Thursday, December 22, 2005

The year That was

Most of us would not have already felt coming to an end of 2005, it is not even Christmas yet. But I was wary of this lethargy, which I let gradually ceded to. I knew that if I did not chronicle the year at least a day before boxing day. The chances of this entry seeking its destiny to the place where blogge allocated bytes very much slim.

Is it time to hold court with you janus, oh no, not yet, yes there are still more than a million secs. Oops well it is tenth of a million, a lakh. Oops again I am still of target by maybe again a tenth, minus 10%.

Jan, feb, march go go go, april my birth day, the biggest damage, party out 18 guys, nimra guys eat only gost, face plastered with cake and a wallet for a gift, with a beautifully story attached. May june, resignation and joining afresh, july , trip to kottayam, aug, sep, dear two friends – the puncture trip, oct, nov,dec, I am writing.

Lalu disloged - people happy, godhra forgotten - people happy. Happy me for I am for away from every thing that. Tube bombings - israili barricade - republican guard and predator drones. Tsunami proof and on stable( level 2) land mass. Away from Kids touching live wire (in Bangalore), ranvir sena roits,maoists - jehanabad`s Bastille falls, Beurs riots, paris burning - away from girls electrocuted(in paris). Happy me for I grown up wont poke my hands into live wires. GDP china four - PPP India four, ICC standings china nowhere India last - IOC standings china two India nowhere. Sania mirza thighs not good, but ranking better than any Chinese around. Chandrababu out, nellore corporation, elections postponed, roads forgotten. Sethusundaram, theri drowns, Chennai challenges cherrapunji but Mumbai steals the record. IIPM advertises, sabnis protests.

Politics, strife, environment, economy, sports and local. compressed into few broken hyphenated sentences, I don’t need to articulate on each and every verily, for verily each and every above had been dissected, cut, washed, ironed, distilled, verified, stinged and finally anesthetized, by competent editors, anchors, copy writers and makeup artists and stock holders. An even unbiased view for every angle and for every group, possible!.

I am away from kids who play around live electiic and illegal immigrants who lack sense and cant make out un-grounded and un-insulated shelters. My kids wont never light their feet around such un-insulated surroundings, I am not a father yet but I know. Nor would they/I/you am dishonorable to play hide & seek from french state police. When onto work, nobody whisks or friskes me, for I can job-hop, and don’t need a C4 laden belt around around my waist as those not-good-for-life arabs around gaza. Predator drones frighten me but cheers the cost arbitrage I provide by drolling out software to their gadgets, assure me. IOC and ICC I don’t concern myself with, chandrababu and beur riots I can dismiss them in same single breath. It rained here till it wetted the undies, here how wont cherrapunji matter. So bye bye and I if there’s anything lift to bade you farewell dear old year, I have still a tenth of a million seconds left.

Ah I forgot, I reread the alchemist again.- and this time I read that fate tests us severely after beginners luck, and this year you made me realize that its true.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Rain and me.

Bangalore had the wettest of 50 years. I find riding fun, the 40 km a day demanded by my second job could only be addressed via either a cab or a bike. The four wheel option is horrendously slow on hosur rode, sum it up with integral timings and restrictive pick-ups, the alternative biking is truly a prudent and pleasure filled choice. Infact snaking between cars and trucks, zooming on the footpaths, detours on service roads leaving the traffic struck for its own good is peace in itself. The heaviest traffic jams and slushy raods were paid in full for with just few specks of mud on visor, jacket and soiled pants.

I knew exactly where to jump lanes, raise the throttle or clutch and go down the gears. I had had driven the hosur road and its adjoining service roads in all combinations, till the driving became an activity of rote. Then some day, the ride lost all its sheen. It was just like playing the first few stages if Mario where a accomplished player can blindly jump over all the obstacles and catch the flag at its tallest point in a go. Here even though I wanted it very much wanted to ride blind, it was not to be so for hosur road never gives you 1-ups.

