Take my breath away

A bus journey... from Bangalore to Calicut. It takes approx 8 hours to cover the distance.

Time: Around 10:00 PM. The guy walks in. He slumps onto the seat next to me. He is drunk!

"What a luck!" I murmured angrily. The guy was stinking with alcohol. I used to wonder why such 'spirits' drink and travel?! What pleasure they get!? What 'kick' they get by releasing their 'spirit' in an air-tight enclosed bus!?

Sometime back a friend enlightened me that the spirit they drink helps them sleep well. Hence they drink and travel!!! Wah...! What profound social nuisances!

A boiling me cannot sleep. But I have to. I started counting till 100 to calm myself down. I knew my act won't help much. But that was the best bet I had to get a good sleep. Somewhere at the count of 100000000901 I slept.

*****

Time: 3ish in the morning...

A stinking smell of alcohol wakes me up. Half awake, I turn my head to my left-hand side, and slightly lift my eyelid. I see my neighbor's snoring wide-open mouth threatening to eat my nose; his uvula dancing to his snore.

I grin.

In my stupor I lift my palm and smell my breath. Terrible! The chilly chicken (my dinner) had rotten well. With my palm still facing my mouth, I redirect my fingers to my neighbor's nose... and then... BLOW HARD ONTO MY PALM and thereby onto his nose. I repeat the same three or four times.

The snoring stops! The alcohol stink stops! And I go back to my sleep.

*****

When I woke up in the morning I saw the 'drunkard' sitting in some other seat.

*****

Fellow travelers, follow the example I set. ;-)

*****

DISCLAIMER: This post is a work of NON-fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are NOT the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is NOT coincidence. They actually happened

Underprivileged?

Who is an underprivileged kid? A kid who commutes in auto-rickshaw and carries one of the most flashy mobile handsets? The English definition of underprivileged is "Lacking the rights and advantages of other members of society".

My friend is a project manager with around 8 years of experience in IT industry. A few days back I met him at a bus stop. He told me he was waiting for a bus!! He doesn't have a car or a motorbike. He is no miser. I can vouch for that. So then... why bus and not an auto-rickshaw!!?? Because he (and I) think the rickshaw-walas of Bangalore are looters who charge exorbitantly and extort money from their passengers. He said he couldn't afford their charges, which seldom go by the meter. Hence commuting by bus.

My relative has three kids studying in a "privileged" school in Bangalore. None of them carry mobile handsets. They don't have the latest computer and accessories at their home. All they have is an obsolete model that gives them constant trouble.

Why am I bringing up all these?

One of my part time activities is to teach "underprivileged" kids as a volunteer of an NGO. I teach them computer basics. I admit there are a bunch of kids who are truly underprivileged. But when I see some others walking into the classroom with flashy mobile phones, and see them commuting in auto-rickshaws, I wonder why am I spending time here teaching “underprivileged” kids, who appear to be truly privileged!! Had I had to teach privileged kids, I would be teaching my near-and-dear “privileged” kids! That would be far more rewarding! Besides, they truly lack the advantages a mobile phone or a rickshaw can offer!

I'm not ignoring other aspects these "underprivileged" kids might be having, such as, a troubled family. But then, it is also my choice and impression, which I can't ignore. I would prefer working for the upliftment of those kids who do lack mobile handsets and who, like other common people in India, commute by bus!

Perhaps the truly underprivileged are unable to find their way to my class. Perhaps the teacher should go out searching for them...

The Kite Runner

Read "The Kite Runner" of Khaled Hosseini. A good page turner. Khaled knows the art of story telling...

To some extend, The Kite Runner educated me about Afghan people, their culture, and their problems. After reading the novel I had the urge to watch this novel over celluloid. The movie version turned out to be a damp squib. The director and the script-writer could not do justice to the novel.

Given below are a few interesting quotes from the novel.

Baba: You'll never learn anything of value from those bearded idiots - the mullas. Piss on the beards of all those self-righteous monkeys. They do nothing but thumb their prayer beads and recite a book written in a tongue they don't even understand. God help us all if Afghanistan ever falls into their hands.

Baba: No matter what the mullah teaches, there is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft.

Amir: That's the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too.

Firsts in Photography...

