Getting Lost in the Heartbreak City

Of all the places I have been to in my lifetime, the one place that never fails to cheer me up and disappoint me in equal measures is Bangalore or Bengaluru as it is now called. No, the city has got nothing to do with it. It's just me. Being a small town guy, the city lights of Bangalore always dazzle me. So much so, that I get blinded by them. Just like Dick Whittington and his cat getting mesmerized by London. Great weather, great (looking) people, good parks, sprawling greenery, good food, great malls, nice places to visit around, in short, all things great. Flipside, too expensive and too crowded. The Garden City, once a haven for retired and gentile folks, today looks as if it is the center for a never ending Youth Fest for entire youth of India to gather around. In short, a very hot and happening place. Which is good. And bad. 

Great Weather... or so they say...

Having travelled to Bangalore several times over the past few years for special and not-so-special occasions, I always resisted the temptation to publish my Bangalore chronicles. I wanted to forget every unforgettable moment I experienced so that I could create better ones the next time I was there. Thus far I must say I had been very successful in creating great memories. However, this time was different.

To start with, it was a trip that was long overdue and well past its proverbial expiry date. Over the past few months, several situations beyond my control had cropped up whenever I planned the trip and so I would have to put it off to a later date. Like they say, when it rains, it pours and you can't do anything about it. Hence the outcome of this much delayed trip  was unknown and chances of any form of success were close to impossible. But then I had just myself to blame and nothing to lose. Nevertheless, it was a chance (in a billion) I was willing to take.  So, finally when I saw a streak of sunshine slip through the dark clouds, I picked my already packed bags and trudged Bangalore-wards. Just like Dick Whittington and his cat making their way to London.

But then folklores are just that. Folklores. So unlike the future Lord Mayor of London, I didn't get lucky and got confined to my loneliness. I ended up being an ordinary lost tourist with an almost useless and outdated map that seemed to scream 'GET LOST!' in more ways than one. And so get lost I did.

I got lost in those myriad mazes called the Bangalore one-way streets which sometimes even the local Bangaloreans can't comprehend. Crossing the streets was a military operation in itself. Bangaloreans, usually polite and docile people, become pedestrian hunters when they are riding or driving. And I was fair game during the open season. Survived but barely, I must say. Eventually I learned a few tricks of the trade of urban survival and warfare.

The other time I got lost, I happened to wander into this coffee shop called 'The Square' (run by Cafe Coffee Day) where the service was ho-hum but the security was so ridiculous that ordinary pedestrians could not walk past the glass facade because the footpath was 'private'! It took some persuasion on my part to let the security understand that I was a wannabe patron and not a pedestrian trying to gain entry into the coffee shop. Here, I would like to mention that I have had easier passage through customs of some foreign countries than getting into 'The Square'. Anyways, upon entering, I spent a considerable amount of time - over a cup of coffee - thinking about what security measures I should undergo to exit the shop. Thankfully, there were none excepting for the fact that I had to pay a king's ransom for the frappe. Did I mention that Bangalore is expensive?

The Square

Returning from the 'Square' I got lost again and stumbled across a bookshop that only sold magazines. I felt sorry for the guy running a bookshop in this age of digital tablets (speaking of which, our civilization started with stone tablets, graduated to papyrus and paper and now we are back to the tablets, but I digress). Besides me, there was nobody else excepting for the glum looking bookstore guy. I decided that I'll buy a magazine just to cheer him up and see a gleam of happiness in his eyes. I felt that if the glum-me could make the glum-bookstore-owner happy then some of my glumness would go away. Instead, at the billing counter all I got was a once over (that would make TSA proud!!) from the bookstore owner to ascertain that I hadn't shoplifted any expensive imported dirty magazine from the shelf and slipped it inside my shirt or trousers while pretending to pay for a dirt cheap weekly I had bought. So much for feeling sorry about bookstore owners!

The next time I got lost, my friend rescued me with a metro ride and made me step into a mall of epic proportions! Yea, I still have friends I can count on. And I am glad that I do. But I digress again. What a mall it was! I just couldn't see one end of it standing at the other end. Amazing.

Sri Someshwara Temple

Then I got lost (yet again) and came across this 1000+ year old temple of Sri Someshwara (arguably the oldest temple in Bangalore) nestled between a strikingly new high-rise decked with a helipad on one end of the street and the elevated metro line on the other. Apparently, these days, thanks to its pedestrian hunting traffic even the Gods prefer the aerial routes to the overcrowded streets of Namma Bengaluru.

And thus my 'Lost' saga continued. I lost a lot and got lost a lot but in the process I also rediscovered the forgotten art of being guided by the stars and the sun. The stars being my friends and the sun being, well, the sun. Needless to say, I also ended up discovering something new at every wrong turn I took.

And as I turned away from the Garden City, I just wished the bells would toll for my return just like they did for Dick Whittington and his cat. They never did. Or perhaps I never heard them. I was lost and dejected as I left the Heartbreak City....

Interstellar: Of Galaxies, Stars, Black Holes and Love

Finally, after several weeks of its release, I got to watch the much appreciated and much debated 'Interstellar' yesterday. Though I was planning to watch the movie since the first time I saw the trailer on IMDb, the initial post-release word-of-mouth kinda left me quite confused. Apparently, one had to take a refresher primer course in Physics, Theoretical Physics, Relativity, Time-Space curve, Science, Intergalactic Travel, Gravity and what not depending on the people you spoke with. Someone was kind enough to even put a big chart on Facebook trying to explain the timeline of the movie. Which I simply did not understand. Considering that my science is rusty these days, I felt that even if I were brave enough to watch it, any attempt to understand the movie's plot would be an exercise in futility. On the other hand, since I religiously follow Neil DeGrasse Tyson on twitter (mainly to enjoy his humorous tweets, if not his science), watch 'The Big Bang Theory' without missing an episode, understood Stephen Hawking's 'A brief history of Time' (in parts) and last but not the least, consider myself a 'Star Trek' fan (a. k. a. trekkie), there was this little voice inside my head telling me that the movie should be worth a dekko. Plus there was also this little thing of choosing between 'Exodus: Gods and Kings' and 'Interstellar'. So there wasn't much choice.

