Lost in Transition ?

After a lot of deliberation, I finally decided to bite the bullet and switch to the new version of blogger. I am not a strong proponent of change, especially when the things are working fine as they are. But it seems likely to me that all the blogspot users will have to make a transition sooner or later, and this seemed a good time for me, since I have some leisure time at the moment. The major advantages I saw were the flexibility to label individual posts, and the drag-and-drop feature for editing template. The latter is a big boon to me as I am not very conversant with HTML. A not-so-major-one was, not to have to see that "publishing in progress" wheel everytime I tried to make a post. The minor ones were the ability to have private blogs, and the freedom from issues that keep rising when commenting to blogs that have already migrated.

The migration itself did not take much time or effort. The only frustrating thing that happened was the amount of time I was asked to wait while the blog was being migrated, only to be informed that it is going to take more time, and I shall be informed on my mail. So far, so good. I opened up the dashboard, and found the "new, improved" look (as advertised). It felt good, and I busied myself with labeling of my older posts.

Few minutes later, I noticed that the dashboard displayed a message "4 comments need to be moderated" on one of my blogs. (This sort of status is not displayed with the old blogger, and neither are the nummber of comments on each post). This puzzled me a lot, as as far as I remember, I have never allowed comment moderation for my blog. So, I spend a considerable amount of time trying to figure out where were the comments that required moderation. When everything else failed, I enabled comment moderation on my blog, and posted comments to myself. Now, this is of no use, as the new version of blogger seems to be intelligent enough not to ask the blog author for moderation or word verification of comments (I am thankful for this one at least!). So, to try out, I had to log out from the blogger, and post a comment as anonymous. Since this logged me off my gmail, and I have opted to receive notification on gmail id, I had to log back in to see the notification. After spending a number of log-out-log-in cycles, I managed to find the comments that were required to be moderated - two of them were spam, and the other two, over a year old!

I disposed of these to-be-moderated comments as appropriate, and reverted the comment settings. In the midst of this, I noticed that some of the previous posts were no longer showing the authors' ids against the comments, but only "anonymous". I checked out a number of posts; and some of them showed the authors' ids, while some did not! However, as I delved into the problem, it seemed likely that the comment authors who are now shown as anonymous are the ones who have already switched to new (or beta) blogger. (Cuckoo, BTR, PM are the adventurers who fall in this category, I believe, while Adi, Thinker are the champions of the "old is gold"). Blogger FAQ yielded no help, and Blogger Help Group only confirmed that other people out there have faced the same problem. No solution seemed apparent, and therefore I am afraid a large percentage of the few readers on my blog have been condemned to anonymity forever (as it is not possible to go back to the old version now). Resigning myself to fate, I browsed through the help group to discover which problems I was lucky to avoid, and which ones I might still face. The one that looks most troublesome at this time is that people on new version of blogger are not able to comment on the blogs that are on the older version. Now all I can do is hope that this will get fixed soon.

I attempted to customize the template using the new mechanism, without making significant changes at this point; and I must agree with the creators that it is indeed quicker and easy to use. The only problem I am having here is the look of the footer - the site-meter I recently added is now displayed as a part of the footer rather than a separate element. I also like the facility of editing the posts, and customizing other settings from the blog page itself. I was disappointed to find that if I click on a post link, it no longer shows me the archives or the older posts on the right hand side. I hope that these problems will be sorted out soon, or at least I will become accustomed to the inconveniences that are minor [or remember, It's not a bug - it's a feature :-)]. In the meanwhile I will hope not to encounter any major issues

The Best Laid Plans (gone awry)

At my work place, we have a compulsory vacation in the Christmas week (which is deducted from our leaves, in case anyone gets a bit too jealous). So, I had thought good and long, of what I can do in this precious time.

There was some long overdue work to be done at home - woodwork etc. So, the first thing that was planned for this vacation was this work, as during work days, it is difficult to have the workers parading in and out of the home. Apart from this, I thought I would have a reasonable amount of time to indulge in my favorite hobbies - reading, painting, and of course, catch up on my blogging.

As expected, though not to this extent, the workers are coming or not coming, as per their own convenience; lording over as if they were the masters of the place. Hordes of dust and rubble have settled all over the place. And to top it all, the maid is absconding for the last 4 days. Perhaps she has decided to take a vacation as well - an unplanned one though. So, here I am, instead of sitting back and relaxing, spending my long-awaited vacation in cleaning up the mess, quite unsuccessfully at that. Anyone who has had some masonry or electrical work done at home, after moving in, can sympathize with me (although the task I have undertaken is rather small by that account).

A little net surfing is all I have managed to do so far. But that is also not without its hiccups. This morning I type a nice long comment at cuckoo's blog, and just as I was about to publish it, the electrician working in another room chose the very moment to disrupt the electrical connection of the whole flat. Poof! went my hard work!

An accomplishment of these holidays was making Gajar-Ka-Halwa. This was the first time I tried my hand at it, and I am proud to say it ended pretty well :-) Though what I have to show for 1.5 kgs of carrots, 2 litres of milk and almost 5 hours of burning the midnight oil (no, it was LPG, actually) is hardly 6 servings of the sweet.

I have started reading 'As the Crow Flies' by Jeffery Archer, which I borrowed from a colleague just before the vacation started. It is interesting, but I am hardly through with one-fifth of it. I am doubtful whether I can finish it by the end of the week, at this rate. And I still have Dan Brown's 'Digital Fortress' to read which I borrowed from another colleague.

The only painting that seems likely to get done is the one that will be done by the painters on some of the walls of the house. I think they start Day After Tomorrow. And I think I'll have just enough time to clean up after them before my vacation ends.

Thought for today ....

Kacche dhaagon se bandhe hue, woh din jaane kidhar gaye
Rishton ki Dori TooT gayee, Ashqon ke moti bikhar gaye

Just a thought

Zindagi ke sehra mein, tashna-lab har ruuh hai
Har kisi ko justajoo hai apne aab-e-hayaat ki !


In the desert that this world is, every soul is thirsty
Everyone seeks their own special nectar !

Risky Proposition

Every few days, we read about unfortunate accidents on the DND flyway due to carelessness of people - people driving too fast, or in the wrong lane. And everytime, it makes me wonder, why do they have to happen, and so very frequently ?

On Sunday, we were coming from Delhi to Noida, and had three scary experiences (too many for one ride, is it not ?)

On the entrance to the expressway from the Delhi side, the road forks off, the left side coming towards Noida, and the straight one goes off further into Delhi. We were taking a turn towards the expressway, and a DTC bus was going straight. Just as both the vehicles reached the dividing point, a big car (Sonata, I think) came up from behind, first turned slightly left towards us, and then zoomed forward to overtake the bus. It was highly unlikely that the driver could have seen the divider; he missed the divider, and hence the bus and our car just by sheer luck.

On the DND flyway, we went slow (at 60, compared to the most of the cars, which were going at 80 or 100), and at a point we were trailing behind an auto. Another car was driving at a reasonable speed to our right. All of a sudden, another big car (this one was a chevvy) suddenly appeared from behind, and overtook all the three from between the two cars. We were not even aware that this chevvy was coming from behind, and trying to overtake. It was only by a fraction of a second that it avoided hitting us at the corner.

