As he grins, he writes.....

Sriganesh

2011-07-19T13:14:00.000-07:00

Wonder why I've titled this blog-post with my name like the debut album of a rising music star? Well, I’m a person who simply loves it when someone calls me by my actual first name. It's like music to my ears. At the end of this post you’d know why. I have been showered with a vast multitude of nicknames through my life - so many that I felt the need to record it in a blog. I can in fact classify the nicknames into multiple categories -

i) The most obvious and usual one – based on the actual name itself: Almost everybody who knows me on a first name basis prefer calling me something that is not my first name or even have anything to do with. Sriganesh isn’t such a long name after all, yet people prefer shortening it to either Sri or Ganesh. At times I tell people I prefer being called Sri, but it’s only because I know they’d mess up “Sriganesh”. There are even some who can’t pronounce Sri properly. And I don’t really like being called Ganesh either – I feel it somehow gives me a different personality than Sriganesh, no offence to any plain Ganesh’s who might be reading this. So Sri and Ganesh apart, here’s the list of name-based derivatives I’ve been called –

a. Gansa – Short form of Ganesha I believe. There was just one guy who called me this and it was pretty irritating even then.

b. Siri-ganesh – In tamil, it translates to “Smile, Ganesh”. Well, I’ll smile, but please stop calling me that.

c. Sori-ganesh – “Sori” means itch in tamil. Grrr!!!

d. Srini – I wonder how Sriganesh became Srini. I guess somebody just had more Srinivas’s among his friends, so he decided to call Sriganesh also Srini.

e. SriNagesh – This is one of the most annoying ones. I like the actor Nagesh, but still. This is a practice especially of people who got acquainted to me through emails and misread my name.

f. Sri-G – Now this one that I like among the name-based nicknames. Kinda makes me feel respected(Sri-ji) and also stylish(like Jay-Z :-D)

g. Murthi – Well, it was initially odd being called by my Dad’s name, but I should have seen this coming when I changed my name from the good old South Indian tradition of “Name + initials” to the normal form. I’m now accustomed to people calling me Mr.Murthi. Don’t know how my Dad feels about this though.

h. Muthi – A name damage inflicted by a nonagenarian prof who couldn’t pronounce R.

i. Shrignesh – Yet another name damage inflicted by a prof while reading attendance. Why can’t he see the big vowel A between G and N. He must have thought my name rhymes with Vignesh.

j. Srigi(Sriggy) – This is an offshoot of that rhyme. Friends who had a friend named Vignesh called them Viggy –so they called me Sriggy. D'oh!

k. 3G – This has to be the most interesting nickname that arose from yet another crackpot prof who read my name ThreeGonesh once in class, to which the entire class was like puzzled for a moment and then began guffawing. That roll-call was so memorable most of my class-mates started referring to me as 3G, what with the telecom boom happening in India. The nickname later even evolved to mean 3 glasses.

Now let’s move on to the next category-

ii) Appearance-based: Well this had one of the funniest nicknames no doubt. People enjoy calling others names to make fun of them. And if you have some self-deprecating humor, it’s not a big deal. I realized this very early in life and bore a silent grin to anything that came my way – Kuchi(Stick), Olli kuchi(Thin stick – there is a difference you see), Oosi(needle). Well I thought they couldn’t find anything thinner than that. Then came the movie 3 Idiots, which had a character called millimeter. So I quite recently got a nickname “MM”. Pretty un-innovative nickname though, so it didn’t catch on.

On the other hand, there were sarcastic nicknames based on appearance – which I enjoyed more. I’m a big fan of sarcasm, you see. So there was “Body”, “Iron Man”. I once even overheard someone in the bus saying to someone else, casting a glance at me, “Doesn’t he look like Sylvester Stallone?” But I don’t remember if there was a giggle after that. Maybe I chose not to hear. Yet another very popular nickname in my high school was Osama, after some newspaper released some childhood pictures of the now-dead Osama bin Laden, in which he looked remarkably similar to me, or at least some idiots thought so. And I was called Osama for a large part of the graduating year.

iii) Based on traits: Well, this category has some of the most oft-used nicknames. The first one and my most hated nickname award goes to “Aps”. Given in my engineering days because I was one of the few hostellers to take the aptitude tests conducted by some association, and occasionally I would be in the list of top 20 or something scorers that was published on a noticeboard. Just because of this one friend started calling me Aps(short for Aptitude) , and he was such a good marketer at that age itself that the name got viral within a week. Though I hated that nickname, I couldn’t stop people calling me that. Even if I tried, they would only get more adamant. This nickname is the stickiest nickname of mine – has stuck till today and most of my classmates still call me this, and even those who got acquainted with me through those friends. And some people who heard this nickname later, confused it with "Abs", for my six-packs :-P

Some other names based on traits are a) “Guruve” – I can never be a good student, let alone a guru. Just one of my good friends calls me this, and it’s pretty random. He has many gurus in his life. When I pointed that out, he started calling me “Guruvukellam guruve”(guru of gurus) Like I’ll believe it. b) "Geeko" - given by a friend who sincerely believed I was a geek running after beauty. Other friends too have sometimes expressed I am a geek, but I have to eat humble beans before real geeks. So ya, geeks are respected species in my world. :-D c) “Singhame”(Lion) – A nickname given by someone who is even more infamous for nicknames. He is only called by his nickname(Boss) by all people. Even his FB profile has Boss as his first name. d) “Thala” – Woohoo! This is one nickname, I love, being a Thala Ajith fan.

iv) Self-given nicknames: This sure is an odd category, you must feel. Well, yeah, sometimes things you say intentionally or unintentionally end up becoming your nickname. Intentional was “As-he-grins” – a jumble of my name(also the title of the blog), which I used as my nick myself in IIML’s DC++ JumbleFever game. Being a crossword enthusiast, I didn’t mind being called this. Apart from this, yet another self-given nickname was totally unintentional. At IIML, there was once a mail thread among all Tamil students about some regionalism-related issue, to which I replied starting my mail, “At the risk of being labeled a Fraud Tam….” Little did I realize people would take it seriously and really label me Fraud Tam. :-D This sure was a risk I took unwisely. Never fool around with Tams. Anyway to set things straight, I’m more of a Fraud Kannadiga than a Fraud Tam.

v) Totally random ones – a) “SIF”: The story goes- At our college alumni get-together that we were organizing, some of the alumni at a bonfire session were having fun, remembering old stuff and cracking drunken jokes they wouldn’t want to hear themselves the next morning. And I was one of the listeners there who had to listen to their stand-up comedies. I had introduced myself to many of them and was chatting up, but had to get busy later with something else, so left midway. And later, one of my other friends who joined the party afterwards said that one of the alumni kept asking “Where is that South Indian F*****?” So that friend thereafter named me SIF and still calls me that, despite being a SIF himself.

b) The next random nickname is the best of the lot and I conclude this post with it. The award for the most innovative nickname goes to “Lady Ghajini”. Don’t ask me how anyone could think up such a nickname. I’ve got no clue myself. Plus this guy was drunk too, when he called me that. This nickname was so out-of-the-box and out-of-the-blue that it could easily be remembered the morning after too.

At the end of it all, the choices are abundant I know (>28, to be precise), but just call me Sriganesh.

Euronuggets

2010-12-18T06:04:00.000-08:00

I just got back to India from a 3-month student exchange programme in Paris, and I thought I should post some of the interesting observations from the trip in Europe. I don't know what exactly I expected in Europe before going, but it was mostly on the lines of "Cleaner, more technologically advanced, more open culture." So there was no culture shock as such for me, but here are a few revelations I had.

