Pebbles

Little bit more...

2007-04-18T13:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I was listening to the radio on the way to work and there was some news piece about the number of businesses owned by African-Americans in the Michigan region. The speaker was going rah-rah on the strength of the African-American community when he came up with this little nugget.

African-Americans own more than Seventeen thousand five hundred and thirty businesses in the Michigan state.

I mean, come on, if you got down to the thirty level in that huge count, why not tell me the exact number? Or why not say more than 17500 or maybe more than 17000. Why do you need to add "more than" when you are stating, what I believe, is a fairly accurate count? Does it make the number sound that much more big? What is it?

Reminds me of another commercial I heard on the radio...this was for a furniture warehouse...

We have more than six locations in Metro XXXXX!!!

Really? You serious? Don't leave me hanging, dude. The suspense is killing me. How many more? One? Two? Or, dare I suggest, even Three... taking the total to, wait, let me add them up, yes...nine??? Holy Moley! That is an incredible number of stores to have. I won't be able to sleep till I know of the exact number of stores. Tell me, Tell me....

I Dream for you

2007-03-01T13:33:00.000-08:00

This is something I have felt really strongly about for quite a while now. Now that I am a daddy, it makes all the more sense to me to write about it now. This ruffles my feathers like few things do.

The issue here is parents playing a deciding role in a child's choice of career. Being a traditionally close-knit society, it is very obvious that parents would have a say in the direction that their kid's life takes. Often times parents will guide a kid through the career choices and help them decide what's right for them. Some parents have perfected it to an art form though.

Growing up, I had a few friends/acquaintances whose parents had decided what career path they will choose when they will grow up. Most of the times, this was not up for discussion or debate, it was a decision. If the mom/dad decides that you will be a doctor, then you have to be a doctor. no two ways about it. doesn't matter if you don't have the aptitude or will for it. It was drilled into their brains from such an early age that the kid will not be able to think of an alternate career. What this mostly resulted in was the kids wasting a lot of time to get into the profession that their parents chose for them or feeling dejected because they were not able to fulfill their parents' wishes. This led to some really drastic results in some cases.

My grandma wanted my dad to be a doctor. My dad went to a medical school to fulfill her wishes but his heart wasn't in it. He left after wasting a year and then went on to get a law degree (and never practiced!). When it was time for me to choose a career path, dad wanted me to be an architect. Unlike other parents though, he didn't tell me this till it was almost time to choose a career. (most cases parents start this as soon as their kid can understand words and in some cases even before the kid is born). I didn't want to be an architect and told so to my dad. Period. End of discussion. I became a telecom engineer. If I hadn't become one, I was willing to give Accountancy a try (and he was ok with that). Later on he asked if I wanted to do IAS. I refused again. And once again there was no showdown, no "how could you not fulfill my wishes" stuff. Just an "it's your life, do what feels right". Some "well-meaning" relatives tried to interfere but dad was adamant that I should get to choose what I do in life.

One of my classmates wasted two years trying to be a doctor. Some others went into professions that their parents wanted them to be in and spent quite a few miserable years trying to make their parents happy.

My analysis is that in most cases, either the parent couldn't become what they wanted to be due to some reason or the other and want their kid to fulfill their dream/ambition or they just decide that X career choice will result in a lot of name and fame so their kid should choose that, regardless of the kid's capability.

I decided long time ago that I will NEVER ever do that to my kid. But there was a nagging suspicion that maybe when I will become a father, I will think differently. But no, so far, I don't feel so. I will guide my kid(s) whenever they need my guidance but I will not decide things for them.

I wish the parents will stop dreaming through their kid's eyes and the kids will stop bearing the burden of their parents' failed ambitions.

Saala main to baap ban gaya

2007-01-20T14:25:00.000-08:00

updates will follow...

Happy New Year

2007-01-01T08:45:00.000-08:00

Start of a new year. Time to make some resolutions, do a progress check on last year's resolutions (if I can remember them, that is) and decide which of this year's resolutions do I want to really really keep. Sort of like - attempt any 3 out of the following 5 questions. Bonus marks for any attempt over 3.

So here is the list:

Take more risks ( as generic resolutions go, this is the mother of 'em all)
Watch the diet ( my own, not everybody's else's)
Travel less ( the kind of work I do, this automatically means taking more risks)
Work out ( as in exercise, run, lift weights, build muscles, intimidate people. Ok, not the last one)
Blog more ( more frequently than the appearance of Hailey's comet)

Stay tuned for the progress on these and some more resolutions...If I can think of any more before end of the year.

Ice Ice baby

2006-11-15T14:14:00.000-08:00

Some background: the place where I work, quite a few people sit in one big conference room. And it gets fairly noisy at times. Whenever somebody has to attend any personal calls, the person usually steps out of the room into the common corridors and takes the calls there. The corridors are adjoining the break room with coffee machine, refrigerator etc.

So...a few days ago, I was attending to a call in this common corridor. And I saw an ice cube lying on the ground. The urge to do something really foolish overtook any trace of sensibility that I might possess and I kicked the ice cube. Kicked it hard. As the ice cube marked it's hurried path across the corridor, I looked up to realize that something stood between the ice cube and the end wall. a GIRL!!! My luck being what it is, the ice cube hit her shoes. She looked up and stared at me. Puzzled.

I decided to turn on my charms full blast, covered the mouthpiece of the phone and whispered " I am sorry" and gave her my smile #36. It had got me out of troubles before, why not now. The distance separating us and corridor being not very well lit ( we are saving energy, you see), she failed to read my lips for the sign of a genuine folly. She gave me the stare that would have melted the polar ice caps and singlehandedly achieved what the whole mankind has been unable to do with all their CFC emissions for past several decades.

Anyway, things seem to get back to normal after that. Just a couple of days ago I saw her again in the corridor and she gave me a look that I failed to decipher. I think it means one of two things:
1) She misunderstood me and is really angry.
2) She REALLY misunderstood me and is very "not angry"

Both the situations put me in a predicament. My action was unintentional, or it was intentional with unintentional consequences. She is not exactly the kind of girl I would have thrown ice at normally (if you get my drift).

