Well.. I told you so!

This is from one of the articles in HBR:

"One of the course's textbooks, Made to Stick by Chip and Dan Heath, taught them six attributes that help ideas stick in people's minds: simplicity, unexpectedness, concreteness, credibility, emotions, and stories."

Well.. at least I got one right! :-)

Key to a great idea

I have been thinking about this for some time -

A great idea does not require great level of intellect to be understood.

In fact an idea becomes great only if it is comprehensible by the weakest of human intellect. Only then it find support from every quarter.

Therefore, simplicity is the key to greatness.

Cases in point:

1. Ahimsa by Mahatma Gandhi
2. Communism by Karl Marx
4. All major world religions

It's all black

Not many people may know this but the one astonishing fact that catches a newcomer in Mumbai by surprise is the exorbitant real estate prices. Well, there are other things such as the terrifying sight of a train-shaped sea of humanity that runs up and down the center of the city, the almost incredible tendency of people to stand in a queue even if there were only two people forming it, the presence of representatives of a mind-boggling number of provinces and states of India, and several others which form the entire incredulous experience of an outsider in Mumbai.

But no other issue is more pertinent and more important than the question of finding a roof over one’s head in this vast city. The answer to this one question is so damn difficult that it really stretches not just the purse strings of an individual but also his capacity to live.

I was of course wondering why prices in Mumbai are so ridiculously high and my ever wise younger brother provided a reasonably good explanation for it. There is a concept called parallel GDP – an economic system thriving on the money that is unaccounted in the Government’s books. This is called the Black Money. Indians have over the years become experts in evading taxes, accumulating black money, and somehow managing to hold on it and pass it to their future generations.

Mumbai real estate prices, I am told and I now strongly believe, is the product of the real estate mafia manipulations and black money. With the mafia indiscriminately raising real estate prices, it becomes impossible for honest salaried people to afford a house. However, for people with stashes of black money, it is a good investment since real estate prices only seem to be shooting up. As more black money is thrown into the real estate sector, the higher the prices go up making the latter more unaffordable for the honest salaried kind.

It is not uncommon to find people owning two or more houses in Mumbai. It is not surprising that most such owners are those who are more likely to possess black money. It is unimaginable that a government employee is able to afford a 80-lakhs-house in Mumbai. There are those who own two. I have parents who have worked in the PSU and I know how damn-near-impossible that is.

As long as this black money phenomenon exists, it would only be a dream for an honest salaried person to own a house in Mumbai.

HRC and a new world

Day before yesterday I had the good fortune of visiting Hard Rock Cafe at Lower Parel, Mumbai (Some people say it’s in Prabhadevi, but that’s a completely different story). What I witnessed was simply amazing. Loud Rock Music, some very beautiful people (you could repeat “very beautiful” a few more times) hustling and bustling about the entire place, all kinds of liquids being passed around, and large TV screens playing the IPL match. The last bit is of the greatest interest to me – nothing is better than sitting with a drink (Fresh Lime Soda – sweet & salt) in hand surrounded by gorgeous women and watching an electrifying cricket match.

What I observed is how alien I felt in the place. Sure, the place was full of Indians yet there was not much that I could identify with the crowd. One, the people seemed to be really affluent, really good-looking, seemed to be anglicized, not just in speech but in appearance and demeanour too, shared a common interest in liquor and rock music (why else would one go to HRC in the first place).

If a European or an American found himself in there that night, he would’ve felt at home instantly. I could as well have replaced the whole bunch with the characters of Archie Comics and it wouldn’t have changed a thing! The only saving grace was the plate of “potato skins” deep fried in oil, something I hope was indianized to cater to our palate.

Would I go there? Yes, of course. Didn’t you read the “very beautiful people” part?

A new beginning once again

A new place, a new job, a new house, a new city - I almost don't want to do all that again. It happened 5 years ago in Bengalooru when I moved to the city for the first time with just a couple of suitcases.

I spent close to three years in the city slowing building up my "household" with a few worldly possessions until I had to move to the glorious city of Ahmedabad. I gave away some of my stuff, my telephone connection, my gas connection etc. and placed myself snugly in the comforts of a student life.

Now I am back to the square one with a couple of suitcases in tow. The process has to begin all over again. What is perhaps different this time is that I already have an AC, cable and gas connection with the house deal. But I still have to mop and clean my house, wash my clothes, make my own tea etc. At least until I find a maid-servant or she finds me.

There is no water at home and I drink all the water I need in the office before I go home. This coming weekend I will have to fix all those plugs that exist in my new setup. It is, I tell you, Boooooooorrrrrrring! I hate it, but I understand that in order to lead my life in some comfort, I will have to do it again.

I really pity all the government servants who get transferred ever so often. It must truly deeply painful to dismantle and reorganize one's entire household every 2-3 years. The strangest bit is that I never realized it when I was a child and we were moving around the country (both my parents worked in PSU)!

Ah well, such is life!

endnote: While in Bengalooru, I had desisted from purchasing kitchen stuff until my grandmother decided to visit me. This development compelled me to spend Rs. 7000 and equip my kitchen with every conceivable instrument that might be required by my grandmother during her cooking. The entire set is now going to be sent to me by my Mother. It means "washing utensils" will get added to my list of household chores. :-(

The Sound of Music

Do you remember the song “Bhool Ja” sung by Shaan? In the music video, if you’d noticed, Shaan was sitting in a recording studio singing this song. Today for the first time in my life I got the opportunity to sit inside one such recording studio and the experience I must tell you is simply unbelievable.

Coming from a family that has a long history with music, vocals to be more precise – my parents sing, my grandparents and, I am told, their parents all sang too – it was not a surprise that sooner or later I would find one of my family to be inside one such studio. It has now begun with my father and, boy, was I blown away!

My father by the way is recording a few songs that are expected to come out in the market in the month of August. I am his biggest fan and over the years I have realized more and more what a fantastic singer he is. I have seen him mesmerize audiences, big or small, wherever and whenever he has sung. I have seen people coming up to him with tears in their eyes after having been deeply moved by his rendition of a bhajan or a tragic song. I have seen people literally bless him with innumerable good wishes because he brought some sort of inexplicable joy in their hearts with his renditions.

Today when I heard him sing sitting in the recording studio, I discovered how truly blessed he is (touch-wood!) with a voice so amazing that would be an object of envy to many. The quality of voice, the melody of the music, and the emotions in his singing, all flowing in a divine confluence of music that was just simply breath-taking!

I cannot contain my excitement as I wait for the finished product to come out in the market. I pray to God to bless him with all the success he deserves. All the best, Appa!

The bug list

“Can you see?” asks one of the oracles of held captive by the U.S. Department of Justice in the popular movie Minority Report. A strange question considering that the oracle herself was endowed with good eyesight and could “see”. Yet it wasn’t the actual seeing that she was referring to. She was wondering if she was actually seeing reality – the world as it was.

Most of us are capable of “seeing” things. We have come to regard our sight with so much casualness that we don’t simply attach the importance that needs to be attached to it. That oracle could for the first time see things that were not visions was so frightfully exciting for it. That must tell us how important the power of sight is.

We as humans have been blessed with strong cognitive capacity - the ability to apply thought to concepts, build on them, take actions on them, “evolve”, as it were, not just physically but also intellectually and spiritually. We have the power to apply strong cognitive models to our sensory faculties and develop a more comprehensive and enriching picture of the world around us.
For example, when we see things, we apply our mental energies to understand the image in front of us, what it stands for, what it implies, and how does that affect us. If that doesn’t happen to us then God save us!

However, we must go beyond just the perfunctory duty of seeing things. There is more to seeing than just images forming on the surface of the retina. That is why there exist words such as watch and observe. The word “observe” beautifully describes a higher form of cognitive process that accompanies the process of seeing. It is not just viewing things and trying to understand them. It is going one level beyond that. It is about bringing more value to our lives. An observer builds on his viewing experience and then applies his intellectual power to explore ways in which he can use the visual experience to add more value to a human life.

I recently read about a company called IDEO (http://www.ideo.com) and was blown away by the incredibly innovative work that they do. A book “The art of innovation” has been written on the company and their philosophy. In the book is mentioned an interesting phenomenon called “The Bug List”. It is list of things that designers “see” around them in the world and are unhappy about. The inherent unhappiness drives them to seek better designs in the systems around them thereby continuously adding value to the society.

A typical observer, they say, would view a queue at a railway station ticket window and try to figure out how he/she can improve the process. An observer would view the flowing traffic outside the window of his house and wonder how to improve the traffic system, or how to reduce the burden on roads, or how to move to a more efficient public transport system etc.

I think every human can “see” the world in this new way. Every human can and must do justice their human-ness and strive to add more value to the society and the world. Only then we may deserve any bit of the pride that we associate with us being Humans.

The importance of being a practitioner

The world loves a practitioner. A highly generalized and perhaps grossly misplaced statement, some may say. What does the word “practitioner” convey? An instinctive answer to the question might be that a practitioner is the one who practices. Yes and No. A practitioner does practice but that’s all not what he does. A practitioner’s practice is characterized by the depth of his practice as much as the width of it. Confusing, is it?

Let us consider a few examples – Sachin Tendulkar, Ustad Zakir Hussain, Dr. Abdul Kalam, Naseeruddin Shah, Mahatma Gandhi, Lata Mangeshkar etc. What is common between all of these? Yes, they are all famous. But is there anything else? Let me provoke you a little more by adding to this the following persons – your favourite teacher at school, your most loved servant/subordinate, your favourite cook, and your biggest crush. Do you see anything common between them and the names that were listed earlier? Almost invariably one would find that all of them have been practitioners of one thing or the other.

