Geekish Sambar

The Blonde and I

2007-01-10T21:50:00.000-05:00

Joie de vivre

Firstly, Happy New Year!!!! The first ten days of this year has been pretty interesting politically. Increased minimum wages, 20000 extra troops in Iraq, falling gas prices. The questions to follow are 1. how much is the tax going to increase by? 2. What will the rate of inflation be next year? I’m trying not worry too much about all this so lets put this behind our backs for now.

I hear a knock in my apartment this evening. It’s about 9pm on a wednessday night so it couldn’t have been those drunken frat boys who knock on every door they walk by at 3am on a Saturday night. The only possibility is that it could be a salesperson asking me if I were interested in his latest product to dilate the kidneys and bladder for a more comfortable urination time at the bathroom. Usually when i hear a knowck at the door, I creep to my front door and peep through the eye hole so the person outside would not realize that I am inside the house and if it seemed like a legitimate person I would then think about opening the door. The last time I opened the door was for a guy in his late teens who was rooting for the Democratic Party and needed donation before the congressional elections. I was proud to donate money even though I wasn’t eligible to vote at the election. Curious to see who it was this time, I crept to the front door and peeped through the hole. I saw an attractive young woman in her twenties who was blond, wore a yellow shirt and tracks.

In most circumstances, men who live by themselves would usually open the door to any attractive strange woman knocking at their door just to see what the hell the woman really wants. Men would love to think that the woman has knocked on their door either because a. May be she is stalking on him and wants to be intimate with him or b. May be she wants something more than just friendship. But unfortunately or fortunately both those options are false 99% of the time since its just our ego that talks during those times and its normal for our egocentric selves to think that we are the center of the universe.

Anyway, my egocentric self decides to open the door because that’s the normal reaction right.

Me thinking: Hmm. Okay stay cool. Be yourself. Its just a normal woman. Nothing is going to happen. Just stay calm. Just make sure buggers are sticking through my nose. My hair is fixed. And I dont stink too much. Ok cool. Now lets open the door.

Blonde: Hi. I just wanted you to know that your keys were still outside on the door lock. Just wanted you to know. That’s all.

Me: Oh Thank you. That was nice of you.

Blonde: Bye

Me Thinking: I’m an idiot.

That explains a lot about how our response signals in the brain changes for different kinds of people depending on the situation. My response would have been totally different if were for eg a guy. I might have never opened the door, thinking that it might be that lame sales person or some guy rooting for the republican party. Now is it good or bad to change responses is a different thing. Obviously, you wouldn’t want to talk to your boss like you would miss treat your wife. But definitely in certain circumstances we could try and be unbiased especially when it somes to sex, gender, religion, and other factors that one is born with.

On a completely different note, my vacation in Denver was white. No, I was not surrounded by white people all the time but there was about two feet of snow outside the house after the second big snow storm. To have a decent vacation, we either had to sled outside in the nearby hill or had to own a Hummer to commute to the nearest freeway. We decided to have fun in the least expensive and environmentally friendly way by sledding. It was actually surprisingly fun because the hill in the backyard was steep enough to make us roll over and fumble in snow. This was the first time I had actually seen or used a sled. The Sleds I had seen before were the Bob Sleds in winter Olympics and those in the movie “Cool runnings” when I secretly cried at the end of the movie. While watching the movie, I was so pissed off at the Scandinavian Bob sled team that I wanted to start my own Desi Bob sled team and show the world that South Asians were good enough to compete in the winter Olympics. Unfortunately, my desire was crushed when my family pushed me into engineering, which didn’t require the weather to be below zero for more than half the year and doesn’t require much thinking at this point of time in my career.

Coming back to sleds, we first had to make our own paths for the sleds and the more often we traversed the path, the better and smoother the trail became. But making the path was energy consuming in and of it self, especially if you didn’t want a boring straight line that just traveled from top to bottom of the hill. With the help of manual labor, a few gallons of water and a shovel, we finally managed to create a whole bunch of different paths that had smooth curves with walls by the side for extra protection and a huge bump in the bottom of the trail to basically give it a dramatic ending with a hard ass-filled memory. The temperature was a steady 25 def F and the weather was sunny. Perfect for a nice day of sledding. After a hard day of work, we returned home with ice stuck in our underpants and butts swollen from the bumps.

The rest of the vacation was spent in treating the swelling with alcohol. Since the alcohol would cause a burning sensation if applied directly on to the swollen region we decided to take it orally in adequate amounts. And now it sucks to be back to work.

Happy Thanks giving

2006-11-16T22:56:00.000-05:00

This year has been a year of change in every aspect of my life. And the republicans wouldn't agree more about thier lives either. Tomorrow will truly be black friday for the republicans and unfortunately the war in Iraq was the #1 topic of judgement during the senate, state and governor elections. As for Minnesota, I couldn't ask for better. The streak of success for the independant party has come to an end, hopefully. Keith Ellison, an african-american muslim man became a congressman and Amy Klobuchar, a woman, became the senator. Infact, we did create history by having a muslim win in the state elections. Forgetting all the elections results for a little while and focussing on this picture for a moment.

Can anyone tell whats going on in the minds of the characters in the above picture.
I predict
Pelosy: OOOO, Its hard to keep a smiling face in front of these suckers. All I want to do is just find a restroom and empty my bladder. I need to tighten my pelvic muscles to avoid any sort of national embarrassment.

Bush: Oh god, will I ever get to be the decider again?

Cheney: Only I know who I am taking quail hunting with me next time. Hopefully, my pacemaker doesn't act on me before that.

This will dictate the bi partisan relationship in this country. We will reallly see how the two parties will work together in this mess between iraq and increasing taxes, not to forget the global war on terror and the dependance on oil.

Google reaches $500 a share, I cant care less since I own or can afford to own a decent nu,ber of them. But I do like their icons on google.com reminding me of every holliday there is in the world, without any ethnic prejudice.

For those who are not aware, Michael Richards (Kramer in Seinfeld) has gone public about being a racist. He openly insulted a black man on his show calling him a n**** multiple times. He even said that "50 years ago he would have had a fork up his ass". I dont believe that there were some people on crack who were actually laughing at these statements in his show; simply not acceptable or funny. I'M NEVER WATCHING ANY OF KRAMER'S SHOWS AGAIN.

And this was not the first time Michael Richards has made racial slurs. He has once done it in Seinfeld itself.

Viewers throughout the United States and Puerto Rico were outraged by the racist portrayals in the May 7, 1998 episode titled "The Puerto Rican Day Parade."

In that episode the character "Kramer" sets the Puerto Rican flag on fire "accidentally." Kramer then throws the flag on the ground and repeatedly stomps on it, supposedly to put out the flames. In response, an angry crowd rocks Jerry Seinfeld's empty car. Kramer remarks, "It's like this every day in Puerto Rico."

The episode also included anti-African American and anti-gay "humor."

It goes to stay that there are some crack heads in this country that are still given importance and the opportunity to go public and make statements that offend a big group of population. We can only hope that things would change with time.

On the good side of things, today is thanks giving. One of our friend has invited us over dinner at their family's place. Those times are always good. Even if you are not eating good food, you can always enjoy the cheap prices for all the goods tomorrow. Happy Thanksgiving.

Ask what you do with what you have

2006-11-01T20:44:00.000-05:00

Finally the devil is back again. It took me a while before I could gather the energy and enthusiasm to write an article on this blog. I am unsure if my sickness was due to the change in temperatures from the Bahamian “Pamela” tanning conditions to the Polarian “Republican” conditions that brought me down to a state of pandemic sneezing and drooling over my office furniture until my manager literally took me by the collar on a leash and dragged me out of the building giving me a paid vacation in my six by six feet bed. It was rather hard to do anything without coughing my lungs out and keeping my cat sane (as you know they are peaceful creatures that came into existence only to play the role of wrecks and hate to be the victim of one i.e. me).

So I spent a whole weekend in bed declining two offers to go to a Halloween theme party as a rock star (which might have been unusually easy in the state of condition that I was in considering my disgruntled look 24/7 with scrubby long hair that smelled of cats ass, pale food-hungry face that was whitened over time due to lack of adequate moisturizing, and most importantly under the constant dosage of Theraflu which always kept me on a pedestal just like how Homer felt when he was the first to reach the top of Mt. Everest in one of the episodes of the Simpsons. With a little bit of mascara I could have gone as Prince. That would have been a very apt thing for a Minnesotan), declining an invitation to a night’s dinner and punk rock bowling and declining another offer to go to a south indian restaurant to eat idli, vada, and ofcourse Sambar, and instead I ended up sitting like a couched potato watching the Detroit tigers loose the world series. I was also unfortunate to watch all the negative ad campaigns for the up coming election on TV. Can’t the politicians be a little more creative than that? Let’s not spoil our day dealing with that for now.

The reason why I took myself to the computer and started typing was something that got me thinking while I was driving back from work this evening. No, it was not an accident or a speeding ticket. This incident happened long ago, not so long enough that I can still remember and long enough that it doesn’t bother me anymore.

Even before I begin my story, I should give you a prefix to the story just to introduce a certain idea that might not be common in the U.S. Most Indians from India would have heard of IIT. For those of you who haven’t, no, the acronym doesn’t stand for Indians with Irritable Testicles. Upon conceiving, this is the university that an Indian parent often dreams that their kids would go to and is often proud to associate themselves in some fashion or the other. I have known mothers who fast at the time of pregnancy hoping that a. It’s a son and b. He would graduate from IIT. Fathers on the other hand, beat their sons just so he can learn a little more math to gain an advantage. God forbid, if the child was born a girl, then she will not go to IIT since the probability of finding her a husband who was more educated than her would drop to a mere 0%. Because, according to Indians, THERE IS NOTHING GREATER THAN A BACHELORS IN ENGINEERING FROM IIT.

It is understandable when you meet a snobby IT person admitting in a headstrong fashion that he graduated from IIT. But here are some unreasonable circumstances that Indians often love to associate themselves. I would put them in ascending order of the serial numbers and/or descending order of their self-respect.

1. Statement made by a proud father to the public at his daughters wedding even though the focus should be on the daughter: “My son went to IIT (his eye brows rising beyond his temples and his eyes offering a stare expecting the same out of the listeners). He then went to America and is now working for Microsoft.” That’s a stereotypical example of a proud father. If a guy achieves this status, he is the shit. Nobody can touch him. At this state, IIT will be virtually renamed Indians with Increasing testosterone.

2. Statement made by a proud friend at his college which is not IIT: “dude, my friend. Actually, my best friend (as though proclamation to the next level of friendship will add to the genuineness of his statement) is doing Mechanical Engineering at IIT. He tells me that they hardly study before exams. They must be studs man.” And of course his friends must agree because if they disagree anything that is even close to what an IITian said then they are EVIL and DUMB.

3. Statement made by a proud neighbor (of an IItian) at a party in order to authenticate his wife’s cooking skills: “Our neighbor’s son went to IIT and then went to IIM. He is a very good friend of ours and he keeps coming to our house because he loves Sheela’s food so much.”

4. Statement made by a stranger to reinstate that his house is worth millions or crores: “ You can get to IIT from my house in five minutes by walk.”

5. Statement made by someone who wished to study at IIT: “I was so sick on the day of the written test that I couldn’t think; otherwise I am pretty sure I would have aced the exam to get admitted into IIT.”

As you can see, there is a lot of virtue and value for IIT in India even if you don’t have a degree. They teach you two things: engineering and spending your teenage year’s sex hungry. All my life, people have been in my ass to prepare for IIT. And promptly, I have been enjoying life by not having gone through that. Now, whether I would have been a more successful person if I graduated from a certain university is like saying I would be a happier person if I had the same amount of money as Bill Clinton. One thing is crystal clear; I would definitely get a lot more sex if I was Bill Clinton than if I were to go to IIT.

Coming back to my story that kept me thinking in the first place. We had a couple over for dinner at our house. I only knew them through an acquaintance. And we were all sitting and chatting with steaming hot chai in our hands. During our conversation, the woman finds out that my dad went to IIT. Then she turns to me and asks: “So what have you done with your life?” I, on the other hand, instead of getting angry and throwing my hot chai on her made-up face so she can never look at herself in the mirror, burst out laughing. She was awestruck because she wasn’t that funny. That made me realize that among the educated Indians, there are popularly two kinds a. Ones that went to IIT and b. that wished they went to IIT. Fortunately, I am neither of those.

The American government often compliments the Indian system of education for giving more importance on Science and Math. But I appreciate the American system for allowing the individual to think independently rather than just following a herd of sheep to write software programs for bill gates. Also, they teach us to appreciate a wide set of fields which the Indian system doesn’t. In fact, if you didn’t study engineering or medicine or if you did not graduate from a prestigious institution you are pretty much considered a loser, unless you get really lucky and become a politician in India, that would be the lowest stature that any person can attain in a life time unless you have a beard and a blue turban.

As I thought about this incident, I became sad, not because I didn’t go to IIT, but because people’s perception of success and happiness are so skewed. But as I parked my car and entered my apartment building I heard two guys exchanging a conversation that totally cheered me up. Incidentally, it was related to closely what I was thinking. Yes, they were talking about sex and women, what else could it be, right?

Guy1: Did you watch the last episode?

Guy 2: Dude, I totally missed it. Fill me up on the details.

Guy 1: Nothing much to fill. I just hope my wife is like that babe on desperate housewives.

Guy2: Dude, even Clinton was not that fortunate so don’t even think about it.

Sorry Hillary, even with the face lift you don’t make the Lewinsky cut.

Bottom line, ask not what you don’t have, ask what you do with what you have and for heaven's sake stand up for yourself not your friend or neighbor or some random person who went to a random university.

Btw, IIT stands for Institute for Indian Techy’s, don’t count me on that, I might have forgotten the correct order.

The crazy Indian Guy

2006-10-11T22:41:00.000-04:00

If one was educated in India anytime between 1975 and now in an English medium boys college, they must have come across a majority of hard-rock lovers who were turned on by any man on stage with a guitar who could played three strings, head-banged until his legs drilled a humongous hole on stage and shouted like his mother was drowning in the ganges river. Now I know how Indians are sensitive about their heavy metal bands but has anybody ever heard of Pat Boone? If not, you are missing a huge album from your collection. When Pat Boone rocks he does it hard. And he knows how to rip every metal band like a butcher. Go figure out for yourself. This should be your motto of the day.

On a more “sane” level, I was trying to call up the Dell customer service to replace my cat-bitten, toy-treated adaptor which was ripped apart from the insulation. God alone knows how my cat’s whiskers weren’t on fire while she was biting the un-insulated wire while it was plugged in. Now wait, I know what you are thinking. we have all witnessed Dell’s insanity on the phone; especially when it comes to putting their customers on hold, giving us some in-house telephonic music and manufacturing accents that cater to 60 different countries around the world (These don’t include any of the African nations as they still reportedly use the Konrad Zuse’s Z1 computer of the 40’s, or Afghanistan – who’s main customers being Taliban, feel that Dell computers are too heavy to wrap around their waist and so prefer to use IBM ThinkPad’s instead to do their killer programming. Besides they hate Dell’s country music while they are put on hold, they prefer commiting suicides without ever having gone through that.)

We hate their accents and their fake names (I meant the dell customer service personnel). But surprisingly, I was done with my phone call in just one hour and fifteen minutes flat to replace an adaptor. In that time span, they made me listen to instrumental country music for 45 minutes, practiced their American accents, and gave me ideas to post on my blog, way to make my hold-time worthy. This is amazing development from the usual 3 hour phone conversation with any Dell rep for any sort of issue. The guy assisting me, called himself Pete, even asked me to have a cup of coffee while I was to be on hold. Another woman, Sara, "surprisingly" had a cheap American accent and took ten minutes to diagnose the problem while asking me 829 questions for an adaptor. Of course, I had to lie about why my adaptor was not working but still.

One piece of advice for those extending their warranty with Dell, make sure you try and squeeze out at least one new hardware component each year to make up for the warranty money and make sure you make your calls at night, so you don’t loose all that money you just made on paying your peak time cell phone bills. This is how customers might have to adapt in the new millennium in order to keep a balance in CEOs’ fat pay checks. Another piece of advice for Business process outsourcing executives, it’s not enough to just have a glamorous degree from a top-notch institution and arrive in a hippo of a limo to your bay facing glass office unless someone can put their nuts into practice i.e., satisfy customers. You don’t want to fuck this world up more than necessary. We have enough consultants, i-bankers and corporations that already do that. And quit giving your employees frat boy names for god-sake when they sound like Patels and Shahs. We hear enough Matts, Jons, Bens, Jakes, Brads, Daves, Toms, Mikes, Jims, and Bills in our daily lives (I think I have covered about 80% of first names among white American men)

Shew! So now that I have poured all my frustration to your eyes and have finally received my new adaptor, I now have the charge to write some more crap. On a completely different note, I have been meeting a lot of new people in Minnesota and I am actually taking a more positive approach at this whole moving into a fishing-hunting-farming country thing. Yes, they do have limited things to do, but they are not the worst people to hang out with. I have seen some psychopaths in Nevada and Utah who would rather light a fire up their ass and live in their trailer burning in their own ashes than come across an Indian guy in a highway gas station. I would even choose to watch a Tigers game in the middle of Detroit downtown than walk on the streets of Omaha, which reminds me of the Yankees. I can finally forget them for this season. They deserve it. Cumulative pay of all the Yankees’ players was higher than the sum of the Orioles’ and Tigers’ combined. They might save lives if they gave up the game and put it to some good use.

Anyway, Minnesotans are much nicer than that on the outside. Meeting all these people has been a blessing in disguise or I would go crazy as hell just watching TV and living with a cat. They make me laugh until my voice echoes the room like an operatic singer gone insane. They make me dance like a domestic dog that hasn’t seen his master in days. It makes a big difference to even do the craziest things with the craziest people. I have to live it up to everyone’s expectation or else I would be branded as one of those Desi Indian guys who is on the internet with his dual headset-microphones wrapped around his head all the time, chatting with his friends and family in his mother tongue whenever he gets free time at work (which is 80% of the time, 20% for lunch) as though he is in a town hall meeting where making noise is not a concern until he removes his head set to find an entire line of frustrated office crew lined up at his cube waiting to put an end to his career which is when he pleads that he would be deported from this country if they ever complained to his manager. So he moves his chatting venue to a coffee shop that offers free internet because he is too cheap to buy his own internet connection at home. Besides he has to deal with the Comcast customer service which is a whole new story in spanish.

