மார்கழி

I wake up every single day and remind myself that there is not a restaurant in madras where they treat human beings like human beings. I am not sure if there is cosmic irony to this, and that god wishes a place where people could be randomly placed in chairs with random food being thrown about, and they just accidentally fall into a random dish, which they tend to appreciate.

There are two people on the table behind me, where one person is screaming at the top of his voice in flawless English about his tryst with the various places he visited. Had there been a lonely planet writer there, I am sure he need not have visited any of those places to gain a working knowledge of the culture and geography. Here was a real big mike and amplifier combo who happened to be explaining the various roads he walked on or the fancy restrooms he peed in, as me and a million other people in a 15 mile radius were forced to listen to a guided tour of Vienna.

The petrol bunk is a funny place. I try to unfasten the petrol tank cap right before I get in, because of the certainty of Murphy’s laws applied to my life. Even Murphy wouldn’t have envisaged the predictability of all these laws in anyone’s life, but if anyone gets a chance to meet him, do let him know that he has found the most glorious example of someone who has fallen to almost every one of the vicissitudes of the laws. I was trying to unscrew the cap for a good ten minutes, fully aware of someone else screwing with me all the time from up there.

The mobile phones, they are creatures of the dark arts. I got my credit mysteriously reduced by Rs 40 in one night (yes, jokes about rates, night and me are in order). I wasn’t talking to anyone, not consciously. I now sleep with nightmares of negative balance, with cell phones, as it is with bank accounts, my grades in school and my life’s progress in general.

The first day of the year was truly ground breaking. I had accidentally dropped the hammer on a loose tile on the balcony, and the tile shattered, like the hopes, the dreams(and other stuff you read in paulo coelho). So, yes, ground breaking for shattering what little is left of the old tile. I am worried about the tile, you know it cannot go on like this, I mean, it couldn't take any more damage, of what little is left of it.

Along with several important things like self esteem, belief and hope, I am also abandoning my frugal way of living. I think its foolish to let yourself be carried away by unnecessary thoughts like a simple and humble lifestyle, and be a rampant and gaudy spendthrift, buying even those things that you do not want and indulge in them like a pig wallowing in the sewer. kindly do not think that I am against people who spend money like this and that I am trying to equate them to pigs. Definitely not. Trust me.

Faith in god is very important during testing times. So, when I tried to taste the poricha kootu I had made with cabbage and cucumber, I was a little uncertain of what would happen had I...So many things were to be done, the will had to be drawn, but I took the bold step. I took the plunge. Holy smokes, it was good. This experiment confirms without any bias the consistency of the existence of god hypothesis. Pascal's wager can go smoke itself into oblivion, the big daddy of the god confirming theories is here to stay.

there's a lovely January breeze in madras. Its time to fall in love with arcot district again.

வண்ண மாடங்கள் சூழ்ந்திருக் கோட்டியூர்

கண்ணன் கேசவன் நம்பி பிறந்தனில்

எண்ணெய் சுண்ணம் எதிரெதிர் தூவிடக்

கண்ணன் முற்றம் கலந்துஅள ராயிற்றே

(naalayira divya prabandam, 1st verse after thiruppallandu)

புல்லாகிப் பூடாய்ப் புலர்ந்தனாள் போதாதோ?

கல்லாய் மரமாய்க் கழிந்தநாள் போதாதோ?

அன்னை வயிற்றி லழிந்தனாள் போதாதோ?

மன்னவனாய் வாழ்ந்து மரித்தனாள் போதாதோ?

Towards the end of the blog, I have strayed into the emotionally disturbed-pathetic-helpless-frustrated- young man’s path. You can stop reading after the points to skip the melodrama.

If you do read it,

A clichéd point-the fact that I am writing this, and the fact that you are reading this means we are lucky.

Good music is always good music, and unfortunately relative and subjective.

Italicized lines are just lessons learnt, I did not mean to be sanctimonious. No preaching, no advice, not even suggestions, only an analysis of decisions/actions.

Everything was wet, inside, outside, in between. You have never understood the meaning of the phrase torrential rain until you actually travel in a bike in one. At 30 km/hr, it felt like I was hit by jet from a poorly designed water pistol aimed at the face but missing and hitting the nether regions. I don’t like to sit on anything when I am wet. (Not the kind of wet you have in mind, the less kinky and original wet.) The interesting part of the story-the lab was locked. I didn’t have the keys.

I can either complain about luck, or can rationalize: taking pre-emptive action by buying a raincoat or an umbrella (bus travel). Sensibility never comes in the way of decision making. At least in my case.

#you do not understand the actual essence of the proverbial 'its raining cats and dogs' statement until you are in one. I was talking to my maama about ramanan, and how he had forecast rains for the weekend and that it would be safe to venture out; it is reported that Barack Obama called up IMD and asked them if things went terribly wrong, as what ramanan said had actually happened-it rained.

Wildly.

People in Madras watched in awe, worried at the possible implications this might have and were shocked at the manner in which the core of their belief manner. They feel distressed that their long standing cynicism is being put to test in a very weathered(to unnecessarily and incoherently also meaninglessly use a weather related word). way. The mayans were right. Right about 2012, when ramanan's every single forecast would be accurate, that the gods would wise up to the erratic and imponderable changes the planet had undergone and kaboom. The end of the world is not nuclear weapons or wars, it is at the hands of a mysterious meteorologist.

He is definitely the harbinger of sunshine. We need better models for better forecast.

