the psycho next door

11.2.2012

2012-02-12T00:01:00.003+05:30

This seems to have been scripted by someone who has a nice sense of poetic justice.
How more fitting can it get?
(And that too, set up by Arshavin! Not even by the remotest half chance of a wildest guess, going by his present form, that is.)

The way he kept thumping the Arsenal crest on his jersey during his celebration, which, symbolically enough, lies close to his heart, said everything.
Thank You King Henry The L.E.G.E.N.D.
Respect.

Whatever it is, I want to come back [to Arsenal], maybe as a water boy, I just love this club..

[All rights for the image lie with Mr Michael Regan of Getty Images. (Lucky dude.) Sorry Mike for not asking permission, but I had to use this one.]

10.2.2012

2012-02-10T00:14:00.003+05:30

It wasn’t planned, and the sudden craving for something other than Plain Dosa and Coffee from Aryas for dinner was impulsive. Ok, that salary got credited the day before might have got something to do with it. I felt the craving the day before too, but then it was coupled with an urge to hit the road for a nice drive along the highway on my bike, so ZamZam was a natural choice and I had the customary Half Shawaya, Porotta and Chilled Lime Juice. But no desserts. I did venture a bit out of the shell by trying their new offering, the Wheat Porotta. As sad as this makes me, I have to admit that the usual, harmful-for-health Maida Porotta wins hands down.
So that day, earlier at office I had planned a visit to the newly discovered Gamers’ Lounge-cum- Cafeteria, Café 1337, and had actually googled the directions. Upon reaching home, there was a change in plans, partly out of the fear that they might actually close down by the time I reach there. So that’s how I ended up heading off to the Zinc n Rock’s new outlet at Karyavattom, which wasn’t too far either and hadn’t been checked yet.

That leads to
Restaurant Review: Zinc n Rock, Karyavattom

How to Reach : This shouldn’t be difficult at all since its very conspicuous, located bang on the roadside at Karyavattom – to your right if you’re coming from Kazhakkoottam.

Now, I had been to the real Zinc n Rock, at Vanross Junction for more than a couple of times, and had even tried their Burger Fest once with Bibin. And I am afraid because of that experience my reviews on this one shall be slightly comparative, but then its their sister franchise only. So, if anything, it had a classy ambience, with tastefully done interiors, sticking to a particular color theme and with real instruments placed randomly as an attempt to do some justice to the Rock in their name. But the choice of songs they played each time, I should say, had very little to do with rock. I am yet to try out eating from there on Wednesdays (or was it Thursdays?) when it is said that they play live music along – as in, real musicians come and perform.

Their new outlet at Karyavattom, fails flatly on the ambience front, to start with. Firstly, it was too congested to the extent of being described, without too much exaggeration, as dingy. It was far from cosy, which is the word one could say about the one at Vanross Junction.

I don’t know if it was a part of the routine, but the day I chose to check it out was a No Air Conditioning Day for them, and seriously, being subjected to zero air conditioning in a glass room for a dinner for which one comes with fairly high hopes is such a turn off, even for a person who sleeps with his fan speed set to zero. (May be that’s just me.)

Adding another random fact: I was the only customer during the whole time I arrived there, had my food and left. May be it was just an off day, but low customer turnout may mean they could be giving me old stocked food, but I went on with the dare. Though to their credit, I must say, the food didn’t cause any upset of magnitude to be mentioned in my post-mortem of the experience.

No music was played, there was nothing in the room that was at least an attempt to do some justice to their name save for some almost invisibly small wooden guitars perched on the higher side of the wall. Now I am certainly not suggesting they should have blared Highway To Hell at an obscenely high volume just for the heck of it. To the contrary, all music that ZamZam, one of my favorite restaurants in Trivandrum has got is the perpetual noise of waiters shouting, plates clanking and people asking to give some way. Way too congested, but in a cute sort of way. I’m drifting off. My point is, I am not trying to get too pedantic here, but they clearly have a concept running for them along with that name of Zinc n Rock. Which is clearly not given much of a heed while opening this new franchise.

So I settled down at the table the farthest from the Reception Desk, near the entrance. By the looks of it, I didn’t have to be on the lookout for any intruders (read other customers). The menu arrived, and thankfully, they kept the same menu as their parent restaurant. It was fairly good because there was variety and a lot to choose from, and with a not-so-exorbitant rate range. Now for connoisseurs, there are quite some options, from Burgers (having all plausible names you can think of for a burger), local dishes to even Mexican. Strangely, the times I had been to their Vanross Junction outlet, I always used to spend more time on deciding the mocktail than the food. Now, I didn’t know this meaning at first, but a mocktail is simply the non-alcoholic version of cocktail. Mock Cocktail, you see. I love this page of their menu the most.

The person who designed and named the mocktails on that menu, I doff my bug infested hat off to you. Guess they took the list of all available fruits, did all possible permutations and came up with a drink for each combination, with names as much as fitting. Names and descriptions that make you imagine the combination in your mouth, which most probably you haven’t tried out yet, and make you crave for them. The more the better. After the first sip, when the liquid is poking your taste buds, one tries to discern each flavor, slowly. A fulfilling experience. The first one I tried ever in that list was, I still remember, The Three Bassoons – "Melon teaming with orange and pinapple". Trust me, it did taste like Melon teaming with Orange and Pineapple. So this time when I was at this new franchise of theirs my the orders from the Craving Centre, Brain was to go easy and go for just good old lemon, so I settled for Green Tinkles – "Twang of lime and a fresh hint of mint." This means that the much postponed trying out of the Seven String Guitar – "Concoction of the seven best fruits" will have to wait.

After deciding on that, I perused the Menu for my dinner, and settled on Citrus Fire Chicken which according to the Menu, was “Chicken Breast marinated with special sauce and grilled to perfection, served with rolls, wedges and coleslaw". And looked like this :

To give them credit, I found it quite okay. Only that the chicken could have been cooked a bit more to make it a bit more softer. Green Tinkles did go well with it too. By the way, dont ask me what the word citrus is doing there in the name.

Now regarding the service, well, it was nice but hard to take that for a word when I was their only customer. They had no choice but to treat me nicely. And feed your wallet before you step in, since they don’t accept any cards. Bad. Very.

Now, how would I rate that experience?

2.5/5

26.1.2012 GoodReads

2012-01-26T02:32:00.004+05:30

It was in Aravind_P's yearly round up post in InfyBlogs that I first saw the site mentioned for the first time. Now this is a guy I have respect for, for he writes awesome movie and book reviews. (By movies, the reference is not to your latest random masala any-alphabet-for-first-letter-ollywood flick released over the weekend and by books the reference definitely was not to those poignant IIT-ian sagas of getting hooked,in short, the best seller list of flipkart.) Plus, he shares my other love - Bookshop browsing. So, I dont remember verbatim what Aravind posted about it, but he highly recommended the site, and he apparently had a "librarian" access/status in the thing.

I checked the site then and there, but then saw it required a registration, and I assumed they would want the email verification (this is such a turn off. Turned out that they dont. Spammers and other cyber miscreants dont tread this way it seems.) and all, plus it was office network, so I left it at that, and now that I am taking a week off, all to myself, thanks to that bout of severe viral fever who has left in time like a good regular guest that he is, I made an account and delved into the parallel world that is the site.

Dear reader if you are a reader, (haha. clever, huh?). Lameness apart, if you are a passionate bibliophile, (now dont get me wrong. We are not talking about Ben-Streetman's-Solid-State-Devices or Fun-With-Pointers breed of books. People who like that please form a separate queue and get in that space-shuttle-like bus. Thanks.) please check out this website www.goodreads.com. Even otherwise you'll end up liking the site, but if you love books, then you're going to fall for this site. Its a social networking platform sans its evils. It has the good features of your popular social networking site (built on a stolen idea in the first place) incorporated, to a good purpose.

I havent explored the site completely yet, all these are my first impressions. Which, as you will know by now, has completely won me over. I was first asked to select my favorite genres from a given list (this can be edited later, as I found out later). They gave me a list of recommended books for each genre, and the list was quite good. I started with some of the books that I'd read, reviewed them by giving my ratings to them. Each book has a profile page of its own, where people post their reviews. If you're creatively challenged and constipated for words or just plain inscure and incapable like me (all three) to write a review of a book, heck, just rate it by giving stars out of five. You can add each book to the Read, Curently Reading or the Want to Read category. I added some of the ones I read. (I wanted to add those Malory Towers, Secret Seven, Famous Five books, but then decided against it. Part of growing up, I suppose. Woohoo.) I havent completely added all the books I've read, but even then the number wouldnt cross 45, generous case. And there are books I wish I hadnt read (Enid Blyton doesnt come under this). And the ones I read so long ago that they're almost as good as unread. Only dont compare yourself with people there because I swear I saw people who had like 1000 books written against them and (Im pretty sure) they arent vampires. And there's actually no point in comparing as well. I dont think anyone is going to judge you because of that. Adding the books you read to your profile was a good exercise for me since each book has an associated time of reading, a story associated with procuring that book in the first place, experiences while reading them, some pictures you framed in your mind as you read the book,..many of them come back. Well, all of them may come back to you. My memory is horrible. What was I saying?

There are like hundreds of reviews written for each book unless it is that obscurely not famous as a work, and this was a high point for me. I looked out for reviews that panned books which were my favorite, to hear the other side and check if my love for the book stood the test. It was sheer enlightenment to see a work judged from so many angles. Each person sees a new whole perspective to the story. Even with favorable reviews, I read things that made me see it in a new different light, and the level of detail to which some people scrutinizes and thinks over on while they read amaze me.

There are user profiles, and you can become friends, upon which their updates will come up in your feeds as well. Only the updates are not some totally pointless and irrelevant details of the relationship status that you dont care two and a half hoots about, but about the books they read, marked to read, quotes etc. And the user profiles look the same way too. Their bookshelves, friends etc.

There were also pages dedicated to authors, and you have the option to become a fan of one, or follow them too,if they're active on goodreads or not dead. Well, actually I'm not very clear upon how this works too. Clarified update later. See, sometimes procrastination is inevitable. (I just justified procrastination. God the levels to which I ...)

I searched for Aravind since I knew his complex second name, (which actually makes one unique among so many Aravinds) and sent him the request he cant refuse. He welcomed me, (yeah there is a simple basic message system in place too) and suggested this group Indian Readers. Talking of which, needless to say there is the concept of Groups/Communities. I sent a request to the moderator which, uhm, he had the power to refuse, but accepted graciously shortly afterwards, and I was in. The group seems like fun, and I havent read their discussion forum yet. They just sent me a mail saying the group will be reading "To Kill a Mocking Bird"and Vikram Seth's "The Golden Gate" this month. (Hearing of the latter for the first time. Should check out.)

Reading targets. Cool idea! (May be because its the first time I'm a member of Reading Club of any sorts)

Speaking of which, you can regularly update your Currently Reading Section with the pages you read, and they'll do the math, calculate in percentage your progress and update it in your profile, which is actually a good booster. It now says I am 14% into Catch 22. (Catch 3.08, that is. haha.Not funny? Okay.)

I really hope this becomes an addiction, and that this systematizes my reading, and much more.

