Time

Monday, 24th November, 9:33 pm
Venue: VT Station

I catch the 9:33 Dombivli Semi-Fast and settle down with a packet of samosas in a window seat and start watching 'Two and Half men' on my ipod.

Tuesday, 25th November, 9:33 pm
Venue: VT Station
I catch the 9:33 Dombivli Semi-Fast. This time I don't get a window seat. I settle down and start reading about a Trading System.

Wednesday, 26th November, 9:33 pm
Venue: VT Station
I wasn't there. I left early, just a tad.


I don't know whether to rejoice about my lucky survival or feel sorry for the people, who were feasted upon, by blood hungry, heartless, non-living things.

Sevittu machine

Navratri got over last week. We generally have golu at our place during Navratri. I really looked forward to the golu since it meant, I would get sundal and in addition, cute girls come home wearing silk dresses and sing carnatic songs.

It's been three years since I had been at home for golu. But, as some distant relative had passed away, we couldn't have it this year. Still, some pattis had come home for some pooja.

I was home at that time, sitting quietly in a corner and listening to my ipod. A patti came close to me and was curious about the ipod.

'Yenna da ithu, kaathu kekathava machine maathri?'

!!!!!!!

'Illa paatti, ithu per Ipod. Ithula paattu kekalaam'

'Oh, transistor-aa?'

!!!!

'Aama athu maathri thaan'

'Seri kaami, naanum kekren.'

'Inthaango.'

I swear to god, I am not making this up. But this is what happened next.

I was listening to Pehli nazar mein. It was almost over and I gave it to her when the song was about to change.

Note: She doesn't know too much hindi.

She put the earphones and was looking at the small screen.

'Saawariya Saawariyaa.....'

'Yennada ithu, yenna saawariya nu kekkarthu!'

!!!!!

I immediately forwarded it to the next song. This is where I hate my playlist.

Next song blared on her earphones.

'Saawariya saawariya..' This was from Swades.

'Che, yennada ithu, yenna thitindey irukku. Poda neeyum un sevittu machinum'

Oranje Originale

Today we had a soccer fest in my company. After my name was forcibly put by my well intentioned colleagues, I had no option but play. I was put in Orange Originals team and was given a cute orange coloured kit too.
Aha! Chance to be a Nistelrooy, a Persie, a Sneijder or if lucky, a frigging Van Basten!

As usual is with amateur football, everyone, I mean everyone, wanted to play forward. We had a mail list of my team mates where we were discussing about at which positions people would play.
There were 9 in the team, of which 6 wanted to be forwards and claimed to be good strikers and bad tacklers. Rest three, including me, didn't even bother sending a read receipt to those mails. What enthusiasm!

So the day arrived. I should say, the event was brilliantly planned. 100 people playing football, running 10 miles each, on a nice, soothing 40 degree celsius, 95% humid day. There was a shamiana, where tasty breakfast was provided. Cheese sandwiches, masala dosa and the works.
Were we going to play football?

After some passing and shooting practice, we decided our spots. Since I could run fast and had a non existent left leg, I was made a right winger.
Yay!!! Beckham!!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The goal kick from rival keeper reached me. I somehow kept it in control with my, now bulging, paunch and started running with the ball.

Huff. Puff.

I looked around to see if I could pass to anyone. My captain was shouting at me to pass the ball to him. The only problem was, he was standing even behind the goalkeeper of the other team, since there was no offside, and there were exactly 5 players of the opposition between us

So, I did something which was vaguely close to dribbling and neared one of their midfielders.
I tried to pass the ball to my team mate, but my footballing talent betrayed me, as I flung my leg above the ball and the ball stayed there itself. But this fooled the other guy and he went off balance. So I could go straight on. Wow! A fake pass!

I started running again.

Huff. Puff.

This time, a small defender, roughly the size of Inzamam ul Haq and with a very close resemblance to Evander Holyfield, marched towards me, like an animal that is no longer existent in financial markets.

To say that I was afraid would be an understatement. I didn't know what to do.

Out of instinct, or pure luck, or whatever, I pushed the ball between his legs and before he could turn, I ran around him, and took the ball and somehow with a huge amount of divine intervention planted it into the net.

GOOAAAALLLLLLL!!!!!!

I just went fucking crazy. Didn't know what to do. Put the jersey over my head and ran around the ground, showing my paunch and my poonal in the process to the crowd around. Drama King!