The crazy Indian guy finally reaches a conclusion to all this mess. His strategy to dealing with customer service people, call centers and getting a social life is not to own or possess any electronic goods as all the Asian companies have transformed it from a niche market to a necessity. So that way, the crazy Indian can shake and shape his booty on the dance floor at the nearest club that is walkable and at least hope to get lucky. Or else he can only hope to spend the rest of his life on the phone, internet or watching TV while his virtual wife serves him samosas and chutney so his stinky ass gets only a quarter inch thicker ever month. But then the girl he dates realizes that he doesn’t own any techy gadgets unlike a stereotypical Indian guy finally dumps him within the first thirty five minutes of their meeting. He is now back to square one. Basically, I’m not that crazy Indian guy anymore.

I have met people of different combinations of races, sexes and castes to an extent that they don’t fall under a particular category. Seriously, one of my colleagues considers himself 25% irish, 10%african, 15% native American, 20% Swedish, 20% unknown. What category could you possibly put him under? Even his great grand parents had a tough time figuring that out. Not only that, there is a conflict as to whether 20% Swedish blood actually contained a significant percentage of Norwegian origin in it. So he calls himself American and when it comes to filling out applications to purchase a cell-phone and indicate his ethnicity he ticks every category there is possibly available except asian. That explains the theory that distance really matters when it comes to screwing around with someone of another ethnicity, if slavery wasn't in the equation.

There are other people I have met. These fall under the meat loving category. And these are not the usual meat eaters; they are the kinds who are proud to call themselves carnivores. They don’t care about the quality, just quantity. I mean they would literally have a hamburger by sandwiching two buns around a bison, shoot the bison and eat the damn thing before the bison has any moment to wake up. They also think that by eating a 5 pound steak, that was originally a grass-eating cow in its past life, they in-turn eat vegetables i.e., grass. What could one say about eating pigs then? That’s why muslims and jews were clever right from the start, unfortunately they don’t get along. These people hated me when I took them to Udipi, which serves only Indian vegetarian meals. Again, the point is I am not the same crazy Indian guy anymore. We’ve established that fact to a satisfactory level for tonight. So goodnight and good luck.

My Alchemist

2006-09-24T12:05:00.000-04:00

Until about a week ago, for entertainment outside of work I used to watch the worst TV serials that mainly contained hook-ups, cheating and rich businessmen, also called “Fashion House” and “Desire”. And when I got bored of TV, I checked myself in the mirror (not for the sake of vanity) and amuse myself with acts and different facial expressions, not consciously. I wouldn’t realize talking to myself in the mirror until about 5 minutes before I got bored of myself and ran out of facial amusements. Most of my amusements would consist of imitating my high school teachers with funny accents (one of my chemistry teachers in 10th grade in Muscat had created a record for saying the phrase “now then now” 112 times in a 45 minute lecture. He would promptly say that at the beginning and the end of every statement. I don’t think I would match that even if I had to just recite that for 45 minutes like a mantra.) Unfortunately, that led to most of my friends hating chemistry for the rest of that year because of the time spent in counting the “now then now’s” to see if he broke his own record.

I never fell short of jokes to say to myself because of all the interesting people I encountered in my life. There was this one class in my undergrad called engineering mechanics that was taught by the most frustrated lecturer ever. He had been in the college for about 20 years and never got promoted to an assistant professor and so he decided to just remain weird by showing his frustration by insulting his students in class in the worst way possible that unfortunately/fortunately came out of his mouth as the funniest one liners of all time. I once got caught in class for not reading one of the materials that he had instructed the class to prepare and he came up to me with a dirty look. I nearly shat in my pants until he opened his mouth to say “It’s not enough if you are fair and have brown hair.” Period. Apparently I was supposed to derive the inner meaning out of that sentence. I nearly would have shat in my pants and embarrassed the hell out of myself (atleast pissed) but for him. His name was Arulappan.

Since Arulappan taught engineering mechanics, there was a lot of theory on metals and their material properties. On one of his lectures he had asked us to research on all the material properties of the most important metals. Once we were ready, he asked us a simple question as to which material would be most suitable for pistons in cars. There was this kiss-ass guy in class who loved to show off his knowledge during any of the lectures often with the motive of impressing his way to get an edge over all the brightest guys in class. He would raise his hand so high and would breathe so heavily as though he just climbed the Himalayas ten times and had the attitude that he should be given the right to speak whatever the hell he wants. On a completely seperate instance, he raised his hand so high that he tore his shirt, the pubic hair sticking out of the armpit hole got more attention than his heavy breathing. Since then you could only see him in loose shirts. They were so loose that they would billow on windy days and so we called him “the APMM - annoying panting marilyn monroe”.

This time was no different and obviously he had to open his mouth for which he would terribly regret later for the rest of his life. I was not involved in the least with this debate and I have managed to remember this incident after ten yrs to the precision of every syllable which he would definitely regret even after death.

“Sir, I think, since silver has the lowest weight/volume ratio and the highest strength, that should definitely be used as the piston in all the cars. I don’t know why all the manufacturers use aluminum.” I could see that this guy was so proud of his answer that he thought he was going to ace this class for the rest of the semester and that he would change the nature of auto industries. Once he gave the answer he turned around to look at the entire class suggesting that we guys would never have thought of such an answer. He was goddamn right about that. Most of the time, Arulappan was zen as though he was at peace with himself accepting the inequality in life. Even during his insults he would be very zen and deliver them instantly. It was a natural talent born out of frustration which only he could attain. But the look that he gave now was something beyond Zen. I mean, Mr. Zen himself would probably kiss Arulappan's ass. That look would have to be patented as Mr. Arul. It was Zen with a fire inside him to burst into the most ugly form of matter which unfortunately had to be speech. Boy, was he not pissed to hear that answer. The poor student was devastated after that encounter and refused to raise his hand for the rest of his undergrad career. His self-confidence level dropped to a mere 1 percent that he finally quit his career to become a miner so he could never show his face on ground level and simultaneously learn about metals. He would finally start to wear tighter shirts because he would never have to raise his hands again but to lift himself up from 2000 feet below ground level.

Well, even the most creative minds wouldn’t have thought of what Arulappan said to insult the student. “Why silver? Ha ha (the monstrosity in his laughter echoed across the room just to magnify the effects of his fiery speech). Why not gold or copper? Take all the expensive jewels in the country and turn it into “pistons of India”. The king of Saudi Arabia might have a Rolce Royce with golden pistons and diamond rings to take his 500 wives. And you are asking me why not silver. What audacity? I must say your parents have given birth only to a composition of protein molecules forgetting the remaining elements of the brain. Go back and check your mother’s womb, maybe you might find some silver. Do you even know what it means to be born with a silver spoon?” That was enough to keep me entertained for the rest of my life.

Oh Arulappan, he brings me humor even to this day. I don’t think he should ever be promoted because he wouldn’t be the same, I know its horrible to think that way but it brings happiness to 200 students every year. He was a form of engineering mechanics and speculative philosophy who practiced in the contemporary period and concerned himself principally with discovering methods for amusing others with metals into golden humor and with finding a total comical solvent and an elixir of life - My Alchemist forever.

Sambar has no curry powder!

2006-09-10T12:30:00.000-04:00

People-watching is one of my many passions. For one, it is just a good time-pass in a city like Minneapolis where fishing is the main recreation on the weekends and secondly, its just in my blood to observe people and their attitudes/behaviors in different circumstances. May be I got it from my dad, cause growing up I remember him sitting in one corner of the room unaware of his posture, his shoulders tucked under his neck and his head tilted back a little resting on his neck, observing people, while my mom was the exact opposite. In any party, she would be the talkative one but when we came back home to gossip about the outing/party (like we used to in most cases because we love gossip. I think life would be very boring without gossip. Men like to blame it on the women and accuse them of being gossip mongers but they just like it as much as women do, just that they don’t participate, but they sure do want it all in full.) she would have the least information about the substantive matters of the conversation and behavioral descriptions.

When it comes to interactions, I like to observe a bunch of things such as body language, topics of conversation, background information, reactions to certain things, politics, intellect, communication skills, etc etc. Over the years in the United States, I have grown to find the most interesting of all these variables to be race and racial perceptions. In a place like Minneapolis, where people have an “on your face kinda” attitude, a fundamental Midwestern quality, the dynamics of human interactions become all the more interesting (I must have been a sociologist in my previous birth); well at least my girl friend is in this one, which is the best I could ask for! But, my point is I love to watch people, irrespective of the venue whether in a restaurant or a mall or even in Victoria secret (where my analysis would be biased due to an increased level of hormonal disturbances in THE BODY).

I recently became a member of the YMCA in northern Minneapolis. This was the closest Y and besides my friend is also a member with the same branch so company to work-out is best, otherwise the work and out will become independent of each other. The members of the gym are predominantly African-American because of the surrounding neighborhood. North Minneapolis is considered "unsafe" and is often given nick names such as little Iraq (pronounced like "eye-rack") with no suicide bombs, black, and all the other paraphernalia of stereotypes. Obviously, like most impoverished neighborhoods that are close to a big city, this one is also becoming gentrified slowly but surely. Gentrification (for those of you who haven’t heard of the term) is (in simple words) the migration of people of medium to high socio-economic status into neighborhoods that are predominantly people of lower socio-economic status. The method with which it takes place is by means of inflation; increase in real estate value and the smart schemes those financiers come up with that most people don’t understand. Anyway, without beating around the bush, there are a small bunch of white people that are members of the gym with the regular brown crowd.

The calculated timing of the workout of white people in that gym is worth mentioning.

a. You never see them past 6pm in the evening.

b. They either come early in the morning or between 4 and 6pm.

c. You can only see them in groups of 3 or 4 (all white people ofcourse, even if they don’t know one another they would just tag along the rest), working on bikes or elliptical machines or the tread mill, always on the watch out for mugging or expecting to be robbed out of their smelly tracks and their sweaty shirts.

d. Surprisingly (this is the only time this ever happens to me), they show signs of security when they see Indian people at the gym. Maybe because I am not one of “those” or maybe because I am a blend of white and black – somewhere in the middle; or maybe because I have a black friend and I am not black; I don’t know the reason. But I feel important at the gym. The whites look at me for security and the blacks are glad to meet an Indian person who is not terrorized by them.

The reactions of black people towards me are also worth mentioning:

a. They think it’s cool that my first and last names are one of a kind.

b. They think that the Native Americans should not be called Indians just because Columbus was a fool.

c. They also think that Indians complain too much of the United States being culturally backward and that they should go back to their country if they don’t like it. (Unfortunately or fortunately, the white people think that blacks are too dumb to write software programs so hopefully my job is secure!)

d. They also think that Asians are taking away all their jobs and when they refer to people of color they usually don’t include Indians and Asians in that category. (I cannot be responsible for the present urban and governmental laws nor can I be responsible for 13 year olds missing school, carrying guns and dealing with drugs. Even though I cannot be responsible for the act, I should be responsible for not changing it – it’s an oxymoron (No Mr. president, it’s not a bad word)).

I know I cannot speak for all the Indians in this country but I do know their general perception of black and white people in this country. And all I want to say is, there are black people who are well educated like my friend at the Y (who has a Ph.D. in applied physics from the university of michigan, who doesn’t consider himself a dork. For god’s sake, which black guy has a Ph.D. in physics without being a dork?). And also, I do know of white people who are high school drop outs. And for the rest I say, there are Indians without long-ass names and yes there is Indian food that’s prepared without curry powder - sambar..duh! Yes, all of what I said is surprisingly true!

That’s just one example of the dynamic that can be observed in a diverse city. And of course, people tend to make their judgments based on the color of a person, just like people ask me all the time how I learnt to speak English so well. Of course, in Minnesota, if you get too tired of watching people you can always go fishing. May be that’s a good way to go on a recluse if you dislike people. Observing fish may be far better than tasting them, unfortunately the two acts would have to be independant.

Wonder Planet

2006-08-19T15:43:00.000-04:00

Have you ever wondered why we react to things the way we do? Yes there are differences between each and every one of us but there are some commonalities among human beings as a mammalian group. Just like there are commonalities among dogs, cats and other groups. Call it evolution or intelligent design or religious belief, the fact remains that we, as humans (I don’t wish to include the Israelis in this category of mammals) act in certain ways that society has influenced, directed or expects of us. If we were to remove society and let a human baby grow without intervention, it would be a very different world. I still think that there would be commonalities among humans independent of societal influence.

Lets forget all the geography lessons in high school that praised the earth to be the only planets with machinery to support most forms of life and that this was the place that made every invention in the universe possible and that the marriage of natural beauty and man-made technology is something that can never be accomplished in any other planet in any other galaxy. Screw them who claim there is insurmountable evidence of a lack of existence if life in any other part of the universe. It’s sad that planetarium and museum committees in the United States have to market their research by calling on Hollywood artists like Tom Hanks and Harrison Ford to give credibility lessons in an entertaining manner just to attract audience and to make them believe that there is something other than the earth out there. Shew!!! Now let’s step back a little -

In order to study the natural characteristics of humans, I studied animals and their behavioral patterns with and without societal influence. Not surprisingly, they have very similar instincts that humans do in the most basic needs. For example, with a bowl of food and three domestic cats, there are several possible outcomes.

a. If one or two of the cats is more powerful than the other, then the weaker doesn’t have much of a say.

b. If all three cats are equally powerful, then its survival of the fastest eater.

c. If one cat is not interested in the food, then he/she is probably sick.

d. If two cats are not interested in the food then they are probably focusing on something more important.

e. If none of the cats are interested in the food, then chances are that the food you served is crap.

If the cats were feral, then they would all fight for the food no matter what crap is found in the ground. And this is not just wrt food as is true with humans too. Although, we really don’t have feral humans, Israelis might be the best match for that category as they have clearly exemplified their qualities within the past few weeks’ events. Of course, no body knows the reason behind their feral act even to this date, including them. Instincts, is what I call it modestly.

The same is probably true with religion too. People who follow a certain religion have many things in common. For example, the Shiites hate the Sunnis. Both those groups hate the Kurds. The three groups hate the Christians who hate the hindus and Buddhists and Jains. Every group in the world hates the jews who happen to hate themselves too.

With so many things in common within groups yet so many differences between us makes the world a complicated place to not only understand but also live. As it is, it’s hard to understand science and truth. Understanding social science adds various degrees of complexity since it involves people and their biases and emotions. This is why I have taken the easier route of studying science. It’s much easier to come up with theories and hypotheses about why the heart is behaving the way it is or why people die of heart diseases and why we need exercise. Astronomers probably got sick of studying the earth that they started exploring if the world outside would be a better place to live. Even of there is 60% Nitrogen and 10% oxygen, they would probably risk the trip and see if it’s safer out there.

The way, at which the present scenario is moving in the world, we would probably die from the fear of being hit or attacked rather than a rise in cholesterol levels. Although, being without TV for one day can make an enormous difference to your life. You don’t have to listen to Lou Dobb’s theory on immigration that he has not changed in the last year and continues to say the same in different words. I usually don’t listen to him talk but today while I was working out at the gym, the TV in front of my machine happened to show CNN and I was unfortunately forced to listen to him while I was working out. But there was a positive outcome out of it, I was able to get to my target heart rate of 168 beats per minute within 3 minutes, thanks to Lou Dobbs. It’s amazing how a person can tell the same thing over and over, five hours a week for an entire year. He does tweak the words a little bit and brings in new guests once in a while like Bill O Reilly, to authenticate his theories!

Not to sound too pessimistic, I must say that we have a lot to offer this environment. So I have found my new passion – astronomy.

breaking the rules

2006-07-27T18:20:00.000-04:00

Q. What is the minimum distance to maintain before a stop sign of a school bus.

A. 30 feet

Wrong answer. 20 feet

Q. What is the minimum time space you should maintain behind a vehicle?

A. 4sec

Wrong answer. 2 sec. Wait for a vehicle to pass and count one thousand one. One thousand two and only then follow.

Q. Which lane do you take while making a left turn from a two-way traffic to another.

A. Left

Wrong answer. Whichever lane is available.

Q. What is the most correct answer while waiting in a signal to take a left turn

a) Have your left indicator on

b) Be on the leftmost lane

c) keep your tires pointing straight before making the turn.

A. a)

Wrong answer. C) always keep tires straight in case a vehicle collides from the back so that your car does not contact with the opposite traffic.
.
.
.
Final result. 74%. You have failed the test. Please talk to the examiner.

There are two things that are apparent in the US. Spending money and spending more money. Seriously, does anything come for free in this country other than bad news (war). WAIT, even that is taxed.

So this is my plight after a month of careful driving in Minnesota and five years in the U.S without a violation other than a speeding ticket (which was totally unexpected since it was in the middle of Kansas where the speed limits are 75mph and I made the cop’s day by giving him the only human contact for the day. Yew! not like that. Actually, I was with my friends Lalith and Sid. Well, it sounds like an orgy but its so not. And the best part of the speeding violation was not that I got a $120 ticket but that we requested a photograph with the cop handing me the ticket as though I was getting a $10,000 award for winning the Nobel peace prize between white and brown people in the state of Kansas. I secretly wanted the photograph to document the fact that the only other income for the state besides dairy and meat business was speeding tickets and the only white people residing there were cops, the rest were of course Mexicans, who else would slog in the meat industries for $4/hr in the US while the industries made record profits?).

