It was one of those terrible days , when you try to run away from yourself,and the world seems a very bad place, it was the exam hall and i was hammering my calculator, it is always a problem where i end up with a problem, the answer seeming large, a dose rate of 20 rontgens per hour, streaming radiation from a pipe, too high,I just couldn't figure out what went wrong, the engineering conversion were correct, i tried to fudge the reading, and then i changed my mind, i scribbled the large value on the face of the answer book , a scribble that could cost me dear, but at the end of the exam, i couldn't figure out where my confidence had disappeared, the anwer was corect and so was the fudged scribble. The countdown started and the invigilator threw a thread on my table and as e announced 'last 15 minutes', as he said that i kept checking my calculations while banging my calculator very hard with a lot of foul words streaming form my mouth, a felt like breaking the window, the calculator, the table and last of all my head. I was flusterd and dejected, i went through the rest of the paper and yet again my confidence faltered when i saw another set of calculated values that seemed astray from the regular values, it was agian a big formula, i remembered the empherical values but couldn't recollect the sign, was a + or a -, ??? Oh to hell with it , it should be minus, it gave me more realistic values. Damn! Damn! damn! and that what i told my self, i handed over the answer booklet to the invigilator and cursed under my breath while leaving the hall. WHY does it always happen with me, why damn it why??? As I strode of to the lunch room, i felt a shiver down my spine thinking about the consequences of such a 'screwed up' paper.
I had my lunch and then i went to my hostel room, were a heard the ansewer that every one obtained, to my shock and awe , the astray answers were correct. What ever happened to my confidence, i just hope it never happens again..!!!
Friday, December 12, 2008
Friday, November 7, 2008
It was today that i realized, what i had bargained for. From Deltas, betas And so many other greek letters, started the greek of my day, First statistics then came Physics and then Control, it was all a mixture of greek and maths , with me unable to decipher an ounce of what was being put across.
I was shaken in the first hour, with mean variance and error, all erring in head. The professor is a scientist, and expects us to be the same. But alas , i couldn't figure out head or tale.
As the hour came to an end, i was half asleep, it was morning , so i couldn't be sleeping to my full potential. The next hour was Physics, The teacher started with a huge jumbo equation and my head went for a spin. i could make out something, but that something wasn't enough, as my eye lids were dropping, and i tried desperately to focus on the black board. The air conditioner which makes me freeze in the room, for a change was making me feel more comfartable and by the end of the hour i was half asleep. I was really pissed off, for two straight hours, i was unable understand a fig. I was hopeful that the next lecture would be interesting, but to my dismay, it was yet another show of the powerful tool called maths, this time i dozzed off in betwen the class, as far as i could make out i was the only one doing so. The class ended, i had my lunch and the the next class statrted after an hour, and again big equations, and again i couldn't understand a thing.
so it was a terrible day with everything seeming like french greek and latin of which i have no knowledge. The day didn't end that bad , as in our visits we got an opportunity to see one of Asia's First (Guess what ????). (at least, thats what written on the front of the building ;))
there might be many mistakes, but i am writing this since i had decided that i have to write something!!!
I was shaken in the first hour, with mean variance and error, all erring in head. The professor is a scientist, and expects us to be the same. But alas , i couldn't figure out head or tale.
As the hour came to an end, i was half asleep, it was morning , so i couldn't be sleeping to my full potential. The next hour was Physics, The teacher started with a huge jumbo equation and my head went for a spin. i could make out something, but that something wasn't enough, as my eye lids were dropping, and i tried desperately to focus on the black board. The air conditioner which makes me freeze in the room, for a change was making me feel more comfartable and by the end of the hour i was half asleep. I was really pissed off, for two straight hours, i was unable understand a fig. I was hopeful that the next lecture would be interesting, but to my dismay, it was yet another show of the powerful tool called maths, this time i dozzed off in betwen the class, as far as i could make out i was the only one doing so. The class ended, i had my lunch and the the next class statrted after an hour, and again big equations, and again i couldn't understand a thing.
so it was a terrible day with everything seeming like french greek and latin of which i have no knowledge. The day didn't end that bad , as in our visits we got an opportunity to see one of Asia's First (Guess what ????). (at least, thats what written on the front of the building ;))
there might be many mistakes, but i am writing this since i had decided that i have to write something!!!
Monday, July 28, 2008
Abode
The place was crowded and I got out, a large number of coolies asking for my baggage and I declined their offer, as I went further I saw my dad waving at me and within no time we were through to the car park. As we went through the exit the roads were narrow partly due to the construction of the city metro, the pride of the city. As we trundled towards the main road leaving behind the scurrying rickshaws and autos, the car picked up speed and the roads widened. As we progressed through the city the speed of the vehicle picked up and we were doing 60, and that is fast considering the traffic in the other cities. As we approached our home we crossed a lotus flyover that was in the construction stage and the road after that was wide, very wide. We drove past the signal and then again the construction of the metro had narrowed down the road. It was in all a 20 min drive from the station to our home. Delhi had changed in the four years that i had been away. What came up were malls of different dimensions and the flyovers and of course the metro had by now covered a large chunk of the city. But what didn’t change was the ubiquitous sight of traffic in the roads, growing faster than the size of the roads. And also what hadn’t transformed was the delicious ‘aloo chat’. (Feeling hungry already!). Though I am not a great foodie, the very sight of it makes my mouth water. The new malls here displayed and air of exuberance. Though scantly crowded, the quality of the available goods was good.
The pigeons were the same, trying to build its nest around the air conditioner and shitting all over it. But pigeons are pigeons and humans are humans. I haven’t seen a large part of this city, but what i have seen is a small section in the south of the city, the roads in some place were good and in a few places awful, thanks to the ongoing construction, a ride in the metro reveals how much the city has to offer. In other words it was splendid. This is the city which is my temporary abode.
The pigeons were the same, trying to build its nest around the air conditioner and shitting all over it. But pigeons are pigeons and humans are humans. I haven’t seen a large part of this city, but what i have seen is a small section in the south of the city, the roads in some place were good and in a few places awful, thanks to the ongoing construction, a ride in the metro reveals how much the city has to offer. In other words it was splendid. This is the city which is my temporary abode.
Friday, April 18, 2008
A Cuckoo in the Crow’s nest.
This is a self made story and might become a new age adage. Crows don’t give birth to Cuckoos, but just as population explosion took the world by surprise, felling trees to meet the needs of the Homo sapiens, birds flocked into a big banyan tree in the middle of Manhattan city, making it the abode for many. No caste, no creed, but it had colors indeed. Parrots, minas and crows and sparrows filled the branches with their chirps and squeal. The brood was expanding with eggs in the nests.
A very uncommon thing happened in the palpable obscure; the mother cuckoo in her sleep had a miscarriage and dropped the egg in the crows nest. The crow unaware of the number of eggs present in its nest, thought the new egg to be its own. A few weeks passed and the eggs hatched, the crows had a flock of many small ones but one a little different, it was dark but had a peculiar beak, it was different but yet the difference wasn’t seen by the mother. The crows read physics and the art of scavenging, the cuckoo didn’t understand anything, and abhorred itself for its incapability to learn the equations of motion. The crows teased it and it started to cry, it tried physics, it tried scavenging but it was of no avail. The tormented soul, with its two chamber heart heavy, tried, and cried, in the silence of the night. It decided that it must die; it decided that the crows were far superior, and one day, unable to bear the blow of everyday, it cried loud, with grief and agony. With its eyes closed it cried aloud, hoping to die, and when it opened its eyes there was an unbearable applaud, the audience was there, cheering the new singer, the music in its voice soothed every ones ears and from that day on , the cuckoo lived life happy and jubilant. The banayan singer was born.
So be a cuckoo, if you know you can’t be a crow! Live your own definition of Success!
* I have no idea what a cuckoo looks like and what its habitat is like, but I do know it sings well *
A very uncommon thing happened in the palpable obscure; the mother cuckoo in her sleep had a miscarriage and dropped the egg in the crows nest. The crow unaware of the number of eggs present in its nest, thought the new egg to be its own. A few weeks passed and the eggs hatched, the crows had a flock of many small ones but one a little different, it was dark but had a peculiar beak, it was different but yet the difference wasn’t seen by the mother. The crows read physics and the art of scavenging, the cuckoo didn’t understand anything, and abhorred itself for its incapability to learn the equations of motion. The crows teased it and it started to cry, it tried physics, it tried scavenging but it was of no avail. The tormented soul, with its two chamber heart heavy, tried, and cried, in the silence of the night. It decided that it must die; it decided that the crows were far superior, and one day, unable to bear the blow of everyday, it cried loud, with grief and agony. With its eyes closed it cried aloud, hoping to die, and when it opened its eyes there was an unbearable applaud, the audience was there, cheering the new singer, the music in its voice soothed every ones ears and from that day on , the cuckoo lived life happy and jubilant. The banayan singer was born.
So be a cuckoo, if you know you can’t be a crow! Live your own definition of Success!
* I have no idea what a cuckoo looks like and what its habitat is like, but I do know it sings well *
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Retail Debacle
Before I go ahead with the basic content of this post, I would like to warn the readers that what I am writing is my own idea, it may seem incredulous. The veracity of whatever is posted should not be taken for granted.
The stock markets are tumbling; the only thing I see on the news channels is sub prime crisis. So I went about searching for the meaning of that term. From what I could make out, it is a case in which a particular amount of money is lent to people with low credit, for mortgages. In better words, people with low credit, or the people with little money take loans that the think, they could repay in the near future. Mind You! Loans for housing are pretty high there. They payment downtime was about 20 years or so with a pretty high interest rate.
People of the ‘sub prime’ group are the people, who have a low income, so if my guess is that these people are the people who live with a low income and hope to generate enough income to pay their dues.
So this is what happens, people take loans and then purchase houses, and then pays monthly installments to repay the loan.
People with constant income or rising income can afford to do this. Here is where retail market comes into play.
The manufacturer produces the goods, but these goods are sold only in the markets. Large retail markets obtain the goods from the manufacturer directly and other small markets get the goods through a middle man who acts as an interface between the small market and manufacturer. But the catch is that a large retailer controls the manufacturer by his throat. This leads to outsourcing and thus loss of jobs. This is explained in the post:
http://vignesh23.blogspot.com/2008/02/controlling-manufacturer-retailers-way.html
Outsourcing is the phenomenon through which the manufacturer sets up manufacturing plants (factories) in third world countries, to reduce the cost of production and to obtain larger profit margins.
The process of outsourcing leaves the country with no manufacturing units and thus cutting jobs and when there are no jobs, the people can’t repay their loans.
The house that had been purchased through these loans, are taken over by the bank. The land value dips to a low value because with no manufacturing units and large scale lay offs, there are no takers for that house for the same original price. The bank in turn looses heavily due to the dip in real estate values. There are plentiful people who have opted for that type of loan, so huge losses are incurred by the bank.