Notes to self:

Avoid corridors.
Look around corners before turning.
Walk with the eyes lowered.
DO NOT smile.
WHY ME???

Hair today, gone tomorrow

2006-11-14T08:08:00.000-08:00

Why is it that as men get older, they lose hair from all the places they want and grow them in all the places they don't. We lose hair from our head and the facial growth get slower. Instead, we sprout hair on our ears, the nose hair gets longer, the back hair gets thicker.

If God intended to maintain the net balance of hair on a male body, why make him lose it from the top and let it fall on ears and the back???

Misunderstood...

2006-11-06T13:44:00.000-08:00

...often

Lend me your ears and I will sing you a song...

2006-11-02T10:16:00.000-08:00

Today is one of those damn days when I have a damn tune stuck in my damn head. Damn! Damn! Damn! Why is it that every time there is a song or a tune stuck in your head, it is always a crappy one. Why can't I be going over a nice song over and over in my head?

Often times I have tried, without much success though, to change the stuck tune to something more pleasing. But this is one track that is so difficult to change. Why do all the crappy songs have catchy tunes? This morning I woke up with one of those catchy tunes in my head. It is gone now but it did trouble me for a long time.

I know this is nothing short of sadism, but when i have some idiotic tune stuck in my head and I am near someone who I know is aware of the tune, I love to hum a few bars and get it stuck in their head as well. Tee Hee Hee. Why should I be the only one who is suffering.

Reminds me of an incident from my undergrad days. A friend of mine was humming a nice tune from a song that had just come out. I heard him singing (that's really stretching the definition though), and immediately starting humming some crappy tune. The poor guy got so befuddled that he started humming the new song with this old tune and got really really messed up. Try as he might, he couldn't remember the original tune. As is obvious, he was not very happy with me for the rest of the day.

When it rains...

2006-09-21T08:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday it rained for the first time here. Or after a long time anyway. As I got out of my car to head to the hotel room, I could feel the gentle breeze blowing across my face. Playing truant with whatever hair I have left. With the Fall season just around the corner, some trees were a little ahead of the game and had already started shedding their leaves. The breeze carried one leaf and pasted it out on my windshield. It took aother and blew it against my shoes, where it was stuck for a while before it found a way to go around me. The first raindrops quenched the thirst of the parched ground and gave that particular first rain smell.

For reasons that I cannot comprehend, the first rain always brings a smile across my face. A somewhat happy, somewhat sad moment. The first raindrops, the smell of the earth, the gentle breeze, carry me in their arms and transport me back in time to my childhood and across the seven seas to our home. To our backyard. To those happy times. To the smell of the fresh cut grass. To the happy place free of all the worries, far away from the rat race. Away from the daily grind, the stress of making the ends meet...and then some.

It is like I am looking into the crystal ball, the one that looks back into the present of my childhood. I can see the little kid coming back home after a long day at school. Shoulders sagging under the weight of the school bag. Coming home and mom waiting at the gate, worried that the weather is taking the turn for the worse and I am still at school. The yard is full of wet and yellow leaves that the tree doesn't want anymore. People on the street with just a hint of spring in their steps. Trying to get back home before the skies open up. People hunting for small umbrellas or their raincoats in their bag. People walking but always aware of the nearest shelter. All the street vendors scrambling to find a cover for their wares. everybody in a rush but everybody a little cheerful. It is the first rain afterall.

These days, I hardly have time to look around and appreciate the nature. To stop and smell the proverbial roses. Just a hint of sadness at the things I have lost. The simple joys, the thrill of seeing the squirrel nibbling at something and then racing across the yard at the first hint of movement. The bugs and the earthworms are still a nuisance. The rain is almost becoming one. One of them days, I will start filling the debit and credit columns of my growing up account. I have a nagging feeling I will end with a negative balance...

Women and Clock

2006-08-24T08:42:00.000-07:00

What is it with women and their inability to be on time. Don't want to start a gender debate here so I will put a disclaimer upfront. Whatever I say in this post is purely based on personal experiences.

Of ALL the females I have known in my life, I can't recall a single one who would be on time anywhere. Now, not being on time is one of my pet peeves. I like to be on time anywhere I go. Not to say I haven't ever been late. I have. But it is more of an exception than a rule and even then in some cases it is due to circumstances beyond my control (traffic, for example). It really pisses me off when people promise to be someplace on time and then are conveniently late.

I have known menfolk who have had no respect for time as well. But somehow, the women always outnumber the men. And they ALWAYS have an excuse when confronted with it. Oh, I woke up late, no, my make-up took time, the shower took 3 minutes to boot up, the bathroom was a 5 minute walk from the bedroom, blah, blah, blah....My point is, after so many years, how could you not know how long it takes for you to get ready. Why don't you start getting ready 15 minutes earlier or get out of bed 15 minutes earlier for God's sake!!

Most of them are actually blissfully unaware that they are late. They consider it a birthright of sorts to not be on time.

Anyway, to cut a long story short. I am pissed. Women don't care. Life goes on...

Get ready to Ramble....

2006-08-01T17:56:00.000-07:00

No particular thought. No reason to blog. Just an itch. Expect a lot of nothing.

Not sure why I came here today. The mind is drawing a blank but the heart urges me to tap on the keys. Write something, anything, nothing, no, not nothing. It is almost like I want to use these words as a reason not to think. I want to hide behind them and play peek-a-boo with reality. Is my mind totally devoid of thoughts right now or is it going at lightspeed, thinking another thought before I am through with the first.

Life has been fairly confusing of late. (Isn't it always?). Seems like I am living in these small independent chunks of time. Something is happening, something happened. Am I just losing my sense of time, my brain? Seems like one moment has no connection with the other. Last minute seems like such "a long long time ago". Just going through the motions it seems. Just read:

There are four kind of people in the world:
One who make things happen
One to whom things happen
One who watch things happen
One who have no clue that things happened.

Am I slipping into the second kind. Or is it the fourth? Or is it a whole new category, "one who wait for things to happen and in the meantime just watch things happening"?

