Gangajal

An unexpected gift

2012-01-26T17:16:00.001+05:30

Are somethings just meant to be? I had never gone on the team runs for a few years nowand yet when I did go for the first time earlier this week, I was rewarded witha disproportionate bonus.

Rightafter we completed our run, a bunch of us were standing around outside the parkand chatting, when, literally, out of nowhere this little fellow appearedwhining and generally looking very lost. Irresistible in every sense, the fatpuppy just had to be lifted up. We all looked around for the owner but he wasobviously alone.

Carryinghome was a tougher task than I anticipated, as he was quite the solid mass oflittle dog. A warm bath with baby shampoo and some milk did wonders to thescared champ and he tentatively started exploring the house. We had no idea(and still don’t) of things to come.

The vetsaid he was fine except for his body being overloaded with ticks and fleas.Quite healthy overall was the prognosis. As far as his origins, the suspicionwas a St. Bernard/German Shepherd mix.

A good24 hours was spent trying to come up with a name for him and as is wont,suggestions ranged from outlandish to bizarre (someone suggested we name him ‘Cat’just to confuse him).

Longstory short, Rogue has taken to our family like the ticks to his body. Ourolder Golden Zak has not a moment of peace. Rogue has decided to live up to hisname. Nothing is safe from him, no more dangling your feet carelessly down,shoes and wires are all fair game. He approaches life and people with an openmind and if he can get in a nibble or two in the bargain, all the better!

No finalverdict on his breed but there’s a strong chance that he might be an Akita.Time will tell but in the meantime, Rogue continues to charm his way into ourhome and our hearts. This one’s a keeper for sure!

A running start

2012-01-16T22:17:00.003+05:30

“Run Mumbai Run” was the chant that echoed all around and hasstayed in my mind. A truly magical startto 2012. I know I’ve writtenabout my running before and I tried to give it a miss this time butparticipating in the Mumbai Marathon is just too great of an experience for meto not talk about.

I understand why it’s easy to fall in love with the city, even as anoutsider. First of all the logistics and arrangements were impeccable. From thebib pick up to the starting location, everything was done perfectly. Secondly, the people here are warm and welcoming to one and all.

The 6:15 a.m. starttime for the half marathon was ideal and about ten thousand of us nervously paced around as time slowly ticked on. Everyone has a different way of preparing for a run. There were those who quietly stretched themselves oblivious to anythingaround them, groups loudly yakking and full of bravado and those whojust sit silently. I fill the last category, as I don’t believe in doing anything before a long run. I just wait.

A few minutes beforekick off, the entire crowd rose like a colossal wave and impatience was writtenon everyone’s face.Jostling, shoving and pushing ensued though I’m not sure for what reason. It really doesn’t matter where you start from; you have twentyone kilometers to overtake others!

The run began with muchfanfare, music and good natured ribaldry. The sea of humans took off as one. Right in front of me, was an ex-army officer with a steel leg who started off at an admirable pace. I felt motivated to give it my best with two legs.

The feeling of runningon the Bandra-Worli SeaLink at a few hundred feet over the ocean at early dawnis indescribable. The sea-link, off limits for pedestrians onregular days, was lovely to saunter along on.

Very soon, and on the sealink, we crossed thefirst of the full marathoners who had begun their run from CST Station nearChurchgate, our end point.

Rather than go through a kilometer-by-kilometer description, I really want to talk about the peoplesupport. Every step along the way, huge crowds hadturned up to cheer us on. From infants and toddlers to folks well into theireighties, the enthusiasm was infectious. The great thing about running is thatyou don’t have to be a professional athlete or be anOlympian. For ordinary people like me, this is the closest and best it gets.The sheer presence of bystanders, clapping, encouraging, handing out almonds,chocolates, biscuits, fruit juices was quite something and tears welled up in my eyes.Nowhere have I seen a city come together in this fashion. Stage performances byknown and unknown artists, high school kids playing music, Bhangra dances – it was just a carnival out there.

Allcredit to the wonderful citizens of Mumbai for helping me finish my run with apersonal best timing because without them, this would have been a struggle.Hats off to the organizers and the people of Mumbai who have gone through somuch in the past but still have the heart to come together when it matters.

App Frenzy

2011-12-22T01:22:00.000+05:30

The only joy that comes close to seeing your child being born is when theapps you were part of creating, come to life in the marketplace. In a shortspan of two and a half months, we were able to start a company in Bangalore,hire people and release 4 mobile applications to the Barnes & Noble market,the Android Market, and the Apple iTunes store.

As the year ends, I can't but consider myself extremely lucky as I havethe best team anyone can hope for. The commitment, the perseverance, thededication and attention to detail are a few of the qualities this teampossesses in abundance. Hats off to the MoveableCode family and especially thefolks in MoveableCode India who have been with me through thick and thin,always positive, always cheerful and always willing to go that extra step dayin and day out.

Our work has just started but we could not have hoped for a better start.Actually, it's been a dream start as I spread my entrepreneural wings for thefirst time in my life. The excitement is building, the challenges are growingand the team is ready to take on innovations, technology creations and dowhatever it takes to reinvent play for all generations and ages! A trulyremarkable endeavor we've taken up and boy have we delivered!

Another eight days to go for the new year and if I don't publish any moreposts this year, let's just call this a wrap.

Happy New Year to all!

Wedding blues and other true colors

2011-12-06T10:29:00.001+05:30

This time we raised the bar so high that only orbiting satellites can see it. For one, we had a five day wedding and the madness that went with it was significant to put it mildly.

As is customary, the festivities kicked off with the Mehndi night, which the boys of the family have mastered. Fortunately for us, the 'Kolaveri' song showed up a week before so there was plenty of ammunition and plagiarism as we customized the song to fit the groom's love life much to the embarrassment of the couple. But, that only helps motivate us more.

The song medley skillfully led by the only real singer in our family was a sight to behold. About 15 of us were involved in this mess...sorry...medley and it took all of my cousin's patience and perseverance to get us through the numerous songs we belted out. Just the preparation for the medley rivaled the preparation by the New York Philharmonic since as usual no one had a clue what to do but everyone had a bucketful of opinions each every second When we finally kicked off the singing in numerous beats, pitches and tones. While my cousin bravely attempted to bring a semblance of order, we all ploughed on unmindful of her guidance. For some reason, we did get applause though the applause from the 'singers' drowned out the audience cheering.

The highlight of the show was hands down the 'Kolaveri' song which the four boys had mangled skillfully to suit the occasion but was the most entertaining event for sure.

The reception was kind of uneventful as the horde held back for the final onslaught which was the wedding day.

The 6 a.m start did nothing to quell our enthusiasm and we even got into a musical duel with the bride's side (yes we were the groom's side). The 'Uyyaale' or the symbolic swing ceremony required a sedate song. Once the unknown old lady from the other side got going, we egged on our musical genius. Hesitant at first, my cousin soon warmed up and we started taking the lead. However, the opposition was made of sterner stuff and kept pace and volume if not matching in melody and harmony. We resorted to playing dirty and my cousin started of a frenetic paced song in Malayalam. Game, Set, Match - Groom's family...yeah!! Take that!! We had even thought of making my cousin sing in Arabic if we had to.

While the wedding went on (endlessly I might add), sheer boredom took over the boys and we entered the realm of creative photography with my 18 year old nephew as the star. Being of a healthy proportions and hairstyle like a nuclear explosion mushroom cloud, he was the easy choice. What helped of course was his willingness and initiative to be the model.

Fortunately for us. we had an entire length of the marriage hall protected by a dark curtain so we could do pretty much what we wanted. We began with some 50 meter races with my 8 year old daughters. After a few casualties, the photography sessions started in earnest. For props we used a large white dhoti which we 'innovatively' wrapped around my nephew. The first session was purely the 'Guruji' photographs, a part he fit to the tee. This was followed by a surprisingly self and well choreographed 'Durga' like pose where the photo shows just my nephew and a seven pairs of hands behind him in various positions. Truly a masterful work of art that was. We completed the photo shoot with some villanous politician pictures inclusive of the spitting the paan into the sidekick's hand shot.

As we later recapped the events, my nephew was surprised to learn that there was a wedding happening in the background.

A great end to the year with lots of fun an celebrations in the family. Waiting in eager anticipation for the next wedding. Or if someone wants a Mehndi planning, execution and participating team, we're available at short notice...

A fresh start (up)

2011-10-27T18:08:00.002+05:30

Earlier this year, I was wondering about what the heck I wanted to do with my life. Looks like that question pretty much got answered a couple of months back. A casual conversation with an ex-colleague from my first job days turned out into something really concrete. Things have been a whir ever since then and before I knew it, I had started a company, hired people and was into product development.

Any start-up journey is always exciting and mine has been as exciting as any other. Right from getting the legal and tax requirements done, to finding an office space, hiring folks, the excitement has not abated from day one. A few noteworthy candidate interviews that I want to share here:

- One guy insisted that the first interview round HAS to be done on the telephone and he wouldn't come to our office

- One guy showed up with his friend for the interview and they sat by side while he answered questions

- I had trouble convincing one person that even though I am not a HR person, I still would like to talk to him for the initial discussion. Apparently, it is against protocol to have 'Engineering' have the first contact

The net result is that, our days are never dull and boring; there's always something going on and it's all good.

On a more serious note, I truly believe I have hired some of the smartest folk and striving to get more brilliant minds into the company. Oh, and I need to tell you what we do. SoLoMo Play applications for kids and wannabe kids alike. It doesn't get more exciting and invigorating that that!

A big thanks to the founder who made it all possible though. It's been a joy working here and looking forward to tremendous growth and tons of fun....

Distance may part and seas may divide us

2011-05-08T16:43:00.001+05:30

I racked my head for a while to get an apt title for this posting and my eyes fell on a line from our revered hymn book. I couldn’t have found a better heading.

As I begin writing now, I can’t help but feel a lump in my throat and a tinge of wetness in the eyes. What a ride the last four days was! It’s going to take a long while for all of us to get over the 25th year reunion. And when I say all, I mean each and everyone who made it, including the amazing bunch of spouses (spice as we now call them) and lovely set of kids who made our gathering one of the most magical moments of our lives.

Preparations for our get together probably began a couple of years ago by a group of determined and driven folks in our batch and to see it all come together was a crowning glory. Right from the hotel stay down to the fleece jackets, T-shirts and bags for the spice and kids, the thoughtfulness and care taken was something else. The 300 odd songs from our school times on two CDs was an extremely nice touch!

We landed up in Holiday Inn Ooty on the 3rd of May in a mini convoy of cars from Bangalore constantly trying to keep the red dot of a car in our radar. The dinner at Shinkow’s was more significant for the nostalgia than the food which has deteriorated since our school days. I guess around thirty Old Lawrencians from our batch showed up with families and the booze and food created a riot of activities and merriment that was a portent of things to come.

One of the salient aspects of our gathering was that despite things being informally done, somehow they fell into place and was more fun than a series of choreographed and military like events. The picnic on the 4th is a good example. We all knew we were going somewhere but no one knew exactly where. Depending on whom you asked and when, you got different answers which just made it all more fun. Finally, someone figured out where to go and the buses and assortment of private transports got going. As was the trend, the spot was great and even though we had a ‘Purple Uncle’ fall off the jeep, we all had a ball! One of our wonderful spices had organized a team game by the lake which our team handily won thanks to dogged exhorts by her Lawrencian hubby. It’s another matter that two of us landed in a team by accident but that’s another story.

That evening is arguably the most memorable and touching ones of our lives. We had invited the family of one of our batch mates (who is no more) for dinner. A 30 minute slide show (of close to 500 photographs) put together expertly, professionally and with brilliant accompanying music ensured copious tears as we looked on a past that was so much a part of what we are today. A rush of memories long lying dormant in the inner recesses of our brains was out in full force. Each photograph evinced shouts and comments as each one of us travelled back in time reliving our childhood and the thinking of the way things were. Our hearts and eyes took quite a beating to see the visuals of our departed classmates along with thoughts of our times with them. Though I had spent less time in school than most others, the memories were still overwhelming and I furiously wiped away the tears as fast as they were appearing. The most touching moment for me was when my eight year old daughter ran to me right after the show to give me a big hug with her moisture laden eyes. I don’t think we have all recovered yet from that thrust into our formative years that this slideshow evoked. Amazing work by George, Sanjay and Lekha for the brilliant effort on the photo slides. I am going to stop writing more on this right now just because I have too many emotions which words just cannot do justice to.

More drinking and dancing followed along with photography sessions with every conceivable group and formation. Guys only, girls only, House-wise, primary school wise, city-wise; we pretty much exhausted all combinations. A great musical performance by Sunita was all that we needed to cap off a remarkable evening.

5th morning saw our ‘86 group at school, a first time in many years for a lot of us. We showed up in full strength to inaugurate the solar water heaters that we had sponsored. It was wonderful to see a tangible outcome of all the money we had put in. Again, more photographs in nostalgic locations and positions followed. With the kids and spouses left to their own devices for a while, we all showed up for the OLA AGM which was in the girls’ school. For the first time, we guys were actually welcomed into this highly sought after area of our school (during our school days that is!). I actually didn’t follow much of what was going on in the meeting, my sole contribution being the distribution of some documents to the attendees.

Dinner at the Savoy was a relatively quiet affair with some of us joining the professional Badaga dancers for some intricate moves. One of us with a unnaturally good memory and aided by others regaled us with tales from our school days, most stories which should never have got out in the first place! All in good taste and definitely brought laughs and groans depending on who the target was.

The moment we were all waiting for. The Parade on the 6th morning! Bright and early we all got into Top Flat (the big ground) to witness and be part of the 153rd Founders’ Day. A flurry of emails and Yahoo group postings on dress code still failed to deter some of us from flouting the agreed upon attire though we still showed up smartly dressed but non-compliant.

The parade was actually very well done and we were especially impressed with the girls’ guards which just seemed a tad more sharp and coordinated than others. Our great time finally arrived. 75 of us from the batch of 1986 joined the parade in organized chaos and marched past the guest of honor marking a record attendance for any alumni batch in the history of the school. Granted, the entire march lasted about 20 seconds or so but for us, we were back in school, back to that uncomplicated childhood, for a moment our present lives and pressures forgotten; just happy school children marching away to glory without a care in the world. Not many outside our group will really understand how much that fleeting instance in time mean to us and I will not try and explain it either. Suffice it is to say that 75 hearts beat as one during that march and nothing has or will come close to how we all felt right then.

The final dinner on the 6th was the culmination of one of the biggest emotional rollercoaster of our lives as we internalized what a unique group we were and the fact that so many of us had made the effort to come together from all corners of the world for a once in a lifetime event.

I won’t go into details of the other activities we did except say that hosting a lunch for the teachers of our batch was a very caring and sensitive gesture. I’m sure I’ve missed a lot of stuff that happened but the idea was not to give a ball by ball account, rather capture the essence of my reunion experience.

Personally, I got to spend precious time with some people whom I knew better than others and also to chat up with those I didn’t really know too well in school. We caught up with each others’ lives and exchanged contacts vowing to undo the self-imposed isolations of our last 25 years.

Our batch is no more a bunch of kids who went to school together but an extended family of sorts that to my knowledge is non-existent anywhere else. Hats off to Mathew, Aparna, Palani, Rohan and the multitude of others who worked tirelessly behind the scenes to implant priceless memories in us that we will talk about and cherish for the rest of our lives. Here’s to the class of 1986, the best family to ever come out of our glorious school!!