Does anyone at all know Paris?
Though Paris is a tourist's dream, it is also a nightmare in a sense. Almost everybody travels by the complexly well-connected metro, so much so that nobody knows Paris by foot! We were in Paris for "Nuit Blanche", a night to celebrate art on the streets. We were with a friend who has resided in Paris for quite some time. We reached Notre Dame and after seeing a long queue there to enter the church, we decided to go some other place. We went to Musee d'Orsay expecting it to be open, but it was closed. So our next stop was Grand Palais, to which we had to ask for directions. Our Parisien friend told "I've not been to any place in Paris except Eiffel tower. Only tourists know where all the important places are in Paris.". So she stopped one guy and asked in French for directions, and he replied, "Sorry I'm not from Paris. I don't know where it is". So ultimately, except the maps nobody knows Paris. Or it is in fact a true thing that Parisiens are rude to tourists.

Pickpockets
It's true European countries care a lot about their citizens and everyone is happy. But certainly not so for the many immigrants. There are beggars in France too, in the trains as well, like we have in India. And there are surely more pickpockets in some parts of Europe than in India. Why, I was pickpocketed at Geneva, Switzerland of all places. But I guess it being Switzerland, the pickpocket had more money in his wallet than I did. So after I chased him for a bit shouting "Dude, stop, please", he stopped, and returned it back as it was.

And in Rome, as I was waiting in a metro station, a lady was standing behind me, having sleepless eyes as wide as someone going through the Ludovico technique. I didn't understand what she was staring so hard at. Then, as I started boarding a train, I felt some pushing from behind me and then a hand slipping into my back pocket. Immediately I pushed it off, and moved farther away. I realised it was the same lady and realised what she was staring at, perhaps analysing what would be the best way to pickpocket. She failed, haha!

Kisses and cameras
Tourist couples are really on a mission when they are in Europe - "Kiss in front of every landmark or place of cultural/historical significance". In front of Eiffel Tower, yes - perfectly acceptable. In front of the colosseum - yes, ok, it's grand and looks roma-ntic at night. But inside the Sistine Chapel? How in the world does Michaelangelo's painted ceiling turn you on, rather than induce real admiration. And in front of Manneken-Pis. It's just a statue of a small kid pissing, Goddammit!

Ya I guess I'm more peeved because I was there single, and maybe guys are obliged to do it - to prove that they think the girl is more beautiful than, say Monalisa, or more intelligent than Da Vinci, and braver than Joan of Arc.

And one other funny thing about kisses. Some couples traveling alone so badly need a snap of themselves kissing, and I've often seen this happening - the guy holding a cam at an arm's length and his girl on his mouth, in an attempt to capture the moment. I was tempted to volunteer to take the photo, but felt it would be really weird to do that, the same reason why they didn't ask anyone to do it.

The French Tamil Connection

This part is my favourite of the lot. Still laugh thinking about it. There are thousands of Indians in Paris, and at least like half of them should be Tamilians(including Lankans too). Why, there's a Saravana Bhavan, a Madras Cafe, and even a Muniyandi Vilas in a street near Gare du Nord(Northern station). In India it would have been a contradiction(it should have been Gare du Sud). Anyway on one occasion, I was talking to a Tamil guy on phone to book a ticket for Endhiran. He had tickets and was willing to give them to me at a place close to where I stayed. So he asks me in French - "Ou habitez-vous?", meaning "Where do you live?" But he was a little too fast for me to grasp that. So I said "Pardon" and he repeated in Tamil - "Enga habite panreenga?" I was like "WTF" for a moment, then got it, and was almost about to reply "Eh? Unga aaya veetle"(a colloquial slang-ish phrase meaning "in your grandma's place"). But then I laughed it off and told the real answer. It was surprising that he couldn't say "Enga irukeenga", which would have been the normal translation. Instead he mixes the French verb for living in a funny way. Tamilians in Paris(especially those born and brought up there) have such a strong dose of French in their conversations that it freaks you out. Once I was at the aforementioned Gare du Nord waiting for a few friends. There were these two Tamil guys who met up at a crossroads casually, and were like "Ca va?". "Ca va". Then they started conversing in proper Tamil with a bit of "Voila" here and a bit of "Alors" there. So strong were their Coimbatore and Sri Lankan accents that if you didn't see them, you would think Sathyaraj and B.H. Abdul Hameed(Ka kuril alla nedil fame) were having a conversation.

That's it for now. Will add more if I recollect any later.

Gizfortune

2010-02-04T10:58:00.000-08:00

Let me start this post with a recap of an incident that took place almost a year back. A week before leaving for IIM Lucknow, I had gone with friends to Wonderla, a water park in Bangalore. During one of the rides(a topsy-turvy one, infact), I foolishly carried along my mobile in pocket, underestimating the craziness of the mean twisting machine. As the ride is at its peak, and the carriage rotating 360 degrees in the air, my mobile slips out of my shorts' pocket and is sliding back and forth behind me in the chair. And I am desperately trying to control its movement with my bum. But how could I have possibly done that for long as the bloody ride thrust me forward and backward and everyother-ward. The mobile soon slipped outside from the side of the seat and fell down from a height of atleast 50 feet. If noise level could be measured inside a mind, at that moment, my mind would have read 2000 decibels. I was mighty pissed at myself and was cursing every time the ride rotated after that. Bloody maniac. Anyway, after the ride got over and I got down one of the co-passengers pointed me to the guard who had collected the remnants of the mobile phone. I went to him and was surprised to find the mobile in one piece. Did he assemble it so quick, I thought? Au contraire, it seemed no damage had been caused to the mobile. But it had switched off and the memory card had slightly popped out. When I switched it back on, I was relieved, rather shockingly that it was working as normally as it used to. Nokia N72. Rock-solid.

Fast-forward to 3rd term at IIM Lucknow. During my term break, I had been to Goa, and while deciding to kayak in the beach, my foolishness came into play again. Paying no heed to the instructor's advice to leave behind my camera, I thought I can carry it along safely as it had the pouch. As I sit in the Kayak and begin rowing, a huge wave lands thud and I am all wet, I pull the kayak back onto the shore and decide NOW that it is indeed unsafe to carry the cam inside. So I run all the way back to our shack, keep the cam in the room and return to kayaking in the sea. Little did I know what games the sea-water was playing with the circuits of my camera inside the room. After returning from a tiring session of kayaking in the sea, I checked my cam and found that it wouldn't turn on. It was obvious some damage had been caused, but I was sure it could be repaired.

Back in Lucknow, I had given the cam to Sony Service Center for repair, and after two days they get back saying it cannot be repaired. I go to the store and press for reasons why, and they obliged gleefully. They had dissected the cam and discovered that there was too much corrosion due to seawater and that the cost of replacing all the parts could equal the cost of getting a new camera itself. They even showed me the pics they had taken of my cam. They even had a name for my case - "Sriganesh DSC water gone case" WTF :-| Man, I loved the cam. I'd bought it when I was in the US, as a last-minute decision. Should be happy that I at least got to use it for around 8 months. The ultimate irony is that the camera model is called H20. And H2O killed it.

Wish I had seen this site before venturing out on the kayak with the cam.

