I’ve been light and happy for way too long. It is beginning to get a little unnerving. It is almost like I’ve deserted my life’s script and got into somebody else’s. From being a grey bearded entity who takes off on long vacations and unplanned solo trips, I’ve transformed into someone who’d wear an ironed purple shirt with khakhis, and drive with his wife for a distant relative’s shashtiapthapoorthi. Thankfully, the ironed purple shirt is still from Khadi. And a reasonable chunk of what I used to be, I still am.
So, between the last post and this, I fell for someone, pursued her, and got married in July '11. And i am discovering that married life isn't as scary as I imagined it to be. It’s nice to have someone to hang wet clothes with. Someone to hold your bag when you fiddle with your keys to open your house’s door. Someone to share vodka, darkness, life and secrets with (if this sounds familiar, thanks for being around this blog for so many years ).
And life outside marriage continues to exist. I still get my weekend games of ultimate. I still get to drink at GP with friends of 12 years. And get lost in Nagalapuram and swim in the accidentally discovered waterfall/stream with friends I used to get lost in Tada with.
But amidst all this being light and happy, I miss the intensity of emptiness at times. I miss this urge to stand at a precipice and shout like Tarzan. I miss this thing that drove me to write innumerable weird drunken posts past 3 am, most of which never saw the light of the day. I know I ought to say ‘good riddance’ and be thankful for the place in life I am at. For most parts I do just that. But there is this masochistic part per million that refuses to fall in line…
Showing posts with label Current affairs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Current affairs. Show all posts
Friday, October 28, 2011
Thursday, November 18, 2010
The winged visitor...
Often times these days, i wake up to the sounds of conversations. Real ones. These aren't from the hidden recesses of memory, that deny you the peace of sleep, and the seeming calm of the todays and the yesterdays. These are benign conversations. "I just gave you a Dosa right? What are you still hanging around for?", my mom would say. I'd enter the kitchen, sleepy eyed, to find her in the middle of an earnest conversation with this particular crow. The responses vary. Sometimes we'd just get 'Caw Caws' in varying tones and decibel levels. At other times the crow would poke it's beak in, through the ample gaps in the kitchen's window grill, and take in the scene, before returning to it's pleas. A little louder. A little more demanding. I've come to recognize this crow. You need to pay attention to tell one crow from another, unless it has a broken beak or an absent foot.
In the belief system that i was born into, crows are considered 'pithrukkal', which in sanskrit, means fathers and forefathers. Despite my being an agnostic and my conscious attempts at being rational about things, i can't help making the connection. In an existence with so many unknowns, i find it increasingly difficult to be absolutely sure about anything. To be absolutely sure that crows are just crows. And so i indulge the crow. Whenever he flies in. Seeking food, attention, and an update on how things are at home. I feed him half an idli, a piece or roti or a full appalam. Anything that's around. Appalam being his favourite. Of late we've even started exchanging pleasantries. And he is beginning to find me familiar enough to pick pooris off my palm...
In the belief system that i was born into, crows are considered 'pithrukkal', which in sanskrit, means fathers and forefathers. Despite my being an agnostic and my conscious attempts at being rational about things, i can't help making the connection. In an existence with so many unknowns, i find it increasingly difficult to be absolutely sure about anything. To be absolutely sure that crows are just crows. And so i indulge the crow. Whenever he flies in. Seeking food, attention, and an update on how things are at home. I feed him half an idli, a piece or roti or a full appalam. Anything that's around. Appalam being his favourite. Of late we've even started exchanging pleasantries. And he is beginning to find me familiar enough to pick pooris off my palm...
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Four unrelated paragraphs...
I can hear the drone of my refrigirator. Distinctly. At 3 am you usually can. Unless you're in Mandaveli, right behind a petrol pump that stays awake for the lorry drivers who never sleep. But I've heard they sleep some times while driving. Placing a brick on the accelerator to avoid the labor of stepping on it while dozing off. Where i live right now, i can choose to hear it's cries any time of the day. I think it cries a little more loudly than it's peers out of emptiness. One unfilled and unfulfilled fridge mine is, holding just beer and the occasional stale food that never get's consumed. I need to throw out a 3 week old red fluid i bought at a Thai place. I forgot it's name. It tasted terrible. I was in an adventurous mood. I am usually the kind who goes to the same place and orders the same things. I should stick to my tenets.
**************
When you see a skeleton, do you wonder about the person the skeleton used to be? I didn't hear much of what Mangala miss told us at the Bio lab that afternoon a million years ago. My head was filled with thoughts of the person's life and how he died and how he ended up at the Bio lab of our high school. I did hear the part where she said the person was a smoker. Can you get that from a skeleton? Or may be she made it up to sneak in a moral science lecture on why smoking is bad, without actually giving that lecture. You show a skeleton to a 7th grader, and tell him the skeleton used to smoke, that would keep him off cigarretes for a good many years. I wasn't much of a student for most parts. I don't remember when exactly the turnaround happened. Not the rags to riches turnaround, but more of a rags to middle class turnaround. Maybe after i started taking TT lessons. Or after i failed in Chemistry in 9th grade and Baby miss formed 2 groups of 'weak' students and put them under the tutelage of a couple of the elite. I remember taking it as a personal insult, and studying for the next Chemistry exam furiously. I didn't top it, but i got much more than what a pass needed. And i have no freaking clue why i have think about it now.
