God, challenge me, grill me, put me in trouble, but ensure that I have a stack of cash and presence of mind and the grace that you could shower on me and I will come through anything. Not that I believe in the slogan “ It’s all about money, honey”, but then god could take shapes, sizes and one of the prime shapes he could take is on paper, with Mahatma Gandhi and a governors sign on it.
This post is not about facing troubles, not about having money, it’s about different combinations that some one above puts you through and makes you feel that comfort is a rare equation that you scarcely reach when alive. It’s like a goal in a football match, where in the mid fielder has to run through, dribble a couple of defenders, pass it on to the striker, he has to choose the right time to hit it, sync it with enough power and placement and ultimately the ball has to shake the net’s behind the loser’s back. Any miss in the whole series of actions, the whole set up tanks, life is as delicate as that.
Days when, pockets were empty and the future dark, problems were approached with a different attitude, the brute force way, let it come and I will take then head on!!!! (As if there was a choice). The worry was more about what would come first and prayers to god more on scheduling the problems based on the assumed intensity. Prayers as simple as let the personnel from the electricity board not visit my place, let him forget about the unpaid bills. Prayers that would make people burst into laughter, prayers to god about your dad coming home without the smell of rum etc. But then problems were never solved, it was either postponed to become a bigger one or to die away as the intensity dips. This is a set-up where god tests you with traits like skin thickness, shamelessness, where in he makes you look like a one year old in a topless bar. People, usually pull through this phase with lot of negativity and end up being habitual to this mode. I would call it “hold on tight mode”.
You would think that it’s over but then the problems you had while living in a home that leaks during winter, where in you would walk miles to make a single phone call are much more less complex ones, cause these are the states you go through shit when you are in it already (Neck Deep !!!). God would set-up another phase for you, if you are worth it and if you held really tight, and this phase is tougher. Money the Mr.Fix it flows through your hands, you expect it to solve problems, seldom it does. You now have problems to manage it right, to think about fixing problems is much more complex than waiting for it to happen, God promotes you and every promotion is a pain (You are now into stuff that you have not done and your previous expertise is no longer serving you.).
Money will create problems, if you do not understand the flow of it, whether the right people are handling it, whether your demand matches supply etc. Your prayers change, interaction with god changes, It would be about fixing problems, rather that prioritizing it’s arrival. This is a thinking phase and the all mighty might play a joke by taking away presence of mind and decision making skills. Realization of mistakes against the time it was committed, will play a major role in this phase. If you mess up, you would again be Rocky Balboa waiting for problems to come hard and hit you. Seeing through this phase would take a good 8-10 years and ultimately you have arrived.
God sits there still, looking at his loving son, whispers “Son from waiting problems to happen now you are trying to solve problems, far are not those days where in you would work towards getting problems fixed before they even happen”. You are always on the run, you taking a break from the race wouldn’t mean that world has complied, problems are always there what matters is how you deal with it. Run, hard and learn to enjoy it, as if we have a choice Bloody Rat Racers!!!!!.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
' 99 A walk back home
Sitting beside me Prithvi was weeping, 1:00 am, a November night ’99, most importantly the last day of school life. We walked together holding hands, from the annual day venue to the nearest main road. Walking past the walls of the school, imagining life beyond the walls, could bring us nothing else than tears. Prithvi, was one of the shortest and the most mischievous amongst us, he was the silent killer of the gang. A good athlete and a silent observer, seeing him cry is like rain during a hot Indian merciless summer.
We walked past the main Gate, it proudly read, Sadan Central School. An English Medium school is a big deal in any village, our’s was the best in that vicinity. Peeping into the Security room, Prithvi yelled, look we have Sethu Annan sleeping, smells of arrack! I peeped in and saw, our schools protector, sleeping half naked covering himself by the lungi which he wore (Exuberant in color, silky in texture our Lungi’s a infamous). As usual, Prithvi pelted a stone at him and ran, and me taken by shock ran behind him. We reached the main road in a flash, thanks again to Prithvi and the cheeky act. All the friends had left with their parents or had taken refuge in the hostel; we decided to walk back to Prithvi’s home just six kilometers away.
It was a cold November night and we knew, life was going to take a big turn. RT, talkies was playing another adult movie, Prithvi cribbed looking at the poster, I told you, we could have watched this rather than your chick’s Bharthanatyam. Shakeela the porn star was in full swing during late 90’s, posters with her sari dripping down; exposing her Cleavage was a common item in every porn menu. I laughed; Prithvi was an amazing friend, always there to support. Behind the stage, I was supposed to meet, Divya, the slim, thin and the most sorted out girl in school. She would come backstage and I could meet her alone, she wanted to talk.
Backstage meetings are fun, I had to get around the girls dressing room and reach the rendezvous , She had to fool teachers, her friends and most importantly her mother, Mrs. conservative Sita Ammal. The moment I came to know the plan, we had called a meeting, Nisar and Najib, clearly denied me from meeting her, the consequences could extend to a suspension. Ashfaq as usual remained neutral though vouched to support, Prithvi told, “Machan, you have the chance, and you must do it”. Eyes gleaming with enthusiasm he said, nothing would go wrong, He would watch my ass, I got the message.
Walking past the Girls dressing room, I could hear Divya’s sweet voice; she was ready for the dance and was awaiting her turn. I walked fast, Prithvi, way behind, signaling to move forward. I was confident, nothing would go wrong, waiting in the dark, behind the stage, precisely under the bamboos holding the stage, I was waiting for the moment. I could hear the sound of anklets, it was her, she had slid out and came running, I was squatting under the main stage and she ducked and held my hands, taking deep breaths. The deafening sound of our music teacher performing on stage, frogs and insects screeching, pitch dark woods ahead of us sent a chill down my spine, but her hands could make me forget everything. She was nervous, wanted to talk but was gasping, sweat was wiping away the thick cream our make-up man had applied, she smelled of Jasmine. We spoke; it was a four year old love affair, for the first time we met alone. Blood rushed through my veins, she was breathing down my neck and I could smell her sweat, little beads of them falling on my shoulder. I held her tight and she planted a kiss, a juicy, slimy, sweaty one. Under that make shift, stage, November night weather I saw heaven, I kissed her back, first on her forehead, then on her nose and then on the lips. I could taste something sweet, love and lipstick deadly combo!!!!!. My principal, had a voice which easily could be used to break stones, I felt her heart thumping and held her even closer, and then came the announcement asking Divya to come backstage. “Panic” would be an understatement, Sita Ammal was already in and around the ladies toilet, we could hear people searching for Divya. She pushed me and ran towards the water pipe, near the gents toilet on the other side of the stage, I sat there frozen. Prithvi whistled safety and I started my walk back, Divya’s performance on stage started, she had gone around the stage and come in through the main entrance.
Prithvi was pulling my leg, through out until, tears rolled out of my eyes, I loved her more than anything and I felt her that day, the warmth of a woman can get anyone going. Being a motherless child, her love was the only source of compassion. I cried, again, Prithvi had a hand on his forehead and was consoling me, “Da you could still be together, we all will be together no worries”. I hugged him, he felt my pain, I knew he felt it.
Prithvi was an overprotected kid, with a big family and lot of relatives, he could not even piss without being noticed, watching a porn movie in the near by talkies was just a dream, anyways he loved those movies and we watched them secretly. Prithvi, was walking along, singing hits from bollywood movies, music was a passion for him. Sitting in the middle row, all we did was to hum the latest hits, mix them into a desi version or bring out a pattern in these songs. Prithvi would come running at sharp 9:20 and announce “Today its Akshay Kumar hits” and that would mean all day we sang “Chura ke Dil mera”.
I would, look back at the corner seat of the girls row and Divya would be looking at me, our eyes would meet, exchange messages and Prithvi would pinch me when the teacher was about to notice. Being a good student was my birth right and I never did anything more to be one, was never attentive, never studied anything at the hostel but always got the marks. I was a miracle kid, my friends used to love me though their parents had a nightmare, knowing their kids inclusion in my friends list. We walked, in front of our friend’s home, decided to ease out. Prithvi was painting the compound wall with all the names he hated. Easing out, during the first break of the day was a competition; the same kicked off by our gang. The urinal was quite big, with shoulder level cement barricades segregating each other. The tached roof above, would let the sunlight and rain water in, there were footboards that would allows us to ease out without stepping on piss.The competition was to pump it up to the highest point against the adjacent wall . Eight people would unzip, stand on the foot boards and the competition begins, testing the wall against their piss power. Kids drank water continuously, disregarded nature’s calls, did everything that made them a winner, winner of the prestigious Piss Prince competition. The competition was a hit, and the whole school knew about it, soon there were inter class competitions.
We stood in the Principals room, Prithvi as usual looking down. The urinal competition case was cracked by one of the teachers, thanks to some rats within us. Prithvi’s mom had come and had to listen through a whole load of shit, the worst part being, the management asking for compensation to re-paint the walls. Money was deposited and we walked out of the room, holding each others hand tight.
