A Life Less Ordinary

Its official now, I've spent more time outside college than I did within it. Not that I attended too many classes and all that, but I guess I've been a Corporate Ho longer than I was an undergrad student. Four years have passed since I graduated from being a dorky engineering graduate to a dorky engineer who had to earn his living.

This officially earmarks the longest voluntary relationship I have ever had in my life. Either party could've broken up at will, but both of us have weathered many storms together and have stuck on, for some reasons best known only to the both of us, while most other reasons for aforesaid situation remain significantly inexplicable.

This NaN is going to focus on the memories I have had of September 1st over the past five years, and for sure, it has been quite interesting in more ways than I could have previously imagined.

*

2004: First day of work. I was unwell, and I had worn a light green full sleeve shirt my sister had got me as a present. She had overestimated my shoulder width, my height and my girth and in the process purchased a shirt that was two sizes too big for me. I wore it nevertheless, because I thought it was important. My cousin, who's house I was at on the first day I was in Bangalore, dropped me to the office and I walked in through the doors into the room where we had our induction at 0859, one minute before proceedings began.

For the first ever time in my life, I fell asleep in something akin to a class, because the person who was giving us the corporate presentation could as well have been spraying valium through an atomizer four inches away from my nostrils. In addition to my acute somnolence, I had also been, as I had mentioned previously, unwell, and the medicine that I'd been prescribed had given me a light tremor in my right hand, and for one of the first ever times in my life, I was scared as hell about whether I'd ever be normal again.

The doctor's reassurance about it being a reaction to some expectorant tablet did nothing to remedy the situation, and it was only after I got better and I was able to write properly did I heave a huge sigh of relief.

I had been to the office a fortnight prior to my joining date, on 18th August to hunt for accommodation that was close to where I had to work. Seeing the amount of dirt, dust, traffic and the accompanying madness and mayhem was too much of a shock for me, given that Mysore was diametrically opposite insofar as the state of affairs on the roads were concerned.

Three days after the entire rigmarole began, I had called my Mum up and told her that I wanted to quit and open a grocery store in Mysore, or teach in my college and I've had constantly recurring thoughts of quitting work ever since, but the idea has been mulled over so much that its now relegated to that part of me that tends to over-romanticize trivial situations and circumstances.

Its been four years, and, as is quite evident, I still haven't quit.

*

2005: I was not doing too well at work, being torn apart between travelling to Mysore on weekends and attempting to work away on the weekdays, while trying to see if I could get a life outside of work, but failing to do so miserably. Whatever remenants of quizzing I had once thrived on in college had now been reduced to nothing, and things didn't seem to be going well.

Music, which was such an important part of my life, had also been relegated to oblivion.

In the last week of August 2005, I contracted bronchopneumonia, and as a consequence spent the first anniversary of my starting life as a working professional in bed with a fever of 104 F, getting more pale and gaunt by the minute, but sleeping like a baby and feeling happy about not having to work during that time.

Not the best of times, but not the worst of times either.

*

2006: Oslo. My second visit there in three months. Awesome place, awesomer experiences overall, and with a trip to Copenhagen under my belt, I was having all the fun I could in the available time. Work was also fun because it was challenging and hectic, and I didn't really bother much about anything else apart from calling family on occasion and telling them how I was having a blast all over the place.

On the morning of September 1st, I saw two mails - one of them said I had my august salary credited to my account, and another one congratulated me for two years of work in my company. I said Meh to both, as I had said to some other formerly important stuff at the very start of the trip and continued to work, without those two mails bothering me much until a few days ago when I took a lazy stroll down memory lane.

In retrospect, that second trip changed my life for the better in more ways than I'd have imagined it would.

*

2007: It was three years of loyal service to le company, and for some strange reason, it was supposed to be a monumental occasion, given the attrition rates in the industry. I had put NED by that time to want to stay and celebrate at the office, so I instead took a few days off and chilled out at home instead, growing my beard, combing my hair, trying to figure out the best way to remove knots and having my respect for women go up tenfold because of how they were able to manage their long hair all their lives without wanting to stick their heads in a lawn-mower and be rid of it all.

Nevertheless, this was quite a tame and incredibly lazy time for me, and this anniversary passed on without much ado either.

*

2008: So far, I've put one post up on my LJ abusing badly behaved kids, been working away as usual, had a good lunch and am about to go watch Rock On with the band. Nothing out of the blue, just another day at work with the usual stuff taking precedence over anniversaries that don't really amount to much.

Even if I end up going home after work and just crashing after watching some arbit stuff on TV, I know that I'll have had fun simlpy because I've reached a stage where I don't give a damn about too many things, and am in a controlled free-fall mode.

*

I still get goosebumps when I recall Jeff Daniels' voice in the last episode of The Wonder Years - growing up does happen in a heartbeat, but sometimes, that ain't such a bad thing either. The important thing is to protect one's balls to make the most of what you can when you can.