Let us consider Sachin Tendulkar’s example. He spends hours at the nets practicing on his batting skills, but he does not stop himself there. He invests equal if not more amount of time and effort into studying the nuances of the game, studying various conditions that might affect a cricket game, study opponents’ game to learn their strategies, understand their psychology, and is continuously endeavouring to better himself and add more value to the team each and every time.

Ustad Zakir Hussain not only practices playing the Tabla but also spends considerable time understanding the fundamentals of percussions, the effect of various beats and tempos, the various effect that can be generated by combining Tabla with other instruments in a jugalbandi, understanding western concepts of music to enrich his knowledge of percussion and music.

My favourite cook, my grandmother, is perfect not because she has practiced the art of cooking over the years. It is because each and every time I find her trying to improvise, learn new recipes, modifying and experimenting with her own recipes to appeal to varying tastes and preferences of my cousins and me. She goes as far as to mix elements of different cuisines in order to enrich our eating experience every single time.

All three of them are practitioners. Their existence is not limited to practice and perfection of a simple task, but to practice and perfect the value that they intend to provide through that task. We love Sachin not because he has perfected the art of batting, but because he nearly every time plays to win the match for his team. We love Zakir Hussain not because he has perfected the art of playing Tabla, but because he nearly every time enthralls us with his performance. I love my grandmother not because she has perfected the art of making rasam or sambar, but because she has never failed to arouse the joy of having consumed delicious food.
We seek and adore practitioners in life. We respect them for their discipline, and we don’t feel shy of showering them with our affection and blessings. That’s why the most popular guys in schools or colleges are those that are “famous” for some quality of theirs. It could be from as sophisticated as a math wizard to something as inane as a champion of antakshari.

Yet not many of us consciously try to become practitioners in life. Practitioners are a rare phenomenon in our society. Somehow a majority of us have relegated ourselves to a life of mediocrity and have built a cocoon around us in the false assumption that life in the arms of mediocrity is simple and uneventful. Nothing can be farther from the truth.

A practitioner may not achieve stupendous success in an activity but a mediocre person is doomed to failure under all circumstances. A student who is a practitioner may not end up topping his classroom, but is likely to contribute more value to the society in terms of his job, his family, his knowledge, his skills etc. than someone who is not because practitioners are a rare and cherished commodity. Sooner or later the practitioner would find success and when success comes to him it will come in all its glory. What is more amazing that the practitioner thereafter won’t really have to work hard to sustain it. He just has to be himself. The mediocre on the other hand would almost always struggle to achieve any semblance of success which I am afraid would never come to him or, even if it does, would not stay with him for long.

A practitioner when asked to perform a task that does not match his passions will perform at 80-90% efficiency whereas a mediocre person would always function at 50-60% efficiency, his own passions notwithstanding. A practitioner however when asked to perform a task that matches his passion ends up working at 250% efficiency. In fact, the word “passion” implies a practitioner at the core of it. The key is “devotion”. Devotion to a value, a cause, as it were, compels a person to explore in more depth and breadth and helps him reach an elevated state of knowledge that others can only dream about. Thus it is not uncommon to find practitioners become “stars” of an organization, “icons” of a society, or “idols” for the masses.

There is indeed value in being a practitioner.

An example of the "scare"

Following up on this post of mine...

A sticker outside some auto-rickshaws in Mumbai

"Spitting causes TB. Stop spitting"

Ah! How I wish this campaign catches on and we are rid of the menace of spitting that is literally painting the country red.

Mistaken Identity

“Suniye Bhaiya! Ye kitne ka hai?”

How many of us have used this line in our daily lives! Whether in the gift shop, the Big Bazaar, the subzi mandi, the saree shop, the sweet shop or any such place, we have often witnessed ourselves putting forth this inane query to a helpless, pitiful, weakling of the human species.

The language, or the tone, or perhaps even the demeanour may change from one place to another but the inherent question remains the same.

I too am no different. I have abused this single sentence so many times that it by far must have become the most commonly spoken sentence across all languages in India.

What I hadn’t observed so far is the mental attitude that accompanied the seemingly innocuous question. Often, and I am discounting the lavish, affluent, up-market shops or showrooms, the attendant workforce in these shops is relatively looked down upon by me. Primarily because in my opinion they are not well-educated, many of them are basically foolish since they don’t understand simple things are almost always clueless, they are low on capabilities – zero sales skills and pretty much non-existent communication skills. The more mass-market the commercial establishment, the lower my opinion of the shop attendants.

Yeah yeah, you may raise your finger at me and call me a pompous swellhead with a giant ego, but at least I am honest enough to admit what I feel. It may be misplaced but to come to a point where I am at least aware of the subconscious thought process that guides my actions is in itself an achievement for me. So there!

Now, it is quite a shock to me when I am at the receiving end of the question in question. Yes, ME. Not once, not twice, but innumerable times while I would be loitering about an aisle in a supermarket or casually browsing through the contents in a shop when I would be posed this query by a stranger.

It hurts me. Really. Because it immediately tells me that I somehow surprisingly exhibit all those qualities that I have subconsciously ascribed to the lowly creatures of the shop-attendant kind. It hurts me to know that despite wearing a T-shirt that carries the unmistakable logo of the very famous “Well known Institute of Management in Western India” that I have had the privilege of studying in the stranger does not hesitate even for a second before proceeding to assume that I am one of “THEM”.

Well, it happened to me yet again yesterday and this time in a Big Bazaar, arguably the most mass-market commercial establishment. The perpetrators this time were not one, two, but three people in succession who came up to me and asked me the price of a stupid mosquito-annihilation device that resembled a tennis racquet. All this happened while I was in an insouciant manner practicing my forehand with one of the pieces on display.

My immediate reaction was to break their heads with the device, then throw them on the ground and jump on their chests until their hearts popped out which I would then tear apart with my bare hands. But I am by nature a non-violent person and my inherent passive disposition eventually prevailed over my instincts.

But I did learn an important lesson yesterday. No, it is not that my respect for the shop attendants has increased remarkably. I don’t suppose that is likely to happen very soon. What I learnt was far more important and perhaps more essential for a better life. A life where embarrassments would be less and occasions for placing our feet in the most unlikely place of our mouths would be rare.

The lesson: Always make sure that the person who you are going to ask the question in question is indeed a shop attendant. Look for a tag, a uniform, or any other identification. Else, at least wait for someone else to speak to the person before you do.

What if you don’t? Well, remember not everyone is of a passive disposition as I am. :-)

Just scare the hell out of them!

Indians are often criticized by many for their poor civic sense particularly hygiene and cleanliness. By who? Well, at the least the elite and the educated in India do. Well, at least those in the network of my acquaintance do. Oh well, at least I do. It is frequently mentioned, often to the point of inducing hatred towards India and the Indians, that we, the Indians, do not know, appreciate, or even understand the value of maintaining cleanliness, especially outside the walls of our residences.

I will not dispute any of these allegations and it would be imprudent if I were to try to even remotely justify the callous indifference with which we, the Indians, treat public areas. I will also not try to cleverly manipulate you into believing that the blame for this mess lies with the Government, the authorities, the ‘system’ (whatever that means!), and what have you. I will also not try to commence a lecture on the benefits of cleanliness because I believe that anyone who is capable of reading this blog has learnt all that was to be learnt about the benefits of cleanliness in the process of their schooling.

So what is this whole rant all about? First of all, I would advise you not to label all this output of words as a ‘rant’ and discard it outright. I don’t believe that repeating a problem statement sufficient number of times reveals the solution automatically. We need to think, apply our minds, or innovate to produce a solution to a problem. With this inspiring thought I now proceed to propose a method by which we, the Indians, can be ‘encouraged’ to be more responsible and considerate towards the notion of civic sense.

No, this article is not a discourse on another great revolutionary idea about education, morality, and global warming. Instead, this article is about ‘Fear’. Yes, the same fear that gripped our hearts, occupied our mindspace during the Y2K chaos. The same fear that now scares the hell out of us when we have to drink a glass of water at a roadside ‘thela’ selling delicious samosas. The same fear that advises people, especially women, to not travel alone late in the night in the city of Delhi.

Fear I believe has been, is, and would always be the biggest motivator for the mankind. Fear makes us do things that we would never do, or as a corollary, would make us not do things that we have always been doing. Fear is the key to a man’s mindspace. Get fear into a man’s mind and he will readily do whatever you ask him to do. A very common policy, I say, that is often employed by the politicians of this country to ‘motivate’ people to give the former their invaluable votes.

So how do we use ‘Fear’ to elevate the abysmal standards of civic sense? Consider the following scenarios.

a. A plastic bag supposedly containing garbage thrown on the roadside of a busy shopping area

b. An open garbage dump that has been in existence for years in the corner of a residential colony

c. A crumpled piece of paper lying on the corridor of a mall or a commercial complex

“What about them”, one may ask as one is often used to such a sight across the length and breadth of India. But imagine the above scenarios with the following modifications:

a. A plastic bag supposedly containing explosive material thrown on the roadside of a busy shopping area

b. An open garbage dump in a residential colony contains a bag full of explosive materials

c. A crumpled piece of paper lying on the corridor of a mall or a commercial complex contains anthrax or other such potentially dangerous bio-weapon

If the above modifications do not succeed in running a chill down your spine, then you are either well protected, or you are one of those who were looking for a new idea to strike terror and now have found one thanks to this blog.

It is not very difficult to see how our indifference to unattended garbage lying about can be taken advantage of very conveniently by the Terrorists.