Most of the times the ride is like the first stage in Mario, accelerate, break, wait, trample, jump ahead. and when it rains it is like the slippery ice stage. When sometimes rarely I got struck in traffic, waiting was like waiting you do for the two devils( who throw axes at you), jump higher platforms so that you can sneek through. But the fun was diminishing with each ride finally it felt like that thing which happens when you jump over the flag. You keep running and running no obstacles and no fun, only running to do till the times rolls over and your character pops out of the screen.

But still there was flexibility and it the petrol bill roughly equaled cab charges.

Then it came oct 25, rains and rains the days before, but more vitally that date contained the night which leads to light of 26 and to a buddies birthday. The rains before and rains that day jailed me where I was with a battery zero. I had to wait for another oct 25 to wish my buddy “happy birthday” in the dead of night. I wished him the next day though but still I know I will have a lot of convincing to do, the thought sends a shudder and freezes my heart, which the people who have chanced to meet the dear friend would readily agree. That night at the electronic cites threw an option before me. I would move my two suitcases, one big and other not so big and my heavy duty bag and start living there. Bangalore, don’t worry I will come visiting every weekend and maybe more.
But the respective merits are still being evaluated.

P.S: I started out to criticize the weather; it was horrible the full week. .Let the lakes lay where they laid.

Monday, October 17, 2005

Three guys three bikes.

At 2:30 Milind applied brakes to park his bike besides the feiro, waiting at jaynagar. After a quick chat we joined Rishi at Kempagowda petrol bunk. It was going to be my first road trip, the smooth surfaces which we are seeing around these days, made me feel confident bout 800+ km of cruising. The trip started with slight drizzle and good roads, 15mts later the drizzle started to bite on exposed skin. The cracked visor on milinds bike was unable to stop a deviant drop from hitting the head light, the halogen lamp went out with a crinkling burst, the first sacrifice.

We braved rains, bad roads, damp undies, a night ride with one head light less, socked socks, fictious tigers, snaking ghats, three punctures, two of them in wilderness.

But why did we go? Curtly it could be answered, cause there was a road, but screw you man, there was no road in our case, it was pebbles and dirt, held sometimes at the sides by ***suppostabe tar.

The plan was Bangalore –Mysore – Margadi – Mangalore –Bangalore, 800kms of cruise was what we were ready for. The rains and the absent roads cut that down to 680kms of spine stirring experience through Bangalore- Mysore – Kushalnagar – Namdoyling monstry – Hognagal Dam- Bisle Ghats – Kuke – Shirdi ghats – Sakelspur - Hassan- Bangalore.

Chapters follow.

It rains at bidadi
Rishi shot ahead, I was keeping along with Milind. We had driven for nearly 8 kms in heavy downpour, drenched till undies, we better thought stop. While I was sipping hot tea and contemplating Milind future. Rishi called and conveyed that he was 4 kms ahead at bidai and will wait When we three united again near wondela, Rishi was in full gloom. The Journey had staked its next sacrifice, Rishis cell, and the Milind`s headlight change had to wait.

½ lane or ¼ lane (half or quarter)
The roads were disappointing and worse still we had not planned for them. Manglaore still appeared feasible, the roads thinned to 2 lane, then to one and finally on some stretch, it was half a lane for twin stream of traffic, divided it became a quarter lane road. Mangalore forgotten, the road though admonished in pure tongue did not turn good. The average speed was 25-30 but we were still intrepid on Mangalore.

The Unspoken fear
The jouney had taken a headlight and a cell, what will it claim from me. There was a steady drizzle all along, we had taken a wrong turn and were taking a detour on a kachha road, I feared a puncture or a breakdown. But there were to be no more mishaps that stretch, after Tea at khusalnagar, we were climbing on our way to Margadi, Suddenly my rear tyre started to wobble and at 4am, Mangalore and Margadi were abandoned, we turned back to kushalnagar to mechanic and rest. Milind wry frame took over my Ferio and me his pulsar and we trudged back to Khusalnagr. After 4 hour dreamless sleep, we were ready to hit the road again.

