script revisions

Script ver 1: school (grades supposedly important...but really, play more so) --> junior college (grades all important!...play? sorry...best science college in the city, we dont do that sorta thing here..grrr) --> engineering (grades yes, play YES! - slinging leather spheres that veer in the air!) --> what next?...master of science (telecom/microprocessors?)...???

Script ver 2: no...infosys - software engineer (work - good! first meeting with boss...asks to play cricket over the weekend :-) --> 1 year..time for that master of science degree?..give GRE...2270...damn..dare i think of a top 10 school?...boss says onsite assignment..cud be fun...analyst (work - umm..mostly good, play - only 9 months of winter in a year...but otherwise...coloured clothing...gray nicholls...kookaburra...genuine outswing? me?! bloody brilliant!) --> three years --> next? -->project manager (3-4 years)? --> program manager(4-5 years)? --> account manager?..???

Script ver 3: ...that MS in telecom making lesser and lesser sense...B-school?...two years is way too long...the Indian School of Business...GMAT...4 weekends prep can't be good...780 on practice...700 on the real thing..pfft!...apply anyway...get in! --> holy crap! quit?! move back?!..spring around the corner...road-trips being planned...damn did i screw up?!... --> Gachibowli...awesome environment...ditto for the people...work (not grades) excruciating!, play..11pm games...woohoo!...11 months like shutter speed at high-velocity sports event --> placements...take that IT role that sounded promising --> sucks!...quit...QUIT?! --> next? --> analyst/manager/BD/sales or assorted designation in other IT firm?...really?...f*** it! life's too short...management consulting...l'il firm...tiny office...wtf?!...

Script ver 4: ...?

"It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power." - Alan Cohen

Team is spelt with an I

The whole is greater than the sum of the parts. One for All, All for One! Sport can be classified along several parameters, one that's often used is to separate individual from team sports. So, you have your tennis, golf, athletics (relays being the exception) versus football, basketball, volleyball, several others and yes, cricket. The difference between the two kinds is fairly obvious in how the first kind is essentially about indiidual brilliance while the other kind is about how well different individuals combine to perform at exemplary levels. Some die-hard team sports fans go as far as saying that sports in themselves are a microcosm of life. However, the point of this post is more than to state the obvious, but to indicate that all team sports are not equal and that the sport that this blog is dedicated to is markedly different from the others. Here's how:

1. Lets settle this, you...and...me. Unlike other sports, cricket is never about the ten or eleven of one side against the same number of the other. Its always about batsman versus bowler. The bowler has the assistance of the fielders to get the batsman out, but its he who has to make it happen. The batsman could look at it as him against the world. His teammates in the dressing room, however supportive or well-meaning, can't face that chap hurling 90 mph thunderbolts, for him.



2. The part is greater than the whole of the sum. Cricket is one of the few sports where individuals can literally win games irrespective of team performance. Hence you have Kapil's 175 v/s Zim that won the game when the rest of the batting had collapsed in a heap. A striker in a football team would have a hard time finding the net if his midfielders couldn't feed him the ball.



3. Do that thing you suck at. Imagine a field hockey team's most prolific striker being asked to guard goal or the running back in an american football game being asked to be a lineman (for the unitiated, there's the small matter of a difference in body weight of about 100lbs in the two)But the sight of the side's fast bowler being asked to bat out half hour to save a test match is not uncommon. Essentially, this is one of the very few sports that has professionals performing roles they haven't done much of and therefore aren't proficient at.



4. You can run but you can't hide. The scorecard is your report card. Provides a fairly complete picture of what each individual's contribution was, be it wickets, runs, runouts or catches. The scoreline at the end of a football match might tell you who scored the goals, nothing about that defender who foiled 14 attempts by the opposition or that goalkeeper who let in a powder-puff shot on goal. The point, cricket provides much fewer places to hide than other sports.



5. There is no such thing as a level playing field. Its the tagline for an accenture ad i think, but is quite applicable to this game. Pitch conditions deteriorate, the light fades, dew gets on the ball. Well, deal with it. While other sports ensure equal opportunity for both sides in every way possible, cricket often seems downright unfair in its dependence on the vagaries of the weather and the playing surface.

Maybe there is a striking resemblance to that other game we all play...called life?

India's talisman

Brilliance...with heart

Pity I coudn't find a clip from the Perth innings...but its on this first appearance in Australia that had Richie Benaud, in his signature measured tone, "we're watching the start of something special here...years from now, this man will come to Australia...and people will flock to the grounds to see him bat..." How did he know then?!

Lone Ranger

Tour of 97, the South African Papers said he was the only man with backbone on the Indian contingent. On the first day of the first test of the next Australian tour, after a typical century when no other 'batsman' crossed 25, a picture of SRT at the non-strikers end, in his charateristic stance, leaning on the bat handle, with one hand on hip. The caption..."Standing alone on the burning deck". Note the score in the top right box...

Never as good as they say...

Sep 2000, the first ICC Knockout tournament, the only tournament besides the world-cup to feature all the test-playing nations. India v/s Aus, and after a mini-collapse the new kid on the block, Yuvraj Singh played a gem to score 84 and take India to a then respectable 265. We won that game by 20 runs. Next morning's TOI headlines screamed "Tendulkar is King, Yuvraj is Prince". For the curious, SRT only scored 38 in that game that included 3 mesmerizing pulled sixes off McGrath and Co. but he was in a rich vein of form and hence the reference.

India's tour of South Africa, 2001, Day 1 of the 1st test. Asked to bat on a green-track at Bloemfontein, wouldn't take extraordinary powers of ESP to tell India would be in trouble. But from a depressingly familiar 68/4, India ended the day at 372/7. Yes, its still 90 overs a day and that run-rate makes sense when you consider it was the test debut of a Mr. Virender Sehwag who scored 105 (173) belligerent runs. Century on debut, that too in a place where we've been embarassed with unfailing regularity, was any praise ever going to be enough?! Side-light, SRT scored 155 (184)...err...big deal!

ODI Series, Ind v/s Pak, 2004 and a surprise promotion for India's wicket-keeper at Vishakkapatnam who responds with a swashbuckling 148. India score a mammoth 356 and win by 58. He goes on to slaughter Sri-Lanka for 183 in a subsequent game and India's favorite drug is MSD!

These three, without doubt, the superstars of Indian cricket, nay, of India today. Stay on any channel for 5 mins, and see them hawking everything from haircare products to bikes. Their home cricket associations host galas to celebrate their brilliance and resulting success. Their hairdressers get print space on leading dailies and every person who might've shared a playground with them goes on record citing how they just knew that their 'friend' would make it big. All the undeniable side-effects of being a part of the national team with the greatest fan-following on earth. Nothing wrong with it all. Even my hopelessly biased views cannot claim that the cricketer I hail as the best-ever did/has not enjoyed stardom and milked it to the fullest, be it by selling everything imaginable or getting Italian Sportscars into the country for free.

The first batsman above, while having the odd match-winning performance, has genuine problems against quality spinners and bowlers of decent pace. The Second, a glaring weakness against anything pitched short and into this armpit. Owing to the recent run of scores, most reading this would readily, but it was something that's always been there, evident to anyone who saw that backfoot move back and never across (which not incidentally is also the reason why he can play those breathtaking slashes over point and thirdman). The third, well, maybe the most popular of the lot, but for me, the least tested, with all his successes coming on home-grown featherbeds. Some very fast bowlers are waiting for him to step out of the comfort of the subcontinent, count on that.

So, whats with the disconnect between talking about their fame and dissecting their technique? Simple, cause-and-effect. Why would they be analyzing their techniques, getting expert advice on where they might be exposed and working on correcting them with painstaking hours in the nets, when they are scheduled to be guest of honor at that local shindig. When every has-been failure of an ex-cricketer who's earning his living as a parasite on the game today, sings odes to their talent and temperament, why would they consider changing anything about that very technique. In today's world, 'superstars' are constructed overnight. Instant-gratification they call it. But maybe, just maybe, not every individual is born with the temperament that lets you remain grounded when everyone around is comparing you to a certain Australian gentleman with an average shy of 3 figures by just 0.04. And all this before you have even played your first international!

The 3 I've mentioned above are exceptionally talented cricketers without a doubt, and they will sort out their technical flaws...atleast to an extent, but the same rigmarole awaits the new crop of cricketers...Munaf, Raina, Uthappa. And it's essential for Indian cricket that they have some steadying influence to keep them focussed on their game, when every international coach is looking at replay after replay to identify weaknesses.

