tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9371971115056006132024-02-06T21:28:15.906-08:00Monday SkyUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-82148390984741622492011-08-04T22:35:00.000-07:002011-08-04T22:57:26.286-07:00My Job Application...<span>Hmmmm I wrote this inspiring long job application to a start-up. Not inspiring enough I guess - I didn't get the job but they've asked me to wait till they start hiring again. :(<br /></span><span style="font-style:italic;"><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Hi Awesomeness!! (sounds corny I know, but really you guys are AWESOME!! Else why on earth would I - a sleep deprived working mom of an eight month old be writing this crazy mail at 4 in the morning?)<br /><br />I google all the time, for everything, for anything. Google apparently has this ticker at its office - a scroll of current searches from across the world. I am pretty sure that during the time I am awake a new search of mine appears on it every 10 minutes at least. That's also how I got to you in the first place and it helped that I saw your <product>"product" at one of my friend's place.<br /><br />Well where do I start with my story - it's an oft repeated one. Reluctantly working in a MEANINGLESS CORPORATE JOB in a consulting firm. I could explain exactly what I do using all the jargon I throw at people everyday. But this mail is from my heart - my first step in hopefully a series of revolutionary (...for me, but could be kinder garden stuff for most clear-headed adults) decisions that I plan to make over the next few months. So jargon - please put your hands down.<br /><br />I'll come to the point - I absolutely love what you guys are doing - the ideas, the creativity, the focused passion and simply put - I want to be a part of it. Even simply put - I beg to be a part of it. Even if it's a teeny-weeny-tiny part to start off. I can help in a number of ways - marketing, market research, coordinating, designing, accounting, technology (yeah I can do more than googling) and oh... tea-making too (I know how important tea is for start-ups)! I would send you my resume but it wouldn't have any of these things in it. I haven't done it before - hmmm... well not really, may be in a way I have. Business development, Project Management, Execution, Quantitative Analysis, Client Management - ok I promised No Jargon!<br /><br />But more important that all of that - I have a creative fire inside me (arghhhh I know - the corniness again) But right now it's just a weak flame that I'm sure will be completely extinguished if I stay any more at this consulting thingie and I need to revive it by doing something meaningful and something I'm passionate about.<br /><br />I'm from Bangalore and I stay in "location" <location>(close by from <location>"location") and I have my own laptop and I can bring my own lunch and I can travel locally and I'm willing to become a fan of Star Wars and I plan to put in my papers next week.<br /><br />So where can I start? :)</location></location></product></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-32058546586060618952011-08-04T22:15:00.000-07:002011-08-04T22:35:51.656-07:00Late and latest!One Year... one whole year!<br /><br />I thought things would have changed. Hmmm... may be yes may be not. But I do hope things have changed - for the better. What fun is it to be the same; to have the same life?<br /><br />I am a mommy now. No this is not going to become a mommy blog. Well there I've said it, we can forget about it now. But I have become more intelligent after the shot at dumbness during my pregnancy. Seriously. My TQ (thinking quotient) took an exponential dive through the nine and half months. But all is ok now. It took sometime to recover.<br /><br />In a very intelligent move I have quit my 'oh-so-cool' consulting job. In another month, once I've served my notice period, I plan to take up my new role of homemaker-freelancer-artist very seriously. Some of my friends thought I was going to the grave as a long standing employee of my current employer. Bun on your face.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-35043297186543828102010-08-17T06:40:00.000-07:002010-08-17T07:09:35.764-07:00My iGive page and a personal appeal!<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">It's so easy to get lost in the mediocrity of everyday life that we forget sometimes how lucky we are. A small stroke of luck has today brought us to this side of the viewing pane where we just see poverty and suffering as a phenomenon and not as a reality of life. Today as we stand on our own feet, independently taking decisions and occupy positions that have the potential to one day make a difference to the world - maybe it is also time to look beyond just those few moments of helplessness and guilt at viewing and hearing about suffering at close quarters. May be it is time to give back. </span></span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">In addition to the cause of children and education that as many of you know remains very close to my heart, a compelling speech and the phenomenal work done by Prajwala has brought me to write today on a topic that unfailingly makes me passionate and helpless at the same time. And I believe that it would stir you in the same way. In Sunitha Krishnan’s own words I would like to sum up a cause that I would like to support and seek your help in supporting too.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);">“Every time I rescue a child or a young girl from prostitution, I die a thousand deaths, reliving what these innocent souls have lost.. helplessly wondering how much could be regained... reaffirming my own conviction that as long as I live I will fight.<br /><br />We at Prajwala in our own small way are fighting this battle against sex trafficking. We need all your support to create a support system where victims can regain their dignity, their hope in humanity. - Sunitha Krishnan” </span><br /><br />I also encourage you to view Sunitha Krishnan’s speech at TED India -<br /><br /><object width="384" height="231"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jeOumyTMCI8?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jeOumyTMCI8?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="384" height="231"></embed></object><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Here is the link to my iGive page - <a href="http://www.giveindia.org/give/pledgepage/PrajwalaWomen">http://www.giveindia.org/give/pledgepage/PrajwalaWomen</a></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">From here you can contribute any amount you wish to supporting my cause. From my everyday life in India and seeing people struggle to save even what we would consider the most insignificant amount of money, I sincerely believe that no sum is too small. And that is why my minimum contribution limit is set at Rs. 100 ($2). Well, let go of your latte today and bring smile to some women.</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-58747735873528594592010-06-09T04:36:00.000-07:002010-06-09T20:09:18.697-07:00An exciting new acquisition!<span style="font-family:arial;">I haven't been this excited and this obsessed about an electronic gadget for as long as I can remember. By the time I got my first computer, I was already introduced to the concept of internet cafes and ICQ chatrooms. A dumb terminal didn't add any more zing to my life. My first cellphone was one of the basic Nokia models that I had </span><span style="font-family:arial;">no role in choosing and communication costs were far too prohibitive for my </span><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">meager</span></span><span style="font-family:arial;"> college </span><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">sustenance</span></span><span style="font-family:arial;"> allowance to serve any purpose other than receive the 'where-are-you-what-are-you-doing' calls from my mom.</span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><br />But this one is different. I'm smitten! I've never had e-books, never liked them. May be the closest I've come so far is proof reading for Gutenberg. After a brief brush with e-books in college, I had made up my mind that however advanced the world gets I'm always always going to yearn and love the feel of paper and the sheer joy of holding a book in my hands. Less than 7 years later I can't believe I have today actually fallen in love with an e-reader. Beautifully mimicking the feel of a book and yet offering all the conveniences of the electronic medium is the 'Kindle'!!