Relationships and Twitter

An imaginary twitter feed and some people at the end of it....and yes for the uninitiated

@ID is usually a reply to the person with the ID


Happy tweeting..:)

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Cosmicnonsense: I dont have da hat I wore yday, dunno where i left it.

Prudentchild: She says I have no sense of humor, what a shame, I thought i was funny.

Idioticmaze: @Cosmicnonsense da hat is in da house

Sportsbugger: Saints rule!! Yippee

Anywherebuthere: I wore too much cologne, I'm scaring people off now

Indianrider: Maybe it wasnt meant to be, is there such a thing as fate?

Weirdnwired: @Prudentchild I thought you were funny..LOL

NiceHair: @Sportsbugger How could you? You told me you wouldnt bring religion into our relationship.

Cosmicnonsense: @Idioticmaze You trying to be funny, I should have never taken you home. Now gimme my hat

Prudentchild: @Weirdnwired U heard my jokes? and thought they were funny? I'm dating the wrong chick.

kwalityicecream: @Indianrider yes fate is awesome, I saw mine change in a minute, u should give http://enlargeurepenis.com a shot

Nightnday: @Anywherebuthere Its not the cologne. Its just you.

Idioticmaze: @Cosmicnonsense you get ure hat when u tell the world what a real a$$hole u really r...tweet that

Niceguy: Hello everyone, I am a nice guy, is there a place for me here?

Sportsbugger: @Nicehair da Saints did win today!...which religion are you talking about? NFL? LOL

Anywherebuthere: @Nightnday Ya ure the one to talk, btw ure not even in the room, idiot

Indianrider: @kwalityicecream is that you Charlie?

Weirdnwired: @Prudentchild I'm a guy here, sorry

Niceguy: Anyone help a nice guy in relationship advice please?

Cosmicnonsense: @Idioticmaze keep the hat u dumb whatever, lets see u make a buck on that

Prudentchild: @Weirdnwired Ah, that explains why u get my jokes. u watching da game now?

kwalityicecream: @Indianrider who's charlie, this is cheryl

Nightnday: @Anywherebuthere I dont need to be there..LOLOLOL

Niceguy: What are these people talking about, how come noone helps niceguys in all this

Cosmicnonsense: @Niceguy dude prob ure in the wrong place, noones nice, change ure nick to Blingbling, ull get ure response...:)

Niceguy: @Cosmicnonsense that makes sense. I will do that, danke

Idioticmaze: @Cosmicnonsense I have ure wallet too, moron

Nicehair: @Sportsbugger Dont make fun of my religion, btw the NFL is just stupid and degrading to women

Cosmicnonsense: @Idioticmaze now thats a new low even for u, but as it happens to be, i usually have nothing in my wallet..:P

Blingbling: wassup y'all

girl1girl2: @Blingbling hey there

Blingbling: @Cosmicnonsense it works THANKS!!

Cosmicnonsense: @Blingbling NP...but remember..never hand over the wallet or ure hat

Idioticmaze: @Blingbling and if u do, pls keep ACTUAL money in it

Blingbling: @Idioticmaze uh...I'll try..btw ...How U doin?

Cosmicnonsense: @Blingbling dude, she aint worth the trouble

Idioticmaze: @Blingbling I'm doin fine..:)

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and thats how it goes....

The Starbucks syndrome

I once read in a magazine article that there were 20,000 ways of ordering beverages in a starbucks. And this was in 2006. I didn’t roll my eyes on that one, neither did I think that the article was being dishonest. Well, the world does have a lot of weird stuff happening, I just added this to that list. But you know that corner of your mind where the most useless of information resides, this factoid found its way there. So, ever since then, each time I visit a Starbucks I somehow keep track of an imaginary number of how many different types of drinks I’ve had there, with the hope that some day Ill be able to verify the validity of that factoid. (If there was a show on the Travel channel called “The ultimate useless pursuits”, I’m sure this would be one.)

Which brings me to the real question of the day, how bad a starbucks fan do you have to be to get close to that number? But to answer that would be to accept that there does exist this group of people (and some dogs) who like being called the ultimate Starbucks “fan”.

Now you see them all over the place (an easier group to spot as compared to Smokers, Boy Band fans, Scientologists and probably all three combined) From my empirical calculations they usually fall in 3 categories (for lack of a better grouping system),

1. Tall (includes short people)

2. Grande (no, doesn’t come with a blowhorn)

3. Venti (the people I’d bank on for the magic 20K number)

So lets start with the “Tall” ones. Most of them confess to liking the place but not being overly obsessed with brand loyalty, give them a “Peet’s” and they’ll do just fine. Many in this group would just wander into a Starbucks, know the three types of coffee--usually a Tall Cappucino, Tall Café Latte ( not just latte) and a Venti Regular coffee with room for cream and sugar (never quite knew the point of this, its like making your own pizza) and maybe every once in a while a Chai Latte. (They at times order a tea and are left wide-eyed when handed a cup of hot water and a bag) Take them to Pete’s and they will need sometime to recalibrate to the sizes but usually manage to get the drink of their choice without a lot of fuss. I don’t think I’d bet on them to get anywhere near 20 different types of drinks, forget 20,000.