Whoever invented the term work-life balance sure spared no expense in trying to highlight how the two are different. While it has been something I've heard off and on during four years of work (yes, its been that long, although - you can take harithekid out of college, but you can't take the college out of harithekid unless you want to perform some surgery and dig into the contents of his stomach), it really hasn't been one of my favourite expressions.

Its true that being in the IT industry for so long ensures that one embraces jargon or learns to abhor it from the very core of her / his existence, and falling in the latter category, I am no exception either. This subject is definitely material for another post, in due time.

Nevertheless, work-life balance is something some of my BSchool buddies have also used in order to convey the balance between academics and extra curricular activities.

Now, the very essence of the term and its subsequent usage denotes that it is an oxymoron, which thus implies that work and life are two different mutually exclusive entities. Hence, applying the regular tenets of logic would lead one to conclude that if you have a life, you can't work and vice versa, which is why both of them need to be balanced out.

The implications are that work is not a part of your life, and this in turn makes even those who are 'meh' about their work to end up despising it merely because they now see it as something necessary but invasive.

I think the Indian IT industry is seeing a trend where the new poster boys are those that are able to juggle multiple things aside from work in their daily lives. It is a far cry from the times of old when the guy who'd spend ages in front of his comp working away was considered as a model employee.

Personally, I think the entire hoopla around the said term is stupid. If you can't make time for something, it isn't important enough.

Last evening, at 1800, I received an SMS from skthewimp (Skimpy) who said that sw_aadisht (MadMan) and he were planning to meet up at Shiok in Indiranagar, and whether I was game to join them for dinner.

Feeling particularly lazy, and having had completed most of the work for the day, a significant disinclination to finish the rest of it, combined with the prospect of some good Thai food had me completely geared up for the Shiok expedition, by which time, Skimpy put another SMS saying how Madman cancelled out a minute post-confirmation.

However, I was still in no mood to work for the day, and so I decided that I would leave the office anyway in order to escape the potential onslaught of the rains, which I incidentally love, but not while riding on a two-wheeler in jam-packed traffic amidst retards who have lesser IQ collectively while behind the wheel or the handlebars of their vehicles than does my left butt-cheek.

I had spoken to Skimpy before leaving the office and we'd decided to loaf around in our area once Madman cancelled out, and he called me around 2000, when we decided to embark upon an arbit walk, something I formerly knew as a 'beat', when I was a kid.

A beat was a term used to refer to a watchman's walk around the turf he was in charge of, or alternatively used to refer to the territory that a cop used to patrol whenever he didn't have NED to do so. The extension of this term was then used when precocious kids in classes 6, 7, 8 and 9 began straying away from the usual activities of playing cricket and beating up the kids in classes 2, 3 and 4 that inhabited the same road as them, and instead began their forays into exploring their locality by walking around aimlessly until it was time to grab dinner at home and then go to sleep.

These 'beats' that I used to go on as a kid with a few friends was usually in order to kill time, without being a bother at home and these 'beats' are something that I missed a lot as studies, college and subsequently work took centerstage in my life.

Hence, while on an arbit gtalk conversation with Skimpy, who stays just about 800 metres away from my place on the other side of the outer ring road, we decided to put one beat, and at the same time, sit at some small road side coffee shop and listen to random people talk and get a feel of south Bangalore proper, while it still lasted.

I've seen and read about a lot of people from the previous generations who would get together in the evenings, sit under a tree at a 'kaTTe', which is a seating space comprising of circular or square benches constructed around the trunk of a tree, and then sit and sip coffee and talk about life, the universe and everything.

For me, this has a very RK Narayan-esque Malgudi-ish feel to it, and its sad to note that there are fewer and fewer places and activities that bring one to such a state of mind, as specified.

Such space was not available to sit and indulge ourselves as we'd have liked, nor did we have critical mass, and hence the idea was canned and in place of that, we decided to take a walk.

There was no agenda, and the only thing that I was looking for was some cold badam milk or some coffee combined with the exercise that only an aimless walk can provide.

Its been a while since I've been on such a 'beat', and armed with umbrellas, us 25 year olds embarked on an exercise that I think most would associate with guys who are older, wiser and have pretty much nothing else to do, and starting from the Kathriguppa signal on the Ring Road, near Renuka PU College, we walked all the way till Vidyapeetha Circle and into Srinagar and then back, while trading stories about the evils of off-shoring, Ramesh Menon's adult version of the Mahabharatha, mangoes, 'let it be', the CET in 2000 A.D, ogling at license plate numbers and so on.

I've been taking a lot of walks lately, including this arbit walk and the photowalk among others, and I must honestly confess that its good to indulge oneself in so much pleasant exercise.

Skimpy's put information that he's going to write a post on this as well, and unless he puts NED, you can check it out on his blag.