Came across this link that talks about the firsts in photography: http://www.maxpower.ca/a-timeline-of-imagery-firsts/2007/10/03/

A good one...

Between Jobs...

Click the above image to enlarge

Am jobless. Am between jobs. I quit my prev company on 14-Aug-2008. Joining the new company tomorrow. Everything familiar has disappeared. The world looks brand new! It's like having a big white sheet of paper to draw on. It's a magical world out there! Let me go explore... Wish me the very best :-)

Shoe

There they were - the two pairs! Bathed in pitch black, they adorned a polished look. With smug written all over, they were bold enough to look down upon mine. The conceit was conspicuous and unbearable. I was seething with controlled anger! Oh... how I wish I had a big bucket of gutter dirt, that I could splash it all over them and get rid of that bloody smugness!

Grinding my teeth slowly I looked at their owners' face with a phony smile and continued my conversation. But my eyes kept darting to their pitch-black well-polished shoes. Even the sole of their shoes were BLACK, with no signs of dirt or mud! My jealousy could hardly keep me standing there for long. I found some excuse to cut the conversation short, and hurried to the rest room. I grabbed a few paper towels, soaked them, and with frustration started removing the dirt on my shoes with the paper towel. "It is a workshop happening in a five star hotel! And here I am, with a pair of dirty black shoe!" I exasperated.

Oh... how I hate black shoes! It is such a pain to maintain them. I've often wondered how most of the guys maintain their black shoes. That too in India! In the polluted and dusty Bangalore City! During a trip I have seen my colleague boringly brushing his shoes, carefully examining tiny teeny dirt particles, and then carefully removing them. God...! Kudos to his patience! And kudos to the patience of all those guys, who polish their shoes to perfection.

I have a theory! Do you know why the security guards of big hyper-star hotels look at your shoe before judging whether you are worth entering the hotel? Coz black shoes are meant for the rich! A well polished black shoe with less wear-and-tear means you often travel in cars, and often stay indoors. It means you – the owner of such a pair of shoe - could be rich. Yes... that is the fact - black shoes are meant for the rich. They are meant for those who travel in cars – and not for those who commute on bikes - like poor me.

As I was cursing the "black shoe culture" and working on my shoes with the wet paper towels, the door opened and the janitor strode in.

He was wearing a pair of well-polished pitch black shoe!

Conspiracy of Fools

Long time back one of my friends recommended this book – Conspiracy of Fools. She said the book gave an interesting tale of the otherwise boring subject - accounting and finance.

It took me quite some time to complete the book. The 1st half was dragging. The going was hard for me coz I have a non-finance background. By the time I reached the second half, I could comprehend some of the accounting issues mentioned in the book - not fully though. And then the going became easy and interesting.

The book helped me realize that there is quite a bit of learning I need to do in the finance world.

A few words on the real life characters of the Enron debacle:

I felt really sorry for Ken Lay. His story shows how important it is for a leader to pick the right trustworthy lieutenants. Perhaps one of the most important things a leader should do, other than developing a right vision, is to get the right, capable and trustworthy reportees, and keep them happy.

It was hard to learn that the real culprits (Andrew Fastow and Michael Kopper) of the Enron scandal - those who hatched the conspiracy, those whose greed had no limits - got easier incarceration than their colleagues, because they "cooperated" with the legal system! Isn't the justice system flawed in a major way?

Limitations

In the movie - The Great Debaters – prof. Tolson explain to his debater team how the black slaves were controlled and "utilized effectively" by the minority whites: by keeping the slaves physically strong but psychologically weak! That is, the blacks retained their body, but gave their mind to the whites!

A few days back, I got this fwded mail, which talked about how humans control the mighty elephants. Read it...

As I was passing the elephants, I suddenly stopped, confused by the fact that these huge creatures were being held by only a small rope tied to their front leg. No chains, no cages. It was obvious that the elephants could, at anytime, break away from the ropes they were tied to but for some reason, they did not.

I saw a trainer near by and asked why these beautiful, magnificent animals just stood there and made no attempt to get away." Well," he said, "when they are very young and much smaller we use the same size rope to tie them and, at that age, it's enough to hold them. As they grow up, they are conditioned to believe they cannot break away. They believe the rope can still hold them, so they never try to break free."