The passing of a generation

2011-04-29T20:44:00.000+05:30

I was always in awe of the two ladies who always were different from anyone else I knew in my grandparents’ generation. My mother and her siblings were definitely a bit wary of them and I guess that rubbed off on me. However, I don’t remember ever being reprimanded or spoken to in a harsh tone by the sisters of my grandmother. They were strict and led disciplined lives but were never unreasonable or austere.

For whatever reason, neither of them got married and lived with each other until the end. I remember their home in Fraser Town with the large tiger skin carpet complete with the head of the tiger. There were always the most interesting things in that house, from the artefacts picked up around the world to the rare collection of wonderful books in the dining room shelf.

Both were extremely active, teachers by profession, and conducting home tuitions until very recently. My interactions with them were always wonderful and their command of English and world affairs fascinated me to no end. Unlike most people of that generation, these were two practical people. Not once did the do the usual emotional blackmail of me not visiting them, that they’re old and dying and that our generation doesn’t care for them…blah blah bah. Whenever we met, which wasn’t very often, we conversed like we had met the day before and all they would say was ‘Do come by when you have time. We know it’s not easy with your work and personal commitments, but know that there are two old ladies to visit when you can’. I loved that!

Almost everyone in that family circle who ever fell sick would land up in their house. They pretty much looked after anyone who needed any kind of care. All this was done as routine – as part of their lives, never once feeling that they were doing a favor or that they were going out of their way to help. Eternally cheerful and full of good humor, these were role models of a rare calibre. Nothing bogged them down and nothing was insurmountable.

My first grand aunt died a year and half back. Her sister died on April 26th this year. I think the passing away of the elder one took a lot out of her. She had wanted her body to be donated to the medical college and I went there on 27th morning to pay my respects to a great human being. Not that I was every close to them (mainly because I hardly saw them), but seeing her lying on the stretcher brought a few tears to my eyes. The inevitable finality of it all hit me and the fact that she was the last of the siblings of whom my grandmother was one.

To their dying day, my grand aunts were strong independent women, cherishing life and spreading happiness and positivity all around. I will miss them and think of them often as I attempt to lead my life the way they did; trying to make a difference in an uncomplicated manner. As I write this piece, I can’t help but wipe a tear from my eye as I realize how much people really mean to us and we find out only after they are gone. May their souls rest in peace.

First Act

2011-04-22T12:04:00.001+05:30

One of the first plays I remember seeing was from a British troupe that had come to my school in Ooty. For some reason, one of the lines from that play remain stuck in my mind. It goes something like this:

When Shakespeare played

The Stage was bare

and the throne of England

was just a chair

My own foray into theatre began at the tender age of 42. A chance conversation with my nephew saw me don the hat of a 73 year old ex-Vaudeville performer in Neil Simon’s ‘The Sunshine Boys’. Frankly, I had no clue as to what it takes to act in a play, my experience being limited to being a casually interested audience. One look at the 60 page script gave me strong misgivings especially being in the lead role. For some reason, my eternally optimistic nephew felt I could pull it off and I went with the flow.

The first few rehearsals were cause for much merriment and mirth. Reading directly from the script didn’t seem to be very tough and not having a performance date set in stone contributed to my lackadaisical attitude. My nephew too, probably out of deference to his uncle, let me be. A couple of changes in the cast and a few weeks later, we pretty much had a good set of actors for all the roles.

The date of play was finally decided as April 1st and that’s when reality slowly sank in. Rehearsals became more serious and durations became longer. Practice sessions that happened in the club house of our apartment complex slowly shifted to a rented out room and then to my cousin’s house which was lying vacant. One big motivation for me not to do the rehearsals at home was the constant ‘feedback’ from the spouse. Enough said!

D-Day dawned and the plan was set. All stage settings ready at 11 a.m, stage rehearsal from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m and a break from 3 – 6. Yeah right! When the stage was ready, it was almost 7 p.m. and there was frantic scrambling to get the props. Most furniture came from our house and almost everything that could go wrong did. We had dubious help backstage and my nephew did most of the running around, in addition to being the director and one of the main performers.

Though 8 p.m was the start time, we finally got going around 8:30. The sound went wrong in the first few seconds, props could not be found and nothing was where it should be. A comical scene was when my nephew says (in the play) ‘It’s freezing in here’ and he’s dripping with sweat due to the back-stage work he was also doing. Anyway, as one of the lines from the play go…’still we got terrific applause!’. The hundred or so in the audience seemed to genuinely enjoy the humor and comedy. We had a large family contingent which was also helpful and I remember most of my lines, doing some improvisations as we went along.

An eventful first performance, got lots of encouragement from everyone near and dear. It was great to see my Lawrence buddies make it to the play in the heavy downpour that decided to grace us on show day. Looking forward to a lot more acting opportunities in the coming months. Who knows, this could be my calling!

Zen and the art of auto surveys

2011-02-23T22:30:00.001+05:30

Unfortunately, this is a second hand narration and didn’t happen to me but it warrants documentation of some sort. Apologies to my nephew if I failed to capture the everything correctly.

So this guy shows up to do a survey on cars people own. I’ll now change into movie script style and call my nephew ‘A’ and the survey guy ‘SG’. Creative huh? Okay, here goes:

SG: Sir, what car do you own?

A: A Chevy. You can see it over there

SG: Sir, can I write BMW 3 Series?

A: Er...sure

SG: What is your next car?

A (Really getting into it now): A Phantom

SG: What is your dream car sir?

A: Ferrari

SG: Sir, please can I write down ‘Hyundai Verna’?

Based on one data point, we now have someone with a BMW who’s planning to buy a Rolls Royce but secretly desires a Hyundai.

Thai off-site

2011-02-16T13:58:00.001+05:30

A sure fire way to get stickiness of a new employee is to take him/her to Thailand for an off-site immediately after joining. Well, of course, the bar is now set so high that it’ll be tough to beat that start!

About 30 of us ‘senior’ leaders embarked on this 2 day extravaganza to Pattaya (oh yeah baby!). The bus ride from Bangkok to Pattaya was undoubtedly the highlight of the day. The personal introduction of each of us pretty much took care of the two hour journey. You learn a lot about people from their introductions. The director for one seemed to have had two failed crushes in college and both girls had the same name. One of us also indicated that he was the better half of his manager though the intention was to talk about the domain he owned. He also went on to enumerate the various modes of transport he had personally driven and ended with the now famous line…’and the most interesting part is I have also done a goat and a hen’. Oh well, it could be worse…I guess…

The most fascinating person was our guide Tony whose narrations and stories progressively got more sleazy with the tour. He explained in some detail the vegetarian and non-vegetarian massages available and also went into a lengthy discourse on the ‘lady-boy’ concept and culminated with ‘you never know for sure if it’s a man or woman, just your luck’. On the way back he took it upon himself to regale us with his own brand of humor. Though lacking in humor, the narrations more than made up for the lack of punch lines. One of the jokes that come to mind is the story of a dad and son in a village and the punch line is that the son tells his dad that the only way he can get 600 villagers to work on his farm is to go to a village and impregnate 600 women in one night. I'm sure the actual humor was lost in translation and context but he did seem to think it was hilarious.

I did get to bond quite a bit with Tony as I couldn’t handle the Indian food for every meal. Over some spicy Tom Yum soup he talked about how he was on the deathbed and his heart had stopped beating. His mother prayed in the Shakthi temple and he was miraculously revived confounding the medical community in Thailand. His wife (four years his senior) is Chinese and he had to do a lot of convincing of his mother-in-law to get the girl of his dreams. He also had uncanny perception and was able to talk about my better half’s nature just by glancing at her photo. I’d rather not go into what he said for fear of bodily harm to me.

Good trip overall and we even managed to get in a few working sessions in between. Looking forward to more trips and bonding expeditions…

Back to reality

2011-01-16T21:34:00.001+05:30

Almost feel like a child going to school for the first time. Got some rare time off between jobs (over a month actually) and now there’re withdrawal symptoms as I begin my new job tomorrow. Wondering if it’s really worth it to have a regular 9-6 job. I mean, the money is good and all that but the heart just doesn’t seem to be in this forced regularity and expected monotony. People ask me if I got bored not working but frankly it was fine. Lots of time spent with the kids, running, cycling, jogging, reading – the days went by just fine. The wife made sure I kept busy with tons of errands which were all duly completed and did some more just to over-achieve !

At this age, you are supposed to have it all figured out and know exactly what you want from professional life, but I don’t. I know what I don’t want to do but have no clue what I really want to do. Kinda scary huh? Yeah, especially for the better half who is acutely aware of every mood swing and emotion I go through.

I know I want to write something substantial and do so with more passion and discipline but that big idea just isn’t coming to me. It will, one day. Until then, it’s back to the rat race giving it my all. Just wish I had something figured out during the break that I could for the rest of my life! Oh well…

Note: Wrote this deliberately in a grey font as that’s the color I feel I’m in right now. Cool huh?

The enigma of Nagaraj Rao–A humble tribute

2011-01-13T22:23:00.001+05:30

On a warm summer’s evenin’ on a train bound for Mysore, I met up with the bookseller…

Sound familiar? Yeah, it’s a rip off from the Kenny Rogers song ‘The Gambler’. An account of the magical words/translations of the master needs to start where it all began. The suspense needs to build, the irrelevance unclear and the punch line obscure.

My nephew, being boredom disposed hailed a passing travelling salesman in a train and acquired the now historic manuscript known as ‘Great Jokes’. Little did he or anyone else in our family fathom the powerful and everlasting influence this deceptive book would have on us.

‘The Book’ and the contents are now part of lore and fantasy and while I will not delve in the actual writing, I will make an honest attempt to describe ‘Great Jokes’ to the best of my ability. I have delayed so long on the writing of this piece solely due to the inability to grasp the full depth of the master’s words. Like the proverbial onion, the layers never end. A doctoral thesis is probably the only way to analyze the Sistine Chapel of Humor.

There about 280+ jokes in all. The opening number sets the tone for the remaining masterpieces with a grand finale that ends with ‘Do it before my husband comes’. In terms of comprehensiveness, no genre or discipline is left untouched. Topics cover sports, psychology, horror, sleaze, politics, international, religion, drama, theatre, arts, music education and pretty much anything else you can think of.

The author takes creative and utmost liberties with punctuations. Commas, periods, parentheses, upper and lower case alphabets, quotation marks pretty much appear in the most unexpected of places with the parentheses affecting your sanity the most. Words in braces could appear on either side of the word requiring more clarification but in most cases, either the word in braces is the same or has no bearing on the original word. On a few occasions, both the words inside and outside the braces are not in English so a pure Anglophile is left confounded as is everyone else. Some gems include a joke with this title - “Gunda” (““Gunda””) and one with the title – Gunda (“Able Gundas”).

Most jokes contain names and details which are completely irrelevant to the actual ‘joke’. A few examples here provide some insight – Chinkurli Sheenappa, Kempegowda, Hanumi are just some of the stars that speckle this fine book. The professions of the characters also leave you dumbfounded. Srinvas Rao is a gazetted officer and multiple readings still do not reveal the relevance of his profession.

Of course, there are those jokes where details would have been good but are marked by their complete absence. The abrupt endings and punch lines of the jokes are undoubtedly designed to whet the readers’ appetites as well as providing complete freedom to draw your own conclusion on the humor.

One of the biggest challenges you will encounter when attacking the mother lode of humor is connecting the title of the joke to the actual joke. I can vouch for the fact that many including yours truly have attempted and failed.

The rather abrupt one word sentences are also imposing barriers in comprehension. The sometimes rather sleazy phrases are now part of our family’s everyday vocabulary. While the impact of these phrases cannot be felt outside the jokes, here are a few – On seeing a good looking woman, a man’s reaction is described thus – ‘Mouth watered'. Or this classic – ‘She looked at him with one and a half eye’. Or still better – ‘He made a castor oil face’ and the creative ‘she made an asafoetida face’. Irresistible and spine tingling.

The ‘horror’ section is ably addressed by a lengthy narrative where the ‘doors of the windows kept opening and shutting’. Liberties have also been taken with spellings ‘She did shought out loudly’ is one such diamond that readily comes to mind.

In a few jokes, the writer invites reader interaction and often provides his own commentary on the events unfolding. In one where he talks about the value of education, he enquires and rhetorically states ‘In olden days, no value for education. But how about now?’. This kind of interactive dialog between the author and reader has so far remained untapped.

At other times, he ensures that he has our undivided attention by simply asking a ‘how’ or a ‘what’ in the middle of a joke and consistently at a totally unexpected juncture. A few classics have jokes where the title is longer than the actual joke. I mean, really! Who else can do that???

I will stop here as I don’t want to spoil it for you and also to give you the opportunity to invest in and get engrossed with the surreal world of Nagaraj Rao. However, I’ll leave you with some titles that you absolutely must not miss. ‘Raised Arrow Cannot be Downed’, ‘When Observed a Handsome Girl’, ‘In Thotadappa Choultry’, the ‘Beechi Told’ series and the ‘Gunda’ series.

Now for some closing words…

(Special writer commentary): Unfortunately, I know of only five copies in circulation and by a twist of fate, all these five copies reside with members of my family. I still hold the Gold Copy which has now been sent for binding since it’s coming apart due to constant use and extensive research. In fact, my nephew had suggested sending the book for binding with a police escort and an armored truck to prevent fraudulent copying, plagiarism or even theft. However, I have been assured that the copy is safe and the book is due back in mint condition tomorrow. I have a good mind to send a copy to the Library of Congress where I know future generations can imbibe the nectar and partake the intense cistern of knowledge that I’m sure is there somewhere in the book. An expedition is in the works to trace the author through the publisher in Balepet which will be prove to be the nadir of our achievements to unravel the powerful works of Nagaraj Rao. (End special writer commentary)

Blog writer’s note: Nagaraj Rao ‘Great Jokes’ is not for the faint of heart or for the faint of humor. Dollops of patience and perseverance are required and of course lots of time. Best handled as a group (of like minded individuals) activity with all members suitably inebriated for the full and lasting effect. And do remember, a raised arrow cannot be downed…

Passage of time

2011-01-09T07:26:00.001+05:30

Another year rolls by as I plod on into my 40s. Wondering what I should be doing the remaining years till the big Five O. Still don’t feel it. Maybe it will hit sometime soon? Until then….enjoying life as it comes and living it to the fullest. Nothing to complain about, everything is how it should be. Wonderful kids, amazing partner, can’t ask for more. Time to do something useful?

Tales of Beedu the Bard

2011-01-02T17:25:00.001+05:30

A gross injustice would be done if premium blog space is not dedicated to the last 6 months I have been under the tutelage of the master sports trainer. For that, I will need to take you back now to early July ‘10 when I first encountered the enigmatic and energetic person that is Beedu.

My cousin discovered that a person at Kanteerava stadium in Bangalore provides physical training for athletes, sports people and also the supremely unfit. No points for guessing where I fall.

The schedule was for Tuesdays and Thursdays from 6 a.m. to 7 a.m. The first day was brutally torturous. First we were made to run 10 laps around the running track. We followed it up with intense stretching, jumping, sand-pit jumping and medicine ball throwing. Not very far from the training G.I. Jane had to go through. I could barely walk after that day.

In time I did get used to the physical activity, even getting there as early as 5 a.m. to do some extra running but to talk about the various physical activities is not the intent of this piece.