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">It actually feels like you're holding a medium-sized paperback and the print/e-ink with the off-white/ivory background is awesome... just like the books - only more sharp and readable. It's remarkably simple... no jazz. Read, flip, read again. No camera, no videos, no instant messaging and no stock quotes. Press</span><span style="font-family:arial;">ing the 'next page' button weirdly feels like turning the page. Especially if you're one of those people (like me like me) who like to look up a lot while reading - I'm telling you, your search ends here... Oxford English Dictionary, Wikipedia and even Google for simple browsing all through this invisible network called Whispernet.</span> <span style="font-family:arial;">Here's a picture of my Kindle and in it the first book I bought at the Kindle Store.</span><br /><br /> <br /><div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEV0TOpAjddLw6Z9pyn9nXf1fqsM39OYOCirk5x044Haq66O5YyT0ZWRnOUh6D2qNJ7ub-fEVBwRHYJ_Tj5Af8NJw5TQb7HWch5ZWZp0as7IB4d6cpnbFdkpHczheTL6tnOdPYRJdIJ-ZE/s1600/09062010051.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEV0TOpAjddLw6Z9pyn9nXf1fqsM39OYOCirk5x044Haq66O5YyT0ZWRnOUh6D2qNJ7ub-fEVBwRHYJ_Tj5Af8NJw5TQb7HWch5ZWZp0as7IB4d6cpnbFdkpHczheTL6tnOdPYRJdIJ-ZE/s320/09062010051.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480737910968920274" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-1680145602488307282010-05-30T23:44:00.001-07:002010-05-31T00:16:41.729-07:00Two Questions<p style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Amongst all the other important things such as height, weight, grammar quotient, IQ, rock music quotient, taxable income, etc. there are two other things that you shouldn’t forget to check before getting married, especially if it’s an arranged marriage situation. Dogs! Seriously, it’s a simple question. Do you like dogs? But don’t forget it. Imagine being a crazy dog lover and living with someone who jumps at the mention of the word puppy! Or worse still – vice versa! Imagine freezing in your tracks on seeing a dog and seeing him smiling, trying to draw it closer and patting it with the same hand that he's going to wrap around you in a minute. </span></p><p style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Talking of dogs and puppies, a Chihuahua that looked much smaller than my sister’s bedside stuffed dog once barked and jumped at me. The audacity, I tell you! What was it thinking? One push with my right foot and I could have subdued it like Vamana’s foot on King Bali! Well, that’s how angry I get thinking about the incident. Of course, it didn’t help that I jumped and screamed and almost knocked down an elderly couple and amused many more including M. Oh, he’s not very enterprising either. That’s for another day.</span></p><p style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Coming back, fortunately we didn’t forget that question and it helped. The second one is equally important. What kind of TV series do you watch? Are you the 500+ mega-episode-saas-bahu-ghar-ghar-ki-kahani types, the bitchy gossipy splitsvilla-roadies reality show junkie types or the ever knowledge-craving vicariously living through animal planet-national geographic-discovery channel type? Or like we discovered - the crazy about detective stories types. Our latest obsession is 'Castle'. We are soooo over Bones and 'shake things up'. Monk and his obsessiveness still hovers in the background. And it's so comforting that we don't have to fight over the remote after a long day's work. Nonetheless, the ad-breaks still leave enough room for the 'you are so selfish', 'fine, do whatever you want' arguments usually culminating in 'change now!'</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-73836450726992098712010-03-23T02:03:00.000-07:002010-03-23T02:05:07.994-07:00My first post this year!A long time again… and what better way to start again than an update post. It's unbelievable that it's been more than 3 months and everyday I've been thinking - Oh, it's been sometime -I shall write soon! Till this morning P came around and reminded me that the last time I wrote something here was 'December 10'! I mean seriously, so many many things have happened since then.<br /><br />Late December we took this wonderful trip to Goa for M's birthday. Absolutely amazing! Have I mentioned before that I have this childhood morbid vision of Goa being a horrible, drug-laced and alcoholic capital of India. I resisted all attempts to plan a vacation there and that's where we ended up… and had loads and loads of fun.<br /><br />New Year's Eve took off with a quiet celebration at a friend's place amid a game of Taboo and some wine. And on the contrary since then it's been one bumpy ride. Work took off at breakneck speed and is only now starting to show some signs of subsiding to normality. <br /><br />On those numerous work trips to Delhi, I managed to catch a late-evening glimpse of the India Gate. Yes I have never seen India Gate before and work did not offer any solace to take sight-seeing trips around the capital. But coming back to India Gate - Do you remember that feeling of being confronted with an absolutely stunning sight when you're alone, not being able to scream or tell someone about it, not even a camera at hand to capture the marvel and you're just stunned and all you can do is try not to blink? It reminds me of the scene in the movie 'The Namesake' with Ashoke Ganguli (Irfan Khan) and his little son Gogul at the seaside and the father suggesting the son capture the scene in his head since the camera was missing. One moment I was sleepy eyed inside the cab after a long day and the next moment I'm greeted with this marvel all lit up and standing majestic.<br /><br />In other news, I have added some pounds to my already not-so-burly, slightly heavy but ok for my height and curvy image… yeah ok I've put on some weight. And I'm in no hurry to lose them yet.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-82233613285157448722009-12-10T00:09:00.000-08:002009-12-10T00:11:42.645-08:00Airport-ismsDo you remember the sparrow and the hay story? A sparrow at the Bangalore International Airport is going to need some. I settled down with a plate of idli and a bowl of spicy chutney and a book on the other hand and when I turned to dip a slice of the idli into the chutney… guess what? There was a sparrow feeding on it. A handful of sparrows have made the airport their home and they are unmindful of the people around as they fly and feed unperturbedly.<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;">*****<br /></div><br />Found a man dressed in a Silk Shervani, Jodhpuris and carrying an orange leather briefcase at the airport at five in the morning. He quietly walks and positions himself at the beginning of the airport waiting line. And when I reminded him about the people in the queue… he coolly says ‘I know. I’m standing in the queue too.’ Dude!!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">*****<br /></div><br />The ladies queue at the security check of BIAL is the best place to spot the branded beauties. Last time around it was a 25-ish something with a LV Speedy and what seemed like the Vaio pink-crocodile skin laptop. This time around another short 25-ish something was dressed obnoxiously in Burberry from head to toe – scarf, shirt, handbag and shoes. Fortunately she stopped short of wearing plaid pants too.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">*****<br /></div><br />Did Chennai airport get a makeover or what? When I got down from the shuttle I almost thought I had taken the wrong flight. Shiny interiors, no dogs around, and baggage was already there when we arrived! The pre-paid taxi counter is now inside the airport itself… impressive! Two hours later I was back to haggling with the auto-rickshaw driver on prices – not impressive.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-6873822172126386842009-12-08T10:22:00.000-08:002009-12-09T00:26:34.178-08:00District 9<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CCEREBR%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CCEREBR%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link rel="colorSchemeMapping" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CCEREBR%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_colorschememapping.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> 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<![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Not having heard of many good movies around the block, M suggested a slightly older one that we had missed during the year and we settled for 'District 9' to watch over a late Sunday evening. You should know that we've been living without a television for the past 6 months. Earlier it was about finding a good house to settle in and then picking up a good TV. But now it's been more than 3 months since we found a beautiful place and we've snugly settled in and a TV is not yet in the horizon. So our daily entertainment is chiefly from books, friends, drives, shopping, eating and movies! Oh well, the whys and the why nots later, back to 'District 9' now.