So finally, when the time came, me and my movie buddy fortified ourselves for a 3-hour, no-restroom-break, movie expecting nothing more than an visually spectacular Chris Nolan film on a big screen. But how wrong was I proved to be! And I'm glad that I got it all wrong. On various counts. The movie did clear some of my misapprehensions about the story and the science behind it. First of all, it is not a sci-fi flick. I repeat, it is not a sci-fi flick! At least so far as I am concerned. Yes, it talks about wormhole travel for finding habitable planets in other solar systems in other galaxies and what happens to time in space and so on, but for me, the main undercurrent was about a Dad trying to get back to his daughter (on time) as promised. In time. Literally. For that, he is even ready to venture into a black hole and beyond. Sweet.

Some parts of the movie really tug at your heartstrings. For example, the daughter not ready to let her Dad go, but the Dad going out (of the galaxy) nevertheless intending to save his daughter's future despite the fact that he knows that he might never see her again, receiving blurred videos from earth indicating how time is running for earthlings and the explorers even as the explorers are caught in a gravity-of-black-hole-slowing-down-the-time conundrum and running-out-of-fuel dilemmas. And of course, a dad reaching out to his daughter from another dimension.... Christopher and Jonathan Nolan must have realized that  movies these days need a bigger canvas than Manhattan to portray human drama. And according to me, they were right. The tall skyscrapers were getting a bit, well, time worn. No pun intended.

Coming to the Physics, Theoretical Physics, Relativity, Time-Space curve, Science, Intergalactic Travel, Gravity and what not part, I think the debate will go on and the scientific community has been prompt to explain the science behind the movie. So I won't talk much about it. I am not the expert. You can hear the expert speak here and here. Like I said, for me, the movie was not about science fiction. But about human drama. Relativity might be a cool science speak but we humans are all about relations. I just wish we kept our egos aside and let bygones be bygones and cherish our life.

Which brings me to the crux of the issue. The value of time. And love. Yes, Love. That one emotion, - as Dr. Brand (played with such finesse by Anne Hathaway)  aptly summarises - the one thing we are capable of perceiving that transcends time and space. Beautiful.

I'll know when I get there...

For the past few months, things just have been moving at an uneven pace. Some days just whizzed by, some crawled on and some just stood at standstill waiting for me to kickstart the day. I had some highs and some lows but hardly a day that could be described as boringly quiet. Thankfully, since Newtonian laws do not apply to human emotions, I can safely say that such sudden drastic changes of direction, speed and momentum did not physically affect my limited grey matter. But there were some simple but valuable lessons learnt. I for one am not a preacher, but I definitely would want to note down the gist of these disparate but useful lessons for my future reference. Hence this post.

Hard work pays, but smart work pays better

All these days, I was being told that hard work pays. And pays well. But then the myth slowly started to crumble. Like an over baked cookie. Apparently, if you are a slave of your work then you get paid like a slave as well. History corroborates this fact. A valuable revelation indeed. Of course, there was this exception of the slave dynasty that ruled India for a while but still, not all slaves were that lucky. And as every slave toiled to survive, the only bonus he/she got was, you guessed it, more work. While I got more and more depressed with this thought, along came a wise man who  helped me tweak the saying a bit. Thus said the wise man, 'In reality, hard work might pay well, but smart work pays better. When you do the right thing at the right time, the rewards versus effort put in ratio is obscenely and disproportionately high.' But there is a slight catch here. And that is, figuring out what is the right thing to do at the right time? And sometimes, it takes a while figuring out if it is really the right time to do the right thing till the right moment passes by you. At other times, right things and right times just do not coincide. In short, the odds of the right thing and the right moment coming together and me grabbing that moment by the scuff of its neck seem to be astronomical. So if it is bound to happen, then it will be one darned lucky coincidence! I'd no longer be a hard worker but a smart one. So till I get all these things right, I have no option but to work like a slave. And get paid like one.

There are more important things in life than a nice view

Every morning I spend some time going through my twitter account checking out what's happening in the world. I particularly look forward to what beautiful picture of a beautiful place @ThatsEarth has posted for the day. Needless ot say, the views and landscapes in these pics are awesome. And so I look out of my window daydreaming about these places. But then there are more important things in life than dreaming about these views. Important things like, being there. Important things like saving for a ticket to travel to be there. And other important things like earning to save for a ticket to travel to be there. Till such important things occupy my mind, a nice view is well, just that. A nice view. Sigh! How much I wish right now I was at the 'Seven Sisters Waterfall' in Norway!

 

Courtesy: @ThatsEarth

People like to tell people about things they shouldn't be telling them

Such a profound observation. People (Doctors excluded) like to tell people about things they shouldn't be telling them. I first came across this phrase in one of Stieg Larsson's Millennium trilogy books. It happens to you. It happens to me. It happens to everybody. Psychologists and anthropologists might have done a lot of study on this strange trait of humans but we are yet to find a cure for it. We just can't resist the urge of telling people things we shouldn't be telling them. Sometimes we don't realize the damage it does to the people we tell. For instance, I cannot digest someone discussing how their bad tummy ache finally resulted in a long drawn throwing up marathon while having my morning cup of tea.

 

There are better anti-depressants than anti-depressants

Finding what anti-depressant (not of the drugs variety) suits you is always a good thing. It not only makes you happy, but also helps you get back on to your feet when the odds are piled against you. You get up to fight another day. And that's not a bad thing. In one of my posts, I mentioned that I always enjoy reading 'If Tomorrow Comes' by Sidney Sheldon when I am feeling a bit low. I think it is one of the best anti-depressant in my medicine cabinet. But there are others too. The other important one being 'Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara', a Bollywood movie that rekindled my faith in light hearted Bollywood fare. Its been one of the important go-to movies in the past few years. For some reason, I always feel refreshed after watching it. And just today, a friend of mine recommended 'Golmaal', another great movie from yesteryears as happiness therapy. I wholeheartedly agree. And will add it to my 'medicine cabinet'/video collection.

Show the world how beautiful it is. Sometimes, it just doesn't know.