However, imagine these scenarios in an imaginary India where an instance of unattended garbage lying about is rare, where the people and police are vigilant about those who recklessly throw about garbage in public areas. It would be extremely difficult for one to inconspicuously plant a bomb or such and get away.

The key, I reiterate, is Fear. The fear of being blown away by bombs I hope is potent enough to drive people to dispose off their garbage in a more organized and ‘safe’ manner. It is only a matter of using the Fear Factor the right way. Radical thought? Well, I said so.  :-)

Useful business tips from Gujjus

While in Ahmedabad the following are some of the business tips (or policies, if you will) that I found worthy of imbibing from the Gujjus. I am not sure if they themselves follow these principles or are even aware of it. :-)

1. Never ever let a single paisa go waste in business.
2. Trust is the single biggest reason why one would continue to do business with you. So build the trust and live up to it at every cost.
3. Customer is THE king. Treat him like one (I would have said 'her' but then it would have had to be 'Queen').
4. Be humble, patient, polite and calm. ALWAYS. Without fail.
5. When it comes to business, no amount of hard work is beneath one's dignity. Be ready to walk, dirty your shoes and hands if need be if that adds to your business.
6. Keep business and emotions separate. In your personal capacity, you may spend thousands to help your friend, but in business you make sure that he pays for your product/service.

This is not exhaustive but this is what I can think of from the top of my head.

Surprisingly, these things are NEVER spoken about in management education, or at least the one I underwent. Maybe, that's why Gujjus make excellent "entrepreneurs" while we make good "managers".

Food for thought?

If Homosexuality was indeed a genetic trait then shouldn't "natural selection" have caused it to vanish already?

Ummeed

maanaa toota mera dil hai
sooni dil ki mehfil hai
naamumkin nahi zindagi lekin
bhale thodi mushkil hai


maanaa nahi ghar-baar hai
thokarein bhi lagataar hain
naamumkin nahi thikaana jab
aashiyaana ye sansaar hai


maanaa nahi koi sang hai
na hi jeevan mein umang hai
naamumkin nahi khushiyan jab
gulon mein itne rang hain


fir jab pathreeli raah ho
gham mein doobi har aah ho
mai chalta rahu, badhta rahu
kyun mujhe dard ki parvaah ho

Scrubs

Of all the TV series that I have watched I find Scrubs to be the most unique of them all. It is about friendship just like "Friends", about doctors and hospitals just like "General Hospital", about confused relationships just like "How I met your mother". The humour is subtle and the stories beautifully woven around a typical drab life in a hospital.

But the most interesting aspect of this series which was hitherto unknown to me is its rich soundtrack. I have been listening to it for the last two days and I must say I am impressed by the sheer variety of music that the sountrack has to offer.

My two personal favourites - "Fighting for my love" by Nil Lara and "Hey Good Looking" by Hank Williams.

What are the odds?

Yes, it was such a freak coincidence that I had to note it down on my blog!

Feb 21, 2008, the first of our mid-term examinations and in the true IIMA tradition, an open-book examination. The professors here have a lot of faith in students' creativity especially when the latter do not know the answers. The open books therefore are a way to contain that overflowing creativity.

So there I was sitting nonchalantly, determined to survive the examination's assault, when the question papers were handed out to us. The first thing that hit me - no business cases - which is a good thing usually, except this time when four questions required us to refer to four business cases in our classroom study material, also known as the 'case-mat'.

It is then that it dawned upon me that I in my esteemed wisdom had completely ignored this eventuality, and had come to the exam hall sans the study material. Within no time, the hands went cold, the forehead inundated with sweat beads, and the heart racing so fast as if it would rather get out of my chest and be some place else where life was less cruel.

Now a reasonably hard-working student would not have got so worked up as a reasonably hard-working student would have cared to study those cases, or at least paid attention when they were being discussed in class. But, as it happens, God has gifted me with almost every good quality in this world except the gift of "reasonable hard-work".

So in some sort of desperation, and perhaps driven by my undying spirit of optimism that help would arrive from somewhere, I turned around to my friend, Rohin Thampi, and in a tone with so much melancholy that it would have made tragedy king, Dilip Kumar look like the comedian, Johnny Lever, I mentioned my plight.

Rohin, on his part, gave me a smile which I thought was totally uncalled for, especially when my future was in doldrums. I had just begun to muster enough anger within myself to give him a piece of my mind when, lo and behold, he took out an extra case-mat from his bag and handed it to me.

I gawked at him. Words did not come to me and had it not been for the pressure of examination which had long since started, I would have probably stood up and delivered an emotional speech filled with gratitude and other such assorted emotions.

Imagine 280 students, spread over 9 classrooms, and one of them happened to have an extra case-mat borrowed from a senior, and he happened to sit in my classroom right behind me. Heck, if he was sitting anywhere else even in the same classroom, I would not have survived!

And what in the world was he doing with two case-mats when one itself is a huge burden on mankind? It so happened that on the previous day, he could not find his case-mat, so he presumed that he had lost it and, therefore, borrowed a copy from one of our seniors. As (my) luck would have it, just as he was entering the exam hall this day, one of his friends who happened to have his book, ran up to him and returned his book; thus leaving him with two copies.

Who said miracles don't happen? :) God does exist and (S)he likes me. Thank you, God! :D

ps: The previous day, my fortune in Orkut had said - "Good luck would come to you soon." Ha ha.

bhramar

ek anjaan bageeche mein
pagal bhramar bhraman karta
milan sundar kali ka ho
bas yahi aas kshan kshan karta


youvan pankh umang sahit
us premi ne udaan bhari
har ang ang khila phoolon ka
khil khil kar muskaan bhari


aalingan par un pushpon ka
na uske man ko tha bhaaya
prem-vash tha vivash bhramar ke
dil mein ik sundar kaaya


madmast bhramar vo man mera
tarase hai prem kali paavan
rang bhar de sundarta jiski
mohit kar de mera jeevan

Truth.

Can someone give me one example of Truth given the definition below?

Truth is infallible.
Truth is immutable.
Truth is permanent.
Truth is one.

what drives you?

Why do certain people relish solving tough problems and coming up trumps with a solution?

Why do certain people take up seemingly impossible challenges to overcome them?

In any institute where one may have studied, there would be a few students who would be classified
as "brilliant", better than the rest, and would be expected to top every exam.

The others are happy and contented in their mediocrity, have either given up trying, or do not
harbour any intentions to put an extra effort.

Take one such "brilliant" student. She has always revelled in topping all exams. She believes that
she is bound to lead when it comes to academics; that she must always set an example before others.

This students is brimming with confidence, and as a logical progression to one's academic pursuit, lands
up in a renowned institute venerated for its quality of education and what not.

Here, the student finds herself among many other brilliant students coming from different backgrounds.

Suddenly, she finds she is no longer one of the privileged ones. She is not who everyone looks upto.
Heck, she is finding it difficult to top her examinations and is consistenly outperformed by not one
but many of her counterparts.

She starts losing confidence in herself and starts doubting her very abilities.

An institue is a place where students come to learn, build up confidence to go out and face the world.

If a student who was full of confidence comes to this institute, loses it completely, and starts doubting
one's abilities, then is the institute not actually doing a disservice? :-)

Another year...

I am 27 today. :-)

God help us..

What must he (name withheld) do?

He sees a girl and develops a strong crush for her. He develops a strong crush for her because she reminds him of a girl he hates. He hates that girl because he deeply loves her. He deeply loves her but doesn't feel ready to commit. He doesn't feel ready to commit because she hates him. Interestingly, she hates him because she deeply loves him. He doesn't feel he is capable of doing justice to "being in love". To sum it up, he is getting attracted to a girl he doesn't love. :)

Any suggestions?

ps: I couldn't think of any thing to suggest him, except maybe,... in fact,... I couldn't suggest anything.

pps: If fate does bring her to this blog one day, "He deeply loves the girl he hates and would want to spend the rest of his life with the girl he can not commit to." :D

purity

Purity of mind, purity in thoughts, purity in actions. - can a human being ever be without violating any of these?

possible candidates -

saints, priests, teachers, mothers.

but we must remember that each of these are driven by a deep and powerful selfish interest...

...and an individual plays more than one role in his/her life.



ps: Never betray LOVE.


pps: If you do, never betray it.

Life

As life got busier and busier,
the time cruised by,
and now I try to catch some moments,
some memories flashing by.

undeterred and adamant,
the stream flows on,
how I wish could stop it,
halt it, but it goes on.

and soon would go the moments
that I would have loved to cherish
those flowers fragrant, the rivers tranquil,
those wonderful relations that I relish.

As I stand at the end of the road
looking back, I say to myself,
the end that I had ran to never did exist,
that the end was in the journey itself.

Foreign Affair

Ashok Babu true to his middle-class nature believed in the superiority of everything foreign or imported. His abode in Kalyani Nagar comprised of an eclectic collection of items procured from places as diverse as Timbuktu and Tokyo. An American Television, a Swiss watch, and a Japanese tape recorder were some of his prized possessions. He assumed an air of pride bordering on arrogance among other residents of Kalyani Nagar. Lately, he had been advised some physical exercise by his doctor and he perceived this as an opportunity to procure yet another foreign-made item to enhance his relative status in the society. With this pleasant thought in mind, he proceeded to the bicycle shop at the marketplace nearby. With an air of hauteur possessed usually by the kings of bygone eras, he summoned the shop owner and ordered,

"Show me the best bicycle that you have."

