Thursday, January 25, 2007


Kitne malaal-e-peer mar chale
Kitni khushiyan jee uthin hain
Khatir kiske zubaan muztarib
Khwab mein kiske zehen girift hai
(When grief dies of old age, 
replaced by new-born joy...
for whom I wait anxiously,
of whom are dreams slaves?)

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

They're coming!

A little boy had a dream one night. Two Gods visited and said he was going to be an Angel soon, if only he behaved from now till the Valentine's day and memorized his prayers and read the Holy Book daily. He woke up in the morning to find he was still a shepherd's kid that he was. The same old goats he'd been tending to for 5 years were bleating outside, pleading to be taken to the lush green farmlands. After all, there was so much of delicious greens to be grazed in there, and the goats, who had no idea that soon they would be delicious mutton, wanted to have it all.

Well, the little boy picked up the phone and called Gods' messengers and re-confirmed that the deal was on on both sides.

Msgr: (over crackling long-distance line) Have no doubt! There are some hundred prayers to be internalized and there is a religion to be assimilated. And then you win yourself the cloud #1.

Sboy: I don't believe in God, but I don't believe in goats either, and I don't believe in mutton for sure. Can I maybe switchover to milking cows... I hear there is money to be made in dairy.

Msgr: All hell shall break loose on you, boy, if you don't try to be an Angel. To try and fail would be pardoned though. Now, now, don't you find those feathers that come with Angelhood rather nice?

Sboy: Umm, yes. Will I get to play too among the clouds, and... you know... those heavenly beauties?

Msgr: Take your pick, lad. We believe in work-life balance.

Sboy: Awesome, I should start the first prayer then... Pratham Patit, Paap Punya harit...

Days passed... the boy had managed thirteen prayers and only half the holy book in preparation of Angelhood. The goats had all run out to feed themselves and escaped fated muttonhood. His luck in the milking cow business had run dry for good. Then came the Valentine's day... and he ran into the woods.

Shouting "They're coming, they're coming!"

Monday, January 15, 2007

ISB Radio - Compare

We play good songs for the junta and play the guitar at ISB Radio for the media. Sample these media clips:



Times NOW:

And then, compare all the above guitar playing to this. If I ever see this guy in my life, I will be willing to let him make love to me.

Winning over watching over me

It is not easy and it was not easy in the beginning. The stupid little black kitten kept jumping around smiling, grinning, giggling, laughing her guts out, and always managing to stay just out of reach. Seemed like a wild goose chase, only difference I wasn't even sure I was the hunter, and before long I was out of that jungle and into another one - ISB. Later that year, I tested waters and found it freezing cold. Then one day, the geyser switched on suddenly and the cat jumped in and started splashing around with the tiny toys in the bathtub. The water is health-spring lukewarm now, and it feels good that as I watch over someone, someone's watching over me.
Blah... it's impossible to encode bare facts. I am sure even a Christ College grad can figure this one out.
In other news, placements are on. Have BCG in the kitty besides having the kitten in the kitty. Life is coming back to life.

Monday, January 01, 2007

New New Year

It's been long. I'd tell you why if you were me...

I've got to extract my pound of flesh from 2007. 2006 was a mixed blessing. Failures dressed up gaudily like successes, which in turn wore a shabby torn bloody orange tee-shirt with the devil on it. ISB Rocks! People here came to know me finally as that other guy who was a commodity guitarist at the 'Five year celebration'. My relatives are now proud of me for showing up on T.V. and advising the Prime Minister himself on policy changes. Watch:

All I really did was to blurt out the only idea I had learnt well in the Government, Society, Business (GSBC) course... (Blah to the media, fie on glossification).

I glossified my resume to a point where the important details of what I did are nicely obscured by dollar figures and action verbs. When I sat down to undo the (c)harm from the CV, brought on over the last 2 months under the effect of boastful self and helpful peers and alums, I found there was absolutely no value in it left for a telecom company, say, Cisco, where I can very well end up given the scheme of things. Placements are on... placements are on me. I am under placements, and if it was meant to be a good place, it's perfect placement.

Bangalore, the crazy city doesn't leave me... I am not done with you yet, Richmond, Brigade, Koramangala. I will be back. Need I? I undid the harm. What remains is what survived and what died was... aborted, loosely. Happiness all around and joy to the world, the Lord has come! I played the guitar with the Carol group as we went from student village to student village on eve before the eve before Christmas eve, singing.

It was nice to have so many alums come down around Christmas for Solstice and tell us something we all wanted to hear about the funny way fate starts behaving around now each year at ISB "You're not the only one. We've seen it too. This too shall pass. You will get a job. You will like your job or you'll find another one." Yeah, we have it in us! Or rather we have it on us... the ISB brand that is, and we shall overcome, we shall overcome, we shall overcome, one week.

I read this and see a divide between my positive and negative sides. Every one around me who has kept me uncomplicated enough, thank you and have a great year ahead!