The “Grande” ones, well, a little more well versed with the beverages they know would turn some heads. More open to experimenting with the sizes of their lattes, might order a coffee cake once in a while and will reluctantly enter a “Pete’s” if they cant find a Starbucks in the mall (really?) A few of them would graduate to the ultimate “Venti” club provided they already spend more on coffee and the likes than say bread and milk at home. (Usually people with no kids, or if they do have kids, love their coffee more than their kids)

And then we finally have the Ultimate group, the “Venti”s . These brave warriors swear by the brand like the three 50 yr olds I saw dancing at a Floyd cover concert ( that’s a separate discussion) They own paraphernalia of all sorts from mugs to the grinder, have visited the first Starbucks store in Seattle like it was a holy shrine, have a Starbucks Duetto credit card and think they belong to an entitled club when they buy free coffee using starbucks points ( only to later realize the APR rates on those cards are twice as high as the rest of the cards and that they could have bought four additional drinks if they just paid with cash; American dream?) They would also have a flavor combination list, their drinks would have more than 3 requirements (skim milk, extra hot, vanilla flavored….) and they would prefer to study, hold business meetings, lunches, dates (and even some weddings) at their local Starbucks rather than any other place that would be more appropriate. They know that Tuesdays offer a wonderful free download of “1” song ( that noone has heard of) on Itunes, heck they even buy water there. Now that’s the group I bank on to get to that magic number.

The problem with this final group (like any other fan club) is that they graduate in search of more authentic coffee places either because they have to wait in line while the Talls and the Grandes figure out what they want ( they should have a separate line for frequent drinkers) or they go all crazy in the head ( maybe from all the caffeine they’ve been drinking) and join the Anti-Corporate America club and start hating anything that’s “Too Big” (Microsoft anyone?)

Supernovas do tend to burn out, but the big question here is, do they burn out after 20,000.

That’s what I’d like to know.

P.S. Isnt that a lot of drinks to consume over a lifetime? Is anyone keeping count of how many café drinks a normal coffee drinker (No Venti/Grande) has over a lifetime? I’d like to read that in an article someday.

The Paanwala point of life

Well, this isnt a post about paanwalas ( betel leaf sellers for the uninitiated, read more at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paan for your choice of Paan), neither am I trying to make it impossible for them to live their lives in peace ( don’t want a mob of them attacking me, the next time I’m in India, for ruining their reputations). If I have to take one more step, I would go on the record and say that they have always been an integral part of my life when I was in India, the ever present human GPS (on-star ? Garmin? who needs that when you have “Lucky” paanwala at the intersection of main roads 1 and 2), and if I have to take the word of my college buddy Kunal, they even provide notary services ( well Kunal also said many other things that later were verified not to be true). They were always there when you needed them, if I was a TV serial producer in India, I would obv target them for a series like NYPD Blue (Paanwala red?)

But this isnt a post about them.

Its just about that point in life when you realize that where you are is probably what you’ll achieve in life, a realization that sinks in and you make a choice either to feel happy about how far ( or not) you’ve come or feel sad about how far you actually wanted to go. My guess is given a choice of lifelong happiness versus the other thing, most people would choose this, without a doubt.

But why the Paanwala.

Well, its just that in essence I don’t think Paanwalas come to different cities as career choices by themselves. They all start young with visions in their eyes, some to make it big in the movies, some to probably open a different sort of “dhandha”, they all start with a small paan store, and 10 years down the line, find themselves exactly at the same point, probably a bigger store and more customers. By then those movie or the “dhandha” dreams seem less as visions and more as the “dreams” they started out to be. But not that anyone of them is really miserable about how life turned out to be, they just feel comfortable in their places, probably some of them happy too.

And that my friends is what I mean by the Paanwala point of life.

But why this now?

If I were to tell you I’ve actually reached that point in my life, I would have to be lying not because I don’t envision that happening to me, I think even by Paanwala standards I’m just “chotu” for now. What fun is it when you cant even have the entire store for yourself?

Well, I saw this post forwarded to me by my friend Shilpa, which rambled on and on about how we should feel happy about what we have ( though was quite inspirational and I'm not being held at gunpoint to say that, check it out for yourselves, http://www.psidea.org/fuel/TheAwakening.htm ), and the one thing that struck me at the end of it is, Paanwala.

So have you reached the Paanwala point in your lives?

Forgotten voices...

In the immediate aftermath of the events of 26/11 in Mumbai, we all heard a million voices, an outpour of grief, rage and shock through many different sources. For its part Technology and the media stepped in as well. This was the age of twittering or tweeting, they said, and we all were amazed at how easily we knew so much without having to look too far. News had reached a new frontier, one that we had never seen before. It was as momentous as CNN's coverage of Iraqi Scuds hitting Kuwait in August of 1990, as fleeting as the concrete rubble through the streets of NY that fateful day of 9/11.

You would think something had changed right? I mean, with all this immediacy we should be in a position to do more to make people's lives better, to help our friends in distress. And we have. I think the world is more cohesive now than ever before, though the dark spots still remain. But the human condition is still the same right? Pain always is pain, and so is grief.Some voices are almost always forgotten. Except when people really want to make the change.

I know many people who said a lot of different things, the weeks after 26/11. From boycotting things to actual picking up a fight with some of them, from going out raising funds for the families of those affected to providing more information on the missing, I came across this wide spectrum of initiatives from people, some which fizzled out within a week, some that made their actions count.

One such effort came from a friend of mine, he wanted to raise funds for the families of the Police constables and Armymen who lost their lives or were incapacitated after the attacks, because usually the lower you are on the rungs of Indian bureaucracy, the chances are, you are usually forgotten. I just contributed to his effort but was really interested in knowing how he was going to do this and what the feedback would be. It took Krishna three months but surprisingly enough I received an email from him with the details of his endeavour. Most of the stories are personal, touching and show you that probably time is the only healer in all this.

