The weather is important, people. Not just to farmers who produce the food that sustains us. The weather is our conversation hero. It rescues us from awkward moments of silence that threaten to last till eternity. It doesn't matter if the people talking are in the same place, face to face [though does that even happen these days?] or on the phone or on chat in antipodal points. When there's nothing left to say and you still have minutes left on that calling card. When its a business meeting and there's waiting to be done for other people. When people are on their first date. When people are talking for the first time after their break up. When you bump into estranged friends and after the customary Oh! how have you beens and the What have you been up tos. When you're on the bus/train/plane with no network to be able to pour your heart out to people you really know*, you can always turn to the person beside you and say, "hot/cold/wet, isnt it?"
[sweet sound of conversation playing]
Iiiiiits Captain Weather to the rescue.
*Also, when you really want to update your blog and cant think of what to write. Its hot enough to make you glad if you are stuck in an air conditioned office for a good part of the day, isn't it?
Friday, October 24, 2008
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Ten things I learnt at Work.
So Huzaifa over at axshuzaifa.blogspot.com came up with a list of Ten Things You Would Not Have Learnt If You Didn’t Attend Graduate School
After the invariable stabbing of envy over someone having completed their Masters' passed and I moved on to the self-pity stage of having nothing much to show for my 2 years' of work experience except loss of hair, increase in blood pressure and body fat, I decided I'm going to make a list myself.
1) The power of cc : Time in which the work gets done by the recipient is in inverse proportion to the designation of the person in cc.
CC also leave a beautiful trail. Of course, people kept in cc may not really read the mails. In such cases, the words "I had kept you in cc" effect a magical response of getting the person in cc onto your side, perhaps, due to guilt of not reading your mail.
2) Alt+Tab, is the magical key combination for all employees doing what they are not paid to do. But its no use pressing alt+tab when you hear the boss' footsteps and (s)he is 2 feet from you. Depending on the angle of your monitor, your boss has probably seen what you were doing from about 10 feet away. So doing alt+tab at the last minute not only makes you a truant employee but a foolishly dishonest one.
3) Despite the fact that *every* one seems to be doing or has done or wants to do an MBA, its still hard to find a good boss.
4) People who work less but talk more than you will get a better appraisal [See Point 3]
5) Do not check work mail over the weekends or on vacation. Of course, some people think that if you check your mail and find that the mistake you made on Friday has disappeared without a trace you will have a worry-free weekend. But, chances are that you will have a host of angry emails and these emails are better read when one is fortified by a good weekend.
6) Remember those people in college who suck up to the teachers to get better marks during internal assessment. Those guys turn pro in Office [Coz not there's money involved!] They can hijack your work to take credit, snitch on you.. Oh, there's not much that's beneath them.
7) At work, friends must be made with as much care and caution as one who treads barefoot in a cage of scorpions. You might ask, why would one need to walk in a cage of scorpions? And I would retort, in all my wisdom, "Why does one need to make friends in office?" [See Point 6]
8) There will also be people who will help you if you ask. They will sit down with you for hours trying to solve your problem and not once look at their watch or mutter under their breath about having to do their own own work. They will help you without making you feel stupid and return your effusive thanks with a quiet smile and maybe a "Nothing at all". Its an honour to know these people.
9) Everything looks better or more official if it has bullet points and/or is in a Spreadsheet.
10) Expenditure on tissues goes down drastically when you work. I know of people who have a cold go to the washroom on Friday evening and suff their bag with a supply of tissue that will last them the weekend. Ok, ok I do that!
After the invariable stabbing of envy over someone having completed their Masters' passed and I moved on to the self-pity stage of having nothing much to show for my 2 years' of work experience except loss of hair, increase in blood pressure and body fat, I decided I'm going to make a list myself.
1) The power of cc : Time in which the work gets done by the recipient is in inverse proportion to the designation of the person in cc.
CC also leave a beautiful trail. Of course, people kept in cc may not really read the mails. In such cases, the words "I had kept you in cc" effect a magical response of getting the person in cc onto your side, perhaps, due to guilt of not reading your mail.
2) Alt+Tab, is the magical key combination for all employees doing what they are not paid to do. But its no use pressing alt+tab when you hear the boss' footsteps and (s)he is 2 feet from you. Depending on the angle of your monitor, your boss has probably seen what you were doing from about 10 feet away. So doing alt+tab at the last minute not only makes you a truant employee but a foolishly dishonest one.
3) Despite the fact that *every* one seems to be doing or has done or wants to do an MBA, its still hard to find a good boss.
4) People who work less but talk more than you will get a better appraisal [See Point 3]
5) Do not check work mail over the weekends or on vacation. Of course, some people think that if you check your mail and find that the mistake you made on Friday has disappeared without a trace you will have a worry-free weekend. But, chances are that you will have a host of angry emails and these emails are better read when one is fortified by a good weekend.
6) Remember those people in college who suck up to the teachers to get better marks during internal assessment. Those guys turn pro in Office [Coz not there's money involved!] They can hijack your work to take credit, snitch on you.. Oh, there's not much that's beneath them.