**************
What makes people pee on their past, or convince themselves that they don't belong there and those who still belong there come from another planet? If you had run through college drinking tea from that 2 rupees per cup tea shop, served specially with dipped fingers, and can't bring yourself to go back there and do the same, a part of you has died. And that's not such a good thing.
**************
I am heading home in a month. Again. Taking a two month vacation. Part of the time shall be spent finding out if yoga or ayurveda can do the magic to my neck and shoulders that Cortisone shots and chiropractors couldn't. Another part of it would be spent on a Delhi->Manali->Ladakh->Kashmir->Delhi bike trip. Assuming my neck and shoulder get good enough for that. Else i might do the same route on whatever moving thing i can get myself on to. At the end of it i guess i'll resume writing code.
**************
When you see a skeleton, do you wonder about the person the skeleton used to be? I didn't hear much of what Mangala miss told us at the Bio lab that afternoon a million years ago. My head was filled with thoughts of the person's life and how he died and how he ended up at the Bio lab of our high school. I did hear the part where she said the person was a smoker. Can you get that from a skeleton? Or may be she made it up to sneak in a moral science lecture on why smoking is bad, without actually giving that lecture. You show a skeleton to a 7th grader, and tell him the skeleton used to smoke, that would keep him off cigarretes for a good many years. I wasn't much of a student for most parts. I don't remember when exactly the turnaround happened. Not the rags to riches turnaround, but more of a rags to middle class turnaround. Maybe after i started taking TT lessons. Or after i failed in Chemistry in 9th grade and Baby miss formed 2 groups of 'weak' students and put them under the tutelage of a couple of the elite. I remember taking it as a personal insult, and studying for the next Chemistry exam furiously. I didn't top it, but i got much more than what a pass needed. And i have no freaking clue why i have think about it now.
**************
What makes people pee on their past, or convince themselves that they don't belong there and those who still belong there come from another planet? If you had run through college drinking tea from that 2 rupees per cup tea shop, served specially with dipped fingers, and can't bring yourself to go back there and do the same, a part of you has died. And that's not such a good thing.
**************
I am heading home in a month. Again. Taking a two month vacation. Part of the time shall be spent finding out if yoga or ayurveda can do the magic to my neck and shoulders that Cortisone shots and chiropractors couldn't. Another part of it would be spent on a Delhi->Manali->Ladakh->Kashmir->Delhi bike trip. Assuming my neck and shoulder get good enough for that. Else i might do the same route on whatever moving thing i can get myself on to. At the end of it i guess i'll resume writing code.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
When i am in a whole day of street cricket followed by lemon juice kind of mood...
I am feeling good about life. For the moment. Two hours of stand up comedy on youtube can do wonders to your outlook of life. A 32 year old comic tells you about the need to design cars specifically for the 'making out' segment, a segment that is comfortable making out, but can't handle the seriousness of a room or a relationship or sex. And i look forward to the tomorrows with a renewed and unreasonable lightness. No correlation whatsoever. The mind is so fucking fickle. It helps that the 32 year old happens to be Janeane Garofalo from 14 years ago. But the thing is, if you feel good about life, you don't sit around and cross examine it. You just revel in it, and wait for shit to happen. After coffee the next day. Also fucking and fickle seemed to rhyme in a weird way. Which is why i wanted to put them next to each other. Honestly. I am 31 years old and no longer find it fashionable to throw the f word around. I used to find it very fashionable and novel when i had just joined college in 1995. I saw peers using it to sound exasperated in a very cool way. I had tried to imitate, but my attempts felt artificial and affected. So i gave up and stuck to the native tongue. I see a lot of my kid cousins throw the word 'Whatever' around a lot. Is that a fashionable word among college kids of today?
My mom is in town. And i am getting frequent doses of Rice and Sambhar. I am not a foodie. I could live on rice and sambhar all my life, without ever knowing if Penne is tubular or if Fusilli looks like dead butterflies made of maida. Sambhar is a gooey thing made from dal and water and chilli powder and turmeric and tamarind and vegetables. And add salt to taste. Dal is a pulse. I've seen a japanese man cry and sweat and fret over some benign Sambhar a few years ago. I've seen the same Japanese man suck in an Octopus tentacle with a straight face. His name was Hanawa. We called him Hanawa-san. He told me that 'baakha' was fuck in japanese. He taught me wrong. I still don't know the right word. In Jap movies, people keep saying 'waatha shiva' or something like that. I don't know what it means. But we told Hanawa-san what 'waatha' means in Tamil. And he giggled over it. Serious japanese men don't giggle often. He wasn't a serious japanese man. He took us to Uno park where we saw families sitting under sakura blooms and drinking sake. I remember being extremely happy seeing all those blooms and all those half drunk and not so drunk families. Sakura is cherry blossom in Japan, and the bloom lasts for all of 15 days. But, for those 15 days, they are very pretty. Humans should've also been designed to be like sakura.
