Lost In A Crowd

Of Writing Styles, Story-Lines & Inspiration II

2011-02-07T00:09:00.017+05:30

I would first and foremost like to apologise for my long absence. 2010 was a year I'd like to forget for a variety of reasons. If it is any consolation, I will post as often as I can this year.

With this current post I continue on my never-ending journey through books, styles and authors that have impressed me greatly and my opinions on the subject. In late-2009 I was fortunate enough to have chanced upon Rohinton Mistry's, 'A Fine Balance' - the book had come highly recommended from a friend (the same friend happened to gift the novel to me on a birthday). Ever since I began the first page I knew that this was not just another over-rated piece of literature. Through exceptional detail, Mistry weaves a heart-wrenching tale of misfortune against the backdrop of political upheaval. With a vivid description of Indira Gandhi's tyrannical rule during the years of the infamous Emergency, the book tells the tale of four rather insignificant people and their intertwined lives. 'A Fine Balance' captures the true essence of India like few other books have. Moving, compelling and exceptionally presented, 'A Fine Balance' is a masterpiece of our time. It is truthful, harsh and crushing...I would not recommend it to anyone who believes in only happy endings.

I also finished the Ayn Rand lexicon (in fiction) by reading her first book, 'We The Living.' In what many consider to be her most readable work, she delves into the stringent life under Communist rule in Soviet Russia; Individualism versus Communism is the underlying theme explored in this novel. This book was a forerunner to her ideology on Objectivism and contains similar overtones to all that was to follow in her later works. Flamboyant in style as it is vivid in characterisation, 'We The Living' was nothing short of an excellent read!

Before I got down to reading JD Salinger's, 'Catcher In The Rye', I had heard so much about the central character (Holden Caulfield) and how much impact he had had on popular culture. Caulfield would set the standard for teenage angst and disillusionment in not only America but elsewhere too. As I flipped through the pages of Catcher I was rather amazed by the narrative's colloquial style. It was only as I neared the end of the book did I realise how much the use of such flippant language accentuated the novel's founding premise. Almost sixty years since its publication, 'Catcher In The Rye' still continues to draw readers and create a significant impact. The novel has often been compared in scope to Joseph Heller's, 'Catch 22' - in all honesty, I tried reading 'Catch 22' several years ago and found it to be one of the most insufferable books I have ever picked up (as patient as I am, I was unable to go past 60 pages...). While I found Salinger's, 'Catcher In The Rye' to be extremely readable, I was so very put off and bored by 'Catch 22.' The simple fact that Heller was able to get the phrase ("Catch 22") into the language is testament to the book's effect on literature and society. But literature, like most art forms, is subjective. At the end of the day it is nothing but a matter of opinion. So, I mean Joseph Heller no disrespect when I criticise his extremely popular book.

Yann Martel's, 'Life Of Pi' was a peculiarly interesting read. The novel that has a teenage boy stranded on a lifeboat with a bunch of wild animals (after his ship sinks), is in fact based on a true story. Written with an easy style, the Booker Prize-winning author sheds light on several areas from the temperament of wild animals to zoos and survival techniques to be used at sea.

Charles Dickens' epic classic, 'Great Expectations' was the next book on my list. I found the Victorian novel both brilliant and boring. While there were parts of the book that I found pedantic and slow there were also parts that were very moving. The pathos in 'Great Expectations' (especially during the time when Pip feels ashamed of letting Joe and Biddy down and taking them for granted during his time in London) is undeniably the book's high-point. Often seen in his other works like 'Oliver Twist' and 'A Christmas Carroll', Dickens captures human reaction to tragedy and the sadness associated with it very well. I read somewhere that 'Great Expectations' was one of Leo Tolstoy's favourite novels. I can see why the Russian great was an admirer of Dickens; a lot of his own work was full of pathos.

Over the years, I have never really been drawn in by poetry. Though I did study a fair bit of it at both school and college (the Metaphysicals, the Romantics and the like), I never related to it like I did to prose. That said, I do have about ten or fifteen poems that are very dear to my heart. As for plays, I did not relate to them either. I did the same Shakespearean play in both high-school and University - 'The Merchant Of Venice.' To put it bluntly, it was a big disappointment. And studying something you dislike on two separate occasions makes you loathe it even more. On my mother's recommendation, I read John Osborne's, 'Look Back In Anger.' Jimmy Porter's (the central character) constant raves and rants about society and life in general put me off. The 'angry young man' role was fine but I never really saw what he was always on about. Towards the end of the play I did find Jimmy's observations to be quite true though. I have even saved a couple of quotes from the book on my blog's 'favourite quotations' section.

In the latter half of 2010 I was oddly reminded of a fine collection of short stories that I studied in the tenth grade. Called, 'Figments Of Imagination', the collection contained an incredible set of stories from the best writers of the genre. From Guy de Maupassant ("The Diamond Necklace") to Anton Chekov ("The Bet") to O Henry ("The Gift Of The Magi" & "The Last Leaf"), I have no doubts in admitting that those were the best pieces of writing I have ever come across. Writing a good short story is no easy task; in that limited space, one needs to come up with something worth engaging the reader. Smaller the narrative, the harder it is to create an impact. There was another fabulous story I studied called "The Sniper" - it was written by an Irishman called Liam O'Flaherty. Today, the short story is a dying art. It has changed so much from the old days when an average piece ranged between two and three thousand words (some, even less than that). In modern parlance, a short story might be as much as even ten thousand words. Continuing on my new found love affair with the genre, I read some of Oscar Wilde's fine short fiction. Be it "The Happy Prince", "The Model Millionaire", "The Selfish Giant", "The Nightingale And The Rose" or even "The Sphinx Without A Secret" (all of which barely exceed four or five pages), Wilde's genius is apparent. Unlike his usual satirical wit that bordered on even misanthropy at times, these short pieces of fiction showcase Wilde as the humanist. 'The Picture Of Dorian Gray' was to follow. In terms of language, aesthetics, beauty, art and historical references, I would rate the book very highly. That said, the story failed to live up to my expectations. Though it did intrigue me every now and then, the character of Lord Henry Wooton (with his 'know it all' epigrams and barbs) was, in all honesty, quite unbearable. But like all great writers, Wilde was much ahead of his time. Reading so much fascinating short fiction has inspired me to pen some of my own tales; I am in fact working on three stories right now. I often wonder how that will eventually turn out?

Switching to a more contemporary writer, I was fortunate to have come across the writings of the South African Nobel Laureate, JM Coetzee. Of the two award-winning novels I read of his ('Disgrace' and 'Life & Times Of Michael K'), the former left a lasting impression on me. I related to 'Disgrace' so much because of its introspective style - something I do admire very much. The novel deals with a changing South Africa seen through the eyes of a middle-aged white man trying to bring stability to his own discordant life.

I began reading Graham Greene's, 'The Power And The Glory' and Vladamir Nabokov's, 'Lolita' but stopped on account of other priorities. I will surely come back to them in due course. I will soon venture into the world of PG Wodehouse (an author my mother and so many friends have great things to say about). There are, of course, countless other books and writers I will get to in good time. At the moment, I am reading a collection of short stories by Anton Chekov and 'Swami And Friends' by our own beloved RK Narayan. The two writers remind me so much of each other, what with their simplistic beauty in prose.

My appetite for reading and heavy inclination towards the written word must be attributed to my mother. Though I never read when she so often entreated me to (in the early years of adolescence), I got my act together eventually and have never looked back since.

Almost 25 And Not Loving It

2010-01-10T16:40:00.003+05:30

What do you do when you look into the mirror and don't like the person staring back at you? They say your twenties reflect your life's most joyous moments.....not always my friend. Self-loathing is a bad thing! There is a saying that goes, "No one can ever love you before you learn to love yourself." Very true!