A stray thunderstorm hit this place just now. Want to go out and get drenched. But then I worry about getting my cellphone and wallet wet. And the shoes will be ruined if they get wet. What will I wear tomorrow then?

Do I eat because I am hungry or just beacuse it is mealtime. Life is stuck in a rut. Life is good but the damn thing sucks. Does anybody have an instruction manual to this thing? Can I take a peek. Just turn to a page, any page, any random entry. Read it aloud, say "in the bed" after you are finished reading it. Is it funny? Does it read like the fortune cookies? What do those numbers mean anyway? Why do I love the question mark so much?

Where and when did I lose the last 31 years. I am already done with 31 years! But I just started here. I am not even done reading the table of contents yet. There is this sudden urge to buy all the books on my wish list. Don't feel like reading anymore. But the stack of unread books is going down. What will happen when it goes to zero? Doomsday? Start of civilization? Alright! who's representing the female community here? We have a job to do. And I don't have eternity to do it.

Getting bored of this now. KeybOrd is st iff. Cantt typ an more...

Goodbye Pappa

2006-06-19T05:58:00.000-07:00

Papa, Papaji, pops, pitashri, dad. I had lots of names for you but just one relation. I was, am, still a part of you pappa.

As I try to recall my past, I find that my memories of you are woefully inadequate. Why is it that I remember everything but can’t recall anything? I guess the earliest memory I have of you is the day when mom was sick. I was adamant on having toast for dinner and having them from mom. I remember I was so angry that I went to bed hungry. I remember that you made the toast for me and tried to wake me up. But I was angry, very angry and I scratched the hand that was trying to feed me. Sorry for those scratches pappa. The chutney-toast still reminds me of that day pappa.

Somehow, the memories of my childhood has very little of you in them. You were busy, always busy with the business. I left early for school; you were just reading the paper. I came back from school; you were having your lunch or preparing for your afternoon siesta. It was time for bed by the time you were back from the shop. The most hurtful memories are of times when you were not where I was looking for you. I remember I was in seventh grade; I had stood first amongst all the seventh grade students. I was going to receive a prize from the school principal at our annual day. They called my name, I went to the stage and shook hands with the chief guest. I smiled at him and looked at the audience. It was very dark, I couldn’t make out a single face beyond the second row but I knew you weren’t there. I love books, but I never ever read the three books I got for my prize that day. I never stood first again pappa.

It was the school annual sports day; I was chosen for the school parade. I was supposed to run the race. It was an honor to represent the house. I looked up at the stands. I had requested you to be present. You were still not in the audience. I stood outside the stadium crying that day. I never ran another race. I needed you in the audience cheering me on, pappa.

My clearest memories of you are from the time I graduated high school. You wanted me to be an architect, I didn’t. I went for telecom engineering. I still remember how you ran around asking about how good my college was. I still remember how you drove all the way to college in incessant rains to submit my application forms 10 minutes before the deadline. I cannot forget all the pains you took so that I can do what I wanted do. You never questioned why I didn’t consider what you had in mind for me. I guess that’s when we bridged the gap between us. We really were starting to talk to each other. I still have a lot of years of catching up to do pappa.

The college days are a blur. I do remember though that in my third year, you mistakenly told somebody I was majoring in computer science. But by that time I thought it was funny. It didn’t hurt at all. Final year; I got selected for a job. I was one amongst the five people who were chosen. Out of 200 who tried from my college. It meant a lot to me. I came home, told you about it. You just peeked from behind your newspaper and asked me: “does that mean you won’t study further?”. I didn’t know pappa. But did my success mean nothing? But weren't you really happy when I got called for IIM interview. Is that all you wanted? Just further studies. You asked me to go for Indian Administrative Services, I refused. You asked me to do MBA, I said I want to do MS. You said you are ok, I went ahead and gave my MBA exams. You said you were fine with it, I threw away the interview and came to US for MS. Thanks for letting me live my life my way pappa.

While working and living in Delhi, whenever you came to visit us, I will see the pain in your eyes when you saw the place I lived in. Mom said it out aloud, you didn't but I knew it hurt you to see me slogging this way. When we went out for dinner, you insisted on paying. You told me that my money is fake. Your money still can buy food for me. I earn real money now pappa. I owe you so many dinners pappa.

As I was leaving for USA, I know you dropped me off at the airport with such a heavy heart. I could almost see the moist eyes. You were happy that I was doing what I wanted to do. You were happy that I was leaving to be on my own. Even though this meant that I will probably not return. Why didn't you stop me that day pappa?

I remember we had so many clashes over the issue of my marriage. You wanted to see me married, with kids, happy. I resisted. I wanted to wait. I wanted to live life, to enjoy my money. You had a sense of urgency about it that I failed to understand. I said so many unkind words during that time. I take back every bad thing I said pappa.

I remember how happy you were when I got married. You were on cloud nine. I have never seen you dance so much pappa.

I remember when you came to visit us here. You were like a kid in a candy store. You were exploring the streets, the malls, the shops with such a childlike excitement. I was busy with work. I still don't know why I didn't take time off to spend all my time with you. I should have. The image of you going past the security checkpoint towards your gate at the airport has been engraved in my mind. Was it my imgination or did you turn once to give us a long look. I didn't know it would be the last time I will see you on your feet pappa.

The phone call shook me that night. The moment that I have dreaded for every day since arriving in US arrived. My worst fears had come true. It was a call for me to come home. To you. They told me you might not have too long. But how is that possible. There is so much we have to do together. You still have to play with your grandkids pappa.

Seeing you there in the hospital bed was hard. It felt like somebody had knocked the wind out of me. How could the doctors talk so nonchalantly about your condition. How can he just put a percentage to your chance of survival? I tried to keep my mind occupied with inane things. Meeting you twice a day became a ritual I both looked forward to and dreaded. You were still worrried about me. You didn't have to be. It was my turn to take care of you pappa.