After crossing the toll plaza, we saw a WagonR coming from Noida on the wrong side. Thankfully we were far away from this one.

On Monday morning, the headline of the newspaper reported of a freak accident - a car driven by a minor on the wrong side of the road had hit three cars before bursting into flames (the youngster escaped, thankfully).

There are so many questions, to which no one seems to have answer -
o Why do people indulge in such unsafe behavior, creating a risk for themselves and for others?
o Why do the owner of "big" cars behave as if they bought the road along with their cars ?
o Why do youngsters (mis)interpret the freedom of having a car to drive, as freedom to do anything they want ?
o Why do we not lear from our mistakes and from that of others ?

Down the memory lane - VI

The Physics Lab Mishap

Many of you who have studied physics in school in higher classes might remember performing the frequency measurement experiments. One of these was the one where we used to measure the frequency of a tuning fork. The tuning fork was striken against a rubber pad, due to which its prongs started vibrating. The fork was then placed on the resonance box, which was essentially a hollow wooden box, to calculate the resonant frequency.

In one lab class, our class was required to carry out this experiment. The teacher left the class for a few minutes, and with him vanished all the sincerity of the students (who tried to have fun while those precious few minutes lasted). One guy, G, came up to me and put his tuning fork over my head, and teased me – “See, the fork is resonating – your head is empty”. I got furious with him, and ran after him with my equipment. The teacher chose this particular moment to return to the class, and was greeted with this scene (must have looked hilarious to him – me, all of 5 feet, tuning fork in hand, chasing G who stood almost 6 feet tall). He asked me (poor, poor me – completely unaware that he was back) in all seriousness – “Didn’t you get a rubber pad, that you are trying to strike your tuning fork against G ?”

I think the whole classed rolled in laughter; I do not remember their reaction – I was so embarrassed that I wished I could just vanish beneath the ground. But now, it is one of those memories that do not fail to bring a smile on my face.

Down the memory lane - V

It's not a bug

Let me start off by a small clarification for the people who are not so conversant with the software programming terminology - a 'Bug' refers to an error in software code.

There is a certain expert in our field, whose mails/articles are widely followed in our company. In the signature of his e-mails, he used to include this quote (indicating the philosophy usually adopted by software companies) - "It's not a bug, it's a feature".

When I had just joined the company, and was relatively very young in my team, I used to play pranks on my TL (team-lead). One of my favorite ones was to take any insect, dead or alive, found in our seating area, to the TL and tell him - "Sir, see, I found a Bug!!" One day the TL happened to see a mouse running around (no-one still believes it can happen in a high-tech software office!), and called out to me - "You are so adept at catching bugs; go, catch this one". I promptly corrected him, in all seriousness, and a self-righteous manner - "It's not a bug, it's a Creature !"

The Cup and the Jug

For few days now, I have been reading a compilation of Jug Suraiya's articles, published under the title "Delhi Belly". Over the years, I have read a large number of his "middle" columns in the TOI, and read it more or less, regularly, even now. I had also happened to read a collection of his articles earlier (it was called "Juggling Act"). I usually like the humor and satire, and puns in his articles, and fairly liked "Juggling Act" as well. I admire his capability to laugh at himself - he frequently pokes fun at middle column writers, and himself in particular. This had prompted me to buy "Delhi Belly", when I saw it on the shelves of a bookstore I visited recently.
Delhi Belly is a collection of his older articles - written in late 80's and early 90's. Sorry to state that I was quite disappointed with it - really had to work hard to finish it. But there were certain things that quite struck me. The articles in this collection were written in a very verbose style - unnaturally long sentences, which are quite difficult to comprehend and heavily ornate words which did not make much sense (at least to me). An entire sectione is devoted to commentory on the political scene of the country at the time, where the names of the people are transformed (perhaps to escape charges of slander ?) - eg, Ajib Grandee, Weepy Singlet (mentioned as prime moderators) [no, I am not offering any prizes to guess the actual names of these personalities, but you can guess away if you want to :-)]. Then there are a couple of sections devoted to his stay and experiences in Lajpat Nagar and Vasant Kunj. The political section was a drudge for me, but I found interest in reading about his early days. Well, what I noticed was that his writing has become much more refined now (I find his current articles much more readable), and that now he narrates his experiences of his trips abroad :-) He does seem to have risen to social ladder. I think he was a mere Cup earlier, and now he has evolved into the Jug. (hehehe ... this sentence is just to demonstrate my miserable attempt at his kind of humor). :-D

Ghalib - open to interpretation

In the discussion on my previous post I mentioned about the series of interpretations going on for one of Ghalib's 'sher' (couplet). It might make an interesting read for those interested in poetry, how different people interpret a couple of lines. We will, of course, never know what Ghalib's original intention was; but, I hope our attempts do no make him turn in his grave :-)

This is where it started from :

Ya Rab, na woh samjhe hain, na samjhenge meri baat
de aaur dil unko jo na de mujhko zubaan aaur

KP had included this in his signature, along with this translation:

God, she has never understood me, and I know she will never understand. Please give hear a little more heart, she, who does not even give me an opportunity to speak a little more)

This is how AB saw it:

Neither beauty (implies beautiful folks here) cares for the world, nor aashiq (lovers) care for the world. We (beauty and aashiq) are the people who struggle in dust, and just do not care for the world.

AK had a different opinion:

AFAIK (as far as I know), Ghalib wrote this one for shayar (poet) like Zauq who always ridiculed him ...

AB offered yet another interpretation :

For interpreting Ghalib and shayari in general, one needs to know common/local slangs, etc. This is possibly true of all kinds of poetry.

(1) Zuban dena is typically used for giving committment.

(2) There is a way of scolding someone by saying "go ahead, repeat the same mistake". For example, you give 500/- to an electrician to get some material for home. The guy never returns and your wife retorts - aur de do paise bina kaam kavaye!

Interpretation with (1) and (2):

God! neither she understand me nor she understands what I say,
// And now shayar is kind of scolding himself by saying
go ahead, repeat the same mistake of falling in love with her who won't give committment of any sort!

This was what I ventured:

O lord, she does not, and never will, understand whatever I have to say. Please make her have a change of heart (so that she appreciates what I say), if you cannot make me change the things I speak (and feel).


Any more ideas, anyone ??

An year, and beyond ...

Today morning there was a mail in my mailbox informing me of a new comment on my blog. This was from Bendtherulz, who reminded me that I have completed one year of blogging. He asked me how was I feeling having completed a whole year in the blog-world. I thought about it for a few minutes, and then these thoughts evolved into this post.

I first heard about the concept of the blog from my brother, who is very tech-savvy. Btw, he maintains a highly technical blog, on which he posts occasionally. I jumped up at the idea, and created my blog too. However, for a long time, I suffered from an inertia, and did not post anything. I could not think of anything to put up.

Then, one fine day, I got enthused once again, and made my first post. For first few months, I showed little activity. The low activity level was not helped by the fact that amongst my acquaintances, hardly anyone wrote or visited blogs, and I myself did not have an idea how to find blogs that will interest me. For quite a while, my blog remained primarily a reading journal. Gradually, I gained momentum, I found a few regular visitors on my blogs, and in turn, I became a regular at theirs. I kept, and keep, finding more blogs of my interest through those - and the chain grows.But my network is still extremely small.