I sincerely believe that the written test is the hardest part of getting a driver’s license in the US, harder than even dealing with white business men or women in Ann Taylor, or retired men behind the steering wheel or even kids in the Minnesota state fair (biggest fair in the country, apparently kids gets wired up with sugar intoxication from fried Oreos, cheese flan and glazed donuts all for under a dollar). The success rates of these tests are 15%, which closely matches the percentage of people working at the Department of motored vehicle (DMV). So, what do you do? The easiest thing is to break the rules. And in the event of getting caught for a violation, no worries, just request a photograph with the cop handing you the ticket and then you can frame both the photo and the ticket in your living room. What the hell, you will at least have a story and make your life interesting rather than being dull and lawful.

The Village of Aksa - Chapter 5

2006-07-16T13:04:00.000-04:00

The three boys walked out of Camili towards the end of the school boulevard and then were completely out of sight from Atipu. Janaka’s stomach was churning with butterflies out of fear and his skin became so sensitive that even the slightest wind made him crawl onto Sampa’s shoulders.

“Why are you so scared? Haven’t you been to this part of town before?” asked Klacken in a casual manner.

“No. We haven’t. Where are we exactly?” asked Janaka

“We are at the neighboring part of town called Bocham. This is where all the dead bodies of people from the neighboring villages have been buried for ages. Fifty feet from here, to your right, you will notice a huge cemetery containing bodies that are over 2000 years old. It takes about two days just to walk a full circle around the cemetery. I have only been there once with Mr. Khaus. People usually don’t find their way out if they are deep inside the cemetery as the large number of crisscrossing paths make it impossible to keep track of your way.”

They were walking past the cemetery while Klacken was explaining to them the details of some of the tombs that he had seen on his visit. Klacken mentioned that the bodies were kept for a reason for which he didn’t have the answer. Janaka couldn’t gauge an end to the cemetery across the path from where they were walking from. The entire scene was serene from the outside with hundreds of trees sheltering the entire stretch of the cemetery with a few birds chirping and squeaking occasionally. There was no sight of human existence in the vicinity.

The three boys walked tirelessly for nearly an hour before they could spot another person on the road. “Aha. I think we might be close to the town where Mr. Khaus resides. I am completely relying on my memory from the past experience. I just hope our efforts aren’t wasted after all that walking.” said Klacken.

“In that case we would have atleast seen the cemetery that no one has heard or speaks of.” said Sampa sarcastically.

Klacken or Janaka gave dirty looks at Sampa as they really didn’t appreciate humor at this point in time. They approached an alley way where Klacken led them through and then stopped in front of a door that had something written in a language that they had never seen. Klacken seemed to have recognized the spot and showed some familiarity.

“It says, Love be shown upon those who deserve it and especially to those who don’t. It’s an ancient script called Saamo primarily used by the inhabitants of this town about 1000 years ago. I don’t think there is anybody who spoke or understands this language anymore. I am merely conveying what I was told last time.” said Klacken.

Both Janaka and Sampa were awestruck by this afternoon’s events. Even though Sampa was known to be the braver of the two, he began to doubt his courage from the time he walked past the cemetery. Janaka, on the other hand, was sure he wetted his pants at some point when they walked past it. He had only heard of dead bodies being burnt, never buried. He always thought it to be sinful to bury dead bodies. The thought of the remains decayed matter of bones and skeletons beneath the ground freaked him out. The unfamiliarity of this very town that he was in didn’t really mitigate the overall existing fear in him. All the worst stories that he had ever heard of growing up about dead bodies and scary towns came into mind and he didn’t rule out the possibility of every one of the ghostly tales to be true.

Klacken knocked at the mysterious door a couple of times. There were no signs of anyone coming to get them. Part of Janaka was glad that they could go back to Atipu but part of him wanted to see Mr. Khaus just so he had some support as had a reputation of being extremely powerful in especially warding off evil beings. Just before the boys decided to head back to Atipu they could hear someone shouting from the inside, far from where they were standing. They decided to give another knock at the door and wait for the response.

“Coming. Coming.”

It was the voice that was unusually high pitched for a man. Klick. A man, with an unusually long grey beard and hair that came up to his shoulders, opened the door.

“Sorry, I was busy in the kitchen preparing dinner. So how can I help you boys today?” said the bearded man.

“Sir, we are looking for Mr. Khaus. We are students from Atipu. I am from Camili and they are from Ashra.” said Klacken.

“Ashra. Yes Ashra. I used to teach the science of miniscule creatures back in the days when I was much younger.” The bearded man went into his own space probably fantasizing his younger days but he was quick to come back to reality. “There are so many things in life that are not under one’s control. The constant struggle for justice and equality in the world is time and energy consuming, and sometimes we may never experience the positive results that we work for. Sometimes, that is what that keeps us going. In this age of hatred and violence amongst one another, the least we could do is listen and accept one another. Sorry, I am going on a tangent here. So who are you boys and what brings you all here from Atipu?” The bearded maintained a serene expression even though his thoughts conveyed a mixture of emotions about his past and the present.

“Well, sir. My name is Klacken. I have met Mr. Khaus previously and now I brought Janaka and Sampa here because they were told to meet him.” Klacken expressed no doubts about their dreams and was confident about Mr. Khaus’s intentions in the dream.

“Ok. Now may I ask how he told you?”

“Mr.Khaus came in my dream a couple of days ago and communicated it….sir.” said Janaka instantly as though he was the one who was supposed to answer that question.

The bearded seemed to have anticipated the arrival of the boys and didn’t hesitate to let them in.

“Mr. Khaus is in his room and wishes not to be disturbed for another day so why don’t you boys come in and I will show you your room so you can spend the night there. You may wish to move around town. There are plenty of things to do here, you can watch some of the street plays that happen every night at the central block, or you may wish to eat in the huts nearby to try out different kinds of foods that are available in this town that may not otherwise be available in Atipu. Or you may even go around the farm that we have in our back yard, it’s enormous and goes all the way up to the cemetery. I’m sure you will find things to do here for a day. If you need anything, I will be either in my room or the kitchen, so don’t hesitate to call me.”

Having given them a bunch of options the bearded man began to leave before he realized that he hadn’t introduced himself. Stopping for a moment and turning back he said “Oh, by the way, my name is Nahaari. I am Mr. Khaus’s assistant. Oh and let me show you your room.”

The three of them gave a huge sigh when they heard the name. They had come across several stories of the sage named Nahaari mentioned in their academic books. Most of the stories exemplified his bravery and courage in numerous wars that were fought in the town of Bocham.

Thee three boys were taken past a huge living room through several passages and were then shown the room. It was very spacious for the three of them with three beds and a window that opened out to the farm which they guessed was the backyard. Once he showed them the room, he left and the boys made themselves comfortable. The first thing that Janaka did was to close the blinds as he didn’t want to see the farm. The three of them were so tired that they hardly spoke to one another. They just lay there looking at the ceiling in the room and dozed off before they even realized it.

Life in the twins

2006-07-11T12:51:00.000-04:00

Condolences to all the people in Bombay who died in the blasts today. May we pray for peace in this world? Incidentally, Syd Barrett of pink floyd called it his day too. May we pray for more crack and weed in this world.

Sorry to have to write on this day. It’s been a hectic month with all these new developments happening around me. I started my first official job ever, if you don’t account for the several part-time jobs that included lifting chairs and tables with weird men and beer bottles or the full-time research assistant position that just paid my beer and living expenses. This is also the first time I am living in a city beyond the latitude of 45 degrees that reaches a record min temperature among the biggest cities in the United States, if the Minneapolis were a big city.

I hardly knew the existence of this city until I got my job and planned my move. Apparently, this is the city that bears the headquarters for 15 of the fortune 500 companies including the company I work for. I spare you all with the rest of the fun facts of Minneapolis today and get straight down to the business of explaining the events of the past month or so.

In a matter of 3 weeks I visited three continents and countries, 12 cities and 7 states. Not too much for a regular business traveler. It’s just that I expected the vacation to be relaxing and the job to be stressful and not vice versa. But things are expected to pick up at work this week when I would officially start getting a few strands of grey hair and facial stress-wrinkles to closely resemble a middle-aged Indian man who doesn’t satisfy his wife in bed. Added to all this, I also had the tension of whether or not I will clear the drug test for no apparent reason. This indulged me in a behavior of taking no oral allopathic medicines even when the situation was dire in the restrooms that were the natural symptoms of suffering the last few days in India from diarrhea and dysentery. I was just scared that the drug test might show positive results for something as simple as Tylenol. Besides I was just worried about the 5% error in drug tests assuming that I would fall in that category. But all turned out fine.

Minneapolis is a fun city and has a pretty chill downtown with a lot of educated young people around even though you don’t need to be educated to be fun; in fact, it’s most often vice versa which is what makes Minneapolis a unique place to live. St. Paul is the sister city and they are generally referred to as the twin cities/metro area to include all the neighboring cities to come up with a sizable figure of about 1 million in comparison to some of the bigger cities in the country which are all peanuts in comparison to the population of India. The downtown in Minneapolis surprisingly (considering how much importance is given to soccer in this country) has a lot of bars that showed the world cup soccer matches. But I was in no mood to watch it at the bars and sadly my TV hadn’t arrived from Ann arbor before the finals so I had to end up following the scores online and reading the text by the minute. They even covered the racial slurs exchanged between materazzi and zidane. It was still shocking to see Zidane end his world cup career in such an unprofessional manner. It was also disheartening to see the world cup finals end in a shoot out.

I was recently introduced to a Thursday happy hours list for which I attended on time in desperation to make some new friends only ending up listening to a bunch of MBA grads talk about their accounting and finance classes that they had taken fours years ago. But it was definitely fun to hang out with random people and to learn what was appropriate and not appro to talk in a group.

This is the city of ten thousand lakes so you can pretty much find water bodies and a million mosquitoes hanging around streets and boulevards you enter which is why most Minnesotans are known to be introverts. But culture is slowly changing with more and more humans replacing mosquitoes and a growing number of Asians cooking them with soy sauce for dinner (It must be challenge to eat them with chopsticks though. Although I did hear the Chinese are considering eating their hands, sorry with their hands, now that there is a serious problem with the availability of wood in china).

Anyway coming back to life in Minneapolis, I think I have a pretty good idea of what it is like to live alone in an apartment and I am ready to get a room mate but unfortunately I have signed up for a one year lease so I guess I will have to make the best with what I have i.e., dirty thoughts, a bed and a laptop! Oh btw, I was referring to working. More from me soon.

Alive

2006-06-18T08:37:00.000-04:00

Its been a hectic month, for a change, to shift from no work during the day to working everyday from 9-6. Well, I still haven't started my new job yet but I can feel the pressure in the air crushing my brains and squeezing out all the energy. At the moment I'm in the process of vacating my apartment in Ann Arbor and relocating to Minneapolis. So, pardon me for not writing too much but I just wanted to let you know that I am alive and will be right back to cheer up your days with my "cheezy wonder".

Flight - BA 276

2006-05-28T11:22:00.000-04:00

It was a sudden trip to India after two and half years. Trips to India are always an adventure especially if taken after a long gap. This time, I had checked my tickets online which made it a whole lot easier to check my baggage at the airport. I wonder why it isn’t more popular since the infusion of the computer and internet in homes and offices. Underestimation of the whole process let me arrive at the airport two hours earlier which ultimately turned out to be too much time. The presence of different kinds of people waiting in my gate lead to my lack of interest in reading the book that I had taken along with me. Most major international airports have such a diverse community to offer and the O’Hare airport at Chicago was no different. You can see south Indian mamees (aunti’s) in their madisaar (a special technique to wear the sari, usually prevalent among women of the older generation of tamil iyyer origin) pulling their carry-on luggage and those of their husband’s who seemed affected with osteoporosis while inspecting their flight information with eagerness and anxiety for the tenth time to make sure they don’t miss it. Then, there are the white businessmen who pretend to be traveling in first class and club world sipping on their Heinekens and having no clue as to why they got to the airport so early when they could be browsing the internet at work. There are the single, young, blonde women who like to let everyone around them know they are visiting Europe for the summer on an exchange program and expect to get tanned under the sun thereby avoiding huge loads of makeup and tanning lotions from the luggage. There are also the young, single Indian men who travel in their business suits and laptops on a weekend pretending to be on business trips but after taking a closer look at their luggage you will find huge cardboard boxes in strange shapes and sizes that are wrapped in yellow tape for extra protection that resemble smuggled electronics from the middle east and Singapore regions.

As you can see, traveling overseas can be a lot more exciting than traveling in peanut flights within the U.S. The first leg of my journey consisted of me, a British woman, exit seats and tomato juice (with a British accent where tomato rhymes with nothing comparable to the American version). I was excited to get the exit seats since they have more leg room. I was just praying I should get an ok neighbor. A young woman with a European fashion sense sat beside me. We did not even exchange looks, striking a conversation was out of question. The closest to interacting was when we got our respective meals. She first got her meal but the smell that seeped through the gaps between the foil and the container that had the mysterious perishable made me suspicious of a fashionable European woman sitting beside a “fashionable male” trying to eat spicy Asian vegetarian food in a flight. Things got clear when I got my meal that turned out to be Italian style since our meals were swapped. The first leg of the journey ended at London Heathrow and turned out to be one hell of a wait. 5 hours seemed like a whole night of delusional activity that consisted of walking up and down the length of the airport terminal, brushing my teeth next to an international community of men in the public restroom, visiting expensive stores that deserve only my looks that closely resemble a citizen from an undeveloped country circling the aisles of every shop with their hands behind their backs to see the price of every item only to turn them down for the high costs (this theory does not work with Indians and whiskey alone).

The second leg of the journey was from London to Chennai that turned out to be more interesting and fun for a lot of reasons. The person sitting at the window seat, who vaguely resembled a tamilian (Most people can spot a tamilian from a crowd. They are the one group that stand apart from any other race or ethnic groups. Being a tamilian myself, I have always wondered why that was so, but its definitely something to do with the skin color, thick moustaches, neatly combed and coconut-oiled hair and their mannerisms that convey a sense or a mixture of dubiety, rough accents, loud voices and the blatant tamil pride.), in my aisle was so worried about placing the luggage on top that when I was just about to place it he pointed a finger first at me and then at a random man sitting behind my seat as though he was warning the two of us and said “ His bag. His bag. Mine on left. His right. Black bag my. Blue bag his.” The lack of prepositions confused me as to whether he was trying to warn or inform me, but later I realized that he was under the pretext that each of the luggage bins were assigned only for those passengers sitting beneath it. Then there was the techy hyderabadi who was assigned the same seat as another passenger who looked like a graduate student coming from the US wearing a yellow Brazil soccer jersey. The hyderabadi had an air of chillness around his demeanor as though he was on pot. Since I was assigned the aisle seat, I had to wait until the seat problem was resolved so one of them could sit in the middle seat. Then the hyderabadi struck a conversation with me which turned out to be a never ending one until I was transferred to first class. Later the graduate student was assigned first class and so I had to sit with the hyderabadi next to me which was fun for a little while.

Hyderabadi: I’m diabetic. If you don’t mind I will have to go out frequently.
Me: That’s ok. (I am generally pretty considerate about sick people and their respective problems)
Tamilian: You want to sit here. I want to sit in aisle.
Me: No I am happy sitting here.
Tamilian: I feeling very hot here. No air. So Aisle will be better.
Me: I don’t think the temperature is that different here?

Once the plane took off, we were pretty chill in our respective seats. The airhostess started serving drinks which was when the hyderabadi got really excited. When it was his turn to choose a drink, he said “no cold drinks. Only water. Two glasses please. Two glasses.” With excitement, he showed a small green label bottle to communicate that he wanted the water to mix it with the alcohol that he bought at Heathrow duty free. The airhostess was pretty surprised by his gesture and said “I am sorry sir. You are not allowed to bring your own alcohol in flight.” The hyderabadi wasn’t willing to give up that easily. He said “ I bought in London. What’s wrong? I paid for it.” The airhostess apologized and went to the next seat. Then the hyderabadi drank half the glass of water and sneakily filleds up the remaining half with whiskey to drink it all in one gulp that ended with a loud belch and a mile wide smile that showed a sense of satisfaction and victory over the airhostess. “Heehee. They cannot do anything. I want to forget worries.”

I immediately anticipated trouble next to me and did not want to be the benefactor of a mixture of intestinally fluids and alcohol that might exit from his food pipe if this trend continued for the rest of the flight. So I warned him not to drink anymore as he might fall sick and land in Chennai with a bad hang over.

Hyderabadi: I lost my credit card today. I would have lost 5000 dollars.
Me: Did you report your loss to the company?
Hyderabadi: But I was late by 30 min. They would have taken 5000 dollars.
Me: Do you know for a fact that they took that much?
Hyderabadi: No. But I have to forget. Whiskey will help me forget.

He again gave his mile wide smile, this time contracting his eye muscles. The smile transformed from an innocent drunkenness to a stealthily creepy one. Just moments later, he picked up his second glass of water and drank half of it to repeat the ceremony only to become more talkative this time. He opened his ultra light sleek laptop to play me a tamil song that he enjoyed.

Hyderabai: I listen to it many many times. If I listen I fall in love. Listen to it . Listen. You go into some world. Very beautiful. You will go into love. Entire world of love. Heee ehheee heee. (Stinky breath)

And so I listened to it. It was the Oyyirin Oyyire song from Kaaka kaaka. Although, I did not go into some other world as he mentioned. It was more to a world of precaution born out of suspicion and dubiety. After fifteen minutes, it was no more fun listening to the hyderabadi talk. His speech was no more coherent and words coming out of his mouth were broken and stammering due to the effects of whiskey immersed in hyderabadi blood. The airhostess had a clear idea of what was going on and asked me if I wanted a change of seat. I was very happy to be taken to the first class. This was my first experience in first class in a major airline and I thoroughly enjoyed. I was now in an “entire world of love”, sleeping flat on the bed under a freshly washed quilt and blanket that smelled of tide soap. It was all good until I reached Chennai when I still continue to drip in my own salty sweat, naturally oiled face and slimy armpits.

