New Year Greetings

This photograph was taken by me, and then manipulated with Picasa and MS Paint :)

The EXIF details of the original image are:
Camera: Canon PowerShot A80
Focal length: 7.8mm
Exposure time: 1s
Aperture: f/8.0

The Barfing Ladies and other Short Stories

The company I work for is located in this distant suburb of Bangalore called 'Electronics City' commonly abbed 'EC'. A pretty trite name, I must say. But then, this is where some of the top Indian IT organisations are located. I am one of those thousands of worker ants trudging over to this place, every morning, on the single major road that connects it to the city: Hosur Road.

Personally, my trudging is done in the relative comfort of my car, but still very much a part of the sea of humanity that surges ECwise in the mornings. With just two lanes in each direction, the drive to and from EC is actually an intellectually engaging, and thrilling activity. One must constantly be aware of where the city and private buses tend to stop on the left lane, and where the intersections are (which tend to slow the right lane down). And add to this people and the occasional cows/buffalos crossing the road, and shoulders with random undulating pits in them, you have the makings of an excellent game for Playstation: On the lines of Formula Racing games, with a name like "Hosur Road X1", it's bound to be a hit. There always something interesting to observe, every morning and evening on these commutes. Here, I have chronicled some of the sights that have registered in my mind.

The Barfing Ladies.

What a great way to start your morning: the sight of women barfing endlessly out of bus windows. On one occasion, this was one of those ubiquitous rickety private buses that regularly ply on Hosur Road, with photos of famous actresses on their rear windows. This woman passenger, who obviously had had something that didn't quite agree with her constitution was busy purging her contents in instalments. And she had caused something that is normally unimaginable on Hosur Road - people in bikes and cars kept a respectful distance from the side of bus she had busied herself on. But traffic movement is unpredictable, and various unsuspecting people kept getting the shock of their lives when they ventured too close to this bus... I had a hard time myself, avoiding the voiding. This particular woman was like Old Faithful, very consistent in her job, and with the traffic just crawling, it was a sight to remember. I was only too glad when we got past a bottleneck and managed to get past the bus.

The Orange Fluorescent Shirt.

I often wonder about peoples' dress senses. When pressure to conform to societal norms confronts a lurking urge to break free of conventions, it often causes mental discord. But then, there are folks who have never been bothered by such a conflict. Like this guy I saw the other day, walking boldly, wearing a bright orange coloured fluorescent shirt. This guy was dark skinned, and the contrast was absolutely striking. I quietly applauded him on his choice, consciously or otherwise, to escape from normalcy and live on the wild side.

The Man on Crutches.

The other day I was heading to work amidst dense traffic. A man on crutches, and a woman with him were waiting on the roadside, wanting to cross to the other side. His face had a sense of sadness - he must have been waiting there a long time. His eyes seemed to stare into the distance, hoping for a break in the flowing traffic so he could take a few steps forward. When I saw him, I got this sudden urge to stop my car, get out, stop all other vehicles and help him... but I didn't. I'd just moved on in the flow of traffic, wishing I'd done something.

Honking/Flashing conventions.

The people who cross Hosur Road at night are actually very smart. It's usually dark, and it's difficult to see too far ahead when returning home from work in the evenings. And what with headlights of opposing traffic often on high beam, it's not easy for the eye to discern people darting across the road at night. So these people have realised that, from a distance, if I honk, or flash my light, to warn them of my approach, they actually start crossing the road confident that I've seen them and that I'll slow down for them. If I don't honk or flash my light, they're more careful and wait for me to pass. The opposite seems to work for people in vehicles waiting to cross the road. If I approach with my light flashing high and low beams, it conveys a 'don't you dare start crossing, because I'm not slowing for you' message.

This is one of those subtle tricks one learns on Hosur Road... it's a constant learning process, and there's always surprises and variety on offer.

Human Roadkill.

No matter how much you read about violence and killings happening all over the world, nothing prepares you for seeing for the first time, the sight of a crushed and mangled human body on the roadside. This was a weekend morning, and I was heading to my office to get a problem with my laptop fixed. There was relatively little traffic on the road, and as I was coasting along, I saw on the opposite side, a few police personnel standing around. As I got closer, the first thing that caught my eye was a human hand. And just that. At first, I couldn't believe that this was actually a hand even though it looked like it. Because the rest of the body was just a completely mangled mess. As I drove on, I just kept hoping that it wasn't a body I saw. My mind was overcome with a great sense of pity and anguish, and there was a weird sensation in my stomach. I felt no inclination to eat anything the rest of the day.