The shop-owner obliged like an obedient servant and led him to a section of the shop that had more bicycles than people around that conveyed obviously to Ashok Babu that the place displayed bicycles worth more than the general affordability of the more common populace. He beamed an egotistic smile. He could have patted his back with his own hands if only they could venture beyond the circumference of his prosperous belly.

"I want only a foreign-made bicycle. These Indian-made ones are cheap and are of an inferior quality. If you have any foreign-made bicycles then show them to me else don't waste my time", he said emphatically.

"We have the best in the world, Sir. Don't you worry at all. I will show you the best and nothing but the best bicycles."

"But they are foreign-made, aren't they?"

"Yes, of course, Sir. None of them have even a part that is manufactured in India."

Ashok Babu was visibly pleased with the answer and with an appreciative eye began inspecting the exhibits in the order of increasing price. For each product that he eyed, the shop-owner embarked on a rote-learned recitation of its qualities and features that entitled the bicycle to be deemed as the best in the world. Finally, Ashok Babu stopped next to the most expensive bicycle and scrutinized it with the kind of perspicacity that is usually possessed by women purchasing vegetables in the market.

The shop-owner having perceived Ashok Babu's affirmative glances began enumerating all the qualities of the bicycle and in the process rattled off the names of all the countries where each part of the bicycle was manufactured.

Pleased with the description, Ashok Babu decided to purchase it immediately.

"That will be 5000 rupees, Sir!"

The amount sounded exorbitant to Ashok Babu and he almost as quickly decided to label the doctor a quack and consult another one who could instead prescribe him a magic pill than advise exercise, but the delicious opportunity of stamping his superior status on his neighbours and witness their faces painted with jealousy and envy prevented him from doing so and he fished into his pocket and brought out a bundle of notes, counted the required amount, and handed over the money to the shop-owner.

"It better be worth all the money."

"Sure sir, it is. As an additional security measure, I would suggest you to purchase a lock for the bicycle. I have some in my shop if you are interested."

"Well, that is a good idea. Are the locks too imported?"

"Er, no Sir. They aren't. Unfortunately, we have only Indian locks."

An Indian lock on an imported bicycle! Almost outrightly Ashok babu rejected the idea. His bicycle deserved nothing less than a swiss lock. What a matter of shame it would be for him otherwise! He rejected the shop-owner's suggestion and admonished him for even suggesting so.

Visibly bloated with happiness and pride over his latest purchase, Ashok Babu emerged out of the cycle shop dragging along his brand new bicycle alongside him. He decided to celebrate this joyous occasion at Guptaji's shop – his favourite sweet shop in the middle of the busy market place of Kalyani Nagar – by feasting on a kilo or two of delicious Jalebis.

Guptaji received him with customary graciousness reserved for his most special customers. Even before being asked, Ashok Babu announced his latest achievement to the motley group of people around the shop and went about his business of gorging on the choicest sweets the shop had to offer.

Contented and satisfied, Ashok Babu decided to go home and after having paid the bill, came out of the shop, and, as he had done in the past, promptly called for a taxi and went home.

It is only when he was smugly reminiscing about the day's events that it struck him that he had left the bicycle outside Guptaji's shop. Not that people of Kalyani Nagar were notorious kleptomaniacs. However, it would be imprudent to believe that an expensive item such as his bicycle would not draw the attention of, or indeed tempt an honest man into immoralilty.

The sudden prospect of losing his prized possession instilled into him a briskness and a religious zeal that had long been not witnessed in his demeanour. He shot off towards Guptaji's shop with a prayer on his lips. He promised himself that if he found his bicycle he would immediately visit the temple on the outskirts of Kalyani Nagar and offer generous oblations.

Soon enough, he was at Guptaji's shop huffing and puffing and catching on his breath. There, outside the shop, in the golden light of the setting sun, his bicycle shone like a magnificent piece carved out in gold. Never had he felt the enormous elation he felt in his heart then. If he could, he would have jumped in joy but the sheer gravity acting on him kept his feet planted firmly on the ground.

He hugged his bicycle like a mother who hugs her long-separated child. He held the bicycle in his hands and began dragging it along. As promised, he decided to visit the temple and express his gratitude to the Gods for protecting his beloved bicycle. He laboured all the way to the outskirts of the town where the temple was situated.

He parked his bicycle outside the temple and went in. True to his words, he offered a generous donation of a hundred and one rupees – an auspicious amount - to the temple and profusely thanked the Gods.

His heart light with happiness and joy, Ashok Babu emeged out of the temple, wore his shoes and walked towards where his bicycle was parked. Only this time, the bicycle wasn't there.

War and Ego

If there is one phenomenon that the entire Human history is ridden with, then it is definitely War. Just open a book of History and randomly run your finger to any one page and you would most likely find a reference to a war. Numerous reasons are given for a war - battle for truth, battle for good, battle for Gods etc. A lot of consequences have also been elaborated - destruction, gloom, poverty, diseases etc.

But what sustains a war?; why the parties involved in a war want to continue to wage it despite knowing its consequences all too well? How many times have we heard people say that they would rather not have a war but they can't help it. What does one mean by "cannot help it" ? Is it really true that they are helpless or is it that they do not want to help themselves?

One factor that I seem to notice in all these conflicts is a strong presence of EGO. War is an excellent exercise in fuelling one's EGO. Taking initiative to broke peace is perceived to be a sign of weakness in the party offering truce. Alternately, if a party that has had an upper hand suddenly offers peace to its opponent, it is taken as a sign of humiliation by the opponent; all the more reason for him/her to continue to wage the war and not accept the peace offer.

After the war has run for a prolonged time, if the two parties involved do decide to sit down and fashion a peaceful solution to the problem, neither of the sides is willing to compromise on its stand. The sheer cost, effort and time that has been expended on waging the war prohibits any compromise, otherwise it might make the warring parties look like fools for having waged a war on something that could have been solved by a dialogue and compromise. The EGO yet again comes into play.

One may find such similarities in a discord that emerges between a husband and a wife, or between two siblings, or between two lovers. None of the parties is happy being in the discord and would want to resolve the issue amicably and live happily with each other. However, their respective EGOs would prevent them from taking the first step towards a resolution lest they are perceived to be the weaker party and are seen willing to compromise - something which the other might take advantage of to further his/her opinion or position. Hence the deadlock continues and a relation that should have blossomed happily continues to sour to its destruction.

That is why it is often said that the most precious word in a relationship is SORRY. This word not only immediately assuages the EGO of the opponent almost instantaneously but also gives us an opportunity to look within ourselves to see if the mistake, or part thereof, does lie with us. If both parties follow this principle, then the relationship never ever faces an EGO clash as both parties would look forward to a compromise almost as soon as a conflict or a contentious issue rears its head.

Maybe, there is an equivalent of SORRY word in WAR too. Everytime, a discord emerges that could be a potential cause for a war, the two parties must utter the "SORRY" word and sit down and formulate a compromise solution. Maybe then we would be able to maintain peace and happiness in the world.

It's official!

अभी की ऐश २० अप्रैल को होगी।

:-)

Marriage

My heart racing fast

sweat on my forehead

My ears were oblivious

to what was being said.







I stood there stupefied

wondering what to do

what state of madness

this situation brought me to.







The nerves were a wreck

I wanted to run far away

I could not bear the burden

of responsibilities coming my way







Then she appeared before me

all demure and shy

A subdued smile on her lips

probably a tear in her eye







Her beauty was enchanting

and my heart skipped a beat

Her lips so full of life

her voice so sweet.







And suddenly the world changed

and I did not want to run away

I wanted to hold her, kiss her

and make love to her all day.







I could not live without her

that I came to know for sure

I could take on the world if she was with me

and suddenly I wasn't afraid any more.

Talk on dear...

Scene 1

The team is in a resort having fun its own ways - in the pool, at the snooker table, badminton court etc.
All except one who has received a call on his phone and is sitting in a corner and has been talking
for over two hours now..


Scene 2

With the exhaustion evident on his face, eyes red, and sleep lingering on his eyes, the man enters the office.
I inquire of the reason of his state. "Had been on the phone till late in the morning..."


Scene 3

The sun sets, night descends and most of the private rooms in office are occupied - not to attend conference calls - but by many men to indulge in separate private tete-a-tete that can run from anywhere between 2 to 5 hours.


What is it about "engaged" couples that makes them want to talk so much over phone night after night after night? If it was one or two then I would have been inclined to believe that it was only an aberration, but the more men I see getting engaged the more I see them hanging on to the phones involved in long conversations with their counterparts. I am led to believe that maybe there is something intrinsically wrong with me that I find the idea of being on the phone for so long night after night a very frightening, annoying, and a very stressful exercise.

Take the example of the poor man in scene 1. He was on an outing enjoying with his friends and would have probably liked to spend the time (at least I would have loved to) mucking about in the pool with the rest of his friends, or indulge in a game of tennis or badminton. Certainly, these are not activities that one has access to on normal days and the very fact that one has to spend the time meant to be spent with one's friends talking to one's fiance on the phone while the rest of the gang enjoys seems to be a little cruel on the poor chap.

It is a wonder what and how much content could there be to talk about everyday for hours on. Even if I concede that a new couple has a lot of things to share, I cannot imagine that the corpus of information is not exhausted within a month of daily talkathons. What after that? I am sure even an account of the day's activities cannot merit
two-three hours of elaboration.