Even though the doctors had told me of the inevitable, it didn't make the pain any easier to bear when the moment did arrive. How could it happen? Gods surely must have made some error. It just wasn't your time. You had to spend time with us. While in the hospital, you asked us to take you home. I didn't want to take you home wrapped in white sheet. I wanted to walk home with you. That journey was the longest and most painful for me pappa.

You know, when we brought you home, all the males of the family went outside the room where we made you rest one final time. I was sitting there with mom, sisters and other females. I was trying to comfort them. Sometime during then, I realized that I was the only male in the room. I guessed maybe that was not right. I thought, I will go outside and be where you are, that will be the right thing to do. Then I realzed I was where you were. I was sitting right next to you. There was nobody to tell me what was the right thing to do. Nobody was there to guide me anymore pappa.

Why do they call it last rites? Why do they make it so difficult for the surviving family? They asked me to light the funeral pyre of the person who had given me life. It was very cruel. Each and every moment was meant to remind me of you. Your shoes were lying where you had left them after polishing them. The after shave bottle was only half used. The can of shaving gel was still uncapped. The shirts still hung where you left them. The newspaper also is sitting there unread pappa.

Everybody told me how good you were, not even realizing how painful each bit of detail was for me. But there was so much that I learned from them about my own pappa. They said I have to take care of my mother and sisters now. I am the big guy now. I am not. I was still the same as the day before. There was so much that I still had to learn from you pappa. I have no idea how to handle such a big responsibility pappa. I can't do this pappa. You never told me life will be so tough pappa.

I wish you well wherever you are pappa. Don't worry about me, I will take care of everybody. I will try my best to make sure that they are always happy. But am I allowed to cry when I am by myself pappa?...

Shh...Privacy Please

2006-04-21T05:49:00.000-07:00

Have been thinking a long time about this. About time I gave my version of the story. Come out clean. Wash my hands of this matter once and for all....hopefully

For as long as I can remember, friends and foes alike have sometimes accused, sometimes suggested to me that I am a closed person. That I don't share my feelings. AT ALL. I have often wondered how much of that is true. And I guess the answer is that most of it is.

Growing up, somehow I had this in my mind that one is not supposed to share the family stuff with others. That used to be the most personal stuff during childhood anyway. Don't get me wrong. I come from a happy home. There were not many dark family secrets that I could have told anybody. Nothing juicy enough or tragic enough that it can become a conversation matter amongst friends.

Somewhere along the way, that trait got so ingrained in me that sharing personal stuff just made me plain uncomfortable. I always take pride in putting a happy face for the world. How can I tell the world that my closet had a few shelves full of dark stuff.

Going from school to college, I started hearing this accusation more and more often. My friends will request me to tell them what I felt. They will threaten that I won't hear any personal stuff from them either. They will counsel me that it is wrong to keep the feelings bottled in. They will make fun of me. But I didn't wilt under peer pressure. It did get me thinking though. They are my friends after all. What harm could possibly be done by telling them what I feel? Hell, while in school, they didn't even know the girls that I will have a crush on. That's how private a person i was.

I decided I will change. I will try and open up ever so slowly. I did. With disasterous consequences ofcourse. Looking back at it, I guess what my friends did was not to hurt me voluntarily. It was done inadvertantly. They just happened to mention things that I had told them in confidence. It just affected me deeply. No one person or one incident. Almost all of them did. It HURT!! It shouldn't have, but it did. And I decided that I will clam up. FOR LIFE!

Almost a decade later, I do realize that it was all silly stuff. But the habit was so ingrained in me that it is impossible to do otherwise. All the years I spent from home by myself just cemented that trait. During all those years, I decided to be my own best friend. I lacked the imagination to make imaginary friends anyway, so I decided that I will give me company. I will understand myself. I have always been an introvert. Being a clam just followed.

So, to all the people in my life who have had this complaint, please don't misunderstand me. It is not that I don't trust you. Anybody will be lucky to find people like you. I am damn lucky to have found all of you in one lifetime. This is just how I am. This is a part of being me. I thought that is the unwritten code of friendships...you accept your friends as they are. You become friends with them because of who they are. Can I expect the same from you???

Booo

2006-04-21T05:38:00.000-07:00

Was gone a long time but I am back now. Gave up writing last time 'coz I think it seemed too forced, too unoriginal.

But the cogwheels in the brain seldom stop whirring. The heart still has it's reasons. And the fingers do obey them. They merrily go tap-tapping on this keyboard.

A note though. This time my words will be for moi and not with the intention of making it a great read. Heard this somewhere:

If I am who I am because of who I am then I am who I am
If I am who I am beacuse of who you are then I am not who I am.

Makes sense???

And then there were none...

2006-01-01T06:02:00.000-08:00

I have been thinking about this... This will be my last post on this blog. No, it is not a break. It is goodbye. Hasta la vista baby. It was good while it lasted but then good things can last only for so long.

Surprisingly, it was not a hard decision at all. In fact it was a very easy one. The answer was there all along, I was just not searching in the right place.

I realized I was not writing from my heart anymore. Deep down, I knew people were reading this. My mind took over, I started writing for the readers. Some known, some unknown. I became concious of what I was writing. After all, it wasn't only for me anymore. I was striving to satisfy the hungry eyes falling on my blog. In the distant past, my words, my thoughts were my own. Now they are everybody else's as well. I have been a very private person all my life. This blog made me feel like a mannequin being undressed in the store window.

Despair not ye, I might still write. I might still blog again. I might still write a book one day. Or none of the above. For heart is a fickle thing. It can be transplanted. And the hands on the clock do go round only to come back to where they started from.

You

2005-11-30T08:25:00.000-08:00

You know who you are and saying thank you would be too trite, too disrespectful, let me just say that you honored humanity's highest creed ever. Gratitude is not strong enough of a word to describe what I feel. Favors such as this can never be returned – it demeans the act, so generous, so grand, so unselfish.

If somebody up there is keeping an account, I will gladly vouch for the accuracy of yours. I wish you good things, only good things.