A lot of my friends are curious as regards the nature of my research. First of all, I would like to declare like Mark twain that I have nothing to declare but my absolute naiveté about my research. In very reductive terms, I don’t know. In more expanded and elaborate terms, I don’t know. So, that should give you a clue as to where you might want to start asking questions. I have no idea, about anything.

Life is the sum total of good books, good music, good food and good set of friends. its a four letter expletive without these.

I love digressing unnecessarily, and abruptly. I adore oxford commas.

I use a lot of I’s. I understand that it’s not a good thing to do. I also like hypocrisy.

I understand that success and failure is not to be questioned. They are heavily dependent on influential people, who can influence these decisions.

This is why I think the past is beautiful because its over. But I can also say the same about coffee and some women (obligatory coffee loving reference in the post).

I love logical fallacies from the language. We are so full of it all the time that we fail to see rationality at all.

I don’t know why I am implying logical correctitude to rational thinking.

The ironies of life-Child labor in one of the most premier institutes of this country, the hallowed portals of IIT. The restaurant inside the campus offers a beautiful case study of the collective callousness of this country-the boy was hardly 15, and he was cleaning a table. I am writing a blog after seeing this, because venting ire on a social forum is what is going to feed, clothe and educate him. Hypocrisy.

Happiness is not a medium or a short term pursuit because our lives are not over yet, and we never know how far we will sink, or how high we might rise.

There is a kutcheri outside. This one is not big bucks. Not garish displays of cultural snobbery. Not the vocal strains hitting one particular note with beautiful precision and producing lilting melodies. Not flawless rendering of sankarabaranam. Not the patronage of the limited few trying/pretending to understand music. Not the haughty arrogance of the few performers who instigate my spite.

I am not trying to defile the sanctity of the notion of the classical carnatic institution; it’s a part of the beautiful history of my city. I cannot stand certain things. Apologies (Impetuous).

This one is in a van.

It’s not anything new. Let’s move on.

This one is more of a survival than a song. This is a question of dignity, and of not losing it. This is a faulty cacophonous cry for a decent living.

It is true then, Life is cheap.

‘There is always hope’- Hopes don’t differentiate between survival and success. Everything will even out eventually. Hopefully. (Hypocrisy, one last time)

Maalai pozhudhin mayakathile on the radio.

அன்னை எத்தனை எத்தனை அன்னையோ?

அப்பன் எத்தனை எத்தனை அப்பனோ ?

பின்னை எத்தனை எத்தனை பெண்டீரோ?

பிள்ளை எத்தனை எத்தனை பிள்ளையோ?

முன்னை எத்தனை எத்தனை சன்மமோ?

மூடனாயடி யேனும ரந்திலேன்,

இன்ன மெத்தனை எத்தனை சன்மமோ!

Cheers.

tamil poems by pattinathaar:

#1 திருவேகம்பாலை(bottom)

#2 அருட்புலம்பல்(top)

சித்தர்களும் யோகிகளும் சிந்தனையில் ஞானிகளும்

புத்தரோடு ஏசுவும், உத்தமர் காந்தியும்,

எத்தனையோ உண்மைகளை எழுதி எழுதி வெச்சாங்க,

எல்லாந்தான் படிச்சீங்க, என்ன பண்ணி கிழிச்சீங்க?

The goal of the never ending search for doing something meaningful has come to an end. I have stopped searching. This marks the beginning of a new era, wherein I do something that I had been doing in the older era.

So, yes, it’s not exactly new. Neither is it an era. Nor a new beginning. So, this marks the.

I did not return many calls on my birthday, I was on drugs. Those paracetamol tablets can make you swirl in the fantasy land of beautiful women in no time. I woke up just as I was about to gather the courage to ask a girl out. In real life as in hallucinations, I suck. The dream girl would probably have shot me down anyway, I mean, that’s what dreams are for, aren’t they? To wildly hype a fantasy and tie it to achievability, and finally get hit by the sledgehammer of reality.

If you lived in madras, and you missed going out on December 16, you missed one of the six beautiful days of madras. Madras has six lovely weather days-two of them are imaginary. Out of the other four days, one is the rains right after the boils in the back start to swell uncontrollably due to heat; one is the day in between the rains when it stops raining. One of them is the day I was talking about-a lovely breeze the whole day, mild drizzle and sub-25 temperatures. The other is reserve, and is highly dependent on the discretion of the gods.

Anyone who asked if it was 25 F will be shot/let go upon subsequent inquiry depending on their nationality/knowledge of koppen classification.

Do you absolutely have to nod your head vigorously to appreciate carnatic music? Is there causality between them, and is the converse true-does someone nodding their head vibrate the air around with the perfect frequency that it manipulates the singer’s to produce awesome melodies? I was at a temple (yes, again, I am like that) wherein there was a big crowd of music lovers listening to someone who was apparently very good. I managed to stay there for an entire 3 minutes, which would explain that I liked it, but there was some vehement and almost hysterical carnatic head banging equivalent-along with the thaalam in the thigh. I am sure there were some sore thighs by the end of the show. The point should not be lost-had there not been a mike and a jarring loud noise and only her voice, I would have stayed longer. 4 minutes, probably.

Life is increasingly becoming pointless with every passing post, that I am planning to start a new blog just to talk about my old blog, thereby increasing the magnitude of the existing directionlessness, and I have no idea why I just coined a stupid word there. It must be to emphasize the point of pointlessness, which, in all likelihood, has already been strongly enforced in a lot of posts. So, yes, my life is pointless (needlessly, inadvertently, repeated. Actually, I repeated the needless with inadvertent, which is again, pointless repetition. I think I should stop)

Christmas is around the corner. Anyway, New Year is around the corner too. I believe there is also a welding shop around the corner. (A poorly constructed make-believe witty construct with no comic value whatsoever) I actually giggled at the joke (so-called), which must mean that something is definitely loose inside my mind.