Life is too short to be true

2006-05-17T15:12:00.000-04:00

It just seemed like I was ten years old yesterday, meaning to crack stupid jokes, talking to myself in the mirror, applying a ton of coconut oil on my hair because my grandmother thought it was too spiky for a tamil brahmin, well experienced in the business of playing with the salami, fiddling with my nostrils to extract deeply dug gems, secretly watching the "after dark" channels once my family dozed off, scared to communicate in good english due to a mental inability to put words in their correct grammatical order that led to an underestimation of my intelectual capability, and fantacising my school teachers. Some of which I still continue to do which is why its hard for me to believe that I am not ten anymore.

In the interim of approximately 17 years, I must say that I have learnt a great deal, starting from how not to get caught watching porn on the computer and thereby pretending to watch one of T.Rajendar's campaign speeches in his desperate attempts to speak good hindi and telugu when he fails miserably to only sing a love song with all the hairs in his body stiffening and perpendicularly pointing outwards from his skin because of goose bumps (for those who dont know t.rajendar, I strongly suggest visiting www.youtube.com and searching t.rajendar. Some say he has the potential to scare away even bears in the thickest of jungles. Bears are also jealous that he is the only mammalian species to have more hair than them. ). So, tricks such as the one I illustrated are the valuable kind that aid in escaping criticisms and yells.

17 years, by any means is a long time, even though one may not realise, it is precisely 148,920 hours. If a man asks his mom she would say how time flew and that in no time she became a grandmother and that once upon a time she used to pinch his cheeks and play with him. Whereas, if you ask his wife she would tell you how slow time went by especially after the weeding - very similar to Einstein's theory of relativity. Time has developed me into a fully grown, reproductable species. Rationally thinking time is a dependant variable in life but the lack of differences between a 10 yr old and 27 yr old makes me wonder if it is actually an independant variable in which case I am dreading I'll fantacize my childs school teacher (Yew! I just hope that doesn't happen).

Not only is the perception of time subjective to the person/s surrounding you but also the events associated. After 27 hard/ly earned years of education I have finally managed to get a full-time job. Overnight, I could feel the difference in my mental growth not because my cranium is protruding from my hair follicles like data in startrek but just from the way some people treat me differently as opposed to a week ago. It is humanly impossible to increase intellectual maturity by a statistically significant amount within a week, yet people see an industrial auro bound by one's education and earning potential and automatically/instinctively elevate the subject to a pedestal that bears respect, and social responsibility. These events raised my virtual age a lot more that what I already am and so my perception of 17 yrs was skewed.

One has so many responsibilities in life, I don't have to dig myself into that now since it is all well known and socially accepted. But, the question is, are we satisfied with ourselves and do we have the time for that? Agreed, time is valuable but is it necessary to have a timeline for certain things to happen? Is life really dependant on time or is it just that humans have created an invisible blanket around themselves that is bound by time. Enjoy life to its fullest since its too short to think about the lack or excess of time, that is an imaginary variable in my mind.

Karmic Gap

2006-04-25T01:32:00.000-04:00

We live in a pluralistic society. Each and every speck of living matter has tasted a pinch of their own kind that differ in all possible ways namely race, gender, crusty, crumbly, young, adult, haggard, exhausted, shrinking templed, grizzly haired, grey haired, ear and nose haired, whiny, bitchy, patriarchal, stubborn, adamant, controlling, rusty, stinky (due to age or the lack of any contact with water or soap, popular among teens due to a mentally developed aversion), etc. If you don't have a clue of what I am talking about read furthur.

There is prejudice w.r.t the simplest and most basic properties that one is born with like their shades of skin color judged by how fair and lovely you are born, class which is usually judged by how much of fair and lovely cream you can afford or how organic you can get when buying vegetables, intellectual capability judged by the number of words you pretend to know from the dictionary (most of which turn out to be colloquial) and the number of acronyms that are adjoined to your name (to convey some sort of proverbial truth i.e. accomplishments that might not be obvious from the name itself), the fruity or musky smelling bodies, the country and continent you are born in which has developed a list acronyms such as FOB, ABCD, LTOB, etc and most importantly prejudice w.r.t age unless of course if you are Jessica Simpson who wishes she were mentally older or Michael Jackson who “wishes” he were still a kid or at least a white male even though the plastic on his face is melting down and soon he would be magically extrapolated from his skin as the Beijing Tigers with a morbid dread of effeminate laughter lines.

There is prejudice even w.r.t the honorific you indicate when you buy a flight ticket at Emirates, a world class United Arab Emirates based airlines, which not only requires your name, address and passport number but also an honorific which include a gamut of options such not only Mr, Mrs, etc but also Al Haj (For muslims who have completed their visit to Mecca), Sri/Srimathi, Archbishop, president, minister, Sultan, etc. So if you indicate a Sultan, president or celebrity you are automatically assigned first class in the flight unless you are a Jew in which case you will be denied a ticket and transferred to Israir airlines.

Since we are all born with these differences, I call it the Karmic gap. It was nobody’s fault that hitler had only one testicle, or that Cher was born a woman, or that I am an engineer and in the same token it was nobody’s fault that a yale student graduating with a C heads a powerful nation either. Some groups call it fortune; I won’t even go to the extent of calling it misfortune but Karma. In the same way, I consider the generation gap as an element of karmic gap. I am sure every one of us has heard an older member of our family or friend telling us that “in my days things were so much harder. You guys are having it so easy.” Looking around at my generation I wonder if the “having it so easy” really referred to alcohol, drugs, sex, porn, etc in which case it’s an affirmative Yes but if it refers to our lives then it could vary since I can’t really speak for Paris Hilton's “troubled life” fighting out the lawsuit for her lost sex tapes. Every member talks about how great their respective generation is. So the other day I took a look at our previous generation i.e. our parents who grew up approximately just after the Second World War and around the Indian partition and independence. What would it be like for us growing up then with today’s mindset?

My interest towards generation gap was born out of the conversation I struck with a british man in his 50’s the other day and we somehow got down talking about men in 50s’ favorite topic - generation gap. He said “We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle. Horrors! We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then rode down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times we learned to solve the problem. We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on. No one was able to reach us all day. Unthinkable! We played 'tag' and 'it' - and cricket, sometimes that hard ball would really hurt. We got cut and broke bones and broke teeth, and strangely there were no law suits from these accidents. They were accidents. No one was to blame, but us. Do you remember accidents? We had fall outs, thumped each other, and got black and blue and learned to get over it.”

I was praying I wouldn't convulse in hysterical amusement when I heard him talk. I really can’t speak for the women back then since a. I am not one and b. they didn't play a big part in anything besides getting pregnant, raising us slobs and cleaning the house, none of which I have expertise in. So let me speak for the men since they were the “responsible” chums who used to play cricket outside their house without gloves and pads, getting hurt at the wrong places and not being able to sue companies for injuries. They created babies out of nowhere just from kissing the opposite sex. Back then, even movies never showed any unwanted scenes, usually love making scenes transformed into birds chirping and flying into azure skies or flowers blooming. Entertainment was so much different, even the Beatles were big back then and in general, songs did not contain lyrics that were pornographic like the ones now by Tyrese, Beyonce or Marques Houston. Even the ones that are now "PG-13" kind are way too sexual. The list of words in the dictionary has now increased drastically with words like bootilicious (not sure of the correct spelling). On the other hand, this is also the age of the i-pod and the numerous sleek devices available on the market that allow american parents to monitor their kids at each and every step they are taking for which the poor asian parents and kids are slogging at the manufacturing depts of Taiwan and China. I don't even want to go to the call center story.

I hope you can see what my point is (I really feel sorry for people who are confused at this point. You just need to think harder and come out of the box. You might then get somewhere!)

My theory is that the world is heading towards a single point. Over time, with all the inter-racial mixes of different colors, there would just be one color. Can't say which one that would be, maybe a shade of mahogony? And with the baby boomers and advancement in stem cell research (scientists claim to extend human life to 5000 yrs)there would just be one generation. With the rising middle class and diminishing pooor and rich there would just be one class. Anyway thats my ideal world afterall. Who knows what its gonna be like. But I doubt if there ever will be a universal religion in which case Tom Cruise is screwed. Embracing the karmic gap and accepting one another's differences is the only way to survive this world that is flat.

Addictions and duped

2006-04-14T10:13:00.000-04:00

Hey ya'll,

The last couple of weeks have been crazy in terms of my life, career and ofcourse news. The news is addictive with one half filled with unwanted gossip, one quarter filled with propaganda and the rest quarter filled with commercials that tempt you to bankruptcy. Seriously, sitting in front of the TV gave me the following problems that abruptly halted my writing.

- Made me a couched potato with a capital P and maybe even O.

- Ate so much fries that the next door neighbor bought me an air freshner and my poor room mate now wears a mask resembling a WMD inspector.

- I now know that donald trump would have dated his daughter if she weren't his ...daughter.

- I can't use the simile "to walk on water like jesus". Seems like even jesus didn't walk on water - scientists claim water was frozen at that time.

- I also learnt that Bush's spanish is as bad as his english because he and rumsfeld grew up speaking clingon.

One can see why the news is so addictive. Becuase we love to cry and sob over any tragedy. And the media does a great job of portraying tragedy closest to us. Infact, watching the news made me so depressed that I sat back identified the cause for this inexplicable symptom for news. I researched on NEWS. Initially I thought that any information that was new was news. But somewhere down the line there was a mess and now a former acronymn has been transformed into a noun that conveys a bad meaning.

So I vowed that I wouldn't watch TV for a couple of days and so decided to get out of the house and drive to Chicago to meet my girlfriend, Sapna. It was a saturday and we leisurely went to the grocery store in chicago to buy some produce. Not surprisingly, we saw a couple who were Indian, the world's largest vegetarian population. But this couple was different. The wife first gave me a mile wide smile as though she had known me for years. Politely I returned the gesture. Then the man followed with another broad smile. I was pretty sure we hadn't met before. I know my memory is horrible but not so horrible that I dont recognize people. Then he stopped me by the arm and said "Do you work in downtown with a financial firm?". Now in any other situation I would have doubted the person to have some ulterior motive to stop me and interrogate me. But in this case, the man was with his wife and an elderly woman who happened to be his mom, which is why I trusted him but I would regret that later.

"No I don't. I just came to visit for the weekend." I said.

"Oh, sorry I just thought you might be someone I know. I am Jignesh btw, a gujju. Typical gujju name hehe." said he.

What a weird way to introduce oneself, I thought. But I still gave him a chance for being nice and friendly. And every member introduced themselves except Jignesh's mom who shows a namaste like the news readers in doordarshan TV before they start anything. Then we get into talking about what each of us does for a living. Learning that I was in the Biotech sector he became very interested and said that he might be have a position at his company, which does genetic stuff. I got really excited, so excited that I cooked pasta and drank wine to celebrate that night. The next day he calls me up and says that he would like to come to the Univ of Michigan campus and interview me. I thought wow, this is the best thing that could happen to anyone, job knocking at your door step. I eagerly wait for Jignesh to come the following week to ann arbor. He comes to my apartment. I offer him a seat. We talk about our respective weeks and weekends and plans etc and then finally get down to talking business.

"So can you explain a little but more about this position?" I said.

"Yeh, the company is called Interleukin. They do genetic research. Could you give me a notepad and pen so I can explain to you in detail?" said Jignesh.

I became apprehensive. I was now only 50% convinced that this was not what I thought was going to be. But, what the hell, I thought I wouldn't waste too much time on this stuff anyway and the worst thing that could happen was that this was not the right job for me and I could always come out of it.

"Here you go." I said giving him a sheet and a pen.

"Great. So lets start"
Jignesh makes four columns and writes walmart, hotmail, franchise and advertising. None of which have any connection to genetics.

My stomach started to churn a little since I had a bad feeling that this was not what I was expecting out of genetic research. And I had been through this lesson before but the way in which Jignesh was explainng told me that this might be something different.

Then he goes about explaining the business models of walmart and hotmail and how they manage to make so much money. His mannerisms conveyed a sense of considereable prepardness and spadework. "Walmart can make so much money because they sell things that are re-usuable." Said jignesh.

I thought " Wait a minute. what? thats Bull S**T. Thats not why they are the biggest retail store in the world. And thats definitely not why all businesses are successful". But i was polite enough not to point it out. I was pretty convinced that this was the Amway/multi-level marketting scheme that so many indians are into these days. All I was framing in my mind was how I could get rid of this guy.

Then my room mate comes into the living room where we were sitting and I took the perfect opportunity to cut the conversation and make an intrusive intriduction. My room mate who happens to be an American born Indian from Gujju origin. The first thing I say is that "he is gujju like you jignesh." But my room mate gave him the smack down and ran upstairs as fast as he could to escape from the scheme. Later I found out that he could tell from the sheet of paper which had the drawing that closely resembled the pyramid, sphinx.

Coming back to Jignesh. " We have studied the models of all the major firms like hotmail, gmail and walmart and have come up with specific models. Our models are now taught in B-schools like harvard and stanford too." he said

I wanted to throw up on him. I firmly said I wasn't interested and that he would just be wasting both our time trying to get me join the scheme.

"Okay. Can you tell me why?" he said persistently.

"Because I am not interested and I dont have the time." I said

He looked up at the ceiling as though there was an insect and thought for a while and then wrote the words 'interest' and 'time'. Then he cancels interest and asks "If you were interested do you think time would be an issue?"

I just burst out laughing and said "But there is no if. I am not interested period."

He didn'nt know what to say next. He took a deep breath and loooked back at the sheet which had the two words on it. He then said "Would you be interested in atleast trying our product?"

I agreed to that thinking I could escape for the time being and then never ever take his phone calls again. He then went on to explain the gamut of products. The first product he showed was an energy drink called "Nutrient plus" and he said that it tastes like badam milk with all the nutrients.

"I have it daily. I don't exercise and it is very good because it gives me all the nutrients. I usually adds bananas and strawberries for potassium and anti oxidants. Sometimes I even add protein powder for extra protein." he said.

Then I thought why would anyone add more stuff to a nutrient rich drink for more nutrients?

"Do you exercise?" he asked me.

"No"

"Great. You should definitley get this" he said.
This is the first time someone appreciated the lack of exercise in my life-style.

The second product he showed me was "Eloncream".
"Do you sometimes feel dejected in life? Do you feel like nobody respects you enough and that you lack in confidence?" he asked me.

"I am not aggressive but I dont think I lack in confidence." I said

"But you try this cream. It gives you great confidence and strength." he said with a wink.

Once I read the full instructions I got the picture. He was trying to sell a product that would increase the size of my privates. He didn't even think if it was offensive to reccomend such a product voluntarily to a male.

And then he takes out a product called "Lavia".

"You might not need it now but maybe after marriage." I was too skeptical after eloncream I was wondering what this might be. I just hoped it wasn't viagara. But worse, it turned out to be a breast cream to make it more plump and increase it by two cup size.

"why would I use such a thing". I asked him iritably.

He said "Later when you get married and are not satisfied then maybe you can use it on your wife." He gave a slimy grin.

In fury I said "I am sorry I really have to go to a meeting in 5 min. I cannot have this conversation anymore"

"Okay but let me leave you these samples. You can try them and contact me if the effect are good. I assure you will see the effects in hours. You will want more of them soon. I promise" he said winking his left eye.

I kept quiet and showed him the door.

We then shook hands and he said that we should still be friends. Parting his gooey hand he left my apartment.

It had been a while since I had gotten duped by these scehem walas but this one was different. I guess now they have taken a different strategy in duping people. What the hell, I now have funny story to share.

The Village of Aksa - Chapter 4

2006-03-27T16:58:00.000-05:00

Janaka and Sampa were pretty let down by Taal. They really expected her to help them out and be supportive in their expedition to Aksa or at least help them out in collecting information about Aksa.

“I don’t believe she did this to us. How could she let us down now after we took all the trouble in exchanging information with her? I just hope she doesn’t tell anyone.” said Sampa.

“That’s alright. We will do as much as we possibly can. Let’s focus our energy on Klacken now. I don’t think we should tell him everything about our plan. Showing too much interest in Aksa might put some doubts in his mind especially since he knows so much about the village. For the moment we should just mention our interests in meeting Mr. Khaus.”said Janaka.

“I hope you understand Klacken is not an average kid. He is one of the smartest people I have seen. He would surely want to know why we are meeting with Mr. Khaus before he gives out any information. What would you say if he asked you that?” said Sampa.

Janaka didn’t really know how to answer that question. He was not anticipating that question from Klacken.

“May be you can say that Mr. Khaus came in your dream and asked you to take Klacken’s help to meet him. That sounds justifiable, doesn’t it? And it’s not completely untrue if you actually combine yours and Taal’s dreams.” said Janaka.

“I really don’t want to mess around too much with Klacken or Mr. Khaus. Even though I haven’t heard any evil incidents that have involved them I have always maintained my distance and frequently avoided discussing about them. But I do like your dream idea. I think I might stick to that one for the moment if Klacken asks anything.” said Sampa.

“Well, the dream is not really an idea. It is true Sampa. So don’t trivialize it in anyway.”

As Sampa and Janaka were discussing they failed to realize that they had just gotten out of the boundaries of Ashra into the main street. They didn’t realize until they saw Params cafeteria which was filled with all the teachers. The main street was a single circular street that connected the four schools of Atipu. Bhama and Camili were situated adjacently on either sides of Ashra while Dota was diametrically opposite Ashra.

During the weekends, the street was bustling with people from the schools. Everyone enjoyed being in this street during the weekends as it gave them a feeling of a community. Most teachers would go to Params cafeteria for breakfast to sit leisurely with a cup of coffee. While some teachers would occupy an entire table for themselves by spreading the newspaper others would gather around discussing the local politics of the village. Most teachers left the cafeteria around noon which was when the students would take over the restaurant for their breakfast.

Janaka and Sampa realized they were walking on Main Street as they smelt the flavors of ghee roasted black pepper pongal, masala vadai, rava dosai and ootappam. As their attention was diverted from their conversation to Params their next destination was obvious. The boys took up a table and had a relaxed hearty breakfast.

“It’s probably late enough in the morning. I guess Klacken wouldn’t mind us coming to his room now.” said janaka

“Yeh, I hope he is awake. Let’s just give it a shot.” said Sampa.