These are some of the stories,

1. Shri Sudhir Marolia, fire fighter (Fractured his leg): Sudhir is a fire fighter attached to Bandra Fire brigade.On 28th Nov,in the Taj Mahal hotel, when the encounter was on, a hand grenade was thrown on the fire men while trying to save people from Taj. While trying to save himself from the grenade, he twisted his ankle. He was immediately taken to a hospital where an X-ray report seemed to be normal. He was told, it was just a sprain. This incident happened at around 6.30PM. He was then taken to his office (Bandra fire brigade) where he was still crying with pain, but his seniors ignored saying it was just a sprain. Later when he complained of persisting pain to his immediate senior and requested for an ambulance, he was denied stating that all vehicles are in operational in Taj and that he will need to wait. He had to wait till 2.30Am (29th Nov) till his reliever had come . Then he took rest till 5.00 Am and then he finally had to take a rickshaw back home.

Please note he earns only 8000 rupees (160 dollars) a month and has a wife and 2 children to support.

The Fire men in India aren’t provided a mediclaim insurance policy. They get a risk allowance of Rs.50 per month which has now been increased to Rs.500 after 26/11 attacks. The family was extremely in need of money and when a cheque was given to them (through the iniative) they were very happy and said they felt happy about the fact that even a common man thinks about them.

2. Shri ML Choudhari, Police Head constable attached to Railway police in CST station (He died in the CST firing):

The team met Smt Snehalata Murlidhar Choudhari' wife of 'Shri ML Choudhari' at their Ambarnath residence. They have a daughter 'Ms Priyanka' who is a B.com graduate and wants to do her MBA now. She has now been offered a job at Saraswat Co-op bank. They have a son, Devesh who is in 9th std. The team spoke to 'Smt Snehalata Murlidhar Choudhari' almost for 1/2 hr. She was saying about how they came to know about this.

Normally Shri ML Choudhari would come home by 1.15 AM when he is on 2nd shift. On 26th Nov also, he was on 2nd shift and his duty was about to end in 1 hr when the firing took place and he had to stay back. When it was around 1.30 she got tensed and called up on his mobile. She was not aware of the firing at CST station. Her husband's colleague picked up the phone and informed her about the incident. She initially thought that it could have been a prank and thought she might have probably dialed a wrong number. Again she called up on her husband's mobile and then she was asked to come to CST station immediately. She still could not believe it and she thought that it could have been a prank by one of the robbers who might have caught her husband for few bucks at Ambernath station since it was late in the night . She informed the person to please take the mobile and money and whatever he wants and leave her husband. The colleague replied he wasn’t playing any prank and asked her to switch on the TV. That was when she came to know of the whole incident.

On the fateful night , he died along with his Senior Shri.Shashank Shinde after Kasab and Ismail Khan fired indiscriminately at CST station.

3. Gajendra Singh, NSG Commando (Died Smt Vineeta Devi, wife of martyr 'Shri Gajendra Singh' . The cheque has been sent through registered post to Army headquarters , South block, Delhi. I was liaising with Col Rawat who gave me all details of the family. He suggested that if I send a crossed cheque in favour his wife is sent to them, they will arrange to send it to his wife. Accordingly this has been done. Col Rawat also said, they are trying for a job for Smt Vineeta Devi in the Uttarakhand government. He also said , Shri Gajendra Singh's brother who is a driver with Police dept, is also having some dispute with the money. Hence Col Rawat has taken this responsibility of sending this cheque.

A little background about Gajendra Singh’s family :

It’s sad to say that, the last time Shri Gajendra Singh went home was on 15th Aug 2008, when his father died. And then it was on 26/11 when his dead body reached home. It seems Smt Vineeta Devi didn’t know about the operation as Gajendra Singh told her that he was in Delhi. But he was actually sent to Mumbai for this deadly operation.

Since childhood , he always had a dream to join to the army and he himself opted to join the NSG. He has 2 kids: Daughter, Preeti who is 10 years old and son, Gaurav who is 11 years old.

6. Arun Chitte : A cheque was Rs.25,000/- was issued to his wife 'Manisha Chitte' who has 3 daughters : Komal, studying in 3rd Std., Snehal, studying in 3rd Std and Kushi, who is in Nursery. The family lives in Mhada colony in Dharavi and owns 2 houses in that same building. She was offered a job in Police but she refused. Now that job has been given to Arun's brother. Also Manisha's brother has also been offered a job at Saraswat Co-Op bank. Arun had been working as driver for encounter specialist Mr. Vijay Salaskar for almost 10 years. He had been with him for almost all the encounters. Like his boss, he also never had any bad habits like smoking or drinking.

After our conversation with Manisha and her brother, we saw that she was confident of bringing up her kids.

7. Balasaheb Bhosale: : Rs.10,000/- .Asst Sub Inpector Balasaheb Bhosale was also killed in the 26 / 11 attacks. He is survived by his wife 'Sharda Bhosale' to whom we gave a cheque of Rs.10,000/- at their Naigaon police quarters residence and 2 sons ,Deepak, who is attached to Naigaon police station and another son, Sachin who has been offered a job in Mantralaya .

8. Vijay Khandekar : Constable Vijay Khandekar was attached to Azad Maidan police station. We managed to meet his wife 'Shradha Khandekar' at her Nagpada residence in police quarters. She refused to take donations since she said she was financially stable and wanted us to help others who are in need of it. So no donations were made to his family. Last week also 'Vijay's' name had hit the headlines. The Indian government had forgotten his sacrifice to our country and his name was listed in the Police routine transfer list.

Rahul Shinde: Rs. 25,000/-.Rahul Shinde is a constable attached to SRPF division in Solapur. Rahul was single and youngest in his family. His elder brother has been offered a job in Taj Hotel in Mumbai but his mom doesn’t want him go to Mumbai because she is extremely scared and doesn’t want to come to Mumbai. So he has refused this job. Rahul’s family lives in a small village in Sultanpur district in Solapur. Their source of income is farming. The team sent a cheque of Rs.25,000/- to his father registered post .