எழுதி படிச்சி அறியாதவன் தான்

உழுது ஒழச்சி சோறு போடறான்

எல்லாம் படிச்சவன் ஏதேதோ பேசி

நல்லா நாட்டை கூறு போடறான்...

Tamil portions from songs by pattukottai kalyanasundaram

rains.

இல்லாருக்கும் செல்வர்கள் தாமே

என்பாருக்கும் தீயவர் மற்றும்

நல்லாருக்கும் முகிலே சமமாய்

நல்கும் செல்வம் நீயேயன்றோ?

Did you all know obama was here? Did you all know how the job market suddenly witnessed a spurt when he was out of US? Do you all know why he came to India?

Hint: I am here.

I want to ask this particular person in his secret service who is following me and notifying him of my activities. I have but only one question: Why are you doing this to me?(screaming on top of my voice). I have a suspicion that obama carries my voodoo doll, and sticks pins into it when he feels put out, say when his kids don't listen to him, or his wife spends too much, or when he is annoyed by listening to 'single ladies' for the thousandth time on the radio or the general problems that he faces in life.

#I am sitting here trying to ponder the heaviness in my mind. The million times the question pops into my head, and torments me with uncontrollable grief and anguish(both meaning the same), I am yet to find the answer to that simple question:

what is wrong with the puli that cooks in college hostels/canteens use for making rasam? Can't you pay more attention to it? I swear, I could have puked my pancreas out the instant I took a whiff of the rasam. It was nauseous, much worse than Indian politics.

#The signal at nandanam is god's way of getting back at me. As is everything else he is doing.But he has succeeded in riling me on this particular game. I stand there, patiently, waiting for the red to turn green, then to turn amber, then to red, then to green...until my life flashes in front of my eyes, and I die, and resurrect myself when the signal light turns green and I am in the front lines to take up the responsibility of irresponsibly changing lanes and going straight onto kottur. Some boards in madras suggest that I follow lane discipline. This statement is completely wrong for two reasons:

1. there are no lanes.

2. there is no discipline.

There have been times when I was embarrassed for not jumping a signal and doing the noble and right thing-not jump the signal. I guess I am a pretentious idiot, who is still hung up on following rules.

In keeping with the tradition of kaarthigai deepam, I watched kill bill and ate pori urundai.

note #1: Watch kill bill for the sword, and only the sword. the fights suck.

note #2: don't eat too much pori urundai, you might have problems the next morning...

I also attempted to do an unthinkable and probably the most depressing task on the planet-iron a shirt. I would like to warn you, what little self-esteem, confidence, strength, belief and motivation you have will dissipate into thin air. You will surrender to the will of fate, thinking about how this mad world imposes such hardships upon you with no apparent reason other than to make you squirm while your inability flashes before your life in those moments...we are still talking about ironing of course.I am going to find the first tailor who came up with the concept of a shirt, and make him pay in kill bill style. At one point,I stood on my feet and pressed the iron box against the shirt with all the god almighty strength given to me by satan and the crease, that crease, that maniacal, sadistic, persistent, evil crease continued to look at me and smirk. That smile made me want to run away to the end of the world(vaazhkaiyin orathirke odinen etc).

Nudist colony is a good suggestion, but I don't like nudity. Don't laugh.

http://www.videojug.com/film/how-to-iron-a-shirt

The instant I want to go out somewhere, some kind of a radar attached to me seems to signal the onset of tropical thundershowers which triggers a massive downpour for the duration of my stay on the roads without umbrella/raincoat.

As I said, home is where your heart, a steaming cup of coffee and ven pongal is...

cheers.

நிலா மலர்ந்த இரவினில் தென்றல் உலாவிடும் நதியில்
நீல நிறத்துப் பாலகன் ஒருவன் குழல் ஊதி நின்றான்
காலமெல்லாம் அவன் காதலை எண்ணி உருகுமோ என் உள்ளம்!

poem at the top: bharathidasan(rains, that don't discriminate)

at the bottom: attributed to kalki(not sure)

Listen here:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PCiqqFVY4Xw

Red Earth, Pouring Rain.

யாயும் யாயும் யாராகியரோ
எந்தையும் நுந்தையும் எம்முறைக் கேளிர்
யானும் நீயும் எவ்வழி யறிதும்
செம்புலப் பெயனீர் போல
அன்புடை நெஞ்சம் தாம் கலந்தனவே.

There are two ways by which you can travel to kanchipuram-the ordinary way, and the lord langote way. The ordinary way is the one in which you pay a train fare of Rs.16, endure a long and hard wait for a seat for almost the entire journey(or till chengalpattu) and finally get a seat a few hundred yards before kanchipuram east station(this is close to a lot of temples, get down here. thanks:sdk); alternatively, pay Rs 23 on a bus that takes you on a lovely tour of the scenic madras-bangalore highway at 25 kmph, spending close to 2.5 hours for traversing a distance of 75 kms. You can also see snails on the road flying past your windows(no puns on the operating system please).

Lord langote way, of course, is the AC bus. No.576, kanchipuram to t.nagar. At Rs 75, it is not something that could I afford to do everyday, but once in a while, it could be fun. I got on the bus at a temperature of 30 C, and I got off the bus at the same temperature. I am not sure the bus qualifies for being 'kulir saadhana perundhu'. Maybe 'saadhana perundhu'. I spent one half of my journey as a man of the masses, and the return trip was the lord langote way. A lovely cloudy morning, the fields all along the way wet and inviting, and I was standing for almost 2 hours on the footboard of BTL1 looking in awe at the 'singaara graamams' as one of the signs on a bus stand said.

