Namma Naadu Karnataka

I wrote this poem for a poetry competition in our company on the occasion of Karnataka Rajyotsava (state formation day) celebration. The topic for the poem was "Namma Naadu Karnataka" which means "Our land Karnataka". The poem is written from the perspective of an outsider who has come to Bengaluru merely to earn a livelihood and doesn't feel a sense of belonging. Hope it makes sense.

What is Karnataka ?

Karnataka is Bangalore,

its glittering malls,

fashionable girls and expensive shops,

its I.T parks,

full of ambitious men and women

with money they don't know where to spend.

its age old colonies,

where old couples walk in the parks

and learn to send e-mails to sons abroad.

its many sprawling gardens,

which have been reduced to specks

in the name of development.

its majestic Vidhana Soudha,

in the news for all wrong reasons.

its numerous eateries,

which dot the city

never leaving me hungry.

its jammed roads,

ever choked with increasing traffic

crying out for help.

its new express-ways,

trying to connect an ever growing city.

Wait, What is Karnataka to you ?

To me ?

Well, it is just a place where I came to work.

Then where is your home ?

My home is where I grew up.

My home is where my friends are.

My home is where I sleep peacefully every night.

My home is where I am welcome.

My home is where my mother awaits me.

Have not you grown eating at all the eateries?

I have.

Do you not have friends in all the I.T parks?

I do.

Have you not slept peacefully in the age old colonies?

I have.

Well, I say, you are ever welcome here,

in my land,

The land of Karnataka.

I am also you mother.

And I too wait for you,

to embrace me

and call me your home.

PPT Art

Produced in a one and half hour long boring presentation in the company.

The way home

Traffic jam on Inner Ring Road,
Low battery in my phone,
Neighbours asleep.
Bus moved forward,
only to hit the brake again.
The weather seams gloomy,
The road is covered with white smoke.
Cyclist ride on pavements,
meandering through the pedestrians.
My Eyes close.
The signal at Eijipura.

My eyes open.
I am in Koramangala.
Beautiful girls,
Accompanied by ungrateful pricks.
How decorative a sex they are?
Yuppies in i10s jam the road.
The signal at Forum.

The bus zips through the road.
The lady gets down,
She knows 4 languages.
Senseless drivers overtake fom the left.
Every one is an hurry.
Pork shops, mutton stalls, Barota kadai,
and a hi-tech gym
The signal at Adugudi.

Bosch's playground, the marble shops
begin to decorate the road on either side.
Two wheelers squeeze in where ever they can.
No one turns off their engine.
Exhaust fume fill the area.
The bus inches forward.
The signal at Mico.

Diary Circle flies past,
no big trouble today.
Only to meet the buses from Electronic City.
Buses from Infosys,
line up on the fly-over.
People inside,
as frust as I am.
Relatives of patients,
have tea and bun.
The narrow road,fed by two entries,
stands choked.
"No more", it says.
But who listens?
God Damn yuppies with i10s.
The signal at NIMHANS.

Two left turns and I get off.
Boys cruising on RX-100s,
Labourers cool off at the bakeries.
Old muslim men sit together after namaz.
1st main ,
Then 2nd cross.
I have reached my home.
Alas,no one is expecting me.

Weird Experience

As you know any typical sotware engineer (or for that matter even school children and bank employees these days) has an I.D card dangling from their neck. I have roped in Trisha to give you an example. Clap clap.
My company has also provided me one such I.D card. I have to flash it at the speed gates, at the entrance of my office, to get in or out of the building.
The other weekend I was at 4th Block doing the usual weekend "sight-seeing".
Shown below is one of the entrances to the complex. As you can see the bars are to prohibit two-wheelers from entering the shopping area.


