Now, what are you going to do about it?

Today, the world is without an evil, mentally sick man who went on a shooting rampage at a school. Today, the earth is lighter by 20 toddlers whose lives were taken away way too early, by no fault of their own. Today, the president teared up on national TV. Today, every parent in America who heard the news shuddered at the thought of "What if?".

Today, amidst the debates, news bytes and feelings alternating between grief and anger, I was reminded how incredibly lucky I am to come to home to two happy, healthy kids. All of us are excited by different things, but rarely by the everyday normal. Today, I realized I am among the lucky people for whom normal, though boring at times, is what matters most.

It goes without saying that no matter where one's affinity lies, be it on the right or the left, their thoughts and prayers go out to the families affected and they dont want this to happen ever again. That is the least anyone can do - even old, frail people who are in wheelchairs. If you are young, are a parent, and healthy, I urge you to do more than just send condolences and pray it never happens again. Civility codes and social niceties demand that debates, arguments or politics over this is too soon. As you may have already guessed, I beg to differ. The collective attention span of humanity is short, so if not now,  the mainstream media will slowly but surely lead our attention to discussions about the fiscal cliff crisis and the Kate Middleton pregnancy. 

So yeah, I am going to politicize the fuck out of this. I am going to engage in debates, and arguments about what I think should be done. I am also prepared to hear out opposing ideas setting aside my ego for the greater good of all. I am going to actively seek out venues where I can contribute - be it through time, money or open dialog. I maybe a tiny speck in the grand scheme of things, with not enough money, power or influence to create anything big -  hoping for a remote chance of inspiring someone who has any or all of the above.

Why? Because come this monday, twenty parents will not be able to pack lunches for their kids. Because if there is an afterlife, if I come face to face with one of the kids who left us today and If she asks me "What did YOU do for me?" - I will be able to answer "The best I could" with a straight face.

Read a book to Read yourself

Last week, I had to take 2 cross country flights to take for my company, without any company. So on a whim, I decided to carry "The God of Small Things" by Arundhati roy with me. You know, the book - that you don't have to turn or or off in the plane and does not exist tin the "approved electronics" list of the stewardess watchdogs.

Every time you read a good book, it is an encounter - in the mind, in the brain and also in the understanding of prose construction - especially if it is in a language that is not your primary one. The last time I read it because I had to - the novel had won a booker prize and was based in the state of Kerala where I am from.  So the literary poser in me had to form an opinion on it. This time, I wanted to read it -  eager to learn more about myself than the book. How had my perceptions changed about the story? How had my understanding of the workings of the world changed? This time around, I may sympathize with different characters . Just maybe, I would understand that people don't do bad things because they are evil. This time around, the author may convince me the underpinnings behind their actions. 

So on both my flights, I hung around with Rahel and Estha. With Baby Kochamma and Velutha. With familiar sights and happenings in Kerala. Most importantly, with Arundhati Roy, who was telling me more about the story, the characters, and a little about herself through her words. And in re-reading the book, I glimpsed a little more into how I had changed as a person from the last time I read the book. 

The author and her storytelling has changed how I look at things. At a plymouth car, at people who fight just because they have to seem like a rebel, at kids who are exploited of their innocence without them knowing it. Arundhati Roy doesn't even know it. And she never will. Such is the power of writing in the long form. May the world keep it alive for its own good and for the good of its people. 

image courtesy : http://27gen.blogspot.com/2010/11/reading-101.html

Can you decide on exactly what you want?

"I want that Red Hot wheels car with yellow wheels and red Hot Rod written on it" said my son, pointing to the exact model of the toy car he wanted from a sea of Hot Wheels cars.   I looked at all of them and couldn't tell many models from others. The immediate afterthought that came to my mind was "how come he can tell exactly what he wants from the sea of choices?". This time I turned the tables on him and asked "why"? Who knew in a couple of seconds I would regret asking that  - he started explaining in detail on why the color choices were those and what that model could do tat others can't and..well, you get the point.

I know what you are thinking - he is just a kid, he doesn't have to think of any consequences or repercussions of his choice. Which does mean that all of us had the same skill when we were children. We always knew what we wanted, what we craved for.  What we never had in our minds were questions like "Is it too much to ask for?", "I just got a toy last week, so maybe I shouldn't ask for one this week", or "Does my dad love me enough to even consider buying this toy?" or even "Is it realistic for me to think I will get this toy". We just knew what we wanted and we asked for it, come hell or highway.

Now somewhere along the way of growing up into overly concerned adults, we lost that uncanny ability. Even if we get to the point of knowing what we want, we never seem to cross the hurdle of a million questions to ask ourselves before expressing the need for it. Why do we constrain our needs with doubts like those? When we think of something we want, do we really need to muddle it by asking a bunch of reality based questions? Won't it blur the picture of what our exact need or specific need is?

