My Experiments With Craziness

The Lost ______

2009-10-06T16:06:00.005+05:30

The following is a story I had written more than three months back. I did not post it as I thought its not worth. But, seeing the sad state that my blog is in, without an update in almost 3 months, I thought of posting it. Happy reading...

Anjali could hardly concentrate on the assignment she was trying to finish. She had one miserable day in college. She couldn’t stop her attack on her Professors for the miserable time they have been giving her. But the nonsensical attitude of her friends was unreasonable. She was thinking, thinking and thinking.

The mobile phone started going the revolving act and made the scary buzzing sound. Anjali picked it up. She saw Rahul’s name. It took her by surprise. It was jus a moment ago she was thinking about him. The call was accepted, but it took her a few seconds to get the phone to her ear and whisper a soft “Hello..” “What was taking you so long?” Rahul asked in a soft polite manner. “I was away. Had to come back to my room to get the phone,” she replied. He knew she was lying.

Rahul tried to play the waiting game, pausing few seconds before starting the next sentence. “How was your day?” She returned the favor, answering after a small pause, “Miserable!!!” She did not consider going into further details. He did not ask for further explanation, at least for now.

“Hmmm… Okay…” Rahul muttered. After another pause, he asked “Did you not text me something yesterday?” “I’m sorry Rahul...” she said even before he completed. “I told you didn’t I, I was in a complete mess. I had such a bad day in college. Please…. I’m really sorry.” Rahul took his time again. “I accept the sorry. But please realize, how much all of this meant to me. I have spoken about all this for a long, long time. And I have felt you are taking this lightly. Earlier it you to be let me think”, he was slightly getting aggressive. But he suddenly stopped before he started to lose his control over it.

“Hello???” Anjali asked over her mouth piece. “I am here only… Didn’t want to scare you to death… So, as I was saying, you said you will give me your reply. Maybe it’s not that important to you. It is for me. That was why I had waited from 11.45. You mentioned the time. You mentioned the place. And I had waited there all day long. At 12.55 you texted me saying, you will come now. At 1.30 you texted you are inside class and can not come and that you will inform if you can come in the evening. From 3.30, I again waited for about an hour when you texted that you are going home. “Anjali did no utter a word. Yet again the pause came from Rahul. “What should I infer from all of this?” he continued. “Have a done something so bad to be treated in such a way Anjali. I’m turning out to be a laughing stick among your friends. Hmmmm…..” Yet again the wait which seemed to be forever after which he asked, “Don’t you have something to say?”

Anjali took her time, after which she spoke. “Im sorry for all that happened today. I did text you as I had decided upon what course of action I should take. But everything is not in my hands. Please do understand. I was supposed to be done with my lab by 12, which sadly did not happen. We were made to wait for more than 45 minutes after which we are to repeat the same experiment the same week. After this I hurried to class to find Sneha had taken a book of mine to take Photostat copies.” Rahul groaned on hearing this. She continued, “By the time I was done with venting my spleen at her, the teacher had popped in 5 minutes earlier. This ruined my plan to bunk that hour. I tried to escape each the next hour too, but in vain. At 3.30 I went along with Sneha to get my book from Copy Park, and to our astonishment, my book was not there. All that we could do was watch and wait till the idiot who took the book would come back and return it. I had something really good in store for him. After almost an hour we gave up hope. Got really sad after this, and was in no real mood to talk. That was why I had left. Please understand. I am sorry about it.”

“Hey.. Its jus a book isn’t it. Why should you get so desperate about it?” Rahul queried. “Rahul!!!!! Anything that belongs to me, I consider it precious. And I can not just ignore it like that.” “Okay… Okay… I get the point,” he interrupted before the damage had been done. Again, the inevitable pause.

“So, any updates now?” Rahul continued. “About what?” she asked. “The mysterious trip your book had taken today… What else...”

“That’s the funniest side of things. Arjun had called me sometime back.”, she said. “What for?” “Well, he got a call from a Rakesh who is in Electrical Department asking if there was some one called Anjali George in his class.” “Why does he want to know about you?” he asked again. “You really don’t want to hear this, because it’s the most stupid thing that has ever happened.” Anjali remarked. “No worries, go on, let me hear it too”.

Anjali took a breath and started to recite. “There is that idiot in the EEE dept called Deepak naa, he went to Copy Park to collect his friend’s stuff. He then took my book presuming that Anjali George was Geroge Jacob’s sister, and that George, who ever that is, was using his sister’s book. He took it to class and realized that he had got the wrong book. Instead of coming back and returning it, he asked some one else to return it to Copy Park. This creep went and gave it to IceNet. Deepak realized this and called Rakesh, asked him to inform me that the book had been misplaced. How dumb can people get?”

“Do you think I should believe this story?” Rahul asked. “Only if you want to,” she replied. “Do you think I will believe this story?” he asked again. “I think you would,” was her reply. “So, what next?” he asked. Pat came the reply – “Get to IceNet tomorrow, first thing in the morning and get my book back.” “Book… Book… Book… Anjali I really thins you are making too much fuss about s notebook.” Rahul said. “Rahul, I don’t know how you feel. But my book is important for me. And I want it back”, she was firm in her reply.

“Sorry… Sorry… Okay, let me tell you something. Your day is going to be even crazier”, he could not hide the smirk on this face. “WHAT!!!” she screamed. “Well, I paid a visit to IceNet in the evening to get something and I saw you book orphaned there. I didn’t waste a chance, so I took it with me. It right here next to me. Its important to you isn’t it, so first thing in the morning come and get it from me. Okay?”

“Rahul!!! You were making a monkey out of me weren’t you?” Anjali asked. “I was not that rude was I. Leave it. I wanted to know why you left me high and dry more than once. And as I have the book here, I was more than convinced that you were not spinning a yarn.” Rahul said, trying to sooth her. “Okay…” she said. “So, what the reply?” he quizzed her yet again. “Ohhh… That? There will be neatly folded paper inside my book. You may take it. It’s for you. Good night dear.” She hung the phone.

The Hero/The Villian

2009-07-09T19:31:00.004+05:30

He was told very late on the night before that he had to meet the Boss. It had made him nervous. It has been almost a year since he had joined the organization and this was his first meeting with his leader. Apart from the couple of lectures which had been delivered by the Boss, he had never met him in person. Not even at the time of his joining did he get a glimpse of the man. He barely slept during the night. His curiosity was getting the better of him.

At 5.00 am he woke up. It has been the routine for the past one year. He went through the rigorous schedule day after day. In fact everyone who was part of the organization did the same. The bitter cold of the winter morning was never considered as a hindrance. The two hour session added to the discipline of their team followed by thirty minutes spent in leisure. Well, that is the word they used to describe it. Any layman would think anything but. In the frost damp morning, the stood in the open drinking the lukewarm well watered down coffee, and crumbs of break which was at least a week old. “All for the organization,” they said to themselves. No one grumbled or showed any sights of displeasure.

The lecture session went on for the next ninety minutes. The discourse mainly touched on the principles of the organization, their ideology and of course the motivation for the comrades to bear the worst of atrocities to achieve their ultimate goal. Today was a rare blemish on his part. He had lost his concentration more than once. Never in the past one year could he recall such an instance when his mind had slipped. But then, today was different. He had a meeting with the Boss. The only issue was that he did not know when.