So much for first impression. I'm really getting sleepy now, and this spurt of words has to stop. Dear fingers, I said stop typing.

Best Part: I am not Rameez Rahman, 24, Male, Systems blah blah blah of the blah studied at blahhah

I am...

They have a pretty good Android App too. Free.

Hitting bed.

21.1.2012

2012-01-21T13:12:00.003+05:30

When I create a player/Virtual Pro in Fifa, if I decide to make him frail, I give him a fair chance by boosting some of his other attributes, like Stamina, for instance.

God, I'm just saying.

Damned fever again.

18.1.2012

2012-01-18T22:40:00.000+05:30

I tried to remember when it happened last. And I couldnt get an instance still.
Even when just this "Arrived?"/"Reached?"/"Where?" message through phone would have sufficed, he would call, say Salam, ask the question, and end the call crisply. Calls in the minimum quantum of 5 seconds. Even my non-tech savvy Mom actually types in and sends an occasional salam once in a while.

But then today Dad actually messaged me this. At daytime, when he's at his office.
Just this.
"Medicine?"
And I remembered. I was supposed to take the pills from today as per my dentist's instruction.

He knew I'd forget.

15.01.2012

2012-01-15T22:22:00.003+05:30

I started out to make a demotivational poster, actually. I lost motivation to do it midway and then this happened.
I kept thinking about random stuff. Now, being an expert on the subject of mediocrity (I should be publishing my findings. Later.), it was only natural that this poster evolved.

Used free images and GIMP.

01.01.2012

2012-01-01T09:37:00.003+05:30

There is apparently no way to fathom the depth. How would you know if you're falling when you're blindfolded and all you can feel is a motion through the water, you ask me.
All conjecture, but I get hit from below as I move on, so I hazard a guess.
Not that this piece of information helps anyways.

I am numbed, but at times there are bouts of escape tendency. Very human. And I flap my legs desperately. And I only fall faster.

There's pain. There's always pain. There are new wounds. Pain remains.
I could have been moving for a day, I could swear. Or an year. Or eternity.

Now my feet finally lands somewhere mushy. By pure instinct, I walk forward.
I hit a wall.
No, its a door.

Opening it. There could be light, love and freedom.
Or...

#2012.
Happy New.. well, whatever.

27.12.2011

2011-12-27T23:40:00.001+05:30

Yeah I had heard of it before, just the name that is, but dismissed it as just another fancy social networking site. Trust me, I am having enough of facebook. So much for Social Networking. Hmm, more on that later. (Yeah this means I am postponing it, and that I will never write upon it).

So, Ajmal had taken his website down, deleted his blog and had gone into the comfortable shell of self imposed obscurity on the net. Should try it some day. I used to check on his site periodically, if not regularly. Good that he hadnt deleted his gmail account as well and committed a cyber suicide. One fine day he corresponded over mail, and I wrote back, and he wr.. well, the point is, I asked him if he does have a page anymore for venting his creative self / journalling himself anywhere. And he tells me there's only this remaining.

Thats how I stumbled upon tumblr.
Attraction at first sight.
Simple. And elegant. And minimalistic.

It's cute. In no matter of time, I made my page.
Not sharing the link to the millions of followers on this page. I can do with some privacy for now. May be later.
With my so-called blog turning into a sick journal, tumblr actually fits in perfect for the microblogging with no "micro" cap on entries as such. And the android app - even more cute. Lovely.

Dont know man. How far will this affair go.

So does this mean I am not going to blog anymore?
Yeah, like you care.
Like you used to blog profusely earlier.
Like you.. OKay. I get it.

See you when I see you.

1.12.2011

2011-12-01T23:04:00.004+05:30

Restaurant Review: Hotel Tharavattil Plaza.

How to Reach: The exact location name is something that I found now on googling. If you know Trivandrum City (?) pretty deep, then the place name is Kunnukuzhy.
If you dont, here's how you go about to the place. Take the road to Vikas Bhavan from PMG Junction. Go straight, and when you reach Govt Law College Junction, take a left. Hardly 100 metres, and there's the restaurant to your left. Here's a snapshot of the location:

Location from Google Maps

The location, though not very approachable unless you had a vehicle of your own, was cosy and away from the madness of the city. This actually works in the outlet's favor, since people, especially couples and family who're looking for a nice quiet eat out for a night would be wooed by the place.

So, I wasnt very much enticed by the name too. Zinc n Rock, Casa Bianca, Dakhani Degh.. all these new generation fancy names and Tharavattil Plaza seems a bit out of place.

Parking was a bit of a letdown for me. The space in front of the hotel could hardly park more than three cars. The security pointed us to a small empty space nearby where I could rest my bike. Since it was pitch dark there, I wasnt able to make out if there's more space in there for parking. If thats just it, then we have a parking issue here.

The first thing that strikes one when you open that door and get the feel of the place is its ambience. The interiors were nicely done, and seemed to be done by someone who had a taste for it. But even so the impression wasnt that of an extravagant luxury but that of careful elegance. Each table had a privacy of
its own, or so it seemed to me. And the lighting gets a very deserving special mention from me. I'm a sucker for that sepia toned lighting. It added to the elegant feel.

My phone cam be damned for the low quality pic. A snap from Ground Floor.

They played instrumental music, of popular Malayalam songs at just that level that helped the flow of conversation.

The service was fairly good, we were attended to very promptly. I should add I loved the fact that the restaurant wasnt crowded when we happened to visit. Though the owner may not share my feelings, I felt it actually helps in making it an exclusive retreat-kind of an eating outlet. So, I didnt ask for the popular dishes or specialities and just settled for a biriyani and a lime juice. Now this may not seem like the kind of order you would do to review a hotel. But it was end-of-month and I had to play safe.

With the food ordered, I ran through the menu. This was the best part. Quite contrary to my presumption, the rates were very reasonable for almost all the listed items. This gets the biggest star from me. For with my experience, I was justified in presuming astronomical rates for a hotel of such an ambience.

The waiting time was reasonable, but not too much. And unlike many of the popular restaurants, they heeded to the specific mention in my order that I wanted my lime juice along with the food. Many, even the guys at ZamZam think they can decide for me and choose to bring the drink after the food. But not in this case.

The food arrived, and it was, mmm....good. I can vouch for only Biriyani, but I heard good reviews on the food from some people, including the guy who posted about this restaurant on the Bulletin Board, which resulted in apun ka visit. (Talking of which I found a link in foursquare where in a guy recommends his choices.)

So, in a Rajeev Masand-ish tone, I am going with 3.5/5 stars for Hotel Tharavattil Plaza, based on my pleasant experience for the night.
Recommended for people who are in search for a calm, serene place with a reasonable budget tag for eating out. Quite the spot for eating out with your wife/girlfriend/gay partner.
If you think quality comes only along with an astronomic price tag, stay away.

15.11.2011

2011-11-15T00:18:00.002+05:30

There were some stuff that I wanted to pen down.
Running through my head.
Today seemed a nice day for it, but then I seem to myself to be worn down by this fever.

Onward ho.
See you when I see you.

10.11.2011

2011-11-10T21:32:00.001+05:30

When you're in a mosque, there's nothing more irritating than having someone next to you who thinks God is so hearing-impaired that one has to shout his prayers.

Damn.

29.10.2011

2011-10-29T08:50:00.000+05:30

Well.
Maybe this is the reason why I despise myself so much. - I cant stand mediocrity.

19.10.2011

2011-10-19T20:04:00.003+05:30

Tea.

"Mom, it was my birthday yesterday. I turned 24."
"Whoa. I feel old."
".."
"Oh yeah congrats son.
But thats not an achievement isnt it?
I mean, you would grow up anyways"
"Mistimed humour. Say something nice, mom"
"Fair. Something pleasant?"
"Yeah?"
"Hm.
Well, yeah, its amazing when you think of it.
I mean, it all happened so fast.
I remember as if it were yesterday that I changed your nappies, that you got almost expelled from kindergarten, that you wetted your bed in VI std.."
"Mom, can you pass the sauce please?"

08.10.2011

2011-10-08T11:41:00.001+05:30

Birthday got me thinking.
Sometime, at some point, or may be intermittently, or probably more frequently than that, I would be faced with the question posed - in all probability by my demeaning alter-self (Honestly, no reason as to why someone else should be bothered enough. Its a selfish world.) I'd rather be prepared to miss being hit by the enormity of the question - no, that of the answer, rather.

"Any regrets so far?"

"Yes.
I never figured out what I love doing."

There.
I said it.
(To say no will have to imply that cliched line of claiming to have lived life on one's own terms, which I dont intend doing anyways.)

So, it must be the truth, I guess, since it felt sour, and more importantly, with that explanation as the basis, everything else falls into place, perfectly. As much as I hate it for baring my haplessness so cruelly, I must admit - everything fits perfectly in with that.

So, my advice to the three year old kid who's reading this blog:
Listen, this is Wisdom acquired over 24 years.
Let your quest begin.
When you have figured out something you love doing, hold on to it - by all means.
Its going to be your reason to continue.

02.10.2011

2011-10-02T02:41:00.002+05:30

I hardly knew Jinesh.
In a sense which can mean Jinesh never knew I existed.
Never talked to him.
Heck, never saw him on more than one occasion all my life, which was at that one-day IEEE workshop on Networking, of which he was one of the 3 key speakers.
I remember leaving the seminar hall in awe of all three of them (Jinesh, Suhail and Antony) who handled the workshop.
Jinesh was this short, dark, long haired guy who spoke passionately.

I saw the name for a while, in mails to the google group of FSF enthusiasts in the college, of which he was the mentor. I used to love listening to Shyam talking passionately about his work on SMC, his project and his dreams, and he would mention the name Jinesh with a certain reverence. I gathered he was doing his research at the "i square i t", as Shyam used to put it.

Never heard of him ever since.
Until today.
When I digged the link that Fahad shared in facebook, which turned out to be a heart-wrenching obituary of Jinesh's by a friend, to learn of his demise.
Lukemia is a bitch.

My heart went out to the guy.
Yours would too, if you read the article and knew him just as much as I did.

He was red-carded out of his life in a way so seemingly unjust and cruel that makes you want to boo at The Referee and call out "Unfair". Jinesh though, left behind too much imprints of his, his valuable contributions to the World, his marks on many lives, to be forgotten into oblivion very easily. When told about his days remaining, I believe he must have paused to turn back at look at his trail, so bright and clear, to have left him cheerful even about the countdown to his end. It must have made him sad too - there was so much he could have done.

Made me think.
Makes me think.
About my trail.
About my belief in a day, that would never come, when the time is right.

And that makes me stop so abruptly.

14.09.2011

2011-09-14T22:54:00.002+05:30

"So?"
"..."
"We're busted, I can gather. By how much?"
"Pretty big numbers."
"Why do they say they cant go with the agreed billing rate?"
"Sayin we broke an SLA term by delivering 24 hours late."
"So?"
"There's one more delivery in the pipeline."
"For which we'll be billed their peanuts."
"Yeah"
"Hmm."

"So?"
"Screw 'em. they think only they can play dirty huh?
We're going to f*&k up the next delivery you hear me?
One real piece of s&*t.
Make sure we do."

..