After their breakfast, Sampa and Janaka left the cafeteria towards Camili. They had to pass through a row of shops starting with Ali’s Jewelry shop. Sampa was showing Janaka that he got his left ear pierced and got a diamond stud at Ali’s. Then they walked past Frooties that carried ice-creams, popsicles and sherbets. Janaka badly wanted to get some Popsicle from frooties but Sampa suggested they could take Klacken along after lunch. The adjacent store was famous incense that carried some idols of gods and goddesses that were made out of sandalwood and rosewood, about a thousand flavors of exotic soaps and powders and of course incense sticks. Then they walked past the Bookhouse which was a huge book store meant that carried books for school and leisure, calendars for the four schools, dinky bugs and log slates for easy accounting and a variety of board games.

Once they walked past the book store they encountered a huge gate that was adjoined by walls that looked like an entrance to the school. This was the first time Janaka was entering the campus of Camili. It was very different from Ashra. The scenery was a lot drier in Camili with scanty vegetation. The color of the buildings seemed to match that of the sand in the ground adding that extra dryness to the feel. There weren’t too many students walking inside the campus at this time. Janaka felt a bit nervous inside from entering an unfamiliar campus and hoping to see new people and buildings.

“Have you been here before?” asked Janka

“Yeh. I have been here a couple of times to meet Klacken. You sound a bit nervous. You shouldn’t worry too much. It’s very similar to Ashra. It’s all the more better here since we wouldn’t know anyone so we wouldn’t have to worry about Kanth and his gang.” said Sampa.

“How far is Klacken’s room from here?”

“It’s another five minutes walk. Not that far.” said Sampa.

Janaka felt it took longer than that when they finally reached Klacken’s room. Klacken’s room was in a huge building called Mulayam Hall that was much bigger than any building he has ever seen in Ashra. It was big enough to fit students from the entire school. Mulayam Hall was packed inside and Janaka grew more nervous as he entered the building. They got a whole range of looks from suspicious ones, hostile turnovers to welcoming smiles none of which soothed Janaka’s nerves. Sampa looked like he knew exactly where he was going and knocked at the door of Klacken’s room.

“Hey, how are you? I haven’t seen you in so long. I heard you are preparing very hard for the Shorren championships. It’s still a couple of month’s away right?” asked Sampa.

The Shorren championships were held once a year and the ABCD schools competed against one another in various events ranging from literary to sports. Klacken is a fierce competitor in a lot of those events. Klacken took the events so seriously that there were rumors of him preparing all year round. In the last four years no one has beaten him in the ancient history and debate events yet his school came second to Ashra in the last two championships. Sampa had mentioned that his bitterness for Ashra oozes out very conspicuously each time Klacken talked to Sampa about the championships.

“Are you kidding? I just got up from bed. I was just going to go have some lunch. What brings you here?” asked Klacken.

“Have you met Janaka. Janaka, this is Klacken.”

Janaka and Klacken introduced each other. Neither of them was inclined to start a conversation so Sampa continued to talk.

“We are both here for some favor from you. And don’t worry; it is not for the purpose of winning you over in Shorren or anything of that sort. Why don’t we go for lunch and we can discuss it there. How does the canteen on main street sound to you?” said Sampa.

“That sounds perfect actually. Let me just groom myself a little so I don’t look like I came out directly from bed.” said Klacken.

The three boys walked out of Camili. Klacken was showing them the campus as they walked out explaining the ins and outs. Janaka was right about Mulayam Hall, all the students of Camili stayed there and it was purposefully built that way to encourage communication between the different years. Unlike Ashra, the hostels in Camili were not coed and so the girls were in a separate building. The three boys walked towards the canteen that was situated right outside the Camili campus. They found a quiet spot in the corner after placing their orders at the counter.

“So, what is it that you guys want to talk about?” asked Klacken.

Janaka decided to start talking to get comfortable of the situation.

“We would like to meet Mr. Khaus and Sampa said that you might be able to help us.” said Janka.

“Hmm. So why do you want to meet Mr. Khaus?” asked Klacken.

“I do not want to beat around the bush. We wanted to find out how to get to Aksa and Mr. Khaus is the best person to talk to regarding that unless of course you know how to..” said Sampa.

“Well, I do know certain things about how to get there but I am not allowed to talk it with anyone. But why do you want to go to Aksa?” asked Klacken.

“Don’t we all want go to Aksa? This may sound stupid, but I had a dream last night that Mr. Khaus was guiding Janaka to travel to Aksa especially since Janaka and I had been talking about this for a while. May be we can clarify with Mr. Khaus why I am getting these dreams and may be he will have an answer for us. If he doesn’t think we ought to know how to travel then he will let us know. But it would be really helpful if you could help us get to Mr. Khaus.” said Sampa.

“Yes, it will be very helpful and we assure you we won’t misuse any information you give us.” said Janaka.

Klacken was giving a suspicious look at both Sampa and Janaka. He also didn’t seemed to be surprised by the dream.

“Okay, it looks like the dream is not really a dream. It is a technique that Mr. Khaus uses to communicate what he wants without his presence, as you know he is barred from entering Atipu. I will help you to the best of my ability. I can only tell you how I got there last time. But before I can tell you anything, you both will first have to assure me that no one else can know what I am about to tell.” said Klacken.

“We assure you we won’t tell any one” said Janaka who was now being tested for his patience at this moment.

“Yes” said Sampa.

To be continued..

Disco Dancer

2006-03-21T21:55:00.000-05:00

A couple of weekends back my friends and I rented out the movie known for its imperfection and unintentional comedy: Disco Dancer. We had been longing to see Mithun Chakraborthy aka Mithunda in action. At the local Indian store in Ann Arbor (Bombay Grocers) we decided to check if the movie was first available or if it was rented out due to high demand. After checking the DVDs in the Hindi movie section at the store we couldn't find the movie and assumed that the movie was rented out. But we decided to ask the store manager just to confirm.

Me: Excuse me. Do you have the movie "I am a disco dancer" on dvd? (for some reason i always thought that the name of the movie was I am a disco dancer. Its probably because of the song)

Manager: Disco Dancer. Haha. On DVD. Ha ha. No way. It might be on VHS. Just check and see if its there.

So we checked and as he said it was there. While renting out the movie he charged us only $1 instead of the usual $2. And when I asked him about the return date, he said I could bring it back at my own convenience. These were not positive signs for a few excited souls to watch a Mithun movie. But we watched it anyway since we trusted our dada i.e. Mithun.

I must say, the movie was hilarious. Though it was meant to be a serious movie, watching it 20 years after the release made a big difference. I mean you got to appreciate the alacrity in the muscial prodigy for holding an electric guitar in one hand, drumming with the other and simulataneously dancing and singing thereby exemplifying ambidexterity and multitasking at the same time which no other prodigy has even dreamt of, not even bill gates.

The story was very similar to the 80's movies with a muti-milllionaire villain torturing a fatherless kid and later on the kid taking revenge on the villain. But there are some dialogues that just made me laugh up to the point of me throwing up in front of the TV. As I said before this kid was a prodigy and he grows up to become a great musician. He becomes as rich as the villain. The mom, kid and the villain all meet at an upscale party and the villain (obviously) doesn't recognize the kid (who is now Mithun) unlike Mithun and his mom who are living to this day to take revenge. The villain offers Mithun a glass of wine which the kid does not accept and in return he reminds him of the day (15 yrs ago) when he insulted the kid, slapped the mom and stole his guitar. Saying this, Mithun and the mom leave the party. On their way back home the mom tells Mithun in the car "Son, you have now fulfilled all my wishes in life and I can now die in peace."

In another scene, the villain wants to take revenge because Mithun became a bigger music star than his son and so he wanted to kill Mithun. What does he do? The villain connects Mithun's electric guitar to 5000 Volts so when he starts to play he would die instantly. But his mom heard this plot through reliable sources and follows Mithun to the stage. Instead of just warning her son to play his guitar, she picks it up herself and starts to play ultimately killing herself.

There were other crazy parts of the movie which I do not wish to delve upon but you know where this movie is going. Other minor issues were subtitles. Since my hindi is not very good I had to read the subtitles and so it was like reading a disco dancer novel. They did confuse Laks and millions to be the same in the movie. Wherever laks was mentioned in the movie, the subtitles would say millions but in actuality 10 laks is a million.

Nevertheless, this movie is great to watch. Caution: Never watch it alone. Always get a whole bunch of people and get drunk to watch the movie in order to relish it. Finally, you cannot miss the disco dancer in action dressed up in colored glass suit with mirrors, buttoned down shirt and an electric guitar with absolutely no coordination between the background music and the hand movements on the guitar.

The Village of Aksa - Chapter 3

2006-03-20T15:31:00.000-05:00

Janaka slept late that night with the satisfaction of next day being a Saturday. The weekends were always relaxing for the students. There were no classes and the students were generally allowed to use the playground until 5pm unless there was an event or a competition between the ABCD schools. Janaka woke up really early to go to Sampa and inform him about his previous night’s meeting with Bala. But before he could get up he remembered that Bala had warned him of the Katurava curse. For a moment Janaka wondered if Bala was trying to trick him by warning him about the curse but quickly became cautious when he imagined himself as a frog. The desire to find out more about Mr.Khaus’s existence was burning inside him and soon he got dressed to go to Sampa’s room. Sampa was surprisingly awake at this hour.

“Why are you up so early? I was anticipating an ordeal to wake you up this morning.” said Janaka

“I have not been able to sleep well lately. I had a dream that involved you and Mr.Khaus.” Sampa went on to describe the details of his dream about how Mr. Khaus was instructing Janaka on the art of astral manipulation to travel to Aksa. The details of his dreams were very similar to the description that Bala had given him last night. Even though Janaka could see the impeccable similarities between Sampa’s dream and Bala’s description of the travel, he did not mention about Bala's description. Instead he was pressing his curiosity to find Mr. Khaus.

“Where do you think we can find Mr. Khaus? He is not a teacher in Ashra any more. In any case I wanted to ask you if you found out anything from Klacken?” asked Janaka

“I did meet up with Klacken yesterday. As expected he was reluctant to answer some of my questions in the beginning. He assumed that I was going to use this information in some way to get an edge over their school in the history contest. It took me some time to convince him that I was still his friend and would never use his information to harm him or his school in anyway possible. I even bought him a laddu at the canteen. Later during our meeting he mentioned that his history teacher Mr. Saman and he had discussed a lot about Aksa, some of which he wasn’t allowed to share with anyone. But what he did share was that no student of Atipu was allowed to go to Aksa without the consent of Mr. Khaus. It seems to me that Mr. Khaus is one of the most powerful yogis in this village and that everyone seems to obtain his permission in order to get to Aksa. Klacken also mentioned that the reason why our lives are so different from the norm is the result of the events that happened a long time ago. He did not go into too much detail about the events. It is now clear that Mr. Khaus is the person we need to meet.”

“Yes that was precisely my question. How do we meet him? I wonder if Taal knows anything about Mr. Khaus. Let’s go to her room and wake her up.” said Janaka.

Both Sampa and Janaka went to Taal’s room which was also in the same floor as theirs. Taal took a while to get up to the boys’ wild knocking of the door. Squinting her eyes, Taal slowly opened the door to the sunlight outside her room. Her room was very dark with the windows and blinds tightly shut.

“What do you want this early on a Saturday morning?” said Taal.

“Hey Taal. Sorry for waking you up from your sleep. Do you mind if we stepped in and discussed something important with you?” Janaka behaved as though it was justified to wake her up since he had something important to talk about.

“Yes it is pretty important Taal. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here so early.” said Sampa almost trying to second Janaka. Clearly it wasn’t that important that the two boys couldn’t wait for another hour or two, but they had already planned on coming up with a reason if Taal woke up with a grumpy face.

“How do you expect me to believe that its so important on a Saturday morning? Anyway you guys have already woken me up so there is really no point in me hitting the bed again. But remember this for next time; I don’t want you guys coming up to my room early on a weekend.” Taal pointed her fingers at them in an instructing manner.

The two boys came into the room and closed the door quickly so no one noticed them. Taking their respective seats, Taal put her hands on her chin waiting for one of them to start the conversation.

“It seems like Mr. Khaus is the one that can help us in finding information regarding Aksa. You mentioned that you heard him explain to a student about traveling to Aksa. Where exactly did you see him? I wonder if we can just go there and wait for him.” said Janaka.

Taal noticed the excitement in the two of them and said “Hmm I wish you guys hadn’t woken me up so early. I would have been able to tell you exactly where he was. Too bad you woke me up.”

“What do you mean? I thought you were okay and we assured you that this wouldn’t happen again. Come on Taal.” said Sampa in a frustrated manner.

“Yeh come on and be a sport.” said Janka immediately.

“I was referring to my dream. I was actually dreaming of Mr. Khaus helping the three of us.” said Taal.

Sampa and Janka could not believe what she was saying and showed an expression of disbelief.

“Yes. I am being serious. Mr. Khaus was not physically in my dream, he was only mentioned. It was Klacken who came to my room with both of you and he showed us the way to Mr. Khaus’s house. Before we got there you guys woke me up. Too bad we don't know the location.” Taal said in a teasing manner.

“This cant be true. Are you being serious?” said Sampa.

“Why would I lie about a mere dream? After all it was just a dream. You guys don’t think its true, do you?”

“No, of course we don’t. But the weirdest thing is that I had a very similar dream which did not involve Klacken. It was Mr. Khaus instructing Janaka on astral manipulation. Khaus took Janaka’s hand and sat under a tree. The two of them just disappeared in a little while without much effort.” said Sampa.

“This must all be happening for a reason. And the reason better be a good one. I just hope we don’t get in danger of some sort. For the moment, let’s just assume both of your dreams were true. It seems Klacken may be the crucial piece to start solving our puzzle. This time, the three of us should all go together to visit and speak with him. We must be frank about our visit and assure him that no harm would be done to him or Camili and that the information is solely for the purpose of our travel to Aksa and nothing else.” said Janaka.

“Lets go talk to Klacken after lunch.” said Sampa.

“Better. Lets take him for lunch to the canteen.” said Janaka.

“I think you guys are being hasty. We must think this over before going too fast. I would rather wait for a little while and come up with a plan to meet Mr. Khaus.” said Taal.

“How much longer do you want to wait? Haven’t we waited for the last 11 years? And besides, I really think that both of our dreams say something. Its hard for me to believe that all of it was coincidence.” said Sampa irritably.

“This is not the first time I had a dream like this one. I have had many more. I just haven’t mentioned any of them to you all because I thought you guys would make fun of me. Which is why I am saying that it might be a hasty decision to go meet Mr. Khaus right away?” said Taal.

“But we are not meeting Mr. Khaus right away Taal. We are just meeting Klacken. We don’t even know if he would have the answer to Khaus’s location. But I seriously don’t think there is any harm in trying.” said Janaka.

“Why don’t you guys go meet him and leave me alone on this one? I personally think it’s a little too early to think about all this.” said Taal. Taal’s stubbornness irritated the boys and they got up to leave the room.

“I am Sorry. It’s just that I am not comfortable doing this right now. But I am willing to help in any way I can.” said Taal apologetically.

“Well, thanks for your help.” said Janaka while the two of them left her room.

The village of Aksa chapter 2 - continued

2006-03-09T15:36:00.000-05:00

Janaka’s room was on the third floor of Bolch Hall. Bolch hall was a coed dormitory for the sixth, seventh and eighth years who resided in the third, second and first floors respectively. There were two sets of stairs that went up from two ends of the lounge area. The lounge area was always packed during the day. Students loved the ornate decorations in the lounge that consisted of lamp shades with golden bars, chandeliers with diamond studs, huge couches and some excellent gigantic portraits of great tantrics and yogis on the walls. As Janaka ran past the lounge, he noticed Kanth and his gang of five sitting there. Before he could avoid them they jeered at him unnecessarily.

“Guess who is having secrets in school. Our man and his two loyal followers are devising a secret plan to do something. Janaka, why don’t you share with us your spicy seeecrrets? We can seek them out you know.” said Kanth that was followed by silly giggles from his friends.
Janaka had always found Kanth’s humor to be very distasteful and he was in no mood to argue and fight back at the moment. Janaka simply ignored his snide comments and fled up the flight of stairs to the third floor.

As he was walking toward his room, he heard funny sounds coming from one of the rooms as he was passing by. The noise had a constant treble of some inapprehensible clutter of words being uttered by a man who was a lot older than he. The odor that was seeping through the gaps around the doors hinted that might have been burning or smoking. He stood a little closer to the door to try and listen to what exactly was going on inside this room. He heard an old man chanting mantras and a boy repeating them at constant intervals. He thought it to be some kind of a ceremony but he was pretty sure that whatever was going on inside was against the rules of Ashra. No ceremonies were allowed in the rooms and lighting fire was certainly prohibited. It didn’t seem like the ceremony was going to end soon so he decided not to waste his time waiting and instead went to his room to find his schedule calendar.

He was glad that his schedule allowed him to visit Bala. He decided to leave right away for Kulch Hall and knocked on Bala’s door.
“Bala, are you free to talk right now? I have wanted to talk to you all day.”

“We just talked last night. Why can’t you be a little patient? I just got started with the homework on advanced Shearometrics. Make it quick whatever it is.”

Taking a seat next to Bala, Janaka said“I wanted to talk to you about how I can get to Aksa. I really want to see dad and mom. And besides, this village seems to be such a mystery I think it would be really exciting to see someplace that’s talked about so much here. Could you tell me how you managed to travel to Aksa?”

“It’s really complicated than that you know. I would prefer talking about this when the four of us are together. When do you want to do it? I can let Kashi and Kanak know.” said Bala

“I would prefer keeping all this confidential. It’s only you who I want to talk to. I heard Kanak is pretty close to Kanth and so I would rather not let it slip in Kanth’s ears.” said Janaka

Janaka noticed that Bala was being uncomfortable to talk to him in the absence of his siblings. Bala raised his eyebrows and then took a deep breadth and closed his room door.