After giving it some thought, I think we should not muddy the waters of what we are looking for. This way, we can get to what we want faster. And trust me, it will be the thing you actually want - Not something that looks like it, or something you could do with for the time being, or something you can live with or settle for. It will be exactly.what.you.want.

Ok, so now you get the picture of what you want - it maybe a raise, a promotion, a proposal, a relationship or a car or bike that you have been craving for.  So now, what is preventing you from asking for it  - may it be from yourself, your significant other, your boss or your mom( though if it is your mom you need to ask, then maybe there are other things you need in life :)) Are you sure that your object of desire has not been compromised by your other thoughts of whether it is attainable or not? Granted, no man is an island (and most definitely, men in a committed relationship never are ) but then expressing your exact, specific need and stating the reason for it can yield surprising results. Maybe it is a slap on the face or maybe a pat on the back or a kiss on the cheek. And if the result was among the last two, you are almost guaranteed that you will get what you want.

So a summary of the post you ask? None whatsoever - the whole point I was trying to make - dont let your needs be a summary; instead make them specific bullet points; ones that others will be compelled to read in full and understand it with the premise, so you can get what you want without them cutting you short of what you need.

Now onto focusing on how I can get my son to ask for less expensive toys.

Naughty, Nice or something in between?

As this year comes to a grinding halt, we are all being bombarded with messages of holiday spirits, wishes for the holidays and of course, 70 to 80% off sale prices. And then there is the all intricate fabric of  holiday traditions, stories and gifting etiquette that weaves into our daily life whether we choose it or not.

I am guessing most of you are either in the process or finishing up the year end review process. The laborious but necessary chore of recapping what you did, how well you did it and promises of how you will do it better next time around. During the holiday season this process supplants itself everywhere. Kids are pondering over what they did to evaluate their entry into the nice or naughty list, adults going over the same and making resolutions as if they are promising themselves that they will do a better job next time around. And then there are the top 10 lists that weeds out all other non performers  in each of the gazillion categories that the human race can be categorized to.

So how did you fare this year? What rating would you give yourself? Give it some thought. Were you nice, naughty or something in between? The ratings are completely relative, so you have the liberty of making yourself the judge. If you played by the rules, your needs and wants are all in the nice category. If you were a little adventurous, maybe you strayed a little into the naughty territory. But then, kid or adult, all of us have a secret Santa. Be it an elderly obese man dressed in a red suit or an ultimate being with universal authority to judge. For others who do not believe in supreme beings, they let the judging be done by fellow human beings.  

As for me,  I sit on my couch slowly morphing myself into the shape of Santa Clause year after year. One thing I promise to myself is that I will not make a nice or naughty list. My choices are my choices and they may fall into the nice bucket for some and naughty bucket for others.  Conclusion - there is no point in being judged by anyone else who is not in your exact situation that made you do stuff falling in each category.

So let us toast to a happy new year, wishing we stray in between the nice and naughty categories, never even straying into the evil category. We have many troubles in the world and adding more evil into it would be like adding salt to sea water. Wish for something nice, want for something naughty and maybe Santa will grace you with some of both. Wish you a nice nice holiday season and a naughty new year!

Milestone Check

Milestones are important for various reasons. Of course, it tells you how far your destination is, but I am more interested in knowing how far I have traveled.  A reflection on the path so far, a guess on how it will be from now on - all follows.

I have not kept my support and admiration for Obama a secret. So it was not surprising when someone asked me about how my support for Obama was doing, a year before the elections. Sure, I am disappointed that all my assumptions about him did not bear fruit, but he cannot be held accountable for the little garden I had built in my head for a more peaceful, tolerant world.

• Passed healthcare reform even with obstruction from the blue "dog(s)" democrats.
• Got Osama in the head while making fun of opposition leaders at the White House press corps dinner event.
• Repealed "Don't ask, Don't tell".
• Credit Card reform, Student Loan reform enacted.
• Got Awlaki without having a soldier step on Libyan land.
• Initiated withdrawal from Iraq.

And many other things that moves mankind forward - even though inch by inch.

So "How is the hope and change stuff working for you"  you ask?

Very well, thank you.

Now, on to the reelection  campaign of 2012.

Mediocrity - underrated?

The other day a friend of mine asked me - "When does a man know that the most he achieves in life will be mediocrity? Late 40s? Late 50s?" I thought that was a very thought provoking question. He asked it with a very muted tone sounding as if mediocrity was a sign that someone has failed in life.