Newer and smoother Route?
The puncture had denied us Mangalore. We went to Namdolying monastry and Harangi dam the next best alternatives. Now it was the time to return, going the same way back sounded more like hara-kiri. Milind had taken NH48 on better days, we were all aye to the detour. Shirdi ghats fall on way, 28 kms of 3rd or 2nd gear ride. The road was shitteir than anything and negotiating it on night would have been most exiting, only if your butt was not complaining. I had moved into boxers, but still.

Human physiology
Shirdi ghats fall on the way and guys 300 kms of riding had brought to my light, parts which I never knew existed. The shoulder and neck muscles, the left arm all started gently reminding themselves to me. I coaxed the muscles on, by rotating the group and other novel moments. Butt, which I am proud to say is one of the most silent and dignified muscle takes a lot of abuse, a workhorse and never complains. But this trip in damp undies had cooked it on light flame for 9 hours, it got tender and thence I started noticing the milestones. It complained the harshest. There was supposed to be wildlife on that way and I secretly hoped that a tigress would attack us. If it had happed then the feline would have relished the tender butt.

Kukke, the punctures and the Monkey cap
Milind wanted to salute subramanya swamy, men have to go topless inside the holy sanctum. I was wearing 5 layers of clothing and the temple priest got tired seeing me strip. I wanted a monkey cap,
“So I called up the man across the counter”
“please give me my cap”. he said
“we do not had that cap type since 1989”.
I could vividly recall 1989, the year when ever one fought against that monkey cap. I fought both dad and mom, 1 on 2, against wearing that cap even to fajr .
“such a lovely cap, such a lovely cap”
tyre gets punctured again
“a mechanics shop, what a nice surprise”
“such a lovely place, such a lovely place”.

Sum of punctures.
Summing up averages is supposed to give a fair picture. The same sum had ruled out Mangalore to let us be in Bangalore by 1am Monday. The godly average finally let us in Bangalore at little over 9:30 am, when the traffic was at its peak. The godly average never accounts for T, P breaks. The average does not even care for punctures and other contingencies.

Expert help
Now finally let me introduce the man who let this trip happen, Rishi Chowdary, two wheelers doctor Bihari, 90.someone, Road trip veteran, ace photographer. He carried a spare head light, extra tool kit and a lot of road sense. My bike started to misfire near shirdi ghats, Rishi tucks in the loose wire and presto the bike zooms again, 5 kms from Bangalore, ala the key hole contact get shorted, he pulls some wires winds then together and the bike starts to run again without keys. In Mysore he might have replaced Milinds Headlamp only had he got box spanner. Now how many of you know a. what a box spanner is, b. can start a bike without keys. Now guys when you plan sometrip like this be sure to have a man who knows bikes and roads. Milind it was very good time with you man. Truly a peoples person Three cheers to dil chahta hi company.

Back to Bed.
Saturday I slept 4 hrs and on Sunday managed a princely 18 mts. The water heater was on, I was chewing some dates, Milind has already taken leave, I was in some sort transcendal state, the world around felt wavery, feet move but the body fails to keep up. I call up Rishi, he is firm on going. Abbu was challenged, in 15 mts I bath and dress, the world around is still wavery, but I reach for helmet. The next moment the ground around has stabilized. When the butt felt the seat again, I could fell the nerves firing up, signals raceing to the brain. I road-king had never kept myself awake any night. I used to think only a special night can keep me awake. Here was me in full control riding again on hosur road. I reach office proudly take seat before Rishi does. When only with full concentration and 3rd try that I finally key in the right password, I knew that something is right and my mind is no longer in death avoidance mode. I head to bed in office.