As soon as I approached them, my hand automatically went towards my chest and I pulled an invisible I.D card, placed it at the top of the bar and waited a second for the speed gates to open.
When I realised what I was doing, I could not help laughing at myself. What has this software life done to me? Reflex and all is okay, but this is more like habit. Have I become so accustomed to the software way. May be I am just making too much of a little thing. Too much work these days. That's all.That's what my team-mates also said when I related this incident to them.
Must Rest.

Vandals in Safware World

This was taken on my floor's coffee area. The picture is one which is stuck on every Coffee Day coffee machine. Some unfortunate soul, frustrated by bug-fixing seems to have done this. The man looks particularly funny. Reminds me of someone from school.

Introspection

This is me.
When I look at this face in the mirror, I am encouraged to think "Not bad". It is by all means desirable,or so I like to think (in front of the mirror that is).
I think with this face I should be roaming with my arms around one or two pretty things. Okay,its not good to refer to girls as things I suppose but that is the point. I think, if I throw the bait I am sure to reel in something (some girl i.e., again no disrespect). If I take an aim I can hit the target. I stand a good chance in the market, if at all I choose to put myself in it. Bottom line is I think I can score.
So with this self-motivation and self proclaimed handsomeness I step outside. I go to Jayanagar 4th Block Shopping complex. I shall describe this place some other time
but that is where I go to do my weekend sight-seeing (girls, in case you are a chomu). One can see many type of females here. Maal babes, Babes, girls, young women. Girls just married dragging a rather tried looking guy behind them; girls just out of college; girls just into college; family aunties with two kids held by one hand each, uncle following as far away as he can.
As I roam around that complex all my motivation, all my self-dappa gets punctured.
The guys who actually have their arms around one or two pretty things are hunk dudes
who wear light coloured, plain T-shirts which stops just before their underwear patti and their underwear patti stops right were their jeans begins. Every hair on their
head points in different directions and they all carry a bag which goes over their shoulder and covers their bottom (I call them muddi bag). If not these Yo dudes, it is the cheeku faces with spectacles like Shah Rukh Khan in Mohabatein. I comfort myself by saying that those girls who are with such boys are cunning and manipulative,they are just hanging around him so that they can waste his money on coffees and cool-drinks. I may be wrong but just to comfort myself.The guys themselves are idiots who think having a girl around them is a prestige factor.They are both immature. Lite.
Okay, what about the mature women then? I look around for those. They also have some man's arm around their shoulder. These men have either no hair or very little hair on their head. Meaning tension from work. They have a Honda City car in which they take the lady out which means lots of money and they all have a tummy jutting out from over their belt which means no time for exercise. They all wear dull plain full sleeves and khaki trousers or XL T-shirts to hide the afore mentioned tummy. They look like they have been called just to carry the bags. This route to female company requires a lot of money, success and, most importantly, alteast one marrige. I don't want that in near future. Moreover according to my horoscope if I get married before I am twenty-nine the women will die early ( It is also mentioned in the same horoscope that I will grow a tummy. Amazing, the number of thing a computer software can predict).
Sometimes I see a normal couple with the lady carrying one of the child in her arms while the other child walks briskly in small steps to keep up with the father. I look at them and feel that they just got used to each other. They were put together by their respective parents and they just stayed on for lack of better option. On one side I feel happy for the two adults because they have each other's company.When one of them is depressed or gloomy or happy he/she has one person who is sure to hear them out and come to their aid or share their joy. On the other side I feel terrified to think that that is the only way to obtain a companionship in life. Companionhip which one can trust and depend on. I don't want to convey the idea that there is something wrong or incorrect with or terrifiying about our arranged marriage system however. It seems to have worked out well for us till now. It just seems pitiful to think that I might find my companion in a room full of silk saree clad aunties and "coffee pramaadam" uncles. Considering my brought up and family record I see this the most probable path to female companionship, if I want one that is.
Coming back to the 4th Block scene, sometimes I spot the older version of this couple in a Maruti 800 or in a Premier Padmini driving slowly back to their home after buying the week's supply of vegetables. They don't talk much to each other even while shopping because each knows the other down to the last detail. The old man knows where she will buy the leafy vegetables, where she will get the potato and when it time to buy the ghee. She also knows which vegetables the man likes and which ones he has to eat even if he doesn't like them. She knows how long it will be before the man loses his patience and starts whining about getting back into his easy-chair.To think they were also put together by their parents and that they too stuck to each other for lack of better option but in the end had each other right into their old age is quite heartening. This is what restores my faith in the arranged marriage system.
May be I will also get my pretty thing in that way only. May be I will also be stuck to her for lack of better option. But I hope we have each other long enough so that we can also drive around the complex slowly.
Kya ki.