To obtain the lost amount the banks try to recover other loans from a myriad of people. These people, many of who invest in over seas stock market, sell their shares in the stock market. When large numbers of shares are dumped into the stock market the value of the stocks reduce drastically, thus leading to a down fall in the stock market.
Therefore the Retail market in a very indirect way causes the stocks and economies to tumble world wide. I have nothing against the Retail markets, but this is just an opinion, an idea, nothing else. Readers can help me by thinking about this and also point out any logical errors, and share their own ideas and views.
The stock markets are tumbling; the only thing I see on the news channels is sub prime crisis. So I went about searching for the meaning of that term. From what I could make out, it is a case in which a particular amount of money is lent to people with low credit, for mortgages. In better words, people with low credit, or the people with little money take loans that the think, they could repay in the near future. Mind You! Loans for housing are pretty high there. They payment downtime was about 20 years or so with a pretty high interest rate.
People of the ‘sub prime’ group are the people, who have a low income, so if my guess is that these people are the people who live with a low income and hope to generate enough income to pay their dues.
So this is what happens, people take loans and then purchase houses, and then pays monthly installments to repay the loan.
People with constant income or rising income can afford to do this. Here is where retail market comes into play.
The manufacturer produces the goods, but these goods are sold only in the markets. Large retail markets obtain the goods from the manufacturer directly and other small markets get the goods through a middle man who acts as an interface between the small market and manufacturer. But the catch is that a large retailer controls the manufacturer by his throat. This leads to outsourcing and thus loss of jobs. This is explained in the post:
http://vignesh23.blogspot.com/2008/02/controlling-manufacturer-retailers-way.html
Outsourcing is the phenomenon through which the manufacturer sets up manufacturing plants (factories) in third world countries, to reduce the cost of production and to obtain larger profit margins.
The process of outsourcing leaves the country with no manufacturing units and thus cutting jobs and when there are no jobs, the people can’t repay their loans.
The house that had been purchased through these loans, are taken over by the bank. The land value dips to a low value because with no manufacturing units and large scale lay offs, there are no takers for that house for the same original price. The bank in turn looses heavily due to the dip in real estate values. There are plentiful people who have opted for that type of loan, so huge losses are incurred by the bank.
To obtain the lost amount the banks try to recover other loans from a myriad of people. These people, many of who invest in over seas stock market, sell their shares in the stock market. When large numbers of shares are dumped into the stock market the value of the stocks reduce drastically, thus leading to a down fall in the stock market.
Therefore the Retail market in a very indirect way causes the stocks and economies to tumble world wide. I have nothing against the Retail markets, but this is just an opinion, an idea, nothing else. Readers can help me by thinking about this and also point out any logical errors, and share their own ideas and views.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Eyes Off The Road
I haven’t posted for quite some time. I couldn’t think of anything else, so here is a day’s experience.
My first YRC (Youth red cross) assignment. I had to reach the hospital by 9 in the morning. One of the oldest hospitals of its kind, the Madras Ophthalmic Hospital is some where near Mt. Road as far as I can recollect. It was four years ago, that I went, with my friend.
We reached the hospital at about 9am and we could see, lot of patients, many with an eye covered. We reported to the head nurse, and registered our names. Next was the job assignment, I was excited, but all the excitement went away when I started with my first assignment. Being a receptionist, without understanding tamil was like being in the ‘Tower of Babel’. I didn’t know much of Tamil four years ago. With a ‘red cross’ jacket, I stood in front of the table that showed ‘receptionist’. Many people came and asked me the where bouts of rooms, I was baffled as the numbers they mentioned were in tamil, I could understand one to ten, with some confusion in the 5th and 6th numeral, but above ten I couldn’t make out. I went up to my friend for the translation every time I encountered some problem. With the answers came more questions and I was shuttling from my table to my friend’s assigned place, outside the ward. The patients had to put up with me and many a times I got a piece of their mind. It’s a rigmarole for them and with me creating communication voids, the situation was getting abominably out of control.
I needed a change for the good of both the patients and me. My friend, wasn’t budging from his place and then I got a chance to swap with my college mate, who was controlling the traffic approaching Mt. Road. The hospital was one side and the ward on the other side of the road. Often patients had to cross the road in order to make pay a visit to the doctor. Traffic had to be stopped when a suitable number of people came on either side, for them to cross.I swapped places with him immediately, I had the jacket on but now I also got a ‘STOP’ sign that could fit my hand, like the one the policemen sport at traffic junctions.
I took charge of the traffic going towards Mt. road and another guy was on the opposite side regulating traffic from Mt. road, though there were very vehicles from that side. We had to coordinate and stop traffic as the patients can cross only when the traffic from both sides stop.
I came to the middle of the lane and displayed the stop sign, the traffic came to a standstill. I felt powerful with my ‘Stop sign’ weapon. I just had to lift it up and the traffic stops. I had a stupendous time at the road.
At times we wouldn’t coordinate properly and the patients would be stranded in the middle of the road. Though that happened once, we were in an obvious predicament.
The power of the ‘stop sign’ took over my mind and I kept showing it even when a single patient had to cross.
I was at the acme of glory, but then I suddenly saw an auto racing towards me. ‘Oops’, I had brought down the ‘stop sign’, it was a green signal, with me forgetting to move out of the lane, he just missed, and his acerbate words put me in a predicament. All the same I didn’t know much of tamil so I didn’t bother about what he said. After a tiring half hour, I went back in as my substitute had arrived. The other assignments were fairly simple. It was a fun filled day, an experience that was different from the banality of the class rooms.
My first YRC (Youth red cross) assignment. I had to reach the hospital by 9 in the morning. One of the oldest hospitals of its kind, the Madras Ophthalmic Hospital is some where near Mt. Road as far as I can recollect. It was four years ago, that I went, with my friend.
We reached the hospital at about 9am and we could see, lot of patients, many with an eye covered. We reported to the head nurse, and registered our names. Next was the job assignment, I was excited, but all the excitement went away when I started with my first assignment. Being a receptionist, without understanding tamil was like being in the ‘Tower of Babel’. I didn’t know much of Tamil four years ago. With a ‘red cross’ jacket, I stood in front of the table that showed ‘receptionist’. Many people came and asked me the where bouts of rooms, I was baffled as the numbers they mentioned were in tamil, I could understand one to ten, with some confusion in the 5th and 6th numeral, but above ten I couldn’t make out. I went up to my friend for the translation every time I encountered some problem. With the answers came more questions and I was shuttling from my table to my friend’s assigned place, outside the ward. The patients had to put up with me and many a times I got a piece of their mind. It’s a rigmarole for them and with me creating communication voids, the situation was getting abominably out of control.
I needed a change for the good of both the patients and me. My friend, wasn’t budging from his place and then I got a chance to swap with my college mate, who was controlling the traffic approaching Mt. Road. The hospital was one side and the ward on the other side of the road. Often patients had to cross the road in order to make pay a visit to the doctor. Traffic had to be stopped when a suitable number of people came on either side, for them to cross.I swapped places with him immediately, I had the jacket on but now I also got a ‘STOP’ sign that could fit my hand, like the one the policemen sport at traffic junctions.
I took charge of the traffic going towards Mt. road and another guy was on the opposite side regulating traffic from Mt. road, though there were very vehicles from that side. We had to coordinate and stop traffic as the patients can cross only when the traffic from both sides stop.
I came to the middle of the lane and displayed the stop sign, the traffic came to a standstill. I felt powerful with my ‘Stop sign’ weapon. I just had to lift it up and the traffic stops. I had a stupendous time at the road.
At times we wouldn’t coordinate properly and the patients would be stranded in the middle of the road. Though that happened once, we were in an obvious predicament.
The power of the ‘stop sign’ took over my mind and I kept showing it even when a single patient had to cross.
I was at the acme of glory, but then I suddenly saw an auto racing towards me. ‘Oops’, I had brought down the ‘stop sign’, it was a green signal, with me forgetting to move out of the lane, he just missed, and his acerbate words put me in a predicament. All the same I didn’t know much of tamil so I didn’t bother about what he said. After a tiring half hour, I went back in as my substitute had arrived. The other assignments were fairly simple. It was a fun filled day, an experience that was different from the banality of the class rooms.
Monday, March 10, 2008
The Raid! – Part 3 (Bottom Line)
I could not afford to get all my bags checked. I had five pieces of luggage. Two suit cases on the loft, one suitcase below my table: illegal items contained: Multi meter and Soldering gun. Two trolley bags under my bed, one had a CD player and the other my cell phone, the only source of communication to the outside world, since the hostel phones were pathetic and the STD booth in the campus had exorbitant rates. It was a ‘save my cell’ mission. I wouldn’t like to loose my CD player too as it was the only source of entertainment and music was the only inoculation to my glum mood. I had to come up with something concrete. I had an English Movie CD in my drawer.
If I would give him something that would satisfy him, he might not check all my bags.
With this assumption, I acquiesced when he asked me if I possessed any CDs or cell phones. I took out my drawer key and opened the draw and handed him the movie CD.
I looked at him once and then looked down abashed. I was hoping he falls for the trick. I looked at him from the corner of my eye; I could see what I wanted to see. His eyes showed the sense of achievement and just to make things went smoothly, I offered to open a suitcase that was on the loft, before he could reply I opened it, it had nothing but a few clothes and an encyclopedia CD, he took that CD too. His face gleaming with pride, he took the two CD and put then in a cover and asked me to write my name, I did that immediately. He still stood there, it was now or never, I had to make my move before the other raiders joined the party. The other raiders were checking my room mates.
I mustered up the courage and asked him, “Can I leave now? ”.
“Yes”, he said and I hurried away from there, leaving my drawer key near my bed. That ‘yes’ was the word that would finish this nightmare. I walked past the other rooms as fast as I could, before he could call me again. I went to the lobby towards the way out.
Many eyes were staring at me and I could see the question marks on their pupils. I gave a broad smile, and said “Nothing caught”, and leapt out of the hostel gates and made my way through the college building to my class to announce my triumph.
I was very lucky as i made my way out without getting my cell phone seized. There were many who weren’t that lucky, their phones seized and placed in a plastic bag and kept in the office. They had to go through the rigmarole get it back.
My friend who owned one of the talkies saw this coming and wrapped all his CDs’ in a plastic bag and dumped it in a bucket of water, the night before. He placed his dirty clothes in the water to prevent suspicion. He didn’t loose any of his CDs’, but poor chap couldn’t do that to his hard disk drive and neither did he delete the movies, so his computer got confiscated. Another friend of mine saved his skin, thanks to the ignorance of the raider who just couldn’t figure out that a metallic notebook like structure was capable of playing and storing movies. I felt like a refugee that day and that incident would always remain in my memory lane.
This was the first raid, and unfortunately not the last.
If I would give him something that would satisfy him, he might not check all my bags.
With this assumption, I acquiesced when he asked me if I possessed any CDs or cell phones. I took out my drawer key and opened the draw and handed him the movie CD.