God, I still can't believe this. I really can't.

But the sad part is, this historic event was neither photographed nor captured in a video.

Just like Kapil Dev's 175, yet another episode of sporting excellence went away uncaptured, but will always be in public memory, atleast my memory. :-)

Trigger my passion

This weekend I watched Rock on for the fourth time. Yes, I downloaded the music one month before the movie instead of buying the CD as advised at the end of the movie. However, I now think that I have more than compensated for that by watching it four times in expensive multiplexes and gorging on unbelievably overpriced coffees, pop corn and soft drinks.

Every time I watch the movie, it sends me into a downward spiral. As you know this movie is about an investment banker who is really passionate about music and stuff. I know that's not the core story, but that's what is relevant to me. :-)

I keep thinking, 'What is my passion?'

In terms of extra curricular abilities, my mom used to quote Dilbert -
'Don't worry that you do not have any talent. 95% of the people in this world do not have any talent.'

I don't know whether it was actually said by Dilbert, but I sincerely hope it's true. I like the comfort in being in an overwhelming majority. But again, its the minuscule minority that gains maximum attention, like girls in a mechanical engineering course.

The problem that kills me is that I do not seem to have any passion. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Then, I tried to define passion as something you really love to do, to see if that way I can decode something.

After some hard thinking, I realized, I was very passionate about sleeping. I loved to sleep for 10 hours. But that is something like an unaffordable luxury nowadays. Still, a passion for sleeping doesn't lead you anywhere.

Hmm..what else?

I am passionate about potato chips, watching cricket at home sitting in my sofa and eating vadams, listening to music, watching cheap tamil movies and the likes.

Did you observe something? Nothing is productive.

I mean, I do not play cricket, I watch cricket.
I do not play an musical instrument, I just play my Ipod.
I do not cook. I just eat.

What a waste of life!

Rock on rant

Dear Abhishek Kapoor,

Congratulations for making a very good movie with some amazing music. I understand that you took great pains in developing the characters. However, as a part of the now maligned investment banking community, I would like to raise our disapproval of the far too real portrayal of an investment banker in the movie.
I mean, come on, yes, we live absofuckinglutely sad lives. But that doesn't give you any right to show our not-so-happening life to the truest colour and dilute away our already diminishing value proposition to the womankind! We had been living in denial and were perfectly comfortable living that way. But you changed all that.

My friends are now asking me, when I will get married, so that they can shift next to my house and give my wife company while I spend time with my first wife, my job!
You tell me, how should I handle queries about my friends' taunts about me finding paying guest accomodation inside my office!

We were so happy, with people looking at us with newspaper reports flaunting our over hyped, wrongly calculated and ridiculously misquoted, high salaries. Now, they look at the same newspapers and call us to find out the latest score, the number of people fired in our firms. And your film has added fuel to the fire. Anyways, I hope you understand our feelings and make sure you do not show any investment banker in poor light again. For all you know, you might need help from one of us while listing your production company or managing your wealth. :P

Yours faithfully,
Karthik

PS: Forgot to mention, thanks for letting the investment banker have the cutest wife in the movie. If only that was true in real life......sigh!

Paalitiksh

Of late, we have been seeing some violent protests in a couple of places in the country by some political leaders, who do not, as of now, have that much a standing in their respective electoral regions. I began to ponder whether, these so called populist leaders, were really there for the concerns of the people or something else. My logic was, if they were really concerned about the people, they wouldn't be harassing others in the process, right?

Then my friend told me a story and things fell in place.

Some years back, a Korean auto major opened a plant in a port city in South India. It was provided vast swathes of land, near a highway, almost free of charge. Nobody opposed it then. The reason was, both mouths, ruling and opposition, were stuffed. The ruling CM got a percentage on each car sold from there and the opposition got a flat rate so that there would no voice raise against the deal.

This did not happen with the Indian auto major, who setup a plant recently. The CM did not request for anything 'on the side'. So, they industrialists completely forgot about something called 'opposition'. Their beaks had to be wetted. Their silence had to be bought. But it wasn't and you can see the results now.

Another interesting situation is happening in the financial capital, where a certain leader is trying to whip up linguistic fervor in anything and everything. We shouldn't be be surprised if we see requests for a regional anthem in the local language instead of the sanskrit one we have now.