A week later, as I am preparing for an event for the Alumni committee of IIML , we had plans of streaming it live from one of the classrooms. I was testing out the details of how we would be doing it. The audio input was the most challenging aspect, as the sound could not be captured with enough clarity on the laptop. The lead from the amplifier to the laptop didn't work. Then we asked Nimaji(the classrooms in-charge), if we can try connecting the speaker output directly to the laptop audio-in. So he got a wire, connected it to speaker's output and redirected the output to the laptop. Before we could do that, another staff member who was in the room warned us that this would cause the laptop to crash("bhaith jaayega" were his words). Not being an electronics or electrical savvy person myself, I thought it should be fine. But the moment something was uttered into the mic, and the sound flowed into my laptop, it sat down, as he predicted. I psyched out. I pressed the Power button, it turned back on and I sighed a huge sigh of relief and we gave up the effort for the day, saying Enough is enough, we'll figure out a better way of getting the audio input. Later in the day I realised that All is not well. The audio unit of my laptop was out. Hardware failure. Power from the speaker must have damaged the circuits inside the sound card. Luckily the laptop was fine. This was because I had backed up my data on an external drive a few days back to avoid data disasters others were encountering of late. If I had not done this, I am sure fate would have certainly dealt a death blow to the laptop itself, and not the sound card alone.

The story doesn't end here. Two weeks later, one fine morning, in my hostel room, I turn on my laptop and I hear a loud pop sound from near the plug point. I notice that my laptop was not getting charged. My laptop charger had gone bust. The smell of burning cable filled the room. I couldn't believe my luck. Later in the day I realized others in my hostel wing too had lost their chargers that morning due to some electrical discharge. Some solace. :-D This time H10 was the culprit(my hostel number)

One more strike left - lost my 2GB thumb drive in CC this week. I didn't bother much as it didn't have much important data and this loss was trivial compared to the others. After all this trauma, I'm on the constant lookout for something bigger and I'm being extremely cautious with the rest of my gadgets(I have stashed away my iPod in a safe location, I'm thinking of getting a cover for my N72 even though Nokia rocks, I can't trust my Luck any more). If only one can always get away with foolishness. Nature has taught its lesson.

The story of my Pink Puma shoe

2008-12-13T19:40:00.000-08:00

Let me begin this blog post by testing your skill in identifying colours.

What colour would you say is the shoe that is shown in the pic below?

Okay now, in the second pic..

Can you observe a tangible difference in the shades of the same color? Well, this is the story of my new Puma shoe that I bought in a showroom in Forum mall, Bangalore. In the showroom, under yellow lighting(well I've tried to replicate the lighting as closely as possible using a candle), the colour of the shoe looked a nice tinge of red. And the design was sure eye-catching. But when I wore it outside in broad daylight, the colour became much more eye-catching than the design. It was PINK, for god's sake. The first day I wore it to office, I could sense the funny stares that I was getting from anyone who noticed the shoe. In fact at a foodcourt that day a guy at an adjacent table was looking at the shoe for almost 1 minute with a strange expression on his face. The question on his mind was rather obvious - "Why is this guy wearing pink shoes?". The experience spawned off a lot of thoughts in my mind that day. I began to wonder if it could be a ladies' shoe. I met a few colleagues of mine on the way from the foodcourt to office, and they too spotted the shoe naturally(it's so eye-catching on a guy, believe me). We discussed about how this is my second real designer shoe after the Nike that I lost in my office dorm 1.5 years back. One guy joked "You won't lose this shoe definitely, unless you sleep in the ladies' dorm". Even though it was a great joke, and I was laughing along, the train of thoughts continued in my mind. "Is this really a ladies' shoe?", "If so, why didn't the store guy tell me", "Was he having fun at my expense?", "Why did I choose a pink shoe?". It was such negative thinking in the beginning. Then after reaching home, I wanted to confirm if it was a ladies' shoe. How would I do it? Nothing was there in the cover that came along with it. Then I looked at a small size tag that was concealed beneath the tongue of the shoe. It had different size definitions on it. One of it read US'W 9.5. That killed me. US'W definitely meant US women. It sealed the case. I had bought a freaking ladies' shoe and even worn it. What I have done is a mild form of cross-dressing. This definitely added testimony to my being a terrible shopper.

One of my greatest goof-ups in shopping, I must say. I wished I had bought it for a girl-friend or something. I considered trying to sell the shoe to girls who might like the shoe. But that would be quite an embarrassment. I asked my sister and she herself laughed at the idea. So now that I had no choice but to wear the shoe, I proceeded to justify my decision in buying this shoe. I mean how can you really differentiate between a guys' shoe and a girls' shoe. Is there any significant difference in design? Ok you people say "Look at the colour, you effin' retard. It's PINK". Look, my reasoning is that I saw it as red in that lighting. Maybe I am colour blind, but I'm not alone in this. There are others who think the shoe is actually red. Even the good friend who gave me the idea that this experience had the potential of being a good blog post. Well, to be frank, she was the only other person who thought the color was red. So anyway, am I at fault, or the shopkeeper for using such lighting in a shoe store? There should have been a sign outside the store that read "Color-blind people, BEWARE". Well, to his credit, he made the sale and a pretty good one at that, you can't blame him. So let's get back to the question. How can you differentiate a guys' shoe and a ladies' shoe, based purely on design and not on freaking tags hidden deep inside the shoe. Is there any big difference is the anatomy of the feet of the two genders. We're a lot different anatomically in other areas, but in the FEET. Are you crazy? Maybe a doctor would know the answer better. As far as I know, ladies' feet are generally smaller, that's all. But I don't have such large feet, goddammit. The shoe fit me perfect and I chose it. Ok now, don't think I'm angry at myself or that I'm trying to gain your empathy. You should have laughed enough by now you'd feel sorry for me. But no, I stand by my decision. I just hope the dreaded day doesn't come when I go out with a girl and she wears the same Pink Puma shoe, something like what happens to Ross in FRIENDS.

Ross wears a pink shirt

Now let's get a little serious and ponder over a few questions very important to the context of this blog. Why is the color PINK associated with girls? Why is pink a feminine colour? Can't a guy wear pink confidently, provided he's not displaying gay pride? FYI friends who'd like to know the history behind this fashion stereotype, pink was actually a colour associated with boys and blue with the girls, in the older days(until 1930). Then some bloody fashion-impaired maniac came into the scene and changed the perspective. Pink became associated with girls for god-only-knows what reason. Why would such a paradigm shift in fashion happen? This was a totally inexplicable social phenomenon, the most important when concerned with gender-color relationships. There have been guys like me who have tried to explore this mystery(perhaps they too bought something pink). Here are a few related links you might be interested in.

Why Pink became a feminine color?

Pink, Pink, Pink. Is colour preference cultural or genetic?

I believe this could be very well be a part of a cycle, as in, after another century or sooner than that, pink would become a masculine colour, and rightfully so. Mark my words. I will be a part of instrumenting the change. I will proudly strut around wearing this shoe and make more guys buy pink. But seriously, in my opinion we already have enough gender-based stereotypes. There is no reason why a colour should be associated with a particular gender. It is purely a cultural factor that determined that girls should prefer pink and boys shouldn't. This is just one side of the story. Gender withstanding, homosexuals add further complexity to the issue, staking their claim over the colour. I wouldn't be surprised if I got a wink or two from guys if I walked down Brigade road wearing this shoe.

All said and done, I guess there is no reason I should be making such a fuss over the color of a shoe. Tease me or taunt me, I ain't gonna budge. It takes guts to publicly admit a goof-up of this sorts. I'm gonna stick with the shoe and prove a point. PINK is in.