I looked at him once and then looked down abashed. I was hoping he falls for the trick. I looked at him from the corner of my eye; I could see what I wanted to see. His eyes showed the sense of achievement and just to make things went smoothly, I offered to open a suitcase that was on the loft, before he could reply I opened it, it had nothing but a few clothes and an encyclopedia CD, he took that CD too. His face gleaming with pride, he took the two CD and put then in a cover and asked me to write my name, I did that immediately. He still stood there, it was now or never, I had to make my move before the other raiders joined the party. The other raiders were checking my room mates.
I mustered up the courage and asked him, “Can I leave now? ”.
“Yes”, he said and I hurried away from there, leaving my drawer key near my bed. That ‘yes’ was the word that would finish this nightmare. I walked past the other rooms as fast as I could, before he could call me again. I went to the lobby towards the way out.
Many eyes were staring at me and I could see the question marks on their pupils. I gave a broad smile, and said “Nothing caught”, and leapt out of the hostel gates and made my way through the college building to my class to announce my triumph.
I was very lucky as i made my way out without getting my cell phone seized. There were many who weren’t that lucky, their phones seized and placed in a plastic bag and kept in the office. They had to go through the rigmarole get it back.
My friend who owned one of the talkies saw this coming and wrapped all his CDs’ in a plastic bag and dumped it in a bucket of water, the night before. He placed his dirty clothes in the water to prevent suspicion. He didn’t loose any of his CDs’, but poor chap couldn’t do that to his hard disk drive and neither did he delete the movies, so his computer got confiscated. Another friend of mine saved his skin, thanks to the ignorance of the raider who just couldn’t figure out that a metallic notebook like structure was capable of playing and storing movies. I felt like a refugee that day and that incident would always remain in my memory lane.
This was the first raid, and unfortunately not the last.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
THE RAID! – Part 2
Sweat pouring all over; I had no choice but to wait. Wait until the raid party raided my room. It was 1:30 in the afternoon all the residents of the first floor arrived. There were 20 rooms in the first floor, each room labeled with its room number above the door. The Raiders went to the first floor and asked us to stay put. I didn’t know what they had in mind; it was like a nightmare coming true during the day. The martinet head warden and his adjutant were the last to leave the lobby. We could see a few rooms from where we were. Then the watchman came running, and asked the residents of the first room to go to their room. They complied immediately. Four students occupied each room with a separate bed and a concrete shelf.
The students from the first room came one by one, three of them sad and one in a jubilant mood. All of us went and enquired and the morose three were dispossessed of their cell phones, and the one very happy managed to dupe the raider allotted to him. They went on to attend their classes. Cell phones were banned in my hostel and a person who is caught with one would be dispossessed of it and would get it back only if their parents paid the college a visit and paid an exorbitant fine. Owing to the location of the college the visit would itself be an expensive affair. Some parents would try and negotiate the fine, but that would be futile, and at the end of the day an exorbitant fine is paid from the pocket and from the mind.
Ten rooms were covered and many lost their phones and CDs’ but some lucky people escaped, many were cursing the raiders as the toppled over their books and ruined their ironed clothes. In brevity they made a big mess of the place. There were 4 talkies in all. The room that bared the name talkie was mutilated the most. One such room was visible from the lobby and I could see all the raiders devoting all their time to that room, up setting things in search of a bounty.
The room reminded me of an isolated twister. The only thing they didn’t check in the living quarters were the CPU cabinets. A few CD’s were all what they got, and I was surprised too, as the talkies all together had enough CDs to open a retail CD store.
Then it happened, I was called. A shiver ran down my spine, I was on the way to my room, a raider waiting outside to welcome me. The raider allotted to me a office staff, who was not a regular, white and black. White and Black are people in my college who dress up in white shirt and black pants and their only job is to roam around the college premises and penalize the defaulter. They were known for their impudent nature, and were strict to the core. I was happy that no of them showed for my room.
I possessed a lot of illegal items, ranging from a Cell phone to a CD player. He walked into my room and asked me if I had any cell phone or CD’s. I had both, and I stammered. He asked me to open my bags and I duly complied. I was nervous because if he checked all my bags I would have a lost a lot of things and maybe even my ID card at the end of it. It would be suspension, entry into the bad books, etc. The paranoia gripped me.
Then an idea struck me!
To be continued…………
The students from the first room came one by one, three of them sad and one in a jubilant mood. All of us went and enquired and the morose three were dispossessed of their cell phones, and the one very happy managed to dupe the raider allotted to him. They went on to attend their classes. Cell phones were banned in my hostel and a person who is caught with one would be dispossessed of it and would get it back only if their parents paid the college a visit and paid an exorbitant fine. Owing to the location of the college the visit would itself be an expensive affair. Some parents would try and negotiate the fine, but that would be futile, and at the end of the day an exorbitant fine is paid from the pocket and from the mind.
Ten rooms were covered and many lost their phones and CDs’ but some lucky people escaped, many were cursing the raiders as the toppled over their books and ruined their ironed clothes. In brevity they made a big mess of the place. There were 4 talkies in all. The room that bared the name talkie was mutilated the most. One such room was visible from the lobby and I could see all the raiders devoting all their time to that room, up setting things in search of a bounty.
The room reminded me of an isolated twister. The only thing they didn’t check in the living quarters were the CPU cabinets. A few CD’s were all what they got, and I was surprised too, as the talkies all together had enough CDs to open a retail CD store.
Then it happened, I was called. A shiver ran down my spine, I was on the way to my room, a raider waiting outside to welcome me. The raider allotted to me a office staff, who was not a regular, white and black. White and Black are people in my college who dress up in white shirt and black pants and their only job is to roam around the college premises and penalize the defaulter. They were known for their impudent nature, and were strict to the core. I was happy that no of them showed for my room.
I possessed a lot of illegal items, ranging from a Cell phone to a CD player. He walked into my room and asked me if I had any cell phone or CD’s. I had both, and I stammered. He asked me to open my bags and I duly complied. I was nervous because if he checked all my bags I would have a lost a lot of things and maybe even my ID card at the end of it. It would be suspension, entry into the bad books, etc. The paranoia gripped me.
Then an idea struck me!
To be continued…………
Saturday, March 8, 2008
THE RAID! Part 1
It was a day two years ago. My abode was a hostel, a jail, to be precise. When I say jail I mean it. Strict rules were the order of the place. I have described the hostel in another post –‘monkeys in the attic’, in which I mentioned watching movies and the authorities being unaware of that.
It was one of those days, my friend, the proud owner of ‘Durga talkies’ as we call his room, had inadvertently left a movie C.D right on the top of his desk, in full public view. It was careless on his part, and it was the cause of a series of events that changed many things in the hostel.
The sun was setting in, that didn’t mean that people could go out for a stroll, it meant people were to sit and study as the evening study time was coming near.
The Bell rang and silence filled the ambience, the warden was expected to visit the rooms, without being invited of course. We were in the first floor, we saw him coming and we pretended to study. The C.D still on my friend’s table. He briskly walked into each room as if he were entering his own bed room. Then came Durga talkies, he barged in and saw the C.D and confiscated it. He went on to complete his rounds and left the hostel and went to the office to report the incident to the head warden, a martinet. We were unperturbed, as it was just a Movie C.D. He would be let off immediately, with some scolding or at the most a couple of slaps. But what happened the next day was completely unexpected and took us all off guard.
It was the Lunch break and I was eating in the mess, when suddenly the mess in charge comes up and asks if my room were in the first floor. I said yes. He asked me to go to the hostel after Lunch. I acquiesced. I was appalled by his diction. I asked him but he wouldn’t reply. I tossed something into my mouth as I lost my appetite.
I went to the hostel straight away. I could see the head warden his adjutant, with many other students of the first floor and I saw the owner of ‘Durga talkies’ too, without his ID card. In my college if a person is without his sling ID card he is in big trouble.
I came in and it was no vicarious meet when I saw the head warden. He told me to wait, and I duly complied. Nobody would like to mess with him. He was the Jailor of our jail, this jail being the college.
All the students arrived after lunch and then came 5 office assistants; I still didn’t know the reason for this untimely get-together in the hostel premises when the college was working.
It was then I realized that the raid party had just been formed. I was alarmed as I had a lot of things in my luggage that I shouldn’t be having.
To be continued…..
It was one of those days, my friend, the proud owner of ‘Durga talkies’ as we call his room, had inadvertently left a movie C.D right on the top of his desk, in full public view. It was careless on his part, and it was the cause of a series of events that changed many things in the hostel.
The sun was setting in, that didn’t mean that people could go out for a stroll, it meant people were to sit and study as the evening study time was coming near.
The Bell rang and silence filled the ambience, the warden was expected to visit the rooms, without being invited of course. We were in the first floor, we saw him coming and we pretended to study. The C.D still on my friend’s table. He briskly walked into each room as if he were entering his own bed room. Then came Durga talkies, he barged in and saw the C.D and confiscated it. He went on to complete his rounds and left the hostel and went to the office to report the incident to the head warden, a martinet. We were unperturbed, as it was just a Movie C.D. He would be let off immediately, with some scolding or at the most a couple of slaps. But what happened the next day was completely unexpected and took us all off guard.
It was the Lunch break and I was eating in the mess, when suddenly the mess in charge comes up and asks if my room were in the first floor. I said yes. He asked me to go to the hostel after Lunch. I acquiesced. I was appalled by his diction. I asked him but he wouldn’t reply. I tossed something into my mouth as I lost my appetite.
I went to the hostel straight away. I could see the head warden his adjutant, with many other students of the first floor and I saw the owner of ‘Durga talkies’ too, without his ID card. In my college if a person is without his sling ID card he is in big trouble.
I came in and it was no vicarious meet when I saw the head warden. He told me to wait, and I duly complied. Nobody would like to mess with him. He was the Jailor of our jail, this jail being the college.
All the students arrived after lunch and then came 5 office assistants; I still didn’t know the reason for this untimely get-together in the hostel premises when the college was working.
It was then I realized that the raid party had just been formed. I was alarmed as I had a lot of things in my luggage that I shouldn’t be having.
To be continued…..
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Spring Slumber
As the hours passed, the day of the exam neared, I went into a deep slumber. Into utopia I went with my soul; it was a day 21 years ago.
The final address was being delivered by the Almighty to the batch of souls ready to be imbued into the wombs of earth.
“I am sending you all to a planet earth, for a day. A day here may be a 100 years there. Planet earth is a weird place; people live in illusions and die with delusions. They cherish for the most inanimate, they are driven by the desire to achieve such illusions. They don’t realise the soul and are mesmerized by the phantasmal world. They live in a fool’s paradise. There are people who do, not what their heart says, but what they are told by their peers. They say they possess bliss, but it is hollow, an abyss of sorrow.
I am giving you one life, one day, be what you truly desire to become, do what you truly cherish to do. You have one life; don’t waste it living someone else’s life.
At the end of the day, when you return, you should be happy, from within your soul.”