7) At work, friends must be made with as much care and caution as one who treads barefoot in a cage of scorpions. You might ask, why would one need to walk in a cage of scorpions? And I would retort, in all my wisdom, "Why does one need to make friends in office?" [See Point 6]
8) There will also be people who will help you if you ask. They will sit down with you for hours trying to solve your problem and not once look at their watch or mutter under their breath about having to do their own own work. They will help you without making you feel stupid and return your effusive thanks with a quiet smile and maybe a "Nothing at all". Its an honour to know these people.
9) Everything looks better or more official if it has bullet points and/or is in a Spreadsheet.
10) Expenditure on tissues goes down drastically when you work. I know of people who have a cold go to the washroom on Friday evening and suff their bag with a supply of tissue that will last them the weekend. Ok, ok I do that!
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Just stuff.. you know
Ack! It’s been more than a month since I have written anything! Instead of studying or cleaning up the room, I’ve decided to write and maybe the cloud of DOOM hovering over my head will dissipate or at least move on to someone else.
Today is Friendship Day. It’s the time to buy and tie ribbons proclaiming promises of eternal friendship, send cheesy messages, send messages mocking cheesy messages or use “Every day is Friendship Day for me” as an excuse for not doing anything about the day. I really should write a post on my friends today and how much they mean to me but I’ll leave that to another day.
Anyway, I thought I’ll mess around with this template a bit and now I’ve lost my archiving and About me sections and its one messed up code. This is because
a) I didn’t use versioning i.e. I didn’t save the code before making drastic changes
b) I hardcoded stuff all the way
There are best practices for a reason. I have learnt my lesson. Honest. Come back, Archiving Section!
Today is Friendship Day. It’s the time to buy and tie ribbons proclaiming promises of eternal friendship, send cheesy messages, send messages mocking cheesy messages or use “Every day is Friendship Day for me” as an excuse for not doing anything about the day. I really should write a post on my friends today and how much they mean to me but I’ll leave that to another day.
Anyway, I thought I’ll mess around with this template a bit and now I’ve lost my archiving and About me sections and its one messed up code. This is because
a) I didn’t use versioning i.e. I didn’t save the code before making drastic changes
b) I hardcoded stuff all the way
There are best practices for a reason. I have learnt my lesson. Honest. Come back, Archiving Section!
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Bow down to me for I have ...
I always knew I love buying books. But it has been a bit of a jarring revelation that I love buying things. Anything. It was never like this when I wasn't earning. Back then wherever we'd go for lunch/dinner I'd have the cheapest thing on the menu. Mostly, it was idli sambhar. Somehow the cheapest things also seemed to be the healthiest and friends accused me of dieting. I did nothing to enlighten them. Anorexia evokes concern, empathy and silent confessions of "me too" but stingy is just cheap!
Anyway, now that I'm earning, I love buying things. During one of these expeditions, I found this book on craft projects.
Flipping through the pages, I decided my project would be a wooden photo frame.
We went to the shops and I confidently said I needed 8 X 6 X 1 wood [I didnt want to come across as the ignorant first-timer that I was] He asked how I plan to take it away. I pointed to my big schoolbag proudly. He was puzzled. Then he laughed and said "inches!" I looked down n mumbled a yes. He suggested buying plywood but I had seen the picture of the wooden frame in that book and I wanted mine just like that. He said wood that size would cost 300 bucks.
I decided my project would be a plywood photo frame.
We had an old, rusty saw at home but still wanted them to cut it into the 3 blocks instead of one big piece. My stint with Technical drawing and the subsequent low marks in the most scoring subject in the curriculum in school and college taught me one thing : I cannot draw straight line, let alone cut out an inch thick block of wood. There was a very real risk, I'd have to tuck a folded piece of paper at the bottom to balance and there was no way in hell I would have scribbled on paper paper peeping out of beatiful cherry polished frame!
I also bought glass cut to desired size and polished on the sides.The actual glass cost me 1/3rd the amount for finishing it. Finishing is where they smoothen the edges so that blood does not tarnish the glass if you hold it by the edges.
I also had to buy polish coz the raw plywood looked ugly. Turns out there is something called French polish which is a carpenter's favourite. At least, thats what dad said. I have not been able to confirm this since I have had no interaction with carpenters other than "baby, paani chahiye." Naturally, I looked up french polish in wikipedia. " French polishing is a wood finishing technique (and not a substance, as commonly assumed) that results in a very high gloss, deep colour and tough surface."
I dont know about that because I paid 85 rupees for a 'technique' in a 1 litre bottle. Now, french polish is not sold at any hardware store. It requires a license because it has enough of an alcoholic content to make people take a swig of it.
Maybe my dad was haunted by images of me with the plywood all laid out in front of me, opening the french polish bottle and inhaling the smell and being so overcome by temptation that I'd gulp it down as the plywood pieces remained unpolished. He kept bringing up the fact that carpenters had drunk french polish and died. Always with the special emphasis on the word died.
Yes, dad. Dont worry daddy. If I wanted to have alcohol, I can afford to buy the real stuff in big, pretty bottles.
Finally, I found a page that detailed how to french polish. I sand papered plywood pices but took off more than I should have in some places. But I always realized it only after it was too late and the light brown of the layer beneath would peep accusingly out of the soon-to-be-rich dark brown topmost layer of the plywood.
