The Day.

What a start to the day. Watch India get beaten by England, till 3 in the night. Morning. Or whatever.

Then, need to set the alarm for 7, to get to college. With an unusually high adrenaline rush, and that too after an Indian loss, do not sleep till about 4.

I get woken only by Peeya's frantic phone calls, 4th or the 5th attempt she tells me. By then, the lecture would have passed the 'attendance' calling threshold. No point in waking up.

Ever since waking up, have heard Chak De India songs over and over again. No, I ain't disappointed at India's loss. I am beyond that for years now, it is just that I had downloaded the same yesterday, so, am behaving a bit like a kiddo who's got his first toy. Still reeling under the lack of last night's sleep.

Today, market's done well so far, Mithali Mukherjee's looking better than ever, Warne's as controversial as ever, me's making plans for the evening which are soon going to come undone surely, am planning to open some Management Text Books, something I haven't done for 4 months now. But at least I am thinking in the right direction. Managers are required to think. Execution can be left for others...

Surely. Yawn.

M + Ba --> MBA Degree + Gas (lots of it)

They say that MBA is gas. Agreed. No doubt.

Today, I experienced something else. Not only was the intrinsic value of the previous statement reaffirmed, but, I also realised that there was a wholesome attempt made, to teach us how to gas as well.

How to fill in 50 Power Point slides when the material would last only 5.

How to conjure up a 100 page document when the content could be explained in only 18.

Unfortunately, I cannot show off too much of my guts here, and so would give a parallel analogy instead.

Question: If you want to shop for a shirt, what would you do?

Ideal, non gassy, non faffy reply: I would look at my size, get to a shirt retail outlet, choose the colour that I like, try on some of the shirts, and continue this process till I like one.

More than ideal, MBA like, gassy, faffy, chaffy, ready-to-confuse reply: I would get up in the morning. Yawn. Sleep back because it is still only 9 a.m. Wake up at 10. Switch on the Television to check out the stock market on CNBC TV 18. Realise that the market's not doing well. Will utter a quick prayer and ensure that the market goes up. This will ensure that I make some money. Would wait till the market condition improves, and I make some profits. Will then withdraw those profits from the near by ICICI ATM. If I do not get an ICICI ATM, I will make a contingency plan and get to another ATM and withdraw the profits made.

Once I have the money on me, I will get back home to have food. This food wont be bought from the money I just withdrew. This would be made by mum. I like home food. just awesome. Yeah, and then I would decide that I am too sleepy to shop, obviously with such heavy food. I will sleep. Wake up in the evening and decide to go shopping next day for my shirt. No wait, I have a change of heart. I would go today because a friend has decided to accompany me. She wants to buy a set of ear rings from the Linking Road Market and I could help her with my bargaining skills. Get her the ear rings for eight bucks instead of 10. We get to the first guy. He does not sell ear rings, he sells hair bands. She buys the hair bands. Then it is the turn of the spaghetti tops. Then to the McDonald's nearby where we gobble up a couple of burgers. We finish off her "ear rings" shopping. Then I decide to call it day, because I am tired. I will anwer the question you asked, next time.

Got the gist? Could have easily taken another couple of thousand words to answer the question but decided to condense it. In turn I also taught you how to show that you are an MBA graduate.

No doubt the papers these days say that the education sector has a great scope in India.

Damn...!

No Longer can I pull people-who-are-26's leg.

Saddest day of my life.

Waiting for another member to join the club. Soon. Very soon!

Chandigarh. And a little bit of Delhi.

Long long time since this one came, but the break from blogger was pretty much unavoidable. Time was a constraint, but there were other issues to mull about. Not the negative conotations associated with the word 'issue', but, issue in it's true form, i.e. things to be taken care of!

And before I begin with where I have been hiding all these days, I would like to wish my sweetheart a very Happy Birthday! Hopefully, you would get all what you what (including a great brunch at Taj, and all the stuff you expect from the post today!)

Now, coming back to me, I had an awesome Chandigarh and Delhi visit, more so Chandigarh, simply because Delhi is not a place that I really enjoy a lot. The reasons could be more pyschological than anything else, but....! But Chandigarh, it is a different kettle of fish altogether. For starters, it seems to be a very planned city. Now, Gurgaon (that I also visited during my Delhi rendezvous) is also said to be a planned foray, but it is also a clear cut spillover of Delhi into Gurgaon, and that seems to dilute the presence of the latter.

