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.

frust

the thing with life is - it is fucked .
Even before we are born our destinies are defined or so many say.
when we die our soul rises and gets stuck in the ceiling.
when we are alive and living we are trying to figure out why are we alive and living .
then again may be it is just the frustration of sitting in the office on a saturday evening .

Maggi Chopsee

I have decided to put up the recipes I invent in this bachelorhood phase of my life.Try it and leave a comment .
Suklam bharadaram...
Maggi chopsee:
Ingredients:-
1 or 2 topramen curry packets . (or anyother instant noodles of your choice)
Tomatoes (2 tomatoes for 1 noodles packet)
Onion (1 per packet but left to cook .More will do but less won't taste good)
Oil (little, to fry the onion)
Haldi(optional)
Cheese(optional)
Method:
For Sause:
Make a puree out of the tomato (now-a-days you are getting this also in the market, but I think it is costly and that it has harmful chemicals in it).
To make a puree one should put the tomatoes in water ,heat it until the peel comes off . Then take the tomatoes out (with a spoon ,else you will burn your fingers.These are little things that bachelors should note), but preserve the water for further use. Mash the tomatoes nicely .You can remove the seed by the process of sedimentation since tomato seeds can cause kidney stones.Keep this puree aside.
Take a kadai i.e pan and heat some oil in it .While it is getting hot you may dice the onion.Put some haldi and "tadka material" into the oil. Add the onions. Fry till it is brown or until you have patience.
Then put the puree in it . Add some water and let it simmer for a while ,then add the taste maker which is provided with the instant noodles.You can add little sugar also.Add some more water if required . Let is simmer until the mixture forms a thick paste sort of thing.
For noodles:
Boil the noodles in water if you want soft noodles.For this you can reuse the water used for boiling the tomatoes .Reusing is one thing a cook should always keep in mind.Nothing is waste.Grate cheese over it . Then we need to melt the cheese so that it spreads over the noodles . You can use the microwave oven for this. OR Put the noodles + cheese combo in a cooker along with some water. Cover the cooker and put the weight on . The steam will melt the cheese .

Now take the noodles + cheese combo and the sause . Pour the sause over the noodles+ cheese combo. That's all:-" Suvayana(tasty) maggi chopsee ready . Pasanga idha romba virumbi sapduvanga"

Little Tricks

Little children are to their respective parents what pets are to their masters.
As I sit on the stone seats in the DRDO canteen I see so many children, accompanied by their parents, playing and running around (both are the same to them I guess).
Every once in a while some uncle or aunty goes by who knows the parent. They say hello to each other and the uncle proceeds to meet the child. The mother says "hello bolo” ...the child says hello. After asking some dumb questions (like, what are you doing here? Where is appa or amma?) the uncle leaves and the mother says again "bye bolo" and the child lifts its arm and shakes its wrists .
Point is every parent teaches some tricks to his/her off springs. The dog doesn’t know what it is doing when it raises its leg and pushes it forward; we presume it is a hand-shake. Like wise the children have no clue what hello or bye or the waving action imply but they have been taught to do that by their parents. The more tricks the child is taught and is able to execute successfully (or as wished by parent) the more amusing or "cho chweet" the child is.
I saw one girl respond to the command "flying kiss do babu ko" also. Very nice. Ten points to amma for training the girl.
There is another side to this.

Two weeks back I was waiting for my friend near a KFC outlet near CMH road. The outlet happens to be right at the crossroads and so many people pass by it. There was female beggar sitting near the steps of this KFC outlet and along with her was a little girl. She would not be more than 5 year old. She wore a bright green dress and it had jari lining also I think (or it is good for the story) . The little girl stood beside the beggar and did nothing but watch the crowd and most probably was trying to come to some conclusion as to how people managed to drive so chaotically even at a signal post.
When ever she felt like, the beggar nudged the forward and I guess it was some sort of a signal because the girl went straight to the people closest to her and staring asking for alms. She simply put her palms together like a bowl and raised it sky wards. The palms would not even reach till the knees of the people (Pretty obvious but somehow I felt like mentioning that specifically). If some one was in a generous mood they gave her a coin which she deposited into hands of the beggar with out a second thought. After this she stood beside her until the next "signal" was given .It was amazing (in a sad way), she was like a trained pet!!
Some times she didn't get anything so she simply put her "bowl" down and went around roaming near the KFC steps. She kept hoping now and then and stopped to observe a small bug going on the pavement.
Point again is, she had no clue she was begging. She had no knowledge of things/feelings like self respect or self reliance which in a way is good ,for the awareness of such things will only make her detest her life (of being a beggar).
As this train of thoughts ran through my head a couple walked in with a Labrador retriever. Their first plan was to tie the dog to the pole which ran along the steps and go in to have a bite. The man ran into some technical issues as the chain had no hook or such so as to facilitate such things. So it was decided that he would sit there and that the lady would get the eatables parceled.
The lady went in leaving the man with the dog and he started stroking the dog's head and back.
All this the little girl stood and saw. I suppose what went on in her mind was:"There is no one to show me such love, at least half of that much love." But since she is a little girl I don't think she thought about such things and so she simply stood still and marveled at the big dog.
Ignorance is bliss they say. In the case of the little girl I am very happy this is true. I only hope that some day she will come out of that life without loosing her entire sense of self-respect.
I think I will name her Mala.
Group hug and pray for Mala okva?? One two three go.