A lot of guys I know do not enjoy such long conversations - they take part in such conversations only because the other half wants them to - and they play along with the, pardon me for the use of the word, ordeal day after day. Some of them do try to justify that it is essential that a couple talks or communicates so much to lay solid foundation for a long lasting relationship. Does that mean if a guy does not have the financial means to foot the resulting telephone bill then he is doomed in his relationships with the woman he loves? By this logic, the couple in my previous generation should not have stayed together for as long as they have now. Clearly, there is a flaw in that logic. My parents are now married for over 27 years and (touchwood) still seem to going as strong as ever.

So, what is the logic behind this madness of talking over phone? What recourse does a guy who does not like have long conversations over phone have? Does he go and tell the girl that they should limit their conversations to 30 to 60 minutes everyday? "Suicide" is how some of my friends describe such a situation. In a way, there seems to be some justification for the girls' eagerness to spend some talking to their loved ones especially if they see most of their friends bragging about the duration of their romantic conversations the next day. It would naturally make any girl doubt the intensity or sincerity of their fiances' love. Funnily, the duration of phone conversations has become a direct measure of a couple's love in this telecommunication age.

Currently I do not seem to find any solution to this nagging problem and unless girls start talking less, or I change, there seems to be no light at the end of this tunnel. Maybe I am doomed. "18 till I die", someone said. In my case, it probably will be "18 and single till I die".

night out song.

neend aa rahi hai
mujhe neend aa rahi hai
neend aane se
thak jaane se
ubaasi aa rahi hai

1)
kal bhi mai na soya
aur aaj bhi so na paaunga
office mein rahoonga
ghar wapas ja na paaunga

night out maar.un
kaam se haar.un
udaasi chaa rahi hai

2)
naukari karte karte
mai to sona hi bhool gaya
ab aise din beete
khaana peena bhi bhool gaya

dil behlaa.un
aur samajhaau.n
kamaai to aa rahi hai

Blind love

Life is funny in that it can make one realize what a wonderful gift it is in very many subtle ways just when you think you could have had it better. For the last few months near the place where I live I have noticed a number of people happily walking all the way to their place of work in the morning and then walk back home in the evening, stopping at the small temple at the road side and reciting a small prayer with a head bowed in reverence and devotion. Everyday, they walk alone, and most importantly happily, with a smile on their faces and carry out this routine with what I perceive to be a deep-seated gratitude in their hearts towards God for having given them such a wonderful gift of Life.

And today, once again, another couple of people made me realize the futility or irrationaliy, unreasonableness, or, if I may dare say, foolishness of our tendency to carp about our lives. The couple had a beautiful baby girl in their arms, the husband was ready to leave for his office but had probably taken some time out just take his beautiful daughter for that precious morning stroll that every child eagerly looks forward to with its father just when he is leaving for office. There was so much love between them that it touched a chord.

So what is special about these people? What makes them different from other such people and couples?

Just one thing - they are all blind.


ps: "Happiness is only a state of mind"

How convenient.

At first the man was happy. He ate, slept and
occasionaly indulged in copulation.

Till he realized life was very inconvenient having to walk all the way everytime an ice age occurs.
Also, the coldness of ice wasn't helping either.

So one day the man suddenly created the wheel.
Then he accidently created fire.

Then he figured he was taking too much time travelling between his hunting ground and his home-cave, so he created a cart using the wheels to make his life more convenient.

Then he figured he needed something to push it, so he decided to yoke horses to his cart.

Once he could save some time travelling, his wife decided to put the spare time to better use by shopping.

Gradually, the list of items to shop grew longer and soon there were more things to shop and less time.

So he built an engine to replace his horses.

The engine required fuel. So he created mines to mine the fuel.

Soon other men decided they too wanted one of these fast moving things so they asked our man to make some more.

So the man now set up factories to produce more vehicles.

As the demand grew, the man decided to make things more
convenient by building machines that would build carts.

Someone else in the meantime decided to build his own
cart.

Soon there were a lot of carts and no fuel.

So the man decided to dig deeper in the ground for the fuel.

When he could find none, he decided to find it elsewhere.

Soon there were a lot of men digging deep elsewhere.

Gradually, no more elsewheres could be found.

In the meantime, the man realized that his cart ride was very bumpy.

So to make his ride more comfortable, he decided to build roads.

But the roads would be spoiled by rains.

So he decided to use up some of his fuel to build tar roads.

Now that the roads were better, other men wanted to travel farther and wider.

So more roads needed to be built.

Soon, a lot of fuel was being burnt so that more fuel could be burnt.

And then again, there wasn't much fuel remaining.

So man decided to snatch someone else's fuel.

This led to physical combats.

To gain advantage, man built weapons.

Other men built better weapons.

Soon men were creating more weapons than men.

So more machines were required to build more weapons.

More weapons meant more machines that meant more fuel that meant more weapons that meant more machines.. and er.. one gets the point.

And now, man is happy how convenient his life has become.

When the dawn breaks
the sun shines down
the wall of brightness
brings the darkness down


But I feel empty
that something is absent
I wonder why am not happy
in that wonderful moment


It was I who broke away
It was I who dismissed you
Is it strange that now I wonder
Is it strange that I miss you

I am a jerk! If only I could go back in time...

Another year.

I am 26 today. :-)

Naiharva

Yup - this song is creating ripples through the country through the bewitching voice of Kailash Kher in his new album, Kailasa. Not many however do understand the lyrics. Neither did I until I really paid attention to them and until I heavily used the services of Sergey's and Larry's enterprise.

If one thought the song was beautiful, the lyrics are divine, and I mean it in the true sense. Originally expressed by Kabir, the words come out with all the knowledge and wisdom of the world that one has come to associate Kabir with. Here is the reproduction of lyrics and meanings (literal and interpreted) of this beautiful song - Naiharva. Some more pearls can be obtained HERE .




Naiharva Hum Ka Na Bhave
Sai Ki Nagri Param Ati Sundar,
Jahan Koi Jav Na Avey
Chand Suraj Jahan, Pavan Na Pani,
Ko Sundesh Pahunchave
Dard Yeh Sai Ko Sunave
Agey Chalo Panth Nahin Sujhe,
Peeche Dosh Lagawe
Kehi Bidhi Sasure Jau Mori Sajani,
Virha Jor Jarawe
Vishai Ras Nach Nachawe
Bin Satguru Apno Nahin Koi,
Jo Yeh Rah Batawe
Kahat Kabira Suno Bhai Sadho,
Supne Na Peetam Awey
Tapan Yeh Jiya Ki Bujhawey


Meanings of selected words -
Naiharva - Wife's house (or, Mayka in Hindi)
Sai - Beloved (or, Husband)
Panth - Way
Bidhi - Method, scheme, way.
Virha - Separation
Satguru - Holy Teacher
Tapan - Fire
Jiya - Heart



Literal Translation
I Don’t Find any Interest in My Parent’s House
My Beloved’s Town is Most Beautiful
However, Nobody Goes or Comes from There
There is no Moon, Sun, Wind or Water There
Then Who Will Take My Message There?
Then Who Will Tell My Pain to My Beloved?

There is No Visible Path to Move Forward
And You Blame the Past for It
How Should the Bride go to the House of the Beloved?
Powerful Pangs of Separation are Burning from Inside
Dual Reality is Fashioning a Dance to Its Tune

There is None Other Than the Guru Who is Mine Who Can Tell the Way
Says Kabir Listen oh Aspirant
Your Beloved Will Come in a Dream-like State
That Alone Will Quench the Thirst of your Heart



Philosophical Interpretation
n this song Kabir portrays himself like a bride who has gone to her parents house. But having gone there her soul burns from the pangs of separation from her beloved. The bride’s trouble is further complicated because there are no messengers (such as the Sun, Moon, Wind or Water) who can reach and convey her message to the beloved. She has no path or way to solve this problem. Meanwhile the separation is killing her from inside.

Kabir, in his mystical way, is comparing the separation of the individual from the universal self like that of a bride from her beloved. He explains that this insatiable thirst comes from the feeling of separation whose root lies in duality.

He then explains that the only person who can help out of this problem is the Guru. In his final parting signature note, Kabir reveals that the way to reach the beloved is not outside but Inside (similar to a dream-like state) which alone will satisfy the seemingly unending burning thirst.

Decision Taken

Not going.

A tough decision

This piece of news may not be known to most of you (I am assuming there are at least 5 readers of this blog besides me) - I have got a call for admission from IIM Lucknow for PGP starting this June. I have to send them a reply by the 26th of May. I have decided NOT TO GO. Unfortunately, the story does not end here. I am in such a pitiable state of confusion that I am zero confident of this decision. It has apparently not made my parents very happy and has left some of relatives baffled and I don't have any concrete reasons for the same.

So, here is my request to all my friends who care about me a bit - please give me convincing reasons one way or the other on why I should or should not go for this course. I have only today to make the decision. Tomorrow is the last day on which I could send a draft in case I am convinced to take up the course. I hope you guys will come out and help me.

Ah! Who can forget this?

"E lo kar lo baat. Are babuji aisi english ave that I can leave angrej behind. You see sir, I can talk english, I can walk english I can laugh english because english is a phunny language. Bhairon become baron and baron become Bhairon because their minds are very narrow. In the year 19 hundred and 29 sir, when India was playing against Australia in Melbourne city, Vijay Merchant and Vijay Hazare they were at the crease and Vijay Merchant told Vijay Hazare, look Vijay Hazare, this is a very prestigious match and you must consider this match very carefully. So considering the consideration that Vijay Hazare gave Vijay Merchant, Vijay Merchant told Vijay Hazare that ultimately we must take a run and when they were striking the ball on the left side sir, the consideration became into an ultimatum and ultimately Vijay Hazare went to Vijay Merchant and said...

