There is this tag on Facebook about 25 random things or suchlike. Somebody tagged me recently, and since I had nothing better to do (and only need a chance to talk about myself), I made the list. But it turned out to be very personal, so I have decided to put it up here:
I grew up in a small village called Simra. I have lived in many places since, but there is no feeling like going back there. It's home.
When I was 7, I took some money from my father's wallet to buy some gum. My sisters came to know of it and told my father. I tried to pull a stunt refusing to apologise and threatening to leave the house. My father asked me to leave. I went out, circled the neighbourhood and came back crying. Thus ended my all-too-brief career as a rebel.
Blue is my favourite colour. As far as possible, I only wear light blue shirts and dark blue pants.
I hate making slides - the only part of my job I really hate.
Growing up, I had to go to a school in a town far away and it'd take 2 hours each way in a cramped bus. I used to get headaches almost everyday.
I know the entire Hanuman Chalisa by heart.
I plan to name my son Vardhman, and daughter Varsha. I know this is pretty silly.
I like what are called girlie drinks.
Growing up, there were no kids in my neighbourhood. Since it was such a small place, everybody sent their kids to study in the bigger cities. So, I grew up with books. My school library was pretty small - I think I must have read all the books twice by the time I left the place.
My biology teacher died while in labour, when I was 11. After school, the entire class went to the hospital. I saw the body. I still remember the entire thing very vividly.
Unlike most of my friends, I love South Indian food. It is very difficult for me to convince them to go out to a SI restaurant. It'd very easy for me to fall in love and marry a woman if she can make great sambar and curd rice.
I think I sing very well. If people tell me I don't, it's very difficult for me to like them.
I find it very difficult to work under people whom I don't respect intellectually.
In Class XII, in the hostel, there were three of us - we were nicknamed Cutter, Killer, Jahar. I was Jahar - apparently because my jokes could kill or something stupid like that. It was my first group. We are in three different continents now.
When growing up, there were two teachers who heavily influenced me. There was Pasang sir - my class-teacher in 5 and 6, who encouraged me to read. And Sahib Ali sir, my class teacher in 8, 9 and 10, who got me interested in Science. I owe them a lot. I have no clue where they are
When I came to Delhi to get admission in school, I didn't have my board mark-sheets, and so the school wasn't letting me in. I made an impromptu senti speech to the Principal (replete with tears and a litany of my intellectual accomplishments) and it impressed him, and I was admitted. One incident I am really very proud of.
I was robbed a few weeks back and lost my passport. Currently, I am stateless.
I can't understand maps, I don't have a sense of direction, ergo I get lost easily. That's why I don't drive (I paid 2000 rupees for the license). While travelling, I rely on asking people for directions. It works.
I went skiing a few weeks back - go up 20 minutes, come down 2 minutes. Complete waste of time.
I want to enter politics at a certain stage.
I spent the entire morning and afternoon today watching the entire LOTR series (extended edition). I was blown away when I first saw them, but after today I admire them at a completely different level. There is a lot of depth in the series I hadn't noticed before. (This is not strictly about me but I wanted to say this anyway).
I hated Delhi and Delhiites a lot, until one day I realised I had become one of them.
There are three things my mother tells me to do every time we talk - pray regularly, brush twice a day and drink a lot of water. Somehow, I am not able to do any of these.
Something happened (and it' still too personal to talk about) when I was 15 which turned me off organized religion. I am fairly indifferent to the entire religion thing now, don't even think about it much.
I like to think I am interesting, conflicted, different, insidious - the stuff dark characters are made of. But in my heart of hearts I know I am fairly conventional, boring and nice.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Friday, February 06, 2009
Speech Defect
I have been told on a few occasions that I tend to speak English very fast. In India, it didn't really matter - if someone didn't get me, I would switch to Hindi. Only while giving presentations would I consciously slow down, but that was not very frequent, and so, quite manageable.
Here, compounded by the accent, it became a big problem. So, I had to slow down. Now, I find myself talking (in my opinion) painfully slowly, in a weird, high pitch, emphasis on every syllable, way. It sounds really phony to me, and it really upsets me, thought nobody else seems to mind it.