From RT to home would take at least two hours, we had to walk down through a road between paddy fields, which was extraordinarily scenic during the day. Walking past the paddy fields, we knew we were passing by the best times in our life. Prithvi would ask, what will we be in ten years and then would reply to it; chuck it at the least we will be friends, good friends. A truck or two would pass by and we would again start singing, villages are good, you have freedom to sing, talk aloud and the cost of privacy is minimal. A Muslim cemetery was nearing and Prithvi was already spicing it up, talking about ghosts and the experiences people had. He would suddenly change his voice and behave as if a ghost had entered him, will duck and walk by and do stuff until I freak myself out. Ghosts, the most discussed topic in a hostel. We would carry new joiners on their coat and leave them at the middle of the garden with their hands tied together. Waiting for the kid to wake up and freak himself was always a tough task. We’d rather pelt a stone at him and enjoy the show, most of them passed out, some fainted.
Prithvi, would talk about his crush on the Malayalam teacher, would describe her out in a way you could come listening to it. He loved her curvy hips and made it a point to sit at the front bench for all her lectures, when she turns around, the glimpse of her belly button through the slit between the shoulder and the waist would take him off. He would grab my arm and pinch me hard. Prithvi would try to get everyone look at her the same way, Ashfaq would not and Prithvi hated those saintly thoughts. Curves on the road, are steeper when we near Devi Talkies, the next spot on the way back. Here is the truckers stop for tea. We drank tea and the shopkeeper would not take money, Prithvi’s father had done some favor the tea would be a sign of gratitude. Hot tea at 3:00 in the morning and we could see, Rekha’s home. A controversial figure in school for being into multiple affairs, at different levels (Even a teacher was said to be humping on her!!!). We commented on the subject, by planting ourselves on the moral police chair and started the walk back.
I always hated Shankar, cause his parents were in the good books of Divya’s parents. The kid was highly rated and they always pursued Divya to be with him. His home was big and stood like a palace in the moon light. Prithvi, never missed a chance, hey your villain might be sleeping inside, might be he is shagging of thinking about your chick !!!!!!. Shankar was nothing more than a girl who wore shorts and a shirt, he would even pee in his pants if teachers asked to do so, with big eye lashes, hairless legs and a plump body, 24 carat gay material. We decided to teach him a lesson, the lights in front of the house crackled, along with one of the windows on the top right. We ran, reached the next Junction in a flash, and took a short cut through a mud road to reach the backside of Ashfaq’s house. The walk back was almost over, two compounds and it was our home and we knew, those six miles would never come back, nor would we have the balls to walk , neither would the world let us try.
We walked past the main Gate, it proudly read, Sadan Central School. An English Medium school is a big deal in any village, our’s was the best in that vicinity. Peeping into the Security room, Prithvi yelled, look we have Sethu Annan sleeping, smells of arrack! I peeped in and saw, our schools protector, sleeping half naked covering himself by the lungi which he wore (Exuberant in color, silky in texture our Lungi’s a infamous). As usual, Prithvi pelted a stone at him and ran, and me taken by shock ran behind him. We reached the main road in a flash, thanks again to Prithvi and the cheeky act. All the friends had left with their parents or had taken refuge in the hostel; we decided to walk back to Prithvi’s home just six kilometers away.
It was a cold November night and we knew, life was going to take a big turn. RT, talkies was playing another adult movie, Prithvi cribbed looking at the poster, I told you, we could have watched this rather than your chick’s Bharthanatyam. Shakeela the porn star was in full swing during late 90’s, posters with her sari dripping down; exposing her Cleavage was a common item in every porn menu. I laughed; Prithvi was an amazing friend, always there to support. Behind the stage, I was supposed to meet, Divya, the slim, thin and the most sorted out girl in school. She would come backstage and I could meet her alone, she wanted to talk.
Backstage meetings are fun, I had to get around the girls dressing room and reach the rendezvous , She had to fool teachers, her friends and most importantly her mother, Mrs. conservative Sita Ammal. The moment I came to know the plan, we had called a meeting, Nisar and Najib, clearly denied me from meeting her, the consequences could extend to a suspension. Ashfaq as usual remained neutral though vouched to support, Prithvi told, “Machan, you have the chance, and you must do it”. Eyes gleaming with enthusiasm he said, nothing would go wrong, He would watch my ass, I got the message.
Walking past the Girls dressing room, I could hear Divya’s sweet voice; she was ready for the dance and was awaiting her turn. I walked fast, Prithvi, way behind, signaling to move forward. I was confident, nothing would go wrong, waiting in the dark, behind the stage, precisely under the bamboos holding the stage, I was waiting for the moment. I could hear the sound of anklets, it was her, she had slid out and came running, I was squatting under the main stage and she ducked and held my hands, taking deep breaths. The deafening sound of our music teacher performing on stage, frogs and insects screeching, pitch dark woods ahead of us sent a chill down my spine, but her hands could make me forget everything. She was nervous, wanted to talk but was gasping, sweat was wiping away the thick cream our make-up man had applied, she smelled of Jasmine. We spoke; it was a four year old love affair, for the first time we met alone. Blood rushed through my veins, she was breathing down my neck and I could smell her sweat, little beads of them falling on my shoulder. I held her tight and she planted a kiss, a juicy, slimy, sweaty one. Under that make shift, stage, November night weather I saw heaven, I kissed her back, first on her forehead, then on her nose and then on the lips. I could taste something sweet, love and lipstick deadly combo!!!!!. My principal, had a voice which easily could be used to break stones, I felt her heart thumping and held her even closer, and then came the announcement asking Divya to come backstage. “Panic” would be an understatement, Sita Ammal was already in and around the ladies toilet, we could hear people searching for Divya. She pushed me and ran towards the water pipe, near the gents toilet on the other side of the stage, I sat there frozen. Prithvi whistled safety and I started my walk back, Divya’s performance on stage started, she had gone around the stage and come in through the main entrance.
Prithvi was pulling my leg, through out until, tears rolled out of my eyes, I loved her more than anything and I felt her that day, the warmth of a woman can get anyone going. Being a motherless child, her love was the only source of compassion. I cried, again, Prithvi had a hand on his forehead and was consoling me, “Da you could still be together, we all will be together no worries”. I hugged him, he felt my pain, I knew he felt it.
Prithvi was an overprotected kid, with a big family and lot of relatives, he could not even piss without being noticed, watching a porn movie in the near by talkies was just a dream, anyways he loved those movies and we watched them secretly. Prithvi, was walking along, singing hits from bollywood movies, music was a passion for him. Sitting in the middle row, all we did was to hum the latest hits, mix them into a desi version or bring out a pattern in these songs. Prithvi would come running at sharp 9:20 and announce “Today its Akshay Kumar hits” and that would mean all day we sang “Chura ke Dil mera”.
I would, look back at the corner seat of the girls row and Divya would be looking at me, our eyes would meet, exchange messages and Prithvi would pinch me when the teacher was about to notice. Being a good student was my birth right and I never did anything more to be one, was never attentive, never studied anything at the hostel but always got the marks. I was a miracle kid, my friends used to love me though their parents had a nightmare, knowing their kids inclusion in my friends list. We walked, in front of our friend’s home, decided to ease out. Prithvi was painting the compound wall with all the names he hated. Easing out, during the first break of the day was a competition; the same kicked off by our gang. The urinal was quite big, with shoulder level cement barricades segregating each other. The tached roof above, would let the sunlight and rain water in, there were footboards that would allows us to ease out without stepping on piss.The competition was to pump it up to the highest point against the adjacent wall . Eight people would unzip, stand on the foot boards and the competition begins, testing the wall against their piss power. Kids drank water continuously, disregarded nature’s calls, did everything that made them a winner, winner of the prestigious Piss Prince competition. The competition was a hit, and the whole school knew about it, soon there were inter class competitions.
We stood in the Principals room, Prithvi as usual looking down. The urinal competition case was cracked by one of the teachers, thanks to some rats within us. Prithvi’s mom had come and had to listen through a whole load of shit, the worst part being, the management asking for compensation to re-paint the walls. Money was deposited and we walked out of the room, holding each others hand tight.
From RT to home would take at least two hours, we had to walk down through a road between paddy fields, which was extraordinarily scenic during the day. Walking past the paddy fields, we knew we were passing by the best times in our life. Prithvi would ask, what will we be in ten years and then would reply to it; chuck it at the least we will be friends, good friends. A truck or two would pass by and we would again start singing, villages are good, you have freedom to sing, talk aloud and the cost of privacy is minimal. A Muslim cemetery was nearing and Prithvi was already spicing it up, talking about ghosts and the experiences people had. He would suddenly change his voice and behave as if a ghost had entered him, will duck and walk by and do stuff until I freak myself out. Ghosts, the most discussed topic in a hostel. We would carry new joiners on their coat and leave them at the middle of the garden with their hands tied together. Waiting for the kid to wake up and freak himself was always a tough task. We’d rather pelt a stone at him and enjoy the show, most of them passed out, some fainted.