Like that quote by I don't remember who..."You're never as good as they say when you win, you're never as bad as they say when you lose"

Ban ODIs

No, this is not a crusade against the shorter (not shortest with twenty-twenty around) version of the game. I think that there is enough for the purists to enjoy even in a fifty over contest where the joys of watching a fast-bowler operating with four slips is replaced by the meticulously planned run-chases and innovative stroke-play. I would complete the title with “…in the sub-continent and lets start with India”

Home Advantage?! Has always been an integral part of sport and more so this one because of its dependence on the actual surface. But our cricket board takes the meaning of this term to new levels. Imagine going on an English tour in the middle of their winter with temperatures nearing zero. Its kinda like that when you invite those blokes over to play in the month of April in forty-plus. Not to mention that the cauldron like design of our stadiums means ground level is easily 3-4 degrees warmer. Have a heart! Those have got to be the cricket conditions from hell! Why not just tie their hands behind their backs before letting ‘em on the field, might as well.

Crowd Support. Is a logical extension of the above, but with over 50K of us at any venue on an average and each one keen on making himself heard, it deserves special mention. We are, quite unequivocally, the most boorish spectators of the game. As I write this, M.S. Dhoni launches himself at a delivery so hard, his feet leave the ground and the force of the swing causes the bat to complete a full circle. Crowd yells with delirium. Of course, the fact that the ball only took a thick outside edge and trickled to thirdman for a single is incidental. The purpose of sporting arenas is to be able to watch sport being played at the highest level, to see an exhibition of skills that have been honed to near-perfection. And applaud them. Instead, we cheer wides and no-balls and maintain a sullen silence when the opposition’s finest unfurls a delectable cover-drive.

Mandira’zation. Those perplexed by the term, can read it as bastardization of the game. Started with the coverage of the 2003 world cup where Sony SetMax decided that the housewives and the ‘not-so-enamored’ by the game needed to be roped in and they did this by dumbing the game down to reduce it to a circus. And I’m not talking out of a hat, the man who dreamt up the concept was one of our guest-speakers in Advertising class at school and he accepted that the lovers of the game would’ve hated the coverage while at the same time pointing out that as cricket-lovers, we had no place else to go! For a nation that claims to be in love with the game, not many of us can differentiate between an on-drive and an on-switch. Call it being petulant, but it ‘sticks in my craw’ when I hear a debate about whether Veeru or MSD is the best batsman in world cricket on current form. Makes me wanna scream “Did anyone happen to see any of Ponting’s innings against SA?!” Might be plenty more reasons why cricket in India is fast losing its ‘viewability’…but these are my top 3.

Pavlovian theories and India's top 7

Pavlov's conditioning theory propounded that repeating the same kind of stimulus time and again can lead to a conditioned response. That didn't quite take into account the Indian cricket journalist. After repeatedly elevating every performance that was marginally above average to stratospheric extents only to see their messiahs crash the day they left indian shores you'd expect they'd be conditioned to look for an actual sign of brilliance before waxing eloquent. "Grits, Guts and Ganguly" says the HT article. The Hindu said it with a little less hyperbole but the 'indepth' analysis of his flawless technique against pace shouldn't be read while eating lest you choke yourself to death. A reality bite; The team in question was called 'Rest of South Africa', as in players who aren't good enough to play for the test team. Not quite in the league of Ntini, Pollock, Kallis and co. So why'd the others fail against even these bowlers?

1. Virender Sehwag: Has traditionally relied on hand-eye coordination to plant himself on legstump line and swish through the line. Bowlers have worked that out about him and bowl a lot more at his body before giving him one that hits the pitch short of length and rises over off-stump. He's not been good enough to adjust to the line that's much closer to the body. Not everyone's got the work ethic of a Ricky Ponting to overcome technical flaws.
2. Wasim Jaffer: Mumbai's most prolific opener, has bucket-loads of runs in Ranji. His is a more understandable problem of never having seen the kind of movement and bounce before. The bounce prevents him from getting into line and playing the ball under his eyes. Remains to be seen if he can adjust to by being more decisive letting them go outside off.
3. Rahul Dravid: One of the best techniques in the world they say. The missing qualifier is best "frontfoot" technique in the world. Doesn't like it when a huge frontfoot movement doesn't allow him to play the ball at knee height. On the backfoot, Rahul's backlift comes down from wide thirdman and across the line. Leads to those repeated instances of the ball sneaking through and hitting off-stump. But his more tenacious mindset enables him to concentrate that bit harder to hang on.
4. Sachin Tendulkar: Been there done that, got the t-shirt. A legstump stance with decisive footwork and laser hand-eye coordination have been his hallmarks. Now, he's only shuffling across and trying to almost fend the ball to the on-side. The bowlers goad him outside off and after letting a few go, he ends up trying to force one, either edging to slip or chopping onto his stumps. Needs to back himself to be able to see the ball and let the hands flow through uninhibited. Forget that there the field has an on-side for a session and play like only he bloody can. Play for the next ball, not for the day or even the session.
5. VVS Laxman: Not a coincidence that he's been most successful against the quick bowlers. Has a more erect stance than the other Indian batsman. Does not lunge onto the front-foot and therefore earns more time by letting the ball come to him after it has done its bit. The opposite of Dravid in terms of gutsing it out and therefore relies on gaining confidence early or not-at-all.
6. Saurav Ganguly: His stance is almost like someone on the frontfoot before the ball is bowled. Closed stance (the right shoulder's pointing almost at mid-off) and lack of any backfoot movement means he is incapable of facing short and quick bowling. Relies on giving the bowlers aggro to put them off their length. But has a definite weakness against the sucker combination; 2-3 short sharp followed by a floating wide half-volley.
7. Mahendra Singh Dhoni: Quick bowlers who let him score should hang themselves. Has only one movement, a lunge onto the front-foot followed by an axe-like swing of the hands. People who compare him to Gilchrist are as much cricket experts as Mata Hari was a virgin. A definite bodyline attack, maybe even around the wicket would neutralise the biffer with an affinity to dairy.

India's top 7; collective game-plans to tackle the pitch will only bomb. Each will have to work it out for themselves. "Spending time in the middle" is bullshit, bat like you dont like the bowlers, bat to hit them off their lengths, bat to get under their skins, bat to single out each bowler and f****in' destroy their confidence......not my secret recipe...its been practised for decades by the guys in the baggy green...bat like the Aussies do!

heart says that what the heart says

"You will inherit a large sum of money"...says orkut, raised my arms in joy only to become aware of how its not a good idea to burden the skinnies with unreasonable amounts of load to lift after long periods of time. Am currently celebrating the first-ever client meeting i've had on this engagement that wrapped up in less than 2 hours. Suddenly I don't know what to do with myself. Some suitable pics and alone time would've been a good idea but the glass-walled cabin kinda precludes that. or then again maybe I can just tell any curious onlookers that this is how we consultants think. then again maybe not. so settled for typing out a post in the middle of the day.

Had a 'kool kafe' to substitute for lunch. you haven't heard of it you say? those ads about "dil bole jo bole..." where people hold their thumb and forefinger about 2 inches apart and grin. dunno how the censors missed that. i mean come'on...there's this wedding scene where the soon-to-be deflowered bride turns away from her husband and does that same gesture. as the poor guy tries to deal with his embarassment, an aunty-type leans in close and does the same gesture with a sly grin. talk about hitting a guy where it'd hurt most.

Checked the tour match score and sure enough, a formerly obscure fast bowler has now taken 4 indian wickets (sehwag, sachin, laxman, dhoni). forget sports pshycologists, you need to boost a quick bowler's morale - feed him our team! the likes of Franklin Rose, Dion Nash, Simon Doull, Lance Klusener to name a few would attest to how thoroughly ordinary bowlers are given marshall-esque reputations by our stars. but australia raises the bar on impossible test match come-backs and so all's well with the cricket. damn! those guys can sure play sport!

and now...back to the next deliverable...

clang!

Since I started blogging about 19 months ago, I've rarely been very discerning about the kind of stuff that's gone onto the htmls. Landmark events however have definitely been on and today's been one such.

