On Personal Names...

I have a pretty common first name (or given name as it is called at some places). It’s so common that even the movie characters with my name have rarely had any significant part to play. I believed my surname was uncommon, making the combination unique. But I was wrong with my assumption – boy there are so many Amit Gawande’s out there on Facebook, the “universal phonebook”. Yo namesake morons, why are you still using that app?

The names from European countries always fascinate me 1. Every name sounds so unique. And has such a complex tone to it – it’s new every time I hear it. And if I think I’ve already heard it, they adorn the spelling with an extra “z”. Fantastic!

Having a common first name sucks. Having it end with an equally common surname sucks more. Good luck getting high up the search results list 2. I dread creating my account on any new service that is launched. I rarely get a username with just my first name – there is already a developer building that bloody service. With surname? Nah. With the first letter of surname? Nah. With a number or underscore in there? Yep, that’s what you get.

That also the reason why I respect the service where I could get that username with just my first name. Uhm!

Of course, if your aim in life is just to get lost in the crowd, be not know or just be, have a common name. But who wants that? Right? RIGHT?


  1. Not English names though – why won’t you patch up your relationship already. It will save us other worlders the effort of clarifying this every time. I know, I know. As if you ever gave a shit about what we thought. Sigh! [return]
  2. Yep, am not pure. I do Google my name often. As if you don’t. Bruh! That’s also another reason why I love DuckDuckGo – I am the “top” Amit Gawande amongst all other suckers out there. [return]

Herding the Herder

Gotya, wake up, you bum.”

Gotya was shaken up from his sleep. He shuddered, then forced his face to point to where the sound was coming from. He let in as much of his father’s looming figure as his hazy vision allowed.

Gotya’s father was tired of Gotya’s utter lack of competence at any work there possibly was to do. Gotya, on the other hand, was fed up with the extreme truculent manner in which his father constantly chided him. Neither of them attempted to right anything. Gotya continued to laze away the days and the nights. His father continued to bark at him for doing so.

What are you going to do now?”

Just what you told me Baba,” was all he managed to mutter. He was still livid with his father for waking him up early. Just as he was every day. He was still spread across his Charpai — spread even more than the bedsheet beneath him did.

And what is that?”

Not to do anything stupid,” he hissed now — his father just won’t give up.

That is what you are not going to do, Gotya. I asked what are you going to do now?”

Gotya sighed. Haven’t we just gone through this?” he pondered. And finally, annoyed, he shot back, Anyway, what am I going to do?”

We just went through this, you idiot. Stop being stupid.”

See.” It was Gotya who barked now. That’s why I keep saying you are getting old now. Isn’t that exactly what I said I am going to do - not doing anything stupid?”

Gotya sat straight now, his father contrarily bent a little. He then stretched somewhat and then bent a lot more, sighing. Herding this fool is no less difficult than the thoughtless goats, goats are easier withal, he mumbled.


This is another short-story from the series of adventures from this crazy village Tikwadi. I have also published the other humor stories as part of this series — The Lone Conductor, Day when a loan shark was tamed and He who wasn’t welcomed.

Day When a Loan Shark Was Tamed

village-2

Thursday dawned on Tikwadi. For an outsider, no dawn in Tikwadi was any different. Villagers idled around just the way they always did. Men meandered, dilly-dallying with some unknown angst. Women hustled helter-skelter, pretending to be busy with some unknown chore. And kids spurted kooky from all directions, engulfed with some unknown euphoria. But for a resident of Tikwadi, every day dawned with a new crazy chapter.

Even today, a group of men squat around a smallish bonfire. They had Neem stems sticking out of their mouths; and hands, searching for heat, sticking out of their bodies. The chilly month of December always made them do such concoctions — they were never sure which body part they wanted to heat by the bonfire and which one to keep warm in the cloak. Raghu and Ganya were doing nothing different.

I heard Paka saw a ghost yesterday?” queried Raghu.

Where?” Ganya raised his brows.

In his farm, it seems. He was returning from his evening choir. Got late. Heard he saw lights dancing in front of him.”

That idiot must have just seen some fireflies. Anyway, who did you hear it from?”

Him.”

Him Who?”

Paka.”

Who else did you hear it from?”

No one else. Why the fuck does that matter?” Raghu bit on his Neem a bit too hard.

Why would you say you heard” if the only person you heard it from was the one whom it happened to?”

Raghu spat a chunk of chewed Neem extracts — the stem wasn’t the only thing that was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Fuck, is that Lala?” he howled. Why the hell is he out of his den?”


Lala was horror personified. A moneylender by profession, and unlike the tradition of Tikwadi, he did not suck at lending money. After all, there are only so many ways someone can lend money. He did not lend money, he sentenced people to lending money from him. He would devise a ploy so intriguing that people just took money from him irrespective of their needs.

Paka, the lone conductor of Tikwadi, had fallen for a similar ploy. He once sat at the window of his bus with Lala next to him. He knew he should just keep his mouth shut and eyes focused on anything but the evil. There was a word around the town that Lala can taint one’s brain with any opening he finds on your body. Paka did not want his brain to get spoilt; he pulled his beanie tighter over his ears.

So where’s the bus going?” Lala began his session.

Why the fuck does that matter? Where are you going, you devil? Paka cursed in his mind. But he stayed inert, as if lifeless.

You people controlling this bus are genius; it looks so old. It must be holding a world record for being the oldest bus plying on the road. Why do you still work, as in do a job?” Paka looked at Lala with quizzing eyes. Strike one.

Why are you looking at me like that? For this alone, The Guinness Book of Records must have paid you a fortune, no?” Paka, still mostly unmoved, had few frowning lines on his forehead. Strike two.

Lala continued, Now don’t tell me you did not even apply for the Guinness records?” Paka heard him. Strike three. Game over.


Of course, Lala did not suck at taking the money back from people. He was a ruthless maniac at that. So much so that there was a belief around the town that he had hollowed his cardiac chambers too — and used that space as safes for hiding people’s documents.

Both Raghu and Ganya owed him money. And neither could pay him back. So they stood up and started a brisk walk away from Lala. Lala, with his husky loud voice first, caught up to them in spite of an ancillary tummy dangling from his torso.

Stop. I am not here to ask money from you, you fools.”

Both Raghu and Ganya stopped.

Have you seen Paka around?”

Must be at his home.” Raghu shot back.

You think I did not try that? I went to his home and he is not there,” Lala lambasted.

No idea, in that case, about where he is. I did hear that he saw a ghost yesterday. So maybe he has run away from Tikwadi.” Raghu informed.

Ganya raised his eyebrows and howled, Paka did not see any ghost, and this idiot did not hear it from anyone. He only heard it from Paka, or so he says.”

Then why the fuck does he say that he heard?” Lala shrieked. Ganya shrugged. Anyway, I think he has a ghost living in his house itself,” Lala theorised.

Neither Raghu nor Ganya spoke a word. They just stared at Lala in an expectation that he might clarify this theory further.

That lady living with him? She is no lesser that a witch.”

Of course.” They spurted out exactly at the same time. Indeed she is. What did she do now by the way?”

Well, I went there to ask my money back. That witch managed to pull another ₹100 from me. And also a monthly business, I am afraid”

Both Raghu and Ganya instantly flattened their hands to smash them together, all in full respect for this godly lady. Realising they have made Lala aware, they stopped. And gave him a puzzled look.

Don’t ask. But hear me out anyway.”


I reached Paka’s house pretty early in the morning, I knew he always left his home early. But he had already left. He loves his bus more than his lady, I tell you.

Anyway, I reach there and catch his wife squatting in her front-yard, milking her goats. Howdy Bindu,” I greet her and ask, Where is Paka?”

She was startled as if no human had ever greeted her. So much so that she sprayed some milk on me. I felt even the goat looked at me and chuckled with a shake of her head.