Then began the polishing. I used my mom's garden gloves and started. After about two rounds of applying polish. I removed it. My hands were becoming numb. I became scared. My elbow started to hurt and I felt my chest tighten. I wandered to the hall where my dad sat watching TV. After a few excrutiatingly long minutes where I regretted a 100 things and made a thousand promises, everything returned to normal. It was then that I realized that maybe the gloves had cut off the blood circulation. I complained to my dad that he never let me watch what I wanted and, with a huff and a bang of the door got back to my workshop i.e. my study table covered with newspapers appropriately adorned with patches of french polish, rags and a pair of nose pliars [to open the !@#!^% lid of the french polish]
The french polishing went on for quite a few days quite uneventfully and I was pretty happy with myself. But on a windy day, the curtain knocked down the french polish bottle. Contents worth Rs. 45 were lost as they seeped through marble worth "I slaved over a desk for three extra months to have gleaming white marble in every room in the house and not just the hall!" It had also seeped through about 5 editions of the India Express [which is of course of a pitiful thickness as compared the voluptuous Times Of India] and into my desk. I brushed it off as enhancing the polish of the desk and set to work on the marble cleaning before anyone found out. Finally, I resorted to that classic trick of moving the desk so that it covered the general area of the problem.
Then I did the following:
...Fixed two hinges and 12 additional screws into inch thick plywood without a drill[electric or otherwise]
How? Hammer and nail, baby.
At last, I inserted the glass pieces within the screws. It wasn't smooth, of course but a little force and cursing goes a long way and then I slipped little pieces of white paper to serve as background for the photographs. Combed through the family albums to select pictures. Assured my parents I would make copies of the photos and leave the originals in the album. [I still haven't done that!] I inserted the photographs and got the photo frame to stand on the desk.
I swear I could hear an orchestra playing as I looked at my plywood photo frame.
EDIT : adding the image. Hope it looks ok, mm. Either way it was a lot of fun to make. I apologise for the crude censoring photos. See, there's a reason why I'm not making it big in the visual effects industry.
Anyway, now that I'm earning, I love buying things. During one of these expeditions, I found this book on craft projects.
Flipping through the pages, I decided my project would be a wooden photo frame.
We went to the shops and I confidently said I needed 8 X 6 X 1 wood [I didnt want to come across as the ignorant first-timer that I was] He asked how I plan to take it away. I pointed to my big schoolbag proudly. He was puzzled. Then he laughed and said "inches!" I looked down n mumbled a yes. He suggested buying plywood but I had seen the picture of the wooden frame in that book and I wanted mine just like that. He said wood that size would cost 300 bucks.
I decided my project would be a plywood photo frame.
We had an old, rusty saw at home but still wanted them to cut it into the 3 blocks instead of one big piece. My stint with Technical drawing and the subsequent low marks in the most scoring subject in the curriculum in school and college taught me one thing : I cannot draw straight line, let alone cut out an inch thick block of wood. There was a very real risk, I'd have to tuck a folded piece of paper at the bottom to balance and there was no way in hell I would have scribbled on paper paper peeping out of beatiful cherry polished frame!
I also bought glass cut to desired size and polished on the sides.The actual glass cost me 1/3rd the amount for finishing it. Finishing is where they smoothen the edges so that blood does not tarnish the glass if you hold it by the edges.
I also had to buy polish coz the raw plywood looked ugly. Turns out there is something called French polish which is a carpenter's favourite. At least, thats what dad said. I have not been able to confirm this since I have had no interaction with carpenters other than "baby, paani chahiye." Naturally, I looked up french polish in wikipedia. " French polishing is a wood finishing technique (and not a substance, as commonly assumed) that results in a very high gloss, deep colour and tough surface."
I dont know about that because I paid 85 rupees for a 'technique' in a 1 litre bottle. Now, french polish is not sold at any hardware store. It requires a license because it has enough of an alcoholic content to make people take a swig of it.
Maybe my dad was haunted by images of me with the plywood all laid out in front of me, opening the french polish bottle and inhaling the smell and being so overcome by temptation that I'd gulp it down as the plywood pieces remained unpolished. He kept bringing up the fact that carpenters had drunk french polish and died. Always with the special emphasis on the word died.
Yes, dad. Dont worry daddy. If I wanted to have alcohol, I can afford to buy the real stuff in big, pretty bottles.
Finally, I found a page that detailed how to french polish. I sand papered plywood pices but took off more than I should have in some places. But I always realized it only after it was too late and the light brown of the layer beneath would peep accusingly out of the soon-to-be-rich dark brown topmost layer of the plywood.
Then began the polishing. I used my mom's garden gloves and started. After about two rounds of applying polish. I removed it. My hands were becoming numb. I became scared. My elbow started to hurt and I felt my chest tighten. I wandered to the hall where my dad sat watching TV. After a few excrutiatingly long minutes where I regretted a 100 things and made a thousand promises, everything returned to normal. It was then that I realized that maybe the gloves had cut off the blood circulation. I complained to my dad that he never let me watch what I wanted and, with a huff and a bang of the door got back to my workshop i.e. my study table covered with newspapers appropriately adorned with patches of french polish, rags and a pair of nose pliars [to open the !@#!^% lid of the french polish]
The french polishing went on for quite a few days quite uneventfully and I was pretty happy with myself. But on a windy day, the curtain knocked down the french polish bottle. Contents worth Rs. 45 were lost as they seeped through marble worth "I slaved over a desk for three extra months to have gleaming white marble in every room in the house and not just the hall!" It had also seeped through about 5 editions of the India Express [which is of course of a pitiful thickness as compared the voluptuous Times Of India] and into my desk. I brushed it off as enhancing the polish of the desk and set to work on the marble cleaning before anyone found out. Finally, I resorted to that classic trick of moving the desk so that it covered the general area of the problem.