I like to think otherwise. Excluding the lazy bunch who waste their talents and find pleasure in couch camping, I would say the majority of us are termed "mediocre". But is that bad? Isn't mediocrity way underrated? Yes, life is indeed a race - and considering the starting point, we have come far. Now, if the finishing point is not out of the ordinary, that does not mean we have not run a good race. All of us are born with tools to mould life. Some of us with power tools and others with just a chisel and hammer. I say we do best with the tools we have and what we build out of it is ours to own. There is only room for so many greats in this world. Besides, we are never mediocre for people who care about us. Striving for greatness is perfectly fine, but make sure that achieving greatness is not the only way you will ever be satisfied in life.

Now you may be thinking - "You will never make money as a motivational speaker". I agree. Thankfully, I did not choose that profession in life and the world is a better place to be in precisely due to that decision of mine. However, I am mediocre in most of the stuff I do, but I do give it my best shot.

Be great at achieving greatness, but if mediocrity is what you get, never let the label take away the fun of  appreciating how far in life you have travelled to reach it.

Until next time - when I meet with you at the crossroads of another mediocre article on this mediocre blog.

image courtesy: http://www.justynsmith.com/2011/03/the-mediocre-kidmin-leader-part-2/

Life, Interrupted.

"Yeah, its all over now", my brother said with a deep sigh. "He looked just as handsome as he did before all of this happened". My heart felt heavier and my eyes teared up as I looked out the window hoping to find deeper answers to life's more complex questions.
***********
Around nine months ago, I was woken up by a phone call very early in the morning. It was the weekend, so I let it ring and continued my slumber until I got my lazy butt out of bed. It was after doing my morning chores that I decided to check who had called - it was my wife's cousin. The voice mail he left threw me right out of my comfort zone. He had been having headaches, so the doctor suggested an MRI and they had discovered a tumor in his brain. I felt like slapping myself for not taking his call and letting it go to voice mail. I desperately tried to call him back, but did not get any answer. It was later on that I knew he had been hospitalized and they had started further investigations into his condition.

Fast forward a couple of weeks - I traveled to Chicago to be by his side and also receive his parents who were on their way from India. It was 3 days packed with emotions - of him, his sister and his parents. There was a mix of anxiety, despair and hope for a better future - Medical science has made so many advances - we can clone entire organs, so a tumor in the brain could not be much of a puzzle for the brightest of doctors right?

Except, it was. They ruled out surgery as it was too complex and started chemo, radiation and rehabilitation. I painfully watched as his dad helped him regain his strength to walk, assist him to the bathroom and help him with other things otherwise considered mundane in daily life. For his dad, it was as if life had progressed in reverse, when his son was a little boy, and he was holding his hands to help him get his balance.

As time passed he fought back with his strong will power and zest for living, but then all of that suffered huge blows as hope dwindled and more doctors said that there was nothing more they could do. He never complained about how life was unfair and that he was given the short end of a stick. The bounce in his talk was still there, though occasionally he would delve into long streaks of silence. He joked about the hair he had lost because of the chemo and of the weight he had put on because of all the steroids.

After putting up a brave fight, the third week of March was destined to be his last on this planet. The last few days were particularly tough - for him and everyone close to him and then he decided he had enough. The tumor eventually outgrew his willpower and took over control. I guess some dark clouds do not have a silver lining after all.
******
After that phone call from my brother after his funeral, I called and spoke to his dad the next day. It hurt deeply, and though the chatty person that I am, I was at a loss for words in all languages I knew. I told him what I felt - all he could do was to look after himself and hos wife as his son would have done and that live life as happily as he would have wanted you to. In a way, the best homage to a bright young lad.

The loss of a child is more scarring in many ways compared to the loss of parents or close relatives. It hurts you until your last breath. Many a lesson can be learned from all of this - the most important one being - never  lose the joy of living life amidst complaints about all the nitty grtty details.

Jiby was 24 at the time of his funeral. He was just beginning to enjoy life in its prime - precisely why he fought so hard against what eventually took his life at a young age. May his soul rest his peace and may his memories light up moments of people he touched.

Sleep well my friend, for you shall be forever young.

Picture courtesy - http://usagamezone.blogspot.com

The Robots have taken over!

A belated Happy New year to all. To those of you who are still hanging on to their New Year resolutions, good job and kudos for being persistent. For the rest of us, there is always going to be another New Year!

The New Year has brought in a lot of comments on my blog post and in case you are wondering why its not showing up after the posts, it is because they are all written by spam robots. I am happy that machines appreciate my thoughts and have a weird sense of humor, but its not the kind of messages I would like in my inbox. With the likes of Facebook and Twitter, you can never be too alone, even if you wanted to.