I got up to appear for the exam, I failed; I changed my lane.
I was sad, looking at sad faces, but I love my new lane, whether or not it brings me fame, whether or not it gives me accolades, I will stay on this new lane, for this is my game, my life, my day out……...
The final address was being delivered by the Almighty to the batch of souls ready to be imbued into the wombs of earth.
“I am sending you all to a planet earth, for a day. A day here may be a 100 years there. Planet earth is a weird place; people live in illusions and die with delusions. They cherish for the most inanimate, they are driven by the desire to achieve such illusions. They don’t realise the soul and are mesmerized by the phantasmal world. They live in a fool’s paradise. There are people who do, not what their heart says, but what they are told by their peers. They say they possess bliss, but it is hollow, an abyss of sorrow.
I am giving you one life, one day, be what you truly desire to become, do what you truly cherish to do. You have one life; don’t waste it living someone else’s life.
At the end of the day, when you return, you should be happy, from within your soul.”
I got up to appear for the exam, I failed; I changed my lane.
I was sad, looking at sad faces, but I love my new lane, whether or not it brings me fame, whether or not it gives me accolades, I will stay on this new lane, for this is my game, my life, my day out……...
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Swami*…….
I was late for lunch, it was a Sunday. Spilt food occupied the top of the table. Silence filled the ambience; I took the last stool in the first column of tables, which apparently looked clean. I started eating, and just then I heard someone yelling, some one using foul language, I turned towards that direction and saw an old man (the canteen in charge) beating and slapping a small child, perhaps the age of 10. The boy didn’t protest. He bore all the beatings. Then he started wiping the tables with a piece of rag, the boy seemed to be a bonded labor, bonded to the kismet brought on upon him by birth. The child came closer as the table became cleaner, he came close to me, and I could see his face, the face like that of any other child, but void of happiness. His eyes showed his misery, misery not of his state but of his mind. He cleaned the table and I asked him his name, he looked puzzled, I tried again, Swami*, he said. I smiled and he returned the smile. He cleared the place and left, I could see him later near the wash basin, washing vessels, looking out at the other children of his age group, playing, laughing, enjoying their life, a life synonymous to freedom, but for him it was an antonym. He got carried away, and left the water running; the water filled the basin to its rim, sorrows filled up to the rim of his life, the treacherous and monotonous life that was devoid of freedom and happiness.
Slap! A sharp sound broke the peaceful ambience and what followed were a string of horrible words that were uttered from the mouth of the person in charge. I could see tears in his eye that got lost in the overfilled wash basin. I was as helpless as him, for I was bonded to the rules of the land that emanated in the middle of no where.
He didn’t say a word and finished the job and went to the back yard, where my vision could show no more.
The hands that should hold a pen, held a torn rag, dirty vessels took the place of books.
I met him the next day, and he came up to me and smiled, I smiled back. His eyes, transfixed to the books by my side, I felt a tinge of pain.
He couldn’t read but his eyes showed the perspicacity to learn, Day after day I met him, in the canteen until I had to leave.
I think to myself, how lucky we are, to study, to get education, to live life with freedom!
*name changed
Slap! A sharp sound broke the peaceful ambience and what followed were a string of horrible words that were uttered from the mouth of the person in charge. I could see tears in his eye that got lost in the overfilled wash basin. I was as helpless as him, for I was bonded to the rules of the land that emanated in the middle of no where.
He didn’t say a word and finished the job and went to the back yard, where my vision could show no more.
The hands that should hold a pen, held a torn rag, dirty vessels took the place of books.
I met him the next day, and he came up to me and smiled, I smiled back. His eyes, transfixed to the books by my side, I felt a tinge of pain.
He couldn’t read but his eyes showed the perspicacity to learn, Day after day I met him, in the canteen until I had to leave.
I think to myself, how lucky we are, to study, to get education, to live life with freedom!
*name changed
Sunday, February 24, 2008
The Palm Oil that wasn't!
“Where is the criminal records department” I enquired from a guard, smartly dressed, holding a walkie talkie,standing near the staff car in front of the new police building.
He blankly looked at me as if I had asked him something he never came across.
Then his lips began to move, his jaws motioned and he said there is no such thing here. I was bewildered, and I stared at him. I told him that this was the address given for police verification. Then he snapped back and, told me to go behind the building, He was red with anger, and yelled at me for not asking for the police station directly. His arrogance exceeded his abysmal ignorance. I thanked him and left in a flurry, I walked pass the building and entered the lane that led to the police station.
In my mind, I wished I hadn’t gone to college that day, as policemen had come to my place for the police verification for the passport. My unavailability got me an invitation to the police station, with all the importunate documents. Few butterflies found their way into my stomach. The idea of a police station was good enough to get me nervous. Not that every other day I go to the police station.
The lane was dark, with a few street lamps, I kept walking, I came across few men, some with a big flab and a moustache, and others with very short hair and a good physique. It seemed as if cops and criminals stayed together in peace and harmony.
I kept going and I met a dead end, then I turned around and asked a couple of guys mending a police truck, for directions. They directed me to a lane off that road. I thanked them and went on and entered the sub lane, I could see an old building, with bright fluorescent lamps outside. Just behind the light were two policemen standing side by side, dressed in khaki uniform, they summoned for me, the moment they saw me.
It was as though they were waiting for me all day long. The one on the right seemed to be the leader and the other cop was the adjutant I guess. The size of the belly was my rule for classification. I walked up to them and asked them the where about of Mr. Nag*, the guy whom I was scheduled to meet at 7:30 sharp. Police verification for passport, I told them.
Then gave a muffled giggle, as though they had beguiled Chennai’s most wanted. I still wasn't at ease in that place, the fear of an encounter or something gripped me. The place was hidden from public view. A wave of paranoia assailed me. Then the leader put his hand into his pocket, I held my breath, my heart thumping, i was drenched in sweat, I didn’t know what would come out, maybe a gun or a handcuff! I gave a sigh of relief when I saw a cell phone; he dialed some number and literally shouted, I wondered if the phone was actually serving its purpose. He finished his conversation and then focused his attention on me.
“Well, he is a great cop” said the leader. I didn’t know why he had to tell that.
“He is in charge for people like you” he blurted again. I was appalled at his diction. He’s talking as if I were a fugitive who came to seek refuge in the police station. Not knowing what to do, I stayed fixed. Okay what next?
“Your case is different, you don’t have the appropriate documents” said the adjutant. Now the soup was getting clear. These guys wanted their boss’s hands greased under the table.
I nodded.
“You are going to go abroad and earn a lot” he stammered. “You got to take good care of Mr. Nag*”, he said. Now he hit the nail on the head.
“So how do I take good care of him, sir”, I asked innocently.
“200”, he answered unabashed. That’s outrageous, I thought, but he is no fruit shop vendor with whom I could play the bargain game. Besides, bargaining with a police man was out of question. I felt like kicking this guy, but that would make matters worse, it would have been 200 for the verification and six months in prison for violence, and maybe third degree. The paranoia addled me. I aborted the plan. “He is in the marriage hall, on millers road”, the adjutant said. I thanked them and left, thinking, that would be the last time I visit the police station. Little did I know that I would be back in an hour’s time.
I made my way through the scree on the road, and them I arrived at the pavement at the main road, the cacophony was unbearable. Rush hour traffic. I crossed the road with some difficulty. I had to cover quite some distance by foot. The idea of greasing his palm made me sick. Armed with the relevant document and of course the gratuity, I kept strolling and made my way to the marriage hall.
I could see a security guard outside. I had the sudden urge to turn back, but I kept going. I wished I hadn’t applied for the passport in the first place. I went up to him and asked him the where about of Mr. Nag*. He guided me to a small room hidden from the multihued lighting, usually found in marriage halls. Some political function was going on, I was at the right place all right. The room had a light on, and I mustered up my courage and walked up to the room. The reverie started again, maybe he’ll arrest me or shoot me or god knows what? I quickly removed these thoughts and went in.
A seemingly old man, with ultra thick glasses was seated there. His eyes looked like two golf balls with a black patch on each. His belly protruding out like an over filled balloon, ready to burst into oblivion. His hair oiled and combed right back to the beginning of his fore head.
I went in, and stammered “a… ” .
“Police verification?” he asked. Then alcohol stench nauseating me.
I was bewildered, how come he knows? And where is this Mr. Nag? Now a different kind of paranoia surrounded me, maybe this place is the head quarters for such heinous activities or maybe more, smuggling, fraud, god know what else? I squashed these thoughts, surely I was hallucinating.
"Yes sir".
He then pulled out a bunch of papers, I saw my form in that bunch, with my photo affixed on it.
Oh so this abominable guy is Mr. Nag*. No wonder his flab seems to accrete exponentially.
My eyes were transfixed on the form. One by one he asked for all the documents and I duly complied. He then asked for my college identification card, I gave it to him. He had a nice look at it, I had never looked with such interest. Anyways let him suit himself. Maybe he likes it, I got the idea of giving my id instead of the 200, since a fine of 50 would be charged for loss of id.
He then got up, the chair flailing, an inking pad in his hand, he then approached me, I thought he is drunk and maybe the festival of holi in his mind, I stood still, with no idea on what was going to happen next. He came in front and asked me for my thumb, the stench unbearable. Now what does he want my thumb for?
I showed my thumb and then hoped he doesn’t chop it off or something. He asked me to press it hard on the inking pad, I acceded as I realized he required my thumb impression.
He then asked me to press it hard on the form, I did the same. Then, he gestured me to the ramada, I did exactly that.
Now its pay up time, I thought. He didn’t ask for it, so I thought I could get away.
But just as that thought came to my mind, he asked me about what the people at the station said. Now I knew I had to pay.
“They said I got to take good care of you, sir”
“Ok, give it” he said, casually, as if it were something prerogative.
I took my wallet and handed over 200.
“You are a different case, as you haven’t stayed here from birth” he squirted.
Yeah, big deal! I thought he’d zip up after that.
My heart felt heavy, but I consider it an exorbitant tip for what i get rightfully, for something that I am entitled to, by birth. That is my perspective.
I left for my place, hoping that I would never see him or deal with any such thing here after.
I walked home with the documents and …
Oh no! My college Id is still there,
Just great, I thought, now what is he going to ask, I am skint already.
I made my way back to the marriage hall just to find out that he’d already left for the station. I abhorred that place and now I had to go back there.
I made my way through the chaotic traffic, back to that pathetic police station, The two men were no where to be seen, I hoped to catch that guy, Mr. Nag*.
I stepped into the building, and saw him, I went and asked for my Id, hoping he does't ask for any tip. He took out the bunch and searched for my Id, he got it and handed it over to me, then he collated the bunch, and I left.
After the traffic, I jostled through the crowded pavement and made my way to home sweet home.
That’s one police story I will never forget.
*name changed
He blankly looked at me as if I had asked him something he never came across.