Then I did the following:
...Fixed two hinges and 12 additional screws into inch thick plywood without a drill[electric or otherwise]
How? Hammer and nail, baby.
At last, I inserted the glass pieces within the screws. It wasn't smooth, of course but a little force and cursing goes a long way and then I slipped little pieces of white paper to serve as background for the photographs. Combed through the family albums to select pictures. Assured my parents I would make copies of the photos and leave the originals in the album. [I still haven't done that!] I inserted the photographs and got the photo frame to stand on the desk.
I swear I could hear an orchestra playing as I looked at my plywood photo frame.
EDIT : adding the image. Hope it looks ok, mm. Either way it was a lot of fun to make. I apologise for the crude censoring photos. See, there's a reason why I'm not making it big in the visual effects industry.
Monday, June 23, 2008
"Books, old friends that are always new"
I've been working on a longish post. It wasnt supposed to be such a long one but once I got writing I wanted to note down *every* little thing that happened. I justified it saying that I was giving a very detailed descrition so it would help later on if any one wanted to do something similar. I am already 900 words down and on re-reading I find that there is not a single useful fact. Maybe I'll add some bullet points at the end of the post and it wont be so bad. Anyway, a friend said he found HitchHiker's Guide to the Galaxy strange. My own sister thinks the same. The problem is I have never been able to justify my fondness for the same.
I insisted my friends buy the book for me on my 17th birthday because I had seen the author Mr. Douglas Adams on an edition of Hard Talk and I fell in love with the book..
I've pondered long and hard over why I love the book and come up with the following answer :
[No, not 42 :) ]
1) Its frickin funny!
Yes, there is the great plot and sub-plots and characters and vision but mainly its humourous..
2) I know I can (and I have done so on numerous occasions) pick up the book, open to a random page, start reading and be guffawing within the next ten minutes. I even took it with me for my two months training in Trivandrum.
The second point is, most people would say, more of an effect than a cause of loving the book. But I dont know because at some point it becomes cyclic. That because I know I can depend on the book to alleviate bad moods, I love it even more.
Oh well, I do hope you give the book one more shot. If not, I wish you have a book, any book, that means as much to you. [And do let me know which one it is]
p.s. - The title is from a poem by Andrew Lang
I insisted my friends buy the book for me on my 17th birthday because I had seen the author Mr. Douglas Adams on an edition of Hard Talk and I fell in love with the book..
I've pondered long and hard over why I love the book and come up with the following answer :
[No, not 42 :) ]
1) Its frickin funny!
Yes, there is the great plot and sub-plots and characters and vision but mainly its humourous..
2) I know I can (and I have done so on numerous occasions) pick up the book, open to a random page, start reading and be guffawing within the next ten minutes. I even took it with me for my two months training in Trivandrum.
The second point is, most people would say, more of an effect than a cause of loving the book. But I dont know because at some point it becomes cyclic. That because I know I can depend on the book to alleviate bad moods, I love it even more.
Oh well, I do hope you give the book one more shot. If not, I wish you have a book, any book, that means as much to you. [And do let me know which one it is]
p.s. - The title is from a poem by Andrew Lang
Sunday, June 15, 2008
My first story after a loooooooog time
"Blue Flowers!" she exclaimed as she whipped out her digital camera, "I've never seen blue flowers before."
"Oh!" he said, buying time to remember names of blue flowers, hoping to impress upon her his vast knowledge and fervently hoping that she would then pass it on to her friend. The name of a blue flower eluded him. He wished he had paid more attention when his mother would point to various flowers and say, "Oh look, I wish we could have [Flower name] in our garden. But there’s no space left in the balcony!"
He had always nodded sympathetically, lost in thought about what seemed like more important things then.
"Can you take one with me next to them?" Her voice interrupted his desperate search. He knew it was too late. He agreed enthusiastically, "Of course!"
It was a filmy pose, with her bringing the flower to her cheek. Her smile said she knew it was a cliche pose but something in her crinkled eyes said that this wasn’t a spoof photo. He took the snap, taking care to keep his hands steady. But it came slightly blurry. So he looked up from the viewfinder to tell her to pose again. When he saw that she had not stopped smiling, he wondered "Oh God! Did she expect me to screw up?" He commanded his hands to be perfectly still, carefully moving only his index finger.
Click!
She came over and they both saw the snap on the view finder. It was one of those typical snaps where you know the future husband would look at and comment "A flower with a flower."
"Maybe every girl needs one of these", he thought. Along with the little black number that he read about in the tabloids. Personally, he had never seen a girl in a little black number but then again he didn’t go out much. He was hoping to. That’s why he had started reading the dating advice in the tabloids. That’s why he acted on one of the tips and became friends with her best friend. The columnist had assured success. But doubts had begun to creep in. She had been hanging out an awful lot with Akshay. They had drifted away from the group and gone for a walk. He looked worriedly in the direction that he had last seen them.