P.S Who am I kidding? If any of you readers are interested in buying the shoe, please contact me. Price very negotiable. :-)

On being an Ajith fan

2007-11-29T19:39:00.000-08:00

I've been asked many a time why I'm a big fan of Ajith. Let me choose this occasion to open up in the blogging world about the reason why. Before that let me inform those who might be ignorant that only 3 days back did Ajith make his first appearance on TV for an interview. What a long wait it has been for me and a million other fans of Ajith, fondly and proudly called Thala. It was my sister who informed me of the interview, knowing how big a fan I am. My sister has this bad habit of giving regular TV updates. But this time I was happy she had this habit. The interview was first screened in the evening and I missed it, being in office. Then my sister called again to inform me that the channel(Kalaignar TV) flashed at the bottom of its screen that the interview would be retelecast at 10 in the night. It was with great pleasure that I almost ran home desperate not to miss a minute of the interview. I was surprised to see Ajith looking rather old, showing no concern to dye his graying hair, which most other actors deem mandatory for any public appearance. He might have looked old, but he was smart as ever. The interview was not the stereotype kind that you see most actors give on Tamil channels, walking around with the interviewer and laughing aloud to silly jokes. The interview was on a very sombre note kind of like Hard Talk on BBC or "Rendezvous with Simi", which may not have been to the liking of many people, but I preferred it that way.

Here's a small part of the interview on youtube.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=60vXRPJiSQE

I am the only Ajith fan in my room and it was hard when everyone else in the house laughed out aloud on hearing Ajith say seriously, "At one point of time I've given many hit films". It was pretty hard, and at the same time it was also hard resisting laughter myself. The first half of the interview dealt with Ajith clarifying most of the misconceptions that people, fans or otherwise have about him. To be frank, it looked more like an interview Ajith himself had arranged, rather than the channel. It was a wise decision, I must say. And as Ajith himself said, he must be thankful to his fans who have always been highly supportive irrespective of the number of flops he has churned out. It was interesting to see Ajith answering the questions in a very dignified manner, weighing his words before speaking, and speaking very maturely.

The second half of the interview was all about Billa. I had said in my review of Sivaji that the quote "Style is the man himself" couldn't fit anyone better than Rajni. But now, after having seen the stills and trailer of Billa 2007, I may have to rethink. Not in the least am I saying that Ajith can be compared to Rajni, or can be considered his successor. There can be no one claiming to be the next Superstar. But as Ajith so humbly said, just being chosen for the role of Rajni's Billa is in itself a great honour and achievement. It sure does seem to me that Ajith in Billa has definitely done more justice to the role compared to Shahrukh in Don. It is his class and personality that made me his fan in the first place, not his acting which I cannot claim he's great at. However he's much better than the actor whom I don't even want to name. Considering Ajith's not Tamil by birth, it is no mean achievement that he's won three filmfare awards already. He might have gone through a bad phase of a string of successive flops due to bad choices and decisions, but he's here to stay now, and he's gonna rock big time.

Now, touching upon the issue of such hero-worship, which is most prominent in Tamil Nadu, let me make it clear that I'm not a die-hard fan of Ajith and all, the likes of whom will go to the extent of throwing the TV remote at the screen, unable to bear friends constantly making fun of their hero. This is a real incident which happened according to reliable sources(i.e one of my friends), an incident which makes you think that Ajith fans are the wildest and the craziest. I certainly am not that die-hard partly due to my character and partly due to the fact that I know such idolatry is foolish. But one thing is certain, there is a quality in Ajith which makes fans remain loyal to him inspite of his failures, pretty much similar to Dada, Sourav Ganguly. It is a highly acknowledged fact that fans of Ajith are also most likely huge fans of Ganguly. Infact there's an Orkut community dedicated to this strange truth. Let me proceed to tell you the reason why. There is a certain Tamil Madras baashai word called "gethu", which describes no one more aptly than Ajith in Tamil cinema and Ganguly in Indian cricket. They both are gethu-personified. To define gethu in English is a difficult task. Let me try though.

Gethu (noun/adjective) - It is the attribute of a person that invokes tremendous respect and admiration. Gethu implies a certain innate self-confidence which need not necessarily be seen through actions.

Basically, you know a person has gethu or is a gethu person, merely by seeing him, and more so by seeing him walk. Gethu is spell-binding and inspiring. That is why, despite the number of failures a gethu-personified man goes through, his admirers expect him to bounce back, and more importantly know he will. It can't be refuted that no other Indian cricket captain in recent times has invoked the same kind of respect as Ganguly did. It was as if the role of Indian captain was made specially for him. It was painful to see him mistreated so badly during the Chappell phase. But we, his supporters knew he'll bounce back, not merely due to his talent, but mainly due to his personality, his gethu. Similarly in Tamil movie industry people know Ajith has this mysterious quality which will make him rise like a phoenix from the ashes, like a lyricist wrote so befittingly. And it is this quality that makes fans of "the actor who I'd again rather not name" so scared to death of the fact that Ajith is back for good. I know there are gonna be some "Mr. Wise Guy" comments to this post from such fans on the lines of "You had me in fits. This is your funniest post ever" or "Man, I pity you for still believing in a flop machine". To them, all I have to say is that time is the best tutor and it is we who'll have the last laugh and they who'll pity themselves for being a fan of "the actor that may not be named in my blog", the actor who at best can be described as the subject of the post I made four months back.

Hail Kriket!

2007-09-27T11:14:00.000-07:00

Why is it that I never stop watching cricket despite knowing it's just a game which 11 fools are playing and 11 million fools are watching? It's because I know Bernard Shaw wouldn't have said that had he been Indian. It's because even Infosys knows that every Indian will attach more importance to an India-Pakistan final than to his work, and hence shows the match on big screen in the campus itself. It's because events like the Twenty20 World Cup keep happening to Indian cricket. But, this was the mother of all such events, so huge an event that I had to blog about it, though I know every other Indian blogger is either doing the same thing, or is refraining from doing it in order to be different. I didn't want to be in the 2nd category.

My first blog was written with great expectations, and as always is the case with the Indian team, when you expect too much, they don't deliver. This time around, who would have expected this team even to reach the semi-finals, let alone win the cup. But they delivered, albeit in the absence of the legends. That though mildly saddening could have been a blessing in disguise. How much every Indian would have rued the fact that they couldn't see Sachin "The God" Tendulkar celebrating winning the World Cup. But in my opinion and in several others' the presence of the legends would have created a huge imbalance in the team. Imagine Ganguly fielding in the position where Dinesh Karthik took the blinder off Smith's willow. And also imagine Ganguly being the replacement keeper for Dhoni. Imagine Dravid fielding in the position Uthappa threw down Imran Nazir's stumps from. Imagine it was Sachin who was belted for 20 runs off an over instead of Sehwag. It's clear that it was the nimble limbs of the fielders and the spirited bowling and batting of the youth that helped us achieve this feat. Thank heavens the selectors did not include the legends in this format which is best-suited for fresh and young talent and not talent which is past its prime. That Sachin, Rahul and Sourav withdrew from the event only seems a farce to me.