At 9.00 am they had another one of their leisure periods. As he was sipping the coffee, one of the comrades slipped a piece of paper into his hand. He carefully opened it with his numb fingers and read it, “Follow me, the Boss will meet you now.” He looked at the man, and there was a nod of approval from him. He quietly followed him till they reached the boss’s room deep in the basement of the main camp building. “You can wait outside till I call you,” the man explained with authority as he opened the door and went it. The wait outside was making him more nervous.

He started to wonder if the Boss was too busy and whether he would be asked to come again later. As such thoughts crept in, the door opened with a loud thud and the tall, lanky comrade pulled him inside. Just as he got his bearings right, he was welcomed by his leader. “Welcome Comrade #116. The other senior comrades who have been monitoring you have given me good reviews. They tell me that they believe you are the best among the current crop, the one who will hold the flag of our organization aloft in the future.” He was about to reply to his chief’s words, but was brutally interrupted by the words which continued like a rampant river. “Thus, we feel it is time for you to be rewarded. You are going to be handed your first promotion in our organization. What do you think comrade?” He was about to reply again, but never got to spit it out; the raging river took it from out of his mouth. And it went on. “Now listen carefully. As a part of your rise in the organization you have to carry out an assignment. The assignment is pretty simple. You will be handed a baggage which will have to be safely delivered at the destination. At 10.00 am you will leave with Comrade #088 who will leave you at the border of this forest. From there, you will travel on foot to the nearest bus stop which is Bachalpanch. Take a bus to the central bus station in the city. The journey is long and we believe you will reach there by 3.00 pm. Once you reach there you will have to give a call to the phone number that will be given to you. Once you get a missed call back from the same number, you have to board a bus to Ramgirpur. Give another missed call once you are on the bus. After reaching Ramgirpur, walk to the village of Dhoklamet. Between, give us another call when you reach Ramgirpur. On the way to Dhoklamet, you will find some one sitting on a parked motor cycle with the number 696. We are not sure about the alphabets before that. ” He was carefully noting each and every instruction the Boss was giving. He wanted to impress his boss with his first assignment. The fine details for such a small task impressed him. “You have to show our organization’s greeting code to the man. If he responds with the same, had over the parcel to him and give your 4^th call to us. You may start your return trip after this via the same route. After you reach Bachalpanch give the 5^th miss call when we will send a comrade to pick you up from the same spot you are going to be dropped. Any questions?”

“No sir,” he said firmly. The last one year had taught him to pick even the smallest details without any need of repetition. “Good. You may repeat your agenda to Comrade #036. He will hand over the package and your attire for the journey. As you are new, no one will realize that you are a part of the organization. If something unforeseen happens, you know what to do. I know you are ready to lay down your life for the organization,” the Boss said. There was nod of approval as he was shown the way to start proceedings.

At 9.45 am he got onto a motor bike and left the camp. He was dressed in normal civilian clothes and a back pack which contained the parcel. After 10 minutes he reached the border of the forest. From then he stuck to the agenda he was provided. He boarded the bus to the main bus station and throughout the journey he remained vigilant. He protected the package as if his life depended on it. Maybe it did, he didn’t know. The slightest thoughts of getting caught or that of what will happen if he never reached the destination and even that of opening the package were dismissed even before they arised. Most of the long journey was spent on his adoration for the organization, its principles and its vision. He wanted to rise through the ranks and be a role model for the many that would join them in years to come.

When he reached the main bus terminal, he gave a missed call to the number. After almost 10 minutes, he got the call back. He was over an hour behind schedule. He boarded the first bus to his destination and immediately called back. It was starting to get crowded in just five minutes. It was a route which had heavy commuter traffic. He didn’t not know how to kill time. He looked at his watch; it had been just 15 minutes since starting from the bus station. That was when he thought he had heard a sound from his backpack. He didn’t get time to check what it was, because even before he could react hundreds of onlookers were looking at the huge ball of fire that had engulfed the exploded bus.

***

Next mornings newspaper read

Suicide Bomber Kills 40 people

Chandrapur, June 10 – A suicide bomber killed at least 40 people and lost his own life in the process as he triggered a …………………………………………………………………………………………………….

***

Is he a villain or a martyr?

Once the Hero

2009-06-28T12:58:00.003+05:30

He was once the ultimate Hero,
Who rose to the heavens from being at ground Zero;
An ascend that left many gaping,
But to see him fall was sadly heart-breaking.

Once he was a charm for many,
Pretty women surrounded him in plenty,
He made the most gentle of men envious,
Unscathed, he walked the steps to more and more laurels.

The fall from the heavens was never merry,
The years caught by him, slow but steady;
The once-fans who adored him were never in sight,
And sadly, there was no one to push his might.

The vultures swoop over him for that moment to pounce,
All that was left in him was just that ounce;
Stranded alone in the middle of nowhere,
He was searching for that inspiration from somewhere.

For Thee, the Hero was this very Page,
Time and time here I used to engage;
Some how, some way the way to thee was lost,
And now it is enveloped in thick frost.

But once again he wants to be a charm for many,
He wants pretty women to surrounded in plenty,
He wants to make the most gentle of men envious,
And unscathed, he will walk the steps once again to more laurels.

tHe EnGiNeEr : “How time flies………….”

2009-01-12T01:17:00.010+05:30

I was chuckling over this ALL IN THE DAY’S WORK comedy my cousin told sometime back. His classroom was decorated with an RF-clock (it’s called a radio frequency clock, once a battery is inserted it adjusts with the radio frequency and sets the time by itself in a few minutes time), which his friends used to thrive playing with during their free time. Once, when they were engaged in doing the same, some one alarmed them of the teacher’s imminent visit. The battery was put back in the slot, and the thing was hung onto the wall, just seconds before the she made her entrance. As she was scanning the class, the clock got her attention with its hands running around at a frantic pace re-adjusting itself. That was when one of the smart chaps threw in his comment –

“How time flies………….”

‘Smart chap’, remarks the author. And our own smart chap, tHe EnGiNeEr is expressing the same feeling…“How time flies………….”

“Rain comes and goes

Love comes and goes

Lovers come and go

Money comes and goes

……………………….

…………………………

But in this age, if a tooth goes, it wont comes again….”

tHe EnGiNeEr chuckled at the latest entry in his text inbox.

The author had previously received the same joke and promptly forwarded it to his friends. One of them accidentally forwarded it to his professor, the very same one who had flunked him in a test the previous day. The professor didn’t see the funny side of things and was quick to inform about the threat to his health (as he thought it was) to college authorities and the author’s friend’s parents. Rest you may be able to conclude.

“Exams come and go. And come back faster”, remarks our EnGiNeEr, who is having his power systems exam tomorrow. No, don’t think he failed to clear the one mentioned in the previous episode. He did that one wonderfully well. This time it was the big brother whom tHe EnGiNeEr was up against. He is Bigger and Badder.

“How time flies………….”

