Hence - http://sujaybedekar.wordpress.com/
Goodbye, lj. Thou shalt not really be missed, but it was fun nevertheless.
- Location:office
- Music:Reliance Power Theme Song
It made me cry silently, marvelling at the volumes people speak through unspoken words. Never before did I ever shed tears with such gleeful abandon.
It made me cheer for the different - nay, special - people whom we so easily dismiss or deride.
It made me feel guilty and somewhat ashamed by asking me to hark back to my good ol' school days. I am reasonably sure that I must have ridiculed someone just because he or she saw alphabets dance or numbers morph into planets. It made me ask them to forgive me.
It made me try and remember the last time I picked up a crayon or a paintbrush. My mind drew a blank, leaving me extremely distraught and unfulfilled.
It made me sit back and enjoy a true star - the Daftary kid - make emoting, and Aamir Khan make direction, ridiculously easy and wonderful both at the same time.
For making me do all these things, thank you, Mr. Khan. I am forever in your debt.
- Location:Home
- Mood:
grateful
1. Stop wasting time on pointless stuff, and waste time on relevant stuff.
Corr: be less ambiguous/ obscure
2.1. Stop cracking crappy jokes which test the limits of patience of unfortunate people who happen to be in the vicinity.
2.2. Be more respectful, less rude, more polite, more punctuational (i.e. use better punctuation) - in general be a more boring person, just to see what it feels like.
3. Not drink more than once a week, and not drink on 3 consecutive weeks.
4. Stop resolving to get into shape and actually get into shape (Not intended to sound like Neo. Stop trying to hit me and hit me' )
5. Stop resolving to go get myself a girl, because it seems like a waste of a resolution
6. Embark on one memorable >=7 day trip (preferably solo), inside or outside India.
7. Watch a match at Old Trafford.
6. Go to 1.
Inshallah jeet humaari hogi. Har har mahadev. Halla bol. Bole soni haal. Hallelujah. Sat sri akaal. Aameen.
thankfulGiven the current credit crisis in the financial world, the aforementioned statement seems like just another rambling of some 'finance scholar'. The irony is that these words were uttered some 2000 years ago by this Roman dude called Cicero (link).
I hark back upon this post to emphasize a point i believe very strongly - we (as in human beings in general) think we learn from mistakes, whereas all we're actually doing is inventing new ways of making the same mistakes :-)
- Location:office
- Mood:
drained - Music:The Who - My generation
While I was sitting in one of my special epiphany places, I had this realization :
Man's belief that God exists is a result of his incessant thirst for knowledge and rationalization - Why? How? When? - coupled with a burning desire for inactivity and laziness - 'Surely god did it. Sorry out of my hands. Won't bother with it anymore. Change the channel.'
I'm not condemning people who believe in god, mainly because I am one of those people. And although the aforementioned reason (excuse) seems lame ... well, I've done things in the past for lamer reasons :-)
Edit: Interesting comic strip on Epiphanies ... Read more here.
- Location:office
- Music:Dhoom Taana - Om Shanti Om
I feel old, extremely and terribly old these days.
Not mature or world wise or enlightened, but just generally old. Not that type of old where you'd rather sit on a recliner and read Swami Vivekanand books instead of partying somewhere. Or where history today seems like current affairs of my youth.
Maybe I should start celebrating my birthday in December.
Perhaps this is not the best place to post, given that I claim to be nearing senior citizenship, but seriously - how funny is the 'Under My Umbrella ..ella ... ella ...' song? Very funny I know! Rihanna, who looks like she stopped growing after the age of eight (w.r.t. height only, thankfully), then goes on to teach the alphabet 'A ... A ... A ... A ... ', but clearly she didn't learn beyond that. And still the song is awesome.
N.B. The radio jockey just informed me that Rihanna is the 8th hottest female on some random hotness list in the US. Hmmm ...