Raghavan

P.S: Refer to this comic strip http://xkcd.com/531/ . Move the mouse over the strip and read the text that comes up.

Hum Ne Veg Bolatha!!

The company offers one non-vegetarian dish as part of the daily lunch menu. Few days back a vegetarian (a strict one at that) found a piece of something in his portion of sambar. Since it did not taste (or look) like anything he was supposed to eat he thought it was a piece of non-vegetarian dish and handed it to one of his colleagues for "testing". The test turned out positive and the unfortunate vegetarian was deeply hurt by the fact that his hitherto pure body (and soul let's add) had been contaminated by a dead animal’s flesh. This unfortunate vegetarian would go on to shoot mails, notifying this matter, to the FOOD committee (Yes, we have one such committee. Too bad if your software firm doesn’t care for such things) putting the entire division in which he works in CC.The mail described the incident as a utter disregard towards the vegetarians and said that the sentiments of the veggies have been hurt seriously by such incidents.The day passed away with little response except a few replies supporting his line of argument (with everyone else added in CC).

Little did he know, the turmoil his mail was about to create.

A week after the "ghastly" incident the aforementioned FOOD committee, in an attempt to take strict action against the caterer (as demanded by THE mail), decided to scrap off non-vegetarian dish from the lunch menu (forever apparently).Now, I know that in India, the Brahmins have always received huge respect and their word as never been breached but this decision was genuinely stupid. I have brought Brahmins into the picture because there is no other reason for one to be vegetarian in India (unless you are some health freak).Also, one would expect vegetarians to have the sympathy of people in such cases since they are the "bechare ghas phoos khanewale" but still, this decision was genuinely stupid (once again).The committee notified the decision through a mail which was broadcast to every one in the company. This mail got bombarded by replies (with everyone in CC off course) over the next two days and there was such an uproar from the non-vegans that the FOOD committee might have been sitting under police protection to avoid any violent activities against them. The writer in everyone seemed to have awakened all of a sudden as mails flew in all directions which were CC-ed to everyone. Hasty, outrageous, un-necessary were words used to describe the decision. “Fixing the bug and leaving numerous side-effects”,"Cutting a head to cure a head-ache" were similes drawn towards it (though I don't know what the first one meant).The entire non-vegetarian population was thrown into a fix so as to what to eat from the next day .Many of them lost the motivation to eat and dragged along behind their respective teams.
The food committee members were constantly at the receiving end of the evil looks and curses of the non-vegans. One of my team members raised a valid point by saying "I don’t understand man, if they find a cockroach in veg food tomorrow will they ban veg food also?”. This logic seemed supremely flawless and I was pretty sure he would do something about this stupid decision (one more time).And just as I thought he did do something about it. He went and joined the FOOD committee stating that it lacked enough non-vegetarian members and that this was the prime cause for this stupid decision of theirs(again haha).Also, he gathered a few non-vegetarians to support his entry into the FOOD committee and had a long argument with them and his vegetarian counterparts trying to convince them about the stupidity of the decision (last time) and gave suggestions as to how non-vegetarian food could be served without affecting the sentiments of the veggies. His ordeal ending after about an hour-and-a-half and he came back vindicated and announced that non-vegetarian food would start again from the coming Monday (after a drought of one week). This came as huge relief for all vegetarians too, who had heard nothing other than the misery of their non-vegetarian friends as they poured it out over the lunch table through out this week.
All ended with a statement from me that even though this incident had thrown many people's dietary habits in utter chaos, it has given rise to a new dish called Chicken sambar.
Seriously, I have eaten sambar all my life and have unwillingly (in most cases) tasted all sort of combination my mother tried with the taan (vegetable) and masala that go into it .I got to eat sambar rice even in my college, though it is located in the remote district of Dhanbad in Jharkhand (not Bihar) but this thought of mixing sambar and chicken never ever crossed my mind or the minds of my non-vegan friends (theirs being non-vegetarian minds and hence having a wider scope).

Footnote:-What coincidence I am Sambarboy and I have got this opportunity to share a newly discovered variety of sambar with you.

Saftu

Working in this human-farm type atmosphere I have kind-of got used to the people that surround me. I know nothing about them apart from their names which are written on the name-plate atop their respective cubical and yet I have a neighbourly feeling towards them. It might me due to the fact that we all strive to make saftware for a living or simply because I got used to the faces and saftware vastu (saftu) they are a part of. Saftu is sort of a harmony between physical and cyber forces, meaning, to make efficient saftware, I need so and so person to sit diagonally opposite to or behind me, another person with his chair facing east and one more facing anywhere but to the north-east of the toilet and so on.