Not so with Chandigarh yet. One look at the roads and more importantly, the road sides, would make you fall in love with this place. Again. And again. Add to that the fact the traffic on the road is so thin (especially for someone who has lived all his life in Mumbai), that it may end up giving Hrishita Bhatt a complex. Serious. The same distance between my home and my college (in Mumbai), that takes me around forty minutes, would get done in 12 minutes. On a Kinetic, that was allowed to travel at an average speed of 30 odd kilometers every hour.

The drastic difference of time can be attributed to the number of sped-breakers that Mumbai faces. Natural or Man made. Not a road bump, not a signal that lasts more than 30 seconds, no sign of civilians appearing from nowhere, trying to cross the road, nothing to break the speeds!

That said, I do not know whether I would be able to really settle down in such a place. A place where noise is so conspicous by it's absence, a place where the hassles of travelling are virtually non existent (though public transport here, like that in Delhi, sucks) and a city that does not have a bowling alley. Err...well, not quite the last point. But yeah, on a more serious note a place where you would end up getting that feeling that you on a vacation. Almost always!

And then came the weather. Picture this conversation. I am about to leave for Chandigarh.

Mum: You taking your windcheater along. Isnt it Monsoon there?

Me(scoffs): Yeah, in a place where the definition of Monsoon is - It rained for exactly three minutes and then a dry spell that lasts three days. No ways am I stuffing that thing in my bag.

Mum: Ok, your wish.

Have reached Delhi enroute Chandigarh. Stop over at the station itself for a couple of hours.

Waiting for the next train.

I always thought that Mumbai had won the patent rights for dishing out humidity to it's inhabitants. Little had I realised that Delhi was pirating the same too. One trip to the enquiry counter and two trips across the lengths of the platform, and suddenly, I was sweating like it's just rained just above me. Only me. Terrific. Heard it could only get worse in Chandigarh.

Tol' ya mum!

Reach Chandigarh. Scenes have changed damatically. It is cloudy. As cloudy as it gets in Mumbai. Ask Peeya a little apprehensively about the possibility of rains. She scoffs at me.

"It does not rain for more than a couple of minutes."

I stay in Chandigarh for six days. The first three record the highest rainfall that the city has seen for a long time. For many many years. I get drenched over and over again.

Because I have no wind cheater.

Because mums are always right.

Or most of the time.

The fourth day is spent in the hotel room. More specifically, in the bed, with a device that reads the temperature in my mouth, a crocin and a few biscuits next to the bed, and a bed sheet and a blanket covering me so that I am barely visible to an outsider.

Somehow, the situation changes drastically in the next two days that follow. It is as sunny as it was cloudy some days back. Vagaries of nature seemed as moody as a lot of people back home.

And then I go to Delhi. More on that trip in the next one!

Here I go!

The last time, I got out of town, on my own (money, as well as alone), was long ago. Ages have elapsed. Tomorrow gives me one such opportunity. To get away from here.

As I always believe in, people change. Subtly over the period of time, but they do. For good, and some times, for not-so-good. I have changed, and I would like to dwell on the good section of the change. I have become a more not-so-reluctant traveller. In fact, I have started to relish and cherish the trips, and enjoy the actual process of commuting (out of Mumbai obviously!) much more. And credit given where it is due, this change was brought about by some of the close Mastek guys, who almost went upto the extent of threatening me about cancelling all the ICC organised cricket that year. Not that drastic, but something similar, and unprintable. You get the gist, right?

So, this time it is a new place. And from what I hear from a couple of people, it is an awesome place to visit, and very unlike Mumbai. Well, for argument sake, which city could be similar to Mumbai? The last I heard was that Shanghai was making full preparations to rename it to something else. They were very terrified after our respected Chief Minister decided to change Mumbai to Shanghai. Serious. Or am I imagining stuff?

Coming back, I am looking forward to the journey. The train journey, I mean. And the only reason for that is the food that's continuously served on it. I have already decided to fast. Twenty four hours before hand. Well, there are other reasons as well. One of them(and I just hope someone does not smash me to smithereens), is that one can befriend fellow passengers. Talk. Pass one's time, following someone else's interesting life. And if it is a good looking lady, much better. Now now, wait. Before I get mauled here, let me first talk about probabilities. I must have travelled in the same manner tons of times. Not once has it happened. Not frikking once? So, rest assured, History may end up repeating itself. Lightning would strike the same place twice, thrice and many more times.

And I would end up talking to a couple of guys, who work in some Movie Post-production firm in Mumbai, who would be going to the capital on a business meeting. And then, I would be royally regaled by their tales on how one of them spoke to Bipasha Basu in their office, when she was in a white starched shirt and black trousers, and not a trace of make up on her face. And that only accentuated the fact that she was really going through a rough time with John Abraham. Yeah, you guessed it right, it happened the last time I travelled.