Ten days of Christmas vacation went in a jiffy. Our EnGiNeEr’s concept of ‘all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’ back-fired (as usual). The 4 days of play that he had set aside crept into the 5^th day. Then into the 6^th and so on till the 8^th. The combined study session which commenced on the anti-penultimate day turned out to be a buffet for him and his buddies. Most of this day was spent finishing the gourmet. Studies were of minimal importance. Nothing useful as to curriculum related was done that day. At night the large bundles of study material were stacked up in his study table. Chapter by chapter. Module by module. It looked at it and decided to bring it down like the WTC.

At dawn, tHe EnGiNeEr set off in pursuit of the yet unchallenged peaks that were in front of him. The printed copy of the syllabus was his companion. Their first hurdle was the duo of Gauss and Siedel, and their loopy solutions. Two hours with the theory were not very productive. The next two with the practical side of things was wasteful – 4 sheets of paper scribbled, one pen broken, one button of calculator keypad stuck and two bottles of water gobbled up. His inferences looked south, the solutions in the book said north. The phone was his only solution. His knowledgeable friend at the other end of his call processed the load flow study and arrived at our EnGiNeEr’s error(s).

A quick bite, few minutes in front of several channels and a check of email and text message box later, he was back to his tech trail. He then researched on how electricity should/could be generated economically. Another numerical problem in his way was an uphill battle. But he arrived in the same direction as his books – Rs.0.54 per hour is saved.

“How time flies………….”

It took him three hours to learn the value of 54 paise.

By 6 o’clock in the evening, he had one half of the syllabus left untouched. A valiant effort to tame Power System Stability went on till mid night (dinner break was taken in time). It was a valiant one, but truly unsuccessful. It had drained him. He was feeling tired and sleepy.

The EnGiNeEr walked around for quarter of an hour. He did nothing in that time. He was empty headed and wanted to shake of his slumber. He got back to his desk. Thoughts drifted about a quick nap and study the final module in the morning. But, memories from his past episodes made him change his mind. “No more mistakes”, he decided firmly. He sat down and opened the book. It read “High Voltage DC Transmission”. And he read on and on.

By 3.30 am he had go through the whole of HVDC. He finally decided to hit the bed. Whatever that was left untouched ought to be studied in the bus. There were more knowledgeable people there. They should be of more help then his own research at this point of time.

The EnGiNeEr went to his room and made his bed. He put the alarm on his alarm clock to 6.30 am. He did the same on his mobile and switched off the light. In the darkness he searched for his iPod which was always left on his bed. He found it. The earphones went in place. He slid the button. The green light flicked on. The music started playing. He wanted some Music Therapy (as his friend calls it) to sooth his mind. ‘Pachai Nirame’ started flowing through his ears. “Can anyone sing like Hariharan?”, he wondered. ‘Munbe Vaa’ was next. Half way through his favorite track, the battle with consciousness was lost. He slept soundly.

The alarm was ringing in the background. Our EnGiNeEr was slowly coming to his senses. He found one of the ear phones still in place and the other underneath his body. There was no song playing though. Did he stop it sometime during his sleep, or did it run out of charge. He didn’t bother. He heard the alarm. It was still buzzing. He got up and walked to the clock and looked at it. It read 6 40. ‘Still kinda dark outside’, he wondered. The alarm was switched off. He poured himself a glass of water which was kept on this table. Then, he took the glass and walked around the house. The text message tone was heard in the distance. He went back to the room and took the mobile and read the latest message. On the very instant, he dropped the glass which hit the floor and shattered to bits. The message read

“Hey dude. Wat happ? Y didnt u cum to coll. U nt well. Ne oth probs”

He pressed the red button on the mobile phone. It went to the main screen. The time there read 18 42.

“How time flies………….”

The Professional’s Professional

2008-10-12T01:21:00.011+05:30

He was waiting in the bus stop. It was almost five in the evening. The next bus would reach any time. All the incidents that occurred earlier that day flashed in his mind. ‘This is my lucky day' , he told himself. ‘Three times’, he thought. Not once, not twice, but thrice did he perform the stunt, and three did he manage to succeed. It has to be his lucky day for sure. He thought about the reward (reward is the word he uses to describe, though not everyone) pocketed by him. His retrospection confirmed it.

The bus arrived. He could see that there were a few who were standing. ‘Good’, he muttered under his breath. He got in and stood somewhere in the middle. The conductor made his presence quickly and as per his request gave a ticket to the terminal. His took out his wallet from his back pocket, handed out the cash and collected the balance. The wallet went back to its usual habitat. The trip would take at least half an hour. Plenty of time for the next adventure. He was strangely confident.

Few of pretty girls standing at the rear end of the bus occupied most of ‘his’ next ten minutes. ‘What is to be lost?’ he thought. One of them looked back with an expression that clearly said ‘Mister!!! Are you not embarrassed??’ Such a word never existed in his dictionary. He started noticing that the bus was getting populated, and they were being cramped for space. ‘Getting better’, he said, chewing his lips.

He waited for a few more to pack-in. ‘Two more stops’, he decided. In the mean while, he secretly scouted for a prey. He gently moved about in the limited space, cunningly maneuvering others around him with the professionalism of a professional; no one got even the slightest sniff of his intentions. In another ten minutes, the bus was full; he had found the one he was wanted. It was time for the action to begin.

He made his way close to the prey. He changed his stance so that the ones sitting nearby would not be able to see what was going on. He made sure he blinded everyone and waited. The next halt found even more commuters boarding the bus. Precisely what he had wanted; once the bus started moving again, he slowly removed the razor blade from inside his sleeve and held it firmly between his fingers. It was execution time.

The knife-like edge was steered towards the prey. The act was slick n smooth. Others around him did not have a clue. The weapon was almost against the back pocket of the prey’s trousers. He was about to slit the cloth. He made the gentlest touch on the fabric when the driver jammed the brakes and the bus made a sudden halt. The passengers on their feet were made to do a wild swing. A man with a French beard fell over him. He got up and looked at this man. ‘Nice beard, suits him well’, he thought. Neither his nor the prey’s position changed by a great deal; he was ready. He opened his palm and took out the razor, again.

The prey was almost 6 inches shorter than him. He had a bird’s eye view. The man had some kind of luggage on one hand, and the other was firmly gripped against the metal rod to prevent him from falling over. ‘The heavy luggage would keep him distracted.’ he inferred. Once again, the blade was against the fabric.

He thought of himself as a professional and it took him just a matter of seconds to perform his act. The cloth of the back pocket was slit. The wallet popped out. The loot was in his hands. With an expression of unawareness he slipped the prey’s wallet inside the cuff of his sleeve. The fourth time he did the same that day. He kept a poker face but inside he was jumping up with joy. He thought he was turning into a perfectionist. He slowly moved to near the door.

The bus came to a halt. The terminal was 2 kms further away. He had a ticket to travel till there. But he did not want to take the risk. He opened the door and walked out. He moved with absolute calmness. The conductor did not notice him leave. Neither did the prey. He had one final look into the bus. The man with the French beard glanced at him. The beard looked even better now. He thought about sporting one of those in the near future.