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There might be a contrasting difference between a sivan temple and a vishnu temple, but you understand that one thing is common-indifference. Service to mankind is service to God, and in some temples both of them are denied service. Maybe the temple priests are not paid well, but do they have to take it out on the people who come here with all those false hopes and prayers that are going to fall on deaf ears anyway?(satire, take it easy) I have to ask some people in the crowd(especially the women) the following:

#just because you stand in front of the deity for a longer period, is he/she going to bless you more than the other persons behind you?

#If you had come all the way and you would want to see the god in all the glory for all eternity, doesn't applying for a job at the temple make better sense?

#does any god ever ask you to be ill-disciplined by stalling or jumping queues?

In one temple, the priest gave me vibhuti with as much interest as I had on my life(squat). In the perumal temple, I was looking askance at the shataari and the priest told me that it was closing time. If that is not a convincing answer, what is

#All the temple tanks metaphorically resembled my head-huge, but nothing inside.

#Bovonto is awesome. I really don't know why its not a success unlike a coke or a pepsi. If a willing entrepreneur is listening, I think there is quite a fan following for this drink.

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Once I was back in madras, I realized my folly. I had stumbled upon yet another blunder in my life(an everyday incident)-I did not consider the deepavali week factor in my travel equation, the AC bus mogham had created this maayai which had veiled my vision to the truth. Anyway, I got down at T.nagar bus stop, and to get to doraiswamy road, which is 100 m from the bus stand, it took me all of my energy, time, patience, will, positive thoughts, confidence, along with a strong urge to blow the entire road into smithereens to get going. The honking had produced such a pounding headache, that the left portion of my head was playing a kacheri with nothing but blaring tavil and a cacophonous nadaswaram. If someone would pull down T.nagar, or all the shops there, I would talk to obama and try to bring peace in the middle east, or teach namitha proper tamil. maybe the first one.

I managed to get inside saravana bavan, which was a sorry sight:

#A long line of women in front of the loo(really long). The idiots building the shops can't build restrooms for god's sake?

#I did not see a public toilet either, and even if there was one, people would avoid it like politicians avoid people or sensible policies-they are sparkling clean, and beautifully maintained.

#The toilets for men were provided by a what looked like the dilapidated remains of an old transformer(maybe it was working, only god knows)

Anyway, it took me 20 minutes to find a seat, 10 minutes to order coffee, 5 minutes to drink it and 2000 minutes to get back home crawling on the stupid north usman road(I paid the bill, to all the smarty pants). I am sure somebody could have travelled to singapore, watched the grand prix and could have come back in that time.

Having accomplished my mission to kill boredom for atleast half a day, I went home and crashed. So much for attainable goals.

What kin is mine to yours?

And how Did you and I meet ever?

But in love our hearts have mingled as red earth and pouring rain" 

-translation for the poem from kurunthogai(at the top)

(translation:The hindu; poem source:project madurai website) 

தீபாவளி வாழ்த்துக்கள்.

Disclaimer: This post contains some anti-breeding talk. If you don't like that and are likely to be judgemental or, if you do like it but would point out factual inaccuracies, kindly sod off.

*****************************************************************************************

My cousin sister recently gave birth to a very healthy baby boy, and he is currently the talk of the entire north arcot family tree. Apparently, he is more than just a handful, and it takes the collective effort of my sister and her parents and her parents in law, and everyone in the south madras area to make him sit tight for a few minutes. I have to admit, I am baffled. completely. Why do people have kids? Some people blame karma. I blame bad contraception techniques. Or, bad plans. Or, very poor judgement of one's own intellectual, emotional, and mental abilities, which would be naturally transmitted to the offspring. For all that gas about going against what is natural to human beings, I think some would agree with me. Its a pain on the resources of the parents, the society, the state, the country and the nation and the world.(yes, yes, the universe too, don't get too smart with me)

Alternatively, the point is, some day, the earth would explode(inevitably). red giant and all that, so at that point of time, procreation is not going to help, is it? So, the next time somebody wants to have a baby, tell them about the red giant/super nova concept unless you find some way to escape the disaster(not the dmk being elected again, the other red giant)

#Never, tell other people that your child is a handful, and that he/she is a little rascal. We know that, we have seen your good self and your wife, and we are aware of your managerial skills.

#Test tubes work these days. Doesn't mean they are good parents. Parenting is an art, not engineering. Every other idiot should not become one.

#karma. Partly, maybe(based on empirical understanding of the concept). But, you are solely responsible for your own disaster. You wanted to have fun, you pay the price now.

#We should have some IQ and EQ tests before people even mate, and sign and initial these forms(this idea is from a friend of mine). You know, just so that they are aware of the implications of the levels of intelligence of their son/daughter/both and are made aware that this is what they are imposing on the society.

#If you tell me that your child is going through bad times, I will hit you on the head with a shaft, and brand those words on your head because, you were clearly aware of the best solutions for bad times.

**************************************************************

I decided to go for a long trip one day. So, I visited mylapore(went by train, to deliberately lengthen it) to say hi to kabaali, a good friend. He is alright, was a little upset that all the women folk were paying more attention to his wife karpagam, what with the navaraathri season and all that. He was cool with it though, he was trying to play down his problem as trivial. I was talking to him about my situation, and he joked about including my story for his upcoming thiruvilayadal version 2.0(I think he was being serious). I am pretty sure kabaali was excited when I was leaving. It was as if something of a exciting story had unfolded in the form of my narrative in front of his eyes, and I think I saw him grind his palms together in nambiar fashion.