Prithvi, would talk about his crush on the Malayalam teacher, would describe her out in a way you could come listening to it. He loved her curvy hips and made it a point to sit at the front bench for all her lectures, when she turns around, the glimpse of her belly button through the slit between the shoulder and the waist would take him off. He would grab my arm and pinch me hard. Prithvi would try to get everyone look at her the same way, Ashfaq would not and Prithvi hated those saintly thoughts. Curves on the road, are steeper when we near Devi Talkies, the next spot on the way back. Here is the truckers stop for tea. We drank tea and the shopkeeper would not take money, Prithvi’s father had done some favor the tea would be a sign of gratitude. Hot tea at 3:00 in the morning and we could see, Rekha’s home. A controversial figure in school for being into multiple affairs, at different levels (Even a teacher was said to be humping on her!!!). We commented on the subject, by planting ourselves on the moral police chair and started the walk back.
I always hated Shankar, cause his parents were in the good books of Divya’s parents. The kid was highly rated and they always pursued Divya to be with him. His home was big and stood like a palace in the moon light. Prithvi, never missed a chance, hey your villain might be sleeping inside, might be he is shagging of thinking about your chick !!!!!!. Shankar was nothing more than a girl who wore shorts and a shirt, he would even pee in his pants if teachers asked to do so, with big eye lashes, hairless legs and a plump body, 24 carat gay material. We decided to teach him a lesson, the lights in front of the house crackled, along with one of the windows on the top right. We ran, reached the next Junction in a flash, and took a short cut through a mud road to reach the backside of Ashfaq’s house. The walk back was almost over, two compounds and it was our home and we knew, those six miles would never come back, nor would we have the balls to walk , neither would the world let us try.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
About Love and Liberty !!!!!!
Do you actually need to love someone to understand him? To understand and to love are entirely different concepts all together. Why is it that even the most near and dear fail to touch your heart, why is it that they flunk at moments of life when you actually would expect them to lift you up. Why is that you fail to understand the emotions of a parent when you bring a stranger home and introduce her as your wife. Why is it that the girl who you love the most rings you up on the eve of your sisters wedding, and tells you that that she is so happy that the obstacles are now over. Why is it that we always forget to listen to what we say, getting into the shoes of the listener, Do we ever realize that the happiness we share would hurt the guy at the receiving end.
Love is not just an emotion in this part of the world; it has conditions, ifs and buts attached to it. It makes you compromise more than liberate, it chains you harder and pulls you away from the castles that you would have built. To understand someone is a big deal, for that you have to break the shackles of love, like breaking the ice to see the churning beneath. Love might not give you the see through picture, It would mask the real he, It would make you draw pictures of the person based on your wants and needs. Painting him as a 9:00 to 6:00 husband is what love does and helping him to do more at work is what understanding would do. But then the million dollar Question is, does love actually liberate????.
No, it does not, but then love with intelligent compromises does. Cooking twice a week and cleaning the house when she is busy at work must definitely help. An onsite opportunity for her must not be put down, because you do not have anyone to cook. A maid or hotels could solve the issue. The Indian concept makes it clear that marriage is about being together, weather you like it or not. Being together helps but does it always, let’s do retrospection. Who would not love to have sometime for themselves, everyone must get a breath of fresh air, do not take me wrong, and it’s not about screwing a Lebanese chick on Coke. It’s about time to pamper you, the most important thing we keep on neglecting. I could see nerds around me, who crib about being in bondage when they are alone, and be proud about a family life when thrown light at them. One thing about the system is that it teaches you to compromise, on marriage because your sister thought so, on promotions cause your manager felt that it’s not time yet, getting your ear pierced cause the crowd might take it wrong. Why can’t we break the shackles and live, live a life than survive. I feel, Sri Sri Ravisankar must talk about the art of Survival and then map it to the art of living.
We have bent our backs, in front of the whites who screwed us for hundreds of years, in front of countless governments who played around with our money, we have compromised our choices and preferences as NRI’s to bring money back to our land, We picked up safe careers, never bothered to tried instincts of Photography or Journalism, Is that enough of sacrifice, the ultimate aim of life is joy, pursue it at any means and cost and god will be there with you, he does not have a choice. God knows the truth , but waits.
Love is not just an emotion in this part of the world; it has conditions, ifs and buts attached to it. It makes you compromise more than liberate, it chains you harder and pulls you away from the castles that you would have built. To understand someone is a big deal, for that you have to break the shackles of love, like breaking the ice to see the churning beneath. Love might not give you the see through picture, It would mask the real he, It would make you draw pictures of the person based on your wants and needs. Painting him as a 9:00 to 6:00 husband is what love does and helping him to do more at work is what understanding would do. But then the million dollar Question is, does love actually liberate????.
No, it does not, but then love with intelligent compromises does. Cooking twice a week and cleaning the house when she is busy at work must definitely help. An onsite opportunity for her must not be put down, because you do not have anyone to cook. A maid or hotels could solve the issue. The Indian concept makes it clear that marriage is about being together, weather you like it or not. Being together helps but does it always, let’s do retrospection. Who would not love to have sometime for themselves, everyone must get a breath of fresh air, do not take me wrong, and it’s not about screwing a Lebanese chick on Coke. It’s about time to pamper you, the most important thing we keep on neglecting. I could see nerds around me, who crib about being in bondage when they are alone, and be proud about a family life when thrown light at them. One thing about the system is that it teaches you to compromise, on marriage because your sister thought so, on promotions cause your manager felt that it’s not time yet, getting your ear pierced cause the crowd might take it wrong. Why can’t we break the shackles and live, live a life than survive. I feel, Sri Sri Ravisankar must talk about the art of Survival and then map it to the art of living.
We have bent our backs, in front of the whites who screwed us for hundreds of years, in front of countless governments who played around with our money, we have compromised our choices and preferences as NRI’s to bring money back to our land, We picked up safe careers, never bothered to tried instincts of Photography or Journalism, Is that enough of sacrifice, the ultimate aim of life is joy, pursue it at any means and cost and god will be there with you, he does not have a choice. God knows the truth , but waits.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Movie Review " All the Best"
I would not have written this review, If I wouldnt have accidentaly read three or four of them, praising this movie. The world has become a pressure cooker, and every oppurtunity to burst out, we would use it to the max. The laughter, the outburst of those, were idealy an exhibhition of Stress levels of the young frustrated, Indian gen next.
Sanjay Dutt, showing signs of retirement must actually have choice on his costumes, though he might not have a say on the roles. With fat around his belly and jokes that did not hit the chord, this would have been one of his worst ever perfomances. Fardeen Khan will make a come back soon, I hope this is his 100th comeback in the past 15 years. Ajay and his female counterpart were in shape and did justice to the roles that were offered. With no stroy line, no melody or music the movie drags you to a death.
The worst part is not that the movie was below par, it's the level that we have fallen down to, as movie buffs. I could hear the crowd crack jokes and move out of the hall, there were nerds who were went to extremes like recommending the movie to thier friends ( Might be enimies!!!). We belong to a bunch who are used to movies like Lagaan and RDB, on a lighter side, we have applauded Munna Bhai and Hera Pheri, but this is not what we used to love. If it's stress levels and work pressure that's piling up let's hit the gym, read some books, work for an NGO, I would say laughing at these sub standard jokes is like laughing at yourself, the worn out, stressed and good for nothing your "Self".
NB :- Makers of the movie, enjoy the money that you have made, spare a bit of that, put it to research on a subject that is worth hitting the screen.
Sanjay Dutt, showing signs of retirement must actually have choice on his costumes, though he might not have a say on the roles. With fat around his belly and jokes that did not hit the chord, this would have been one of his worst ever perfomances. Fardeen Khan will make a come back soon, I hope this is his 100th comeback in the past 15 years. Ajay and his female counterpart were in shape and did justice to the roles that were offered. With no stroy line, no melody or music the movie drags you to a death.
The worst part is not that the movie was below par, it's the level that we have fallen down to, as movie buffs. I could hear the crowd crack jokes and move out of the hall, there were nerds who were went to extremes like recommending the movie to thier friends ( Might be enimies!!!). We belong to a bunch who are used to movies like Lagaan and RDB, on a lighter side, we have applauded Munna Bhai and Hera Pheri, but this is not what we used to love. If it's stress levels and work pressure that's piling up let's hit the gym, read some books, work for an NGO, I would say laughing at these sub standard jokes is like laughing at yourself, the worn out, stressed and good for nothing your "Self".
NB :- Makers of the movie, enjoy the money that you have made, spare a bit of that, put it to research on a subject that is worth hitting the screen.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Book Review Chetan Bhagat, Two States - A compelling Read !!!!