<br />
<br />The movie was supposed to be a disaster right from the story line - Aliens on earth, a UFO, gory scenes, aliens with worm like thingies on their nose, a dumb looking actor. I mean, please, whoever thought this would be as brilliant as it turned out to be. There were a number of times at the beginning of the movie we wanted to turn it off thinking it was too violent for our taste but fortunately we didn't.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br />District 9 is not just another alien movie – it’s not MIB and it’s not The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It’s actually the most human movie that’s been made in a long time. It shows the truth about how human (or inhuman if it helps you understand better what I mean) we can be. The basic plot is about aliens who find themselves stranded on earth and how as humans we deal with the circumstance. We kick them around, we try to grab their technology, we treat them like unwanted citizens, we conduct medical experiments on them… When we treat our own fellow beings like this why should aliens be expected to be treated differently? As the movie unfolds in Johannesburg, I begin to wonder if the makers really meant it to be an alien race or just another human race. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">One scene touched the cord for me. After deciding that the aliens need to be moved to another place away from the city, the protagonist goes around each alien home serving eviction notices and making them sign the notice. The understanding that it’s perfectly okay as long as you just take the legal course – I guess that’s as human as it can get.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p> </o:p></p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-72628604914383774062009-11-03T02:08:00.000-08:002009-12-08T23:25:14.848-08:00Being human... not<div style="text-align: justify;">We got to the service center to get some repairs done on our car. I chose to remain in the car and M went about all the coordination. You should see this service station... It's small yet completely packed for one thing. During the time we were there at least a hundred cars would have come in and another hundred would have left the place. Cars move in and out of small gaps like they are toys. The washing area rolls out at least six cars every fifteen minutes. All cleaned and polished manually. And during all this time, not a single accident, not a single scratch. The flow, the process seemed incomprehensible to a lay observer's eyes. But there was a pattern, some process - for everyone seemed to know what to do and continuously went about it.<br /><br />M parked in the middle of two rows of cars and got out to talk to the in-charge at the reception. I stayed behind and started reading a book. A couple of lines later a man with crisp and clean blue and white shirt and trousers and an air about him that indicated that he was the supervisor around stood in front of the car waving his hand clearly displeased at something. He gave a sweeping look inside the car - it felt like he was looking through me than at me. May be the glass was reflective and he couldn't see me. Soon another man wearing overalls opened the car and sat on the driver's seat and pulled the car into a snug parking slot. All the while completely ignoring my presence. It suddenly felt inanimate that i was not acknowledged.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-74218981734498422212009-10-29T23:52:00.001-07:002009-12-08T23:25:38.219-08:00Waking Up<div style="text-align: justify;"><span xmlns=""><p>Sorry about the long hiatus. The last six months have been crazy! Moving cities, moving home twice, getting started, getting settled, finding a schedule… well, guess what… it doesn't promise to get better any sooner. We crossed a major milestone last week after finally settling on a couch design that both of us liked and it was available and it was available in the colours we wanted and we didn't have to wait for three months. It's not yet delivered so we're still keeping our fingers crossed before jumping ecstatically. I didn't realize shopping for contemporary furniture in India would be so difficult and trying to stick to a palette theme would be even more difficult.</p></span><br /><span xmlns=""><p>It's been exactly a year and a half since we moved back from Calif. While M is still finding his footing, I'm absolutely enjoying the move back. It is definitely challenging for someone who has spent almost a decade and especially the early formative adult years abroad. The traffic, the noise, the personal distances, the bureaucracy, the inefficiency and many more - just creeps into your daily life. That apart, there have been so many many changes in the past few years alone that you can no longer complain that you don't get the things you get abroad right here in India. You get everything and some of it is even cheaper. Just like yesterday, I was in the mood for an East Asian dinner. I dropped in at M K Retail for a usual pick up of vegetables and a few other items. I looked around at the sauce section and sceptically asked for Sambal Oelek. Surprise, surprise!! He not only had Sambal Oelek but had it in a couple of brands too. That encouraged me to ask for some more exotic ingredients and I asked the grocery section for Bok Choy. Guess what… he coolly picked it from the refrigerator and handed it to me. Well, all is not well… a pack of Kraft Mac and Cheese dinner was retailing at Rs. 150. When did 99 cents become Rs. 150?</p></span><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-84731588918778071472009-05-12T02:01:00.000-07:002009-12-08T23:26:02.468-08:00Why are we oblivious?<div style="text-align: justify;">Another drive; from one end of this city to another. Always in a rush as if in a race. Honk; gain an inch; stare; honk; huddle; creep; quick; accelerate; honk; brake; it’s like we all know the purpose, the destination; it’s like we’re always late. How we hurry through the day; eating without tasting, looking without noticing, hearing without listening… In such a hurry to burn the candle, in such a hurry to reach the end.<br /><br />Sometimes we need to stop, need to look around… notice that man pulling the heavy cart, notice that plastic cover thrown carelessly, notice that cringe on your colleague’s face, notice the kid crying on the footpath, notice the light bulb that wastefully burns, notice that old woman trying to cross the road, notice that chap who fell off his bike, notice the motorist riding down the wrong direction, notice the shop-keeper cheating a foreigner, notice that overflowing tap… notice how much we contribute to this chaos, how much it is our own doing.<br /><br />In other words, why do we react this way… more appropriately… why do we refuse to react? Why don’t we find a way to change? Why are we afraid of change? Why can’t we change the world within our reach?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-38559438748790613952009-03-06T23:53:00.001-08:002009-12-08T23:26:22.282-08:00The wire-rimmed glasses<div style="text-align: justify;">It’s off. It’s on. It’s off. It’s on. That was the war on Times Now and CNN-IBN on Thursday night about whether Mahatma Gandhi’s personal effects were going under the hammer or not. It was odd to see two different channels breaking opposite versions of the same story. Don’t they have a corner in their office with rival channels running all the time?<br /><br />‘Oh! They’re saying it’s on… Go verify your story! Are you really, really, sure it’s off?’<br /><br />‘They’re saying it’s off… are you sleeping? Go check with your source!’<br /><br />After 30 minutes of comedy central on prime news, I abandoned the interest only to wake up the next morning and catch the latest news of the auction. It did go on after all in spite of Otis saying that he was going to abandon it and all. The auction was closed in seven minutes flat and lo and behold… who did the bidding?? Vijay Mallya! What an irony – Gandhi all his life fought for the prohibition of liquor in the country and Mallya every year loses sales on “dry day”. And this very man had to bring Gandhiji’s things back to India.<br /><br />Amidst all the jubilation of having got those things back to India, there’s one thing that fails to dawn on me. It was two Indians who remained in the auction process towards the end, the price was $1 million and the two successfully managed to put another $0.8 million into Otis’ pocket. Now if they were fighting to get the items back to India as we all like to believe, why didn’t they just stop when they knew that the other bidder was Indian too?