I am most probably visiting home in November. For a month or so. I think i'll decide on the immediate direction for the next few years then. Buddha has promised to come down and leave a sign at that point. He refuses to come down right now. Says he is not in the mood. I think he has visa issues. I think 2010 is going to be a very good year for me. If i keep repeating this some 2.5 million times, it will actually happen. I read this in an excerpt of a self help book titled Sweet corn soup for the fool or something.
My mom is in town. And i am getting frequent doses of Rice and Sambhar. I am not a foodie. I could live on rice and sambhar all my life, without ever knowing if Penne is tubular or if Fusilli looks like dead butterflies made of maida. Sambhar is a gooey thing made from dal and water and chilli powder and turmeric and tamarind and vegetables. And add salt to taste. Dal is a pulse. I've seen a japanese man cry and sweat and fret over some benign Sambhar a few years ago. I've seen the same Japanese man suck in an Octopus tentacle with a straight face. His name was Hanawa. We called him Hanawa-san. He told me that 'baakha' was fuck in japanese. He taught me wrong. I still don't know the right word. In Jap movies, people keep saying 'waatha shiva' or something like that. I don't know what it means. But we told Hanawa-san what 'waatha' means in Tamil. And he giggled over it. Serious japanese men don't giggle often. He wasn't a serious japanese man. He took us to Uno park where we saw families sitting under sakura blooms and drinking sake. I remember being extremely happy seeing all those blooms and all those half drunk and not so drunk families. Sakura is cherry blossom in Japan, and the bloom lasts for all of 15 days. But, for those 15 days, they are very pretty. Humans should've also been designed to be like sakura.
I am most probably visiting home in November. For a month or so. I think i'll decide on the immediate direction for the next few years then. Buddha has promised to come down and leave a sign at that point. He refuses to come down right now. Says he is not in the mood. I think he has visa issues. I think 2010 is going to be a very good year for me. If i keep repeating this some 2.5 million times, it will actually happen. I read this in an excerpt of a self help book titled Sweet corn soup for the fool or something.
Sunday, October 04, 2009
Sometimes, strangers are better than fiction...
There'll be no angst in this post. No alcohol either. I came here to record an unexpectedly pleasant saturday evening. A time i usually spend with fictional characters. Or a high level programming language. This time, it was the company of a stranger. A stranger i've known, for 3 days in all. Who i'll meet again, in 3 years maybe, or a little later. A polite hello. A curt handshake. A cup of coffee each. One with sugar, one without. And then a drive, supposedly to Palo Alto. A signal jump, a wrong turn, and a pretty road that took us to a destination we weren't headed for. An unmarked space with two parked cars. A trail. A real heavy breeze, that made us need the sight of speech, as much as the sound of it, to make sense of the spoken word. A bird whose name we did not know, whose flight we still hung on and followed. The just risen moon, inside which, she saw a rabbit, i saw a squid, and she spoke of a friend, who always saw a mother and a child. I've never looked for forms inside the moon. I call them craters and leave them at it. Bata chappals, wind chill, the setting sun and the growing hunger, made us head back to the car. Eventually, Palo Alto was reached. Dishes whose names i can't remember, to save my life, were consumed. And good byes and good lucks exchanged. Strangely, the evening seemed whole in it's own right. Random. No context. No obligatory future or direction. Just it. Like watching, possibly, the only show of a feel good movie, seeing the credits roll, walking out, smiling and satisfied.
I think back of Kodachaadri. Another geography. Another whole set of events. But a very similar after taste. I'll keep it for another time.
I think back of Kodachaadri. Another geography. Another whole set of events. But a very similar after taste. I'll keep it for another time.
Saturday, August 08, 2009
Washerman's dog...
I meet friends. Over brunches, dinners, beers and butter scotches. B and S being the most available ones. For now. Until the former goes back to his research in Alabama, and the latter's wife comes back to him from India. We talk of important stuff. Like professors, arrears, and whether the dal in our mess food, that we ate 10 years ago, had enough salt. I meet my ex, who tries to convince me that i should shop for a current. Whenever the episode she is watching, of 'Raakhi saawant ki swayamvar', on youtube, gets boring. I try and offer comparable comic relief in my responses. I fail. Of course i fail. How can i possibly compete with 'Usne kahaa TV nahin kharidega, washing machine kharidega, thaaki mai kapde na dhouun. Mere mann ko sukoon mila'. There are apparently many such gems. I can't digest reality TV. Unless it comes with free home-cooked dinner, which is a premium these days..
I play out this scene in my head. Once in a while. My boss calls me to his office. And tells me he has decided to let me go. I am not saddened. A little surprised, yes. Though i am doing just about enough to keep my job. A little less, maybe. But I come out feeling kind of liberated. In the next frame, i am standing on a platform in Central station in chennai. My loyal orange-black rucksack on my shoulders. And no agenda in my head. Waiting for the train that would take me to Delhi. From where i'd be taking a bus to Manali or Nainital. Depending on which one i manage to find a seat on first. I'd be sitting by the window. Taking in everything that comes in through it, greedily. The breeze. The clatter. And the snatches of homes that disappear as rapidly as they appear. I am reminded of this bus ride from Manali to Delhi. A few years ago. P shakes me off my sleep and makes me look out of the window. Amidst absolute darkness, there are these rectangular boxes of light. Evenly lit homes on a hill's slope. It was a surreal sight. That's my most vivid memory of that entire trip. I snap back to the 'here and now'. I wouldn't walk away from what i have, but would be relieved to be pushed out. It doesn't make sense. Or does it?
