I hate shopping. That is rather incorrect. I am very lazy. Every week, when I shop for groceries, these are the exact four things I buy - Milk, bread, pizzas and apples. Everything else in the supermarket remains blurred in my vision and it is not until someone tells me that the supermarket also sells Maggi that I find Maggi. Can I say that my wants are limited? May be.
The same goes with clothes. Not that I would like to relate myself with early men and shun my clothes, it is again down to pure laziness. It is also due to my inability to choose from an ocean of similar looking shirts, t-shirts and blue jeans. It is the same dilemma and exasperation of having to pick one gorgeous woman amongst a roomful. I am not telling you that that is a dilemma I face every day. So I let my shirts collars break, my waist outgrow my jeans size and lose all the pairs of socks I have until I have to shop again.
Why do people look at you weirdly when you wear a pair of different coloured socks? Yeah, you lose one in a pair and what do you do? Do you chuck the other in the pair away? That is discrimination. So I give these socks another partner so they can have yet another chance at my smelly feet.
(By the way, don’t tell me you didn’t notice my philosophical intones.)
So I am a shopophobic; until the Internet came along and someone invented the Amazon.com
The Internet changed the way I looked at shopping. You see the November Rain video and three days later, you also see my new Keyboard! Wouldn’t it be great if I shot a similar video, say hello to my new handy-cam. Are handy-cams the only way to shoot? Why not get a gun? Tishauyun... (By the way, MI6 and CIA, I know you are reading this. You should know that this is only a model gun. The rest of you, if you ever wanted to see Captain Jack Sparrow’s gun, you know where to come ) What if in a skirmish, my side is defeated and the enemies take me as a prisoner of war but then turn me into a slave. I know what they do to slaves. They make the slaves row ships and beat the ones that are not strong enough to endure hours and hours of rowing. What do I do? I must prepare for any eventual situation and my new rowing machine is what is going to help me.
This is what happens when I have two weeks of holidays and I am sat at home with nothing but an Internet connection. I need to get out of the house and do something. But how? There is no public transport on Christmas and Boxing day.
How would you like to go for a spin in my new car ;)
25 December 2010
2 December 2010
Dumb and Dumber
Having lost a lot of time waiting for my 'Smart' phone, I decided to not waste any more time but make the full use of it at the earliest. So I went to the nearest pub to find out if smart really is the new sexy.
'Hey, I am a really smart guy. And I have a smart phone. Which makes me doubly smart :D'. I turned more heads at once than I ever have.
The Big Bang Theory is not true.
'Hey, I am a really smart guy. And I have a smart phone. Which makes me doubly smart :D'. I turned more heads at once than I ever have.
The Big Bang Theory is not true.
30 November 2010
Fruits of labour
For the last year or more, I have been feeling like a stone aged man dropped off by a time machine into the year 2783. Almost everyone I know has a Smartphone while I had one which did not even have text prediction. I could just about do texts, so strictly speaking; I must have said that I felt like being from the Bronze Age. I drew maps on pieces of paper, wrote down bus timings, and remembered a dozen birthdays and a few phone numbers. The phone rarely rang.
Trying to assimilate into the new world, I decided to buy a Smartphone. There were other reasons too. I am a believer of science. So when The Big Bang Theory proclaimed that smart is the new sexy, I realised the reason behind my limited success with the ladies and wanted to change it at the earliest.
However, just before I decided so, I also conducted a human experiment to understand masculine psyche at modified levels of blood ph.
After fourteen hours of experimenting, alongside some willing friends, we concluded the following:
1.The fruits of labour are much more sweeter than plain indulgence
2.Failing at something once does not mean one should give up
3.Failing at something twice means its time to give up and move on
Why those were the conclusions is still as mysterious as the origin of universe.
So.
So I decided to set out to do something worthwhile to be eligible for the phone. It was also the time when my sister informed me that she was getting married and I decided to write the GMAT – yet another of my logic defying conclusions.