Most hip hop songs these days are freaky -
You have Chamillionaire going 'I'm ridin' this and that and doing it dirty' or claiming that all the noble souls in the R&B industry are being policed and arrested for thinking living on grass is the same as going veggie; Kanye Waste giving motivational lectures by singing 'I am on you ... you come here ... hold me longer ... what won't kill you will make you stronger' ; JT and 50 Cent trying a remote desktop connection on some sexy female to spread some mayo on her; JT again dancing in some virtual domain singing in what would be an awesome voice if it belonged to a lady; Beyonce giving me deja vu when she shakes her booty from Assam to Ooty like some rabid dog who's just exited all wet from a swimming pool ... the list is endless.
I don't understand what motivates people to make such songs. Maybe that's why I feel old.
But I like the songs anyway. Hence I don't feel that type of old.
- Location:office
- Mood:
bouncy - Music:Under my umberellaa .. aye .. aye .. aye
1. To give the bride/ groom with a lot of 'quit while it's still possible' opportunities
2. To discourage the bride/ groom from attempting it another time. That, and the prospect of having a second mom-in-law is supposed to be sufficient discouragement.
On similar lines, there's a good detriment for people to not stop 'gymming', if at all they do take up the noble task in the first place. This taking up of noble task is typically because of peer pressure or beer pressure (specifically, beer belly pressure).
The excruciating pain, the realization that there are some muscles in your body whose sole function is to only ache and make you walk as if you have a tree trunk thrust up your backside, the zero change in your physique after having gymmed for a time longer than it would take to thread a needle while traveling on Mumbai roads ... why do it after all? Patience better be a fruitful virtue.
--
Guaranteed pleasure was always a pleasure ... till now. To get maximum happiness at work, one could aim higher, try harder and wait not till he/she excels (Sigh. Excel. Stupid Program. Takes ages to compile and calculate stuff. Crashes all the time, a la Juan Pablo. Still people love it. Why?)
But the diametrically opposite attitude works too - starting from a state of total incompetence and having easily achievable goals is a much more easier and faster path to instant happiness. Nothing like improving upon past incompetencies and inefficencies to cheer you up.
--
Sir Alex says that the current Manchester United squad he has is the best he has had so far. People say he's just talking it up to boost the morale of his young squad. I say- time will tell. It must be said though, that the current lot has infinite energy, oodles of enthusiasm, an abundance of talent, blistering pace - especially in counter attacks, a rock-solid defence and a plethora of unique players. (How's that for cliched sports -lingo?)
Also, it is nice to have Arsenal as title challengers. Arsenal is a team I love to watch and love to hate. Chelsea was and still is just plain boring. Arsene Wenger has an accent which can make the most serious things seem ridiculously funny. Sample-
'We know what the Manchester United players are capable of, and I have full faith in my boys' sounds like 'Whee nue wott ze Mainsheste Yuneeted players ayr kepebul auf, anz aye ev fool fyet in miy buoys.' Fantastic.
Avram Grant (current Chelsea coach) has a poker face which make you wonder whether he is surrounded by people with serious indigestion problems. Jose Mourinho (ex-Chelsea coach) was a brilliant tactician with too much money and much too much attitude.
--
Watched Saawariya and Om Shanti Om over the weekend, kind of back-to-back. Not sure whether I liked Saawariya or not - I think I didn't like it more than I liked it. OSO was unapologetically funny, sarcastic and melodramatic, although this is often used as a reason for intentionally (ahem) NOT making a good film.
Saaawariya:
The good - Sets. Lights (Blue-green combo did not turn out to be depressing). Pretty innocent and fresh lead actors. Ranbir Kapoor.
The bad - The attention to detail becomes super-boring. There's indulgence, then over-indulgence, then there's Sanjay Leela Bhansali, in a not nice way.
The ugly - The 'females of negotiable affection' shown throughout the movie are so not hot, thereby raising the question - how do they survive at all? The intentionally wrong english (I not likes?!) is painful. Ranbir Kapoor's nearly-naked dance. (I personally think SLB put it
Edit: Here's an awesome review, although I don't agree cent-per-cent with it.
Om Shanti Om:
The hot - Deepika Padukone. <tongue hanging out>
The hilarious - Akshay Kumar.