- (Ranjit says) oh shut up -

Similarly Sir, In the year 19 hundred and 79 when India was playing against Pakistan in Wankhade stadium Bombay, Wasim Raja and Wasim Bari they were at the crease and Wasim Bari gave the same consideration to Wasim Raja and Wasim Raja told Wasim Bari look sir, this ultimately has to end in a consideration which I cannot consider. Therefore, the consideration that you are giving me must be considered very ultimately. Therefore, the run they were taking, Wasim Raja told Wasim Bari, Wasim Bari you take a run and ultimately both of them ran and considerately they got out."

ab kis se kahe.n hum apne dil ka fasaanaa
jab khuda hi nahi sunta to kya sunega zamaanaa

Proud and Loud declaration, a strong reprimand, an unexpected
rejection, and a tame denial.

All along in this drama, one thing became clearer - politicians are
not interested in the welfare of the society; to them the single most
important thing is the votes that would keep them in power.

Arjun Singh, notorious that he has been, once again played the crudest
form of a political gimmick that has eaten into the social fabric of
our country and in an attempt to be the messiah of the underprivileged
pushed the country further into a future of social disharmony and
intellectual incapacity.

With all due respect to Dr. Ambedkar who himself realized the
long-term implications of the reservation system, I do feel sad to
note that he inadvertently set a vicious cycle into motion that is not
only becoming difficult to end but also in the manner of a snowball
increasingly growing into being a major cause of social conflicts in
the country.

I have often mused over possible solutions to the very problem that
the policy of reservations seeks to address, that is, the problems of
inequality of social opportunities and an end to discrimination. None of
the solutions that seemed most intuitive to me indicated that the best
solution to tackle a form of discrimination is to reverse its
direction.

Creating awareness about the problem is one step, but utilising it to
cause further divide in the minds of the general populace is criminal.
If indulging in activity that harms the integrity and unity of our
country is a crime, then it is my firm belief that the propagators of
the reservation policy must be put behind bars and, in ideal cases,
hanged to death.

I as a citizen of this country strongly believe against
discrimination. I believe that all of us must be given equal social
opportunities in life and career. If there is one among us who is
unable to gain access to the opportunities due to constraints of money
or education or social stigma, then we must address the issues so that
the constraints are eliminated but the equality of opportunities is
not disturbed.

If a government is not able to address these issues and instead
indulges in encouraging the flames of discrimination among its own
countrymen, then such a government must not exist.

You can visit the following sites

http://iitiimres.blogspot.com
http://www.petitiononline.com/No_Quota/petition.html

To Hell

is all we would go towards.

Heard in a hindi-dubbed version of Vertical Limit -
"Jews kehte hain ki Jesus ko maanoge to nark mein jaaoge.
Isaaii kehte hain ki Jesus ko nahi maanoge to nark mein jaaoge.
Catholic kehte hain ki Pope ko nahi maanoge to nark mein jaaoge.
Matlab, kuch bhi ho, mujhe to nark mein hi jaana hai."

Well, the writer could included some more of world's religions. Alas,
he/she chose only two/three.

Isn't it strange that one who - saves our lives while we are hanging
precariously over a cliff, lends us a helping hand in our
times of extreme needs, lives a life of kindness and compassion
towards all - WILL go to HELL only because he doesn't happen to belong to
the faith we deem as right?

Sounds ridiculous, right? Yet, why is it so goddamm difficult for people
to understand? Why?

I am really really really upset today.

Kitna Badal Gaya Insaan.

It is funny how easily 'tolerance' is mistaken to be 'submission' to other's ideas. Indeed tolerance is defined by one's characteristic dislike of others which is marked by an overwhelming feeling of compassion that suppresses and to a great extent controls one's dislike from taking precedence over one's thoughts.

Yet, to us, it must always be clear that tolerance of our actions and thoughts does not indicate our acceptance and certainly not appreciation. It therefore becomes important for us to ensure that our actions and views remain right where they exist - on the boundary between others' compassion and dislike.

Obviously, it will be extremely difficult for us to cross over to others' territory of compassion entirely because that would entail shedding our beliefs and accepting theirs, but we should not take the tolerance of others for granted and try to push back their boundaries of dislike further, for that would result in fierce retaliation and redefinition of the boundaries more in favour of the feeling of dislike and, in extreme cases, obliteration of the other.


ps: Goa witnesses its first communal riot.


pps:
duusro.n ka dukhadaa duur karne waale'
tere dukh door karenge Ram!
kiye' jaa tu jag mei.n bhalaaii kaa kaam
tere dukh door karenge Ram!

Simple, enchanting, honest philosophy. I wish everyone followed this.

Douglas Adams

Something inside me compelled me to dedicate at least one blog entry to the second greatest humourist I have encountered in my literary expeditions. (The first one is PG Wodehouse to who I will probably dedicate an entire blog someday. But that, I guess, is already done by many).

I cannot even in my entire linguistic capabilities elaborate on the kind of humour that Douglas Adams deals with.

Go read "The Ultimate Hitchhikers' Guide to the Galaxy" if you haven't already. :-)

p.s. - "All it takes to fly is to hurl yourself at the ground... and miss."

:-)

From the internet when I was trying to gather some Perls of wisdom.

http://www.comp.leeds.ac.uk/Perl/Misc/electricity.txt

It was originally posted by David O'Brien in in Leed's University's CS Dept's local news system. (at least, that's what I gathered from the page that had this link!)

ps: In case there are non-computer geeks reading this, that misspelling of 'Perl' was deliberate. :-)



-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is a dissertation on physical science for your enlightenment.
I don't know where it came from so it must be true!

[ Update: This appears to have come from Dave Barry, and the same text
can be found as:

http://www.uk.research.att.com/~fms/electricity.html
http://rachel.albany.edu/~jc9334/barry1.html

and many other places on the web. I'd check with Dave, but he
doesn't respond to email any more (and life's too short for snail
mail) ]
.....................................................................


Today's scientific question is: What in the world is electricity and
where does it go after it leaves the toaster?

Here is a simple experiment that will teach you an important
electrical lesson: On a cool dry day, scuff your feet along a carpet,
then reach your hand into a friend's mouth and touch one of his dental
fillings. Did you notice how your friend twitched violently and cried
out in pain? This teaches one that electricity can be a very powerful
force, but we must never use it to hurt others unless we need to learn
an important lesson about electricity.

It also illustrates how an electrical circuit works. When you scuffed
your feet, you picked up batches of "electrons", which are very small
objects that carpet manufacturers weave into carpet so that they will
attract dirt. The electrons travel through your bloodstream and
collect in your finger, where they form a spark that leaps to your
friend's filling, then travel down to his feet and back into the
carpet, thus completing the circuit.

AMAZING ELECTRONIC FACT: If you scuffed your feet long enough without
touching anything, you would build up so many electrons that your
finger would explode! But this is nothing to worry about unless you
have carpeting.

Although we modern persons tend to take our electric lights, radios,
mixers, etc. for granted, hundreds of years ago people did not have
any of these things, which is just as well because there was no place
to plug them in. Then along came the first Electrical Pioneer,
Benjamin Franklin, who flew a kite in a lightning storm and received a
serious electrical shock. This proved that lightning was powered by
the same force as carpets, but it also damaged Franklin's brain so
severely that he started speaking only in incomprehensible maxims,
such as, "A penny saved is a penny earned." Eventually he had to be
given a job running the post office.

After Franklin came a herd of Electrical Pioneers whose names have
become part of our electrical terminology: Myron Volt, Mary Louise
Amp, James Watt, Bob Transformer, etc. These pioneers conducted many
important electrical experiments. Among them, Galvani discovered
(this is the truth) that when he attached two different kinds of metal
to the leg of a frog, an electrical current developed and the frog's
leg kicked, even though it was no longer attached to the frog, which
was dead anyway. Galvani's discovery led to enormous advances in the
field of amphibian medicine. Today, skilled veterinary surgeons can
take a frog that has been seriously injured or killed, implant pieces
of metal in its muscles, and watch it hop back into the pond --
almost.

But the greatest Electrical Pioneer of them all was Thomas Edison, who
was a brilliant inventor despite the fact that he had little formal
education and lived in New Jersey. Edison's first major invention in
1877 was the phonograph, which could soon be found in thousands of
American homes, where it basically sat until 1923, when the record was
invented. But Edison's greatest achievement came in 1879 when he
invented the electric company. Edison's design was a brilliant
adaptation of the simple electrical circuit: the electric company
sends electricity through a wire to a customer, then immediately gets
the electricity back through another wire, then (this is the brilliant
part) sends it right back to the customer again.

This means that an electric company can sell a customer the same batch
of electricity thousands of times a day and never get caught, since
very few customers take the time to examine their electricity closely.
In fact, the last year any new electricity was generated was 1937.

Today, thanks to men like Edison and Franklin, and frogs like
Galvani's, we receive almost unlimited benefits from electricity. For
example, in the past decade scientists have developed the laser, an
electronic appliance so powerful that it can vaporize a bulldozer 2000
yards away, yet so precise that doctors can use it to perform delicate
operations to the human eyeball, provided they remember to change the
power setting from "Bulldozer" to "Eyeball."

Weak example.

That is how I found Rang De Basanti! The concept to somehow merge two events in different times as one may be the first of its kind, but a good deed done in vain is worse than a bad deed.

WARNING: The plot is partly revealed below

There are a few things that did not convince me in the movie:

1. The reason - Yes, death of a loved one is very painful, but that leading them to justify killing of another man was not entirely convincing. In this respect, it was like any other Hindi movie of late 80s and early 90s when the HERO only needed a reason to take up and machine gun and go tat-tat-tat-tatting into the Villain's lair.

