To Go(a), or not to go?

I'm just so confused.. Should I, or should I not?
Those lenses i ordered are going to come any day this week, and i dont want to feel sorry later about not going in the weekend.

Goa, anybody???

Have you lost your minds, my people?

Why would you go? Why would you go to a place torn by civil war, where everyone’s fighting someone else’s battle?
Religion?
Hey can anyone tell me what religion God belongs to?
YOU STUPID IDIOTS!!!!

The Blue Mountains

An exhilarating drive uphill on a beautifully laid out picturesque route, and at the end of it, a place high up on the hills where it rains eight months in a year, and white water rushes out of every orifice in the skyward rocks. But it wasn’t the scenes that surprised me. It was the mutiny of smells - Of eucalyptus, of tea, of cloves and cardamom. Eucalyptus – not eucalyptus oil, and spices not dried and packed in plastic bags (which have to be kept out of children’s reach as there is a choking hazard); but fresh, and green and yellow. (I had come to believe that fresh air had gone extinct.) Tea - not the kind that you brew at home, not of the dried and rolled black leaves. This is a fuller aroma. Of green leaves being washed / ground / sorted (I don’t really know what they do in a tea factory) on the other side of a moss-covered wall.
And it keeps coming at you almost at every turn you take; and turns are plenty in this part of the world, and so are moss covered walls of tea factories.
It is a world painted in shades of green and brown - Green of tea, green of the grass, green of the moss on the walls, green of the rock ferns; and shades of brown – brown of the soil, brown of the flaking eucalyptus crust, brown of the Tamil tea-pickers.. And the greens and the browns had a blue tint.
The rain would flush these colors down the car’s misty window, as if colors from a painting, and when the rain cleared, the clouds would cast shadows on the blue mountains, and before you know it, the same clouds would pour down on you.
The rain ruined my plans for a debut wild life shoot, but the trip was quite an experience.


Check out the drive to munnar collection here

Aw crap! not another screwed up ending!

This is a sequel to my previous post.
Somebody told me at the restaurant the other day that the guy who was found dead in the gutter was hit by an early morning train, contrary to many popular stories that have been in circulation.
And the train being an inanimate, that this qualifies more as an accident, than a murder.
Apparently, the departed was waiting for the first light of a fresh Sunday morning which did not come on time. He had caught forty winks (sitting on the rails) when -surprise, surprise!- the Salem mail came on time and the poor fellow didn’t even know what hit him. (The man was deaf as a post, I am told).

Moral of the story: You thought the railway line is a good place to take a crap when no one’s watching? You have good reason to think twice – the Engine driver isn’t watching either.. ;)

Just the usual.. They found a body..

On a Sunday morning there was a dead man by the rails.
A rickshaw driver saw two black feet protruding out of the gutter and the gate keeper found him whole..
Where the slime had to be, there was a pool of now-dried purple blood.
So, he must have dived head-first into his own warm blood? Maybe it was too cold out in the night?

And the cop pulled him by them two feet that the rickshaw driver saw protruding out of the gutter. He was laid out (respectfully) between the steel rails (with his trousers down to his knees - That was how he was found) for the deceased to be identified.
On the road by the railway track, people gathered in a dynamic crowd.
They would come, look, stay, cover their mouths, and leave to make room for a new passerby to see - A perfectly disciplined lot.

Bangalore's safe!

[I had started with my tax tirade, but I found this dead man after my Sunday morning breakfast.. Does anyone know where I could get myself a gun?]

TURN-ON

Turn-on

Remember that movie i was working on?
Now you can now watch the trailer here..

THe budding film maker that i am would really appreciate a few comments.. :)

Incomprehensible

8 am on a chilly winter morning.. A full house (well, almost) in the class..
A board with a pile of mathematical formulae stacked neatly to fit into three columns separated by two vertical streaks chalked on the green board. As the last column filled, the first was promptly and very neatly dusted off, to be filled the next minute.

The professor was solving a problem. He was so used to solving problems.
In a clean, methodical way - that was the way problems were to be solved - in a clean methodical way, fitting the lines into three columns on a green board on the wall, so the boys could take it down, and file their notes.