Then his lips began to move, his jaws motioned and he said there is no such thing here. I was bewildered, and I stared at him. I told him that this was the address given for police verification. Then he snapped back and, told me to go behind the building, He was red with anger, and yelled at me for not asking for the police station directly. His arrogance exceeded his abysmal ignorance. I thanked him and left in a flurry, I walked pass the building and entered the lane that led to the police station.
In my mind, I wished I hadn’t gone to college that day, as policemen had come to my place for the police verification for the passport. My unavailability got me an invitation to the police station, with all the importunate documents. Few butterflies found their way into my stomach. The idea of a police station was good enough to get me nervous. Not that every other day I go to the police station.
The lane was dark, with a few street lamps, I kept walking, I came across few men, some with a big flab and a moustache, and others with very short hair and a good physique. It seemed as if cops and criminals stayed together in peace and harmony.
I kept going and I met a dead end, then I turned around and asked a couple of guys mending a police truck, for directions. They directed me to a lane off that road. I thanked them and went on and entered the sub lane, I could see an old building, with bright fluorescent lamps outside. Just behind the light were two policemen standing side by side, dressed in khaki uniform, they summoned for me, the moment they saw me.
It was as though they were waiting for me all day long. The one on the right seemed to be the leader and the other cop was the adjutant I guess. The size of the belly was my rule for classification. I walked up to them and asked them the where about of Mr. Nag*, the guy whom I was scheduled to meet at 7:30 sharp. Police verification for passport, I told them.
Then gave a muffled giggle, as though they had beguiled Chennai’s most wanted. I still wasn't at ease in that place, the fear of an encounter or something gripped me. The place was hidden from public view. A wave of paranoia assailed me. Then the leader put his hand into his pocket, I held my breath, my heart thumping, i was drenched in sweat, I didn’t know what would come out, maybe a gun or a handcuff! I gave a sigh of relief when I saw a cell phone; he dialed some number and literally shouted, I wondered if the phone was actually serving its purpose. He finished his conversation and then focused his attention on me.
“Well, he is a great cop” said the leader. I didn’t know why he had to tell that.
“He is in charge for people like you” he blurted again. I was appalled at his diction. He’s talking as if I were a fugitive who came to seek refuge in the police station. Not knowing what to do, I stayed fixed. Okay what next?
“Your case is different, you don’t have the appropriate documents” said the adjutant. Now the soup was getting clear. These guys wanted their boss’s hands greased under the table.
I nodded.
“You are going to go abroad and earn a lot” he stammered. “You got to take good care of Mr. Nag*”, he said. Now he hit the nail on the head.
“So how do I take good care of him, sir”, I asked innocently.
“200”, he answered unabashed. That’s outrageous, I thought, but he is no fruit shop vendor with whom I could play the bargain game. Besides, bargaining with a police man was out of question. I felt like kicking this guy, but that would make matters worse, it would have been 200 for the verification and six months in prison for violence, and maybe third degree. The paranoia addled me. I aborted the plan. “He is in the marriage hall, on millers road”, the adjutant said. I thanked them and left, thinking, that would be the last time I visit the police station. Little did I know that I would be back in an hour’s time.
I made my way through the scree on the road, and them I arrived at the pavement at the main road, the cacophony was unbearable. Rush hour traffic. I crossed the road with some difficulty. I had to cover quite some distance by foot. The idea of greasing his palm made me sick. Armed with the relevant document and of course the gratuity, I kept strolling and made my way to the marriage hall.
I could see a security guard outside. I had the sudden urge to turn back, but I kept going. I wished I hadn’t applied for the passport in the first place. I went up to him and asked him the where about of Mr. Nag*. He guided me to a small room hidden from the multihued lighting, usually found in marriage halls. Some political function was going on, I was at the right place all right. The room had a light on, and I mustered up my courage and walked up to the room. The reverie started again, maybe he’ll arrest me or shoot me or god knows what? I quickly removed these thoughts and went in.
A seemingly old man, with ultra thick glasses was seated there. His eyes looked like two golf balls with a black patch on each. His belly protruding out like an over filled balloon, ready to burst into oblivion. His hair oiled and combed right back to the beginning of his fore head.
I went in, and stammered “a… ” .
“Police verification?” he asked. Then alcohol stench nauseating me.
I was bewildered, how come he knows? And where is this Mr. Nag? Now a different kind of paranoia surrounded me, maybe this place is the head quarters for such heinous activities or maybe more, smuggling, fraud, god know what else? I squashed these thoughts, surely I was hallucinating.
"Yes sir".
He then pulled out a bunch of papers, I saw my form in that bunch, with my photo affixed on it.
Oh so this abominable guy is Mr. Nag*. No wonder his flab seems to accrete exponentially.
My eyes were transfixed on the form. One by one he asked for all the documents and I duly complied. He then asked for my college identification card, I gave it to him. He had a nice look at it, I had never looked with such interest. Anyways let him suit himself. Maybe he likes it, I got the idea of giving my id instead of the 200, since a fine of 50 would be charged for loss of id.
He then got up, the chair flailing, an inking pad in his hand, he then approached me, I thought he is drunk and maybe the festival of holi in his mind, I stood still, with no idea on what was going to happen next. He came in front and asked me for my thumb, the stench unbearable. Now what does he want my thumb for?
I showed my thumb and then hoped he doesn’t chop it off or something. He asked me to press it hard on the inking pad, I acceded as I realized he required my thumb impression.
He then asked me to press it hard on the form, I did the same. Then, he gestured me to the ramada, I did exactly that.
Now its pay up time, I thought. He didn’t ask for it, so I thought I could get away.
But just as that thought came to my mind, he asked me about what the people at the station said. Now I knew I had to pay.
“They said I got to take good care of you, sir”
“Ok, give it” he said, casually, as if it were something prerogative.
I took my wallet and handed over 200.
“You are a different case, as you haven’t stayed here from birth” he squirted.
Yeah, big deal! I thought he’d zip up after that.
My heart felt heavy, but I consider it an exorbitant tip for what i get rightfully, for something that I am entitled to, by birth. That is my perspective.
I left for my place, hoping that I would never see him or deal with any such thing here after.
I walked home with the documents and …
Oh no! My college Id is still there,
Just great, I thought, now what is he going to ask, I am skint already.
I made my way back to the marriage hall just to find out that he’d already left for the station. I abhorred that place and now I had to go back there.
I made my way through the chaotic traffic, back to that pathetic police station, The two men were no where to be seen, I hoped to catch that guy, Mr. Nag*.
I stepped into the building, and saw him, I went and asked for my Id, hoping he does't ask for any tip. He took out the bunch and searched for my Id, he got it and handed it over to me, then he collated the bunch, and I left.
After the traffic, I jostled through the crowded pavement and made my way to home sweet home.
That’s one police story I will never forget.
*name changed
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Make it a LARGE!
It had been five long years. The last time we met was after the 10th board exams. Then I had moved out to Delhi, leaving behind Sus* and Sub* in Pune. The movement was inevitable, as my dad got posted to Delhi.
It was the summer of 2007; I had come down to Pune for my end semester holidays. I somehow managed to contact them and checked on them. They were in town, and that gave us ample reason to celebrate, a get together gala after five years.
Sus* had his last exam after two days, and hence it was decided that we should go in the evening after his exams. I blissfully agreed, little did I know what was on their minds. He proposed we we'll go to bar and celebrate. I was bewildered.
I had never been to a bar before. The idea of getting boozed up addled me, never had I tasted that golden liquid, just seen people getting drunk on T.V. I acceded since they were, and are my best buddies. The venue I didn’t know, what I knew was I had to be ready by 9:15 that night and yeah, I had to take the house keys. Sub* said he would pick me up from home. They thought of getting drunk never abated, so I thought of asking my dad for some suggestions. My dad told me not to take more than two small pegs of whisky. More than two would tend to make me go berserk. I carefully made a mental note of that. The time had come, and I left home with the keys and cash. Sub* picked me up from the main road; he was the same surd I saw five years ago. The drive was fairly comfortable; we had a bountiful distance to cover, before picking up Sus* who stayed at the other end of the city. The clock struck 10 and that’s when I met him, he had thinned down a bit, his face was more angular than before. A cigarette popped from his mouth, he greeted me, and the bar was destination next.
The car raced, and we reached the bar at 10:30 sharp. I had no clue to where I was; never had I traveled that extensively. We entered the bar. Actually it was more like a restaurant, with servings given on the table, contrary to what I had assumed.
The waiter came to our table, and sus* took the liberty to place the order. He ordered a large RC for himself and a beer bottle for Sub*, he looked at me, I recollected, what my father said, and a small peg was on the way for me. Sus* popped a cigarette again and the smoke was all over my face! As the smoke abated, I changed my place without offending him. The snacks were ordered next, groundnuts and chicken something. I have an abstemious diet. Endless loquacity followed next, the drinks had arrived, and the soda bottle and ice too. The waiter poured soda into my drink, the golden color fading out, then the ice dropped in and a hiss came out. My drink was ready, I was staring at it for a while, the paranoia of getting drunk surrounding me. I am no inveterate drinker.
Their drinks were ready too. They adjured me to take a sip. I did exactly that.
I felt the warmth of the acidulous fluid slid down my mouth into my empty stomach. The queasy drink made my head go in for a spin. The snacks that I thought were adjunct, helped me regain control. A tyro at drinking, I took the glass and gulped the rest, burning my inside, emptying my glass. “That’s strong” was my first remark. By then the second round, what they call repeat, had come, I gracefully swallowed it, hoping that I don’t regurgitate. I had decided I’ve had enough and would never drink again! Two bottles of beer, my friend Sub* had consumed, and four large pegs is what sus* had. I thought, they would go berserk any moment, and I would be stuck in this unfamiliar place with a drunk driver, but they had room for more, I said no more, and I was forced with a glass of a cola drink. By 12:30 they had their fill, I was wondering if they would be able to stand after the amount of drinks they had consumed. I was taken aback when I saw that both of them were normal and fine. Maybe it was a weekly affair for them. It was one o clock by the time we hit the road, the next stop: dinner at a famous conglomerate of road side push cart outlets. They aren’t allowed to operate after midnight, but we went there any way to try out our luck. We reached there just to see the police patrol van go past by. The police van made my heart miss a beat, the last thing a needed would a night behind bars. But the police van whiskered away and we enjoyed our dinner.
We had to drop of Sus* at his place which was really far from this place; Sub* drove well in spite of drinking like hell. The journey was uneventful, but for the incident where we hit a dog crossing the road. Poor dog! Must have got hurt.
When we reached sus*’s place, sub* had the sudden urge of drinking some more beer. I some how adjured him to take both of us home. A long drive, with trucks seeming ubiquitous. We broke off from the highway and came to the famous M.G road; it was deserted at that time, but would be swarming with people through out the day.
I could see a man in white standing with a stick, and motioning it towards us, Oh! My God, A cop, I am finished today, I thought.
