Ash and burn

Wednesday. 9 in the morning. office.

How do automatic ironboxes work? Do they turn themselves off when they hit the tuned heat and switch back on when the heat drops? Can they keep this cycle going, safely, until I get back home in the evening?

I am decently-scared(decent enough to warrant the use of word 'shit-scared', but i am not going to use it), as I take the seat in my office. Not sure if i have turned the ironbox off at home. I have reasoned why I might have done so, all my journey in the morning and through my breakfast. I have rather been a responsible man. My gut says, I pulled the plug. Yet, sometimes, how you are raised keeps you from trusting gut and reasoning. My folks have made me think I goof-up more times than my mother forgets to add salt to saambar. They may have been perfectly well-intentioned. In salt and breeding. But what they failed to foresee was that oneday, I might decide to press my own clothes when I grow up. I am upset imagining the ironbox heating more than, may be today's-high-houseloan-EMI-paying-IT workers' head, eventually burning the whole house down( in each of the cases as it may be. IT guy, I know it's hard)

The good news about it is that the house isn't mine and I may not lose much( I don't make much a month. Therefore all saved was ash. Can fire burn ash?). I get to 'rise from the ashes' and move out of the hellhole, finally. On the flip-side, have you heard of any lady suing her tenant for negligence and winning the damages? In India? My faith in unable judiciary of my country has been unshakeable. Until now.

Am I overshit-scared? Fear misplaced? I guess I could be less paranoid.

I just told my colleague he could enjoy a wrinkle-free shirt all day today. I could use my head and press it. It's hot. Someone pull the plug(or just leave a comment and say my writing's silly)

At random

More people move about randomly in weddings than you would think. Try this. The next time you are in one, stop somebody walking by and ask her where she's going and what she's upto. Chances of her fumbling for words in the first 3 seconds is even more than those of your going bald in the next 5 years. There's a lot of randomness in each one of us (How do you think this post happened?).

To Mudumalai and back.

Just back from a trip to Mudumalai forests and Ooty. I have nothing funny to say. If you are looking for fun you may go look elsewhere( pretty much the same thing you did the last time you found yourself on this blog).

[Secret- I hope to become a instant hit with you by starting with a disclaimer about this blog being humorless and then going on to make it funny- wish me luck. Trick tried- Underpromise and over deliver. Wish me luck again.]

I will just list out some combination of words or some such thing. That should help you know how the trip was.

Planned- Bangalore to Mudumalai forests. Via Mysore. 3 men and 3 women and 1 man ( about whom I am going to tell you later)

Planned-Early morning start. Actual-Near afternoon execution. Men and women in the car. Some talk about how planned early morning starts never work out. Mundane statements did a round.
Cool car. Friendly driver.Expensive fuel.
Panicky girls-For they were told the trip was going to be just relaxing rather than action-filled.

[Midblog Guess- Would they have fretted about too much action had the trip been loaded?]
Adage- Men are from Mauritius and women are from Vietnam.

Relief- Panic cleared after men promised some action. [ Men are masters at art of promising. If I can push a problem till I die I don't need a solution.]

Plan- The One man i had promised to tell you about was to be picked up in Mysore whose house we would have breakfast in.
Actual- Ate breakfast midway despite having full knowledge of friend's folks' reputation for hospitality. Ate neat and tight.
Hunger dares people.
Unanimous decision- Keep the thing from the friend. Just don't tell him.

Men demand justice @ petty shop- One beside the hotel. Men bought smoke and other petty things. Petty owner demands some price over and above MRP. Men question. Despite the exchange words between men and the petty owner MRP wasn't restored. Men back out feeling rather satisfied that they stood by what was right. MRP or otherwise.
A general thought- Men always want to be doing the right things ( until they are caught by traffic cops. Sir 50 rupees I have. Adjust maadi).

Scene- The dining Table @ friend's.

Apprehensive men and women assume positions before the table. An unprepared army in the battle. Everyone could manage a couple of idlis though coz the food tasted great. But you don't buy a car even if it is a Ferrari, if you can't park it anywhere. Right? ( Now don't you bloody try and think how you can prove my point wrong. Just read on damn it) Friend's granny went around the table and ensured she hit final idlis in the coffin. She was one of the smartest grannies i have seen. Had she been a year younger I would have asked her out I think. And I am sure I am one of the smartest men she has seen in many decades.( what else could explain that she served me more idlis than other men?)

Big bellies took to the road again. A couple and a half hours of journey to the forest-resort. Music was limited hence oft-repeated. Jokes doing the rounds took profanity and perversion to a new high. One would think women were thoroughly embarrassed. But No. They were thoroughly embarrased. (Gotcha! i am trying a new figure of speech- I call it ' obviousli'. Ala simili. Applause)

It was overcast and romantic. I thought of None. I would have enjoyed it more if None had been with me. None can get this line. It's for None.

Finally we got to the resort. A charming old man that owned the place and a middle-aged resort-keeper later we entered the cottages.