I am indeed grateful for the things I have. But I've always believed that happiness is not something that can be created....either you have it, or you don't. Yes...it's true that you can decide to be stoic and face everything that's thrown at you head on....but you can't fool yourself of certain realities. There are people that have gone through much worse than I have....and have succeeded in getting through it with a smile on their face....in spite of the odds stacked heavily against them. I admire their courage and strength.

Over the years I have come to realise that the truth is a great thing...but over-rated, none the less. A lie is so much easier to deal with. The truth (no matter how important) is usually very ugly. It may have worked against me in the past...but I stick with it, for whatever it's worth.

Wisdom may be much sought after, but with it comes an immense amount of pain. 2009 was a bad year (barring the fact that I finally found my calling...and things have worked out rather well since). 2010...let's just wait and see...

I can never forget the quote on courage in Harper Lee's, 'To Kill A Mockingbird', and how much insight it had. It reads, "Courage is not a man with a gun in his hand. It's knowing you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do."

It's nice to wait for the 'sometimes you do' part.

Battling Emotions

2009-09-21T17:59:00.004+05:30

My mother has often told me that I have an anger management problem. As always, I brush off the claim as another misplaced rant of hers. When I gave it serious thought afterwards, it struck me to be 'an inconvenient truth.' There are things I'm not overly proud of about myself - one of those being, my inability to handle the most violent of human emotions (anger and hatred, specifically) in a suitable way. It's not that I lose my cool often (at least, out of the house) - but, there lies within, a massive amount of pent-up rage. There are few worse feelings than absolute loss of control. That is the exact way I feel when I'm angry.

I have always gone out of my way for the people who mean a lot to me. It's not because I feel I owe them anything or it's a duty....it's because I derive immense joy from it. That said, If they ever get on my bad side, I find it near impossible to forgive them.

I am the kind of human being who rarely gets angry with people (I'm referring mostly to friends, here). I'm also of the opinion that confrontation should only be used as the last resort. But, therein lies the real problem - since I'm patient, I let matters reach a head before reacting. And, when the temper finally takes charge - I end up causing irreparable damage. Bottled emotions are dangerous things - they make you react in unpleasant ways.

I'm not very high on forgiving people. I give them a long rope, but there is a point I will not go beyond. When I give up on people (or situations), it is usually forever. May be it's because I witnessed my parents' sordid quarrels as a child or turned inward for solace - but, hate is another strong emotion that lurks beneath the surface.

There are different ways of dealing with strong, boxed-in emotions. I manage them with exercise (at home and the gym). Apart from giving me unbridled joy, it also helps me convert that excess negative energy into something good.

At times, I behave in disturbed ways. I fear myself when I lose control. I'm no one to offer advice - but, the best thing is to wear your heart on your sleeve sometimes. I'm strange - I know that....I have so many questions, but barely a handful of answers. Hope it's the other way around with you.

The Age-old Debate Rages On

2009-08-26T05:36:00.004+05:30

I have always had strong opinions when it comes to the subject of capital punishment. Much to people's dismay, I am for it, and always will be. Life imprisonment, according to me, is just a ruse for the State's ineptitude....its weakness. Needless to say, I do believe that every man deserves a fair trial....even the most depraved one. But, we live in a world where courts are easily bought! Your chances at justice depend on what 'pull' you have (and who you know) rather than the truth (and what you stand for).

There are some crimes and offences that should never be treated lightly. Life imprisonment (for a heinous crime) in all its varied forms (the sentence differs from place to place) is treating such a crime lightly. They say that killing a man slowly is barbaric. But, could the life term be actually killing anything? Yes - it kills a human being's soul over a period of years. Sadly, that's not enough. Does a paedophile or a gang rapist or a war criminal deserve a second chance? Certainly not! What about a murderer? Yes - some murders can be justified. But, the motive is imperative.

It's all easy to sit up on your 'high horse' and say that capital punishment needs to be abolished. But, what if something terrible happens to you or someone close to you? Would your views on the subject remain the same then? I think not! Most human rights activists are up in arms when it comes to the death penalty. They say that the State has no right to take a life....that's God's prerogative. Where was that 'spectating God' when the crime took place? If he was so just, why didn't he stop it....why wasn't he around?

Death puts the fear into even the most hardened criminals. So, the fear of capital punishment acts as more of a deterrent than a life term. Furthermore, life imprisonment does not always denote, "till the end of your days." In India, the term lasts from 14 to 100 years - depending on the severity and recurrence of the crimes.

By no means am I suggesting that you put all offenders on death row. As I mentioned before, there are certain offences that are unpardonable - and, must be treated severely. Extreme caution needs to be maintained though - an innocent man should not be sent to the gallows. And, even the most depraved person (on death row) should be put to rest in the most humane way. Since the 'lethal injection' is almost painless - it should be used all over the world.

Sadly, we live in a world where 'justice' has lost all meaning. It is such an irony that innocent people get framed while the real criminals walk away scot-free.

I live in a country where the courts take years for straight-forward cases - and still end up falling short, most of the time. I live in a place where a deceased Jessica Lall has to wait 7 agonising years for justice to be meted out - only to realise that it's all just a farce....I live in an India where a war criminal from Gujarat might just have the political mileage to become the country's next Premier.

It ashames me to say I'm Indian sometimes! Gandhi once said, "Be the change you want to see in the world." In the turbulent times we live in, one wonders if that is enough? That is the question!

Of Writing Styles, Story-Lines & Inspiration

2009-05-24T16:51:00.011+05:30

Over the years, I have come to realise some truths about myself. One of which, is my apparent lack of poise when it comes to public speaking. I truly am quite awful.....probably stems from the fact of a confidence problem. Absurdly enough, I tend to express myself best when I write. It is a fairly well known fact that I rarely open up and talk about things I'm going through.....the name of my blog URL (http://taciturnashell.blogspot.com) stands testament to that very fact. So, it is a good thing I chose a medium (such as writing) to vent all my angst upon.

I began reading in earnest fairly late in life. By late, I mean 'eighteen!' Most of my friends have been reading ever since the onset of adolescence. My house has always been characterised by a plethora of books, that range from the heavy Russian classics of the past, to the more modern American literature of the 20th century. So, when I finally decided to begin, I realised that there was (and still is) a lot to catch up on...

There have been a few styles that have impressed me greatly over the years. Needless to say, there will be many more, I'm sure.

George Orwell's simple, yet beautiful and harsh style of writing is a prime example of how a person should write. Brevity has always been the hallmark of his momentous work. He was the kind of man who could express in ten words, what even the best of authors take a hundred for. Nineteen Eighty Four and Animal Farm went on to become classics that stood the test of time. Ironical, that he never lived to see the day of his successes.

Harper Lee, through her indomitable book, 'To Kill A Mockingbird', would give the world an opportunity to re-live a childhood, that most people only dream of having. The book's pristine message (and style) has not lost its force even today. Among the books I have read, 'To Kill A Mockingbird' will forever be on my list of all time greats. It's a pity that she never wrote another novel.

Among the classicists I admire, Alexandre Dumas stands tall. In the pages of 'The Count Of Monte Cristo' I saw one of my favourite characters (Edmond Dantes) in Literature emerge. And oddly enough, among classicists of Dumas' generation like Dickens and George Elliot (to name a couple), I find his work to be the most inspiring.

Ayn Rand's writing and philosophy have always been controversial subjects. My friends (the majority of them, at least) who have attempted to read her work, believe she is insufferable. This observation bears striking resemblance to most critics' views, pertaining to her work. Her work has often been derided along the lines of being boring, melodramatic and repetitive. I have often seen in Ayn Rand, a flamboyantly explosive style of writing. In her novels and philosophy I have witnessed rare genius. The 1100-page 'Atlas Shrugged' (1957) is a lasting tribute to Capitalism, and the larger-than-life figures of human greatness. It remains to be my No. 1 Ayn Rand novel, and one of the finest books I have ever read.