My first moves were tentative...like the initial steps onto a rickety rope bridge that spans a ravine and you know you ain't no Indiana Jones. Not quite sure if those that have been so neglected, so completely ignored over the last couple of months would respond. I hoped nevertheless, not daring to hope, expecting to be rebuffed. Starting slow...unsure...looking for a sign, even contempt would be a relief, just not that dreaded soul-drenching effect that only comes from being subjected to nothing...indifference.

But that dread was misplaced...the initial leaden resistance...the unnaturally quickened breaths...even the light-headedness coming from the oh-so-apparent reluctance to acknowledge me. But then finally relenting, each fibre pulling its weight, flexing, not as expansively as i'd want them, but one doesn't show the complete disregard that i have and expect flawless form. Yes! I went back to the gym!

unshackle

The backfoot goes deep into the crease, not so much across as back. The left leg makes a pretense of coming forward and then stops abruptly, as if stopped by an unseen wall in mid-stride. The bat face comes down from second to third slip rather than fine thirdman. It makes a feeble attempt at a complete arc, the bat face turning towards midwicket. The ball trickles towards square leg. This is not how the best batsman in the world bats. Will the real Sachin Tendulkar please stand up...

time-please!

Things have to be seriously wrong with the world if my blog shows only three installments of its customary drivel for all of the month of November. It'd be cool if I could break my silence with a "Eureka" about deep insight into the metaphysical or such other esoteric concepts. Sadly, I have nothing but being a ping-pong ball with the opposite ends of the table in two cities as my reason. Trooping into the client's office every weekday, plonking yourself in a conference room, meeting all and sundry, shadowing some as they go about their tasks (imagine having someone looking over shoulder, notepad in hand, asking questions, making notes. I'd be lead to man-handling someone doing that to me). Meetings...consensus...god how i hate that word! the spawn of the devil. the deepest subterranean root-cause of all thats wrong. Think I'm being melodramatic? Try putting a bunch of managers into a room and getting them to agree on the colour the office walls should be painted with. Damned if you don't come out of the room with a psyche 'f***in' delic rainbow on your notepad!

In other news, the Indian team's performance/selection got more newsprint than the Rwanda genocide ever did but then, thats perfectly logical for a country that tacks its sense of pride and achievement onto a bunch of 14 individuals weighed down by expectations and also the logos sewn onto their equipment. Its amusing how everyone and their uncle has an opinion (hence this one) about how to fix the slide. With news channels announcing Sourav's inclusion a day in advance, you wonder if the selectors actually even debated the player who's technique makes him unsuitable for anything but a sandpit as far as bounce goes. Band-aid fixes et al, we all shall wait with bated breath to expect dramatic turnarounds conveniently ignoring the following:

1. Our performance in South Africa is dismal for a reason; we can't play movement. Not rocket science that but contrary to popular opinion, our performance in the 2003 world cup was not an instance of our warriors mastering the conditions. God bless Dr. Ali Bacher for having read "Fortune at the bottom of the pyramid" and having the life squeezed out of all wickets to provide featherbeds for the purpose of providing employment to 'has-been' actresses (read Mandira Bedi) and tarot card readers

2. Our cricketers have never had to correct this deficiency in their technique. Reason - we play over 70% of our games at home/home-like conditions. Embarassing failures in South Africa are camouflaged by 'scintillating come-backs' in tournaments involving the likes of Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, England etc (Yuvraj Singh must be thanking his stars for his timely injury)

It ain't the cricketers' fault though that they go through their domestic lives thinking that anything green can only be an outfield and the first time they see the ball zip past chest height is on an international tour match. Of course the board can't be held responsible either, there are broadcasting rights to be auctioned, official team sponsors to be chosen. Not for them the trivialities of looking into the preparation of the most crucial 22 yards in the sport, given that the odd sprinkling of grass might actually encourage a young kid somewhere to want to knock the batsman's head off rather than make a beeline for the batting crease. No, we wouldn't want a crop of searing quick fast bowlers to complicate matters of selection even more, would we. As for now, the poor over-marketed sods in SA can only hope...

egotism : the only virtue

Took a lot longer than it should have, but finally turned the last page of 'The Fountainhead' today. Blame it on large chunks of time between workdays being taken up with shuttling to and from offices and airports. By consensus, not many can claim to not have been made to create the slightest furrow of thought across their foreheads. The complete and unapologetic glorification of the letter 'I' of the alphabet, the damning of all things collective is portrayed starkly albeit exaggerated by degrees to stamp the point home. There can be arguments made about the how the characters are entirely monochrome minus the indecisive shades of grey. How the hero (not central character), has the lean rugged body exuding virility while his face, a convergence of angular planes all of which serve as a fitting exterior to the ideals, fiercely protected within. Irrelevant cosmetics aside, the biggest argument might be the predictability of actions from those out to demolish all that is exceptional.

What both books do, and very successfully, is to ask the question "What do you stand for?" In a sense, it simplifies every emotion one is likely to feel and to ask whether it is worth devoting mind-space to. The passage where a broken Keating leaves Roark's office after having shown him his paintings after being told that it was too late for him and Roark's ensuing thought process about what he was feeling "This is pity. There must be something terribly wrong with a world in which this monstrous feeling is called a virtue"

Made me go back in time, way way back, to a day when I was waiting at the bus-stop to go to school, 10th grade i think (i told you waaay back). The usual huddle of early morning commuters waiting for their respective bus numbers to show up. The huddle growing with each passing minute. Then, for no apparent reason, the clusters started to break apart, as if a fighter formation disengaging after completing an exercise. People were almost putting distance between themselves, and in a city that has no concept of personal space, that is very noticable. Thats when I also noticed what had caused the aberrance, a man was shuffling into the midst. His stature extending to just above the waist of my 4'9" frame. The reason was that his legs ended just above what were once his knees must've been, ending with wooden slats that served as shoes as he used the limited leverage to walk. As people edged away, he looked straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to the hushed consternation his arrival had brought. I remember being much more aware of the shuffling people and their strange expressions than of this person. I hadn't moved, the thought hadn't occurred to me. An aerial shot of the scene would've shown a bus-stop, the ring of space in an otherwise crowded bus-stop. He glanced around and people seemed to cower, like looking directly at him would incinerate them in a flash. A bus trundled up, it wasn't mine. I watched as he went to the front entrance, hoisted himself onto the unhelpfully high step using his arms and got on. I did not feel the urge to rush forward and help him, like effort to help him (in action or in spirit) would be the most unforgivable violation of his person. On the top step, he turned to adjust his bag, he knew he was being watched by several pairs of eyes, mine too. We made contact, his eyes almost seemed challenging. I didn't look away, didn't feel the need to. Reason being that what I felt for that individual was admiration of the highest order and the fervent prayer that I would be able to develop a fraction of the mental strength that man possessed. The bus went on its way and while I overheard hushed conversations that went "...so sad...", I wondered if there was something missing in my system that I did not feel what the others around seemed to be feeling. That printed paragraph from the book hit home in a way very few have.

small wonders

The gurgle of a crystal-clear brook...the aroma of earth moistened by the first rains...finding a restaurant at 4am when you're ravenous followed by the sizzle of your favourite steak (well-done of course) as its being brought to your table...finding a car pulling out of the best parking spot just as you arrive...waking up to your alarm to realise that its your day off...sniffing gasoline..errr...

Before the reader (the 3/4 that frequent this page) gets the impression that this is one of those ridiculous "things i would give my l'il toe for" memes..lemme make clear its only about self-discovery..no..not the kind where you 'discover' your fly's open before everyone else does...but about the l'il pleasures of life. Considering most of the ones above exist mainly in fantasy, one has to find alternatives...those that aren't as reluctant to make themselves available.

Like maybe catching a glimpse of tarmac on a blore road (am sure its possible in a curfew situation...i think)...being asked to rush to board the flight at check-in (ok, so you maybe end up in the flight scheduled for the day before that's been delayed so what?)...hearing the captain announce that "we'll be landing 20 mins ahead of schedule" (even if it probably means "we lost an engine and are going kerplunk! in the arabian")...

The more perceptive of readers might've noticed two things: the preponderance of air-travel in the above list and that the ones listed in para #3 are less likely than in #1. But having spent an average of 6 hours in transit every friday for the last 3 weeks on what's listed as a 1 hour 20 min gig, hearing the captain announce that we had been asked to "slow down (yes, in mid-air) by ATC on account of traffic at the airport" and that we were "7th in the queue to land", its only natural. Personally I'd use the PA system on-board for more fun announcements like "Would any passenger who might've dowloaded the pdf manual for an Airbus A320 contact the steward?" or "We're losing cabin-pressure...no reason to panic...but i would advise all passengers to expend excess gas to restore the same"

For now, I think i'll find a way to derive pleasure out of counting the rubber slats on the conveyor belt as it snakes its way past...

the more things change...they differ

B-school
In the nethers of an SV somewhere in gachibowli, india
3.30 am…4 hours before class...enough with the procrastination…sidle back from the sv1 café…flip open bulkpack...