Shri Prakash More: Rs.10,000/- .The cheque was issued in name of his wife Mrs. Madhavi Prakash More. Shri Prakash More's eldest son 'Pratik' is studying FY Engineering from a college in Dombivali and his daughter, Anushka is studying in 8th std. Mrs. Madhavi Prakash More is working with a bank. She was away at work when the team had gone to their house. The cheque was handed over to Pratik in front of their neighbour as a witness at their Mulund residence.

Shri Tukaram Ombale: : Rs.10,000/- . The cheque was handed over to his wife 'Tarabai Tukaram Omble' . When the team went to his house, they got a chance to speak to his wife and his family friend . He has 4 daughters. 2 of them are married. The other 2 daughters are Vaishali, studying BA B 'ED and Bharati, studying TYBA. As they entered his house, next to his photo they saw the Ashok Chakra' which was given to him on 26th Jan 2009. It was because of Shri Omble that the cops were able to nab Kasab alive.

12. Jaywant Patil : Rs. 100,000/- .He studied till 12th Std. He then joined police force and had served for 17 years. While in the police force, he did his graduation by joining a night college in Bhandup. He was the trusted body guard of Shri Ashok Kamte (Asst Commissioner of Police, Chembur Zone) who also lost his life on the fateful night.

The terrorists had pumped 18 bullets into his body. He is survived by his wife 'Pratibha Jaywant Patil' and 2 cute kids, Esha, who is studying in 1st std in St Xaviers school in Bhandup and a 4 month old baby named 'Shaurya'. His naming ceremony took place just few days before this attack. Since now she is alone with her kids, her parents have come from Satara to stay with her. They will be moving back to Satara very soon.

13. Ambadas Pawar : Rs. 25,000/- . He is survived by his wife 'Kalpana Pawar' and 1 1/2 yr old kid named Vivek. They have been given a 2 BHK flat in Mhada colony in Sion - Koliwada where they have already shifted.

Spoke to Ambadas Pawar’s brother, father and mother. They are also currently staying with her in the new flat. They said they have also been allotted a petrol pump and Shri Ambadas's wife has been given a job in Saraswat Co Op bank .

Shri Ambadas Pawar was also in the same jeep in which Ashok Kamte, Hemant Karkare, Jaywant Patil were killed.

14. Mukesh Jhadav : Rs. 25,000/- . He is survived by 4 brothers, father and mother. He was the 3rd son. The 2nd son has been offered a job in Railways at Kalyan station. They have also been allotted a 2 BHK Mhada flat in Sion Koliwada.

15. Shri Bapurao Dhurdagde: Rs. 50,000/- given to the Shri Bapurao Dhurdagde's family at their Sewri residence. They live in a chawl-type constable level police quarters above Sewri Police station in Reay Road. Krishna personally met his wife and handed over the cheque to her. He has 2 daughters & 1 son. Eldest daughter is doing Computer Science from BVP college, Nerul and other daughter in engineering. Son is doing chemical engineering. I spoke to their eldest daughter. She appreciated our gesture to help the family. Mom didn’t speak much. She was still in a state of shock. She just came out to sign the acknowledgement and was silent.

the human paradox: revisited

And then there are stories and there are voices. Each story with different voices and each voice with stories. These stories have many words and when you read each word and close your eyes, each word creates a character. Soon, through your inner eye you see all these different characters each with a story to tell, finally converging in an orgy, not just any orgy, but one of syllables.

It is in this orgy that the syllables shine like monochromatic crystals viewed through a multicolored kaleidoscope, and no matter the distortion always finds its way into exact beautiful patterns. Each one of those crystals is chosen from amongst many grains washed ashore by random waves, the same waves that have been resonating through the ages with the frequency of the cosmic 'aum' and the 'amen'. The sounds from these waves find their way into notes which when heard together fill the mind with peace and the heart with passion and awakens the dreamy eyed demagogue that hides deep within our mortal dermi. a soul awakened by visions of its own voice and story.

this is the human paradox.

where is that line?

ok, let me rephrase. Is there even a line. How should you react to these ghastly incidents that scar not only your pysche but also drive down that a deep hatred which seems to erupt in anonymity? What happened in Mumbai not only leaves us with questions about the relevance of Pakistan in our lives (as Indians) but also the relevance of the normal day Pakistani that you might bump into on the street. Why is there a shadow version of ourselves that tends to bring out the worst in us when hidden in a mob or a group, but as individuals we tend to think differently. I'm sure there must have been a million social experiements done to study this, but why is there no perfect solution to deal with this problem?

I've read and reread many articles on how to hurt Pakistan into waking up to reality without actually firing a single shot, the sort of Cold-War tactics used by the US to hurt a country where it really matters, economically, culturally or even pyschologically. But the thing thats different with the Pakis is this deep rooted feeling of brotherhood some of us Indians feel in times of relative peace with our neighbor. I dont think its a religion thing, its more to do with us wanting to take a higher moral stand, of always wanting to be in peace even during times of pain, of utmost restraint, the same restraint that our Government keeps reminding us, the same restraint the Western World urges us to show. But is the price of restraint worth it?