I did not understand. I did not understand why engineering should teach one NOT to think.
He scribbled 'a's and 'b's and 'x's and 'y's and integrated them and derived them. He solved problems about how to eliminate noise in a good design. Good God, what is the context? Where is the noise coming from? why? What are the possibilities?
Is just no one here bothered about the context?

"You're going to hell."
"Why?"
"Because all that you do is wrong."
"By whose standards?"
"By God's standards."
"Did God tell you what his standards are?"
"The book says so!"

If there is something in the world that can make me blow my fuse, it would be just that - one's conscious refusal to think.
NO book - just no book tells me what to do. They can suggest a new line of thought, they can widen the dimensions of existing ones, but not arrive at conclusions for me. That, I will do. My rights and wrongs are mine, and mine alone. My guilt, my sins, and my good will use that as
the yardstick. Because I refuse NOT to think.
Because if there is a God that created good and bad, He has created something bigger, and more Powerful - discretion.
So my friend, you'd better think twice before you tell me "Because the book says so." - I may punch you in the face.

A different ball game..

Ttictocktiktocktic..
The wooden cuckoo came out, yawned, went back in and shut the door.It has been like that for quite some time now.. She just yawns.. Soundlessly.
In the green screen of the TV, the Swedes and English are fighting it out in what seems to be a good match to watch.Owen's twisted his ankle.
England still looks the better side..
Isaksson was stunned when Joe Cole chested that ball and sent it right up the goal from a good 25 meters off. What a goal it was! They may not have won over the Swedes in 38 years, but I’m somehow sure they'll be the winning side this time.

Yawns, are warnings in a very curious sort of way. You bore me, is what they say.. Even the cuckoo in the clock.. I’m depressed!
"You've been a livewire. We're going to miss you.." Not too soon, though..
"You know what the best reward for good work can be?? Do you?" He was red in the face. Was it anger, was it anguish, I will never know. “More responsibility!"...and more, and more, and even more.. Until you choke and die..
The scores are leveled now. England has struck one, and the Swedes too. But something seems to have gone amiss on the English side. And the Swedes have been pounding their penalty box every one and a half minutes.Rooney’s very unhappy that he has been substituted. and he shows it.

The day following my resignation, they took me off my team, and put me on a testing support assignment. The one month notice was going to be a tough one.I didn’t like the move one bit, and I let it show.
Bad move. Very bad move.
I am stressed.. I want to leave.
I hate my job!
And I hated the rest of the game as well. England disappointed. The Swedes should have won. The better side had to win.
A draw.. I hate draws! And I was happy I didn’t do anything foolish like trusting my instincts on a bet.
They’ve been failing me for sometime anyway.

Next slide please.. *click*

As a friend discovered today, I have proved with my resignation that a techie can be retained for more than a year (no matter how much you bullshit him). And so when I am relieved on 5th of July 2006, I would have completed one year, and one day in this company.
And I am content with the fact that at least I could prove one point in my miserable life!

(Did I hear a YAY! somewhere? – must be from within..)
Sorry for the time away, guys. I’m going to be RIGHT back.. v

Highway *

We were supposed to leave Bangalore Saturday afternoon, but the way things turned out to be by the evening of Friday, the whole plan had to be stripped down and worked up once again from scratch.
I suppose that is what happens when you try to force things against the ways of nature. Me planning a trip 10 days in advance would not be a minor deviation from my nature, it would be an absolute crime against it!!
Needless to say, the bubble popped at the last minute.

And that is how I ended up riding a bike on a deserted highway in the middle of the night, headed west, towards the Ghats.
A ride out of the city, a ride back in time(though not too far), and a ride into another generation (truly, a different generation!) - That was what it was, and I must say I quite enjoyed it. Even the interviews!


All set(i've never seen the fuel guage that full.. quite a memorable occation indeed!!) by toothless_wonder

The kid gang by toothless_wonder

The host n hostess :) by toothless_wonder

Muthappa's enfield of '69. Well, it rode like a bullet indeed! by toothless_wonder

All smiles!! by toothless_wonder

Country roads.... Taking me home! by toothless_wonder


Click for entire album

it\'s my yappy budday!

:)

1=1 (HR arithmetic)

I ask for resources - and that's what i get!

The good news is that I finished the relase somehow..
I'm gonna have a weekend! Phew!

Sense is relative.

It rained in Bangalore last night. It was past midnight, and I had just got home.
It rained in Bangalore last night, and all our lights went out.