The T20 format is here to stay, undoubtedly. In no other cricketing tournament has the level of intensity and drama been so high from the beginning to the very end. The momentum of a match can swing wildly in the span of 3 balls, and this is what makes one believe it is difficult to fix matches in this format of the game. But what the hell, bookmakers can find simple ways of fixing even this format, considering this format is the most lucrative. Cynics will remain, but the game will always be the winner. Regarding the debate as to whether T20 will kick the ODI format out, I don't think it will. The cricketing bodies rarely do show mercy to the players, and they will try to make the schedule as tight as possible. ICC has a very challenging task at hand, and so do the statisticians, the poor souls who assimilate numbers and put them together in a meaningful format for pathetic losers like me who think cricket statistics are one of the several things that you ought to know in life. But luckily I'm not one of the even more pathetic kind that believes cricket statistics are the only things that one ought to know in life. I encountered that kind in a cricket quiz that I attended recently, where people know statistics like the total number of wickets the famous Indian spin quartet of the 70s bagged together. Good God, they had to know how many wickets each of the quartet had taken and then sum it up. They came up with the right answer too, the maniacs. Let's not digress and no, they didn't make me envious.:-)

There are chances that the ODI format could gradually be shunted out, what with it being totally dominated by a team which is so ruthless in any world cup of the longer form of the shorter version of cricket, but which has high chances of being kicked out in any stage in the shortest version. Talking of kicking, the other debate is about why and how cricket constantly manages to kick any other game which shown signs of improving viewership among Indians. This is a long-running debate in Indian sport. As a matter of fact, I was quite irritated when cricket so shamelessly stole the "Chak De India" caption from hockey, especially after I watched the movie. If hockey administrators had some foresight, they should have gone ahead and copyrighted this phrase for hockey's sake. Now, it is rather unfortunate that "Chak de India" will be more commonly used to motivate the Indian cricket team, what with Shahrukh himself appearing at the final and flying kisses to every girl and perhaps every gay person who swoons at the mere sight of him. If he really is a staunch supporter of hockey, shouldn't he have been present at the Asia cup finals too, which the Indian hockey team won pretty deservingly. But ultimately, one can't help it. Hockey is just for namesake the national game of India. One could see cricket becoming the national game offically in the near future unless the hockey team wins at the World Cup or the Olympics, and provided the cricket team wins a few more World Cups. (*snigger*) You may like to read this link which has a similar debate which ran in the Sportstar some 4 years back, to which Yours passionately had also contributed.

Is cricket killing other sports in India?

If you followed the link, and read the opinions, I believe you would also tilt your scales in favour of cricket, just because of the fact that it is the only game that can arouse the kind of passion that it generates in India. Hail Kriket!

Sh.....it is precious

2007-07-28T11:03:00.000-07:00

I've wondered at times why man hasn't had the creativity or the intellect to make more and much better use of something which he has access to in such abundance, and has access to, every day. Something which comes in amazing varieties, shapes and colours, and remarkably in all 3 states of matter - solid, liquid and gaseous. More often than not, semi-solid as well. You SHould have got IT by now. You muSt Have seen IT today, or atleast yesterday. If not I'm sorry you're having to sing "Ek baar aa jaa aa jaa aa jaa aa jaa, AA JAA" in Himesh style. Let's cut the crap and get down to it, SHIT. Talking of "Cutting the crap", I'm not sure the person who coined the phrase ever thought of its meaning in the literal sense. If he had, he would have realised that cutting the crap not only metaphorically leads to more productivity, but also literally. First of all, you can cut the crap, or mash the crap, or smash the crap only if it is solid. So the next time somebody says "Cut the crap" to you, remember these words and reply appropriately. If you want to be funny, you could say, "It's not physically possible, I crapped fluid today." Sorry if you are serious while saying it. But in my opinion you don't have to worry if you move loosely. Your job of cutting the crap for the day has already been done without the aid of any man-made tools. How naive these man-made tools are. Anyway, let's cut the crap. Now, don't you use my line so soon. I'll go ahead and copyright it.

Before talking in detail of scientific uses of crap, and cutting it, let me propose the pseudoscientific uses of it. Man has found so many means of foretelling the future, near and distant, through - a) random lines on your palms, scientifically supposed to be formed by the folding of your palms when you were snugly curled up in the darkness of the womb, b) the date and time you decided you were bored of the darkness and head-butt yourself out to see some light, and then instantly or rather "tube-light"ishly cursing the creator for not giving the option to get back in, c) the alignment and positioning of the several "heavenly bodies"(let me pause here to share my wondering if there are "hell"ly bodies) wandering pointlessly just like me in this colossal universe; to name a few. When he has found so many means, I wonder why he has overlooked the best source of daily horoscopes - SHIT. Let's call it the shit-o-scope. You can get it every morning, or atleast wish to. For starters and potential exploiters of this ingenious idea, you can begin with the "Bristol Stool Scale"(Mr. Inventor of this scale, I am terribly sorry for having attempted to put your invention to gross misuse. Please forgive me) If one's shit-o-scope is of the Type 1: separate hard lumps, let my rather weak sense of foretelling, predict that if you have an exam that day, it will be hard to pass. If it is of the Type 5: Soft blobs with clear-cut edges, apart from passing the exam easily, you will enjoy being with a group of people today that have the same clear-cut interest as you. If it is of the Type 3: Like a sausage, but with cracks on the surface, you will meet a special person that day, but beware, she/he's a crack. Trust crap. There are also other pseudoscientific aspects such as numerology. The number of lumps that fall would be your lucky number for the day. If it's rather difficult to count in cases of Type 6 or 7, then don't rely on numbers. There are also several other means of interpretation such as patterns, maps, colors. Having said all this, it's rather disappointing to think that the western culture is invading other nations to such an extent that Indian households have western toilets these days. Did you realise that such a novel idea would be of no use in a western toilet. Such disregard for shit is abominable. To the few Indians who still believe indian toilets are more healthy and more hygienic, you're lucky, start spending more time in the loo, and make your own horoscopes. To the westerner, just like our Rupee is threatening your dollar, mind you, the Indian toilet is going to threaten its western counterpart.

We've dissected crap so much already. Yet, let's cut more crap and get more productive. Have you heard of the term "Coprophagia"? Yeah, I can sense some etymology freaks puking even before following the link. Let's consider the animals which eat their shit - pigs, rabbits, hamsters, gorillas. Do you think they are all dumb to perform this supposedly disgusting act. Do you accuse them of lacking common sense? Better don't, I may invoke upon you the wrath of Maneka Gandhi. Fine, why has man never resorted to eating shit? Because he considers it a waste that the body couldn't and can't digest? Because it stinks like shit? Well yes, but it's mainly because the eating habits of man have been brought forth just like culture has been through the annals(pun intended) of history. No, I'm not advocating eating shit, atleast not in whole. I know the stench is repulsive, I know that if a baby is fed shit instead of milk, it is not going to take it well, and might even puke. I know, thanks to Wikipedia, that the composition of shit is dead cells, toxins, cellulose, bacteria, a small amount of Hydrogen Sulphide(that causes the stench), none of which is useful. But there is a significant amount of undigested food in shit. If means are found to extract it, then imagine the wonders you can do with your body. Please, there is a lot of meaning here. Isn't the goal of half the mankind, optimistically speaking, continuous self-improvement. Then, I ask, what is wrong in continuously improving and tuning your digestive system? Keep feeding what it rejects till it accepts it. This is not ill-treatment or injustice, come to think of it. We're talking tolerance. We are imparting the lesson of tolerance, we're beseeching the Holy Digestive tract to shun untouchability, and it better be thankful to us. Let the animist in you rise, and just imagine, How sad will the rejected food feel? If religious tolerance is noble, so is digestive tolerance. Damn, I thought I had coined a phrase there. But it seems to be present, that too with a scientific meaning attached. I'm humiliated. I was speaking purely ideally, and they attach a scientific meaning to Digestive Tolerance. How crazy does this world get? Anyway, let's cut the crap again. Ponder a moment and if you are the type who desires to be a Gandhian by principle, you will realise what I'm writing is serious shit.