I told myself that if I get a 700 on my test, I would get myself a phone. I got a 680. I knew I had yet another chance before it was time to move on. This time, I decided to get admission in a business school.
Why business school? I had valid reasons for a change
1.Girls, lot of girls
2.Hyderabadi Biryani for breakfast, lunch and dinner
3.Student discount at Dutch Dinners
The school however concluded that I was an evil influence and so will not take me in. Failure No: 2. So I decided to ditch the idea that the fruits of labour are much more sweater than plain indulgence and ordered myself a phone.
Three months later Rosemary Telesco VI arrived in a little white box.
Thus were also born two more life lessons for 2010
1. Plain indulgence is great
2. Conclusions drawn at modified blood pH levels work best only at modified blood pH levels
Trying to assimilate into the new world, I decided to buy a Smartphone. There were other reasons too. I am a believer of science. So when The Big Bang Theory proclaimed that smart is the new sexy, I realised the reason behind my limited success with the ladies and wanted to change it at the earliest.
However, just before I decided so, I also conducted a human experiment to understand masculine psyche at modified levels of blood ph.
After fourteen hours of experimenting, alongside some willing friends, we concluded the following:
1.The fruits of labour are much more sweeter than plain indulgence
2.Failing at something once does not mean one should give up
3.Failing at something twice means its time to give up and move on
Why those were the conclusions is still as mysterious as the origin of universe.
So.
So I decided to set out to do something worthwhile to be eligible for the phone. It was also the time when my sister informed me that she was getting married and I decided to write the GMAT – yet another of my logic defying conclusions.
I told myself that if I get a 700 on my test, I would get myself a phone. I got a 680. I knew I had yet another chance before it was time to move on. This time, I decided to get admission in a business school.
Why business school? I had valid reasons for a change
1.Girls, lot of girls
2.Hyderabadi Biryani for breakfast, lunch and dinner
3.Student discount at Dutch Dinners
The school however concluded that I was an evil influence and so will not take me in. Failure No: 2. So I decided to ditch the idea that the fruits of labour are much more sweater than plain indulgence and ordered myself a phone.
Three months later Rosemary Telesco VI arrived in a little white box.
Thus were also born two more life lessons for 2010
1. Plain indulgence is great
2. Conclusions drawn at modified blood pH levels work best only at modified blood pH levels
17 November 2010
Where is my phone?
Word of caution: If you are looking for a happy ending or do not like whining write ups stop reading right here. If you are some kind of an activist, who believes in that we as a world are moving towards 1984 and wants to do something about it or if you are one of those people who forwards anything and everything that you read to a million people, please read on and spread my message of good will.
The first time I saw the Evo on Youtube, I fell in love with it. I wanted one for myself. But for some reason, the people at HTC thought that the Evo was no good for Europe and announced its prettier cousin, the HTC Desire HD.
From that day, every day, I read and reread every bit of everything there is on the web about the Desire HD, until finally HTC announced that the Desire HD could be pre-ordered through a number of online retailers.
I chose play.com
That was the 18th September 2010. I was expected to receive the phone by the 11th October. But then HTC had issues with the launch that play.com emailed me a delayed delivery for the 19th October.
After a sleepless 18th Oct night, I worked from home on the 19th. As I eagerly sat by the door, time ticked very slowly and soon it was end of the day. I was updated on the 20th that the launch date was reset for the 1st November. Five days later, I received an email confirming that my phone was dispatched and that I should expect the phone in three to five days. I was also provided with a tracking number to track my parcel.
Three days later, it was day 4 and then day 5 and soon it was day 6 and no trace of my phone. On day 7 I called the courier company HDNL and I was promised that I will recieve the phone in 2 days.
Two days later, and another day working from home, the phone did not arrive. So I called the courier company only to be told that the phone was lost.
Logically, I called play.com customer service to inform them what I knew from HDNL. They acknowledged that the phone was lost and I was relieved that they did. Then came the bombshell. Though all parties knew that the phone was lost, I was told to wait for 21 days and call them again to tell them that the phone was lost for them to find me a replacement.