However, in the process, I have discovered a whole new world out here, learnt new things, made a few friends. In the times to come, I hope to learn much more about things, ideas, people, cultures. I hope to get to know these friends better, and find more like-minded people.

Sometimes I debate with myself, the primary purpose of a blog. Is it the record of an individual's thoughts and feelings, like a virtual diary - not necessarily meant to be shared ? Or is it the expression of one's ideas, open to discussion with willing audience ? When I am inclined towards the first one, I feel good about having written some coherent accounts; when I am inclined towards the second, I am frustrated at not being able to express in words so many thoughts.
The bottom line is that I am enjoying myself immensely in the blogosphere. And that is the answer to your question, Bendtherulz.

Feeling content

.... after completing this sketch last week, finally, after a few weeks ...

Food For Thought

Now this gem of a thought or the "quotable quote" was given by my friend MA, when I told him about this blog, which I call "Idle Thoughts". He said:
If I am idle, how can I have even a thought. And if I have a thought, I am no longer idle.

So, I felt I had to share this on this blog :-)

Down the memory lane - IV

What's in a name

This happened a long time ago, but I still find it amusing. I am not relating this here to make fun of the person concerned, just because .
After my school, I joined a college (stayed there for a very short period). I stayed in the hostel, and the warden was a very old lady, with all her hair white (not even a single black strand!) and always dressed in white (well, these details are irrelevant, but just to give a picture). Despite her age, she walked tall and straight, and was extremely extremely strict (and if I may say so, quite short tempered). Her name was Ms Mirchandani. Because of her temparament, which terrified one and all, her name was transformed into a nickname - Ms Mirchdani (a pot of chillies), and for short, 'Mirchi Aunty' (chilli) !!

I think students have a thing about nicknaming (often unflatteringingly) the teachers, especially the ones they do not get along with very well. And more often than not, the names are passed down from batch to batch, and over the time, even the teachers get to know the nicknames! In my student life, I have come across a large number and variety of nicknames. We (my batch), our seniors and our juniors have rather disrespectfully referred to some of our teachers as Choupat (futile), GainDa (hippo rhino), Sugriva(from legend of Mahabharata Ramayana) etc.
But this incident is perhaps the most amusing and imaginative one.

P.S. Would like to request all you to share your amusing stories about nicknames :-)

Waqt

Waqt

Samay ko ikaiyon mein
Bandha nahin jata
Chah ki paridhiyon mein
Mapa nahin jata

Kabhi kabhi ek pal aataa hai
Thehra rehta hai ek sadi sa
Aur kabhi ek yug jata hai
Behta rahta hai ek nadi sa


Time

Time -
It cannot be bound in units
It cannot be measured by desires

Sometimes a moment comes
And lingers on, like a century
And sometimes, and age goes by
Flowing like a stream

P.S. Just done a makeshift kind of translation here, and I am not too happy with the result. Any help here is very welcome :-)

Old and new

Here are a couple of pencil color drawings I made ... one recent and one older one ...
They are not really good ... or at least as good as I'd like them to be, but I came to realize its not very easy to get the desired effect using pencil colors.
But anyway, I love to draw, and I love colors ...

Translation of tales, and Tales of translation

I think most of the people I know will give me an incredulous stare, if I admit that I read Sharatchandra's Devdas this weekend. How did I come to read it, anyway ? Well, my mother bought it because she was looking for something to read and she does not read english novels (which are usually what I have), and she had heard a lot about it (mostly thanks to the 'n' number of Bengali and Hindi films that have been made on this story, the most recent one being Shahrukh and Aishwarya's much publicised one). So, it was lying there, I had nothing else to read, and nothing better to do, so I picked it up.

For the uninitiated: it is the story of Devdas, a rich man who destroys his wealth and drinks himself to death, for a love that he does not acknowledge while he has the opportunity - it is not as if he was a rejected suitor who sacrificed everything for love. What I failed to understand is why has he become a legend, and why has this story inspired so many (7 or 8, I think) films.

This was the third book I read which has been translated from Bengali. The first one was 'Yajnaseni'by Pratibha Ray (translated to english), the second one was Tagore's famous 'Chokher Bali' and the third was Devdas (both translated in Hindi). Yajnaseni (Yajnaseni is another name for Draupadi) was wonderful, and 'Chokher Bali' was pathetic (who am I to criticise the work of Tagore, but well, I am entitled to my opninion). Devdas was okay (on the side of sorry, but not pathetic). I am not sorry, though, that I did read the latter two - they are considered as great classics, penned by literary giants. Perhaps they are not relevant in today's context, as they were written almost a century earlier. Perhaps they do not suit the sensibilities of the current times. But one common complain that I have with all the three is the bad translation. Frequently often, the translation is literal, and loses the intent of the author. At times, it sounds downright funny. Why can we not have a decent translation of books, even from one Indian language to other, when they share a common origin. Having attempted translating a few poems from hindi to english (where else, but in the blogosphere), I realize that translating, specially another person's work, is not easy. But I suppose that the people in charge of doing so offcially, are much more qualified than I am. So when I read a translation, I expect to read a meaningful, thorough one, not like the patchy work that I have encountered so far. In childhood, I read a lot of story books translated from Russian to Hindi or English (and believe me, I am really sorry that Mir publishers are no longer in existence after the division of USSR), and although at times the context of the stories was unfamiliar owing to a great cultural difference, the flow of words was not broken because of translation. A very likely cause is that at that age I was not so discerning. But another reason I can think of is that probably the translators of the childern's stories focussed on translating only the story. While translating serious work, and well known classics at that, the translators take their work a little too seriously, and in an attempt to preserve the literature (thoughts and ideas, as represented by sentences), tend to lose the natural flow of the story.

The time traveller's wife

This book by Audrey Niffenegger had received good reviews in several magazines, but looking at the main story plot I was not very convinced that I wanted to read it. I do not know the exact reason; it just did not appeal to me. However, at a time when I hadn't read anything for a long while because I did not find anything interesting, browsing in the book store one day, I finally decided to buy The Time Traveler's Wife. I read it over the last few days.

This is the story of the life of the time traveler, Henry, and his wife Clare. Henry meets Clare for the first time when Clare is 6 and Henry is 36, while Henry is travelling back in time. The story moves as Clare grows up according to the laws of nature, while Henry keeps moving back and forth in time, regardless of his own wish.

Although this core of the story is time travel, it is not science fiction, or even about time travel, in fact. It is about people. The entire story is related by Henry and Clare, taking turns at narration. Although I have read quite a few books in first person narrative, I found narration by two main protagonists a novel idea, quite an interesting one. Initially I had some difficulty following the story, as it brings in Henry from some future time, talking about things that have not yet happened. But after a while I got the hang of it. Also, in the beginning, I felt that the story was rather slow, but after completing about one-fourth of it, I was engrossed. I liked the book, though I cannot say I enjoyed reading it. The main downside was it was very sad - for a couple of nights while I was reading the book, I was too depressed to sleep. Some may call it the mark of a good book (or film) if it leaves an impact. But I think that things that move you need not necessarily leave you with a feeling of depression. It is claimed as a story of undying love; but I do not think it is a very strong love story, though the commitment Henry and Clare have for each other is admirable. Then it has content that I do not think is really integral to the plot (I like my fiction to be just that - unadulterated story). My summation : it was quite okay, but unfortunately did not meet the expectaions that had been raised by the raving reviews.