20-25 pages..groan…title is the name of a 120 yr old company
Sections: Industry Background, Company history, Competitors, Present-Day Scenario
Exhibits: Consumer preferences, margins etc etc
Strategic Options: available to company X - Consolidate, Big bet expansion, controlled growth (pros and cons as appearing in the ceo's mind listed systematically)

Solution: Pick one of the three options after having worked out the margins (ok ok…once in a moon approaching the colour of aquamarine I did analyze those cases) and those of competitors based on the topic in the article (mostly HBS, sometimes other). Run highlighter over appropriately spaced lines so you look enlightened. Quaddies says the other option is what works…but then in B-Schools….always “it depends”…feeling of accomplishment…sigh

Alt + F4..u

Real-life
In the nethers of any number of cities you could think of…wake up bright and early..shower…shave…crisply laundered formals…tie…flip open proposal…

what pages? do your own frikkin' research.
Sections? (see previous answer).
Industry Background - who to include, who not to? if potential substitutes are part of the same industry, the list could be endless, gotta draw the line somewhere!...
Exhibits (you don't learn do you?) read articles, some not worth the silicon that went into making the transistors that went into storing the bits of data that constitute them. Find 'expert' analysis, only to see footnote at the bottom saying he's ceo of one of the firms. makes sense now why he predicted 300% y-o-y growth over the next two decades. damn! Whitepapers from miscellaneous websites, ditto. Margins? might as well dream up that kind of information...'estimate'.

Strategic options available...what? not listed? yes, industry definitely looking good, some capabilities there, gotta obtain the rest, easy - M&M..no no..M&A! wait! what about that company that filed for bankruptcy after doing that exact same thing...gulp...hope client doesn't have a troublesome memory. or maybe slow-and-steady is the way to go...but then where's the razz-meh-tazz in my ppt? oh chuck it, just tell them to divest the darn business and setup a handicraft store.
Small matter remaining of coming up with a 300 slider by day-before-yesterday for the final meeting…sigh

Alt + F4..u

The disappearing passenger mystery

Ever had one of those Eureka moments? The scene is the arrival terminal of Bbay's own Chatrapati Shivaji International Airport. The word 'International' in the name would tip one of the cross-border nature of flights emanating and landing at the airport, stating the obvious aren't we? Of course, the fact the domestic airport is also called the very same thing makes things interesting for the newbies in the city. Anyway, we were talking about the arrival terminal 2C identified by the presence of the not-so-alert security with the not-so-gleaming carbines held at jaunty angles that suggest they're not-quite-ready to have their safeties off in a flash. Also part of the scene are some chairs for the benefit of the reception parties, three refreshment stands and yes, a huge plasma screen tacked on the wall right next to the doorway through which emerge the newest immigrants. The board above the screen helpfully reads 'Arriving Passenger'. The use of the singular has the effect of a spotlight on the weary traveller emerging from the concourse.

So, everyone's gazing at the screen trying to identify 'their' own and give themselves time for get excited to the point of delirium. Not actually having looked directly at the screen, I thought it was a nice quaint system in place. Then with time on my hands and nothing to do(you can only read the print on a Coke can so many times and have so many chicken puffs), I decided to try to figure out how far back the cameras had been mounted by gauging the time it took for one to appear on screen to actually emerge in the flesh. Identifying a few distinct shapes on screen (not what you're thinking, more like a bright orange/pink shirt), I waited expectantly for them to appear...and...nothing. Maybe i missed them. Repeated process for another set of viewables (this time zeroing in on a caucasian family with the head of the household sporting a beard to make any of our 'holy' men envious)...and again...nothing. Just when you start to wonder whether the people actually coming out had done my 'subjects' in and whether there was something dastardly in progress, it strikes you...the camera is not trained on terminal 2C but on the other arrival terminal, 2A! Just imagine the sick mind that could come up with that...

Confession

"How tedious is a guilty conscience" - John Webster

I'd decided that it would go with me to the grave. Then I realized I'd be going to a pyre anyway so what the heck. It's something that I did that I'm not very proud of. I mean its only human to err right? Do i deserve to be looked down upon for the rest of my days? My attorney says even temporary insanity sounds too tame to explain what I did.

I saw Don...*cringe*...twice...*cringe+cringe*. Wait! lemme explain! 9.05pm on diwali night when G calls and says he's waiting downstairs for me. Suitably dressed for such emergencies in my faded t and jeans, i was bundled into the vehicle unceremoniously and told the damning news only when we were there. 3 hours of listening to lines like "Don ka intezaar gyarah mulkon ki pullice kar rahi hai" and wondering how a flight that was to cover 5 miles from take-off to landing was 11,000 feet in the air.

The second time was because I'd already taken a blood oath to watch the above mentioned movie with the family the day after. Led back to the scene of the crime, I further wondered why the likes of Kareena would 'don' form-fitting glitter-gowns a-la Helen to only make you wonder if a pregnant woman should be convulsing like that. The car-chase was quite slick though...except the bit where a car in reverse outpaced another barrelling toward it in 5th gear.

So I'm gonna be layin' low for a while. Changing my phone number and everything. Have also toyed with the idea of going under the knife for some plastic surgery (ok, not for that nose job or facelift that you're thinkin' I need smartass). Everyone makes mistakes...come one!

should the best man always win?

Page 732...am worried...thinking, especially the contemplative kind gives me a headache. Without making any pretensions that the Ayn Rand masterclass made me do that painful activity, its got me worried...

The moral code: A code that told them to act on the premise of one another's weakness, deceit and stupidity, and this was the pattern of their lives this struggle through a fog of the pretended and unacknowledged, this belief that facts are not solid or final, this state where, denying any form to reality, men stumble through life, unreal and unformed, and die never having born.

...noone's happiness but my own is in my power to achieve or to destroy...

Boil it down to get the essence, vaporize it to get the quintessence... (Rajeshwar Upadhyay's words not mine)...and what do you have...the basic tenet of existence is for every individual to work in their best interests (personal, professional, all included) and that all else falls into place.

Completely on board with it all the while that I've been leafing through the greatest (and possibly longest) rant against communism/socialism/every -ism except for that spawned by the land populated by people going by the unlikely title of pilgrims - capitalism.

She crashes into the surreal world created by the champions of industry, as their last stand against mediocrity. Understandable that she be dazzled by the personalities she had admired all her career, nay, her life. But did that have to be cheapened by the sudden rousing of base instincts for the man who started it all? By themselves, those instincts needn't be base at all, quite the opposite actually. What of the bracelet of an unknown alloy that she chose to cherish on her wrist? What of the all-consuming emotions that till just a few weeks before then that arose out of unflinching appreciation for a mind like her own? Was a more refined version of the entity that she cherished all it took to obliterate a man in the only way that is true extinction?

If any of that made sense...you need help!

Operation: Diamondrocket

Its amazing how little it takes for the market-leader's offering to become an also-ran. About six odd months ago if someone asked me about the best domestic airline, would be an equivocal answer - Jet airways. Their flights (usually) left the tarmac on time, service was courteous - both on the ground and in the air, food was palatable. It helped that its closest competitors struggled to get their planes off the ground and had a hard time figuring out where the next flight was off to.

So, I did my first trip on Kingfisher, and all the signed assertions aside, they certainly have raised the bar on air-travel in India. The ground-staff just that bit extra-smiley, the seats just that bit wider, the personal video screen just that bit unheard of. To complete the comparison, the return trip was on Jet Airways and it was brought home to me that the industry-leader didn't necessary have to be doing anything really wrong to be left sputtering in the dust clouds of a brash new challenger. Nothing that every marketing text hasn't already said. But it brings home the fact that, for business, inertia, is death. Of course, it remains to be seen whether Mr Mallya's patience outlasts the time for his airline to come out of the red.