Chetan Bhagat’s new book is a compelling read. You can classify it as an airport lounge read or an up market aunty read. Books need not be serious, it always need not change the world or the audience, but it could certainly do one thing, entertain the ones who chose to buy it. This book actually did. Rarely an Indian writer could make you laugh and I bet there were quite a few occasions were I broke into laughter and made the whole Barista gawk at me.
Having gone through a bit of the same myself, this rift between the clan’s (South and North Indians) portrayed in the book is extremely close to reality. I could add to some of these if Chetan might be interested in publishing a Sequel of the same. My Girlfriends family, accuse we south Indians of not washing hands after shitting, eating with bare hands and licking them from the elbow joints to the finger tips and last but not least making balls of rice and shooting at your own mouth !!!!!!!. My clan would say that Punjabi women are aggressive and would make me knead atta, will drink more than men at weddings and even beat up their husbands!!!!!.
We generalize a lot and Chetan has hit the nerve, though being of a same country we tend to kick each other based on color, traditions and the diversities within us. Good and bad are too subjective and comparisons often a futile exercise, if a life is what you are looking at then the only thing that would matter will be trust and understanding.
Two thumbs up for Chetan and the publishing house, the book is affordable and actually a good read, I could finish it off in a day’s time. Might be I would give a shot at his earlier books!!!!!
Having gone through a bit of the same myself, this rift between the clan’s (South and North Indians) portrayed in the book is extremely close to reality. I could add to some of these if Chetan might be interested in publishing a Sequel of the same. My Girlfriends family, accuse we south Indians of not washing hands after shitting, eating with bare hands and licking them from the elbow joints to the finger tips and last but not least making balls of rice and shooting at your own mouth !!!!!!!. My clan would say that Punjabi women are aggressive and would make me knead atta, will drink more than men at weddings and even beat up their husbands!!!!!.
We generalize a lot and Chetan has hit the nerve, though being of a same country we tend to kick each other based on color, traditions and the diversities within us. Good and bad are too subjective and comparisons often a futile exercise, if a life is what you are looking at then the only thing that would matter will be trust and understanding.
Two thumbs up for Chetan and the publishing house, the book is affordable and actually a good read, I could finish it off in a day’s time. Might be I would give a shot at his earlier books!!!!!
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Book Review, Maximum City is just Quality Writing !!!!!
After reading, "Shantharam" liking another book was tough, it's as good as you being compelled to be good to your step mother( Which I actually went through).Buying books on the streets will introduce you to all those hot selling potboilers, getting a sensible one out of those is like searching a needle in a hay stack. But I have learned the art to such an extend that I could read a book through it's cover ( This guy is a whole load of shit, if you are thinking like that I would not complain.) Maximum city was lurking somewhere at the background, with Shantharam feeding me with too much of mumbai, the break between the two books was healthy.
Suketa Mehta, brings out a no nonsense picture of Bombay, though it's not a fiction, Mumbais's facts are truely stranger that any fiction written till date. The narration about the riots and Shiv Sena, tells you the story of hatred and communal violence, moreover it talks about the fights a youth will take from the Slum to move ahead in life. Murder as cheap as 50 rupees, Dinners as costly as lakhs will bringout the irony of this infamous city, the City of Sin. The author succeeds in depicting the city as the city of poor, were they Queue up for toilets, a city were privacy is realy expensive, he portrays it as a city of dreams and dreamers ( Slum--> Chawl ---> One BHK ---> Two BHK in South Mumbai --> Green Card). Lives at different levels and the way they talk to the city, the way the city interacts with them, are depicted through out the book and one could see the city taking shapes and sizes.A democracy were the poor votes and the topics of campaining include toilets and food, is an eye opener for any software phunk who thinks that the country has moved ahead. The depiction of eight people living in a single room ( Mom, pop, brother, sister, granny)and the way they sync in giving each other the required privacy is just startling, adjustment has new levels here, sacrifice would be a better word.
Life in a slum has it's own advantages, the love,care and affection, the oneness among the people are simply startling. The book has been thouroughly researched and the hard work shows in every line that's written. It smells of Sweat, shit, the damp mumbai air, the book might choke you up and you will feel the city in your veins, hats off to the author and the co-workers, this is a must read. The problems in the city cannot be fixed by the criminals who are designated govt agents, we need corporate leaders, strategists and visionaries who could think out of cast, creed and sex.I hope some of our educated politicians read this, some of the corporate phunks read this, might be we can apply strategy and six sigma to fix complex issues like waste disposal / traffic and housing in a city like Mumbai. Writing a book might not be tough, but to write a book which touches lives, talks about facts and still makes you read it with passion is tough, cause truth seldom sells, and truth about mumbai people will runaway, as we do always!!!!!!.
Suketa Mehta, brings out a no nonsense picture of Bombay, though it's not a fiction, Mumbais's facts are truely stranger that any fiction written till date. The narration about the riots and Shiv Sena, tells you the story of hatred and communal violence, moreover it talks about the fights a youth will take from the Slum to move ahead in life. Murder as cheap as 50 rupees, Dinners as costly as lakhs will bringout the irony of this infamous city, the City of Sin. The author succeeds in depicting the city as the city of poor, were they Queue up for toilets, a city were privacy is realy expensive, he portrays it as a city of dreams and dreamers ( Slum--> Chawl ---> One BHK ---> Two BHK in South Mumbai --> Green Card). Lives at different levels and the way they talk to the city, the way the city interacts with them, are depicted through out the book and one could see the city taking shapes and sizes.A democracy were the poor votes and the topics of campaining include toilets and food, is an eye opener for any software phunk who thinks that the country has moved ahead. The depiction of eight people living in a single room ( Mom, pop, brother, sister, granny)and the way they sync in giving each other the required privacy is just startling, adjustment has new levels here, sacrifice would be a better word.
Life in a slum has it's own advantages, the love,care and affection, the oneness among the people are simply startling. The book has been thouroughly researched and the hard work shows in every line that's written. It smells of Sweat, shit, the damp mumbai air, the book might choke you up and you will feel the city in your veins, hats off to the author and the co-workers, this is a must read. The problems in the city cannot be fixed by the criminals who are designated govt agents, we need corporate leaders, strategists and visionaries who could think out of cast, creed and sex.I hope some of our educated politicians read this, some of the corporate phunks read this, might be we can apply strategy and six sigma to fix complex issues like waste disposal / traffic and housing in a city like Mumbai. Writing a book might not be tough, but to write a book which touches lives, talks about facts and still makes you read it with passion is tough, cause truth seldom sells, and truth about mumbai people will runaway, as we do always!!!!!!.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
About "Lean" / Quality at the speed of Light !!!!!!!
Six Sigma was Exciting, not becuase it delivered results, cause of the complexities it could offer. The way it made you think, about the work you did and the way the output varies when hands change. Service Industry and Six SIgma are like distant relatives, Six Sigma talks about reduing variation, where in Service industry breathes on the fact that, things change, people and outputs vary.Might be that the methodology is effective but the way it was delivered was not right, or the people who delivered it came from a pile of rusty metal pieces (Manufacturing Quality Gurus).
Projects run on processes that are not stable, tools used just because they are supposed to be used, though known assignable causes exist process behaviour charts made with meticulous efforts, the methodology became a drama for me and just a livelihood for the key actors. Goal statements, as vague as "Improving Cutomer Sat on MS Vista product Series ", being such a big "Y", it sounds easier to take up a "Project to eradicate poverty in Africa". Project Owners show a blind eye to the part that people resign, hands change, Policies and buisness outlook changes etc.
But Lean, was supposed to be different, a methodology much more practical than, Six Sigma. With an open mind and lots of Enthusiasm, I attended the recent trainings. The trainer was too boring but Still I thougt the methodology was not. Somewhere or the other it talked about stuff which everyone who loved thier work would like to see working. "Cut the crap and do the job" was the slogan. The methodology spoke about avoiding sources of waste, through certain methods which was tested and had tasted success. About not doing stuff that you were doing currently cause the customer was grumpy / your leadership lacked balls, It spoke about avoiding work that did not add value ( Most of the meetings and Calls. The methodology sounded like common sense put up in powerpoint.
Implimentation part came, and along with it came the baggages. People who where intereseted in getting the PPT's in place, in getting thier data on time. Implimentors who never realized the importance of involving / Explaining the executors on what these meant (Jazzy presentations / Tools & Templates) / how would it help them in the days that come. Are we not interested in actual results, why do projects make very less impact on the ground, Is it because of the urge to put it up on the presentations. Lean can make huge impacts but for that we need people who can walk in with enough Charisma, who can drive and change Mindsets and Behaviours. People driving these initiatives, tend to spend more time answering thier Boss, than analyzing the ground realities, Filling in Excel sheets with data that has been populatd on the basis of educated guesses / Calculated risks. Does understanding the ground realities slowdown the project pace, then let it, cause the pace that we portray is vague, the impact the project would leave will be nothing.