Hey Rameez,
We're glad to welcome you to this project.
With your domain expertise and level of commitment, we're sure you'll overshoot our expectations.
There are a lot of stakes on this last and third delivery.
Make us proud.

9.6.2011

2011-06-09T21:48:00.002+05:30

"And, the last toast to this guy, without whom we wouldnt have won this Team Excellence Award.
Keep going.
Cheers, brother!"

Ohoi ohoi (Chorus)

"Me? I had as much role in it as had Sreesanth in India's World Cup win!"

"All those extra efforts we put in, all those extra miles we ran, the extra hours at night we put in, everything extra that we did which fetched us this recognition and this degree of appreciation....
....was all spent on fixing your screw ups. Way to go."

Whatta sense of accomplishment.

29.4.2011

2011-04-28T23:55:00.003+05:30

"Ground rule.
You are NOT supposed to call/mail/sms/tickle/poke in the ribs/..basically,contact in any way, the client after their office hours"
"But why, Sir?"
"You may not have a life.
They do."

4.3.2011

2011-04-03T12:37:00.000+05:30

I look at the clock perched high on the wall. Thats two more hours to productively kill before my train arrives, purely based on the optimistic (so unlikely of me, i know) calculation that the success probability of my assumption that the train will come on time = 1. (Which again, rests on the condition that the success probability that the clock in a railway waiting room shows right time equates to 1)
I look around - the quintessential crowd around me in a journey are there well and good - anti social people hating lot fed up of life.
When my scan completes 360 degrees, i see this young girl, (younger than me i mean by that), engrossed or may be trying hard to give that impression, in a chiclit novel (no i didnt peak into the cover page. Wild guesswork)

"So you say you're working?"
"I never claimed that. They pay me at the end of the month"
*grimace*
..
"So like what do you do for a living?"
"Duh. (in the most basic sense), I write code"
*stare*,*hiccups*
"Do you want me to get some water for you mademoiselle?"
"Get a life, freak"

11.09.2010

2010-09-11T15:51:00.037+05:30

Disclaimer: Looo………ng Post after an even loo………..nger time.

There have been times when I think I’ve gotta thank the ‘mundane-ness’ associated with life at those particular points of time. Simple reason being that I think of taking a break and of ways of escapade. I’ve found that such times rekindle the wanderlust we’ve deliberately put in a hibernation mode inside ourselves.
Not that my training stint of eventful 7 months at the world’s largest corporate university at Mysore was a bore or anything (it was far from that), but during the Technology Specific Training period of our training, towards the last stages, after a string of particularly draining modules and hands-ons, we felt too jaded and it was Nithin who suggested the best way to recharge ourselves – an adventure.
Thus we planned, with me a bit apprehensive about the planning part, since from my experience – limited and therefore handicapped it is though- I’ve come to see that planned ones, the ones with a strict itinerary are less fulfilling than the ones which are being set out on just like that, on an impulse. But I was relieved as we faced many obstacles while planning - that’s a good omen. That Ram would accompany us we took for granted, but Thomas was the doubtful one. He was one after our own heart, crazier than us about exploring, but since it was his compre weekend, (for the uninitiated, the Compre is basically a test, the outcome of which decides if one stays in the company or not) he had to drop out.

The destination wasn’t decided as such, and I consulted Nadil, colleague and biker . When I mentioned 100km, he suggested Shivanasamudra Falls. He assured a good ride, but Nithin wouldn’t even hear of such a ‘walkable distance’. So, ultimately, Ootacamund was zeroed in. I consulted Nadil the second time, and received a bigger thumbs up, and that was that. On D-Day, after I got to see what it is like out there at 4:00 AM in the dawn for the first time after coming to Mysore, we loaded our backpacks and got past the campus gates by 5:00 AM, on the two machines we got – the Bajaj Pulsar 150cc and the Bajaj Avenger. We set off, first through the ring road that led to the Mysore-Ooty road, aided by the directions from three joggers, numerous signboards and an old guy sitting on a milestone with his goat, who vaguely remembered me of the man whom I had pictured of the old king who meets Santiago in the ‘Alchemist’ :) ( Talking of ring roads and signboards – one among the many things that the ministers and Govt of my state can learn from their northern neighbours, if at all they get some time to themselves in between the perpetual fighting, conferences and thozhuthilkuthal – planned development of a city.) I had an uncertain route map in mind then which looked like

Infy Campus –> Nanjangud –> Gundlupet –> Bandipur –> Gudalloor -> Ooty

The ring roads were pretty good and wide, and we had the whole 4 tracks to ourselves. But the one to Nanjangud reminded me again a bit of our own state – there were a lot of potholes. I said only a ‘bit’ because they were afterall, only potholes and not trenches in which a ship can comfortably anchor, as in Kerala :). After we made some 20 or more kms, Ram said he heard a rambling sort of noise from his engine and we had our first pit stop, at the Kerala ‘Stale’ Restaurant – the food was nice, though – and set off again.
We were moving towards Gundlupet, and I’d already got the feeling of having left civilization far behind, for the whole stretch of land we were moving through was sparsely or not populated at all, and all we could see were fields stretching out endlessly on both sides, in various stages of cultivation- some just sown, ploughed and some in full bloom, with sunflowers, thousands of them, a feast for the eyes. By the time, the travel bug had caught on, and I felt that incredible sense of freedom seeping through as the fresh air hit me as we moved on, one pit stop and some snaps later.

By about 8:30 or so in the morning we had moved past Gundlupet, and entered the route to Bandipur. We found ourselves moving through small villages – villages in their purest sense- a very rustic and austere setting. We had a brief pit stop there too, in one of those thatched-roof sheds. A few snaps, and we finally entered the limits of the Bandipur National Park.

I was riding the Pulsar–150 since our kicking off, and by this time I found myself in slight discomfort, with my wrists and forearm aching, my hips sort of cramped and my back also hinting signs of weariness due to my posture. I thought it would be the distance, and thought a pit stop and loosening myself by stretching a bit would help, but I was amazed as to why Pumbu didn’t even show a trace of anything. He suggested that we switch our machines, finally winning in persuading me to try the Avenger ( something which he regretted later ) I was quite apprehensive about riding this one, because I hadn’t ever ridden a bike of this segment, and was again doubtful if I would be able to handle it, with my six packs and all. But there was no harm in trying, and I could always switch after 5 minutes, I thought. Only that the 5 minutes extended to 45. : ) I was totally hooked within just about 5 minutes of mounting on the thing. Awesome! The easy sitting posture, just like you are about to read a newspaper or something, which gave minimal strain to your back and the body as a whole, the smoothness, the sturdiness, the stability… I am not getting into the technical specifications, because I am pretty weak or truth be told, totally ignorant in that area, so what I’ve scribbled is what I felt. I had always wondered earlier why people had a thing for these costly, weird-looking cruiser bikes, and I now totally got it. I mean, for very very short trips like the one we undertook you can adjust with a bike like the Pulsar, but for serious touring you need to have a cruiser bike, if you plan to do things like returning home and all. I got to feel the difference very pronounced later on our upward journey to Ootacamund – the stability that the Avenger displayed while negotiating upward, downward as well as normal curves and turns, was simply too cool. You could almost do with the curve without having to change the gear at all. There was but, the difference in power for both the engines, still…

So we entered the Bandipur National Park limits and Pumbu set the speed limit to 60. When he sensed the slightest breach of conduct from me he would come par and reprimand. And who was in a hurry?
Our path was now flanked by dense, wild forest in all its virgin beauty, on both sides, the air and the whole ambience pure and cool. The only glitch was the innumerable road bumps they had put on the way, as a speed control measure. Our sightings on the way counted to a couple of elephants, some wild boars, one peacock, deers, and monkeys, lots of them. And it was a pleasure indeed to watch them in full freedom, unrestrained, enjoying themselves, unlike in zoos, and giving us the what-the-hell-are-you-doing-here-dude look. We stopped at the reception centre of the national park for some time, but resumed shortly afterward as we saw our bikes about to be taken by taken by a horde of monkeys into custody.

There was a checkpost and a bridge where Bandipur National Park limits ended, and we crossed the Tamil Nadu border and entered directly into the Mudumalai Tiger Reserve. We had zero sightings on the way here, and was thankful for that too, as we weren’t actually prepared to greet a couple of tigers on the way.

Now, there were actually two routes from this point onwards to our destination. One via Gudalloor – the longer one, and the other one which we came to know only later, the riskier and shorter one which would actually cut short the distance by about 30 – 35 kms, steeper, with 36 hairpin turns. Yes, you read it right! 36 hairpin turns!! Nadil had also mentioned about this route, but I forgot where to take the diversion. So we headed for Gudalloor, and just after we had left Gudalloor town, there was this small check post where I was stopped by a policeman. He was also headed for Ooty and could we offer him a lift? I was more than happy to help ( as if I had a choice), and he joined us.

By then it was already about noon time, but as we climbed up the altitude through the beautiful, lush forests of eucalyptus, silver oak and god-knows-what, it was getting quite cold, and there was a slight drizzle as well.

Thus our timing proved to be perfect since we could were able to evade driving at that time under the sun in the highways. The police guy, Ravi Sir as he will be called henceforth, turned out to be quite a good guy, too good to be a policeman, actually, very genial and sincere. He switched to his broken Malayalam as I started conversing to him in my ‘Tamil’. : )
We took a small break at a town-sort of thing. Not town in the literary sense, it was just a conglomeration of some shops and a few houses, and there was this small tea-shop. I tell you, there’s nothing like sipping hot, steaming coffee (and a cigarette puff, according to Ram and Pumbu) in that chilling and pure weather. It did rejuvenate us a lot physically. I earned my first glare from Ravi Sir, when I reached out for my purse to settle the bill. “On me”, he commanded, and that was that. It was a beautiful setting there – some stretch of plain grasslands, a small lake meandering through, some donkeys grazing idly and to complete the picture, the mighty and lofty Nilgiris in the backdrop. We switched bikes, and then set off, the temperature getting lower as we ascended. Pumbu was hit the most, as he chose not to put on his jacket. Much more macho. At about 12;30 we reached entered Ootacamund, and headed straight to the Police Headquarters there. Ravi Sir introduced us to all the tough guys out there, - “namma pasanga thaan… ” He bought us food again, dialed a few numbers and found us cheap and good accommodation too. And again, as a parting note, he told, “Enna prachna irunthalum yen numberkitte oru call pothum ok” The MAN.! I decided that my perceptions about policemen needed a revision. He called us a couple of times again afterwards, just to check if accommodation was fine, everything was alright, etc… He was like we had just saved his daughter from drowning or something. The MAN!