The next morning, I saw a small report on this in the newspaper. It was indeed a man, unidentified, who was hit and then run over by passing vehicles in the night. The sensations in my mind and body had subsided, and now I don't feel much whenever I recall this... perhaps I am now emotionally hardened.

A new handsign for 'Please'.

This is becoming increasingly common amongst cab and minibus drivers who would like to politely cut into your path, and get in front of you. The driver holds out his hand like in this image, effectively saying, I know I'm coming in from the wrong side and cutting you off, but please let me do this just once, please please. This really cushions my angry impulse of wanting to honk at him, and I actually feel flattered that this guy is requesting me to allow his transgression. I think this should get introduced into rule books across the world - it sure makes driving a nicer experience.

Akshaya - The lone tree.

Have you ever noticed this? From the Silk Board junction to the entrance of EC, there's just one tree that has survived in the road divider between the North and South-bound lanes. This is a tall healthy tree, past the Naganathapura Road junction, as you drive towards EC. I greet this tree occasionally when I drive by it in the mornings. There was a small board attached to it, pointing to some place called 'Akshaya'.

That board is now gone, but I've named the tree Akshaya. It's a pity that Akshaya may have to be cut down when the proposed highway on stilts gets constructed above the existing Hosur Road. And then, with the new highway, there won't be any Hosur Road stories such as these to tell either.

Update: I have added a new set of Hosur Road Stories here.

Back from the Bog

It's been a long time since I've written anything... I guess I've been wallowing in a morass for the last four months. Most of this wallowing has been on foreign ground: central London, mostly. And a few days in Paris. During those four months, I visited several ancient hallowed churches: at Oxford, Burford, and Salisbury in England, and the Notre Dame and Sacre Cœur in Paris. Was I secretly hoping for an ablution, perhaps?

Anyway, here I am, back in Bengalooru - the act of returning to my hometown was the abluting, after all :)

Now that the juice has started to trickle again, here are the topics I plan to write about in the coming weeks:

- The Barfing Ladies and other Short Stories: Tales from my observations and experiences on Hosur Road
- Sustained little Wishes: On the pleasures that come from altruistic indulgences
- Receiving Blessings - A How-to Guide: This may actually work in practice
- Ruhe Sanft Pranayama: This does work in practice
- The Quiet Joy of Fasting: On the subtle feelings that arise during fasting
- Introducing Mrs. and Mr. Tweedy: Any similarity to persons living is intentional ;)

Poignant Graffiti

The elevator in my apartment had been graffiti-free. No love exposed, no budding artists appreciative of the female form, pretty boring actually. But yesterday, someone had broken all rules, and had to release their pentup emotions - on the elevator door. He (presumably he) has written: girl was poison.

How striking. One can only imagine what was going on through this guy's mind. The fleeting glance which sowed love in his mind. The yearnings, the long nights of dreams and fantasies, all the desires of wanting to be united with his love... of wanting to brush her quivering red lips against his own... of wanting to embrace and feel their hearts thumping in unison...

But then suddenly reality struck. He is devastated, betrayed, and bitter. The budding love got slashed, Uma Thurman style. That fragile creation in his mind was in fragments. The sutradhara has switched on gravity and he has crashed to the floor. Whom can he share his feelings with? Who can sympathize with him, and offer solace for his grieving mind? Who else, but the residents of the floors 2,3 and 4 of my apartment block.

The Peesthala Tales

Prelude: The Peesthala, literally, is where one Pees. The following narrative requires a stretch of imagination, into a world where there's more life forms around you, than you have believed.

It's a bright and sunny morning. I have just arrived at work from my long drive. I login to my system, and proceed out to the Peesthala. My favorite - #3 from the left. I greet #3 a good morning, and she responds, winking her red eye. How was the drive? she asks. I express my wonder, Don't you ever tire of hearing my Hosur Road stories? She says, no - never darling, and winks her red eye again, now that I was done. I bid her au revoir and soon walk out, grabbing a coffee on my way back.