I was amazed. These animals could at any time break free from their bonds but because they believed they couldn't, they were stuck right where they were. Like the elephants, how many of us go through life hanging onto a belief that we cannot do something, simply because we failed at it once before?

Isn't the message obvious? Argue for your limitations, and sure enough they are yours. Hence don't argue for it. Defy it. Make an attempt to grow further.

Heaven and Hell

When I was a kid, my mom used to tell me this story of "Heaven and Hell" to inculcate the value of being courteous and not greedy. She used to tell the story during our lunch/dinner. It was nice to see that same story, after many years, finding its way to my mail box.

Read and enjoy :-)

A Swami was having a conversation with Lord Shiva one day and said.

'Lord, I would like to know what Heaven and Hell are like'.

Lord Shiva led the Swami to two doors.

He opened one of the doors and the Swami looked in. In the middle of the room was a large round table. In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew, which smelled delicious and made the Swami's mouth water. The people sitting around the table were thin and sickly! They appeared to be famished. They were holding spoons with very long handles that were strapped to their arms and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful.

But because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths.

The Swami shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering.

Lord Shiva said, 'You have seen Hell.'

They went to the next room and opened the door. It was exactly the same as the first one. There was the large round table with the large pot of stew which made the holy man's mouth water. The people were equipped with the same long-handled spoons, but here the people were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking. The Swami said, 'I don't understand.'

'It is simple,' said Lord Shiva.

'It requires but one skill. You see they have learned to feed each other, while the greedy think only of themselves.'

PS: Of course, being a Christian, my mom's story had a Christian background, with Jesus opening the door, and not Siva. But the rest... is the same...

Sheep

The slaughter house near my house:

The butcher grabs the front leg of one sheep and drags it to the slaughter house.

The remaining sheeps in the herd follow the sheep.

The butcher smiles at the herd that's following the sheep he is dragging.

The butcher pushes the sheep to the slaughter bay

The herd follows. Without any force they get into the bay.

After a few hours the butcher hangs the carcass of the sheeps in front of his shop.

Is there any other species that walks into death as obediently and silently as sheeps do?

The definition of sheep is “someone who would rather follow than make an independent decision”

Public Display of Affection (PDA)

Public Display of Affection (PDA) is the norm in Bangalore City. Yours truly Sophroniscus, even though not yet reported through this blog, has witnessed it innumerable times.

After skimming through an article on PDA, I was curious to know my friend's take on it. Placing the paper on the teapoy, I lifted my cup of hot CoffeeDay cappuccino. She had just finished a hushed conversation on her mobile...

"So... What do you think of PDA?" I asked her sipping the cappuccino.

A bit surprised on the topic I have thrown at her, she carefully kept the mobile in her tan purse and said: "I like it."

I was taken aback. I didn't expect THAT answer to come from her - someone who hails from a traditional Indian family. More than the answer, I was surprised by the aplomb and coolness with which she said it!

"What do you mean you like it?!" I asked, trying hard to suppress my surprise.
"It is good time pass" She said adjusting her yellow kameez and dupatta, and then reaching out to grab her cup of mocha.

"Time pass?! When... Which part...?!" After blurting out that question, I felt like a fool. I shouldn't have asked.

"Well... " she paused, thought for a while, and said "I think I’ll enjoy it in the bus. You know how boring the two hour bus ride to-and-from office can get..."

"Times have changed" I grimaced and said to myself.

She continued "If I have a PDA, I can find ways to cut time... or at least I think so..."

At that statement I started laughing. She was talking about Personal Digital Assistant - PDA!! In this world of HTC and iPhone, how can she talk about Personal Digital Assistant!!?? Yes... my assessment was right. She is a pakka traditional Indian girl. I continued my laugh.

Startled at my laughter she stared at me for a while before I pointed her to the article on PDA. She looked at it and blushed.

"So... you like it in the bus!! I'm wondering with whom?!" Before I broke into another round of wild uproar I saw her flung the paper on my face.

Career Switch

What profession should I choose?

I've been thinking of a change for a while. I need a change from my current boring mundane profession. I need a change that will put me on the edge. A change that will get adrenalin pumping all over my body. A change that will give me the comfort, which only money can buy…, and truck loads of money to buy that comfort. A change that will solicit travel and take me to different parts of the world. A change that will get me in touch with different people from different walks of life. A change that will make me famous...