He is not here — has left for work.” I saw a fly strolling over the craggy surface of her face.

So early? Must be to his second wife, no?” I attempted to crack a joke. She was not impressed. I attempted a cover-up, I mean his bus.” Even the fly on her face need not change the course as it continued its trek.

She howled, What do you want?” This time the fly did fly away.

My money that Paka owes me.”

He has not left any money at home.”

Well, it has been very long since I have lent him the money. I won’t go home empty-handed today,” I looked around and pointed to the top subconsciously. I am taking your tin shelter.”

Our house does not have any, you took away the last one last month. It is all grass and mud now. Take that if you want.”

Bah. What will I do with that?”

How will I know? I do not do the business of selling mud and grass.”

Duh. Is there any idiot who does that?”

Well, you sold us the mud and grass when you took our tins last time.” The goat shook her head again. I was not liking it one bit.

Whatever. I have come out of my house, I need to take something. Anything. Your goat. Aha. Yes, I will take your goat.” The goat yawned and looked away. I am still not sure if it did that in fright or disgust.

Ok, pay me ₹100 and take the goat away?”

Tchah. Why the hell should I pay you anything?”

Well, it’s your goat now. And I have just milked her,” she said pointing at the bucket full of milk. You will anyway take the milk too with you and sell it, making more moolah. So you owe me a ₹100 for my service.”

The goat bleated, mocking me.

Ok. I will deduct the amount from what you already owe me.”

Nah. I do not do business on credit. You have to pay me right now, and take the goat away.”

Ok. here’s your ₹100,” I opened my briefcase, prepared a document and handed it to her, Now I own this goat, sign here.”

Bindu wiggled and wiped her wet hands, took the papers and put her initials.

There you go,” I sounded triumphed. Sigh. Little did I know what the hell I was getting into.

I failed miserably to manoeuvre the goat, it just wouldn’t budge. It kept lazily munching on the grass, idly looking at me every now and then. Its chomps were dull, eyes were dull. Its whole body was still as death, the only thing moving was its frothy mouth.

Well, it won’t move,” I complained

Well, it’s yours,” Bindu quipped.

That witch, she must have done some sorcery. Realising what a big mess I had gotten myself into, I said, I can’t take your goat. You keep it.”

Well, how can I keep it. I have already signed the document stating it is your goat.”

Never mind. Keep it.”

How can I? That would mean I am servicing you again, I am taking care of your goat. That will cost you extra.”

That witch. And her goat.


Lala sputtered, So, next time you meet Paka, tell him I am never lending him any money again.”

In their minds, Raghu and Ganya were already in search of a place where they would one day hoist the statue of Bindu. That would be Tikwadi’s own Statue of Liberty.


This is a second part in the series of short series about Adventures of Tikwadi. First part was also published as part of the publication Crossing Genres.

Marvelling at Life

Oas trotted to the window to peek outside, sliding aside the recently dusted curtains. He had dusted them just an hour back, but he still found some dust on his hands. He wiggled his hands and muttered few muffled swears towards the polluting city dwellers.

He went to the wash basin, took some liquid soap from the dispenser he had just refilled and washed off the dust. As a matter of fact, the dispenser did not need a refill. But a routine was the only thing that kept Oas’s life rolling. So refilling soap dispensers was one of his Sunday morning’s routine chore. As was dusting the furniture and curtains.

He was also particular at being absolutely certain about things. So he washed his hands off again a couple of times.

He realised he had forgotten to peek outside when we had slid the curtains aside, well, to peek outside. He also realised that not enough dust had stuck to his hands earlier to make the curtains clean. So he reached closer to the windows and gazed fixedly at the curtains as if he possessed some superpower to wipe things clean just by his stare. He wished he did. He did not.

He wanted to check the weather outside, of course without letting his hands be all dusty. So he pulled an old umbrella from the cabinet and poked at the curtains, as if he was worried that the dust particles were monsters hiding behind, ready to pounce on him. He wished they were. They were not.

Once he was convinced that nothing will pounce on him, he used the same umbrella to slide the curtains to the side and swiftly moved closer to the window to peek outside. He instantly tumbled backwards as he saw two green shaken eyes gawking back at him. Some more muffled swear words left Oas’ mouth.

Oas saw the shaken eyes come back to their sleepy normal — one eye open three-fourth, another the remaining one-fourth. Both belonged to one lazy creature dwelling in their block. Oas’ neighbours called it a cat — he called it Mr. Boneless Marvel. Marvel it is — given it belonged to no one, no one freaking cared about pets in our block and it was too lazy assed to care about itself. Still, I have never seen it lose a sliver of weight. Phenomenon. Prodigy. Miracle.” Oas always advocated his case to Sara.

Mr. Marvel had a total of half eyes open now looking at Oas, chin strongly pinned on its paw. Oas attempted to shoo it away with the umbrella. It winked back at him. Oas attempted it a couple more times. It winked back a couple more times. Oas slid the curtain closed.

He again realised he did not peek outside for the weather, so he slid the curtain open, ignored Mr. Marvel and checked the weather outside, finally.


Oas saw a grumpy old man peering back at him in the mirror. There were so many things Sara would not like in what reflected back. So he straightened his eyebrows, opened his eyes wide, curved his lips up into a pleasant smile and slowly flattened the visible creases on his sweater. He wished somewhere deep inside he could do the same for the wrinkles on his forehead. And the ones on his nose too. He couldn’t. So his face went back to be being grumpy again.

He could be his grumpy self for some more time. As per the Sunday routine, he still had an hour to ready himself for Sara.

He finally walked outside, locked the door behind him and, of course, tugged at it a couple of times. He realised something, muttered few muffled swears again, unlocked the door and brought an umbrella back with him. He knew it would rain soon.

He started ambling towards the bus stop. As he did every Sunday, he stopped next to the electronics store and inspected himself in the glass at the store front to make sure he was ready for Sara. Today, he saw Mr. Marvel standing next to him. He tried to recall last time he had seen it standing. He could not, so he started walking. So did it.

Oas wasn’t sure why it was following him. He shrieked, go away, shoo” waving his hand. It blinked. He wielded his umbrella almost touching its nose. It stopped, purred, licked its grey moustache and looked back at him, winking. He gave up and started walking, holding his shoulder to abate the pain from all his freakish swordplay.


Oas sat on the bench at the nearest bus stop. He never missed this small trip, rather he was breathing only for these Sunday walks of his. It was here that Sara had arranged for a letter to be delivered for Oas every week before she left him once and for all. It was here she narrated, via the letter, an incident from her life which she could never share with Oas while she lived.

Oas hated Sara for being shrewd enough to see he would have died, or killed himself, long back if it weren’t for these beads of secrets from her life. It was now six months since she died, but Oas lived on for, and she lived on via, these letters.

Just as every Sunday, an unknown guy delivered a letter to Oas at 11AM. Clouds crowded the skies, and Oas’ heart too. He neatly opened the letter and read on.

Dearest Oas,

When I met you, I was a touchy, bitter girl with a life laden with sorrows. It was you who pulled me out of my miseries and made me see the beautiful side of life. And I realised how necessary it is to reduce pessimism from other’s life. That day onwards I lived my life just to protect you, cover you from any despairs; just as you have done for me. We have been each other’s shields.

But I saw one more soul who needed bouts of optimism, of love. And I gave him that. I know you would have never liked me doing so, but I just couldn’t see him sad. With me gone, I know you are grumpy. And so is he. So you must continue to help him, for me. Be nice to him, I am sure he too will do the same. Be each other’s shield, protecting other from pouring sorrows. Bring your Mr. Marvel, my Buddy, home. You need him. So does he, you.

Love, Sara”

It had gotten a lot gloomy around. Oas looked at Mr. Marvel sitting, grumpy, near his legs, with its shrunken eyebrows and wrinkles all over the face. He chuckled, as the clouds suddenly started pouring down.