Some of the other authors I have enjoyed over the years are Alexandr Solzhenitsyn ('One Day In The Life Of Ivan Denisovich'), Albert Camus ('L'Etranger'), Richard Bach ('Jonathan Livingston Seagull'), Leon Uris ('Exodus') and Kamala Markandaya ('A Handful Of Rice'). Of the more modern material, I have been greatly impressed by Khaled Hosseini for, 'The Kite Runner', Gregory David Roberts for, 'Shantaram', and Paulo Coelho for, 'Eleven Minutes.'

Much like Orwell, writers like Solzhenitsyn, Camus and Coelho became known for a simple, yet riveting way of portraying things.

After all this, I still have much to read, and wish to do just that. Some of the men and women I have mentioned above, have inspired people to do great things. Am I one of them? Not as yet, anyway!

Looking Back......And Why It Can Be Such A Waste Of Time

2009-04-19T14:23:00.005+05:30

Some of us get too caught up in the past.....past glories, past love, past achievements....When it comes to looking back one too many times, I'm guilty of treason. Don't get me wrong.....I'm all for a bit of introspection and soul-searching, but as most things in life...it has its down side. Admittedly, delving into the moments gone by may teach you a whole lot about yourself....and, in some cases may even make you learn from your mistakes. But, it gets you into a very static mode.

When things come to a standstill (as is the case with me now), and nothing seems to go right, we often tend to drift into the past or look far into the future for answers.

Someone once asked me if I believed in such things as the past-life and the after-life. I believe in neither. Immaterial of people's beliefs, the most important life is this one....and, we ought to make the most of it.

People who have come to terms with who they are, and enjoy every moment of their existence, usually live for the present. Whenever I have been happy....the present moment is what I've always lived for. I should take a cue from people who do that more often....

'Balance' & The General Order Of Things

2009-01-13T23:55:00.007+05:30

The animal kingdom has always thrived on the principle of "survival of the fittest." That said, it still has a strict code which is never broken. It's a shame that the worst species in the animal kingdom (us humans) live by none whatsoever (The reason I include the human species as a part of the animal kingdom is because I agree with Darwin's theory of evolution). Mother nature (or some supreme power) has a strange way balancing things though. It would be odd if we were either gleeful or sorrowful (as the case may be) forever (if that were the case, it wouldn't be called life.....now, would it?). It is so often seen, that for every broken soul, there is a person who is in love with life, for every cynic one will find an incurable idealist, for every gutless human, an immensely courageous one exists.

It is an irony that all those material things that are supposed to make us happy, end up falling short more often than not. I had recently read a survey that was attempting to measure the level of happiness among children from a variety of nations. The survey concluded that street children from Bangladesh and India were the happiest compared to their more fortunate counterparts in the western world. Says a lot!

I was extremely influenced by what Gregory David Roberts said about love (and why we fear it so much) in his immensely popular book, Shantaram. Everything said, love is still a tad over-rated. I've seen my parents fall in and out of it, I've seen my friends fall in and out of it, and finally.....I've seen myself fall in and out of it. And the reason we fear it so much (and try our best to run from it) is that it makes us vulnerable......but, there is truth when I say.....we all need it sometimes.

I would like to end this piece by quoting some excerpts from the book, Shantaram:

"Sometimes we love with nothing more than hope. Sometimes we cry with everything except tears. In the end that's all there is: love and its duty, sorrow and its truth. In the end that's all we have - to hold on tight until the dawn."

"At first, when we truly love someone, our greatest fear is that the loved one will stop loving us. What we should fear and dread instead is that we won’t stop loving them, even after they are dead and gone."

"One of the ironies of courage and why we prize it so highly, is that we find it easier to be brave for someone else than we do for ourselves alone."

- Gregory David Roberts

It's Been A While

2008-12-19T00:32:00.006+05:30

It sure has! Barring the fact that my last post appeared a month or so ago, I haven't gotten down to writing much. Let's just blame it on waning motivation. Or, should I say my head's been muddled with issues for the umpteenth time. Well...let me recount to you the sad state of affairs. Six months into my first job and I couldn't stand it. I was put on three separate teams in that short period. To cut to the chase, I quit a couple of weeks ago. Did the right thing by giving them thirty days of notice, even though I wasn't obligated in any way to do so (since I was a lowly Management Trainee). Feel a bit relieved, I have to admit.

I wasn't foolish enough to quit without a job in hand though (with the Economy virtually teetering on the brink). I will be going to a somewhat related field....Consulting. If someone were to ask me what in the world I knew about consulting....my answer would be a plain and simple 'ZILCH.' I'm still eager to learn. I got offered this job by one of my professors at business school. I still took the advertising job, turning down his offer (which happened to exceed the current job's pay by quite some margin). This was because I wanted to experience what it would be like to work in an Ad agency first hand.

Well...this professor of mine impressed me the moment I first stepped into his third lecture (had missed the other two for some lame reasons I guess). The first thing about him that struck me was his unorthodox way of teaching. He wasn't the usual Power Point/Slide-show kind of guy. His marketing concepts actually made sense to most of us...and remained ingrained for the most part. I was to later find out that he was quite the versatile type....an internationally renowned (though he begs to differ with me on this one) pianist along with being a topper from Columbia are few of the feathers in his illustrious cap. Since that first class of his, we have become good friends. He offered me the job in his consultancy....stating that I had potential and would fit in pretty well. All that still remains to be seen I guess.

Apart from all that work related stuff, I've been lending my support to my folks. Being of emotional assistance to my lonely and estranged mother and father is quite the task. I feel I owe them this much, after being a 'let down' for some of the years gone by.

At almost 24, I've barely found my feet. My first job turned out to be a disappointing one. The person I will be soon joining in business expects great things of me. And, the toughest of all....my Mum & Dad are looking to me for answers. Life's hard...we all know that. But, is it supposed to be this draining at such a young age...that's the question! Well...a silver lining always exists...even if it might be somewhere over the storm clouds. It's not the destination, but the journey that counts. May be the wise man or woman who said that had a point. Only time will tell.

The Intern

2008-10-26T23:25:00.007+05:30

Day 1

It's 8:30 am on a bright Monday morning. Even the security guard is just waking up to reality. Some people from the Client Servicing wing are trotting out after a whole night's work.

A befuddled man in his early twenties, dressed in an impeccable black suit and red tie stares at them strangely. He walks into the office to find it completely deserted. Even the receptionist seems to be missing. He decides to wait in the lounge.

Two hours pass, before the first signs of activity begin. He stumbles out of the couch (jolted out of the siesta) to the Creative Wing of the agency. He wonders to himself, all at once (Where the hell is the receptionist....Am I overdressed....Am I in the right place, for starters). Gangsta' Rap music bellows from a Mac in the far extreme corner of the room. Two grown men shoot water pistols at each other, sending jets all over. A football comes flying at his face from nowhere. He ducks to get out of harm's way. Two women and a man have a heated argument on who sucks more, Lindsay Lohan or Paris Hilton?

Someone once told him that Advertising was "THE" place to be. Was that guy deranged, he thinks to himself.

He overhears a group commenting on his clothes, asking in hushed tones whether he's a client. Some of them laugh. He knows not that he is in the wrong side of the agency (a.k.a. "the Creative"/"the Client Servicing-Haters" side). If they knew who he was, they might just maul him.

He finally musters up enough courage to ask for Mr. T (a.k.a. "The Big Dog"/"V.P. & General Manager, Client Servicing"). They direct him to the other end of the agency. Now he knows he's lost.

He walks across to Mr. T's office having second thoughts already.

Sitting opposite the Big Dog, he feels utterly intimidated. Mr. T shakes his hand and introduces himself. The Big Dog then leafs through his resume` in disgust.

"You're a Client Servicing intern! Lowest rung of the Advertising Food Chain. And I'm going to make your life hell", he laughs.

Now, he knows he's dead.

This Strange Place We Call Home

2008-04-05T00:00:00.026+05:30

India; the land of a thousand confusions. Gone are the days of snake charmers and fakirs (if there ever was a day such as that). The west has always had a warped perception of this neck of the woods. These are my views, on a country gone horribly wrong.