"So you like Nina, huh?" asked Asha in a casual way.
"What? Uh..um .. no! What makes you say that?" he mumbled.
This was unchartered territory for him.
"This happens all the time" she continued with a Zen-like confidence.
"What does?" he tried to ask in a nonchalant voice as he focused intently on removing the sand lodged in the ridges of his cordrouy pants.
"This.. this pallying up to the girl's best friend which in this case turns out to be me."
He stammered out an apology and asked if it was that obvious.
"No, that's ok. I'm used to it. It’s nice in a way. I get a lot of things done for me and a lot of attention which otherwise I would not have got"
"That's rubbish" he said, quite sincerely. "I'm sure you have lots of guys"
"Not really."
The were both staring at the sea. The others thought they were admiring the sunset.
She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated and then said, "The problem is this time.. this time its slightly different. Coz I like you."
She continued quickly, "I know I should, as a good friend, tell her how wonderful you are. Smart, funny in a geeky way, kind. How nice you look when you get excited about something."
He blushed. His hopes rose again. Maybe she would or had already told Nina.
"But I wont. I guess I'm not as good a friend I thought I was. You know if this was a movie, about now is when you'd realize that after spending all this time with me, you were in love with me."
He looked down.
"But I can make out that’s not true. And I don’t want you to simply transfer your affections for her to me because of some power of suggestion or some crap. So enjoy your first crush and I know it’s your first. I'm sorry I wont be able to help you."
She got up from the sand in a cool, single maneouver without using her hands. She used her sand-free hand to shake his and then she joined the group.
He continued to sit there. Dazed with this huge, unexpected information he had gained. He imagined he saw her glance his way now and again. He wondered about chances and girls and Akshay and Nina. If he should go back to being oblivious to girls. Or if he even could. But what was that she had said? "Kind and funny in a nerdy way?" Girls liked funny guys. At least that’s what they told the tabloid survey takers. Maybe there was hope yet.
A week later he saw a mail from Asha. She had attached a snap of them at the beach. He opened it and was reminiscing about the stuff that had happened that day and since then. Ajay, his friend, dropped by and seeing the photo said, "That Asha is a good sort."
"Oh, you know each other?" he asked.
Ajay replied in a slishly sheepish tone "Well, a few months ago I was actually in love with her best friend. So to patao the best friend I started spending time with her .. standard stuff, you know.. Well it turns out, she developed feelings for me.. But she was very decent about it.. said she didn’t expect anything from me.. Well, afterwards couldn't really hang out with her.. awkward you know.. but *such* a nice girl"
"Oh!" he said, buying time to remember names of blue flowers, hoping to impress upon her his vast knowledge and fervently hoping that she would then pass it on to her friend. The name of a blue flower eluded him. He wished he had paid more attention when his mother would point to various flowers and say, "Oh look, I wish we could have [Flower name] in our garden. But there’s no space left in the balcony!"
He had always nodded sympathetically, lost in thought about what seemed like more important things then.
"Can you take one with me next to them?" Her voice interrupted his desperate search. He knew it was too late. He agreed enthusiastically, "Of course!"
It was a filmy pose, with her bringing the flower to her cheek. Her smile said she knew it was a cliche pose but something in her crinkled eyes said that this wasn’t a spoof photo. He took the snap, taking care to keep his hands steady. But it came slightly blurry. So he looked up from the viewfinder to tell her to pose again. When he saw that she had not stopped smiling, he wondered "Oh God! Did she expect me to screw up?" He commanded his hands to be perfectly still, carefully moving only his index finger.
Click!
She came over and they both saw the snap on the view finder. It was one of those typical snaps where you know the future husband would look at and comment "A flower with a flower."
"Maybe every girl needs one of these", he thought. Along with the little black number that he read about in the tabloids. Personally, he had never seen a girl in a little black number but then again he didn’t go out much. He was hoping to. That’s why he had started reading the dating advice in the tabloids. That’s why he acted on one of the tips and became friends with her best friend. The columnist had assured success. But doubts had begun to creep in. She had been hanging out an awful lot with Akshay. They had drifted away from the group and gone for a walk. He looked worriedly in the direction that he had last seen them.
"So you like Nina, huh?" asked Asha in a casual way.
"What? Uh..um .. no! What makes you say that?" he mumbled.
This was unchartered territory for him.
"This happens all the time" she continued with a Zen-like confidence.
"What does?" he tried to ask in a nonchalant voice as he focused intently on removing the sand lodged in the ridges of his cordrouy pants.
"This.. this pallying up to the girl's best friend which in this case turns out to be me."
He stammered out an apology and asked if it was that obvious.
"No, that's ok. I'm used to it. It’s nice in a way. I get a lot of things done for me and a lot of attention which otherwise I would not have got"
"That's rubbish" he said, quite sincerely. "I'm sure you have lots of guys"
"Not really."
The were both staring at the sea. The others thought they were admiring the sunset.
She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated and then said, "The problem is this time.. this time its slightly different. Coz I like you."