<br /><br />I like to believe that this was like any other auction. The highest bidder got the prize. Nothing to do with India, with our sentiments, culture, etc… I’m still surprised at why it turned out to be such a big deal. We can’t forever expect that these items have to belong to India alone. Tomorrow Otis and his professor friend will auction Gandhiji’s blood sample and ashes. Are we going to dole out another few millions in the name of our past? Would the Father of Our Nation have approved us going behind items that he had no significance for rather than follow the values he sought to spread?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-5104800892237359892009-02-11T02:06:00.000-08:002009-12-08T23:24:53.609-08:00In Balance or Imbalance<div style="text-align: justify;">There are certain times during which certain books should never be read. Actually, I don’t know if there’s ever a good time to read these books. May be you should read them when you’re totally exhilarated and you need something – a jolt to bring you back to earth. Yes. There are the sad ones, the depressing ones and the ones that reek of despair – ‘A Fine Balance’ is the latter. To straighten out things – it’s a bloody good book, an enthralling one at that and Mistry is a master storyteller; but then that’s exactly why I picked the book up in the first place.<br /><br />I read it; read it through breakfast; every evening after a long day at work; every night till my eyes gave way to the brutal force of sleep; read it through the weekend trip on the bus as long as the light permitted me to; even snatched a few minutes in the loo, at the parlor and while waiting. All the while, I was reading just to get a glimpse, no – a shimmer, that vaguely resounded of hope and something nice to come. Rohinton Mistry offered none; not at the beginning and definitely not at the end.<br /><br />Poverty is worse than a disease. Because it never dies with the individual; it spreads across generations. If Rohinton was just talking about the misery of poverty, it would have still kept me sane. But his cauldron has more in it – the absurdity of political injunctions, the grotesque display of the narrow mindedness of the rich, the mutilation of justice, the widespread corruption and twisted providence – the final straw. Every time you convince yourself that things cannot get worse than this for the protagonists; that their Karma Grand Total is well above the minimum mark, he does it all over again; pushes them further and further into desolation till in the end they are far, far worse than they seemingly started off as. A Fine Balance is full of imbalances.<br /><br />With all the traveling over the past month, I had kept aside Dostoevsky for a while thinking I’ll read something lighter and get back to him. My pick couldn’t have been worse. I definitely wish I had read one of Mistry’s happy ending books (if he’s ever written one) before picking this one up. Now I’m at cross roads; I definitely love his style and after a long time here’s an Indian author I feel like I could be so obsessed with, as I was once with Salman Rushdie. But the truth is I’m not that enterprising and I don’t want to go by that road again – not any time soon.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-1100849316675491952009-02-09T23:01:00.001-08:002009-12-08T23:24:20.363-08:00Getting Back in Touch<div style="text-align: justify;">A week long marathon of churning out presentations ended on Saturday morning at 5 AM. That’s when I pressed the send button. It was worth it; it meant that the weekend was my own. After waking up from a weird dream late that morning, I realized that I needed to go shopping to pick up a canvas or two. I opened my acrylic tubes to see if they were still in a usable state after a cold cross-Atlantic flight and nearly twelve months of not being opened. Luckily, they were. Some more things got added to the list and the only thing missing was company. Not that I hate shopping alone; It’s the best way to get things done fast. But I was in no hurry and I’d been longing for company.<br /><br />Scrolling down my contacts list, the fact that I have such a pitiful social life slowly dawns on me. I begin to miss M all over again. Damn the social life; if at least he was around... I went back to scrolling. The friends I had promised I would call over the weekend were either too busy this weekend or were not based in Bangalore to entertain my request and the colleague I usually hang out with was off visiting her hubby. I scrolled again. Found some school friend whose number had changed; a college friend who was busy on her way to some wedding. With no choice left I called AN again; half waiting to hear the Oz Boy’s voice in the background.<br /><br />‘He’s landing this evening,’ she said.<br />‘Let’s go shopping then!’<br />‘Ok, see you in an hour.’<br /><br />After that weekend of despair, I realized that I must have quite a few friends in Bangalore, since I grew up here, studied here, et al. Well, some of them have flown the nest owing to studies, work, marriage, etc; about the others – don’t be alarmed if an unknown number calls you one of these days just to say ‘hi’.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-53049118822709086862009-01-26T22:26:00.000-08:002009-12-08T23:26:59.552-08:00Bye, Bye, Hyderabad!<div style="text-align: justify;"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CCEREBR%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><link rel="themeData" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CCEREBR%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C01%5Cclip_themedata.thmx"><link rel="colorSchemeMapping" 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.MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; margin-bottom:10.0pt;} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 72.0pt 72.0pt 72.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0cm; mso-para-margin-right:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0cm; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} </style> <![endif]--> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Once again, it’s time. Did 2008 really fly by or was it just me? It just seems like yesterday. Walking into this apartment with our luggage; going shopping for some household stuff; setting up the house; making friends. And now, it’s already time to move out; pack everything; and bid adieu. Hyderabad turned out to be one of our favorite cities in the world – apart from being the first (and only) Indian city that both M and I seem to agree about a long term future.</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Reminding me of Grissom’s exit from the lab and the slow motion movement with which he notices the things around him, all the things that I took for granted all these days seem like the things I’ll miss the most. The walking around the lush green campus, the peacocks and the other wildlife, the shopping at the MORE store, the periodic visits to the city, the learning at the swimming pool, the lazy lunch at Goel’s, the late night library sessions, the punctual housekeeping staff, the numerous parties, Ten Downing Street, Satish’s backyard... Life gave us one more chance to great college fun and we absolutely loved it!!</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">A crooked twist of circumstances takes me back to my home town – Bangalore, where I shall continue to fight the traffic, the pollution and the damned infrastructure. </p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-8080488886000177852009-01-17T06:36:00.000-08:002009-12-08T23:30:04.366-08:00The truth and only the truth<div style="text-align: justify;"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CCEREBR%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Well… I’ve been debating whether to write this or not. Then I finally picked up the courage to tell M about it. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">I asked him to guess. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">And he guessed it! </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">‘What shit!? How does he do that?’ </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">He laughed. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">‘So it’s a fake? Do they know it’s a fake?’ </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">‘Of course it’s not a fake. What do you mean it’s a fake? I did slog for it. Well, a little bit…’</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">It all started that Wednesday morning; that tainted Wednesday morning. After going down a couple of wrong roads, I reached the building thirty minutes after the appointed hour. It was still early during the day; the market was doing ok so far. There were even talks of the market ending up higher by the end of the day given the positive signs from the global market and some FIIs returning; even the rupee was rising. My meeting went off rather well. It was just another meeting. And I was even wearing my lucky data collection dress – it ought to have gone rather well. I got the information I wanted, pocketed the business cards and said adios. Ten minutes later, M calls.