Tagged again!!

I have been tagged again - that makes it two times in quick succession. Let me start with the tag description ....

Rules of this tag:

1. Name the person who tagged you.
2. 8 things about you.
3. Tag 6 people.

A.I. (action item) 1 :
I was tagged by Cuckoo. She says she has been here for three months only, and I am amazed that in this short while she has gathered a large fan following :-) And not without reason. I enjoy reading her posts, as do so many others.

A.I. 2:
This is rather difficult, given the detailed introduction I have already written in my profile. So, I guess I will have to go into finer details. Hold your breath, all ye who enter here, as I lay my soul open before you ....

1. I am a Gemini. I am not into astrology (and/or sun-signs), but my friends who are, have told me that I do not have Gemini characterstics. Whatever that means. What I have inferred is that Geminis are supposed to be dreamers, but I am rather practical person.

2. I am quite organized. I prefer to have everything at its right place. My place usually is not in a bad mess, and if it is, this state does not last long. Sometimes this works in a negative way, when I tend to take it a bit too far. During my college days, sometimes my friends used to deliberately mess up my hostel room, just to tease me. At that time, I used to get rather angry about it, but looking back at it now, I just laugh.

3. I am a simple and straightforward, and rather reserved person. I have poor PR skills, most unfortunately. I find it difficult to talk beyond normal courtsies, to people I am not well acquainted and comfortable with - I dont know what to talk about. And I take time to be comfortable with someone. At times, it gets misinterpreted.

4. I cannot sit idle. I always need something to do, that requires either my hands or my head. I love to dabble in painting and crafts, but I don't do it often, now. I also love to solve puzzles - crosswords, cryptograms, sudoku.

5. Reading has been my passion for as long as I can remember. I remember reading hindi edition of Reader's Digest when I was hardly 5 or 6. My forte is fiction, and I love to read thrillers. My favorite authors are Alistair McLean, Erle Stanley Gardener and Desmond Bagley. I still love to read children's books like Ruskin Bond's stories, and The Three Investigators. I follow comic strips like Dennis the Menace, Beetle Bailey, Hagar and Peanuts on the net, and will read Calvin and Hobbes, Archies, Asterix whenever I can lay hand on them. And I love to watch Tom & Jerry.

6. I do not like watching Television. Earlier, during my school days, I used to like watching old hindi movies on TV, but not any more. I do not watch movies on the comp, either. In fact, I watch very few movies - when I have had good recommendation. At times, even though I get good reviews for a film, and intend to see it, I am not able to do so; but I do not mind it.

7. I have rarely ever done typical "girly" things. As far as I can remember, I never owned dolls or "kitchen sets". I was happier playing board games - learnt to play scrabble at the age of 7. Later, when my contemporaries were starting to get inetersted in things like soap operas, cooking and dancing, I was busy taking walkman apart, and learning to solder. Now, I take little interest in embellished dresses and jewellery, and often get chided by family and relatives :-)

8. I can keep secrets. If anyone confides in me, they can trust that I will not divulge it even to my best friend. I can lend a sympathetic ear to a friend in distress, without feeling compelled to offer my opinion or advice.

When I started to do this tag, I found it difficult to find eight things to write about myself. As I added to the list, I realize there are so many things more I can tell about myself. But I decided to save them for some other time :-)

A.I 3

Now this is the most difficult part, as I do not have that many regular visitors to my blog. So, I'll try to find as many victims as I can :-D
GincoLeaves - I know a bit about you, but I am sure there is a lot more to learn.
VJ-Ditto. Though I'd like you to do it, but if you think this does not fit in your blog, feel free to give it a miss.
Pooja - We do change with time, grow. So I think there should be quite a few things new for me to know :-) And perhaps other who admire your posts would be thankful to me for passing this tag to you. But as with VJ, if you think this tag doesn't fit in, feel free to give it a miss.
Adi - Ditto. But you have been around here for much longer, so you are excused if you have done this sort of thing before :-)
Ambrosia - I hardly know anything about you, but I love reading your posts. Also, havent seen much activity on your blog for some time now; hope this tag results in an update.

The Tune Tag

I was tagged by Adi.
I thought I'll do this tag with hindi songs, from movies. Even in this scope, it is indeed very difficult to do this one. There are so many lovely songs there, that one can't recall them just like that. I took my time to compose the list of my favorites, but even then there are just too many to select one or two. I tried my best to make the list as short as possible, but still .....

Your favourite lyricist and the lyrics you remember the most:
I am usually not aware of the lyricist, even when I like a song a lot. But since I love poetry, in general I like Gulzar's songs which have poetic and sometimes, unusual words.
And favorite songs, in terms of lyrics:
Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna hai
Chalo ek baar phir se ajnabi ban jaayein ham dono
Kabhi Kisi Ko Mukammal Jahan nahin milta
Tujhse Naraaz Nahin Zindagi, hairaan hoon main

Your favourite song on friendship
Diye Jalte Hain, phool khilte hain
Tere jaisa yaar kahan, kahan aisa yaaraana

Best song portraying life's emotions; about life, full of life
Zindagi aa raha hoon main
Thode Hai Thode Ki Jaroorat Hai
zindagi kaise hai paheli
Katra Katra Milti Hai

Which song are you humming today?
I have been thinking about this tag, so I am humming a whole lot of songs today :-))

One song which brings tears to your eyes
Again, there is not one, but many ....
Mujhko is raat ki tanhaii mein awaaz na do
Yaad Na Jaye biite dinon ki
Hoke majboor mujhe usne bhulaya hoga
Koi Humdum Na Raha
Waqt Ne Kiya Kya Haseen Sitam
kasme Vaade Pyaar Wafa
Ja re, ja re ud ja re panchi
Woh bhooli dastaan lo phir yaad aa gayee
O Manjhi Mere Saajan Hain Us Paar
Koi hota jisko apna

A song which gives you hope, reason to try again and again, a reason to say that life is beautiful
Kahan tak yeh man ko andhere chalenge

When you want to be with yourself, silent and content but with music, with song would that be?
Hmm ... cant say ... it all depends on the frame of mind ....