Their logic: Company policy. My IQ has to drop fifty points for me to convince myself that their company policy was brilliant.
After very many minutes of haranguing that the principle reason for pre-ordering a phone was to receive the phone long before most people could get it and that if I waited for 21 days to report that the phone was lost in transit, I could be looking at getting an outdated phone.
I heard a million ‘I understand Sir’s. But I am convinced the lady didn’t get a bit of what I said. Finally, she agreed to send me a refund/replacement letter, which I was to send to play.com at my expense. My £470 was in their bank account, so I had to consent.
A day later, the email had not arrived. So I called them again. This time there a new customer service representative who told me that my phone was dispatched on the 25th October. So I had to run through the entire story with her again and tell them one more time why the 21 day rule is so illogical. She agreed to send me a form and told me that she was sending it as we spoke.
A day later, when the email still did not arrive, I wrote to the customer service through their website the whole history of my problem. The form finally arrived.
Another £5 from my pocket for the special trackable delivery as suggested by play.com, off went the form to them. Having had no response from play.com for the next day delivery post, I called them 3 days later only to find that they had not processed my form. The lady promised she was doing it right away and put me on hold. After several minutes of listening to the same listless music, I was informed that my phone would arrive in three to five days. Seemed like a similar story, but I was optimistic. How many times can they possibly go wrong?
It turns out that they can surprise quite a few. A week later, having not received my phone yet, I called them one more time. The lady at the other end informed me that the phone was dispatched on the 25th October...
As I sit here and write this, I am perplexed at the height of customer service I have received. At two points in the so many times I have called them I mentioned to them that it would be a good idea to sue them for their callous attitude. Their replies were the same. ‘OK’. It seemed like they didn’t care. Why would they? They have my £470. Can I really do something about them? I doubt I could. I do not have the time nor the money to do something. But what would I do if I had the time and money? I would buy the company and rip it apart so there is no play.com. The world would be a better place with one stupid company less.
The first time I saw the Evo on Youtube, I fell in love with it. I wanted one for myself. But for some reason, the people at HTC thought that the Evo was no good for Europe and announced its prettier cousin, the HTC Desire HD.
From that day, every day, I read and reread every bit of everything there is on the web about the Desire HD, until finally HTC announced that the Desire HD could be pre-ordered through a number of online retailers.
I chose play.com
That was the 18th September 2010. I was expected to receive the phone by the 11th October. But then HTC had issues with the launch that play.com emailed me a delayed delivery for the 19th October.
After a sleepless 18th Oct night, I worked from home on the 19th. As I eagerly sat by the door, time ticked very slowly and soon it was end of the day. I was updated on the 20th that the launch date was reset for the 1st November. Five days later, I received an email confirming that my phone was dispatched and that I should expect the phone in three to five days. I was also provided with a tracking number to track my parcel.
Three days later, it was day 4 and then day 5 and soon it was day 6 and no trace of my phone. On day 7 I called the courier company HDNL and I was promised that I will recieve the phone in 2 days.
Two days later, and another day working from home, the phone did not arrive. So I called the courier company only to be told that the phone was lost.
Logically, I called play.com customer service to inform them what I knew from HDNL. They acknowledged that the phone was lost and I was relieved that they did. Then came the bombshell. Though all parties knew that the phone was lost, I was told to wait for 21 days and call them again to tell them that the phone was lost for them to find me a replacement.
Their logic: Company policy. My IQ has to drop fifty points for me to convince myself that their company policy was brilliant.
After very many minutes of haranguing that the principle reason for pre-ordering a phone was to receive the phone long before most people could get it and that if I waited for 21 days to report that the phone was lost in transit, I could be looking at getting an outdated phone.
I heard a million ‘I understand Sir’s. But I am convinced the lady didn’t get a bit of what I said. Finally, she agreed to send me a refund/replacement letter, which I was to send to play.com at my expense. My £470 was in their bank account, so I had to consent.