Sometimes, people and the world around you just don't know how beautiful they are. Its your responsibility to show them or remind them of that particular strength of theirs. And one of the best ways to express it is with your photography. This was the lesson I learnt from a photographer friend of mine. I wouldn't argue with that. Photography gives you a great opportunity to praise and compliment someone or something. Which is why, I think everyone should have a go at it. As long as they capture the moments and help letting the world around them know how beautiful it is, it will become more tolerant and enjoyable. The world as we know it, will be beautiful once again. Even if it does not know that it is beautiful.

So, from a slave in a dull world to a person who is able to tell the world how beautiful it is, there has been quite a change of thought process already. I think these five mantras should be good enough to help me tide over my daily journeys for now. The list is not exhaustive or contiguous but as I learn more lessons out of life, I will keep adding them to this list or maybe add them in separate posts. It is a work in progress but I'll know when I get there....

Distant Sun, Distant People

An evening at a beach not far away

Free Fallin'

Having a little bit of time on my hands, I am nowadays devising new ways to amuse myself. For instance, today I suavely convinced my friend to get myself invited to his friend's housewarming just because the invite extended invitations to family AND ('AND' being the operative word here) friends. Similarly over the weekend, on a whim I asked some of my friends from school to get together for a dinner. Though such things might not seem unusual for a guy who's always been popular, for a guy like me (who's not popular), they are quite unusual.

If you knew me well enough, then you would know that me trying to gatecrash events or hosting a get together is kind of like, well, me not being me. When I am me, I spend much of my time doing things such as figuring out ways to crash my PS3, keeping away from important conference calls and social affairs (or networking as they call it), checking out how the companies I have not invested in are faring (because invariably the stocks I buy never fare well), reading or YouTubing car reviews of cars I can't afford (because my stocks didn't fare well) so that I can cite bulletproof reasons for not buying them, or simply plucking overgrown hairs out of my ears (and nose too sometimes) ...  well, you get the drift. Most of the activities involve me interacting with erm... just me. The kind of status updates I scrawl or the sad selfies I post on facebook and instagram and WA, I won't be surprised if one of these days I will get a mail from Mark Zuckerberg politely asking me to take my profile someplace else, or else...

Hardly surprising then that all these years of non-partying and non-wild weekends are beginning to take their toll on me.

Not adding social events to my calendar has not taught me how to live a proper sinful life. I'm beginning to notice that age is no longer a number. My knees are still strong for a good sprint to catch a city bus every once in a while. And I haven't developed bags under my eyes or got any crow's feet due to excesses of youth. Not good. Not fair. I curb any wild urges I get by using the miniscule wisdom and reason I have developed over the years. I think twice, thrice, and keep thinking till I find enough reasons to stop myself from buying a ticket to somewhere out there. And the little travel I have done has conclusively concluded that I was never meant to be an outdoorsman. Or for that matter even a regular city slicker. When I'm driving, I don't like people darting across my right of way. When I'm not driving I don't like vehicles darting across my right of way. I just travel like a mouse and return home without a squeak. And when I'm partying, I don't like loud music. So much for travelling. So much for partying.

But I am getting used to it. Slowly but surely, I am beginning to see some sense in getting off my couch and exploring the world around me. I am also enjoying with amazement as to how rapidly the world is changing. Which is why I felt it was high time I changed. I had to start somewhere. Inviting friends for a get together or getting myself invited was a kind of a start. A start I had to make. And so by killing a few grey cells to curb my age-induced wisdom, I am making a fresh start. A start that will no longer stop me from doing what I do best. Be myself. In a new avatar. Or better still, be myself version 2.0. So bags under my eyes and those craggy Clint Eastwood-ish crow's feet, here I come!

The Day I Stopped Dreaming

I have always dreamed (during those times I slept more and dreamed more) of working hard and getting somewhere some day. And truth be told, my dreams are coming true - at least about the working hard part - the part that hard work will get me somewhere is yet to happen. Apart from getting somewhere (by which I mean avoiding being nowhere), working hard comes with a set of side affects as byproducts. First of all, you end up working long hours which saps out whatever little juice you have left. Secondly, you can't compensate those long hours of work with long hours of R&R. Thirdly, and most importantly, it affects sleep. That's because you can't have two sets of long hours in one 24-hour day. So considering that I am working a wee bit harder these days, saying that I feel a wee bit tired would be wee bit of an understatement.

I also always dreamed (again during those times I slept more and dreamed more) about travelling to far and distant lands and making friends all over the planet. Today, this dream of mine has also been realized (again to some extent) by the one universal connector of choice, the Internet. Over the years, Internet has been one medium that has successfully helped me get nearer to distant things and people. But the Internet has also NOT helped by distancing me from people near and dear to me. Honestly, I never dreamed about the distancing part. Side affects again. Like many of you out there, I can chat and talk with people on the other side of the planet on my phone and iPad while having a nice leisurely Sunday afternoon lunch with my family but can barely participate in any conversation with people seated around the table. Similar is the case when I am at work. I can now hardly put a name to a face but I can always tell by the emoticon as to who just pinged me.

And funnily enough, being overworked and overly-online, I have developed two distinct personas. My online friends emphatically claim that I'm a party animal but the people around me say that I have withdrawn into myself and have become a total recluse. Gosh! It's like Bruce Wayne and Batman! Like Superman and Clark Kent! Like Peter Parker and Spider-man! Like Norman Osborn and Green Goblin! Well, you get the drift. And like all these superheroes (plus supervillains), you can't please them all with what you are or what you are not. Dr. Bruce Banner didn't become 'The Incredible Hulk' for nothing! It seems as if my virtual alter ego has sucked up all my good energy and left me with a plateful of broccoli without any seasoning. For breakfast, lunch and dinner. To use the only French phrase I know, 'c'est la vie'.

All in all, in a way, with my careless usage of precious man hours at work and staying online, I have effectively accomplished my dreams. And I can now alternate between a superhero (or supervillain) and a mild-mannered and reticent alter ego, online and offline respectively. Again to an extent, that is. In the process, I have effectively curbed my sleeping hours. And thus, I have effectively curbed my dream time. With no proper sleep and no dream time, life has become a bit more pragmatic and lot less dreamy. For me, the adage, 'if wishes were horses...' no longer means horses (or whatever that was supposed to mean). Essentially, my dreams have now become a reality in which I can't dream anymore. Well, never in my wildest dreams did I ever dream that such a thing would happen! To paraphrase Annie Nielsen from the movie 'What Dreams May Come', 'Sometimes when you win, you lose.' I seriously think I should sleep on it. Now. And dream a dream about not working hard or be online but just stop for a bit and smell the roses. Before a rude wake-up call comes, that is.