The good - The songs- brilliant music by Vishal-Shekar-Pyarelal (the badminton dance spoof is too much!). The minor gags (Naughty Pussy! Raascalaa ... Mind It!). The Karz homage. The first half of the movie.
The bad - The random storyline. The unnecessary english garbage 'Thenks'.
The ugly - Shahrukh post-interval- Most of the movie post-interval, in fact. The come-one-come-all song where arbit people start dancing (seriously - what's the point of having Suneil Shetty/Dino Morea/Aftab make guest appearances?). The weird twists in the story - it seems as if the script writers got bored of writing an ending.
- Location:office
- Mood:
cheerful - Music:Ek din teri Baahon mein - Naqaab (in my head)
It's not like I haven't shopped with ladies before. On the contrary, I've been dragged along on quite a few shopping trips because -
1. Non-availability of 'valid' reasons (I need to sleep. Let me watch this movie. This is my resting time. I want to booze with friends.)
2. The promise that I'll get to see hot chicks while I wait ('Help select', they say)
3. The lure that people will buy something for me, because I'm being such a good boy.
4. 'We know what you will do if we are not at home.' The vagueness of this accusation gives you ideas which were not really there in your mind initially, which makes you smile and thereby justifying the accusation.
5. Learn to shop, else your wife will end up cursing us for not training you well. The word 'training' here is used exactly in the way you say 'My kid poops all over the place. It needs to be potty trained.
You just can't say no to this simple and well-practiced logic. In fact, the whole process is made to look like a you-are-being-done-a-favour-by being-asked-to-come-along.
It was because of such emotional drama that I found myself accompanying my family for shopping yesterday. All sympathies are accepted in cash only.
The shopping process is not as haphazard as it seems. There are steps - rather, Acts, like as in a play, to the whole madness.
First, is the whole process of selection, rather shortlisting of prospective buys. It doesn't matter how much you plan on buying; it certainly doesn't matter how many you need to buy- clothes are the most irrationally purchased commodity ever. The shortlisting process involves so many parameters that it would be impossible to automate the process. Saampuls -
- This tee is nice. But how will it look in blue light after 3 months when worn with a green pair of jeans in ____ weather?
- Should I buy a red top with a blue pair of jeans? Lace or no lace? Frill or no-frill? (Apparently, lace and frill are different things) Too-low neck? Not low enough? Polka dot? Big dot? Little dot? ..o0
- Does this colour make me look fat? Can this colour make me look fat if I grow a bit? (Note: Never even give a hint of thinking even remotely in the affirmative. In fact, it should be an impulsive 'Noooo way!' kind of a response - Thank you Ross for that tip)
Then, after the initial 'short'list, comes the fight for the changing room. There have been cases where one person - usually an aunt or some seasoned campaigner - sits between 2 changing rooms. 2 girls (e.g. my sis and my cousin) enter the 2 rooms. Then the central person, very much on the lines of a conductor, tosses one tee in one room, a second tee in the other room, collects already reviewed tops from either rooms, tosses more untried tops towards the yelling contenders. These are techniques used to circumvent, they tell me, the '3-clothes-for-trial-per-person' policy some shops enforce. The number of tops tried via this process has been known to be in the range of 30-40 items. I could illustrate this with a figure, but I'm not that vela.
During this melee, you are supposed to stand and makes yourself as insignificant as possible. Now where to stand is crucial. The shop floor is typically littered with hundreds of sexy mannequins placed on pedestals such that their 'areas' end up being exactly at your eye-level. This can often result in you being given 'blaady perv' kind of stares from fellow shopper ladies, before you realize where it looks like you're looking.
Also important is where you stand, because, and this is pretty similar to Muprhy's law, you will end up leaning on what turns out to be the lingerie section- unintentionally, of course. God forbid if you happen to bump into some stand, clothes and 'joolry' will descend all around you with the loudest possible noise, thereby drawing you glances, which say - 'Sigh. All they need to do is just stand and be inconspicuous, and they can't even do that!'