So hello again to all the readers who are still subscribed to my feed and let me tell you that it was never my intention to abandon this space or your curiosity in knowing my brain content. Everything you see in the blog title was still going on, I just could not muster up enough time and resources to publish it. When I reviewed this space last week, it gave me the feeling of going to school when it is closed - you see the classrooms and are reminded of all the heated discussions, fun and activity that once was - and you crave for having it back.

So here is my first step in satisfying that craving. When you have some time to spare, drop in a line, scribble 'hi' and I shall be obliged and happy.

And to the robots reading this - No, I am not interested in getting medicines from Canada.Nor am I interested in seeing you naked on your webcam. Most certainly, I am not interested in enlarging the size of my privates.So quit stalking me.

image courtesy - http://truescifi.wordpress.com/2009/01/23/robot-police/

Really Geico? So That is your definition of a Caveman?

Well, you all know the Spiel. Geico airs the ad showing that getting auto insurance from Geico is so easy that even a caveman can do it. It is such a hit, their next series of ads show cavemen getting all offended about how they are portrayed on TV.

Funny. Cute. Intelligent.And Geico gains a lot of customers.

 But not me, Geico, not me. I knowingly refuse to submit to your innovative and humorous ads. Want to know why? Well, it is simple really - look at your depiction of a caveman and then travel around the world. It's that easy.

Still not getting it? Ok, let me explain. What is your definition of a caveman? An ordinary bloke, probably with a decent job and a happy life, living in the modern world with just a minor, off putting  detail. And what is it that makes him a caveman? Hair, and lots of it. Let me tell you something - there are parts of the world where there are men who do have lots of hair - not just on the head, on their bodies and face. Mostly they are of Arabic or South Asian descent. I happen to be the in latter category.

When I grew up, chest hair used to be the sign of a real man. As a teenager, I watched each hair follicle grow into a sign of manhood like a gardener watching his garden flourish. I couldn't wait until I could flaunt it all and woo all the beautiful girls waiting to get a glimpse of it. That is, until "Nair for Men" and  "Six pack Abs" became the new normal. So as things would turn out, I missed the train by a couple of years  and that slight shift in trend morphed my fountain of youth into a malfunctioning shower head. Thanks, fashion trends, and good riddance.

So now I am in my late thirties, wearing turtle necks in the sweltering summer (that's right - its like the border fence trying to block all the illegal aliens - in this case, the body hair trying to catch a glimpse of sunlight)  and out you come with this ad to remind me that I am not evolved much from the ape and that I am as close to a caveman that you can get.

No GEICO, I will not sell my dignity even if that means I get 15% or more off of my car insurance by spending 15 minutes.NO WAY.

For 20%, I am willing to talk.

Picture Courtesy: http://pinstripebindi.wordpress.com

It's all Relative!

"All this began after we moved into this god forsaken house", he shouted as he slammed the door behind him. "So now you are blaming our son's illness on the house too?" She responded with the highest pitch she could manage though she knew he wouldn't hear it.

As she sat down next to her bedridden son, she broke down to tears, covering her face and hushing her voice so her son would not wake up. She was always the ambitious one in the family - dreaming higher, getting the man of her dreams, then pursuing him to buy the house of her dreams and finally pursuing a career of her dreams. Then as fate would have it, things broke down soon after her son fell terminally ill. She started to question all her decisions in life and asking herself - "What is the point in all of this? Why am I so overworked to get to my reserved place in society?" As she pondered over life's bigger questions, she gazed out the window and saw a woman with two kids outside the gate looking at her house.

"Mom, I want a house like that. Then  Kayla and I could have birthday parties and we could play in the backyard and also have our friends over!". "I wish I had a house like that", said Kayla.  "Well, I wish we had a house like that too kids, but with your dad being laid off and mom not being able to get a promotion, we will have to be satisfied with the apartment we have. Well, I guess we will never be lucky as the people who live in this house. OK, let's go to the park." "Yay", the kids said in unison and ran across the street to get to the park.

PERSPECTIVE MATTERS. Have you put your problems into perspective lately?


Image courtesy : http://www.hypebeast.com

Inspiration is a chain reaction

It is a universally known fact that money is always tight for a college student. (Well, at least for the majority of us). During my college days, things were no different. For the purposes of full disclosure, I have to add that my mom did send me money, but when you add the Total Cost of Living (including costs of booze, other guilty pleasures etc.), the liabilities easily outweigh assets.