Is there a profession that can satisfy my needs and wishes?

How about becoming a politician? A politician gets all the above mentioned. Isn't it? But then, a more important question is: Can I become a politician? OR… Do I have the “qualities” to become a politician…? Well... If I kill the left-over ethics in me, I can become one... I think so… But then, I know, a politician’s life is not that rosy when he is NOT in power. He has to reduce some basic comfort such as air-condition. Under the hot glaring sun, he has to visit different places and in that process… literally “sweat out”. All this… to grab power…, which, after all that effort, can elude him forever!

So... may be I should go for some other “stable” profession. I think becoming a guruji will be good. Unlike politicians, god-men are never forced to bequeath power… and comfort…, esp. basic comfort such as air-conditioned rooms and luxurious cars. Those are permanent for them. All they have to do is give gyaan to the crowd. And “giving gyaan” comes naturally to me. Yes… I think I can become a successful god-man. Besides, of late, I have been having this strong feeling of something spiritual inside me… bubbling and waiting to burst out.

Wait a minute… That is not just a feeling! It is my destiny. I know I’m destined to become a god-man! The spirits and nature are conspiring in favor of me…! Otherwise why did wisdom dawn on me during my Meenmutty forest visit? Yes… it was enlightenment…!! See the picture below. Don’t you see a halo around my head?!


Skeptics might pooh pooh my argument by dragging some “photonic theory”. Don't believe them! There is no dearth for skeptics in this world. Every god-man has his own set of detractors. Do you think my sitting like a Maharaja surrounded by body-guard disciples, and the appearance of the halo was a mere coincidence? NO! No science can explain this… because this is beyond science…

I have made up my mind! I'm starting a new secular sect... The Sophroniscaya sect…! Chant the following mantra and you will be blessed: "Om Sophroniscaya Akbar. Amen"

All your problems will go away if you chant that mantra a billion times a day. If you think you need more blessings, please send a check or DD in favor of Sophroniscus Dialectic, #5, 20th A Cross, 2nd Floor, Ejipura Main Road, Ejipura, Bangalore 560047. Since I'm in the process of getting established, any denomination will be accepted. Make best use of this opportunity. Later, when I become more famous, I will not accept small contributions. Worse… I will treat small contributions as an insult and will curse you...

Om Sophroniscaya Akbar. Amen!

Managing Expectations...

"Do you know the root cause of all rifts between people?" I posed looking at her, but not expecting an answer. The breeze was playing with the tuft on her face. She looked at me through the corner of her eyes... expecting me to answer.
"Expectations..." I said continuing my stroll with her.

It was long since we had caught up with each other. An evening stroll, we felt, was good to share the latest news, gossips and philosophies of our life.

"Be it work or personal life... one has to manage expectations to avoid rifts. You set meetings with customers... Why? To manage their expectations so that future relationship with them won’t go sour. Parents get angry with their kids when the kids go against their expectations. Spouses fight with each other because each one has a set of different expectations from other. Chinks appear in solid friendship because of improper ‘expectation management’...!"

I looked at her with the satisfaction of unraveling the universal truth (and secret) to her...

"Hmmm...” She paused… looking straight and not at me, she continued: “We are supposed to meet tomorrow for dinner?"
The breeze continued its rendezvous with her tuft.
"Yes" I replied
"Can I manage your expectation....? Can you expect me not to be there for dinner?" I saw the wicked-naughty smile showing its signs at the corner of her lips.

Time to stop lecturing my philosophies... I thought

Generation Gap

Three or Four years back I was taking a stroll on CMH road. That is when I came across this attractive damsel walking towards me. I don't remember her face. But I do remember something else! She had this very-low-neck pink top that revealed a looong cleavage! When she walked all her assets swayed to the rhythm of her cat walk. My jaws almost dropped...! And I sang to myself - "What a wonderful world….!" As I passed her, I turned back to enjoy her cat walk. That is when my eyes bulged out, and jaws hit the pavement. She had exposed her "rear" and rare cleavage too!! Thanks to her blue ultra-low-waste jeans! My lips almost produced a whistle before my brain intervened.