A Day To Note...

Captain's log, 4:08 pm IST, 14th November, 2013. Watching TV.

On Different Opinions And Difference Of Opinions

So, there are opinions and there are opinions. I do like opinions. I like them because they help you look at things from one's own perspective. I believe that one's opinion about something or everything is defined by one's outlook and the environment around them and of course, one's own personal bias. I know so because that's how I form my own opinions. So, if I ever get dragged into a debate or am asked to give my 2-cents worth, in order not to disregard someone else's opinion, I always start with 'IMO....'. Considering how sensitive people are nowadays in nursing their opinions, the IMO phrase helps me skirt away from long-winded arguments about why one's opinion is much better and more important than mine. In recent times, the frequency of me using 'IMO' has increased so much that I am starting to feel that this phrase was especially invented for me.

However, whilst I do admit that every once in a while I get influenced by others' opinions because they seem to be honest, useful and good eye-openers, there are also times when I don't like opinions being imposed on me. Especially when I feel that such opinions are ill-formed due to a very narrow-minded approach to the subject or is based on limited (make that very limited) knowledge.

In this regard, one of the most common opinion that I frequently come across and vehemently oppose is that a person's academics are a direct indicator of his/her intelligence. And the reason I oppose this notion is because that every once in a while the smartest people ( by which I mean people who can think logically and use a bit of that uncommon sense called common sense) I come across are the people who barely scraped through high school. Unfortunately, in a corporate world that worships academic meritocracy as a religion, such an opinion does not hold much water. Which is sad. Sadder still is the fact the latitude that is given to these so-called academically distinguished smart people. Apparently, one should discount any visible lack of intelligence in a 'highly-educated' person as a sign of modesty whereas a neon-sign like intelligence from an 'average local college grad' or a dropout is considered as pure fluke. Having said that, surprisingly, these very same people who look down upon dropouts deify Bill Gates and Steve Jobs as the saviors of modern day mankind. Not surprisingly, more often than not, I get to see such biased opinions in people who always wanted to excel in academics and in life in general. But didn't. Normally, I can tolerate such people but for the fact that they try to be so assertive about their beliefs and opinions that sometimes it becomes exceedingly difficult to stay in the same room with them for more than two minutes. For this reason, I reserve my opinion about such people and also their blind worship of academia. IMO, their opinions seem too fickle to matter.

On a similar note, I have a different set of opinions about travel too. I usually like to go off the beaten track and skip the touristy spots. For instance, when I went to Las Vegas, I was a touch underwhelmed by the city. For me, it was not like how I had seen it in the movies. And definitely (and thankfully, in a way) nothing like how they show it in CSI. Maybe one of the reasons being that I got my first glimpse of it in daytime. But for my friends, it was like as it was advertised, a Sin City. They were bedazzled by the lights and the slot machines. And of course other forms of entertainment as well. So as we were driving back, while my friends extolled all the finer things of Vegas, I was slumped in the back seat keeping my thoughts to myself. IMO, the trip was a complete waste of time. And money. Darn those slot machines at Bellagio! Speaking of which, I kind of liked the musical fountain there. Which of course was a free show unlike all those popular shows which were apparently sold out. Anyway, as I kept my opinions about LV to myself and remained silent about it, my friends committed the cardinal sin of trying to impress upon me their views of LV as the greatest playground on earth. They should have known by now that what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Now I hated LV even more. So much so that on my next trip there, I preferred to drive further down to explore the sleepy streets of Boulder City and Lake Mead instead of nursing the previous night's hangover. Truth be told, I loved Boulder City. In fact, I loved it so much that I promised myself to go there again if my friends ever planned another trip to the Sin City. With me, that is. IMO, the chances of being invited on such a trip are quite remote now. Nevertheless, I must admit that my discovery of Boulder City happened due to a difference of opinion. 

In this way, I could go on about people I come across regularly who try to impress upon me their beliefs and strongly-worded opinions about things as varied as religion, godmen, politics, sports, cricket (especially cricket), movies, movie stars, and even girls without ever considering my opinions. They simply expect that I should agree to their views and be their follower the next time onwards. Needless to say, I find a lot of peace in avoiding such people the second time onwards. IMO, when you can't stand them, better avoid them. Truth be told, I have strong opinions myself, but at least I don't thrust them on others the way they do on me. 

Well, whatever be the case, the point I want to make here is, even when one is passionate about what he/she thinks, they should not impose it on others, especially when they know for sure that the other person's opinions will differ from theirs. It only widens the rift. And causes people to drift apart. Opinions should be respected and if not likable be politely ignored. I have seen people with widely differing opinions come together and have a great time while keeping their opinions to themselves or not making too big a deal about their views. They do  differ in opinion and not with each other. IMO, I think that it is good to keep it that way and just move on. Don't you agree?

Non-medicinal, Therapeutic Anti-depressant

The rain steadily beating down for days with no sunshine in sight and a personal dilemma that is not going to get resolved any time soon have ensured that I smile less often these days. It is at times like these that I feel that I need a mild anti-depressant to uplift my sagging spirits. Though I am not the kind who'd be easily knocked down by small setbacks and roadblocks that I come across in my daily life, I must admit  that sometimes, the sum of all these small setbacks and roadblocks can overwhelm me. And coupled with incessant rains and personal dilemmas, these dark forces take the shape of a dark mood angel that threatens to swallow me up at a slightest slip.

And at such times, to rescue myself from the clutches of the dark mood angel, I turn to my twenty-plus year old anti-depressant. This particular anti-depressant happens to be a book titled 'If Tomorrow Comes' by Sidney Sheldon that I got from a used bookstore several years ago. Fortunately, it has had no expiry date so far.