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">‘You’re not going to believe this! Ramalinga Raju has quit.’</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Oh! How long is this Maytas trouble going to last? Get over now! I think to myself.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">‘He admitted to fraud.’</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">‘Fraud? What Fraud?’</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">‘Inflated accounts, cash, profits… the works.’</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">‘Oh! This is big!’</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">I get back home with doubts in my mind about the relevance of the morning’s meeting after all this. What if I had decided to go tomorrow instead? I make a mental note to personally wash the dress, lest it gets spoilt by the maid’s regular beating. Then something else gnaws my head. Something about that guy – something. We talked later the next day – AN and I; just some general catching up. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">‘It’s so funny. Do you know how many of our convocations and functions he’s attended? I guess next year they’ll have to bring someone else!’</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Oh yeah! Of course!! That’s it! He was there and I was there. He gave me my certificate. Well not just me, he even gave the gold medallist in our batch her certificate. I even have a photograph. The photograph that parents typically, proudly display in their living rooms. The photograph that I’m supposed to show to my kids and grandkids. The photograph that later in my life is supposed to get me all nostalgic about ‘those’ days. Well, this changes all that – the photograph has Mr. Ramalinga Raju and me in my smart graduation robe receiving my MBA degree from him… Does it really change all that? I called UV, for a quick ‘did-you-know’ conversation.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">‘It’s ok sweetheart! That doesn’t change anything. It’s just weird, that’s all.’</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Ok ok… I’m convinced. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">‘It’s not fake, ok?’ I tell M. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">‘Oh, wait till I call your boss and you tell her that.’ He teases.</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">I’m not worried about my boss. But this does rule out something. I guess I’ll never be able to make it to Infosys and oh… nor will M. Tainted and all. Not that I wanted to, but it’s nice to know there’s an option. </p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-39246863187570815362008-12-03T10:28:00.000-08:002009-12-08T23:31:27.863-08:00In the Middle<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It’s been a long time – two months and more. There were days I felt overwhelmed by the deluge of thoughts and there were days of blissful vacant meandering. Last evening in search of a recent article by Ajit Balakrishnan, I scoured the internet and chanced upon the convocation speech he had delivered at the Indian Institute of Management – Calcutta in April 2007. In his speech, he briefly talks about his experiences in Calcutta more than three decades back, the period of political unrest in West Bengal, the Naxalite uprising and his small role in the middle of the ongoing social battle. He said that it now all seemed so far away and quaint. As he found himself in the middle of social change and history in the making, I wonder if he realized the weight of the moment in Indian history. </span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Today, we live in far more tumultuous times. Moments we will undoubtedly recall as pivotal in Indian and world history – the deep financial and economic crisis; the historical presidential win of Barrack Obama and the ruthless terrorist attacks on the Indian soil. Still in our youthful years, we are the fortunate (!!) ones to walk this earth during these frenzied times with the ability to understand their impact and if God intends live to tell the tale in the coming decades.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Godspeed!</span></span><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-59908705558419163412008-09-21T13:42:00.000-07:002009-12-08T23:33:55.834-08:00Such is life!<div style="text-align: justify;"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CCEREBR%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> </div><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">I can feel it. It’s right here – on the tip of my tongue waiting to be uttered; inside that brain cell that’s connected to that nerve that’s supposed to send me the idea; on my fingertips ready to type away; in that drop of ink waiting to be scrawled into patterns; in my eyes that keep scouring for interesting subjects around me. It’s futile – all of it. I still can’t do it; I still can’t write. My tongue won’t speak; the ideas won’t flash; my fingers won’t move; the ink won’t flow and my eyes won’t stop.</p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">All those things I’ve tried. But, this has to be done; I have to try harder, even hard, as hard as it takes. May be I’m not reading enough – I picked up books after books, rummaged for new blogs, read all the popular literary magazines. Nothing changed. But really, how giddy can I get! The spark needs to come from inside, I told myself. I opened a blank word document. It remained blank after two cups of tea and an hour of staring at it with fingers ready atop the keyboard. It’s the corner; it’s making me sick. I moved, lock stock and barrel, to the balcony. I stared at the sky, the glass pool, the flowers and day dreamed, instead. This is really not working. Why can’t I just write – a story, an opinion, a page, a line or even a question!! May be it’s the laptop – too modern for my conservative style. I picked up my yellow pad; doodled a bit and gave up. I’ll take a walk around campus, may be. The greenery, the architecture, the silence, the children, the swimming pool, the peacocks(!!!), the young faces – should inspire something. An hour of walking around in circles with a yellow pad and a pen didn’t change anything other than burn a few calories. May be I need fresh air (or in my case polluted air) and new people; it’s getting too familiar out here. A pocket notebook and another hour later, I was at a close-by supermarket, biting into a Frankie and sitting at a table all by myself. Perfect – so many different kinds of people, their acts to watch, the busy street on the other side, the entire world going past – and yet not a scribble! Can’t sit in a place; doesn’t work; I need to move; capture the world through moving eyes. The 4 pm shuttle, a window seat and a return ticket. Two hours later I had gone all the way up to the city and back to my village; the paper, no doubt, remained blank; my mind had gone still more blank. I give up – this is not my day; it’s hasn’t been my month or even my year. May be it’s time to hang up my pen after all. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Then, in perfect movie style, the phone rings. Oh, the pleasure of a change. Here I am, after a brief from my office I’m trying to put together this note by EOD, as they call it, and I have five word documents and 22 browser windows open. While three word documents and 10 browser windows relate to work, in the remaining I have two plots that are being developed and on-going research for them. And oh, another flicker from my brain– why things happen when we least want them to happen?</p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-49103557110925180022008-09-04T11:00:00.000-07:002009-12-08T23:35:07.960-08:00Soul salvations<div style="text-align: justify;"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CCEREBR%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City" downloadurl="http://www.5iamas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place" downloadurl="http://www.5iantlavalamp.com/"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-US;} @page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">From time to time, whether work is piling or not, whether you are married or not, whether you have errands to run or not – a girl needs to let her hair down, watch marathon reruns of FRIENDS, go out with girl friends, do some sinful shopping, down a martini, talk and giggle incessantly, knife a chicken, shake a hip and cuss the DJ. That’s exactly what I did last night and for the first time in a good number of months.