Months passed... Bangalore adopted the fashion I saw on CMH road. Thanks to low-waste jeans and translucent blouses, figuring out the color and type of a lady’s under-cloths became a cake-walk. The "good ol'coin trick" was no longer required to take a peek at the cleavages (front and rear) some ladies proudly displayed.

Did I enjoy this fashion change? I guess I did. I considered myself lucky to live in this era where nobody has to pay a penny to watch old B-grade movie-bits/scenes. All he has to do is: go to a posh mall... and enjoy the latest “fashion sense”!

But something happened today that made me think seriously...

Today, while coming out from a restaurant, I saw this girl with ultra-micro mini-skirt. Had she bent even a tiny-teeny angle, I would have clearly seen her undies. Unlike three years back, this time I didn't sing "What a wonderful world". I didn't enjoy what I saw! May be I'm finding it difficult to appreciate the latest fashion sense of the youngest and latest generation! Am I getting old? Am I having a generation gap?

Everything happens for the good

On that unfateful day he met me. I had no malice... I swear! He was getting engaged the next week and I thought we'll just exchange pleasantries. That I'll wish him in advance a happy married life filled with love. And he will thank me. And we will dine together and then we will say bye.

But the talk took a different turn.

I could see that something was bothering him. I probed: "You appear to be tensed?"
"Not really. But yes... next week is my engagement and all this happened so fast…"
I empathized "Yeah... I understand. If I were in your shoes I would feel the same"
Lost in some thoughts, he nodded. His engagement was an "arranged" one.
I continued. "Marriage is perhaps one of the most important decisions in a person's life. Marrying a person whom one doesn't know much is like hoping to win a lottery. I think that decision should be made after knowing the other person well"
"Yes... but there is no way how you will know ANY person WELL"
"Precisely" I said "Especially in an arranged marriage. You will come to know only the polished side of the other person. That is not the REAL character of that person, isn't it?"

From there the conversation took off to a detailed analysis on why marriage is a real risk!!

At times I would console him stating that his philosophy - "everything happens for good" - is the best. I kept reassuring him that he is on the right track. He appeared to be cool till I brought up the misuse of the dreaded Section 498A of Indian Penal Code. I explained to him, with real life examples, on how 498A was being misused. As soon as I did that I wished I shouldn't have done that. He was now really really tensed. I figured it out from his tone: "Hey… Don’t scare me too much!"

So I decided to switch sides and argue in favor of marriages. It was approaching 11:00 PM - the time when his to-be-fiancé would call him. When we said adios I hoped and still believe that I cooled him.

*************

His engagement got over last week

*************

A few years from now:

I ring the door bell. He welcomes me to his home and introduces me to his wife: "This is the moron who scared the shit out of me just a week before our engagement". He beams and looks at my reaction.

I spread my entire array of teeth and says hello to his wife.

*************

Well... Everything happens for the good :-D

Our Soul

Say "OUR SOUL" repeatedly...

Say it faster...

And listen to yourself...

Did you hear yourself saying arsehole??!!

OK... Now do it the reverse.

Say "arsehole" repeatedly... do it faster... and then listen! Did you find "OUR SOUL" in arsehole?

Next time you blurt arsehole (or asshole), and an undesired audience heard you say that, tell them that you said "OUR SOUL".

Jai Gandhigiri ;-)

Masala Movies

I like masala movies! In those two or three hours I get the chance to transmogrify to that guy in the screen who can sing, dance, kick-butts... All that at the drop of a hat! In real life doing all that is difficult. I truly know I possess the talent. But I can't do it at finger snap. Special venues and preparation are required. I remember quite well my friends praising my dancing skills at a party! Now... don't think that they praised me under the influence of alcohol. You can't say that until you see me dance. If there is going to be another party in the next two or three months, I'll invite you to watch me dance.

Anyways... the point is not how well I dance or sing or fight. The point is transmogrification... in those two-three hours and then... visiting the most beautiful and exotic places in the world with your crush; driving expensive cars, bikes and even planes; dancing with damsels that come from different continents; firing different types of guns at anyone with the license to kill... Phew... isn't that KHOOL...??!!