It is to be noted here that this is also among the first few instances when I've started feeling completely at home in Bangalore, a feeling that had eluded me for almost three years since I started working. Now, I feel like I'm growing roots here and slowly digging in.

Mysore shall always be my most favourite city, but I'm slowly but surely falling for Bangalore as well, though it shall always be a distant second favourite.

I sometimes have dreams that have people in them that I know in real life. The dreams are in full colour and usually involve situations that have transpired or might eventually transpire or something totally incdedulous like being part of a Mortal Kombat like game or some such.

This means that the types of dreams I have involving corporeal individuals (heh, not even sure if that usage is correct but right now I am too lazy to check)can be classified into flashbacks, possible future events and video game fantasy situations.

I was wondering if our subconscious is powerful enough to govern their behaviour in order for the individuals to react the way they do, or is it just that, in an extremely weird way of approaching the situation, those individuals actually do behave that way and our brains are able to learn how they work and hence put through the same stuff in the actual dream?

I guess the very bottomline query of this whole post that I am putting up in a half-asleep state with a toothbrush in my mouth is, do we have control over the content of the dreams that we have, or is there something else that is able to govern that, some external factor that we don't have control over?

I know, I know, Freud already did it, in all probability, but my version includes video game situations and stuff - hah.

A friend of mine recently attended a corporate presentation at the office where he had commenced his summer internship. One profound statement made during the presentation was what he recounted to me, and it has somehow been stuck in my mind since then.

It isn't a principle unless it starts to hurt sometimes.

Sure, we all have principles. We all have certain sets of rules and regulations that we follow in order to lead what we would like to believe is a meaningful existence, one that we can look back upon at any point of time ahead in the future and feel good about, minus regrets.

The presence of principles and following them on a consistent basis definitely goes a long way in assuaging one's conscience in that regard.

I was able to personally relate to that statement made above due to the fact that I've undergone unpleasant situations / discomfort / sadness due to the fact that I've stuck to what I've felt has been right, and the bad feelings felt momentarily are relegated to oblivion in the long run.

One of the principles I have been following, more so out of selfish reasons rather than for the greater good of Mankind is to not have pirated software on my typewriter, come hell or high water. So far, I have Windows Vista, a licensed version of it that came along when the machine was purchased, following which I have been using Ubuntu on a consistently regular basis to write all the rubbish that I do. It has worked well for me so far, and I hope this continues further as the days go by.

(Pirated software = virus = high maintenance, not something a cheap guy like me would really want to put up with).

This principle was tested over this weekend when I had to send out a MS word document urgently before the end of sunday, and the open office installed on my typewriter was not able to open the file. I could've borrowed someone else's MS Office installer, something I had seriously contemplated doing to avoid going to my office on a sunday morning to complete the requisite work, but I chickened out and ended up going all the way to my work place to finish what was necessary, before heading out to have a wonderful lunch.

I guess the hot sun and the traffic sort of put me off some bit, not to mention almost slipping on the stairs while climbing down them four at a time because there was nobody I could bump into, but the satisfaction of not having had to renege on the word I gave to myself is priceless indeed.

Its been a little over two months since I blogged from my own lovely typewriter, and its a good feeling to be reunited with it again, and to sit and compose mindlessly arbit posts on it.

All this while, it was an office laptop that bore the brunt of my ramblings, which is probably one reason why the frequency of posts wasn't as prolific as it would normally be, were I able to blag straight off my own typewriter. There is a certain comfort level associated with this that I don't seem to be able to get with any other.

This post, titled pretty weirdly is one that is again centered around a portable music player that I am in love with. (Note to Self: Have a new tag for posts titled iPod).

Now, listening to songs all the time, there are occasions on which, due to some or the other reason, some songs bring a smile on one's face. The funda is that, on listening to songs with a huge grin plastered on one's face, the song for some strange reason sounds so much better than when heard with a straight face. Maybe it is because the facial muscles that make one grin push the ear plugs further within into the inner-ear to make music sound better.

I can't put my finger on it, but the bass sounds heavier, the treble is crispier, and being in 'smile mode' enhances one's listening experience in a manner that is beyond description of words, try as hard as I might to convey it across.

Somehow, this is applicable only to personal music players, and not so much to listening to music arbitrarily without headphones / ear plugs on a conventional music system. I think its probably because of the fact that this is meant to be a purely personal experience as the listener connects to the music, one-on-one.

Don't say I didn't warn you. The whole iPod related tirade continues thus...

I figured out the other day that I have almost 30 GB of music on my 30GB ipod, which translates to roughly 4500 songs, approx. Over the past couple of months, I have been listening to a very small subset of that huge number of songs, and these numbers that I have been listening to are mostly governed by the mood that I have been in.

ITunes shows you how many songs you have listened to, for how many times, and I noticed that there were quite a few songs on my pod that hadn't seen the light of day (or the equivalent expression to indicate that that particular part of the hard disk hadn't ever been read), and I am on a mission of sorts to remedy that.