This is being done for primarily for two reasons. One, to corner the vote bank of the hardcore linguistic fanatics. And two, to position himself, as a nuisance generator. Greater the nuisance value, greater will be the 'water' provided to quench the 'thirst' in case of any new projects in future. There is no need to be a ruling party to ask for 'water', it depends on how much nuisance you can create.

-

We had just reached Neyveli at around 3:45 am after a torrid 6 hour bus journey on a road which resembled the moon's surface with craters bigger than Wankhede Stadium. Probably, Armstrong took a photograph on these roads instead of the moon.
We had just settled down that my uncle got a call.
'Who's this so early in the morning?'
When he picked up the phone and started talking, his facial expression changed instantly. The news was of my Athimber thatha's (My mom's uncle) death.
I wouldn't say this was totally unexpected, but didn't expect it so soon, since he had been very sick and was under constant treatment.
He had died in a hospital in Chennai and they were bringing his corpse to Neyveli,a journey of about 200kms. My uncle asked me to help him in making the arrangements for the ceremony.

That's when it hit me. This was going to be my first encounter with a dead body. I have never been to a death ceremony in my life, have never seen a dead body so close, infact, I have lived inside a cocoon so far.

I was amazed by the speed of arrangements by my uncle.
How could he be so unemotional and do everything so efficiently?
How could he bargain with people at this moment?
How could he tie up the stretcher on which the corpse was supposed to be carried?
How could he?

Then, it arrived. There was crying, wailing, chest beating, hair pulling, and silence.
I caught a glimpse of my dear athimber with whom I had played night long carrom games, watched and dissected every cricket match, discussed about principles of metallurgy, discussed about maniratnam and balachander, discussed about BJP and Congress, discussed everything.

All those moments came swirling back into my mind and gushed out of eyes as tears. I couldn't avoid myself seeing him so cold, so blue, so pale, so lifeless. I couldn't believe he has become an it.

The last rites were performed and they started pouring rice on him. I went out, brought a pack of carrom coins and placed it on his leg and took his blessing and left the room, crying for my friend, my carrom rival, my cricket co-supporter and my cousin grand dad.

His son, later, came over and hugged me and said,
'We burned him along with those coins. I think he will be happy.'
I had no doubt that he would be.

He She

He didn’t understand the complicated admissions process. Hence, he met her to understand the process better and arrive at a better strategy for his brother’s admission. She explained to him in a very lucid way. He was impressed by her way of keeping things simple.

They discussed about admissions for about fifteen minutes and then talked about everything else for god-knows-how-many hours. She made him some nice filter coffee and he, in turn, gave her the address of a famous trust which gives out prestigious scholarships. They exchanged numbers and he left, telling that he will keep her updated about his brother’s admission.

Days passed. They exchanged messages ranging from enquiries about the admission to silly forwards. His brother didn’t get through in Round 1 and he was disappointed. She told him everything would be fine and suggested he should watch MMKR, which he promptly did.

After a week involving a couple of unintentional bump-ins and longish phone conversations, his brother got through into a great college and he was ecstatic. He immediately called her up and excitedly told her about it. They again started talking. Talking about things they had in common and did not.

She was cute, intelligent, smart, funny and bold.

Bold, because she asked him out, without any apprehension, much to his surprise. Probably it was her age or her hormones or both. He didn’t know how to react.

He still doesn’t. Because, she’s seventeen. And he’s twenty four!

Epiphany

Just found out today, I am Mr. Subramaniam.

-

The Olympic Creed reads: The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not to win but to take part.

We have been taking it a bit too seriously I guess.

Phrandship Day – The truth?

For whatever it is worth, Happy Phrandship day everyone!

When I went out with my friends for a Sunday evening cutting-chai, I was startled to see loads and loads of guys and girls, bursting with hormones, their arms covered almost completely by scribbles, signatures (all with marker pens), satin bands, stickers and what not, waiting outside restaurants, cafes, gardens and in some cases temples! After some uncontrollable ogling and in the process getting reprimanded by our female friends, we came back home.

I feel that FD is becoming a proxy for Valentine’s day.

It’s simple.