How very interesting. Very very. Ain't it?

Anyways, so that is one, the other is the return journey. Nothing much different, except that the train name changes from Rajdhaani to a certain Garib Rath. And just as the name suggests, takes the same time to reach Mumbai as the former, at less than half it's price. Hence, it is Poorly branded as Garib Rath. As if calling the poor as poor wasn't bad enough, now you call the not-so-poors' train as one Garib Rath as well. But, if we leave aside the Marketing aspect of the whole thing, and get into the Financials, I wonder what sustains it? And as far as I know, there is hardly any difference in the volume of the passengers that use the two aforesaid mentioned trains. So, how does Mr. Laloo Prasad make up for the fare slash?

Now, since I have covered both the journies, one would naturally expect me to talk about what the plans there are? Well, for that, I would need to put 'em here after the same is done. After the plans are made. Till then, I would try to keep updating the blog whenever I can, and whenever I get the opportunity to do so, from Delhi/Chandigarh.

That's it for now, for some time as well, I guess. Hope to write soon.

P.S. Yet to get my tickets printed. So, if I do write here tomorrow again, you would be right in guessing that I missed my train. You would also be right in guessing that it's my ghost writing, because by then, I would have been shot dead by someone.

Shopping? Me? Noways!

Before I begin this one, I just wanted to make this clear. For people who do not know me, or for people who do not know me and do not realise that 'Suneer' is very much a name meant for guys. I am a guy.

Who hates shopping.

Who dislikes the prospects of standing in the middle of Linking Road, even with a couple of female friends, and looking at them, trying out ear rings, worth ten bucks, and then asking the seller to reduce it to eight. "Bhaiyya, do loongi, solaah may dogey?" They tell me that if they shop once a week, these four bucks would amount to 200 odd in an year, and considering the interest rates and other stuff like that, would have accumulated more than half a lakh in a decade. God knows how. That is why I did not take Finance as my Major as well. Never my forte.

Who loathes sweating it out holding bags while the female friends hop from one stall to another, when he could have very easily held dumbells instead, and sweated it out in the gym. Or probably a cricket bat. Or something else.

Who detests having to avoid the numerous potholes and go round and round, evading the other shoppers' and their nasty smelling armpits, and in the end, finding that one is in a totally different lane from where he should have been.

Who feel animous on going through this rigmarole and finding after a couple of hours of the above 'routine' that we were only 'looking for stuff'. In other words, and less subtly, we had come there to not buy anything, but to window shop only!

And after experiencing this gamut of emotions, I went shopping the day before. (Now, please don't disown me, please I beg!)

For a girl.

With another girl.

Here, I would really prefer if I avoid mentioning the shopping list here, because then it may become more interesting than I would want it to be.

Yeah, it was her birthday, and she wanted a couple of goodies. Goodies which one could obtain from any place where the Sun rises in the east and sets some place else.

But she wanted it from Bandra.

Linking Road.

And there were clear specifications regarding the colour and cost for the same.

Consequence: Shopped in that very region where I was expected to, an hour before my lecture was to begin, got the stuff I was expected to, was thanked profusely by the lady for whom I bought it, but....

But, I have lost the right to laugh at fellow shoppers now. I am one of them. No, I cannot cringe or crib anymore. Aint a great feeling.

Why me? Which holy river would I have to dip into now, to get rid of this smear?

P.S. The lecture I was supposed to arrive for after this shopping stint also got cancelled. Mourned the day.

Long time, no see!

They say, when one door in your life shuts, another is bound to open. With me, it has been the case of not only another door opening, but also some windows and ventilators that have given me the much needed bout of fresh oxygen.

Long ago, I had written something on this blog on watching DCH and how I wished for something. Wishes came true last week. And totally unexpectedly. But without dwelling too much into what or how exactly it happened, I can safely say that it was something I really wanted would happen.

A trip to Phoenix Mills followed soon thereafter and it was one helluwah experience. Unfortunately, could just have my cake, didnt quite manage to eat it, in the sense that we were not able to bowl.

Moral: Never attempt Bowling on Sundays at Phoenix Mills. One or both of the things would be lighter in the end, Time or Money or both. Bloody expensive!

So, we took the next best option, went to the Sports Bar there. And err...my dear friend's a teetotaller as well. Garlic Bread with Iced Tea was all that we had. There needs to be a special mention of the Garlic Bread we had.

