Rant 48: Ode to an injured watch

Soft light passes through the windows
And caresses your metal
Till mine eyes hit upon an angle
And the flash catches me unawares
At that moment I can tell
The flash is nothing more
than your best smile
“How like life,” I say and quickly realize
That you have so much to say
And yet say so much more in silence

Today you fell
Inside my long sleeve first
And onto the floor thereafter
Your metal strap is now detached
From your black-ringed face
My feeble attempts to fix you
Were to no avail
You lie on my table now…so fragile, so frail
Is it the end I ask?
For such a long and glorious friendship

You have been with me
When I traversed these lands
Through the curves of the Western Ghats
Through sandy Goa paths
In the mind-blashting heat of Apni Delhi
As well as its frigid underbelly
Through “smashing” Manipal nights
And never-ending smoky delights
Never wavering in telling me
Exactly how much I had left in me

Now you lie, broken in state
But I know, That no matter how many falls
Or breaks
Or let-downs
What you shall never be
Is broken in spirit, my promise to thee

I know my words are not enough
But your fate dear friend
Is now in the hands of someone else
Someone, who knows your anatomy well
Someone who probably works out of Bendoorwell
Or maybe its Kankanady
It will be, as Russell puts it, SOMEBODY!

Get well soon!

Rant 47: Dharma Dharam Dharamsthala

A few weekends ago, we visited a place called Dharamsthala.
It's about 70 Kms east of Mangalore, or a 2 hour bumpy bus ride away, through some lovely ghats and overlooking some beautiful scenery.
However, pointless statues were not the only worthwhile sight at this place. The temple complex also boasts a beautiful antique museum, which has everything from old guns to old cameras...yes even an ancient Nikon!! Plus, there's even a car museum here...Buicks, limos, etc...even the old Gangsta, Al Capone era getaway type car. Sadly, we weren't allowed to take pictures at these two museums, though I did try to capture a bit of video at the car museum which came out really crappy
still, as always, enjoy the pics that I was able to take

en route all smiles?...maybe not...(L to R) Melllissa, Vinod and Yashpal

The gateway to Dharamsthala

The temple and the hostel


Devotees...

...of all shapes and (hair) sizes...


not to mention, of all idiosyncracies....anybody say The Wailing Gate???

large structures, one useful...the other... simply self-aggrandizing

I learned in my high-school Biology classes that one of the defining characteristics of being a "Living" being, was Response to Stimuli...I guess my teacher forgot to mention it was the same for Exploitation as well
Boy I hope that woman gets her money's worth of blessings, otherwise religion would just be an exploiter...

Ohhh wait...

Rant 46: My Office Episode 3

There is a reason why I took my time with this Episode. I was giving myself an extra few days, just in case my opinions got changed by some miracle. Sadly they haven’t.
Oh wait! You don’t know what I’m talking about. Ok let’s get up to speed on this one.
Ever since I arrived (yes Vinod, I can hear the snickering) in the state of Karnataka around three and a half years ago, I have thought a lot about languages, specifically, local languages in this region and those that I can’t understand. It’s alright to watch a Kannada movie and figure out the general storyline through overly stereotypical character constructions, actions and dialogue delivery styles. However, it’s quite another to be in a public place, say a bus or a restaurant and to understand what is going on. I honestly feel completely out of place at times, especially after moving to Mangalore. During college at Manipal, the language barrier was a little less pronounced wherein it was only the odd autorickshaw driver or shopkeeper who’d turn out to be a mono-linguist (it’s an international college campus for f***’s sake. I mean come on!!!). Most of the local populace there could communicate quite manageably in Hindi and a good number could even speak English. I guess that sort of put me in the language bubble where I assumed that a similar situation existed in Mangalore.
NOT!!!
The language barrier here is the Berlin Wall of all such dividers. People here naturally assume you know the local language. I can understand that to a certain extent. But dude, even after I’ve told you "No kannada boss", you still rattle on in the same manner. I mean that’s either plain stupidity or plain linguism (couldn’t find a better word for language racism…lol!). In very few places (not counting malls of course) have I seen people communicating in Hindi or even English. Ok, I can hear some of you saying, "Learn the friggin’ language dude!" But seriously, there is a minor sense of animosity I get whenever I speak to say auto drivers in Hindi. It’s sort of like, "Oh you’re from outside. Okay, I’ll take you but I won’t be happy about it!" Now, normally I wouldn’t care if they were happy about it or not, as long as I’m not overcharged. However, I feel that it is this attitude of "you’re an outsider" that is the cause of so much strife and rioting in this region. "You’re an outsider", can so easily be interchanged with "You’re different from us" (Yes you pussy communal-riot-flamers, I am looking right at you!!).
And it’s not just with people working in the public sphere. In fact, the language barrier is a kind of front for what I feel is the general attitude of people here. My own landlord gave me a stern message the first time I spoke with him. "We don’t like outsiders!" I kid you not. These were the exact words. I guessed he meant people from outside Karnataka. At that time, in a room with 6 people where I was the only "outsider", I have to say, I felt a slight shiver down my spine.
Apparently, they don’t like leasing rooms or houses out to Non-Karnataka people. My landlord’s logic went something along the lines of "If you come, then more people will want to come, then our community will become bad."
How can you not feel like smashing something up at that point?
Further, doesn’t this seem similar to what is reported about Mumbai/Maharashtra? Where exactly is the society here heading towards I ask you?
Well, until next episode, to all my local friends: Kannada Gotthilla!