Sub* stopped near the cop, my heart was beating like an overloaded pump, my bowels loosening, sweat pouring all over. He showed his license and other documents, I thought the cop would catch the stench in his breath and arrest him and then arrest me. Jail, bail etc. The reverie had initiated in my memory. He asked a few questions and let us go.
That was close, I thought. My home came near by and one of the car's tire had deflated, he preferred to drive back home and get the vehicle fixed up there. I thanked him for the evening or night.
I reached home to find all the Lights on, I was surprised as I told my parents I would be late and they need not stay up. I had no balance in my phone so I didn’t call.
I approached the door and suddenly it opens, a sleepy lady opens the door. Hi mom!
I got blasted for coming in so late, but the fun that I had that night would always remain green in my memory lane. That was my first, and hopefully last gulp of liquor.
* name changed.
It was the summer of 2007; I had come down to Pune for my end semester holidays. I somehow managed to contact them and checked on them. They were in town, and that gave us ample reason to celebrate, a get together gala after five years.
Sus* had his last exam after two days, and hence it was decided that we should go in the evening after his exams. I blissfully agreed, little did I know what was on their minds. He proposed we we'll go to bar and celebrate. I was bewildered.
I had never been to a bar before. The idea of getting boozed up addled me, never had I tasted that golden liquid, just seen people getting drunk on T.V. I acceded since they were, and are my best buddies. The venue I didn’t know, what I knew was I had to be ready by 9:15 that night and yeah, I had to take the house keys. Sub* said he would pick me up from home. They thought of getting drunk never abated, so I thought of asking my dad for some suggestions. My dad told me not to take more than two small pegs of whisky. More than two would tend to make me go berserk. I carefully made a mental note of that. The time had come, and I left home with the keys and cash. Sub* picked me up from the main road; he was the same surd I saw five years ago. The drive was fairly comfortable; we had a bountiful distance to cover, before picking up Sus* who stayed at the other end of the city. The clock struck 10 and that’s when I met him, he had thinned down a bit, his face was more angular than before. A cigarette popped from his mouth, he greeted me, and the bar was destination next.
The car raced, and we reached the bar at 10:30 sharp. I had no clue to where I was; never had I traveled that extensively. We entered the bar. Actually it was more like a restaurant, with servings given on the table, contrary to what I had assumed.
The waiter came to our table, and sus* took the liberty to place the order. He ordered a large RC for himself and a beer bottle for Sub*, he looked at me, I recollected, what my father said, and a small peg was on the way for me. Sus* popped a cigarette again and the smoke was all over my face! As the smoke abated, I changed my place without offending him. The snacks were ordered next, groundnuts and chicken something. I have an abstemious diet. Endless loquacity followed next, the drinks had arrived, and the soda bottle and ice too. The waiter poured soda into my drink, the golden color fading out, then the ice dropped in and a hiss came out. My drink was ready, I was staring at it for a while, the paranoia of getting drunk surrounding me. I am no inveterate drinker.
Their drinks were ready too. They adjured me to take a sip. I did exactly that.
I felt the warmth of the acidulous fluid slid down my mouth into my empty stomach. The queasy drink made my head go in for a spin. The snacks that I thought were adjunct, helped me regain control. A tyro at drinking, I took the glass and gulped the rest, burning my inside, emptying my glass. “That’s strong” was my first remark. By then the second round, what they call repeat, had come, I gracefully swallowed it, hoping that I don’t regurgitate. I had decided I’ve had enough and would never drink again! Two bottles of beer, my friend Sub* had consumed, and four large pegs is what sus* had. I thought, they would go berserk any moment, and I would be stuck in this unfamiliar place with a drunk driver, but they had room for more, I said no more, and I was forced with a glass of a cola drink. By 12:30 they had their fill, I was wondering if they would be able to stand after the amount of drinks they had consumed. I was taken aback when I saw that both of them were normal and fine. Maybe it was a weekly affair for them. It was one o clock by the time we hit the road, the next stop: dinner at a famous conglomerate of road side push cart outlets. They aren’t allowed to operate after midnight, but we went there any way to try out our luck. We reached there just to see the police patrol van go past by. The police van made my heart miss a beat, the last thing a needed would a night behind bars. But the police van whiskered away and we enjoyed our dinner.
We had to drop of Sus* at his place which was really far from this place; Sub* drove well in spite of drinking like hell. The journey was uneventful, but for the incident where we hit a dog crossing the road. Poor dog! Must have got hurt.
When we reached sus*’s place, sub* had the sudden urge of drinking some more beer. I some how adjured him to take both of us home. A long drive, with trucks seeming ubiquitous. We broke off from the highway and came to the famous M.G road; it was deserted at that time, but would be swarming with people through out the day.
I could see a man in white standing with a stick, and motioning it towards us, Oh! My God, A cop, I am finished today, I thought.
Sub* stopped near the cop, my heart was beating like an overloaded pump, my bowels loosening, sweat pouring all over. He showed his license and other documents, I thought the cop would catch the stench in his breath and arrest him and then arrest me. Jail, bail etc. The reverie had initiated in my memory. He asked a few questions and let us go.
That was close, I thought. My home came near by and one of the car's tire had deflated, he preferred to drive back home and get the vehicle fixed up there. I thanked him for the evening or night.
I reached home to find all the Lights on, I was surprised as I told my parents I would be late and they need not stay up. I had no balance in my phone so I didn’t call.
I approached the door and suddenly it opens, a sleepy lady opens the door. Hi mom!
I got blasted for coming in so late, but the fun that I had that night would always remain green in my memory lane. That was my first, and hopefully last gulp of liquor.
* name changed.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
POTHOLES!!
The last post was dedicated to my previous abode. This post is committed to my college route bus, and of course the man behind the wheel.
The bus halted just in front of the juice shop on Balfour road, that’s where I get in. Getting in is no big deal, but traveling in that bus for 2 hours entitles me for a citation. The bus resembled an age old wreck with a facial make over. The glass was tinted on one side, making it tough to look inside. But I guess the real reason was to prevent people from looking at the pathetic interiors.
Girls in the front, boys at the back, something very common in this part of the country. The bus rattled forward with a jerk, the journey began, and my miseries too. I have nothing against the bus driver, he does a splendid job of keeping the bus from a conk out. Though at times, when the bus has a close call in the chaotic traffic, his verbiage seems to get acrid. An old man he is, and a short temper he has.
The seats are rock hard, and the back side has to bear the brunt. Each pothole is accompanied with a painful cry and at times, some colorful words. We travel for about two hours (one way), through the cacophony of the city and the panoramic country side.
Blaring horns and obnoxious fumes make up for half the travel time. The other half is spent amidst the purview of the country side. The country side seems anachronous, with large rice fields and cattle driven carts, but the roads here are absolutely pathetic. I mentioned road, as it is the de facto word used to describe a path on which a vehicle travels, but there is no tar road, just mud filled paths with its ups and downs. The dust makes its way through the windows that don’t close, defiling the fabric and the texture, and also dirtying the facial appearance of many, who I am sure, must have spent time and effort on coloring.
With narrow bends and, and breath taking maneuvers the bus gets through the country side, which is the last leg of the journey.
The journey is hectic especially considering the state of the bus and the condition of the seats, though many take a nap while some bibliophiles take to their books, I try both and end up doing nothing effectively.
The college arrives and we are all ready to disembark, after the voyage of a life time that happens twice a day.
The bus halted just in front of the juice shop on Balfour road, that’s where I get in. Getting in is no big deal, but traveling in that bus for 2 hours entitles me for a citation. The bus resembled an age old wreck with a facial make over. The glass was tinted on one side, making it tough to look inside. But I guess the real reason was to prevent people from looking at the pathetic interiors.
Girls in the front, boys at the back, something very common in this part of the country. The bus rattled forward with a jerk, the journey began, and my miseries too. I have nothing against the bus driver, he does a splendid job of keeping the bus from a conk out. Though at times, when the bus has a close call in the chaotic traffic, his verbiage seems to get acrid. An old man he is, and a short temper he has.
The seats are rock hard, and the back side has to bear the brunt. Each pothole is accompanied with a painful cry and at times, some colorful words. We travel for about two hours (one way), through the cacophony of the city and the panoramic country side.
Blaring horns and obnoxious fumes make up for half the travel time. The other half is spent amidst the purview of the country side. The country side seems anachronous, with large rice fields and cattle driven carts, but the roads here are absolutely pathetic. I mentioned road, as it is the de facto word used to describe a path on which a vehicle travels, but there is no tar road, just mud filled paths with its ups and downs. The dust makes its way through the windows that don’t close, defiling the fabric and the texture, and also dirtying the facial appearance of many, who I am sure, must have spent time and effort on coloring.
With narrow bends and, and breath taking maneuvers the bus gets through the country side, which is the last leg of the journey.
The journey is hectic especially considering the state of the bus and the condition of the seats, though many take a nap while some bibliophiles take to their books, I try both and end up doing nothing effectively.
The college arrives and we are all ready to disembark, after the voyage of a life time that happens twice a day.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
MONKEYS IN THE ATTIC
And all around the place too. This post is dedicated to my hostel, where I spent three long years with audacity and tolerance. Tolerance not only from the monkeys in the attic but also from the monkeys running the hostel. Boys Hostel, stenciled atop a two storied building with the entrance on the extreme right and the rooms starting from the right towards the left. Each room had four windows, one pair facing the verandah and the other facing the college workshops. The first floor would be covered by the workshop ceiling so no sneak peak on the first floor. The second floor was visible from the college building, and as usual the windows were covered with washed clothes, clothes that are supposed to be washed everyday, I am sure I don’t have to elaborate on this one.
Ah! Tyson, the guardian doggy. Well it guarded its daily bulk of food all right, looked more like a cow to me; Great Dane they say is the breed. It looked ferocious but a cat could scare the shit out of it. Leave the doggy alone! Let’s shift to the other non human members of our ecosystem. Monkeys, I mean the real ones. These ubiquitous creatures were more in number, than the students in the hostel. These animals were intelligent; after all they are our ancestors. These monkeys just walked into our room, as if they were entering their bedrooms. Pick up what they liked, and made off with it. Its not just food that interests them, oil bottles, pens, you name it, were a part of their dynamic collection. Maybe they realized the importance of education and a good hair do.
They aren’t scared of anything, you shoo it, it shoos you back. And thanks to their anti birth control policy, the hostel was the epicenter of the ‘monkey bomb’. They enter the room through the sliding windows after we go to college, and god knows what they do. When I return to the room, the first thing that comes to my mind is an isolated tsunami or a twister.
Well enough of monkeys, too many monkeys spoil the blog.
We had to follow strict timings, A student is supposed to get up at 5am and from 6:30 to 7:30 he should indulge in studies, that’s written in the rule book, for many of us getting up is at 7:30.Everybody couldn’t do that because attending nature’s call would get a bit disastrous, owing to the number of restrooms available and of course their functioning. Who wants uncontrolled Kip and Haber, happening, the first thing in the morning? The mess was destination next after the intense sessions of coloring.