“Listen, this is something I have never told anybody and I have always wanted to share it with you, Kanak and Kashi. But since it is concerning you, you may have a better right to know than they do. And besides, you did make a valid point about Kanth being in the loop.” said Bala

Janaka felt nervous about all this but the excitement of knowing something mysterious took precedence in his interest to sit down and listen to the story.

“It was right after you were born that I went to Aksa. Dad sent a message through a sage who lives close-by that he wanted me to come to Aksa to bring you here. At that time I didn’t have the presence of mind to question the sage of why and how we were supposed to go since I myself was pretty young. The sage took me to Mr. Khaus, who was then a teacher in Ashra and a real master in the art of astral manipulation. Mr. Khaus mentioned that none of the students from Atipu are allowed to do what I was doing but since I was a special case they had obtained permission from the head master. I didn’t bother asking further questions at that time since I was so excited for the travel. We went outside the school, walked about twenty minutes past the main street in the central village corner. He then took me to a secluded area and was very cautious about being spotted. We had to sit down in padmasana and then he instructed me to hold his left hand while he was holding a chain with beads on his right hand. He then asked me to close my eyes and think of something I liked. I could hear him chanting mantras in the background while I was dreaming about Aksa without ever having seen the village. After that all I could remember is opening my eyes in Aksa. I really don’t know what happened in the interim between closing and opening my eyes. Coming back was the same with the only difference being that you were on my lap. But coming to think of it now, I remember Mr.Khaus first pressing your temple for a while before leaving and then he applied some kind of yellow powder on you face. After that he wrapped you up with his cloth and then he instructed me to hold your left hand with my right hand while you were lying in my lap. That’s how we traveled.”

Janaka was already dreaming about how he could get there. It took him a while before he realized that Bala had stopped talking.

“Why did they send me away just like you were sent? Why are there no children in Aksa?” said Janaka in frustration.

“That’s a question that I have been trying to answer all these years. That’s the first time I saw mom and dad. No one is allowed to discuss this in school and I even wonder if the teachers know as much. Mr. Khaus threatened that if I talked anything about my travel to Aksa to anyone else other than you, Kanak and Kashi then the Katurava curse would act upon me and I would transform into a frog for the rest of my life. He specifically warned me not to tell you anything about the village of Aksa and that he would tell you himself when the right time came. I hope you understand my silence about Aksa all these years.” said Bala.

“What does dad look like? Your mom? Have you ever seen my mom?”asked Janaka curiously

“Dad seemed like a very humble person. Sadly, I couldn’t spend too much time with him. My mom had passed away by then and I didn’t see your mom in the one day that I was in Aksa. Its all very hazy right now. Its been so many years and I was pretty youngs when all this happened. It makes me want to leave Atipu and go to someplace where we can lead normal lives.”

Janaka was not really thinking in those lines. All he could think was how he could to Aksa.

“Is there anyone else I can ask or talk to about this? Can I go to Mr.Khaus?” asked Janaka

“Yes, I think it might be worthwhile for you to talk to Mr.Khaus. You will know if this was the right moment he was waiting for. But I really don’t know where he is now. You might have to do some research. But remember Janaka, don’t tell anyone what I have just told you. Please.” said Bala

“Ofcourse I won’t. I have been trying to keep this so much of a secret that I didn’t even want to involve Kanak.”

Diverting themselves from the serious talk Bala enquired about Janaka’s classes and how he liked them. Janaka was answering patiently until he wanted to go back to his room and mull all this information over.

The village of Aksa - Chapter 2

2006-03-06T00:34:00.000-05:00

As usual the morning bell rang just after sunrise to wake up all the students. The bell was loud enough to wake up even the soundest of sleepers. As soon as he woke up, Janaka’s head was throbbing with the pain beginning from the furrow of his forehead slowing creeping towards the side near his ears. He got up to look outside his window to catch the first rays of the sun that was split by the golden shrine of the school’s temple hall at about hundred yards away from his room. Catching the sight of his classmates rushing to class made him realize that he too had to be in the appetite for yoga class in ten minutes. He hated the appetite for yoga class because the master, Mr.Roop, would frequently ask Janaka to come up to the front of the class and demonstrate the different postures that were being discussed for that day. Janaka’s small structure allowed him to be extraordinarily flexible but in this particular case played to his disadvantage. Fortunately for him, the instructor decided to demonstrate the postures himself during that day’s class.

Janaka was very restless in class because he wanted to share the previous night’s accounts with his friends Samba and Taal, who were now sitting in the opposite corner to him. It would be quite a while before he can actually meet with them and talk. After this there was just the creative writing class before lunch. He was already preparing a huge list of items to discuss. The half hour creative writing class seemed to extend forever in Janaka’s mind and he felt that words that came out of the master’s mouth were being drawled down to each vowel. When the recess bell rang for lunch, Janaka rushed towards Sampa and Taal to inform them of his meeting with Bala. The three of them walked to the playground cautiously to find a lonely spot.

“The whole thing is still a puzzle to me. It turns out that I am their step brother after all, we have the same dad. But Bala wasn’t clear about a lot of things. He did mention that we were also from Aksa and that he had been there just once. I have wanted to talk to you guys about this but since I came back late last night and got up just in time for class this morning I really didn’t get a chance. I don’t if we can make anything out of all this.”

Taal immediately asked “How did Bala travel to Aksa? I haven’t heard of anyone besides big yogis do that.” This was the first time Janaka saw some excitement in the two of them but apparently they were more excited about the village of Aksa than his own story.

“I have no idea. It must have been a long time ago, maybe when he was a kid. It’s just frustrating that he left me with no details about anything besides the fact that I am his step brother.” said Janaka.

Sampa, in a consoling manner, said “I’m sorry. It must have been hard for you to take all of this in one day. I know of a friend named Klacken from Camili who might give us some insight on all this. He is extremely close to his history teacher, Mr. Saman, who is well versed with the history of this area. But let me first talk to him. He is not a big fan of our school and so I would rather not gang up on him with questions.”

It was obvious to Janaka why Klacken did not like the company of Ashra students, infact no one from Camili liked Ashra. Camili came second to Ashra in the previous two Shorren championships even after having the home advantage for one of the years. The Shorren championships were held once a year and gave a fair opportunity for the ABCD schools to demonstrate their rivalry against one another in a variety of literary and sport activities under the supervision of all the headmasters and judges. The Shorren championship for this year was quickly approaching within the next couple of months and the excitement among students at Ashra was conspicuous as they were going to be the hosts. In the middle of all the rivalry and heat of the championship preparations, Janaka was less hopeful of Klacken in providing them with any information at all.

While the three were enmeshed in their own thoughts Taal suddenly broke the silence and said “It struck me now. Long time back, maybe more than two years ago, I heard Mr.Khaus, the retired master in the art of flying class, explaining to a student that he wouldn’t be able to go to Aksa without the master’s help. Noticing me eavesdrop on their conversation he quickly changed the topic of conversation. I couldn’t recognize the student but he must have been in his senior year at that time.”

“So that means Bala must have acquired the help of Mr.Khaus or some other person of the same caliber to go to Aksa. I must find out from him today how he got there. It seems like there is a lot that we are not aware of. By the way, where do the students go after their senior year anyway? Could they go to Aksa? I can’t imagine them being here as there is nothing in this village other than schools. They have got to work somewhere.” said Janaka

Sampa interrupted by ignoring the latter part of Janaka’s comment by saying“I think that’s pretty clear that we don’t know much in this matter. Infact I don’t know anyone in our year that even knows as much as we do now. Now that we might be stepping out of boundaries in this matter I would prefer to keep details from here on within ourselves and be very secretive about the whole thing. Be especially careful of Kanth and his group of friends, they are well known to spread secrets and rumors around and sometimes even complain to the teachers. Janaka, it might even be better to avoid this conversation with Kanak as he and Kanth are in the same study group.”

Backing support to Sampa’s final statement Taal said “Yes, beware of kanth. He even hinted to me yesterday after class that the three of us have been seen together a lot lately and asked me what the hottest topic of discussion in school was about. I just ignored his comments and asked him to mind his own business.”

Sampa giggled and Janaka agreed to comply with Sampa’s requests. The three of them spent the rest of the lunch time joking about Mr. Roop’s accent during his sessions on the appetite for yoga. They just had one more class on dance before the end of the day. Janaka found the dance class to be better than yoga as he wasn’t made the guinea pig in class. The dance madam, Ms.Gauri, was very expressive in both the way in which she taught her class and danced. She even gave them insights on the history of the dance pertaining to Atipu. One of the best aspects of going to any of the schools in Atipu was that all the subjects taught in those schools had some innate relation to Atipu or the surrounding villages. The teachers in several classes often pointed out that the syllabi was designed to create interests among students and they believed that that interest was most likely to spark from the topics they bore the closest relation to i.e., the village.

At the end of the day, Janaka walked back to his room in deep thoughts of his schedule to find time to meet Bala and ask him about all the things that were such a mystery to him. His determination to talk to Bala at that very moment was so severe that he galloped back to his room in concentrated speediness like a sprinter trying to reach his destination. When he approached bolch hall and before he could even stop himself from crashing onto the front doors, he felt an external force in him pushing his body forward to travel beyond the closed doors. Even as he consciously decelerated himself to halt, this unknown external force enabled him to travel through the doors and within a flash he was inside the building, without even opening the doors.

He was amazed at what just happened. He tried to relive the moment and thought it perhaps was a dream but then it wasn’t. He was so excited at what just happened to him that he now wanted to get out of the building in the same way. While trying to walk back through the door he banged against the door thereby injuring his nose. A group of boys who were walking across the hallway watched the comical scene and shook vigorously in bawling laughter. He was now confused and was wondering whether it was really an imagination. He was almost certain that he had just walked through the doors a couple of minutes ago and yet it seemed like a mere fantasy.

Looking at the confused expression on Janaka’s face one of his friends Schlapp who was also in the sixth year asked him if everything was okay. But Janaka had too many things going on in his head at that moment and hastily replied back that he was doing fine and that he was just in a hurry. But Schlapp was surprised to watch Janaka walk towards the lounge area rather than outside the building.

(Chapter - 2 to be continued)

Bird Flu

2006-03-02T02:36:00.000-05:00

We all know how the avian bird flu virus is highly contagious among birds and humans. There have been three bird flu pandemics (the worst being in 1918) which has taken a huge toll around the world killing millions of people. The cause of bird flu is not clearly known as it is known to occur naturally in birds but what is clear is that it is spreading rapidly among birds and is a contagious virus. It is only a matter of time before a strain starts to develop among humans which could be transmitted easily creating another pandemic. Some of the worst bird flu symptoms are death due to illness, fever, failure to lay eggs, hemorrhages, etc. One strain of the bird flu virus called H5N1 is found to infect humans as well. Over 150 people have been killed by this infection across Southeast Asia (referred to as the Asian bird flu) including Japan, Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam, etc. Most recently it has affected several parts of India too. Since it has been proven (temporarily) that the virus cannot be transmitted between humans the best way to prevent the virus is pretty obvious, to restrict oneself from eating chicken or turkey. I, after a long period of relishing meat and sea food, have managed to convert into a vegetarian and its been pretty successful I must say. I just had the 6 month annv since I was last tempted by any kind of meat.

Coming back to the important issue at hand, there have been only hand full of labs that have managed to identify the bird flu vaccines but they are still under clinical trials. The FDA after the trials is yet another battle. But even after all this trouble if the scientists managed to come up with something concrete, it is estimated that only certain amount of vaccine can be produced worldwide at a given time ~to treat 5 million people/week that is 1% of US population, and a fraction of the Indian population. Just seems a little scary but maybe I am just thinking too many steps ahead and there will never be a bird flu pandemic.

On the other hand, there should be a global policy to stem the advancement of the virus. It is going to be challenge to vaccinate all of the birds in especially rural areas where farmers are more concerned about their day to day living rather than vaccinating their farm birds. The importance of vaccination and the spread of the virus has got to be pointed to the rural communities and it has to be a joint effort by global organizations like WHO and the local governmental organizations within each developing nation. Scientists should also think of a way to come up with vaccines that could be used in smaller amounts rather than larger subsequently making the manufacturing and distribution process a lot simpler. Lastly, the developed nations have to bring their support in dsitributing wealth and knowledge to the poorer nations bringing in reform to trade laws to subsidize the costs for these vaccines. In this age of biotechnology and automation, they should not wait for the pandemic to happen like they did with AIDS.

How to waste time fashionably

2006-03-01T10:44:00.000-05:00

The invention of the Television was a matter of dispute to start with. Nobody really knows who invented the TV. When TV itself is a dubious product what can you expect of the programs on it? I regret spending so much time watching nonsensical programs on TV when I could do bigger and better things in life such as watch the "O'Reilly factor" on fox. For those who don't know what I am talking about, Bill O'Reilly is this ruthless conservative (maybe a redundant phrase) who hosts this show everday of the week thats called the O'Reilly Factor (talk about self-conceitedness to the public). His creativity is "ingeniously" demonstrated by reciting the world news again while slamming liberals, the LA Times and the New York Times and lets not forget the democrats. He actually said on TV that the democrats and islamic jihads are enemies of the white house. What a genius. This is how he propogates hatrid among americans as Fox TV proudly admits to be the most watched channel among americans. Incidentally, I happened to be one of them yesterday.

The first story was regarding the port deal. I dont wanna delve into it as most of you know whats happenening. But this is what O'Reilly has to say after barbariously criticizing the deal a couple of days ago by linking the 911 hijackers and UAE.
Bill: I think Bush should tell the American public that there is nothing wrong with the dubai port deal. The only people who dont want the deal are Iran and Osama.

Hmmmm..I cracked up listening to that. I was wondering where he learnt to effectively read the minds of the Iranians and osama! If he would have done that 4 yrs ago the world would have been a better place. I should have just changed channels right then but I would regret later.

Later, O'Reilly was interviewing this retired US army Col. David Hunt regarding the abuse in Abugharib. This is how the conversation goes as far as I can recollect.

Bill: So col. what do you think about the new allegations regarding the abuses?
Hunt: I think this is just more publicisized than necessary to create sensitivity among the people. There is nothing wrong in doing "bad things to bad people".
Bill: Forget about the publicity but do you think it was ok to abuse the prisoners in the manner in which they were abused.
Hunt: (mind you, he doesn't say no) I think its perfectly ok to do bad things to bad people. That is what the US army is trained to do.
Bill: Define bad things
Hunt: By bad I mean bad. I mean physical torture.

Thats it. I had to change channels. I seriously don't know how they recruit officals in the army with such an animalistic mind set. I decided to increase my IQ by changing channels to msnbc (another news channel).

Apparently Anna Nicole Smith is in the supreme court fighting for her Ex husbands money worth a billion dollars. I didn't even know who Anna nicole smith was before I watched the news and neither did the judges in the suprememe court. My IQ indicator went negative after that story. Not surprising.

I realized that if the media didn't indulge on wasteful news everyday we could do so much good for the society. So I decided to switch to the BBC channel which is considered a bit better. And guess what the headlines was: Dog trial in romania. So a dog is physically on trial with lawyers on the defense as well opposition sides fighting. The allegation was that the dog spotted a foreigner and bit the man on his thigh. Guess what the man, who turned out to be Japanese, does in retaliation? Sues the dog. So he follows the dog around just so it doesnt go astray and then took it to court. I wonder how they will take the oath for the dog. I was wondering what would have happened if he were in India with the bajillion stray dogs?

I was just too pissed off to watch any more news. I felt like I had better things going on in my own life.

Time for a question:

Guess whats the one item thats not available at Mardi gras?

Will be back later

US-India - Yes or No?

2006-02-28T12:59:00.000-05:00

Bush will be traveling across oceans to have lunch with Manmohan Singh. Last month's pressure on India by the US to report the Iran incident to the United Nations has developed a tricky situation among the extreme leftist groups in India. The protesters are clearly not welcoming Bush and ther reasons are definitely valid. But Singh has got to make this happen using his turbo power.

Manmohan Singh might bring up the topic of India playing an important role in the global scenario in terms of the nuclear programs and research. If that goes through, it would be a major boost for India in terms of R&D. If it doesn't Singh promised to shave his beard and remove his turban and become a DJ for Daler Mehndi.

Bush on the other hand might be careful on his decision having China in mind and I am sure he doesn't want to upset the chinese government in any way possible. No one wants to mess with the chinese. They just found out that the entire govt is proficient in kung fu so Bush has decided take cheney along for extra security. All said and done, I hope the protesters don't create too much of a scene and I hope Bush does not screw up the deal. All we need to do is assure him that no country will be as powerful as the US.

Story next time

2006-02-27T12:33:00.000-05:00

My schedule for the past month was very different from usual. I would come back home in the evening to watch the American idol and dancing with the stars..Oh wait sorry the olympics..What the hell is wrong with people? American idol had twice as many viewers than the olympics and this was when US came second in the medal count. I wonder what would happen if the NBA finals and the american idol finals coincided at the same time. I dont think we'll ever be alive to watch that happen.

And finally I managed to figure out how I can change colors for the text on my blog. Go html. After so many years of non-commital rage against computers I am following the footsteps of my co-workers and friends. I haven't really put too much thought into the color combination yet, you might see some minor changes to that regard. I have also decided to stick with this title after getting comments from some of you. Finally I also decided to milk as much as I can get from writing on this blog so there goes adsense. I'm still a little puzzled about how it actually works but I am sure the google guys are making a lot more money than I am for every ad I post on my website.

Wondering where the story is? I will be back with the second chapter.

The village of Aksa - Chapter 1

2006-02-25T15:33:00.000-05:00

Janaka has been in the village of Atipu for as long as he can remember. At the age of twelve, Janaka was definitely the naughty one out of the four siblings, partly because he was a kid and partly because he was the youngest who was given the most brotherly attention. Bala was the eldest, Kanak and Kashi were twins. The four of them attended Ashra, one of the four schools in the village of Atipu.