We found our accommodation at the Lower Bazaar, overlooking the bus stand and the race course, a lodge run by malayalees, quite cosy and warm, and was more than what we would have settled for. Again, we were given the privilege of Ravi Sir’s “pasanga”. We parked the machines, and set out on a walk to find out all the cheap and good eating joints, which I must say, are a lot of them, but lacked variety of food. It was the quintessential Tamil Nadu menu everywhere – Dosas, idli, vada and the like, or we looked at the wrong places. I said we were talking about cheap joints. How typically us. :)

After a while, we thought we’d take our machines for a stroll in the town, and we found ourselves in front of the Botanical Garden, crazily crowded like hell as usual. Still, we did promenade a bit around there, for some snaps. There were some 3 or 4 options for us after that, but found them quite far from our point, and finally fixed on Doddabeta. I had a small plan of retreating to Conoor from there, but then decided that Conoor deserved at least a day more. The Doddabeta Peak, the highest peak of the Nilgiris, was about 8 kms from the main town, a narrow road that spiralled upward. Doddabeta reminded me of the last time I was there, with X3KnZ, and felt greatly nostalgic. The view was breathtaking, and we had another coffee while marvelling at it. Our snap session was interrupted by a guy who shooed us away saying it was the closing time and all. We returned, at a very leisurely pace, and stopped at one of the sweet shops, bagged some home made chocolates which had tempted us on our way, and headed for room.

The night prowlers we are, we went out for dinner quite late, and while returning, we took many detours into the squalid alleys, sub-alleys and sub-sub-alleys of the street. It was fun walking along those lanes, and there was a Subramanyapuram look and feel to the whole street.

We hadn’t planned anything for the next day, actually, and it was decided that we’ll return by 10 in the morning itself, since we felt that the journey was more exciting than the destination. So, after thankfully declining Ravi Sir’s invite to the Shooting Medu, we set off, with an even lower speed limit set by pumbu. I don’t want to repeat what I described about the road and the drive. Killing landscape. All I can say is, in a Jim Carry-ish way, B.E.A.utiful.

There were more frequent pit stops, and snap sessions, and we resumed after a heavy lunch at a malayalee-run (Yeah, we’re there everywhere! I doubt if there is actually some truth afterall, in that old joke about Neil Armstrong finding a Nair’s tea shop after landing in Moon) hotel at Gudalloor, where Nithin and Ram got to eat fish to their heart’s content, and we stopped again at Bandipur National Park. We had a small tour around this time, and met a REAL biker on his way, on a machine that reminded me of the ‘La Poderosa’ of Alberto Granado in the Motorcycle Diaries. We rested there for refreshments, and after some more snaps later, we were off again, to Mysore. There was a slight glitch this time, as by the time we reached outside the National Park limits to the deserted highway, it was around 3 or so, and the sun was still blazing. Thus we had our most tiring stretch of about 20-25 kms, which was only helped by occasional breaks where we found coconut vendors.
It was about 5 in the evening that we finally reached the campus, refreshingly exhausted, charged and at peace with ourselves.

It’s been more than a month since this small adventure, but I still relish every bit of it, and it gave me immense pleasure to see that this route (Bangalore - Ootacamund) selected as one among India’s best 5 roads for biking by the bikers’ bible in the country, the BIKE magazine in its July edition. There was another dream destination of mine too in the list – the Dil Chahta Hai inspired Mumbai-Goa. Only I need a convertible Mercedes, truckloads of money and time. :)

Strongly recommended for all fake, wannabe adventurers like me, and the rest.

PS: I am also unhappy at the way my so-called blog is becoming one sick journal.

Sigh.

So, see you when I see you next, which I also pray not to be longer.

- r a m z

Excerpts

2010-03-13T19:46:00.011+05:30

Dec 27th

The point is, I made it to here, finally. Still had that fear that they would look my name in their list and claim that I had got some fake mails and I wasn’t actually called to join today – you know, that sort of a thing. But I did see my name in the list, and they let me in.

Parting isn’t sure as hell an easy process.

I tried my best not to make it too filmy. Just the customary hugs to everyone, and a peck on the cheek to a sleeping Minha.

Goodbye home,

And to all the comforts that came along with it.

I flew off the nest for the first time in my life.

I envied Dad today too – because he was taking Letting Go way cooler than I was dealing with Flying Off.

Dec 29^th

No matter how much you’ve heard of it before, how many pictures you have seen, you cant help being sort of bowled over by the sprawling campus.

Everything is so, huge, so stunning, so as to humble us?

I saw some guys washing the road near GEC2 today. Who’d wash a road?

Induction still going on…

Some random woman came over to the stage at some point, and started to explain the Anti-Sexual Harassment Policy that they follow here. Prashant nudged me to wake up from the deep slumber – “this might be interesting”. I prepared myself to hear some feminist bullshit (Like warning all those with a Y chromosome – who are always the perpetuators, you know- not to try anything etc.) But it was interesting. I mean, she almost as well as said that girls are not allowed to rape boys as well – or something to that effect. Whatever.

Some guys sitting behind me groaned.

Dec 31^st

Multi called at about 11:30 and told me to come to Oasis. One hell of a party was going on. New Year Eve.

Everything was so WILD.

I slumped on to my bed, tired, a couple of hours (or more?) later.

Jan 9^th

Its been more than a week that I’ve been here, but still I get up most of the days, bewildered as to where the hell have I woke up and mumble “Where the..?”. Trust me it takes more than 30 seconds for my system to boot up. Why the hell do I have an acclimatization problem too, on top of everything?

And oh yes, I do miss home. In great magnitude, sometimes.

Jan 12^th

You can’t help yourself to be not in awe of this man, NRN. No cynicism intended. (Things have come to such a state that I have to reassure myself after every sentence that I wasn’t being sardonic). True, the other founder members are nothing short of great leaders and visionaries, but this man is, incredible.

What hits me about the fact that a person, who wanted to be a politician, and a communist at that, and whose ultimate aim was to open an orphanage, ended up building one of the biggest corporate giants India has ever seen, is more than the irony of it. It’s adding to my increasing disbelief in the whole “Living Your Dream” deal that’s been fed into me, and for that matter, to most of the people. I mean, the whole deal of having a dream, a goal, and striving for it, etc. It’s all coming down to simple terms like Luck and Destiny. (Come to think of it, what difference does that make to me? I didn’t have a specific dream, to start with, Thank God.) Hmm, this is a good thread. Should write upon it someday in the blog. Insha Allah.

Procrastinate NOW!

Jan 16^th

Still yet to figure out an effective way to deal with those college memories. It doesn’t help at all, I tell you. Because you tend to make comparisons with the present scenario, in many aspects – bunking, friendships, class, everything. Or I should try some more effective ways to reinforce into my own mind that I’m in a corporate (underline that) environment now-(Whatever that implies). Move on!!

Jan 22^nd

Oh God, my room stinks.

I do change the damn socks everyday, but what can I do if the shoe itself stinks?

Damn.

Interestingly I had got so used to the badboo I didn’t notice this. Until today when Kunal stepped into my room, cupped his nose, ran out screaming, “Kamse kam khidki tho kholdo saale….”

Jan 23^rd

I came across this fun fact today.

I do a lot of compromises to satisfy or, rather say, please others. Why?, I ask myself.

Is that the reason that I feel so spineless at times and that I’m accused of that lack of individuality by those who know me best?

True, you become very flexible, but is it worth sacrificing one’s own individuality for?

Need to think about it, some other time.

Procrastinate NOW!!

Jan 24^th

Sunday.

Prashant had called me up when he was going to GEC. I hadn’t got control of my senses when he called.

I pulled myself out of bed, decided that I’ll have lunch, okay brunch or whatever fancy names you call it, at FC1.

There were some chairs at the table where a young girl, in her school uniform with braided hair and all, and her even younger brother (in all probability) were struggling with a Domino’s pizza. I quietly sit down opposite to them. She looks at me, shifts uneasily in her seat, and looks long to some counter at the end near the Coffee Day outlet. I follow her gaze and find a woman, her mother I guess. The pizza has got the undivided attention of her younger brother.

Okay, don’t worry kid. I smiled as genially as I could to the girl, a smile that meant to convey the fact “I’m no man-eater”.

I try to strike up conversation.

She is quite reluctant at first, but then answers my seemingly phony questions.

“So, is your brother/sister undergoing training here?”

“Sorry?”

“I mean, have you come to visit your brother/sister here?”

“No”

“So, why are you here?”

She smiled, and told me, “I came to attend the exam”.

“ ?? ”

“I came to attend the ‘Catch Them Young’ Exam. Don’t you know?”

…

??!!

No kiddo, I didn’t know of any Catch You Young exam.

Catch Them Young?

Pity.

Jan 26^th

I ponder a lot these days – not always just about myself, many other stuff too.

I assert ‘not always about myself’ because I do feel my thoughts have become so, what to say, me-centric. Checking some of my previous entries in here, I see I’ve almost dropped using the first person ‘I’ in my sentences. As if it is understood that I’ll be talking about myself only. Another adjective in the offing – self-centric. Bravo, Ramz.

Okay lets talk something sensible. All I can say with at least some level of conviction is that my perspective(s) have undergone some change(s). They’ve got, if I can say so, somewhat broader.

Is that a part of the transition too?

Jan 29^th

I’m an ungrateful pig.

All I do is grumble - All the time.

Even if I got into some government job – the ultimate engineer fantasy -, I’m sure I would complain it of being lackluster and would crave for some ‘action’. I guess I’m suffering from something like the Chronic Dissatisfaction that Marie Elena accuses of Cristina in Vicky Cristina Barcelona.Besides, which profession is known to give one full satisfaction? Happiness and satisfaction are the states of mind you create for yourselves, dumbo. When will I learn to be content with what I have? How many times do I have to tell myself is that its about liking what you do, and not the other way round? That is, doing what you like?

Doing what I like.

What do I like? What is my true calling, if at all there exist a thing as such?

I don’t know, to be honest.

Funny how things always work out in a way that we figure out what we didn’t want and pray, “God, this wasn’t what I ordered” rather than figuring out what we want in the first place.

(Did I generalize that? Cut the we’s, put I’s.)

Was all this tirade some perverted attempt at consoling myself?

I’m confused. Frustrated.

Jan 30^th

Take Prashant for instance. We practically didn’t even know of each others’ existence in college. And I never thought we’d become pals over here as well.

His demeanor is something that would be easily mistaken as somewhat conceited, he himself says. And he has a way with the fairer sex, I should say. (Though our tastes in this matter are literally at opposite poles. Agree to disagree on most cases J)

But there were many aspects that are different as well. Like, if I said I wanted to leave 5 minutes early, he’d get the hint that I felt like walking alone today. No issues about it.

No offense meant, none taken. Yeah, it may sound silly, but at college and all, the case was different. And there is no need to make a conversation for conversation’s sake, that sort of thing.

I sometimes wonder if that’s the advent of the so-called professionalism even into friendships. Damn!

Feb 2^nd

NUMBed.

Feb 10^th

“Expecting life to be fair to you because you played fair is like the deer thinking it should be spared from the lion because it’s a vegetarian. Think about it”

- Junk Mail.

Feb 17^th

Don’t want to talk about what happened. Really don’t want to even think about all those.

I wish I could be done away with the whole thing with the line “Everything happens for the better”. It does, in a way, I do admit, but it sounds so corny at the moment to me.

On the whole, I am thankful to God, my faith and Dad for making me feel like I remained, for the major part, unscathed in the whole issue.

DAMN IT, still.

I went for a walk and a coffee at midnight. It worked. Fresh air can do wonders for you.

I returned to my hostel block, was about to go to my room, when Sameer called out to me from the Smoking Zone. There was one whole gang there. Sameer, Sandesh, Amol, Pranav, Deep, Vivek, Anirban and some others too, most of them slightly boozed.