Hindi is the 'so called' official language! It still is a wonder why more than half the population knows nothing of it. English is more or less the means to get by in an alien state. If I were to visit any one of the country's 29 States (I am including Delhi as one), I feel like a stranger in my own land. In the south, the use of Hindi may draw blank stares or menacing glances. In the north, you do not belong if you speak English (at least, most part of it).

Indians belong to a racist creed; and we have the gall to say that the west is full of it. The first question that a person asks you here is, "Where are you from?" If the answer is a particular state, the next question that follows is..."which city?" Once that information has been divulged, the person goes into further intricate details. God forbid if the man belongs to your hometown. If he does, you're in for it....he'll start talking to you like he's known you for years. It is probably the only country in the world where a 'fairness' cream sells like hot cakes......because, fairness is synonymous with beauty back here.

People often ask me why I don't vote. My answer is as simple as it can get....."there isn't a person worth voting for." Some of my highly idealistic friends argue that I should vote for the "lesser evil." There is no such thing as lesser evil.....evil is still evil! The majority of politicians bleed you white. For that matter of fact, politics is the same everywhere around the world....low-down scum!

We have progressed a great deal since our independence in 1947; no doubts on that! Though, that's only one side of the story. The economic disparity is unimaginable. 90% of the wealth with 10% of the people is putting it mildly. In the major cities, there is a high probability of seeing a Porsche whizzing past a man who hasn't eaten for 3 days. I sometimes feel ashamed to say that I form a part of that 10% (primarily because I do nothing from my end).

The greatness lies in the fact that, with all its drawbacks, there hasn't been too much bloodshed; numerous cultures boxed into one piece of land, is a different kettle of fish altogether. We form a part of an elite group of countries that hasn't waged war on any other. We have had selfless men and women fighting for causes that seem unimportant to the rest of us.

As I make my way through these winding streets of India (in deep reflection); the fear of getting run over by a speeding motorist, or mowed down by a raging bull, looming large....I can't help but think of it as home.

The Mercenary

2008-03-20T23:18:00.006+05:30

I have received some terrible news today. My wife and child have been brutally raped and murdered by the members of the Government Security Force. With their passing, a part of me dies. I attempt to cry, but the tears do not come. No words can describe the feeling I am going through.

I look around me, and all I see are dead bodies strewn across the street. Death has become a part of life! Food is scarce, and the weather is unrelenting. 'Frost Bite' has claimed ten of my comrades this year. When I look at the weary men around me, I see a sea of loneliness. Apathy has claimed many of them. In the others, I see a sense of despair.

The sun plays truant behind the clouds. I continue to read an old letter written by my wife. It has been almost three years since I have gone home. Emotion has all but died inside me. I am a man against the system. I am jolted out of the reverie by the booming voice of the sergeant. It is time to report for duty. I pick up my rifle, and the reminiscing ends.

Tomorrow will be a better day perhaps......

Me, and My Unattainable Quest To Find The Self

2008-03-13T23:29:00.011+05:30

If someone were to ask me if I truly understood myself, the answer would be, NO! Many people who are acquainted with me believe that I am a fairly complex individual. This stems from the fact that I remain 'shut off' to the rest of the world...especially strangers! It has taken me seven agonising years and quite some effort to completely confide in my dearest friends.

I have had an odd relationship with 'time' in the past. When I was happy, no amount of time was enough (you often feel that time is against you) to keep it from slipping away too fast. When I was not, it dragged on endlessly. God often plays cruel practical jokes on us; when you want something immensely, he acknowledges only the truly deserved.

I have always had a false sense of pride when it comes to seeking 'help.' I felt that I was independent enough to handle my own problems. And, whenever I do come around to asking for it, it is usually when I'm on the brink of a 'breakdown', so to speak! I never really understood why I behaved in this way; I'm guessing it was because I thought it was a sign of weakness (which it clearly was not, in hindsight).

2006 was one of the most trying years in my life. Up until that point, though I had weathered many storms, tears did not come naturally to me. I had wanted to cry on many occasions, but the tears always remained elusive. When 2006 came, so did the tears, and to this day they have never seemed to stop. At one point in life, I had felt the same way about crying as I had felt about asking someone for help. If you ask me today, I have come to believe that there are few greater forms of strength than tears. Tears are channels through which we give vent to our bottled emotions....and, we need them sometimes!

When I look at myself, I see a cynic. Though I appreciate beauty in people around me, I scoff at my own life; for reasons unknown. I sometimes look at people who embrace life, with a feeling of longing.

Life is all about battles. Some of them are fought within us, and some of them not. Some we win, and others we lose! For the truly fortunate, many major battles are victories. As for the rest of us, we manage to get by...somehow!

Of Childhood & Memories

2008-02-18T00:41:00.009+05:30

A friend in college once told me, that people who had exceptional memories tended to forget their dreams. When I gave it some thought, it struck me to be an unusual coincidence. In all the years gone by, my dreams have remained insignificant in comparison to the memories. I often loathe the fact that things remain so vividly etched in my brain; partly because it is the painful ones (memories) that first come to mind.

I never had an ideal childhood. Not that there weren't any joyous moments; it was just that my parents always squabbled over petty things in the little time they had with each other. My father was always away on work, and my mother brought me up almost single-handedly. In the formative years my Dad remained a stranger to me. It amazes me, that at the age of twenty three, I am just starting to get to know him. There are still traits of his I will never fathom; after all, we stand generations apart! (four decades to be specific)

At an impressionable age of thirteen, your parents are your whole world. You worship their every move, and thank your stars to have them! Which is why it was always heart-breaking to see them tear each other's hair out at every given opportunity. At eighteen, it is quite another story. Watching them with the scornful eye of a cynic, seeing eye to eye with them on anything hardly seems an option.

When you have lived in a dysfunctional family, as I have, you tend to grow up much faster. The time spent on enjoying the little, irreplaceable gifts childhood has to offer, is lost. In such an environment, being an 'only' child adds to your list of woes. Honestly, I have always enjoyed being alone. Whether a sibling would have helped ease the burden, is a question which still remains unanswered.

My parents were never mean to me. No matter how much they hurt each other, they always tried empathising with their son. Which often makes me wonder; why I have never been able to forgive them for what they did to the family. As I look back now, I realise that, in those times of strife, I should have stood by them. When all they could turn to was me, all I did was give them the 'cold shoulder.'

Not all suffering in life is just; but it is what makes a strong human being. There was a time when I treated my parents like dirt. I blamed them for all the pain and hurt they had caused me; I rebelled against them just to prove a point. Looking back, it was clearly not the right thing to do. Life's retribution is as fierce as any form of vengeance. You pay for the sins committed in this life. I have felt an emptiness engulf my existence for quite some time now. I do accept it as 'my time to suffer', hoping that one day, the 'man upstairs' has it in him to show a little mercy.

The Mirror Has Two Faces

2007-12-20T20:15:00.000+05:30

A man with a dark and mysterious past. What he portrays, is not what he actually is. With boyish good looks and a strange kind of mischief in his eyes, he has the power to snare young and beautiful maidens into his insidious trap.

Once he has won them over, he kills them, using each one's blood for a painting of fine mastery.

They say that all artists are eccentric. The only difference with this one, is that he is also a murderer!

Untitled

2007-12-15T00:17:00.001+05:30

Life has a strange way of levelling things. It always offers you a comeback, no matter how depressed you may be. It might be common place to hear statements like , "Life's a great leveller!" time, and time again....but there exists a certain truth behind it. There are moments of truth we all face. It could be, realising that you're not as good as you think you are, or suddenly finding out that you're not as driven as you once used to be.

Pride is a formidable force. Too much of it can kill even the best of us. It takes more courage than one might imagine, in admitting to some of our misgivings. Many of us are too proud to admit that we're wrong, or that we miss someone immensely. Arrogance is often the ugly side of pride.