When you start having imaginary conversations, you understand that its time for therapy.

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As the most traumatic and clinically depressing stage of life is taking its toll on me, I decided either to go to the movies or try anti-depressants. Thinking that some of my aunts might be disturbed by my open admission(and how much they would hate me for such puns), I went to see endhiran with a very good friend. Some comments are in order, in addition to the obnoxious fawning about rajni and the existing hyperbole on the net; I am going to make very few observations.

#aishwarya rai's makeup is the universal constant, in raavan and endhiran. at any given place and time, it defies normalcy.

#a little attention to detail would tell us that,in the movie, pastries is not properly spelt(what is past tense for spell?) in one scene. It is written as pasteries.(i know, my life sucks)

#Contrary to my own belief system to write out everything as rubbish and overcoming my irresistible urge to criticize and comment on almost everything under the sky, I must say, I liked the movie-some witty dialogues helped the cause(who is this chellaatha?).
#The instrumental pudiya manidha score towards the end credits was really nice.

#of course, thalaivar is awesome(my bit to the fawning).

"நெஞ்சத்துள்ளோர் பொறாமை எனும்தீ நீள்வதால் உள்ள நெக்குருகிப் போய் மஞ்சன் ஆண்மை மறம் திண்மை மானம் வன்மை யாவும் மறந்தனன் ஆகி பஞ்சையாம் ஒரு பெண்மகள் போலும் பாலர் போலும் பரிதவிப்பானாய்..."-mahakavi, on duryodhana's jealousy towards pandavas.(from this week's thuglaq)

Journal of a varumayin niram sigappu graduate

no, just another unemployed person's mindless ranting.

"so, gautham, why have you come back?"

catch-22's for now:

# I want to read papers to learn about the news in parts of the world, but news item scares me with all the talk of global recession and nonsense, so i don't want to read papers.

# i don't have experience because i don't have a job, and i don't have a job because i don't have experience. wow, huh?

Imagine my consternation when people asked me to write and explain things that I had no idea about; or that which I read hundreds of years ago, when there were only dial up connections in this world, the pre-facebook era. The person sitting in front of me was asking me questions about 2-dof systems, and there i was, in a different land where anna kournikova and michelle pfeiffer had magically transformed my elementary dynamics knowledge into their own selves in picture format. As it is, education has completely escaped my mind to be replaced by all four seasons of blackadder and the first two of the thin blue line.

Do you know something about boundary elements?

No.

So, what do you think they are? any guesses?

Are you deaf? or mad?

Interestingly, there is a 'no breeding' alarm going on in my mind these days, becoming stronger with every passing day. All we have to do is look at ourselves in the mirror everyday, and ask 'is perpetuating something like this meaningful?' I am not sure if its because of my brain playing games with me or its par for the course at this age for any fellow with weird ideas due to reading a lot of tragic nonsense. I happened to watch chandni bar, in which madhur bhandarkar seamlessly extrapolates a person's life tragedy to more tragedy to a point when the people in the theater go out to buy extra strength cyanide pills. Movies, for me, are a way to relax, not to think about the woes in the world. I would do that sitting in my house. Also, don't read orhan pamuk, or barry unsworth. They were the reasons why god created the word 'suicide'.

I am going to admit to doing something that I would never would have done otherwise, if it hadn't been for my friend's father's persuasion. I actually lit a 'nei dheepam' in a temple! Before you all jump to conclusions and picture me in a garb with a pattai and sandhanam all over my body, parading myself semi-naked in a temple chanting some slokas while thinking about how hot the floor is, let me assure you, it was a chance happening. You would not believe it, and I am a strong advocate of skepticism, so I would ask you all not to believe it. Anyway, the lamp, the wick, and the ghee. I learnt three things:

# skepticism has no place inside a temple. If you are a skeptic, don't go inside one.

# Lighting the lamp is embarassing but even more embarassing is being told by a very sweet lady to dip the wick in the ghee and light it again for better combustible property-I felt like an idiot, six and a half years of engineering education and I didn't know this.

# Now, I had half a mind to abandon the temple visit, in view of my increasing mental instability, but it felt nice-NOT the temple, but the trip to the temple. The chennai-bangalore highway is very impressive. (for some people's information, this is the govindha wadi temple in agaram, near kanchipuram, dedicated to lord dakshina moorthy, someone who has abandoned me ever since i started learning my alphabets and got hit on the head mistaking hindi for english. that's where it all started. *sigh*)

Strong warning: Anyone who is going to call me religious, from now on, will be made to sit with me for one full day while I explain the pros and cons of playing rail road tycoon on hard level difficulty, and then start dissecting the stories of mahanadi, million dollar baby, chandni bar, and the likes in the order of increasing mental agony.

To all those who think I am a temple hopping, medieval, traditional freak, let me tell you this-I go to temples that are old, and not crowded; old things always fascinate me(don't let your imagination run wild). They seem to have some charm that is absent in anything that is referred to as 'modern'. Yes, I am a bit of a bore, with a yearning for the good old days when transistor was a device used to listen to cricket commentary and apples were eaten, but I am not averse to technology assisting us. I think there needs to be moderation in anything.(perhaps ogling doesn't need any). also, i may have pontificated enough, so, i will stop imposing my views on one and all.

So, temples, for the sake of preserving my past, and cherishing its beauty and probably, vicariously living my peaceful past self...