Trial and error

2005-11-16T07:49:00.000-08:00

I tried. Tried a few times. Didn't have the courage to re-live the moments. I knew all along that it will be tough, but I couldn't even imagine that it was going to be so hard on me. I tried to write about what happened but couldn't.

The throat keeps choking, there is a burning sensation in the nose and the eyes just get misty. Whenever I started writing, I had to stop soon becuase my vision was blurred by those tears streaming down my cheek. I have decided that I don't want to write down what I went through. I don't want to transcribe what I still have nigthmares about. This shall forever remain locked in the deepest darkest dungeons of my memories, with the faint hope that time will make me misplace the keys or atleast forget the way through the maze leading to it.

I am not even sure if my rudimentary knowledge of the language gives me the depth and the breadth to describe the emotions that I felt. No language in the world can do justice to the feelings. Feelings are meant to be felt not read about.

Human emotions are such a fickle thing. The more you want to forget, the more it keeps coming back to haunt you. I will write a piece (instead of the three I promised) about my long absence. My way of expressing my gratitude to the one who gave me my words. Not sure when I will write it, not sure if it will be my very next piece. But it is out there....as soon as I get the strength to hold back these tears.

Explanations and Excuses

2005-11-10T05:36:00.000-08:00

I know I have been away for way too long now. So much has happened in the intervening time and I have so much to say that I am not sure all will fit in one blog. I think I will break it into three pieces. I have been trying to put off writing all this(Besides the fact that I was genuinely busy).

Words are tripping over each other waiting to get out, a jumbled mess is what they has become. The words are shouting, each one louder than the one before in an effort to be heard. But these are the words that I wish I didn't even have to think, much less write. It pains my heart to realize that what I have feared most in the last few years, has come true. But even in my wildest dreams I couldn't imagine that the reality will be so much harder...

The heart has it's reasons

2005-09-21T14:51:00.000-07:00

Read this a long time ago...Very mean, very devious...but so...from the heart.

If you broke my heart into a thousand pieces,
I wouldn't take the time to pick them up,
instead, I would leave them there,
hoping that one day,
you will pass by and cut your foot.

Oh Life

2005-09-10T14:44:00.000-07:00

Life offers you tickets to places you never thought you wanted to go anyway, and THEN it makes you pay the fare...

Say What!

2005-08-31T14:31:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, it amazes me to think how some smudges of ink on a piece of paper can convey the myriad feelings. How is it that the smudges take the form of characters, characters form words, words form sentences and sentences give meaning to a thought. How is it that the shapeless, formless thought that is floating around in your mind suddenly seems so meaningful, so alive to those who can decipher those smudges.

But the words don't always need the crutches of a language. How else will you explain the communication between people and their pets. Communication that is totally lacking a common language but not really missing it. Why is it then that when two people want to coommunicate, they need a common language. Or sometimes, even when they have a common language, they fail to communicate with each other.

I have always maintained that words are not my friends. But the fact is that words are my beloved friend and my dreaded foe. Words have got me into some tough spots and got me out of lots of others. Words have betrayed me at the worst possible moment and words have been my lifeline. Words have been my confidante and my Brutus. Somehow, I am always wary of trusting the words that roll off my tongue or the ones that emrge out of my pen.

Yawn!!

2005-08-25T14:28:00.000-07:00

Just too lazy to post these days.

Somehow, whenever the thoughts that I want to write, come to my mind, I am not near a computer. When I am near a computer, the thoughts refuse to even be anywhere near my brain.

So much to say, no language to say it in...

Tall Tales

2005-08-20T07:01:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, I wanted to be tall. I wanted to be 6' 2". I wanted to be tall so that everybody will look upto me. As I grew up, I realized that I will never be 6'2". That's when I decided that if I can't be 6'2", I will act 6'2". I will still give people lots of reasons to look upto me.

Vroooom....

2005-08-15T18:18:00.000-07:00

Saw this a few days ago...cracked me up...

I was at this desi nick-nack shop munching on my microwaved samosa and sickly-sweet chutney when this yellow porsche boxster pulls into the parking spot bang in front of the shop. The guy had the top off(of the car, you sick minds). He was all style, and very aware of the envious gazes of everybody around him.

Quite a few couples walked by, the guys would turn around and look longingly at the car (Hot gals and hot wheels always makes us guys go rubber-necking) . The girls would look at the porsche guy and wonder why there man doesn't have something like it. Anyway, I digress...

So this guy walks in to the desi convenience store and walks out. Looks here and there with the look that all porsche owners give to the honda owners, raises his hand to put on his aviators and...there was a VHS tape in his hand!! It was such a contrast that people around him started giggling. This guy owns a porsche but doesn't even have a DVD player!! c'mon, It costs only 40 bucks. Probably less than a tank of gas for him. Anyways, all the other guys around him(including yours truly) felt just soooo good. It was a relief akin to the realization that the hot gal you just saw with another man is acutally his sister! Envy givs way to pity :-)

Multiple Personality

2005-08-04T08:03:00.000-07:00

I think I have a serious multiple personality disorder. For a while now I have been thinking of posting something light on this blog but no, nothing, nada, zilch...The mind draws a blank. I cannot write anything light whereas in normal course, I do take pride in my sense of humor. I have relied on my sense of humor to wiggle my way out of some tough situations.

I have always maintained that words are not my best friends. Hell, they never come to my assistance when I need them anyway. Whatever happened to "a friend in need" stuff?

Somehow when I write, I cannot be not serious(get it??). And when I speak, I cannot be serious at all. Maybe I hide behind the facade of humor because of my inability to come up with the right words at the right time. Most of the time, I don't even know what the right words are.

I have often been misunderstood due to what I say. I believe that those who know me will understand that what I say may not be what I mean. I guess....Those who mind, don't matter, those who matter, don't mind.

Someone told me once: "you are a study in contradictions. When I read what you write, it makes me cry, when I am with you, you make me laugh. You are a different person altogether when you are writing. "

And I always blame it on the damn twins that are sitting cozily in my birth sign.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

2005-08-03T08:01:00.000-07:00

One of these days I am gonna jot down my varied travel experiences. A travelog or something. I have met some interesting characters...and then some. Seems like characters crawl out of the woodwork to bump into me....