#3 tells me stories. The other day, she told me about this guy who came in talking on the phone, walked over to #5, and just continued talking, with the phone wedged between his head and left shoulder. #3, ever the propah Miss Manners, rolled her eyes... surely, the person on the other end of the phone could here a lot more than just voice.

There was also this story of these two guys who came in animatedly discussing some technical stuff. Just one of them walked over to #1, while the other guy stood 4 feet from him continuing their talk. #3 said she found it pretty amusing, because that guy at #1 stood there for a long time, just talking, and doing nothing else. He eventually gave up, and walked away, to some giggles from #1 and the others...

An Indian Werewolf in Paris

It's been a long time since I've posted... a lot of interesting experiences in the last one month or so. I had been to France on a 18-day visit, as an "Identity Management Consultant" for a manufacturing company headquartered in Paris.

My experience of Paris, and the French culture itself was quite exhilarating... the mind was constantly challenged to parse and comprehend all the spoken French around me - it was greatly satisfying when I could actually make sense of something that was being said. My elementary knowledge of French helped of course - but not always. I tried ordering pasta over the phone by calling a pizza shop - and this guy, after letting me speak for a few minutes describing what I need, finally said 'Sir, I do not understand you' in English.

Being a vegetarian was quite a challenge in the office cafeteria. My usual lunch was some boiled veggis, mashed potatoes, a bowl of assorted fruits, and a yogurt (my favorite: Yoplait with blackberries). At my hotel (more about that place later), I would have MTR Ready-To-Eat dishes - quite ordinary stuff, and I would often long for home food. I did dare to try different regional cuisines. One day in our cafeteria, it was all Moroccan specialities, and I found this broken wheat dish, on which one would add a veggi sauce - it was ok, but a bit on the bland side.

There was this Lebanese restaurant I found tucked away in one of the buildings near my office. Now this guy wouldn't speak English, and so I managed to convey to him that I am vegetarian, and asked if he had anything I could eat. He pointed at some green cylindrical stuff in a bowl. He described it as rice stuffed in leaves marinated in vinegar. I was hungry, so I asked him to give me that. He proceeded to place some 5-6 green cylinders in a chappati (well, it tasted like a chappati - it was a tortilla), and heated it up in a microwave, and gave it to me. It was actually good! This guy asked me if I'm a Pakistani - and I said, no I'm from India. His face immediately lighted up, and said 'Shammi Kapoor!' - he had seen some Shammi Kapoor movies long time back in Lebanon!

Then this other day, I walked into this place specializing in Crêpes - essentially pancakes, like our dosas. Here again, I explained that I am a veggi, and this lady topped the dosa with every vegetable she had. It was good - but very filling.

On the subject of food, one thing that really surprised me is the bread. It usually gets served on your table when you walk into a restaurant, with some cheese gratings on the side. In one Italian restaurant off Ave de Champs Élysées (where I spotted Leander Paes, that being the French Open tennis season), I was given this incredibly hard bread - I really needed a chisel and a hammer to make some progress with it. Who eats this stuff?!

Mineral water is a big industry here. There are so many brands, in varying prices. In this slightly classy restaurant I went to, the waiter brought me a bottle, and showed it to me, holding it in his hand like one would display wine before uncorking. I said, dude, just give me plain water - I don't want any of this fancy l'eau minerale stuff. Well, I didn't exactly say dude, but I was pretty exasperated at the thought of having to pay for water!

I was in a low-budget hotel during my stay in Paris - 'low' relatively, at 104€ per night, compared to around 200€ at other hotels nearby. The weather was rather cold when I arrived in Paris - around 5C in the night, and 15C in the day. To my surprise, I realized after I checked into this hotel that they didn't have heating! When I enquired with the reception, I was told that they were in a 'summer' mode, and would offer only cool air, but no warm air. It was pretty cold in the room. Thankfully I had taken some winter wear. So there I was, wearing thermals, pyjamas, a woollen hat, and thick socks - in my hotel room. That was a rather tough experience.