That assurance that you''ll be wading into a sea of hot chicks often ends up being quite true and fairly life-threatening - all of them are usually accompanied by bodyguards with 3.5 packs on an average, and all your efforts are spent in ensuring that you don't want to even glance in their general direction. If the number of such chicks exceeds certain levels, you end up looking away from all directions simultaneously, thereby getting a very painful neck sprain. Any complaints or requests for sympathy are met with the same glances as mentioned before.
Quick observation - There needs to be a special cateogry for what I call 'huggable' clothes - clothes which make you go and hug the wearer. Pity that the title 'Huggies' is already taken. Also, pink is not just pink, but it can be lavender, baby pink, electric pink and a thousand more varieties.
After what is longer than the time it would take an ant to climb up the Empire State building, the 'trials' and tribulations finally end. Exit the warriors from the changing room, scene cut to main shop floor. This is where decisions are taken, choices are made, tears are shed, hearts are broken, damages are done and normal life finally resumes. The aforementioned seasoned campaigners now take up the roles of MD, Operations i.e. Costcutters i.e. budget allocators i.e. God, as far as my sis/cousin are concerned. Lots of negotiations, emotional upheavals and promises like 'I will slim down a bit so that this ____ fits me perfectly' follow. Up until this point, the male is like that kid who plays the part of a tree in any random play - omnipresent but really there just to stand still. Now is when he matters - at least that's what he is led to believe. His suggestions are like Britney Spear's child raising skills- they just don't matter. He who is a veteran would know better than to raise anything than a token protest. A newbie, or someone who has the naive belief that his opinions actually matter, soon learns to interpret what the 'roll of eyes' or the looks-people-give-to-tiny-puppies mean.
Apparently, it is considered wasteful shopping to purchase >2 clothes from a single store- it's just not done. Also, every shop has to be allocated at least an hour each, often much more. Do the math. Every shopping excursion leaves the men looking limp and listless, and the women looking tired but accomplished and surprisingly energetic. By this time, the 'Clothes for you' carrot dangled in front of you is long forgotten.
My only question at the end of all this is, why, in the name of all that is noble and pure, are women called the 'weaker sex'?
- Location:The office.
- Music:Saare Jahaan Se Achha ringtone (I know)
The last weekend has been one of my most memorable weekends so far. A pilgrimage to my personal mecca - the Old Trafford Football Stadium - was followed by a thrashing by Manchester United of an admittedly third grade Wigan Athletic team - a sight for which, literally, 'aankhen had tarased'. And then to see >76,000 Man Utd supporters streaming out of the stadium, probably drunk on the euphoria than the bottles of beer they had just guzzled. If only I could had been inside the stadium ... if only I had booked in advance ... well, that's what next times are for.
On the return journey in a relatively peaceful but surprisingly noisy Virgin train, I read this Paulo Coelho book called 'The Fifth Mountain'. The book was nice, at least better than other random stuff he has produced, because -
1. He finally reveals why he started writing such arbit but quite lyrical stuff. He was a big shot Brazilian advertising guru or something, which explains the creative bit. And he was fired from his job the day he was expected to become a bigger bigshot in his company, which explains his need for sprituality.
2. The book was small, as most of his books are, and not too preachy, which most of his books are (preachy), and had a nice story, which most of his books don't have.
3. A concept he put up was pretty brilliant - the best and probably the most important gift man has is the ability to make choices. Most of the choices are pretty unenviable, but we still can and have to make them.
What if god one fine day got bored of playing dice, and if there was nothing nice on TV - which will happen quite often in London, because you need to pay for the good stuff ... what if he came and asked you - Choose one of the five senses you wouldn't mind forgoing. Touch and Smell might seem like Nakul-Sahadeva ... pretty important and popular, but not really integral to any story or to anything, really.
So then suppose these guys received a wild card, and you were to choose between Taste, Audio, Video. Think about it.
I picked Video.
Which was when I realised - because in his infinite wisdom god gave us choices, i should had chosen to NOT answer the question. Too late.