It was at one of those dinners with a shoe string budget that I bore witness to a random act which would have a profound impact later in my life (though I did not realize it at the time).  It was a warm night in Chennai (Madras at the time) and I was heading for dinner towards a street stand close to where we lived. During the short walk, I was carefully calculating the amount of food I could have for the meager amount of money I was carrying with me (And all of you wonder how Asians end up better at Math!). By the time I reached there, I had a pretty good idea of what and how much I will be ordering. While I was munching down my share of street delicacies, I saw a man (who had more than his share of alcohol) walking up to the person next to me. The person next to me definitely looked like he had a job (since he had a motorcycle and was dressed decently) and was sitting on his motorcycle and slowly chowing down his dinner. The drunk then asked him  - "Can I have some money so I can eat something? I am starved!". The other man seemed to be repulsed by the smell and demeanor and quickly moved backwards, then shook his head, gesturing a firm 'No'. The street vendor shouted - "Get the hell out; don't disturb my customers!". The drunk clearly knew a "No" when he saw it as he walked away slowly and sat down on the pavement a couple of meters away from me.His head hung low, either from shame or more likely, from the effects the alcohol had on his brain.

Like a wave washing away scriptures on sand, I could see that the man on the motorcycle being overpowered by a wave of sympathy and regret washing away his earlier feelings of repulsion. He turned to the drunk and said - "Ok, come and get whatever you want to eat; I will take care of the bill!". He must have known that I was watching all of this, so he quickly turned to me and said, "I know if I give him money he will spend it on booze, this way he will at least eat to ward off his hangover."

The gesture had an impact on me enough that I stopped eating and nodded my head in agreement. I also managed a smile in between all the other thoughts that were in my head. But later on in life, this inspired me to make giving a part of my life and whenever I did that I also made sure that it went to the source rather than an agency or upfront admin - of course, it means more work, but also much more rewarding.

So the next time you get a chance, indulge in a random act of kindness. You never know who you might inspire and how much of a chain reaction that triggers.

Image courtesy : www.clamlynch.com/blog/2005/06/

Waking up.

My head is heavy, eyes red and my vision - a little hazy. Such are the after effects of deep slumber. Sorry for the absence from this space. It was not intentional and and I was not wasting time - I got diverted into other projects and also spent more time with what makes me tick. All I am is a clockface - my kids and better half are the 3 hands on it that keep me ticking.

Meanwhile, thanks for all the queries asking if I was doing OK and when would this hibernation end? When people look at this space and do not find anything new, I do believe that I have done a disservice to them. Time is scarce for me, so why would it be different for other folks searching random blogs in the interwebs?

Right now, my mind is like a cluttered desk - random notes scattered everywhere and completely unorganized. I need to clean it up, get a pen and sit my big, lazy ass down to write. All while keeping in mind that I am but, a mere blogger with minimal impact on the world. But write I should, for the biggest impact it makes, is on me.

Now if you will excuse me while I go wash my face.

Acceptance Speech

Then we kissed. Lips, tongue, saliva and all.

I reveled in the moment, then let go of the presenter and moved closer to the microphone. "Ah, thank you all, thank you! I never thought I would win. Really!. Thanks to all of the other entries that were not as funny as mine. I am truly humbled - and oh let me not forget I would also like to thank all the little people."

You may be asking - "What baloney? You won something? Impossible!" to which my reply is "Yes, I did win something, but the description above is just a fabric of my imagination :)". Yes, I would have loved to have a stage and an audience and a podium for my acceptance stage, but for this time I had to do with a winner email.

What did I win? How did I win it? You will find all the answers here -

http://www.crunchgear.com/2010/04/19/celebrate-ooma-purevoice-with-a-free-ooma-telo-handset-and-1-year-of-service/comment-page-3/#comments

Finally my wife agreed that being a pervert (or at least having perverted thoughts) pays - and you get paid in voip phone sets and minutes. Well, may be my love of voluptuous women helped too (you have to agree that Salma Hayek is as good as they come; and no, agreeing doesn't make you a pervert!)

And about calling Salma - I am working on first steps - losing about 100 lbs to look like I am starved. Without a global famine and drought, I don't see that happening. Meanwhile, I will appreciate tips on setting up a Voip phone.

See you next awards season!

Image courtesy : www.theonering.net/scrapbook/view/6856

Pause. Reflect. Play.