2. The method - Killing! Taking life of another person is a very extreme step; one that is taken as a last resort. The characters, and indeed the character of Flt Lt. Rathore whose death caused them to resort to the extreme step, exhort the youth to take up positions in IAS, IPS, politics to fight the system. Yet, they seem to conveniently forget this and take the easy way out.

3. The comparison - Likening a few disillusioned young boys to great freedom fighters like Bhagat Singh and co. was a little hard to swallow. They had a dream, had a passion, had a spirit which was solely channelled towards the freedom of their motherland and not to settle petty scores with individuals. The film ended up glorifying and equating disillusioned killing to patriotism and might influence the young to think that going about knocking out people/politicians/leaders/administrators who, I emphasize, 'they think are evil' is the right way to fight the system. The very idea is frightening!

All in all, it was way below mark when compared to movies like Swades and Yuva that had a very positive and constructive message to convey and were equally inspirational. I had goose-bumps for the entire duration while watching Yuva. Such was the impact of the movie.

In RDB, the only moments when I felt a surge of adrenaline was when Atul Kulkarni sang 'Sarfaroshi ki Tamanna' and when 'Jallianwala Bagh Massacre' was depicted.

Auspicious day coming

Feb 2, Vasant Panchami, is one of the most auspicious days in Hindu Calendar. It is so auspicious that a boy and a girl can get married on this day without any need to look for a muhurtham (an auspicious time). This is a day when there is no need to match Kundalis, Gotrams etc. Just the boy and the girl are enough to complete the marriage requirements.

Why am I publicising this information here? Well, one never knows how important such information may turn out to be for some people! :-)

Caste-ing doubts.

My recent trip to Rajasthan made me realize one thing - Caste is a fact that is so well entrenched in the minds of people that a person's introduction is incomplete without it having been mentioned. It is not just limited to a section of people but almost anyone who you get acquainted with pops this question to you with nonchalance that can unsettle anyone who is not comfortable with the idea of carrying that aspect of one's identity on one's sleeve. In my life, I have never had to answer the caste-question as many times as I did in my three day stay in Rajasthan.

The reason I am mentioning this is not malign the people of Rajasthan or their culture. By far, they have been the most hospitable people among all the places I have been to in my little life. I am mentioning this because despite belonging to a caste traditionally considered to be privileged I never had my caste identity in my consciousness until I reached IIT Bombay for my M.Tech. Throughout my childhood, either at home or in school, this equation was never brought into active thought or conversation except in some vague chapters of history books. Yet, to find children as young as five year olds who would have barely started uttering their first words coming and asking me my caste bewildered me.

Caste, I thought till not so long ago, plays a more secondary role in the Southern India gaining significance only in finding matches in arranged marriages. But after a house-hunting experience in Bangalore, I became wiser. "Sir, are you a veggie?" was a question that was hurled at me at regular intervals which I innocently answered everytime in affirmative. It was only after the twenty-fifth time in two days that I realized that "being a veggie" was a mild allusion to "being a brahmana". And I said to myself, "There you go again!"

Let alone we Hindus, I was amused and surprised to notice that Catholics in Goa follow the same Caste equations as Hindus and do not marry outside their castes! In fact, one of our ex-landlords had lent us our house only because we were "Brahmanas" and he was what he claimed to be a "Roman-Catholic-Brahmana". One only needs to look at the matrimonial columns of any local Goan newspaper to understand what I said.

All this has made me realize one thing - Caste is not something that can be done away with in our society. In fact, having castes is not a bad thing per se. It is the discrimination that must be checked. No society will ever be rid of castes/classes. In some it is "Brahmana-Kshatriya" equation, in some it follows "Believers/non-believers", in some it follows "comrade/non-comrade", whereas in some it might follow "white/non-white" pattern. There will be different types of people in a group and it is natural for them to form a clique. It is natural human tendency.

In short, Caste is here to stay. I just have to learn to live with the fact that people other than me will be interested in knowing this aspect of my identity.

Blog profiles

Its been a while since I was introduced to the blog world and in the same while I have also witnessed many of my friends getting initiated into blogging. It is in this 'while' that I have noticed certain patterns emerging in various blogs and it would be interesting to note if my observations are indeed accurate.

Aldrin - A blog for poets, lovers, romantics, artists, losers, Devdas', etc. Definitely not for sane people. One of my favourites.

Ashutosh - If all the comedians of this world were cursed to transform into a blog, they would have probably found themselves embellished in this blog. From crass to sophisiticated, to outright tear-my-hair-out kind, this blog is a sure remedy for someone feeling under the weather.

Rupesh - A site for geeks who seek truth of life not just in formulae but also in children, family, weather, I, you, me and practically everything conceivable. It is a reflection of a balanced mind that is neither influenced by inebriance of emotions nor ebullience of laughter.

Zoheb - There is something about this blog that makes people want to visit it often inspite of it lying unused for long durations of time. It could probably be attributed to the candidness of the content devoid of hypocrisy that makes it so pleasing to read.

Shyam - This is a secret blog never to be updated and never to be found out by anyone unless some idiot like me deliberately publicises it. Blurty Management is still hoping (in vain, I am sure) that the 10 Mega bytes of space that they have isolated for this user would one day be put to use. We too are waiting.

Billu - Well, there are some like Shyam who create blogs to create them, and there are some who create blogs to announce to the world that they have created one. Billu dear falls in the latter category. A blog was created for him (by someone else) on which he cared to post a couple of entries to inform the world that he knew how to blog. I am guessing that the next post on that blog will be the one announcing his marriage to his beloved.

Well, that's it. Maybe, someone will carry out more profiles of their friends' blogs for us to visit them and know more about them.

99.00

It is finally belled... don't ask me how. 'Tis a mystery to me too.

While ABC don't find me good enough, ILK do.

ps: the period of confustion ensues.

pps: please help

who has the answers?

1. Why does one who desperately wants something does not get it, but one who does not want it as much gets it anyway.

2. Why does the girl a guy falls in love with never loves him. If there is a girl who loves a guy, then why doesn't he find her attractive?

3. Why does a human being want to be remembered after his life?

4. Why are we afraid of darkness and death when they are as obvious as light and life?

5. How does a child learn to learn?

6. Is love an attribute cultivated or genetically encoded?

Any ideas?

Even geniuses need inspirations

From rediff - RD Burman's inspirations...



Tumse hai dil ko pyaar (Teesri Manzil): The Beatles' I wanna hold your hand


Mehbooba O mehbooba (Sholay): Demis Roussoss' Say you love me


O jabtak hai jaan (Sholay): Iranian singer Googoosh's The prelude of Jomeh


Tumse milke (Parinda): Leo Sayer's When I Need You


Milgaya hum ko sathi (Hum Kisise Kam Nahin): ABBA's Mamma Mia


Aao twist karein (Bhoot Bangla): Chubby Checker's Come lets twist


Sapna mera toot gaya (Khel Khel Mein) from Ennio Morricone's The story of a soldier (The Good, The Bad and The Ugly)


O Maria (Saagar): Opening line inspired by Paul McCartney and Wings' Mamunia


Aa dekhe zara (Rocky): Partly from Jeff Wayne's Eve of the war

What animal are you?

Well, according to this link

---

I am A: Monkey!

Monkeys are intelligent and agile, well-adapted for jungle life as they swing happily from tree to tree. As a monkey, you are a social animal who eats a wide range of food, is quick to learn new things and loves to climb. A monkey's tiny primate features are irresistable, as is his gregarious personality!

I was almost a: Pony or a Squirrel
I was least like a: Turtle or a GroundhogDiscover What Cute Animal You Are!

That feeling.. once more.

I know most of us have undergone this, and would experience it again and again. I am talking about home sickness. Those couple of days when you are with your parents and there is joy and laughter galore. You forget all the sadness (read office work) and spend the two days in total blissful happiness. But soon is the time for us or them to leave and as soon as we are away, there arises that feeling of emptyness, the loneliness, the sadness, the gloom, and you wish the happiness had persisted for some time. And then you find yourself sitting in front of the monitor with a mail from your project manager splashed across it exhorting you to work hard(er)...

Life sucks. I love home.

Home Delivery

After a long time, I have heard a *fun* song in Hindi.
Boman Irani's voice is amazing and so are the music and lyrics.
Kinda reminds you of Wild Wild West by Will Smith.

Makes me wanna go and watch the movie....

Here are the lyrics... Go have fun. :)

-----
delivery delivery .d d.d.d.
delivery delivery

aao suno ik taazaa kahaanee
baatein nayiin, na raajaa na raani
masti hai yaari hai, kuch bekaraari hai
thodi hasii hai, zaraa samajhdaari hai
khushiyaan hai gham bhi hai
tum bhi ho hum bhi hai
ye gaana hi nahi poora atom bam bhi hai

hello bolo kyaa chaahiye jo chaahiye mil jayega
bandaa khaanaa kyaa aapko ghar tak bhi pahuchaayegaa
hey...
hello bolo kyaa chaahiye jo chaahiye mil jaayegaa
bandaa khaanaa kyaa aapko ghar tak bhi pahuchaayegaa

home delivery d.d.d.d.d.d. delivery
home delivery d.d.d.d.d.d. delivery

pehle hamaaraa number le lo
do do teen teen char panch cheh saath aath nau
fir boliye, boliye
aapkaa order kyaa hai jii..
bas tees minute mein aapke ghar mein
yaa sab kuch freeeeeee

home delivery d.d.d.d.d.d. delivery
home delivery d.d.d.d.d.d. delivery

atak jaao tum kahin to
mujhe fauran bulaa lenaa
bhatak jaao raah se jo
to ye number ghumaa denaa
karnaa nahiiiiiiiiiiin koi fikar
mai aa gayaaaaaa tumko main pal mein kar dungaa...

home delivery d.d.d.d.d.d. delivery
home delivery d.d.d.d.d.d. delivery
-----

A modern marvel - My first sixer.