(Note: Agnostics and atheists and all other people are requested to frame this question appropriately for themselves)
Anyway, after such deep thought for a full 15 minutes or so, I had to find something sane to do. Which was when I made another earth-shattering discovery. My left and right thumbprints are not identical. In fact, they're pretty different. If only I was allowed to choose which thumbprint to use. It would be so cool.
This is the gist of how I spent a three-and-half hour journey which cost me a full thirty quid. But it's ok. Next time people say 'Go Man Utd', I'll say - 'Went.'
- Location:Aaphis
- Mood:
late nights in London - Music:Ajnabi Shehar Mein - Jaan-E-Mann
the second thing, although this might be because i arrived here around setember end, is that london is cool, often chilly, but not unbearable (at least not so far). the weather is such that it makes you want to do either of the two extremes - work your ass off, or snuggle into a warm bed - but not the in between things, like don't sleep but don't work. and the best thing about the weather is that you can dress up in suits and go to work feeling businessy and worky - my theory is that it is that the power dressing is an important motivating factor for people to work. (note to self - wear at least ties to office in mumbai)
one can do a lot of sightseeing in london, and after that if one is bored (dunno why, but still ...), one can go and visit a few monuments and buildings and museums and other artsy-fartsy tourist spots. the ladies here obviously take quite a lot of pains to look good, providing a lot of necessary warmth- at times very hot- while walking around on london roads.
people here are strangely detached from each other - at the workplace, they come only to work, get done with work and leave. working in office is not a 'thing we do' kindof a thing.
things are extremely expensive here, and can seem illogically priced if one starts applying the pound-rupee conversion rate. thus, in the better interest of sanity, i've stopped doing so (converting to rupees and then agonizing).
lots to experience, lots to write, so little time, very nice city, me very fortunate :-)
- Location:Floor 2, Winchester House, London
- Mood:
curious - Music:Maula mere - Chak de India
The fruit fly (or one of its cousins) enjoys the beauties of the world for 24 grand hours after which it plonks off, although not before ensuring that there will be hundreds of kids to carry on it's legacy and plonk off on a daily basis themselves. Contrast this with a new born nephew of mine, who isn't even a day old as I type. Then contrast this with the fact, that I'm still fairly chilled even when my departure to foreign lands got delayed by a week. Maybe if our fore-fore-fathers had given it some thought, we needn't have waited for Einstein to tell us that time is relative.
Funny that this post was inspired by the Groucho Marx quote - 'Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana. '
Well at least I think it's funny.
On the topic of my nephew, he kinda looks like a freshly born hamster, rather a kangaroo, no wait, a kangaroo rat. My mom says he has my cousin's (the mom's) chin but looks like his dad. All I can make out are 2 slits which seem like eyes, 2 holes below which must be a nose, and a tiny opening which barely qualifies as a mouth and two point appendages which are meant to be ears. All this is embedded in a blob of pink dough. And yet the whole effect is startlingly cute and mind blowing. I hope they call him Conan. And I hope he outlives me by a good many years :-)
- Location:aaphis
- Music:Heyy Babyy
1. Watching the long haired german (Karl) trash some cutlery because he has to return without killing John Mclaine (Bruce Willis), some lady says to Holly - John's wife- "Woah. That guy looks *really* pissed. " Holly replies - "He's still alive. Only John can drive somebody that crazy."
2. All bloodied and scarred and bruised, when John walks in on Hans (Alan Rickman) trying to get out, he looks at his wife who is being held hostage and says nonchalantly "Hi honey."
Mind blowing! :-)
- Mood:
excel stuff
Then there was 'kans' mama, who responded in a transonic voice when someone couldn't answer some question - 'Whenever i ask, the answer is the no!'.
This did spawn the parody 'the no the no the no the no ..to the windowwwww, to the wall ...' (this song - kids don't read). It also gave us a legendary 'The Parkar is not in the same', in reference to a certain Parkar who was, well, not in the same. Apparently, lots and lots of Marathi speaking folks like using the word 'the'- probably because there is no direct equivalent for it in their (rather, my) language - although they (we) do tend to take it a bit too far.