Once he saw the bus leaving behind him, he quickly moved away. He walked at a brisk pace and moved into a side road; he went into one of those dingy places used by people to answer the ‘call of nature’. He made sure no one was around and then took the new found wallet from inside his sleeve. He opened and looked inside. The search yielded couple of photographs, bit of papers with phone numbers, visiting cards, few coins, couple of ten rupee notes and a hundred rupee note. He was disappointed. His previous endeavors had yielded more favorable results. This was far too less. All the effort for a mere Rs.125/- ‘Anyways, something is better than nothing’, he consoled himself. He decided to pocket the new loot with the ones he had collected earlier that day and then move out of the place. He put his hand into his back pocket. He realized it was empty.

*****

The bus reached the terminal. The man with the French beard exited through the front door. He tapped his sleeve. He grinned. He thought of himself as a perfectionist. And he ought to be one. His prey was 2 kms away and truly lost in all senses. He was indeed the professional’s professional.

in the eyes of God

2008-09-12T17:45:00.005+05:30

This blog is an adaptation of a story I heard during one of my biblical lessons long time back when I was in school.

Jaison was never built like an athlete. In fact, he looked far from one. He was thin, tall and gangling. More over, he had those thick-lens spectacles. At first glance, no one would have ever thought of him as a basketball player. Well, he was in the basketball team. That was all one could say.

Jaison had appeared for his school basketball team selections in class 8. His endeavors earned him a place in the junior team. He spent the whole year on the bench along with others of his age, though there were a few who did get in the odd minutes on court. In spite of not breaking through, he was accompanied to each game by his mother. The lady was seen at every match, cheerful as always, irrespective of the result or her son’s performance.

The next year, Jaison’s contemporaries took the mantle. But he still remained a bench warmer. His mother didn’t stop her ritual, and it seemed that the lady was willing her son on as if the ill fortune would be over in a week’s time. The week turned to months and months to a year. Another year went by, in the junior team, on the bench, and his mother cheering from the stands.

Three years in the junior team, and Jaison’s experience, unmatched punctuality and attendance record gave him a temporary gain. He earned a place in the senior team once he had reached class 11. That was where the joy ended. He still ended up being a bench warmer. It was as if the coach was scared to give him the odd few minutes even at the end of the games. In spite of the misfortune, his mother was still there in the stands, week in, week out. And, yet another year went by. No change in fortune for Jaison. He ended up having a permanent seat on the bench. The ‘Drink Server’ was how he was mocked at by his peers.

On the morning of a match day the following year, the news broke out among the team members. Jaison’s mother was no more. The lady passed away in her sleep. The team had a meeting to consider whether they should call off the match, but the coach decided they should play and win it in the memory of the lady. They also decided to wear black arm bands in a show of respect.

Half an hour before the match was due to start, each and everyone in the stadium was left petrified. Jaison appeared, with his kit, and his all too familiar style of walking. The only difference was that there was no one by his side. His next piece of act left his team mates even more stunned. He did something; he had not dared to do in the last five years. Jaison walked up to his coach and said, “Sir, I want to play today”. The coach didn’t reply.

After half time, the team was losing and the coach signaled Jaison to get onto the court. From there on, he left the on lookers mesmerized. He chased down his opponents like a bull dog, he stole the ball from his opponents like a pickpocket, he leapt like a falcon and he scored like a seasoned pro. He played like never before. He looked miles ahead of what he used to put up for his practice sessions. Jaison won the match for his team.

Jaison’s team mates cheered for him once the match was over. He won a lot of accolades. And that went on for some time. Once it died down, the coach called him by his side and said, “Jaison, I have never seen you play like that”. He replied, “Sir, it was for her. I wanted her to see me play. My mother was blind.”

I dedicate this blog to my hero, who performed a feat of even greater proportions on May 23, 1999 at the County Ground in Bristol. He was unbeaten on 140, hours after attending his father's funeral back in India.

the true work of art

2008-08-30T22:34:00.007+05:30

"The true work of art is but a shadow of the divine perfection" - Michelangelo

The perfect line from the perfectionist. Long back I had to learn a short story by Gulzar about Angelo's quest to find the perfect faces when he painted the frescoes of Saint Peter's Basillica. 'Paintings', I thought. I tried to recollect, but failed. When did i start to paint and note works of art? I used to like painting sometime back. Long time back in fact. And i still like drawing cartoons. But that's the worst sense of plagiarism, as i can never conjure these characters out of nothing. So, plagiarism should be the word to describe my talent. Though i should say, 'only a good tailor can copy a good shirt'. Moreover, the painter in me comes to life like rainfall in the Sahara. Very rarely do i find the mood, which makes me put the dreams into the canvas. Ehh... paper.....

As I was strolling thorough my house, I started realizing that there were quite a few brilliant paintings in here. Not the original ones, but the posters neatly framed and hung at different spots. The impressions of Raja Ravi Varma, genius at his easel was ever present. His 'Hamsa Damayanthi' - the beautiful painting in which Damayanti is talking to Hamsum about her lover Nalan occupies a huge spot in the living room. 'Shakuntala' looking back at her lover Dushyanthan is another one that's in the ground floor. There is this piece of art - a wood craving depicting the Dashavatharas, the 10 incarnations that Lord Vishnu takes through the ages to wipe out the asuras, the inspiration for Kamal Hassan i guess. Climbing the flight of stairs, the intermittent half landing has four small painting, again those by Ravi Varma. The Lady with the Veena and the Sakunthala Pathralekhan are two of them.

The first floor has a different flavour. Three of them in there that my father bought when he toured France long time back. One is that of the Eiffel Tower, and the Moulin Rouge is the another. I have not made out what the third one is. Should be some famous street in Paris with lots of art galleries. I was thinking. I was still thinking. Hey, there is some painting in my room too. Something that was hung long back, but i never bothered to take a look. I wanted my Wayne Rooney poster to occupy that spot. The wish fell on deaf ears of course. I went downstairs to check it out, suddenly feeling curious. On the way, I was trying to recollect what that painting was all about. I opened the door, and arrived at the painting. I looked. I gazed. I stared. There was this central figure, and people around him. And I realised there was some kind of strange coincidence, that I share with the guy. I have had heard old stories of my parents wanting to name me after him. Though that didn't happen, my alias at home was a break off from that name. Incidentally, I have heard friends refer to me by this guy's name when i get a bit too friendly with SOME of my FRIENDS. Jealousy I guess. And an even bigger coincidence, my best mate's name contains this guys name too. I was shaking my head, still glancing at this teal-coloured guy surrounded by 10 or so Gopikas.

"A true work of art, but was the divine perfection a mere shadow, or a even stranger reflection"

BIG BUCKS AND BATTERED EGOS

2008-08-16T23:01:00.005+05:30

A look into how the world of sports is being influenced by Money

As the years pass by, the world of sport is being engulfed by the power of money. The pride and the passion with which sport was once associated with, is now being superseded by the wads of cash and the humongous pay cheques. In fact, one can rightly say, the sporting world is now moving into a money-spinning overdrive.