I don't want to sound phony to myself, I want to be able to speak naturally, not dam the words coming out of my mouth. But I have to speak slowly to make sense to these guys, and every bit of it is painful.
One more reason why I won't settle down here.
Here, compounded by the accent, it became a big problem. So, I had to slow down. Now, I find myself talking (in my opinion) painfully slowly, in a weird, high pitch, emphasis on every syllable, way. It sounds really phony to me, and it really upsets me, thought nobody else seems to mind it.
I don't want to sound phony to myself, I want to be able to speak naturally, not dam the words coming out of my mouth. But I have to speak slowly to make sense to these guys, and every bit of it is painful.
One more reason why I won't settle down here.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
State of Affairs
So, I recently got Ad-Sense installed on the blog. It promised to put ads related to the content on the site.
Excitedly, I visited the site to check out the first ad. My smile faltered as soon as I saw it:
100s Pretty Ladies
They are looking for a Husband Marry a Latin Beauty Queen!
Damn, these Google guys are good.
Excitedly, I visited the site to check out the first ad. My smile faltered as soon as I saw it:
100s Pretty Ladies
They are looking for a Husband Marry a Latin Beauty Queen!
www.latinwomensite.com
Damn, these Google guys are good.
Friday, January 30, 2009
What is life worth living for?
Listening to "Chandni Raatein" in the middle of the night
Eating banana walnut ice-cream at Big Chill
Watching Monty Python
Slipping under a blanket when it is slightly cold
Going to a half-sleep on a weekend afternoon
Reading Douglas Adams
Talking to a friend after a long time
Saying hello to the cute girl at the sandwich shop every afternoon
Waiting for the weekend to begin...
Eating banana walnut ice-cream at Big Chill
Watching Monty Python
Slipping under a blanket when it is slightly cold
Going to a half-sleep on a weekend afternoon
Reading Douglas Adams
Talking to a friend after a long time
Saying hello to the cute girl at the sandwich shop every afternoon
Waiting for the weekend to begin...
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Political Identity
Over the last four years, and increasingly in the last 6 months, I have spent a lot of time in trying to analyze who I am, where I think I belong, what does everyone else see in me, what am I to myself and the world. A significant part of these thoughts have been around what my political views are. I have always followed Indian and world politics fairly closely, and in wake of the brilliant coverage of the American elections last year, ended up reading a lot of political literature too.
I have a very strong sense of identity. Whatever differentiates me with most others, brings me closer to those of my own kind. Or, to try and put simply, I tend to group myself with people with whom I have a similar differentiation. Where I was born, the colour of my skin, what I studied, my alma mater, my profession, my firm, my hobbies, my caste, my nationality and several other things, with different emphasis over time and location, have defined my identity. When I meet someone, I categorize him/her across several of these labels, and see where they match or come close to. That is how I develop a conversation, a rapport and a friendship.
For instance, when I meet someone who lets say belongs to my region of the world, that is what we bond on. When I meet someone, who has the same interests as I do, that's what we talk about. One implication of this is that most of my friendships are fairly compartmentalized and I don't spend much time celebrating diversity, but that's not the point of the post.
I have always considered myself as a liberal sort of a fellow. What people do in their own time is their own business, and as long as nobody troubles me, I don't give a shit. But this runs into conflict with my earlier sense of identity. What do I do when what I believe is my group, is under a perceived threat? How do I reconcile my tribal bonding need and my liberal value-system?
What do I do, when people of my nation, my religion are under threat for being different. Do I sit on the fence and laugh at the infantile behaviour of the extremists, or do I take cudgels on behalf of my side, even as I know that what I would end up doing would definitely be unpalatable and probably wrong.
And my answer has always been to join the fight on my side and try to win.
Ideally, one would want to know the right or wrong. The problem is, sometimes, things stand so far back in time, one doesn't really know how anything began. But that's not the real reason why I choose to take a stand. I would probably stand by my group even if they were wrong. The reason is my innate need to survive.