Oas pulled Mr. Marvel near him and covered it under his umbrella. He stood up and called out, Come, let’s go home, Buddy.”


This story was first published on Medium.

The Lone Conductor

Today’s was a typical summer morning in Tikwadi. It was a calm & pleasant dawn that the midnight breeze & the sun-beaten land had hatched together. And like every typical morning — summer, winter or of the rainy season — Paka sat expressionless at the window seat of his bus. His bus it was, as he was the lone conductor available in the village.

It would not have been the case in reality though, if not for Paka. He was just smart enough to convince those who appointed a conductor that no person there was suitable for the job. He also convinced those who wanted to get appointed as one that no job there was suitable for the person.

What to do? It is a selfish world out there.” He used to say as he accepted the job — making him evidently look selfless.

And keeping his job as a conductor intact was the only job he ever worked on. As long as he did that well, all he had to do was report to the bus depot every morning, sit at his window seat through the day and get dropped at his home at night.

Paka had also mastered the skill of acting dumb — something he, of course, was not, given the fact that he had managed to keep the whole village away from his job for 5 years now. Every time someone reminded him of the work he has to do as a conductor, he would work hard to screw up hardest. He considered screwing intermittently as the part-time job, holding onto it being the primary one.

Why don’t you ever count the money collected?” An officer had once asked him. Tomorrow, you bring it as counted.”

He reported to the officer next day with no money with him.

Did no one travel on the bus today?”

They did. But you told me to count. I counted. I put every rupee note I received next to me in a separate pile based on their value — as I was taught counting in school. It seems the notes blow away if not held.”

But then why didn’t you hold them?”

Well, I can either hold the money or count it, right? I only have two hands.”

The officer had received ₹700 less in his next salary.

And no one dared to question Paka — he used to yell Well, find someone else suitable for this job”. Of course, he would then be asked to simply do nothing.
In that sense, he was paid to not work. Lesser he moved from his seat, more he not worked — more he not worked, more he was paid.


Not that everyone in Tikwadi was stupid, though. It was just that every individual was a master at being a fool at their work.

Farmers sucked at farming. Carpenters sucked at carpentry. Potters sucked at pottery. Barbers sucked at barbery. The only people that did not suck at their jobs were operators of the water pumps. They never sucked, anything.

Paka met all these people during the rides on his bus. And he dreaded every interaction he had with these fools out in the village.


Today, Paka saw Gotya coming towards his bus. He sighed. He dreaded meeting Gotya the most. Gotya was a herder. Of course, he sucked at herding his goats. But that was not why Paka dreaded him. Gotya was one of the most foolish ones out there & he made Paka work like no one ever did.

He knew it was going to be a hectic day for him.

Gotya hopped onto the bus. And so did his five goats after him.

Goats are not allowed on the bus.”

Where is it written?”

Here — right above me.”

You know I can’t read, right? Read it for me.”

Goats are not allowed on the bus.”

Don’t tell me. Read for me from where is it written.”

I just read for you from where it is written.”

Then why is there a picture of a cigarette on the board & not of a goat?”

It says goats are allowed if they are smoking.”

You did not read so when I asked you to read from where it was written.”

Goats are not allowed on the bus unless they are smoking.”

What if I am smoking?”

Smoking is not allowed on the bus.”

But then how can goats travel while smoking?”

Well, don’t ask me. I don’t make these rules.”

Lucky bastards. By the way, where is that written?”

What? That I do not make the rules?”

No. Smoking is not allowed on the bus.”

Who said?”

You said.”

So?”

So, where is that written?”

Right there — above the next seat.”

There is a picture of a woman there and not of a cigarette.”

It says it is ok to smoke sitting next to a woman.”

Ok. I will sit next to her and smoke. That way I can bring my goats on the bus.”

Sitting next to a woman is not allowed on the bus.”

You know what, I am just going to sit next to that woman there, smoke a cigarette & keep my goats near your legs. Stop me if you can. Do some work.”

No.” Roared the bus.

The journey began.


The story was originally published at Medium featured at the amazing publication Crossing (G)enres.

Selecting your contact number: An activity worth million dollars..

It was second incident in last 2 weeks when I had to select a mobile number for myself. Now this activity may sound simple and non-important. But I always find it an extremely confusing experience.


Think about it. In front of you are the numbers “available” for you to select as your contact number. Now first thing you have to make sure is the number should be at least easy enough to remember yourself so you do not have to open your contact list every time someone asks for your number.


Now I always find one which is easy enough to remember myself. But it so happens that the way I say the number is always different from how the person who listens to it utters.


To elaborate, I speak the number this way 4 2345 85 15. (Spaces are the pauses I take.) So simple right. Now this is how the other person repeats it 423 458 515. I am like what the hell. It takes me few seconds to realise both of them are the same.


So the aim is to, if possible, select a number which is easy to remember/recognise, whatever way one utters it. And I very rarely find one.


That’s not all. Lets move back to the initial situation. As I said, in front of you are the numbers “available” for you to select. Available. For you. Only these numbers.


So basically these are the numbers which no one, who has selected his contact number earlier, found easy enough to remember. And I have to select one from them. I could, till date, never prevent this thought from entering my mind.


In the end, I always end up selecting some number which neither I, nor someone else could fathom at the same time.


PS: Just received a compliment of my number being awesomely simple. So mission accomplished the second time.

Making birthday celebrations an embarrassing experience..since 1912!

Cake was being cut. Everybody stood around the “oh-am-one-more-year-old” guy and all of them were like “cmon-cut-that-cake-now-you-moron”. I stood there hoping that the cursed words do not leave some jackass’ mouth. And they did, against my wish..


“Happy B’day to you… happy b’day to you..<blah blah.. blah blah..>“


Now 80% percent did hum along the first “Happy B’day to you”. The number, however, dropped exponentially after that. The last “Happy B’day to you” was wished just by a single dumbo. Big time embarrassment I tell you.


See I am not being cynical here. I am equally happy that this person neared his death by one more year. But the problem is no one sings that song with the feelings it was actually meant to have. Plus the guy for whom the song is being sung is equally embarrassed as those who sing that song. So question arises why sing it at all.


Moreover I always felt whoever sung that song for the first time had something anti-asian boiling in his mind. Why the hell will he compose the third line the way he did then?


Confused? Well you haven’t sung, on top of your voice, “Happy b’day dear Harmoninderpal or Au or Venkataramana” then. I have and let me tell you, it is very effort taking. Need an indication of how effort taking and difficult it is? Well try and make Nisha Kothari act.


So the point am trying to make is stop singing this song. The melody was picked up from some song sung by two kindergarten school teachers in some late 1800’s and it does not suit this age now. Go read details here. Stop being moronic and make all the people involved, cake cutters and cake eaters, embarrassed. Birthday celebrations would be lesser pathetic this way.


PS: This song singing always reminds of the way we used to hum the “maine pyar tumhise kiya hain..” song during antakshari sessions in front of the girls, which were the ‘things’ we used to interact with just during such sessions back then. Embarrassing, way embarrassing!


PPS: The key to the “since 1912” part in title is in that link I shared for this moronic song’s history. Go grab a bite.

Is she Indian? A timepass bet, literally..

Since I arrived in Sydney, this question has been discussed and fought and betted over so many times among we friends. I mean the moment a clearcut-non-firangi girl is spotted, the next question that pops out is “Is she Indian?”.


The reason is simple. Everyone wants to be on top of his face reading skills. ‘I see them and I identify them’ is what most would want to boast about. No specific take away expected, just a self-satisfaction. And anyone and everyone is ready to bet a coffee or a lunch or a dinner for proving his reign over the so-called skill.


Now gone are the days when it was assumed that if someone bets, he must be right. So no one agrees with other, rather he too bets along. Thus these bets always end up being unverified “my-word-to-his” bets.