If you are a guy, and you like someone a lot, but are afraid to ask her out for the fear of rejection since you are a loser like me, then friendship becomes a nice carpet under which you can brush in the stuff, a la Mujhe Kucch Kehna Hai. You can atleast hangout with her and you always feel you have a chance. So, on FD you can show how much you really feel for her, how you are a ‘good friend’ and blah blah blah.

If you are a girl, you know this guy is hitting at you, you are not really thinking about getting into a relationship and hence want to keep him at an arm’s length and so what do you do?

In BC, you tied a rakhi to him.

In AD, you make him your ‘good friend’ :-)

Because now you are smarter, you do not want to close the option by tying a rakhi but don’t want to exercise it as well. Just keep it in the bag for possible future use.

Cheers to friendship!

Haemorrhage!

I got hit in the knee yesterday.
I got hit on my right hand today.
I am perenially bleeding through my skull.
The seven fingers of my left hand are always trying to rip off from me.
My right hip has always been attacked.
My left waist is always injured.
Please allow me to live!
Please don't bleed me to death!

Tatt-2 can't dance saala!

I watched JTYJN yesterday with a couple of guy friends. Sad. I know it's a date movie.
There was this song called 'Pappu can't dance saala' which was really good.
Wait a minute! Pappu sounds very similar to Tatt-2, my dorm name. So, I thought I should rewrite the lyrics a little to make it more fun and more realistic. So, here's the new version.

Nahi muscular, Nahi popular, Nahi muscular, Nahi popular, he is a loser, he is a bachelor
Tatt-2 ki zubaan tez hai, Tatt-2 cricket mein waste hai
Tatt-2 ki aankhen chaar hai, Tatt-2 dikhta bekaar hai
Duplicate ghadi haathon mein perfume sasta wala
But Tatt-2 can’t dance saala, Tatt-2 can’t dance saalaTatt-2 naach nahi

Paida Tatt-2 hua to kismatein chamki
Aur uske ghar par giri paani ki tanki
Hey hey hey Tatt-2 dikhta hai bhaisa
Hey ye.. ye bhaiyya ke tabele ke jaisa
Hey hey hey Tatt-2 yaaron ka yaar hai
Hey ye.. ye.. Tatt-2 dimaag ko ‘shot’ hai
But Tatt-2 can’t dance saala, Tatt-2 can’t dance saalaTatt-2 naach nahi sakta

Papa kehte hain bada naam karega,
mera Tatt-2 to aisa kaam karega
Hey hey hey Tatt-2 ke paas hai M.B.A.
Hey ye..ye.. karta hai Dombivli mein holiday
Hey hey hey Tatt-2 mugta rehta hai..
Hey ye.. ye.. jahan interview karta hai hagta rehta hai
But Tatt-2 can’t dance saala
But Tatt-2 can’t dance saala, Tatt-2 naach nahi sakta!

They think I am no good.
I agree, because I am, but a shadow of myself.

Two emails

Dear Karthik,
Thank you for your interest in the PQR Group. Although it is clear that someone with your qualifications has much to offer, we have been unable to identify an ideal match between your particular background and experience and our current needs. However, we will keep your resume in our files on the chance that a suitable position should become available at a later date. We appreciate your taking the time to contact us and wish you the best in your job search.

Sincerely,
XYZ,
Strategic Growth
PQR & Co. Ltd
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hello Karthik,

Hope this finds you well.
Subsequent to your interactions with Greg, we regret that we will not be able to advance your application to the next stage of discussions.
It is always very difficult to discontinue an interview process, but we are buoyed by the fact that we interact with exceptionally qualified and talented people who have a wide range of opportunities to choose from. On behalf of the recruiting team at ABC, I want to wish you the very best in your career.

Best Regards,
DEF
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I signed out of my gmail inbox and got back to therapy. Nothing to worry about.
Therapy consists of watching porn and Michael Madana Kamarajan, eating vada pav, playing cricket in my lane with 6-7th standard students and cheating and reading some amazing books suggested by a very good friend of mine. Never knew reading could be this fun.

The call

Job hunting is tough. Especially in these times when people are struggling to hold on to their own asses. So, when I got shortlisted for an interview at a top notch company, to say that I was thrilled is a lie.
I was nervous. Finger biting nervous. Hand shivering nervous. This was my chance after a long time. Light at the end of a long tunnel.

So, I started preparing. Prepared like there was no tomorrow.