She continued quickly, "I know I should, as a good friend, tell her how wonderful you are. Smart, funny in a geeky way, kind. How nice you look when you get excited about something."
He blushed. His hopes rose again. Maybe she would or had already told Nina.
"But I wont. I guess I'm not as good a friend I thought I was. You know if this was a movie, about now is when you'd realize that after spending all this time with me, you were in love with me."
He looked down.
"But I can make out that’s not true. And I don’t want you to simply transfer your affections for her to me because of some power of suggestion or some crap. So enjoy your first crush and I know it’s your first. I'm sorry I wont be able to help you."
She got up from the sand in a cool, single maneouver without using her hands. She used her sand-free hand to shake his and then she joined the group.
He continued to sit there. Dazed with this huge, unexpected information he had gained. He imagined he saw her glance his way now and again. He wondered about chances and girls and Akshay and Nina. If he should go back to being oblivious to girls. Or if he even could. But what was that she had said? "Kind and funny in a nerdy way?" Girls liked funny guys. At least that’s what they told the tabloid survey takers. Maybe there was hope yet.
A week later he saw a mail from Asha. She had attached a snap of them at the beach. He opened it and was reminiscing about the stuff that had happened that day and since then. Ajay, his friend, dropped by and seeing the photo said, "That Asha is a good sort."
"Oh, you know each other?" he asked.
Ajay replied in a slishly sheepish tone "Well, a few months ago I was actually in love with her best friend. So to patao the best friend I started spending time with her .. standard stuff, you know.. Well it turns out, she developed feelings for me.. But she was very decent about it.. said she didn’t expect anything from me.. Well, afterwards couldn't really hang out with her.. awkward you know.. but *such* a nice girl"
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Musial Chairs - Le Office style
There is a game that is played every morning in office. Men and women in as-crisp-as-you-can-expect-after-travel-to-the-middle-of-nowhere-but-oh-so-spacious-and-green-office formal attire scramble around the office to find their chair. Adults strategize to get that chair they've had their eye on for the last week back into their cubicle in front of their PC. One would expect factory-made chairs bought at the same time to be alike. But reality doesnt conform to expectations. Chairs, like people, age differently. Some age gracefully, some start creaking at the joints, some lose their cushioning due to harsh Nature or the heaviness of bottoms resting on it. It is imperative to find the right chair for one's comfort of body and mind, and of course, it is expected that these would then lead to increased productivity [ Companies dont spend extra for egonomically designed chairs out of concern for your spinal chord].
Every sport must have its spectators and organizers to survive. In this popular game, I believe they are one and the same. The organizers re-arrange the chairs at around 7 am every morning and later grab a pack of popcorn, sit back and watch through security cameras. Think Shah Rukh or Preity might be interested?
Every sport must have its spectators and organizers to survive. In this popular game, I believe they are one and the same. The organizers re-arrange the chairs at around 7 am every morning and later grab a pack of popcorn, sit back and watch through security cameras. Think Shah Rukh or Preity might be interested?
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Random Acts of kindness by strangers -or- Its Oprah time!
Two weeks ago, I was in the lift between the 7th and 4th floor cursing whoever had unknowingly set off a tragic chain of events by pressing the button on the 4th floor. I knew by the time the person (lets call him/her X) got in, I'd lose two precious minutes not to forget the extra 30 seconds I would have to wait till X got out of the lift on the ground floor before I could shut the lift door. Those few extra minutes lost would mean that the last rickshaw at the rickshaw stand would be taken by that mom with the the two school going kids. I would have to walk a little to catch another rick which meant that I would just miss the signal at SV Road. And miss my last bus to office. This would entail spending 50 bucks and the next 1 1/2 hrs in a crowded B.E.S.T. bus and rick to reach office. All this I thought between the 7th and 4th floor. Honest. At the fourth floor as X, who turned out to be a young servant boy, hopped in, I realized I'd forgotten my cellphone. My last hope of getting into the bus was calling someone already on the bus and imploring them to plead with the bus driver to wait for me. I told X I needed to go up. He chivalrously agreed to go up first instead of down. I pressed the 7th floor button. Rang the door bell, dashed into my room, got the phone and ran out, all the while calculating how much more time I would have to spend waiting for the lift. Then I saw that the lift with X in it, was waiting me. He held opened the door. I thanked him profusely while rushing in. And in my mind blessed him and his family. It was a fairytale ending. I caught the rick, and boarded the bus. Without even running.
College was pretty close to home so I would usually wait for 10 minutes for the bus. If it didn't turn up within that time, I'd start walking home. [Trying to walk on moss covered footpaths during the rainy season is a delightful experience. Also I find it tremendously improves one's sense of balance.] One day, after buying my 3rd Scientific calculator, I managed to catch the bus. When the ticket collector came, I discovered I had no money left. After digging around the bag for 3 minutes, I discovered I had a sum total of R. 2. Back then the fare was Rs 3.5. I looked at my calculator which I had juts bought for Rs 800, the Engineering Drawing compass I had bought for Rs 65, the discman that my sister had gifted me. Even selling them as "pre-owned" I would have got 1000 times the money I needed. But in a moving bus, I was as good as broke. To preempt the conductor's outburst [and I knew there was going to be one about "kids these days"], I got up to leave the bus. Oh, the humiliation! Then this kind voice from behind me asked "How much do you need?" "One-and-a-half rupees" I replied in a small voice. He paid the conductor. I was saved. I was also indebted to this man. Before I could properly express my gratitude, he stood up and said "Thats my stop." I resolved to wait at the same bus stop the next day and thank him and repay him. Unfortunately, I never did.
