What's your Raashee?

So, a lot has apparently transpired since the last time I wrote here. I use the word 'apparently' rather discretely for obvious reasons, but there is a fair chance that stuff materializes and I should be on my way to the capital for a month. More of that as the story breaks out.

For now, let me talk of What's your Raashee. Here are some of my observations:

1. Went for a 9.30 pm show, and for the lakth time, I thanked myself for not going for the 10.30 pm one. It had ended at 1.15 am, so if I am lose enough to my math, a 1030 show would have ended after 2. Not my definition of enjoying a movie surely.

2. So, the movie is about Raashee. Luck. Blind faith probably. Does Ashutosh G. have blind faith in making loooooooooong (idea inspired by Google!) movies in order to ensure that they will do well? Agreed Lagaan was good, and despite not having watched Jodha Akbar, it seemed to have done decent at the box office, but does that mean that every single movie he makes has to grind the topic to dust. And I hear that this was after a couple of songs were edited away.

Bhagwaan ke ghar may der hai. Andher nai. Would I be expecting too much, if he could cut all the songs off, except probably the title track?

3. There were a couple of ladies sitting behind us. They found each and every line funny. They laughed at the jokes, the purported jokes, the jokes which were anything but jokes and I think, even the songs.

Probably, they were using it as a stress buster. Because remember, the price of the ticket was 150 bucks and the food cost us another Rs.150 per person. Not my definition of fun; probably they were of the same opinion but instead of fretting, they gave their vent out in this manner.

Probably, I have lost my sense of humour.

4. This one takes the cake. And the cherry on top too. The movie was going on and on, probably as a strategy to add suspense to who Mr. Baweja would marry. Which 'Raashee'. It was almost as if the people wanted to watch a T20 and Mr. Ashutosh wanted to show a test. A test of everyone's limits of patience. About ten minutes before the end, it finally gets announced which girl Mr. Baweja would end up marrying. A couple of seconds after that, three men got up in the cinema hall and began walking out.

Reminded of all those Tendulkar dismissals and how spectators walk out of the stadium. Ditto. Just like Tendulkar, the movie had ten minutes to go as well!

5. I do not think the DVDs of this movie will do well. Cannot see people sit through a 3.5 hour long DVD. No, I mean I usually have ample amount of patience for stuff and all, but the feeling I got while watching the movie was that I am tied to a seat while watching a turtle-rabbit marathon-to-finish. And unfortunately, the rabbit is tied as well.

6. The movie wasn't bad.

7. Serious about the point 6 above.

8. Ok, this may be a cliche. But if someone can point out to me, any difference between Hrithik and Harman, I am ready to play 'Spot six differences' in Mumbai Mirror for the rest of my life. God Promise.

9. Priyanka Chopra was good. Her make-up guy was better.

10. Here comes a shocker. As far as I remember, Harman is an MBA in Marketing. He also works for Accenture. He ends up marrying a girl who is a Microbiologist.

I am an MBA in Marketing. I used to work in Accenture. I have married a girl who is a Microbiologist too. Coincidentally, her name is Priyanka as well. Hmm...I was full of Colon Os when I heard this.

I still am. (Oops, did I just reveal you the suspense?)

11. I do not knoww whether you gathered this, but the songs are absolutely boring. Except the title song, which also served the dual purpose of recapping the 12 ladies. Good for people who suffer from selective amnesia like me.

12. Some parts of the movie felt raw, with no sense whatsoever. Do not want to dig up the recesses of my brains too much, but the mad-Priyanka from the rich family definitely did not deserve a song. Seemed like it was been added for the sake of doing it.

13. There was a two year old kid to my left. He ensured that he got as much attention as Priyanka Chopra from the theatre audiences. Which consisted of exactly ten people. And the proverbial dog.

14. The pop-corn at PVR Mulund has too much turmeric in it.

15. So did the dal I had at home today. Probably it is me.

Long time pending update

A long overdue post. Long, long overdue. It should have come out eons ago, and it has taken a combination of illness, fatigue and Peeya's trip to up north to get down to writing this. It is difficult to live through nine days, in a house, alone, without having to hear the chirp through the duration of the day, that one is so otherwise used to.

Amazingly difficult, something that I realised in the past week or so. The illness may have added to it, but it was the first time I did what I did, when I called mum over to stay with me because I found it difficult to manage. The least I can say about my mum's reaction is that she was stunned.

Anyways, the post is not about that though. (That was only to make Peeya feel good...okok...kidding!)

It is about my previous three months. The three months I completed on the 12th of September. Three of my first months that I took a decision that I should have probably three years ago. Or even thirty - had I been alive then. The future may have a different story written, but the scriptso far can be described in only one word.

Exhilarating.

Probably two; add accelerating as well.