And then you have this misunderstanding cropping in between the hero and heroin, creating a rift between them. The problem could have been solved had they talked to each other. But they won't!! As the drama unfolds, impatiently I wait for myself to get into the screen as "me" (not the hero); all to have a chat with both the folks and clear the misunderstanding. Alas that doesn't happen. The drama would unwind ONLY to the scriptwriter’s tone.

Real life provides us the opportunity to be our own life's scriptwriter - the opportunity to talk to folks and clear the air of misunderstanding. How many time do we grab that opportunity? Not many times I guess. And often… because of that… the drama in our life takes a sour turn. So… what to do then? Purchase a masala movie ticket and transmogrify?! ;-)

My Road

It had rained that night. The side pavement was spotless. The road was washed clean by the rain water. The long black dirt-less road looked beautiful with patches of violet flowers strewn by the roadside tress. "What a beautiful morning": I murmured. I kinda flirted with the silly thought that the road and trees laid those violet carpets to welcome me! With gloat I jogged slowly savoring the beauty and the solitude.

The solitude was soon broken by a cycler-rider. He too was enjoying the nature. I could say that from the way he held his head back. He was at the other end of the road. But I could sense him humming some tune. He was pedaling leisurely with no hands on the handle-bar.

A smirk spread on my face.

When he was a few yards away from me, I jumped from the pavement to the road to pick a violet flower. He lost his balance momentarily..., caught hold of the handle-bar, and regained control. I looked at him with a sorry innocent face and said: "Sorry". Did I hear him say fuck. I think I did ;-)

As he passed behind me, I looked at the solitude road in front of me... and grinned... “She is mine again” :-)

Forecast of the week

Everything appeared boring - the book I was reading, the animated discussions of the co-passengers, the artificial smile of the beautiful air-hostess... everything! I folded my book, eased my seat belt a bit, and pulled out the magazine - The Week - which was lying in the next-to-next seat. I flipped through the pages. Nothing interesting was there either. The political situation, the Agni missile, the market crash, the romance of some bollywood actor... the magazine had nothing interesting to report!

I lifted my head and was greeted with a fabricated smile by the air-hostess. I returned a phony smile and went back to the magazine. I turned the page and there it was - Forecast of the week by KK Vamanan Namputhiri.

Being a Taurian, I went to the section that read "Taurus". It read "This week make sure you do either of the thing: get married or find a new business partner". I froze!! Only a couple more days were left for the week to end. And I have not yet found a girl to marry!! Forget about business partner… that will not happen in a couple of days. With the resolve to find a girl within the next two days I closed the magazine.

I lifted my head… and my eyebrows, and took a deep look at the air-hostess. Did the hunter get his pray? My eyes narrowed, and moved from her face to her body… to her belly… and that is when I noticed it: Her stomach was bulging! Was she pregnant?!! “Wrong choice...!” I said to myself.

Mr. Namputhiri, I’m better off without your advice.

PS: Horoscope believers please excuse this sarcastic post.

Job opening ads

Have you seen some of the job ads? Sometimes the requirement, in terms of years-of-experience, in a nascent technology exceeds the age of that technology itself! Long time back seeing those requirements I used to get baffled. Slowly, as time progressed, my eyes (and brain) got trained to such ads. I classified them as "advertising gimmicks" of the recruiting companies.

But it took a dilbert cartoon strip to let me realize the real and true motive behind such ads :-) Click here to see the 29-Feb-08 strip…

In the strip, Catbert (the evil HR director) posts a job opening. The requirement states: Candidate must have an I.Q. of 300, Two Centuries of Unix Experience and a track record of winning Nobel prizes.

After posting the ad, Catbert thinks with a smug: 90% of my job is convincing people they don't deserve theirs.

PS: HR professionals, please excuse this post.

It's not about the Bike

Read Lance Armstrong's "It's not about the Bike". His other book - "Every Second Counts" - appealed to me more

Linda Armstrong's - Lance's mother’s - character wowed me. To me, her character is much much stronger than Lance's.To bring up a child ALL ALONE in her teenage; manage her studies; and grow up the corporate ladder, without anything to prove to anyone but herself, requires tremendous amount of courage. Do you know what the litmus test of courage is? Carrying-on all-alone with determination, when the chips are down and when nobody cares about you. Lance didn’t pass that test. Linda did! In the hospital bed, before his surgery, to hide his courage Lance declares to his friends that he will fight and defeat the cancer. But he later admits that the declaration was to camouflage his fear. He had friends, his mother and his "declaration" to support his courage. Linda had none of those. (This doesn't mean that I don't admire Lance's courage)

One particular section of the book reminded me about the importance of presenting things in the right way:

Lance Armstrong had approached two hospitals to cure his cancer. Given below are the responses of the two doctors of the respective hospitals. You will see that the content of their message is the same. The way they put across the message is what differs.