One day when I was in school, I missed the school bus. Having to go home and telling my parents I had missed the school bus would ensure that they would wake me up 15 minutes earlier from then on. My sleep was precious to me and I was determined to safeguard it. I had 15 bucks 'emergency' money. I hopped into a rickshaw. Yes, it was dangerous but I had my 9 1/2 hours of sleep to think about. The meter fare reached 15 bucks when we were still 2-3 minutes away from school. I quickly told the rickshaw driver to stop, my mind filled with visions of the rickshaw driver beating my up or calling me "chor" for not being able to pay the extra rupee it would have taken to reach school. My class teacher would be called and then maybe I'd have to go to the Principal's office. Or maybe the teacher would wait till report day and then spring this incident on my parents. I hurriedly paid him the money and started walking to school. The rickshaw moved on and then came to a stop. When I caught up with it, the rickshaw driver was smiling and he said " Pehle bolna tha! Chalo, kahan utarna hai?" I jumped in and enjoyed my 3 minute "free" ride.
On re-reading the above, I find that all of them have to do with transport. The following one is one of the best presents I got :-
Some years ago on my birthday, when the doorbell rang, I ran towards the door, all hopped up on birthday cake. When I opened the door, there stood our raddiwalla. Our raddiwalla is a sweet, sweet old man who always wishes "Good morning, baby, paper hai?" That is our cue to go to the kitchen and get the pile of newspapers out so that he can weigh and take it away. Today, before he could speak, I wished him "Good morning" and half-turned towards the kitchen, waiting for his customary question. Instead, he said "Happy birthday, baby". As I was grinning away and started to say Thanks, he gave me a bouquet of roses! It turns out that the previous year he had come to collect newspapers and mom had given him a piece of cake [I was away in college]. And this man who is probably in his 70's, he remembered! And it was the first bouquet of roses I ever received.
I'm gushing, I know it. Oh, you would too.
College was pretty close to home so I would usually wait for 10 minutes for the bus. If it didn't turn up within that time, I'd start walking home. [Trying to walk on moss covered footpaths during the rainy season is a delightful experience. Also I find it tremendously improves one's sense of balance.] One day, after buying my 3rd Scientific calculator, I managed to catch the bus. When the ticket collector came, I discovered I had no money left. After digging around the bag for 3 minutes, I discovered I had a sum total of R. 2. Back then the fare was Rs 3.5. I looked at my calculator which I had juts bought for Rs 800, the Engineering Drawing compass I had bought for Rs 65, the discman that my sister had gifted me. Even selling them as "pre-owned" I would have got 1000 times the money I needed. But in a moving bus, I was as good as broke. To preempt the conductor's outburst [and I knew there was going to be one about "kids these days"], I got up to leave the bus. Oh, the humiliation! Then this kind voice from behind me asked "How much do you need?" "One-and-a-half rupees" I replied in a small voice. He paid the conductor. I was saved. I was also indebted to this man. Before I could properly express my gratitude, he stood up and said "Thats my stop." I resolved to wait at the same bus stop the next day and thank him and repay him. Unfortunately, I never did.
One day when I was in school, I missed the school bus. Having to go home and telling my parents I had missed the school bus would ensure that they would wake me up 15 minutes earlier from then on. My sleep was precious to me and I was determined to safeguard it. I had 15 bucks 'emergency' money. I hopped into a rickshaw. Yes, it was dangerous but I had my 9 1/2 hours of sleep to think about. The meter fare reached 15 bucks when we were still 2-3 minutes away from school. I quickly told the rickshaw driver to stop, my mind filled with visions of the rickshaw driver beating my up or calling me "chor" for not being able to pay the extra rupee it would have taken to reach school. My class teacher would be called and then maybe I'd have to go to the Principal's office. Or maybe the teacher would wait till report day and then spring this incident on my parents. I hurriedly paid him the money and started walking to school. The rickshaw moved on and then came to a stop. When I caught up with it, the rickshaw driver was smiling and he said " Pehle bolna tha! Chalo, kahan utarna hai?" I jumped in and enjoyed my 3 minute "free" ride.
On re-reading the above, I find that all of them have to do with transport. The following one is one of the best presents I got :-
Some years ago on my birthday, when the doorbell rang, I ran towards the door, all hopped up on birthday cake. When I opened the door, there stood our raddiwalla. Our raddiwalla is a sweet, sweet old man who always wishes "Good morning, baby, paper hai?" That is our cue to go to the kitchen and get the pile of newspapers out so that he can weigh and take it away. Today, before he could speak, I wished him "Good morning" and half-turned towards the kitchen, waiting for his customary question. Instead, he said "Happy birthday, baby". As I was grinning away and started to say Thanks, he gave me a bouquet of roses! It turns out that the previous year he had come to collect newspapers and mom had given him a piece of cake [I was away in college]. And this man who is probably in his 70's, he remembered! And it was the first bouquet of roses I ever received.