Beedu is a short individual with a healthy pot belly, probably in his late 50s or early 60s, hard to tell. No amount of accomplishment is good enough for him. We constantly get compared to teenage athletes, tennis players and cricketers who are able to twist and turn their bodies at unbelievable angles. When we do hurdles, he explains the correct way to leap over the hurdles in this fashion – ‘Don’t go over like a donkey, do it like a dog peeing’. Who can resist this kind of encouragement! When we don’t show up on the regularly scheduled days, he asks us if we did some running instead. When the response is not affirmative, his refrain is ‘Just like you brush your teeth every day, you need to exercise regularly too’. Often, he stops all activities to launch into one of his lecture sessions (theory portion apparently). His English is quite atrocious which he readily accepts but it does make for hilarious narrations. At times, when we are unable to bend our unwilling bodies in certain contortions (incidentally he can do every single exercise that he makes us do!), he eggs us on with these encouraging words – ‘When you don’t get shit, don’t you keep trying till you get it? Well, keep trying the same way now’. There’s really not much you can do or say after that, is there?

His motivation technique is out of the world. I once heard him tell a gentleman in his 40s – ‘Start running with that old man. You can’t run with the other young man anyway’. During the sprint, when a hapless kid ran with his palms outstretched and facing downwards – ‘Close your fists and run I say. You are not Usain Bolt to cut the air and run’.

Since I am one of the first ones to the stadium, I often get bonus lectures for free. Topics range from food & nutrition, health, medicine, social & personal relations and of course some special anecdotes from his education in Germany which is he is justifiably very proud of.

The regimen continues this year and if there are new gems that Beedu comes up with, I will make sure to provide updates. Highly recommended for the unfit and fit alike. It’s the well rounded training and education which makes all the difference. After all, we try and try when the shit doesn’t come out, don’t we?

Off Writing and Blogging

2011-01-01T22:01:00.001+05:30

A little disappointed with myself in 2010. Wrote very little, didn’t run enough and gained some weight . Hoping to do a lot more writing, blogging and running and gonna do my darnest to lose some weight.

A few things to look forward to this year. New job starting in a few weeks, Auroville half-marathon, hopefully moving into our own home, hopefully getting a bike and the 25th year high-school reunion in May!

There will be a lot more restaurant reviews this year which kind of slowed down again last year mainly due to laziness though the eating didn’t really slow down. Really looking to write something noteworthy this year and get cracking on music and yoga.

No new year resolutions though; just a process of commitment to various things I want to do from now on and for as long as possible. Let’s see how things go and do a review at year end.

And it’s a wrap

2011-01-01T21:47:00.001+05:30

2010 ended well with a road trip to Waynad. Some last minute intense planning and swinging into action saw us in Fringe Ford in the hills. What’s really cool about this place is that it’s in the middle of the jungle and there are only 4 rooms for guests. Also, other than the establishment, no human civilization is available as far as the eye can see. The last 10 km climb in the hills is a steep and narrow ascent with one side of the road falling off into the valley below. Quite breath taking actually!

Food was a bonanza as it was completely home cooked (unlike resort/hotel cooking) and the two ladies did a remarkable job with the simple, yet delicious fare catering to the taste buds of the grass eaters and meat eaters alike.

Our jungle guide Shaji was one helluva of a guy. Despite being well off and with decent education, he prefers to stay at Fringe Ford and has even given up eating meat due to his love for the flora and fauna. He regaled us with tales of the wild and supernatural though insisting that he doesn’t believe in ghosts at the end of each terrifying narration. We learnt of specific way to scare off tigers, bears, wild dogs, snakes, elephants though I can’t recollect what needs to be done for which animal. I do vaguely remember that we are supposed to shout and advance a few steps if we are destined to come face to face with a tiger. Hmm…quite an interesting proposition that. Anyway, he did have the uncanny knack of figuring out when animals showed up near our rooms, even waking us up at 5 a.m. one morning to see elephants which were grazing right next to us.

The first morning was a 4 km hike in the jungle to a waterfall. The three little girls in our group ensured that no animal over 100 gms ever came within viewing or hearing distance from us. However, we did see the fast disappearing hind side of a couple of elephants. Being early morning, Shaji showed us various outputs of elephants and leopards, which disconcertingly looked fairly fresh and healthy.

The waterfall itself was quite amazing. At least 60 feet in height, the water was crystal clear and tasted wonderful. The highlight of our journey was the leech fest that occurred at our feet. Luckily, Shajy had provided us leech-resistant socks but the speed at which these suckers latched on to us was quite amazing. The maid who was with us actually killed a majority of them with her screeching and screaming and the rest were handled by a generous dose of salt on our socks and shoes.

The second day was a shorter hike of about a kilometer to a stream and a smaller waterfall where yours truly actually succumbed to the temptation of bathing in the wild.

A great and relaxed trip overall with a bonfire every night and a warm glass of milk for the two male adults (the kids refused to drink any) before bed time. Would love to go back very soon.

The needle of the eye

2010-07-21T10:57:00.001+05:30

Late night drama on the family front once again; this time my niece provided much of the revelry.

Circa 11 p.m., the wife and I about to call it a night after a constructive debate (I can’t get into details here). Hark! A panic call from the niece….one of her contact lenses won’t come out. As most keen readers of my writing know by now, the missus dons many hats – judge, jury, match-fixer, and of course doctor. Yesterday, it was a combination of a doctor, trauma specialist and an ophthalmologist.

The first suggestion from her to my niece was to use a finger from each hand and spread the eyelids apart and take out the lens. No succour there. The next advice to was to bulge out the eye by some drastic hand actions. That wasn’t received with much enthusiasm. Finally, she suggested that cupping some water in your hand and dipping your face (with the intact eye) would do the trick.

Satisfied with her recommendations and me being more of a go-between for the phone conversation, my lady settled down for a comfortable night’s sleep. A text message within the next 40 seconds put any plans for retiring on hold. A follow up call and hysterics on the other end of the line made us realize that hard action was required so off we drove to pick up my niece and take her to a REAL doctor.

Never one to give up easy, my wife once again tried to prise out the stubborn lens one last time before the doctor’s visit. We actually couldn’t see the damn thing in the eye despite the amazing brightness of a cell-phone AMOLED screen lighting. As is usual in such cases, the situation caused much mirth, especially to the self made don of many hats.

First stop – Malathi Manipal Hospital at Jayanagar. We were met by two male doctors who had probably graduated the day before and had been shunted to the graveyard shift. Again, the enterprising one, the better half grabbed a flashlight and peered intently into my niece’s eye while the young doctors looked on in bafflement.

Finally, the doctors were allowed to see the patient. Both the young guns declared that the lens was not in the eye. Violent protests ensued from the victim who insisted it was in there.

Still in the ER, and in front of the bathroom mirror, a long tête-à-tête followed between the two girls. Our ‘family doctor’ declared that contact lenses have often dissolved in her eyes which was met by disbelief by the eye patient. A theory on lens disintegration also didn’t make a mark. One of the real doctors hesitantly intervened to tell us that his friend works the night shift at a nearby eye clinic. Of course, the only way we knew where this eye clinic was by a restaurant landmark.

Efficient driving to the eye clinic proved fruitless. The damn place was closed. We then drove back to Manipal Hospital where there was more prodding of the eye which refused to show any signs of a contact lens in it. Once more, the doctor ventured to tell us that we need to go to a different eye clinic where another of his friends worked. Our first response was to ask if it was next to a well known Ice Cream store. The ER doctor got really exasperated now and said with some disgust ‘Do you people only know restaurants and food places?’ My wife bristled at the unprovoked judgement and said ‘Of course! And I don’t believe you have any friends who are ophthalmologists!’ So, there you have it. A total impasse.

As we come hot off the presses with this report, the story hasn’t ended. We still don’t know if the lens is in the eye or not but the lady in question is feeling a bit better though with a swollen eye. Hoping to get to the bottom of the mystery today. After all, eye can’t take much more…

Testing Windows Live Writer

2010-04-21T10:28:00.001+05:30

Any excuse to write I guess. Been putting it off too long. Windows has this cool feature called Live Writer which allows you to write to your blog directly from your PC. Just thought I’d try it out and get back to writing.

Longest break between blog articles! Lots of things happening in my life including a cancelled trip to Prague due to Eyjafjallajokull! Man, what a name! It just kinda rolls off the tongue doesn’t it? I’m sure the volcano is protesting against such a name. Why can’t they call it something simple like Etna or Vesuvius! Ok fine, it’s not a mountain but a glacier, or is it a mountain glacier? Anyway, you get my point…

Ok, more later. Remember this is just a test of Live Writer (with Andalus font & Teal color)….

The Auroville Run (Feb 14, 2010)

2010-02-16T11:35:00.003+05:30

Every time I run, the butterflies in the stomach stay intact, pretty much. The first run of the year is always a cause for much nervousness and self inflicted mind games.

Auroville is a peaceful ashram a short hop from the rumble and bustle of Pondicherry; an ideal setting for a lope in the woods.

Bright and early for a 6 a.m. start of the half marathon, I gingerly flexed my legs and hands making sure I don’t overdo the warm-up. Advice on how to prepare for a long run are chock a block but the only thing that matters is what works best for you. ‘Drink lots of water the previous day’, ‘Don’t exercise too much the week of the marathon’ are some of the pearls of wisdom I have heard. All I can say is that everything is irrelevant other than what makes you comfortable.

I for one hardly drank too much water the previous day and I ran about 30 km that week.

Okay, back to the event. The full marathon kicked off at 5 a.m. and the runners were given flashlights to run in the pitch black surroundings.

The half marathon started off on the dot an hour later and a huge contingent (probably about 200+ similarly inclined folk) nudged and made its way on the arduous journey to the goal.

The first 3 km are always easy (relatively speaking). The weather was perfect, with a perfunctory amount of humidity (being right next to the ocean and all) and a light breeze. I passed a few cottages belonging to Auroville and then a small village. Very scenic and serene all!

The going usually gets a bit tough for me around the 6-7 km mark as I reach my threshold of 45 minutes. The path got narrower as I slipped in and out of the jungle and the quietness combined with the incessant beat of feet on the soil kept me good company.

Somewhere around 8 km, I heard distant drumrolls and thought it to be some village festival. However, a few minutes later, I was pleasantly surprised to see two white men with huge drums patterning a beat to the rhythm of the runners sitting on the side of the path. For some reason, this gave me added strength to go on and with a smile on my lips I hammered away on the ground. My breath starting evening out as I hit my plateau around 9 km and I knew I had survived one of the tougher moments of endurance. More forest paths, more beauty in everything around me as the sun was well on its way up the horizon; I was loving every minute of it.

I finally made my first stop at the 12 km mark and after about 90 minutes of non-stop running. Quite a feat and my own personal conquest!

The road became a bit more uneven after that and it looked like it was under construction. I really had to watch my step here and after running for an hour, it sometimes becomes tough to focus on the path.

The next stop was at 18 km and again this was for less than 30 seconds as I was on a roll. For some reason, the last few kilometers always seem to be an insurmountable challenge and this time was no different. 19-21 is unending. The final hundred yards is a lifetime. I could see the finish line banner but it just wasn’t getting closer.

The timing according to my trusted phone was clocked at 2 hr and 36 mins a vast improvement (in my mind) of 28 minutes over my last half marathon timing of 3 hr and 4 mins.

The end of the race is always a magnificent feeling. Fortunately, I get no aches or pains ever and as I sat down on one of the chairs, the first call went out to the love of my life…

Running the ULTRA

2009-11-22T23:32:00.002+05:30

More running tales! I hope I don’t turn this blog into dairy of my running stories but it’s getting so addictive now that I can’t stop. I’m on a new high when I run and having done a couple of runs, I’m getting to a point of being obsessed with running. Oh well, there are worse things one can be obsessed about I guess.

The Bangalore ULTRA is taking on International stature in its 3^rd year. This year, it was held on November 15. The running distances (in km) are 12.5, 25, 37.5, 50, 75 and 100. Yes, there were 18 people who ran the 100! About 600 runners showed up overall.

I chose the relatively sedate 25 km which is a little more than a half marathon distance. The trail in picturesque Hessaraghatta (Our Native Village) is a beautiful one and it’s a sheer joy to be out there early in the morning.

Our day started early; at 3:45 a.m. to be precise as the Jayanagar Jaguars (of which I became a member without my knowledge) numbering about 40 had hired a bus for the 2 hour trip. And yeah, we even had a banner on the front of the bus proclaiming our membership.

We got to Our Native Village just in time to see the 6 a.m. flag-off of the 37.5K and 50K runners. We could also see the 75K and 100K runners making their way in the darkness with flashlights. That’s dedication for you!

The 25K started promptly at 6:30 a.m. and I set off at my slow trot, still apprehensive of running 25 km at a stretch. The path was easier to run on than the KTM though and it helped that it was cloudy the entire morning. The route is 6.25 km one way and back on the same path so a loop is 12.5 km.

I actually did pretty well on the way out and stopped at the 6.25 km water spot for some sandwiches and energy drinks. I headed back to the starting point and made no stops along the way.

Nearing about 20 km is when I started tiring and losing steam. I proudly passed the 21 km, albeit in bad shape. I pretty much had to take a break at the 22 km mark and had more stuff to eat and drink and used a lot of the pain spray on my right leg which was starting to ache, from the calves to the thighs. I also had an embarrassing case of nipple rash and my shirt was spotted with blood in the right places! While quite funny to relate and think about, I must say it burned like hell and was terribly discomfiting for the last 10 km.

I ended the run in a not so decent 3 hours and 37 minutes but was happy to have finished it at all.

The organization and logistics for the event were exemplary and hats off to the Runners For Life group for pulling off a flawless show.

Next stop, Midnight Marathon in Whitefield!

The Tirupati Trip

2009-11-22T20:53:00.001+05:30

Road trip! Always exciting and never without some good memories. The family trip to Tirupati was all that and more. There were definitely passengers on this pilgrimage who were unfettered by the focus of visiting the big guy on the top.

The journey consisted of milestones which were predominantly food related activities. A hearty breakfast at Kamat near Kolar saw us open our account with gusto. Starting off with idli and vadai, we moved on to dosais, poori, akki roti, khaara baath, rice baath, kesari baath and lots of coffee. After this devastation, one would think that lunch was furthermost from our mind. However, we are not that kind of a family. In fact, the discussion on lunch had already started during our breakfast.

Realizing the caliber of his passengers, our van driver suggested a roadside stop at Buns for coffee. Here we had Black Forest cake, cookies, sandwiches, fruit juice and well, yeah…coffee too. There was an inexplicable life size chimpanzee on one of the benches which my niece claimed was an Andhra Gorilla. Despite her lucid logic, we are yet to get that one.

The plan was to have lunch (yes, a few hours after Buns) in Tirupathi and then hike up the hill to Tirumala. Estimates on time to climb came in from one and a half hours to five hours depending on whom we asked and at what time. One of the bell boys, when asked if we were allowed to walk up with footwear said that was fine and we were even allowed ‘items’. My niece, who is renowned for lack of self control in a humorous situation, cackled wildly embarrassing all of us and the bell boy left in a huff.

As we neared the bottom of the hill, the incessant drizzle, the mist and late evening and pure laziness conspired effectively to our decision to drive up instead. My six year old had a question which made us all feel quite guilty; we ate so much so we could have energy to climb, and how come we were not? Anyway, we decided a few of us would embark up the hill at 4 a.m. next morning. Yeah!

Tirumala felt like the Alps and walking barefoot on the wet asphalt was definitely not very comfortable. But, we gritted our teeth as it’s all for a good cause and entered the Rs 300 queue which seemed empty at the starting lines. However, a 5 minute sprint by the team, and we were in a series of rooms, each packed with people. The way it works is that, the first room opens and lets people out, the people in the next room rush to the first room and so and so forth.