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">With the men nowhere around, shopping once more turned out therapeutic rather than a rushed affair. I had almost forgotten the existence of the trial room runway and the fun in window shopping. We talked like we hadn’t spoken in a century. After a long time Indian politics, world affairs, sports, sports and sports took a back seat and we talked about things so trivial that I can’t even remember what we talked about all day!</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">End of this week I’m back to good ol’ <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Hyderabad</st1:place></st1:city>, back to my work table, back to my favorite window and back to World Movies.</span></p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-26479760113278513072008-08-29T13:24:00.000-07:002009-12-08T23:37:22.469-08:00Where democracy has no meaning<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >There are identities we walk with everyday; beliefs, faith that our life depends on and around which our psychological framework is built. We believe them to be true, whether or not we can prove them, whether or not we bother to find proof.</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Like the one that says ‘</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >I’m a part of a secular country</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >’ – Yet we refuse to listen when a muslim woman is raped in Gujrat or when a woman missionary is burnt to death in Orissa. Another one that says ‘<span style="font-style: italic;">India is a peace loving country</span>’ – We refuse to believe that India sponsors terrorism in other countries just like they do in ours.</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >As Indians, we wear our peace-loving badge so proudly that we shun any show of aggressiveness by another country as atrocity. And yet, we will go ahead and state on record that Tibet is China’s internal issue and India will not interfere. Did that make you cringe? Did you hope – just a tiny tiny bit – that as a country you had, instead, condemned China? On the other hand, we did accept China’s applauds on our stand and continued to wear our peace-loving badge as if nothing really happened.</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Oh well, why should we condemn it in the first place? That would expose our double standards now, wouldn’t it? On one hand we have occupied a territory we have no business being in, we have converted a beautiful valley into one of the world’s highly militarized zone, we have destroyed the independence and peace, committed atrocities against three generations of Kashmiris… So much so that the Kashmiris have loud and clearly (or in India’s own words to China – <span style="font-style: italic;">clear and consistently</span>) told us that they would rather be a part of poor and economically under-performing and military ruled (and in our opinion <span style="font-style: italic;">terrorist</span>) Pakistan rather than prosperous, ‘<span style="font-style: italic;">generous</span>’ (the way we believe) and of course ‘peace loving’ secular India. Now - we definitely do not have the right to speak against or condemn another country when right next door we commit the same crimes on an everyday basis.</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Arundhati Roy writes very eloquently and in her own landmark style in <a href="http://www.outlookindia.com/full.asp?fodname=20080901&fname=Arundhati+Roy+%28F%29&sid=1">this cover story</a> for the Sep1, 2008 edition of Outlook. ‘AZADI’ screams the cover page and the sub-title for the article goes thus: ‘It’s the only thing the Kashmiri wants. Denial is delusion.’ The article hits you below the belt, squashing every delusion you’ve had as an Indian. Brace yourself – for we are no less inhuman than the Chinese soldier against the non-violent Tibetan demonstrator or the Nazi follower against an unsuspecting Jew or the Chechen rebels against innocent Russian children.</span><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-68062806392543701552008-08-24T14:28:00.000-07:002009-12-08T23:39:11.564-08:00Being me<div style="text-align: justify;"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CCEREBR%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">I know; it’s been a while. It’s just one of those phases that turn you reclusive, if not anti-social. It’s been more almost two weeks and I haven’t stepped beyond a kilometre from the home. Yesterday, a few girls around the block got together for a movie. I’m usually the one to jump at the opportunity of socializing and getting together; instead, I took a rain check on it. There are umpteen phone calls on my to-do list: friends who are visiting the country, newly made friends, vacations waiting to be planned, friends I left behind and never called, a long lost friend I met on Orkut, brother-in-law, school friends, ex-colleagues... There are books waiting to be renewed: Yes, I'm still stuck with Lynne Truss and her semi-colons; there’s one book I haven’t even opened yet and it’s past its due date; another that seems to serve solely as a sleeping pill. There are mails begging to be replied to: I’ve starred them, red-starred them and exclaimed them too – nothing’s worked. Then there are friends who keep buzzing me on chat. Even visits to the super-market have been sporadic; the campus store, in spite of all its shortcomings, seems just sufficient. I let go of the opportunity to go to (the absolutely amazing!!) Q-Mart over the weekend. I’ve even been putting off those weekly meetings at the professional body that I’m a member of.</p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">It’s not reclusive in a depressing way; I perfectly love it, in fact. Sitting down to work; looking out of the window; and watching the world go past. Standing in the balcony; watching the rain trashing; and sipping a hot cup of tea. Looking at a blank canvas sheet and imaging the colors on it. Cooking up a dish and listening to my ‘200 best songs’ playlist. Watching a movie all by myself; and munching away some ‘chilli-surprise’ popcorn. Taking a walk around the campus; holding hands with M and not saying a word.
<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Like all good things must come to pass, one of these days I will shake off my reclusiveness; till then… let me be.</p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-62418480653470891502008-07-28T07:49:00.000-07:002009-12-08T23:41:58.434-08:00Roasted walnut and pesto pasta, anyone?<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It's on rare occasions that I find something interesting to write about cooking. Otherwise it's just the humdrum existence of vegetables in a pot of boiling water followed by a dash of spices. Oh no, it's not that food is not interesting, it's just that my cooking is not so interesting. I’m lucky to be married to someone who understands the pains of cooking and hence does not bother too much when my ‘poha’ looks like mashed potatoes and ‘chat’ is anything that I add ‘Everest Chat Masala’ to. </span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now people, I’m not such a bad cook. In my personal opinion I believe that one has arrived when it comes to Indian cooking if – one, you can make rotis from scratch. Of course, by scratch I don’t mean sowing wheat in your backyard - you get what I mean. Two – making yogurt at home. Thanks to kind neighbours, my mom and mom-in-law I get by with both these things.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Coming to the point of why I’m writing about cooking today - is <a href="http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/Features/Special_Pages/The_Leisure_Lounge/Caveat_Emptor_Is_olive_oil_the_right_thing_for_us/articleshow/3252140.cms">this</a> heart-breaking, soul-searching, grief-causing, mentally-anguishing article I read in ‘The Economic Times.’ Now, from when I started cooking the only oil (other than the occasional sesame oil for Chinese cooking) I’ve ever used in my kitchen has been Olive Oil – no, not any olive oil but Extra Virgin Olive Oil. Why? Because it’s healthy, duhhhh! Then – Bang! - Suddenly after a sumptuous Saturday lunch <a href="http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/Features/Special_Pages/The_Leisure_Lounge/Caveat_Emptor_Is_olive_oil_the_right_thing_for_us/articleshow/3252140.cms">this</a> article stares me in the eye and what’s worse - it has a <a href="http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/articleshow/articleshow/3282753.cms">sequel</a> too that came out this weekend. Now why ‘heart-breaking’, ‘soul-searching’ and all that you may ask – I was almost convinced that I had found the perfection solution to heart disease, trans-fat, saturated fat, cholesterol and all that. There is nothing as perfect as good karma, now, is there?