One of the foremost cravings of all human beings is happiness. It is often an elusive, but unending search for most of us. Thomas Jefferson once called it "the pursuit of happiness." There is a lot of meaning in those words.......it is only something we can pursue, not demand!

Defeat is one of the hardest things to accept in life, but believe me when I say this.......there is courage, even in defeat!

I'm not the most religious or spiritual person in the world. So, don't get me wrong if I quote this prayer; it just has a lot of meaning and truth. (as far as I go at least)

"God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things
I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And Wisdom to know the difference."

What can I say...."C'est la vie!"

Lost & Confused

2007-11-19T00:34:00.001+05:30

It has been almost five months since I sat down to write about something. Some of my friends often ask me why I even bothered to start a blog if I posted once every three months. The answer is simple; inspiration doesn't come knocking on my door very often, at least when it comes to writing. Not to say that I do not enjoy it, but let us just say that I get in the mood to write only when there's some kind of burning desire within. Well, the fact of the matter still remains that I haven't posted anything for a considerable amount of time, which I would like to refer to as eons. Being in Management School (I always like to refer to it as Management School, instead of the "run-of-the-mill" Business School, or B-School or even a regular MBA...it sounds so much more refined!) always keeps your hands tied, but that is not the only reason. I've been feeling "off" of late. I'm not entirely sure if an MBA was the right choice after all; am I actually cut out for this kind of work....am I moving in the right direction (all these questions have been popping up inside my head many times over). Only time will give me that answer, and hopefully it should turn out to be a good one. Apart from that, my folks have been giving me a hard time too. Both my mother and father have been leaning on me for support quite often in the past four months. It seems strange that two extremely mature adults should seek emotional support from a kid who is barely out of his teens. Anyway, I have tried with all my power to give them what they need, at least remotely! I am sounding like an insensitive ingrate here, but the rift between my parents (something which has been going on for all eternity, or so it seems) has made me that way.

It seems very selfish to talk about your personal woes when the whole world is almost on the brink of destruction. By this I am referring to the countless headlines I read everyday......it is either a bold former Prime Minister who sees a vision of regaining a country from a confused "Dictator", or a devastating cyclone in Bangladesh leaving millions of people homeless, or even a domestic issue like Nandigram or the highly controversial Nuke-Deal.

But hey, everyone is entitled to a rant every now and then right?

The 'Triumphant Institute Of Management Education' (T.I.M.E.).....an experience to remember!

2007-06-06T15:43:00.004+05:30

Well, for starters, there was nothing 'triumphant' about my effort at T.I.M.E. class. Come to think of it, neither of us toiled, even a bit, for that dreaded exam. If 30.26 percentile in CAT 2005 is anything to go by, one can well imagine what transpired in those pre-dawn classes (6 am...jeez, what a lousy time!). To cut myself some slack, I had 'Jaundice' a couple of months before D-Day (I know, I know....it still is an excuse, but, what the hell!).

What is going to follow is the journey of four friends through a year filled with never ending laughter and humourous anecdotes, for all the wrong reasons I might add. The four people who will dominate events yet to be mentioned are Abhay, Arvind, Rama and Mrinal (that is me, in case you are wondering). Well, here goes.....

We decided to take the one year course for CAT '05 offered by T.I.M.E., being the most reputed of institutes. Another asinine thing we did was to take classes in the T. Nagar branch (which was supposed to be the best branch in the city, according to some dubious sources) instead of Adyar. Taking classes in Adyar would have been the most logical thing to do, as most of us stayed in and around Adyar (for those of you who are not familiar with Chennai, T.Nagar and Adyar are nearly 10 kms apart). So, as all assiduous students do, we set out at 5:25 (way before day-break!), in Rama's 'Honda City', for our first class. The first class was a mere introduction to the patterns and sections of the CAT exam, the good institutes to apply to...so on and so forth. There were a lot of questions on that first day, but the actual teaching only started on the following one. The classes were on all week days between 6 & 8:15 in the morning. We were to be taught Math (Quantitative Ability or Quants), English (Verbal Ability & Reading Comprehension), and Logical Reasoning (Data Interpretation & Data Sufficiency) during the course of every week till the Mock CATs (which started about 5 or 6 weeks before the actual exam).

Our first class was English, where we saw an elderly and pleasant faced woman give us some pointers about the 'eight parts of speech.' She was a good teacher too (not loud and cantankerous), and judging from that I had expected all of them to be like her. Little did I realise, how wrong I would be! To avoid any controversies, I am not going to name anyone im my post. I am only going to put an initial to Mr. or Mrs/Ms. For those of you who are well acquainted with T.I.M.E. (Chennai), you will probably know whom I am referring to. The main characters in this story (I hope to think I have not exaggerated in the least bit!) are two teachers, and two random persons (apart from the four of us, of course!) who should not have really mattered, but did!

1. Ms/Mrs R. M.

When she walked into our class ("C5L2" was the batch we belonged to, if I am not mistaken) for the first time, she scanned the class with an air of utter disdain. She introduced herself to us, and said, "I will be taking English for you." She then proceeded to ask each of us what our strengths and weaknesses were when it came to the major sections of the paper. Some said Math while some Logical and some English, and some said that it was a combination of two sections. When it was my turn, I told her that Math was a definite weakness, and English could be called a strength, but needed improvement. Arvind was sitting to my right, and naturally, he was the next in line to answer.

Ms R. M. : What about you Arvind? What is it that you're good at/bad at?

Arvind : Well ma'am....I have strengths and weaknesses in each section I should say.

She was dumbstruck for a minute or two. And, with a quizzical expression on her face said, "That's quite an interesting comment you make....it should keep me thinking for the rest of the day". Saying that with a smile (more sarcastic than 'good natured'), she turned to the next person. "What about you?" she said gesticulating...strength? weakness?....obviously, the incident which had just taken place had confused him a little. He then said, " I'm weak in English and strong in Accounts." Accounts????....where did that come from....last I heard, CAT never had any Accounts....! Even more stupefied than before, Ms R. M. said, "I would take that as Math." The three of us (Abhay hadn't yet joined at the time) couldn't help but burst into fits of muffled laughter. Accounts!!!!.....I think the 'morning air' had hit him!

To give the devil her due, Ms R. M. was a good English teacher. The only annoying thing was, that she took more classes on 'etiquette' than in English. She would walk into class and say things like...."I'm not getting a positive response from this class"....."I should see more smiling faces from you people"....."You should cover your mouth before you yawn". I kept thinking to myslef...."Jeez Woman!....it's 6 O'Clock in the damn morning!....what do you expect us to do?...get on the desk and do a 'jig' for you!" On one occasion, she walked in a little earlier than usual and said....."How many of you read ET?" The purpose of the question was related to our 'Reading Comprehension' skills. I was unaware at the time that ET was synonymous for the 'Economic Times.' Arvind and myself (lost in thought) were visualising ET : Extra Terrestrial (the movie!). I for one, was thinking about the 'Alien' riding the bicycle into the sky, across the background of the moon (Damn!....what did she expect us to think....at such an early hour...!). Both Arvind and I were jolted out of the reverie when she repeated herself. When she saw most of us in the room with our hands 'not raised', she shook her head in disbelief (as if, we did not deserve to be in the presence of her 'esteemed' company!). A week later when she returned (we were beginning to dread the very 'sight' of the woman by then) she proceeded to ask the very same question...."Now! How many of you have started reading ET?" Rama was the first to raise his hand, and did it in such an enthusiastic way that she was prompted to ask him a question. "How did you find it.....very intimidating huh?" she said. Rama said with apparent ease..."Yes ma'am, it is! When you read it for the first time at least." I found it rather strange that Rama should take the trouble to read it....so, I casually asked him, "Did you read it...seriously?" Rama turned to me laughing...."No da, I'm not going to read that rubbish just because she said so...."