But that no way reduces the fun in such bets. The theories each side has to defend his view are just innovative, patentable always. Every single aspect, the way she talks, walks, stands, puts on makeup or does hair, is used as basis. You see basics have to be strong every time.


However today was different. Another such case was spotted and a bet initiated. This time however both were determined to prove he is right. And decided they will go enquire and sort this out once and for all.


Now imagine a situation, when a couple of guys with a bearded attire, resembling a “just-woke-up-hungry-ready-to-pounce” looks, walk to a simple unknown girl and query “Are you Indian?”. Both have the “I-would-win” hope filled looks in their eyes.


What can a girl respond in such situation other than a straight “no”. I guess she would negate anything these guys say or ask including “Are you a girl?”. Well that didn’t solve the bet. In came the defence, “The way she said no straight away? She has to be Indian”.


So for me the bet remained unresolved though I commended their courage to carry this attire with such confidence in front of an unknown unidentified girl. The question still remained, “Is she Indian?”


PS: Girls from china, japan, taiwan, malaysia etc are out of discussion here. I don’t want to sound any way racist, but I will just say we all name them under one category and move along. They would be having there own internal discussion about their origins the moment they spot one.


PPS: Such discussions happen even in India when the skill move to a state level, i,e read a face and guess the state.

Decoding the plight called elevators..

The beasts called elevators end up pissing me off every single time. I had rambled about these dumb asses earlier here. Go grab a bite.


If you have read that post, you will know that the ramblings mentioned earlier were particularly about those ill-chipped lifts of that underdeveloped guest house. But now I am convinced these shameless creatures are programmed to torture their inmates.


I mean think about it. What are the decisions these lifeless steel rooms have to make.. (Inspiration)



  • Where do the people want to go?


  • Where they are and where each floor is?


  • What strategy they need to make so that they are cursed the least?


First decision is pretty simple. We make that decision for you, you bugger. You see those glowing numbers on the number pads we keep on pressing one after other? Yeah that is where we want to go. As quick as possible.


Second decision has a whole lot of mechanics behind it. I mean there are some shafts and then there are some holes on some vertical tapes and then there is some counting involved. I would surely like to go in details, but I don’t want to. So I won’t. Visit that inspiration link you see above.


However the part that puzzles me the most is the strategy because that’s when these supposed-to-be angels stop being ones and enter the devil’s land. Now these buggers have to strategise where to go, when to go and how to go. And I absolutely feel that they are not wired to do so. I mean how else can you explain the simplest of the things these dudes screw up.


How many times have you waited for an elevator to scroll right from 50 meters below basement up to the 14th floor when his other buddy is resting right at the 15th floor? Do they have some gentlemen’s agreement where one simply says “Can’t you see sucker I have just finished carrying 6 fat asses up and down thrice between just 2 floors. I am tired now and you can for sure handle these dumbos”.


How many times have you jailed yourself in a jam packed elevator as it drools itself down the shaft stopping and opening at each floor. If you are outside, those seemingly endless few seconds you spend when you apply all your permutation skills to see if you can possibly fit in any of the available gaps inside before giving up are just killing.


There are many other plights of these long travels between floors. But you see the point is the where, when and how part has to be strategised properly.


I will pen down the requirements for you. An elevator, for minimum, has to



  • follow quickest path to you and quickest path to where you desire to go.


  • open only if it can intake any of the fat asses, close and start the journey as soon as everyone hops on.


  • understand when some mischievous fatty calls it, but does not want to hop on.


  • not kill my mobile signal.


  • close the doors faster so people get less chance to stop the elevator and say the meaningless “S” word again.


These are just a few suggestions that can make this floor travel not a sucking experience after all.


PS: On an unrelated note, why the hell does every single elevator has to have mirrors? Who wrote this unwritten law first? It just gives me one more chance for not letting the elevator know where I want to go and follow a journey to a floor undesired with this lifeless but life sucking beast.

My time travel to the future me..

Tomorrow I am going to travel through the time to the future me. It’s been long that I was planning for one such tour. However just for the need of the future currency, I had to postpone my travel to tomorrow.


Time TravelIn a moment, my friend will return from his visit. I have asked him to smuggle some future currency back to the past. To maintain the time conundrum, I will believe that, as of today, I do not know if he does bring it in. (However the fact remains that I have made the travel tomorrow. So this should clarify the doubts over whether he did. He did. Successfully. Believe me!)


Anyway there was some small calculation mistake while carrying the digit forward, which I normally do, that made me end up a day behind where I was supposed to end at, i.e. tomorrow. Now I do not want to disturb the normalities in here, the past world that is. So I will prefer hiding in this panic room and simply pen down my experiences of this drive.


The first and foremost observation, technology has spoiled the human race in there man. People only speak in command prompt queries. A sentence is no longer than 3 words, the longest (and oldest) being “I am sorry”. (And even there, people hardly mean it!)


Every single software is run by Google and hardware designed by Apple. There is an antique building called “Microsoft Live Centre”. I heard it has hanged in the messy green screen of death that displays a Matrixsque live feed of random numbers. Some say it has gone offline from the day it’s services were tagged “Live”. (By the way, don’t tell anyone. but there were still rumours about the apple tablet and google phone.)


However fun was when I met my future me. The way he was behaving I still feel, as Zaphod Beeblebrox would say, “if I ever met myself again, I will hit myself so hard I won’t know what’s hit me.”


By the way I wanted to tweet this there and then itself. But that future me just laughed at me when I said it takes 140 characters for us to share what we are doing. He mentioned even the novels are 20-30 characters long in there. The crypto-tex-pander fitted in each person’s eyes just completes the novel. Idiots I tell you.


Sat for lunch and there there was another surprise. Those idiots there hardly eat any food. They just gobble down the pills for all the necessary vitamins, minerals and whatever necessary for the body. Floored I was to see they even have the pills for the junk food. These future mens are idiots. Extreme idiots.


Oops!! Need to hide. Someone is crawling towards this dark damp corner. Will blab out the remaining idiocracies of the future. Trust me. There are many. Did I tell you what they have a UCC, a Universe Conservation Committee, a group fighting the Universal Enpansion? Well they do. Blab you later. Ciao!


Image Credit: Picturepost (Interesting writeup. Do read!)

A day when I let my unethical mind cells win

You know that time when you just back out of a thing which might have saved you some bucks? It happens to me a lot, but this particular week gave me a double blow.


First incident was when i did not back out when i should, though debatable, have. I trolled along the darling harbor idling my time out just because i did not have any other place to go. Out of no dire need, i felt this itch to go to the public telephone booth and, well, do nothing.


I picked up the handset and there began my efforts to place a call. I don’t know why but this bud was heavily reluctant to let me do so. I gave up, placed the dial back and put my hand to get the coin back. In the open mouthed telephone lied another $2 coin with my $1 coin.


Fuzzy that my mind always is, there began a mahabharat between my ethical and non-ethical brain cells. Should i or should not pick this $2 up which does not belong to me? I don’t remember for how long i stayed near the booth but last thing i remember i had extra $2 in my pocket. Debatable if i should have picked the coin, but i did.


Fast forwarding 2 hours later. My idling location shifted to a mall where after about an hour i decided i have crossed my idling quota for the week.


I came out with my iPod plugged in and whistled along the road towards train station and somehow felt everything was pretty bright around me. I knew i had a train in another 15 mins which i should not miss as there was no other train for another 90minutes. My eyes burnt and my subconscious mind was aching for something. And there it dawn on me why everything was indeed bright.


Next thing i remember i was running towards the mall to find my goggles worth way more than $2 i had picked up earlier. Whole time during my run to the mall i was thinking was that $2 really worth all this pain of losing costly goggles and missing train.