Let's stop being hypocrats, let's do stuff so that the guy on the ground is benifited, not cause my promotion will be in place or my boss is pleased. Let's value the brains behind these methodologies and let's do it so that we learn and the change benifits the customer. Lakhs of rupees thrown away on these sessions must actually enable us to make lives easier. Here on the ground you sit back at your desk for another three hours filling in sheets and forms !!!!!!!!!
Projects run on processes that are not stable, tools used just because they are supposed to be used, though known assignable causes exist process behaviour charts made with meticulous efforts, the methodology became a drama for me and just a livelihood for the key actors. Goal statements, as vague as "Improving Cutomer Sat on MS Vista product Series ", being such a big "Y", it sounds easier to take up a "Project to eradicate poverty in Africa". Project Owners show a blind eye to the part that people resign, hands change, Policies and buisness outlook changes etc.
But Lean, was supposed to be different, a methodology much more practical than, Six Sigma. With an open mind and lots of Enthusiasm, I attended the recent trainings. The trainer was too boring but Still I thougt the methodology was not. Somewhere or the other it talked about stuff which everyone who loved thier work would like to see working. "Cut the crap and do the job" was the slogan. The methodology spoke about avoiding sources of waste, through certain methods which was tested and had tasted success. About not doing stuff that you were doing currently cause the customer was grumpy / your leadership lacked balls, It spoke about avoiding work that did not add value ( Most of the meetings and Calls. The methodology sounded like common sense put up in powerpoint.
Implimentation part came, and along with it came the baggages. People who where intereseted in getting the PPT's in place, in getting thier data on time. Implimentors who never realized the importance of involving / Explaining the executors on what these meant (Jazzy presentations / Tools & Templates) / how would it help them in the days that come. Are we not interested in actual results, why do projects make very less impact on the ground, Is it because of the urge to put it up on the presentations. Lean can make huge impacts but for that we need people who can walk in with enough Charisma, who can drive and change Mindsets and Behaviours. People driving these initiatives, tend to spend more time answering thier Boss, than analyzing the ground realities, Filling in Excel sheets with data that has been populatd on the basis of educated guesses / Calculated risks. Does understanding the ground realities slowdown the project pace, then let it, cause the pace that we portray is vague, the impact the project would leave will be nothing.
Let's stop being hypocrats, let's do stuff so that the guy on the ground is benifited, not cause my promotion will be in place or my boss is pleased. Let's value the brains behind these methodologies and let's do it so that we learn and the change benifits the customer. Lakhs of rupees thrown away on these sessions must actually enable us to make lives easier. Here on the ground you sit back at your desk for another three hours filling in sheets and forms !!!!!!!!!
Monday, August 17, 2009
Swine Flu Celebrations !!!!!!!!
“Aaaachiiii, Aaaachiiii ", (Stop, ask your mind not to search for a Dictionary word), a cute kid sneezed in the middle of a shop floor, predominantly a shop for the upper strata. She jumped into the pile of balls and the dust made her sneeze. The next moment she was in the lime light of the whole shop, everyone turned around, stared at her and the whole shop came to a stand still, she went back to play while everyone continued to stare, she stopped, again sneezed and the viscous fluid started flowing. The next moment, parents of the other kids came running and picked them up and ran back to safety (Some even had an expression; “I almost saved my kids life”). Our heroine in pink started weeping her mom in early thirty’s came running and lifted her up. The lady stared back at the crowd, a crowd which already had confirmed that this was the youngest possible H1N1 victim ever.
Though the kid did not sneeze after that, half the crowd walked out, the lady at the counter did not smile at the kid or her parent, instead tightened a two day old mask, which can spread much more dreaded diseases that H1N1. A reactive society at it’s best. Swine Flu has made things tough for a sneezing kid; Pandemic declared months back we decided to be careful after a few deaths and some hyped up reports on the front page. Reactive approach with a lot of aggression, aggression backed with very less facts, facts collected from vague sources, Pune the educational hub of the country responded to Swine Flu the Desi way, people believed that masks at the traffic signal is a life saver, shaking hands went out of the trend and “ Namaste “ was full on. Mails flying across workstations about the latest sensation, people checking websites for the latest death updates, Colleges closed, Malls shutdown and Movie releases extended, things changed, changed overnight.
Swine Flu season is over, people are back on the street, we would call ourselves, resilient, and the media even would come up with Photographs of kids going back to school with a caption “Nothing can stop them”. We belong to a country were people get killed in blasts, in floods, in road accidents, in epidemics like typhoid and malaria, here people die in riots, alcohol tragedies takes lives, calamities and terrorism kills people here. What is special about Swine flu that the government must take care of us, Actually Swine flu is nothing, it is better, at least a dignified death for a taxpayer, you die on a bed with your loved ones around. Your body is in one piece and last but not least your get a send off, even media would play a role (If you are the first, 25th, 50th or the 100th one, these numbers would be like a Silver, Golden and Platinum Jubilee). Life is good, until you are on your own, until you do not travel in trains (Bomb blasts), You do not drink water from taps (Malaria/ Cholera), Drive vehicles on the bumpy roads (Accidents) and Swine Flu has a new mantra for us, Until you do not breathe, until you step out of the home, and guess what we tried, but no choice could not sustain it for long!!!!!!!
Though the kid did not sneeze after that, half the crowd walked out, the lady at the counter did not smile at the kid or her parent, instead tightened a two day old mask, which can spread much more dreaded diseases that H1N1. A reactive society at it’s best. Swine Flu has made things tough for a sneezing kid; Pandemic declared months back we decided to be careful after a few deaths and some hyped up reports on the front page. Reactive approach with a lot of aggression, aggression backed with very less facts, facts collected from vague sources, Pune the educational hub of the country responded to Swine Flu the Desi way, people believed that masks at the traffic signal is a life saver, shaking hands went out of the trend and “ Namaste “ was full on. Mails flying across workstations about the latest sensation, people checking websites for the latest death updates, Colleges closed, Malls shutdown and Movie releases extended, things changed, changed overnight.
Swine Flu season is over, people are back on the street, we would call ourselves, resilient, and the media even would come up with Photographs of kids going back to school with a caption “Nothing can stop them”. We belong to a country were people get killed in blasts, in floods, in road accidents, in epidemics like typhoid and malaria, here people die in riots, alcohol tragedies takes lives, calamities and terrorism kills people here. What is special about Swine flu that the government must take care of us, Actually Swine flu is nothing, it is better, at least a dignified death for a taxpayer, you die on a bed with your loved ones around. Your body is in one piece and last but not least your get a send off, even media would play a role (If you are the first, 25th, 50th or the 100th one, these numbers would be like a Silver, Golden and Platinum Jubilee). Life is good, until you are on your own, until you do not travel in trains (Bomb blasts), You do not drink water from taps (Malaria/ Cholera), Drive vehicles on the bumpy roads (Accidents) and Swine Flu has a new mantra for us, Until you do not breathe, until you step out of the home, and guess what we tried, but no choice could not sustain it for long!!!!!!!
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Durga Temple, Joshi Wadevale and Hyderabadi House !!!!!!!!
This Sunday, was Quite different, needless to say Sans music, Sans snooker and without those punks around, this Sunday marked a new beginning. I may call it a second Innings, Read a lot of Technical stuff through out the morning and put the brain to use after a long time, might be for the first time after 99, yes after those glorious school days, precisely March 15 1999. I jumped up from the chair and pumped my fists I could still recollect what I had learned in Trigonometry and also to huge extend Physics as well, the feel was out of the world, sheer joy !!!!!
To add icing to the cake, I decided to roam around the city , not M.G.Road, not to K.P or Camp but this time to a Temple, It's the temple of Goddess Kali's avatar and I would say it was mind blowing. The walk up the stairs, the calmness in the air, Kids running around, the flower vendors, just another world, where pleasure is long lasting, pains healed to a higher extend and Subconscious talking through the layer of a calmer conscious self. Climb up the stairs was not that tough but, the way up was kind of confusing as the steps lead you to one corner and then takes a steep turn towards the summit. The way up almost looked as if it was a park, could see couples everywhere, Some with Kids and some without. Kids added to the beauty, most of them for the first time realized that world is a place where they could run, Jump and fall down.I could see Kid's enjoying the most, flat's can only offer the 24/7 Security and a lift; but a childhood spent with nature Quite a dream!!!!. I remembered my childhood, with mom asking me to come out of the pond, then marching through the bushes with food in her hands asking me to have it there (It's fun to eat sitting on an Inflated tube, on the sides of a pond), at last coming to fetch me herself and after that the infamous hue and cry !!!!!. The Ganesha temple on the way up was another highlight, The Goddess was simply sensational, I sat spoke to myself and took resolutions, which might stay more than the usual Sunday swearing s !!!!.
