocence reigned supreme. The simple pleasures of life, tasting the sweet rains on my childlike lips; feeling those tears from heaven with my bare childlike hands; running wild like the wind;locking hands in hands larger than mine;snuggling next to purity; encircled in that wide,bear hug;swinging high and then falling down slides;holding his hands and running weeee;watching the plane go high above;going on that bsa champ with the extra wheel;craving for those barbie dolls never aquired; learning cycling on those hired cycles;peeping into friends 'secret' notebooks unnoticed; whispering 'secrets' in best friend's ears;
the first dance class;the first music lesson learnt;the first cycle ride on my very own cycle; the first cycle ride sitting on the cycle bar; the blush when you encounter the opposite sex for the first time;the first time you think you have fallen in love; the next time you think u have fallen out of love;the first signs of growing up; the first time you experience not-so innocent, not-so-childlike thoughts; the first entry into adulhood......
Sweet Innocence outgrown... Ah! Those simple pleasures of life, will I ever experience them again? Can I ever unknow what I know while reliving all those moments I have already lived. Can I go back to those sweet days of yore and live those days all over again?
How the years seem to have gone past! How I have suddenly grown up from talking about unfinished home work, to unfinished courses to suddenly unfinished love stories. Can I give up all I have now for just that one scrap of memory from the past. Can I ever be that sweet child from the past?

'Love'ly Sayings

If you love someone then let go of him/her. If he/she comes back then he/she was always yours otherwise she never was
I say: If you love someone then just be goddamn smart enough to hold onto him/her. If you are not then forget the whole deal!

Love is never having to say you are sorry (Love Story by Eric Segal)
Umm.. I am sorry u said something?

True Love stories never have any endings (Richard Bach)
They just simply end when you have run out of pages to write no more

From this obscure town called Mangalore

I just decided it was time I popularise this obscure town that I stay in right now. Actually the whole blog can be traced back to a conversation that I had with one of those aunties who have these eligible sons, who (also just like the n number of other yound men and women) is 'in Software'. No no! She was not trying any marketing stunts with me. I would not fit into her typical 'eligible woman', tall, thin , fair , curly or straight hair, 'homely', well educated but willing to sit at home and raise his kids and his ego. But eligible or not, it did not deter her from having this 'conversation' with me, read question answer session. She shooting the questions and a nervous me answering politely keeping my answers as terse as possible. One of the questions posed were of course
'So, where do u stay'?
Pat came the reply Mangalore (with a Capital M in bold and caps)...
Oh bengaloore, umm that is where my son stays ..too much traffic these days, and even having a car with a company given laptop to work, while driving, (that is how busy her son is or says he is ), does not really help, too much pollution blah blah blah..
So where in Bengaloore do u stay?
I politely interjected correcting her Bengaloore illusions to Mangalore with a capital M in caps and bold.
The next minute auntie is missing. Of course she is not interested in people who are not from Bengaloore. They are not software enough. She does not really keep up with the news where our good old Deve Gowda, after his tiff with the reverend Infy chief NRN was seen on news channels promoting the 'other' places in Karnataka, Mangalore (with the M in bold and caps) being one of them.
I am not part of the Mangalore tourism board or some other vague Nature promotion boards(borreds) but just decided to dispel some illusions.
For one Mangalore and Bangalore are really not one and the same. They are not , as is the popular belief one hour apart (just because they rhyme people assume they are geographically close to each other too). Though of course I wish they were , it would have saved me n number of 8 hour journeys (nothing romantic about these just the number of journeys undertaken to write entrance exams) and n multipled by 7 (the number of hours saved) would have been quite a phenomenal amount of time. In an age where time means money (so they say), I should have been that much more richer. But alas such is not the case.
Mangalore as our ertswhile Prime Minister stresses is the next set of Software destinations within Karnataka. I did say Karnataka but come here and you would be left wondering as to its 'state' of existence. The place is infested with Mallus, nothing wrong in that, I have some very close Mall friends and love their 'unniappam' ,'kadalai puttu', 'ambalams' but when you are totally surrounded by them 'vellichennai et al' conversing in Mallu in a land apparently having no ties with Mall of any sorts then you really have doubts about your geography skills. A part of you starts wondering, if maybe Mangalore with its picturesque beauty and lean palm trees and the legendary rains is maybe a part of Keral the missing a being deliberate of course. That is a literal translation of how Kerala just like Kannada is spelt in Social Science text books written in Hindi without the a. In fact i have heard those fair aryans pronounce it that way too, maybe the social science text book is their bible. I can detect those raised brows, Social Science in Hindi ! Unheard of ! But such is the case if you were unfortunate enough to study in a KV CBSE board. You would be 'subject'ed to Hindi plus Social Studies in Hindi. Getting back to a la Mangalore let me clarify, ushered by the Mr DG that this is the next happening place situated in Karnataka (full points to all your geography skills), and that Mangalore is one of those nice, picturesque towns and its beauty inspired the poet in me as well.

A small obscure town called Mangalore,
Not quite the same as Bangalore,
Where beaches abound,
On those hilly grounds.

Those tears from Heaven fall,
On palm trees standing tall,
They are the legendary Mangalore rains,
With traffic so less it hardly drains (u).

A small obscure town called Mangalore,
Not quite the same as Bangalore.