Week spent in B'lore, this time however, not on endless primary research runs, but meeting the new client and getting a first-hand account of their processes. The assignment, to find scope as we go along, and a long one at that, six months. Looked at a few service-apartments to call home for the duration. Dunno how this fly-back thing every weekend is gonna work, guess having that aiplane smell in your clothes is when you call yourself a consultant? Am guessing its more when I can claim to reel off every strategy framework/matrix/pyramid/4D hexagonal holographic analyzer that there is. Have two books on the immediate agenda; Re-engineering the Corporation - Michael Hammer/James Champy and Better Change - PWC. Of course, they come a distant 2nd/3rd to finishing the contractions of shoulder muscles by mythological persons called Atlas.

For now, four days of happy diwali!

p.s: The title is apparently a Kannada blockbuster from the 70's starring the inimitable Rajkumar as regaled to us by our driver as we navigated the parking lots that are B'lore's roads.

stoned

finishing up with final report for client...4.25am...i want my mummmmmy.... :(

man overboard!

Its just one of those days. Nothing untoward about it. The usual grind, except that some days the word gets a l'il too literal. Fragmented thoughts. Thinking about the work deliverable while trying to concentrate on the training assignment on hand. Tying up the loose ends on the current assignment. Also the new assignment starting up and the related trip. Not forming a complete thought at any stage, whizzing between all the sundries, without a momentary pause. The mind, wearing down as each blurred thought ends in a cul-de-sac, then restarts, wheels spinning, a tortured engine being made to roar and then brought to a crunching halt, asked to reverse direction. making rasping protests about the pointlessness of the demands being made. In the backdrop of all the tumult...the wisp of the thought that its all momentary...that what really matters is there...reassuringly so...and you know how central this person is... to your functioning...your sanity...your life...

spurt

Almost been a week since I last posted. Not that I've ever been religious about posting my own brand of balderdash online. Read an article a fortnight or so ago in TOI about how there were approximately 3 million posts added every second to blogosphere. This article was about how the web let the unitiated and the clueless post their half-baked and mostly ludicrous opinions online, overwhelming, with sheer numbers, all credible sources of information (the use of the word 'information' immediately excused my scribbles from the maligned pack :). True that there lies a potential for misuse of 'free-speech' by lets say paid bloggers extolling the virtues of products that while packaged to appear like cars/consumer durables/electronic items are in reality round, yellow and sour...namely lemons.

Thats not to say that .coms with a reputation for candid reviews don't sell their souls. cnet.com being one such example, up until a couple of years ago that site would be my go-to for reviews on any new laptop/cell phone/thingamajig. Then it went through a revamp post-broadband where the site was suddenly only about ads in streaming video that played inexorably before taking you to the contents. The real-estate on the site too went through major overhauls with sponsor logos sliding and pirouetting all over the place. The reviews started to get suspect when a couple of laptops I'd seen in action and knew to be expensive paper-weights (and extremely weighty ones at that) were rated as 'Outstanding' with the 'Editor's Choice' accreditation and everything while some very decent models were panned. Today, you see prominent 'Advertisement' panels with makers like Dell and HP right under articles called 'Cnets top ten laptops'...and they're not lying, they are certainly their top ten. Only means more work for the likes of me when it comes to tft-matrix-shopping (as opposed to window) shopping for the latest 9MP reality-captured-breathtakingly-onto-screen monster from Canon(oh yeah...)/Nikon(umm..ok...am listening)/Sony(yeah right!)

Damn! so much keyboard diarrhoea...must be the hangover from singing along to 'chubte kaaten yaadon ke...daaman se...chunta hoon...' in the car on my way home yesterday...god bless ipods and audio-in jacks in car stereos...

meter down...stay down

you see them all the time...mostly in bunches at strategic locations...sometimes the odd solitary ones in the far reaches. fairly docile...non-threatening.. until you do the unspeakable. and you dont necessarily realise the folly of your ways at first. coz they maintain that laid-back demeanour...positively sopophoric. then you approach a crossroads...not the figurative, but the literal kind. they sidle up...on either side...sorta the precursor to the pincer move made popular by the...umm...pincers?

so they're on either side...and the caravan..like some smoke-belching millipede inches forward...its legs rippling forward in sequential movement. but there's something not quite right...the distance on either side seems to've diminished. you do some quick mental math involving some extrapolation and it doesn't compute...three bodies can't occupy the same space at the same time...unless...thats when it occurs to you...you look at their sides...scarred...fissured...beaten tin foil has better finish..and you think of the mirrored polished mirror-like feel...the sculpted jewel headlamps. you sense the complete disregard...the stony gaze tells you that here is something to be feared...something with nothing to lose...and coz you can't even bear the thought of seeing those scars on your beloved...

so you apply pressure with your right ankle...followed by your left...your left hand follows...you downshift..and let them squeeze by...frikkin' cabbies!

Naggon motherships and spaceman Spiff

1. A voice cackles in his radio. "Enemy Fighters at two o'clock". The taciturn response "Roger, What should i do until then?"

2. The valiant spaceman Spiff is led by his captors to a secret dungeon to be debriefed. Little do they realize that our hero doesn't wear briefs *evil smirk*

3. Looking at his dinner..."Can i have a different plate mom?, somebody puked on mine"

4. "Life should be like TV. All problems should be solved in 30 minutes with simple homilies. Weight and oral hygiene should be the biggest concerns. We should all have powerful, high-paying jobs and fancy sports cars. Women should alwayswear tight clothes and men should carry powerful handguns. Life overall should bemore glamourous, thrill-packed, and filled with applause"....*deep thought*..."Of course,if life was really like that, what would we watch on TV?!"

and the biggest pearl of wisdom...

5. "There's never enough time to do all the nothing you want...

Every now and again, I dip into voluminous tomes of knowledge to extract life-lessons...and rarely do you come across as many as in this work of excellence..."The Calvin and Hobbes Lazy Sunday Book". Thanks S. Been a long time since I laughed this hard while flipping pages, except when leafing through brochures at the Honda showroom and looking at EMIs payable.

Been an eventful week what with Navratri and all the associated joys of loudspeakers and loud gujju music accompanied with hundreds of gaudily dressed individuals jostling shoulder-to-shoulder moving in some semblance of rhythm to the pious tunes of "Thandi hawa bhi khilaaf Sasuri..." . Of course, it can't all be song and dance, so there was my first major presentation to the president of HR. Also, I now have my own hunk of metal to contribute to all the greenhouse gases and global toasting (no, not a honda, but from the quintessential indo-jap small-car maker...the swift. Will undoubtedly have more to say about it once I've had the chance to do more than use it as temporary accomodation while idling in traffic. And if things go completely awry (read: if S has her way), might even end up with a name for it.

For now, gotta go get started on that electrified barbed wire fence made of titanium alloy around my ride...

bulwark: support, buttress, mainstay

Earlier this week India were in a position that the 'experts' announced to be 'back-to-the-wall' with two must-win games in order to qualify for the finals of the DLF cup. Lot of hoopla about the tremendous pressure of the knock-out games. But doesnt it automatically follow from losing league games that you aren't good enough to actually win the tournament?

I was blissfully unaware of all of this (shocks you to know i don't follow every ball bowled, live and in repeat telecast?, i'm weird that way. will wake up at 4am to catch an ashes test match but can't be bothered by the formulaic one-days we're usually involved in) when a member of our office staff came to the client's office i was at to drop off some documents and mentioned nonchalantly that we were sixty odd for five. Piqued my curiosity enough to have a look at the score-card. #10 was out there with one of the young turks. Treating it as a 'set-piece' as they call it in soccer, I just wondered how he'd deal with it. Said to myself that here was a challenge. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't thinking that his aura depended on his scoring a big hundred in this situation. I've spent too much time playing this game to know that there are too many factors not in your control that determine your performance. But I was certainly willing him on to take charge and to control the innings to get the most out of the lower order. Later saw that we'd ended at 160 odd and he'd scored 40% of the runs (he has on average scored that amount of the teams runs over the duration of his career) and been runout at the non-striker's end in the most unfortunate circumstance (ball deflecting off the bowler's hand after a straight-drive from the batsman)

The point? All runs aren't created equal. Its all very well to go out there belt the bowling around when the track's hard and flat and the outfield's grease. Its when there's something in it for the second-class citizens of the game; the bowlers, the men separate themselves from the boys. Statistically speaking, the 65 won't have much of an impact on a record with more international centuries than that. He knows it. Just like the noughts won't make a dent in the averages of the likes of Sehwag, Dhoni and Yuvraj in all fifty other games they'll play this year on tracks like strips of concrete. Its that willingness to dig in and play what might not be your natural game just so the team score can advance to something resembling respectability. Compare that to a Dhoni who came, swatted three fours and left with a swish of his brylcreemed locks...no harm done to his 'swashbuckling-attacking-batsman' image but utility to the team...zero. Sachin would get many more rave reviews by playing with complete abandon, scoring crisp and aesthetic 30s and 40s and taking what the track gives him than taking upon himself the task of keeping India in the game.