The funniest incident involving Ms R. M. was when Abhay had come late to class one day. This was his first interaction with her since he had joined. That day, she was in an unusually 'worse' mood if I can put it that way. At 6:30, nearly half an hour after class had commenced Abhay came to the entrance, asking for permission to enter. She looked at him and said, "Yes, what do you want?" (it was natural for her to ask him such a question because she had never seen him in class before). Abhay then said, "Ma'am, I belong to this class." "Oh, is that so....what is the time?" Abhay looked at his watch and said 6:30 (by the look on his face, I could tell that he was in no mood to be questioned).......not in the least bit amused, she asked, "Why?" (the 'why' was clearly for...."why are you late"....and Abhay perfectly knew that)....and then came the 'witty' reply....."Cause, my watch says so!" It was a reply she 'clearly' did not see coming....for a moment she was speechless....and then (almost under her breath) said, "come in, but let this be the last time!"

I am sure there are more stories to tell, but two years down the line, the ones that I have related to you about Ms R. M. are the only ones I can remember!

2. Mr. R.

Mr R. was a real 'piece of work', so to speak. Being a big shot in T.I.M.E. (Chennai), he was seen throwing his weight around every now and then. His main job was to take Quants, but made it a point to take everything under the sun. I say this because he even took a Personal Interview class of ours once. He prided himself on his sense of humour, which left much to be desired, because it was he, and he alone who could laugh at some of those PJs! Though he was a proficient Math teacher, he was as pompous as they come. One day, there was a joint class of Math & English (back to back sessions of an hour each). Quants was given the first preference and it was none other than Mr R. himself who would be taking our class. The hour passed by uneventfully. We then waited for the next one to begin (it was a wonder that it was not taken by Ms R. M., or else there would have been hell to play with!). The class commenced with the 'Math Genius' sitting in the back row. When there was a dispute on a certain answer (it was Reading Comprehension I guess), it was not the English teacher at the time, but Mr R. who butted in to give his 'unwarranted' views on the subject. I kept thinking to myself...."What a pretentious Prick!"

Mr R. had a special affinity towards Arvind. One day when he was teaching us the properties of a 'Cyclic Quadrilateral', he noticed that Arvind and the rest of us were not paying attention to anything he was blurting out. In fact, we were talking away to high glory, when suddenly there was shout (from Mr R. of course!)....."Hey you! Yeah, you over there (pointing in Arvind's direction).....Stand up! What do you think you're doing? What's your name? "......Arvind replied..."It's Arvind!"

Mr R. : What? I can't hear you? What did you say your name was?

Arvind : ARVIND! (it was so loud that the neighbouring classes would have probably heard it)

Mr R. : I've been noticing you for quite some time now. You haven't been paying attention
to any of what I've taught. Tell me....what are the properties of a 'Cyclic
Quadrilateral?'

(Arvind, being the smart lad that he is, went on to explain (in detail) the properties of the figure with utmost ease. This infuriated 'our friend' even further, for he kept needling Arvind, saying...."What...speak up, I can't hear you!". So, the latter half of the explanation was done shouting. This seemed to amuse the entire class, because there was raucous laughter reverberating from every corner of the classroom for a considerable amount of time.)

From that day onwards, Mr R. never seemed to forget Arvind. He took it upon himself to make Arvind excel in the CAT exam. He would pose questions to the class on a varied scale of topics (all Quants related)....and, more often than not would say something like, "Arvind, (the name had stuck ever since that day of the 'Cyclic Quadrilateral') what do you think the answer should be?" We kept teasing him saying things like, "He's in love with you dude" or "Be careful of Mr R."....all this did not go down very well with him though (this was accentuated by his scowls and aggressive comebacks!).

Once Mr R. walked in, to take a Personal Interview class of ours. To be entirely honest, it was not his forte`, but he thought he was capable of taking anything (as I have clearly mentioned before). He first took a mock Interview, which seemed to go ok. After the interview was done, he said, "Now, I want two of you to come up here and speak on something for five minutes. Let's see.....yeah you (pointing in the direction of a poor soul) and yes...Arvind! Both of you will speak on the topic, 'What you like about Chennai?' (what a lousy topic to start with....jeez!). Well, both of them spoke for about a minute each, talking about as many things as they could possibly 'like' about the city. Once they were done, Mr R. goes..."I asked you both to speak for five minutes, and you have barely spoken for two. What is the reason?" At this Arvind replied..."But sir, what else could we have spoken about?" "Well...you could have talked about the 'Kalpakkam' Nuclear Plant you know." (Eh???...Kalpakkam Nuclear Plant???....thought the topic was, 'what you LIKED about Chennai'). The disgust on the faces of both Arvind and the other 'guy' (who were standing , facing the class) told the entire story! Arvind returned to his seat...and said with a laugh.."what's wrong with him....Kalpakkam Nuclear Plant I believe!"

To the latter end of the course, maybe the 16th or 17th Mock CAT (there were a total of 19 Mock CATs, out of which I wrote only 13 or 14...talk about commitment!), Arvind and Rama arrived five minutes late to see a fuming Mr R. ticking off the late-comers. His gaze then shifted to them. He recognized Rama by face, but Arvind he knew, or so he thought! He said (shaking his head in disbelief), "Arvind...YOU....of all people...late? I did not expect this of you. You should be more responsible." Then, came the icing on the cake..."I see IIM in your eyes, don't disappoint me." It was a pity I was not present to witness the look on Arvind's face!

Mr R. will go down in the history of T.I.M.E. class as a 'good Math teacher' who thought he could take anything related to the Common Admission Test (right from 'English' to 'GD & PI' classes). He was a nuisance alright, but the whole 'T.I.M.E. experience' would never have been the same without him.

3. The "Last Vaarning" Guy

You must wonder why I have spelt 'warning' in that odd way. It is because the peon (I like to call him that because his job was to send each batch to their respective classrooms, check their ID cards and tell us what the next class was going to be.....so on and so forth) invented it. So, coming back to the point of those 'diamond studded' words......let us just say that, if Arnie's signature words were "I'll be back" and "Hasta la vista baby"....this man's were, "Last Vaarning!" It was mandatory for all of us to carry our ID cards to class. Anyone not carrying their ID would get the ultimatum/threat from him. His threats became baseless after some time when he gave us the "last vaarning" dose on every other occasion, for not bringing the ID card or for being late. We attended classes for one year, and to this day we still refer to him as the "last vaarning" guy!

4. The Watchman

The watchman was a mite of a man, never short of a word or two during our stint there. The peculiar thing of it all was that he had taken an instant liking to Rama. He would occasionally say something about Rama's magnificent fleet of cars (of which he brought at least four, on different occasions, as far as I can tell!), though the 'Honda City' was the main mode of transport for us all. It was not strange for him to say things like, "What saar, everyday a new car?" (hoping against hope for a 'tip' which was never forthcoming) The man even had the gall to ask us (looking endearingly at Rama, might I add!) for Diwali 'Bakshish.' What great service had he rendered, to ask for something like that? Apart from his regular mutterings, he did not do much! I say this because, it was always a mess when we were leaving, due to the 'over-crowded and unmanaged' car park (it was a make-shift car parking space, as a school ground was used for the purpose).

The most hilarious incident involving the 'eccentric' watchman had nothing to do with Rama, surprisingly! On a day when Rama and Abhay had failed to surface in time for class, Arvind decided to take his 'Maruthi 800.' All was well till the end of class that day. No sooner had we entered the car (on our way home), I knew Arvind had something up his sleeve. In the years that I have known him, he has never portrayed a rash instinct, when it comes to four wheels at least! That day proved me wrong though! The car park was choc-a-block. He put the vehicle into first gear and took a U-turn at an alarming speed of 30 kph (it does not seem that fast....but with the car park bursting at the seams, and not an inch to give or take, it certainly was!). My first reaction was, "Dude, what the hell are you doing?" All he gave me was a wicked smile, which assured me that more madness was yet to come! Once he had taken the turn (we were about 25 feet from the gate at that time), he jammed his foot on the accelerator, nearly squashing the horror-stricken watchman against the gate, and sped off to the 'sweet sound' of filthy Tamil profanities (emanating from the little man, who, by taking evasive action, was on all fours). There was uncontrollable laughter for the rest of the ride. This topic of conversation still brings back a fair share of laughs even today!