To the uninitiated, 'If Tomorrow Comes' by Sidney Sheldon is a pure out-and-out fiction and a total page-turner paperback. And I am not ashamed to say  that to this day, it remains my most favorite(-st) and best(-est) anti-depressant despite having some seriously inspiring biographies and autobiographies on my bookshelf. Yea, and favorite(-st) book in my bookshelf too. I am not aware about what critics thought about it when the book was first published but when I first read it, I was blown away by the story-telling. Without giving too much away, when the story starts, we see that Tracy Whitney, the protagonist of the story, is staring into an extremely bad nowhere-to-go and black hole like situation. And as the plot unfolds, her fortunes change mainly due to her phenomenal ability to think on her feet and most importantly, her will to fight. Without fail, every time I pick up this book, a smile that slowly appears on my face (without my knowledge of course) remains plastered till I reach the last line on the last page. And continues to stay on till much later (again without my knowledge of course).

I am not sure why I got fascinated by this book the way I did but I guess for a tenth-grader who had just graduated from Hardy Boys, this book was a revelation. Since then, it has remained my de facto anti-depressant. So whenever I am in the dumps, or feel that I'm falling behind in the never-ending race, I dig out this dog-eared and yellow-paged book from the dark recesses of my bookshelf and immerse myself into it. By the time I'm finished with the adventures of Tracy, the dark mood angel is all but vanquished and like I mentioned earlier, I end up with a satisfied smile on my face. Most importantly, there's a nice feeling in my head. The world starts to look good again and I'm all set to go off on an adventure to seek my fortunes. It is surprising that even after several years and several books later, an 80's pageturner fiction can cheer me up thus after every read. But that's what this book is all about. To me. An anti-depressant plus something more. So, If tomorrow comes, I'm ready.

A Reader's Gift to VJ

Someone was kind enough to send me a subtle hint
after going through my posts.

And here's some good news. With some bad news. Good news first. At least someone out there is reading my posts. And the bad news? Well, they sent me a subtle hint by gifting this book you see in the pic above. Yes,  yes, I get the hint. I promise that I'll post my next article only after I read the book in its entirety. Not that you will see a major improvement though, but still worth a try. As they say, 'Watch this space!'

The Reluctant Workaholic

Running around government offices, networking with people, traveling during midday hours in the month of May and trying to steal some me time for a few minutes every day. This, in short, has been my routine for the past 20 days. And the more I look back and recollect the things I was involved with, the more I am convinced that these past 20 days have been the busiest 20 days in a while. In the process, I could have inadvertently silenced many of my critics a.k.a. people who know me well enough. That's because people who know me well enough keep telling me that I'm not a guy who likes hard work and so hardly works. According to them, I'm the guy who likes to take it easy and delegates stuff to minions like that guy from the movie 'Despicable Me'. I politely beg to disagree. When push comes to a shove, I act. So if they had seen me running around the way I did these past few days, they'd be amazed beyond words. Truth be told, I was amazed beyond words myself.

To start with, my friends should have seen the persistence I showed at government offices. As a result of this persistence, I was able to get most of my work done at a breakneck pace of a tiny snail crossing a six-lane highway. That in itself would cause them to shake their heads in utter disbelief. Again, truth be told, I myself am in a state of utter disbelief about how I could request, push, coax, be rude enough and still manage to get a move on things and get the job done in days which otherwise would have taken a few weeks (or probably months) to even get initiated. Now I know what it means when they say, 'Truth, sometimes. is stranger than fiction.'

Speaking of which, getting things done in a government office also means working with people. Make that working with a lot of people. And the right people at that. My critics have also complained quite often that I am not a people person. Hah! The guy on facebook with a gazillion friends could not have held a candle to me.  Internet social networking might be a skill, but trying to get things done on the same day using proper face-to-face networking at a government office? Now that is a black art. And I can safely say that I am now unofficially a sorcerer's apprentice in this black art. There is still some time before I can be promoted as a sorcerer though.

For all those people, who even after reading all this, still remain unconvinced about my work related skills, I just have one word. Or rather ten. The challenge of traveling by road in the month of May. May is a month of true Indian summer in a true Indian context. Temperatures can soar beyond 43 degrees Celsius (that's 109 in Fahrenheit scale). May is also a month of vacation for schools. Which means it is vacation time for people with children. Which essentially means vacation time for most of the families out there. Vacation time for families means vacation travel. Result: Overbooked trains, planes and buses. Which leaves one with only one form of land transport. One's personal vehicle. But driving a few hundreds of kilometers on a hot summer afternoon of May with the sun blazing down on you through the non-tinted windows is something not many people look forward to. Least of all, me. But then I did drive a few hundreds of kilometers on a hot summer afternoon of May with the sun blazing down upon me through the non-tinted windows. Non-stop. Twice. On two successive days. Not something I'd want to do everyday but immensely satisfying nevertheless. Especially when you know that your destination is coming closer by the minute and there is a nice authentic syrupy sugary liquid called chai awaiting you there like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Well, not to digress from the main topic, it was a journey not many people who know me would believe I'd take up. Ever. But I did.

Well, I did all that. And more. What can I say? Except that I can rise to the occasion. Rest of the time, I'm just another couch potato. Speaking of which, it does feel good to be back on that couch.

On second thoughts, it is better that I do not advertise such huge achievements. My critics would never believe me. And even if they did, they would expect me to do more of such stuff every day. I don't think I can handle such great expectations. So for now, for all that effort and man hours I put in for these not-so-insignificant chores, I will have to give myself a quiet pat on the back and silently congratulate myself for a job well done. And recline comfortably on my couch to watch TV. After all, the IPL 6 match fixing saga is turning out to be more exciting than the IPL 6 itself.

Don't Like the Weather? Give it a Couple of Minutes.

'Is it really as dark as they say it is out there without me?' So pondered the sun
peering through the dark rain clouds.

It is sometimes amazing to watch how quickly the Weather Gods can change their minds. One moment it was a warm, sunny, humid summer afternoon and the next it was a windy, overcast rainy monsoon-y evening. And throughout this magnificent transformation, it felt wonderful to watch the sun and the rain clouds fight for dominance over the skies. Thor must indeed have landed with his Mjǫlnir somewhere nearby.

Cleaning Skeletons In My Cupboard

In my opinion, of all the things we like to treasure and hide in our cupboards, the one thing or a bunch of things that would easily top the list would be skeletons. Figuratively, that is. And this despite the fact that we don't want them to be there in the first place. Such is the problem with these dark incidents of our past that lurk inside the dark recesses of a cupboard. You can't keep them, you can't throw them.