A day later, the email had not arrived. So I called them again. This time there a new customer service representative who told me that my phone was dispatched on the 25th October. So I had to run through the entire story with her again and tell them one more time why the 21 day rule is so illogical. She agreed to send me a form and told me that she was sending it as we spoke.
A day later, when the email still did not arrive, I wrote to the customer service through their website the whole history of my problem. The form finally arrived.
Another £5 from my pocket for the special trackable delivery as suggested by play.com, off went the form to them. Having had no response from play.com for the next day delivery post, I called them 3 days later only to find that they had not processed my form. The lady promised she was doing it right away and put me on hold. After several minutes of listening to the same listless music, I was informed that my phone would arrive in three to five days. Seemed like a similar story, but I was optimistic. How many times can they possibly go wrong?
It turns out that they can surprise quite a few. A week later, having not received my phone yet, I called them one more time. The lady at the other end informed me that the phone was dispatched on the 25th October...
As I sit here and write this, I am perplexed at the height of customer service I have received. At two points in the so many times I have called them I mentioned to them that it would be a good idea to sue them for their callous attitude. Their replies were the same. ‘OK’. It seemed like they didn’t care. Why would they? They have my £470. Can I really do something about them? I doubt I could. I do not have the time nor the money to do something. But what would I do if I had the time and money? I would buy the company and rip it apart so there is no play.com. The world would be a better place with one stupid company less.
9 November 2010
What is the probability?
Unlike me, my sister is full of dreams. I dream only twice a year - one in summer and one in winter. She dreamt of living in a large house with a wooden swing and a fish tank. So my brother-in-law, who is so full of love, and bank notes, bought her a house. My parents were overjoyed and planned to visit my sister and her new home.
Exactly two years ago, just before I left India to live in the UK, I gave my dad a blank cheque. I was not sure whether I had paid all my bills and thought a cheque with my dad would cover an emergency.
Exactly one year ago, I changed jobs within the company. The new job had many people calling me on my work mobile. Not wanting to fall for the trap and lose my virility any sooner, I started leaving my personal mobile at the bottom of my bag, while being holed up in all day constructive meetings.
The house my sister and her husband bought was liked by everyone. It was in a well to do area. It has two balconies, a swimming pool and a gym. And most importantly, it had a hefty price tag for both set of parents to boast about. Secretly though, my mom wished for a little more. She wished that her son had a place of his own too.
What is the probability of finding an unsold house in a fifteen floored building with six houses in each floor? What is the probability that of all days, on the day your parents want to ask you about a house they wished you bought, you were on an all day meeting with your phone dug deep in a far away bag? What is the probability that when five people are bidding for one house, your dad remembered the blank cheque you gave him a few years ago? And what is the probability that the cheque was still in his wallet and the number he thought to write on that cheque could clinch the deal and he did just that?
I am good with counting, but really bad with probability. But given that the person in question is me, I would say the probability is one.
And that is how I became a proud owner of a new home and an unmentionable amount of debt...
Exactly two years ago, just before I left India to live in the UK, I gave my dad a blank cheque. I was not sure whether I had paid all my bills and thought a cheque with my dad would cover an emergency.
Exactly one year ago, I changed jobs within the company. The new job had many people calling me on my work mobile. Not wanting to fall for the trap and lose my virility any sooner, I started leaving my personal mobile at the bottom of my bag, while being holed up in all day constructive meetings.
The house my sister and her husband bought was liked by everyone. It was in a well to do area. It has two balconies, a swimming pool and a gym. And most importantly, it had a hefty price tag for both set of parents to boast about. Secretly though, my mom wished for a little more. She wished that her son had a place of his own too.