Never. Never ever could I have imagined this in my very first quarter of the pendulum shift that I had decided upon. But to think of it, even without my explicit knowledge, the pendulum had been shifting all the while, and unlike a real clock, it was going around in all directions. Picture this; an electronics engineering graduate, who wasn't sure about what after college, but was most certain about one thing; never would I get near a software firm.

And what happens next? Company M comes on campus, I clear the aptitude round, the group discussion and the interview to get selected. Incidentally, M is a software firm. I agree to join. Forget the GRE of a near 2200, forget MS in the US of A, just wanted to join M. Those who know me up close know how dreadful I felt about anything that remotely sounded like code.

So then, I spend three years in M. Decided to go for an MBA after that. Probably because everyone else was also doing the same. But the specialisation can never be Marketing - am not born to sell. Could not negotiate to save my life. Yet, at the end of the first year, marketing it was! Not surprising eh?

End of two years. End of MBA (glad riddance I must say, and for more reasons than one, which I will not go into in this post, that is for my autobiography - as they say, khaaya peeya kuchh nahi, glass toda baara aana!)

And where do I get work again? Software! Company called A. Makes me a Business Analyst. Holy shit; what a designation. And good pay as well. Pappu pass ho gaya; with a near seven-digit pay. The profile was exactly what I wanted two years back, and I had managed to join those few 'elite' of the crowd who wanted a profile on the first day of their MBA and got exactly that. There was almighty.

Except, that when I started - or restarted after the post-grad - it wasn't what I wanted to do! Not for a day, not for a hour, not for a minute. Not for the minutest iota of time.

I wanted to live my dream. A dream that had always existed but knew no vent. A dream that had been flamed by every incident big or small that could flame it. A dream that told me it was now or never.

The last three months are about that very dream. Yes, I quit the Business Analyst profile. Oh hell, I quit the company three months back. I must add that it was much to the chagrin and shock of my boss, who always - rather ludicrously - thought that I had the potential in software. (no dirty thoughts about software or hardware here please!) That was probably because I hadn't told him about my fetishes. Bid my farewells and started what I always wanted to do right from the time I remember not understanding the rules of test match cricket as an eight year old. (funnily, as an eight year old, I thought that test match cricket had to finish five times in five days, once at the end of every day and if it didn't, that day was called a draw!)

Oh and yes, it has been only three months. A really short time to gauge or appraise success or failure. But enough to talk about how not a single Monday morning has been associated with the word 'blue'! Speaks volumes, ain't it?

I wanted to quit on a Monday morning, but...

Yesterday, I stood at the cross-roads.

Today, I have decided to take the walk.

Had this been an ocean instead, I would have said plunge.

I always wanted to quit on a Monday morning; I quit on Tuesday instead.

I need to cross at the cross-road

I stand at a crossroad. I had been standing there for sometime, but was under no compulsion to cross it.

Today, I am.

Today, I need to cross it.

Today, for the first time in my life, I need to make a decision as big as this.

I can only pray.

N

Some months back, an old 'friend' contacted me. Let me name the 'friend' N. N's life was in a mess. And a bad one at that. It was going round and round, the better half had ceased to become one and N had no clue how to proceed. In the process N had also made some cardinal errors for which N may have had a heavy price to pay; luckily N escaped without issues.

N had been a friend for some time, before N had met up with this not-so-better half. Then, N had ceased to be a friend.

I, along with a couple of other friend, tried being around. We all tried assisting in getting N out of the rut. Surely enough, it took about six months of trying to get N out, but in the end, N did oblige. There were signs that N had begun to realise the futility of the whole thing and that was a beginning.

It was a stressful six months. All of N's tantrums, frustrations and stresses were borne by us; not to mention the whims and fancies at which the temper flew at some of us.

N met up with another better half. The usual happened. N got lost to us.

In the span of one year, N had come back, caused stress and grief - because that was what was happening in N's life - and gone away, because the stress and grief was gone.

N had done it again.

N was the second biggest mistake of my life.

Visa application process is terrible. Especially when it is for a country like Australia. I must have doled out reams of pages worth of documentation for the same, enough to make a tree out of the same. Rather, a whole, fully-grown tree would have been used to cater to the paper used. And they want some more.

Serious.

Unlike Aamir in Ghajini, I do not suffer from an amnesia of any sort, and I do not remember having spent too much time behind the bars; yet, the documentation could have been enough to put the fear of its maker in any criminal. Probably, it was something to do with the fact that they worship Ricky Ponting in the same vein that most Indians idolize a certain Sachin Tendulkar, and my comments about Ponting’s captaincy were not been taken too kindly by those also concerned with the visa.

Probably.

Anyways, I needed a bank statement from HDFC, the bank where I hold one of my accounts. They had sent it for all months between June and December, but October had been conveniently missed. Not a big problem per se, but Uncle Australia minds. So…call customer care.