In the last few days of my stay there, it got really warm - to the lower 30s, and it became very pleasant. It was interesting to see how the people's work attire changed with the weather. The women here normally have greater variety in what they wear to work. When the temperature rose, they suddenly switched to their "summer" wear, like flowers blooming in spring. The men continued to wear their standard suits and ties, but the women, ummm let's say, got liberated :)

My hotel was very close to the Seine - and I could see the river from my 11th-floor window. And at a distance, I could see the Eiffel Tower, it's beacon revolving in the night - and the shimmering lights that get turned on for a few minutes every hour. In the night, alone in my hotel room, I would sometimes sit at the window, and look outside at all the lights, and the flowing traffic below me... the loneliness was hard sometimes - being away from my wife for the first time in our life together.

The laundry service in the hotel was absurdly expensive. Three euros to get a single underwear washed? It's crazy. But I had no other options. Hopefully I can convince my company to pay for this!

I heard picking pockets is a lucrative métier in all Paris tourist locations, and trains. There are signs everywhere, in several languages, warning people to be aware of pickpockets. Especially in places like the Louvre, where people would get engrossed in looking at art, forgetting all else.

The French have a very delightful sense of humor. When at my hotel, I would turn the TV on to some channel, and leave it on. I loved the ads - there's always some subtle humor, or gag which one must recognize to understand the ad. Ofcourse, they're not always politically correct.

There was this cartoon stuck to the window of the coffee area at my client's office. It's this boss telling his cleaning lady at work "Vous vous rendez compte que vous me coûtez plus cher que mes informaticiens de New-Delhi" translated as "You realize that you are to me more expensive than my programmers in New-Delhi"! Now, I don't think they anticipated an Indian seeing that in their office... :)

With all this immersion in French culture and language, an interesting thing happened when I got back to India. In the Mumbai International Airport, I asked a cop directions to the shuttle to the domestic airport. He asked, 'Do you have the tickets?' in Hindi, and I replied instantly 'Oui!'. He just stared at me, and then I realized that I was not in France anymore...

Btw, for the record, I am not really a werewolf. Feel free to check me out on full moon nights.

Going places with Love

Love is a divinely heady feeling - when I'm experiencing it, I feel like flying up into the air, gently twirling (clockwise)... and softly landing back on earth. Every step has a spring in it, the chemical rush bringing on a wide smile, and a sense of excitement and bliss. The breathing is deep and complete, and my mind is at peace with the world around me. There's also a craving to be united with and experience being with my object of love. There's nothing more I need in life... I want to spend all my time in seclusion with my love... I can't seem to spend enough time, wanting our meetings to last forever. We don't have to talk, or do anything - we could be completely quiet, just gazing into each other, feeling each other's presence. All the clutter in the mind vanishes, and I feel so complete. There's also a feeling of elevation over all... above all the petty things that once bothered me. It's a sense of unity with a higher state of existence, in a world of our own - just me and my love.

Mozart knew this well. Many of his compositions give a glimpse of the pristine beauty and longing in love. Just listening to some of his works elevates the mind to a pleasant state - it feels like sitting with my love (on my left), leaning onto my chest, in the shade of a tree by a clear blue lake, with only the sound of an occasional bird for company. Mozart makes me realize that somewhere beyond our mundane existence, a higher state exists for us to discover and experience... from which one would never want to return. This must be how the bloke who got out of Plato's cave felt when he saw the outside world.

How would our lives change if the object of our love is God? The concept of God encompasses the known and the unknown. By sustaining this affaire de cœur with God, one would progressively reach higher levels, where new knowledge and insights get revealed, and a new paradigm emerges. This is the power of love - to connect us with the infinite, and to transform our lives. That heady feeling can indeed take us places we never knew existed.

Introducing: Two New Words in English

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Main Entry: whesne
Pronunciation: 'wes-nA, 'wes-nay
Function: pronoun
Etymology: Kannada, from eshtané

Used as an interrogative expressing inquiry about the numerical position in a sequence, or order of arrival of an object or matter.

Examples:
1. Whesne child of your parents are you?
Another way of saying it: If your siblings are numbered in the sequence of their birth, and you are number 'n', what is the value of 'n'?
Sample answer: I am the third, after Jack and Sophie.

2. Whesne time am I telling you this?
Another way of saying it: This is the 'n'th time I am telling you - do you know what 'n' is?
Sample answer: Yeah, yeah - I think it's the fifth time, but hey, chill out - I'll do it sometime.

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Main Entry: kalsmelogra
Pronunciation: 'kals-mA-l&gra, 'kals-may-lOgra
Function: noun
Etymology: Kannada, from kalasumélogara

1. An unorganized collection or mixture, referring to eatables like mixed vegetable soups.
2. A disturbed or confused state of mind, or state of affairs.