When we talk about the big bucks, the first name that comes to our mind is ……………… yes you guessed it, Mr. Roman Abromovich. The Russian billionaire (oligarch) sparked off the ‘takeover’ revolution in English football. As it was rightly pointed out, he indeed pumps out oil in Russia and pumps in money at THE BRIDGE. He along with Peter Kenyon and Jose Mourinho are guilty for luring and eventually signing players at walloping prices and fat pay-cheques added to that. Manchester United and Liverpool have also followed the takeover path, but not to such extreme state of bribery. The owner ship of Manchester City by Thaksin Shinawatra is another piece of controversy with the Thai getting drowned in accusations of corruption back in his homeland. Many believe he has used this illicit money to storm his away into the Board at Eastlands. His exit is imminent I guess.

Couple of seasons back, West Ham United they tried to sign ‘anyone’ from ‘anywhere’ as the pundits called it and do the miracle act of staying in the Premiership. And one of their acquisitions in the process was Lucas Neill, who proclaimed in due course that he had in fact rejected an offer from Liverpool. If it was for the passion to play at Upton Park, one could agree, by Neill had blatantly revealed that West Ham offered 20000 pounds a week more (Yes…. It’s per week), which he rated higher than playing for one of Europe’s biggest clubs. Leo Tolstoy had written – ‘God Sees the Truth but Waits’. In this case God didn’t need to wait. Lucas Neill got injured even before he had a chance to play for the Hammers.

The David Beckham sage never ceases to stop. The football’s global icon had decided to part with Real Madrid and join LA Galaxy (LA … who????). The British tabloids believe there were two reasons behind Beckham’s cross-Atlantic journey.. One, the mind boggling $50 million a year offer from Galaxy (he must be counting his lucky STARS in the Galaxy board room), approximately a million a week. (Apparently the most highly paid player in the best league in the world that is the EPL Michel Ballack earns just a quarter of this). Two, Posh Spice aka Victoria Beckham might find Los Angeles better than the lowly Madrid for her business interests.

John Obi Mikel’s main contribution thus far was to earn $12 million for Man Utd. He plays for Chelsea though The Nigerian teenager had complained to FIFA that he was forced into initially signing for United against his personal wishes. Although his wish was granted, United had to be paid the compensation. But the past masters at spotting talent have to be Arsenal. They sign players from the academies of other clubs at high prices, but are long term investments. Believe it or not they paid $20 million for young Theo Walcott. So was the case with Fabregas, Denilson and van Persie. The power of money never fails to lure the players. And all this to play in the reserve leagues, at a time when they had to refine their skills playing first team football. It’s a pity to see young talented players wasting their formative years in benches across the clubs in Europe.

The year 2006 saw the worst scandal to rock football, which was the match-fixing fiasco which rocked the Italian Serie A. AC Milan and Juventus were found guilty of bribing referees and other match officials. Although necessary punishment was put out later, the potency of greenbacks had made its scar.

Soccer is not the only sports which has had the match-fixing scandals. It has raised its ugly head from time to time in cricket too. The likes of Cronje, Azharuddin and others surely brought the game into bad reputation.

Every year the annual contract which the Indian as well as various other boards hand out to their players end up in a spat. There are contrasting opinions about the unequal pay system. But, if a flat pay system is employed, wouldn’t a sportsman with 15 years experience be treated on the same scale as a debutant??

The issue of money never dies away and has affected each and every sport. A couple of years back, an entire season of the NHL (Ice Hockey) was wiped out because of pay disputes between the players’ union and the Franchises.

The issue of referees and match officials entering into gambling has also sent shock waves in all directions. This is even more pathetic as many instances have been reported in which they have been directly involved in. It will surely take some convincing to believe that these officials can not in any way influence the results of the game.

And so, I feel it’s high time that the players need to ask themselves – is it the passion for the sport, or the pride of your team or nation that drives them, or bigger and fatter pay-cheques. Sport has now culminated into a market and the business has grown deep roots into the game. A complete wipe out of such menace may seem far fetched but the time has come for some urgent cleansing action. I would like to conclude with the words of former Liverpool captain and England International Steve McMahon – “Yes, finally the players are being paid well after years of confrontation. But now, sport has created far too many cheap millionaires."

Five Minutes Past Midnight

2008-08-12T23:29:00.005+05:30

It was five minutes past midnight in Moscow.....
(Yes Moscow and not Bhopal.)

The time had arrived. The war had to begin. The old wily tactician had his men prepared well in advance. The master plotter he had become over the years, he very well knew how to take his opponents by surprise. Surprise them he will. This was a battle men and women wanted to see. Blood and thunder may spew from the battleground, but no one wanted to miss it.

The blitzkrieg was about to begin.

His men paraded to the battleground. The semaphore indicated the start of the battle and his men charged at the opponents just as he wanted them.

His men advanced ever so brilliantly. The enemies were flabbergasted. No clue did they have about this onslaught. The initial shots by his men went astray. But then, slowly but surely they took their nemesis by the scruff of the neck.

This advantage continued for a while and finally it happened. The first hit. The first blow. Advantage to his men. Plans on the paper were performed inch perfect as he looked on with that renowned pride.

But this vantage point was not effectively utilised. Maybe complacency. Maybe they thought that the adversary would succumb easily. His men lost their focus and the bolt from the blue came, when his men were least expecting it. They were hit.

His men were surprised. They least anticipated such a flaw. The audacious start had gone into their heads. The opponents capitalised. There was havoc among his men. They were hanging on by the skin of their teeth. He could not simply stand there and look on. He had to prevent his men from crumbling. A word or two from his lieutenant and he made shrewd changes to his earlier plans.

As time wore on, his changes began to take effect. Not with the same vigour as they had at the start, but the foe had been kept at bay. What started as a T20, now became a tactical chess match played on a minefield.

The battle was at a stalemate. Maybe on another day they would have made a ceasefire. But not today. Not today. They wanted to finish each other for once and for all.

The skirmish continued. So did the deadlock.

And then, the time had arrived. The time when one of them would finally get their glory.

Blows followed one after another. He saw his man in red make a blunder. Was he in tears he thought? Tears won’t win him anything. He was staring at defeat.

When defeat was inches away from him, he saw the man in blue slip and fall. His opponent had errored. This gave him the life line. The man in red could not look.

And when he least expected, another one of his foe slipped-up. The man in red was lying on the ground. His mates were running in disbelief. The opponents were in distress. He couldn’t hide his joy. They had won.

The moments that followed were buoyant, ecstatic, elated, exuberant, exultant, joyful, joyous, jubilant, rapturous, triumphant and zestful.

They celebrated like kids. They were kids for him. He looked at them again with that renowned pride

Finally, his men walked up to collect their mementos and souvenirs. They were jumping up with joy and the millions watching were capturing these moments.

Sir Alex Ferguson looked at his United team being crowned the Champions of Europe for the third time.

It was five minutes past midnight in Moscow.....

tHe EnGiNeEr

2008-08-01T23:00:00.032+05:30

Here he is. The new age techie, a certain member of the so-Called Engineers club.
If this EnGiNeEr has Any Resemblance to A Person you may know, it is not Purely Coincidental, but mostly on purpose.
In the further course of this blog we can refer to him as the EnGiNeEr.

The times are hard for our EnGiNeEr. Exam time. And worst of all, the EnGiNeEr doesn’t seem to be interested in his chosen specialisation, which is the primary concern.