Some days i wonder if I am holding on to shreds of life i don't care for, and letting go of things i do. But some days i get up with, besides bad breath and a back ache, something that could pass for clarity. And head to work with a sense of what could pass for purpose. Those days aren't all that rare, and compensate for the listlessness of the rest. A good technical discussion here, a good customer bug fix there, and i have bouts of enthusiasm for work. The work that has given me the luxury to fret over imagined angst. And so i hang on...
I play out this scene in my head. Once in a while. My boss calls me to his office. And tells me he has decided to let me go. I am not saddened. A little surprised, yes. Though i am doing just about enough to keep my job. A little less, maybe. But I come out feeling kind of liberated. In the next frame, i am standing on a platform in Central station in chennai. My loyal orange-black rucksack on my shoulders. And no agenda in my head. Waiting for the train that would take me to Delhi. From where i'd be taking a bus to Manali or Nainital. Depending on which one i manage to find a seat on first. I'd be sitting by the window. Taking in everything that comes in through it, greedily. The breeze. The clatter. And the snatches of homes that disappear as rapidly as they appear. I am reminded of this bus ride from Manali to Delhi. A few years ago. P shakes me off my sleep and makes me look out of the window. Amidst absolute darkness, there are these rectangular boxes of light. Evenly lit homes on a hill's slope. It was a surreal sight. That's my most vivid memory of that entire trip. I snap back to the 'here and now'. I wouldn't walk away from what i have, but would be relieved to be pushed out. It doesn't make sense. Or does it?
Some days i wonder if I am holding on to shreds of life i don't care for, and letting go of things i do. But some days i get up with, besides bad breath and a back ache, something that could pass for clarity. And head to work with a sense of what could pass for purpose. Those days aren't all that rare, and compensate for the listlessness of the rest. A good technical discussion here, a good customer bug fix there, and i have bouts of enthusiasm for work. The work that has given me the luxury to fret over imagined angst. And so i hang on...
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Bhaawra mann dekhne chalaa ek sapna...
I am not sure why i gave this title to this post. Except that this is my 'current' all time favourite song. And ever since i saw this video of the Sahyadris with this song playing in the background, i've been itching to be in the Western ghats in the monsoon.
I turned 31 this week. 31 sounds infinitely older than 30. G and i share birthdays. So, after a non-celebrating dinner with her, i spent my birthday midnight clapping hands and singing the customary song while she cut her b'day cake at the 'surprise' party her friends had put together for her. For the 31st, i would've thrown a birthday party, if i had a wife, and a mistress, and i wanted to appear happily married to all and sundry. Since i had no such motivations, i let it pass.
But such days do serve as points that make you sit back, and take stock of where you are and where you want to be. I had a bunch of contradictory wants at 30. I have a bunch of contradictory wants now. Age doesn't seem to give me wisdom, the way it is supposed to. From young and stupid, i am simply growing into old and clueless. I did move countries. One of the wants at 30. But I've been having more of the 'What the fuck am i doing here?' moments. Not that i didn't have those back home. But i'd find instant comfort in the urine bathed Karl Shmidt memorial, and the warm waters of the Besant Nagar beach, a 10 minute ride away. It doesn't help that my life's all-important happiness-giver, sport, has been missing in action. The injury from that simple fall has a fancy name now, Rotator-cuff tendonitis, and is showing signs of hanging around for a while. So, instead of waiting for it to heal, i decided i'll turn leftie. I am starting out by learning to shoot at least 2 pointers with my left hand, so that i can play Basketball with a bunch of college buddies. Also planning to resume playing Ultimate Frisbee tomorrow, throwing only forehands and catching with my left hand. It should be fun, and would be nearly like learning a new sport, the left hand aspect that is.
On the surface, i've been having an alright time. Hanging out with college junior Balaji and college roomie Swami at Castro every once in a while. Also, did this trip to Yellowstone with Swami, Sudhir and Heman, friends from undergrad days. It's hard to beleive that it's been a decade since college. It was an awesome trip, and all the more fun, thanks to Sudhir/Heman's kid, who was a total entertainer. Yellowstone was very pretty and all, but we probably would've had as much fun sitting under a random tree and catching up.
But i've kind of decided this is not the place i want to live and grow old in. There is something missing with life here, and i can't quite place my finger on that. When push comes to shove, i'll pack my bags again. And it'll come to shove latest by the early part of next year. Until then i shall find ways and means to amuse myself. I intend to take a year's break before 35. I am increasingly inclined to do that earlier rather than later, so that'll probably be my next step. I have a vague business idea. It is something i can work on on my own while i am on the move. I am not sure if it'll give me any returns. And i have this huge mind block against being an entrepreneur. But i want to try it out, any which ways. We have one life after all.