What is the probability of finding an unsold house in a fifteen floored building with six houses in each floor? What is the probability that of all days, on the day your parents want to ask you about a house they wished you bought, you were on an all day meeting with your phone dug deep in a far away bag? What is the probability that when five people are bidding for one house, your dad remembered the blank cheque you gave him a few years ago? And what is the probability that the cheque was still in his wallet and the number he thought to write on that cheque could clinch the deal and he did just that?
I am good with counting, but really bad with probability. But given that the person in question is me, I would say the probability is one.
And that is how I became a proud owner of a new home and an unmentionable amount of debt...
21 October 2010
Jungle Book - Lost & Found
Six blokes, none with even the slightest experience of even having lived under a thatched roof are camping this weekend. The sprawling endlessness of our myriad and indomitable universe with its canopy of a gazillion twinkling stars will tranquilise us to our dreams. We basically will be lying flat on our backs on hard ground, shivering in the cold, looking up into the blank darkness and having a hard time to sleep. I was only showing off that I know words too. Anyway, it should be fun!
We have hired a van so that all the guys with all our worldly possessions - 2 litres of Jack Daniels, can leave all in one piece. We are also very confident of reaching the national park in one piece. We have two and half drivers - two with no experience of driving a van and the half who has just failed his driving test.
Given our credentials with directions and our testosterone levels that prevent us from asking for directions, there is a good chance that we may spend the rest of our lives as Georges in the jungle. But evil has always prevailed in this world and how can all the evil in the world be lost in a forest. So we are bound to be back to spread our gospel!
We have hired a van so that all the guys with all our worldly possessions - 2 litres of Jack Daniels, can leave all in one piece. We are also very confident of reaching the national park in one piece. We have two and half drivers - two with no experience of driving a van and the half who has just failed his driving test.
Given our credentials with directions and our testosterone levels that prevent us from asking for directions, there is a good chance that we may spend the rest of our lives as Georges in the jungle. But evil has always prevailed in this world and how can all the evil in the world be lost in a forest. So we are bound to be back to spread our gospel!
28 September 2010
12 September 2010
What is it with short sleeves?
For a long time in the brief history of mankind, men and women have done everything they could to be different from each other – men from women and women from men. They marked roles and responsibilities to support their collective survival, they reacted differently to similar situations which usually caused bewilderment to the other and they dressed completely differently although they lived in similar sweltering heat or spine chilling cold.
(Science digression: Neanderthals were supposedly a much more intelligent species than Homo sapiens. Whereas Homo sapiens divided their job responsibilities, Neanderthals wanted to do everything on their own. The Homo sapien men hunted the goat and the women collected bananas. So they had mutton Biryani for main course and banana pudding for dessert. But the Neanderthals, they all went for the goat and ended up throwing spades and spikes at each other and perished.)
But somewhere along the line, some woman with a tiny little chromosomal shakeup wanted what was inherently men's; in addition to what was hers. She wanted to do everything that men did. She wanted men's jobs; so she took it. She wanted men's clothes, so she wore pants. She wanted to be man, so she had sex with other women. This change caught on and before we knew a fair number of women folk wanted everything that was historically men's.
If I were to represent all men, I would have recommended that they relinquish everything wholeheartedly and keep only the TV, the PS3 and the couch for themselves. But some moron wanted a tit for tat and that is where everything went wrong. First came the low waist jeans. And then slowly one after the other the manicures, the chest waxes, the ear rings and the pink shirts came trickling along. That is all okay as long as we, the ones content with what we had, have a choice to be as we were.
But it is not to be. You no longer get a regular sleeved t-shirt that easily. (It is easier to buy a full sleeved t-shirt and cut the sleeves to the length you want.) T-shirts have to reveal biceps, however malnourished they may be. (It is not long before men shave their armpits and wear sleeveless t-shirts.) It is not a pretty site if you don't want to wax your biceps. And some of us with furry coats, that is not what we want to do. The fur is for winter.