How to be a Sensitive man!
I remember the last time I cried was when I told Sudhakar in straight tongue that he is fat. The blow flat and cross on the left temple would have been deadlier now cause back in early 90ies I did not wear specs. Then on failures, betrayals, more flops and more failures dried all my tears. These days whatever, tears refused to roll down the cheeks. I feared that lobe responsible for emotional processing has ceased activity. A few hours later when I trek back clumsily to my desk again. A female voice resonates my ear drums, the voice is feeble but I could make it out clearly. “Are u crying?”. Damm man!!! Damm it I could cry or at least look like crying. Now guys some girls demand the guys to be extra sensitive. For many of our sex, blessed with stoic blank faces failing to look that extra vulnerable was the biggest undoing. Not any more, drive these kilometers, but never admit, shrug her away and if she persists tell her that you will tell her tomorrow, and we our on our way fullfilling ***** dreams.( Fill in what ever you link, 5 stars are all yours).

I want to keep on typing, the pages want to know about the three ponged yin-yang, the wayside villages with their circular village centers, prohibition of photography in the days of google earth, the hidden tigers, how i started seeing kilometers rather than seconds on X-cordinate. Now back in civilization I am forced to stop for time has started to count again.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Grand chef abbu.

We decided it is high time for us to take control of our diets, and presto our already cramped abode had to make room for a kitchen. Now I am to say unwary of ways of a kitchen, but I sometimes felt a calling, something inside me wanting to be a chef, to hog asparagus and food of those sorts. When I once laid my eyes on a tin of shelled calms, I knew what my existence lacked; a kitchen.

Stove we got from a friend; it was the collateral requirements which burnt our pockets. I needed the list; rang my mom. She gave me a list of essentials; pans, vessels, spoons, knifes, storages boxes etc, then the topic moved on to cooker, the requirements here was of a 3.5 ltrs modest cooker, ample for two souls who wished to flatten the tyres around the tummies. But mom threw her weight behind 6 ltr, wide base, multi purpose one costing twice as much as the 3.5 ltr deluxe variety. She won’t relent, she spoke to the sales guy and I carried the cooker out. Later I got this inside info from sis that my mom owns the following 3.5, 5, 10 and 15 ltr cookers. (and on my way back, I found myself humming. ”all that she lacked is another baby, baby”).

Suhail was more than happy to inaugurate the kitchen and served me a great dish of chicken korma. The next morning, I don’t know how, I got up earlier than him and was apprehended, to get a packet of milk. When he poured the milk in indalium vessel, I realized to my amusement, that milk and curd packets are both moon white and the 500 ml of the both come in equal size packets and cost nearly the same and are tricky to distinguish when kept side by side. He was not amused and even chastised me about how to spread jam.

But I redeemed myself the same night, roties was decided to be the spread for the night. Suhail no matter how hard he tried could not roll chapathi right. I offered to help, but my frivolous smile cheated him, then after a umpteenth try I finally got to hold the ‘baalen’. and round and even chapathi were the surprising result.

Well I was never allowed into the kitchen when I was kid, cause I was accused of knocking things around and was sidelined to dinner table, and far from the environs of kitchen, rolling of chapaties was the activity where I crafted a niche for myself.

That’s it for now, but before I quit let me give few lesson to the intrepid cook.

Lessons for the intrepid cook:

1. There is always steam still left to bite in a cooker.
2. even chicken contain fat, and the butcher is not your best friend.
3. curd packet and milk packet are absolutely undistinguishable (unless you are a jerk who reads fine print).
4. so are salt and sugar..
5. salted chocolate drink is palatable
6. don’t boil dal in a vessel earmarked for otherstuffs.
7. “dal galti nahi”, has profound meanings (if you add sugar it will never).
8. A chef, is hence forth declared uncool.
9. boiled eggs spoil the next morning.
10. no matter what u do, a onion is a onion..
11. You spread jam over a slice by skating the spoon around, any other way u might have tried is wrong.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

I command my blog here forth back to life, the elixir had to be forced down his unwilling throat, somehow I wrest a win and am accorded hence forth plenipotentiary powers .

But, my blog rebelled, why. Argued why.

The Argument:

Neolore: hey blog! Salams, I got it, I have found ….
Dying blog: w/salams.