Final blow, however, was about to come. I reached the mall, found a sensible looking pretty lady and asked if they have found any goggles. She looked more optimistic than what I was. She ambled inside putting me on hold. After some time, she came out and said something which ignited my fuzzy brain cells again.


She said they have found one goggles, but they were ladies and if I think mine were, well, ladies goggles, she will get them from the security. Now I did not want to make complete fool of myself in front to pretty looking and sounding girl by saying I wear ladies goggles. But i did not want to not make any try too.


I thought for sometime what to doYou know that time when you just back out of a thing which might have saved you some bucks? It happens to me a lot, but this particular week gave me a double blow.


First incident was when i did not back out when i should, though debatable, have. I trolled along the darling harbor idling my time out just because i did not have any other place to go. Out of no dire need, i felt this itch to go to the public telephone booth and, well, do nothing.


I picked up the handset and there began my efforts to place a call. I don’t know why but this bud was heavily reluctant to let me do so. I gave up, placed the dial back and put my hand to get the coin back. In the open mouthed telephone lied another $2 coin with my $1 coin.


Fuzzy that my mind always is, there began a mahabharat between my ethical and non-ethical brain cells. Should i or should not pick this $2 up which does not belong to me? I don’t remember for how long i stayed near the booth but last thing i remember i had extra $2 in my pocket. Debatable if i should have picked the coin, but i did.


Fast forwarding 2 hours later. My idling location shifted to a mall where after about an hour i decided i have crossed my idling quota for the week.


I came out with my iPod plugged in and whistled along the road towards train station and somehow felt everything was pretty bright around me. I knew i had a train in another 15 mins which i should not miss as there was no other train for another 90minutes. My eyes burnt and my subconscious mind was aching for something. And there it dawn on me why everything was indeed bright.


Next thing i remember i was running towards the mall to find my goggles worth way more than $2 i had picked up earlier. Whole time during my run to the mall i was thinking was that $2 really worth all this pain of losing costly goggles and missing train.


Final blow, however, was about to come. I reached the mall, found a sensible looking pretty lady and asked if they have found any goggles. She looked more optimistic than what I was. She ambled inside putting me on hold. After some time, she came out and said something which ignited my fuzzy brain cells again.


She said they have found one goggles, but they were ladies and if I think mine were, well, ladies goggles, she will get them from the security. Now I did not want to make complete fool of myself in front to pretty looking and sounding girl by saying I wear ladies goggles. But i did not want to not make any try too.


I thought for sometime what to do and then putting my manly pride ahead, I remember I mumbled something and came out. Whole time afterwards, i was soothing myself by thinking this.


and then putting my manly pride ahead, I remember I mumbled something and came out. Whole time afterwards, i was soothing myself by thinking this.


You know that time when you just back out of a thing which might have saved you some bucks? It happens to me a lot, but this particular week gave me a double blow.

First incident was when i did not back out when i should, though debatable, have. I trolled along the darling harbor idling my time out just because i did not have any other place to go. Out of no dire need, i felt this itch to go to the public telephone booth and, well, do nothing.

I picked up the handset and there began my efforts to place a call. I don’t know why but this bud was heavily reluctant to let me do so. I gave up, placed the dial back and put my hand to get the coin back. In the open mouthed telephone lied another $2 coin with my $1 coin.

Fuzzy that my mind always is, there began a mahabharat between my ethical and non-ethical brain cells. Should i or should not pick this $2 up which does not belong to me? I don’t remember for how long i stayed near the booth but last thing i remember i had extra $2 in my pocket. Debatable if i should have picked the coin, but i did.

Fast forwarding 2 hours later. My idling location shifted to a mall where after about an hour i decided i have crossed my idling quota for the week.

I came out with my iPod plugged in and whistled along the road towards train station and somehow felt everything was pretty bright around me. I knew i had a train in another 15 mins which i should not miss as there was no other train for another 90minutes. My eyes burnt and my subconscious mind was aching for something. And there it dawn on me why everything was indeed bright.

Next thing i remember i was running towards the mall to find my goggles worth way more than $2 i had picked up earlier. Whole time during my run to the mall i was thinking was that $2 really worth all this pain of losing costly goggles and missing train.

Final blow, however, was about to come. I reached the mall, found a sensible looking pretty lady and asked if they have found any goggles. She looked more optimistic than what I was. She ambled inside putting me on hold. After some time, she came out and said something which ignited my fuzzy brain cells again.

She said they have found one goggles, but they were ladies and if I think mine were, well, ladies goggles, she will get them from the security. Now I did not want to make complete fool of myself in front to pretty looking and sounding girl by saying I wear ladies goggles. But i did not want to not make any try too.

I thought for sometime what to do and then putting my manly pride ahead, I remember I mumbled something and came out. Whole time afterwards, i was soothing myself by thinking this.

Getting Choosy at Supermarkets..

A visit to a supermarket is not something uncommon for me. Rather it is one thing which i like doing the most. Crawling between those numerous branches full of variety of products, i just lose myself glancing at each one’s properties… beep .. engineer’s blooper .. i should have said “each one’s labels”.

However, the visits are always satisfying and refreshing for me. And this is the first reason i find myself roaming in these lanes quite often.

Another reason for these frequent ferries is my lack of interest in creating the grocery lists. I have tried jotting them few times, but i so get lost within the products catalog that the chit doozes in my pockets.

At times i spend hours just ambling around the nooks and corners of a supermarket. A sensible mind might think what would one do for so long in a place so crowded, so noisy, so meaningless and so mean. But thats what i like about this place. I get my space in here with no one remotely worried about what i want. And that’s when i start getting choosy about each and everything i would buy out of this space.

First thing i need to do is put a limit on time i would spend in there. Once that is sorted out, it is all about marking my spots to ski along. Vegetables and fruits fall out of my interest and a hustling visit settles down the formality.

What follows is a child-like admiration for the variety of products manufactured, packaged, transported, marketed and sold at such colorful a place. A cheerful mouthfreshner sits in front of the saddened and ashamed toilet cleaner. Colorful chocolates sit next to the colorless eggs. And there i know its time to get lost. Get choosy.

And choosy i get. Tens of minutes are spent in front of each product looking for what fits better for my needs. I know sometimes i have spent too much time and worried i get thinking the cameras might caught me goofing around at the same position and i might be busted as potential terrorist. But what the hell  .. risk is worth it.

And then there are those times when i don’t get choosy thinking i know what i want and i have got what i want. And this is what i buy.

And this is what the description read (which i happen to read when i rinsed my mouth with this dude)

For healthier mouth, remind kids to brush their teeth and use Listerine Smart Rinse twice a day.

Listerine Smart Rinse for Kids 6+

'Fatty' Brain ...

Now that’s not just a random title that i chalked out. Actually it is a fact. I read today that a person’s brain is the most fatty organ in his body!


Surprised? Even i was. I mean common. How can a tummy, that can expand to store 4 liters of food i.e. 50 times its empty size, be less fatty than a brain? Even if it is fat, should i even care. I think no one is faintly concerned about some fat crawling over a body part which one does not ,or rather cannot, flaunt.


But as i snaked through the article further, i found one interesting fact. Thanks to that, i can now sleep as long as i want. It seems when a person sleeps, his brain gets busy to file away all the memories of the day. I can now disportingly say that “I am gyming my brain dude. Fats are crawling even in the blood vessels now and my brain does not want to die devoid of oxygen”. Put on a board saying “Fat brain at work” and rumble along the snoring dreams.


Fatty brain


Oh yeah. Even regarding dreams there are few interesting facts that the brain spins. Have you ever questioned yourself why you don’t actually act what you are dreaming? Or even simplest form saying what in fact are dreams? I do have. Though one thing i missed is a fact that 12% of the people dream in black and white. I just have one doubt here. What is the criteria that decides whether you will dream in 35mm technicolor or age old BnW? Whatever, its just another example of pointless statistics.