If you have to express your love for someone with a song which would that be
Hamein tumse pyar kitna
Honthon se chhoo lo tum
Maang Ke Saath Tumhara

Five songs which you listen to the most
This is the hardest. I tried hard, but couldnt shorten the list to a count of five.
Aa chal ke tujhe
Aanewala pal, jaane wala hai
Tum Bin Jaoon Kahan
pal pal dil ke paas
phoolon ke rang se
yeh sham mastani
khwab ho tum ya koii hakikat
ek ladki bheegi bhagi

And still ... it doesn't include some very very favorite songs ....
Aajaa sanam madhur chandni mein ham
Bekarar karke hamein yun na jaiye
Chalte chalte mere yeh geet
Dil ki nazar se
Khamosh sa afsana
Kisi Ki Muskurahaton Pe
Mere samne wali khidki mein
Na Tum Humen Jaano
Neele Neele Ambar Par
Pukarta Chala Hoon Main
Rimjhim Gire Saawan
Tumne Mujhe Dekha
Yeh Chand Sa Roshan Chehra
Yeh Raat Bheegi Bheegi
ek roz main tadap kar
mere samnewali khidki mein
nakhrewali

This was an interesting tag to do. Thanks Adi, for tagging me.
I, in turn tag noone and everyone. Try it people, and you'll enjoy it. If nothing else, you'll spend an hour or half humming your most favorite songs :-))

Rambling of a non-idle mind

Activity in my life seems to happen in spurts. Weekdays are almost always the same (with something or the always always going wrong and me getting involved in the firefighting), its the weekends I am primarily talking of. In the lean time, some weekends would pass by with no activity at all - peaceful to the point of being boring. And then there would be a few weekends with much of socializing (some of it obligatory, some willing :-)). Last few weeks have been so hectic I am just aching for some little time to laze about, relax and sleep (and update my blogs :-)) ).

This time around "the high activity period" started about 4 weeks back. Week 1 - party hosted by a colleague for his son's b'day on friday, a group outing to Chokhi Dhani (Jaipur); so went on sat and came back on sun. Week 2 - extended weekend - I spent it feeling sick with stomatch infection (which also caused my to take off for almost three days) and migraine. Week 3 - part hosted by another colleague on fri, annual diwali party in the office on sat ( I dont even remember Sun!). Week 4 - Things to do at the bank on Sat, Mom came over here to stay with my brother Sat evening, More work at bank on Sun followed by lunch at some relatives' place, and the diwali party in the housing society. And then planned to meet some friends for dinner on Mon. My head is already spinning, and the next week being Diwali, we need to go to my in-laws' place. Whew!!

Talking of Diwali, the time used to so full of excitement in the childhood. In junior classes, we had two weeks off from school for the festive time, which we eagerly awaited. My brother and I used to go to our grandparent's place with mom (dad used to come later as he didn't have that long a vacation) for almost a week or 10 days. It was a time to have fun and games (and of course, fights ;-) with the cousins (although they were much younger than us). It was a time for lots of sweets, delicious food, and crackers. It was a time to wear special dresses, and get gifts. But as I entered the adulthood, and grew up, the excitement has waned, and try hard as I can, I can no longer summon those levels of energy. I am no longer enticed by the prospect of food and sweets, and I do not like crackers anymore. The gathering of the entire family has become much rarer. Most of us "kids" (well, we are still kids to our parents and grandparents :-) ) have grown up and left our hometowns to study, and later work. Me and another cousin have got married, and now we have responsibilities towards our families. The life has come another cycle.

A long lost poem

A poem I read recently on Delhidreams reminded me of a long lost poem of mine. After a few days' inertia, I dug it out and decided to post it. I also attempted a translation, though I am not quite happy with the outcome. I guess I'll not be able to earn a livelihood as a translator ....
So, here goes ...

Sauhard Ke Rang

SaDak par bikhri hui
Masli hui, kuchli hui
Yeh komal pankhuriaan -
Yahi hain avshesh baaki
Un sukumaar kusumon ke
Jinhein kisii ne ugaayaa thaa
Athak prayatnon se
Apne praangan mein.
Varshon tak seenchaa thaa
Swed se, rakt se.

Haan, yahii pushp to the
Jinhone sajaya thaa
Ambar ko, dharaa ko,
Aur pratyek dishaa ko
Varnon se, rangon se
Sundar banaayaa thaa
Surabhi ke prasangon se.

Kintu aaj -
Sabhi rang miT chuke hain,
Shesh hai keval gaaDhaa, laal rang,
Har taraf har jagah:
Laal ho chuki hai dharti,
Aasmaan laal hai.
Hriday mein chubhtaa hai anvarat
Shonit aabhaa ka vitaan akshat.

Srishti par ke laal chihna
Mite nahin, dhule nahin
Aviral ashrudhaar se.
Lekin, aashaa amit hai
Ki ek din yeh halkaa hogaa
Jhalkengi punah anek aabhaayein.
Pratikhaa hai us pal ki -
Jab is dharti par phir se
Khilegaa ek indradhanush.


And here is my feeble attempt to translate it in english ....

The Colors of Harmony

Scattered on the road
Bruised and battered
These delicate petals -
They are the only remains
Of those beautiful flowers
That were nurtured by someone
With tireless efforts
In their courtyard.
And nourished for years
With sweat, with blood.

Yes, these were the very flowers
That had adorned
The sky, the earth,
And each and every side
With hues, with colors
And enhanced the beauty
With their fragrance.

But today -
All the colors are gone
Only the deep, red shade remains,
everywhere :
The earth is red,
And so is the sky.
The heart is pierced
By the scarlet expanse.

The scarlet signs of the universe
Did not erase, did not rinse,
With the unending stream of tears.
But the hope is eternal -
They will fade away some day,
Many shades will appear, again.
An unending wait for the moment,
When a rainbow will appear, again.

More on ... Dreams

I have intended to share this very lovely poem for quite some time. I found it on the net while surfing one of my favorite hindi poetry sites.
The poem can be found (in devnagri script!) here:
Ek Ashirwad by Dushyant Kumar

Ek Aashiirwaad
---------------------
Jaa tere swapna bade ho.n.
Bhaavnaa kii god se utar kar
jald prithvii par chalnaa siikhei.n.
Chaa.nd taaro.n sii apraapya oo.nchaaiyo.n ke liye
roothnaa machalnaa siikhei.n.
Hansei.n
muskuraayei.n
gaayei.n.
Har diiye kii roshnii ko dekhkar lalchaayei.n
ungalii jalaayei.n.
Apne paanv par khade ho.n.
Jaa tere swapna bade ho.n.
---------------------
I was holding back this post till the time I could manage a passable translation, but translating a poem is DIFFICULT. Now, there is no dearth of translation for the very significant phrase "bade ho.n". I could find so many alternatives - grow big, come alive, expand, flourish, get bigger, get taller, increase, thrive. But I cannot decide which one is the most apt. I have still made an attempt; any help to improve the translation is welcome. :-)

A Blessing
--------------
May your dreams be thriving.
May they alight from the lap of feeling
and learn to walk on the earth, soon.
Learn to crave for
the unattainable heights of the moon and the stars.
Laugh
Smile
Sing.
Lust after the light of every lamp
and burn their fingers.
May they stand on their own feet.
May your dreams be thriving.

The dreams forgotten ...

I have been rather fond of drawing and painting since I was a small kid. No, I do not think I have a great talent; but nevertheless, I love to draw. A few years back, I bought a sketchbook - my first sketchbook in fact. Till then, I used to draw on loose sheets (and I have preserved a few of them for many years :-)). So, after I bought this new book, I filled up a few pages very enthusiastically. But then, the work pressure mounted up, and later the responsibilities at home did too. So, there is not too much leisure time, and whatever of it is there, I cannot summon up the energy to pick up the book and my pencils.

I wasnt feeling very well today, and so I took the day off. I slept for half of the day. When I woke up, I didnt have much to do, so I brought out my tools, and set to work. At the end of two hours my sketchbook has an entry after a long gap. I quite like the result, but I am happy about just having done it.