There were six pieces. Each one measured approximately 3 cm X 2.5 cm. Looked around for a hanging proclaiming them to be the winners of "The World's Smallest Garlic Bread." No luck. Took a loads of efforts for us to not gobble all of them in the next 120 seconds. They managed to survive for five full minutes. They = Garlic Bread ok? And yeah, I got to add this. It cost us a cool hundred bucks.

Had to make do with the Baristas and the CCDs of today! How does it matter anyways.

The Evening.

It is almost dark.

And dank. I sit in my verandah, looking like a bard pondering over his next composition. There is a cup of tea next to me. On a rustic looking table.

Emanating vapours from it, mix freely with some of the rain drops. The rest of them patter down the pane. I look up in the sky. Hours earlier, there were fluffy, white, candy-floss like clouds that had engulfed the sky. No more. Wonder where they left for.

Probably an unwanted make over for them as well.

The telephone rings. It was you. Surprise overcomes me. I continue staring at the phone for some time. Seconds pass by before I am jolted back into reality.

I click the green button.

"Hello." With lot of trepidation and butterflies. In the mind and stomach respectively.

"Oops...it is you. My mistake. Wanted to call someone else up. Sorry." You say.

"OK." Bubble bursts.

"Have a nice day." Click.

Sweet, clear voice you had. No frills or strings attached.

You still do. Wish I could compliment it.

It is still raining.

It is totally dark now.

The last couple of days

It has been two days of exhaustive project work, that has been rewarded with the satisfaction of being able to come up with a product that I can proudly claim to be one of the best I have been involved in. Seriously. And yeah, that also speaks volumes about my apparent dedication to previous projects.

Exhaustive and exhausting as well. Sleep was at a premium, what with me dozing off while having dinner a couple of night back. No bolt of hyperbole this, mum had gone to get something from the kitchen, and I rolled off with the plate in my hand. Obviously, some part of me was extemely tired.

In fact, the same trend continued last night, with me having to stretch to the last ounce of my reserves, to get the thing done, and by that time, it had also stretched into the wee hours of the morning. Sleep happened for a couple of hours again, and I was up even before the owls went off to sleep. Or the roosters started crowing. Or the milkman delivered his stuff and the newspaper guy delivered his.

Woke up at seven to get to the lecture.

Lecture was alrite, but the better part was the meeting with a friend after almost four long years. Lots of water has flowed since (under the bridge and in the Mumbai city as well), loads of owls have slept off, lots of roosters have crowed, but, it was a fantastic experience reliving those days with the friend. Oh for that nostalgia of sitting in that same Barista where we sat today, about four years back with many others, and sipping on coffee with the hard saved 'pocket money' that was garnered over a period of seven days. Also the place where we (the college gang and me), amongst others, discussed our infatuations, or 'crushes' as they are better known, in and outside college.

The same place where we did not only go for coffee. But - as they cry hoarse in any marketing lecture - went for the experience. The experience of feeling the cool of the Air Conditioner (yeah well, the Mumbai weather teaches you to do that) to the warmth of the friends of the "we-are-just-friends" category was all there, lost somewhere, hidden amongst the flavour of a cool glass of a choco-caramel frappe.

The experience was an amazing one.

It was much more than just amazing. It was undescribable.

The Secret behind Jelly Beans!

A lot has been made of the Jelly Beans incident, the English cricketers apparently threw some Jelly Beans on the pitch when Zaheer Khan came out to bat. That apparently 'pissed' the guy so much that he came out to bowl with a vengeance, and ended up taking five wickets.

India won.

And thus, the English Media found a new villain. Jelly Beans. India won because of the Jelly Beans. And because of the puerile behaviour of the English Cricketers. Kiddish they said.

Kiddish? Give me the name of one Kid who would throw Jelly Beans away? Why would a kid even think of sharing it with some one, let alone wasting such a precious resource. So, how could you think of calling'em kiddish. In fact, I would call 'em matured, and very adult. So much that wanted to prove it by throwing all the candies away. Onto the pitch.

Here is the excerpt of the conversation that may have taken place between the matured fielders and a pissed-off Zaheer Khan.

Zaheer comes to bat.

English Fielder - 1: There comes Zaheer. Our tormentor-in-chief of the first innings. Can we try and do something so that he does not repeat the same?

EF - 2: Hmmm, not a bad idea. How much money do you have in your pocket right now?