Moreover it seems your brain cheats you when you sleep by releasing some kind of hormone which actually paralyzes you. The sole intention is to make sure you don’t wake up next morning bawling about your aching bum which you hurt when you were horse riding in the dream. In short, it makes sure you don’t act your dreams. How i wish the brain was not so cruel on mankind. I mean, won’t it be good to actually go ahead and gym out your body too as the brain is getting fat burned. C’mon, it does afterall know the burden of carrying along the extra fat


Anyways, few more interesting facts are canned at the below link. Just go ahead and tickle your fatty brain


http://www.environmentalgraffiti.com/sciencetech/facts-about-your-brain/7038

The modern face of armed robbery..

Just when i think not to trouble my mind, saturated by randomness to its full, i come across the little gems like this.


http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20090123/od_nm/us_goat;_ylt=Ag7ntPE15g0Li3_NWwySSlgSH9EA


Apparently police in Nigeria detained a goat on the suspicion of attempting an armed robbery. Yes. You heard it right. Goat arming itself up with a shotgun and making the Vigilante men stare down the gun nozzle? All for a Mazda 323? I mean common. A Mazda 323 can only be as useful to a goat as a padded two’s to Pamela. If you neglect the lone possibility of she pooping on it. If it has been for “hay”, there was at least a chance of this happening.


That’s not it all. Actually there were a couple of them. Dude, coupling Hayek with Pamela still keep padded ones look useless. Moreover a couple of goats stealing a car? I know scientists are trying weird experiments on animals these days like cloning n all. But i never heard of such advanced experiment of churning out a species with body of goat and mind of Anton Chigurh. Not even on the fastest news reporting channel on this bloody earth, “Aajtak”. So if its not reported on Aajtak yet, its not possible even for 10 years now.


Although the main part is what might suit the tastes of few channels here. You see actually they were two guys who were trying to rob the car when the Vigilantes confronted them. One ran and other turned himself into the goat. Now the dangerous little goat is in custody and the police are waiting to prove it scientifically that it actually is possible to convert a person into a goat magically(!). Now i get it. So it was not the goat who was robbing armed, it was actually a man.


But now that it is crystal clear, i do not have even a single word to speak? First thing they actually do not shoot the white n black beast wearing so dangerous a throne of horn right at sighting it. Secondly they ask to prove that it is possible that an armed man can be converted into a goat? Common. The scientist have long discovered the dose to convert the buffalo-like-hardly-rising small dumb little ball of flesh into an ultra-active-hard-hitting beast. They call it an energy drink which does transform a sleepy crawling man into an awesome enthusiast you see. So calming down the beast to a goat look alike is just too easy a job. Just a bit of physical transformation is required that’s it.


So here i urge the related police staff to take a strict action against the goat and hang her till her death. The man that actually has transformed himself into goat is too dangerous for this world and so are his accessary. I heard they are working on something which can make this happen…


Why does darkness exist?

I have been gliding in the darkness for around 3 hours now, for one simple reason. The tube light in my room suddenly felt a strong desire not to glow. It went on blinking at me, i guess trying to figure out if i have worn any .. pajamas or not. I did try and rotate it around, with it never returning me a stare. While spending my precious time there, stroking the keyboard in darkness, a question just poked its head out of the ruffled mind. Why the heck is the darkness there.

bulb1

I mean, ok fine. I know why it is there. I do have scribbled through the endless questions on solar system and planets structure and their hecking orbits. But i am not concerned about its how it exists. Rather i want to know how useful is it. I just want to justify its existence with one hell of a random reason, the farther it is from the truth, better it is.

I feel everything that exists, does so for some random reason. Even the minutest thing like a microbe is there because it leads or conjoins together to form or shape something awesomely important like virus, lets say. Yes they are weighty in a sense to control the growth of the big parasites in the form of humans. Similarly something like air, whose presence cannot be seen, is there to blow the smelly farts away. The sole reason for such senselessly senseless arguments is to emphasize the point that, yes, each thing can be tagged with the reason for its existence.

But even the random mind of mine could not reasonify the existence of darkness. To develop films?? Nah, very few do that now and those who do it actually do it by pulling over darkness. We are focusing on the natural darkness that arises with night.  To sleep??? Nah, actually sleep has got more to do with the time than it has got to do with darkness.  What then?

I know i am acting a bit ignorant, by may be neglecting many scientific things. I actually want to because i want some reason out of my mutable mind. The only reason i can think of gives me goosebumps.

I feel the whole purpose of darkness is to hide the light. So darkness is not "non-existence of light". But actually it is the other way round. Light is "non-existence of darkness". Whenever there is something that nature wants to do without making humans aware, it pushes darkness in. So it must be doing something at each night. Intercourse? Quite possible.

An argument can be made saying people do put on the lights then. But actually you see, that's the reason they just blink sometimes rather than staring. And thats the reason am in dark today. Nature is at work. Reproducing :)

Why do I even try?

True. I try like hell not to listen to him. He goes on bumping my head. But i remain focused. He bribes me with what i like. He threatens me to run away and never return. I try not to fall for his tactics. But finally i do. I pretend i will shoo him away, but that's the whole problem. I pretend...

Just a scenario, perfectly captured by Dilbert:

Dilbert.com

Anyways this bloody culprit in Internet just doesn't allow me to work my plans. I plan not to plan any plan, so that i don't feel bad when this plan of not to plan goes helter-skelter, unplanned. Thanks a lot internet.

Let me explain a bit. I reach home with a plan to read my novel, just to find the internet 'psst'ing at me. Calls me out to check my mails, read some scraps, check out some news on tech n all. And everyday i do fall for something or the other. I unknowingly, or that's what i pretend, plug the cable on and surf through the net.

Actually i did well in between to overcome this weakness of mine. I never fell for anything of sorts. But again somehow he has caught another of my nerve. He actually works stepwise now. Makes me switch on the powerplug spike for charging my mobile. He knows i am pretending to be just charging the mobile and i will turn on the laptop next. And everytime he turns out to be right. I pretend to turn the laptop on just for a bit to work something out and shut it down. But he knows that is not going to happen. Once the laptop starts he reminds me of something i need to do on net. I again pretend not to be surfing the net but just using it for a moment. But in fact, thats what i turn out to be doing. Surfing the internet.

Sometimes i ask myself why do i even try. I know i am failing to boggle my mind away from this culprit. But somehow i think this is that cunning but wonderous buddy with whom you can neither subsist nor part. Yes, that's what he is. Cunning, but wonderous.

Nine...

Nine... A number that has haunted me for more than a month. Would wake up with a stare at it. Take a shower, get ready and face the indolently eying number. Stagger while using it. Bump into it daily. On numerous incidents. Each one having a negative effect on my mood. Just adding to my already tangled life. Twisting it further. Something usual has happened today too. Today i.e. on 9th of this month. 9th. And hence this post.

Yeah i know. The prologue does seem a bit dramatized. But last part is indeed true. The normal routine things for last one-one n a half month have made me bump into '9', unusually, a lot. And it has succeeded in screwing up my mood on most of the occasions.

First up. The most common and tiresome experience of my life. I have been staying on the ninth floor of a "still-under-construction" n beta version of a 15 floored guesthouse. Thats not all. Its each and every part was under development and testing at the same time. And we, the guests, were bloody testers.