Commemoration

Today is your birthday. Happy birthday.
I have no gift for you. Even if I had I am not in a position to be able to give it to you. But I send out a word of thanks.
Thank you for spending your childhood with me . Thanking for spending all the summer days with me and the rest of our friends. As soon as my mother left for office, I locked the house and ran down the lane where you were ready with the chakka bat(on which Reebok was written with sketch-pen) and plastic ball. I learnt more cricket from you than from Vijay Paul's coaching academy.You introduced me to T.V video games. When it was hot outside we went in and played Mario. Here again you were top class and I had to wait a long time for my turn to come since I used to be Luigi. But this was very rare because no matter how hot it was outside it was always cool under the portico of your house. Moreover you always had fridge water when we needed a break. Then we played on, match after match;individuals, one-tip-one-hand, outside out, wall four, no full covering, fast appeal allowed,connections those were our "rules". Every time you were bowled out by a fast bowl, you came up to ball with vengeance and let loose all the fury on the guy who bowled you out, which was invariably me. No problem, I enjoyed it, I liked bowling more anyway. I have never seen another individual who has played or followed sports with as much dedication as you have. Even when you were unwell in the hospital you asked frustBoy how Wimbledon was going on and if there was any thing worth mentioning. May be we should have come to see you more often. Chod, I don't want to talk about such sad things on your birthday.
You introduced me to cartoons, with all the hype about Johnny Quest and its title music, though it was quite irritating when you sang it aloud all the way back home. Added to this you rammed my bicycle into every lamp post and boulder and yelled "Mountain Baike" (because "Atlas Mountain Bike" was written on the frame of my cycle).
I want to thank you most for giving me my sense of humor. I consider you the founder of my kind of humor and for this I am deeply in debt to you. As I understand, your life was not eventful enough to satisfy your appetite for laughter. So you came up with your own reasons to laugh no matter how insane or idiotic they felt to the rest of us.
Like when Bhakti Agarwal brought rice for her lunch or when Nitin brought sweet bonda or salt-less pulihora or when Aravid brought bread (bread...hahahhaha), when Super tiffin's super tiffin rolled non-stop down two floors and rested where ever it rested, when donkey face went past you, when frustBoy slipped and feel down from his "auto". I could go on writing, and as I recollect the instances which showcase your unique sense of humor I am laughing out loud and heartily. What a life!!!
This is how one should live, so that when people think about them, they laugh and smile rather than feel pitiful or angry or disappointed.
You along with Aravid invented the word "flop" and it was quite amazing to think now how you maintained to stay your course even when you were getting extremely unpopular for criticizing every joke( then every fact, then every statement). Anyway, I have only to thank you for this since my point system is based on this.
Among your other skills which provided no practical value was taking good aim at street dogs. Once I got a dog for myself, I opposed this act but it didn't matter to you.Eating Maggi and licking the plate clean as if no one had eaten in that plate, another habit which I adopted from you. Waiting all day long for frustBoy to turn around so that familyGuy and you could show him the finger; throwing the ball out as soon as it was passed to you while playing basketball (this is courtesy frustBoy); throwing spit-bombs at class-mates - I have never seen a live demonstration but I am told it was very feared by all in your class; making up stories about the girl who lived opposite to your house; running away at the first sign of trouble - standard example for this would be the incident when you called a little boy riding on our pitch a "gandu" and he went and called his mother. You ran away and hid two lanes away along with familyGuy and frustBoy. Gandu saale. When there was dog shit or cow dung on the road you carefully guided us towards it and waiting silently for us to step into it and had a heartily laugh over that for the next week. Sadist gandu.
One incident I will never forget was when you failed in Mathematics and got 85 in English in one of the pre-finals. Everyone in your house was upset that you failed in Mathematics and you tried to console them by showing your marks in English to which your father said "Id enduku, sanka nakadaniki?". Hahahaha. Mori-covering pe khadke mast hassa main.
On the other hand you never gave us many reasons to tease you. You ate your tiffin before anyone could see what you brought and come up with a taunt (though I am told that it was almost always dosa). You never had any bike like “the auto” nor did you slip over anything nor stumble on any edge while in our company. When you joined Intensive Academy we could link you to some Army girl who came on Scooty and get some fun out of it but that didn't last long. Sorry about that. She was very desirable, like all Army girls, I suppose.
Today, I remember all these incidents,you muffled sinister motor laugh, the walk back to home from school, all the afternoon cricket during school days and all the evenings on my terrace where frustBoy and familyGuy joined. I remember how you fell sick and never recovered from the illness. I remember your face as you lay in your hall, happy as ever leaving us all crying and stunned. I have lost many people (and an animal) close to me but the loss of your company is what I miss most. The only consolation is that you are present in all of our jokes since, as I said already, you were the founder of our kind of humor.
I am sure I speak for familyGuy and frustBoy when I say that our lives would have been much more interesting if you were still around. You might also be stuck up in some cubicle like the rest of us and that would have sucked out all the life force that made you what you were. I am glad that didn't happen because souls like yours' are not meant to be bound.
I hope you are flying high above the clouds but stooping down just in time to watch one of us stumble over an edge or slip over some sand or vegetable peel.
Once again happy birthday Anivash. Sonu (hahaha).
Kaisa tha vo.