The next day we paid 2000 rupees to learn that there is no wildlife in the nearby sanctuary( But indeed it was a good ride in the bushy forest.) and explored Ooty. I wish I could put the romantic climate in words. And I do. Overcast, breezy, drizzly and green. Down on the ground, many pockets of the town were very filthy though. In ooty, only look up ( the sky never failed to pep me up). Never down.( Unless you have stepped out of the vehicle in which case you only look down never up). A boatride in the lake is truly memorable. But see if you can put other men or women to peddle as you sit back and relax. In my case it showered a little making it very pleasant.

Headed back this morning. My friend almost fell for the old man's charm at the resort. We started our car and got him in before he plucked the flowers from the bush next to him and went down on his knees to the old man.

Overall, it was a great trip.

Royal Losers Bangalore.

Agonising, it has been over the last month. I should have known. A side full of old internationals and unknown locals could not have fared better. But you don't back a side based on it's strength. Do you?( but do you back it just because it belongs to your city? Sorry- I have never been the man for debates) But to save some post-match lows you better pick a winning horse. Royal Challengers Bangalore have been a challenge to none but their owner. I have tried to avoid watching them on television. But when you have a 400 square-foot( feet? damn-I give a rabbit's foot)house, a sadistic sibling- backs rajasthan royals and takes immense pleasure in watching your team lose when you are around- and mother someothercity ( a la mother India) you can run but you can't hide.

I am polythoughtous ( yet monogamous). I solicit multiple thoughts at once. Here's another. It's nice to think you aren't a hypocrite. But not often can you follow it in letter and spirit ( Royal Challenge whisky ?). The other day a chic at office asked me if i supported her team( the team rides at night they tell me). Honestly I hated her side for their eccentricities and egoes -especially of the owner, and wished they had lost every match. But I am sure you will understand if told you i answered her in the affirmative and went on to wonder aloud how talented her side was. Like I always have maintained, one better be a hypocrite than repel a chic.

Back to Bangalore team- I will try and move on. I am trying think it does not make practical sense to stick on. Dr. Malya has a bevy of long-legged women to console him every time the team loses. And who do i have ? I will now go drown my sorrows with a drink, perhaps a drink he doesn't own.
-Chaww.
Sudeep ( abey, post abhi baaki hain, neeche dekh)

P(j)S:
Why are the Royals always sad?
Becojjj their blood is blueeeeee- yippeeeee...

What is watershed?
It is the event in which Dravid sheds gallons of sweat as his bowlers get whacked in the rear even by the tail-enders of the opposition- This event will mark Dravid's unceremonious exit from the corporate cricket.

What is aftermath?
Hmm physics?

My son? She's doing well.

The owner of the pigeonhole i rent, landed a karnataka state-government job on grounds of compassion( her husband expired while in service) a few months back. Last week she showed up at my door asking me to help her with the a few forms seeking information about her( she, for a reason i don't know, thinks i know it all). There were nineteen forms to be filled( who says government officials don't work? But at one level, they don't. They get it done by their tenants). One form was dedicated for the information about minor son and another for daughter. Under the section 'Minor son' the name followed by the gender of the son was asked. I asked her if she knew whether her son was male or female. My straight-face often conceals the humor intended( direct result of which the owner began to frown). Before her young shocked-n-quizzical-frown grew old and dangerous I showed her the stupidity of the authorities that have included 'Gender' under 'Minor Son'. Her frown retired and teeth came out for a walk.
Having made me fill up all the forms, she asked me if she troubled me ( thondre kotteansathe- i think i troubled you). I lied.

Introspection-1

With a b-school entrance exam less than a month away my competitors surely have upped the ante. My rapidly sinking All-India rankings in mock tests are a disturbing evidence of this. I should be working harder than ever, may be. Sadly, these are the times my urge to do what I am not supposed to do is strongest.

Like blogging. It's been over half a dozen months or so since I last bored my readers. Now ,I do it again.

Like playing table tennis. Like workouts. These are long-forgtten regimes I have resumed. Like long lunches.Long walks. Like more movies. Like longer intrsopection in the loo. Last evening I even found time to play with a stray dog. The day before, I took my girlfriend and her mom(!!?) out on shopping. All things but bseep ( b-school entrance exam preparation) are getting a lot more time than they ever did. Am I running away from the challenge? Am I set to doom? Time will tell.

I hope to prove myself wrong.

R &G

All my fellow software engineers(or so they are called) that think they are doing shit, read this.

"Charles Roselli set out to discover what makes some sheep gay. Roselli, a researcher at the Oregon Health and Science University, has searched for the past five years for physiological factors that might explain why about 8% of rams(uncastrated male sheep) seek exclusively with other rams instead of ewes. The goal he says is to understand the fundamental mechanisms of sexual orientation in sheep"- The Times of India, Friday, January 26, 2007, page 21.

You thought, writing that same piece of low profile code was low profile and boring. You thought fixing those high priority bugs was low profile. Time you thought again. You can't have a worse job than the one Roselli has.( Oh.Really?)

On a second thought( the thought that comes to my mind after hundreds of them since first thought or some such thing) may be it's not all that bad.