She quietly opened the door so the noise would not waker her parents and brothers. She then put down her heavy backpack on the living room floor and  tiptoed her way into the sink. She washed her face to remove all the dirt and black stuff that had found its way from the factory floor. It was after a cold shower that she realized she was starving. She never had enough time to eat properly at work. Her parents could not afford to get enough to feed all their kids, so she always ended up with leftovers. After getting her hands on what little food she could get, she sat down and gently massaged her feet which was aching from all that walking at the assembly line. After a while, as she slowly slipped into her bed, she thought to herself - "My manager did seem impressed with my ideas to improve productivity. Hopefully that promotion should come through". She fell asleep knowing that the prospects of her ambition - becoming the VP of her company - were getting better each day.
-=-=-=-=-
Quietly, she opened the door to the kitchen from the garage and cursed as it made a loud squeaking noise. She hoped that the sound had not  woken up her husband and kids. She put down her heavy briefcase on the granite kitchen counter top and tip toed her way to the sink. She quickly washed off all the heavy makeup that seemed to suffocate her pores all day. She was never a fan of too much makeup, but in her corporate world of meetings and high profile clients, she always had to present her best face forward. It was then that hunger pangs struck her, and she proceeded to see what was left over in the fridge. There was plenty of food in the fridge, but her diet only allowed her to snack on the leftover salad. After a short while, she found herself  immersed in her high-end spa, gently massaging her feet to relieve them from the constant harassment they received from her high heeled shoes. She then sipped her favorite red wine and thought to herself - "The board of directors seemed pleased with my plan of growing exponentially through acquisitions - maybe my ambition of becoming CEO is not that far away. After all, there's only a couple of steps from VP to CEO."
-=-=-=-=-

OK, so I am not much of a storyteller, but more often than not in life, the begin and end points of our ambition feels the same - it is the journey to achieve it that gives the kicks. So when you are fast forwarding through life and everything feels automated and mechanical, press pause, take a deep breath, reflect on what you have achieved, enjoy it to the fullest and then proceed to play the rest. Just sayin'.

Image Courtesy : http://trcs.wikispaces.com/Analysis+of+Poems?f=print

Deathwish

"OK, OK, I admit! I do not take life seriously enough. You happy now?" As I slammed the door behind me and walked towards my motorcycle, I murmured - "I wish I wouldn't have to come back to this place again".

I had thought life would be a breeze now that I had finished college and landed a decent programmer job. The money from one job was not enough to fulfill my materialistic splurges, so I was working 3 jobs; on 10 to 5,  6 to 10(pm) and  11 - 2(am!)  time slots. The third job was for a friend, so working and partying went hand in hand. The only glitch in my otherwise smooth rolling life? I was living with mom. I was away from home since high school - for 7 years - until I found a job in my hometown and of course, the oasis of home made food and all chores being taken care of lured me in to stay.

And then, on a perfectly normal Sunday,  a call from my manager interrupted the verbal warfare between me and my mom. You see, Sundays were special since I would be home and it would make a perfect occasion for mom to make me realize how goal-less I have been throughout my life and that I needed to man up to take up big responsibilities. Anyway, my manager wanted me to get to the office to resolve a bug in the software we were supposed to deliver the next day. "See, everyone is just taking advantage of you!, why should you be working on a  Sunday. You just don't realize the seriousness of it."  I could see that  my mom's verbal floodgates were opening - so I grabbed the keys to my motorcycle, shouted those words, slammed the door and left.

The motorcycle's throttle saw all the rage in me. I was zipping past intersections and traffic (which was very light on that Sunday). Helmets were not enforced those days, so I did not bother to wear one. The wind string on my face calmed me down a little bit. At the end of an overpass, I came up behind an ambassador car. I wanted to overtake it, but I could see that the driver was deciding whether to take an illegal turn or not. After a moment or two, he decided (or it seemed to me) to call it off. So, I gave a strong twist to the throttle, bend down with my chest close to the fuel tank to apply aerodynamics, and proceeded to go around the car.

OK, now freeze frame. Pan camera and lift up to a slight aerial shot. Start slow motion.

In a split second, the driver decided to take the turn anyway. It was too late for me to slam on the brakes. My motorcycle hit the car head on as I was screaming at the driver of the car. The impact was huge. I was thrown out of my motorcycle into the air and I flew above the car. The motorcycle having the advantage of being heavy, fell and slid under the car. As I wandered my gaze, I quickly realized I was headed for landing amidst numerous sign posts (all made of iron!). I closed my eyes and prepared myself for the inevitable. I think I even squeezed out a couple of swear words in between.

Stop slow motion. Zoom out of dust rising from the road. Zoom in to show car driver's shell shocked face. Stop narrative.

No, your whole life does not flash in front of you as they show in the movies. It all happened so freaking fast. Like a miracle, I landed right in the area that lay in middle of all the signposts. I landed on my back and therefore the lack of a helmet did not affect me much. I was bleeding profusely, but in the end, it turned out I did not have any broken bones or any serious injuries.

I guess that was the teaser trailer to my desire to have things change drastically.

So the next time you wish for things to change drastically from status quo, think twice. All it takes is a wrong turn for it to come true. That too, from a total stranger.

Photo Courtesy - http://www.electrical-res.com/motorcycle-accident-attorneys/

Is your heart a Lake or a Marsh?