I have now decided to listen to my ipod only in shuffle mode henceforth, without forwarding a track even if I think its crappy (unless the recording / sound quality sucks beyond tolerable limits), and it is probably so simply because I haven't had the patience to hear it fully (unless the songs are by Metallica).

However, plugging the pod into a comp to charge it would reset it, specially if new songs were being added, and the whole shuffle sequence would be wiped out for me to start from the beginning again. That is not such a bad thing, if only the entire set of songs could be played without the battery dying out, but that will never happen!

I guess I could extend this whole concept of listening to shuffled songs on an ipod to life in general. Rather than saying 'Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you can get!', one would be rather better off saying 'Life is like listening to music from an ipod in shuffle mode, you never know what you can get!'.

However, as a caveat, just like one is able to decide what X types of chocolates one can consume from the box, or what Y types of songs one can listen to, we all do end up having a conscious choice with regard to the superset of circumstances we are exposed to, more often than not. In other words, even if we don't have a conscious choice, we do know for sure about what can / cannot happen to us based on certain realistic assumptions that we make.

When things transpire differently from what we'd normally expect for it to, life becomes worth living all the more.

A trip to BTM layout to meet my friends and put band practise led to another situation worth documenting, to serve as a reminder that decent and polite behaviour is not a big deal, by the looks of it.

As I was walking towards my friend's house, I was accosted by an entire group of people who claimed they were from Aurangabad, and their belongings were pilfered on their journey to south India. Armed in tow with a full family of wife and kids, their plight seemed convincing, and the Good Karma glutton that I am, I took out everything in my pocket (sixty bucks or so) and gave it to them.

Luckily, as it turns out later, I needed an ATM visit to pack up my wallet further.

At the same time as I was listening to their tale, there was another chick who was also similarly stopped and she also paid up, but some ten rupees or so. She was more sensible and less emotionally foolish.

After I parted with the money, the family was saying how it is not enough and giving me more sob stories, and I finally told them that rather than take me to the cleaners and looting me of all cash by unleashing the power of the senti, it would be more prudent to use the 'drop-drop maketh an ocean' approach and instead fleece more people.

That female and I walked away together, and I struck up a conversation with her, because I was pretty surprised by this new (and improved) technique of begging and just wanted to talk about it.

So I mentioned how it sounded convincing, and then we exchanged the names of companies we worked at. Politeness demanded, or so I thought, that I should introduce myself and so I told her that my name was so and so. She replied in turn saying, "ok, what will you do after I tell you my name?".

I was honestly taken aback, because I had no intent whatsoever of 'doing' anything apart from being polite and scooting off from there to ensure that I was not late in meeting the other members of the band.

In any case, things like striking up conversations with arbit people is second nature for me, and I thought that this would be one of those things. I revel in anonymity, and like making some random conversations and then not meeting that person again in my life, just for kicks.

Now, I presume that the other party involved definitely had reasons to be untrustworthy of me, because she doesn't know me. However, the somewhat vague reply just made me wonder whether I was being over-friendly in a circumstance that was not necessary, or whether the other party was being overtly paranoid about her outlook towards polite and courteous skinny men who looked like malnourished football hooligans but spoke decent english.

I remember a similar situation happening in the case of a good friend of mine, near Jayanagar 4th block, when he offered to assist some female whose Kinetic Honda was not starting, to which she rudely said 'no'. I was watching with my mouth full of some chaat, and I felt that he did the decent thing, but the woman was stupid for behaving the way she did.

Next time such a situation arises, I guess it is best to just move on, rather than even stand around and make arbit conversation.

I replied to her statement by saying, "I plan to move away from here, but I was being polite in introducing myself, thats all. I don't intend on doing anything else." I waved goodbye, by giving her my usual dorky smile and went away.

Her boyfriend needn't worry about anything at all. She passed the 'Agni-pariksha'.

In other news, apparently the family from Aurangabad has previously masqueraded as a family from Rajasthan as well, to fleece more unsuspecting people. I hope they don't starve.

In all probability, this is the last post in my blog for 2007. I had written a somewhat senti post a year ago about how friends are moving on, while I still seem to be running hard just to stay in the same place.

This is a personal post of sorts, and if you aren't really keen on reading it, you've been warned. (My own 'cute' Caveat Emptor!)

2007 was turbulent, it started off in a whirlwind and is ending with another storm approaching. Governments fell, leaders were assassinated, more children were born, Al Gore and Rajendra Pachauri won the Nobel Peace Prize, Monkee started a blog (!!!), I became a member of the fourth estate, I became a band manager, I ended up playing bass for two bands this year (both of which disbanded, but another band's formation is on the cards in mid Jan 08) and I had a haircut with six days to spare for the new year(quite contrary to my resolve of not having one this year)!