I can manage with short sleeved t-shirts but I fear for what is to come in ten years. I could tolerate bearing my midriff but I couldn't tolerate piercing my belly button – from the looks of it, its going to hurt a lot :(
(Photo nicked from Dominik)
16 March 2010
Dreaded Questions
It was 10 years ago when someone first asked me this question. Since then I have had many people ask me the same question and I have done everything other than hide behind a bush to avoid it.
What is your hobby?
When I first left school to study in a college, the seniors wanted 'to get to know us better' and so they asked us what our hobbies were. They were not particularly impressed when I told them I did not have one. Some of my untruthful friends told the seniors that their hobbies were to listen to music, to watch tv etc. They were all lying. Some dictionary suggested that a hobby was the thing you did in your spare time for pleasure. If you go by the definition all my friends were doing something else for pleasure during their spare time and they were not mentioning it to the seniors. Someone who was slightly inventive said his hobby was philately. But why would one want a collection of his or her saliva under stamps? When I become health minister, I will deem it unhealthy.
When I left college, I assumed real world people asked real questions. But I was wrong. Job interviewers asked me the same dreaded question. So did the landlords. Atleast the landlords had a case. If I told them my hobby was gardening, they had every right to suspect and investigate what I was growing in the backyard.
If I suffered due to the 'what is your hobby?' question in India, I suffer more from the 'what did you do in the weekend?' question in the UK. UK is a land of weather and weekends. The natives and the aliens trying to assimilate into the local culture just can not stop complaining about the weather. When the weather is good, they talk about the weekends; which is most of the time in a year.
To the British, a good weekend is when you took a long walk in the park, or went rowing or cheered your son play football or any one of those activities that I don't really take pleasure at.
'Raja, did you have a good weekend?'
'Absolutely'
'What did you do?'
'Huh, nursed a hangover on Saturday and watched some porn on the Sunday. Good weekend
really!'
Unfortunately, they don't think so.
What is your hobby?
When I first left school to study in a college, the seniors wanted 'to get to know us better' and so they asked us what our hobbies were. They were not particularly impressed when I told them I did not have one. Some of my untruthful friends told the seniors that their hobbies were to listen to music, to watch tv etc. They were all lying. Some dictionary suggested that a hobby was the thing you did in your spare time for pleasure. If you go by the definition all my friends were doing something else for pleasure during their spare time and they were not mentioning it to the seniors. Someone who was slightly inventive said his hobby was philately. But why would one want a collection of his or her saliva under stamps? When I become health minister, I will deem it unhealthy.
When I left college, I assumed real world people asked real questions. But I was wrong. Job interviewers asked me the same dreaded question. So did the landlords. Atleast the landlords had a case. If I told them my hobby was gardening, they had every right to suspect and investigate what I was growing in the backyard.
If I suffered due to the 'what is your hobby?' question in India, I suffer more from the 'what did you do in the weekend?' question in the UK. UK is a land of weather and weekends. The natives and the aliens trying to assimilate into the local culture just can not stop complaining about the weather. When the weather is good, they talk about the weekends; which is most of the time in a year.
To the British, a good weekend is when you took a long walk in the park, or went rowing or cheered your son play football or any one of those activities that I don't really take pleasure at.
'Raja, did you have a good weekend?'
'Absolutely'
'What did you do?'
'Huh, nursed a hangover on Saturday and watched some porn on the Sunday. Good weekend
really!'
Unfortunately, they don't think so.
17 February 2010
Herd behaviour
Well, I am now officially a project manager. I was shown my new desk and sent to scavenge everything else. So I went around looking for unused phones, monitors, cupboards and chairs. Lunch break is a good time to build your inventory. A lot of things in the office are unused when everyone is queuing for their roast (sliced pig bum). I also found something that looked like an iron whip with a lock at one end. I swear I don't know what it is but I have a suspicion that it could be something to induce bondage tendencies. A closely bonded workplace is always a good place to work in, isn't it?
My work is very simple. I have to come up with an idea that is as revolutionary as the iPhone. In the mean time,I have to take the other less revolutionary ideas, develop less revolutionary products out of them and get the hapless sales guys to sell them to unsuspecting customers.