It was the summer of a year that marked the beginning of this millennium. I locked up my apartment in a hurry and walked down the stairs. My heart was getting heavier with each step I took downstairs. As I walked around the block to my friend's apartment, the phone call I received from him a couple of minutes earlier was still ringing in my head.

"I got a phone call from India," he said in that call. "My Dad passed away". As he went on with more details, my brain was already processing fond memories of his dad  - a very funny, intelligent and compassionate man who also happened to be a doctor. The news sank into my heart instantly - bringing out emotions that I never thought I had in the first place. With each passing minute, the news was digging deep into me; generating a whole bunch of questions - how could this happen? How would it impact my friend, his sister and mom? Had they already found out about this? How did they react?

I lost my father at a very young age, so I knew how the loss of a father figure could affect a person's mentality. It is not just the loss of a person - it is the loss of a friend, a support system and most importantly, a brutally honest critic. All of this cocoons into something that makes you want to be a better person all your life.

As I entered my friend's apartment and hugged him, I completely lost it. I was in tears and and held him tight, looking to console him out of his sorrow(as if that was possible). He then patted on my back and said, "It's ok, It's ok". It was then I realized something - the news had not struck him yet; he was still in no man's land, coming to terms with what had happened. There were no tears, just a blank look which, to an outsider,  would give an impression that he had everything under control. But I had known my friend for sometime now and I knew that there was a void that was created which could only be filled in by accepting the dreadful fact of his loss.

After making arrangements for his trip to India, some of my other friends and I saw him off at the airport that night. This was before 9/11, so we could go all the way up to the gate. We rehashed some memories of  the man, there were complaints about the long flight and a few laughs out of my friend. I thought to myself - "Ok, he still has not grappled with the news yet, but maybe the 18 hours of flight will do it".

It has been 10 years since then, and I have to say that not only did the news sink in for him, but it has been with them since then. I get a sense of it from the conversations that I have with him, the blog posts that he writes and the off hand impromptu remark that comes out of him.

Which brings me back to the post's title (it's about time) - when it comes to your heart is it a lake or a marsh? When news comes your way in the shape of a black stone, what does your heart morph into? A lake in which the stone sinks fast, but can be easily taken out by undercurrents? or a marsh where in the stone sinks slowly, making marks along its way and hard to move around? Or a mix of both?

Let us hope that whatever shape our hearts take, it never gets a bad news stone thrown at it. I know life is not full of happiness, so if something has to be thrown at it, may it be pebbles - that skip until it crosses the lake, and are so light that they could never sink into the marsh.


Image courtesy :www.myspaceantics.com

Hail to the curves!

If you enjoy driving, would you have more fun driving a road with curves or a straight road? I thought so too.Yeah, as said before - "Straight roads are for fast cars, but curvy roads are for fast drivers".

But this post is not about roads. Or cars. Or cars on curvy roads. This is my official outrage post on the obsession that the media and the fashion industry have with sticky thin women. Where are the curves? The biggest moneymaker tag line for ads these days is "Lose Weight". The corporations are arming us up with shoes, equipment, motivation and even yogurt to fight the fat. Now I am not losing sight of the obesity epidemic we have in this country. I realize that if I keep up my current eating and drinking habits, I will be part of it. But what is wrong with healthy, curvaceous figures? Why would someone lose their chiseled curves (and working hard at it, mind you) to achieve a straight line with no details attached to it? Aren't humans supposed to be the most evolved of all species? If so, I am sure the curves have evolved as evidence of nature's belief that these will indeed guarantee the survival of the human race. At this pace, the ramps of fashion shows may as well be built by cardboard in a couple of years.

When I turn on the news, the news anchor has her cheekbones  and collarbones protruding out of the TV, screaming for attention. So instead of thinking "what's up with the world?", I am thinking "why won't somebody feed this woman?". When I was on the verge of entering my teen years, I would sneak out to watch hollywood movies to watch the lovemaking scenes which were not present in Indian movies. Now that I can go to one these movies or rent it on my own free will (or to be more clear, whenever my wife lets me), I cannot tell the difference between the guy and the girl (To the couple of naughty readers, no, I wasn't watching "Brokeback Mountain").

The next time you walk around, pinch yourself whenever you see or hear "low fat" or "no fat" - I bet you cannot play that game long enough to get you through your day. There is a mad rush to get to size "zero", but sadly, when people reach that size, they look more like a "one". So all you models and movie stars wondering why your partner left you for a more "real" woman, there lies the real answer. (Ok, Ok I do realize that not many models or movie stars read my blog - but I am just sayin').