K wished me peace, and all the travel i want, for the year ahead. I think, travel, at least, can be arranged. Hoping to spend my 32nd, sitting by a glacial river, and sipping chaai, adhrak maar ke...
ps: Dear annoyed anonymous commenter. After alcohol and coffee, i've now moved on to ginger tea. Pliss to go easy on me this time around...
I turned 31 this week. 31 sounds infinitely older than 30. G and i share birthdays. So, after a non-celebrating dinner with her, i spent my birthday midnight clapping hands and singing the customary song while she cut her b'day cake at the 'surprise' party her friends had put together for her. For the 31st, i would've thrown a birthday party, if i had a wife, and a mistress, and i wanted to appear happily married to all and sundry. Since i had no such motivations, i let it pass.
But such days do serve as points that make you sit back, and take stock of where you are and where you want to be. I had a bunch of contradictory wants at 30. I have a bunch of contradictory wants now. Age doesn't seem to give me wisdom, the way it is supposed to. From young and stupid, i am simply growing into old and clueless. I did move countries. One of the wants at 30. But I've been having more of the 'What the fuck am i doing here?' moments. Not that i didn't have those back home. But i'd find instant comfort in the urine bathed Karl Shmidt memorial, and the warm waters of the Besant Nagar beach, a 10 minute ride away. It doesn't help that my life's all-important happiness-giver, sport, has been missing in action. The injury from that simple fall has a fancy name now, Rotator-cuff tendonitis, and is showing signs of hanging around for a while. So, instead of waiting for it to heal, i decided i'll turn leftie. I am starting out by learning to shoot at least 2 pointers with my left hand, so that i can play Basketball with a bunch of college buddies. Also planning to resume playing Ultimate Frisbee tomorrow, throwing only forehands and catching with my left hand. It should be fun, and would be nearly like learning a new sport, the left hand aspect that is.
On the surface, i've been having an alright time. Hanging out with college junior Balaji and college roomie Swami at Castro every once in a while. Also, did this trip to Yellowstone with Swami, Sudhir and Heman, friends from undergrad days. It's hard to beleive that it's been a decade since college. It was an awesome trip, and all the more fun, thanks to Sudhir/Heman's kid, who was a total entertainer. Yellowstone was very pretty and all, but we probably would've had as much fun sitting under a random tree and catching up.
But i've kind of decided this is not the place i want to live and grow old in. There is something missing with life here, and i can't quite place my finger on that. When push comes to shove, i'll pack my bags again. And it'll come to shove latest by the early part of next year. Until then i shall find ways and means to amuse myself. I intend to take a year's break before 35. I am increasingly inclined to do that earlier rather than later, so that'll probably be my next step. I have a vague business idea. It is something i can work on on my own while i am on the move. I am not sure if it'll give me any returns. And i have this huge mind block against being an entrepreneur. But i want to try it out, any which ways. We have one life after all.
K wished me peace, and all the travel i want, for the year ahead. I think, travel, at least, can be arranged. Hoping to spend my 32nd, sitting by a glacial river, and sipping chaai, adhrak maar ke...
ps: Dear annoyed anonymous commenter. After alcohol and coffee, i've now moved on to ginger tea. Pliss to go easy on me this time around...
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Keep-alive Post
In networking, when A and B are talking a protocol, typically, besides exchanging a bunch of information mandated by the protocol, they exchange frequent meaningless small sized hellos. This is a keep-alive mechanism. When A doesn't hear from B for a threshold time, it decides to forget all about B, and cleans up anything that it picked up from B. If and when B comes back up, it has to start from scratch and re-establish everything with A, which is expensive. This is a keep-alive post.
When i was leaving chennai, I imagined myself two months hence, standing in the balcony of a studio apartment, drinking coffee, and missing the flurry of activities that the view from my Mandaveli balcony had offered me, and the goodness of the coffee i would have been drinking back home. I was wrong on two counts. In my head, the view from my studio's balcony was a lot prettier. In reality i get a panaromic view of a grim black floored parking lot. And you do get decent coffee powder to make good filter coffee with ('Barefoot coffee', thank you).
A shoulder injury from a nasty fall i had, playing ultimate back in Jan, is keeping me out of any kind of action, which is a big time bummer. Met a chinese physio, who referred me to a chinese doctor who would refer me back to the chinese physio, so that the non-chinese insurers would pay for my treatment. Why are these things so complicated?! And the doctor's name is Ooyang. I never thought i'd have to see a doctor who called himself Ooyang. For me Ooyang would be a ping-pong player or a martial arts expert. A Dr. Ram Prasad or Dr. Sundar is more like it. I hope it all ends happily ever after with me throwing a disc or playing in the Milpitas table tennis circuit or both. For lack of anything else to do, and the relative scarcity of cubicle conferences about inane things, i actually managed to do more work in the past 2 months, than the preceding 4-5 months in Chennai. My boss in chennai is probably reading this, but i guess he knows this without my having to tell him!