Compared to the rest of the students in his year Janaka was small built, short and thin. He had beautiful blue eyes and hair up to his shoulders. He also had a great sense of humor which clearly made him the center of attraction among all the girls of his year. Janaka was in his sixth standard now and he was slowly beginning to take some interest in his studies after Adhikaar, head of the school, warned him that he failed in all of his subjects in the previous year and if that trend continued he would be kept back in the sixth standard for another term. Janaka was quick to realize the seriousness of this situation and started a routine that involved revising his class notes daily. The previous years’ routine was to go to school for name sake, play with his friends, flirt with girls and annoy his siblings. Sixth year was different in the sense that there were more courses included in the curriculum like basic Sanskrit, creative writing and story telling, martial arts in theory and practice, yoga, equality and equanimity and dancing.

Sixth standard was the year when he made most of his friends. This was also the year when realized that he should spend time with people of the same sex too. His closest friends were Sampa and Taal. Sampa, Taal and Janaka spent a lot of time together reading books and gossiping about students from the other three schools i.e., Bhama, Camili and Dota, and together they were all referred to as the ABCD’s of Atipu. During one of their lunching sessions the conversation started off with Sampa casually asking Janaka which village he came from. Janaka immediately said Atipu in a manner that should have been obvious by now.

“That’s impossible. Nobody is actually from Atipu. We all came from neighboring villages into Atipu. Atipu was created for kids like us.” said Taal

At first Janaka thought that the two were playing a prank on him but then realized that Taal was probably correct because he could not think of a single person who was not associated to the ABCD’s of Atipu.

Taal assured Janaka immediately by saying “I’m sure Bala knows where you are from. You should ask him. We are both from Aksa.”

“Where is that?” asked Janaka, who was now feeling abandoned.

“I’ve never been there but have heard it takes more than a day to walk. There are also rumors that some of the greatest yogis can travel there in a flash.” said Sampa. Janaka had some confidence in what was being said because Sampa was always good about getting everyone else’s gossip and share it with him. Most of them tended to be true too.

But all this new information that he was getting made Janaka realize that there might be a whole new world that he was not aware of all these years that he might have actually been a part of at some point. Part of him was mad at his siblings for not telling him these things while another part of him was so curious that he wanted to skip his two afternoon classes and talk to Bala and listen to all his stories. But he couldn’t afford to miss his classes especially since Adhikar had warned to keep him back for a year if he failed. So he forced himself to focus during the class but his mind would uncontrollably imagine all kinds of things ranging from who he really was to how he could travel to his village or that if his siblings had ever been there before and why they hadn’t mentioned anything about this earlier. Once the last class was over, he hung his bag over his left shoulder and sprinted to Bala’s room in the Kulch building, where all the senior year students stayed.

“Bala, I’m hearing all kinds of things from my friends. All of them seem to know which village they are from. WHY DID YOU KEEP THESE THINGS FROM ME ALL THESE YEARS?” Janaka’s eyes turned red filled with rage. Ever since he was five he never liked to be the one who missed out on all the action and stories that his siblings had experienced. This information being so important to him made him really furious.

Bala had just left his door open to get some fresh air. When Janaka entered the room and shouted, it was like being struck by a thunderbolt. Bala’s first reaction was to twitch his upper body and face and then he simply looked at Janaka’s eyes and showed signs of embarrassment. “I..I..I was just waiting for the right time. I was waiting for you to get a little older so you could understand the details. There is a lot more to it than just where you came from.”

“What do you mean by me getting older? Don’t you think I should have known atleast where I came from when all my classmates do?”

Bala was very calm and being his usual self while he let Janaka take his emotions out on him. Even though Janaka treated him more like a dad than his brother, he would sometimes go out of control and take his anger out on him and later apologize for his act.

“It’s a little more complicated than that Janaka. Its not just where we are from but why we are here too you know. If you give me sometime to explain maybe Kashi and Kanak can also join us.”

“So do they also know? How could they be told even though they are only a year older than me?”

“Why don’t we all meet up at the kulch building hall for dinner and we can discuss. I will arrange to get permission for your meals here tonight.”

Janaka was not yet convinced but the idea of eating in the kulch building appealed to him. Kulch had the best cooks in the school and they served their meals with appetizers and desserts which didnt happend at the Milka hall where he was staying.

Janaka left Bala’s room without saying a word. He had an evening class on creative writing and so had to rush before it got too late.

After class he rushed back to kulch hall. There he saw his siblings waiting for him. Kanak had a seriously put-up face which was very unusual since he always liked to joke around and Janaka often felt very connected to him in some respects. Kashi gave the look as though she had rehearsed the sympathetic expression on her face several times before she came there and Bala was as calm as before. They all greeted Janaka. Bala put his arms around Janaka’s shoulders and guided him inside the hall. They sat on the floor in the lounge area facing one another in a circle. Janaka felt very tense with all the seriousness surrounding him. The last time the four of them were so quiet was when Bala fractured his legs after a fight with one of his classmates as part of an examination in the martial arts class. In any kind of serious atmosphere Bala would take the lead and begin his lecture. He proceeded to start the conversation this time too “We are all from Aksa. It’s a neighboring village and takes more than a day to walk there. I am the only one who has been there out of the four of us and I have been there just once to see our dad. He stays at Aksa with your mom. We…we are step brothers.”

All this while Janaka had never once wondered who his parents were or where they were staying. It was almost natural that most kids in Atipu didn’t pay attention to their parents mostly because they weren’t in contact with them since they were born. All this new information made Janaka feel like a different person altogether. He could now sense the distance with his siblings.

“Are the three of you siblings? Was it just me who has a different mom?” Janaka tried hard not to cry. It made sense why they kept these facts from him all these years. They clearly didn’t want to hurt his feelings and make him feel that he was not a part of their family.

“But we want you to know that nothing is going to change between us. We are still siblings and we will behave just the way we used to with each other.”

Janaka didn’t pay attention to what Bala was saying at this moment and simply shot his next question as though it was now his turn to speak “Is there any way I could see dad and my mom at the village? Why haven’t they come to visit me all these years?”

“There are still a lot of details that I haven’t told you. Maybe we should meet up next time since its getting late and the kitchen might close any moment.”

Janaka was very confused after this conversation. A lot of the details were given to him in patches today and he felt like he still didn’t know much about himself. Part of him was embarrassed that he knew so little about himself and part of him was excited to begin a whole new life altogether. Nevertheless he was excited for the food that was served in kulch kitchen. They served steamed rice cakes with cocnut chutney and sambar for appetizers, palak panner, fried oakra, curry fried mashed potato, korma and stuffed kucha for the main course. Janaka stuffed himself with all the food that he could without having to think about the conversation. Finally he drained himself in gulab jamun and mango lassi. Once he was done with dinner and walked back to his room he began to ponder about his family as he lay on his bed. The food felt really good in his stomach and he felt drowsy as he closed his eyes. The tiredness took over him and his thoughts of his family and all he could remember next was waking up to the scream of the morning bell.

Food for thought

2006-02-22T18:08:00.000-05:00

Hola,

I don’t know when I am going to stop changing the blog title. I wasn’t very satisfied with the previous title so I had to change. If you find it annoying then shoot me some ideas. Cheney, I just said ideas.

Hope you all had a great week. Here in the Midwest, it was biting cold last week.

It was so cold that I had to wear thermal under wear to get outside.

It was so cold that Cheney didn’t go out for his daily shoot.

It was so cold that the republicans were offended by Bush’s plans on the port authority

It was so cold that Israel is refusing to pay the Palestinians their own tax money of $50 million a month.

It was so cold that the Russians didn’t win the women’s figure skating short program.

Our moods wander around various phases and I was in one of those phases for the better part of last week where new stories or ideas would not spark. With every intention to start a new story, I would first turn on my laptop and open MS Word (which invariably takes a minute or two) and then begin to ponder. Beginning a story is so incredibly dependant on the success of the events during that day. Every event that even closely involves food, entertainment, sleep, dream, and fantasies coming true would score points toward writing a good story. Unfortunately, I don’t get out of the house too often and the days I do get out it’s either to go to my office, where I encounter not so many exciting things in life such as work, library, and so called extra-curricular activities which I would rather not delve into. The international and national news stories on TV and the newspaper don’t help either. Incidentally, most of the stories that I posted for Valentine’s Day are still being discussed around the world so that gives an idea of how many new things are happening in the political world at any given time. But getting out of the house and walking around really helps to flavor ordinary stories and make them into a curry house for most blogs.

Yesterday was one such day when I went to the Michigan basketball game. There is so much to talk about everything but the game. Although my story will not report the game commentary or the excitement among the Michigan fans when they saw their team win, the game still put me in the right mood to start and develop one. The story that will follow in my next post would be the first of many chapters so please be patient since I am in the process of writing the first chapter.

Hasta luego,

iCuidados.

Post V-day Special News Edition

2006-02-14T15:04:00.000-05:00

Valentine gifts

why is there so much love around us?

For eg: The Israeli government wants to indirectly assure the US Govt that they are not cheating on them by sleeping with the palestinians. To communicate this they pick this very special day to make the headlines in the NY Times every year...

Don't believe me? check this out...

Feb. 14, 2006 — The United States and Israel are discussing ways to destabilize the Palestinian government so that newly elected Hamas officials will fail and elections will be called again, according to Israeli officials and Western diplomats. NY Times

Feb. 14, 2005 - Abbas Declares War with Israel Effectively Over
“the new Palestinian leader, Mamoud Abbas, said in an interview this weekend that the war with the Israelis is effectively over and that the Israeli Prime Minister, Ariel Sharon, is speaking ''a different language'' to the Palestinians. Mr. Sharon's commitment to withdraw from Gaza and dismantle all Israeli settlements...”NY Times

Feb. 14, 2004 - Israeli forces shot and killed a Palestinian man during a raid before dawn on Friday in the northern West Bank, Israeli and Palestinian officials said. An Israeli security official said soldiers were searching for a suspected car bomb in Qabatia, near Jenin, when they heard gunshots. The official said...NY Times

Want to be a figure skater? First be a communist

That’s what the figure skating coaches say these days. The Russian dominance in figure skating is insurmountable. They have amassed 12 Olympic gold medals in figure skating in the last 12 Olympics. We still have to be appreciative of the Chinese especially the Zhang/Zhang couple who went on to win the silver medal after the brutal fall of the lady and the second Chinese team which went on to grab the bronze medal after the man tore his Achilles tendon in the last Olympic.
Oh wait a minute..I am sorry I forgot to mention the Indians in the Olympics, we love to eat roti and daal while watching it.

NASCAR story

Forty years after the civil rights movement in America, NASCAR "proudly" wants to give more opportunity to minorities and improve racial diversity within their organization. (Wah, Kya bath hai yaar). They are also planning to put minorities on a separate “technical orientation program”. I call it the “we need more car mechanics program”.

The D

I travelled to Detroit last weekend. Contrary to popular beliefs, I have always loved the city. "The D", they refer to, bears such a rich history that goes back all the way to the industrial revolution. The change in the city post super bowl 2006 is conspicuous, and definitely for the better. I am glad that this was a step to revival. New roads and footpaths have been paved across downtown from the GM headquarters to the Tigers stadium. The streets are a whole lot cleaner than what they used to be. Campus Martius, the open air ice skating rink, was bustling with kids and families. One could see Indians and whites walking on the roads with their families..without even pissing in their pants..I am not kidding!

I paid a visit to one of my favorite exhibits, the Diego Rivera mural, at the Detroit Institute of Arts. Again, this is one of Detroit’s greatest treasures and I am glad they are doing a lot of work to preserve art. But I didn’t quite understand one aspect about the museum and that was the extra security in the European and contemporary American Art section when compared to no security in the African, South American East Asian or Middle Eastern art sections. Then the whole "pissing in the pants" story made a lot more sense to me.

Dick

Ever wondered if Cheney had a better job to do than be the Vice-President. OOOYeh, shooting old republicans after getting drunk with a beer. Btw, what the hell is a beer? It could have been a six-pack of beer ,a 40oz beer, a carton of beer, does he think he's really that smart? But here is an interesting article that I came across which might clear some confusion.

DECEMBER 18, 2003 “Dick Cheney is under fire for shooting birds. The Vice President has come under attack from an animal rights group for participating in a “canned hunt” in which he reportedly killed pheasants that were released for the purpose of being shot by hunters.” MSNBC

Gotcha! So thats why he didn't shoot birds this time.

***Latest News!!*** An entire cavalry is trying to stop the vice-president from going on a rampage in his horse this morning after hearing a gun shot at his house. Somebody stop him please!!

More Love

The White House is wondering why this petty issue (dick shoot) has become such a big deal in the U.S. More rightly so, after all, they have had 40 yrs of experience from Vietnam, Sudan, Afghanistan, etc and abuses in Abu Gharib and Guantanamo bay.

"Some" might retaliate back saying "Bush is keeping us americans safe. His foreign and domestic policies are unprecedented"

Hmm.. This report was written by a Republican-dominated special House committee and obtained Tuesday night (2/14/2006) by The Associated Press.
"The failure of initiative cost lives, prolonged suffering, and left all Americans justifiably concerned our government is no better prepared to protect its people than it was before 9/11, even if we are. Passivity did the most damage." concluded the report

New Photos
Apparently the US criticized and blasted an Australian TV network for publishing the Abu Gharib photos. They feel its going to only inflame violence in the world. I wonder where the concept of the "freedom of the press" was forgotten this time since its so inbuilt in their "culture". Two weeks ago they were talking about the freedom of speech wrt the cartoons of the prophet.

For those who think they are "man-lee"

Last but not nearly the least for V-day special. There is not one person in the world who knows what the average penis size is. Even some of the greatest sex researchers like Kinsey, Schonfeld and Bebe in the 1940’s after sampling nearly 18,000 men with anonymous questionnaires and interviews couldn’t come up with a definite answer.

Here is an article that might provide you with some insight:
“But in case you're still wondering, here is what we know: When self-measured, the median length of a stretched flaccid penis is about 5.1 inches. For an erect penis, most studies come in at 5.5 to 6 inches. The average flaccid penis is in the 3.5- to 4-inch range. If someone else is doing the measuring, well, the numbers come out lower."

But go ahead, add a little extra. After all, it's Valentine's Day!

Beer at work - Part 2

2006-02-13T14:52:00.000-05:00

Assalaam alaykum,

I have changed a couple of things on my blog, most importantly the title. I was deeply mulling over whether or not to change the title. Finally, I took the initiative to log onto blogspot and change the original blog title, for the better or worse. It’s sometimes a torture to come up with a title on your own; especially something that encompasses a whole range of topics from Bush to his antithesis homosexuality. Its not that I hate the language of Urdu, just that I needed to come up with something original, after all I stole it from the movie “salaam namaste” by appending “ass”. I also wanted to make it clear to the fundamentalists that I do not have anything against our brothers and to prevent them from getting agitated I chose my greetings well enough. Lately, I have been receiving some phone calls regarding the contents of my blog and it was difficult for me to describe the emotions of those people whether they were shocked in belief or bewailed in sympathy, and so came the description for my blog.

Getting back to the second part of my story. For those who are breaking their heads, the first part of the story is my previous post titled “Beer at Work part 1”.

(continued)

It took me a couple of days to mentally recover from the incident. Even though I did not end up committing the act of anal penetration with a beer bottle myself, I kept thinking it in my head and my mind would wander and wonder unsteadily for the next week or so.

[NOTE: Before I continue any further let me introduce character keys for the hypothetical act (described and visualized numerous times) to simplify the story; kid is the receiver, I am the giver, beer bottle is the tool, condom is the tool kit.]

Often, I would hallucinate in the streets of Ann Arbor during lunch hours and visualize the graphics of the hypothetical situation. Also, right around that time, news on the War in Iraq was the hot topic in the media. To add to my nightmares, Bush was going to be re-elected in a short while. Slowly the characters and the context of my dreams and hallucinations were transformed from me conducting the act of anal penetration on the kid to Bush on the Iraqis, the US army being the tool and Rumsfeld with his slimy hair-style being the lubricated tool-kit. To humor myself, I would visualize by interchanging the roles of the giver and receiver.

A few months passed without any trouble and I continued to work at the Michigan League. The kid and I actually ended up becoming good friends and I started appreciating his sense of humor for the first time in a long time. Sometimes we need juvenile humor to keep us young and healthy. But our friendship didn’t go too far. One day, the manager came up to me and said “Do you wanna earn more money? There is this friend of mine who wants somebody to maintain his lawn and clean his house. He pays $20 an hour, twice as much as what you are earning now. Looking at your sincerity at the League I thought of recommending you for the job. Are you convinced?” I was enticed by the money but it was sad that I had to leave my friend. Unfortunately money took precedence in my decision which I would very much regret later.

The good thing about the new job was that I didn’t have to walk too far from my apartment. It was a huge bungalow in the outskirts of Ann Arbor. I was really happy to see a small lawn of maybe 20 ft by 20 ft outside the house. There were some pretty flowers in purple, red and pink which I thought maybe his wife had planted. As soon as I opened the latch of the gate and entered his compound, a ferocious dog came running towards me and was about to grab my pelvic spare parts. But even before the dog did anything, I shouted my lungs out for help and started running towards the house, banging on the door maniacally. The dog followed me thinking I was the prey and all of a sudden I felt a sting of pain in my butt. Turning 180 degress, I saw my jeans from Express were completely ripped off behind me; I was now officially butt naked. Just in time the owner opened the door of the house and said “I’m so sorry that this happened. Benny gets very excited to see visitors. Are you the person who agreed to do my garden?”

I was in half mind to say that I had come to the wrong house and that I was looking for my cousin’s house. But I ended up forgiving the man and the dog and said “Yes that is me. Very nice to meet you. Maybe you could put a sign for the dog on your gate just so people don’t excite your dog too much.” Saying that I turned and showed him what his dog had done to my clothes. Seeing the ripped off jeans he apologetically said “I am really sorry. Let me give you some new clothes to wear. I don’t think you can walk back home like this.” I said “that would be great. Where do you think I can start?” He showed me around the house and gave instructions on what to clean and how to mow his lawn.