Advertising : Brainwave or gimmick ?

Preparations for half marathon in Delhi are in full swing these days. The event is sponsored by Hutch, and therefore called Hutch Delhi Half Marathon. There are ads in the newspapers, and billboards put up all through Delhi. But yesterday I witnessed an entirely new way of promotion.
There was this well-lit-up board advertising the half marathon. Right in front of it, a high platform was erected. On this platform was placed a treadmill, and a guy was running on the treadmill. From a distance, we thought it was some smart animation. But when we reached close, we realised we were wrong. The treadmill was very much real, and the guy running on it was very much human!
Wonder what people would next think up of !!

Down the memory lane - III

The JC Encounters

Nitin's cousin Varun was visitng us this weekend, and yesterday he suggested that we go for a late night movie show. So I reminded him that he has the luxury of sleeping in a class, while we have to go to office and work (well, one can question the work part, but we defnitely no longer have that luxury which we could avail in college).

While a debate on "who sleeps in the class" ensued, I remembered the only time I did fall asleep (and was caught by the teacher, most unfortunately).

Well it was one of the classes of Mr. Jitender Chhabra (usually called JC by us CS students) in my third year of college. JC was not a very experienced teacher - he was hardly a few years senior to us; but he had a passion for teaching and taught well, and was rather strict. For these two reasons, he was liked and hated by an equal proportion of students. I was among the ones who liked him, and (I think) I had a reasonably good impression on him. So, there was this class, scheduled right after lunch. It was quite hot, and after lunch I had an ice-cream, and was feeling somewhat sleepy. I didn't realize when I dozed off; only to wake up JC asking me to repeat whatever he had been teaching. Of course, I couldn't answer, and he ordered me out of the class. It really wasnt a shame to be turned out of the class - happened all the time - in fact, people took that in high spirits. But I was horrified at my first ever experience of being turned out, and that too from JC's class. I met a couple of friends as I exited, and they described my expression at that moment, amidst gales of laughter, later in the hostel. By that time, I was able to laugh at myself, but what I wondered for a long time was, how JC managed to single me out in a class of 60, when I was sitting in the fourth row from front, and wearing specs with photochromatic glasses.

Another "blogthing" - hey it is fun!

I was directed to this blogthing "Are you a lady ?" - through Gincoleaves.

The quiz can be found @
Blogthings

It was fun. Though most of it falls in the "Not Applicable" category for me. I am not a party type person, I don't drink, I didn't really date ....
So, the results can be considered to be biased in my favor :-)
Anyway, here are my results:

***You Are 76% Lady***
Overall, you are a refined lady with excellent manners.But you also know when to relax and not get too serious about etiquette

*GRIN*

Poetry time ?

I shall never be friends again with roses
I shall loathe sweet tunes where a note grown strong
Relents and recoils and climbs and closes
As a wave of the sea turned back by song
There are sounds where the soul’s delight takes fire
Face to face with its own desire
A delight that rebels, a desire that reposes
I shall hate sweet music my whole life long

The pulse of war and passion of wonder
The heavens that murmur, the sounds that shine
The stars that sing and the loves that thunder
The music burning at heart like wine
An armed archangel whose hands raise up
All senses mixed in the spirit’s cup
Till flesh and spirit are molten in sunder
These things are over and no more mine

I first read these lines in the preface of a book where the story (essentially a romance) was based in World War II and spanned three continents. The book conveyed a very strong feeling of love, longing and loss, and moved me deeply each of the three times I read it. The lines above impressed the same feeling, though in a mysterious, haunting sort of way. Though I must confess that I did not fully comprehended the poem. It was many years later, during my post-grad days, when I gained access to internet, that I learnt the source of this poem. It constitutes two stanzas of an epic poem (of 392 lines!) titled ‘The Triumph of Time’, by A. C. Swineburne. I could comprehend the entire poem even less – Though I love poetry, English poetry (or perhaps literature even) of 18th or 19th century is not my cup of tea. The complete poem presented an entirely different picture from the context I had read its excerpt in – it embodies the emotions of a man in an ill-fated love. The central idea of the poem is that the narrator's lover has deserted him, and he is left to endure a fate - a life of loneliness - that he considers worse than death.
As I said, I did not comprehend the poem too well, but there were many lines and/or phrases I just loved. Here are some of them …
***
Before our lives divide for ever
While time is with us and hands are free
Time, swift to fasten and swift to sever
Hand from hand, as we stand by the sea
***
Sullen savour of poisonous pain
***
The stream
One loose thin pulseless tremulous vein
Rapid and vivid and dumb as a dream
***
The loves and hours of the life of a man
They are swift and sad being born of the sea
Hours that rejoice and regret for a span
Born with a man’s breath mortal as he
Loves that are lost ere they come to birth
Weeds of the wave without fruit upon earth
***
The hopes that hurt and the dreams that hover
***
I shall go my ways tread out my measure
Fill the days of my daily breath
With fugitive things not good to treasure
***
My favorite lines are still the ones that I first chanced upon, though. And I just wish I could write such beautiful poetry. Sigh.

Down the Memory Lane - II

The Fest That Was

This saturday, I was looking at photos of Nitin's college days, with his cousin Varun. It brought back images of my own days in college, particularly those of the college fest that we organized in our final year. A number of pictures rushed through in my mind, and I was overcome with a feeling of nostalgia. I wonder at the way the mind works - the memory is no longer a movie-like continuous chain of events, but more of a slide show of pictures, like shuffling through old photos stored in a box. And a few days later, when I am writing this, trying to recall those images, they are gone - I just have a recollection that I had some recollections the other day. Nostaligia, though faded, is still there. When I try to think back, I get kind of overwhelmed. There were the things that we did, like many us cramped in the small SAC room worked for days on end, preparing the 3-D stage backdrop and thermocol logos of the sponsors. And then there was the feeling - of enthusiasm, of ownership, of camaraderie - to make the event a thing to remember for years. That feeling is what I remember with greatest fondness when I think of those days. I guess one of these days I'll drive myself to organize my memories and thoughts, and write a coherent account of the memorable fest that "we" organized.

Some time ago, I finally scanned the pic of the stage backdrop we built. And so, 12 years after writing the original post, I am adding this pic :) 

Five Factor Values Profile

I chanced upon this test while browsing on blogspot. It was fun, and so I decided to post the result (with abosulte honesty :) ).

Here is the link to the Five Factor Values Test:
http://www.blogthings.com/thefivefactorvaluestest/

And here is my profile :

Loyalty:
You value loyalty a fair amount.
You're loyal to your friends... to a point.
But if they cross you, you will reconsider your loyalties.
Staying true to others is important to you, but you also stay true to yourself.

Honesty:
You value honesty a fair amount.
You're honest when you can be, but you aren't a stickler for it.
If a little white lie will make a situation more comfortable, you'll go for it.
In the end, you mostly care about "situational integrity."

Generosity:
You value generosity a fair amount.
You are all about giving, as long as there's some give and take.
Supportive and kind, you don't mind helping out a friend in need.
But you know when you've given too much. You have no problem saying "no"!