I'm gushing, I know it. Oh, you would too.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Attempted Limericks
She sang the song
Her tune all wrong.
The friends tolerated
The neighbours berated
All month long.
Those who had belief
Prayed for relief.
Then there was no sound
till the police found
her body by the reef.
Her tune all wrong.
The friends tolerated
The neighbours berated
All month long.
Those who had belief
Prayed for relief.
Then there was no sound
till the police found
her body by the reef.
Friday, January 11, 2008
An ode to content lost due to automatic restarts
The day before yesterday, at office, I was in the process of writing a blogpost using Notepad. After finishing all my assigned work for the day, honest. Anyway, some unexpected work came up that kept me occupied till about 10 minutes before the 9 o'clock bus to Andheri. As anyone who has ever used the 9 pm company bus to Andheri knows, 8:50 is still good enough to board the bus and get a decent seat.As anyone who has traveled from Thane to Andheri knows, it is very important to get a decent seat. Or at least a seat. My desk, however, is at least a 5 minutes' walk away from the bus stand. The walk includes a trek up a staircase. Mid-way through what you would expect was a conventional staircase, you meet grass. You have to move to the extreme left of the step to find the remaining part of the staircase. I wouldn't be surprised if the landscape artists in their wisdom had designed this to test if we consume drinks that may inhibit our abilities to walk in a straight line. I also wouldn't be surprised if they've hooked up security cameras to capture the puzzled followed by embarassed expressions, followed by a quick look to see if anyone else saw them, on newcomers faces as they step onto grass instead of a step that takes them higher. Anyway so I had all this to worry about, so shutting down my PC was not a priority. I stuffed whatever I could see on my desk either into my bag or locker. I remembered to lock my locker. And ran. Navigated the stairs, paused, ran, paused, walked, ran and arrived gasping for breath at the bus. Phew! There was a seat. True, it was a seat between two men with shoulders and girth that did not confine themselves to the seat they were on. But it was a seat nonetheless. I smiled at my good fortune. Little did I know that Windows works in insidious ways. While I was thinking happy thoughts, Windows had decided it needed an update so it went ahead and downloaded that update. Then that update needed a restart. Next morning I came to office to find my computer, all smug and restarted. Blog post was nowhere to be found. Of course. Windows doesnt auto-save-recover lowly notepad stuff.
At work, whenever anything goes wrong, after haranguing us in very polite language, they ask us to contribute to Lessons Learnt. Something that we can take away from the incident, precautions that must be taken to ensure that the incident is not repeated.
I learnt or, rather re-learnt the following lessons from the above episode :
1) If using Notepad,Save. All it takes is a Ctrl-S about every 2 or 5 minutes, depending on your typing speed, to spare yourself the anguish.
2) Or use Word
3) Shut down PCs every night before leaving. Not only do you get to save electricity and earn bragging rights, "Of course I am doing my bit to save the earth " , but you have all your documents and potential posts. The good, bad and ugly. All of them.
At work, whenever anything goes wrong, after haranguing us in very polite language, they ask us to contribute to Lessons Learnt. Something that we can take away from the incident, precautions that must be taken to ensure that the incident is not repeated.
I learnt or, rather re-learnt the following lessons from the above episode :
1) If using Notepad,Save. All it takes is a Ctrl-S about every 2 or 5 minutes, depending on your typing speed, to spare yourself the anguish.
2) Or use Word
3) Shut down PCs every night before leaving. Not only do you get to save electricity and earn bragging rights, "Of course I am doing my bit to save the earth " , but you have all your documents and potential posts. The good, bad and ugly. All of them.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Laziness
Everyone has heard their parents say "I walked 'n' miles to school and you kids these days have it so easy..you'll have become so lazy"
I was quite looking forward to the time when I would tell my kids "I had to wait 15 minutes for the school bus and the potholes in the road etc". This was at a time when I was sure that The Jetsons' lifestyle was just around the next decade.
But mostly I wanted to say " You've become so much lazier than we were back in the day."
Keen observation and diligent research shows that I wont have to wait that long.
No, I am not talking abt the sms culture that has been the subject of many a debate.
In defence of the much maligned sms short forms, mobile phone keys are too frickin tiny to type anything properly and predictive test is ANNOYING.
As per my observations, our mode of greeting within the last years has changed from :
"Hello. How are you?" to
"What's up?" to
"Wassup?" to
"sup?"
[ Though what hasnt changed is the questioner's lack of interest in the answer. ]
We, as a generation, have become lazzzzzz...[snore]
I was quite looking forward to the time when I would tell my kids "I had to wait 15 minutes for the school bus and the potholes in the road etc". This was at a time when I was sure that The Jetsons' lifestyle was just around the next decade.
But mostly I wanted to say " You've become so much lazier than we were back in the day."
Keen observation and diligent research shows that I wont have to wait that long.
No, I am not talking abt the sms culture that has been the subject of many a debate.
As per my observations, our mode of greeting within the last years has changed from :
"Hello. How are you?" to
"What's up?" to
"Wassup?" to
"sup?"
[ Though what hasnt changed is the questioner's lack of interest in the answer. ]
We, as a generation, have become lazzzzzz...[snore]
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