Anyway, Madras is beautiful these days. Its becoming increasingly beautiful, and with the advent of monsoon she will be wrapped in all her finest glory(setting aside potholed roads and cholera for a second). So much for absurd imagery and metaphors, screw it, the place looks good during rains. Please don't be offended by my use of the word 'she' here, its a little tacky, but 'it' feels too...itty.(insert some stupid smiley here, and for god's sake boys, don't add a t to the word)

Cheers, and see you all in the next post!

Why Life must listen to us.

For the most part of it, life, currently is unintelligible, because it is unintelligible, and I also wanted to use this particular word. I had no idea what it meant, and since I have looked it up on a online dictionary, I find that it is perfectly okay to use this word here. Life is also very aimlessly prowling around the streets of ambattur in search of taj mahal, knowing very well that its in Agra. Life is also making me come up with obnoxious imageries and metaphors, stupid comparisons that would reduce the size of an average adult by half. Nearly half a year of unemployment has damaged most of my brain and all of my sanity, I kindly request you all to discard your logical part of the brain like you would when you go watch a vijay movie. or a hindi movie. or any movie they make these days.

When life does things like this, it is only nice to blame life for everything. Life is bad, and it deserves a good spanking, it has been very naughty(okay, we are drifting). So, Life must learn to behave properly. In order that life behaves, I have come up with a list of things that life should do:

1. Make coffee every time I want coffee. In general, life must understand my tastes, and my aversion to too much sugar. So, if life is listening, I like my coffee strong. very strong, like a wrestler. preferably, female wrestler. but with grace. not with the muscles showing. okay, i am drifting off again.

2. Listen to me every time I want something to happen, and make it happen. So, when I say I want to be in california, I need tickets to california. I dont know how life will do it, but life should do it. after all, that's what all lives are for, ask any software engineer. Some tell me they have very good lives that listen to them, unfortunately mechanical engineers' lives don't listen to them-they are very arrogant lives, i suppose(No, I don't want to go to california. Not to switzerland either. Yes, I am not lying my posterior off).

3. Life must know that I would like to be happy at times. It is important for life to do this, because it should know that some other lives are happy, and my life alone cannot be miserable. My life can suck, given two conditions:

everyone on the planet is miserable, and doomed.

everyone on the planet is doomed, and miserable.

In addition, life must teach me proper punctuation at times, and not include the stupid oxford comma. Life should learn to be sadistic/masochistic like me.

4. Life must teach me to stop telling things by bullets and numbering, and get out and live life. Life must, in addition to all this, buy me a playstation 3 and an iphone, so that I may lead a mediocre life of a ordinary human being professional who has his eyeballs glued to some screen, with the occasional visits to hawaii for vacations.

5. Life must provide me with enough crap to upload on facebook and twitter and irritate the living 'four letter expletive' out of other people. My post, should be other peoples' laxative.

6. Life must also provide me opportunities for ogling. enough opportunities. if possible, all the time. Any time. 24*7. Okay, this one is top priority.

7. It would be nice if life helps me something other people have in their lives-life. something meaningful, like a job or something. back to madness again. see you all in the next post then.

P.s:shameless networking idea: any possible contacts/people you might know who can help me build me my network and get a job, let me know via email-sgauthamkrishna@gmail.com

if you have plans to come to India and if I know you on back-slapping terms(not the butt) get me a snickers candy bar. cheers. :)

If you want real adventure,if you feel the need to get in touch with the 'rebel' side of yourself, and if you have to be a part of a mass-chaotic-homicidal-ill disciplined-senseless-ear and brain deafening ritual, i promise you, t.nagar is the place. I am an idiot(I konw you know that). Because, I thought I could drive. A 2-wheeler. On the roads. In Madras. On a weekday(doesn't matter though). With the deepavali festival soon approaching(don't say its a good two months from now, i will take you down to the adayar bridge and throw you into the cooum in the area with the maximum amount of disturbing foul looking things).

You see, madness, has no cure. There is only palliative cure. That is why, most of the bus/auto/lorry/other such big things are driven by extremely careless, stone-faced, haughty, I-don't-care-for-the-mere-mortal-down-there types, who are immune to criticism, constructive, destructive, or any other severe forms of it are free to roam around in the streets of the city. I know, I whine now, like a little girl, as if I have never driven in Madras before. No, you don't understand what this place has become-too heavy and congested for its own good. I slowly get a sinking sensation that we might be headed the bangalore way.

Going ahead, I have nothing against auto people. Most cavalier, trustworthy, well-behaved, disciplined and neat lot. I know you would want some of what I am smoking right now, and I know you wouldn't believe me if I stripped naked to prove the veracity(I don't know how that would prove anything, but the picture is vividly voyeuristic, and strangely exciting and disturbing at the same time). As I was saying about the drivers, they all have a healthy disregard for anything that is on a sign board; of course, if the sign board has a picture of a skimpily clad silk smitha, then things are different.

MTC bus drivers have to be taught two main things.

1. There are other human beings driving on the road, and sometimes there are some creatures called pedestrians.

2. The clutch, is located right next to the left leg, at the bottom of the seat in which the driver usually sits;it must be employed when changing gears, or some engineers feel the need to press their ears against the seat in front and close their eyes and pray tearfully when they hear the meshing gears cry for mercy.