To ensure our entertainment, we had a guy ahead of us who was scratching his head like he was trying to get at his brains. There were a lot of expectations of a snowman forming under him by a kid who was with him.

Maintaining the variety of the jaunt to god, there’s a moving bridge that is open on both sides and as luck would have it, we were trapped there for a good 30 minutes. Caught in the mist , rain, wind and one of my nephew’s considerable gas problems (which he shared with us without much prompting), the experience was quite miserable.

A mad dash in the last 200 meters and we got our darshan (about 200 milliseconds each). My daughter was very traumatized by the bouncers who are placed strategically to push the pilgrims. Even the women bouncers are sizeable and powerful and one shove from them sends you about 15 feet involuntarily.

We finally got out and though we were only eligible for 2 laddus each, my wife was enterprising enough to get a cop to give us a lot more (I will not explain the monetary aspect here).

Tired and weary, some of us decided to turn in and even did the unthinkable of doing so without dinner! Quite a feat for us. One of my nephews, who is perennially looking to recharge his mobile phone (see the story of Operation Seabreeze for context) wherever he goes decided to head out of the hotel. He was met with a bevy of beauties practicing the world’s oldest profession and was propositioned in no uncertain terms. Being the first time (or so he claims), he scurried back to the hotel room in disarray and had the other two guys accompany him for that all important recharge. Story has it that the mamasan in charge of operations wore a gold chain the thickness of an adult anaconda.

For those who aren’t following the tale acutely, let me remind you that the plan was to ascend the mountain at 4 a.m. The first one to wake up next morning (me) did so at 7:30 a.m.

Not losing our focus, we arrived at the famous Bheemas hotel for breakfast where once again we demonstrated the fine mettle of our family. Overachievers all, though there are dubious opinions that I outdid everyone with my binging…sorry…pecking at the food.

Padmavathi, the wife of the Lord resides down the hill. Apparently, there was some falling out between the couple and the Lord decided to go up the hill and not come down ever and the Mrs decided to make camp permanently below. I don’t want to get into the mythological and religious background now. No pilgrimage to Tirupati is complete without visiting her so away we went.

As usual, I was unsuitably dressed as shorts are a no no for this lady’s abode. I had to scramble around the shops for a dhothi. I picked a pure white one that went beautifully with my brown T-shirt.

Post the temple visit, we headed back for what else, lunch at Mayura. A hearty meal later we were on the road again back to Bangalore. More eating at Buns, another stop at Woody’s and we were all back home, satisfied with the darshan and the Bhojan.

Oh yeah, I have 12 years left to complete my vow of climbing the hill.

But still these words will remind us....

2009-10-05T23:35:00.003+05:30

The years between seem to melt into oblivion during a reunion. It’s been 24 years since I’d seen most of my classmates (and some dorm mates) but it was like we had left off our conversations from yesterday. I guess boarding school does that to you. Bonds develop that transcend Father Time .To quote from one of our hymns, ‘distance may part, and seas may divide us…’, our formative years together has made it so easy to relate to each other.

Thanks to a few persevering souls, the get-together became a reality. The chosen venue – Marari Beach Resort, a few miles from Alleppey.

Words do not do justice to the beauty of the place. From the numerous trees to the individual ‘huts’, everything here feels pristine and pure. Well, until our rowdy Old Lawrencians (Batch of ’86) landed up. To understand the depth of our conversations and intellect, one only had to hear the first thing I heard when I met one of my classmates, for the first time in about two and a half decades – ‘hey, did you pee into our house master’s home?’. That pretty much set the tone for the rest of the meet.

Friday evening saw us all hanging out at one of the bachelor pads. Though we had been promised ‘alternate’ arrangements for single people without accompanied spouses, nothing of that sort was forthcoming so we had to make do with alcohol and various varieties of inhalants.

The anecdotes and embarrassing stories began in earnest soon after and we were regaled with tales of utter desperation and incomprehensible acts which seemed so logical in our childhood years. The ‘lending library’ story was arguably the best of the lot, followed by the ‘special jam’ narrative and the pigeon hunting capers.

Sordid pasts of each GUY were mercilessly raked up and narrated in excruciating detail. ‘Guy’ is in Caps because the ladies of Lawrence refused to divulge even a single episode remotely scandalous. We gotta change that for the next one!

The stragglers finally wrapped up around 2 a.m. but not before three of us walked to the beach for the heck of it.

Ah, the food in the resort is quite good, especially the squid and the fish. Highly recommended! Other dishes were not too bad but nothing spectacular.

More swimming in the pool for the kids and adults alike on morning and a stressful massage in the evening filled up most of Saturday. This yarn would be incomplete without the massage account. For one, you are to strip 100% and a miniscule loin cloth provides inadequate cover. Two beefy looking he-men then hammer and pummel the crap out of you and all the time you’re praying the cloth holds position. Once these guys are satisfied that they’ve vented enough, you’re maneuvered into a wooden cabinet with batwing doors which are closed so only your head peeps out. This is the steam bath part of the massage and you’re still not aware that the worst is still to come.

Okay, now for the killer. You are guided into a bathroom and the loincloth is unceremoniously ripped off and a coarse powdered paste thingy is applied all over your back while you stand helpless and dumbfounded at this sudden turn of events. The guy even puts shampoo on your hair for crying out loud! Just when you’ve had enough, the guy applies the stuff on the opposite side of the back, which is…anyway…I was distraught overall…

Luckily, you are handed a towel so you can dry yourself unassisted!

More remembrances of good times in the evening ably supported by the right fluids, memories of those no longer with us, happy and not so happy thoughts, recollections of injustices, it was just a great time for one and all. I’m not sure how much the non-Lawrencian spouses enjoyed these chronicles, but it was great to step back in time and relive the past. After all, isn’t that what a reunion is all about?

95 to 21 in 20

2009-09-15T23:05:00.000+05:30

It’s not as cryptic as it sounds. And no, I’m not trying to boast. Just want to tell the avid readers of my blog (whom I can count on a miniscule part of one finger tip) that if I can do it anyone can.

On January 1, 2008, I clocked in at a light heavy weight 95 kg. Just over a year and a half later, I completed a half marathon.

For a body that has undergone multiple decades of abuse and neglect, I must say it’s quite remarkable that I could do anything of this nature.

The Kaveri Trail Marathon, now in its 3^rd year is a grueling 21 km path starting at the Ranganthitu Bird Sanctuary in Srirangapatna (near Mysore). The picturesque surroundings are immaterial to the runners as the heat and humidity get to you pretty fast. The start time of 7 a.m. ensures that the sun is well out and burning bright in all it resplendent glory providing no respite to those of us embarking on this needless mission.

This year saw over 600 runners participating, with about 80 doing the full marathon, 300 or so doing the half marathon and the rest doing the relatively less strenuous 10K. I was surprised to see so many folks well over 50 in both the full and the half.

The running track is mostly without any undue inclinations but the problem is avoiding the stones, potholes, cow dung and deep ravines that have been cut due to rain and the bullock cart wheels. I was constantly adjusting my trajectory and by the time I had done the first half of the run, exhaustion and fatigue had set in for good measure.

I willed myself to run back the remaining 10.5 km and barely managed 5 km before I thought I’d just collapse. The sun was now high up and there being absolutely no cloud cover, I was all set to give up. I walked a couple of kilometers at a reasonable space and it seemed like I would never finish. 4km came and after a lifetime, it was 3 km. I stopped at the water stations and doused my head with water and immediately felt a lot better.

2 km - 1 km was hell and the last 1000 meters was even worse. This was easily the longest kilometer of my life and at about 300 meters from the finish line, I gave it all I had left and crossed over the finish line, beaten and battered but not defeated.

It took me a good 3 hours to get through this madness and there were actually people who finished behind me. However, most of the people older than me finished well ahead of me! Oh well, I’m just relieved I completed this damn thing and don’t have to worry about it…..till next year! Hell yeah! I am going back for more!

Pretzels

2009-07-08T09:03:00.001+05:30

Pretzels! Pretzels! I need more Pretzels!

R.E.S.P.E.C.T or how the Cauvery dispute must have started

2009-06-03T09:24:00.004+05:30

There’s just something about water that brings out the worst in the two neighboring states. This week, the battleground was our humble home.

It all began with a phone call our maid/nanny/cook/caretaker made to our driver on Sunday. She apparently wanted the phone number for the store that supplies us drinking water. Our driver informed her that he’d already ordered the water can and it would be delivered Monday evening.

Come Monday evening, no sign of water, and every fiber of her Tamilian persona bristled at the lack of water. She marches down to the basement to seek a resolution to the water dispute once and for all.

Now, the Gowda community in Karnataka is not one to be trifled with. Men do not take it lying down when a woman raises her voice to them and that too in public. Our maid, in all earnestness at the injustice of water deprivation, started yelling at my driver. Here’s where things get muddled a bit as it’s a lot of ‘he said’ and ‘she said’. We will commence our narrative with the maid’s version.

She walks down to the basement and tells him that since he didn’t get the water for us, she’ll call for it herself. Illogically, our driver reacted sharply to this request and asked her to take a hike. He also told her that he would get 4 men to come sleep with her. Ok, don’t ask. I don’t see the progression and logic either. He then wrapped up his innovative tirade with a ‘shut your ass up and go’ which is the best translation I can do for a common Kannada curse phrase which sounds delightful in that language but doesn’t translate too well to English.

Full of righteous indignation (and without that all important store’s number), she came back upstairs and burst into tears.

Ok, now for the homeboy version. This lady descends down the stairs like an avenging she-devil and tells him that he’s always ‘dying’ in the basement (again, translation issues apply here). The gist of it is that she demeaned him in front of his peer group so he told her that he won’t give her the phone number.

Cut to an hour later. The four of us in our home – the wife, the maid, the driver and me. The woman starts off the proceedings with high drama with how she will call her husband and the cops and a few other unrelated elements to fix our driver for his hurtful and shaming words. Our driver claims he never said a thing other than refusing to give the number purely going on attitude issues. But he says that she shouted at him for whiling away time in the basement while she toiled in the house. By now, the maid was inconsolable, swearing on numerous gods, saying how the lord above was watching; He knows the truth, the truth will prevail and set me free!

At this point, an independent witness was brought in by the driver. This lady, a cleaner by profession, was of no use as she said the heated debates all happened in Tamil and despite her keen observations, she couldn’t follow the chain of discussions. The maid was quick to dismiss the witness as hostile to her cause and concluded a deep conspiracy in the basement ranks.

My wife (aka Solomon The Wise) now swiftly got into the act. She summarized the events saying that she yelled and he yelled so both were wrong. The content of the yelling was moot, the wise one proclaimed. However, the maid sensed a bias towards the driver and again got worked up, bringing back the topic of the 4 men who were supposed to be dragged in to sleep with her. My driver was unperturbed and he informed us in no uncertain terms that he has sisters and other women in his life and he has never spoken that way to anyone.

Judge Solomon, looking for rapid resolution then gave this verdict (an impressive speech actually with the verdict embedded in it). ‘Neither of you admit to what you actually said. We all know that yelling happened to some degree from both sides. It was wrong of you to go down and shout at him and you should not have shouted back at her. We need both of you equally and while I don’t expect you to gain each other’s respect in the next few days or months but we want you both to maintain professional decorum within these four wall. Now say sorry to each other and let’s all move on’. The chief justice now paused for breath and waited for the response to the judgment.

The driver, being from Karnataka, readily agreed to the terms and conditions and gave his due apologies. The maid banged her head with her hand and wailed that she would rather die than say sorry. She returned to her favorite theme of the 4 men and asked rhetorically if I would be okay with it if someone had said that to my sister (if I had one). As part of the justice panel, I was forced to comment and told her that we have no proof of what he said or what she said and what was of importance right now is that they still talk to each other for home related matters and they can’t expect to involve us in all that.

An uneasy truce now prevails in the household but at least things are going on as usual. We’ll see how long it lasts.

Double the itch, double the fun!

2009-04-27T13:50:00.000+05:30

Another milestone, another check mark in the road of life. I remember the days leading to our wedding vividly. The $400 monthly phone bills, the inconsequential conversations, learning as much as we could about each other. Man, we sure had no idea what we were getting into. And that’s a good thing. Looking back, there’s no doubt that this is the best thing that’s happened to me. Yeah, yeah, it sounds clichéd and all that, but it’s the gospel truth and no two ways about it.

Is there a secret, a formula, a tried and tested way to be married for 14 years? Absolutely not! All I can say is that we’re best friends first, husband and wife second. We fight about the most absurd things, like losing a game of Wii or not picking up the phone on the first half ring! But, it’s all worth it. Makes life together rich and fun. Cannot think of sharing our lives with anyone else. The bar for the opposite sex is now set so high that no one comes close to either of us when it comes to relationships and bonds. Sounds vain and high and mighty? Probably!

We’ve gone through so much together and the few years of trauma when we wanted to have children made us both so much tougher and brought so much closer together. Now, nothing is insurmountable, nothing too difficult for us to overcome. Sounds like I conquered Mt. Everest? Sure feels like it!

Do I believe in miracles? A resounding heartfelt YES! One is the companion that I’ve been gifted with and the other is the twin trouble we fought to be gifted with. Sounds corny? Probably! But it’s the gospel truth and no two ways about it.

The Doctor Despite Himself

2009-04-05T18:14:00.003+05:30

Frankly speaking, the lack of sleep the previous night was getting to me and I literally dragged myself to go for the play for the sole reason that this was my nephew Anirudh’s maiden theater performance.

I was not disappointed. A light hearted drama by Jean-Baptiste Poquein (better known in literally circles as Moliere), this was done very well by a group of young folk which calls itself Miracle Entertainment.

My only beef was that Anirudh played Leandre whereas I’m very sure he could have carried off the lead role with equal aplomb. And I’m not saying this just because he’s my nephew. In a minor role, he excelled and stole the show with his acting abilities!

I must say a tear or two welled up in my eyes seeing him on stage. My periappa (father’s brother) had acted in the same play 5 decades or so back and to me, it was like seeing him again on stage, which I never had the good fortune to do.

Thanks Anirudh for giving me the opportunity to see how my periappa might have performed and I wish you all the best in your budding acting career. You rock and though you might not hear me wax poetic on your abilities, I love your talent and drive. Keep it up man!

The other blog in my life

2009-03-22T18:29:00.004+05:30

Not wanting to dilute the very important aspect of my life (read - eating), I decided to have a separate blog for all the food and restaurant related articles which will hopefully help others with a similar bent of mind in this noble pursuit of great food around the world.

Here's the link:

www.trivikramprasad.com

Enjaai!

You know you're a Volvo bus addict when...

2009-03-18T14:52:00.002+05:30

you know the route and timing of each bus
you start to recognize the registration plates of each vehicle
you have a favorite seat which fits you exactly
the conductor automatically gives you the right fare ticket
you get a big silly grin on your face every time you see one of those big red buses even when you’re not in one
every 10 rupee note is guarded with your life and can only be pried from your cold dead hands
without holding onto anything you are still left standing when the brakes are applied
you watch in morbid fascination to see if your driver will actually run someone over
you take the bus to work even on weekends and holidays
you are actually able to get off at your stop during peak hours

Zak checks in

2009-03-17T19:44:00.001+05:30

We finally did the deed. Zak Prasad, born Feb 16^th, 2009 officially joined our family yesterday. A tiny runt to look at, he’s sure got lots of attitude and tons of spunk. We’re in it for the long haul and revisiting our early days with the kids sans the diaper changes. Zak actively seeks out the carpet for all his output and stubbornly refuses to sleep in his posh crate. So, we need to wait for him to fall asleep and then put him inside. He loves to eat his Cerelac with water and he perks up the moment he hears the spoon mixing in his bowl. Quite an alert chap the few hours he’s awake and he actually comes running when you clap, something that Sol never did for many years.