Humility:
You value humility highly.
You have the self-confidence to be happy with who you are.
And you don't need to seek praise to make yourself feel better.
You're very modest, and you're keep the drama factor low.

Tolerance:
You value tolerance highly.
Not only do you enjoy the company of those very different from you...
You do all that you can to seek it out interesting and unique friends.
You think there are many truths in life, and you're open to many of them.

Anything For You Ma'am

I read this book over the weekend. Subtitled 'An IITian's Love Story', this book is authored by Tushar Raheja, a 4th year BTech student at IIT Delhi.
It chronicles the events that take place as Tejas Narula, a third year student at IIT, devices a plan to undertake a journey from Delhi to Chennai, to meet his girlfriend Shreya, whom he first met as a close friend of his cousin.
Being a story about an IITian, written by an IITian, comparisons with Chetan Bhagat's 'Five Point Someone' are inevitable. I loved FPS (but as a one time read); I enjoyed this one as well (perhaps because I spent some years there myself ?). In my opinion, however, there is little similarity between the two books. For one, Bhagat's book primarily traced the life of three students through their years at IIT - triumphs and mishaps (mostly the mishaps) - that they encounter on their way to achieve an engineering degree from the prestigious insti, albeit with a poor CGPA (5.something). Tushar's book is about the romantic side of a young adult - who is as normal as any other guy in this respect, even though he might be an IITian. It touches the rest of the insti environment only peripherally. Granted there is the DISCO, and the industrial tour, which are central to the plot, but these cannot be considered as exclusive IIT dominions. Secondly Bhagat's writing is more mature - the characters are much better developed, and the flow and style good. The flow and style is something that is sadly missing in Tushar's book (I dont mind about the characters too much, given the context of the story). At several places, the sentences are not well formed - appear to be broken English resulting from a literal translation from Hindi. Another drawback is the attempt to play with the chronological order of the events. I have read quite a few books that take you back and forth in time very effectively through the narrative - enhancing the interest in the story . However, this does not work well in Tushar's case. The plus point is the content - the chain of events is amusing, as are the pranks played by the protagonist. So, except at some places where the author tends to digress a little bit too much, it was fun.

What would you do to save the world

As I mentioned I read this book by Ira Trivedi, last week. It belongs to the genre popularly called as 'chick-lit' these days. One would think I would never touch this kind of book after 'Opal Mehta...' experience. I guess I didn't learn my lesson; but well, the blame is not entirely mine. A good friend of mine, who borrowed 'Opal Mehta ...' from me (against my suggestion), gave it to me "to take a revenge". Oh, no doubt her really being my friend by this act - she was the one who also gifted me 'The Kite Runner' :-).
So, this book is about a business management graduate, who has dreamed of becoming Miss Indian Beauty since her childhood. She takes a semester off during her MBA to attempt to realize her dream. The book relates her experience through the paegent.
I found the premise of the story rather strange - management studies and beauty paegents seem poles apart to me. Chosing to ignore this apparent anamoly, there is little that is new or interesting - by now, we have read and heard so much about the things that go on in the world of beauty and fashion - starvation diets, dangerously high heels, exploitatio, layers of make-up, and most of all, the superficial questions which bear no consequence, that the judges ask to assess the intellect of the contestants - such as the one this book takes its title from - what would you do to save the world. I mean, in all these years, I have seldom seen any winner of any paegent do anything to uplift the poor, help the cause of health or sports (or anything else that they so grandiously claimed to feel for, and pledged to devote their time and energy to), much less save the world!
The inside view of the goings-on behind the beauty paegants could be appreciated by quite a few people. But its not my cup of tea. I guess I am cured of this genre of literature for good. I am happier with the likes of 'Five point someone' or 'Anything for you ma'am' (which incidentally is the next one I am going to write about).

The Namesake

Last week, I read "What would you do to save the world", and "The Namesake". The first book does not inspire me to write anything about it, so I'll write down my thoughts about the second one. After that, if I still have any inclination, I might say something about the first one too.

Over the weekend, I finished reading 'The Namesake' by Jhumpa Lahiri, of the 'Interpreter of Maladies' fame.

This book is about Bengali (which can actually be generalized to Indian) immigrants, Ashoke and Ashima Ganguli, and their children Gogol and Sonia, who are born and brought up in USA.

It is very well written - I liked the style. There are many moments which are poignant, or which really touch the heart. And then, it is a story which most of us can understand and empathise, if not identify, with. The major downside is that it is very slow - there are extensive details which are trivial, and seem to be redundant to the story. However, description which could have explained the thought process, and therefore developed, the characters further, and which one could have done with, is missing. I was also unable to appreciate why the protagonist's being a 'namesake' of a famous Russian writer was central to the story. Even if his parents had given him a proper Bengali (Indian) name, the conflict about the ideologies that he and his parents believe in, would have been the same. These conflicts can be generalized into the ones many of us, who have moved to the metros, have with our parents, who have stayed in small towns their entire life, or even more simply to the 'generation gap'. In this book, the author has taken a close look at such differences in the context of Indian families in USA. Some of the moments catch their disconnect very subtly - like when the american salesperson snickers at parents accents, and prefers to talk to adoloscent son instead. However, it gave me a feeling of depression throughout.

I know people who just rave about this book, but I will rate this as OK. I did not like it very much, but did not dislike it either. At any rate,it is better fare than some of the chick-lit I happened to read recently.

My heart leaps up when I behold a rainbow in the sky

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky.
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.  

Well, Wordsworth is not the only one who rejoices at the sight of a rainbow. I have been fascinated by rainbows since my childhood - I feel there is something magical about the way a seven-colored arc suddenly appears in the sky, and stays for a while before fading away slowly. When I happen to see one, I keep looking at it every few moments till the time it disappears.
Why the sudden interest in rainbows ? Well, I saw one yesteray, after a long long time - a number of years, I guess. It seemed to me that I do not get to see them as often as I did when I was a child. Have they ceased to form as frequently ? Or is it our eyes that fail to see them ? Perhaps the high rise buildings in the "developing" world restrict our view of the expanse of sky. Perhaps we are too busy to watch something as immaterial as a simple play of colors (or a simple phenomenon of refraction, for the more scientifically inclined). Perhaps we are too immersed in our quest for materialistic things to admire an object of beauty which is offerd freely by the nature to everyone.

This was the best I could do with my cellphone camera.

I wonder why

We are a society obsessed with other peoples' matters. Most of us would have had been the target of rather personal questions from people we have hardly had an occasion to interact.
At the receiving end of this mindset, we are concerned more with the impression we create with "other people" rather than our own hapiness. We are perpetually bothered with "log kya kahenge" (What would people say/think). And so, we insist on following the mores of the society, doing things we do not want to do. And in this process we take for granted, and at times hurt, the people we really care about and who care for us. Why, I wonder.
Why should a person not seek his or her own happiness (as long as we are not hurting anyone, especially the people who are close to us)? I strongly believe that if one cannot keep himself or herself contented or happy, noone else is going to, or even be able to, do so.