It was going to be a telephonic interview at 6 pm in the evening. So, I was all geared up at 5:45.
Mobile phone charged. Check.
Sheets of plain paper. Check.
Pencil sharpened. Check.
Spare pencil sharpened. Check.
Earphones of my mobile phone. Check.
Settle down calmly in my bedroom with doors locked. Check.
Pray. Check.

It was 5:59. I started staring at my clock. Every second seemed like a year. I was like a guy who had just proposed and was waiting near the phone for her to call.
Seconds, minutes crawled by.
Still no sound other than the raindrops in the balcony.
I could hear my heart beats. It was driving me insane.

This continued till 6:20. Nothing happened.
I did not get the call. I tried calling my friend who works there.

Then gave up. Felt like throwing my mobile phone on the wall. It had no network. It was on emergency mode. How on earth would I have got a call on that fucking phone?

Why me? The worst thing is I couldn't even yell out my frustration. I didn't want to affect my family.
So I called and cried. Now the son-of-a-bitch network was working fine!

Unintentional loudspeaker

Just found out to my surprise that orkut is a big, huge, monstrous zillion watt loudspeaker. Within 23.6 seconds of me changing my location from London to Mumbai, I received 492 scraps asking me whether I am back for a vacation or for good or am I just having fun or am I plain crazy.
Should I use 'reply to all' and shout about my situation?
Or should I just get back to my bed and try to lose sleep thinking about another uncertain sunrise that beckons?

PS: This is my ringtone now. :)

Sayonara

Time to bid adieu to the city which promised a lot but delivered a painful blow. But yes, I have grown up now. Grown much older than the one year I spent here. More than anything else, it has proved me the idiocy in placing too much faith on people, no matter how close they are. I have learnt more and more things as I spent more time in this city. Every place I have gone before has always given me new friends whom I treasure even now, but this place has disappointed me. It has shown me the darker sides of people, that people can be very selfish and heartless. Not that I have been a saint either. I have been at my worst here. Grow up Karthik!

Will I miss this city? Probably a little bit. I will miss the sheer variety of things available here, the closeness to the exhilarating Europe and the clean Thames.

Will this city miss me? Haha, are you kidding me? I had very few close people here and by design or by fate, each and every one of them has hurt me big! So much that I don’t even want to think about them anymore.

But then, I ruminate. I will ruminate.

These people and my moments with them are my memories which I take from here. Please don’t take them away from me! I know some of the emotions were faked, but still I would like to be an ostrich and be naive.

As I sail into the waters both familiar and unfamiliar, I might look back at the peacock feathered page of my life sometime later. Don’t know whether it will bring a smile or a frown in my face. But change my mood, it will.

Sayonara Old Blighty.

My love..

It’s 2 in the morning and I am wide awake. You don’t allow me to sleep. You keep coming back into my mind all the time. I think about you ALL the time.

I know it has been 2 months and our separation has been painful.

I think I need you now.

I crave for you. I want to be with you. I want to feel you.

I love you!

More than ever.

Please come back to me, you little drop of heaven on earth. I miss you sooo much! Mmmuaaahh!!

Alter - Ego?

I get out of house once in a day for having my dinner. Dinner is fairly uneventful with me taking a book with me and reading it as I effortlessly slurp the ‘South Indian Meals’ at one of the quintessentially Thamizh restaurants in East Ham. However, today it was thankfully different.

I was talking to my brother on phone and we were discussing about the increasing price of samosas in theatres in Mumbai. We generally talk in sentences containing words from English, Tamil, Hindi and Marathi. As I hung up the phone and started salivating in the thought of devouring Chole Baturey, the guy, who was sitting in front of me and sharing my table, smiled at me and asked,
‘Are you from Mumbai?’
‘Yeah’
‘Where in Mumbai?’
‘Dombivali. Have you heard about the place? If not, its near Thane’
‘Dombivali? Wow! Where in Dombivali’

OK, this is getting interesting.

‘East. Pandurangwadi.’
‘Arrey wah! I am from Anand Nagar.’
Pandurangwadi and Anand nagar are adjacent lanes.

Both of us have lived our lives there.
Both of us are Mechanical Engineers.
Both of us were vegetarians.
Both of us ordered Chole Baturey.
Both of us missed Vada pav.
Both of us were returning in a week to the adjacent lanes.

Both us had been made redundant.

Similarities can be painful sometimes.