Neolore: Damm it! U are nearly 2, cant u fend for u`r self, ....I got it, I have found it, found at last. Inferi gave me a tough time, but boy I got this for u., taste a drop, lil elixir. sweet lil elixir

Dying blog: leave me alone.
N: haan!!!!
back to sense ‘my-blog’, now be a good boy, I have head-full of worries. Drink it.

DB: I wont,
N: u wont
DB: wont wont wonttt !

N: Hmmm! I am sorry, Don’t be a bart, understand blog, I promise to be nice. Listen went to kottayam, it is so nice, u will find ur self obese in few postings, now be good. I got a head heavy of tensions, now please.

DB: ok but first tell me, how does it taste ?

N: jannu, it is for u, something for me, so complex, to encompass and map me, my whole gamut of emotions, fortify and secure me, I reckon needs a alchemist, mother earth, will find impossible to bear. Now gulp it up.

DB: wait, tell me, is this elixr mapping me here, pinning me down, jailing me here, I am to stay here, unwilling rot here, when I had rotten enough, when my spirit beckons to merge, or simply just want to loose itself to bliss. My pact wont allow it, u will exhibit my crumbling bones and i`ll be forced to rot here, forever. I won’t. I want salvation.

Neolore: come on, who wrote them into u, it was I, only I. Now come on u are just random bytes, no DNA only DNS(domain name system). You are simple electronic polarizations. Salvation or purgatory whatever that is, is definitely not for u.

DB: u are an unbeliever, and you claim to be complex, but Neolore you are treacherous, you are planting a bloody horcrux.I dont want to be horcrux, i cant be one. Please i beg.

Neolore: how u dare, I don’t need horcruxes, I wont use them, they don’t exist.Stop this bloody shit, rowlings she got to ur head.

(the argument went on, but it was no use, words or were they, figments of imaginations were having no effect, I had to unsheathe my sword, but the blog had a point, he mocked at me and my claimed complexity. Horcruxes!!! had he got a point there. But then i was weary of negotiations).

The fight:
It was not as simple I thought it would be, doubt is mans biggest weakness. Planning and strategy give us false sense of security, they stop us from reacting till we rust. I learned it the though way, only action gets me or anyone, anywhere.
I rummaged through the passwords, got the link, prepared my bramstra, to sound the death blow of the apprehensions. I finally post.

Monday, August 08, 2005

me, reaL and Fake

I dream nothing new,
I dream till it pains,
the pain is lesser but,
its a moments pleasure,

Friday, July 29, 2005

Prasar Bharathi

In few days, cricket starts again. There is not much to dwell on how much, cricket costs the country. People convince themselves that they have a righteous reason to numb their minds and abstain from productive work. Let it be.

The supreme court orders ten sports last to share its feed with DD, Ten sports looses out on the subscription moola. And. Prasar bharathi gleefully yanks the feed coolly sells the add space, choking Ten sports to death, it was so unethical.

I hope the episode wont repeat again. Ten sports is cable company, profits from adverts and subscriptions, terrestrial DD stealing subscription revenue is regretful in-itself.

Apart. Guys shun the game instead view things
here funny, neo, and be warned viral

Monday, July 11, 2005

Docs aren’t gentleDogs.

Abdulla is idling; when mountains of project docs are waiting in eternal hope that he will ingest them, which they hope is their version’s salvation. Docs u need to wait, there are many others docs, whose demands are paramount. Docs understand” Every Doc has its day and there will be one for u too”.

Now Docs if you excuse.
I will get on with my blogging.

Docs are sterile, some docs aren’t, they; then aren’t Docs they are “TimePass”.

Docs lag organs for procreation, though they manifest in many forms, namely pdf’s, ppt’s and ‘just plain-jane docs’. It is all mitosis. Cell division. The versions number differ and the differences mostly end there. A few bits of information is lost even in the natural process of cell division and the mild differences in the various versions can thus be accounted for.

Docs are barren neither can they impregnate other species who ingest them, goats, bovines, humans. They don’t fire imagination. They suck.