I don't like saying this but ethnic cleansing works. We only have to look back at the 1500s and see that in the last 500 years, in almost half the world, one group of men have annihilated another. Both the American natives and Aborigines have been removed from the face of the earth and Africa has been screwed beyond possibility of quick redemption. Yes, men can do bad things to other men, and the earlier we recognize it, the better. Some would call it paranoia but who is to say it can't happen again.
In everyday life, we are used to being safe and protected and sheltered, and fed on a diet of Page-3 newspapers and escapist cinema, forget that outside, wars go on, people kill each other, and sometimes, the bad guys end up winning.
In the comfort of one's arm-chair, a libertarian ideology is very attractive. It gives us a moral high ground - when we are safe, we can afford to have one. However, with such a mentality, if and when the barbarians come at the gates, we'll probably end up being spiked.
And I would rather fight, kill and survive than stand aside.
The other problem with the libertarian utopia is that would imagine that everybody would love everybody else, and live happily ever after. But there is no example known to me that suggests that no chink will appear in this vision - people have always become greedier, nastier and given the variation in temperaments, there will be some bastards at any point of time. What do you do then?
When I ask people whether something is black or white, and I hear, gray - it makes my blood boil. The purpose of information is to take action, and saying gray doesn't help. Decisions need to be made - and one has to take guesses in real life, and hope for the best. One of the biggest sins in this world is inaction - because of absence of 100% evidence. And, I would, any day, prefer efficiency over precision. It's like the debate I was having with someone about global warming - the other guy said, "There is still not sufficient proof that global warming is happening," and my reply to him was, "If we keep waiting for proof, there'll probably be no earth left". Survive first, ask later.
So I am asked - are you right-wing? And I would have to say yes. As long as there is someone ready to shoot me, I will carry a gun myself. In the legendary words of Dinkar:
Kshama shobhti us bhujang ko, jiske paas garal hai
Uska kya jo dantheen, vishrahit vineet saral hai
Liberalism is a luxury only the powerful can afford, I would rather watch my back.
I have a very strong sense of identity. Whatever differentiates me with most others, brings me closer to those of my own kind. Or, to try and put simply, I tend to group myself with people with whom I have a similar differentiation. Where I was born, the colour of my skin, what I studied, my alma mater, my profession, my firm, my hobbies, my caste, my nationality and several other things, with different emphasis over time and location, have defined my identity. When I meet someone, I categorize him/her across several of these labels, and see where they match or come close to. That is how I develop a conversation, a rapport and a friendship.
For instance, when I meet someone who lets say belongs to my region of the world, that is what we bond on. When I meet someone, who has the same interests as I do, that's what we talk about. One implication of this is that most of my friendships are fairly compartmentalized and I don't spend much time celebrating diversity, but that's not the point of the post.
I have always considered myself as a liberal sort of a fellow. What people do in their own time is their own business, and as long as nobody troubles me, I don't give a shit. But this runs into conflict with my earlier sense of identity. What do I do when what I believe is my group, is under a perceived threat? How do I reconcile my tribal bonding need and my liberal value-system?
What do I do, when people of my nation, my religion are under threat for being different. Do I sit on the fence and laugh at the infantile behaviour of the extremists, or do I take cudgels on behalf of my side, even as I know that what I would end up doing would definitely be unpalatable and probably wrong.
And my answer has always been to join the fight on my side and try to win.
Ideally, one would want to know the right or wrong. The problem is, sometimes, things stand so far back in time, one doesn't really know how anything began. But that's not the real reason why I choose to take a stand. I would probably stand by my group even if they were wrong. The reason is my innate need to survive.
I don't like saying this but ethnic cleansing works. We only have to look back at the 1500s and see that in the last 500 years, in almost half the world, one group of men have annihilated another. Both the American natives and Aborigines have been removed from the face of the earth and Africa has been screwed beyond possibility of quick redemption. Yes, men can do bad things to other men, and the earlier we recognize it, the better. Some would call it paranoia but who is to say it can't happen again.