The irony: We were watching a discussion on TV where they said there would be a lot of cheap nuclear power now, a lot of it, now that president bush has promised us an unlimited supply of fuel. (I think that was a good deal, but I’m not going to talk about it.)

There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel, and that is what keeps you going, they say. That is, if you care – I add. My work still keeps me busy, and I’m not too excited about it anymore. Nothing seems to make a difference. Nothing seems to matter anymore. I don’t think I see any light at the end of any tunnel, Hell, I’m not even looking for one!

I spoke to the Senior HR manager. Gave him figures, told him he can’t complain about the attrition rate, when he wasn’t doing anything about it. I did a root-cause analysis and put forth suggestions – I looked like one of them. I didn’t care.
“Thanks Bala, I think we should be meeting up more often”. “Why, sure..” I said. I haven’t seen him since.

But why am I called the happy man, then, when all this whining makes it look like I don’t have any reason what so ever to be happy? Well, I guess it’s because I’m an optimist, and very generally so. I don’t have pre-stated goals, or a purpose, not in my career, not in life. The only thing I attach any value to I think is the state of well being, which I strongly believe is a state of mind, and has nothing to do with anything tangible. Just a while ago I used to loathe myself for it, but I now know better. I know now that in my own way, that makes me invincible.
That not being subjective makes me flexible, and therefore immune to roadblocks that may come in my way. But it would be unlike me to turnaround and walk back. I would take my time, fight it, bring it down, and I would do it relaxed and at my own leisure.
Like a dog killing a rat. I’m not going to eat it, and I am not bound by duty to kill it, but I will. I’ll take my time, and I’ll enjoy doing it.

I know I’m going to be successful. Don’t ask me to reason for it, because reason happens to be one thing the world has lost.

Switch??
Maybe..

Random thought for the day:
The left is a bunch of no-good-assholes!

The Highway Elephant

... (And the road becomes my bride)

And the road becomes my bride

I have stripped of all but pride..........

... (And the earth becomes my throne)

And the earth becomes my throne..

I adapt to the unknown

Under wandering stars I've grown

By myself but not alone

I ask no oneAnd my ties are severed clean

Less I have the more I gain

Off the beaten path I reign

Rover wanderer Nomad vagabond

Call me what you will -- yea will!

But I'll take my time anywhere

I'm free to speak my mind anywhere

And I'll never mind anywhere

Anywhere I roam....

Where I lay my head is home -- yeah-yeah!

The highway elephant - 12-feb-2006. (Another one from my trip home).

Happy valentines day! (Too bright - I have to squint to see)

He turned in the direction of the rustle, drawn more by impulse, than interest. Sliding down the heap of withered leaves was a snake. He steeped aside, and she shrieked.
“Did you see that? A black one with white lines – did you see that? Disgusting, isn’t it? Let’s go back, there will be more!”

The white waters rushed along in the gorge by the jungle trail, as he told her stories of serpentine passion. The snake was forgotten. He lay where he was - just a few feet away, the beam of sun that hit him from beyond the leaves shining a star on his moist black skin.
And he thought as he looked over her shoulder – These girls!

Happy Valentines Day, everyone!

History repeats itself - I’m single this time around as well.
Weirdo!!? I know I know.. :)

Breaking free...

“But the show must go on”, he said without pausing to take his eyes off the monitor.
The young man would not listen. He had had enough already, and he wouldn’t take no more. Picking up his bag and sunglasses from his desk he shouted across the almost empty hall – “Hang me if you will, but I take my decisions.” And he was on his way…

Acrylic

My life is full of colors - all bright hues.
They smell of solvent, though..
The colors that paint my life are lifeless

– they’re so.. Acrylic.
(I think that one describes my life best.. too many hours at the office, too busy to have a life..

Frustrated? Yes, a little… :) )


And he was on his way…

Macromania

By the way guys, I have a new addition to my camera cache, and she’s a beauty..

(Don’t you think??)

I dream... of a morgue..