If I come up with an iPhone like idea, my job is done. Why would the company want to keep me when it has got what it wanted from me? So I guess I will have to keep my mouth shut and not blurt out that one brilliant idea.
Getting the less revolutionary products out to the market is not as big a deal as I initially feared. I do not have to go to a workshop and build spaceships with my own hands. There are worker bees who will do it for me. My job is to make the worker bees build the spaceship that I want while they want to be busy collecting nectar. Similar to a Shepard's job making sure that my cattle graze only in the neighbour's property so I can sell my grass to him. At least now I can explain in a line that my job is similar to a Shepard's job but instead of the cattle, I Shepard men and women!
My herd is a motley group of friesian cows and break-inspector buffaloes.(Have you ever crossed a herd of buffaloes without slamming on the break? For those of you who have never seen buffaloes on road, you definitely don't know how mince meat is made. The burnt rubber after taste must have crossed your mind at some point of time).
Anyway, my friesian cows, like all friesian cows give me more milk than I would have ever imagined. And my dear buffaloes, like any thorough bred buffalo will not move an inch even if I threatened to whack his back.
Now I have this idea. What if I give one hard knuckle in the head if I can't get something done from them? I hope they are grown up enough not to complain to the teacher that I hit them in the head.
My work is very simple. I have to come up with an idea that is as revolutionary as the iPhone. In the mean time,I have to take the other less revolutionary ideas, develop less revolutionary products out of them and get the hapless sales guys to sell them to unsuspecting customers.
If I come up with an iPhone like idea, my job is done. Why would the company want to keep me when it has got what it wanted from me? So I guess I will have to keep my mouth shut and not blurt out that one brilliant idea.
Getting the less revolutionary products out to the market is not as big a deal as I initially feared. I do not have to go to a workshop and build spaceships with my own hands. There are worker bees who will do it for me. My job is to make the worker bees build the spaceship that I want while they want to be busy collecting nectar. Similar to a Shepard's job making sure that my cattle graze only in the neighbour's property so I can sell my grass to him. At least now I can explain in a line that my job is similar to a Shepard's job but instead of the cattle, I Shepard men and women!
My herd is a motley group of friesian cows and break-inspector buffaloes.(Have you ever crossed a herd of buffaloes without slamming on the break? For those of you who have never seen buffaloes on road, you definitely don't know how mince meat is made. The burnt rubber after taste must have crossed your mind at some point of time).
Anyway, my friesian cows, like all friesian cows give me more milk than I would have ever imagined. And my dear buffaloes, like any thorough bred buffalo will not move an inch even if I threatened to whack his back.
Now I have this idea. What if I give one hard knuckle in the head if I can't get something done from them? I hope they are grown up enough not to complain to the teacher that I hit them in the head.
16 February 2010
Short of brilliance
He was not the best player in the team. Infact, he was only the 7th best player in his 6-a-side football team. He stood by the sidelines and hoped that someone would ask him to substitute for them, as he watched the other players run around. Nobody ever seemed to tire. Or at least break a leg so he could play. He stood there as the cold winds tore into his jacket and crushed his bones. He stood there as the rains drenched him to the skin. He stood there for the entire winter and it was the last game of the season that day.
The captain walked in with a new lad and said 'This chap is new to town. And can apparently pass a thing or two. He will come in as first change if someone has to walk out.'
The captain broke his leg that day.
The captain walked in with a new lad and said 'This chap is new to town. And can apparently pass a thing or two. He will come in as first change if someone has to walk out.'
The captain broke his leg that day.
3 February 2010
can't pee under pressure
"You have not posted anything for over a month now." I was not surprised when my one loyal follower asked me. Yeah! Apparently I have had someone follow my blog. That was exciting. But even more exciting was when another one said the same thing. And another, and another. And slowing the excitement marched away and in place was an unsettling eerie thought that I had to account for all these people. I know I don't have an obligation to write for anyone but I was once an avid reader of pagalak's blog where he was spinning a beautiful story (part 1, part 2, part 3) which he suddenly stopped and got married. It has been two years since then and I still longingly visit his blog with that little glimmer of hope that one day he will complete the story.