In everyday life, we are used to being safe and protected and sheltered, and fed on a diet of Page-3 newspapers and escapist cinema, forget that outside, wars go on, people kill each other, and sometimes, the bad guys end up winning.
In the comfort of one's arm-chair, a libertarian ideology is very attractive. It gives us a moral high ground - when we are safe, we can afford to have one. However, with such a mentality, if and when the barbarians come at the gates, we'll probably end up being spiked.
And I would rather fight, kill and survive than stand aside.
The other problem with the libertarian utopia is that would imagine that everybody would love everybody else, and live happily ever after. But there is no example known to me that suggests that no chink will appear in this vision - people have always become greedier, nastier and given the variation in temperaments, there will be some bastards at any point of time. What do you do then?
When I ask people whether something is black or white, and I hear, gray - it makes my blood boil. The purpose of information is to take action, and saying gray doesn't help. Decisions need to be made - and one has to take guesses in real life, and hope for the best. One of the biggest sins in this world is inaction - because of absence of 100% evidence. And, I would, any day, prefer efficiency over precision. It's like the debate I was having with someone about global warming - the other guy said, "There is still not sufficient proof that global warming is happening," and my reply to him was, "If we keep waiting for proof, there'll probably be no earth left". Survive first, ask later.
So I am asked - are you right-wing? And I would have to say yes. As long as there is someone ready to shoot me, I will carry a gun myself. In the legendary words of Dinkar:
Kshama shobhti us bhujang ko, jiske paas garal hai
Uska kya jo dantheen, vishrahit vineet saral hai
Liberalism is a luxury only the powerful can afford, I would rather watch my back.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Do Take ka Aadmi
I follow all the cricket action very diligently on Cricinfo, and it was difficult to suppress a chuckle when Bangladesh got a new bowler called, Dolar Mahmud.
The Cricinfo guys had a field time with this, and there were a bunch of jokes floating about him. But after 4 matches, he was hit out of the park by Jayasuriya, and was removed from the team.
And guess, who they got in as a replacement
"Rubel Hossain"
And the jokes continued...
The Cricinfo guys had a field time with this, and there were a bunch of jokes floating about him. But after 4 matches, he was hit out of the park by Jayasuriya, and was removed from the team.
And guess, who they got in as a replacement
"Rubel Hossain"
And the jokes continued...
Thursday, January 08, 2009
An Easy Man to Please
It had not been going well.
I had had to get up early, at 5 AM. It was freezing outside. I had neglected to pack stuff the night before and it was taking way too long. I knew there were regular trains to the airport, but I didn't know long it would take and how much I would have to walk carrying the luggage, which was getting heavier every minute. Since the washing machine had broken down, I had run out of fresh clothes, so I had decided to carry all my dirty laundry back home, where they could be washed/ironed peacefully, giving me a few more days to get the machine fixed when I returned. But all that meant was that my pack was really heavy.
I got out, and the chill hit me. Bad idea, this, I thought, going in the train, trying to save 40 bucks, rather than take a taxi. I also suddenly realised that I hadn't eaten anything since last afternoon, and wasn't likely to get anything for the next few hours. The snow was slippery and I had to keep watching my step to avoid falling down. So, there I was, a hungry man, trudging slowly in the chill, carrying a heavy pack, and muttering angrily to himself.
I got to the station, and after changing a couple of stations, got to the airport. By this time, my shoulder was aching, and I had a 9 hour journey in a cramped seat to look forward to. I took my boarding ticket, and sat down for the boarding to begin. I never really understand why we need to arrive 3 hours in advance for an international flight - it never takes more than 30 minutes to get through the process.
I don't usually complain about such things, but that's because I have something to do, usually, read a book. But English books here are so expensive, I could never bring myself to spend on them. Everything said and done, I couldn't help myself keep converting prices into Indian rupees, and defer all the buying to when I got home.
I started cursing myself for having paid so much for the ticket. I had ended up booking late, and the prices had zoomed by then, and now, I would also have to reschedule my return, and pay some late charges on top of that. After skimping on small stuff, to pay so much for an uncomfortable ride. It hurt.