The doctor in Houston: “I'm glad you are here. You will crawl out of here. I'm going to kill you. Everyday I'm going to kill you, and then I'm going to bring you back to life. We're going to hit you with chemo, and then hit you again, and hit you again. You're not going to be able to walk. We're practically going to have to teach you how to walk again, after we're done."

The doctor in Indiana: "You are in an advanced stage. The percentages are unfavorable. But this is potentially curable. Even-though you're in the poor-prognosis category, we've cured a lot worse. And we don't want the chemo to affect your lungs. This is to give you a chance later to recover physically and compete in cycling."

I think anyone can guess which hospital Lance chose for his treatment. Putting things across in a nice and polite way, and mixing it with hope, makes a huge difference.

Some other interesting quotes of the book are given below:

Lance Armstrong: Your past forms you, whether you like it or not. Each encounter and experience has its own effect, and you're shaped the way the wind shapes a mesquite tree on a plain.

Linda Armstrong: If you are going to get anywhere, you're going to have to do it yourself, because no one is going to do it for you. If you can’t give 110 percent, you won't make it.

Tell Me Why

While hopping from channel to channel I came across this performance by Declan Galbraith. It is called "Tell Me Why". I loved the 10 year old's performance. He has got good control over his voice...! I managed to catch two philosophical lines in the lyrics ;-)

Everyday I ask myself what will I have to do to be a man?
Do I have to stand and fight to prove to everybody who I am?

For other trivias of this music that set a world record, click on the link above. And if you know where to download the free mp3 of it, please drop in a word ;-)

Marxist Rumors

A conversation among a visitor, my father and me...

“I heard your entire family's name was cut from the voters’ list. Did you get it reinstated?” I asked the visitor
“Yes... These dirty tricks of Marxist party!” He exasperated “Many sisters' and priests' name were cut form the list. In the next election, the Marxists want to come back to power by hook or crook. They want to manipulate the voters’ list. They want to do West Bengal in Kerala.”
“But... won't that create a permanent hatred among the people towards the party?! Anyone whose name was cut will most likely never vote for the party!!” I was bemused
“Even otherwise they will never! The communists are shrewd. They are cutting the names of those whom they are sure will never vote for them.”

He had a point. I nodded.

The visitor continued. “In West Bengal the situation is so bad. To construct a house one has to donate an amount to the local party office. Can you believe it?! The party has tried something similar in Kerala. Have you noticed that the number of "bucket-donations" the party used to conduct has come down drastically. How do you think they are compensating for the financial loss they incur?”
“How?” I asked.
“Recently, in Kottayam, they approached a govt.-medical-college doctor and asked to donate 5 lakh rupees to the party fund. The doctor refused and said he can contribute only 3 lakh rupees!! 3 lakh!! Not a small amount!! But the comrades were not convinced. In fact they were furious. They refused to accept 3 lakh. Before leaving they threatened him that they knew how to get 10 lakh from him. The next day the doctor got a transfer order. He had to now settle the row with 10 lakh rupees. Btw, do you know what happened in Baby Memorial Hospital?”
“No”
“Well... the Marxists asked for 1 crore donation. The hospital owner refused. The hospital soon received a show-case notice from the environment department asking them why the department should not take action against the hospital for polluting the nearby canal.”