With no plans and a cool head, I joined hands with my only partner till date, My Bike. Riding is fun and the weather made it a pleasure, The ride took me to "Joshi Wadevale", which I never saw till date, though FC Road is my second home in Pune. Vada Paav has a different version all together here, there are add ons and plug gins available other than the usual green chilly. I could not believe the fact that Even Vada Paav can be customized to this extend. Pune is vibrant, with a hep crowd, youngsters all over, you will never feel old here, but the City has it's own charm well above the hep and the "Yo" culture. Understanding takes time, I took six months ; so what , "I understood " and that's what is important.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
ITIL - The Ticket Bouncers !!!!!
Saturday Night, Heavy Music, Metal, Hard Rock what not, With proportion of Alcohol increasing in the veins, as the mind gets Mischievous, Fantasies grow wings, we see a bunch of men who bring us back to the ground, Our very own bouncers. This post is not about them, it's very much about work, the first time I thought that work must be a subject of Blogs, It turned me off. But looking at the Characters you meet, the people you deal with, the challenges you face, might be my perspective ; though presented in a crude way can make life easy for people. Mostly for those who work in IT support, Infrastructure or for those who follow the new Bible of IT organizations ITIL.
Incidents are nothing but the documented agony of a human being who comes to work, the agony when becomes an epidemic becomes severe otherwise remains what it is just another "Incident". Requests I would say is the user filling in forms that would grant him future agonies or agonies before even he gets the service. Imagine a user who runs around with forms, behind his manager, that too in the dark, he tumbles down, falls, gets hurt and at last gets the service. A well managed ticketing system, will get half the job done in an Infrastructure, with leaders believing that Remedy is actually a remedy for their issues, pushing messages to the resolver groups could have been much more easier.
People have their own ways of getting things done, a guy from sales and marketing would always call the desk and talk about getting the job done with in minutes ( Mostly a bargain), where in some one from Quality assurance would ask about what all processes are involved in getting the task done, Some one from IT would explain that it's just about pushing a policy into the firewall and the time taken for that is Excruciatingly high. Customers come with Expectations and these are mainly mapped to their domain and meeting all these without hurting any ones emotion's is the key, key to the business of IT Service Management.
Service Desk, the middleman is always compelled to play a diplomatic role, washing hands off before and after food and while doing the job is a common problem that we face on a daily basis. But that's what keeps us in the job!!!!!. If you sort words that will be used heavily and followed lightly " Ownerhsip" will be a winner, with the Silver Medalist miles and miles away. Incidents assigned to teams would come back to us like a rubber ball on the wall, comments ranging from " Working from my end check from user's end" , " Issue not with our team" , " Check with the network team, might be a connectivity issue" are common.Incidents / Tickets that would say why it is not an issue with ones team will be a rarity, those will go to a museum directly. (Framed and Worshiped)
To manage an Infrastructure right, the only thing the management needs to do is to monitor the health of the Core ITIL Processes. Count of incidents logged, closed, pending, missed SL, Team wise / Manager Wise will tell who is getting the job done and not. A daily call with defaulters would bring down user dissatisfaction to Zero. Incidents reoccurred daily / Weekly and permanent fixes if tracked will lead to Incident reduction. Capacity planning with Dash boards of user base per application, Usage in terms of Bandwidth, Time , Response times within the Lan and over the wan with proper inputs to problem team will tackle those Slow performance Issues. Changes raised by capacity keeping an eye on future incidents will tell us the Quality work done and would show on less number of Incidents,Example(Incidents which cropped up as another application was added to the agony of a already suffering database).SLA without OLA is like an "underwear without elastic", the vendors, internal customers must be accountable to each other, an environment where my job not being done will make me answer to 10 different people will bring Pro-activeness for sure.
ITIL processes are like a chain and a chain is only strong as the weakest link, for an implementation to be Successful, the processes must be reviewed as a whole not Individually. For Example a discussion were the number of Problem Tickets raised by Incident Management is reviewed, Number of Changes raised by Capacity team is taken into account (Capacity Dashboard pointing at peaks and lows of Critical apps), SLA missed is accounted on the basis of OLA's agreed, Changes raised and implemented as part of the Incident Problem Life Cycle are reviewed and evaluated will make an Infrastructure much more healthier. What most Organisations might be missing out will be this holistic view of this new approach , or are we promoting the Hindustani way of building walls between departments with the Slogan " Tu 13 Dekh ".
Incidents are nothing but the documented agony of a human being who comes to work, the agony when becomes an epidemic becomes severe otherwise remains what it is just another "Incident". Requests I would say is the user filling in forms that would grant him future agonies or agonies before even he gets the service. Imagine a user who runs around with forms, behind his manager, that too in the dark, he tumbles down, falls, gets hurt and at last gets the service. A well managed ticketing system, will get half the job done in an Infrastructure, with leaders believing that Remedy is actually a remedy for their issues, pushing messages to the resolver groups could have been much more easier.
People have their own ways of getting things done, a guy from sales and marketing would always call the desk and talk about getting the job done with in minutes ( Mostly a bargain), where in some one from Quality assurance would ask about what all processes are involved in getting the task done, Some one from IT would explain that it's just about pushing a policy into the firewall and the time taken for that is Excruciatingly high. Customers come with Expectations and these are mainly mapped to their domain and meeting all these without hurting any ones emotion's is the key, key to the business of IT Service Management.
Service Desk, the middleman is always compelled to play a diplomatic role, washing hands off before and after food and while doing the job is a common problem that we face on a daily basis. But that's what keeps us in the job!!!!!. If you sort words that will be used heavily and followed lightly " Ownerhsip" will be a winner, with the Silver Medalist miles and miles away. Incidents assigned to teams would come back to us like a rubber ball on the wall, comments ranging from " Working from my end check from user's end" , " Issue not with our team" , " Check with the network team, might be a connectivity issue" are common.Incidents / Tickets that would say why it is not an issue with ones team will be a rarity, those will go to a museum directly. (Framed and Worshiped)
To manage an Infrastructure right, the only thing the management needs to do is to monitor the health of the Core ITIL Processes. Count of incidents logged, closed, pending, missed SL, Team wise / Manager Wise will tell who is getting the job done and not. A daily call with defaulters would bring down user dissatisfaction to Zero. Incidents reoccurred daily / Weekly and permanent fixes if tracked will lead to Incident reduction. Capacity planning with Dash boards of user base per application, Usage in terms of Bandwidth, Time , Response times within the Lan and over the wan with proper inputs to problem team will tackle those Slow performance Issues. Changes raised by capacity keeping an eye on future incidents will tell us the Quality work done and would show on less number of Incidents,Example(Incidents which cropped up as another application was added to the agony of a already suffering database).SLA without OLA is like an "underwear without elastic", the vendors, internal customers must be accountable to each other, an environment where my job not being done will make me answer to 10 different people will bring Pro-activeness for sure.
ITIL processes are like a chain and a chain is only strong as the weakest link, for an implementation to be Successful, the processes must be reviewed as a whole not Individually. For Example a discussion were the number of Problem Tickets raised by Incident Management is reviewed, Number of Changes raised by Capacity team is taken into account (Capacity Dashboard pointing at peaks and lows of Critical apps), SLA missed is accounted on the basis of OLA's agreed, Changes raised and implemented as part of the Incident Problem Life Cycle are reviewed and evaluated will make an Infrastructure much more healthier. What most Organisations might be missing out will be this holistic view of this new approach , or are we promoting the Hindustani way of building walls between departments with the Slogan " Tu 13 Dekh ".
Service Management Where Love is War !!!!!!
Sharad Pawar would not know what a bouncy pitch is, but he knows how to Run BCCI, Lalu Yadav never Learned Project Management, Cost Management or anything but he ran the Indian Railways, Ganguly never scored on the field but the team won the game over and over again. A world were people do things in domains that even their forefathers would not have Imagined. Welcome to Service Management.
If you think that to lead a fight, you need to have fought before,then my dear friends;Service Management will prove you wrong. To get the job done, you must have done it before is again a wrong statement, to involve in the Problem and to address the problem are two entirely different things. It's fun to hear words that you would not have heard in your entire life and act as if you are comfortable with it, It's fun when people who have spent their whole life working, sleeping on AIX having to listen to the "gyan" given by kids, who have not even touched the system once !!!!!!. Welcome to Service Management, the new heights of techno commercial, techno lingual career path. Man, Money and Machine are three aspects of any business. If you can manage the man, set his thoughts right, align him to the needs of business and deliver the services, that is what Service Management does.
Life takes it's on turns and I never knew the quest for a morning job will land me in a 24/7 job. Where Credit Management is subject to be learned and mastered, your efforts, if it has to be yours, even your sweat to should drop on the right carpets. Service Management is where Love is War. where you would haunt your colleagues and give them Nightmares. Efforts never Quantified, Results of efforts conceptual, Emotional and often tagged on people who are backseat drivers.