Lets start with a moment to reach there. You say use lifts. Simple right? Not so soon. The 3000 capacity guest house just had a single lift working for major part of my stay. Best being 2. You say "whats the big deal"? Ok, this lift can be any one of the 10 lifts scattered at various different locations on the ground floor. You say "uhh now thats complex". I say wait. Not all are on the ground floor. 2 are on first. Further take this. Each lift can take you only till/to a particular floor after or below which you have to scroll using stairs. Does that sound scary? Listen to this. The lifts were also in the "under-development-and-testing-part" list as most other parts and so had a most ill programmed chip fitted into her. Usual symptoms:

  1. She used to wend  the 1st-> 0th floor path via 10th floor. That too without any entrant.
  2. She used to suddenly halt its march on the most deserted floor, without sucking anyone in or puking anyone out.
  3. She used to make you guess the time she would take to shut her doors for you. It ranged from sweet 10-20 secs after you are mounted or a quarter of a second by which you escaped getting crushed between her doors. (Yes she had no sensors to detect if you were in between her claws-like doors.)
  4. She used to making a most ear-deafening moan if you make her wait for a little longer. (A typical girlish behavior. You are not allowed any mistake to be made on your part.)

By god's grace i did reach the coveted 9th floor most of the times. The fact that it normally took me around 10 mins on average matters least considering what lied ahead. The floor was divided, in true sense, in 3 parts using wooden walls. So care had to be taken that you end up in your part. Else you had to crawl through the stair case. The corridors were mostly cementy because of its under contruction tags with most confusing directions (refer snap). Air conditioners in the room worked on random basis and when they did they made my teeths tremble with cold. The taps randomly decided the temperature of the water that come out. (I have got my bum burned once. No further explanations.) The mirror was situated at the darkest corner of the room with the most clearly visible part being my toe nail.

I have spent 44 days in this complete mystery house. There were other encounters with nine like never returned 9 rupees as change at the food terminals, 9 cubicals that i hopped along or the  9AM alarm that brought with it the invitation to begin the journey on mystery land of nine. The tales of these will follow up sometime later.

Finally there was just one saving grace i had with me which provided me the sole reason to go through this tortourous journey. People close to me know whom am speaking about. But i am observing a striking pattern there too. Each 9th of a month brings with it some problems. I can't explain but it does. I hope this hauting effect of 9 stops pressing me to my limits. I hope it stops testing my patience. Signs are not too good. Post is published in the 9th hour of the second half of the day. Ninth hour. Nine.

What happened to my Ambitions?

I have always been faced with this puzzle for quite long now. What happened to me shouting i would have best house on the whole street? What happened to my plans buying the best car in the town? Where is that dream life with servants running all round? The fridge full of ice creams, pastries, chocolates, chicken (leg-straigntened sky-pointing turkey, to be precise) ? The television set running just cartoon movies day long with remote just in my hand? To be the richest man, the most honest person, the man blessed by blessings from poor, loved by one n all. The whole lust for attaining some position, achieving some goal, some ambition seems to be lost somewhere.

And now? Now is the case i have just one ambition left. Crawl through the work week mechanically just to feel and shout: TGIF... Thank God Its Friday.

Finally i have found the reason for this loss of ambition. See and examine it for yourself :)

Now i know who uhhh what is the culprit. And yes TGIF :D

Me and Garfield

Along my surf through the web net (hmm tautology), found a lively garfield (now oxymoron) cartoon.



Now same is with me. Truly i feel i draw a quite of  parallels with the dude Garfield. I am lazy, a bit overweight and i adore eating and sleeping. Even i hate Mondays (more on that here) and feel diet is a “die” with T. Me too hate spiders. A kind of sudden chill runs down my spine when i face that fraternity. Even the lucky bite for Peter Parker could not change my lovely hatred for spiders. I have tried entering a lot of weird things mind including fruits, mornings and various other animates and inanimates.



And this strip just elevated my similarity levels with garfield. I feel i, too, am a little too ‘Garfieldish' generous. I mean i provide my helping hand to someone just to end up with a feeling that i was too generous to do that. All because i was totally involved working his work out (!!!) I mean why do i have to do that. No need. What rather i should have done was to just provide a helping hand. Not my full hand.


I know garfield won’t have worked this way. He would never have worked this hard. I need to do that too. I need to learn that too. Stop working. Just provide the helping hand and remove it. Anyways the help hardly gets noticed in todays world. Am i turing selfish? Yep… thats another parallel with Garfield!

Tottering along the floor to..

Now this is the topic that hits me everyday, atleast 3 times a day.. uhh .. usually more than that. Somehow i could not pen it out. Finally here it is. But before i move forward,  a confession. This post is mainly with reference to the males. Am not sure how it applies to the other sex. But lemme just blabber it out...

Each day i usually rise, heavy stomached and ill faced, from my seat. Do something awkward between strolling and bustling. Course the floors of my office/home. Finally bang the door and enter the place. And choose a urinal. Now that's where it is supposed to end. But it does not. Something more happens. More on it in a wink.

Let me first speak out the reason for this whole rush. Firstly i have somehow got molded into someone who likes playing with critical situations. Be it deadlines (not at work though.. have to say ... have to say..:P) or my daily chores. Secondly, its all about the pleasure one gets from the sudden and mountainous relief  through abundant pouring. I hope you understood.

Anyways back to the track. The most interesting part follows. Each time i visit the "relief camp", i see am not alone. There is this whole bunch of varied group and thats when my thinking cells awake and start noting few things. Now let me blog down few of my notes:

  • Usually the bunch refrain from the meeting each others eye sight. Each time they do, there is this sudden jerk of the neck, as if something exceedingly hot touched the eyeball, throwing the sights up or out.
  • Most of the campers stare at the roof, either with eyes closed or 'blink'less. May be the roof falls in between. What they are staring is the heavens. Afterall what one attains is, indeed, a divine pleasure.
  • There are those few who are relieved enough that they start bubbling at their mobile handsets, basked in the abundant relief.
  • If there, incase, is no vacant one, mind clog with this NP hard problem of where to stand and where to stare. Few follow the route to WC, few stare in the mirror rubbing their faces, few pridefuls even walk back. There are also those few who, just unknowingly out of all the unbearabe tension, wash off there hands!

Now there are few more notes in my mindbook. But for now this is it. Need to totter along. Need to attain the pleasure. Here am off.

Just tweak Google search box.. Concentration Gauranteed

"I start reading something" ... "I need to blog this" ... "Wasn't the other topic better?" ... "Okay stop. Let me read this out first" .. "Am done; I need to blog this" ... "I will blog this" ... "Let me get the topic open" ...  "Yeahh... my N93" ... "Oh blog;  .. theme ... no..  blog .. title .. wait ..post ... " .. "Where the heck was I???? "

Ok so this is how my thought train has been when i thought i will write this post. And lemme say, this just acts as the 'POF' (Proof of Fact) for what i will be writing now. Let us get on the same platform first. This post (Will you please not follow the links directly and loose this topic..Thanks) was inspired partly by this and this. I hope you are still there with me. Because if you were not for some significant amount of time, thats what this post is all about. Reducing concentration levels... POF you see ...

I am pretty sure most of the so-called experienced internet surfers would have reached at this point far late than they would normally have. Because i have become one of those and i damn know that he would atleast have done few of following:

  1. Google for some random text (Default)
  2. Peeped into GTalk friends list
  3. Checked whether have received any new mail
  4. Checked if all social friends are up and running
  5. Followed into void via atleast 3 Links
  6. If yes for 3, Gave a thought and made a point for each one of them
  7. Oh ya .. paid some bill
  8. Rejected atleast a single credit card offer
  9. And oh ya .. worked :P

I guess the list would build on n on. Anyways the point is surely you wouldn't have, if you have become one of us, read till now at a single strech. (I would really like to know what you indeed did. Put in the comments section. Hold on... Read completely first)

Ok i won't try and find the reasons for why this is happening because that is not going to help me understand any damn thing. Let that job be left for some XYZ research group of companies. What i would actually try is provide some ways i can become a normal being from a 'skull-headed vaccum with rags of information' which am now. Let me start listing them down.