Some serious suggestions, even though they might be temporary(from the trip to, er...ok, US. I am not showing off, I thought some of 'their' rules made sense):-

Left and right only lanes

More number of one way streets to regulate traffic

Lane discipline at least on all arterial roads that are wide enough to have 4 lanes

Speed limit enforcement(I mean enforcement, not like on the boards)

better training and better facilities for drivers(MTC buses)

No horn zones

Autonomous traffic regulating body to study effective methods to monitor and improve traffic bottlenecks in the city(not CMDA, though i have no idea what the hell they do)

It would be become much worse if nothing is going to be done about the current state of affairs, and no amount of metro trains can save the city if every other part is going to be choked. Seamless inter connectivity, feeder routes from stations, and what not; Will anybody listen?(At the cost of sounding like a same bit news the whole bloody day news channel)

Now you are in Madras...(like alicia keys)

A wailing shrieking bawling toddler kept me up all through the flight from NY to Brussels. I was not the only one who was absolutely cold and shaking with fury. There was a man in front of the seat where the baby was sleeping, and he got up and actually asked the baby to stop. That was how non-stop it was. The captain just finished briefing us about the flying time and the weather, as if we were going out for a stroll in the middle of a flight-'wow, such a lovely wind'; thus started the crying menace, its then that i wanted to ask myself this question: why breed?

As much cold-hearted as I appear, given the fact that all babies are supposed to cry and puke a la shakespeare, I could not understand this need to cry for six bloody hours. Ok, you get hungry for a while, you get uncomfortable for a while after you eat, but what is with the continuous wail? On top of this, Jet airways serves paneer with all your meals. I am pretty sure I had paneer in six different forms, with the same taste, and at the end of the last meal, I would have gladly taken off my shoes and eaten them rather than eat that paneer. My stomach was begging me to stop seeing it, I forced myself to eat it.I had to actually lodge the food down my throat using a fork as a shovel. Not that it was bad, just that, I had to eat the same thing again and again. A little more paneer and I would have started to look for the cows and the farmers responsible for the paneer; a earful of my fury and a mouthful of their paneer.

There was a young boy sitting next to me, who looked a little like me when I was his age-plump, glasses, no etiquette to say thanks when somebody helps with your headset etc. His mother was seated in the front seat with his brother(probably). I know parents can be quite irrational. I mean, they are, aren't they? In the name of being concerned, they do the silliest of things, and embarrass the child throughout his life. Some pride, isn't it? When people ask you, is it your son, the parent beams with the widest smile possible, and says yes! oh, god help us mortals and our attachment to life and its paraphernalia(I have always wanted to use this word, yay). Coming back to the story, she asked the boy to actually go to sleep, when he was wide awake watching some hindi movie. Slowly, 'the please go to sleep' became 'go to sleep beta', 'give me your glasses', 'give them or I'm going to smash every bone in your little face'(ok, that was from me), and the boy handed them over finally. He fell asleep, and he started to snore. Yes, one more reason to keep me awake. Yes, I need to know what sleepless nights are, after working with a jackass of an advisor and bed bugs, now it was the turn of a toddler and a juvenile brat to keep me up. All ages, both the sexes will keep you up at some point in your life, let's just be prepared was the message. Great.

Back in Chennai airport I felt primitive, disconnected, lost, enigmatic, furious, disturbed, dysfunctional and chaotic all at the same time. I was back!Haha, Madras. It took the baggage conveyor 90 minutes to tell me that one of my baggage was missing. I went out of the airport to a blast of hot air, the stink of urine and god knows what else. Truly, I had arrived. The first thing I noticed in my house was-high ceilings! I had forgotten those rooms! Of course, the truly beautiful journey of using the Indian style toilet: ha, the amazing concept, which so many people fail to understand and appreciate. Its a beautiful construct of the human imagination. Thanks to whoever created it. Screw toilet papers. Yeah baby.

What else is beautiful and disturbing? The advertisements on the crumbled buildings right next to the sewage river, the street corners being turned into public restrooms, complete disregard for pedestrians everywhere, the joy of walking over the garbage bins on the side of the roads, and the sight of betel leaf stains in every single wall on the city. This is what I saw when I left, and somehow, I thought India would be developed in the two years gone by. No, I was an idiot. But, it will become beautiful. It will be a great place.(Not because I am back, but partly could be!)

We need to give ourselves some time.

what could be the most boring act that you had ever performed in your life?

stared at your computer screen mindlessly till you wait for the internet connection to resume? what is it, your eyeballs have the power to plug fibre optic cables across the atlantic?

waited for a bus that will be here any minute now? The minute they talk about, is pure evil. It hides, elusively, preys on the human mind, making him weak and feeble until he realizes that he should give up, and kill himself.

spent hours and hours trying to clean up the toilets when they have molds which would require any human to possess the strength of three hundred whoppers to clean them?

Sat there all day, looking at the ceiling fan, complaining about life, talking nonsense to self, making very poor jokes about everyone else, mocking everything else on the planet, I am sorry, I think that was my usual routine...got carried away.

This one is what comes to my mind, as the daredevilry, a mindblowing and phenomenal act of boredom, the master of all boring acts, the king-if you will:

Cleveland, on a weekday.

Its such a small sentence, but you would see that everything is wrong about this. Almost everything. Cleveland, is the biggest mistake. The next one, is of course, weekday. It is a pardonable offense, and pales into insignificant insignificance in comparison to the first c word.(shhh....)