Its probably why the likes of Ponting, Mcgrath and co still rate him far above the rest donning blue...probably because they realise more than most that while there are people on the India teamsheet who can hurt them on their day, aberrations much like the vagaries of the weather that you plan for by carrying an umbrella, there is only one true opponent that they need to fear, the guy who's willing to look ungainly in defense on two-paced pitches (and therefore leave himself open to being 'expertly' dissected by the 'experts' on how age is having a say about his reflexes) only to make sure that his team bats that much longer to score those additional dozen runs that might make all the difference. They know they're not up against a batsman, but a cricketer. They know India's (only true) Batting Mainstay is a worthy opponent, whether in form or out of it.

Religion: None

One man somewhere quoted something, and in another part of the world, a woman was shot dead. No telling how many more will be by the time the whole 'the pope dissed islam' fiasco blows over. Now, this is the kind of thing, my brain cells would steer waaaay clear of...by that I mean anything to do with the R word. Now, I'm way underqualified in terms of ability to comment but wasn't the whole point of religion to help us humans deal with the insecurities and other associated crap that comes from being..well...human?! I reckon that its caused more problems than it ever addressed. And for those who're puffing out your righteous cheeks to say how its the infinitesimally minor delinquent element that ruins it for the rest of us, you haven't seen mobs of seemingly 'normal' people pelt rocks at an apartment building with a name that could've been mentioned in certain holy books. Nor have you seen the landscape dotted with bonfires, except that those are homes that have been set fire to by their neighbours. And when you see a girl barely in her teens running as fast as she can with her l'il bro in tow, with blood streaming from her nose, the sheer terror in her face only too apparent, you just wonder if being pagan barbarians might actually be an improvement.

bear eats packer!

Over the weekend and the early part of the week, Roger Federer won the US Open...ya thats a surprise, Australia beat WI in cricket...yaaaawn and the Chicago Bears beat the Green Bay Packers...yeah ok WHAT?!

Since images of the game from North America called football that's played by clutching the footlong seed-shaped 'ball' in your hands aren't beamed to tubes this side of the equator, online sources of information would have me believe that the motley bunch from the windy city blanked the green and gold packers (26-0). with number 4 as their QB! in Lambeau Field (Packer stronghold in the heart of Green Bay)! Holy mother of ###!

A team that had trouble getting on the board did that to a team that had for all of the last decade, beat them with disdain! Something's not right with the world! Brett Favre (the #4) suffered his first shutout in his decade long career. (This is the guy that appears in 'There's something about Mary' right at the very end as Miss Diaz's long lost love).

Ok, for some perspective, imagine Kenya coming to India, beating India in the Chinnaswamy with jammy at the helm...yeah...its like that...except unlikelier

The throwback to Monday night primetime sports television reminds me what a seamlessl marriage entertainment and professional sports have in the US. There are mainly three major sports with varying popularity depending on the state you're in; Basketball, Baseball and Football. The season for each scheduled so they clash with the other. In fact, one starts up just when the other reaches its 'World Championship' climax. The duration and formats tuned to perfection to last just long enough to hold the user's attention with the right number of commercial breaks (mainly to give you a chance to do precisely two things: take a restroom break, refill on beer + assorted high-carb deep-fried snacks) The networks have programmed the average american so well, that it was discussed in consumer behaviour class how the water levels in any given city tank show a step-function decrease, each coinciding with commercial breaks in the middle of a game. Of course...not the best news for the companies pumping in millions to buy those ad-spots. If you happen to be at one of these games, there's freebie give-aways, lucky seat no. draws and aaah...the cheerleaders.

Compare that to the experience of watching the likes of Mohinder Amarnath and Maninder Singh babble away about "aur ye shaandar shaat...cccchar run!" interspersed with vajradanti ads that ensure you return to live coverage to see one team celebrating, what, you can catch that in the papers the next day. Of course, then there's the pre-game shows with Mandira Bedi and more nauseating nonsense. But then you decide to catch the action yourself and you're faced with queues lasting 3-4 hours as they frisk you for that safety pin that you might use to hold the stadium full of 40,000 people hostage. Not to mention large uncovered sections of concrete that serve as seats for the majority.

The difference simply lies in power of the 'supplier' versus that of the 'buyer'. Like the guest speaker in Advertising class said "Am sure all cricket-lovers hated the world-cup coverage, but we knew you had to come to us, we're a monopoly". If abc started showing '51 ways to bliss with origami' before a football game, the people would just load their 4X4s and go camping...

My Music

One man come in the name of love
One man come and go
One man come, he to justify
One man to overthrow

In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love

One man caught on a barbed wire fence
One man he resist
One man washed on an empty beach
One man betrayed with a kiss

In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love

Early morning, April 4th
Shot rings out in the Memphis sky
Free at last, they took your life
They could not take your pride

In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love
In the name of love
What more in the name of love...

One song that's unfailingly sent the adrenaline or whatever chemicals cause your blood to course through your body at a slightly faster-than-usual rate. What's missing in the typed rendition of the song is the voice that can only be Bono and the humming at the end of it, that's well, ethereal.

People talk about their taste in music by reeling off genres, Progressive-Alternative-Punk-HipHop-Reggae-SleazeFest-DisguisedPorn etc. Ok, the last two might not be actual genres, but when you rely more on the visual than the sound to identify music..you gotta give them different names.

I've never really known what my genres are, just that certain songs and bands I could listen to for hours on end, some as interesting background scores as I labour through assignments/work, mainly anything remotely productive, some to rouse from semi-comatose states resulting from excessive amounts of sleep-deprivation or alcohol or both. And yeah, sometimes just to let the vibrations coming off the windows and other assorted paraphernalia wash over you...therapeutic almost.

So, there's the above mentioned band that created this masterpiece in tribute to Martin Luther King except that they've acknowledged how the line should be Early evening, April 4th since thats when he was assassinated. It doesn't stop there though, how they managed to capture the most powerful emotions that us humans can possibly experience onto thin discs of highly fragile material, is beyond comprehension. (U2)

And then there's the band that was the stereotypical rock band of the 70s. Alcohol, Drugs, infamous backstage 'groupie nights'. When it was almost like an honour badge to have members of your band hospitalised with alcohol poisoning and drug overdoses. But to be at your peak, and then to lose one member to the above and having your drummer lose an arm in an accident would finish off most bands. This one not only came back stronger, they also stuck with the same drummer! The movie on their story shows how an emotional band took the stage on their comeback tour and then proceeded the rock the daylights out of the crowd. (Def Leppard)

There are other bands, brilliant ones, with sensational songs...here's my top ten..or what i can think of at this moment:

10. Ye hai meri kahaani - Strings
9. Brilliant Disguise - Bruce Springsteen
8. Coming back to life - Pink Floyd
7. Deuces are wild - Aerosmith
6. Vindicated - Dashboard Confessionals
5. Bad - U2
4. When love and hate collide - Def Leppard
3. Hysteria - Def Leppard
2. Where the streets have no name - U2
1. Pride (In the name of love) - U2

inhale

Bright sunshine. Fresh-cut grass. Not the noon kinda bright where you sense that trickle of sweat run down your armpit into the waistband of your trousers. This is more the early evening sunlight that's not quite as hot. Then there's the expanse of green, not lush or gently billowing in the breeze...but more the index length tufty kind thats spread evenly across a clear tract of land, preferably oval in shape. And the rhythmic thuds...spaced evenly...going from soft thuds to distinctly crunchy as the spikes find gravel ending in a muffled grunt. This followed by a solid wooden sound, not dull, more like a bullet leaving the muzzle of a long bore rifle. One of the simple pleasures of life...missing that quite desperately in this city that seems to only look for excuses to f*** up its already clogged roads with ridiculous processions that are an assault on the senses and yes...sensibility.