I also started thinking about all the things I still needed to do when I returned here. Get my commune card, get my insurance papers, and yes, fix the damn machine. Here, I have to bloody get everything done. Nothing is simple, no handymen, no agents. God, I hated my life.
And then the flight started boarding. There were a couple of cute girls in front of me, and I hoped I would get a seat next to either of them. We crossed business class (those bastards!), and onto economy, and halfway through, they were still with me. I looked down at my card, it said 21A, and we stopped near 20. My heart was beating faster, but a second later, both stepped into 20, and I looked across to see a middle-aged man in 21. Grumpily, I sat down next to him, and thought to myself
"This is great. With no sleep, and no food, and an aching shoulder, I will spend the next 8 hours in a cramped seat next to a middle-aged man with mild BO, and nothing to do but read the inflight magazine".
I was, you could mildly say, in a blue funk.
And then the miracle occurred.
I heard a voice, it was a god-sent angel, in the form of the airline stewardess:
"Sir, would you mind stepping out. We have upgraded you to business class".
Suddenly, the pain disappeared. I found myself grinning stupidly.
"That sounds perfect", I grinned.
I am a very easy man to please.
I had had to get up early, at 5 AM. It was freezing outside. I had neglected to pack stuff the night before and it was taking way too long. I knew there were regular trains to the airport, but I didn't know long it would take and how much I would have to walk carrying the luggage, which was getting heavier every minute. Since the washing machine had broken down, I had run out of fresh clothes, so I had decided to carry all my dirty laundry back home, where they could be washed/ironed peacefully, giving me a few more days to get the machine fixed when I returned. But all that meant was that my pack was really heavy.
I got out, and the chill hit me. Bad idea, this, I thought, going in the train, trying to save 40 bucks, rather than take a taxi. I also suddenly realised that I hadn't eaten anything since last afternoon, and wasn't likely to get anything for the next few hours. The snow was slippery and I had to keep watching my step to avoid falling down. So, there I was, a hungry man, trudging slowly in the chill, carrying a heavy pack, and muttering angrily to himself.
I got to the station, and after changing a couple of stations, got to the airport. By this time, my shoulder was aching, and I had a 9 hour journey in a cramped seat to look forward to. I took my boarding ticket, and sat down for the boarding to begin. I never really understand why we need to arrive 3 hours in advance for an international flight - it never takes more than 30 minutes to get through the process.
I don't usually complain about such things, but that's because I have something to do, usually, read a book. But English books here are so expensive, I could never bring myself to spend on them. Everything said and done, I couldn't help myself keep converting prices into Indian rupees, and defer all the buying to when I got home.
I started cursing myself for having paid so much for the ticket. I had ended up booking late, and the prices had zoomed by then, and now, I would also have to reschedule my return, and pay some late charges on top of that. After skimping on small stuff, to pay so much for an uncomfortable ride. It hurt.
I also started thinking about all the things I still needed to do when I returned here. Get my commune card, get my insurance papers, and yes, fix the damn machine. Here, I have to bloody get everything done. Nothing is simple, no handymen, no agents. God, I hated my life.
And then the flight started boarding. There were a couple of cute girls in front of me, and I hoped I would get a seat next to either of them. We crossed business class (those bastards!), and onto economy, and halfway through, they were still with me. I looked down at my card, it said 21A, and we stopped near 20. My heart was beating faster, but a second later, both stepped into 20, and I looked across to see a middle-aged man in 21. Grumpily, I sat down next to him, and thought to myself
"This is great. With no sleep, and no food, and an aching shoulder, I will spend the next 8 hours in a cramped seat next to a middle-aged man with mild BO, and nothing to do but read the inflight magazine".
I was, you could mildly say, in a blue funk.
And then the miracle occurred.
I heard a voice, it was a god-sent angel, in the form of the airline stewardess:
"Sir, would you mind stepping out. We have upgraded you to business class".
Suddenly, the pain disappeared. I found myself grinning stupidly.
"That sounds perfect", I grinned.
I am a very easy man to please.
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