For a long time now, about 2 week (I guess that is long in this saftware world), the cubical next to mine has remained vacant. The person who occupied it got shifted or went abroad if I have figure out correctly from his relentless trials of getting a travel laptop over the phone with the Systems Admin. guys. Even though I knew nothing about the former occupant of the said cubical I grew a familiarity towards him and I was coding very well thanks to the saftu energy that I drew from the surrounding (of which he was an integral part).

The HR department, unaware of my saftu theory, refused to let one seat go vacant and allocated it to some person thus effectively utilizing our (or their) resources. And so, my new neighbour arrived today announcing herself by completely disrupting the saftu of my cubical and it will take a while before she learns the ways of level three right wing cubicles (if any). Moreover, I have to get used to her (not that she cares whether I succeed in doing so or not) and gauge her saftu energy and according shift my chair or table or computer so as to revive the above mentioned saftu harmony. The fact that she is a "she" presents added problem to me for there has been a lot of junta surrounding her this whole day. I guessed it might be so since it was her first day at the new "house" and all her friends came to attend an unofficial house-warming ceremony. Sadly, it does not look like the conglomerate will be temporary as she seems to be the epicenter of all chatter and this has quite a disturbing effect on the peaceful atmosphere that I had got used to for so long. But one does not complain if one's neighbour is watching his/her favorite TV show in high volume or if they shout into their mobile phones while leaning on the compound wall separating the two houses .Similarly, in Saftware, I have learnt, that one does not complain or raise his/her voice against such apparent nuisance but comforts oneself by either joining them or absent oneself from that place and materialize near the coffee machine and stay there till the "party" has come to an end.

I hope that the day comes soon when my new neighbour finds the above mentioned harmony with her surroundings and starts to contribute constructively to the saftu of level three right wing cubicles.

Of low rise jeans and sleeveless Tee

This article was written for my college newspaper- Mailer Daemon .

It is high time someone said a word or two (or even an entire paragraph) about the recent developments in the dressing sense of the students here. The students belonging to the lower half of the 4 years seem to have taken up the job of revolutionizing the fashion in the campus. The most noticeable fashion trend emerging among the kids (this would refer to my non-immediate juniors) is the low-rise jeans. For the ignorant, low rise jeans is a kind of jeans that refuses to hide one's underwear’s patti . Thus if you are a guy wearing a pattiwala underwear, there can be no better dress to show it off than the low-rise jeans. Growing up in a very conservative family, fashion to me was the 2 meter Raymond’s trouser material that I used to get from my grandparents after prostrating 4 times before them. Therefore the concept of the low-rise jeans seems absolutely alien to me. One is often lead to think as to why someone would wear something that skids halfway down the buttock? I remember trying it myself when I once pulled my normal jeans down so that it would look like the low-rise and failed miserably .For, when I came back to my room I found that the jeans had actually been sweeping the campus roads all the while.

The younger ladies on their behalf seem to have set the sleeveless Tee as one of the standard dress codes to the class. One has to understand that a hot day to them is a hot day to us too. Again my very fashion illiterate mind is lead to think as to why should this particular attire be limited to the female domain of the students only? I know a few brawny guys who could scare the teacher to death if they wear a sleeveless Tee and sit in the first bench. This at least would help the students by getting rid of an hour of boring lecture.

But jokes apart, I believe that one (boy or girl) must dress like a proper engineering student when inside the campus. People are free to wear what they want, no doubt, but not inside the campus or to the class or to the library .When you are going out for the movies or to have a fancy dinner you can show your wardrobe off to everyone. The dress we wear or the way we eat or the way we speak to people are all part of us being engineers .As engineers we are supposed to have an air of dignity and respect around us. Thus the way one does the above things shows how much he/she values his/her engineering. But then again, all is well that ends well. So, it is for you to decide, the next time you wear a low-rise (or a sleeveless Tee), weather you look like an engineering student or like an 11th class kid going out with his/her buddies to the mall.

Venkata Raghavan

P.S .Read the Wikipedia article on low-rise jeans (subtopic:-medical concerns)

Nice poem

It is by pure chance that I found this poem while surfing the internet. The words rhyme perfectly but does the poem make sense or not and how far is it true are questions left to the reader.


Sugar and spice and everything nice
That’s what little girls are made of.
Spiders and lice and wee little mice,
that’s what little girls are made of.
Alabaster skin
and emerald eyes,
and ruby red lips,
to hide all her lies:
That’s what little girls are made of.
A forked silver tongue
and a head full of bats,
pierced dimpled cheeks
and claws like a cat:
That’s what little girls are made of.

Sugar and spice and everything nice
That’s what little girls are made of.
False promises and lies
made through half open eyes,
with angelic smiles
and feminine wiles:
That’s what little girls are made of.
An appetite for money
and a runt made of honey:
That’s what little girls are made of.

Sugar and spice and everything nice,
that’s what little girls are made of,
and deceit and pain
and betrayal for gain:
That’s what little girls are made of.