Rant 45: Cartoon break

Whenever I'm a little bored in the office, I go on a Cartoon break...
just hunt around the net for time-transcending strips like Garfield, Calvin and Hobbes etc. And sometimes trawling for newer, more intelligent sounding ones.
XKCD (google it, I'm too lazy to link it for you)
plus this strip I found very recently on this site (is it funny today? no I'm not asking you, that's the name)
Looks like a modern day version of Calvin and Hobbes, except that both characters are animals and the "Hobbes"-esque character (a guy called Utahraptor) tends to speak more than his Bill Watterson counterpart. Also, the drawings are the same for every single strip, which is interesting because the character expressions pretty much make sense (or are laughable) for every dialogue in every different strip

thats all I have to say...
I have to get back to work now!

Rant 44: My Office, Episode 2

So life, as they say, goes on. Hold on! This was a sentence I used to see in my school magazine as endings to corny (and sometimes funny) articles. I’m guessing the authors couldn’t think of a good ending, and thus ended that way. So why am I using this sentence and that too in the beginning of this post?
Maybe, it’s because life inside the office will always have its particular rhythm. I really don’t see any need to elaborate much on the general workings and happenings, at this moment. (If you’re interested in it, please see Episode 1 of this series)
So let’s step out of the office space. However, I will stay within the confines of various aspects of office-life.
First things first, Lunch.
In the beginning, there was thali (a traditional south Indian meal and apologies for sounding biblical). Well, to actually call the cafeteria’s meal a traditional thali would be stretching it. It was…uhh…well…you know, an-edible-assortment-of-things. A cup of white rice, two chapathis, a curry, some sabzi (vegetable mix) and curd. I would say that from childhood, I’ve evolved from being a picky-eater (huge euphemism) to one who can survive on anything. And the afore mentioned meal was okay, I guess. The first month or so, my 30-minute lunch comprised standing in the lunch line, picking up whatever variation of curry/sabzi was on offer for the day and then endure the TV, which for some reason was always tuned to MTV. For an even odder reason, my lunch breaks always seemed to coincide with Splitsville (and if you have never heard of this show before, Run Forrest Run!).
Then came the rumours, not to mention the heavy drowsiness I felt post-lunch. After discussions with some colleagues, I decided that the vicious rumours about the canteen guys adding Soda to the rice to increase quantities could well be true. And in any case, who wanted to take chances eh? Next thing you know, they might come up with a stomach disease called Soda-stone (Shotgun on the name rights, in case they actually find something).
They say the grass is always greener on the other side. In my case, I just hoped the food at a certain restaurant located just outside the back entrance to the office campus, was better filling and had less potential for harm. What I imagined to be a hoattall turned out to be a plain old dhaba (quite possibly, a house converted into a dhaba). There was nothing plain old about the service. Enter "Aunty"!
A hobbling old woman (reminds me a lot of my grandmother) is in charge here, and she is pretty much the only one. And yet, despite the fact that loads of other employees from the company (or as I like to call them, the soda-in-canteen-rice-conspiracy-group) come to eat here, she remembers the choices of every single one of them.
And the food itself, is divine! Well, maybe not divine in the true sense of the word, but the very fact that it was "home-cooked" or at least tasted as such, was enough for me to forsake the canteen. My regular choices include 3 parotas, curry, sabzi and 3 pieces of chicken kebab. It’s been one heavenly lunch after another so far. The best part about Aunty’s (that’s the name of the place I think. At least I haven’t heard a different one yet), is that she doesn’t really care how much of curry or sabzi she lovingly doles out. Or even of the number of pieces of chicken. She handed me five once, when I’d asked for three, and the smile on her face told me who my second mum was! (first mom, I still love your food the best…KFC, you, of course, are my second dad).
A wholly satisfying lunch later, I return to the office to continue work. And here I wish I was allowed to take pictures in the office, wherein I could post a before and after pic of my post-lunch situation. BEFORE: resting head on hands, eyes closed, in risk of getting pulled up by manager.
AFTER: eyes wide open, ready to take on the world…or is it China?

(PS: Next episode will be on another important aspect of office life…Communications)