Sameer was holding a guitar and strumming some random notes. We all sat down there, he was about to play something serious for us when the security came running, and told us “if we were so particular”, we could do this in the basement.

Off we went to the basement, and he started playing. And boy, he did well too. Give Me Some Sunshine, Roobaroo, Last Kiss, etc etc.. it went on like that.

We sang too. I sang my heart out, actually. J

And in the midst this guy Vivek took out his mouth organ and started playing.

Oh boy oh boy. Beautiful.

“Kishoreda’s songs sounds very beautiful on this instrument”, he said.

And he played some more.
Encore. Encore.

And some more Bengali songs, mostly poems by the great Tagore.
And a “Coffeehouse”song, which Deep said, was some sort of classic.

Encore. Encore.

After a week or so, I felt light.

And slumped on to my bed.

Feb 25^th

Avinash will leave tomorrow. Had gone to his room with Thomas and Ram.

I wish him all the very best.

So, see you when I see you next.

- r a m z

12.12.2009

2009-12-12T10:52:00.025+05:30

Had gone to our old, old college today.

To get my Caution Deposit refunded.

(Got it, okay, but don’t pounce upon me guys, the money’s gone as it came, to Dad.)

They’ve deducted 500 bucks. Told me it was for my coveted Alumni Association Membership. Like I care.

Nishana was there too, for the same purpose. By the way, she is now a lecturer (yeah, I too had some trouble coming into terms with that fact. J ) at the P. A. College of Engineering, Mangalore. That’s how tables turn, folks. Could you imagine her punishing a student of hers for bunking a class?

Mahesh and Kudu paid a little visit on our request too. They have told me to inform anyone who cares enough to ask that they are now WORKING for Ericsson (as in Sony Ericsson) as Operation and Maintenance Trainees (whatever that means) and that they are undertaking all the tower-related works of Airtel. Period. And they have ridiculed the many rumours that have been generated over it, like the one that they are asked to climb up mobile phone towers and all. And they have asserted that their work had to do with air conditioned rooms and all. And they also wanted to add, as a final note, that afterall, money is NOT everything. J

Hameed Sir’s gone, finally. (Well, I have got nothing against him to say that ‘finally’ there). But, yes, there wasn’t a farewell party this time, so it seems like its serious and he wont come back. Irshad Sir smiles and tells me he was getting too old to traverse a 100 km everyday. No, he’s definitely not quit his vocation, don’t even think about it. He’s shifted his operational base to a fresh pasture named Jyothi Engg. College.

I lingered enough in ECE block to hear the two most prominent theories that try to explain this move of his.

1. He had been wanting to move for some time, but he loved the 2005-’09 Batch too much that he thought he’d wait enough to render his services to them. God bless him for that.

2. He had been wanting to move for some time, but his son, who was studying at the college in question forbid this until he had passed out.

Weird theories, yeah, I know.

(So, Hameed Sir, if you happen to read this ((shudder!!)), just kidding, we did love your Control Systems class and all didn’t we? )

So Rajith Sir is the Head of the Department now. No, Acting HOD, that’s the designation. If that is meant literally, then according to me he is finding it a bit hard to act his part. Coz I hear that he retreats now and then from this big office and the much coveted revolving chair that had been Hameed Sir’s from time immemorial, to his little cabin in Digital Lab overlooking the Kuttippuram Bridge. How cute.

Being the HOD hasn’t stopped him from smiling his trademark smile out of the corner of his mouth. Plus, he doesn’t boss around, doesn’t give much of a damn about protocols and stuff AND he did a great help to me which in the long term contributes to me getting my job. Thank You Sir.

Met Ratheesh Sir, by the way, who had also chose the same day for popping in for a quick visit.

Felt glad to see that he was glad to see us.

He recognizes us instantly (God Bless Him for that), shakes my hand warmly and start talking. I remind myself that he’s not our Project Guide anymore, so there’s no need for me to act innocent or anything. He’s in a student’s shoe now, so he talked to us like an equal.

Very warm and all.

I fear if we have lost all of our old Ratheesh Sir-ish characteristics of his.

“Okay Sir, so which college are you in now?”

To which his expression brightens up, as he was waiting for me to pop up just this one question, clears throat, and raises decibel level just enough for any human being in a 5m radius to hear, and says,

“CET….. CET Trivandrum” purely in a “Bond….. James Bond” style.

Thank God, some remnants of the old Ratheesh Sir the Project Guide are still there.

Heard that his marriage has been fixed with , well, you-all-know-who (Gossip Courtesy : Sumi)

I hear our Aparna is doing her M Tech there as well too, and I hide a snort when I think of her and Ratheesh Sir planning to bunk a lecture because they think that the teacher is a bit of a show-off.

It was not just Hameed Sir, but I guess there had been a big brain drain from our department. Many were missing – Shafeek Sir, Azad Sir, Waheeda Miss’ husband, Jilna Miss etc.

We stood near our old notice board. Usual stuff – You know, ragging is a punishable offence (really?), so and so from Mechanical Department suspended, placement drive for students having aggregate >75% etc. Though one thing struck me a quite odd – there was an alarming decrease in the number of students in the attendance shortage report for all semesters. I worry about the future of our department. Mahesh attributed that to the proportionate increase in the number of beautiful teachers in the campus. Strange, I say.

Did I tell you that Nishana was working as a lecturer now? Yeah, so I must have told about how tables turn as well. It was weird, coz, you know, when we met teachers over there, after hearing that she is a sort-of-teacher now, they suddenly bond and talk professor-ish stuff. And give me the you-dumb-slacker glance. Not fair.

Met Meera too. I asked her if her course wasn’t over yet. How stupid of me. I should have remembered that she was studying architecture and they stayed as long as they wished.

Some juniors recognized me as Rajith Chettan’s friend. Having famous friends always helps.

Nishana told me that a company named Infosys Technologies were coming to college on the same day for a recruitment drive. Which explained the groups of excited final years in front of the auditorium and canteen when we were walking through the campus.

Multi called, and told me some one very important to Hafsal was attending the interview as well. Good Luck, I said.

They shortlisted only 4 out of the, say about 150 or so who attended the test, and selected only two.

Before we parted, we went to the old, old Famous Coolbar and Nishana insisted that she pay the bill. Finally, I reluctantly agreed – Of course, you know about my passion for paying bills for my friends.

We ordered something, and I tell you, the ice cream shakes are still as lip-smacking as they’d ever been.

We sip our drinks in silence, thinking about the good times in here, when a group of juniors entered. They make a lot of noise, drag chairs around, throw their bags into a heap, and settle down. They chatter, pull legs, have fun.

“Which assignment is to be submitted tomorrow?”

“Exam postponed?”

“Got output today?”

“Whose birthday is it next week?”

“Lime is not chilled enough”

“One honey shake, four straws”

…

“You sure about the exam dates?”

“Yes. Jan 13^th for sure."

"Vayya. Aliya, onnu kazhinju kittiyal mathiyayirunnu.”

At which Nishana and me looked at each other.

We smiled.

P.S. : Pun intended for fun only

- r a m z

25.11.2009

2009-11-25T00:59:00.008+05:30

I’m alive.
Really.
Been ages since I’ve given even a thought about posting in here. True, I used to visit some blogs now and then, yeah mostly the same old ones – Random Thoughts, Passing Clouds, Vyazz Sez, Awakening, Dried Pages, Salman’s, many random others (too many to list out), wagera wagera, just for the hell of it. But never gave a thought about posting in my pathetic blog. I mean, not that there are actually people on tenterhooks to see my post or anything.
I’m just bragging. And another thing is, reading such wonderful blogs doesn’t help much either. In the sense you feel yourself comparing to them and feeling stupid and all. etc etc.
Basically what I meant to say was that I was non-existent for some time, here I am again, trying to prove a point, something like that I’m alive.

So one fine day, last week, I went to see the most anticipated Malayalam movie of the year, Pazhassi Raja. I was looking forward to see this one not because it has been making headlines ever since it was announced, but like many others, I was just curious to see what M.T. Vasudevan Nair, a personality whom I admire greatly, who had penned the script and dialogues for the film had to offer this time. And of course there are many other big names in the Credits roll, like the music maestro Ilaiyaraja, Academy Award-winning sound designer Resul Pookutty etc etc.
I had waited a little more than two weeks to see the film with a normal audience, I mean, for the fan buzz to get over. Anyways, the theatre was packed to capacity, quite contrary to what I expected on a hot Saturday afternoon.
Okay, I watched the movie, and needless to say, I liked it. Very much.

I am not reviewing the film or anything, because I am not a serious movie buff, or someone who is really well-versed with this art form or anything. But the urge to post something (– anything) in my blog combined with my creatively challenged state leaves me with the option of sharing what I felt about the movie now.

A lot of my pals who saw the film told me that the Tamil actor, Sarath Kumar, who enacted the role of Edachena Kunkan, Pazhassi Raja’s Chief Commandant stole the show from him. I don’t know why there was this sentiment, because Mammootty as Pazhassi Raja was nothing short of brilliant too. It was relieving to see that Pazhassi was portrayed just naturally – in the sense there was no super-human traits that I expected to see. Well, there was the part when he takes down a dozen or more of the enemy soldiers all by himself, but at that moment I didn’t notice the slight unrealism of it because I personally wanted to avenge the death of Thalakkal Chandu at the moment. And there were some good scenes where I think Mammootty’s acting prowess came to the fore – like the one in which when he comes to know of the premature death of his child, and especially the scenes when he is moved by the loyalty shown by his mates to him. The pride, the defiance, the helplessness, it was all there. (You wont believe it’s the same actor who had just did some mindless comic capers, flew around as an elf, ) The ensemble cast worked well too. Performances deserving special mention were those of the characters such as Edachena Kunkan, the resolute, tough army-chief with his touching and unwavering loyalty to his King, Thalakkal Chandu, the staunch and loyal tribal warrior with his heroics, Kaitheri Ambu, another of Pazhassi’s commandants, Neeli - with the tribal lingo and all, as well as her own share of heroics too. They shared most of the applause between themselves. Talking of performances, personally, I think that the English crew looked stupid - in particular, the Assistant Collector guy. He had that under-severe-constipation-attack expression throughout his role. The only times I think I remember Mr. Grumpy Face with a significantly different expression were in a couple of scenes - interestingly, both scenes had one common factor – liquor. First one when he is having the late night drink party with the traitors and when he is bribing the tribal chief with the gold bangle and the whisky bottle - He actually laughed then.

But the highlight of the film according to me, apart from the performances, was the sound. You’ve got to give it to this man who’ve worked behind the sound – the Academy Award winning Resul Pookkutty. Before this guy won an Oscar for it, many of us didn’t even acknowledge there was a department called Sound Design in the making of a film. What we passed off as ‘noise’ is now actually being listened to as the ‘sound’ of the movie.
Sound-wise, there was attention to every fine detail and that added lots to the new realistic feel - the brandishing of a knife, the ‘boom boom’ of the gunshots, the locking of swords, bow and arrow (even the stretching of the bow), the swish of the sword, the horses’ hooves, the marching of soldiers, the rustle of leaves in the forest, even the spilling of blood on ground, Pazhassi’s final breath etc etc. But what I happened to notice was that the sounds were not just picked up and amplified well for us to hear, but they were used cleverly and aesthetically. For instance, in the first war scene, when Neeli gets injured, her fiancée, Thalakkal Chandu rushes to her rescue. At this point, all other sounds were made to sound like from somewhere distant, and the sound from them was prominent. This was somethingI found artistic, since at the particular juncture, the audience themselves are interested mainly about what happens to them. Which only shows a good sound design is also about knowing when to use your silences.

