The Last 18 months

So, the posting here has become an annual affair. Much like the New Year eve parties. Or Birthdays. Or World Cup. No wait, that is a quadrennial event, sorry.

Cannot help it. It is a long day of writing and editing, translating into longer months and year of the same - making it a task in futility to give the consideration of writing on this blog a thought.

So, it is that time of the life again, when things usually wrong. At least the history tells me they do. In at least three of the previous five World Cups, they have, in their own proportions not held out too well for me and I have my proverbial finger crossed for this one.

Incidentally, it is more than 18 months since I got rid of the software tag from under my Current Employer tab on Facebook, and the new 'profession' has been a roller-coaster ride - inevitable highs and lows but with a promise of giving you a lovable dizziness overall.

Yes, I cannot be sure of the future and well, some may argue that nobody can. But the thrill-a-minute of the ride that I have undergone in the last 18 months or so can be barely described in words. Try as much as I can but I cannot explain how blessed I feel to be doing what I would have given a hand and a leg to do. What adds the cherry is that I did not have to give away that hand and leg!

There were a few, hard lessons that I learnt on the way. Lessons I would have probably never learnt otherwise and lessons which continuing to remain hard even as I write. They serve me a reminder on the fact that it is imperative to not take things for granted - not for a minute, not for a moment.

There are many things that I still need to achieve in the short term - usually I don't do anything long term - and one of them is to go really 'independent', doing what I am doing. Earning a monthly salary can be done in three ways - working for your company, working for yourself or making others work for you (and not in any perverse way). I belong to somewhere between the first and the second option, tending more towards the second. The aim is to achieve the second one completely and then start thinking of the third.

So, that is that for now. Sorry about not being able to give out any movie reviews this time because frankly, haven't watched something as bad as 'What's Your Raashee'

I do not hate, I hate love stories. And why.

Scene at the movie hall:

The hot-dog tasted like a three week old chutney with a lot of lemon and sweat. And it was not hot. Cannot think of a good joke with dog.

The caramel popcorn had no caramel. The only thing that 'pop'ped out was my tooth.

The hot coffee froze my tongue. It's still sneezing. The tongue that is.

First they refused to sell the 'I hate luv stories' tickets. Reason? They needed at least 6 to make up the audience. We were only 3. Later 3 more souls turned up. Poor them. Poor us.

And then, the show that was to start at 945 did not do so till 1015 because of a supposed technical glitch.

I walked out of the hall with my money refunded after 15 minutes of haggling. Finger pointing. You-do-not-know-who-my-dad-is. (A Maths teacher, by the way). And showing them my wife's naval dependent card. Navel nai. Naval.

After spending one hour and having only the food bills to show for it.

Yet, I feel happy enough.

Probably, that is because I had undergone the entire experience of viewing Kites and Raavan as my last two movies. Because unlike IHLS, I was made to sit through those two ordeals. Here, I could escape cheap.

And 'What's your Raashee?' as well.

You can read the review of that movie here.

IPL done, long awaited post...

This is a long-pending post that I had to write, but the chain of events in the last four to five months did not permit me to. Nothing to write home about, those events, but the writing is about a home!

Naah, just to put it simply, learnt a couple of lessons in the last few months that, I hope, would remain with me for the rest of my life. And with the IPL bidding our TVs a goodbye, it is time for me to get it off my shoulder.

1. Never say never. At least to begin with. Thing baby think!

A big cliche, probably used around at the drop of the hat, but I think, I have made this error twice since June last year, and I have a reasonable idea that I will be paying a price for it, and for at least some more time to come. I could have easily taken it upon myself to think through the decision that I made, and the repercussions about it, but, I think I misjudged the situation.

Fortunately, I know there is no-one else to blame in that particular situation but me. I put my hands up, accept that I could have done better and hope that I do not have to pay a huge one for it!

The good news? Already, today, I had a very good and a tempting chance to repeat my previous mistake. But I applied the brakes and given myself a seven day period to mull over the whole thing. And I am pleased as a punch that the strong feeling to refuse something has passed and I will look to use the next seven days to take the decision either way.

2. It takes hours and weeks and months of efforts to build business relations. And while those built over such time sustain minor disturbances, it is best not to take them for granted. I did not, but again, in one of them, I could have done much better.

Now, I find myself in a position that I should not have found myself in. And it is a sense of 'Aaaargh, could have done better' for me.

I quit Accenture in June. It is nearing one year now for me in what I had decided lay my future. I had also allowed myself around 18 months of time to decide whether the future could continue with it, and in the nine months that have passed, apart from those usual what-ifs associated with such a decision, I see no reason, for now, to call it an awful decision.

At the half way-stage, I would say that I am so looking forward to the second half and would love for it to continue in the same vein.

An experience at the Brabourne!

Recently, I had gone to the Brabourne to watch the Mumbai Indians play the Royal Challengers Bangalore. These were the same two teams that were playing at the Wankhede two years ago when I had seen my first IPL game ever.

Rather surprisingly, even this time around, we were around ten of us, much like two years back. (Looking back, life seems to have changed quite a lot!)

Here is my experience from Brabourne. As to my experience at Wankhede two years back, my memory fails me of much of the smaller details to be putting it into words. But it sure was fun!

Here goes...Why I was happy that Tendulkar got out!

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