Being in the middle of Chaos being the key KRA, the only person whom you can yell at is your own image and that too if you have time to look at the mirror. Support groups wanting to resolve issues from the root, Process team wanting approvals to be in place, Technical Managers wanting the Logs' s and backup's in place, Restoring the services is like waging a war, were people tag you as a Pakistani, where in you are very much an Indian. Con calls starting from a professional mode, ending up in a kinder garden mode, Minutes of meetings getting forgotten in minutes, Processes moaning as they get raped over and over again, they will all take shapes and sizes in front of you.
Calls at the middle of the night, will wake you with problem statements close to titles of Bollywood Hits " Kuch Kuch Hota Hai" ( There is something happening ), Calls that will remind you of the Lokh Sabha and Rajya Sabha, were truth is a kid with no father and Problem does not have a mother, Calls that will make you feel confident that politics has a different level all together, might be Rahul Gandhi should use it as a test environment. From people who panic when there is a problem, from people whose calmness makes you panic when there is a problem, you can see a new world, where information passed and supplied makes you deliver and not deliver.Your hue and cry at the initial phase of an issue hits a world renowned IVR which every resolver group has " Our system is Taka tak", to by pass that " shamelessness " is the first qualification you need. Skin must have an ISI mark so that taunts do not go through it, were chauvinism of people are always shown to these nomads who own nothing but at the end of the day are answerable for everything.
Life goes on, Belief in the fact that technology will change, people's mentality towards work won't. The simple fact that technology depended business, cannot survive without this new breed, Managing technology has taken a new face, but be ready before you enter this,beware ; it is a one way road, Here respect is not on how much you know, it's on how much you can be diplomatic, Not on how much you deliver but how much you portray that you are delivering. Welcome to the Stickiest wicket I have ever played, May be it's Durban or Dubai, Pune or Perth, It's all about delivering when the fire is there !!!!!!
If you think that to lead a fight, you need to have fought before,then my dear friends;Service Management will prove you wrong. To get the job done, you must have done it before is again a wrong statement, to involve in the Problem and to address the problem are two entirely different things. It's fun to hear words that you would not have heard in your entire life and act as if you are comfortable with it, It's fun when people who have spent their whole life working, sleeping on AIX having to listen to the "gyan" given by kids, who have not even touched the system once !!!!!!. Welcome to Service Management, the new heights of techno commercial, techno lingual career path. Man, Money and Machine are three aspects of any business. If you can manage the man, set his thoughts right, align him to the needs of business and deliver the services, that is what Service Management does.
Life takes it's on turns and I never knew the quest for a morning job will land me in a 24/7 job. Where Credit Management is subject to be learned and mastered, your efforts, if it has to be yours, even your sweat to should drop on the right carpets. Service Management is where Love is War. where you would haunt your colleagues and give them Nightmares. Efforts never Quantified, Results of efforts conceptual, Emotional and often tagged on people who are backseat drivers.
Being in the middle of Chaos being the key KRA, the only person whom you can yell at is your own image and that too if you have time to look at the mirror. Support groups wanting to resolve issues from the root, Process team wanting approvals to be in place, Technical Managers wanting the Logs' s and backup's in place, Restoring the services is like waging a war, were people tag you as a Pakistani, where in you are very much an Indian. Con calls starting from a professional mode, ending up in a kinder garden mode, Minutes of meetings getting forgotten in minutes, Processes moaning as they get raped over and over again, they will all take shapes and sizes in front of you.
Calls at the middle of the night, will wake you with problem statements close to titles of Bollywood Hits " Kuch Kuch Hota Hai" ( There is something happening ), Calls that will remind you of the Lokh Sabha and Rajya Sabha, were truth is a kid with no father and Problem does not have a mother, Calls that will make you feel confident that politics has a different level all together, might be Rahul Gandhi should use it as a test environment. From people who panic when there is a problem, from people whose calmness makes you panic when there is a problem, you can see a new world, where information passed and supplied makes you deliver and not deliver.Your hue and cry at the initial phase of an issue hits a world renowned IVR which every resolver group has " Our system is Taka tak", to by pass that " shamelessness " is the first qualification you need. Skin must have an ISI mark so that taunts do not go through it, were chauvinism of people are always shown to these nomads who own nothing but at the end of the day are answerable for everything.
Life goes on, Belief in the fact that technology will change, people's mentality towards work won't. The simple fact that technology depended business, cannot survive without this new breed, Managing technology has taken a new face, but be ready before you enter this,beware ; it is a one way road, Here respect is not on how much you know, it's on how much you can be diplomatic, Not on how much you deliver but how much you portray that you are delivering. Welcome to the Stickiest wicket I have ever played, May be it's Durban or Dubai, Pune or Perth, It's all about delivering when the fire is there !!!!!!
Friday, June 26, 2009
About Money and the Efforts !!!!!
Pani Puri (An Indian Snack) might be the most complex of inventions in the food world or will top the list of complex dishes in any cuisine. Not that making it needs a lot of expertise But the number of components involved, the way it is served and the permutations, combinations and customizations possible will startle anyone. How would have one thought about making it? Inventing anything must be tough, Pani Puri no Exception!!!!!!
But this is not about Pani Puri or any other dish, this is about our people, the way they treat others, especially their fellow beings. On the way back from office to home there are certain joints were you feel at home, might be due to the chit chat with the street hawker, stall owner or the kind of people who hang around there. I have always had relations with whomsoever I dealt with, a personal touch, a mark that made the stall owner ask “ Kidar thee Sahib “ (Where were you), and the question would sound embarrassing when your stipulated time (7:00 pm) has been bypassed by just 15 minutes.
Pani puri, finished in a flash and then it was time for the Bhel (Another snack that is lip smacking) to be served, I could see a man in Dothi and a white shirt standing behind me. Holding to his hands was a kid, who eagerly wanted something to eat. His wife was scanning the menu card and was talking to her man on what would they order. White shirt was white just because it was 9:30 in the night and the lady looked too tired to lift the kid as well. I assumed they are coming back from some construction site, were this kid had spent the whole day amidst rumbles. My Bhel was on the make the stall owner had asked what they wanted at least twice and the second time it was quite rude, as if their presence degraded the standards of his Proprietorship.
The man ordered “Vada Pav “and some other Maharshtrian dish, were in the kid wanted something else. The kid started weeping and the spicy Bhel made tears roll put of my cheeks as well. The Man was waiting and in-between the stall Owner was rushing to cars and bikes which stopped there, asking this family to stand away from the stall. The kid’s eyes were lit up and she was peeping into what the “Bhaiya” was doing. The lady reminded the guy once that they had been waiting for sometime, the kid’s hue and cry would justify the same. Vada Pav was served without Chilly and when the man demanded for the same, the stall owner frowned and denied. The potato dish was served in a use and throw plate for them, while others got the same in a stainless steel vessel, that too with a smile. After the Bhel I sat on my Motorcycle just to watch the only war on this earth happen “between haves and the have not’s”. Throwing the plate on the road which is any Indian’s right was denied for this lady, she was given a lesson about cleanliness by the stall owner who had colored the wall behind him red, by spitting the tobacco that he chews.
The money earned by me or in reality anyone who ate there that day, would not have been half as hard earned as theirs. Why is that after a days work, back breaking work their money is not respected, why is that his efforts to keep his kid happy is undermined.
Why is it that we exploit people or show our aggression when we are sure that we will not be hit back??. I spoke, told that stall Owner about what it takes to spend 10% of the total earnings of a day to see the smile on his kids face. What it takes to be a husband who holds his wife close, with a kid on the shoulder, who walks back home with no promises to make, no hopes when the sun rises, but still holds a smile and with a simple but firm resolve tells himself “ I will never let them go hungry”. Our country is still fighting it out, not in Kashmir, not in West Bengal or Arunchal Pradesh, but in stalls were a common man is denied a steel plate, where he is denied respect for the money spend and also were rules matter only for the underprivileged.
But this is not about Pani Puri or any other dish, this is about our people, the way they treat others, especially their fellow beings. On the way back from office to home there are certain joints were you feel at home, might be due to the chit chat with the street hawker, stall owner or the kind of people who hang around there. I have always had relations with whomsoever I dealt with, a personal touch, a mark that made the stall owner ask “ Kidar thee Sahib “ (Where were you), and the question would sound embarrassing when your stipulated time (7:00 pm) has been bypassed by just 15 minutes.
Pani puri, finished in a flash and then it was time for the Bhel (Another snack that is lip smacking) to be served, I could see a man in Dothi and a white shirt standing behind me. Holding to his hands was a kid, who eagerly wanted something to eat. His wife was scanning the menu card and was talking to her man on what would they order. White shirt was white just because it was 9:30 in the night and the lady looked too tired to lift the kid as well. I assumed they are coming back from some construction site, were this kid had spent the whole day amidst rumbles. My Bhel was on the make the stall owner had asked what they wanted at least twice and the second time it was quite rude, as if their presence degraded the standards of his Proprietorship.