Lots of travel, although none international unlike the year before, although I hope 2008 will significantly remedy that while sustaining my travel fundaes within the country as well. Two trips to Mumbai, one to Chennai for Kodhi's surprise birthday party (another first - considering how people would think twice before inviting a partyphobe like me), a trip to Gokarna, one to Mangalore, an unforgettable New Year's being welcomed on a quiet beach at Pondicherry and the innumerable trips to Mysore which seemed so relaxed, peaceful and pleasant for the very first time since I began work circa September 2004.

Maybe it had to do with the entire gamut of ups and downs that I had to face this year, though the ups were unparalled and the downs can definitely be remedied and as eternally optimistic as I am, I am certain that all the disappointments, trials and tribulations and the lousy times I faced have helped me build character and are for the best. Much better than cribbing and singing Richard Marx level songs about "now I go crazy wondering what it might have been" or some such nonsense.

What's done is done. Period.

I honestly think my writing this post has more to do with playing to the limited gallery of junta that read my crappy livejournal, rather than actually wanting to convey something of significance, for I am not a big fan of New Year's.

I think New Year celebrations or anything associated with giving it more than its due share of ignore are as overrated as visits to the Discos, Clubs, smoking, being cool and "Goa" (thanks, Skimpy!).

Just to clarify, I HAVE been to a Disco once and I HAVE smoked cigarettes before but given it up for good because of uncommon sense and I HAVE been to Goa. So its not like I am being an unexperienced ignoramus hypocrite.

One of my best New Year's eves to date was in 2000 when I welcomed it by studying for my 12th Boards and taking up a mock Math paper in which I screwed up one problem, which I would blame pointedly on my idiotic neighbours at that time who shouted and screamed too much in welcoming the new millennium. Then they slew a goat, drank its blood and went to sleep, leaving me traumatized for life. Wait! Maybe that was on some other occasion, but I don't really want my memory to record that for posterity.

The math problem was related to 3D coordinate geometry which was newly introduced in our syllabus, so maybe I wasn't too well versed with it anyway.

I'm not a grumpy cynic, I'm just a realist who is trying to look beyond the absolute idiots that most of us are turning out into just because of media-induced frenzies, due to peer pressure, herd mentality and because we might be afraid of finding out for ourselves as to who we are, just because there is a strong possibility that we might not like what we see.

I don't know what the point of all this was, in any case, and I just hope you have a safe and Happy New Year's celebration for 2008, and may the New Year bring you all you need, and most of all you want.

The time has come, this post is over, thought I had something more to say.

This is another post about music, solitude and my ipod. So if you think you've read enough and more about it already, it is high time you closed this window and moved on to take care of any other relevant business. Hasta luego.

However, if you are still with me so far, good for you.

My ipod seems to be clarivoyant, so far as being able to play stuff relative to my moods is concerned. Just the other day, for some reasons that I don't wish to elaborate on, I was a little down in the dumps, and was feeling a tad low.

The Bangalore weather, which was pleasantly cold and beautiful somehow had taken a sudden turn for the worse, and it was raining in an unpleasant fashion - one isn't really conditioned to get wet during December, and warm woolen clothes worn to beat the heat just seemed to add to my misery by getting soaked and literally being burdensome.

As I was trudging wearily towards the parking lot after work, being pelted by the lousy rain, I just decided to put my ipod on shuffle mode to see what it would throw up.

Imagine to my pleasant surprise when the familiar strains of "I am a Rock" by S&G began playing through my ear plugs right away. I love that song, and in moments when it seems like I am in the fell clutch of circumstance, it acts as a potent remedy which tells me how its alright to be in my shoes, without having to really give a shit about things that inspire negativity within.

"A winter's day in a deep and dark December" is how the song begins, and I couldn't help but think that it was as apt as it could get.

Building walls, fortresses deep and mighty, being sheilded in my armour where I am safely ensconed in a cocoon, at that precise few moments, I truly felt like a rock, an island.

It is seldom that this LJ or the blog that I maintain suffers from a want of words, that would prompt me to quote from other sources and use the content to fill up a post or two and the only other instance during which I have done that was when I put up a post titled An Insomniac's Lament.

The time to do so, seems to have dawned yet again, this time to quote a band that I keep liking more and more with each awesome song of theirs that I inadvertently manage to discover because my lovely ipod does such a wonderful job of shuffling songs.

This song is from their album Quadrophenia, and is titled "I've Had Enough", some of whose pertinent lyrics are as follows:

You were under the impression
That when you were walking forward
You'd end up further onward
But things ain't quite that simple.

You got altered information
You were told to not take chances
You missed out on new dances
Now you're losing all your dimples.

I've taken all the high roads
I've squandered and I've saved
I've had enough of childhood
I've had enough of graves...

Read the entire lyrics here. Definite entry within my top 50 songs of all time, a list that I have to sit and compile when engulfed by ennui.