Marvel comics is a company that owns the rights to our friendly neighbourhood Spiderman comics. Superheroes like him are a source of inspiration in this world of circumambient amorality. Saturday was when another pukka superhero came into being. Now, pardon me if this note appears to be a little discursive in nature, but one dare not kvetch over this petty issue, as the accounts of this new superhero are riveting indeed. For beginners, here is a ukase that every attentive reader must follow - Never doubt a great writer's words. The morning was a pleasant one and I awoke in the usual pleasant frame of mind, full of brio, and ready to take on the world over a game of Cricket. Soon enough I was out of my dishabille and looking my usual handsome self in an attire that would have made Mr. James Bond very proud had he been a cricketer. Now would be a good time for me to asseverate that ever since I have come out of academic life I have taken a keen interest in some activities that I till not so long ago eschewed in all earnest. Bathing and washing clothes are a couple of them. Some nefarious elements in the society have indulged in agitprops against me focussing on my alleged unhygienic lifestyle, but as any astute reader's perspicacity would tell him, it is all a figment of one's imagination. Therefore, as I was saying, I was all geared up to take on the world and soon enough I found myself as target of a bowler who threw a ball with much celerity and who for some incomprehensible reason had taken a fancy to my head. I do not remember if it was the overcast sky or the speed of the projectile but I felt myself go purblind every time the ball left the bowler's palm. Indeed there wasn't a part of my body that wasn't tested for its strength in the first half hour of play. Blow after blow was followed by a loud appeal, importunate and insistent, only to be turned down by the umpire who too probably had gone purblind. My resolute stand soon wore the bowler off into diffidence and the seeds of self-doubt took root in his mind. It soon manifested itself out in a delivery which reluctantly came out his hand and travelled in a trajectory overwhelmed by gravity towards the centre of the pitch. I braced myself for a counter attack and with a rapid swing of the bat assailed the ball with all my might. The ball ventured heavenwards as a lovelorn would venture towards his inamorata, eyes of spectators and players alike following it minutely, and after what one might assume to be a considerable amount of time, the force of gravity took charge and the ball perforce started hurtling down the skyline, the cavalcade of eyeballs still in pursuit, until it came to rest on hedge a couple of meters away from where the boundary lay. It took a while for everyone as if they had witnessed a legerdemain and were too steeped in disbelief to react before the umpire raised his arms and the crowd erupted in what seemed to me a mellifluous roar of appreciation. Now it would be unreasonable for a polymath like me to sing paeans of my own accomplishments, but it would not be far from truth if one were to say it was probably a shot worth going a thousand miles to watch, yes even for a faineant like Shyamshankar , it would have been worth the effort.

ps: It was also the first time I scored a half century.

Irrelevant...

Now, I am not a voluble young man who likes to make an exhibition of my loquacity on topics that interest or annoy other lowly beings. Neither am I a taciturn uncommunicative bloke who considers the usage of verbal organs a perfunctory exercise to build and maintain acquaintances with the other samples of my species, talking of which reminds me that ants are probably the only species that can be considered to be omnipresent in the true sense - well, at least on land. They are everywhere, in the bathroom, in office, in my shoes, in my biscuit boxes, in kitchen sinks, and every other conceivable place one could think of. Not that I am complaining. They provide me a constant companionship everyday, day and night, in my forlorn existence. An existence of seriatim disappointments and anxieties further inflicted by the moral turpitude of autowallahs who charge double rates to take me home on any time of the day. These autowallahs must perenially be put on a strike. It helps the society if wickedness marries idleness. Both are moieties of Satanic descent. That day shall coruscate forever in my memory when Metro rail functions in full swing in this city. These functions are obviously different from the functions that I break my head on every day. A head which is full of vibrant creativity until I find myself in front of the monitor when the flow of thoughts reach a stasis. I must however hurry to establish the fact that I love my job before anyone raises his or her finger (hopefully, the one except the middle one) and brands me a bete noire. Raising a finger is an expression of communication in vogue since ancient times. Each finger representing a different state of mind - in the order from thumb to the li'l one - success, accusation, < censored >, showing off a ring, and emergencies of biological kinds. More varied emotions could be described with various combinations of these fingers. However, I am going shy away from describing them for want of time. No technology or innovations in communication could extirpate this perdurable communication marvel that are our fingers...

In public interest.

I got this mail today, so posting it here. I hope this helps people. Please do not fall for the crook who duped poor Abhaya and made him Abhaga.

-------------------------
Abhaya Agarwal wrote:
Hi all,

This is really embarrassing but also important. There is this who called me up under the name Shyam Sunder, claiming to be a passout of 1996 batch. He said he has been working in Sydney Australia and has come down to India to interview with some company in Chennai. His wallet has been picked up and he needs some help to get back to Bombay.

I was a little suspicious in the beginning so I asked for some identity proof. His ICICI account showed the name Shyam Sunder. On google, I found out that there indeed was a alumni named Shyam Sunder in 1996 batch. The page which showed his name didn't open (it timed out). So I fell for the bait and transferred money to the account. He promised to contact me back on reaching Bombay.

After I had made the transfer, I just out of curiosity again tried to load that page and lo ! Shyam Sunder from 1997 batch (MSc. Chem) actually died in 2002 from blood cancer !!. Details are on the 1996 webpage since he joined the institute along with them. Then I searched for that ICICI account number and found this:

http://m.1asphost.com/alumniuce/message.asp

This guy has been doing this for sometime now I guess. If only I would have searched for the account number first !! But please spread the info. Since he will definitely try to contact others also.

Is there some public place where this information can be posted so that it turns up quickly on google? I will put it up on my blog. Please do so on your blogs also. I am also going to file a complaint with ICICI Bank about the misusage of this account but I don't think much can be done on that front.

This whole episode has been quite disheartening !

Regards,
abhaga
-------------------------

Belling the CAT...

Finally, after much deliberation, I have decided to pursue all options that are open to me. CAT is one such option, and I have decided to go for it anyway. In the following days, I will try to write passages on my blog that will make no sense whatsoever to any sane mind, but would function as an exercise for me to put to use some new words that I will read in my course of preparation for the verbal ability. I do not know if that would help, but the blog was lying untouched, and so were the word-lists, and I could not think of a better way of combining them both towards a creative and useful purpose.

Update...

I am still seeking that elusive, mysterious, and seemingly unattainable thing called - love of a woman.

Waiting patiently.

Another year.

I am 25 today. :-)

Another one.

They say disappointments and failures in life make one stronger.

I just got stronger.

tagging along...

The don tagged me. So, here goes.

Number of books read: ~390 (maybe, more)

exclude comics: ~290

exclude school textbooks: ~190

exclude college textbooks: ~90

exclude childrens' classic: ~55

exclude boring books: ~53

exclude religious books: ~45

exclude technical papers: ~10

exclude other books: ~0


Last book I bought: Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events - book the fourth - The Miserable Mill.

Last book I read: Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events - book the fourth - The Miserable Mill.

Five books that I love:

1. The thorn birds
2. Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaban.
3. Mahabharata
4. Da Vinci Code
5. And then there were none.

and, as my audience is limited, i will try not to tag the same guy who tagged me. :-D So, here is the list of people I would like to tag.

1. Ashu Don
2. Pratibha

Some of the places I want to visit in my life

1. The Apex of Mount Everest
2. Manasarovar
3. Tibet.
4. Arunachal Pradesh
5. Switzerland.
6. Andes Mountains in Peru - The aztech civlization remains
7. The Grand Canyon
8. The Yangtze River especially the place where it makes a 180 degree turn.
9. Mount Fuji
10. North Pole and/or South Pole
11. My native place - again and again
12. Harappa and Mohenjodaro

Heck, I would want to visit every place in this world, but if given a choice, these will be the first I will want to go to.

moments of unease.

There have so many of them, the moments of unease caused by the embarassment that follows the realization of a careless word, or action, that I have lost count of them by now. The variety of of such incidents that have resulted in me squirming with unease and be red-faced are so comprehensive that I could, had I noted them down in a notebook or some such thing, have authored my own '1001 ways to embarass yourself' guide. Some of them have been caused by a careless word the consequences of which I had not had the maturity to think through, while there have been some that my dear friend Nitin aptly describes to be falling in the category of 'Kulhaadi pe pair maarnaa' which for the benefit of not-so-erudite-in-Hindi clan means 'throwing your leg on an axe-blade'. Yet, there are some that are enforced on me without my own consent and despite my vehement opposition to the same. I have tried to fight them off on many occasions, but before I could express my angst at one and say, 'What the ...', there pile up many more of them against my name. If one is wondering why am I suddenly initiated into memoirs of my embarassing moments, the answer is simple enough - it happened once again yesterday. And so embarassed I am, more so today, about the incident and that there seeming to be no escape from facing it, that all I could think of to bear it was to look at this in comparison to some others from the past and then try to it-could-have-been-worse myself. I have learnt to laugh at myself on such occasions, for without any sign of escape, there seem to be very little options than sit and laugh at myself and pretend to be brave about it.