Getting more serious, did you realise that in shit we have a potential source of permanent renewable energy. Methane is a very useful byproduct of shit, even when you consider that the Gandhian in you wants to extract the undigested food out of shit before letting the rest of the crap proceed for further treatment. Methane can be used in several ways - as cooking fuel, for electrical generation, as a liquefied natural gas, and what not! "Imagine eating food that was cooked using natural gas generated from your own human waste. Thousands of prisoners in Rwanda don't have to imagine it -- they live it." Can't imagine it, can you? Gain some perspective and read this piece of shit-

http://www.wired.com/science/planetearth/news/2005/07/68127

Can't digest it, can you? Better start digesting it. I'm anti-digestive-intolerance, and you know that damn well.

Rwanda was a nation, which until now I knew as just another African nation with civil war raging in it. But after reading this piece, I'm starting to have tremendous respect for this country and the brains who developed in 2005 itself the idea Yours crappily got two years later.

Let me end the shit here! Hope none of you puked while reading this. Or else I'll ask you to eat that as well. Let's cut the crap one last time, you will have gained a great deal of perspective about shit. So starting tomorrow, get an indian toilet installed in your house if you have not one, start reading your shit-o-scope(don't come to me for advice, I'm not yet an expert), and once you know your fate for the day, send your shit for processing. Well, that is not in your hands, unless some scientific advisors stumble upon this blog and appreciate the value of this idea. No, I don't need any royalty, thanks. I'm happy with shit!

Yours crappily,
Sriganesh

PS(Post-shit): Now, if you call this post a piece of shit, I'll take it as the best compliment possible.

One year at Infy!

2007-06-10T20:20:00.000-07:00

It was on this day and around this time last year that I donned "professional attire" that would last for a whole working day. My first day in Infy! Ah, what nostalgia! The cool breeze and the slight drizzle as we walked through the splendid Mysore campus is still fresh in my mind. No wonder that when we observe the climate now in the Bangalore campus, we're reminded of those days in Mysore. The world of Infosys is always spellbinding to one who sees it for the first time. Naturally, purposefully and strategically so. The one year ride has been quite a learning experience, and at the same time freaking fast, to say the least.

The training period was just an extension of college life, some exceptions and differences and exceptional differences being that there were desktops in the classroom to conveniently sleep behind, IP messenger instead of mobile phones to multicast comments on professors, foodcourts and gazebos in place of lousy messes and canteens, multiple-choice questions instead of essays and diagrams. Even hostel life had a new dimension. Bug-infested cots were replaced with a plush kurl-on with the blankets warm enough not to let the AC running at 17 degrees get to us. Well, to think that we had such luxuries at our disposal for 4 months, (pause here, till here is a backlog dated may 29, 2007... could not find the time to continue the post till now, June 10, so all the intensity and emotion has subsided now, and i'm finding it difficult to finish the statement.)

Discontinuity has now become a part of my weblogs too. Anyway, let me find the will to complete the post on a totally different yet interwoven note. I've heard people say one can't be in the IT industry for more than 5 years, and some others say that software life is addictive. Well you don't need to know what "Yours ambivalently" has to say. Infy life has been a motley of sorts in the one year that has gone by. Having been put in a project on the first day itself(that's a rarity in Infy where one has to go through bench days, or rather months, and in some cases years before getting a project.) , and having been in the same project till date, one naturally is bored. And thoughts of switching or in my words, looking for greener pastures, do come in. But what's the point in looking blindfolded for green pastures. When you know not the pasture you belong to, it's better to remain in the pasture you are currently in. And when the life is so addictive as in a company like Infy, where's the desire to get out? What am I getting at? The words coined by man to describe a powerful emotion and an eager or strong desire to achieve something. Passion and ambition, respectively. When one of my friends asked me recently, "How far have you come in fulfilling your ambition?", I could only reply without a second thought, "And what would that be?" I don't mind not having an ambition. It's not my concern that the word "unambitious" has come to imply a negative trait. Understandably so, what with sayings like "The whole world steps aside for the man who knows where he is going", which unfortunately even I've used in others' autograph books in school days. The bottom line is that I don't know where I am going after one year of work experience, nor will I after two years, and I don't give a hoot about the world moving aside or not. :-)

Agnostically yours....

2007-04-22T12:59:00.000-07:00

"Religion is a magic device for turning unanswerable questions into unquestionable answers." Art Gecko

Well, to start with, I was just another of the million unfortunate kids who grew up believing in a God who answered your prayers. When I was young, I used to pray for pocket money. Then I realised that was not how God worked. So I took money from Dad's pocket(pocket money indeed) and asked for God's forgivance. And pretty soon Dad started giving me pocket money. See, this is how God worked. It didn't take me time to realise that the reason for Dad starting to give me pocket money was more on the grounds that I was a spoilt brat than on those that God was listening. Then on, praying to God became more or less "Hey dude, if you're there and you're listening, then better do this...and don't do that." And then one day I realised I was God. When I was talking to myself while praying.

Ok let's get serious! Religion, apart from the realisation of supposedly some external influence on earth, primarily came about to bring about an element of fear in humans, so that he would know there was somebody to punish him for his crimes. Maybe it brought about discipline in the primeval days. But it has only resulted in chaos in the long run. I don't need to talk about the silliness that is present everywhere. Everybody knows it. My denial of God's existence at first had its roots in the absurdity of it all. I mean I simply couldn't have blind faith in something which I couldn't see or perceive. The logic that you are good only if you believe in God and go to temples seemed and is crappy logic to me. As a bumper sticker says, "If going to a Church makes you a Christian, does going to a garage make you a car?" I felt that as long as you have a set of rules and you live by it, it's fine. And I did that. Then came the movie "Anbe Sivam". The movie so clicked with me, as it did with so many others who watched it. I can't say if it promoted atheism as such, but just propounded the need to identify the God in ourselves, and to nurture it. That a movie which came from the likes of Kamal Hassan and Madan(phew, no way Sunder had any part in it) had the same basis as my set of beliefs was just more than inspirational. But, the impact of the movie, ironically, was that I became a devout atheist. Not for long, though.

One side of me just can't approve of the idea of an omniscient being. But there is this other side of me, which keeps noticing freakish coincidences which I feel could not have happened on their own. Contrasting, but that's me! It's like there is a design to this entire life and world and somebody is watching all the time. Though it seems absolutely ridiculous to the atheist in me, I can't help admitting that there could be an external influence in everybody's lives, individually or interactively. Let me detail you about one of the many coincidences I've observed.. I was in my college hols and had nothing to do. I wanted to read some book, so went to browse my Dad's collection as that was the closest. And I took "Great Expectations" for the umpteenth time. I would have started the book, like a thousand times, but never gone beyond the first page. I just couldn't stand Dickens' style of writing. All I knew about was a Pip. I wanted to read it this time atleast, but it was so dull. So I put it aside and went back to my system as usual, and browsed, watched Friends till 1 at night. I decided I should watch some movie as it was a long time since i saw one. I sit down in the hall, expecting some good movie on Star Movies. I was thinking, "What kinda movie am I ready to watch now? Will it be ok if it's a great movie I've already seen or some good movie I've missed" And guess what turns up! "Great Expectations" I had forgotten there was a movie. I couldn't believe my eyes, but have grown so accustomed to such coincidences that I let it pass. But I decided to watch it till the end. Cos Gwyneth Paltrow is definitely not as boring as Dickens. And after seeing some of the scenes in the movie, I was like "Wow, is this what the book's about" and took the book again.