Life has been as boring as this post, if not more. But i did attempt to 'do' a few things. Like watching a baseball game live in Oakland stadium (and getting terribly bored). And seeing a bunch of folks dressed in weird outfits, or none at all, and running or walking an 8 mile stretch, in what is called 'Bay to breakers'. There was so much weirdness that by the end of it normal looked very interesting. And i was wondering what drove people to do all this. Then i paid sizeable money to watch herbivores from africa like goats and cows (there was the occasional sleeping tiger or docile rhino thrown in), with a white lady working extra hard to make it all seem interesting. Since the animals weren't interesting enough, she spoke about the Jeep we were riding in, and about it's association with WWII. I could only think of the Bisons and Bears and Banded Kraits and the Elephants spotted in the wild during treks in Perambikulam and Himalayas.
In an attempt to make life better, i bought a shiny new old car in 2 hours' time(inclusive of search, 'analysis' and the actual purchase, i am pretty quick and stupid with such things actually). Thanks G for the ride and all the knowledgable questions and the negotiation.
I guess coming here as a curious excited impressionable 21 year old is a lot different from coming here as a more grounded 30 year old. When you see everything in order, working like clock work, you don't go "Wow! It's all so organized. When will India be like this?". Instead you go "Can these guys survive even a minor entropy?", and actually take pride in the presence of some coherence in all that clamour back home. And when you see the ever friendly smiles and the waving hands, you wonder if the smiles will become grimaces and the waving hands would become clenched fists when excesses turn into scarcity. I give it to them for building this kind of order and discipline, but i can't help wondering what would happen if that order is shaken up by an external event. An average driver is not equipped to handle an unexpected car that strays from it's lane. Extrapolating it to other aspects of life is scary.
I am hoping to make this a worthwhile stay, and try and live out some interesting experiences for the time i am here. Let's see how it goes...
When i was leaving chennai, I imagined myself two months hence, standing in the balcony of a studio apartment, drinking coffee, and missing the flurry of activities that the view from my Mandaveli balcony had offered me, and the goodness of the coffee i would have been drinking back home. I was wrong on two counts. In my head, the view from my studio's balcony was a lot prettier. In reality i get a panaromic view of a grim black floored parking lot. And you do get decent coffee powder to make good filter coffee with ('Barefoot coffee', thank you).
A shoulder injury from a nasty fall i had, playing ultimate back in Jan, is keeping me out of any kind of action, which is a big time bummer. Met a chinese physio, who referred me to a chinese doctor who would refer me back to the chinese physio, so that the non-chinese insurers would pay for my treatment. Why are these things so complicated?! And the doctor's name is Ooyang. I never thought i'd have to see a doctor who called himself Ooyang. For me Ooyang would be a ping-pong player or a martial arts expert. A Dr. Ram Prasad or Dr. Sundar is more like it. I hope it all ends happily ever after with me throwing a disc or playing in the Milpitas table tennis circuit or both. For lack of anything else to do, and the relative scarcity of cubicle conferences about inane things, i actually managed to do more work in the past 2 months, than the preceding 4-5 months in Chennai. My boss in chennai is probably reading this, but i guess he knows this without my having to tell him!
Life has been as boring as this post, if not more. But i did attempt to 'do' a few things. Like watching a baseball game live in Oakland stadium (and getting terribly bored). And seeing a bunch of folks dressed in weird outfits, or none at all, and running or walking an 8 mile stretch, in what is called 'Bay to breakers'. There was so much weirdness that by the end of it normal looked very interesting. And i was wondering what drove people to do all this. Then i paid sizeable money to watch herbivores from africa like goats and cows (there was the occasional sleeping tiger or docile rhino thrown in), with a white lady working extra hard to make it all seem interesting. Since the animals weren't interesting enough, she spoke about the Jeep we were riding in, and about it's association with WWII. I could only think of the Bisons and Bears and Banded Kraits and the Elephants spotted in the wild during treks in Perambikulam and Himalayas.
In an attempt to make life better, i bought a shiny new old car in 2 hours' time(inclusive of search, 'analysis' and the actual purchase, i am pretty quick and stupid with such things actually). Thanks G for the ride and all the knowledgable questions and the negotiation.
I guess coming here as a curious excited impressionable 21 year old is a lot different from coming here as a more grounded 30 year old. When you see everything in order, working like clock work, you don't go "Wow! It's all so organized. When will India be like this?". Instead you go "Can these guys survive even a minor entropy?", and actually take pride in the presence of some coherence in all that clamour back home. And when you see the ever friendly smiles and the waving hands, you wonder if the smiles will become grimaces and the waving hands would become clenched fists when excesses turn into scarcity. I give it to them for building this kind of order and discipline, but i can't help wondering what would happen if that order is shaken up by an external event. An average driver is not equipped to handle an unexpected car that strays from it's lane. Extrapolating it to other aspects of life is scary.
I am hoping to make this a worthwhile stay, and try and live out some interesting experiences for the time i am here. Let's see how it goes...