Down the memory lane

Rains and Nostalgia

How often it occurs that a small incident or a momentary sight brings back to your mind a memory of an incident that might have happened so long ago that it seems like it occurred in another lifetime. And yet you can recall trivial details about it. It occurs all the time, with everyone, I suppose. But for some time now, I have become conciously aware of this phenomenon. Though I wonder at times whether I have already grown so old to recall things in such manner!

Like yesterday. It was the first monsoon rain of the season. We were driving through a light shower, and a Kishore Kumar CD was playing. The melodious tune of 'Ek Ladki Bheegi Bhaagi Si' filled in the air, and reminded me of an incident during my graduation days. We were 15 girls in a class of 60. We had gone to our hostel for the lunch break. Before the hour long break was over, it started raining very heavily. Quite heavy to walk down to the classroom without an umbrella. So, when we reached the classroom, two or three of us shaded by one umbrella, most of us were at least partially drenched. Quite a few boys had already reached the class before us. And so, we were welcomed with an impromptu chorus of 'Ek Ladki Bheegi Bhaagi Si' , with Tuhin, a fine singer of our batch, leading the chorus. A few of the girls were offended by the guys "teasing" us; but I thought it was a good spirited action, and found it rather amusing. I can recall these details, and some more, though not whether it happened in third year or final.

Not so idle, after all

For some time I have been thinking (in fact all the times that I made a post on this blog, except for the very first one) that this blog turned out not really about idle thoughts. It is really difficult to write down idle thoughts, much less publish them on web. At the time you do have a chain of thoughts in mind, you are too busy thinking (or should I say, too idle ? ) to write it in any form; when you do get around to writing, that thread is broken, if not lost altogether.
I have more or less turned this blog into my "reading journal". I hope I continue with the activity on this front - that it does not get lost like my travellogue. I didn't manage to write down about my other trips after the first one - that of the day outing to Qutub. Since then, we visited Garden of Five Senses, Neemrana, Nainital, and Mashobra. I still hope to post some of these, although I have given up on the most ambitious of the lot - post on the week long trip to Goa.

The Kite Runner

A friend had gifted me a copy of this book quite some time back. The review had been quite good. But, from what I gathered, the book seemed to be rather sad, and this deterred me from picking it up for quite a long time. For last few months, things have been rather hectic and tiring, and I am not inclined towards heavy reading. Nitin read it some days back, and recommended it, but I still could not muster up enough enthusiasm to start on it. Which goes to show the kind of deep rut I am in - fiction is usually my forte. So, when our recent trip to Shimla promised to provide enough time and opportunity, I looked forward to reading The Kite Runner. I love to read during journeys. As soon as the train started, and everyone settled down, I opened the book. Okay, not exactly - I covered it with a newspaper first, so the pages would not get dog-eared. The first few pages had me engrossed, and I continued to read all the free time I could get, staying up till 1:30 am one night to finish.

 

The book was indeed good, even though there is a constant feeling of sadness throughout; which is to be expected, given the context of the long war and the rule of Taliban in Afghanistan. The story, narrated in first person, is well told. It gets you interested within the first few pages, and manages to sustain this interest till the very end. I think that is one of the main reasons that make it a good read. It portrays different shades of human nature, including the darker ones. It depicts a spectrum of emotions - the innocent joys of childhood, conflicts of an adult mind, devotion of a loyal friend, unapologetic cruelty of an enemy. In spite of all the pain and suffering it shows, and the somber mood it carries, the book does not leave you depressed or gloomy. Perhaps because the negative acts are compensated by virtues - sacrifice, unconditional devotion, remorse, and a desire "to be good again".

HIWSGMAT - Opal Mehta

HIWSGMAT - How I Wasted Some Good Money And Time

We had been browsing in the bookstore, when we found a copy of Kaavya Viswanathan's much commended at first, and much condemned later, book - How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild and Got A Life. Controversies not withstanding, we bought it with not much expectation ("not much expectation" was quite right), considering it a good one time read about college experiences - something like Five Point Someone ( now this is how wrong can one be!).

So, I spent some three hours this saturday afternoon reading this book. The story has been outlined over and over again, in the reviews, so I do not see a point in attempting to recapture it. I would just say that I found it very predictable, and very cliched, and at many places, over the top. It falters in narration and fails to capture one's imagination. One might read it to pass time. Completely avoidable. I wonder if my afternoon could have been better spent sleeping.

I am not joking ...

Last weekend I finished Richard Feynman's "Surely you are joking Mr. Feynman". To summarize my experience, I enjoyed reading it. It makes a light reading (quite unexpected from an autobiographical account of a Nobel prize winning physicist), but intellectual at the same time (which can be expected :-) ).
This book tells the reader about life and times of Feynman through a series of anecdotes, and I appreciated his sense of humor as he relates these. It shows Feynman not just as a dedicated scientist, but as a "normal" human being, who pursues other interests, like music and arts, and gives his best to everything he tries. He plays drums in carnival in Brazil! And holds a one-man painting exhibition!! He is also probably a little eccentric, like scientists are ;-)
This book also gives a brief glimpse of what went into the making of the first atom bomb (though not the reaction of the people who created it, on the aftermath of its deployment). What was missing was a better view of his "personal" side - his emotions and his family, but then this is not exactly an autobiography. At some points he tends to get a little repetitive.
In my view, this book can be enjoyed by people who like non-fiction, as well as those who prefer fiction. But a word of caution : quite a substantial part of it would make sense to people who have an understanding of basic physics. (So, the engineers are safe :-)).

Brand Value

A couple of days back, I happened to glance at a magazine Nitin was reading. From the black-and-white page, one word (Bubble, to be precise) in large font and multi-colored letters, stood out. My immediate response was "What is this article about Google ?" While Nitin described the article, a concious thought appeared in my mind - how did I ever, almost unconciously, associate the article with Google. All I had seen was a word written in red-blue-yellow-green letters - the colors in the logo of Google. What an amazing brand establishment. And recognition!
A brief discussion on "Brand" creation and marketing ensued. Although we have seen the "Brand" at work (and play) innumerous times, it never ceases to amaze me. I am still surprised at the Google incident. And amused to hear about my colleague's two-year-old son (who cannot yet read, and who has not yet developed a special taste for burgers) displaying excitement at the sight of a slightly curved M.

One night at the call centre

One Night at the Call Centre

This weekend I finished the much-hyped (and much-bashed) book by Chetan Bhagat. I was rather disappointed by this book. Although almost all the reviews I had read about it in the papers had thumbed it down, I still had hopes; but well, they were meant not to be. After I had read one-third of the book, I was not particulary interested or enthused to finish it - something that does not happen with me often.

The book is about six people working in night shifts in a team in a call centre, the doom of which is imminent. The book talks of their personal and professional crises, and in the end they set on their way to triumphing over their setbacks.

So, what do I think is wrong with it? That it is very superficial and shallow. Although the setting is new, the story is trite and cliched. Probably I have read too many books with a similar underlying plot, but with much better treatment. It appears that the author has tried to make the emotional upheavel of the characters as the main focus of the book, but the depiction has no depth. The solution they figure out for their professional problems sounds very unrealistic. On the whole, it feels like an account of few of the problems faced by working people, borrowed from miscellaneous sources, and patched (I wont call it "woven") into a story. Even the narration in first person lacks conviction, which was a big plus in his first book, Five Point Someone.