</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The underlined statement is – Extra Virgin Olive Oil is not suitable for Indian cooking considering the high temperatures that we cook/ fry in. EVOO breaks down and decomposes and hence losing all the ‘good’ properties and assimilating ‘bad’ properties. Imagine one Indian dish that can be cooked with out heating oil – how do I do ‘thadka’, how do I sauté, how do I make dosa or any of those finger-counting dishes that I know? And then the Indian olive oil consortium or whatever-the-heck-they-call-themselves claims that Olive Pomace Oil is best suited for Indian cooking since the temperature at which this oil starts smoking is much higher than EVOO. Now all of us in our right minds know that olive pomade-pomace-whatever oil is no edible oil at all. How can it be, if it’s industrially extracted from pomace cake that is left after naturally extracting the oil from the olives?</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Oh well, while the whole world is screaming foul at the mention of pomace as a cooking oil and when it’s legally not even supposed to be called olive oil, our great sir - the president of the Indian Olive Oil Association who also incidentally (I mean it – just incidentally) owns a company that supplies ‘olive’ pomace oil in India, thinks this is the ideal oil for Indian cooking. Not just that, his company’s <a href="http://www.dalmiaglobal.com/leonardo_olive_oil/types_of_olive_oil.html">website</a> even goes ahead and says that EVOO is a super-deluxe gourmet olive oil and pomace is the main cooking grade [sic] oil. And behold, the pomace oil is even suited for ‘Iyengar Cooking’ according the <a href="http://www.thehindubusinessline.com/2003/09/30/stories/2003093000140600.htm">COO</a>!</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">All right, so where does that leave us with extra virgin olive oil now? It’s going to remain in my kitchen but its use substantially reduced to the occasional pasta and salads and may be some light sautéing. I’m back to my search for the perfect and least harmful cooking oil. There is an 8:2 blend of rice barn oil and sunflower oil in the market that my mom recommended long time back. May be it’s time to give it a shot.</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-32424694884317858032008-07-19T10:37:00.000-07:002009-12-08T23:45:19.611-08:00Why We Are The Way We Are<div style="text-align: justify;"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CCEREBR%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype></span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">Over a period of time and after numerous airport visits I have realized that the one thing that doesn’t work is picking up a book at the airport book stall and hoping to finish it by the end of the journey. Nevertheless, after waking up this morning with a stiff neck and realizing that during this travel, I may not be able to carry out my favorite airport pastimes of reading items on my Google reader, watching the news on airport television or talking on the phone since all these activities in a way require some unrestricted neck movement, I decided to pick up a book from the Higginbothams book store at the Chennai airport. <o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">Among the books that caught my attention and displayed well enough to beg being picked up were, ‘The Automatic Millionaire’ – something I have been wanting to read for a very long time, ‘Emotional Intelligence’ – after the rave reviews from my boss and about how it is going to help me on my next assignment and ‘The New Age of Innovation’ – just because I saw some posters on campus!<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">After long consideration, past experience and an acknowledgment of my own habits I decided to pick up a rather unusual but seemingly interesting book. ‘Games Indians Play’ – Titled close to the old psychological classic and the brief introduction on the back cover of the book was enough to provide a brief of the contents of this book. But would this book do justice to what each one of us felt about <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> and about ourselves as Indians? I wasn’t yet sure about that.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">Not for long did my apprehension remain unanswered. This is what I read on page 7 – the second page of the first chapter.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i><span style="">' Why do I spit with a free will, as if without that one right I would be a citizen of a lesser democracy? Why do I tear off a page from a library book, or write my name on the Taj Mahal?... Why do I run the tap full blast while shaving even when I know of the acute water shortage in the city? Why don't I stop or slow down my car to allow a senior citizen or a child to cross the road? Why do I routinely jump out of seat in a mad rush for the overhead baggage even before the aircraft comes to a halt, despite the repeated entreaties of the cabin crew? Why do I routinely disregard an airline's announcement to board in orderly groups in accordance with seat numbers? Why does it not hurt my national pride that in international terminals abroad extra staff is appointed at gates from which flights to <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> are to depart? ... Why do I jump red lights with the alacrity of a jackrabbit leaping ahead of a buckshot? Why do I block the left lane, when my intention is to turn right? Or vice versa? Why do I overtake from the left? Why do I drive at night in the city with the high beam on? Why do I jump queues with the zest of an Olympic heptathlon gold hopeful?'<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i><span style="">-Excerpt ‘Games Indians Play’ by V. Raghunathan; Chapter 1, Page 7-8</span></i></span></p><p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><i><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153); text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">This last statement ‘jumping queues’ – as much as it catches the attention of the author deeply saddens me as I recognize the truth in it. After a fateful twist of events preceded by a goof up by the travel agent, I was forced to take a rather late Indian Airlines (or Air India like the way they call themselves now) flight back home. During the 10 minutes wait to reach the agent at the check-in counter there were three passengers in my own queue who insolently decided to join the queue mid-way (by mid-way, I mean right at the point after the current passenger was being serviced). After being reminded in an increasingly impatient way, they sheepishly walked to their rightful place after admitting that they hadn’t noticed the queue. The scene was worse at the adjoining queue which seemed to move relatively fast and hence attracted more queue oblivious passengers.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">This takes us back to the questions that V. Raghunathan rightfully poses. I have some more to add to that list. Why do we tend to go directly to the counter without even bothering to find out if there are others waiting? Why do we peep into the book/ laptop of the stranger next to us? How come we never listen to flight announcements and wait for the stewardess to remind us to not recline our seats during take-off and landing? How come we automatically tend to adhere to rules and regulations when in a foreign country and how come these very rules and regulations become our right to break when in our own country? <o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">A few pages later, the author moves on to more serious issues such as the leaps in economic and infrastructure development made by other countries over short periods of time and how we are still bragging about the invention of the zero and the Harappan civilization. As I read this it doesn’t escape me that the headlines being beamed over all news channels at the airport is about the trust vote that is rocking the parliament and the politics that is playing out at the cost of the country’s development. The front page of today’s ‘Chennai Times’ carries two articles side by side – The shaky UPA government which is split on the issue of the nuclear deal and another about the city plunging into darkness for a few hours every week due to the shortage of power. The scene is worse in the city of <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Bangalore</st1:place></st1:city> which already plagued with crumbling infrastructure issues is also being subjected to 4-5 hours power cuts in a day. In the face of crisis like this, you would expect the country’s politicians to consider the trust vote as one that decides whether the nuclear deal is important to India’s development or not. But no my dear sir, our dear Mr. Siddiqui shifted loyalties this morning from the UPA (and hence nuclear deal) supporting SP camp to the ‘Mayawati-will-one-day-become-our-Prime-Minister’ supporting BSP camp. And his reasoning ‘Nuclear deal is anti-muslim’… and how did he come to that conclusion? Because ‘<st1:country-region st="on">America</st1:country-region> wants us to sign the nuclear deal’ and ‘<st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">America</st1:place></st1:country-region> is anti-muslim’. A=B and A=C, hence B=C.