Needless to say, everyone of us has had several such really-really-want-to-but-cannot-forget experiences that we'd like to lock away in a cupboard, throw away the key and try to forget about them forever. Unfortunately, if our luck runs out and someone happens to find that key we thought we threw away long ago and figure out which cupboard that dreaded key unlocks, skeletons start to tumble out. By then, it is a bit too late for us to admit our guilt or acknowledge our embarrassment about our not-so-proud moments. And so we wallow in a sea of denial like that proverbial scared cat burying its head in the sand to escape danger.

I for one, also have quite a few such skeletons to hide in my own cupboard. And as I grow older, I'm realizing that the cupboard's getting smaller and the skeletons are beginning to show. So before they start tumbling out skull first, I've decided to do something about it. Of course, I can't start a straightforward spring cleaning process and throw them all out because that would mean owning up to a lot of bad and embarrassing things I have done in my life with vehement denials. I can only think of doing selective spring cleaning by denying stuff I can deny without getting into too much trouble. I will try to laugh off a few of them and try to forget. A few, I will try to forget with time. The rest, I will surely keep so that they act as constant reminders of the mistakes and blunders I have committed in my life. Such stark reminders will surely help deter me from repeating them again.

At the same time, I don't want to increase the size of the cupboard because space is indeed always a premium. Instead, from now on, if there seems to be a potential new entrant into the closet, I'll own up to it and forget about it. Because, its easier to forget when you do something good (like owning up) unlike when you do something bad (like hiding it) and get haunted by it for most (if not for the rest) of your life. But owning up is easier said than done. The pain of owning up is not small. I would have to first admit to myself that I was wrong and then confess to others. I would have to overcome the habit of searching for scapegoats in case something goes wrong because of me. But this is only one side of the story. A bigger contribution should come from others who are affected by my blunders. They would have to forgive me even if they cannot forget. Whilst it is in our nature to ask for forgiveness when we mess up, it is not easy for us to forgive someone else if they commit the very same mistakes. In my own case, I have had several instances where I was reluctant to forgive others for their goof ups whereas I was fortunate enough to be forgiven by big-hearted souls who didn't think for a second while doing so. But I'm learning. It takes quite a big heart to be forgiving. And as I am growing older, phrases such as 'go with the flow', 'enjoy the moment', 'travel with/without friends' are slowly but surely replacing words like 'responsibility', 'maturity', 'conservatism', 'aggression' and 'prudence' in the diary of my life. Perhaps, I will add 'forgive and forget' to the list of to-add phrases as well. And thus, I will be able to hopefully reduce the skeletons in others' and my cupboards as well. After all, it's not fun to know that some day they will tumble out to haunt me at the most inopportune time. With a vengeance.

Of Friends, Movie Genres, Popcorn and Soda

So I like a good movie. I like movies which make me wonder, frown, think, ponder and laugh. To cut the dramatics, I like mysteries, comedies, dramas and the usual good action flicks like the ones that come out from Hong Kong.  What I am not is a fan of sci-fi (the only exception being the original Star Trek TV series). Sci-fi's kind of make the future look gloomy. Too gloomy for my taste. So far, I've not seen a good sci-fi movie that shows a happy future. And I hate zombie movies and vampire movies. Also add horror movies to the list. I get scared easily and I hate being scared easily. And of course the tragedies. I hate it when I end up crying in a hall full of people when I know that it is just a movie. So at the most, my movie taste is pedestrian and does not leave me with a long list of must watches.

So once my seasonal must-watch list is exhausted, I reluctantly agree when my friends ask me to join them if they are going to a movie. If it has a good story that is. And it is for this reason that my friends easily con me into watching movie from genres (that I otherwise would prefer to skip) with an offer I usually can't refuse. An offer of a free popcorn and soda. And so far it's been a mixed bag. While there were some movies which I absolutely liked, there were others which I simply detested. Popcorn and soda notwithstanding.

For instance, a couple of months back I was conned into watching 'Hobbit 3D'. Though fantasies, trilogies are again something I don't follow much, my friend, a follower of 'Lord of the Rings' or 'LOTR' as the Ringies (or is it Ringlets?) call it,  kind of laid an elaborate trap for me and being the naive genius that I am, I simply walked into it. Grudgingly and wearing those silly red and blue glasses, I watched the Hobbit chronicling his journey. But all in all I was not disappointed. I liked the way the movie was presented. Though a  bit too long for my taste, I still liked the way the journey evolved on screen. Especially the fight of the stone mountains. It was simply spectacular in 3-D. So all in all, I inwardly and outwardly I ended up thanking my friend for the invite.

'Oblivion' on the other hand was the complete opposite. Like 'Hobbit' I was pulled into this movie by my friend who had supposedly read good reviews about it. I for one read reviews after I watch a movie. As it turned out, 'Oblivion' was a case in point as to why I stay away from sci-fi. The movie was as dull and desolate as the landscape it was set in. By midway, I wasn't too sure as to what was happening or why exactly was I still sitting in the theater while the movie never bothered to end. Or take off. By the time it finally ended (or so I thought as people started to leave), I was convinced that 'Oblivion' was an apt title for the movie or very soon it would be consigned to one.

These are but two bitter-sweet experiences out of maybe a dozen or so times I've been out to movies with friends. So far the score's been even between the good and bad ones. But considering the movies that are coming out, I'm sure the scales will tip in favor of movies that deserve rotten tomatoes. So the next time, I get conned into watching a movie that does not belong to the genre I like, maybe I'll think a bit. For about two seconds, maybe. And then I will throw caution to the winds and go ahead anyways. After all, its not just the movie that matters. But also the popcorn munching and soda gulping that goes in parallel with the onscreen activity. Its one complete entertainment package. Till the popcorn and soda last, that is.

Sorry To Eavesdrop. Equally Sorry to Overhear.

Once, while I was in Grad School, I was told in not so many nice words by my roommate that I shouldn't be eavesdropping on his calls or trying to second guess from whom he received mails based on the handwriting on the envelopes. The only problem was that when he talked even our neighboring grad mates and their neighbors on the other side knew with whom he was talking to. And the mails would come almost everyday cluttering up the mailbox. 