Similar words: Chowchow, Hotchpotch, Potpourri

Examples:
1. What a fricking kalsmelogra this has turned out to be!
2. Hey, you wanna try out some funky kalsmelogra that I've been preparing?

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Une expérience extraordinaire

Last evening, just outside of my company, a North-Indian coworker, with his ID prominently displayed, requested for a ride in my car. I let him in - and then let him have it: a unique aural and olfactory experience he wouldn't forget.

The first impact was from the heavy eucalyptus fragrance - created with a cotton wad soaked in eucalyptus oil and placed in front of a floor air vent. Historically, this in-car aromatherapy has been known to shock unsuspecting people, and make them wish they were elsewhere.

The second impact was from my choice of radio - pure South Indian Carnatic classical music. There was this lady singing, I could almost imagine her, plump and clad in a red saree, sitting on a stage floor, her hand rhythmically thumping her thigh with gusto. She was in full steam - and this was just the beginning of her performance - the initial Alapana where she'd tune and stretch her vocal chords and our patience with some ten minutes of various sounds and permutations of 'tha dha ri naaaaaaa naaaaaa'.

At some point, this guy seemed to have accepted his fate and started to doze off. That's when I switched to a station playing old Kannada songs. He woke up with a start to the crooning of B. Saroja Devi. The song went like 'koodona, koodi balona'. Pretty racy stuff, eh? These old Kannada songs.

After being subjected to all this, this guy was very glad to get out of my car at the Silk Board junction. I'm sure he'll run if he sees my car again.

I see Dainty People...

As I sit on the throne and stare into the void, my mind starts to discern human figures on the tiles in front of me... I've seen Sir M Vishweshwariah, and this bloke with bushy eyebrows whose name eludes me at the moment, a ballet-dancing figure, and gasp, two nude females, one of them exquisitely postured, her hair flowing in the wind!

Gosh, this maybe some sort of a Rorschach test to unravel my mind ;)

Einstein's unfinished work

... is still unfinished, 50 years later. I was reading the article 'One Hundred Years of Uncertainty' by Brian Greene in the NYT.



An excerpt:

Unlike many of his colleagues, Einstein believed that a fundamental physical theory was much more than the sum total of its predictions - it was a mathematical reflection of an underlying reality. And the reality entailed by quantum mechanics was a reality Einstein couldn't accept.

Einstein waged a two-front assault on the problem. He sought an internal chink in the quantum framework that would establish it as a mere steppingstone on the path to a deeper and more complete description of the universe. At the same time, he sought a grander synthesis of nature's laws - what he called a "unified theory" - that he believed would reveal the probabilities of quantum mechanics to be no more profound than the probabilities offered in weather forecasts, probabilities that simply reflect an incomplete knowledge of an underlying, definite reality.

By the early 1950's, Einstein realized he was losing the battle. But the memories of his earlier success with relativity - "the years of anxious searching in the dark, with their intense longing, their alternations of confidence and exhaustion and the final emergence into the light" - urged him onward. Maybe the intense light of discovery that had so brilliantly illuminated his path as a young man would shine once again. While lying in a bed in Princeton Hospital in mid-April 1955, Einstein asked for the pad of paper on which he had been scribbling equations in the desperate hope that in his final hours the truth would come to him. It didn't.

So who will finish his work? There are many unsolved mysteries in this universe... and right here on our planet. Some of these have been brazenly ignored by the scientific community. I believe that this century will witness an expansion of our understanding of what 'energy' is, and it's various forms seen, and unseen. This will include acceptance and validation of prana, or chi/ki, and acknowledgement of various energy centers on Earth, the suble energy fields around objects (like pyramids), and perhaps even, creation of instruments to detect, measure, and harness these energies. And James Randi will be a million dollars poorer.

When this new understanding happens, we can relook at Einstein's theories, and his quests. Would a new science emerge, where the laws of Einstein's physics are merely a special case?

My Stream of Consciousness is showing

Hi, welcome to my blog - I wish to use this forum as a place for recording thoughts and ideas too arcane, wacky, personal, or just too boring for ordinary conversation :)

Have a great time!

Cheers,
Pramod.