Opportunity

Lot of work these past few days. I have had to stay till 7.30 or 9 pm sometimes. No rest. I got sick in the meanwhile because of the erratic weather here. Rains when ever it feels like. The Big Guy seemed to have lost it for while. The doctor gave me anti-biotics for this normal fever and drained whatever energy was left in me. So I decided to get healthy and eat a fruit bowl everyday in our company's canteen. On the very first day of this new mission I saw a pretty girl waiting for the snack she had ordered just after me. Grilled cheese sandwich,it was. Not one of those anorexic types I guess or maybe she missed her lunch, I saw her send one dahi-puri down just a few minutes ago. I got my fruit bowl and sat down to eat it. She took a seat at the table opposite to mine facing me. Then I saw her face clearly, front view, no obstructions. She reminded me of someone from college. Some girl that is. That girl whom she remined me of was my darling in college. You know, the one favourite girl in college, the girl you would pattafy if at all you got into that business.
#if 0
Suddenly, I felt this surge of courage in me.No, not courage. Some weird thing like feeling. I got up and I went up to her and said "Can I sit here?". She looked up from her cheese grill in a rather confused way. She stared inanely at me. I took advantage of this and sat down. I didn't wait. I said "You remind me of someone from my college. She looked very much like you. Rotund face, chubby cheeks.Very pretty(I am sure I saw a smile at this point)........ I just wanted to tell you this because it is always pleasant to remember someone or something from college. And on a rather dull evening of writing code that didn't work this is quite a happy moment."
#endif
We ate the rest of our respective snacks in silence in our own company and she was first to leave.