The mess was in a big mess, asbestos roofs and steel stools, with a lot of flies here and there. It wasn’t all that bad, the food was edible, and some times sumptuous. I am not a food freak so I will move out fast. The next stop was college, 9 to 4. I will describe the college in some other post.
After 4, it’s the canteen for the hot water with a hint of tea, and some snacks, that was hard to even look at, leave alone eating. After that it was sleeping, reading or playing,
The rules said 6:30 to7:30 was study time, and the warden used to go on rounds, penalizing any student who hadn’t put his nose to the book. I did that well putting my nose right into the book , and sleeping. The vacuum in my stomach, made me sleepy and at 7:30, I would race to the mess to fill my tummy. 8:30 to 10 was the night shift study time, Shifting is apt as we kept shuttling rooms in order to have a little gossip. 10 pm seemed to come within 10 minutes. And after 10 we were like free birds, in the hostel premises, some slept, and some watched movies. There were a lot of illegal desktop theatres running in the hostel, and the least crowded and my favourite, (Hindi and English only) was just a room away. The show used to go on deep into the night and then we all went to lie in the arms of Morpheus. (We went to sleep).
That’s my hostel and its monkey business.
Ah! Tyson, the guardian doggy. Well it guarded its daily bulk of food all right, looked more like a cow to me; Great Dane they say is the breed. It looked ferocious but a cat could scare the shit out of it. Leave the doggy alone! Let’s shift to the other non human members of our ecosystem. Monkeys, I mean the real ones. These ubiquitous creatures were more in number, than the students in the hostel. These animals were intelligent; after all they are our ancestors. These monkeys just walked into our room, as if they were entering their bedrooms. Pick up what they liked, and made off with it. Its not just food that interests them, oil bottles, pens, you name it, were a part of their dynamic collection. Maybe they realized the importance of education and a good hair do.
They aren’t scared of anything, you shoo it, it shoos you back. And thanks to their anti birth control policy, the hostel was the epicenter of the ‘monkey bomb’. They enter the room through the sliding windows after we go to college, and god knows what they do. When I return to the room, the first thing that comes to my mind is an isolated tsunami or a twister.
Well enough of monkeys, too many monkeys spoil the blog.
We had to follow strict timings, A student is supposed to get up at 5am and from 6:30 to 7:30 he should indulge in studies, that’s written in the rule book, for many of us getting up is at 7:30.Everybody couldn’t do that because attending nature’s call would get a bit disastrous, owing to the number of restrooms available and of course their functioning. Who wants uncontrolled Kip and Haber, happening, the first thing in the morning? The mess was destination next after the intense sessions of coloring.
The mess was in a big mess, asbestos roofs and steel stools, with a lot of flies here and there. It wasn’t all that bad, the food was edible, and some times sumptuous. I am not a food freak so I will move out fast. The next stop was college, 9 to 4. I will describe the college in some other post.
After 4, it’s the canteen for the hot water with a hint of tea, and some snacks, that was hard to even look at, leave alone eating. After that it was sleeping, reading or playing,
The rules said 6:30 to7:30 was study time, and the warden used to go on rounds, penalizing any student who hadn’t put his nose to the book. I did that well putting my nose right into the book , and sleeping. The vacuum in my stomach, made me sleepy and at 7:30, I would race to the mess to fill my tummy. 8:30 to 10 was the night shift study time, Shifting is apt as we kept shuttling rooms in order to have a little gossip. 10 pm seemed to come within 10 minutes. And after 10 we were like free birds, in the hostel premises, some slept, and some watched movies. There were a lot of illegal desktop theatres running in the hostel, and the least crowded and my favourite, (Hindi and English only) was just a room away. The show used to go on deep into the night and then we all went to lie in the arms of Morpheus. (We went to sleep).
That’s my hostel and its monkey business.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
CONTROLLING THE MANUFACTURER: THE RETAILER'S WAY
I am sure when you read the title you would be baffled. I just want to show how a retailer could control the manufacturer. Let us assume that you start a retail store(a supermarket kinda place). You make 3 stores in a small city. To keep things simple we assume that the your store (lets name it A) sells bulbs only. Now why should someone come to your supermarket and buy bulbs for himself? So you think for a while and finally decide that the price of each bulb would be at 10% discount of the marked price. if you buy bulbs at the marked price and sell it at a lower price you are surely going to incur loss. so you think for a while and then decide to get some information about the manufactures of bulbs in your city. so after acquiring details of the manufacturer you come to know that there are three manufacturers namely x,y,z. Then you also find out that the profit x makes is $480000 per annum. This by selling 2000 bulbs per month for $20 each. Through some internal sources and using some calculations you find out that cost of manufacturing one bulb is $5, so for 2000 bulbs per month the cost is $120000 per annum. Therefore the profit is about 480000-120000=$360000. you go and make an offer to this guy x and tell him that you want to purchase 1200 bulbs per month BUT you say you will pay only $18000 per month for those, you justify saying that their profit margin would increase, as shown below : 2000 bulbs already at 20$ each= 40000$ and an additional of 1200 bulbs but for $18000. so total earning per month is $40000+$18000=$58000. Per annum it is 58000*12=$696000. And cost of manufacturing is (2000+1200)*5*12=$192000. Therefore new profit is $696000-$192000 =$504000 which is higher than the previous profit. So he readily agrees. Now what you do is that you start selling those bulbs at a lower price of 10% discount that is at $18. Assume that you 100% sales because there is a big electrical boom in your city, and since you are selling the bulbs at $18 a piece you make an earning of $18*1200=$21600 per month which would be about$21600*12=$259200 per annum. But you had a deal with the manufacturer that you would pay $18000 for the 1200 bulbs per month. That is $216000 for the entire year,SO you make a profit of $259200-$216000=$43200 per year. But as i mentioned there are three manufacturers in the city so you get $43200*3=$129600 per annum profit. So what if you get a profit. How do you control the manufacturer?
So where were we! Ah yes, the annual profit of $129600 per annum. So how do you control the manufacturer or in other words 'squeeze the juice out of him'. The day you started your super store there were some people fretting about it. These guys are small scale retailers who were once doing good business but when you came in with the offer of $18 per bulb, these guys simply ran out of business. now in this small city with about 8 small scale retailers, 4-5 of them have already closed in a years time. So the manufacturer looses contract of about 1000 bulbs. X is sad because he lost contract for about 1000 bulbs but he consoles himself thinking that he has got a contract of 1200 bulbs from you and hopes that he gets more. He is in luck, you go there and say that you want another 1000 bulbs. He gleams with happiness and then you say something and all of a sudden he becomes heart broken. What on earth did you say? well you said that if i would give you an additional of 1000 bulbs contract adding to a total of 2200 from you(i.e you buy 68.75% of the total bulbs produced) ,IF AND ONLY IF i get those 2200 bulbs for $30000 per month. Therefore he gets has an earning of (30000*12)+(20000*12)=$720000. The profit is, Earnings - cost expenditure= 600000-(3200*5*12)=408000. But X couldn't have declined the offer. why? Because you immediately say that you will not buy the total of 2200 bulbs from you. So X thinks and calculates and realises that if you did not buy bulbs what would be his loss? let us take a peek into his mind. Total selling Cost for all the bulbs(1000) which is(1000*20)=20000 per month and thus 240000 per annum. The manufacturing cost is (1000*5*12) =$60000. thus the profit is $180000, which is less than the profit in the previous case when you were his customer. The initial profit was 408000. And besides, with your place sellinging bulbs at a lower price, you caused the shutdown of many smaal scale shops. So its not syre whether there would be demand for the initial 1000, bulbs. To put it simply, you are bound to be his only customer and thus you could dictate terms to him.SO HE GOES IN FOR THE DEAL. So you can see how you demand the price you want. you control the the manufacturer. This is how the retailers control the manufacturer. Once the manufacturer sees the decreasing profit margins, he begins to outsource his manufacturing plants to countries with low cost productivity. This causes the shutting down of the factories of the manufacturer and thus causes unemployment.
So where were we! Ah yes, the annual profit of $129600 per annum. So how do you control the manufacturer or in other words 'squeeze the juice out of him'. The day you started your super store there were some people fretting about it. These guys are small scale retailers who were once doing good business but when you came in with the offer of $18 per bulb, these guys simply ran out of business. now in this small city with about 8 small scale retailers, 4-5 of them have already closed in a years time. So the manufacturer looses contract of about 1000 bulbs. X is sad because he lost contract for about 1000 bulbs but he consoles himself thinking that he has got a contract of 1200 bulbs from you and hopes that he gets more. He is in luck, you go there and say that you want another 1000 bulbs. He gleams with happiness and then you say something and all of a sudden he becomes heart broken. What on earth did you say? well you said that if i would give you an additional of 1000 bulbs contract adding to a total of 2200 from you(i.e you buy 68.75% of the total bulbs produced) ,IF AND ONLY IF i get those 2200 bulbs for $30000 per month. Therefore he gets has an earning of (30000*12)+(20000*12)=$720000. The profit is, Earnings - cost expenditure= 600000-(3200*5*12)=408000. But X couldn't have declined the offer. why? Because you immediately say that you will not buy the total of 2200 bulbs from you. So X thinks and calculates and realises that if you did not buy bulbs what would be his loss? let us take a peek into his mind. Total selling Cost for all the bulbs(1000) which is(1000*20)=20000 per month and thus 240000 per annum. The manufacturing cost is (1000*5*12) =$60000. thus the profit is $180000, which is less than the profit in the previous case when you were his customer. The initial profit was 408000. And besides, with your place sellinging bulbs at a lower price, you caused the shutdown of many smaal scale shops. So its not syre whether there would be demand for the initial 1000, bulbs. To put it simply, you are bound to be his only customer and thus you could dictate terms to him.SO HE GOES IN FOR THE DEAL. So you can see how you demand the price you want. you control the the manufacturer. This is how the retailers control the manufacturer. Once the manufacturer sees the decreasing profit margins, he begins to outsource his manufacturing plants to countries with low cost productivity. This causes the shutting down of the factories of the manufacturer and thus causes unemployment.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Mind : Peaceful Beautiful
The mind is indeed difficult to control, but why should one control his mind?
Mind relishes for joy and not for sorrow. When do you feel happy? When a desire is fulfilled. The desire that rises in the mind for attachments to worldly pleasures, may it be animate or inanimate. But what if the desire is not fulfilled? From unfulfilled desire rises anger and frustration. In brevity you loose your cool , calm and composure. In essence the mind is no longer peaceful.
Infatuation sets afloat after anger. In such a state a man cannot differentiate between right or wrong, good or bad. He loses the power to reason. The loss of reasoning leads to complete chaos in the mind. He like a man who is taken over by the perspicacity for desire objects. His mind is completely debilitated.