Yes, I like my car with a stick shift, my rice with gravy and my women, curvy. (I know it sounds too cheesy, but it rhymed so well I could not let go of it). I am married, so I am not on the lookout for more women - but you get the point. Really, I am not (Honey, you should be reading this). And I apologize to folks who saw a ray of hope.

So here's to hoping that curvy models will make a comeback and we will see more healthy people in our day to day life. The day is not far off - it is the same day we will be receiving Universal Health Care.( Ha Ha)

P.S - Take a look at this  - "Bald model opens Fashion Show". Now that they have got rid of the fat, they are coming after your hair. Run!

Lost, but not found.

Have you seen my new posts?

Neither have I. And I have been looking; trust me - Oh, I have been looking.

Nearly a couple of months back, I was on my merry way trying to add posts to my blog. Then it struck me - Aren't there enough blogs in the blogosphere already? What value am I going to add with my little scripts? There must be somebody else who sees the world the way I do and blogs about it. So I started looking. I began by subscribing to other blogs, then started reading what google suggested I would be interested in.(How do they know me so well? Its like we have been blood brothers.) There were some that matched my thinking.As I read through them in detail, I found myself disagreeing on a bunch of stuff and accumulating more thoughts in my brain (afterthoughts, to be precise). I could leave comments, but then the space wouldnt be enough and who knows if the author looks at them?

Right about 5 minutes ago, I gave up. Just because millions of people voted the way I did does not mean that I should not vote. I may not be entitled to to my own facts, but I am definitelty entitled to my own opinions. And with the marvel of today's technology, I can broadcast them from the comforts of my home (actually my small apartment is not that comfortable, but you get the point.) I apologize to all of you for flushing down all those posts down my brain instead of sharing it with a wider audience. I will try to suction out and salvage some of the important ones.

Meanwhile in the real world, the holiday season was anything but that. A whirlwind tour of Disneyland and Universal studios with 2 kids and 3 other families (9 kids in all) during the christmas weekend can never pass as a holiday trip, no matter what it is disguised as. No, I have not yet watched Avatar and 3 Idiots like the rest of world. I have seen so many idiots (if you must know - yes, including the ones in the mirror), so I figured, what's 3 more? As another year rolled by, I am glad I am this old - I don't worry that much about the down time of facebook or the number of friends on my internet social networking circles. I have real friends and they don't need to check their phones or their tweets to know where I am @. I guess I am lucky not to be in gen z(or gen me for that matter).

In closing, let me point out that I am not closing (shop, that is).

Image Courtesy : http://turntablephilanthropy.com

The mind wanders...

A "pretend intellectual" piece on how a most recent ad reflects the hangovers of the caste system in India never made it here.
There was this piece where I wanted to write about how life plays itself out for a man who has more than his equal share of hair on his body.
Then there was a scribble about how I was mistaken for a gay man one evening.
Afterthoughts on a successful stint of 14 days of Bikram yoga never made it out of my head onto here.

Point being - As with other things in life, my plans on writing more posts remain half done. If I put my mind to it, I could get it done, but then that would be compulsive blogging - why would I want push out literary posts into a platform where bloggers graze abound and theres a lot of other stuff for people to read?

And yet, the mind wanders, tirelessly churning out thoughts, what ifs and why can'ts. It seems as though that a less than perfect world serves as a perfect amusement park for questioning minds.

For what it's worth, at least you got a preview of what is to come in this space in the near future.

Don't be a disaster journalist...

at least when chronicling life, that is.

Today, I was showing my daughter (who is almost a year now - time has the pace of a concord) the pleasure of being thrown up in the air. She was pleasantly surprised as was evident from her smile revealing her two small teeth. There is something in a baby's smile that attracts you like none other - may be its the innocence that they seamlessly possess or maybe its the fact that they are so un-adult (I know, its not a word) like.

The sun was shining bright through the window and its rays ignited a sparkle in her eyes. There it was - a moment I would  like to cherish and store - my daughter and I having a great time together.

But then , the inevitable afterthought had to ruin it for me. In life, we tend to be like disaster journalists when we chronicle our life. Flip through the photos in your mental photo album - have memories of unfortunate events registered  more than the pleasant ones? We tend to remember how friends, kith and kin were mean to us, how we got the short end of the stick in our lives and how hard it is to get through a normal day. When we grow old, will we talk about our kid's rebellion or will we talk about  all the fun time we had with them?

I don't know the answer, but I sure would like to capture the beauty of the moments that were pure joy and bliss, rather than focusing on the spectacle and ruin of moments that I would rather forget. The  truth is that bad moments hit us hard and the more we try to forget them, the more etched they are in our brains. Maybe the key is trying hard to forget the pleasures we own now, thereby digging it deeper into our memories.

BTW, did I tell you about the motorcycle accident I had? Oh wait...