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">Mr. Siddiqui is just one of those numerous politicians who play these games. The BJP is no less is putting its own party and ideals before that of the country. Its eagerness to see the UPA fail so that it can take the nuclear deal forward when elected to power in the next elections and hence add the feather to its cap is so damn obvious.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" >
<br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">I love how the book is going so far. And before you jump to conclusions, V. Raghunathan is the not the ‘I-crib-about-India-thankfully-I-don’t-live-here’ types. While he has traveled and taught abroad, over the past couple of years he has been working in senior management positions in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Currently he serves the Corporate Social Responsibility wing of a very ‘Indian’ infrastructure major that is weaving magic across airports in India and the world (and for those of you about to grin at that… no, I didn’t know it before I picked up the book). <o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:100%;">Right now I am at that juncture in the book where the author beckons the reader to read on only if he/she finds truth is all that is said so far. I don’t know how the book is going to end, but I know it speaks the truth not in a judgmental or haranguing manner but in a logical way with the usage of concepts such as game theory and behavioral economics. While we all acknowledge that a solution cannot be found overnight, whether even a micro-solution is in sight is what I await from this book.<o:p></o:p></span></p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-79200500820874621422008-07-15T03:42:00.000-07:002009-12-08T23:46:19.846-08:00Female for Market Research<div style="text-align: justify;"><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5CCEREBR%7E1%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="">I got this mail a few days back.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style="">
<br /></span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style="">Greeting from XXXX (XXX solution)<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style="">Opening for Market Researcher.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style="">Company Profile: Our clients is one of the largest & India's fastest growing electrical and power distribution equipment company.manufacturing products ranging from Building Circuit Protection, Industrial & Domestic Switchgear, Cables & Wires, Energy Meters, Fans, CFL Lamps, Luminaires for Domestic, Commercial & Industrial application and Modular Switches.Our clients has recorded a turnover of Rs. XXXX crores in the previous financial year and is poised for another quantum growth.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style="">Job Profile:Market Research & Market Development<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style="">Required Skills:Initiative & Aggressive Attitude.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style="">Fresh/Exp can apply<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><b><i><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></b></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><b><i><span style="">Female Candidate with Minimum Graduation is must<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style="">CTC:Best in industry<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style="">XXXX (contact details of the recruiter)<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><i><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="">
<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;font-family:trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="">Female candidate?? If this were the <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">US</st1:place></st1:country-region>, the EEOC would have already pounced on this company. Secondly, why on earth am I getting this mail? Because of the 'aggressive attitude' caveat? They must have some filtering system!! But I’m curious, why would they specifically require female candidates for something that looks like a door to door survey / sales job for electrical products? I researched the company and the consulting firm and it does seem legit.<o:p></o:p></span></p> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-937197111505600613.post-87876440884490693622008-07-13T23:58:00.000-07:002009-12-08T23:49:25.662-08:00The Rakhi Sawant Showz<p id="vzg110" style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"> </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p id="vzg112" style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">Now before we launch a torrent, why is everyone so curious what 'showz' in the title means? Come on people, Rakhi Sawant Showz... She showz, we see. We see, so she showz. If she doesn't show we won't see, and if we don't see she won't show. She knows we see that's why she showz. We know she showz that's why we see. Ok ok... you get the drift.<br /></p><p id="vzg112" style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p id="vzg112" style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"> Mid way when you're watching this show, you'll find yourself lifting eye brows, letting out a snort and flinch and wince and even question why you are watching this show. You’ll want to change the channel. You’ll then convince yourself to put the remote down and wait for the next string of pearls from her mouth.</p><p id="vzg112" style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p id="vzg112" style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">You recall the ‘Rendezvous with Simi Gareval’ - India’s most popular talk show. Now if you are the host of the most popular talk show in town, comparisons are bound to follow. Simi Gareval – flawless white, well set hair, flawless makeup. And then we have Rakhi Sawant – gaudy clothes, garishly decorated sets, not so oblivious make up. Simi’s style and grace, her feigning effort to laugh and smile with her guests. Rakhi on the other hand is cleavage showing, all bawdy in language and style. Make no mistake for she doesn’t make any pretensions of sympathising with her guests. While you’ll find Simi saying - ‘Your girlfriend broke up with you, it must have been soooo hard!’, Rakhi will not battle an eyelid as she tells Amir Khan - ‘I didn’t like it when you divorced your first wife.’ Simi will leave you wide-mouthed with her impeccable British accent and diction. You’ll identify with Rakhi as she struggles to pronounce ‘rendezvous’ and ask her guests to comment on her English after not uttering a single English word in her entire conversation. Simi will make a guests feel like a star, bigger than what they may actually be. You will feel overawed by them. You will laugh when Hrithik and Suzanne act like young lovers on her show and get all emotional when Rekha lets down her guard. But with Rakhi, there is no bigger star on the show than herself. She will try, let me tell you. ‘You are a star, Amir Ji – A superstar. I wanted you to come to my show because I want my show to become popular!’ ‘Do you want me to fall to your feet, because in some shows they fall to people’s feet.’</p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p id="vzg115" style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"> </p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p id="vzg117" style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal">All in all, the first episode wasn’t even half as entertaining as the episode where Rakhi Sawant meets Karan Johar on Koffee with Karan… But trust me, here’s a lady to watch out for. Karan Thapar and Rajdeep Sardesai beware, for here comes the mother-in-law of tough interviewers!</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4