It’s not easy to let go of thoughts of our beloved prince but we’ll do our best in giving Zak all our love and affection just like we did for Sol. Looking forward to having him around for a long long time. Hope someone up there is listening?

The Kunti Betta expedition

2009-03-07T17:50:00.003+05:30

In the name and spirit of team building, we were herded into an uncomfortable van on Friday for some 'organized' fun and bonding. The barely concealed zeal when I clambered in was hard to miss!

A 'planned' breakfast of alien spaceship shaped idlis and more driving on Mysore road brought us to the foothills of Kunti Betta (Mound of Kunti?). One of our smarter team members, an architect no less, took one look at the rocky vertical terrain and backed out in no uncertain terms. The rest scaled the tor because that's what was ordered.

On the way down, the 'organizers' pulled out blindfolds (the only investment this company has done), paired us up, blindfolded one partner and gagged the other. The activity was to guide your partner down without talking to him/her. I'm still not sure what purpose this served, other than make everyone really thirsty and irritable.

We then had to climb another boulder rich hill. One of the adventure tour guides was apparently scared of heights. Hmmm.... Anyway, him and our manager with the same fear clung on to each other and finally made it to the top a good half hour behind us fit and fearless folk.

Getting down, no easy task was also accomplished in the same order of the climb. Luckily no gags and blindfolds this time. I'm pretty sure who would have been blindfolded and gagged had this been proposed one more time for the descent.

Ensuring consistency in lack of planning and organizational capabilities, the event organizers experienced a sudden realization that we didn't have lunch. So, off one of them went, taking the van and all our drinking water and snacks. Exhausted, hungry, thirsty and with team spirit and team building thoughts furthermost from our minds, we waited in grim anticipation for our food. One or two of us did try to provide dismal entertainment but a few wandered off to watch an ad shooting nearby. This was definitely something that helped take our mind off the gnawing gut-wrenching feelings of utter starvation.

The food finally showed up an hour and a half later and we were treated to rock-hard rotis, two barrels of alleged rasam and some other liquid that was passed off as sambar. Too tired to protest, we mournfully munched on our repast. School kids around us looked at us in wonder and pity but we soldiered on.

The team was ready to head home, but keeping with the 'team spirit' concept, the will of 8 was over-ridden by the organizers and we were dragged to a man-made lake which surprise surprise was a body of water and pretty much nothing else.

After an obligatory round of photographs and some frolicking on the banks, we headed back to more obligatory antaakshari activities for the journey back, well, until one of us put a stop to this misery.

I still don't know why we had to get these event coordination or whatever they are called people. I'm sure we'd have had more fun by ourselves, letting things happen, eating what AND when we want. Oh well, ra ra ra for team building!!

Anniversary

2009-03-02T19:05:00.002+05:30

Not sure how I'm supposed to feel. Today's my 15 year anniversary of working. What do I have to show for this much time spent working? I really don't know. Is this what I'll be doing for the next 15 years? I hope not. But, then what else should I do? Hmmm...time for introspection. Something's gotta give.

Punjabi Times

2009-03-01T19:10:00.000+05:30

A wedding trip away from home is always a fair excuse for an extended vacation. The nuptials at Delhi almost incidental, the meat of our trip was in Chandigarh and Amritsar.

But, I don’t want to disregard the awesome marriage ceremonies and the mind boggling food. The starters themselves numbered in the double digits, with chaats galore; we just couldn’t set aside stomach space for the mind numbing variety of the main courses. We watched an eminently forgettable movie (Delhi-6) instead. What the hell was that all about?

A wonderful Shataabdi train journey to Chandigarh was capped by free dinner at the Shivalik hotel. A lovely city this is and definitely life moves at a slower pace than in the big cities. Didn’t do much and by an amazing twist of fortune, we got there on a Saturday night and Sunday all shops are closed; much to the chagrin of the women folk. That the wife still managed to do heavy weight shopping despite these seemingly insurmountable odds is another matter.

The rose festival in full bloom necessitated a visit to this roaring event. The most beautiful roses were in the form of Punjabi maidens and they easily outnumbered the actual amount of roses I saw. Maybe I just wasn’t paying attention to the flowers we were supposed to be seeing.

Another train ride (from Ambala) saw us in Amritsar. Here we were welcomed with open arms by our friends’ relatives who readily gave up their bedrooms for us. An interesting episode with the wash basin was the highlight of the first night in this town. Our hosts and our friends stepped out for dinner. We decided to stay back as the kids were tired. Manasi, for some unfathomable reason, decided to wash her feet in the wash basin and in fine form landed her foot elegantly on a sensitive part of the assembly. Not being an eyewitness to the actual drama, we rushed out of our room to see her calmly standing by while Niyathi had a major chunk of the ceramic basin in her hands. Ever the calm one, the wife, quickly took charge. Screaming at all of us on the top of her lungs, she frantically starting cleaning the floor, picking up the pieces, all while still mouthing curses at two innocents and one culprit. Strangely, the only one unaffected by the composed behavior was the perp who just stood by casually.

The kids, packed off to bed after severe admonishments, the post-mortem was a solemn and action oriented affair. Introspections on child rearing and upbringing of our babies were the main agenda items. I must say I provided valiant input to the whole drama.

We waited in trepidation for our hosts to return and I must say they were taken aback by our grim countenances. On hearing the reason, they all burst out laughing and were more concerned about the kids’ safety. That’s Punjabi hospitality for you!

No trip to Amritsar is complete without a visit to the Golden Temple. Truly an awe inspiring place. I just loved it and was fortunate enough to do the Sarovar (dip in the ice cold reservoir 5 times). Being a festival day, the temple was packed and it took us quite a while to enter the main temple, but man, it was worth every minute of the wait. It’s a great feeling to see the seat of any religion! Words can’t quite express the wonderful feeling one has in this holy shrine.

A somber visit to Jallianwala Bagh brought a few tears to the eyes to actually be in the same place where thousands of innocent people were shot down by one English General. The brick wall at the far end of the garden has carefully preserved bullet marks from the massacre. You can’t help but wonder how anyone could do something so heinous.

The same evening our hosts drove us to Attari/Wagah, the border towns in India and Pakistan. Hardly 30 km from Amritsar, we didn’t want to the border ceremony that happens here every day. As it was a weekday, we expected a smattering of people. Reality was different. It felt like entering a cricket stadium for a match between the two countries! Blaring loudspeakers, music and a festival like atmosphere! They even have stadium like seating with steps. Though the flag lowering and the aggressive marching at each other lasts about half hour, it’s packed with a lot of patriotism and passion. The BSF guards’ orders are yelled at full volume, further amplified by the microphones held in front of their faces. On the Pakistan side, there’s an old man who waves a Pakistani flag. Apparently, he does this daily and has been doing it for a couple of decades! Now, that’s commitment!

An interesting observation by our friend later was that while we on the Indian side were shouting ‘India Zindabad!’ our neighbors were shouting ‘Jeeve Jeeve’. Essentially, we were showing our patriotic fervor in Urdu while they were showing theirs in Punjabi.

On the Indian side, a gigantic truck with Balochistan license plates waited patiently for the celebrations to end. A non-decrepit truck but the novelty of a Pakistani truck on Indian soil attracted many photographs with people proudly standing in front of the ‘foreign’ license plates. The Pakistani driver was no doubt not feeling too safe as he had all his windows rolled up and stoically stared straight ahead, praying no doubt to quickly get across to his own land!

Another in your face gesture is a small Hindu temple at the border belting out Bhajans and Slokas with megaphones! All in good spirit?

Before I end this already painfully long essay, I gotta talk about the food! On a friend’s recommendation, I had Shikaar on the roadside. I did Obelix proud here as Shikaar is nothing but wild boar. It was just too too good! We also had the most wonderful home cooked Punjabi food, with paneer dishes, sabji and rotis with home-made butter. I easily added a couple of kilograms at one breakfast sitting!

And finally, I must say that I have never seen a warmer and friendlier people. While not overbearingly warm and affectionate, we were treated as part of the family during our stay and made to feel extremely welcome with all our comforts taken care of. There’s a lot one can learn from people here. I would love to go back again someday just for a taste of Punjabi hospitality.

Vacations are dead! Long live vacations!!

2009-01-27T19:34:00.003+05:30

Other than the saving grace of awesome food, last (long) weekend was akin to Rambo training to go into Vietnam. Hoping for a relaxed getaway at the family home in Mysore, I found the holiday to be anything but that.

After a sumptuous breakfast, and only 2 hours behind planned departure time, we took off to the homestead. A cucumber with salt stop at Maddur, and we were at our cousin's home in Mysore a little after 2. The eating started in earnest right there. Lamb chops, brain masala, mutton pepper fry soon disappeared in record time.

Fortunately, my nephew advised us against go-karting and bowling due to the crowds and I escaped that one for a dinner. That was a fiasco though as the place we went to had the most horrible service. We made up for this with some delectable desserts at Corner House.

Sunday morning is when the unwarranted activities began in earnest. First a hike up Chamundi hills, a hefty climb of 1000 steps. Luckily we got the driver to drive us down. A heavy breakfast of idlis with Gowda style fish curry pretty much wiped out anything burnt on the uphill task.

Back home, I was looking forward to a lazy Sunday afternoon. The walk up the hills, an endeavor I had never taken up in my lifetime was already too much exercise. My cousin, on the other hand, though in his late 40s is made of a different caliber. He had the brainwave to drive to Balamuri, a water spot, few miles from Mysore. Left with no choice, as everyone else was showing immense enthusiasm, I reluctantly agreed.

Balamuri had about 2 million people with similar goals as we did. Demurring at the crowd, we were about to head back when my cousin started talking to this guy with an auto. The fellow asked how many of us we were and when we said 13, he said 'No problem'. I was now very intrigued. An auto that can take 13 people? Well, my intrigue turned to dismay as the auto happened to be a cattle carrier type of contraption. The front portion was undoubtedly an auto, but the back was a metal carriage flatbed truck. As we were determined to have fun at whatever cost, the group piled into the auto thingy. A nephew of mine recently recovering from an operation down under was under a lot of stress as this was a ride that could give a normal person afflictions in the gluteus. We held on for dear life but luckily it was only a 2 km drive.

Arriving at Yedmuri, we found that the crowd was definitely less, but only by a million. Unfazed, my hyperactive cousin crossed the river (by foot) and found a private farm with trees and hence shade (for our lunch!). On the other side, we encountered an expressionless farmhand who refused to let us in. Complex negotiations followed (read - money changing hands) and we were in.

Food was as usual a treat. Mutton biryani for the non-veggies, chapatis, pulao, sabjis for the veggies, sweets, strawberry milk, fruit juices, the usual stuff one takes on a light picnic lunch.

A little bit of frolicking in the water for the brave and the energetic and we headed back to Mysore.

Again, no rest. Palace lights to be seen. I don't think I have ever seen the palace lights myself even though I've lived in Mysore long enough and visited it untold number of times. But, it had to be done. Luckily, we got in just before they shut the lights off.

Dinner! Well, we never thought we needed table reservations in our town. Apparently, we did! We couldn't find a damn restaurant with a table for 11. We finally ended up in Park Lane where we waited for 20 minutes and got a table. Food was good, but the service bad.

We managed to rush out at 10:30 and after ensuring the advance party had ordered desserts for us, we had our fill of ice cream with mango pulp, fudge brownie, hot chocolate fudge and other such diet products.

I was so bushed that day and cursed my 'bunny in heat' type of energy my cousin had. We finally got home and I crashed on the bed in an instant.

This was a vacation that never was. I have never gone to Mysore and done so much. In fact, come to think of it, I haven't done so much in all my time living there. I need to go back now secretly, without my cousin's knowledge and get my lounging time. But then, he does know the best places for mutton...hmm...what a conundrum..

All for love

2009-01-12T12:42:00.002+05:30

If there is one word that describes yesterday, it's 'warmth' as a good friend succinctly put it. Overlooking the fact that I am an idiot and was clueless to the war-like plans hatched under my very eyes, the fact of the matter remains. This could not have been done without herculean efforts and dedication, especially by my amazing love. Words cannot begin to express how truly wonderful she is; my respect and love for her have reached unattainable heights. To quote from another friend last night - 'I don't think I would do something like this for anyone in my life'. That pretty much sums it all....

The day started innocuously enough. A lazy Sunday afternoon I thought and looked forward to a good lunch and a nice long afternoon siesta. But something was amiss. I was being pressurized to go bowling at 4 p.m. with my cousins. While there's nothing wrong with that, I just didn't want to get out at that time and was raising a big fuss to change the status quo of my lethargy. Vaish was to go shopping with my nieces and she said she felt guilty leaving me alone at home, as the kids were with my parents. I should have smelt a rat right then as this guilty feeling of leaving me alone at home has never occurred in the last 14 years! But, as I said, I'm an idiot and let things go.

Sure enough, around 4 p.m, my cousin and his wife show up to take me bowling! Their daughters are going to stay back at our place and go shopping with the wife. Nothing out of the ordinary I thought.

We picked up another cousin and his son and headed out to M.G. Road. As I had been rudely awakened from a fitful afternoon slumber, I was still a bit groggy and sorely needed some caffeine to come to grips with this afternoon outing. We hung out at Barista and then on to Amoeba. Looked like it would be a long haul to get a lane so we decided to go towards Bowring Institute where we were to meet with the wife and the kids who were supposedly done with their shopping.

Still in the dark, I tagged along, having peanuts and paani puri on the way, loitering around and taking things easy, unsuspecting of the deep dark plots churning in my wake.

We finally got to Bowring around 6:30 or so and my cousin said we'll wait in the lounge till the others show up. Again, no raised eyebrows from me as I am quite content in going with the flow. A discussion ensued on gyms and my cousin tells his wife that he wants to show her the new gym in Bowring. Apparently, they had redone it. Obediently, I got up and followed like a puppy. We got to the pool and more small talk occurred on swimming pools, gyms and other important matters which undoubtedly were time delaying tactics. As the gym was obviously closed, my cousin said he would take us through the side and up the stairs. Like a lamb to the slaughter, I continued walking....

At first I saw nothing, just darkness. A second later I could see a few flash cameras menacingly hidden in the night. I could distinctly make out figures in the shadows. My cousin nonchalantly says that there seem to be some people there....

Still uncomprehending, I walked on and all of a sudden, the lights go on, cameras start flashing and there are a 100 people in the open hall shouting and yelling "SURPRISE!!!!". My brain couldn't process anything at this point. I see family members, colleagues, ex-colleagues, friends all at the same place and I am in a dream.

I don't think I'll ever get over my 40th birthday surprise party. Vaish is a stupendously talented and amazingly resourceful girl. WOW!! What a woman!! And how in the world did I get so lucky?? I can't even imagine how tough the last month must have been for her; to do all this without letting me know. Just outstanding....

My surprise didn't end there. There was an emotion filled slide show of my life in pictures, from my early years to current day and the nostalgia just got to me. In addition, my most wonderful friends from the US had recorded a video clipping of their wishes and this was more than I could take. As another friend said 'When I turn 40, if there is 1 person who can talk well about me, I consider myself a success, and to have so many talk about you, shows how well you are doing in life'. So true, so true! I am truly blessed with the best family and friends any human can hope for. My life can only get better from here and believe me it's been a great 40 years.