My dear readers,read the Roselli story,carefully, again. It's a pretty serious proposition to arrive at that 8% figure. You may wonder how he does it. May be all the rams are lined up. Around fifteen hundred of them, to obtain a bankable result,may be,I think. Two good looking(!!?)sheep, a ram and an ewe placed on a platform in front of them (to check the orientation of these thousand odd rams).

Ram no.1 called out and he steps forward.

Researcher whispers to the ram no.1 " Dude,now you gotta be honest with me. I understand it's (admitting to be gay) not seen upon too nicely by the society and all that. You see I have dedicated my life to figure out how many of you are gay and why. Can you believe, they are paying me for this. Now, see up there(showing the platform). Check'em out. You like him or you like her? Now you don't tell me you like both of them. That would make me do more math. Just pick one. Come on."

The ram looks at 'em....

Ram to the researcher "Sir, honestly I don't like both of them, i mean look at 'em(pointing at the two sheep on the platform)he is too fat and she is anorexic. I am shure ( sheep are shure when they are sure) none of these buggers behind me would like either/both of them. And one more thing, the fact the I care to comment on both of them, does not mean I am bishexual or something( sheep think shexual shounds more shexy) . Or may be i am. I think I will keep you guessing. Hell with your research. Just leave me alone.I am going."

And so the research goes on. I am too bored to write beyond this man.

A not-so-popular story

25-23-22....

Sounds like what i call, an inverted-pyramid figure of an opposite-sexy who 'whistled' past? (if you are so thin, you can't help but whistle past)

It just isn't. It's how my fan base in orkut dwindled over the last week. Though I don't care much, it hurts to know that someone just wished to be off your fan club. Dam-silent-n !! I am becoming less popular..The what-is-the-root-cause guy I am, I have figured who chose to back off and I am planning to hold discussions with them to see if they can tell me why they did what they did.

Or.. should I? In doubt......

Mr.Alpacino puts it in 'scent of a woman', "when in doubt.........ffukkk'

fuk it is...

High. Really.

It's amajing what a bit of vodka can do to you. When vodka's in you are whatever you think you are. It's like an awards' night. First 40-60 ml launches a stage. 70 to 80, you think. The audience never else looks as inviting and as attentive. 90 and more, you give speeches, you sing, you dance.( you pee, on average, three times,in between).

"And the award goes to............................."

You. It's you. The thinker and the performer.

The command I feel, over English, when mls are in, is beyond words. I use all the gooji booji words that I recently had seen, heard and dreamt of. With brilliant control, of course. I think inhibition takes the backseat when you drink and drive the conversation.

March 07, 2006. Good day. My friend. She had been newly-hired by an old firm. She had achieved. She thought, Enough. Enough reasons to treat her well wishers( well my friend, I always wish you good). That's eaxctly how I found myself in this dazzling place. Menu was thick. Left half the page was new and the right one was heavy. (Man..that was xxxpensive. Hardcore expensive for my pockit.I had never been and will, on my own to such places).

Starters, breezers, talkers,milddlers,more talkers and enders. Over. I had fun.( Why wouldn't I?) Loved speaking to my friend's hubby who claims his firm is small. For the wannabe MBA I am, I tried my questions on him. Why ? Strength? What? Where? Bottomline? Products? When? How much? Man. I am good. In the three hours that I spent I learnt it's tough to run if you are small. I won. Back to bed. Passing introspection. Good day. Next morning. Now, just waiting to get through the day. Hang over is killing me. Already fought with Her.( You will see Her in every blog of mine. I love Her).
Tata.

licence .

Yesterday was bad. I failed a learning license test. My score 9/15. Fell short by just one fuckin mark. It takes more than just commonsense to pass a LL test.

Take a bite.

How many licences can one have at any point of time?
1)Maximum 3, one for each class of vehicles.
2)Any number of licences, one for each class of vehicles.
3) one more shitty option

Quite obviously I had not heard this from anyone. It's very simple. Nobody had told me about this. Lack of knowledge brings hope of logic. Third option with a shitty descprition obviously was out of contention. One down, two more to go. If I was the rider how many would I like to carry? If my riding past of last six years was anything to go by, the answer would be NONE. This was more of a personal opinion than logic. Back to logical thinking. We are men. We are suppose to think logically. How many? How many? After a lot of thinking it's obvious that logic just didn't work here. Or did it? I mark one and move on to the next question.

Next one.
Next one.
One more.
More.

In the name of commonsense and logic, I marked here and there and returned the 'RTO puzzle gallery'

Things went from bad to worse when the officer, an uncanny picker, pulled a sheet from a bundle of corrected papers and shouted something like 'Sudeep Kumar. You have failed! Come tomorrow'
Hell. I just could not show my face to my fellow LL aspirants, a few among who were pretty-faced young things. It was not the best idea to hang in there and wonder what went wrong. So I vanished from the RTO zone in record time. A plea to the RTO for keeping results confidential is in the pipeline.

Seeking solace in my near and dear one turned out to be a bad idea. I told her . Effort was on, to cushion the insult though. She laughed, like I inhaled oxygen and farted nitrous oxide. Bad day.

Under Construction

I am a new kid on the blog. Trying to make this place worth the time spent.