As an aside, to seemingly offset the somewhat negative tone that this particular post might've harboured, here is a wonderful speech by Mahasweta Devi, about our country, aptly titled The Republic of Dreams. Moving and inspiring, unlike speeches full of manure that I have seen some 'leaders' spew out.

More LJ-ing in the offing, specially about the two fraud near death experiences that I had over the past fortnight. Watch the space above this space.

This operation, an initiative of the Simon Wiesenthal Centre - a Jewish human rights group aims at catching what is left of the remaining Nazi World War II criminals before they die of natural causes, nestled comfortably in some place in South America. It literally would be the last chance for the dispensers of justice to ensure that the perpetrators of the heinous crimes committed during the holocaust in Nazi Germany and Eastern Europe against the Jews are tried and punished.

Based on an article I read in the Hindu on Thursday,29th November, this operation is going to take the form of a media campaign in Chile, Uruguay, Argentina and Brazil, promising to offer rewards to any information that will lead to arrests and / or convictions of suspected war criminals. If what we've read in Fredrick Forsyth's Odessa File has an iota of truth attached to it, the Nazis were given blank Argentinian passports which they utilized to their utmost benefit when they were fleeing the wrath of the allies.

Those that didn't escape had Nuremberg to look forward to, with the allies as well as the disgruntled and highly oppressed local populace ensuring that swift and painful retribution was handed out to the Nazis, most of whom came up with the standard defence of how they were 'just following orders'.

An operation of a similar kind was launched five years ago in Eastern Europe, in the states of Estonia, Lithuania and Latvia, and was instrumental in unearthing what is considered to be some significant information regarding the present whereabouts of the war criminals.

Assuming that the Nazis were aged 20 in 1945 when the second World War ended, they would still be at the ripe old age of 82 during the present day. However, an age of 20 is a highly conservative assumption, because the ones that would have actually been higher up on the totem pole of the final solution implementation would be much older than 20, and hence probably passed on to another place where, hopefully, some higher form of justice would do what the Israelis failed to do.

Such news, of how war criminals die peacefully in their bed due to natural causes after inflicting unfathomable horror on a certain section of society in their country six decades ago shakes the very foundation of faith that us Good Karma gluttons somehow seem to subscribe to. If they don't reap as they sow, then there certainly is little point to doing good, or so it might seem superficially.

Fortunately though, selfish people that do good only to increase the amount of Good Karma points that they can accumulate are also armed with a powerful conscience that removes any semblance of doubts one would have of the choices made and the subsequent actions taken in lieu thereof.

There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.

Words from Oscar Wilde's "The Picture of Dorian Gray" that just endorse my theory of self-deprication being better than someone else pointing fingers and berating one self.

The idea is, if X is a loser, it is better he admits to it himself rather than have anyone else point fingers and say that to him. Dulls the pain.

Self realization just takes one that much closer to enlightenment.

Religion to me is very personal, and my transactions with the almighty don't depend necessarily on the holiness of the place, as much as they depend on how much peace I derive while being there.

I was told to visit the temple when I had been to Gokarna a few days ago, for it was supposed to be a very holy place, akin to Kashi in the north, and even minus the parental insistence, I would've gone there nevertheless.

On the last day of our three days/two nights trip, we had to check out of the hotel we stayed in, at 12 noon and having seven and a half hours to kill, for our bus left for Bangalore at half past seven in the evening, we decided to hang out at the town. After the others chomped on freshly caught crabs, we headed into the main town, only to find out that the temple was closed and would open around half past four or five.

After lunching on some wholesome thaali at this place on Car street in Gokarna, I trudged off alone towards the temple, wanting to go alone to see the place. After depositing my chappals outside, I walked in, only to be accosted by one of the priests, who implored me to perform special Poojas for it was the beginning of the Shravana Masa(Shravana is one of the months in the Hindu calendar) and was supposedly a very auspicious day. He said to place some money onto his platter and that God would then bless me.

When led further into the Inner Sanctum, the priests there demanded further money in lieu of performing special Poojas, saying that it would help me, and gave me disgusted, dirty looks when I told them that I was there merely to seek the Almighty's blessings through Darshan.

Pretty much every priest I went to had the same demeanour, with the end result leading to my receiving dirty looks and mumbled curses because I chose not to be fleeced. Its a different matter to make voluntary donations into the Hundi, its something altogether different when asked to pay up, and that too in no uncertain terms.

I was hurt when I saw that the priests were behaving that way, and I was told by someone very close to me that its the case with most of the temples in the holy cities. In some cases, the priests even hurl curses at you, should you refuse to comply.

The Times They Are A-Changin. If cynicism doesn't kick in, what else will?

*Sigh*

A moonlight walk along Gokarna's Om beach along with three other friends and two cute stray dogs for company, after having chugged copious quantities of beer and Khoday's rum, was just perfect, given the bracing sea-breeze and the ambience.