I don't want to get into the Oscar Award mode of thanking everyone. You know who you are and how much you've done for me and how much you mean to me. It was the most loving gathering I've ever been a part of and years from now, when I look back, this will hands down be the most memorable moment of my life.

As for my old woman, I will deal with her in due course of time! Didn't think she could keep even a small secret and she successfully planned an entire event without even giving me an inkling of the goings on! My wife, my love, my life....

An interesting time

2009-01-10T07:20:00.003+05:30

After Sol died, I didn't want to write anything else last year. He is just too much in our minds and the 'time heals all wounds' doesn't seem to work here. We still miss him like we did the day he left us. Some hurts never go away.

Anyway, on to more positive thoughts. Turned 40 this week and loving it. Not that it feels any different but I suppose it's some sort of milestone...or so everyone tells me...

We had a great year end bash. The family took off to Allepey for a house boat vacation for a few days, about 30 of us. That was a blast though the coordination between four houseboats remained an everlasting challenge.

My birthday went off without too many surprises which is how I wanted it. The breakfast at Dwaraka cafe was great. Other than idlis, we ordered everything else on the menu. It was actually quite an effort to not order idlis.

As usual, no resolutions this year. 2008 was an interesting year, not necessarily the best I've had. I almost reached my target weight. Got rid of 20 kgs and now need to maintain the body.After all, I'm getting old and can't afford not to!

I'm coming to realize how fragile relationships are (kinda late in my life) and how lucky I am ; just when I was going to take things for granted. Too many problems I've been hearing about in so many lives, near and dear ones, friends and family alike. I hope everyone sorts things out this year, because it really sucks otherwise. Good reason to sort things out, right?

I've been asked by my highly significant other to write serious stuff this year. Not sure if that's going to happen, but will give it a shot, though my core competency remains in inconsequential events and the lighter side of life. Time will tell how that goes.

And, in case it wasn't clear before, I can't get over Sol's passing. The tears still come out in his memory ever so often....

That's all folks

2008-11-13T22:04:00.011+05:30

My brothers and sisters always seemed a bit too hyperactive for my liking. I think there were 9 of them but who knows. I can't count. All I know is that these two strange looking humans put me in a blue basket and whisked me away.

The first few days are miserable! I miss my mommy and the warmth of all my siblings. I didn't even know these two people for heaven's sake. For some unfathomable reason, they keep taking me to the garden every couple of hours. It is fun and really makes me pee once I get back into the house. Apparently that's wrong somehow . Dang! I hate these rules!

I get the hang of things after the first week. The toilet is outside the house! And, if I pretend to look sad, I am handed lots of treats. I think I like these folks even though they're a bit dumb and can't understand the simplest things. However, they aren't too pleased when I finish my potty outside and bring it in to show them my achievements.

I am four months old now, or so they tell me and my new dad and mom take me to a place with funny looking dogs. These stupid animals are actually listening to the humans and doing stuff for them. Losers! I am too good for all this. I turn my back to them and eat grass. I am not gonna be doing stupid human tricks.

My dad and mom are really nice to me now and I feel I should repay them somehow so I start listening to them a bit. But, then, they leave me in the morning and come back only in the evening. I get bored and also need to work on my chewing skills. There's this thing called Bose that my dad is hung up on so I go to work on the wires. They're actually pretty good exercise for my gums. But, then, again, my dad is upset! So, next time, I leave those wires alone and go after other wires. This time cops show up and so does my dad. Some talk about security wiring and more admonishments. Can't a dog do anything right around here.

One other time, I take a strong fancy to some colorful stuff in a glass jar. It tastes yuck but it makes my lips and face purple. I can't get the damn colors off. Mommy comes home and says I ate potpourri and goes into a tremendous panic. Quite funny actually. It takes more than that kind of pot to hurt me.

Humans have it in their heads to make us dogs walk and run. Whatever for? Also, they keep telling me I'm a retriever so I gotta get stuff back they throw far away. If they really want it, why throw it away in the first place? I am not going to fall for that. I do enjoy running after what they throw though I am too smart to actually get it back for them. What if they throw it again and expect me to bring it back again! I have a sneaky suspicion that they're playing some diabolical game with my mind.

Not content with extensive exercises, my mom takes me on these unnerving hikes. I am a purebred and do not do climbs. I figure out that if I just hold my ground, one of the bigger humans will carry me. So, there you have it. It's pretty easy to train these humans actually!

I have an uncanny fear of plastic bags. The rustling sound just gets to me. Once, I jump out of the moving car because my parents were dumb enough to have a plastic bag rolling around in the back seat. Are they crazy or what!

I am about 2 years old now and I sense change in the air. Mommy, who hardly eats seems to be growing her stomach slowly but surely. Further investigation proves that there are two brats in that stomach. Mommy likes it when I lick her tummy and I like to feel those two tiny kids in there.

Dad and Mom are up to something now. They are painting the room upstairs and putting in lots of kiddy stuff and two small cots. What gives! Then, one day, they go out. I know what's going on here! Those two in mommy's stomach aren't going to remain there! They're planning to get out and take the focus off me! I am not going to have any of that. I protest by taking a nice long crap in that room. That'll teach them to give me competition...

I guess I know all this is futile. Sure enough, two little girls soon take attention off me. I am unceremoniously kicked out from my parents' bed too! Brutality!

Anyway, I soon figure out that the two little ones aren't so bad. Sure, I am not the baby of the house anymore but these two are a lot of fun. A little slow if you ask me because every time I wag my tail near them, they seem to fall down. I could run at high speed at that age, of course not that I ever did.

Suddenly, one day, my dad gets this humungus crate and bundles me inside. Luckily I have an old shirt of his for company. They make me sit in some dingy place with tons of suitcases and it's really uncomfortable, especially as I am hungry and also want pee badly.

Almost 2 days later, they let me out of that cage and it is a new place. My resilient bladder finally can let go and I pee for 5 minutes straight. What a wonderful feeling.

I like this new place too; well there's really no place I don't like as long as dad and mom are there and some other folks who give me attention. Talking about attention, I get it a lot. People just fall for my handsome face. 'Gentle' they call it, whatever that means! I just know how to get my way, which most of the time is someone petting me. What more can I possibly want.

I enjoy this wonderful time here. The kids are growing up too and I have more company than I did in that other big house. It's a great time to be alive!

I am over 7 years now. I can feel my body starting to ache. I get a lump on my head. My mommy promptly gets it removed. Then my back right leg starts to hurt. It's actually quite bad but I don't want to complain. What if my parents feel bad? I can't have that!!

Things are getting worse. They are now poking needles all over the place. I don't mind but it feels odd all over. Hey, wait a minute! I can't even feel my back legs anymore. And dangit, I can't even pee or take a crap. Not good man!

My parents take me to a huge place and put me in a cage and all around me are other dogs. I don't like dogs! This is depressing. Usually a voracious eater, I can't eat a morsel. Lots of people do come and visit me but I know they won't stay or take me back. Really really depressed now. I can sense things aren't going to get better. Oh well, can't complain. It was a good run while it lasted.

I think I'm just going to sleep now...

A Thursday

2008-10-18T11:12:00.004+05:30

Sizzling sozzled sloshed sirens, still smashed - some. Smirnoff shots succumbed. Soul searching shan't suffice. Shall Sunday see sunny side?

Blaze

2008-09-15T06:44:00.000+05:30

A small innocuous glint, an inconsequential spark. Easy to miss. Best to extinguish it then. A shadowy flame once in a while. A glowing ember. Think nothing of these. Aberrations.

More eruptions, so frequent that the timing between them blurs. They feed on each other in savage frenzy. The flame builds. There is no destroying it now.

Hungry, the fire seeks any opening to expand, to take over every fiber, every dark corner a starving welcome. Spanning, hunting, devouring. Unbiased destruction.

No death for this fire, except death itself.

Reflections

2008-09-13T09:05:00.003+05:30

As I looked at myself in the mirror, the mirror slowly dissolved.

Business Acumen

2008-09-11T11:53:00.002+05:30

Manasi wanted to know why I was so exhausted yesterday. I told her I was in a 3 day class. My conversation with her:

Manasi: "Why did you go to class? Because your manager asked you to?"

Me: "Yes, he asked me to so I can do my work better"

Manasi: "You were doing your work wrong?"

Me: "No, I am doing it well, but he wants me to do it even better"

Manasi: "What did you do in the class?"

Me: "We played a game on how to run a company"

Manasi: "Did you win? Did you make money?"

Me: "Yes, our team won and we made 340 Million dollars"

Manasi (with a sharp intake of breath): "I love you papa!! How did you make so much money?"

Me: "We made lots of things in our factories and sold them to people"

Manasi: "Teach me to play"

Me: "Sure baby, go to bed now"

Flash

2008-09-02T20:12:00.002+05:30

I almost sensed it an instant before it happened. A cold dread filled me. I could feel my testicles start to shrivel. Was this it? So simple? So sudden?

Why me? Why now? I trembled and knew that I had lost control of my bladder. It was astounding. How easily one gets scared. I always thought I was brave, but now fear pervaded my being. I had never been so terrified and so self pitying.

I looked all around. There was nothing around me but the horror clutching at me from without and within. I let out a thin whimper…or was it a wail…

What was I going to do? The options went through me and were all dismissed. I didn’t want this but where would I go now?

Minutes went by and I didn’t do a thing. I was still sweating like a horse after a race. I didn’t realize I had so much fluid in me. I had to take my mind of this thing.

I started thinking about my life. It did flash before my eyes! It was a good one. I had always done well and had never any reason to complain. Not that I had ever thought about it until now. The perspective seemed different now. Mundane events in my life that I thought were of portentous significance and earth shaking tragedies suddenly seemed inane. What the hell had I been so bothered about! Life had been good!

Strangely, the sweating stopped. I wasn’t afraid anymore. A sense of calm slowly took over. Maybe this was for the best. I actually smiled. Everyone I had loved was gone so what was left for me here?

Anyway, it’s not like I had any choice so might as well be brave about it. I was not going to close my eyes. Desperado! Bandido! God, I felt good. I’d never felt so confident and happy in my life.

My smile widened. I knew I looked silly. But I didn’t care anymore.

Slowly and deliberately I extricated my foot from the land mine….

LakeView or Bust

2008-08-27T14:05:00.008+05:30

My nephew summarized the events of last night succinctly. "If we had this kind of determination in sports, we would all have more gold medals than Phelps".

With that opening, let me unravel an unnecessary adventure we went through.

The evening started innocuously enough with us visiting the homes of our cousins for Janmashtami. As luck would have it, the critical mass for the late night dessert trip took its ominous shape and unwilling the fight the hand of destiny, we acquiesced and proceeded towards LakeView for ice-cream in two cars.

The fuel gauge in my car showing a huge (negative) gap between the needle and the 'Empty' mark notwithstanding, we set out merrily in the heavy downpour. I was very confident that I could fill fuel on the way. Let us call this Mistake #1. The first petrol station we came across was closed. Well, duh! It was 11:30 p.m. and they close at 11.

Undaunted, we proceeded towards M.G. Road, some 10 km away. One more obstacle here. The double road was under 2 feet of water. A few cabs and bigger vehicles braved the water and forged ahead but the risks outweighed the dessert cravings for a bit here.

We made an elaborate U-turn on the one-way street amidst much honking, cursing and good natured ribaldry amongst our co-drivers who for some obscure reason were also driving around at this ungodly hour.

Next we attempted a different route to our destination. We shall officially peg this as Mistake #2. Any other normal human being would have thrown in the hat (into the fast rising water on the road) and gone home. But no! We are made of sterner stuff.

We continued along twists and turns of small streets and again ended up before a neat little reservoir on the road. A cursory glance at the Maruti Swift sailing effortlessly ahead told us all we needed to know. One more U-turn and by this time a strange sense of reasoning prevailed across the two automobiles and a consensus was reached to head home.

The fuel situation, meanwhile, continued to look grim and the weather gods continued to savage us with gale force rains. Just when I thought we might make it to a 24 hour petrol station, a sickening grinding sound dispelled any such notions. We had a flat!

At this point, the wife, one usually given to outbursts of humungus proportions when faced with adversity, broke out into hysterical peals of laughter. In a confined space, with rain pouring buckets outside, take it from me that this is not an enjoyable experience.

Luckily for us, our two nephews who would do any F-1 pit crew proud, jumped down and started changing the tire while the wife and I valiantly held aloft umbrellas successfully drenching both my nephews.

We sent the other car with an empty Coke bottle to get us some fuel.

Finishing the tire change in record time (about 4 minutes 37:22 seconds), one of my nephews said we should drive on. Mistake #3.

The other car and ours slowly increased our distance apart and with the threat of an empty tank looming, we jovially drove on...somewhere... My nephew was furiously trying to give landmarks to the other car and in the confusion even managed to ask how to give the cemetry as a landmark.

Putting a stop to the madness, we finally halted and guided the other car towards us.

We now move a little back in time to the happenings in the car (the fueled one and the one to bring us fuel).

After leaving us to our own devices, the other car moved at breakneck speed to get us the fuel. At a gas station, my nephew's friend started engaging the staff in a saga of epic proportions with intense melodrama involving hungry and crying kids stranded in the rain. The recepient, obviously a stalwart of such ocassions seemed unperturbed and wordlessly pointed to an oil shop nearby. Again, before my nephew could protest and just ask for an empty can, his friend broke out into the Darfur children mode. The man, without breaking a sweat and apparently ignoring the tragic tale, emptied a can and handed it to them.

With a 5 liter can of petrol, they journeyed to intercept us on our travels without petrol. For some unfathomable reason, my nephew hugged the can of petrol in the back seat, nearly knocking out the occupants with the heady intoxication of gas fumes.

At half past midnight, on the 27th of August, in torrents of rain, a Stanley and Livingstone like meeting occurred in the hallowed streets of Hosur Road (heading towards St Marks Road). With our auto suitably sated and after letting the other car go home, we of the indomitable spirit did attain our original objective.

Circa 1 a.m., we touched down at LakeView just as they were closing and ensured (one look at us and they knew we weren't leaving without ice-creams) that we all got huge scoops of ice-cream (mine was ButterScotch Cake with Fudge) and tore into them with abandon.

Like I said, the never say die attitude our family so proudly possesses helped us attain salvation and justified our Raison d'être.

Technicolor dreams

2008-08-12T11:31:00.002+05:30

Of late, I've been getting a lot of dreams. Not just at night mind you. Even when I take an afternoon nap, even if it's for 30 minutes. I'll keep updating my blog with these vivid picturizations that are beamed to me in surprising regularity because I think they're really cool dreams! Disturbing and meaningless no doubt, but cool!

The little boy
It's night and I'm looking up to the top of a bus where a guy is holding a 2 year old boy. My wife is in a hurry to leave for some reason but I really want to get that kid. The guys throws the kid from the top of the bus. I miss but the child falls safely next to my outstretched arms. I pick him up. Apparently he's Afghan. Fully padded up with woolen shawls and sweaters and socks; a really plump and fair kid with bright red cheeks. I am determined that I will adopt him and as I pick him up and hold him I start to cry uncontrollably.

The Chase
A long winding road in the middle of nowhere. I am stuck behind a slew of vehicles and getting very impatient. I need to catch up with a big Mobile Home that is a little ahead but making good progress as the traffic has cleared there. I decide that it's faster for me to run across the grassy plains and hills and intercept the vehicle that way. My only worry is the packet of yoghurt I have to leave behind in my car. Okay, I told you this was meaningless!