I don't compare my posts to his stories. My posts are neither heart rendering or thought provoking. But my posts were regular. And regular things take people's time and space that their presence is never really acknowledged but their absence is almost strongly felt. Just as how I have to open my gmail account every two hours to delete the only 5 spam messages I would have received in the last two hours but feel very dejected when the spam filter does a very good job on one given day.
But now with fingers pointed at me and echoes of 'where is my trash' ringing full and long on both ears I am under extreme pressure that the head does not spin any more junk and my fingers run to the delete button as soon as I muster to write a sentence or two. It is like, however hard you memorise the poem the previous night, when the teacher's polished cane points at you, all verses melt and flow out of the brain like raindrops seeking the sea.
Raindrops seeking the sea. That is a lousy similie. See, that is what pressure does and I am clearly wilting under pressure. But do you guys remember that girl who was in our batch and whose name was or is similie?
And to add salt to my wounds there was someone who has read some of my scribblings from a time when to write was to pick up a pen and draw impressions of what can achieved by the click of a button these days said that my writing lacks the passion from those days. Believe me, I am trying, it is just that the girls don't really get it.
To conclude, I am self-diagnosing that I have a writer's block. It is just that it is a big heavy block and someone has slammed it right onto my knuckles.
p.s. : The title ought to be 'can't pen under pressure', but you see, I am also afflicted by a very common attention mongering syndrome and vulgarity buys a lot of attention. It is also easy to tap 'e' twice then to search for an 'n' at the other end of the keyboard.
6 January 2010
Cubicle change
After the analyse-my-urine incident, I decided I have had enough and decided to get a job that did not have anything to do with analysing. So I consulted a dictionary for the antonym of analyse. The dictionary suggested that I get a job that did not have any thinking to do. That was around the time when Jinku said his manager did not have any masala in his head.
For those of you who are not familiar with the role of masala in the head; masala is the primary intelligence ingredient in an Indian head. The more masala in your head, the more intelligent you are. Getting masala in your head is not genetic but is by eating spicy food. Masala is infact the base that is used to make any spicy dish. So the more spicy food you eat, the more intelligent you become.
I am not making up a story here. Statistics shows that more people get into the IITs from Andra Pradesh than any other state in the world. And IITs are supposedly the toughest colleges to get into at an undergraduate level and requires high intelligence levels. It is also in Andra Pradesh that you get the spiciest cuisines in India (you infact have a nose-watering experience than a mouth-watering experience). If you can not piece-up the rest of the co-relation, you should crank up the spice a bit in your dinner tonight.
Anyway, Jinku is not the first person to curse that his manager did not have masala. So I decided that becoming a manager was the best way to get away from thinking and therefore analysing.
What resulted was a flurry of applications to all internal jobs that had a manager in the title. My project manager interview lasted close to 2 hours. I had decided earlier that I will steer the interview in such a way that the interviewer only asked me questions to which I knew the answers. But it was a disaster. Every time I tried to steer the interview, I was outmaneuvered. I mean I answered questions such as why do you want to do this job? (Should I have told him my analyse-my-urine story?), what are your long term career objectives? (I don't think I will ever get away from this question) and what experience do you have in project management (Well! I project managed to run a half marathon). I have no idea on what I answered and I was not thinking at all.
On the way back to my desk, ruing my fortunes, I realised that if the interview did not allow me to think, then there would certainly be absolutely no thinking to be done on the job. The perfect answer to my analyst problems!
The first day at the new job started with a meeting at 8. I presume the alarm did not go off. Half way to the office, I realised I had forgotten to take my laptop with me. I saved the embarrassment and went back to get it. But it is not until 10 minutes into the office I realised I left back the keys to the desk. I couldn't have asked for a better start!
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