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Move, Actually
The first sip of the sour orange juice that the stewardess gave him, reminded him of the last visit to the land he was headed to. He had some compulsive taste-place associations. Jalebis reminded him of Hyderabad. Cup-O-Noodles reminded him of Japan, and sometimes, of the happy treks in the western ghats in Karnataka.And sour orange juice always transported him to the US. He couldn't help smiling at the title of the book he was reading. Rohinton Mistry's 'Such a long journey'.
He saw a middle aged couple from his land at the Heathrow airport, in transit. The man was wearing a Black T-shirt that said 'I heart New York' in White. And his wife was wearing a Grey T-shirt that said 'I heart New York' in Black. Very amusing it was, he thought, to see a couple wearing matching Tees at forty. At some point, he was looking forward to this move to the US. But when you look forward to something long enough, you cease to look forward to it. He had started making alternate plans that started to seem more appealing. Like moving to Bangalore. Bouldering and ultimate frisbee with K and crowd. Random treks, beer, and conversations with K. Hanging around friends/travel companions who'll have interesting tales to tell (of building a porn site, or the education system in Timbuktu, or how a kitchen cabinet is built with bare hands). And drinking with this friend who could break into a Lady Macbeth monologue in the middle of a drink, and make everyone in the bar look in their direction. But then a door to the US suddenly opened up. So he thought of surfing and community colleges and a shift to product engineering and hanging around sis and bil, and the money. Ofcourse the money he could make and the resultant time he could afford to be off work once back home, and do that year's travel around India atleast before 35. And so he boarded a plane to San Francisco. Still wondering if he should've tried moving to Bangalore instead. But he tells himself, that if things don't fall in place, he can always catch the next flight back home, and is already thinking of all the things he should be doing once he heads back home, Sikkim, to start with. He is probably just designed to live in transit.
So sharks, if any, in Santa cruz and Half moon bay, please be nice to him. And the happy harmless fishes of Thiruvanmayur, he wouldn't be gone for too long, so you'll get back the human feet to nibble at.
He saw a middle aged couple from his land at the Heathrow airport, in transit. The man was wearing a Black T-shirt that said 'I heart New York' in White. And his wife was wearing a Grey T-shirt that said 'I heart New York' in Black. Very amusing it was, he thought, to see a couple wearing matching Tees at forty. At some point, he was looking forward to this move to the US. But when you look forward to something long enough, you cease to look forward to it. He had started making alternate plans that started to seem more appealing. Like moving to Bangalore. Bouldering and ultimate frisbee with K and crowd. Random treks, beer, and conversations with K. Hanging around friends/travel companions who'll have interesting tales to tell (of building a porn site, or the education system in Timbuktu, or how a kitchen cabinet is built with bare hands). And drinking with this friend who could break into a Lady Macbeth monologue in the middle of a drink, and make everyone in the bar look in their direction. But then a door to the US suddenly opened up. So he thought of surfing and community colleges and a shift to product engineering and hanging around sis and bil, and the money. Ofcourse the money he could make and the resultant time he could afford to be off work once back home, and do that year's travel around India atleast before 35. And so he boarded a plane to San Francisco. Still wondering if he should've tried moving to Bangalore instead. But he tells himself, that if things don't fall in place, he can always catch the next flight back home, and is already thinking of all the things he should be doing once he heads back home, Sikkim, to start with. He is probably just designed to live in transit.
So sharks, if any, in Santa cruz and Half moon bay, please be nice to him. And the happy harmless fishes of Thiruvanmayur, he wouldn't be gone for too long, so you'll get back the human feet to nibble at.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Diwali...
Yesterday, i asked my mom, why she wasn't buying herself something for Diwali. She said it felt weird going Saree shopping on her own. She had a point. So we went to Kumaran Silks and picked up a couple of Sarees for her. We went to the Khadi next door and i picked up something for myself. The last time i had acknowledged Diwali (or any festive occasion for that matter) and did anything active centred around it was the last one we had in Trichy, in 1997.
When we reached home, mom busied herself making 'Diwali marundhu'. 'Marundhu' in Tamil means medicine, and 'Diwali marundhu' is usually had to aid in the digestion of the 15 kilos of random sweets an average family consumes on Diwali day (atleast in Tamilnadu). She makes very good 'marundhu', and Dad used to be a big fan of it (apparently mom learnt the recipe for it from Dad's mom). I knew she hadn't made it in a while. So i asked her when was the last time she made it. She said she hadn't made it after our last Diwali in Trichy. I can't think of an explicit reason, but i know that if the 'dress buying' act had not happened, the 'marundhu making' act wouldn't have happened either. I was glad we went through the exercise.
I had stopped doing a lot of things because they stopped appealing to me. But, you knock off a loud 'Happy New year' wish, a thoughtful 'Happy Birthday' phone call, new dresses, family dinners and 100-waalas for a Diwali, Baby-Krishna feet and 'Vella seedai' for Krishna Jayanthi, and hordes of other such stuff, there is very little magic left and life gets too drab. If your parents hadn't done anything about such occasions, you'd lose half your happy childhood memories. I am in the process of convincing myself that it is a great idea to wear new clothes and take a bite of home made Coconut burfi to celebrate Lord Krishna's killing of Naragasura...It'll take some effort but i guess i'll get there.