And then there were some beautiful frames throughout the movie. Some looked like they were taken straight out of a wallpaper or something. Like the one in which Pazhassi performs his ablutions in the lake with his horse idling on the grass, the first war sequence, the reflections in water, the beach scene in which Edachena Kunkan is approaching on his horse, the frame in which Pazhassi watches the British camp on fire with the full moon in background, the one in which Pazhassi is heading for his final encounter, with the mountains as the backdrop, Thalakkal Chandu spitting in the face of the traitor, etc etc.

This was a movie whose plot gave a lot of scope for dialogues. Thankfully, I felt that none of it was overdone. And there were some pretty good ones too.
My picks would be the one in which Pazhassi reprimands his nephews when they get emotional by saying, “Cry if you may, not for me, but for this unfortunate land..”, again something from the same scene, in his last redoubt, “There is a shadow that’s with us from the day we’re born. One fine day, it comes in front of us and faces us- that’s death”, “No, I wont kill you, lest the spilling of your blood may make my soil impure” etc.

The songs were okay, but I liked the background music more, especially the ones of the sort we hear in Hollywood movies – with the Orchestra and all. Special ones for me would be the background music when they show Pazhassi appears for the first time, the one when they show Pazhassi’s throne, the whole of it in the first war sequence in the forest and so on. The costumes were good too. Another commendable part, say excellent, was the promos and trailers.

On a very personal note, I felt they could have taken the film on an even larger scale, in the sense, take for instance the case of Pazhassi’s Fort and his army. When you say fort, you wont imagine just a big house, isn’t it? And when we say army, we do expect something greater in number than a 1000 soldiers, but in this case too, the army was shown as just a group of 400-500 men at most. Perhaps this was the case historically, but still, I feel they could have made it on a greater scale. Okay, I do understand that there is a limitation on the budget for a Malayalam film - But still…

A friend of mine, on being asked upon his review, had told me, “Well, its no Troy, or Braveheart, or Gladiator, but still, ok”. The guy went to see a Malayalam movie, and expected a Troy – this is not fair. You need to see the plethora of other contemporary crap that they call cinema and feed you to really appreciate this one. I don’t go and see every mallu movie released, and I am not a serious movie buff either, so I cannot say with authenticity, but still I hope that the well-wisher of good cinema here will agree with me if I say that 95% of the stuff that they churn out are nothing but CRAP. I am not trying to sound condescending or arrogant, or as my friend did, comparing our industry to Hollywood or anything, I am just saying what I honestly feel.

I liked Pazhassi Raja, because it was, well, a good movie, a decent, sincere and bold effort.
Because it adopted standards and ventured into territories new to Malayalam cinema scene.

Bravo!
Highly recommended.

P.S:
It was about fighting the British for our motherland and all, and I must say it rekindled the patriotic spirit in me, but someone took it a tad too seriously.

And started with a new mode of warfare against the British.
This one’s an American tactic - Cultural attack.
On their language, to start with.
How else do I explain the following hoarding?

- r a m z.

2009-09-22T21:20:00.004+05:30

23.05.2009

2009-05-23T10:21:00.005+05:30

Gone.

Not forever, but still, almost…

Why walk in, in the first place, if it was only to leave your footprints all over?

I could trade off

All those funny, crazy, silly, and therefore, happy moments,

The lovely evenings,

Everything,

For the sadness that was left behind by the departure.

We think we are happy, perfect the way we’re doing, the way it had been always, that we do not need anyone/anything more and that there is no more space in our scheme of things for anyone else new. Until when someone enters your life, mark their place, linger for a while, make a mark, makes you wonder how you managed without them till now and leaves eventually, only to leave behind a void that cannot be filled. At the end of day, when you recline and think of it all from a strange perspective, all your life is just some holes woven together as in a fishing net.

I know its weird, but sometimes I feel that all of ours lives is one big painting, credited to a large number of artists – the people who come across in our life and leave eventually, all of them contributing a brush stroke, or more – there may be some dark shades as well, but in overall, they add to the beauty of the picture, and they highlight the bright shades as well. We too contribute to many paintings as well. So, to all those on whose canvas I’ll get/had already got a turn with the brush – I am a horrible artist, literally and otherwise, so I cant promise to make your painting a Monalisa, but I’ll try my best not to spill a colour, and to give it my best shot, I mean, best stroke. And to all those who will make my painting beautiful (hopefully) – I like shades of blue. Please be careful not to leave no smears all over.

So, see you when I see you next.

Note to self: (1) Never get too attached to anything.

(2) Be cold-hearted.

- r a m z

2009-04-20T12:55:00.000+05:30

I'm taking a sabbatical from... being me.
Bye.

14.04.09

2009-04-14T15:57:00.000+05:30

She’s become less fat, but pretty and cute all the same…
She now speaks her own queer language. Our efforts to teach her basic Malayalam are not quite working, I must say. Sometimes I feel she is trying to teach us her lingo…
Anything remotely male is ‘baba’ or ‘mama’ to her…
She attends phone calls now…
Any dress looks beautiful on her. When we make praising comments about her attire, in a typically girlish gesture, she looks all over herself once again, satisfied and smiling, and feels her outfit with her small hands all over again…
Animals and birds fascinate her. She can call a cat (Its “Pootha” instead of “Poocha”) and chicken (which goes something like “Ba Ba...”). And she can distinguish between a real cat meowing and imitated cat calls. (Owing to my poor mimicry skills, perhaps)…
Music and sweets make her dance…
She has her own likes and dislikes now…
She knows if someone’s going out and starts a whimpering sort of pleading to take her too. I don’t exactly know how she deduces this out, but I guess she has her own signals that indicate this – like, in her and my moms’ case, gazing into mirror for a long time, and in my case, when I am seen combing my hair or with the perfume bottle…
One way to make her laugh is to try scaring her. I put on my best horrible face (those who’ve seen my normal face can imagine the effect when I distort it :)) and a growling noise too, for an effect yesterday evening, but she laughed uncontrollably…
She brings out the lighter side of everyone at home, even mine…
Moreover,
She infuses life into our home.

...

ramz

11.04.09

2009-04-11T21:43:00.000+05:30

Dad,
I am really sorry for
- Sleeping everyday after the Morning Prayer, a habit you just hate.
- Letting my pants too below the permissible ankle level.
- Not being systematic in my life.
- Getting scared when I face you.
- My individuality crisis.
- Not looking into your eyes while I speak to you (if at all I do)
- Not joining in the laughter at your jokes.
- Skipping the mass prayer in the mosque too many times.
- Not knowing how to socialize.
- Making impatient gestures when you advise me for good.
- Being so unimportant a person for your son.
- Never looking behind the anger in your words to see the love beyond.
- Never living up to your expectations.
- Making you buy textbooks which I didn’t read fully even once.
- Always forgetting to turn off the lights in my bathroom.
- Using my bed as a laundry dump.
- Keeping my studying (?) table a complete mess.
- Stuffing my dress wardrobe such that everything pops out for their dear lives when you open it.
- Drinking too many Pepsis.
- Locking my room from the inside, again something you loathe to the core.
- Always pocketing the change when you send me on errands.
- Reading while eating.
- Still getting myself fed with hand by my grandma.
- Not going out for morning walks.
- Setting a very bad example for my siblings.
- Sleeping out my holidays (as well as working days)
- Not giving you any "Thats my Boy!" moments.
- Bunking classes.
- My strange dressing styles and weird color sense.
- Always forgetting to take my driving license when I go out.
- Never even caring about my disheveled hair.
- My attitude problem.
- The lack of organization and planning in life.
- Not ever being much of a high-flier in life, for your son.
- Not being understanding.
- Not having a goal all through my life so far.
- Not being someone you can be proud of.
- My forever-lethargic approach.
- …
- …
- …
There are many more.

I’d have better told you my apologies right to your face, like a true son of yours, but Dad, when have I ever bucked up the courage to string up more than 4 sentences while talking to you?

I just wanted you to know that, quite contrary to what you may think, you are my role model in life.
I revere you, Dad.
I am again, sorry that I couldn’t inherit that legacy of yours which made you, what to say, ideal.
You set such high standards for a weak individual like me to follow, Dad. Yet, I am trying because …
… I love you.

...
ramz

Memoirs

2009-04-04T23:44:00.000+05:30

I was simply exploring the computer, to pass away time.
F:\rameez\6233\images\tours\bike\palakkadtripS7
When I reached this particular folder, I went a trip down the memory lane, and felt strangely nostalgic. The pictures of one of the best bike tours of my life brought back to me the flooding of golden memories,…in Bryan Adams’ words, “…the best days of my life.”
There had been a lot of tours, if anything at all, during my engineering days and a good many of them on bike as well, but none among them can compare to that Palakkad trip we had in S7.
Bike tours, in general, have a very high peril probability and risk factor – like, your bike runs out of petrol (but this can be anticipated, in most cases), your tyres get punctured/bike breaks down, just in front of the board that says: “Next Human-Inhabited Area: 100 Miles”, you are exposed directly to heavy downpours (which also means slippery roads), you get baked in the sun, you get fined by the Police (for reasons unpredictable, depends on the mood of the officer), you get a sore back, etc. etc…and in the worst case, you meet with an accident. The odds are highly in favor of accidents when you are on bike because for a bike, being a machine balanced on two tyres, a very small boulder, or a cat can do the trick, and not essentially a huge truck or a fast car or a sharp curve is needed. Also with the kind of roads that we have in Kerala, punctuated with gutters (some of them so big that your bike fits into it) and humps in the middle of nowhere, during night, you can never see these, but only ‘feel’ them. i.e., after you bump into them. Added to that is the glare from the headlights that make you blind with light.
Etc… Etc… Etc…
BUT, where’s the thrill without the risk? The adventure without chances of danger? The feeling, the inexplicably ecstatic feeling when the pleasant, cool air hits your face during a ride…The freedom, the excitement, the adrenaline rush… I know that all these are pretty lame reasons, but I am not to be blamed; my age is such that I think what I’m doing is right, and I get carried away by my own cleverness.

What was I saying? Yes, no other tour can compare to that Palakkad trip. I still remember myself sagged on Kanu’s bed in Nimesh’s room, shivering with fever and my nose leaking with cold, on the morning we’d planned to set out. I had taken like, 3 Allerids and a couple of Dolo-650’s since the previous day, but of no avail. I had almost opted out, had not Nimo intervened. “Come, hit the road and your body wont get time”. “For What?”… “To run a fever”.
It all sounds pretty much melodramatic now, but that was what exactly happened when I hit the road.