Not the least, when a friend is confiding his harrowing experiences, Docs don’t make u grim in between, though to dear friends dismay. They kill the chances of him calling thy, a sucker and the verbal barrage in the ‘pure tongue’ that might have resulted. The friendship, which might have been fortified, loses a golden chance. Good books do.

Caught in abyss of their brain numbing powers, abbu the ruler of the realm, W-156 banishes them to life time of damp dungeons in his drawer or till the status meeting, whichever comes first.

P.S: The usual Doc loving abdulla, chanced to shine his eyes over “Time pass”. And if u remember, it is the book in which the beloved Protiama bedi gets chummier than the dear freind and confides her not so harrowing escapades. Abbu revolted and what u just read is the result.

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Crystal Ball

In next 25 years i am see these

1. Saudi Arabian oil fields run dry.
2. JDO replacing entity beans.
3. Japan allows immigration.
4. Aids epidemic- full blown
5. Maldives wont sink.
6. There wont be cricket
7. Microsoft buying MGM or any media house.
8. Bloodier middle East.
9. 80% literacy in India.
10. North south divide over parliamentary seats,

Abbu: Bag a booker.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005


This is the last blog, the last from abbu the PSI’ian. .

Destiny isn’t stealing any psychic powers, never gave them, in fact. I work in Psi Data System Ltd, so i am PSI'ian and it is coming to an end. Abbu is nostalgic. Abbu the puppet, the lotus eater, has eaten the poisoned lily. The lily is red like the red pill. The teeth are white and tongue is red, the lily is on its way, throat, esophagus, stomach, leaving an acidic stain, which is green. The tongue is green, viler than the heart (which is still red). It abuses the one, the heart loves.

‘Classic milds’ fills the lungs. The weed is at work, dyeing the insides black. Green goes black comes, Throat, esophagus, stomach, black. The tongue is still pale-green, crimson, but allah! To no avail the heart has been smoked dry.

Abbus heart: Vs ABBUS tongue: Green leading.

The omnipotent Puppeteer: it was not a lily, was a rose?. Green is photosynthesis, u eat red, red mutton, red beef, radish, ‘no’, I saw u eating radish. Eat radish, red radish. U are red. Cheer up

Abbus heart vs Abbus tongue: Status quo.

The Tongue: Ha ha! It was rose, was it love, puppet, Love is red, but look now all u get is green. Where is red, there are only coquette’s. Tongue: ‘coquette, coquette, butterfly. I am never wrong’.

Abbus heart vs Abbus tongue: puppet is mauled.

Puppet: Enough, red and green, green and black, black and crimson, and red. I have a heart which is both red and blue, blue vein’s feed it. Red sprouts from it. Black cavities and white bones. I don’t want to judge. I am yin and yang, rainbow colors and many more. I’ll play my part and I want to play it best.

Friday, June 10, 2005

Cofee time

I’ll like to sip some coffee,
Does hundred cups feel right?
u say impossible?
But let me please try.

Sinse you will be around,
the Aromas would be right.
The brew would be heavenly,
and the aroma is allmuch I need.

The clock here wont be needing
anyhing more of me, but I want a cup
with the aroma allright,so be
here at 6:00 or anytime u feel right.

note: abbu is waiting, for a reply, from the who dominated his every thought for the past six months. i may not get her, but abbu is not one to stop.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

Un- Linear -- Good Book

I indulged myself in a luxury. I bought myself a novel, and the special thing bout it, is that was form Higginbotham’s and its true they don’t sell pirated novels. (I was hoping)

the royalty would go to the magician who wove those lines, Salman rusdie..

Trivia: a poll recently says that 90% of Indians think that using pirated software is akin to stealing, I am sure, the pool was not done in TeluguLand, Tamilnadu definitely Illai. ( I have cousins there), Delhi impossible, mallu land u are joking. Bihar probable, (they don’t have power there). UP, MP, Orissa, delhi, nahi, nah, illai, kadhu. I have never been there but my instinct points only to the Indian armies ’s weather station in Port Blair, Andaman’s. (stronghold of jarwas).