While we went from room to room, the dog too followed me just making sure I wasn’t stealing anything. The man gave me a new pair of shorts to wear and I was happy to cover myself and start work. The work was more laborious that I thought. He asked me to do nit bitty things like cleaning the window nets and grills, furniture, water his plants and even cleaning the bath tub. I started to work on each room when I finally came to the bed room. I was to dust underneath the bed, so I lay on the floor on my back and just had my head under the bed like car mechanics working on engines. It was a bed battle for me to work underneath without proper light. Besides, the man was watching TV in the same room which I didn’t pay attention to. After sometime I couldn’t help hearing the several moaning sounds from the TV where the actors were breathing very hard as though they were working out to the Richard Simmons show and finally I heard a guy shout as though he was bitten by a dog, very similar to the way I shouted. But I did not allow myself to be distracted.

After a couple of minutes I felt somebody lightly rubbing against my belly, but it was almost like an imagination. After a few more minutes, I felt a thrust on my pelvic region, I was pretty sure that was imagination too and that it must be that anal penetration story that’s causing me to be unstable. So I forced myself to focus on the job. But after a little while longer the thrusting got stronger and there was almost a roar. By then I had finished cleaning the bed and was enthused by the TV sounds and the thrusting. When I came out of the bed, the sight in front of me put me to complete tears and I knew I was quitting this job forever. It’s embarrassing to even discuss the situation. Great authors might write a 500 page memoir describing the situation, and this one would actually be true. I knew that the next few weeks were going to be spent dreaming with the roles of the giver, receiver, tool and tool-kit being changed drastically. Even today I wonder how could a domesticated dog like a pitbull watch gay porn on TV and simultaneously pretend to have sex with a man while the owner watches the live scene to jerk off.

Beer at work - Part 1

2006-02-09T12:54:00.000-05:00

While I was a student at Michigan, I used to work part-time as a technician at the Michigan League, a building where all kinds of events ranging from weddings for underage kids to superbowl parties would take place. The work wasn’t very interesting, it was merely setting up a room with chairs and tables or breaking them down by removing chairs and tables. The workout was good and it was like being paid by the hour to go the gym. There was the occasional pushing and pulling of TV carts for those meatless heads that wanted some kind of animation/amusement in their talks in order to keep the audience alive. Money wasn’t that great but was sufficient to pay my bills. As a desi, I found it utterly embarrassing to admit to anyone that I was a technician, so I would often tell people with a constrained expression of genuine seriousness that I was working as an event organizer. Some would enthusiastically say “Oh that is great yaar. You can put this on your resume while you apply to B-Schools.” Hell yeh, in the name of Alito I can.

The hours of work was crazy and varied depending on the day. On most week nights I was required to work from 10pm until 3am. Nights were freaky since I was the only non-white working in the building. There was always a random desi who attended a conference meeting in the hope of getting some free food but other than that it was mostly me. Most of the kids I was working with were also a lot younger than I was, probably in their late teens. Even the kinds of things that they talked about put me off by at least two degrees of freedom.

There was this one time when it was just me and this other normal looking kid working during the night shift. Around 1am, he comes up to me while I am in the middle of lifting a heavy table and walking down the hall way and excitedly says “Dude, I got a six-pack in my back pack. We need a break from this shit man. ” I wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying since the table weighed a little more than my usual lifting capacity. All I heard were the words "six pack". But then he stood right in the middle of the hallway and obstructed my path to completion. I agreed to whatever he said and didn’t give room for discussion at that point when my face was completely red and I was almost out of breadth from lifting this heavy table over my head that was smelling of some gooey mix of ketchup and rotten meat. Once I dropped the table in the storage room, I came to my senses again. With the soreness in my arms from lifting, a beer sounded like a great idea to me but later I would regret this offer. Besides, the building manager left around 10pm and there was no one to monitor the building except the security guard who really didn’t care what went on inside the building.

I decided to start working after my first bottle while this kid was having a go at his six-pack. He finished five bottles in less than 15 minutes flat and I knew that that was trouble waiting to happen. As always with drunken white kids, he started talking about the other times that he was drunk “There was this one time when we threw a bachelors party for this dude who was my room mate and we got so shit-faced that we shoved a beer bottle in the groom’s anus. The next day at his wedding, he couldn’t even stand straight while taking the oath. That shit was fucking hilarious man.” HELL NO, that wasn’t funny to me. I was done with his crazy stories since it was just adding fuel to the already existing stereotypes about a particular group in me. I told him that we’d better get work done and leave early. The kid was so drunk that he asked me to wake him up in half hour and that if he didn’t, I'd have to stick a beer bottle in his anus. He even gave me a lubricated condom to use on the bottle if necessary. He passed out immediately after he gave me the instructions so I couldn’t argue furthur. Now, I didn’t have anyone to assist me at work so I hoped he would wake up on his own. But my mind was already wandering with the technicalities of the operation if the kid didn’t wake up. Each time I looked at the condom I was reminded of the graphics of the operation I was to perform. Never ever had I done this in my whole life and there I was sitting glum with my hands on my forehead thinking what would my family say if they caught me firstly with a beer bottle, secondly with a condom in my hand and thirdly sticking them both in someone's privates.Fortunately for me, I saw him walk down the hall way in half an hour and he helped me carry the rest of the tables with a heavy head. Now I knew who wasn’t going to be in my wedding.

(To be continued)

The Rocking-Chair

2006-02-08T01:52:00.000-05:00

I was about thirteen years old when I learnt the concept of the rocking chair at a friend’s apartment. I might have been around eight when I first saw something close to a rocking chair. I vaguely remember my dad’s friend gliding on it with his knee on the seat, shins perpendicular to his thighs and resting on the seat, hands firmly holding the arm rest and his face pointed towards the back rest which made it impossible to see his expressions. The man’s posture resembled an overgrown baby in fetal position that was moving to attain the ideal position, but I wondered if he was actually pretending to be riding a horse or if he pretended to be the horse himself. It was more like a to and fro rhythmic motion of a half man-half horse, popularly known as “centaurs” among Harry Potter fans. The door for the room was partially closed and so I managed to get a sneak preview of this adult show. Almost instantaneously, I knew that kids weren’t allowed into the room that was presenting obscenity. Then I remembered why I was standing there in the very first place.
Some of my friends and I were playing dark-room, which was very popular in the 80’s, and we were supposed to be hiding inside the kids room while the seeker would come looking for us. Ingeniously, I left the room so they would be looking for me all night long. I left the obscenity and stealthily crept back into the kids room on all fours. To my surprise, the lights were already on. That meant that the game was over. That wasn’t possible because I was never caught. Once I cautiously entered the room, I saw two of the boys lying on the floor with their head and upper body stuck under the bed desperately trying to figure out the best position to get out while their two dogs were assisting them by ferociously grabbing and pulling on their trousers. Two other boys were having a great time wrestling with each other next to the study table for reasons I didn’t know.
At the end of that night I learnt the following:

Dogs are actually faithful

Certain humans have the capacity to change shapes to accommodate change in sizes

Centaurs were not a myth and they don’t look good even in the fetus

Boys, under the age of ten, love to suck on their own blood

That night took a huge toll on my mental and physical health in bringing peace back to the room and I didn’t come across a rocking chair for quite a while. Five years later, I saw a similar rocking-chair, the same posture of my father’s friend came to my mind. I concluded that back then he was either trying to test the strength of the chair or that he was a bad actor. I desperately wanted to own one right then and so I went to the furniture store that was conveniently located adjacent to my apartment building. Since I was penny-wise by nature, I didn't buy the chair during my first visit. After a few visits, the store manager quickly recognized me and was desperate to hear me make a deal with him. He was nice enough to allow me to test the chair each time I came into the store even though he very well knew I wasn’t gonna spend a goddamn pie on that thing. I used to glide on the chair for about 2 hours a week and head back home. It was like going to Chucky Cheese for free. The store even had a TV screen by the side and one day I moved the rocking chair so I could get a pretty good view of the movie “Crocodile Dundee” that was playing on HBO. We didn’t have HBO at home and I decided to take advantage of the situation. Unfortunately the store manager asked me to leave before I could finish the movie, so I never got to see the ending. The probability of the dundee loosing a battle or dying was almost none. Fortunately, the store manager did not have any eyebrows above his eyes, so I couldn’t figure out if he was actually angry or annoyed at me or if he was just a loud man by nature. I decided to be obedient and left the store without getting into a fight. After that embarrassing incident, I didn't go to the store for a very long time.

The conventional rocking chairs are unquestionably more innovative and fun compared to the modern ones with cushions and footstools. I never quite understood the use of a footstool for a rocking chair. It would be quite the workout for the thighs and abdomen to assist in the rocking motion while the legs are resting on a foot stool. It was shocking to see that rocking-love seats are being sold in stores. It seems redundant to have an artificial rocking motion while making love. There are also the rocking beds and cradles not just for babies but also for the grown ups. The last advice we want is from Dr.Phil on how to decorate rocking love seats and beds to transform lovers into ferocious tigers and lions.

From Bhubaneswar to Konark

2006-02-05T12:00:00.000-05:00

“Coldddrrreeeanks, chai, kafi, idli vada…..chikeeeeii.” Bhupathi was used to the general commotion of the mobile tea and coffee valaas (vendors) in indian trains as he was traveling from Bubaneshwar to Konark. The rain water was gushing into the berths through the windows. The water had an eerie smell of rust and dust. The rainfall was like a blessing after last season’s famine. One could sense an urgency among people as they placed their buckets outside their thatched huts to collect and store as much water as they could. Kids loved playing in the rain while their moms made fierce attempts in bringing them back home to prevent them from getting sick. Bhupathi cherished the cold droplets on his facial skin. The breeze as the train gained speed brought in a chill that made Bhupathi enjoy the moment of joy until the frustration of the passenger sitting on the opposite end was curmudgeonly demonstrated “Hello Meeshter. Would you be sho kind enough not to drench my clothes by shutting that bindow? We are not the billagers in the movie “Lagan” waiting por the crops to grow or something. Be conshiderate.” Bhupathi was a little taken aback by this young man of maybe 20 something. He also looked foreign or at least pretended to be foreign with his jeans, nike shoes, and the attitude. But he still had a strong bengali accent when he spoke english, of course, who else could say ‘hello mishter’. Bhupathi thought that this guy must be "In-Sen".

But Bhupathi was kind enough to oblige to the young man’s request or rather his order and said “Oye, I am sorry. I was just in my own world. By the by, my name is Bhupathi. I’m a townie traveling to Konark. How about you Mr…?”

The young man was a little suspicious to be interrogated so easily. He was always advised by his elders to be careful with strangers in the train and was warned not to give out any information. He even remembered his grandmother’s last few words on her death-bed “Beta, don’t ever listen to anybody in the train. The biggest mistake I ever made was when I started chatting with your grandfather 65 yrs ago.” Sadly, these were the words that she uttered before her last breath. The young man said “I’m Saleem.” Saleem had always wondered what his grandpa was like. He had only seen his villainous pictures where strings of white hair that could be drawn into wires poked out through both of his nostrils and ears, a patch of white stubble attaching his neck and chest was conspicuously reflecting back light from the flash of the camera and all this made him look like an old grizzly bear in his 70’s. Something from the photos also intuitively hinted that his grandpa had more hair on his back than his chest. The only place where he didn’t have hair was his head. Saleem really felt sorry for his grandmother as she was so pretty and that they had four beautiful kids, one of them being his own mom. The fact that Bhupathi reminded Saleem of his grandpa made him all the more wild and angry. So he refused to make a conversation and turned his face in the opposite direction after mentioning his name.

Bhupathi on the other hand was curious to meet young people and loved to learn from their experiences. But since Saleem’s hostility was blatantly demonstrated from the start of their meeting he decided not to prod further. The train was now passing corn fields by the sides and Bhupathi watched the workers in their colorful clothes. Some of the workers paused for a moment to observe the passing train. Occasionally little boys and girls would run close to the railway tracks and wave to the passengers. Just as Bhupathi was enjoying the scenery he felt a pat on his shoulder. It was the ticket-master. Apparently he had been shouting out his name for the last 2 minutes or so and proclaimed him deaf. As Bhupathi turned around, the ticket-master voluntarily came close to his ears and began yelling “EXCUSE ME SIR. CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW.” Bhupathi wondered if the ticket-master was recruited by the Indian railways on a special quota for the mentally-ill. The ticket-master shouted so loudly that his mouth opened in a maniacal fashion as though lord Krishna was showing the whole world to his mom in the Mahabharath, the difference being that the ticket-master’s mouth smelled of Meeta (sweet) pan. He also felt a shower of his watery mixture of secretions from his salivary glands and for a moment Bhupathi wished he had glasses equipped with wipers like the college student in the movie Mein Hoon Na. The ticket-master took a deep breath and started to yell again but Bhupathi was just in time to lift his hands and cover his face. But he would have been glad if he had covered his ears. Bhupathi wasn't sure whether to shut the ticket-master's mouth or his own face, eyes and ears. He finally yelled “I CAN HEAR SIR. I CAN HEAR. I AM NOT DEAF.” It felt like the whole train was quiet after his yell, but that was more psychological than anything else. It was impossible to bring the attention of a thousand people with a mere scream. Bhupathi sometimes felt that India needed more than just one prime minister to manage all of the nation's problems to bring in reforms. Bhupathi immediately handed the ticket to avoid further discussion. The ticket-master took Bhupathi’s ticket and tallied it with the list he had on his notepad. The ticket-master had the look of a strict school-teacher with huge black framed spectacles with strings hanging by either ends of his face and his glasses would constantly fall down the bridge of his nose at regular intervals, he wore a black coat over his white shirt and white trousers. Even though the ticket-master didn’t have a photo to tally he gave Bhupathi multiple looks that were a combination of fear, suspicion and anger. Within 20 minutes of handing the ticket back to Bhupathi the train was coming to halt and he could see the sign for Konark. Saleem was glad to get out of the tumultuous milieu in the train while Bhupathi was glad to be back to his town and they parted their own ways.

Culinary-Integration

2006-02-01T18:16:00.000-05:00

Cooking is one of my favourite past times. I am not talking about bookish or "play by the rules" cooking, but my kind is always "below the belt". It could also be scrupulously put as culinary-integration (CI). Yes, I just made up that term. And it may seem obvious to some, but here is how its done : use atleast 50% of the ingredients you possess in the kitchen cabinets that is hidden beyond the first row i.e., salt, pepper and masala containers. The end result may vary as to how and why you mix certain things. I once experimented with broccolli, zuchinni, garam masala and tomato sauce and I wont go into detail about the end result but suffice it to say that the dish went uneaten until it got rotten with fungus. Fungi fascinates me. Fungi cause or cure diseases depending on the kind. But the kind that was in my fridge was sure not the one that cured food poisoning. Mushrooms make any dish taste good and are pretty versatile in that respect, is what I thought until I experimented them with parseley, olive oil, rice wine and tomatoes. Seems pretty normal, until I added broccolli and bananas. Dishes that have fruits and vegetables enthuse me. Some of the best dishes I have tasted in certain parts of western India have a tinge of sour and sweet flavours mixed. I wonder if that was due to the french influence. Cooking is fun as long as the pre- and post-cooking events are taken care of by someone else. Sometimes I think kitchen sinks should be equipped with built-in grills to arrange dirty plates and dishes. Ofcourse dish-washer is the other alternative but most often the dish would have to be rinsed before which makes matters worse. With the infusion of so many engineers in the past 20 yrs not one could come up with a solution to the dish-washer. Hats off to the many inventions they came up with. But, I would have to admit a fundamental issue with engineers: social skills. I need'nt comment more. All their lives they have been working on math and science equations preventing them to be normal in a social setting. Its like everyday is halloween for engineers. In my most desperate attempts to look "cool", I once went to a friend's party in a stripy shirt with a huge collar (which is surprisingly sold at H&M), tucked in tight-jeans and pointy leather shoes. Some Indians mistook me for devanand and some wondered if I forgot a cow-boy hat. Our perception of whats cool and whats not is completely different from the norm and that makes us unique. In some cases like the cooking example unique may be good i.e., European food especially french and east european are unique and so the restaurants can afford to run on $30 entrees. Whereas Indian food is not so unique any more. I was shocked to run into an indian restaurant in the middle of a ghost town in nevada on US-50 which is also knick-named "the lonliest road in America".

Well, let me stop rambling for today. I will be back soon.

Lacking clockwork

2006-02-01T18:15:00.000-05:00

Lately I have had so much time that a new found glory for friendster has errupted in me. I don't bother setting the alarm and wasting charge on my cell phone and so I wake up when it is too bright to sleep anymore. Fortunately I am too lazy to shut the blinds. Closing the blinds in my room is an ordeal of its own. These blinds hang vertically and are individually hooked to the top joined by a common spool. Invariably, one of them would be displaced by 180 deg. So I would have to first seperate the blinds individually to get to the displaced one. Even before that, since I am an average Indian, I would have to first bring a chair to reach the top of the blind. There is also a chance of falling over and tripping because my chair has wheels on them. Unfortunately I would not be able to sue the manufacturer because there is a warning pasted beneath the seat saying " DO NOT USE THIS CHAIR AS A STEP-LADDER. FAILURE TO FOLLOW THESE GUIDELINES MAY RESULT IN SERIOUS INJURY". I didn't quite understand why the warning was pasted beneath the seat instead of someplace visible to the person stepping on it. After much contemplation I decided to just have sun as a wake-up indicator. I felt myself going back in time to the sumerian culture and the egyptian shadow clocks, only without the sundial. But in a place like Ann Arbor, sundials would be ineffective for six months in a year. I would still prefer those to the middle-age clocks that weighed 200-400 pounds on an average. Back home in Muscat, we owned a 19th century german cuckoo clock. Eventhough it sounds cool, it is one of the most embarrassing showpieces to own in the house. The day we bought the clock and assembled it, my parents and I waited for almost 10 minutes for the cuckoo to pop out and do its thing. It was like waiting for a celebrity but only not. There is also the "biological clock" that most people love to talk about. Even though I have never believed in a "biological clock", it has worked for me during crucial moments. At the moment I am enjoying the fact that I can spend an entire day without being aware of the time. It feels great!