It all comes back to me – the trip to Malampuzha Dam and Gardens, the stops on our way, the wonderful moments spent there, the photo sessions, how I fell in love with Palakkad, the veg noodles from the hilltop restaurant, the rain soaked return drive… How we all stood huddled together, drenched, shaking with the chill, in front of some Barber shop, because at that point the rainfall was so heavy that we couldn’t even see our own speedometers…

And of course, Pratap’s mom’s warm hospitality – It takes a woman to be that much patient, loving and kind to welcome a horde of brats, let them invade her beautifully well-kept house for a couple of days stay, feed them (!!), yet ensure that her guests are comfortable, and still say when they part, smiling, “Why don’t you come with Pratap on weekends too, sons?” (!!!) (My Umma would scream at the very thought.)

And yeah, the 4 km walk to the Dhoni waterfalls, the trekking in the forest, the sheer scenic beauty of everything, the tiny water-falls on the way, the chill, freshness and purity of the water, and finally reaching the big waterfalls, the non-stop gushing sound of water, and again, the photo sessions, and the rain too. It’s a DTS experience when you’re in a forest when it’s raining. The sound is so complete and even deeper when it reverberates. We even stood there above the waterfalls, watching the rain-laden clouds, waiting for them to move slowly to above us and start the shower. And the search for the biggest leaves to cover our heads…

Palakkad City (?), The Tipu’s Fort, stalking foreigners, Manavaalan’s classic PJ’s, and the unforgettable incident – being caught by the Police, questioning, being taken away in their jeep (sounds all fun now, but my heart was literally quaking then…), …and the final jubilation…

….

I missed many moments in this write-up (that was deliberate too, because there’s a limit to which one can keep droning on poor readers), but all those moments remain etched in mind as colorful and fresh as they are and keep coming back to me now and again.

Thanks.
To all my good friends, who gave me so many treasured memories and feel-good moments to cherish for a lifetime.
To my parents, who, to this point had never said no to any tour plans of mine and supported me financially too. :)
To Almighty, for everything.

Ramz.

Evolution

2009-04-01T01:07:00.000+05:30

What was peculiar about him was his craze for T-Shirts-specifically, collar-less, printed tees.
My first memories of him trace back to our innocent days together in First Std. or Second Std, when he used to wear cute tees that proclaimed ‘MOTHER EARTH’, ‘SAVE NATURE’, ‘DADDY’S KID’, and the like. Pictures of trees, birds, smartly dressed animals, and other wallpaper-like stuff used to adorn those tees then. The predominant tone was green.

These gradually gave way to many comics characters when we were in, about Sixth Std. or Seventh Std. The Turtles (Leo being his favorite), Batman and Robin, Jughead, Goofy etc. started featuring. He hated Mickey Mouse, though, for reasons yet inexplicable to me. Poor guy, he used to be too spotty and conspicuous in any gathering due to his outfits. (Like, people who didn’t know his name would call out “Hey Jughead/Popeye...etc!”). Quite embarrassing, if you ask me.

When comics gave their way to Sachin and Schumacher, I don’t remember exactly. Must have been in Xth Std. Schumacher and Zidane were there occasionally on his chest, but he was literally obsessed with Sachin in particular than anyone else. (He used to savor all cricket matches, even Tests then, and that quite naturally exposed him to the many ads that would have an effect on him later). To that extent that he could even divide his wardrobe of tees into many sections like those having Sachin playing shots on the off-side, on the on-side, and his (as well as my) favorite shot – The lofted six off straight balls that only Sachin can play with such ease and beauty. I have a vague recollection of spotting A.R.Rahman a couple of times as well during this phase.
There was a short stint (during that 3 month vacation we get after our Xth Board Exams) when he wore only branded tees – those of RBK, Nike, Adidas etc. This didn’t last long, since it was not him, but his Dad who paid for those tees.

It was in XI Std. that he realized the importance of
(i) keeping his hair unkempt,
(ii) hanging his pants from at least 5 inches below his waistline,
(iii) listening to Eminem,
(iv) using the f-word some minimum number of times in a sentence,
Etc…
So quite unsurprisingly, his tees also went some radical changes. Linkin Park (esp. the one in which Chester Bennington, the lead singer is in a pose with his mouth full open, the strain he’s taking easily visible from all the nerves of his neck exhibited) and 50 Cent (They always looked like they had some personal grudge against you) started featuring on his tees. One change worth mentioning in this phase was that black has become the underlying theme and hue of all his tees. Some showed just pictures of instruments, drums in particular.
The Rebel tone got in some time later. It started with Che Guevara and Bob Marley, of course. “LIVE FREE OR DIE HARD”, “I WAS BORN INTELLIGENT, BUT EDUCATION RUINED ME”, “SCREW THE RULES, PLAY THE GAME”, “FED UP” (though he hasn’t even started living! J), “I DO BAD THINGS”, etc. came into the scene. Some were of pretty large scale, like “AMERICA SUCKS”, “STOP WAR” and all. There are a lot more, but I only want you to get the underlying mood.
Flirting came next. “SHAME ON YOU GIRLS, I AM STILL A BACHELOR”, “FLIRT, BUT BE ALERT”, “MOM SAYS NO GIRLS”, “TRY ME” etc…
I didn’t see him for some time after that, but when I came back, even before seeing him in tees I could figure out that cupid has done his dirty job because he had changed his appearance, he had like, three phones, showed signs of not having slept well, worried about missed calls very much, carried with him some 3 or 4 recharge coupons etc.. The tees all showed off his deep, profound, intense or whatever LOVE (?) for some girl, of course. Though there were many of them, I don’t remember the captions that were imprinted on his tees then. Doesn’t matter though, since everything was the same which would go like “HOW DID GOD KNOW I NEEDED SOMEONE LIKE YOU?” (That’s the first time I noticed God on his chest, by the way) and you know, seriously cheesy so-called romantic one-liners. One reason why he tolerates me is that I never go poking my nose around in his personal affairs, so I never got around asking who this girl was.

I was very fortunate that he expressed himself through his tees because I didn’t have to ask him why he was spotting an unshaven face, sunken eyes and a haven’t-bathed-for-ages look. The tee showed a rail track, a girl who has turned back (and walking away, possibly) and a pathetic looking guy clutching his bleeding chest. I could imagine what had happened. I hoped he would move on with life, but I kept seeing “NO MORE PAIN”, “DON’T TRUST GIRLS”, “SICK OF CRYING, TIRED OF SMILING, BUT INSIDE I’M DYING”, “DEAD END”, “LOVE IS TRASH, GIRLS NEED CASH”, “WHY?”, “GAME OVER”…

I was really concerned about the fellow when he started displaying “GOT GRASS?”, “FEED WEED”, “GET ME DRUNK AND ENJOY THE SHOW” and all. But they did disappear very soon, and incomprehensible stuff started getting in. You know the ones that don’t make any sense at all. Just one worded footers like “ME”, “MY WAY”, “ELEKTRON” etc. If anything, I took these as signs that he was becoming normal…

These too started fading away, and became just single letters, symbols in Greek alphabet etc.. to end up in plain tees again, the hue this time being blue-black.

And then came, “LIFE’S CHALLENGES ARE DESIGNED NOT TO BREAK US, BUT TO BEND US TOWARDS GOD”, “BELIEVE”, “GOD, I ALWAYS NEED YOU” and all. He found a meaning for his existence after all, and I am happy for him.

I’d have loved to tell you more, but he has stopped wearing tees now. :)

Ramz.

31.3.2009

2009-03-31T00:03:00.000+05:30

A post-exam scenario.

Scene 1.

“Oh God! 5 markers were effing hell yaar! I couldn’t actually answer the second one from fourth module yaar… Oh my God!!! … I’m like, total loser yaar..!”
“Did you LEAVE that 5 marker? Heavens! What will your mom say?!”
“Yeah, its like, I’m like, totally wasted yaar...[voice shakes]. My parents are like, totally wasting their money on me…[sobs]. Hope I do pass yaar…”
“Don’t worry dear. You answered all other questions right?”
“Almost, but I took only like, 2 additional sheets for the second essay!! [sobs turn into screams now]… Oh God! Mummy! Daddy! Grandmother! (etc.) I’ll fail. I’ll fail. I’ll fail…(n times)…Will you teach me for the supply exam if I fail?”
“Don’t be so tensed man. I still think there is a possibility that you’ll pass . Though, it’ll be hard with such low percentage. Now do you get why I always emphasize on the importance of a 4th time revision, you see?...Dont be so upset. I have an excellent idea to cheer you up.”
“…[sobs paused]. What?”
“Lets go to the hostel and start preparing for the next semester’s university exam.!!”
“WOW!! Thank you dear. Come, lets run. Lets not waste another second.”

Scene 2.

“CUT MY LIFE INTO PIECES, THIS IS MY LAST EXAM… SUFFOCATION, NO BREATHING…[hoarse singing]”
“Ok. Post-mortem begins. Everybody! Pass-Yes or No?”
“NO”
“Maybe”
“NO”
“Yes”[met with “what a loser!” shouts]
“CUT MY… Yes, … if my father-in-law is correcting the paper”
[Applause]
“Cheers”
“So, what’s the plan? When’s the tour?”

Postscript:
The very famous work by John Gray: “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus”.
Scientific Observation: “Mars shows signs of life.” (1976- Viking Mission)

Ramz.

29.3.2009

2009-03-29T22:01:00.000+05:30

Just another boring holiday. I was crouched upon the cozy couch in the dining hall of ‘Hira Shade’, my aunt’s home. I don’t know if you have had this feeling, but when I listen to a creaky fan for some time, I always recognize a uniform rhythm when it rotates. The fan above me was making just the same and my fingers pressed themselves on the Next Program button on the TV remote in synchronism with the beat, every 5 seconds or so.
The Direct To Home (DTH) plan of Doordarshan was launched with much excitement, and my aunt, like many other innocent customers all over the country, fell prey to it. There are like, a 500 channels of Doordarshan in every language of India, (including many tribal dialects too, I guess) which airs so dreadfully boring and monotonous programs, to such extent that I personally think it can be made as a punishment to small crimes to watch a 24 hours full schedule program of any Doordarshan channel. And I am sure the crime rate of the particular crime in question would go down. Mental torture is often more effective than physical torment. I mean, what I say is not that we want some stupid reality shows or box office analysis all the time, but you can get a good picture of the graveness of the situation if you watch their sports channel. You know what, they still show the 4x100 Relay Heats of Olympics which our fathers may have watched during their days as a kid, like some 1956 or so. And they don’t have a very good idea about what to show in which channel. For example, they show the wrestling and boxing stuff in the Lok Sabha channel instead of DD Sports.
So, I kept switching channels with the beat of the fan, and after a while, Ammayi gave me an orange when she passed by.