These questions are meant to be asked because for some of us who arent in the crowd, the anger or restraint we show happens more at a personal level. I've had all these questions running through my mind, because as an Indian in the US, I feel the anger and yet I feel anonymous to the cause. How should I react? Should I even react? The day after the happenings in Mumbai, I was in a cab driven by yes, a Paki. I was with my colleagues, each one with their own immigrant stories but I couldnt expect them to understand how it made me feel sitting in that cab. I sat next to the driver, while he started talking to me about Bollywood and how Abhishek Bachchan and Aishwarya Rai were in his cab when they visited the city. I just smiled and said nothing, when inside me, all I could feel was the rage of being there. I knew my anger had nothing to do with him as a person, he was just a guy like me, trying to find his way through life. But all I could think of were the dollars I was going to pay him, which would in turn find its way to Pakistan maybe as a family remittance, and who knows might end up in the hands of the same group that sent people to destroy my brethren. After all they are all charities right? Maybe I was being simplistic about the whole thing, or maybe I wasnt. These thoughts made my head spin that I had to ask my colleague for an aspirin in the car. She didnt have one, and so what happens next, yes you must have guessed it, Mr. Cabi hands over a couple of aspirins and asks me to have it. I didnt know whether to feel relieved or even angrier. I just took the escapist route and fell asleep. The next day I left the hotel room, prepared for my presentation and guess what, my client was a Pakistani. I again, didnt know what to do. I had to be professional obviously, so I just kept it that way. No small talk, but we could feel the tension. What made the equation a bit skewed was us being three Indians to him being one. I wouldnt find that surprising though, there are after all a billion of us in this world. Though I always wonder what goes on inside the head of a Pakistani soon after these incidents ( they do happen pretty often) There is one thing I have realized though with my countless experiences with my neighbors. One-on-One they are probably the nicest people in the world. Its when they become bigger than a group of 20, that you start hearing the commentary. In any case we went out for lunch which was more or less in silence except for one colleague of mine who was Chinese and couldnt help himself from talking. Though at some point, my Paki client did mention that his wife was from India. I again didnt know what to say. I just said, Great.

Great? Who says that.

Some of these questions do have answers. Like the way my friends decided not to go to a Pakistani owned theatre or a restaurant. Maybe it doesnt matter to the business, but it did matter as a set of principles for them. Like the way, my friend decided againt buying a pair of gloves though they were perfect, just because they were made in Pakistan. Would it ever add up, I asked them. They said, they didnt care. Its the same petro-dollar argument new energy advocates use here. Less money for the Saudis, less money to blow us up.

They say you cant generalize. Not everyone belongs to the same mob. But isnt the reason we got to this point because we never had a coherent policy on what we should do. We need not hate, but do we need to love? Why shoot ourselves in the foot when almost 100,000 Indian soldiers have died in the Kashmir conflict and yet Atif Aslam signs record deals with Indian music companies. Yes, he didnt kill anyone and yes the soldiers may not have been killed by Pakistanis ( Afghans and Kashmiris also fought in that insurgency) but isnt it better to solve the leakage through one hole before opening up more taps? And note that I havent even started talking about the religion aspect of this entire conflict.

In the end, I think, all of us are just trying to find our way out for ourselves. So that we need not be the ones making that crucial decision whether to cut the umbilical cord or not. In essence though, I think Pakistan has already done so, a long time ago.

That Saturday night, I ended up thinking what my friends said, on my long drive home through the rainy streets of San Jose. Each one made a passionate argument, not on how to deal with this situation, but how they would deal with a normal day Pakistani. To me, it sounded idealistic, because of my own recent interactions. But they made their case and said they would stand by it. I though could only see two sets of images in front of my eyes. One of the chaos on the streets of the city I would swear by anyday and the other of me walking away from the cab, the minute I found out. The problem though, was, one happened and the other didnt.

the gamut

every time you run through a maze of colors, every time you immerse yourself into a range of notes, every time you skim through the pages in a book, its the gamut that strikes you every time, of colors, of music, of words.

but have you ever had a range of illusions run through your head, the ones that take you from one extreme to the other, of immense hope, of hopeless solitude, of aching pain, to the light that leads you to the next path? the same range of illusions that conjure emotions that mean one thing but result in another, and how this concoction of minutes, time weighted by how you feel, pass by in a split second one day and drag through an entire afternoon the other with you feeling hopelessly out of control only to show up the next day with that perfect smile that could take you through the rest of your life?

ive had these weeks recently where ive been dragged through dirt, through muck and ive flown over mountains and yet i feel completely at home with that cuppa mocha being still and watching these moments pass me by, each minute filled with experiences that i know i can take with me wherever life leads me to, though with the added satisfaction of knowing it cant get better than this.

then,so be it.

let the games begin. bring me the gamut.

the long goodbye...III

...brings the short hello.

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this was always going to be the end as i saw it, which actually makes me happier than ever. Knowing that something doesn't necessarily have to end, but just morph into something new is any believer's dream, we do say right, the ultimate butterfly-caterpillar truth.

" tu jayega toh phir aayega na?"..asked N the night before my flight..the others started laughing immediately. " yeh kya kargil mein ladne ja raha hai kya?" said S. True, it wasnt as dramatic as that, but there was a hidden element of truth in what N has asked me. Does it have to be the end? I mean, could I choose one over the other? or are these not even choices for me to be made.

It surprises me that Ive met people who are sure of where they want to be. Some say this is it, some say, nopes thats my only destiny. I for one, have no idea where a new day would take me. And maybe this trip opened up the frontiers of the future for me. The energy in India is tremendous, I must admit reluctantly, it is where the action is slowly moving to. A kind of lawless wild west...or just in this case the emerging east, still lawless mind you. People are in it to make their bucks, and when they are done, yes the country will be developed, we will have our new leaders and the structured economy will make it tougher to bend the rules. But thats quite a distance away, I dont think I'll be alive to see that happen in any case.