There was no moon and we had flashlights to show us the way, as we trudged along the sand, mindful of all that we couldn't see, and didn't want to step on. The dogs were playfully prancing around us, running ahead of us and coming back to walk with us again, as we equated the motley crew of people and animals to the sitcom Friends (for there were six of us there) in a not so praise-worthy manner.

Being happily tipsy, one of us got a bit flustered when he thought one of the dogs was about to attack him, and he stepped back onto my foot, while a huge wave hit us at the same time, and in the resultant commotion, I ended up losing my right chappal, left only with the left one.

After returning to the hotel, walking softly like I was treading on sea-shells (or was it egg-shells?), I scrounged for a pair of chappals from the hotel owner, assuring him that I would pay him for it, and that he please include the money for those in the bill.

The next morning, our last one at Gokarna, after waking up and having a sumptuous breakfast that lasted about an hour and a half, I was a little agitated for some reason, and chose to take a walk on my own.

Smiling at some of the other guests from the hotel, I was flanked again, by one of the two dogs, as I noticed something familiar on the beach. A closer look indicated to me that what I saw was the chappal on my right foot that was being washed up onto the beach by the waves.

Not wasting any time, I half-stumbled, half-dived towards the piece of footwear, so as to retrieve it in time, getting significantly wet in the process.

Just an hour before, I was lamenting the loss of the chappal and had named it Nemo, hoping that, just like in the movie, I would be able to find Nemo.

Its always nice to recover something you've lost, especially when you've given up all hope of ever getting it back. Its much more nicer when something that belongs to you didn't pollute the sea.

Touchwood.

A ride on the bike that I sort of 'inherited' due to my friend's departure to the US of A is proving to be more useful than I had previously contemplated.

It was helpful when I had to return late at 1 AM and move on to a friend's place in the wee hours of Monday morning, after the Freedom Jam, where I got to MC on one of the stages. Heh :)

This post is about the bike ride I had when I went out on the peripheral ring road, which is outside the outer-ring road, and connects Mysore Road with Hosur Road somewhere near electronics city directly, bypassing the now densely crowded and unbearable outer ring road.

My friends, Anju and Zabil purchased a flat out on Bannerghatta Road, and had invited some of us for a house-warming gathering of sorts, and it proved to be the ample excuse for me to take the bike out on some previously unexplored territory.

Soon after taking a left turn off Mysore Road, just beyond Kengeri, one is able to see the toll gate that indicates the beginning of the road that I am going to rave about in the next few paragraphs.

With the music of 'The Who' playing in my ears, my head comfortably ensconced within the large helmet, I set out on the road at a not so high speed of about 60 to 70 kmph, which seemed like a crawl compared to what most people were doing on the highway.

The wide expanse of the open road, the beautiful scenery with the grey clouds looming large, the prospect of rain at any minute, the slight glint of the setting sun peering through the clouds on the western sky, just about to go brighten up someone else's day half the world away, 'Pure and Easy' by 'The Who' playing in my ears, while I took deep breaths to soak in the moments, as I rode past them, and I had a feeling that I can't put across in words.

The closest I can think of, at the risk of sounding kinda stupid, to describe what I felt then is love. An emotion, that I have come to realize needn't be directed towards anyone or anything under all circumstances, but can still be generated from within, to be brought to the surface in moments of sheer bliss.

'There once was a note, so pure and easy, playing so free as a breath rippling by'.

The bike ride was ten km longer than the nearest alternative route through the ring road, but if I ever have to go to my friends' place again, I know which route I am going to take - the expressway less traveled upon.

When we moved into our present house in an obscure area in the outskirts of Mysore, a little under four years ago, this area was as backward as could be. Being the proud owner of a Hutch pre-paid connection (back then), I was aghast at the fact that I had absolutely no network within our house, and any sort of conversation had to be done by running upstairs and sitting, with the head and body angled in a specific direction for optimal reception.

This was a task that was specially vital for important calls from a specific member of the opposite sex, and I spared no expense (literally and figuratively) in trying to be able to speak to the said person. Eventually, I was able to look at the bright side of not having network at home, and did have a gala time slacking off work that I would've otherwise been delegated to, over the phone, specially in my final year of engineering.

Calls from the office would also go unanswered because there was no network, and I couldn't be blamed because the honourable service providers hadn't deemed the locality that I had lived in as being important enough to ensure coverage.

Cut to the not-too-distant past, when my family members switched to Airtel from Hutch, for the simple reason that Airtel put a tower in a plot that was less than fifty metres from our place. Now I could call home whenever needed, and not be too bothered about lousy coverage.

However, being a Hutch man through and through, everytime I came home, I'd still have to make what has now come to be known as the terrace run whenever I received a call. That has changed today, with a Hutch tower having been erected right next to the Airtel tower, and I have full coverage all over the place.