Charles Dickens famously wrote in THE TALE OF TWO CITIES –

"It was the best of times,

it was the worst of times;

It was the age of wisdom;

it was the age of foolishness;

It was the epoch of belief;

it was the epoch of incredulity;

It was the season of Light;

it was the season of Darkness;

It was the spring of hope;

it was the winter of despair;

We had everything before us;

we had nothing before us;

We were all going directly to Heaven;

we were all going the other way."

Well, for our dear EnGiNeEr, things are slightly different.

“It wasn’t the best of times,

It surely was the worst of times;

It was the age for him to show his wisdom

But he ended up showcasing his foolishness;

It was the epoch of belief(on the morning of the exam day),

It was the epoch of incredulity(when looking at the question paper);
It was the season of Light,
It was the season of Darkness(references on this will be made later);
It was the spring of hope(when he enters the exam hall like all of us),
It was the winter of despair(that’s the state with the exiting process);
We had everything before us(those gigantic books I mean!!),
We had nothing before us(on the answer sheets I may say);
We were all going directly to Heaven(for suffering with EEE),
We were all going the other way(for choosing EEE in the 1st place)"

That explains a poor EEE guy with just one year left in college. Don’t know where they are all heading to after that. Poor old EnGiNeEr and his peers (some of them, not all).

On this particular sinusoidal day, with alternating periods of sunshine and rain, and moments of nothing in between, our EnGiNeEr decides to pick up his stuff and learn for tomorrow's power system exam (note the point). After couple of hours of hardship, he goes through the entire syllabus and the even more difficult task of finding them on the jumbo paperback versions he has in front. He gets drained out when he realises what he is up against. So he decides to relax and he eases into his bed with his music player. The rainy half cycle makes a timely appearance, providing the appropriate ingredient for the perfect slumber.

Once our EnGiNeEr was back to his senses from the world of fantasy and phantasma, he slowly goes through his meal. The idiot box keeps him occupied for the next couple of hours. The books make occasional appearances. Every 30 minutes of reading leaves him startling for an hour.
The EnGiNeEr is encapsulated in the transmission faults, circuit breakers, fuses and relays for some time after that. He had a nice encounter with blowing up fuses in his exam he remembers. After reading the word ‘Relays’, he spents an hour reading about the Olympic relay teams and the three-way battle between Powell, Bolt and Gay to claim the Sprint King title. No encounters with breakers thus far he thought.

Bits and pieces of the stuff were learnt in due course and forgotten fast. And time moved on, even faster. The evening and night session came and went. And now, the clock read 1.00 in the night. The lamp glowed at a lagging power factor and fan whirled at full speed, while he lay outside the study room on a couch with his music player. Dejected and desperate. He drags himself to the bed and sets a series of alarms to rise early and perform the impossible. Wondering if it was fantasy or phantasma that will occupy his subconscious mind for the next 3 hours, he dozes off.

At 4.00 in the morning, the 1st alarm strikes. And the subsequent ones keep coming every 5 minutes. This goes on for almost an hour when our EnGiNeEr finally drags himself up.

The drowsiness evaporates. He jumps onto his feet, makes an ala-Djokovic pumped-fist on the chest with words mincing on his lips. Maybe he is on a mission to settle the scores with Mr. Power Systems. With the moonlight shining through the windows, he walks up the flight of stairs, puts on the switches and sits on the chair. It took a moment to realise, no light no fan. Power cut at 5.00 in the morning. He curses. Tries some of the other switches outside, didn’t work either. Tries the emergency lamp or rather, tries to find it. His cat eyes in the dark doesn’t work in his pursuit. And now, he wonders whether he should have conserved the energy last night.

"It was the season of Light;

It was the season of Darkness"

(Would have killed Dickens with one blow had he been anywhere near him.)

Taking the Power Systems book, he walks around in the darkness, trying to see if the moonlight was of any use but in vain. He finally settles back on his bed, and wonders.

The EnGiNeEr thinks of the failed power supply. Failure in supply implies there has to be a fault. Is it symmetrical or unsymmetrical? Line to ground or Line to Line or even Double Line to Ground? Then tries to recollect the formula for the same, but doesn’t work. And after some time he gives up hope.

At around quarter to seven, our EnGiNeEr is woken up by his mother. She tells him about the power failure. And then asks him to call the Electricity Board and inform them about it. And suddenly, from nowhere, like a bolt from the blue, a divine intervention strikes him. The EnGiNeEr runs up to his mother. Takes her to the switch board. And he says, "Amma, this is a switchboard (he opens it). This is a circuit breaker. And it has tripped. It’s not a power failure. This is power systems engineering and i am an EnGiNeEr"

Dsk's Power Shot

2008-08-01T22:56:00.002+05:30

Hi there,

I have made a change in the Dsk's Power Shot slideshow as i had readers saying that the slide show is not clearly viewable in some browsers. Hope this works...

And, to answer some of queries, the snaps in the slideshow were taken by me. Clicking on the slideshow will lead you to my Picasa Webalbum.

Cheers,
Dsk

five point someone

2008-07-05T18:44:00.015+05:30

A famous title, but a not so famous author this time around.

But, campus narration is the flavour in this version too.

The squib is about the recruitment fiasco down here at CET. Few of the HEAVY engineering companies had come and gone, leaving few of my fellow TRICALS with their offer letters. My aversion towards the course I am pursuing prevented me from testing my stuff with them. Along came one of the first software companies, that too one with some global presence from what I heard. This truly interested me, as I felt it was the only vocation towards which I could contribute something worthwhile. But it came as a shock when they declared the cut off from those who wish to appear for their tests was 8.3 GPA (can you believe it!!!!!!) On the day of their test, I was killing time at home, doing nothing as usual, and only thinking about my shoddy academic record of the past five sems. Contemplating the lost chance, I decided to appear for this auditing firm which were making their appearance the next week. Late in the night on the particular day, my buddy ‘Pakaran’ rang me up, to enlighten about him being offered a job. During the chitchat, I acquainted him with my master plan. That was when he informed about another software company that was due to make its appearance the very next day. His persuasion yielded, as I was now having second thoughts. A quick word with my parents, and I finally decided to at least sit for their presentation.

Waking up early, I set off to college. No college bus on Saturdays. The sight of a lady with a basket full of ‘brooms’ was not a good omen, and it certainly didn’t leave a good taste in my mouth. After the journey for about an hour, I reached the amphi theatre, and was seated comfortably for procedures to commence. ThoughtWorks was introduced and the presentation was pretty impressive I should say. Their philosophy of not needing a recruitment drive like the big boys at IBM or Accenture did surprise me. Plus certain other details too. So, I did finally decide to take the test with some seriousness.

The test in fact was a sitter. Easy to finish off the 11 Qs in the allotted time, even easier to get them wrong. Once I was done with the 11, the thought checking my answers came about. That is something I usually don’t do, even for University exams. But, Vola!!! I had the first three of them wrong. Had to do them again and then scampered away. The whisper outside was all about high cut-offs for the test, and ‘Pakaran’ getting his share of bumps (hey, he was employed and happy!!!) Then, strolled through the campus for about an hour or so. And then assembled outside the CGPU as the list of qualifiers was read out. The heart beat was slowly climbing. My name didn’t feature in the first five (didn’t expect it to in the first place!!), not in the first ten, not even in the first fifteen. The heart beat did go up drastically, by the instant when my name was announced somewhere in the middle of the pack. That would be fine, I thought to myself. I get to EAT something before I restart the battle.