Had a full week with the new engagement starting up (meant less in a matrimonial context than in an armed combat sense). This is the one that's been on the anvil for almost a month now, but it happened when I was being asked to *gasp* model in the financial sense for my first project. This one's more process-related and hence involves lots of talking to people and also listening. Whole bunch of interviews, some gyaan-giving to the newbie, some '   excel'ing to manage project plans and the week's whizzed by.

Caught up with one of the brethren from G6, impromptu plan...couple of drinks at the Sports Bar, burgers at McD and scoops of chocolate, the malted fudge and bavarian kind...ideal combination I think. Updates on whats been happening since last we met and how things have been since the days we overtipped the B&C staff after having exhausted their tequila supplies. Wonder when all the members will be available at the same time for a good ol' binge and completely nonsensical bantering.

Right-arm swing with some seam, Right-hand top/middle-order bat, Hair Bands, Booze with buddies...that's what i'm talking about...

perspire and grow thin

Just when it felt like life was mostly about scratched bumper to scratched bumper traffic and the endless 'religiously approved' traffic snarls with bunches of people going into epileptic fits of ecstacy accompanied by 15000 watts and jet-engine decibel music. The only distinction between those scenes and any seedy dance bar being the idol in tow that supposedly makes the whole exercise a worthy one. Bloody annoying if nothing else.

Coming back to the point, had the firm's annual 'offsite' gathering in Lonavla this weekend. So brilliantly located is this resort 'Upper Deck' (www.upperdeckresort.com), that you can't complete the last leg of the journey in your own vehicles but have to get into the resort's four-wheeled Scorpios to get up the stream-bed that doubles as the 'off the beaten path' path. The discomfort of the bone-jarring ride up the slope disappeared the moment the vehicle rounded the final turn. It was that orgasmic feeling you get when you bite into a morsel of minced lamb with sauteed onions where the flavors seem to explode in your mouth. except, it was all visual...the term panoramic has seldom been as breathtakingly justified as that view did. Miles and miles of rolling green hills, not so steep as to look threatening, all covered with what looked like a velvet green tablecloth with the odd outcropping of trees. The glint of reflected sunlight made you wonder if there were ropes of tiny diamonds hanging in different places, mini-waterfalls created as a result of the monsoons. If ever there's been a risk of moi lapsing into ridiculous poetry, this was it.

Fairly chilled out weekend with table-tennis sessions, long breakfast/lunch/dinner sessions with lotsa anecdotes, gyaan sessions, treasure hunts and the awards for the year being handed out to be followed by loud music and dancing...oh haan..and booze..kinda slipped my mind there...

the three kinds

Having been an inhabitant of the blogosphere for over a year now, I reckon I’ve been around. The idea of maintaining a 'private' diary that the whole world had access to had me non-plussed at first. But then I realised that what I had to say about stuff, however inane, was not very different from what I didn't mind being read by the 3-4 people that would eventually visit my blog. Ramblings aside, there are some distinct types of blogs or rather bloggers you come across. My B-school education spurs me to give these categories names like "Blue-blooded Factualists", "Keyboard diarrhea verbosers" and so on but I'll show restraint.

So there are three kinds i reckon, the ones who started the whole thing called blogging by penning down their opinions and giving other information quite religiously. The information on such blogs is well-researched, more importantly, well presented and very often updated. They usually tell it like it is with scant obfuscation with personal (often vitriolic) opinions. Dependable, thats the word.

Second are those that essentially have no rhyme or reason for their existence. They often get laughably predictable in their effort to be politically incorrect. The odd post might strike a chord here and there but don't count on it. The blog is just an extension of the hare-brained thought processes of slightly twisted minds.

And finally, those that are essentially like marketing tools. Except they're selling themselves, to who?..well f*** knows! Reams and reams of print about some profound insight into humanity and relationships while all they're trying to say is how they epitomise all that's good on this planet. How they opened their hearts and emptied their bank accounts for a noble cause..sniff sniff...how quaint...jeez...talk about putting in your application for sainthood by proxy.

But then, if you've nothing better to do than try to tap into the thought processes of people you hardly know...nothing like it :)

p.s: such pseudo-intellectual gibberish can only qualify this one for that 2nd type i guess :)

hole sale

My longest break by far since making the move to the new job. Three whole days...courtesy the firm moving our customary third saturday off to this monday. I certainly am not complaining, atleast not till saturday. The weekend's been mostly relaxing with the expenditure of some quality time. S, counting the cd and the Gary Larson and C&H, I won't complain if you make it a weekly thing to give me cool stuff :)
We're in the home-stretch of my first assignment. Had what was essentially the presentation of our recommendations on friday, went well, I think. The sixty-four million dollar question I suppose will always be whether you've come up with anything that they wouldn't have thought of anyway. Don't want to overanalyze something I have scant knowledge about, so there'll be more posts once I reckon to have a surer hang of things. Will be starting on a new assignment tomorrow, will know more after the first meeting with clients.

Considering to-dos form a large part of my life these days, thought I should list some of 'em important ones...

Things I need to do in the near-ish future:

1. Figure out the business of management consulting...as in really figure it out


2. Get back to working out...regularly (this one's been part of other lists in the past...but this time I have 35 lbs of metal and two bars to vouch for me)


3. Get a half-decent car


4. Stake out agreeable residential localities in the city...no..not for potential targets to satisfy carnal desires or serial-killer tendencies but for actual places i'd like to live in


5. Read the three books I recently got (from that l'il basement store called 'The Bookworm' in a side-street in B'lore, faint mustiness and arrays of yellowed books...quite surreal)

kinky in the boardroom

Ok, so tying a thin strip of fabric (mostly silk) around my neck, with a neat knot (well, mostly and no...we're not talkin' S&M here..well not yet) with the end dangling under my chin, every day of the work week isn't exactly my idea of fun. The hour long commute each way isn't that flash either. Nor is wearing three layers with this city's humidity levels..(when one is one too many).. every once in a while because apparently, the additional layer automatically implies 'wisdom' and 'great analytical ability' and 'a huuuuuuge....ok well maybe thats tougher to imply...ford's done a better job describing the garment that endows you...Butt...and am talking one of those that make you want to reach out...and...well squeeze!...telling the top management of a company about how they should be running their organization...in their boardroom..oak-panelled walls et al...listing out a slew of things they should do/change/desist to maximize shareholder value (and believe it or not...thats not sarcasm!)...yup....thats not stuff you put on your regular weekly status report in your regular information technology services company with regular growth rates in triple figures before boarding the regular bus that takes you back to civilization. Yup...I think I could get used to that...

hurtle

First week of the month whistled by before I could even puff out my cheeks to throw a tantrum about not getting my coveted b'day gift...Ok, so maybe...just maybe, it isn't the most practical of demands to want a german-engineered high performance luxury coupe..K, S, S and V...u guys have been marked...u know why...Got back from my stint of primary research in the two southern metros...meeting umpteen organizations and some fairly senior folk in them...in some cases...THE senior person. Some insightful...some ho-hum. Got back to pressing deadlines...vada-pavs and strategy meetings...and a positively scrumptious chocolate cake delivered to office by a fittingly named "Just Temptations". Oh yeah..and also my first full-month's paycheck! after a veeery long time. Not having my bank accounts updated in the office records meant that it was a check in the literal sense and I actually had a time recalling how one goes about depositing money into an account! Halfway through the working weekend and wondering what the hell happened to the plan of scouting for a gym...getting a new phone...getting a haircut...in that order! Ok..now that the 'being a prima donna' is done with...i should get back to accomplishing things...like taking a shower for instance...A pause in the headlong rush...

what's that smell?

the fair question would be "who's that smell?!" yeah...that's what probably caused the president of the United States (Harrison Ford, yeah the real one..not Dubya) to toss the evil dude(he spoke english with a middle-eastern accent...duh!) off Airforce One after he said "Get off my plane..." So here you are, about 170 odd of you...packed like sardines in a can...the flight's delayed by the regulation 15 mins (they might as well write "departure time: 20.05 std deviation 15 mins"), been in the air for an hour during which everyone's partaken of dinner (the only reason am not making fun of the meal is the recall of the pathetic bags of peanuts/pretzels that airlines in the US hurl at you)...and then ...yup...you guessed it...someone farts. and you realize how helpless you truly are...strapped into the window seat next to a guy who really should be paying for two tickets considering the amount of space the two of them occupy...yeah..him and his protruding belly! am sure it must be the kind of thing they teach in the advanced levels of 'Torture 601' in the clandestine training rooms of the KGB or the Mossad or such arcane (but equally ruthless) organizations. your primeval survival instincts kick in and you press your face to the 'window' for some fresh air but then the plexi-glass presses back mockingly. so you do nothing but let it all dissipate into the air to be regurgitated by the air conditioning. finally you land, and you wonder how a flight thats supposed to take a l'il over an hour took almost three to get you to your destination....frikkin' air-traffic!