Sometimes I feel like someone is sending out messages to me or is laughing at me. Another instance. In a mock-CAT I faced a question in which I had to find the largest possible 4-digit square, 3-digit square, 2-digit square, etc that could result from 4, 3, 2 throws respectively of a dice, and then sum up all the digits in the resulting squares. I totally ignored the dice part and ended up finding just the largest 4, 3 or 2-digit squares. So I ended up with 9801 as the largest possible square when it should have been 6561. And hence I ended up with a totally wrong answer. I didn't realise the mistake till coming out of the hall. And when I'm returning to my place, I see a bike with the number-plate 9801. It seemed to me like "He He here's 9801 He He You fool". Dunno if this is such a great coincidence, but it sure freaked me out.

So you must get a fair idea of what I'm getting at. Such observations may be purely coincidental, yet they form the basis of my skeptic nature. If only God would give a clear sign, like depositing in my bank account. So, over time, with more introspection, I began calling myself an Agnostic, for the need of a label. It is the safest and sanest stand. I'm a Militant agnostic, I say "I don't know, and You don't either." A Theist assumes there is God. An Atheist assumes there is no God. Neither is sure. But I can say I am sure I can't know if there is a God or not. It may be naive, but it makes more sense. I pity believers. And I am appalled by the guts of atheists(I admit I was one.) They just drive me up the wall. They think they know and speak with an air of authority. I can't understand how one can have so much faith in science, which they call proven facts. Isn't there a tiny possibility that something somewhere went wrong? They say No. I was inspired by this line from Angels and Demons, "Are we all so spiritually depleted so as to believe that this amazing design all around us is the result of a mere mathematical equation?" I don't wanna bring in spirituality which is vague again. But we have to admit the possibility of the origin of the Universe being more than the result of a mathematical equation. I'd like to bring in a conversation from "Friends", which I just loved. Fans of Friends would agree and those who're not will have reason to become one.

Ross enters with a briefcase

Phoebe: Uh oh..It's scary scientist man
Ross: Ok Phoebe this is it. In this briefcase I carry actual scientific facts, a briefcase of facts if you will...some of these fossils are over 200 million years old.
Phoebe: Ok Look, before we even start, i'm not denying evolution, ok? I'm just saying that it's one of the possibilities.
Ross: It's the only possibility, Phoebe
Phoebe: Ross, could you just open your mind like this much? Ok now...wasn't there a time when the brightest minds in the world believed that the earth was flat...and up until like 50 years ago, you all thought that the atom was the smallest thing, until you split it open and just like a whole mess of crap came out...now, are you telling me that you are so unbelievably arrogant that you can't admit that there's a teeny-tiny possibility that you could be wrong about this.
Ross: There might be...a teeny...tiny...possibility

Phoebe: I can't believe you caved.
Ross: What?
Phoebe: You just abandoned your whole belief system. I mean, before I didn't agree with you but atleast i respected you.
Ross: Mmm..
Phoebe: No, no, how're you gonna go to work tomorrow...how're you gonna face the other science guys....how're you gonna face yourself?

Ross shuts the briefcase and leaves

Phoebe's argument is not backed by science, but by common sense and intuition. Ross was open enough to admit the possibility. What I can't believe is that those who don't even have a background in science place so much faith on science just because they assume it's the definitive authority. Maybe it is the only means for exploring the mystery of life, but is definitely not the definitive authority. I strongly believe that how much ever science develops, it'll not be able to find answers to the unanswerable questions, and at the same time there is no scope for religion to develop any further. But I just wonder if at some time in the future, the concept of God becomes a myth and there are no theists in the world.

Agnostically yours,
Sriganesh

P.S: These scribblings are from my college days when I hadn't developed much interest in blogging. Presently am at home for this weekend and just stumbled across this while scanning my system, and thought why not upload this in my blog.

Haloed be thy face!

2007-03-25T02:59:00.000-07:00

Haloed be thy face! But darned be the guy who stole my Nike! That pretty much sums up the eventful week that was for me.

The first and the biggest metal concert to happen in India, and when you have the luck to be in the same city in which it's taking place, you shouldn't dare miss it. That was the emotion with which I stormed out of office at 4.30 pm last Saturday, the day I made many mistakes. But going to the concert sure wasn't one! Having got the ticket a week back through a friend, as if I was destined to be in the concert, the first mistake I did that day was coming to office. The next one was not leaving office during lunch. As the concert time inched closer and closer, work kept piling up, amidst calls from my friend, asking me to reach the venue early. I couldn't stand it any longer. I thought hard to come up with an excuse for leaving office early. That didn't work out. I simply couldn't think. I just had to leave. Be a rebel! I left office without informing a soul, then disconnected my sim card. Straight I went to palace grounds.

The atmosphere was so charged that the Hutch network couldn't handle it. My friends were inside with the tickets and I had to wait for almost an hour to get in. We were a part of the 900 bucks section at the very back of the grounds. The concert started, and the police had a real tough time withstanding the family-oriented abuses from the crowd for not letting them cross the barrier into the 1500 bucks section. We were the rebels and were treated fittingly. Quite a few guys would have understood the true meaning of "Gaand mein dandaa" that day. It was worse for me, it was "Kopdi mein dandaa". A mild hit on the head was all that was required to send me back behind the barrier. But the police could do nothing when more than 100 rebellious young men, AND WOMEN, just charged past the barrier at a time. In we went, and got lost in the 20000-strong crowd, a grand assembly of hard-core rock fans, male and female, from all over India. Bruce and co. didn't disappoint the crowd. The energy they displayed on stage was deathly good. Personally, I hadn't listened to much of Maiden before the concert, save a few hits. But in a heavy metal concert, do you really need to know the song to appreciate it. The strumming of the guitars by Steve Harris and Dave Murray and the soul-stripping vocals by Bruce were enough to get my head banging. "Fear of the dark" was the song which was best-received by the crowd. There sure was a huge wave of disappointment when Maiden 'ended' the show without playing many of their better hits. I had been waiting for "Hallowed be thy name", and I too was disappointed that they didn't play it. There were people who had travelled 1000 miles and 2 days for the concert. Naturally, the crowd started shouting "We want more". I'm not sure if this was what prompted Maiden to come back onstage. But they did, and they gave more. They perhaps reserved the best for the last. "Hallowed be thy name", Iron Maiden, and Haloed be thy faces. You are the Gods!

After the concert was over, I knew it was highly difficult to find my friends in the crowd, amongst the sea of black t-shirts, and the stunners to disrupt my concentration. To find the lost boys, it took another hour in which I went back in, and grabbed one of the last few chicken rolls, and picked up a used water bottle from the ground to get some water a generous, albeit opportunist person was selling for 10 bucks from a can. Such was the thirst in the venue that I had to share that single bottle of water with eight strangers, which included a 12 year old kid who got down from his car to take a gulp of the water, and two maidens from some other country.