So expecting me not to be curious about his business was out of question until and unless I was blind as a bat or deaf as a post. But an advice is an advice. And so I had to take it. From then on, whenever he asked me if he received any calls while he was away or if he had received any mails, I used to feign ignorance. To the extent that his friends began to complain that I never recognized their voices anymore and asked them their names every time despite them calling up at least half-a-dozen times everyday. Similarly, I stopped picking his mail from the mailbox. Not my bad. Definitely not my bad. Unfortunately this move of mine also frustrated my roommate to no end. But then it was no longer my business to take his calls or pick his mails. All things considered, it was a lesson learnt, for both of us.

Nevertheless, I do agree with him with regard to phone calls. Every phone call is personal, and the person talking should be given due privacy. Even if it is a telemarketing call. But when the person is making no attempt to keep the conversation discreet, then he or she should not expect others to ignore it altogether. So unintentional eavesdropping should not be considered as eavesdropping but as a conversation that is being shared with the people around or is meant to be overheard. I've overheard agitated conversations in hospitals which made me scream 'Too much information!' in silence, I've overheard conversations in railway stations that helped me figure out which train to catch, I've overheard conversations at malls that informed me which store was offering the best discount on what items, and I've overheard conversations in office corridors about how much bonus was to be expected this year. I've even overheard juicy conversations in meeting rooms while a very important meeting was going on. But I must mention here that all of these conversations happened to take place in my immediate proximity while I was cornered and without an escape plan. And thus, despite my best attempts, I get sucked into this vortex of overhearing things. But thanks to such incidents, I've learned to be more discreet with my own phone calls and if need be I ask the caller to call back later rather put the other people around me in a state of undisguised embarrassment.

For this, apart from thanking my experience, I should also thank my Grad School roomie for that piece of advice. Loud or not, frustrating or not, he was right.

Bharatanatyam Strikes A Chord

I am not an artist. Not even by a long shot. Despite this limitation, I do appreciate art in any form be it dance, painting or even movies. Thanks to Amar Chitra Katha due to which I have a fair understanding of Indian mythology, Indian classical dance forms like Bharatanatyam, Kathak or Kuchipudi do appeal to my limited aesthetic senses. Every once in a while, I watch such program(me)s on TV rather than take the effort to go to a theater or auditorium to experience them in live. So this previous Sunday when I got this invite to a Bharatanatyam dance recital, though I was excited, I was not sure if I would go or not. Finally I decided to go because I felt it was high time that I should start working on my art appreciation skills in flesh rather than watch and appreciate on cable. In hindsight, it was a good decision. It was a very professional and spirited ballet performed by a team of very committed and dedicated dancers. I was especially moved by the 'Draupadi Vastraharanam' sequence where Draupadi prays for divine intervention as the people around her become depressingly inhuman. Overall, I must say that the performance and the performers left a lasting impression on me. After this event, I have begun to appreciate art, and artists, even better. So I guess there is still hope for me.

A Date Of Opportunity

So the debate rages.... should there be a special day to express our love to others? Honestly, if you asked me, a special day for expressing such an emotion is not required. Just like we don't require special days like Diwali and Christmas to remember our Gods. Just as we pray daily, we do also express love in many forms almost every day. But what about the secret love of your life that never gets a chance to come out?  I agree that it does come out in some cases. Cases wherein you belong to the vocal and vociferous minority. After all, the vociferous minority can be vociferous about any and every topic they wish to choose. And so there is no reason that they would remain silent on as emotional a subject as love. No matter which day it is. And if they are brave enough to find a voice at that exact moment that is.

But what about the silent majority? How can they can express their true feelings to that special someone they've secretly loved for a long time and get it over with? Unlike the people with voices, the silent majority, while going through the daily rigors of life, tend to keep their feelings under wraps so as not to ruffle too many unnecessary feathers. They are afraid that the rapport and the relationship they built painstakingly over the years will crumble like a cookie the moment they try to take it to the next level. And so they remain silent waiting patiently for a small window of opportunity to present itself to help them come out. And in many cases, chances that such an opportunity will come their way is as good as winning a million-dollar lottery. In short, it can be an endless wait. So for such silent majority, if a simple date on a calendar presents that opportunity in guise of Valentine's Day, why not? After all, if it were any other normal day, the short month of February would only be half as interesting, isn't it?

A Half-filled Glass

Was watching the TV Series 'Arrow' a while back. At one point in time, the conversation between Oliver Queen and his bodyguard Diggle goes something like this:

Diggle: And I think I'm just beginning to understand the kind of man you are.
Oliver: Shouldn't take you very long. I'm shallow.

Though it was quite a simple conversation, in a way, it did say something about the character Oliver Queen a.k.a. the Arrow who's just returned to civilization after being a castaway on a deserted island for five years. In my opinion, it takes a certain level of maturity to speak of oneself in such an offhand manner. And it requires an equally sharp listener (in this case, Diggle) to understand that such a statement made in first person needn't always imply the speaker should be written off so easily. In a lighter vein, however, Oliver's reply might also apply to someone when they don't have much to talk about themselves. Like me, for instance. Especially when I have to interact with very smart individuals on a daily basis.

My line of work provides me with ample opportunities to work with some very motivated and talented people. And frankly, I am amazed at their energy, intensity and focus whenever they apply themselves to any task. I'm sure their approach to work and also life in general is much more purposeful and deliberate than mine. Whereas I prefer to take it easy and slow, I see these highly charged individuals jump at every opportunity and make the most out of it. And after a long and satisfying day at work, I see them sweating it out at the gym, at volleyball and basketball courts, playing cricket, heading out to the movies, partying or just chilling out. All in a day's work for them. And on weekends, they just let their hobbies take over or pursue their passions. Good for them.

I, on the other hand, head straight back to flip channels. Or read. Or it's game on on PS3. Or just take a catnap. Beyond that I hardly exercise my little grey cells or my triceps. Which essentially means that if someone asked me what do I do after work or what my interests were, I'd draw a blank. I prefer the contentedness of doing nothing after a long day to doing several things non-stop in 24 hours. I do admit I tried doing several things last year and did tick a few to-do's off my list. But that's seasonal and unpredictable like the monsoon, and not a daily routine. By the time the twilight takes over, while for the achievers the day's glass is half-empty, for me the day's glass is just about half-full already. And I am more than happy with a half-filled glass. For now.