Will the country we once knew as kids change? It already has, only some places still remain the same. There is edginess to things, to break free of a billion people only to miss them later on. To come back with the bucks only to see them corrode in value. The normal westside story for all us Indians who live abroad.

the manzilein-rastein conundrum.

between getting stuck at saki naka twice for an hour each and travelling from dadar aboard a fast local, my mind began to wander, albeit more in irritation than out of choice. the humidity started piercing my soul and then it started raining.

ah, the rains.

if anything hadnt changed in bby...it was the rains...now they had too much water. i just stepped out and got drenched because id rather be drenched with water than with sweat...things move slowly here, some things dont move at all. two steps forward, three steps back...that should be the official motto of india ( and my life as well which speaks for the special bond) and then there are days where its three steps forward and one step backward. whatever be the case, its still pathetic, but what do you expect with a billion people all moving in a billion directions. yes, there is a choice of not having to be part of it or staying above the fray as some would see it.

for me its still a pending decision. im not yet ready to shut the door. there is always this small ray of hope piercing through the tiniest of spaces. maybe thats just what i need.

i heard out all my peers for the last four weeks. on how some say, if they were to leave the place they will never ever come back for sure, and how some said, if we all planned to escape then what would happen to the place?...some had issues with the fact that everyone they knew seemingly lived better lives abroad ( not knowing that the same better life actually takes its own pound of flesh from these people)...in all it was about the future. noone i knew talked about the past. it was all forgotten.

which is what i could see...everyone drawing their raasteins...some set in the concrete walls of their new homes, some in that far off opportunity in edmonton, alberta. the pace had quickened for sure, like time's slowly running out to make these choices and soon everyone's going to be in cruise mode, not veering right or left but just straight ahead.

what i never understood though was, what about the manzileins? Was anyone even aware of futures each of these choices hold, or was this the way life had to be lead. You make choices, and you live with the consequences.

unlike my fear of the consequences that lets me draw only one path.

which do you think makes more sense?

the long goodbye....wanderlust

"u might have a case of the wanderlust..did that ever strike you?"...she said over lunch in a cuban restaurant in the middle of midtown manhattan that sunday afternoon.

i just smiled and thought to myself that it was pretty interesting, because we all travel, some more than others, but soon the conversation lead somewhere else and this topic was soon forgotten.

all until this morning.

its amazing how many dots you can connect at any single moment and how you connect them as well. For example, the minute you see something uve seen in the past makes you connect the dots from there to here and somewhere in that process, things start looking well pretty random.

that was what i was doing at 4 am this morning. with the jetlag kicking in on day 2, i found myself rolling on my bed in this hotel in the heart of pune, feeling hungry, tired and irritable.

indian tv is pure nonsense, thats for sure. between the never ending cricket matches played by god knows which team, the scantily clad women in the music videos, and the looping sights of people rioting, you would have a tough time believing that india is a pretty safe, conservative and not as big on sports as the tv channels want you to believe. and add to that the really annoying tv news anchors who keep nodding their heads with their make believe british accents.

ok thats how critical you can get at 4 am in the morning...and when there is absolutely nothing to watch on tv...

except it was the democratic national convention night live from...yes u guessed it, denver, colorado.

so im stuck in a room in some random place in pune watching kennedy give his last ever convention speech from the pepsi centre, a place where i once saw eric clapton play layla and watched kobe bryant get booed...

those were the dots i connected this morning. How it all added up, i have no idea and what it added up to is again a big question mark.

But this trip kinda looks surreal, on how you could bridge so many different worlds and yet be all alone as i was..in that room.

or it might be just be a case of wanderlust.

the long goodbye...II

india these days seems to be on the brink of self-destruction...only because it seems to be so much in love with itself. ok, i actually thought that was a bit funny, because any channel on tv you switch to, any billboard you see, there is this annoying sense that everyone believed india was truly the greatest country on earth. ( now where have i heard that before?...)

you can do anything, impossible is achievable, do your thing....and the list goes on. this additional emphasis of the individual in a society which still feeds off the collective efforts of the many, only seems counter productive. everyone wants to be the MAN ( or the woman) and yet everyone seeks affirmation from the society....its all very confusing.

to me personally, it seemed like the country was on steroids...or like barry bonds giant head, very surreal. inflation maybe a better term, but to me its just a rip off.

ill give you an example why. a bottle of water in my hotel costs 35 rupees. one roti costs 20 rupees, and a plate of hakka noodles cost me a whopping 135 rupees. this seems more ridiculous than the nuts they charge you at vegas ( the real nuts)...i did hear a lot of these stories from my friends who visit india but this time i actually saw it with my own eyes...

and yet there r things which have just not changed, and its at a point where noone cares anymore. Electricity is in short supply, and yet IT enclaves want to rule the world, the roads are great for most of the way and just when you start getting happy that things have changed you'll find yourself facing an annoying stretch of mud with a board hanging next to it "this stretch of road is not managed by the MCGM"

basically its a message that says, hey we dont give a shit what happens to u here, so drive on and have a nice journey.

but even through all the noise, i can still see glimpses of the old order, the way we all were and maybe that is still the silent majority and all i notice is the chaotic minority...and that chaos is probably the way the majority dreams of its escape.

just like i planned mine.

the long goodbye....I

the questions i had meant to ask were all out there, and this time i just wanted to get over the fear. ive been on a roll over the past few weeks, trying to escape the few things that bothered me anymore, and four weeks in a country once home seemed to be a welcome break.

and the day i get here, after enduring the infamous chinese hospitality at shanghai ( and yes, i was in china during the olympics...just like i saw shooting stars in seattle...all a matter of interpretation)...the only question i have left is...

was this home? i mean...was this ever..home?

ok, so we all go thru the motions, the past never seems good enough, no matter how good it actually was. there is nothing that lasts forever, from november rain to shoes worn in school. stuff the nostalgia industry wants u to consistently think of at all times. photographs, albums, videos in technicolor, all add to the misery.

but i had to see this additional dimension of things seeming..whats the word...in tatters?...the playgrounds i used to play seem empty and forlorn...so the question i had was..where r the kids who play now?..its not sad if i see kids play there now, its sad when its empty and broken down...

thats the part i still havent gotten used to.

the fact that all my memories of this country are exactly just that...memories, anything that i and my friends used to do, are just not done anymore.

in any case, im not getting all teary-eyed here...this is really an amazing opportunity...imagine being able to recreate new memories of the exact same place...just new paint, same walls.

and thats what i intend to do.

it happened one night...