But, the person who can discipline his mind through self control does not get enthralled by worldly pleasures. He enjoys spiritual joy, the joy that comes through freedom from concerns about personal benefit, freedom from likes and dislikes. He is free from the grasp of ‘sense’ objects, free from the nuances that arise in day to day life. He is unperturbed by the consequences of his actions. He in no doubt is a role model for all human beings. Thus the mind should be void of attachments, a person should know to forgo his desires.
A person who works with the sole intent to achieve selfish motives will miss the train to bliss time and again. It might be considered as a case where ‘counting chickens before they hatch’ takes place. Selfishness will take a man to no place. People who have propensities to work without looking beyond their work are bound to be happy and satisfied.
Happiness is not in the farthest reaches, it lies in within………
Mind relishes for joy and not for sorrow. When do you feel happy? When a desire is fulfilled. The desire that rises in the mind for attachments to worldly pleasures, may it be animate or inanimate. But what if the desire is not fulfilled? From unfulfilled desire rises anger and frustration. In brevity you loose your cool , calm and composure. In essence the mind is no longer peaceful.
Infatuation sets afloat after anger. In such a state a man cannot differentiate between right or wrong, good or bad. He loses the power to reason. The loss of reasoning leads to complete chaos in the mind. He like a man who is taken over by the perspicacity for desire objects. His mind is completely debilitated.
But, the person who can discipline his mind through self control does not get enthralled by worldly pleasures. He enjoys spiritual joy, the joy that comes through freedom from concerns about personal benefit, freedom from likes and dislikes. He is free from the grasp of ‘sense’ objects, free from the nuances that arise in day to day life. He is unperturbed by the consequences of his actions. He in no doubt is a role model for all human beings. Thus the mind should be void of attachments, a person should know to forgo his desires.
A person who works with the sole intent to achieve selfish motives will miss the train to bliss time and again. It might be considered as a case where ‘counting chickens before they hatch’ takes place. Selfishness will take a man to no place. People who have propensities to work without looking beyond their work are bound to be happy and satisfied.
Happiness is not in the farthest reaches, it lies in within………
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Riddle: Read carefully!
I flew and fluttered from the gutter, littered in the hope of bearing some more flutters, rose up and made my way through the transom, with a flutter, for there lay, a brood in the arms of Morpheus. A dim red glint lay at the end, which marked the debacle of a legion.
Not the one in the middle, the corpus is not visible.
This one seems tender, his tegument showing elegance. I made my move with a piercing note, he smashed and thrashed, but I parried all, but one, that made me fall in the palpable obscure. The flutters dying out, I lay with the gore spread out, hoping that I perish before I become a sticky delight.
Can you guess who am I?
Send your answers to the ‘comments’ section
Not the one in the middle, the corpus is not visible.
This one seems tender, his tegument showing elegance. I made my move with a piercing note, he smashed and thrashed, but I parried all, but one, that made me fall in the palpable obscure. The flutters dying out, I lay with the gore spread out, hoping that I perish before I become a sticky delight.
Can you guess who am I?
Send your answers to the ‘comments’ section
GOD, GLORY AND GUTS
I am writing this post to pay tribute to the country that was in the making long before its declaration of independence, in 1948. Israel, the land of the Jews, is a contemporary example of dauntlessness, immolation and audacity.
I heard a lot about Israel and its compilations, but when got my hands on a Leon Uri’s novel, called ‘Exodus’, I was spell bound. A country surrounded by seven hostile nations, at present has a growing and self sufficient economy. The end of the gruesome World War 2 brought about the literal slaughtering of millions of Jews. It was time they unite all over the world and return to their holy land, where the 10 commandments emanated. That small stretch of land was the bon voyage of many Jews who wanted to live with dignity and freedom. It was theirs 2000 thousand years ago but after the world war it was occupied by Arabs.
They poured into their holy land which had turned barren in the course of time. People came trundling from every corner of the earth leaving behind their past for a new and bright future. The land was unrewarding, for it was sand that was on the top of the fruitless land. Vegetation was required to sustain life, a life that seemed to be in jeopardy for there were many who couldn’t see the Jews in their vicinity.
But they kept going, kept fighting with only their sacred verses in their stomach, they turned a desert into a habitable land.
They built and guarded their creation, a farm made out from the marshes under the scorching Sun. Day in and day out they toiled and toiled for they had to survive, they had to fight for their right to live.
Arab attacks mounted day by day, and the Israelis, with meager weapons fought on, head on and saved their land from the clutches of the avaricious Arabs.
A handful they were when the started, but with audacity they went on to create heyday for themselves and their next generation. It was a never ending fight that haunted them day and night. Being abhorred, they had no choice but to fight.
And yes they fought and will keep fighting with a united front men and women alike. They built Israel. Eretz- Israel!
The day they declared independence, seven armies rolled in and devastated their land, but with all might and courage they defended themselves, in an exuberant manner.
With skill full tactics they dashed the hopes of the invading armies, and they fought on, with each and every Jew turning into an intelligent fighting machine. It was battle of the minds and each time the Israelis won.
They lived on and established them selves, making the barren land bear fruits, fruits of courage and valor.
This was their story! This is their story!
I heard a lot about Israel and its compilations, but when got my hands on a Leon Uri’s novel, called ‘Exodus’, I was spell bound. A country surrounded by seven hostile nations, at present has a growing and self sufficient economy. The end of the gruesome World War 2 brought about the literal slaughtering of millions of Jews. It was time they unite all over the world and return to their holy land, where the 10 commandments emanated. That small stretch of land was the bon voyage of many Jews who wanted to live with dignity and freedom. It was theirs 2000 thousand years ago but after the world war it was occupied by Arabs.
They poured into their holy land which had turned barren in the course of time. People came trundling from every corner of the earth leaving behind their past for a new and bright future. The land was unrewarding, for it was sand that was on the top of the fruitless land. Vegetation was required to sustain life, a life that seemed to be in jeopardy for there were many who couldn’t see the Jews in their vicinity.
But they kept going, kept fighting with only their sacred verses in their stomach, they turned a desert into a habitable land.
They built and guarded their creation, a farm made out from the marshes under the scorching Sun. Day in and day out they toiled and toiled for they had to survive, they had to fight for their right to live.
Arab attacks mounted day by day, and the Israelis, with meager weapons fought on, head on and saved their land from the clutches of the avaricious Arabs.
A handful they were when the started, but with audacity they went on to create heyday for themselves and their next generation. It was a never ending fight that haunted them day and night. Being abhorred, they had no choice but to fight.
And yes they fought and will keep fighting with a united front men and women alike. They built Israel. Eretz- Israel!
The day they declared independence, seven armies rolled in and devastated their land, but with all might and courage they defended themselves, in an exuberant manner.
With skill full tactics they dashed the hopes of the invading armies, and they fought on, with each and every Jew turning into an intelligent fighting machine. It was battle of the minds and each time the Israelis won.
They lived on and established them selves, making the barren land bear fruits, fruits of courage and valor.
This was their story! This is their story!
Sunday, February 3, 2008
IN SEARCH OF BLISS
Bliss, a term used to indicate supreme happiness, is something we all cherish for. Who doesn't want to be happy? So what is happiness? Is it something that makes us laugh, or is it some other remedy that is commensurate to income. The veritable answer is self contentment. Any person can be happy, irrespective of his economic status or financial property, but as human nature goes, contentment is at the end of a never ending road. This is not the contentment that a person acquires by doing nothing, and sitting back. The essence is to do ones duty to the best of his abilities and be completely unperturbed about the fruits. A person should do his job for the sake of doing it. If this be the case he will attain self contentment. In other words in the active form "Do your job to your best and leave the rest to the lord, if fruits avails bear it and if they don't be unperturbed, for thou's job is to do the job with a graceful heart and a passionate mind ". The above statement is something that should be thought of over and over again, for it will bring supreme happiness, the bliss that is long lost in the hearts of many. The moral is to be happy while discharging your duties to the best of your abilities and be unperturbed by the consequences.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Viggi’s Chestnut: Part 1
Digital Annexation
“ Beautiful weather, Captain”, said Baron. For Baron every day seemed to have an appealing acclimate. In fact the skies were overcast and a mild Chinook filled the ambience. The sea was getting rough and the ship was hard to control. Baron, a tall, slim and a dark haired person with the rim of his glasses pressing against his eyebrows, was formerly working as a network specialist, in the DNNC( Department of Networking and Neural Computing). One of the most prestigious departments in the far west.
The year is 2077, paper money had dissipated. Everything was done through the internet. Bionic identity tags were used, like a finger print scan or a retina scan.
All this through the acumen minds in the DNNC. Baron played a major role in the development of this new system.
But as soon as it was developed, politics and bureaucracy took the better of it, from a research center the DNNC was turned into an abode for the green buck seekers.
It was hard to believe that the DNNC was now a major business unit led by its avaricious boss, Grent Corners.
The sub prime crisis hit the US on the face, and DNNC was to change it all through their new system of bionic banking. Currency was no more green bills, it was in digitized. The impoverished had the green bills with them, but as time went these were converted to digitized money, It wasn’t all that hard, all that is required is finger print scan and lo you get the account. Technology was getting the upper hand of life.
The global currency was looking for a change, after the dollar, it was the Euro and after Sub prime took its toll there, it was the Yen, Sub prime was now synonymous to an infectious economic disease ready to strike an up coming nation, it could be juxtaposed in consequence to the African Ebola virus: ultimate debacle.
To be continued………..
*All characters and name in the above story bear no resemblance to any person dead or alive, if it does it is purely coincidental.*
“ Beautiful weather, Captain”, said Baron. For Baron every day seemed to have an appealing acclimate. In fact the skies were overcast and a mild Chinook filled the ambience. The sea was getting rough and the ship was hard to control. Baron, a tall, slim and a dark haired person with the rim of his glasses pressing against his eyebrows, was formerly working as a network specialist, in the DNNC( Department of Networking and Neural Computing). One of the most prestigious departments in the far west.
The year is 2077, paper money had dissipated. Everything was done through the internet. Bionic identity tags were used, like a finger print scan or a retina scan.
All this through the acumen minds in the DNNC. Baron played a major role in the development of this new system.
But as soon as it was developed, politics and bureaucracy took the better of it, from a research center the DNNC was turned into an abode for the green buck seekers.
It was hard to believe that the DNNC was now a major business unit led by its avaricious boss, Grent Corners.
The sub prime crisis hit the US on the face, and DNNC was to change it all through their new system of bionic banking. Currency was no more green bills, it was in digitized. The impoverished had the green bills with them, but as time went these were converted to digitized money, It wasn’t all that hard, all that is required is finger print scan and lo you get the account. Technology was getting the upper hand of life.
The global currency was looking for a change, after the dollar, it was the Euro and after Sub prime took its toll there, it was the Yen, Sub prime was now synonymous to an infectious economic disease ready to strike an up coming nation, it could be juxtaposed in consequence to the African Ebola virus: ultimate debacle.
To be continued………..
*All characters and name in the above story bear no resemblance to any person dead or alive, if it does it is purely coincidental.*
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)