Keep tuned.

Back Again!

2005-08-01T07:53:00.000-07:00

All right. I am back. Pormise to be much more regular in blogging now. Last month was crazy crazy crazy. Here is a quick update on what happened last month:

Moved from chicago to seattle.

Missed the flight that I was meant to be on. Thankfully got the next flight out. Long live premier status!!
Trying to adjust to the new place. Very different from Chi-town. Very less cosmo. But nice nonetheless.
Weather is good. But it gets old. The constant cloudy weather was fun for a few days now it is becoming an omnipresent feature. Gimme mah sun
Still flying between Seattle and Detroit. Long flight maaan.

Bought a house!!!

Went through quite a few. Liked one. Bought it.
The process is long and un-nerving. Being a first time buyer...not fun at all. The constant travel made it very difficult to manage things.
But I LOVE the place.
Moving into it tomorrow.
Thus begins the homeowner's headaches.

Life goes on...

I'll be baaack

2005-07-15T17:27:00.000-07:00

It has been a long hiatus. Didn't mean to disappear for so long but the last month has been anything but slow. So much has happened so quickly that I need some time to relax. In the last month or so, I packed my bags from chicago, moved to seattle and now closing on a home(hopefully) in the next few days. I have jammed enough in this last month or so.

I need to take a deep breath and collect myself and then start blogging then. Shouldn't take too long. Maybe by the end of this month...watch this space.

Blowin' in the wind

2005-06-13T07:46:00.000-07:00

Last friday's plane ride was an unforgettable one for a variety of reasons. This being the tornado season, the rides are never very pleasant. And for a person who's scared of the turbulence(yours truly), it is always a nightmare. So I wasn't very pleased while heading towards the airport anyway. Besides, Detroit-Chicago being a short flight, the airlines always use the "puddle-jumpers" for the commute. These planes sway like the proverbial leaf in the slightest of the winds.

Anyway, I get to the airport and realize that my 7:45 flight has been delayed to to 10:30. Not willing to wait that long, I asked for a standby in the 7pm flight and thanks to my frequent flier status, I got the seat. The flight was dealyed to about 8:30.

I got a seat towards the back of the plane. I was cursing my luck about this when this hot babe sat down next to me. Now, this never-EVER happens to me. I always get the most unhappening companions. As I was looking out of the window to see if I could spot my guradian angel and give a personal thanks, I heard: "I think you are on my seat...". Knowing what awaited me, I told myself not to look but then curiosity got the better of me and I turned. Sure enough, my diet-companion had been swapped with a super-sized one. The physical distance between me and the other window seat kept me from wiping the stupid grin off the face of my ex-companion's new companion. It being a short-flight was my only consolation. (How much conversation will he be able to make in 45min anyway!)

As the grim realization dawned on me that I won't be getting much of the arm-rest tonight, I sunk further in my seat and settled for a snooze. About 10minutes from landing, I was shaken by a jolt. As I got up ready to punch the face of the "super-size", I realized the real cause.

On my side of the window, the sky was totally dark. I could see some lightening bolts in the distance too. I strained to look at the other side and saw that it was bright and sunny. It was very surreal, almost scenic in it's contrast. Just as we got closer to the ground, it started raining hard. The visibility was down to zero on my side with all the fog. Our plane started heading towards the ground at an angle of almost 45. Too steep for my liking. Suddenly the plane increased speed, chaneged course and started climbing at an angle of 45. The engines were groaning with the strain but we were going higher and higher. The turbulence was getting worse. Then the pilot's voice boomed: "As you saw, we couldn't make that one, we will be going back for another pass". This was crazy, we were gonna attempt that again!! Can't we stay up here for a while? But we did, and made a shaky but remarkable landing after some more bumps. Some people clapped when we got down. The pilot did an awesome job of controlling the plane.

After we got down, we thanked the pilot and asked him the reason for such a maneouver. He said: wind shear. Knowing that I won't like what I will see, I googled it today and came up with this...

wind shear - localised change in wind speed and/or direction over a short distance, resulting in a tearing or shearing effect, usually at low altitude, that can cause a sudden loss of airspeed with occasionally disastrous results if encountered when taking-off or landing.

More info:
http://www.geo.mtu.edu/department/classes/ge406/jmedward/windsheer/sheardef.htm

PS- One of these days, I am gonna write a long column on what all I am scared of...though I am a living breathing proof that confronting your fears doesn't help. Theoratically, if I had a penny for all the times that I have done things that I am scared of, I would be able to retire right now. But in reality, I am still broke and still phobic.

Comfortably numb

2005-06-10T14:44:00.000-07:00

I have realized that our actions are conscious but their basis seldom is. This struggle that we always run away from is what keeps returning to us. To face it or to make it an excuse for what we could have been but are not , is in our hands.

As I complete 5 years in the same job, many a question spring forth in my usually barren mind. Have I become so comfortable here that I dread the change that another job might bring? Am I scared of having to prove myself again? But then isn't that what I do in every project I go to. Will it be very different with a new job? I know I work hard but is that certain spark missing? The spark that makes the difference between a job and a career?

I have never considered this job to be my career. Maybe that's the reason that I am unwilling to fight if things don't go my way. I give my best to every thing I do becuase I have to prove to myself that I can do it. I am my own toughest critic. But as soon as the inner me is satisfied that I can do it, I lose interest in the job.

I know for sure I won't be doing this job forever. Though I don't know (yet!) what I will do. But I am certain that this is not it. Once I had the ambition to go high, higher than the mountains whose tops are lost in clouds. Time has made a realist of me though.

Here's to finding new frontiers, to reaching for the moon, to looking at the sun with just my hand to shade my eyes and to aiming for the stars..."Ad Astra, Per Aspera".

Run Tintin Run

2005-06-09T15:33:00.000-07:00

That's what life has become lately. An endless marathon. A race where there are no people midway to hand you a glass of water. I have been running so hard and so long and the checkered flag is nowhere in sight.