Anyway, I start running across dried grass fields and reach some farm houses. Strangely, there is no one anywhere other than the long line of cars on the road. I hear dogs barking in the yard but still see nothing. I also hear the sound of TVs and voices and start to fear that these folk are kind of the evil dead or something. I run past the houses and barns and finally come to steep mud incline which I need to climb to get to the road. A big brawny guy is already climbing the slope with little success. A guy in a military suit appears next to me as I try to climb. A gun shot rings out. The brawny guy is shot in the leg. I hurriedly climb down. The military guy (I think he's a general) walks past me with the chilling words 'You're already dead' and calmly fires another shot into my injured climbing companion. I am then escorted into a prison.

Void

2008-07-23T06:15:00.001+05:30

One Night in San Francisco

2008-07-20T08:29:00.004+05:30

Statutory Warning: This article contains alcohol, vulgarity and undetermined sexes. You have been warned! Now read dammit!

Thanks to a friend, we had reservations at Absinthe, a nice and posh Southern French and Italian restaurant in downtown San Francisco. The prices did make us catch our breath though. However, the French onion soup was delectable and Porus in a fit of dashing adventurism ordered the Bok Choy as it sounded exotic (Okay, no idea why!).

Mojitos seemed to be the preferred drink of the ladies and though a teetotaler, I threw caution to the wind and ordered one too. My alcoholic pursuits were not to bear fruit as Shaila neatly polished off both her drink and mine and not content with this already significant achievement, we did a fast pull and empty of Pallavi's drink too.

Realizing that the food menu was a little beyond an average person's income, we meandered out of this august French establishment. Well, when you order a miniscule bowl of chick peas and you get charged per chick pea, you know you are over your head.

Our entire evening seemed to be running to a script. We were next asked to go to Sugar, a small bar, a stone's throw from Absinthe. For some reason, I had Shaila's handbag on my shoulder and proceeded to wear her blatantly feminine sunglasses. Word has it that I was a dead ringer for Elton John. But, hey! This is San Francisco! Need I say more?

Sugar turned out be a cozy bar and somehow we garnered the only room in this environment. It did look a bit seedy but most of the ladies were a tad beyond noticing the mundane. Once more, living it up, I decided on a Long Island Iced Tea (LIIT). Mama mia! That sucker hits you like a rock between your eyes!

Random dancing, smoking, drinking ensued and we made merry listening to the atheist (80s?) music. I don't know about most men but I find it incredibly enjoyable to be around sloshed women. And the LIIT was slowly but surely working its magic. Okay, who am I kidding. I was buzzed. As I waited patiently for the bar to stop its lazy spinning, we thought we'll get something to eat. Not sure why, but Sugar is a place which is totally mobile. Everything inside keeps moving in circles. I wonder how the bartenders ever manage to pour their drinks!

Porus, now the man in charge ordered us to go to a Falafel place across the street. As we marched daintily in roughly the direction he had pointed, we realized after about 9 minutes of staring at the restaurant, that it was closed. It's a wonder how people figure this out in a jiffy when sober. Damn the sober people!

Full of the right spirit, we continued to saunter on and entered Marlena's. Bohemian in appearance and with lively music, something seemed odd. More investigation in the inebriated state provided us some succor. The ladies dancing on the little stage were not of the opposite sex. Hammering it home - they were drag queens. Quite nicely dressed I must say. At this point in time, Shaila, already a few notches above the legal limit for being behind a steering wheel, had the brilliant spark. She wanted me to wear the handbag and her glasses.

A man can be piss drunk but when it comes to protecting his manhood, the fuzziness in the surroundings disappear and you suddenly begin to think very sane and rightful thoughts. Essentially, I had no intention of being someone's bitch that night and firmly put my foot down on this proposal. A bit miffed but not beaten by any mean, Shaila marched out and started to call her mother in India. This, while running up and down the streets of San Francisco well past midnight. The remaining members of our ragged party didn't seem to be making any pedal moves so I staggered behind her to ensure she doesn't get into any trouble or worse, get me into trouble.

Some sound practical advice from the mother seemed to activate Shaila further and more rowdiness resulted. Luckily, we found a restaurant still open and bundled everyone inside.

Sudden realization dawned on Porus sometime during the last few events (I was high so can't pinpoint the time) that the last BART train is at 12:15 a.m. How nice!

Anyways, we decided to go to Porus and Yamini's place by a cab. Riding on our good luck, we found a cab with three rows of seats. Unfortunately, the cab driver was a Gujju (I think, but definitely Indian). Unfortunate because of the washerwoman-like lingo emanating from the last row. By now, I don't need to say who. You know who! A choice example was when the walkie talkie spurted out some disembodied voice. The last row had this to offer as a gentle rejoinder "Bhagvaan ke gaand se awaaz aa raha hai".

Gujju bhai's face contorted so much I thought he'd have a seizure. Porus, next to him blissfully slept Guppy Fish like with deep rumbling tones from the under belly. The fun and frolicking continued from the rear woofers with those evergreen numbers from superhit movies like 'Chameli Ki Shaadi' , belted out in surprisingly coordinated megaphonics.

We finally got to our destination without additional excitement and got a good night's sleep.

I say we don't party enough! We need more of these evenings man! Bring it on!

Standard Disclaimer: Ingesting alcohol is amazingly good for your humor and makes the world such a simpler place to live in

Bandwidth Live!

2008-07-20T02:59:00.003+05:30

July 11th, 2008

We started a new music group in our company. We go by the name BANDWIDTH and boy was it fun performing live! Not bad for the first time methinks!

Village Dynamics and the Art of Agricultural Management

2008-07-08T11:23:00.004+05:30

Another Farm Story! Okay, don't groan. I won't be talking about land development and produce. Well, not this time at least.

Having dug the bore-well and with light pressure from the wife, the construction for the farm hand's quarters has started in earnest. What's missing of course, is the farm hand.

From recommendations, we acquired one resume and the candidate showed up at a neighboring farm which was apparently the interview venue. To aid is in this complicated maneuver, we enlisted the august presence of the local headman's son. An imposing and towering person, one does not want to take undue liberties with him.

The candidate was brought forth by the referrer. Out of respect or some such thing, they both stood behind us to make it challenging for us to talk to them without craning our neck and body at distorted angles. For a while, everyone stood around and no one spoke a word.

A few minutes later, another friend of ours voiced his thoughts in the form of probing out the candidate's name and requesting the wage figures desired. More hemming and hawing and the person (Madhayya) quoted the salary he was making in some god forsaken part of the state. The number seemed unreasonable as there were murmurs in the interview panel and general disagreement.

On some unseen cue, two backers for the farmers' cause appeared out of the blue. Both put across their points very clearly on why a higher salary was warranted. Their arguments, peppered with facts and figures of daily living expenses, the price of gas, rice, rocket fuel etc, while very fascinating, did not make much of an impression on the village leader. Even existing salary structures in the immediate vicinity were treated with quiet disdain.

An interesting dance ensued, with neither party actually expressing a number, but at the same time, I was struck by the headman's sensitivity and tact. At no point did he raise his voice or directly contradict anything the farmers had to say. However, the moment they were out of earshot, he would give us hard statistics on wages and salaries in the area. A very delicate balance indeed. Though a big shot in the area, he was at all times very polite and civil to the farmers, not once disrupting the harmony of the conversation or putting them down in any way.

The fencing continued for a while. This was quite complicated as we didn't want to artificially elevate the market with a salary that was too high. This would have disastrous consequences on all the hiring in that area. So, the parrying went on.

We finally gave in and told Madhayya how much we were willing to pay. A detailed explanation on the total compensation package inclusive of all benefits and bonuses was given. However, Madhayya had been heavily influenced by the two cronies who were the voice of Madhayya for all practical purposes.

The hunt for the farm hand goes on! I'm now learning to work within the boundaries and framework of communication styles and approaches to this hitherto straightforward task.

Nostalgia - That weird feeling of reliving the past in the present

2008-07-08T11:14:00.002+05:30

I'm not sure what got into me but last week, I suddenly had the urge to trace my friends from the years gone by. Effective sleuth work on the web helped me discover my class-mate, best friend and confidante for 5 years in Nigeria. 24 years since we parted ways and I was thrilled to reconnect with him. And, it was like we had never lost touch. We just got back into the same groove and the easy relationship we had as kids. Quite amazing actually.

More hunting on social sites got me in touch with an entire contingent of my primary school and senior school buddies. It's a wonderful feeling to get back in touch, see how people have changed physically and otherwise.

All we have is memories now. Cherished ones always. Even the events that caused us much stress and discomfiture are now remembered fondly and for a while we get lost in the history of ourselves and the people that were part of what once was.

A healthy dose of nostalgia is always good to rejuvenate the mind and body. I highly recommend it!

Operation Sea Breeze or How to get a recharge in 24 hours

2008-05-28T12:26:00.008+05:30

4 hours behind schedule! Our family is back in form, finally!! About time too! Breakfast at good old SLV (Raagi Gudda division) and we were off in three cars to Chilly Chennai.

The usual story of the tortoise and the hare, I tore off at breakneck speed, well ahead of the other two cars. A slight loss of concentration on my cousin’s and my part saw us take a miniscule detour into Krishnagiri. Well, it’s not really a detour. Apparently, a left turn is needed at the Krishnagiri junction under the flyover. We went over and into the bustling city center of Krishnagiri. A sudden realization dawned on the wife, a mute spectator until then and all hell broke loose. We were allegedly on the road to Salem and while this could have been brought to our attention BEFORE the damned turn in the highway, it was done when we were well past the town.

Anyway, no harm no foul and we sped back the ‘n’ km and regained our driving directions. Time loss numbers were being thrown around ranging from 15 minutes to 14 hours but for the record, we lost about 30 minutes though this will remain a bone of contention and fodder for healthy debate in the family for years to come.

Tamil Nadu road authorities or whoever posts the speed warning signs have an amazing sense of humor. ‘If you are married, divorce speed’ read one informative board. ‘Drive, don’t fly’ another helpful message proclaimed, to reduce our lead footedness (is that a word??). 'Know Safety, Know Injury, No safety, Know Injury' was yet one more example of a witty and diabolical play with words.

Our next pit-stop was the happening urban sprawl of Ranipet. While former residents claim that this is a township, it is no such thing. First of all, it’s about 73 degrees (C) in the shade and the place has a desperately desolate look about it. We were hard pressed to find a shop to buy water and short eats. However, our family stares challenge in the eyes and we did find a shack where we gobbled up cookies, chips and ice cream. As is normal for us, we created quite a ruckus and I’m sure the ‘township’ folk were glad to see us go.

Okay, I need to step back a bit here and talk about Operation Sea Breeze. The main reason for the third car on the trip was that 3 young men in our family were on a match-making mission for one of the young men and another cousin of mine (who had already arrived in Chennai). Actually, not the main reason; the only reason. The entire 5-6 hours of the journey witnessed frenetic planning and strategizing. This included mass SMS communications between cars. Planning continued at Chennai in my in-law’s home as we moved into attack/execution mode. Code words like ‘Ice Cream’, ‘Milk Shake’ and ‘Coffee’ were being bandied around in such a flurry that none of us actually remembered the decoded meanings.

Ah, and one more thing. We were all going to Chennai for my cousin’s wedding. And the fact that I’m remembering this nugget of information so late in the game shows clearly what our priorities were for the trip.

The wedding reception was the first event for us. Two of my nephews (early teens), not fully trained in the art of espionage and subterfuge, made a blatant display of looking for my cousin (the girl who was the latter half of the match-making mission whom we shall call ‘X’ from now on). And, even when I brought her to sit with us, the two apprentices plonked themselves right behind us intently watching every move. All that was missing was popcorn in their hands. We really need to do a better job in our training department.

After some confusion about a beach trip that night and a little bit of tension in the fold, we canned the plans and got back home for Sunday was going to be a long day. My elder cousin who does a great imitation of an earth mover with a missing exhaust pipe ensured we didn’t get too much sleep and we were all up and about by 5 a.m.

We actually got to see the entire wedding which was a great accomplishment. My cousin X also happened to be apple of another distant cousin’s eye and this brought her huge discomfort and unease. She really did not want the overt attention that was being lavished on her. Wheels within wheels, I tell you!!

Once breakfast was disposed off, we split up into two distinct groups. Aunties and other big girls went to the temple, the boys and X headed off towards the beach. Here I need to explain the sea breeze concept in Chennai.

Everywhere in the world, a lilting wind washes over from the water to the coast making it very pleasant for those dwelling near the sea. However, in Chennai, there is no breeze. Period! Locals claim that at 3 p.m. the fabled sea breeze begins to cool the land. While completely a figment of imagination, this belief is shared by all who belong. If you have never been to Chennai before and plan on making a visit there, make sure to bring up this topic. From the auto driver to the people you are visiting will give you a treatise about ‘sea breeze’ which cools Chennai incredibly warranting woolens and fur clothing apparel.

We picked up another cousin of mine from his house (to give us directions) and we spent a good portion of our time waiting outside his home and sitting in our cars with the AC running full throttle. We were also invited by an unknown person to come into my cousin’s house and his incessant requests could only be thwarted by my apprentice nephew who yelled ‘We have to go out of town’ and disappeared into the car, leaving the rest of us bemused and a little stunned by the turn of events.

Anyway, we were in Marina Beach, one of the more filthy coastal areas of Chennai at around 9 a.m. Brave as Chennai people are, they are not fool hardy and other than us, there was no one else near the water. We did make a fashion statement though, dressed in dhoti kurtha, pyjama kurtha, saree to name a few relevant beach-wear. The pyjamas that I was wearing is tight at the ankles requiring me to painstakingly wear the pyjamas like a woman’s stocking. Suffice it is to say that my pyjamas soon became flippers and was not very comfortable after that, especially when a big wave deposited some sand particles where the sun don’t shine. And, no, there was absolutely no sea breeze beyond the first 5 feet of the sea.

An interesting aspect of our beach visit was when I got my apprentice nephew to pick up a spring roll shaped piece of human crap that was traipsing merrily in the sand. I’m not too sure on the epoch when it had been deposited but I must say it was still shiny and looked fairly recent.

Once we were done with Marina beach, the cousin we picked up took us on a wild goose chase around the city of Chennai. We probably went over one particular bridge 7 times without knowing why. Post-mortem analysis showed that the hunt for a Badam milk joint was on. At one point, after clocking about 300 km in the city, the lead car pulled over next to a small Lassi stall. We all breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed our aching muscles. It was not to be! He just wanted to pick up a bottle of water! What’s with this state and water!!

More driving and we got to Grand Sweets & Snacks, the mother of all snack shops this side of the Vindhyas. The layout is very similar to a doctor’s office, with waiting areas and neatly arranged chairs. Once in a while, a complimentary snack would appear from the main door and a mad rush ensued to get a handful of whatever goody was being given away.

There was also the curious incident where my cousin spat out some Fanta on her Sari and my nephew turned an uncapped Fanta bottle to the side pouring more Fanta on my cousin’s sari. I cannot explain more here as I don’t know any more than what I’ve just narrated.

We got out of Grand Sweets & Snacks and then drove around aimlessly (with terrible coordination among the three cars) for another 282 km in Chennai and got to Sree Sweets or something. This was the magical oasis of Badam milk. Here we had 13 different types of chaats and one glass of Badam milk. Mind you, everyone wanted nothing more than Badam milk during entry.