but its nice to be home...wouldn't even think it'd be a big deal, but then after a week and a half of incessant driving about in b'lore and chennai...it does feel nice...sigh. had read a news item a couple of years ago about how a car thief pulled a job on a swank sedan parked on a tokyo street at 7am only to be arrested 2 hours later in a traffic snarl 300 yards away...bangalore's not like that...he'd be about 100 yards away here. and chennai...barrelling down the wrong way on busy streets because the auto-driver decided to save some time, cutting in front of buses that don't look like they're used to being treated like that and millimeter precision so you're vehicle is exactly two coats of paint away from the belching exhaust of a truck...quite an art i think. serves me right for skipping the car on offer thinking it'd be quicker this way. am starting to have more and more respect for b'bay's traffic!

oh yeah...and happy b'day to me

p.s: the title is actually three doors down...cool song too...

keep your hands where i can see them

An airport lounge: You're waiting for your boarding call. In the meantime, you find a seat and read your copy of The Financial Times...ok ok...comics section HT. And you sense more than see it. They're looking over your shoulder, reading what you are. You turn the page thinking they'll get the hint. After all they are available on the rack just ten feet away...and free too. But they keep looking...keep reading...

A phone-booth: You're in it, the door doesn't close completely, but that's ok.You're not discussing state secrets, just going about your business. This other person, looks like they intend to use the next booth, having nothing to do with you. But then, they pause outside the booth, pretending to be looking intently into that shop-window across the street, while their ears strain to catch your conversation. You find that every time you step into a phone booth, they are there. The shop windows across the street can't all be that interesting.

A hotel room: No, not a porn scene. Just your temporary station in some random city. You leave every day to go about your business, thankful for the small mercies called room service. Every evening you return, and you notice that you're stuff's not quite the same way it was when you left. You check, nothing's missing. Next day, same thing, everything's been disturbed, rifled through. So, its not your pseudo-expensive gadget collection they're after. Then what is it?!

yes...some people are just that annoying...

Let it rip...Let it Thunder!

Term 3 and one of the courses was about "...the practice of starting new organizations, particularly new businesses. It is often a difficult undertaking, as a majority of new businesses fail.". While the course entailed studies on how enterprising individuals brought enterprising business ideas to fruition with a lot guts, dedication and the odd sliver of luck, was a yawn-fest for me. The amount of work that seemed to be require to setup a business, that might or might not at some distant point in the future reap you loads of moolah on which to retire on and to buy your island in the carribean seemed, well too much. But then, I find the effort required to lean over and procure the remote control to change the documentary on grass-growing in the prairies on nat geo rather too much effort. Ideas of bootstrapping and starting small, to spend the VC's money like you were drawing blood were all fine, but the concept of reducing something as abstract as entrepreneurship to a few checklists and methodologies seemed kinda ridiculous. Add to the fact that every venture seemed to be nothing more than a means to germinate an ingenious idea, nurture it through the early years and just when it promises a lot of potential, cash out to someone who actually likes to run business. Seemed too much about making that quick buck to me. Coz, lets face it, more than generating a bunch of ideas and convincing some fat cats to part with dollops of money, its the actual successful running of an organization that takes managerial brio.

Wild-eyed ravings aside, got an insight into the genesis of our firm today, about how things started up and how they graduated from one stage to the next. The discussion about what it took to start and run a professional service firm and how the decisions sometimes was choosing between whether to buy your third laptop or make that trip to Venice to pitch to a prospective client. The amount of thought that went into deciding on what was core to the firm, what kind of work wouldn't you do or how would you ensure that the fresh-faced B-school grads imbibed what the firm was about and accordingly portray it to the clients they worked with was mind-boggling. The decision to scale up from five to twenty and thence(thats a word right?) to fifty, taken after a lots of deliberation while the conglomerates of the world hire that many roughly every fifteen minutes. Its a revelation to know that there are individuals who, day-in day-out, apply their faculties these tasks. So, whats with the disconnect between the first and second paragraphs? I was paying attention this time, for one thing. And yeah...hearing the history of such a firm unfurl...makes you want to be part of the start of something...big. So...let it rip...let it thunder!

The Showdown

Most people who throw threats or insults my way find it to be a frustrating experience because they never stimulate responses. Mainly because I'm too lazy to...However, when people start questioning...nay..mocking fundamental tenets of life on this planet..then someone's gotta take a stand! So, in continuation with my previous post...and not in continuation with the rantings and ravings of the zealous fanatics (who sometimes do not stop to question what it is that they believe in so fervently)...a rather objective (mostly) comparison of certain key aspects of being a superhero.

Category	Spider-Man						Superman
Genesis	Regular bloke...irradiated spider...changes that didn't seem like powers at first...Spider-Man!						Different species...what powers?! On Krypton he'd be...just another guy!
Costume	Form-fitting...black web pattern on red and blue...masked face...covered eyes...an actual costume						Red underwear over tights...yes tights..nothing for the face...hmmm...quite a disguise
Love Interest	Mary Jane Watson-Parker: Known Peter for years...likes the super alter-ego...has always loved the man himself.						Lois Lane: Has worked with Kent for years, treats him with disdain...orgasms for him in tights...the word 'shallow' comes to mind? fooled by the different hairdo...bright too apparently
Weakness	Loses powers when self-belief wanes...depends on himself to get it back						Green rocks from home, can do jack in their presence
Bottomline	Powers don't make you super, character does Sharp objects and bullets...hurt Rural America better find another hero (tall buildings a must for web-slinging)						You're not from around here...automatically makes you special Flight, X-ray vision, Immense power...must be a stretch beating up on others Wear underwear outside to prevent accidental wedgies

For the initiated...here's a list of some actual superheroes...With Great Power

Bring it on...

Part them and feel my finger tips...

So it was Shrek 2 and Spiderman 2 on Star Movies and HBO respectively and however cute the former might've been, with me, the latter wins...hands down. Inspite of the logical argument that one might make that I have watched the second movie atleast half a dozen times and also own the dvd of the same, it still turns out that I watch it...again..commercial breaks and everything! And unless 'one' wants to get hit around some, they will not be making more logical arguments. Like I've said more than once..."Do not get logical with me....!!" It falls into that category that I don't seem to mind doing, time and again (ok, so there are certain obvious things we all like to do...over and over and over...you get the picture). The Godfather, Kane and Abel, The Fourth Protocol, Dil Chahta Hai, U2, I never seem to grow out of. Ok, so, it probably doesn't help that I don't seem to grow up, at all, but then I somehow don't seem to have the urge to line-up my matchbox cars and have a demolition derby or experiment lighting a match to the open nozzle of room freshner...

Juvenile delinquencies aside, this movie is awesome for several reasons...not least of those...Mary-Jane Watson, damn she's cute! I mean, how cool is it that there's this girl who you like...who likes you...and yes, once you've brushed the awkwardness aside, you get to say..."oh by the way...check this out" as you 'accidentally' bump into a lamp post to leave it askew. Granted that a senile scientist with an ample waistline on metallic stilts isn't exactly a sight to send shivers up your spine, but then the sequence on the train is a worthy action-scene. The piece de resistance of course is when its all done and Octavius has realized that he's just not cool enough to deserve a place in the rougues hall of fame and leaps into the river and spidey, mask off, turns around, to that look of realization on Ms Watson's face. That, and the final scene where she says "Isn't it about time someone saved your life" and they kiss for the first time (technically second), sirens go off in the background. Spidey looks toward them, hesitates, look back at her and she says with a smile "Go get'em tiger..."

And if none of that does anything for you...you can't possibly walk away from one of most amazing movie soundtracks in a long time...two of the best...

"Vindicated" - Dashboard Confessional

"Hero" - Nickelback

p.s: was subjected to 'Superman Returns' last weekend...the superhero with the baby face and the ridiculous wisp of curled locks on his forehead...seriously...Spidey would kick his butt easy...but having seen this Superman, think he'd only like that...you know what i mean...and if you're thinking the title of the post is lewd, read the lyrics above...and stop being a perv! ;)