Anyways, if you're the celebrating kinds, wish you and your family a very Happy Diwali...Else, well, try and jump back into the bandwagon sometime...Sometimes it is nice to unlearn and do silly things, like bursting crackers with a 10 year old...
When we reached home, mom busied herself making 'Diwali marundhu'. 'Marundhu' in Tamil means medicine, and 'Diwali marundhu' is usually had to aid in the digestion of the 15 kilos of random sweets an average family consumes on Diwali day (atleast in Tamilnadu). She makes very good 'marundhu', and Dad used to be a big fan of it (apparently mom learnt the recipe for it from Dad's mom). I knew she hadn't made it in a while. So i asked her when was the last time she made it. She said she hadn't made it after our last Diwali in Trichy. I can't think of an explicit reason, but i know that if the 'dress buying' act had not happened, the 'marundhu making' act wouldn't have happened either. I was glad we went through the exercise.
I had stopped doing a lot of things because they stopped appealing to me. But, you knock off a loud 'Happy New year' wish, a thoughtful 'Happy Birthday' phone call, new dresses, family dinners and 100-waalas for a Diwali, Baby-Krishna feet and 'Vella seedai' for Krishna Jayanthi, and hordes of other such stuff, there is very little magic left and life gets too drab. If your parents hadn't done anything about such occasions, you'd lose half your happy childhood memories. I am in the process of convincing myself that it is a great idea to wear new clothes and take a bite of home made Coconut burfi to celebrate Lord Krishna's killing of Naragasura...It'll take some effort but i guess i'll get there.
Anyways, if you're the celebrating kinds, wish you and your family a very Happy Diwali...Else, well, try and jump back into the bandwagon sometime...Sometimes it is nice to unlearn and do silly things, like bursting crackers with a 10 year old...
Saturday, September 06, 2008
This and that...
Suddenly, i have a social life in chennai. It is not the 'meeting a girl and wooing her' kind of social life. It is more of a 'bunch of badly dressed 30 year olds meeting up' kind. Folks who had flown away to far away lands have come back. Guys who had gotten married have been married long enough now for their wives to not miss them on a Friday evening. We meet at bars* that don't care about the colour of our underwears or whether we're wearing shoes, and discuss life, Vadivel comedies and our respective pasts and shaky futures, and whether a couple of us (last men standing) should ideally be 'meeting a girl(each) and wooing her' instead.
Visa approval has come at a time when i had reconciled to the idea of not leaving the country, and was even toying with the idea of moving to Bangalore sometime. To give fate a fair chance, i have blocked my interview date for Sep-11. White men at the US Consulate are likely to hate 'bloody immigrants' more passionately on that day. But it is likely that i'd be leaving Chennai in less than a month.
In other news, Saturdays are being spent wearing whites and playing leather ball cricket at Sindhi College grounds in some corporate tournament. It is a lot of fun. Even made a 50 a couple of weeks ago. Was mighty thrilled. The last time i made a 50 in a leather ball game was in final year college in a Hostel day match.
Life's been good. All i need now is a genie who'd do all my work...
* Most bars/pubs in chennai require the drinkers to be 'properly' dressed. The ones that don't have a dress code will typically be all-men's bars. I don't know how this works. Women don't go to bars where men don't wear shoes :). Also, at Benz Park (a place in T-Nagar), i saw two restrooms next to each other, and both had a 'Men's' sign board. Very amusing it was...
ps: The interview being on 9/11, and me reading a book titled 'The two towers' (LOTR -2) while awaiting my turn at the consulate notwithstanding, the consular officer thought i was neither 'potential immigrant' material nor 'terrorist' material, and granted me the visa. I could still try to smuggle Marijuana and get deported at the port of entry. Let's see...
Visa approval has come at a time when i had reconciled to the idea of not leaving the country, and was even toying with the idea of moving to Bangalore sometime. To give fate a fair chance, i have blocked my interview date for Sep-11. White men at the US Consulate are likely to hate 'bloody immigrants' more passionately on that day. But it is likely that i'd be leaving Chennai in less than a month.
In other news, Saturdays are being spent wearing whites and playing leather ball cricket at Sindhi College grounds in some corporate tournament. It is a lot of fun. Even made a 50 a couple of weeks ago. Was mighty thrilled. The last time i made a 50 in a leather ball game was in final year college in a Hostel day match.
Life's been good. All i need now is a genie who'd do all my work...
* Most bars/pubs in chennai require the drinkers to be 'properly' dressed. The ones that don't have a dress code will typically be all-men's bars. I don't know how this works. Women don't go to bars where men don't wear shoes :). Also, at Benz Park (a place in T-Nagar), i saw two restrooms next to each other, and both had a 'Men's' sign board. Very amusing it was...
ps: The interview being on 9/11, and me reading a book titled 'The two towers' (LOTR -2) while awaiting my turn at the consulate notwithstanding, the consular officer thought i was neither 'potential immigrant' material nor 'terrorist' material, and granted me the visa. I could still try to smuggle Marijuana and get deported at the port of entry. Let's see...
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