...it was a dark 10:15 that night when i drove back on 101...and as the voices in my head quietened out after an intense recap of what had just happened, i couldnt help feel more alive than ever in a very long time. i could feel the rage drippin through my pores but it seemed a futile waste of anger which could have been better used in a more real environment somewhere im sure. and it wasnt just rage that i could feel, it was also a cold feeling somewhere deep of peace..of being relieved...

and it was all bcos i now know what i didnt before.

...could i sleep? did i sleep?...i really dont know, but the exhaustion left me with no options. i think those are really the best times, when you have no options. you just do one thing because thats all you can. what had happened had been brewing for a while now, and as ever, i always miss the signs. The good part though, contrast helps decisions. Something is good because something else is bad. In the end, both pass you by. A big relief.

and it was all bcos i now know what i didnt before.

...it was 930 and i was still in bed...a wreck from what had happened the night before. i wanted to talk to someone but i couldnt call anyone because i was sure noone would have anything new to say. Reassurance is probably the worst pep talk when you've been zapped, saying something in chinese would probably be better. i should have been in china. So, i mopped up and reached work...the one special place in my life that was completely insulated from the burning city on the other...and thank god for that.

i reached for the coffee machine and in came all the actors, the old, the young, the funny, the serene, it was almost like a play was enacted in front of my eyes. we spoke about things that didnt matter, on how wikipedia was more accurate than encyclopedia britanica (read the long tail: thanks to prashant), on how russia had all the right to be in georgia and then we went to work...it almost felt like someone had just removed this huge weight off my shoulders...of me meandering into the whys and the hows and whys again....

actually now it didnt even matter whether i knew anything or not...

i returned home and biked my way to the twilight sky by the bay...and suddenly couldnt help being raptured by the sight in front of my eyes...now i know we've all been near amazing sights ( some captured on film, all others just a bad attempt at blaming the camera when its pretty evident u can never capture them (ok kartik u can on a d40))...but this was just magnificent...the colors, the wind, the saline (ok marginally polluted) smell of the bay...it all just came together. for a minute, i just thought to myself...huh..and this roller coaster ride of emotions was for what exactly?...

maybe just for the contrast...to explain what matters and what doesnt.

i stayed there for a while till the moonlight hit the waters and counted 27 aircrafts make their way to the runway at sfo...soon ill be on one of them, on a totally new adventure, and this time im done being skeptical. its just full swing from now on, and maybe nothing may work, but at least its not an option anymore.

if they dont go, u leave.

and so it happened one night.

lights will guide u home....

...yes welcome to the therapy music of coldplay....therapy because all their songs deal with some sort of human condition...a sequence of melodrama and eventually all ends good....shouldnt life be that way too?

for that i have no answers, but yes their music is still phenomenal....yes they're some sort of a soft rock group that have ballads sticking out like a sore thumb, but hey...its the music that counts....

i finally saw them perform live....yes...thats an achievement id like to paste even in my resume...and were they awesome or what....

i think the video below speaks for itself....

and lights will guide u home,
and ignite ure bones,
and i will try to fix you...

the chump

" So, you really are a chump", she said as we sat on the beach that Friday afternoon. I just smiled back looking at the water. A surfer was trying to catch the wind and surf ashore, but in reality there was no wind so I had no idea what he was doing out in the waters....it felt a very pleasant 78, could have been a bit lower. " Yes maybe I am, or maybe I'm just nothing. Isnt the point of it all to see everyone be happy in the end? No bitterness, no slippery slopes into despair or anguish. So how does the action of just one individual make any difference? and maybe my inaction stems from a complete paralysis of analysis, like those ESPN commentators who dont know who's side they're on"

" So do you know what you're going to do next?" she asked for the hundredth time.

" Yes, I am going to just lie here on the sand, close my eyes and dream about the ice-cream I am going to have in an hour. And if you are planning to ask me what I am going to do next, please make sure to note down my responses, some day I promise, we will have a laugh, all at my expense. For now though I have decided, inaction's the best course of action. You see, this is exactly what you would call a Prisoner's dilemma in Game theory. I know I have to make a decision that helps my situation, but if I make a wrong one, I get penalized not because I was wrong, but because I chose the exact opposite as fate would have desired. Now thats a slippery slope. I'll avoid that for now"

" And maybe the point of it all is to be inactive and focus on the little things that help me get off a slippery slope. See more, know more, learn more. Ask questions, try answering some, drive people insane, drive myself insane. Try filling the void with sand, stone, pearls, coffee, chocolates and everything else the world has to offer. Drive north, bike south, sail east, fly west. Expand the horizons till everything makes sense. Do you even sense the opportunity in all this? And yes at some point things will be clearer or maybe I will convince myself that I'm done or she may convince me that we're done. The strings that bind us to our choices must have a manual, and I'm just reading it out to see if it makes sense. Does that make me a sinner, no, does that make me less capable of holding onto the strings, obviously not. Its a manual, its not dummies guide to break free. And I'm not on a path to moksha or nirvana or anything of that other-life crisis points. I'm still dealing with my QLC, OLC is way out of my league. Its like the last two men sitting on the world series of poker, when both dont know what cards they hold, but still hope they have better cards till one realizes, hey I forgot my sandwich and he folds.