The next round was coding (or programming). They give the problem statement; we get to do the code in C C++ Java or whatever language of our choice. The statement was pretty easy and I was able to get the desired output pretty quickly. Then came the tricky part. One of the pro's from the company would pair up with u and would suggest some change in the question so as to alter the code. It was rather precarious, but still I managed it. I made my exit from the lab, asking them a word or two about my chances of getting into the next round (‘Mums the word’ was the reply!!!). This time around, the shortlist was announced pretty quickly, and I was there. I did expect it though. (Hehe!!! was optimistic for once....)

Again, there was another long wait, till all batches were done with the exercise. Now, all that was left was the interview part of the activity. Once I had gathered myself to deliver the knockout punch of a performance with my so called ‘gift of the gab’, the interviewers landed one of those on me, by announcing only half of the short-listed ones were to appear for interview then, the others had to come back the next day. Whether I was having the advantage or not, was difficult to judge. Once back home, it was a miserable feeling almost till eleven in the night, after which, surprisingly, I had a nice and sound sleep.

Woke up early on the next day. Got dressed, ate, and strangely, drove myself to college. (Funny enough, that was the first time I had performed a solo in my new car). Once I was there, I saw the Rep sweeping the floor with the Broom (Bad omen today to!!!).

Again, the waiting game, until the interviewers arrived. Once, they did, the processes went quickly, announcing the schedule for today’s session. I got drafted into the second group of three. The next one hour was wasted mainly loitering around the empty campus, trying to keep my head empty. Did not want to think too much. Once I got back, and some more time squandering, it was my turn for a rendezvous with them. The next hour flew past amazingly. Not much tech stuff came my way. They few that came were left untouched. Programming logic, loads of puzzles and a bit of HR. I handled them to my content and made them acquainted with my love affair with electrical engineering. Once that was done away with, I made my way out of the room thinking about my chances for progressing to the next round of Q n A session. Again, the long dally... This time, I guess it took till eternity. ...........

Well it didn’t. It just seemed like. They were done after an hour and a half, after which they announced the short list. And again, I found myself in the game. The next round of the tête-à-tête would begin after the 15 odd minutes they announced. The time given to grab a bite. I was contempt with a glass of lemonade.

Back into the interview room, I was the first to dart in with them. Once again, the hour flew past. The only indication was the Air conditioner making all of us feel a wee bit chilly as time wore on. This session was more about My Experiments With Craziness (with the Turbo C++ complier and a robotic competition) and of course puzzles (their favourite as you should have guessed by now). I was satisfied with my performance, this time too. Once I got out, the immediate journey was to the nearest restaurant to get my meal. Kept poking at it for a while and then came back. And then, at least a two hour wait was left while the others were being analysed. From over 170 of us who wrote the tests, almost 70 had made it to the coding bit, 18 to the 1st round of interviews, and now 9 to the this stage. What was in store was something we had no clue about.

I tried to sleep in the big amphi theatre. That worked only for just a few minutes. Tried the iPod then, not with much success either. Further, tried giving a ring to few my friends, couple of them asked me to remain optimistic. Few others didn’t bother to pick up the phone (lazily sleeping on a Sunday afternoon, I guess. Cant blame them!!!). Rest of the time was killed off pacing myself up and down the CGPU hall, until the final batch was out. What came next? Each one of us remained puzzled.

After a further pause, they called out 5 of the names, when again mine was included, and was told we had to undergo another test. "Have they not had enough of this?” was all I asked, because surely I had had. We were invited into the conference room, made to sit down, and then were given a question paper. We were instructed to finish off the 50 questions in the given 12 minutes. Once that too was done with we were left to ponder, whether they were again going to short list us based on these pre-primary level English and Math stuff.

As, the answer books were taken to the next room to be corrected, the rest of the team assembled over and started a verbal problem solving session. They said "We need 2 people only and are going to judge you based on this round". That was enough to convince me of the prank that seemed to be well planned. I had grinned all through the drama that was panning out in front of us in the next quarter of an hour. The emotions surely were running high and then finally, they broke the bubble revealing that the five of us were invited to join ThoughtWorks. After a small round of applause, they handed out a neat booklet with their brochure and a sheet with my name on top and my pay packet explained beneath in detail and the final sum right at the bottom, saying - 5.08 :-) :-)

Ya....... From now on, I am a Five point some one..............

Power Shot

2008-06-21T22:10:00.004+05:30

Hola...

Thought I should start a Foto Blog... and I decided to name it identical to my Digicam.

To embark on the new venture, I thought I should handpick what I rate as the best I have conjured thus far with my limited prowess.

The photographs were taken while I was on my industrial visit to the Moolamattam Power station, in Idukki. In fact, I snapped up this magnificent panoramic vista while we were descending the high rage section after our small stopover at the famed Arch dam.

By God's grace, I was at the right place at the right time. Couple of hours back, the view at the same point was nothing out of the ordinary. But as the twilight slowly crept in, the valley was gleaming with shades of orange and crimson. The dark clouds hanging in the air, still as a hung corpse, ready to drop at any moment. The stream flowing at a distance, among the mould hills, reflecting the phosphoresce from the horizon, which left us stupefied as the light drizzle started and the cool breeze picked up.

I requested the driver to slow down while I along with my A530 prepared to make the eventide landscape into jpeg which will be etched in mine as well as my PCs memory surely till eternity. The van came to down to leisurely pace. I collected my self against the jolt and took as many snaps as possible in under 10 or so seconds. I started off with the normal eye view, and slowly zoomed in stopping every now and then, and pressing the button, leading to the closure of the lens shutter. This continued till I extinguished my entire available optical as well as digital zoom. One after another I took the snaps in a mater of seconds.

Once I was satisfied with my endeavour, I signalled for the van to resume it’s descend at the normal rate. I lunged back into my cosy seat and shared my new found collection with my buddy sitting next to me, wondering how we ended up being at the right place at the right time. It indeed was one amazing experience.

And now, every view of the snap takes me back to that wonderful evening with the cool breeze, the splendid landscape and those melodious tunes which were then playing on my player.

The TON!!!

2008-06-19T22:39:00.001+05:30

my blog site has reached a 100 visitors in the last 19 days.... and even more number of page views... i thank all of u for that..... and u wonderful suggestions and comments.... hope to see more of that....

The Beautiful Game!!!