We were silent for a few seconds before my father spoke. “Whatever be the party, politicians are birds of the same feather. All hungry for money and power. They will do anything for it. One of the worst things the Marxists did was extremely politicize Calicut University. The University now reeks with their filth.”
My father - an ex-professor in Calicut University - shared an incident. “There was this institute with excellent facilities that wanted the recognition from Calicut University. I was the invigilator. I liked their dedication and facilities. I approved. The next step was to get an approval from the Registrar. The institute approached the Registrar. His response was to contact Matahi Chacko - the local Marxist veteran. At that time Matahi Chacko was a Senate member. The institute's officials weren't sure what to do. So they contacted me and requested to help them understand the procedure. I knew the official procedure, which was quite simple. All the Registrar had to do was sign the document. Since I had approved, he had to have a strong reason NOT to sign. And I was sure that there was no reason NOT to sign. Since the institute appeared to have that dedication, which is rare to find these days, I told them I'll check with the Registrar what went wrong. On contacting the Registrar, he asked me to contact Mathai Chacko!! I didn't understand why Matahi Chacko has to have a say here. I communicated the Registrar’s message to the institute. Around the same time the institute came to know that another institute was recognized by the University. The other institute had no basic facilities. Bemused they approached me again. Looking at their plight I thought I'll try to help them. I called Mathai Chacko. He lifted the phone and started speaking in an extremely rude and impolite manner. A typical rowdy language which I’m not used to. I was irritated. I snapped the call without speaking anything further. I conveyed the same to the institute. I don't know whether they got recognized later. But that incident was another reality check. I knew once again that the Marxists are not angels.”
The visitor chipped in. “They are devils. Pinarayi has lot of benami property throughout Kerala. Deepika daily is his benami. The whole world knows it…!”

The phone rang and our discussion thread broke…

***************

This post might be a surprise to my friends who have known me as a leftist. I’m no leftist or rightist. Just a humanist. It is better to let the world know about the rumors that are floating around. Support the good in anything. And vehemently oppose the evil.

Lady In The Brown Sari

Bangalore Airport...

Arrival Section...

I have been waiting for the past 15 minutes for my friend to come out through the Arrival Gate. Waiting is something I detest most. That too for 15 minutes!! I started becoming fidgety.

With no one to talk I looked around. That is when I noticed this girl. Clad in a brown sari, she had her hands clasped against the steel rails. Her eyes was constantly searching for someone's glimpse at the arrival gate. Her eyes spoke volumes. She was expecting someone. Now and then her lips will break into a smile at the sight of someone's shadow in the gate, only to repose when the person steps out from the shadow. “No… it is not him!” Her eyes spoke. In a few seconds hope will again spread in her eyes. She will lean against the steel rail, squeeze them and then gently smile at the shadows with her eyes.

She was 'longing' personified. I wanted to capture that image. It was such a beauty observing her. She stood there with hope dancing throughout her body. But something was restraining her from expressing it to the fullest. Another 15 minutes might have passed. That is when the smile in her eyes became broader... and moved to her lips... to stay there without diminishing. Her eyes stopped wandering. It was now steady, focusing at the arrival gate. I looked at the subject that had captured the fascination of the lady-in-the-brown-sari. With a tired face he walked out slowly. His smile had the touch of relief.

He walked to her, and hugged the old man standing next to her. “His father...” I whispered. Now I knew what was restraining her. While walking to the taxi that was parked for him, he managed to escape the old man's chat-and-eyes. For a moment he held her hand and squeezed it. Both looked at each other and laughed silently...

"Hey...! Stop ogling!"
I turned to see my friend staring down at me with a wide grin.
Ogling!!!! No point explaining to him. He won’t understand.
“How was your journey?” I asked him with a smile.

My niece

I'm crazy about my niece. Here's one incident about her.

She loves observing people. So, under her keen observing eyes, which is difficult to escape from, I get into this store-room where my mom keeps her home-made wine. (I like the wine my mom prepares) I take the wine jar out and starts pouring the liquid into the glass.

My niece comes to me and asks: "What are you doing mamman? What are you pouring?"

Of course I can't give wine to my niece. And if I tell her that it is "wine" - something she has never tasted - she will create a scene forcing us to let her taste the drink.

So I tell her that it is black tea. She doesn't like black tea. The color of the wine supported my lie.

She observes me for a while, then runs to the kitchen and comes back with a tea filter to help me "filter" the "tea". With a chuckle I try to convince her that "this tea" doesn't require a filter.

She listens, thinks for a while, and runs to the kitchen again; only to bring another glass. I thought she is going to ask me her share of the "tea". She holds the glass to me and says "The tea will be hot mamman. Use this glass to bring down its heat"

My chuckle soon became a roaring laughter

******

Last week she left for Canada. I miss her...