In the end it should all make sense. and when it does, I will fold. like i never had a choice.

and yes as I hear myself talk, I am a chump."

the citadel of expectations...

the beginning...

hyderabad house has become standard fare these days....and with every spoon of biryani and every piece of Nan...the stories we talk about become more and more familiar to everyone around us....being right next to the stanford campus, you would imagine us to talk about things we would want all of mankind to move towards...the latest position paper on foreign policy, the latest technology for a facebook app.....but for every 10 geeks in the room the only thing i think the four of us ever talk about are non-issues in the eyes of others....issues more mortal and benign yet which tend to boil over because the solutions arent anywhere in sight....

now most ppl reading this blog ( if there are any left) would jump to conclusions ( or even hump to it)...but sorry boss, this place no longer resembles stories from real life. the only thing that ever gets written here are either as old as McCain or as irrelevant as him...( go obama! )

so what about the expectations or the lack of it?....its more like the rhyme we used to listen to when we were kids ...somethin to do with a mulberry bush ( whatever the hell that is)...and we all fall down....oh ya...here we go around the mulberry bush....and we all fall down....

honestly i dont remember anythin to be half as lame as that but then most things we do as kids are lame....parents have to call them cute...i prefer to call them retarded....

have u ever realized how parents get so riled up about their kids and how the most annoying kids in a restaurant are Desi kids?.....In the entire restaurant u would see 10 kids...8 american kids who mind their business....and 2 desi kids who mind everyones else's.....

thats why american kids are more prone to ADD i think...bcos desi kids are beyond all that by the time their parents grow up....if their parents are around i must mention....

coming back to the expectations gig....ppl always mention how we should manage expectations...whether its about work or life or anythin remotely connected to charles dickens...on how u dont raise the stakes before u know it can be achieved...but in an age where everythin runs on spin...how do u not open ure mouth before u know what ure talkin about?

i call that word vomit, most ppl call that talking....with no end in sight. i try to keep it simple...u dont talk if u dont have anything to say. But for every 10 people i meet, its like the definition of talking is always to say something stupid...and then say something else to cover up ure earlier stupidity...and then its a slippery slope....u only stop when a stray dog passes u by and everyones interested in the dog instead of whatever it is u were talking about....but here's the catch....if u were even the tiniest bit smart...u would just shut the f$k up....

But no.

As soon as the dog passes by, u start again...like u had to hit ure numbers that minute....phew...i just made my word numbers ....damn im good....

and everyone then whispers...u know he made his numbers....

which is where the entire expectations comes into play...

so if ure still reading this post, ud realize im just ranting about nothing in particular, but am having a ball in creating these heightened expectations for u....its coming folks...u will get some solid news in this post on where my life is headed next....its almost here....it is...i promise.

the bubble bursters....

have u met ppl who just claim to know it all and then under the pretext of keeping it real burst all ure bubbles? now im a solid bubble guy...i wander off in all random directions in my own bubble...not bothering anyone else mind u....but then these bubble bursters have to pin me down and burst it...like they have some sort of fetish in chasing away dreams....

why dont they sell their stock right next to the dream catchers in stores...if u like someone get them a dream catcher....( ya the round thing with feathers)...if u really like them (..wink..wink ) get them a dream chaser....

in the end i think both work the same way....fool u into believing somethings gonna happen when what happened just happened and u were too stupid to realize it just did.

process ppl...

i hate these ppl. i seriously hate these ppl.

the ones who always start a meeting showing a f@#$king presentation on how things should be done....the methodology man...process pete....but dont know what the hell they r doing.

i have one thought on all this. by the time ppl go through the meeting learning the process...most of them have already forgotten what they do for a living...and the only thing they remember is...yes... the process.

its like when the end comes ( which always does)....we're all running around like headless chicken...yelling....wheres the process?...the process!!...THE PROCESS!...

how do u think american companies have become this fat and stupid?...because u only have all these fancy mba kids running the show with words like processes and methodologies and powerpoints....none of them have a clue what they're talking about....

so much for the process.

the end

ok had to get all this off my chest....and now im a free man.....yeey....

but my biggest crib of these 5 months is yet to fill the void....

WHY THE F@#$K IS HILLARY STILL RUNNING? IS SHE CRAZY??

ok now i feel much better.

seeya all.

opinions at 27.....

....is it just me who's clueless or does anyone know when we all turned into stone walls of opinion that its almost impossible to understand the other person's point of view....a punch here and a knock there would force u to understand but why has it become this tough to get thru...?

so the story goes, there were 100 ppl to begin with....all listened, all nodded...till one woke up and realized...hey this is BS....but whats worse is his own brand of BS which he believed was the solemn truth....the next guy woke up with his brand and in the end we had a 100 different brands of BS all upheld to be the truth that noone believed in.....

so if thats how the situation is...how do u get anything done?

the answer is simple....u just dont....or u form ure cliques and stick to them like the holiest truth uve ever come to know....

isnt it sad? and its just at 27....

the long goodbye...the short hello....

wow, has it been 5 months...i must have been real high or deep in thought to not post anything here....it happens right...u have a million things in ure head but nothin worth writing about either because its premature BS or its just plain BS....

i didnt plan it to be that way though...but everytime i started writing somethin i just lost hope that it even made sense....but as is everythin else u find a way out of the hole...either by digging deeper to reach the other end or by getting out....the first step though is to accept ure in one.....

now before i start losing perspective and cloud ure minds with more questions, let me just say this....who cares...

a fresh start is always good.

so here comes the new lost....

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