Her: Dial 1 for….2 for…3…. (the usual)…also dial 13 for…23 for…35 for…. (so now they have gone into double digits)…yawn….100 to talk to police…101 for ambulance…102 for fire brigade… Don’t remember half the numbers I dialed to finally get through…
Another her: Hello, this is (some name I don’t remember), how can I help?
Me: (Tell her about October problem)
Another her (AH): Alright…please give me your…(a list of security checks)
Me: (share all the not-so-gory details)
AH: Alright, so you want to lodge a complaint for non-receivement?
Me: (receivement does not sound good, does it?), No Ma’am, this is not a complaint, just want my statement, would be more than happy.
AH: Then you need to talk to Relationship Manager.
Me: And where is he?
AH: No, I mean, you need to talk to YOUR Relationship Manager
Me: Do I have one? Which relationships does he look after?
AH: Yours.
Me: Huh?
AH: Your relationships with our bank.
Me: Oh, alright. (I guess I am slow)
AH: So, do you want me to set you up with your relationship manager?
Me: (the words ‘set you up’ and ‘relation’ don’t sound too ‘banking’ when used together)
Me: Yeah, whatever, if that expedites the process.AH: Okay, will put you on hold for a minute. She forgets to put me on hold, so the call is NOT on MUTE. AH (to another customer care person next to her): What idiots, I have to not only take his complain, but he also expects me to set a call-back with RM
Person next to her: Yeah, but is your phone muted?
AH: Oops…(quickly puts it on mute) A minute elapses…
AH: Hello Sir, I have logged the complaint and arranged for a call-back. Your complaint number is….Anything else that I can do for you.
Me: Yeah Ma’am, try abusing customers after using the mute button.
AH: Ohh…
Me: Thanks, bye. I hang up.

I was in office. Over-worked for the day. No inclination to fight being called an idiot. Christmas Eve and all…Christmas spirit and all… I stretched and yawned. Long day ahead. Something tells me that AH’s day may seem a little longer today.

I yawned again

another hiatus, another of those occasions when the 'pause' button got pressed for a rather long period of time. and as expected, too much water has passed from under the bridge since the last time i made a mark here. here is what transpired.

1. and i won't even get started on 26th November. it hurts. still.

2. then there was that small matter of almost no longer remaining single. almost. but in another month, that 'almost' would most definitely disappear. sadly.

i did not say that. swear.

3. then, it is the work. the interesting one and the not-so-interesting one. the interesting one continues as is, the not-so-one threatens to stop. so what, one may ask. fret not, i have had the same question. wasn't this what i wanted too. and the form in which it may arrive could very well be termed as what they call, 'blessing-in-disguise'. will have to myself watch this space for more.

4. australia is 8000 km away from india. currently it seems more like 8000 light years. something tells me that for all the criticism that a ricky ponting was meted out with from me on my columns, the aussie embassy looks hell-bent on denying visa. ok, ponting is not as bad as indians made him out to be.

again. i did not say that. swear.

5. spoke with a long-lost classmate of mine from school. the conversation was a long-winding one, through the lanes of the unforgettable and the forgotten, through the recesses of wilderness, and that of embarassments. crushes, loves, crushes that turned into loves, and the ones that failed miserably, the ones that reached the doorsteps and were turned away, the ones that converted itself into brotherly loves, and the ones that sacrificed for a friend; they were all there. the jogging back teased us, and tickled the ribs out till it was time to snooze.

later made an overtly important and startling discovery that the respective better halves have their birthdays within a couple of days of ours. the eureka moment of the conversation.

5th November, 2008 and more...

The day came and went as quickly as any other day. The so-called butteflies died way before they had their effect, and the evening flew past as quickly as a tomorrow that converts itself into yesterday. I was exhausted, partly due to the running around - in the exact sense of the word - and partially due to a diminishing level of stamina that I have begun to possess.

I was satisfied. Deep down, I was happy. More than four years had been a long time. I would be lying if I said that I had waited for this day for all those four years, but there is no doubt in my mind that ever since the major troubles had erupted last March, I couldnt have dreamt about anything.

For all the different sets of people around on the day, I thought I was unusually calm from within. I had worried a little a day earlier because I loathe crowds - I usually hated giving presentations in college as well - but in the end, it had passed off miraculously well. In fact, I do not recollect most of the things, such was the daze - and hence the haze - that I was in.

As I write this, on a coolish Mumbai night, as the clock ticks another second, inching its way to 1 a.m., I cannot help but feel a little nostalgic. In fact, today's incidents have left me in a rather pot-pourrish-state; extremely happy for someone, puzzled by something, sad due to another, and to an extent, irritated by something else.