Prepare for a interview:

Grungy Interviewer Question1: Midnights children costs 15$ in US, they are 30 times richer than Indian, how much should Indians pay ?

Confident fresherAnswer1: 50 cents.

GI: (Not so easy bacchu!)

GI Q2: An Indians paid 306 bucks for it, using data from above question statistically correlate, and determine the percentage of people in the income bracket who can afford it?

CI A2: err may be 15%…!!??

GI Q3: We will get back to you. Do you have any questions?

Back to me…..
If something is not open source or freeware in my system, u can be sure how got it
I do this to express my disapproval of the thing I call “UNFAIRGLOBALIZATION”.

P.S: Rusdie shattered my illusion that I can be famous writing a book, a parrot wala prophesied it when I was 14, and from then each and every parrotwala with more than just a parrot to feed, I meet, predict nothing but success. They are all true, I Can be a CRITIC.

Friday, June 03, 2005

Blog Suppressants

Top Ten things responsible for killing my blogs on the notepad thyself.

1. Blogger`s block
8. Design patterns, Webservices.
5. Chaos is order to me,
9. If only bulle shah were my contemporary.
3. Fairer sex being the only things which inspire me
4. Nothing else stirs me, not even the Rain gods. (it would have taken a team of them to cause the havoc which bangalore went through, does abbu applause No.).
6. Wait for ‘someone’ to read the gems, I have posted so far.
10. Expectations, for the blog has to be of saki quality, which any kushwant may jolly good want to plagiarize.
2. Yahoo image search
7. Patience, (human kind needs all the time to decipher the hidden meaning in my very arcane blogs, they need time to adopt to my higher meaning of life)

Friday, March 18, 2005


Here I am waiting for the interview, Kabira. The interview will take me into it. A bit of a gamble. Our VP encourages with the reckless courage of a non-combatant. Booty and glory await me, he whispers in my ear.

Telecom is happening these days, but the technology is proprietary. Apprehensive. I will take the interview, decide later.

Friday, February 25, 2005

Black - dark review.

Note: Cynical view of a could been great movie.

Black was good, it moved me to tears by interval, and by the final reel, I was groping for exit. The movie had claimed its quota of tears and I was adamant on not giving anymore. The girl was most natural, I felt like donating my kidney, livers, ears and yes, especially eyes, after I have had complete use of them.

The girl, she beat seasoned amitab and rani, commented a friend. The hallmarks of great actor he continued as we left the theater. But after many pondering, I figured her part. She was, hiding under the bed, looking everywhere but in eyes, making faces and breaking dishes. This comes naturally to most of the kids I had acquaintance with. I bet Calvin would have barted hobbs for the part. (calvin never appreciated table manners).

As movie progresses, rani becomes stronger. (There are a lot of visually challenged people going about their lives in a silent dignified way. She becomes one of them.) When it comes to movies most have a sense of strong moral justification, and naturally we are pleased at her transformation. Hormones come into picture, though she had a great restraint, a decades wait and haplessness’ can break anyone.

Amitab loses his mind, before that he is ashamed. A major part of his life is also blind and dumb. Did rani’s sudden wish accelerate his breakdown, we will never know. Debraj could have been anyone. Tall and deep voice.

This heartless study of characters was necessitated for the movie-looked alien to me. Anglo Indians have long left subcontinent, and the directors distorted ideas about winning Oscar, took the Indianess out of the movie. I could have digested thakurs, Bengali, parsies. And the phoney characters did not help much.

Imitation is all always second grade, even if u do it better, u fail, u didn’t do it as it was meant to be. Lets be Indian at least on screen.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Women unethical.

Warning: The author loves all women. He is no female hater.

Overheard in the mess where I eat my dinner everyday, a fact bitter and true.