EF - 1: Money? Oh well, I dont have cash, you know, these anti-corrption, anti-match fixing guys, am too scared. But well, I do have a cheque, 36 pounds, wanted to pay the water bill. Then I realised that all the water that comes to my house is because of the rains here in England, even in summers. So gave up on the idea of paying any bills. You can have this.

EF - 3 joins in: Hey, but won't the same be taxable? I mean, we may have also to pay some taxes on it? Plus, what if he deposits the money in one of the banks where we hold our accounts. It would be easy to trace the money back to us. We may get caught.

EF - 1: True...let's think of some other way to entice him.

EF - 2: Shhhh....Here comes the bowler, drop a catch if it comes to you, may earn his goodwill.

EF - 1: Goodwill? No that is quite dangerous. These days, Goodwill forms a major part of the Balanced Sheet or the Profit and Loss accounts, that means it is equivalent to providing him monetary gains. Again, the Anti-Corruption Squad may hold us responsible.

Zaheer Khan leaves the delivery alone.

EF - 2: What about some sweets? Someting like a Rosgollah? Or say Kaajoo Kattri?

EF - 1: You fool, where would you get Rosgollah in Nottingham? But sweet, is a good idea. It is not only a shrt term solution, but in the long term, it may end up causing him health problems. We can also try and sell him some health insurance after giving him something sweet. What say?

EF - 3: Jelly Bean? I have a packet full of 'em in my pocket. Didnt want the Bowling Coach, Allan Donald to pop any of 'em in his mouth. Got them along.

EF - 1: Not a bad idea. What say guys? What say skipper?

Zaheer Khan, in the meantime has left another delivery.

Skipper: Do whatever it takes to save this match. I lose the match, I lose my job and I am going to ensure you guys get a pink slip too.

EF - 1: Hey Skip, this is cricket, ain't your company!

Skipper: Alrite, whatever, pink slips or red cards or whatever. You would follow me out. Now quick, do something.

EF - 1: OK. Here goes.

He calls out.

"Hey Zaheer."

Zaheer: Yeah?

EF - 1: Want some Jelly Beans? I have one whole packet. And some more at the hotel as well.

Zaheer is an Indian, he barely knows what Jelly Beans are. He so wishes he had the team's Computer Analyst to help him search for what Jelly Beans are. To "google it" as they say. "Damn, wish I knew my computers", he thinks. But obviously he cannot show his ignorance.

He retorts back.

"Just because you guys get a Delhi Belly when you come to India, you repaying the compliment back by giving me the 'Jelly Belly'? You think I am a fool to have it?

EF - 1: No no, it is not what you think it is. Here check it out.

And he throws a couple of them on to the pitch. Now looking at the Jelly Beans, Zaheer reliases that they look good! Would have tasted good as well. But now, he cannot back track.

So he goes to the umpire Simon Taufel and complains.

Zaheer: Hey Simon, these guys throwing Jelly beans on the pitch. The pitch may get infected by ants. It is proved scientifically, that 64% of the Ants are majorly attracted by Jelly beans. Do something about it Simon. We Indians, would never ask you "to go back".

Zaheer acted as if he was pissed. He was actually pissed. Not on the fielders, but on himself, to have let go of an opportunity of getting a cool packet or two of Jelly beans for him and Rakshanda. Damn he said.

And that is how, the umpires intervened, and the story unfolded. Kindly do not blame the English team for the fiasco. Especially the three fielders in question. They were just trying to win it for their team! Zaheer's fault. Totally, Zaheer's fault that England lost.

What else can you blame? Weather? Pollution? Rain? Bad health? No more 'valid' reasons left, aint it?

Windows Vista, An Ennervation and rotten Mangoes!

"Windows Vista nahi, Windows 'ghista' hai."

I know that the knives would be out, pointing towards me, but no. This aint my baby.
This happened today, in one of our lectures. Yeah, now you get it right, it was a professor. God Save Bill Gates.

Didnt stop there. Some more famous one-liners.

"Customers need to access you, or else..." Hmmm....Reliance Communication has more than a million customers. Just imagine everyone accessing Anil Ambani.

"I am already ennervated and looking at you guys, I am getting more ennervated. You just had tea, isn't it? I want more answers coming from you guys. Everyone should fight to answer the same question."

A little more time on this one, and he would have definitely hummed the latest, "Chak De...Oh Chakk de India". And he talks about Tea, as if we just had a shot of steroids, a-la Ben Johnson.

"Mangoes are bad for health."

I do not quite remember the relevance or reference in which this was said. But he said this in some other language anyways. Anyways, let me remind you, it was not a lecture on Rural Marketing of Mangoes, but on IT Infrastructure Mgt.