Other Miscellaneous Tales

It was not the staff alone which made T.I.M.E. such an unforgettable experience. A lot had to do with the class itself (here, I refer to the students alone), and what had transpired before we had arrived. So, as before, I will jot them down into points to make the whole reading process easier.

1. Waking Up

The hardest part about CAT/T.I.M.E. (2005) was not the arduous RC sections or the confusing problems in probablity, but the effort it took to jump out of bed at 4:45 in the morning. To top it all, I was in-charge of waking everybody up.....a thankless job, needless to say! Arvind would be the first one I would always call (an easy person to wake up at the best of times). Rama (being a lazy slug) would require the 'wake up call' as late as 5:15. Abhay, probably, the toughest person to wake up (at such an unearthly hour) in the free world, was under Arvind's charge. Arvind will render testimony to the fact that it took several calls for 'the man' to even pick up the phone, let alone answer it! There were times when I would have decided the previous night, about not waking up the next morning.....the epitome of laziness, no doubt!

On one dreary morning, I found it strange that Arvind had failed to pick up my calls. Finally, for the fourth time, I dialled his number. There was an unprecedented silence that ensued when he picked up. So, after a long gap, I said, "Wake up man, time for class." His usual reply was in mono syllables, along the lines of yes, no or ok.....but, today was different! He started to sing (I cannot for the life of me remember the name of the song, or the band, for that matter!) an extremely famous pop song of the mid-90s. I kept trying to interrupt him with..."Shut up Arvind, I know you're awake!" or "See you downstairs at 5:30", but he never seemed to stop. So, I hung up laughing, expecting to see him in a while. At that time, both Arvind and I were staying in the same apartment complex (he was on the ground floor, while I lived on the third). When I was ready, I went down, and like I always did, tapped at his door. As there was no response, I mustered enough courage to ring the doorbell (after all, it was 5:30 in the morning)......still no response. It then occurred to me that he was singing in his sleep......what a jackass!

2. Rama's Antics Behind The Wheel

Rama, in all the years that I have known him, has had a passion for cars. So, it is no surprise that he has a massive fleet at home....six in all! He also happens to be a good driver, but the antics he sometimes performed in the 'Honda City' may alter 'good driver', to 'crazy driver' or 'maniac.' When we first started classes, he would be down to pick us both up (Arvind and me) at 5:30, which still left a good thirty minutes for us to travel to T. Nagar. It was only when we were about a month or so into our CAT curriculum at T.I.M.E., that he started coming as late as 5:45, and sometimes even 5:50. There was even a time when he landed up at eight minutes to six.....but, his crazy 'dawn' driving ensured that we were there just in the nick of time!

There were two incidents that will be forever etched in my memory when it comes to the drive to T. Nagar. Once, when we were running late (nothing unusual though!), an 'Esteem' (in the extreme right lane) was not giving Rama any way to overtake. Rama could have easily overtaken him from the left, as there was no other traffic in the vicinity. He kept honking trying to make the guy move to the middle lane, but it came to no avail. Finally (when the path narrowed after a cross-road), a very distraught Ramakrishnan overtook the 'Esteem' (from the left) at a very high speed, almost wedging the car into the median. At the end of the little ordeal, the three of us (Abhay, Arvind and myslef) gasped a sigh of relief, as we looked at Rama beaming like he had just been awarded a medal of honour or something! The other occasion was a little less terrifying. It was when 'our man' nearly knocked a cyclist (from the bridge) into the Adyar River at a speed of 120 kph......he barely missed the cyclist by four or five inches......only a driver with tremendous skill and control could have managed to pull off something like that......but it was a huge risk to take none the less! Well, there you have it....Rama and the 'maniac' within!

3. The Class

The class was an even mix of smart, ordinary and idiotic students. I can safely say that I belonged to the third category. Anyway, every class has an extremely annoying character....the only difference in this place was that the teachers were the annoying ones. There was of course an irritating 'Math Freak' (I think he was doing engineering), who would have got an answer to a particular problem and would blurt it out even before the enitre question was read out. This infuriated the rest of us, because the teacher would go to the next question, thinking that the entire class was in 'sync' with him! Well, months after CAT '05 we saw the 'Math Freak' (ironically, it was at another entrance exam!). We asked him how he had fared.........he had done fairly well......92 percentile overall (99 percentile in Quants).....it was English that had let him down though.....now, why did that not seem surprising!

Moreover, there was an extremely attractive girl in our batch, which made the entire T.I.M.E. class experience all the more interesting.

4. The 'Cycling Day'

On one fine day, Rama decided that he would never take his car to class anymore.....he wanted to cycle instead. His argument was,"I want to get fit da!" He could have just gone to the gym after college or something, but NO, not this time! 20 km of cycling everyday for a couple of months is no mean feat mind you (it was to the latter end of the curriculum)......but, when a crazy idea is put forth, it is seldom disputed, at least when it comes to us (Abhay excluded....he was smart enough to think the idea was completely ludicrous....and I have to say this....GOOD ONE ABHAY, YOU WERE TOTALLY RIGHT!). And, to top it all, the roads were in very bad shape. Well, we set out exactly 24 hours after the plan had been formulated in Rama's (crazy) head, at 5:30! It may not have been that bad if the cycles were good/brand new......but, three beaten-up (and rusty too!) ones would not have quite served the purpose. It took us a couple of kilometers to hit the main road.....we were abreast till that moment. It was only when we were past the inner roads of Gandhinagar and Kotturpuram, that Rama started to lag behind. Rama may 'reign supreme' in a car, but when it comes to cycling, not quite so! Arvind and myself reached class a 'good' ten minutes before Rama. When Rama staggered in at 6 O'clock, he looked like he had just recovered from a stroke! The three of us sat there, soaking wet, when Rama said...."Never again! Tomorrow, I'm taking the car!" On our way back that same day, we saw Abhay passing us in his car (laughing like a jackass), with "TRY THAT TOMORROW TOO, YOU IDIOTS!" written all over his face.

Towards the end of our course, it was only Rama who attended a fair bit of class. The rest of us ended up writing only the Mock-CATs (and some of us did not even manage that....I wrote only 75 % of them!). We should have gone to T.I.M.E. to be ready for the CAT exam, but we ended up going there for a host of wrong reasons......whether it was, to make fun of one of the teachers, or to see an Engineer (not the 'Math Freak') say "I want to 'do a' CAT because......." (this is what he had started to say when a teacher had asked him why he wanted to write the exam) and laugh our brains out, or even if it was to see Rama drive like a lunatic.......it was an unforgettable experience to say the least! The vital stats at the end of it all were....

Mrinal Rukshaya Rajaram - 30.26 Percentile (my 'German Shepherd' might have beaten me, if given the chance!)

Arvind Ramesh - 87.5 Percentile (if only he worked a little harder, wonder what might have been!)

Ramakrishnan Lakshmanan - 73.5 Percentile

Abhay Mirza - Did Not Write (that is another long story which I am not going to get into....I will tell you this though.....it had something to do with Loyola College bureaucracy!)

P.S. If you've had the patience to read all that 'garbage' I have managed to muster, I thank you profusely!

'A Handful Of Rice'

2007-04-21T00:47:00.001+05:30

My first two posts had a bit of humour in them, or so I hope to believe. So, on a more serious note, I just finished reading, 'A Handful Of Rice' by Kamala Markandaya. A title so ironical for a book so depressing. It speaks of nothing but a life of misery and an existence of widespread poverty. It depicts an India we all know about, but seldom see. Set in Madras of the mid-twentieth century, the story's protagonist dreams of a better life away from the squalour and filth of his current existence. These hopes and aspirations come crashing down on him at the very end, making the book portray a hopeless situation led by the poor, day in and day out.