Anyhoo, little did the aforementioned trendsetters know what they had spawned.
Cut to the present, where two relatively jobless people working in a nice i-bank with similar (read: obscure) thought-processes decide to pick up on this and improvise. Some rules are drawn out -
1. The whole point is to 'nounify' a verb, adjective or adverb (in that order of preference). If this fails, nounify pronouns.
2. Every nounified word should be preceded by a 'the'.
3. Throw in some extra 'the's ' in the sentence just for the heck of it.
4. Avoid using a 'the' if it is meant to be used.
This gives rise to the 'The Language'. Actually the language is not that the difficult. In fact, it is the very the easy. And the more you the speak, the more you the realize why it is the much more the enjoyable. Especially when the work is the less, and you is the bored. So i the urge everyone to the try. And yourself is the enjoy! Also, language is so the childish, it is the go from the juvenile to the funny.
Don't judge me. Rather- You the judge not the me.
- Location:L2 04 0908
- Mood:
chipper - Music:Coldplay - The hardest part (in my head)
This becomes a matter of grave concern when you've fought (and lost) many a grave battles with your sinus. Having stayed all my life in a place where people start commenting how nice and cold and pleasant it has become when the temperature drops even slightly below 22 degrees (celsius), maybe the concerns are not totally baseless. Not that I'm complaining too much.
--
Looking at a portfolio with some 100 odd collateral constituents which needs to be securitized and retranched such that an investor gets his demanded risk-return and the client is happy and my desk makes money so that I make money, the mind tends to wander ... one path it wanders along is this -
- Why don't I listen to Pink Floyd more often, when I know that there's probably no better or timeless music produced till date? Why do I keep myself busy with relatively mundane and soon-to-be-forgotten stuff? The answers i come up are -
-> Maybe it's because Floyd is like some nice champagne/scotch - the beauty is in a judicial treatment.
-> Maybe it's because Floyd is like a book by Douglas Adams or an Ayn Rand - too much in one sitting can leave you feeling numb or hysterical.
-> Or maybe it's because Floyd is like Undhyoo or Puran poli - a regular intake is not only injurious to your health, but it makes things pretty boring if persisted with for some time.
(Notice bulleting and nice formatting and appropriate caps lock :P )
--
Try listing out your favourite books/ movies/ music, and you find that your choices are often dominated by things you've seen/heard recently. Since this is unfair to the books/ movies/ music you've heard in the past, maybe it'll be a nice idea to make a list of all good books/ movies/ music i've ever encountered. Not only does it make your job infinitely easier when recommending something to someone, it is something nice to have for posterity. So create that list i will. Soon, very soon.
Anyway, back to work. I-Banking is nice. Running around for passports and police clearances and bank statements and visas - definitely not nice. I speak from experience :P
- Location:L2 04 0910
- Mood: e=0.9
- Music:Pink Floyd - Wish you were here
Everybody has their convocation story which typically focuses on the post-convo celebrations, where one binges so bad that he/she starts oozing stuff from hitherto unknown places, or where one starts crying/giggling hysterically. Every story usually has people making complete asses out of themselves, but it's nice fun because everyone is usually too high to notice.
My story is a wee bit different. Clashes with work hours and interviews going on at job meant that i had to ask my former roommate 'telnet' to collect the convo passes and the purple uttariya (a dignified term for a 'dupatta') all passing out people were supposed to wear. I land up for the rehearsal on Thursday, don't find my name in the list, ask around and am told that it's ok, it's an old list anyway. I recheck on the morning of the ceremony, and am told to bugger off because everyone is too busy.
So i go all dressed up to the hall some 30-40 minutes before the ceremony, and see that my name is still not included. As things stand, I will not be receiving my degree. And it is my fault that I came so late.
'But I came yesterday, and was told it's ok.'
So then I'm told it's my fault that I listened to whichever moron told me that.
'With all due respect, you did, sir.'