Its like saying Voldemort(wince) out loud. But voldemort is the most handsome and chivalrous gentleman when compared to the cleveland torture. Its a place, for all those who are not familiar with it. Its a place, that is probably the worst thing to have ever happened to human kind, after sarah palin. Its located in American mid-west, which by itself is gloriously dry and boring, unbelievably sparsely populated and has 0.1% of the sensation that Venice has. What is fascinating is, there are people living here. Real people, like you, like me(ok maybe not me), and they live here. You know, live.(laughing, very very hard, going to throw up now)

The first thing that captures your attention as soon as you enter the city is, it is a son of a b**chy bore. The downtown, boasts of some beautiful sights that are hardly worth remembering, so I am not going to go into the details. I cannot even if I want to, because that is how exciting it was. Next must visit, is the Cleveland's rock and roll hall of fame museum of crap. It has some of the most exquisite nonsense about rock stars-people who had no idea that they would be commercially exploited in the name of tourism couple of years down the line when they were living in s**t poverty, trying to sing their butts off for living a decent life.

Weekdays are fun. Everybody else totters off to work, spending time usefully, contributing something to the taxes, making the planet a better place to live, exerciseing their brains lest they become defunct, making more social contacts, on the whole, they do something with their lives.(There I go again). I went to cleveland, because my roommate had an interview. I know, can there be any more worse excuses? I mean, this must be the worst of the worst of them. This is bottomline insult to the basic reasoning pattern of the human adult. This is ignorantly being arrogant of the dangers of no thinking, or some people would say this a the 'dimwit revolution'. People like us, should not be allowed to think and take decisions, it might prove to be very dangerous for the society. Much worse than those gun waving, hate speech shouting lads, or those three piece suit wearing, policy making, cigar smoking blokes.

Slowly, life unfolds. And folds again. and unfolds. and I will keep writing this, because I have time, but for the sake of the reader's patience, I will just say this-Life is unfolding, and all that we get to see is a either a beautiful canvas of hope, dreams, joy, fulfillment, and magic, or a tarnished, derelict grey hued, bleak and foreboding picture of styx. Its the mind, that understands that the portrait is not of these dualities, it is a portrait of us, a portrait of our strength, endurance, humility, perseverance,humor, of our belief, and of our ability to look at ourselves as a human being, rather than as a marketable product-only they have successes and failures. As human beings, we must be something more than that. That's enough philosophical nonsense.(if my repressed emotions dictating me to write nonsense qualifies as philosophy).

Cheers. See you all in the next post then.

ps:

#1

none of the he/she stuff indicates my chauvinistic tendencies. Anything that is applicable for he is also applicable for a she, in most of the cases(pregnancy, menstruation etc.)

#2

No gender discrimination, we are an equal opportunity blogger A/F/V/T/5/O/X/"/D/tongue rolling out/screw you we don't hire you/

#3

also, read the post below if and only if you want to read some foul mouthed comments on Indian politics, very foul language.

"always look on the bright side of life"-whistles.

I bow my head in shame for a grave, unacceptable, irrecoverable error of judgement, a blunder that I had committed a few months earlier. I am yet to recover from the trauma and grief of this tragic mistake that I have been looking for redemption from this sin for the last few days like a thirsty traveller in the deserts, looking for the oasis, but dreamily. I should not have done what I had done, and there is no repentance for this sin. A confession would ease my burden, so here goes:

(fumbling with the keys, sweating and panting very very hard, a little asphyxiated)

I said tendulkar is getting old, and he should not continue playing cricket.

I know. You are probably ashamed of me. Shocked, disgusted, outraged, confused, and benumbed by this atrocious crime of mine. I deserve every single moment of your disgust, every single word of your invectives, every single syllable of the sounds of admonishments and reprimands; but I am thankful to the few who would be willing to pray for me for this grave error; I know I have now overburdened myself with bad karma. I cannot find solace for neither kailash nor vaikuntam would forgive me for this, but I will tell you this-If tendulkar were to be reborn as tendulkar again in my next birth, I will relive every single moment of this birth minus this impetuous display of careless judgement of one of the single biggest phenomenon of our country.

As it is, from reading my posts, you would understand that I am a little confused, borderline mad, and bottomline stupid. The incident I am going to narrate now, would tell you how I managed to surpass all these, that I would categorically go into the 'bats**t' stupid classification. I went into a fast food joint. I ordered for a veggie platter. You know what I said after that? I said, 'No meat.'

So, I said, 'Veggie platter, no meat'.

Repeat slowly after me, and take your time-'Veggie platter, no meat'.

I thought I was a human being until then, but after this, I am seriously starting to question my roots. What would I have to be? More importantly, which planet in which galaxy? Which other planet in this universe produces idiots who can surpass the ones of this planet?

The clerk at the counter excused himself for a second to go into the kitchen, and when he was back, I saw that he had changed his pants. The old wet ones have to be washed...

After seeing Inception twice, I believe I have some right to make some noise about it, in addition to the existing clamor. Don't watch the movie trying to understand the movie, but pay attention to the attention Nolan has paid for the details. Such meticulous attention to details, elaborate detailing, mind numbing stunts and such a genius of a plot. I still think this movie deserves more than the attention it already deserves. I am not going to write off the criticisms of the movie as blasphemous. The movie is an engineering marvel, and the man who created this deserves the glory-a la matrix, lord of the rings, etc.

This humble good-for-nothing couch critic's opinion: Not even Nolan can create a Dark Knight again, God bless heath ledger.

Now, for some lessons: Don't ever stop. Don't bow down to life, when it tries to break you. Live, and break it. Life is tough for the strong. Its a challenge for the adventurous. Its the most beautiful song for the poet. Its a series of blinding directionless turns for the lost(and lady drivers). Its a blog for the hopeless. Its a frightening dream for the realists. Its a struggle for the meek. Its a lost cause for the downtrodden. Its a worst case scenario for the dreamers.

Life is always good. So, lets do something stupid!(be careful when you drive with all that weed in your car).