Limbo

Where am I?
You are here.
Where is here?
Here is where ever you want it to be.
...
Who are you?
I am the designated Angel for your dream.
Ah! So this is a dream.Wait. My dream has a designated a Angel!!
This one has.
Cool.
Angel, where are all the beautiful girls ?
I can't answer that. I can only tell you where they are not.
Ok. Where are they not?
They are not with you.
Oook. That was a bit harsh.
Sorry, but reality generally is like that.
What are the beautiful girls doing ?
They are with their respective man/men.
What are they doing with their men?
They are eating most of the pop-corn he bought or wasting the food he ordered, increasing his fuel expenditure and decrease his vehicle's mileage.
No, I mean in the larger scheme of things.
Oh! They are eating away his mental health.
Gasp! Why would they do that?
Because the men let them do it.
Oh!
....
But still, why would they do such a sinister thing even the man let them?
That is how they become more beautiful.
Blink. Blink.
I thought it was the make up or that they were born that way.
Ha! Poor boy. I don't blame you. They have perfected the deception over centuries of evolution and observation.
Sigh!!
Then.... Then.... What about the girls who are beautiful from the inside.
Whose inside?
Their inside.
I didn't get you.
I mean what about the girls who are beautiful by nature, in their qualities ?
Oh them! They get married to lonely NRI men,mostly in the USA, or to government employees.
True. I understand.
...
Angel, why do the men let them eat away their mental health ?
They are lonely frustrated souls. They think that is what love is and so encourage it.
True. True.
Then, why don't the girls help them come out of this misunderstanding?
Because, if they did that, they would not have any male mental health to feed on and so would stop becoming more beautiful. Remember?
OOOOOO. I see.
And, frankly, its not their job. It is up to the men to get their stuff sorted out and have their head cleaned.
Correct. Wait. Are you take their side?
Yes.
Why?
Look closer.
GASP! YOU ARE ONE OF THEM !!!!!!!!!!!!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE.
That means you have been.......feeding of my mental health.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE.
Got to wake up. Got to resis. Go to contr. Got to pro .. Got to..Got ...G.....
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE.

Frust 2

I am frust. I am growing a pot-belly, there is no exercise, unnecessary thoughts are causing lot of unrest. Bloody unrest, thu ne amma. Job is as usual, nothing ground breaking. Mother is shouting for everything and she won't let me marry Trisha. No friends in the city. All went away to US to do MS or to IIMs and stuff to do MBA and stuff. So, I am getting frust here with Mother and my dog also expired. Sha. The worst thing is that I can't blame anyone for all the above things with lead up to frust. That is even more frustrating.
I went to Benison Supermarket (near my home, there is a super market, Malu people. all bakeries, tea-shops, super markets in Bengaluru are managed by Malu people. I think they have a secret union or something). There I looked at the magazines on display. More frust. All talk about sex. Not sex as in gender. Sex as in sexual intercourse. More frust. "This season , can sex get any healthier", "Your road map to multiple oragms" ...on and on . Kya hain re ye? How much can I control.
Adding to all this, no girlfriend(s) also. Not that I want one. But as long as I am making my frust-list, I might as well add this.
I am not able to find time to read or write anything. Two thing I like doing, and I have no clue where my time is getting wasted. Lauda.
Therefore I have decided to vent of my frust in this post by choosing to write about an appropriate topic- Cabbage.
I hate cabbage. Hate it. I can smell it when it is made in my house as I return from a hard day's work. Stupid vegetable. I dislike all vegetables in general but I have decided to hate cabbage. If I die and go to hell, I will be given patha-gobi and rumali roti for enternity. That would be my hell. I hope God is reading this post.
My birthday came,oh yes!, that is one more problem, I let another year go down the drain. I took my mother to Three-Quarter Chinese, so that I can eat chinese food and she can eat Kulcha. As usual, I orders wonton soup. Guess what the wanton was stuffed with? Cabbage. Lauda-cabbage. One would think , that a restaurant that charges so much for its food, would offer a better choice of vegetables, much tasty, like carrot, or the leaf of the spring onion or something. Anything but cabbage. Thu.
My mother says, we should never show animosity towards food. We should be thankful to whatever we get. I am thankful, except for cabbage. Cabbage is maa ka ______.
May be that is the reason I am not so good with the computer. Charles Babbage, cabbage, you see.
Burt Munroe, in the movie, The world's Fastest Indian, says to the little boy, his neighbour, before leaving for America, "Remember boy, if you don't follow your dreams, you might as well be a vegetable." The little boy asks "which one?" and Burt replies "I don't know, a cabbage. Yes, a cabbage"
He could have named any vegetable, why then did he choose cabbage?
Worst is when coconut is grated into the preparation of cabbage. That is how it is made in my grandparents' house (father side). Kos krimedhu. Thu!!! I say to it. That is one of cousin's favourite dish. Even in McDonalds they give cabbage between the bun doused in mayonnaise. o0wwaak (vomiting sound).
Urban dictionary also as nothing good to say about cabbage. That's the final word.
Chi.
Marke so jarum main.