Orange. To spell the word itself is tasty. As OR-ANGE… ANGE … J
Its just one among the thousands of fruits, but I think it’s the only one of its kind to have the unique distinction of being the name to a particular color.
I took the orange in my hand and felt it. There was a feeling of cuteness and delicacy associated with it. I tried to trace its lineage. I imagined the beautiful lush groves in which it might have been grown and the labor of many people behind it. The time it had remained attached to its mother tree. The miles it had traveled before sitting comfortably in my hand…
I compiled all the knowledge that I had about it and found, to no surprise that it amounted to very little. Like the very obvious and well known details like that it is a source of Vitamin C, that marmalade is made of orange, that they belong to the Citrus family and the like. The only very interesting fact about orange that I could relate to as something special is that the word Orange doesn’t rhyme with any other word in the English language (Courtesy: Reader’s Digest, I think).
I started the process that would eventually terminate the existence of that beautiful creation-eating. It is actually a form of killing, but we never say I killed an orange, rather, we say I ate it, and there’s no denying the fact that that orange was a part of a living entity, a tree. Weird, na?
I dug a small hole into its shiny skin, and started peeling it off. As kids we used to play games as to peel it off in one long unbroken piece… And there were those white segments, about 10 in all. They had a tough skin, white in color.
I started to marvel at the sheer architecture of this fruit. Covering each segment was that thick white sinewy thing, which tastes bitter and which people usually discard, but I don’t. And inside those segments were the beautiful, soft, small juicy thing. And they are woven and held together by small threads, and at the centre of it all are the small seeds. And I, even with the very limited knowledge of technology, can confidently say that not even the best machine in the world can weave even a single segment of an orange together as its done by Him.

An orange is only one among the billions of His creations, too unimportant to be on the point of being neglected, but the detail to which God has intervened himself in the intricacies of a simple orange segment is so beyond our thinking. Perhaps that’s the way he manifests himself through his creations…

I remembered a verse from the Quran [Quran only because that’s only what I know, and I am sure there might be verses from other holy books to the same meaning] which meant something like “Those who think and reflect will find that He has not created all these without any specific purpose” (rabbana maa khalaqta haadha baatila)…

Ramz.

13.11.08

2008-11-04T13:43:00.000+05:30

DISCLAIMER : This is not (supposed to be) a poem.

My legs led me to the college.
Pleasant and cool morning.
I found the heat of the last-minute discussions unbearable.
I sat at my regular spot.
Concentrated on the noise
And found out the melody in it.
Minutes Later:
Notice Board.
Found myself encoded MKAF…
Hall No: C 114
Familiar faces? Classmates?
Rajith says something about Sky Wave Propogation.
Sk.. well, whatever.
I recognize no one else.
Inside the hall.
The radiations emanating from the so many brains seemed to be
interfering among themselves.
Choking.
Some bell somewhere.
Answer paper, Question paper.
My seat, My pen.
I am in no hurry, I know I have a lot of time.
Had just started to write my register number, when-
interruption:
my classmate in front of me wants an additional sheet.
Big rush, she is in.
Now, I delve into the question paper.
“Letters are dancing”.
-And I thought the kid was joking when he said it in Taare Zameen Par.
One complete look at the paper.
I knew
that I was busted.
Even those crumbs and bits of Module 3 and 4
Flew straight out of my head.
Blank. Clean.
Adjusted myself to her “Miss! Paper”, “Miss! Paper”, every, like 5 seconds or so.
Felt it was time to stop reading ?ion paper for, like, the fiftieth time.
I took the plunge.
….
I made an impact on the answer paper, finally. Slowly.
Some bell(s) somewhere again.
I made random movements with the pen in my hand
that left marks in the shapes resembling some letters of the English alphabet..
(Calling this process ‘I wrote the exam’ would be an insult
to my fellows in the class who were writing for their life, like hell..)
“Miss! One sheet please”- not me.
…
I ran out of stock, very soon, earlier than even I expected.
And I sort of succumbed to my situation.
I started fading from the scene. Gradually.
The damned pen started to weigh, like 50 kgs…
Question paper:
“Skip Zone”, “MUF”, “Sectoral horn antennas”, “Applications of…”
“State and explain..”
“Draw, derive, design, sketch, obtain, differentiate, substantiate, bring out..”

Slowly but surely I started floating..
Shrunk further.
Became afraid if my floating in the air would disturb others.
Thankfully,
Nobody seemed to notice.
Fading away. Feather-ly feeling…
Lighter..

Until,
Complete and absolute peace.
Tranquility.
Infinity.

2.11.2008

2008-11-04T13:22:00.000+05:30

Minha has left with Ammai and Mushin to stay for a few days at Ammai's ancestral home. Ever since she's left there's this whole sense of emptiness in the house. There's this sense of perpetual gloom in the atmosphere..
I miss seeing her. We all do. Miss taking her, making her laugh to see the beautiful toothless smile and the glint of mischief in her eyes when she does so, her crawling, her conversing in monosyllables, everything about our bozo.
She's gone only for a few days and its become unbearable for all of us.. I myself was fooled twice yesterday when i walked into the room to check if she was asleep or not...
I can only imagine how hard it must be for our uncle, her father, who left a couple of days ago to Abu Dhabi and have to wait another long dreary 6 months to see her...

ramz

Write it off. But its true.

2008-07-30T23:31:00.000+05:30

University exams are a wretch, I tell you. They suck the soul out of any normal engineering student. Worse, it’s all the same thing over and over again and hasn’t changed anything from the way it started from the very first semester when we were young and innocent. University announces the dates, you laugh them off. You wait for the first postponing, and there it is the next week. Reasons are again the same- the old prof. who was assigned the duty of setting the paper expired/forgot, questions were prepared for the syllabus of say, some year like the 1975 (by mistake, of course), some old @#*& felt that the set papers were too easy that even brilliant students could pass and felt the need to change it, etc etc… or simply for my university to keep its identity among all those numerous universities in the state. Sorry, I drifted a bit. Ok, you get the first postponing of your exam and you stand in awe of your own cleverness at not starting to study earlier, enjoy a bit more and wait for the next postponing of the exam, and the next and the next… until comes a bolt from the deep blue for you when the university finally decides to act like every other normal universities in the world and to hold the exam finally on the last announced date. We.. what? You pinch yourselves. No, not the usual crazy dreams like the ones you have in class. You even go through the newspaper and that too, the Education column and all (Christ!) to check if there aint any more postponing. Sadly, there aren’t any. Slowly, bit by bit, the hard cruel reality dawns upon you. That there is really an exam in the offing waiting to blow your trumpet, and that too only one/(max)two weeks away.
Mind works quite funnily, I must say. We sit down and take that scientific calculator, probably for the first time for a purpose. We calculate like how many hours are there in one/two week(s). You get a big big figure (wow!), you divide it by the number of modules and all, and you end up wondering at how you are going to spend the ‘extra’ time which you will get after studying all those and even after revising (revising, eh?) You make a flash card of that hour-figure and paste it in your room. Complete solace. A couple of days pass by in harmony. Then you get down to the feeling that afterall, you ought to study. Then, of course, you have only the syllabus book to study. No materials or in general engg lingo, no tools. Then you dial all those nerds for their notes, see your university prescribed text for the first time, and then go to the one most important machine on which depends your whole course- the photocopier machine. Frankly, I can’t even still imagine what we would all have done but for this wonderful invention. If there was one machine to which all engineers, irrespective of your stream- ec, mech, whatever are all indebted to in common, it’s this landmark invention. Ok, you spend a fortune on all those copies (It always ends up like you don’t even bother to read half of what you’ve taken, but it’s an inexplicable sense of relief that spreads over you when you feel you have everything that it takes to be the university topper with you… You have the materials all with you, now you feel like you’ve only a half way to go.

Then one fine morning you find yourself exposed to the dirty looming threat of the exam which would be now only some days (not more than a week) away. If you are so desperate, as a last resort, you again calculate like one week= how many minutes/seconds, only to get the relief that there’s still some big figure unit of time to go. But now you start studying. Finally. This is that stage of regrets, long term pledges (like, “See the wonders I am going to work out in the next exam”, “I will be regular/systematic/punctual/everything that I am not now” etc…), positive attitude on the lines of ‘even if I mess up this exam, its all for the best’ (you are left with no other choice, of course), faked determination to pull all-nighters and all. No use.
What more? 3 hours of struggling in the hell of a hall. Even heart-breaking to hear the question paper discussed. Shit. Two or even more weeks of full-blown misery and torture. That’s what University exams can be briefed into.
Why did I say all these? Because my next post is a small little incident set in a post-exam period.

Signing off,

R a m z. :)

A Prelude.

2008-05-08T23:09:00.001+05:30

" When will these sucking exams be over, dude? "
" Hopefully before we expire "
we'd decided not to discuss the bloody question paper anymore when exams are over because of some obvious reasons. So, thats what got us into conversations like the one above, you see... Most of it is usually all about criticizing and bull shitting the system, the college, th(os)e beautiful girl(s) who ignores you most of the times, and if at all, looks at you like you were some sticky frog who just fell into the cup of coffee she was about to drink (never mind if you really are). Yeah, I know its wrongof one to one to talk bad about (what is supposed to be) his alma mater- the college, your teachers and all, but like i told you, leaving out all the academic stuff leaves you with little choice for worthy topics. Besides, these are quite fertile topics- you can cultivate a loton them- there's a lot of scope for your creativityto bloom.. leave it for God's sake. this isn't what I wanted to say..
Quite often these conversations like the aforementioned one end up only in some good laughs and scowls, but this time we just let it carry go on.
"Do you mean to say we've gotta do this mug-and-spit thing for the rest of our lives?"
"Shut Up guys, its supposed to get you a job.."
"Damn all jobs!"
"Oh no, not that line again"
[pause]
"Yes! hey rascals, listen! i say listen! [clears throat for the effect] Dont we deserve ourselves a little t r e a t if we get through this damned bull shit exams?"
[silence, apart from a bit loud smirk or two]
"Just think guys, you oughta have studied daily .. etc [preaching].. and avoided this last moment mugging. A bit of statuatory warning, guys- Dont follow me blindly. i may be good looking and stylish and freak and all, but i am not that good a role model when it comes to studies, you know.."
I dont know wat he intended to say next, because as you might have expected, he never got to complete what he was saying. He got pretty good shots, as we call it, one each from all of us. I am not sure about this, but i think he'll remember it for the rest of his life..
he didnt stop with that, surprisingly. he dared.
"Guys, [ coughing ], thats ok.. sorry, [ (cou+lau)ghing] what I mean is that we deserve ourselves a nice little break. A treat to ourselves if we survive this goddamn exams. [wondering at the attention he's getting] Ok, we have a one month vacation to sleep, but, what about a.. TOUR? Its supposed to be the last vacation of our times together, f___ers.."
[silence]
Its a brilliant idea, but this already balloon-headed punk will float in Stratosphere if he gets to think he was the one who brought up this idea. I knew that was what all were thinking.
"I'm game iff you get like, say about 0.25% creditof the idea"
"Ditto ! [chorus]"
The idea was hi-fived in some, like, 2.23 seconds..

Thus was born the idea of a tour during the heavenly happy dreamy hols. The mere thought of it was kind of promising because the rest of exams, though may have succeeded in making us fail, just failed to dampen our spirit. And he was damn right. It was the last vacation of our lifetime. There wont be much of even a chance of one like this with these wonderful crooks later...
Done. And fixed.
Just an example that shows that even conversations which you think as useless, pointless banters may lead to great ideas like these.. and just another reason why we have them most of the time rather than hot discussions about pin diagrams, working principles, block diagrams, datasheets and related stuff.
I'm eager to share the tour. In the next update.
:)
ramz.