I have often wondered...can I slow down. Invariably, the answer is - do I want to? I have been in this mode for so long that I don't know otherwise. Life is a mad rush and I damn well like it that way.

I have always been a light sleeper. Think it is a waste of time to sleep too much when I can be doing so much more. I once calculated...if a person sleeps for 6 hrs a day all his life and gets to live to a hundred, he has spent about 25 yrs of his life just sleeping( a quarter of 100...get it?). On the other hand if a person sleeps for 8 hrs a day, that is about 33 1/3 yrs in bed!!! So if you shave off just two hours from your sleep everyday, you get over 8 yrs to do so much stuff. I know this is silly maths but somewhere somehow it struck a chord.

I know all the proponents to sleep will be sharpening their knives but hey, I am giving you just numbers...refute it if you can. And no, I am not planning to sleep only 4 hrs and save aother 8 yrs. I am human after all. Plus I love my bed too much to ignore it like that :-)

Maybe, one of these days, I will slow down to stuff a fistful of sky in this cluttered life. I will slow down to wish some secret wishes on the eyelashes that fall off to rest on the surprised cheeks. I will slow down and gaze through all this ozone layer to find my shooting star. I will slow down to play in the wet puddles and pile some wet sand on the beaches to pass them off as castles. I will slow down and follow the path of the fallen leaf as it floats away on water. Maybe, just maybe...

Dream on...

2005-06-02T12:19:00.000-07:00

I have often wondered if there are any meanings to the dreams that I dream (the ones that happen during sleep. I know the meaning behind most of my day-dreams :-).

I know there have been many a study in this field and many people out there have got their PhD while dreaming, I mean, studying about dreams. But how does all that apply to me? Do people dream similar stuff (falling from heights, and my personal favorite-naked in the classroom etc) ? Do people only dream about things and places they already know? Do they always remember the dreams or do they mostly forget? Or does it differ from person to person?

I often forget my dreams. I dream about things and places that I don't recall seeing. If the dreams are a reflections of our sub-conscious mind then how can I dream about unknown things? Sometimes I wake up with a lingering feeling of what I dreamt about. I have often woken up feeling sad becuase of a dream although I can't remember anything about it. Sometimes when I go back to sleep, the dream goes on just like a movie post-intermission.

The most disturbing dream I have had concerns being on this lonely road...and it keeps coming back. And it is always the same road, same sequence of events. Though I can't remember much of it now, I know that it is the same when I dream it. It is disturbing becuase it happens again and again and the same thing. And I don't recall seeing that road ever. Nothing bad happens during the dream...I am just there. I am pretty sure if I see that road anywhere, I will recognize it...and that will be one scary moment!!

The end is the beginning

2005-05-30T10:51:00.000-07:00

Today is my birthday. I turn the big three-oh! I guess this is the time for nostalgia, for reminiscing on the days gone by, the decade of my life that just ended. For this day on, I shall be referred to as being in the thirties (I see some rolling of the eyes here...). A whole new demographic. Now I will be considered to be in a different statistic when people do their inane surveys. All you surveyors out there, I will change your results from now on. This is my revenge on you for asking me those stupid questions.

Not so long time ago, in a galaxy not so far away, I had decided that I will re-evaluate where I am when I turn 30 on 30. The day I pass the milestone, I will re-think my options, I will possibly change the course of my future. Will decide on doing something entirely different if what I am doing right now is not working out. But things happened on the way. I am a few years behind my schedule. The revaluation has to happen, today is just not the right time. I heard this somewhere: Every few years, you have to shake yourself, you have to break yourself and then you have to remake yourself, otherwise monotony will kill you.

One of these days, I will also pen down some thoughts on this change of decade. I remember writing some nice words when I last flipped over a decade. It was a nice piece on the loss of teen years. Somehow I never kept a copy and the original was lost in the numerous moves in the intervening years. Oh well, another thing on my to-do list.

Any Color as long as it is black

2005-05-24T05:26:00.000-07:00

I realize that my last few posts have been fairly dark. But then there really is no color like black. Black is beautiful. Black is the new black.

Black is the only color you can express so colorfully. The other emotions can just not be put into words half as beautiful. After all, you can see the rainbow only on a cloudy day. Sun doesn't go very well with it.

I always think of myself as having a sunny personality. But when I write, somehow the words that come out aren't half as sunny or half as cheerful.

Oh well, I will try and lighten up some posts now. Or atleast not have too many of the dark ones in succession :-D

I am a stranger here myself

2005-05-20T06:22:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I get this feeling that I am like a fish out of water. (Not that I know what a fish out of water will feel like. Maybe the way I will feel in water. I guess it's the proverbial fish we are talking about.) The one that is out of the familiar place. I need my familiar place, my happy corner. But no matter how much I try, I can't come up with this happy place. Where is it? What exactly am I looking for? Am I on the right path or did I take a wrong turn a few streets ago? is this a one way street with all the traffic coming from the opposite direction?

So many times it just happens that people are talking to me but all I can hear is noise. Words don't make any sense. They might as well be speaking some other language. Is it just ADD or does my mind just turn off at times. I feel like I want to run away. Maybe I am just too lazy to run away. Can we get a cab here please?

The words trip over each other while trying to get out. The tongue falters. The mind stubs it's toe. The thoughts appear too many and too fast but vaporize even faster. The mind is a blank slate one moment and a mesh of live wires the next. Which one diffuses the bomb? Red or blue? Or is it mauve? or azure?

What exactly is my problem? Do I think too much or too little? Am I too laid back or is it that I have stopped caring? Do I worry too much or not enough? Why do I always think in questions?

What if the problem is not why am I so infrequently the person I really want to be, but why do I so infrequently want to be the person I really am?

Whatever!