Vindya VenkataRaghavan

On the Electronic City Express Way




















On NICE road.
At Home

Amen

Why Bangalore traffic is the way it is

My Bike

Maa ki kir kiri.
Father bought it for brother when he was in eight class.I was in fourth class. IV 'C'.

xkcd ki jai

My Jolna.

This is my jolna-pi. Hello jolna-pi.I bought it for sixty rupees in City Market about an year ago.Every time I carry this out and put something in it that would have normally gone into a plastic cover, I feel a sense of satisfaction about contributing towards figthing green house effect or some such thing.
I always carry this bag when I go out and most of the times I don't know where I am heading.And so it happens that some times I land up at big malls with this bag. When I am asked to leave my "baggage" at the counter near the enterance of such malls and I give them my jolna , the guard looks at it and then at me in a strange way. Once while entering one such mall, I asked the guard if we needed to leave our bags at his counter, he replied saying yes. When I gave him my bag , he looked at it and said "Leke jao sar, no problem".The worst response is at Forum mall in Koramangala.That is by far the posh-est mall in Bengaluru. All cool hudgas-hudgis (boys-girls)come there.And I step in wearing last week's dress and my jolna-pi.The gaurd gives me a what-is-this-beggar-doing-here look , checks my bag and lets me in.
Stuid mall.They don't allow cycles in their parking lot. Thu...nee bathuku.
No problem.
But, the other day an elderly aunty at a super-market near my house, asked me to see and tell the M.R.P on an MTR masala packet since she could not read the small numbers. I did so . Then she goes on to ask "Don't you have this in MDH??" .
I tell the aunty "Aunty ,I don't work here".
Aunty says "Ohhh! sorry , you had that "bag"(pointing at my jolna) no ,so i thought....."(sentence left incomplete)
I tell aunty "Aunty this is a jolna pi, my grandfather used to use this".
Aunty(some what embarrassed at the whole incident)"Ohh..ha.ha..grandfather aaa..."(turns away and walks towards the actual sales-person)
Stupid aunty.
Anyway, now I have the last laugh. On monday there was an article in The Hindu Metroplus saying "The Jhola is back". It reports that the reasons ranged from "cool-factor" among youngsters to going-green to avoiding plastic.
The reporter seems to have spotted me somewhere going around in my cycle with my jolna.Too bad the security guards and stupid aunties might not have read it.
I am yet to give it a name.
One day I will.

Sankat
To frust boy, if you read this and want to add some things I missed out, DON'T.

Solar Eclispe.

Annular solar eclipse on 15th January. It was quiet a festive atmosphere at the office. At about 1 pm when the eclipse was hundred percent , half the company was outside to see the ring , though this time it was not a diamond ring ,but more of a lord of the rings type ring.
This picture is that of the sun's light through a pin-hole(in an ATM receipt)cast on the ground.
This is a good way of looking at the eclipse if one is scared of looking at the sun through other ways like x-ray image, welder's glass etc.

A picture

My dog. Good dog.