But then as Oliver says, I'm shallow when it comes to such things :-)

Undiscussing Weekends on Monday Mornings

Like many of you out there, I am not a big fan of Monday mornings. And one of the things I dread on a Monday morning is the time when I come to work and my fellow workers start greeting me with the question, 'So, how did the weekend go?' So far till date, with the exception of 3-4 (make that 2-3) weekends a year, I never had had a weekend I could talk or write home about. So for some time, as an evasive tactic, I made it a habit to treat this as a rhetorical question and used to reply with my own rhetorical question, 'Good. How was yours?' Unfortunately, for most of them out there, it is not a rhetorical counter-question to a rhetorical question. Hence they get into this long description of how well their well-planned weekend went. And then there are others who moan and groan about how their well-planned weekend went awry and they had to spend that time in a very unplanned manner. Not that I have anything against such answers, but listening to them makes me think that my entire weekend, whether planned or unplanned, was an epic waste of time. 

So of late, I have started to utilize my Monday mornings for planning for the weekend ahead. I painstakingly collect all the 'how my weekend was/was not well-spent' information from my co-workers and pick the best plans (best-of-breed in software parlance) and use that the following Monday with certain subtle changes to the script, of course. Yup, not very original but it helps to have a well-scripted weekend. This way, whenever someone asks me the dreaded question, I go into this well-rehearsed prosy monologue that acts as an instant and total buzz-kill. And so when I courteously ask how theirs' went (after I'm done with my prosy buzz-kill of a monologue), they shrug it off with a mumbled 'Good.' and quietly slip away. Good. I have also begun to notice that slowly but surely more and more people have stopped asking me about my weekends and make do with a simple 'Hi' or wave from afar and walk off in a different direction as if they just remembered something important. And because of that, I have been able to appreciate my precious weekends better than before. Because for me, a weekend not discussed or compared on the following Monday morning is a weekend well-spent.

TGIF!

Guy, Interrupted a.k.a A Routine Derailed

On any given day we all have a routine. And some of us are sticklers for our routines. Even though it is a kind of routine we sometimes wish we didn't have. And it is this wish that makes us imagine how things would be if we weren't stuck in the.... well for the lack of a better word, routine. And so we sometimes pray that our dull routine will get broken some day and things will change for good, if not better. By a special someone or something. However, however much we wish things should change, we are not prepared for the change when we meet it head on. So when the change does come in the form of something (or someone), we start wishing that such a thing had never happened and that we got our good old routine back. We think the timing of the change is all wrong. But then, perhaps, it is not.

The main problem with establishing a new routine is that you always end up comparing the new one with the old. Due to this, the transition period taken for adjusting to a new routine can be very very tricky. You can't help but think, 'Ah! Life was so much simpler before.' despite the fact that your old routine might well have been anything but exciting. Or simple for that matter. The change management you need to do is really a fine balance between what your head says and what your heart's planning to do. Your head needs to be conditioned to the fact that sometimes your heart can be right too. And vice versa. This takes time. If you crack during this period, you can easily revert to your old routine, or whatever is left of it. Upon doing so, you will continue to rue about the wrecked mess you are now left with. But if you overcome this tough time, you eventually will, well.., adjust. Till that adjustment happens, you tend to oscillate in a simple harmonic motion like a pendulum. Three steps forward one day and three backwards the next. Simple? Harmonic? Biology-wise, chemistry-wise or head-and-heart-wise, it is nowhere as simple or as harmonic as Physics says it is.

Something similar happened to me a few months back. Like many of you, I have a routine and I am a stickler for it. I have a well-crafted and well-engineered routine like a pair of rails on which I coast like a train knowing where and when to start, go, stop, go, stop and come back without too much fuss. For years I have been following this schedule. So considering that I had a smooth run for a long time now, the law of averages had to catch up with me someday. And that's exactly what happened one fine day. A few months back, the routine that had kept me (usually) well-disciplined and punctual (well, most of the time) got shattered. Come to think of it, it was actually a terrible day. The weather was muggy and the sun was relentless. And the phone was constantly buzzing. And then the routine-changer thing happened. I don't want to go into the details of the incident as it would make a good story for another day. For now, suffice to say that the routine-changer came in the form of a note written in long hand. Long story short, it  wrecked my beautifully crafted long-running routine. Though I was looking forward to such a positive change for some time now, I was not prepared for it when it did finally come and hit me. It was like a scene from that war movie where the train tracks along with the bridge on which they were built get blown up right at the moment a train is passing over them. Except, in this case, the train barely managed to stop itself before the bridge blew up. In short, even though I just stopped myself short of becoming a complete train-wreck, I was completely derailed. Routine-wise. I was this guy, interrupted.

It took me a while to assess the situation. After much root cause analysis and some quick damage control measures, I began to pick up the old pieces and add some new ones to re-establish a new route/routine. I also added some new connections. Slowly I began to reassemble the pieces and am continuing to do so even now. Some of the shattered pieces are too broken to be repaired. So I am adding new pieces, removing them, and adding them again. And every time I add a new piece, it is slightly but surely altering the old time-table. Some of it is welcome, and some of it is making itself welcome. All things considered, with a little bit of filing and chiseling, the pieces are fitting. As I said, I know my routine won't be the same ever again. Even if I could hypothetically remove the routine-changing event out of my life. So, considering what has happened cannot be undone, I will continue to be busy repairing the tracks till there is a new routine up and running. Or I will build new ones wherever required. I am even considering a major overhaul so that I can build a more sophisticated one with mag-lev rails for better time management. And once finished, I hope it'll last a while. A long while before the law of averages even come anywhere near it.

So, like I said, for now I am still in that transition time. My new routine is far from ready to rock and roll. Which means I'm still swinging in simple harmonic motion, like that pendulum I was talking about. I guess once all the adjustments are done, I should be able to come out of the pendulum-ing. Frankly, I still don't know why they call that a simple harmonic motion. A very understated name for a very extreme action.

So every once in a while I can't help but keep wishing I had my old routine back!