I recommend anyone with a conscience to read this book. The author's style and vocabulary is unparalleled. Some of the words in the book had me stumped, making the dictionary have its presence felt every now and then. It is not her most famous work, or so I have heard, but being a powerful book, it keeps the reader captivated from start to finish.

Prank Call

2007-04-01T19:38:00.001+05:30

I had recently applied to Google Hyderabad for a post in their Adwords Department. I went through a friend, making the recruitment process a mere five rounds, instead of an arduous ten. Well, to cut to the chase, I had made it past the first round which consisted of an Online Test (two essays to be precise). My friend Varun (the person who had referred me to the company) had given me a tip-off that I'd made it past the first round, telling me that the next one was a telephonic interview. Being an incurable pessimist, I couldn't quite bank on Varun's claim. It was only when another person had told me the very same thing that I began to wonder. So, two weeks after I had taken the online test, I get a call from an unidentified number. I was sure it was a local number because of the familiar code. Before I could get to my phone, it disconnects. I call back......and there's where it all starts. The telephonic conversation begins.......

Me : Hello....yeah, I got a call from this number just a minute ago....who is this?

(Unidentified Person) : Yes Sir, I'm speaking from Google Chennai. My name is Vinod.

Me : Oh...hello, Google Chennai???....I was under the impression that Google India had bases
only in Hyderabad and Bangalore.

(I should have known just there that something was not right.....but a jackass will always remain to be a jackass)

Google Interviewer : Yes sir.....that is right, but we deal with their Call Centre work. And, I'm
also happy to inform you on your selection.

(Well.....I knew that there was no Google Chennai....but had no clue that they didn't have call centres...sheesh!)

Me : Oh...I'm really sorry, I'm not interested in working for a BPO. Anyway, I had applied to a
separate post......to Hyderabad....what happened to that??

GI : Right sir.....Google Hyderabad had sent us your resume', just to see if you were interested.

Me : Okay.....how does this work.....am I still eligible for Hyderabad.....will Hyderabad contact
me later on.....I'm a little confused?

GI : Yes sir....we will send it back to them. They will probably contact you.

(At this point, I'm thinking to myself.......why does he sound like he's not very confident with the language......why would Google ask such a person to interview me???)

GI : And.....one more thing sir....the person who referred you has called you a 'Pansee' in his
description. What does 'Pansee' mean sir......??

(His pronounciation of the word assured me that he didn't know what it meant........and I'm going.....Panzy.....what the hell's going on.......hope Varun didn't write something about me in a drunken stupor.......help!!)

Me : WHAT??? There must be some mistake....there is no way that Varun could write
something like that about me.

GI : But sir.......what does it mean (he keeps persisting, trying to get the meaning out of me)

Me (very reluctantly) : Well....it's a slang...

GI : Slaang??? (makes it look like he doesn't even know what slang means.....jeez!)

(I go on to explain the meaning of 'panzy' to him.......at my diplomatic best.....which kinda sucked at that juncture, thinking to myself.....there goes Google, 'Smarty Pants!')

(I keep trying to convince him that there's some kind of mistake.......may be the files were mixed up......but he's not buying........he then goes on to double check my name and the name of the guy who referred me....all correct, by the way)

GI : Sir, I can't understand one thing. Why would someone write something derogatory like
that. Such a person doesn't deserve to be a human being. And if he's found to be guilty....we
might have to sack him......it's the first time in the history of the company that something
like this has taken place...

(Eh???....."doesn't deserve to be a human being"........where did that come from......something's terribly wrong somewhere......)

Me : Wait just a minute sir......something's not right.......there is no way he could have written
anything like that about me......he's a very good friend........and why would you sack
him, if he's not guilty?? I will have to call Varun first.....and only then can I get back to you.

(At this point my patience had completely run out. I was getting rude, and didn't really care anymore)

GI : Sir, your 'qualms' with Varun do not concern me. I am just stating the facts
given to me by Hyderabad. One more thing sir......the essays you had written for your online test ......are they original??.....because it says here, that the very same text has been
found on the net somewhere.

(It seemed rather strange, that a person with a lack of command in the language would use a word like 'qualms'.........thoughts like these sped past like a breeze......I was looking at the bigger picture now.....my chances of making it slipping away every passing instant)

Me : What??.....sorry sir.....not a chance. That work is mine! I can't accept what you just said.
What is your name again??

GI : Vinod sir.....

Me : Yeah.........surname??

GI : Vinod A.......Vinod Anantham.

Me : Ok Mr. Vinod. I will have to first talk to Varun and get things clarified. Do I get in touch
with you or...??

GI : No sir....Google will call you shortly. In the mean time, do talk to Varun.

Me : Okay thanks......pardon me if I sounded a bit rude......there's nothing personal...

GI : Oh...no problem sir....nothing personal from my side either. Just doing my job. Have a nice
day!

The conversation had lasted an agonising twenty minutes. My mother stood there flabbergasted! Speechless, I fumbled through some things in search of Varun's number. It had barely been five minutes since the converstion with Vinod had ended that I got a call......FROM THE SAME NUMBER! When I picked up....he goes...."it's me again sir, Vinod".... (a second of silence) and then......hahahahahaha....JACKASS....it's me man.....Arvind.

Arvind, the MORON who fooled me for over twenty minutes, also happens to be my best friend. He had shifted just days before, and hadn't yet given me his home number. I was too pooped to abuse him that day, but made up for it the next time I met him. Whatever said and done......I am a 'PRIZE FOOL' (not to mention, the laughing stock of the entire neighbourhood), but to give the devil his due, he did a fabulous job of it. If only he used his talent for more productive things, he would have already gone places by now!

What's In A Name?

2007-03-30T00:37:00.001+05:30

If there is anything I am proud of about myself, it would have to be my name....Mrinal! At first glance, it does not really look that hard to pronounce, but the stories I am going to tell you will make Mrinal Sen turn in his grave one day. The most common mis-pronounciation is the interchanging of 'i' and 'r'. This gives it the sound of 'Mirnal'.....which is quite ok, when you think about it. Most of my teachers and professors called me that as soon as I had given up correcting them.

On the first day of college in Loyola. some of us were taken to the Principal's office for being late. I was a part of that forsaken lot. Being freshers, our Principal at the time wanted to flex his muscles and throw his weight around....basically, letting everyone know who's boss! He threatened to throw the entire bunch out, making us write down our names and roll numbers on a piece of paper. The peons double checked by calling everyone's name out aloud. I knew it was my turn when I saw the guy struggling to comprehend what was written. Then, with a lot of apprehension he blurted it out....'Nirmal!' I looked around to see if anyone had responded. When no one came up, my hand was raised to acknowledge that it was me. That to me was blasphemy! I had half a mind to tell him....go hump a tree!..jackass!....but held back for obvious reasons. The guy had completely desecrated my poor name. It doesn't even start with 'N' for heaven's sake!

I have had friends with names like Kshitij. Now surely, 'Kshitij' (with the 'K' silent) is a tougher name than mine to get. Whenever people ask me my name and don't get it in the first shot, they invariably never do. The strange thing is, that even friends who have known me for years call me 'Mirnal' or 'Marinal'. I've gone through pains to help them get it right, but the effort has, more often than not, gone in vain. The worst one so far sounded something like 'Burnol'......'Burnol'???....jeez.....sounds like some high-octane petrol or something. I can almost imagine myself going to the bunk and the guy asking me....Regular or 'Burnol' sir?

Over the years, I've got used to people calling me all sorts of things. Some people have even come up and told me that I have a girl's name.....which is true in certain parts of India, like Gujarat for example....but I assure them that it is a boy's name in Bengal. So, a girl would be called Mrinalini in the eastern state.

Well, no offence to my folks, but they've got a mixed-up kid on their hands.....and have no one but themselves to blame....!