Walking in the evening in this place, absolutely devoid of traffic save for the odd two-wheeler returning home, I am always struck by how calm, silent and peaceful this place is, but all that was placed into the background as I spotted the two towers standing side-by-side, like two ugly shards of glass piercing the delicate balance in our locality, with their now-unwelcome presence.

As if one tower wasn't bad enough. Now, I dread the prospect of more techies or anyone else in general moving into this place, as they discover that it is reaching a stage that can be considered as reasonably developed, vis-a-vis how it was before.

What I have described can be extrapolated to what is happening on a different scale altogether to my city, with the place going the Bangalore way, in a very alarming and unsettling manner.

I never imagined I'd be among those that would complain when I received full network coverage for my cellphone at my house, specially in the john where I could be taking a dump and talking at the same time. A little too ironic for my liking, I confess. I'm more of a small town boy than I'd ever imagined.

What if it were possible for someone to travel as fast as the earth rotated on its axis, well maybe a bit faster than that, so that he/she could catch the sunrise/sunset at different places on the planet, all on the same day?

Imagine being able to watch the Sunrise at Mt.Fuji, then watching the sun break over the horizon at the Great Wall, then across over the Ganges, following its course to watch the sunrise over the Wagah border, maybe the Wailing Wall at Jerusalem, somewhere along the Seine, watch the sun slowly emerge across the Atlantic as one stood on the Brooklyn bridge, at the Grand Canyon, maybe at the Golden Gate bridge and at Hawaii, along its sandy beaches.

This is by no means an exhaustive list, the sort of places where one can watch the sunrise/sunset is just about infinite, but the very thought of wanting to do it all on the same day is already giving me goose-bumps. I hope someone can do it sometime.

Astronauts are able to see some splendid sights, apparently. Lucky guys, them.

One thing I must say, though, is that the sun or the sky or the horizon in general looks its best when you are with someone you love.

Edit:Something similar happened a few days ago with a 24 hour all-around-the-globe concert, for Live Earth. Wish I were there to witness each event in all those places one after another.

Ever since starting work in the IT industry almost three years ago, life has changed in many different ways. The amount of respect that I have for time has now gone up tremendously, after beginning to view a year as comprising of 52 working-weeks and 52 weekends and chartering the course of my life around the same assumptions.

A week used to begin on Monday, with five days of work + evening activities thrown in for good measure, after which two days during the weekend would be equivalent to the Sabbath, travel or laze around or do small work here and there that wouldn't be possible during the rest of the week.

Now there is a new shift in approach that I wish to adopt, and would encourage others to adopt as well. This shift is based on the premise that your life doesn't revolve around your work, and that there are other activities to indulge in outside of the office that can keep you reasonably preoccupied.

I make the assumption that my week begins on a Friday, as opposed to the conventional Monday. Friday morning blues don't happen at all, cause its such a wonderful day. There is not much work to be done at the office (usually) and there is two days of wothla-time to look forward to.

The week begins on a high note, combined with two days of exclusive "me-time", following which, work is then addressed. The high that the entire week's beginning ends up providing will make sure that the Monday to Thursday time-frame whizzes past like the Road Runner.

Hence, I stay up late on Thursday nights to watch the repeat of 'How I Met Your Mother' on Star World, and watching 'Head-Banger's Ball' on VH1 and then crash late, to wake up a bit late on Friday morning, and have a good week. Hence a shave usually happens on a Friday morning, and all that jazz.

Further to this, once the whole weekend shift approach has set in, I would like to propose to my workplace to allow this shift in policy from their conventional Monday to Friday week to allowing an employee a certain amount of lee-way in choosing the two days in the week that he/she wants to take off.

Once this measure has been set in stone, things will take a turn for the brighter. I will choose my weekend days as Tuesday and Wednesday, when I can meet up with other people who chose the same days of the week for their time off. Multiplex tickets will be cheap, parking will be easily available, rush hour will be limited only to office timings, its a win-win-win situation all over the place.

My week has just begun with a decent LJ post. Have a good week yourself.

I saw Munich for the second time over the weekend. This brilliant offering, from Steven Speilberg, is a very hard-hitting movie that pays tribute to the eleven Israeli athletes that were killed during the 1972 Olympics by the terrorist group, Black September, and also examines how the secret retaliatory killings of the suspected Black September heads was among other things, an exercise in futility.

I thought the movie was good enough to warrant watching a second time around, and I noticed a lot of interesting stuff about the movie. The very last shot of the movie, when the closing credits run, has a shot of the WTC twin towers, for chronological consistency.

A lot of songs were included in the soundtrack of the movie, and they were popular songs, but sung in different languages, most probably in the native language of the country that the sequence was taking place in (unconfirmed), like 'black magic woman', which was being played on a concert on the beach-side in Lebanese (mostly), as the Israeli commandos got ready for a strike in Beirut.

Level up movie, leaves one in a very contemplative mood in the end.