  • Update Google searh bar: I feel google can hugely impact a large sector of us concentration loosers. If only they ask for some not-so-privacy-threatning but self-embarrassing queries before returing the result. Lets say, "For how much hours have you worked today".
  • Redesign Operating Systems: Huge step i know. The one i would design is, i would say, mainly a build over on MS Vista. Ok , so you want switch program? Start. "Do you really want to open ...? Yes/No", "Enter your Password ******", "Please re-enter the password ******", "Thank You! Please select the program you want to open. Enter the number in from of the selection", "Enter the text in captcha", "Thank you! Click Finish to open the program" and finally "Your request to open ____ has been successfully served. OK/Back" I am damn sure this will majorly kill the frequent ALT+TAB s
  • Introduce Sticky Books: Ok what if i want am not the comp junkie and still cherish the hardcopies? How can i be glued to the plot in the book? Fine. We will manually and physically do that for you. The books will be fitted with microprocessors programmed for secreting glues for defined time period which would be not less than 1 hour. You see. Its that simple.
  • Rename weekdays: Ok so point is inject a standard work schedule through out the human fraternity. Lets make each focus on a particular kind of job on the specified day. I would suggest let the week names be Funday (random fun), Moneyday(Money Matters), Teamday(Social Team Building), Workday (I know .. Boring Day), Surfday(Random Internet Surfing), Reworkday(Yeah .. 2 of them. Afterall thats what one is paid for) and Saturday (!!!!)

I know these options do sound rather ludicrous and more apparent changes like stop building multiprocessing processors or build 'one system one application' OSes might sound sensible. But then it is a "Build dam for water leaks" kinda solution. Anyways that's my foolish take on this not-so-foolish topic. Comment in your solutions, however foolish they may sound. Remember, there are many like you around you...

Finally must say I have always been a workaholic enthusiast ... What remains now is just an -aholic enthusiast surfing endlessly in void.

PS: If you have read this post in a single strech, i am damn sure you have just crumbled into wrong space. Click the back arrow button at the top-left corner of this window.

Update: Another interesting take on the same line. I am stupid and the Internet made me so

News media tickled my thinking brain again...

Sometimes few news stories do make me go mad. Some call them weird, some call them funny, some call them odd or even feverish at times, but for me, they make least sense with any tag you tie them with. But, however brainless it may sound, i am always on hunt for such stories at various loci (and as a result of that, i have this collection of all such hotspots). Blame it to my idiotic hobby of running random or to my faithful affection for going mad, i do look out for a chance, chance to turn mad.
Here's one such recent story. It seems that researchers have found out some weird frog with no lungs. No, I have no problem with them churning out so wondrous a finding. What my juvenile mind never understood was how these men of brain flooded with boundless wit carry out such humongous tasks. What was it that they have in them that any normal person didn't? And then this story rose, like a sage would from foggy nothingness, to content my ignorance. But before moving straight to the answer, let me take you through the line of thoughts my mutable mind followed along. A plain look at the title and it made me think 'Damn!! How on earth did they find that? Were they running around, scissors in hand, chopping each and every frog they cross, looking for their bloody bellies (pun intended) for any abnormalities in them? And what did they think of as an answer they would provided to all those normal, but with a robbed sac like belly, frogs? Would a "Hey sorry mate! We are searching for your deviant buddy. By the way, do contact a doc soon." do? Nah it won't. How can they be so irresponsible towards the nature. They indeed are answerable to the frog fraternity.' Now i don't think this path is too abnormal. Any sensible one would have thought on the same lines. I felt mighty of myself for being so empathetic and felt that this needed to be blogged. But that feeling wasn't there to last for long. As i strolled through the story, the reality came into picture. The answer for "what was it that they have" earlier arose. It takes loads of patience, time and prolonged interest for hitting something so uninteresting and so "evolutionarily unique", as they call it, head-on. How else can you explain the fact that when the friends of this enlightened scientists were busy lurking behind the materialistic pleasures, his majesty was busy searching for this mighty frog community, one of whose member he saw when he was 30 years younger. It required a mind full of unsatisfiable quests and determination not to find solution. How else would you explain the fact that once he did find one of them, he continued his quest to find 8 of their kinds and tore their lungless tummies apart before going "EUREKA". I thought this answer that i mined was 'pen'able and again felt that this needed to be blogged. I wish this was enough. But they went on to explain how their closest relatives had lungs and what that really means. Finally they didn't even forget to connect this with manly attempts to ruin the mother earth and a need to stop doing the same. Also a call at the end to protect earth from facing this "huge impact". Now all this was enough to make me feel that this needed to be blogged. And hence this attempt. Anyways now their's some other line my thoughts are following. It is after i saw few similar titles that read "Man charged with theft left his son", "Robber left name on job application" and "Suspect took cab to and from the bank he robbed". Let me know your line of thought. I will post mine soon. Think... Think... Think...

Earn security, but at a price...

Just after a striking connection between "Security and Privacy", here's another great image depicting what security really asks for. True you are secure, but what needs to digged is the cost that security comes at. To put it simply:
"Burn Entirety, Earn Security"

A Commute through Orkut Communities...

Here is another slippery weekend sliding beneath my feet. As i sit acting idle, with feeling rather unsuccessful with my attempts to follow "Operation Afraid", i start scanning my social appearance at Orkut. (P.S. I did succeed in beating one dreaded task. Successfully washed the clothes, a task no less than a feat. Though the fear of uncompleteness did keep me away from taking a bath and shaving. You see victory ask for persistent efforts :P) And along my stroll, I again dashed into a place i find the most meaningless. The Communities.

I always thought that it should be wrong to say that i completely hate them. The fact that i myself have joined around 50 communities should signify that. But then it was today i thought to drill into my communities' choice. And then rose the truth. All the communities i have joined can largely be divided into following categories:
  • Ones i joined as a newbie, similar to a kiddie thrown into a toy shop picking random toys
  • Ones which i was forced to join with an ultimatum of sort "Join now" ('or you will be hanged alive' was always silent :P)
  • Ones wherein you just feel great to be part of. It hardly matters how much sense it makes in you joining them
And it was then i realized that communities are indeed quite a boring and meaningless places to be in. More meaningless than boring. Include one more of ones which i created and I guess we have the categories generic enough to include the whole 'orkut'ers. First, it hardly has any sensible activity going on. (One can surely not mark people proving themselves to be superior by posting last or naming there predecessor or playing jokers as sensible.) Secondly, thanks to the first point and the second and third category, it hardly reflects what the person's interest really are. So a weirdo playing a "Rate the person above you" game in C++ community places him straight into the third category just in for senseless fun.

Moreover mostly are the occasions wherein the common interest projected itself is quite confusing. There are majority just to display one's liking for blah blah singer, writer, director, actor, books, sports-persons, nations, places and every such namable entity. For each one mentioned above there is an anti-community of haters. Each one of these have various levels of followers: country wise, state wise, city wise, university wise and the digging just goes on. Then there are those which say they exists for common purpose like "spreading happiness", "cutting sorrows", "making healthy", "shit happens: you are not alone" and bhah blah. And finally those which are quite weird which do make you raise your eyebrows. Few to mention "I hate orkut" (wouldn't it be a good idea to group such interesting people in Facebook) or "Announce new orkut communities" (Community with a goal to promote other community?? how innovative) or "Absurd Communities" or "I hate orkut communities" (need i say anything??). How i wished to be innovative enough to come up with something so fascinating and new. No wonder each community has atleast a single copy with equal number of members.

Anyways whatever i say, they do exists and exists with thunderous activities. I know i do have missed to crown many others which indeed need a mention. But then considering the vastness of this community world, i dare you try that out!

Security and Privacy!!!

Just found this amazing image depicting how security and privacy are inter-related in todays web-world. I guess its pretty simple.

"You won your security. But they own your privacy"
Update: Apologies to all those who indeed saw quite a supposedly "private" image here. All thanks to the dynamic image whose contents were "weirdly" played with. Now that was quite an experience, something worth learning from.