Well now you know what’s next. Yes, you’re right. More driving! More passing the same places for the 17^th time and again back to Grand Sweets & Snacks to pick up our sweets & snacks.

Our order was a wee bit over the top. My nephew brought out a small coffin sized carton which he could barely lift. The establishment was so pleased with us that they even gave us a free music CD.

Another highlight of our trip was my nephew’s constant urge to recharge his phone. From the moment he arrived in Chennai until about late afternoon the next day, his life’s ambition was to get his phone recharged. I’m sure there was some girl involved or else there is no way one youth could be so obsessed about recharging his phone.

All done with our shopping, eating, beaching and driving, we got home tired but not hungry. A few pleasant arguments about our departure time and then we were again off to Bangalore and this time we did not miss the turn at Krishnagiri, all thanks to my sharp eyesight, cat-like reflexes and uncanny driving abilities. Another successful and exciting trip in the books! Next trip – Kanchenjunga! NOT!!

Acknowledgments: A special thanks to Vasu, Eashwar and Abhiram for helping me recollect the signs of our times along the Bangalore - Chennai highway and also for filling in the juicy tit-bits in the story. Couldn't have done it without you guys!!

The Poonal At Melkote

2008-05-18T00:19:00.013+05:30

A bit delayed but never late than better as they say! After a huge uproar from the family frontlines on not getting to it and penning down the series of insignificant events that transpired during the significant occasion of the poonal, I have embarked on that slippery slope that is boat-full of trials & tribulations. Phew! 44 words in that sentence. Was actually trying to get to 50 but thought there should be a semblance of meaning to the diatribe so stopped when the going was good.

For those who are agog with curiosity and sitting at the edge of their seats wondering what the hell a poonal is, here goes – Poonal is the thread ceremony for adolescent boys in Brahmin families where they go through a day and half of frenetic pujas and rituals essentially transforming the unfortunate soul into manhood. A big event and as the boys’ side hardly do anything for their weddings (I mean the actual wedding ceremony before you all get your panties in a knot), the poonal takes on an all important significance as ‘THE’ event of the family!

Okay! Now, that the background is all there, allow me to indulge myself as I going into excruciating detail of everything that is not related to the actual poonal ceremony.

Departure from Bangalore, amidst much fanfare and hoopla was at 8:30 a.m. bang on schedule, a never before seen feat in our family. As is wont, breakneck speed from our car saw us reach Shivalli in an hour. Alright! We shall talk about Shivalli now!!

The wayside restaurant is roughly 60 km from Bangalore. The long cone frustum like idli (Kadabu idli) is the magnum opus here. An excellent place for South Indian vegetarian food, pretty much anything on the menus is delicious and the service is great. However, when a family pack of wolves descend on this august establishment, all hell breaks loose. Our tentative and refined ordering started with 25 masala dosas, 16 khara bhaats, a few Kesari Bhaats for thrown in for good measure and some other goodies that might feel bad for being left out. A look of terror flashed over the helpless waiter’s face but he was up to it and soon the Wolfgang Pack was digging in lustily. The first wave done, we were now ready to wash it down. Coffee and tea orders poured in thick and fast. And of course, there were customized orders too; no sugar, less sugar, less milk, more milk, I could go on.

Our feasting done in a new family record time (1 hr 17 mins flat), we set off once more towards our goal – Melkote. Enroute, I decided to have a futile race with a red Honda CRV and that battle was lost before it began. At Mandya, about 100 km from Bangalore, we took the deviation to Melkote. Here, we embarked on another speed racing adventure, this time with one of the family vehicles, a Tata Sumo. This match-up was to my liking and I drove like a maniac to ensure victory at the post (0 Km milestone in Melkote).

The temple town of Melkote is a huge sprawling metropolis of bars, pubs, discotheques and multi-storey office buildings. The suave and sophisticated citizens party all day and night and it’s a truly happening city.

Okay! Okay! I exaggerate a trifle. The road to this place actually ends in Melkote. Two temples, one on a rocky hill and one where the road terminates are all that this village has to offer. Chock full of Iyengars and priests, Melkote is a charming hamlet with scorching temperatures and nothing else.

As our retinue arrived, it was clear that this was the most happening event this town had witnessed since the temple was built in 1000 AD. Not the quietest of families, we soon made our presence felt in no uncertain terms.

The first ceremony in the evening saw the family attending in full force and other than the participants (my nephew, my cousin and his wife), no one really was into the intricate rituals that pervaded the big hall. We had other immediate concerns – you guessed it – FOOD! And how!! Starting from lunch, we pretty much stuffed our faces for 36 hours starting with the unbridled mayhem at Shivalli.

I know you’re all biting your teeth in excitement with the narrative thus far so am going to kick it up a notch now. Ready? No?? Well, I’m going with it anyway…

One of my nephews, a true Cassanova, was in his elements during this trip. The best part was that he didn’t even have to lift a finger. A distant relative ( a girl), whom for the sake of this public forum posting, I shall not name, was drawn to my nephew like bees to honey. Starting from the Saturday afternoon when my erudite nephew landed up, until the time we left on Sunday evening, she was Velcro to him. Every meal and every instance saw them together and she constantly went out of her way to ensure she was positioned next to him in any situation or family formation. While a source of immense mirth to the rest of us (not to mention a little insane jealousy by us guys that this fellow was eye candy in a temple town), it caused great discomfiture to my nephew. Heeheeheehee!!. At one point, when we were sitting for breakfast in the usual set-up i.e. my nephew and the girl next to each other, all I had to do was send a text message to another nephew in the adjacent hall to come check out the seating arrangement. Half a second later, he appears with a video camera to film the proceedings in an understated fashion. Our family is good! We also managed to provoke a Sivaji Ganesan like outburst from my nephew when confronted with some hard facts! I will not go into the entrails of this.

Sunday morning saw a few of us climb the rocky steps to the temple on the hill. Yoganarasimha is the god on top and ascending the 365 steeply inclined steps was hard work. Strangely, the deity himself resides on the side and not in the entrance and once inside, the place suddenly turns into a mass of sweating devotees pushing and shoving and making it very obvious as to why Yoganarasimha has a bewildered look on his pristine countenance.

That aspect of our religious duties done and having successfully but inadvertently eluded the core of the poonal ceremony, we returned to a sumptuous meal with the usual lunch-time seating regimen.

We finally departed from Melkote, stomachs sated, and content (of course my nephew was sated in other ways, dang it!!) in mind and body but never the worse for wear. A well spent weekend among gods and traditional brahmin rites, the extended time with the family was priceless and reinforces our decision to move back to India. Looking forward to the next big trip!

Balamurali: Man, Genius or God?

2008-05-14T17:55:00.010+05:30

Every year, Bangalore hosts a month long music festival in April and May. It's done during the Ramanavami festival and held at Fort High School in Chamarajpet.

The grand finale this year, something I wouldn't have missed for the world, was the performance by Dr. Balamurali Krishna. For those unaware of this doyen of musicians, he is one who coughs and it sounds melodious.

The invocation Sakalaka Pari Purna in Aarabhi pretty much set the stage for the rest of the evening. A beautiful rendition of Raghuveera Ranadheera in Huseni followed. His exposition of Kamvardhini through Ramave Bhakti Yentho was to die for. Next was the evergreen Nanu Paalimpa (Mohana) and his control and variations were stupendous to hear.

Not satisfied with others' composition, the good doctor has 2000+ compositions to his name. He gave us a rare insight into Thanarupi (Melakartha Raaga #6) with his very own Sree Ramam Bhajeham and the devotion with which he sang was sure to bring the gods down from heaven to listen.

He then moved on to another Thygaraja's composition Sri Ramya Chithalanka in Jayamanohari. A short and sweet self composition in Sarasaangi Hanuma Anuma O Manama was then presented and the unique aspect of this song is that, the syllable 'ma' coincides every time with the swara 'Ma'. Amazing! True Genius!!

Timeless and soulful, Pibare Raama Rasam in Ahir Bhairavi was delivered so well that it brought tears to my eyes. Not to disappoint the Karnataka audience, we got to hear Alli Nodalu Raama (Kamas) which is a Purandara Daasa song.

The penultimate song was one composed by his grandfather Raama Raama Ena Raadha and though very small, was extremely melodious. No wonder! If his grand-dad composed this, it's obvious where the talent came from.

A Thyagaraja thillana in Behaag rounded off the best musical night of my life!

At 77, Dr. Balamuralikrishna has the depth, range, creativity and melody that I have not seen in any other singer, ever. An undoubted genius, he plays the violin, the veena, mridangam and the viola with equal competence. It was a privilege to listen to his singing in person and I fervently hope that I get to attend his concerts as many times and in as many places as possible.

Manasi and the Numbers Game

2008-05-13T22:17:00.005+05:30

Manasi: Thaatha, how old you are?
My Dad: 71
Manasi: When I am 71, how old will you be?
My dad: 142
Manasi: When I am 142, how old will you be?
My dad: 210
Manasi: When I am 210, how old will you be?
My dad: 280
Manasi: You don't go to god?

Manasi: How much fees for school pappa?
Me: 11,000
Manasi (with a gasp of surprise): That is more than 1299!!!!

Another Mysore trip

2008-05-05T13:09:00.004+05:30

Whenever we have a long break and we can't think of anything to do, we make a trip to Mysore. Avid readers of my blog would have figured out by now that I love that place like it was my own. Well, actually, it is my own.

Due to the little uns with us ( 5 years or younger), we were obliged to do the zoo. Not the most exciting prospect for me as I have been to the Mysore zoo about 2 times in my 40 years. The last trip was in 1988 where a misguided bunch of us college students ended up with the animals no doubt pursuing game in the nature of the fairer sex.

I was pleasantly surprised to see that they've really cleaned up the place. It used to be a dump with the man eating Bengal Tigers resembling cows from drought stricken areas that are often shown on TV and educe a few dismayed clucks and head shakes from us before we change the channel to understand who Kareena Kapoor is doing now.

Ok, back to the zoo. Lots of private sponsors have transformed the animal pens into remarkably clean and healthy environments. True, it’s quite sad to see a full grown tiger in a cage but at least they have a lot of place to roam around during the wild-life office hours (8:30 a.m. – 5:30 p.m.).

The kids of course had tons of fun and the one thing that struck the human adults (me included) was the enormity of the African Tusker indifferently munching branches the size of a Cessna.

I also got to see some snakes, an ever fascinating sight. All the animals, birds and reptiles looked in good physical form. The only drawback of the private sponsorships for the animals was that the names of the sponsors appeared in large bold type (Font Size: 450) and the actual inhabitant of the cell or cage had it’s name in an unassuming size 20 font. This resulted in us having to put our face about 6 inches from the sign to figure out if we were looking at a white tailed African Mongoose or Mr. & Mrs. Chellamulla Vandrapondi.

Due to a non-committal remark by my aunt to the kids that there was a water park in Mysore, we were pummeled into taking the brats to GRS Water Park, a behemoth of a park with all sorts of fun things to do in and outside water. The park is actually quite good and as usual the kids had a blast. Mysore being what it is, the water activity areas were resplendent with large, dark women fully clothed in saris and salwars frolicking mindlessly in the water. There were even ladies with dupattas in the water, not to forget all their jewelry which was probably a good thing since I doubt those trinkets had been washed since the weddings in 1954.

Always a nostalgic time in Mysore, we finally bid adieu on Sunday and got back to the pollution, noise and traffic that passes off as Bangalore City, or is it Bengaloory City-yu?

Our 13th Anniversary

2008-04-28T11:48:00.003+05:30

I know she doesn't like the mushy romantic stuff but that doesn't stop me from doing stuff. I spent a good part of the evening trying to make a CD of romantic songs. Talk about pressure! Phew! Anyway, I was rewarded with insane laughter when I played the CD in the car. Insane laughter in short durations I can deal with, but when it crosses the 10 minute mark, one does wonder if it's all worth it. However, I did get grudging approval for the song selection. I'll take what I can get, and what the heck, it's not every day we celebrate our 13th anniversary dammit!

Dinner was out of the world. Blue Ginger at Taj West End is the ultimate destination for Vietnamese food in Bangalore. I highly recommend it. In fact, it's one of the best Vietnames cuisines I've ever had. If you ever go there (and you definitely should), do try out their rice paper rolls and the mango salad. They are to die for! Fantastic ambience, great service and no mosquitos! Rampant overeating happened.

Post dinner, we met up with friends and family at what is becoming our favorite night-time haunt - LakeView. Unfortunately, I couldn't do justice to the mouth watering dessert offerings and had to settle for a mosambi juice. Dang! Life is tough sometimes!

The Lightness of Being

2008-04-23T10:04:00.001+05:30

Losing weight is not as tough as it sounds. Sure, it needs the usual stuff like discipline, balanced diet and crap like that. But, finally, it’s setting timed goals for yourself and going out and achieving those goals. That’s all there is to it.

January 1, 2008 – One look at the photographs from our Coorg trip made it very evident that I may be a bit on the heavier side. Ok, fine! Not a bit…a lot!! Ok, I’ll give you the numbers – 45 pounds or 20 kg over peak/ideal/healthy physical form.

On Jan 2nd, as reality hit me, I hit the gym with equal vigor. I started off with 15 minutes on the treadmill and 15 minutes on the cross-trainer 6 days a week. A quick bout of weights and strength training also went into this regimen, though not very consistently for the first month.

Feb 1st week, I was down from 92 kg to 88 kg. Whew! Quite happy with that. Not much dieting though, other than no rice on weekdays and a complete stop of sodas and bottled/canned juices. However, the weekends still involved some binging.

In Feb, I scaled things up a notch. 30 minutes on the treadmill, 30 minutes on the cross-trainer and 10 minutes weights. Still the same diet and nothing else changed. Oh, I did start walking up the stairs (7 floors) at work.

End of Feb, I was at 85 kg. A little less loss but still doing well. Regularity continued to be 5-6 days a week. End of March, the scales read 83 kg. Hmm…the drop rate was reducing but that’s how it is after a certain point or else we’d all disappear one day. There were quite a few lapses in the diet though, with a Delhi trip where I ate like there was no tomorrow and even had rice a few weekdays for dinner! Egad!! Bad boy!!

It’s almost the end of April now, and the weight hvers precariously between 80-81 kg. Hope to hit 70 kg by the end of the year. Wish me luck!!

Oh, almost forgot. The goals!! The March wedding in Delhi was the first one. Upcoming ones are – my nephew’s thread ceremony on May 10, my cousin’s wedding on May 25th, the wife’s birthday on August 25th and finally my own birthday in Jan. Just hope I can keep going and get back to the rakishly handsome devil that I never was!

Do roll back in for the year end report which will undoubtedly include an honorable mention of the vital statistics. Hey! there's another goal!

IPL!!

2008-04-21T09:19:00.002+05:30

Lucky us! We got free member passes to the first ever IPL match on Friday (April 18) that kicked off in Bangalore! The inauguration was outstanding with Shankar Mahedevan singing, gymnasts, the Redskin Cheerleaders, laser show and high energy music and effects. The game became secondary as the crowd strained to get a glimpse of their favorite stars - Shah Rukh, Shilpa Shetty, Katrina Kaif, Juhi Chawla (my favorite!!).

An interesting end to the festivities when we drove to the Richie Rich in Kumara Park and a friend of a friend of a friend, totally inebriated, fired a shot in the air with his gun, after one of our friends needlessly provoked him asking if he was carrying around a water gun! We got the hell of out of Dodge after that one!