Yet, the reasons gel to leave me thinking of turning back the time, and changing a few things here and there. And yet again, I do not want to. I want to just look back, and wonder and ponder.

I would give anything to sit next to the bus-stop in front of Lacoste. For once. For a month.
I would give anything to have been away from people I shouldnt have met in the first place.
I would give anything to smell a friend's lawn's mud, where we spent an hour every month.

I love this tingling sensation that I feel right now. Nostalgic hits me hard, and well.

Random thoughts...and all that

Again, it has been some time. Long time. But this dual nature of occupation, that includes my avocation (GRE word, look it up) swallows up the time without thinking too many times, like a lizard on the wall does to a fly. Or a python to a rabbit. Or someone else to another someone. I forget both the names here. (of the someone)

Not even twice it thinks.

No excuses, and no, frankly, for a change I have not even been lazy.

Talking about the stuff in life, the C-day is coming closer; yes, that is right, the day before the D-day. D-day happens much later. The realisation dawning slowly, but the 'dress-rehersal' before the D-day should tell me how I feel.

Talking of this previous line, I have been asked - as is the people's wont - about how I feel. And I shall reiterate the same that I have, above. Haven't got much chance to let the thinking process to even commence; let alone the hows, whats and the what-ifs of the whole process.

Lately, I have been suffering from a new syndrome. It is called the 'Sleepless Sunday-night Syndrome' or SSS. As the name suggests, SSS strikes on Sundays (with the exception being any other weekday holiday that is followed by a working day), and gets into a debate with my eyes at that exact time when I hit the bed on a Sunday night. It vetos the fundamental rights of sleeping soundly, till much after the stress induced by the realisation that a client-call next day late in the evening would mean really long hours at work push the eyes wide-awake. This forms the input to another syndrome that others know as the Monday Morning Blues (MMB).

For me, the MMB is just an extension of SSS, and can be really damaging in certain scenarios; especially with the kind of role that I need to perform. Anyways...

Oh and yes, today is Diwali. Holiday. Which means that a minor tremor of a variation of SSS may be felt today as well. Luckily, I have had a tiring day, and so, could probably help my cause.
And to end this 'random' piece, there is good news. Had a conversation with a couple of them today, and the list of 'clientele' has been propped up again. November should be good.

Yawn...I am sleepy. Might just not be hit by SSS today.

Arbit thoughts

Lessons/experiences/secrets from the recent past:
1. Getting out of the proverbial jail is always a good thing. However, it is much better, to avoid getting inside it.
2. Some think that pretending to do one good overshadows the one bad they have done. I wonder why. Probably they think that the rest of them are dimwits. Probably.
3. Cricket World Cup years have not been so good so far for me. 1992 saw me have chicken pox, 2003 saw a break-up, and 2007 saw a motley of events that attempted to screw happiness. Attempted only. Did not actually. Of the three, the chicken pox was the worst; the doctor did not allow me to watch the matches as they would aggravate the same. Kuchh bhi man.
4. I love reality shows. How much ever stage managed they are, I do. But I have used my mobile phone to vote out someone only once. It was Rakhee Sawant in the first season of Bigg Boss.
5. Talking of her, my feelings for Ms. Sawant are as lovely as for some of them whom I met in the last couple of years. Lesser said the better though, public channel here and all.
6. Continuing with Ms. Sawant, argggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh....the only reaction that comes to mind.
7. Moving on, it is good to move on. And it is the most difficult thing to do.
8. The worst of times sometimes bring out the best of results. And in more ways of than one. No, I have not copied this from a book on philosophy, a first hand experience talking.
9. I recently was a spectator to an appraisal cycle. I mut say that almost all the people took the whole thing very well.
10. Whatever goes around, comes around. Patience is the key. Someone frustrated yours truly in the month of May because the person did not respond to me. Three months down the line, I became the person's primary requirement. With no hard feelings, I can only say that I could not have been gladder to have spoken to the person. Amazing things in store.
11. Opportunity really comes when one ain't looking. Most do not realise it is an opportunity. Nor did I. I just got lucky.
12. Beyond a certain point, money means nothing.
13. Beyond a certain point, most people also mean nothing.
14. It is time that Sachin Tendulkar thinks about his life after cricket. His body would now be creaking on every movement that he makes. Dude, have you heard of this punctuation called full stop?
15. The same goes for some other cricketers as well.
16. Why is Harshad Warsi not hosting Bigg Boss-II? Shilpa Shetty is good looking and all that, but not half as good as what Messr Warsi was.
17. In case you still don't get it, I dislike Rakhee Sawant from the bottom of heart. They say it is good to have someone so in-your-face so that one does not back-stab. In your face does not mean that you spit in your face and get away, aint it?

Itna-ich for now. Will be back with more in some days.