Women who buy their lunch are generally minority in any office canteen. None dares to ask them why, for it considered that they are born cooks. But each one, their culinary skills, good or bad, help themselves to sambar, curd, dal everything kept on the table. Why their natural mastery here ends with boiled rice, are never questioned. Aunties, trainees, cuties (structures to be dealt later) everyone quickly siphons the curd sambar, dal with feminine grace and feline speed. Rice and canteen dal the perfect home made lunch.

The guys who turn up late curse the guys who turn up early. They curse the canteenwala too, then the project manger, who wanted the file so urgently. The colleague onsite and the client too. Cursed most is their best friend who had to pee, just when they were about to enter the empty canteen. He gets cursed for dal, cursed for thick sambar, cursed for thin curd and cursed for the cold rice.(don’t pity him, curse him, he deserves it). But they never think bout the real reason.

Cursed is the dog, the chair, the phone, nothing escapes.

These cursing though sounding like comedy of errors is not that simple. Each cursed souls doesn’t care a iota, for even the dog knows reason for the famine of the curries.The fairer sex .

Guys high time to stop cursing, somebody said, “nothing can stop the truth whose time has come”, Saki said, “ beauty is only sin Deep”.

Yes u can stop them from pillaging our rightful share.

Saturday, January 29, 2005

V*** DAY

The valentine day from 2000 was celibate affair. Every V-day was celebrated as a day of hope, expectation, great joy and something divine. It was a day to bath u’r soul, purge all the memory of the gone by girls, forget all the rejections, and sum up all the bad things u have done the last 364 days and vow to never repeat them again.

It was to be a ‘Vice free day’.

Vice free it had got to be, for that was the day when going out in the sun was forbidden and the moon, oh no the moon that days sends down moon rays, more poisonous and lethal than any snake venom. It was also a ‘no telephone day’,( think bout pretty telephone operator girls, working 365 days, lets give them a day off).

All this rules were taken from some holy Druez book, and as is the purpose of holy rules, they have a deeper hidden meaning and gain, they help u cushion through the whole treacherous day unheared and unseen, u are just a grain of sand.

But the next Vday the whole earth, city would notice, the newly discovered meteor with the venus for company. The girl forget earth will be noticed in u`r mohallah. Three cheers for the day and the smooth new U.

The blog should have ended here, but girls, it looks that i am having a crisis here,
need all the helping. (:- . i dont know that any other soul reads this, but incase it
read, leave a comment, for this thing needs one. Again need all the helping.

Sunday, January 09, 2005

wait, will u.

u have u`r own pace,
I would have loved u`r wait,
u are cruel, show no pity,
u make me so weak, so hapless,

why don’t u hide and conspire,
why do u walk unceasingly straight,
u`r gait makes me abandon, tactics and
the will to fight, till u knock my door, break in .

how do I fight u, my arms are in the basement,
vanquish me, but let me please arm,
for I wish a, warriors death,
alas! rusted armour, wont drape me.

it’s awakening, from the
unreal sweet slumber,
lotus eaters, weren’t u warned,
I have to take u, for I cant turn back.

Monday, January 03, 2005


I’m gonna take you by surprise and make you realize, Amanda
I’m gonna tell you right away, I can’t wait another day, Amanda
I’m gonna say it like a man and make you understand, Amanda
I love you

Life is never a lyric, but better to confess and absolve yourself then to grudge everyday.
When u have a crush and even ifn’t the “lady in red” is not Amanda. Tell her and lighen u`r soul. True advice.

Years of hindi movies have built fear into the hearts of all Indian boys, he dreads to put his love into words. His fear is not the sin(it is no sin, mind u), but the SLAP and “teri maa behan nahi hai kya” bit which he expects to follow. I ask all of u to fight this evil and save the poor Indian men.

I dared in the dying hours of the year, got turned down, but hey, the world isn’t conspiring as it used to now and everything looks clear as if I had got myself a new pair of specs.

I wish myself a great year now.

Trivia: Hindi and telugu movie industy are responsible for keeping my confession count in single digits, Otherwise the count might have warranted a google.