2005-05-16T06:41:00.000-07:00

Time has worn out some jagged edges and made a skeptic out of me. (Cynic, although, maybe a better term.) Incompetent people still infuriate me. Tantrums still surprise me. Idiots still annoy me. People still amuse me. Work still doesn't excite me. Travel, though, doesn't push the right buttons any more.

the mind wanders.....the thoughts seem to be in an endless pit. For every step they take up, they slip two down. every thought is incomplete but seems to start another chain reaction. why do my glasses sit funny on my nose. when I try to read, why do I see half the page from the lens and half without it. why is the sunlight reflecting off the whiteboard at the far end and onto my table. why does the red tap give out cold water? why does the girl two cubes away from me drag her feet while walking? do the thumb tacks in my cube spell something? Am I going cuckoo?

the words are meaningful but sentences are incoherent. After a long time felt like putting pen on paper. the handwriting is awful, I will stick to keyboard. the mind feels like a blank slate but the fingers are moving rapidly on the keyboard. words are emerging on the notepad. words that seem to have no connection to what I am thinking but still are a part of me.

meeting some nice people on the project. some are a pain. some insist on talking in jargons all the time. what is wrong with saying "making money on the project" vis-a-vis "generating revenue streams". And what the hell does synergy mean anyway.

I am happy being an imperfect human being. People who lay the claim to perfection scare me. I am uncomfortable around gods anyway.

Thoughts trail off......

Busybee

2005-05-12T11:35:00.001-07:00

I wonder how people manage to pack so much in one day. Lately my days have been so busy that it is becoming increasingly difficult to pack everything in 24 hours. Come to think of it, even if a day had 48 hours, I would have been just as busy.

Read this somewhere:
"They say everbody is put on this earth to complete a specific set of tasks. Right now I am so far behind that I will never die!!"

How is it possible that as soon as I scratch one thing off my to-do list, 3 more are added. The to-do list keeps getting longer and longer as the body grows tired. The mind warns me to stop but the feet keep marching on.

Here's to taking the time off to walk bare feet on dew-smeared grass, to admire the sun-kissed dandelions, to look at the shooting stars running off in a huff, to take that extra microsecond to blink, to chart the course of the autumn leaf as it falls to the ground and to look up on a misty day and count the colors of the rainbow. To the to-do list that is the ignored bullet point on the life's to-do list.

Et Tu

2005-05-12T11:35:00.000-07:00

I am sure there are a lot of crazy U2 fans out there but after what I did or their last concert, I surely must deserve an honourable mention if not a gold plated place in the rock-fans hall-of-fame.
The saga beagn about 3 months ago when I heard U2 will be performing in town as part of their Vertigo tour, I had that strange giddy feeling....vertigo i think it is called :-)

So I was on the net as soon as the tickets went on sale. After 20 unsuccessful minutes, I managed to get the prized seat in the third show. All three shows were sold out in less than 30 minutes!!

The D-Day
Just so happened that the day of the concert, I managed to be stuck in a town 300 miles away from concert. I made a decision to take half a day off, cover the distance in car, attend the concert and be back in the office for next day's work. The stupidity of the idea was written all over it but then people have done crazier things for a concert(or so I told myself).

So I started from Detroit (!) around 1pm and drove all the way to Chicago. Reached there around 6pm. Quickly changed into something non-office and then headed to the venue. The opening act was King of Leons. By the way they were singing, the days of their kingdom are numbered.

Then......(drumroll here)...Bono came on stage. Man, is he a showman. Every bit of it. He oozes cool. He reeks of attitude but damn he is good. and May 10 happens to be his birthday!!! Tha was the icing on the cake. He kept the house on their toes for a little over two hours.

As soon as we finished. I ran home. Switched into office clothes and started driving back. Reached Detroit at 6am, took a quick shower and was back in the office. Worked all day like a zombie and when i finally managed to retire, I had been up for 42 hours and had driven over 600 miles AND had worked almost two full days in office.

But I guess, in the end, the concert totally made it worth it...

The Talented Mr Tintin

2005-05-09T05:53:00.000-07:00

Hmmm, talent and Mr Tintin. Not the pair of words you would usually use in the same sentence. I have often wondered what talent I have. Actually, make that, I have often wondered if I have a talent. Everbody is good at something or the other. Something that they make as a hobby or just like to brag about. Some can tell the model of the airplane by just looking at it from the ground (not that I will know if they are right or not). Some can do the same to birds or trees (tell the species that is). What is my talent? Reading books and then forgetting what it was about? Knowing the layout of most of the airport terminals of the world? A sneeze that makes people jump out of their skin?

Reminds me of a friend of mine who used to say: "It amazes me that everybody around me is good at something. Some are good in sports, some of them can play an instrument, some can sing, dance, talk, walk or do a hundred different things. Me, I am average at most of the things and good at nothing. I can't sing, I can't play an instrument, I can't dance, I can't climb rocks, I am not a geek. Hell, I can't even juggle two oranges properly!!"

When I heard this, it struck a chord. Or atleast I think it was a chord. I wouldn't know a difference between a chord and a clothes-line anyway. I realized that so much of this lack-of-talent thing is true for me too (Except for the two oranges part. I can probably juggle two, but three is pushing it. And I will never try it with eggs). I like to console myself with the thought that I do have a talent, I just haven't found it yet.

Manic Monday

2005-05-09T05:47:00.000-07:00

Start of another week...

Same old thoughts crossing the mind. Life seems to be stuck in a rut. Like an old old gramophone record whose needle is stuck and keeps playing the same old 3 seconds over and over and over again. I need to either change the record or move to CDs with skip protection.

From the looks of it, this week promises to be hectic. Seems like I have more packed into this week than I normally pack in a month. Oh well, gives me a chance to break the happy alliance of mono and tony.

Blogger's block

2005-05-02T07:52:00.000-07:00

I think I am suffering from a bad case of blogger's block, or whatever is the blogging equivalent to the writer's block.

Had so much to say before I created this blog but suddenly ran out of words. Nothing to rant or rave about now that I have a blog. I think I need my muse. Actually, what is this muse business anyway. My idea of muse is someone who can think for me and write what I should be writing. I can then just copy-paste what the muse has transcribed.

I need to get used to this blogging thingie.

Stay tuned...

Uno

2005-04-30T09:31:00.000-07:00

From this day on, thou shalt blog