So because I acted as a medium for that fellow to insult himself, he walked away. I pleaded some more with the Marshall. One fellow actually commented (pointing to some air force fellow who had come all dressed up)- 'Tumko sirf woh uniform mein baithe Marshall bacha sakte hain.' For some reason, i couldn't even smile. 3 minutes left to actual start of the ceremony. Pictures of my mom-dad sitting astonished in the audience and wondering why my name was never called out started flashing in front of my eyes. Another cheeky chap - the academic office is full of such people, apparently - said 'itna hi hai to go in place of someone else.' Aargh aargh.
It finally took all of my persuasive powers, IIT-related senti, unashamed Maharashtrian- Maharashtrian bonding and a 'lost-puppy-who-wants-his-mommy' face to convince those people to at least give me a dummy degree.
As a result, the degree I received from Diro was a degree but not quite. In place of my name, was written in nice bold letters 'Dummy'. How cool is that? :)
I did get my actual degree(s) finally, but somehow it feels right to have gone through this entire madness (that's what everyone says if it all ends well only). And it feels nice I got my photo clicked professionally with my mom-pop too.
To quote Borat - 'Very Nice. I like.'
- Location:Ranjan's room (H8-259), 0700 hours
- Mood:
accomplished - Music:Rang de Basanti - Roobaroo
It is quite rational to expect tragedies and great disasters affect the markets of a nation, right? Maybe not.
It was around the time of those local train bomb blasts that I had commented that Mumbai residents are no doubt quite resilient - simply traveling 3 hrs daily in Mumbai’s marmalade-packed locals qualifies is sufficient proof of that - but it’s also got more to do with the fact that most people were either just not bothered or didn't have the time to think-ponder-speculate-agonize. I’m now beginning to believe that this indifference is not limited to just Mumbai.
By tragedy, I do not refer to some dope-eyed apparently repentant and supposedly ‘previously misguided when high’ actor getting punished for a crime he committed some >12 years ago.
(On that note - it's amazing how people shower sympathy on this patient-hugging 50 year old darling of the nation, and do not pause to wonder what would happen if every person who did what 'Sanju baba' did was simply allowed to roam free for 12 years? the quantum leap of 'celebritydom implies credibility' is unfathomable.)
Anyway, the tragedy I refer to is the recent flash flood which has left large parts of
The dip, as it turns out, was because a lot of American folks who were given loans left-right-and-centre by banks in good faith decided to default, all at the same time. The fact that most of them had a good chance of defaulting anyway is not supposed to be too important. How cool is it that we are finally desensitized from any catastrophes happening in our nation? All we need to make sure now is that the doods in US are well-behaved, and our markets will be just fine. It is ok if you can't see the humour in this entire scenario.
They say that it's only in times of adversity that we can truly gauge the greatness of men. (Note to self: find out who the aforementioned 'they' are. Very interesting things they say). The last NDA govt. realized that, because you're not being too bright if you tell people that 'look look, we're doing so great' when they are hungry and thirsty and frustrated. The current government is going to do that too, I suspect. I strongly feel that the number of seats the UPA people win in the next Lok Sabha elections will be inversely proportional to how long they stay in power. Things which come to mind are -
1. The much talked about and highly publicized and hopelessly pathetic Nuke deal we just signed with US and A. Perhaps (a) the secrecy which was so integral to the whole deal/process and (b) the American insistence on seeing the deal through should had been sufficient reason to realize that this was a crappy deal - it's just plain common sense.
2. Pratibha Patil, our new Honorary Madam President. I could write reams of pages on her achievements and beliefs, but all I will say is this - if she had taken over as the principal of my school, I would have changed schools.
3. The freedom given to the Left comrades, who seem to live in a marxist-randomnist-nineteenth century kind of communistopia. they have the position most management consultants have – full of hot air, dishing out crap by the minute and getting paid/recognized for it, and not having to bear any responsibility (of course this excludes any consultants stumbling upon this post)
4. The illogical policies and decisions made time and again. Sample this - 2 Goa MLA's of some minor party were suspended by the Speaker of the House because they withdrew support to the ruling coalition, thereby taking it from a majority to a minority in the House. It's like firing all 60 Left MP's because they actually do what they threaten to do all the time and ditch their awesomely conceptualized 'outside support' to the current UPA government. It just ain't gonna happen.