2008-06-06T21:11:00.006+05:30

The inaugural IPL season has ended. The millions of Indians who took up the inventive, money-spinning venture are now left in a pointless frenzy gazing into blank television screens waiting for their new found infatuation to strike again like the cupid's arrow in a year's time. This Abridged mayhem of cricket has indeed captured the imagination of the viewers. The pomp and show, and the glitz and glamour has indeed added value to the sport. But there is that something missing. I always wonder, are we Indians so passionate about cricket. The answer I fell is ‘No’. A really blatant ‘No’. If we were hardcore cricket fans, we would have been glued to our Teles when Sri Lanka played Australia at Kensington Oval in Bridgetown, Barbados. That did not happen. In fact when India bowed out of the competition, the sheer enthusiasm for the event died down in this country that we were left to wonder if the tournament was still going on. The only conclusion that I can give is - we are a lot who idolize these cricketers like those Bollywood stars and watch a game of cricket just like another Sunday matinee. There is no passion or love for the sport. It’s only the rich and the famous sport stars we adore and admire. What that lacks in cricket is what I have found in Football. Passion indeed I should say, and rightly it has been branded as ‘The Beautiful Game’. The sport has always been an out and out winner in terms of its fan following. Even in this cricket crazy country, the Italy - France humdinger of a World Cup final was so eagerly watched. In fact the whole tournament was followed with such excitement, that it amazed me, Do Indians have a passion or devotion towards any particular ‘SPORT’ (emphasis on the word sport)? In fact this is indeed what I deem as fervent passion, when a spectacle is followed by the millions of Neutrals. And apart from us, the so many neutrals around the globe.

My passion for ‘The Beautiful Game’ started sometime back. Just like most others I was a vivid enthusiast of cricket. But, my ‘Tryst with Destiny’ on this sports channel on a show hosted by a favorite commentator was indeed the pivotal episode. The half an hour ON AIR experience had left me battered and bruised, the worthy opponents basking in glory and my lack of know-how in certain sections evidently unmasked. Sulking, I made the long journey back from the capital, determined that the leaks in the pipeline will be mended in a years time for another duel (which sadly didn’t happen). The first of those voids that I decided to patch up was my grasp of this game of football.

Those were the days when ‘Beckhamania’ was at its prime. And like many I did follow him to Old Trafford. The poster boy of football stayed there only for the remainder of that season, but my love for the Red Devils was destined to last till eternity courtesy of some stellar encounters The United-Real Madrid quarterfinals of 2003 certainly have to be right up there, with the best. Though I’m a part of the ‘Mancunian Army’, I have to say, it’s the game and its unknown X-factor that attracted me. So many teams and even more players, with their innumerable skills, at times the ball sticking to the foot like glue, at times flying off like a bullet, have captured the hearts of us – the Fans. Their Gazelle like runs, sorcerer like dribbles, passes with clock-work precision and shots with rifle like accuracy, football or soccer (as in the Americas) is a phenomenon. It may be the swash-buckling, blood and thunder brand as in England, the chess-like tactical exhibition of the continental game or even the ‘Samba’ of the South Americans - whatever may be the gambit, the denouement is always the same - a sporting extravaganza, a spectacle that captivates, fascinates and mesmerizes the partisan supporters. There surely is something talismanic about ‘The Beautiful Game’ that has captivated and will captivate us in the years to come

The Gastronome - Part 1

2008-05-31T14:07:00.001+05:30

I have contemplated hard and long. However hard I rake my grey matter, I still have not been able to fathom for how long I have been having this love affair with the innumerable comestibles I have devoured on for such a prolonged period. The assembly around me have always been left dazed, stunned and awe struck. Many have been left skeptically pondering - "Doesn’t this guy ever stop?", “Where does this all fill in?" or even "How much more can this guy gobble up?" Questions and comments come aplenty, though i have vindicated on and on ad infinitum. It’s not the quantity, but the variety and diversity that i find delectable and the very same on which I adjudicate on. With the percolation of time, I have took an unequivocal position and designation, that of, being the gastronome - A connoisseur of good food and drink. My above mentioned exertions of the past and the present, have given me a prestigious and illustrious recognition - being the perfect consultant for the hungry and the apt mentor of the gaunt.

I have taken up many endeavors in my above mentioned field of interest, but this one is polarized towards our so-called Industrial tour encompassing south-India, though to be frank it was more of a jovial jaunt. The new and hostile environment was the perfect platform for me to be venturous.

For almost two-thirds of our 10 day mission, i did throw caution to the wind. Mainly during our long inter state bus journeys. Answering the call of nature at such an instance would arduous as well as abashing. I was similarly Argus-eyed in Mysore and Hyderbad too. Though that was mainly due to monetary reasons. And, this judiciousness did mitigate as each day passed by.

The first of the cavalier act was enacted in The City of Nizams. In fact it was the so called delicacy of the Sultans, the famous Hyderbadi biryani. Whether it was a rare blemish by the virtuoso is still a bit baffling, but the spicy mix simply didn’t win over my heart, (rather my taste buds) though I did gulp down loads of it, just to prevent the sheer sight of it being thrown out. Forgot to mention the performance of a chef in Tipu's land, which left the whole lot of us flabbergasted. Looked as if he was putting his Taekowondo lessons in the kitchen. Three swings of the weapon in his hand left the frying large spread from the metallic plate on the fire to the one in front of me, folded and sealed with a nice helping of potatoes inside (now when did he manage to put that inside!!!). Nothing much of interest had taken place in those parts of the world.

What really caught my eye (rather my appetite, I should say!!), was this episode in the Garden city. Strolling through the streets, just half an hour to go before the date changes on the watch. Once i reached outside this eatery (which was obviously closed at this hour), I was contemplating handing out two crisp hundred rupee notes almost a couple of hours back. The crumb of chicken, the burger and a cold, well-watered down glass of toilet cleaner didn’t justify the bill. The snack was nice n crisp on the outer, but sadly bland inside, and never really stimulated my taste buds, and surely was not Finger Licking Good as their ad demands. Just another one of those cafes for those who demand a brand name for everything. Once we made the move to few yards further, the crowds were getting thicker. Seemingly odd at this late hour. It was then we transpired that it was Ramzam season, so some shops had to be open for them. It didn’t take too many steps before the aroma gave the first punch. It was floating around like a butterfly. The next glances were to hunt down my opponent. The smoke ahead had revealed adversary. I made myself through the crowd to hunt down assailant. Via the horde I criss-crossed to arrive in front of this kebab counter. The spicy flavor was ever so prevalent in the air. The crowd and the smell are the two basic tests I always believed in (my instinct was the third). Well, the proof of the pudding has to be in the eating part. Me along with my buddy Johnny Bravo (name altered, though not without similarities in behavior), made an order. The enormous queue meant we had to wait (Made us wonder what Palvo's dog had to go through), near the charcoal filled Owen. Finally, and again finally, the kebabs arrived with a generous helping of onion on top. We looked at each other for a couple of seconds and then seized pieces in front of us. The first bite did the trick. The floating butterfly just stung like a bee, providing the knock out punch leaving us wonderstruck. We ordered one after another, munching away at the red colored, tender, spicy, tasty, juicy pieces of chicken, while the singer and the sponsorship man was left perplexed. I realized for the 1st time what it means by 'Melt in the Mouth'. This simply had to be it, the best of the best. It had to be. The half an hour of non-stop eating was probably the most joyful ever and just half of what I paid earlier in the night, but for both of us together. The bout eventually ended, when the bored mates dragged us off, fingers pointing at the watch. As we made the long trip back, it materialized to us that we had never tasted something as good as this, and might never will again.

Even today, after almost a year, the thought of the cuisine waters our mouth. It was another successful experiment as far I was concerned, yet another instance when my instinct did not go wrong.