After we, the lost boys, all got back together, through great fortune, and some searching skills, we had to trudge a mile or so before we could get a bus to Majestic, by when it was midnight. Here resumed my spate of bad decisions that day. My friends left for Mysore, and I had to catch a bus to Electronic City to which all bus service had stopped by then. I had to catch a bus either to Hosur, or to Vellore, my home town(for the stray visitor who might not be knowing this). The Vellore buses were too full to board. My ambivalence came into play here. After severe thinking and bad planning, I took a bus to Hosur, actually planning to board another bus to Vellore from there. But it so happened the driver started the bus without the conductor inside, and he didn't realise this until passengers started joking about a free ride. So he stopped the bus nowhere on the way, till he did so in Attibele, some 8 kms from Hosur to do the conductor's job himself. Then came the killer decision. I got down from the bus and started walking back towards Bangalore, or rather my Electronic City home. Ah, the joy in taking a free bus ride. I didn't want it to be ruined. He he. Just kidding. It was a factor, but the X factor that made me return home, or rather office was my fear regarding what I'll tell my manager when I come back from Vellore on Monday, and how I'll justify my flitting from office on Saturday. I walked a few miles on the highway, cursing myself again and again, then hitchhiked a snail-paced goods lorry, which went two kilometres ahead in twenty minutes. Darn, I would have been faster. Then like an angel, came a bus bound for Bangalore. I boarded it and got down in Electronic City, leaving no room for any more bad decision-making. It felt great to be back. How much better would it have felt to be home. But no! Tonight, I had to bask in the pleasure of the Infosys dorm, which your majesty hadn't graced so far. Moreover, my legs were too numb to carry me the two kilometres to my house in a village deep inside Electronic City. So I go to the Infy dorm, thinking all along that it was the better decision. And I sleep, ever so peacefully.

Only to wake up next morning and find my Nike shoe missing. Had bought it just 2 months back. And had worn it say twenty times. I have virtually paid 200 bucks every time I've worn it. Do the calculations. And darn my decision-making. Left behind in place of the Nike was a stinky shoe worth a rat's ass. Stinky, literally. Couldn't help but wondering if all this was a punishment of some kind, for flitting from office that way-- my mind getting so screwed up, my shoe getting stolen. But luckily there was no other punishment, except working over the weekend, which is no more a punishment, but a given these days.

That's it for my second post on this blog. No comments on my first post, literally and otherwise.

Down the memory pitch....

2007-03-15T20:41:00.000-07:00

When the 2003 World cup final got over, it was with a feeling of despair that I thought, "Man, it's four more years to go before the next World Cup. Where I'd be then, god only knows". Back then I wasn't so much an agnostic as I am now. So I might have thought the exact same words. Now the World Cup 2007 is here so fast and I certainly don't know where I'll be when the World Cup 2011 takes place. Maybe I'll be in a position to buy a pavilion seat for the final in Mumbai. Maybe you're laughing at this. I sure am. Anyway let's stop dreaming and return to the present. The biggest cricket event is back. And I'm as excited as any normal cricket-loving fan in India would be. The memories of each World Cup that my eyes have witnessed are etched so profoundly in my heart. Let's take a trip down memory lane, or should I say pitch!

Too bad I wasn't born when Paaji lifted the cup beaming with pride in 83. My first memories of the World Cup are as a 6-year old 2nd grader in 1992 when my Mom and Dad were watching the England vs South Africa semi-final. The giant screen carrying the words "South Africa to win: 22 runs off 1 ball" is still crystal clear in my mind. You know, they say our mind captures certain visual frames in your memory till you die. This was one. So pronounced was the effect perhaps because my Mom was so annoyed that she kept asking my Dad, "What kinda injustice is this? I simply don't understand" That, thousand-fold would have been the degree of anger of every South African national at that moment. It was perhaps at that point that I thought if a game of cricket, a gentleman's game could be as engrossing as this to a woman, I certainly should start watching the game. It was during that time, from my second grade onwards that I started watching cricket fervently. I remember once asking my father on my return from school in his bike, "Did Kambli score another double century?" When was that, 1993-94? 8 years old. That in my opinion was late by Indian standards. Most kids these days talk cricket when they're in their pre-school.

Four years went by, and then came the 1996 world cup in India. By then I was a seasoned expert in cricket, atleast the watching part. It was the sixth grade, in Ida Scudder, the school where my days spent were the most memorable. The long discussions and arguments we boys had about the matches were all simply classic. How we spoke in awe about the man named Sanath Jayasuriya. Be it laughing at Manoj Prabhakhar's career being smashed to smithereens by a two-over onslaught, which demoralised him so much that he turned to an off-spinner overover(not even overnight), or be it praising Chris Harris's effort in the Chennai match, albeit it went in vain, or be it analysing the wild rumour that Jayasuriya used a spring-bat(whatever that is). the discussions were all simply too good. I remember wondering how Jayasuriya, being a left-arm spinner could generate such sharp leg-break in that wrethched semi-final. How all of us hated Sri Lanka for winning that World cup. Had we known Australia would be the team to beat in the next two, or perhaps three World Cups, we would have been pretty pleased with the Lankans winning.

The age of innocence passed by and then came the next World Cup in 1999. My dreams of calf-love had to give way to cricketing nightmares in the two months of the World Cup in 1999. Even a girl couldn't have given me the kind of heart-break that the Australia-South Africa semi-final gave. Staying up at night, glued to the television, it was the first time that I supported a team other than India so vehemently. I cheered every shot from Zulu in those last overs so loud, that I decided to wake my parents up before they were woken up by the sheer noise I was generating. Such was the intensity of the match. And when that effing run-out happened in the end, all the noise subsided. Lucky I wasn't a few years older back then, or else my image would have taken a good beating in front of my parents, as a flurry of expletives in the local dialect would have come rushing out of my mouth aimed at Allan Donald. I just remember gasping a "Shit" and going absolutely mum for a few minutes. My mom had already seen a South African heartbreak, so this perhaps wasn't much for her. The next day, it was a pall of gloom seen in all the guys' faces in school. The girls must have been wondering, "What the hell has happened to these morons?" One guy even told he cried after the result. And then there were discussions of who all had cried that night. This match should have brought tears from my eyes, considering how sensitive I am, but I don't know why and how, I hadn't cried that night. Seriously!

2003 World Cup, the closest India has come after 1983. Surprisingly, my memories of this World Cup are rather bleak, though it was in my first year in college. A few days back, I didn't remember it was Kenya who India beat in the semi-finals, till a friend told me. Man, I'm aging. Lol. How proud we were of the Indian team, and how thrilled we were to see Sachin scoring so well yet again in a World Cup. If school saw us discussing cricket, in college, we literally ate cricket, drank cricket, slept cricket, as they say. I came to know there existed die-hard fans of cricket next to whom I was nothing. It was in college that I realised the weight of Bernard Shaw's criticism of cricket that 11 fools are playing and 11 thousand fools are watching. True to an extent, but it's just unfair to trash cricket or any sport for that matter, in that way.

Since the 2003 final was such a huge disappointment to Indian fans, I'm sure Team India will do its best this year to reach the final and go a step further this year. Dada will strive to compensate for the bad decision he made last time to put Australia in. Zaheer will bowl more menacingly and hopefully in a more miserly manner. Dravid will guide the team sensibly and will play the key role in these Windies pitches. Sachin will of course thrill us, this is the World Cup, and when has he failed in it. The hopes are indeed high, and I'm looking forward to another memorable World cup. This one will be a challenge, staying up at night till 3 or 4, cheering India on. Wouldn't I do that, to be a part of the excitement in seeing the World Cup being lifted by the Indian cricketing legends whose careers we grew up with! Go India! Bring home the Cup!