Love was blossoming around the dissection table, the pungent fumes of formaline filling the room. A wrinkled corpse was in the center, a bespectacled kid slicing its chest with a shining scalpel out of his new dissection set. “In a straight line from the collar bone to the left nipple, and around it.. That’s your vein there.” The dissection room was silent, as it was supposed to be, and when the anatomy professor spoke, his voice traveled up, hit the ceiling, and came back in an echo. Dreams have a bad sense of timing, so the echo stood out from the original voice, and I heard him twice. Perhaps it was I who heard him best, because the kid who was slicing me seemed to be too engrossed to listen, and the couples in while doctor’s coats were too absorbed in their new found love that for them nothing seemed to matter much. The girl on my left didn’t notice either. She was covering her nose with her perfumed veil, and was trying to think of more pleasant things. Because another look at the black cut on the dark brown blistered skin would make the vomit she was holding back to come out. The professor stole a quick glimpse at the black name plates of the dreamy couple, because it would hurt him much if they passed the anatomy exam.


I was bodiless, but somehow attached to the lifeless, withered body, like a swarm of noisy flies around a blotted corpse. Only there was no noise, only tranquil silence. I was bodiless, so I could travel up people’s nostrils into the darkest corners of their minds, and know their thoughts, and I could see myself without a mirror – I looked ugly.

They had kept me for a whole week in the freezer, along with so many other unwanted bodies, and had given a column on all the local newspapers with a picture of my swollen face, which appeared on corners of the 7th and 8th pages. No one had answered, so they stuck a tube of formaline into my jugular vein, so that I wouldn’t rot from the inside.

“I have a bone set, I have two full skulls, and a whole set of vertebrae. You know, I’m not too proud about the two skulls I have in the iron trunk, but the vertebrae set I have, they get spoilt so soon after the subject’s death. So, it’s a matter of pride to own one whole perfect set.” The spectacled boy explained to his mother. He was proud, and she was prouder.

One of the skulls were mine. One of the mortuary keepers had dug me out from where they buried me, after I was once again declared useless, after they had sliced my insides for the umpteenth time. He was drunk, two cheap quarters of rum had cost him Rs.80, and he had sold the bone set for rs.550 to the excited first year, and he had made a profit of Rs.470.

This is a reconstruction of a dream that I had. After a really long time. It was really detailed -most of this description is original - even the Rs.550, but I have added a little here and there for the sake of continuity. I think I should donate my body. And that is what I am going to do.

The arm in question is temporarily out of service..

Inconvenience regretted.. (i regret MY inconvenience.. heh heh..)

Of bey blades and shindles

He’s 4 and he goes to prep 2. He says they’re all babies at prep 1. They cant even count – what a shame! He can not only count, but you ask him what comes after 7, and he’ll tell you it’s 8 – in no time. And he can tell the difference between a whisle fart, a truck fart, the knock-knock fart, and a boat fart. Aint that great?

He calls me big brother. There’s no mal translation.. he just calls me big brother, and he has me in his family picture he made in his drawing class. (Now his mom had a great time trying to explain that no, he’s the only son, and that me, I was her cousin, but how can her cousin be his big brother? Well, don’t ask me that, I have no clue myself.. heh heh..)

Amma, when acha comes back, we’ll ask him to get a good job like big brother, and then he’ll have a mala and card like big brother, and he can buy me seventy three bey blades! (You don’t know what a bey blade is, GO PLAY! This one had one hundred and thirty two sophisticated parts that you have to assemble by hand, and once you’re done doing that, he’ll put it on what he calls a shindil (must be a spindle) and says Go beyblade, Go!! Let it RRIP!!!, and it spins like a top for 10 seconds.. and the damned thing costs anything upward of 200 bucks! And is guaranteed to break in 2 days.)

He sleeps on my bed, after he watches cartoon network till 11 in the night and then you have to take him for shoo-shee twice in the night, and he promptly wakes up at 6 in the morning and licks your face! (Trust me, kid-mouths stink no less!)

Once I was reading paper on a Sunday morning, and this dude tells me that girl’s bad!
Aha? Why?
They girls kiss the boys..
And then they take the clothes off..

(Everyone at home turn around and give me that really nasty look.. NO, I am not responsible!! Seriously.. No!)

Now there’s another side to the coin.. you take him out to a shop, and he finds the best girls there, and tell them, hey, I came with my big brother.. He’ll buy me that truck there because he’s got a good job..

The girl looks, smiles.. What a great introduction.. the world’s best pickup line could fail, but not this.. Boy, isnt he a darling!