Either Confucius or some Fortune cookie says - 'People get the rulers they deserve.'
Anyway, enough of political talk for now. I get back to celebrating the fact that by this time tomorrow, I’ll have taken a Neil Armstrong kind of leap from 12th pass to IIT B.Tech. +M.Tech. (PhD). Passed (with) high difficulty. Bad fart. Sorry. At least my punctuation is better!
- Location:Last Day of Rotation - L2 04 1214
- Mood:
okay - Music:JBJ - Bol na halke halke
Picture this -
It's roughly
I know you’re bored of picturing this for so long, so now switch to imagining this-
The excel sheet has so many data columns that it refuses to accept any entries, making me go to another sheet. And it is from this file that I need to select and copy some tables onto another file. And for some reason the Unselect option doesn’t work. Now, and this is the last thing I ask you to think about, is this-
assume that you’re a person like me who typically has some movie or a TV series episode playing continuously in some part of his brain. What thought comes to your mind? (Go back and reread if necessary. Or just read ahead to get what I’m saying).
The first thing, if your imagination is really good(or really bad), that should come to your mind is ‘Kamzor Kadi Kaun?’, that irritating TV show (a ripoff of ‘The Weakest Link’, another TV show) with an intentionally crazy looking Neena Gupta who tries to psyche out the contestants by staring at them through her nostrils. It is laborious to explain the rules of the game, and it is even harder to explain how the game which so brilliantly captures the best and worst of human sins – jealousy and greed – and yet ends up being so shitty. Wiki for it please, and then continue.
Getting back to the show, contestants are asked general knowledge questions in a cyclic order, and the longer the chain of correct questions, the more the amount you win. If, however, a contestant gives a wrong answer, the entire amount becomes zero and you start from the next fellow. To hedge yourself, you can ‘bank’ an amount already ‘won’ before answering a question.
At this point of time, if you have any sharp or pointed objects which can cause bodily harm, please keep them aside, because I do not want to be arrested for assisting a suicide or a homicide. Why is a natural question you might ask- why this show? (if you actually thought of this show as I was narrating the scenario, then please contact me, we might very well be long-lost twins). Well, there is the trade-off one has to do between further selecting columns and saving oneself the effort of switching between sheets, or ‘banking’ the selected columns but doing a lot of sheet-switching.
This is finance, they tell me. I am learning, apparently. What exactly, they fail to mention. But they pay me well, so I continue to ‘excel’ (obligatory pun-fart.)
- Location:The Office (India)
- Mood:Boink boink
- Music:Bloom barabar Bloom
Note to self: If at all I do plan to take over a country and do some Hitler-stuff of my own, the first thing on my agenda is changing the school curriculum. Young minds are way too easy to confuse and manipulate.
Anyhoo, this phase of my life lasted till i was about twelve (i know!), when my granny (R.I.P., hands down one of my favourite people ever) visited our place. While we were folding washed clothes and sorting them for ironing, she asked me, "What's the system at your place? Do you iron your hankies?"
We weren't rolling in a lot of moolah then anyway, but ironing handkerchiefs! As a rule, I change hankies only when they become unbearable to even carry around, or my mom/sis realize i've had the same hanky for too long.
So I looked at my gran with a mixture of disbelief-duh-huh, when she said that there were people who did that regularly, big bosses, bade saab and their ilk. That was sufficient impetus for me to switch to a 'Survival of the Fittest' policy.
---
In other news -
- It's been too long since i saw a football match, this summer break is excruciatingly long. Mercifully, the new season begins next Saturday, and I resolve to watch as many matches as possible, starting with a random Newcastle-Bolton match :P
- Convocation is in 10 days time, but i feel like it's been ages since i last did some student activity
- India thrashed England with such disdain, that Vaughan and Pietersen seemed to be complaining/crying even when they were bowled!
- Location:L2 04 1214 - Office
- Music:Scope
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sujaybedekar- sujay
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