The man ordered “Vada Pav “and some other Maharshtrian dish, were in the kid wanted something else. The kid started weeping and the spicy Bhel made tears roll put of my cheeks as well. The Man was waiting and in-between the stall Owner was rushing to cars and bikes which stopped there, asking this family to stand away from the stall. The kid’s eyes were lit up and she was peeping into what the “Bhaiya” was doing. The lady reminded the guy once that they had been waiting for sometime, the kid’s hue and cry would justify the same. Vada Pav was served without Chilly and when the man demanded for the same, the stall owner frowned and denied. The potato dish was served in a use and throw plate for them, while others got the same in a stainless steel vessel, that too with a smile. After the Bhel I sat on my Motorcycle just to watch the only war on this earth happen “between haves and the have not’s”. Throwing the plate on the road which is any Indian’s right was denied for this lady, she was given a lesson about cleanliness by the stall owner who had colored the wall behind him red, by spitting the tobacco that he chews.
The money earned by me or in reality anyone who ate there that day, would not have been half as hard earned as theirs. Why is that after a days work, back breaking work their money is not respected, why is that his efforts to keep his kid happy is undermined.
Why is it that we exploit people or show our aggression when we are sure that we will not be hit back??. I spoke, told that stall Owner about what it takes to spend 10% of the total earnings of a day to see the smile on his kids face. What it takes to be a husband who holds his wife close, with a kid on the shoulder, who walks back home with no promises to make, no hopes when the sun rises, but still holds a smile and with a simple but firm resolve tells himself “ I will never let them go hungry”. Our country is still fighting it out, not in Kashmir, not in West Bengal or Arunchal Pradesh, but in stalls were a common man is denied a steel plate, where he is denied respect for the money spend and also were rules matter only for the underprivileged.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
About Origin,Roots, That Makes a Difference !!!!!!!
A tired day at work, the walk back the steps to the bike park, Heading towards loneliness and the untidy bachelors den , adding insult to injury is the sight of a young couple with a cute kid at the balcony and your heart pounds for a family life, a life that makes sense. The morning next day searching for a washed pair of dress and stuffing up the burnt bread confirms the fact that a married life is the only solution, the way ahead for personal, financial and a disciplined life ahead. Life teaches men to compromise, Lying down at the window side, as the thought about married life seeps in, As it takes shapes and sizes, again the mind moves to another direction, Is that the only thing the mind does, to confuse you, or is that what you let your mind do, To jump from one decision to another.
Roots as always is the decision maker everywhere, running alongside life all alone is a tough task, and when you are not rooted anywhere you well can run, running is all you can do. There are two ways about life, one is to be in the ship and let the wind do the job and the second to be the sailor and take the ship were you want to. But I believe ship and the wind are just the to aspects, sailor is born free but in chains. Why is it that you are always just not what you are, why is that you are measured against your roots and the mistakes you commit, linked to the DNA. Is it that sailing through the ocean is easier if your masts are good, that the Ocean does not complain if you sail through and reach where you want , provided that you forefathers were sailors and the ship a veteran????.
What is that matters in the way ahead, a new beginning, erasing the past, easing you from the baggage, making your sail across, a pleasure. Winds have come down, my boat has reached the ocean. All the struggles one would take to get to the destination, I have gone through to get to the beginning, should I turn around, cut down the pace or should I get aggressive. The almighty has got you here and it’s you who need to take it forward and my decisions must only impact me, not my race, if it all I end up in a family web, their journey must begin at the Ocean and not at a lagoon, A lagoon which can challenge anyone much more than an ocean. The tough sail, I thought has made me cross half the way, the job, the money and the brand I believed has pushed me up, but I still remain looked down, sympathized and my ship which I thought was a ship is actually a boat and that too tattered and weak. People are sailing and moving ahead and me with a broad smile, reassuring and sealing the statement, I will F@##k this Ocean one day !!!!!. I hope the aim wins over the grudge, the emotion does not cloud the focus and the pace of the others does not tamper my heart, as it’s always said that “It does not matter who starts first, what matters is who finishes first “. I will finish this race, not for me, but for my roots, for my race, so that their heads are held high.
Roots as always is the decision maker everywhere, running alongside life all alone is a tough task, and when you are not rooted anywhere you well can run, running is all you can do. There are two ways about life, one is to be in the ship and let the wind do the job and the second to be the sailor and take the ship were you want to. But I believe ship and the wind are just the to aspects, sailor is born free but in chains. Why is it that you are always just not what you are, why is that you are measured against your roots and the mistakes you commit, linked to the DNA. Is it that sailing through the ocean is easier if your masts are good, that the Ocean does not complain if you sail through and reach where you want , provided that you forefathers were sailors and the ship a veteran????.
What is that matters in the way ahead, a new beginning, erasing the past, easing you from the baggage, making your sail across, a pleasure. Winds have come down, my boat has reached the ocean. All the struggles one would take to get to the destination, I have gone through to get to the beginning, should I turn around, cut down the pace or should I get aggressive. The almighty has got you here and it’s you who need to take it forward and my decisions must only impact me, not my race, if it all I end up in a family web, their journey must begin at the Ocean and not at a lagoon, A lagoon which can challenge anyone much more than an ocean. The tough sail, I thought has made me cross half the way, the job, the money and the brand I believed has pushed me up, but I still remain looked down, sympathized and my ship which I thought was a ship is actually a boat and that too tattered and weak. People are sailing and moving ahead and me with a broad smile, reassuring and sealing the statement, I will F@##k this Ocean one day !!!!!. I hope the aim wins over the grudge, the emotion does not cloud the focus and the pace of the others does not tamper my heart, as it’s always said that “It does not matter who starts first, what matters is who finishes first “. I will finish this race, not for me, but for my roots, for my race, so that their heads are held high.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Now, you need that Womanizer !!!!!!!
The name of this blog might be wierd, like the concept of the movie Dejavu, where everything unrolls in the last 10 minutes. But I am ecstatic about this 15 minutes incident. Girls are always a facination for an Indian youngster, half of his energy, at the peak time of his life, wasted around thoughts and fascinations about women. Me no different from the crowd, firm believer of the saying " A thing of beauty is a joy for ever".
Enough of intro, Let's get into the matter now. Another lonely day and the only challenging deed the ride back home, I thought having Idli's at my favourite " Idlicious" might turn around the day. At the corner table, waiting for the hot food to arrive, I suddently could see a blue denim walking across and asking me and I would say she sounded sweet, ( Obviously she must have !!!!! ). To glance through her from the bottom to top would have taken 10 seconds and the lion share spend in between :).
I ordered another south Indian Delicacy, spending time with her being the motto. "Vada" was tasty and her presence made it spicier. She had a dish, which is supposed to be sour, and spicy and was appreciating the feel of havig it. Brown and athletic she got the womanizer in me wake up and dance, and it made me order a cofee at 9:00 in the night, that too a strong one.
The converstaion went on between her and the guy accompanying her, the realization that she was his friend made me feel that the chances are still there. The coffe got over and it was time to move, I consistently thought of a way to get into a chat, but somehow refrained from doing the same. The damsel, picked her phone and called a hospital and enquired about an Ultrascan to be done for her, by the next day. The receptionist on the other end enquired about the reason for the ultrascan, here we go,all the castles built on air started falling down, "Ultrascan for Pregnancy" she screamed as if she wanted to cut through my heart using the pregnancy dagger. The guy next to her gave me a look, a look that would have said now move your ass out of here.
I got up and suddenly started laughing, laughing about my psyche, the thought process I had and the failure not to have evolved to a man through the years. Thoughts has to change, fundamentals need to be strong and the DNA needs to be edited. Life will go forward but the eternal journey, moksha will be hindered. Intentional life again is a concept far from being implimented !!!!!!
Enough of intro, Let's get into the matter now. Another lonely day and the only challenging deed the ride back home, I thought having Idli's at my favourite " Idlicious" might turn around the day. At the corner table, waiting for the hot food to arrive, I suddently could see a blue denim walking across and asking me and I would say she sounded sweet, ( Obviously she must have !!!!! ). To glance through her from the bottom to top would have taken 10 seconds and the lion share spend in between :).
I ordered another south Indian Delicacy, spending time with her being the motto. "Vada" was tasty and her presence made it spicier. She had a dish, which is supposed to be sour, and spicy and was appreciating the feel of havig it. Brown and athletic she got the womanizer in me wake up and dance, and it made me order a cofee at 9:00 in the night, that too a strong one.
The converstaion went on between her and the guy accompanying her, the realization that she was his friend made me feel that the chances are still there. The coffe got over and it was time to move, I consistently thought of a way to get into a chat, but somehow refrained from doing the same. The damsel, picked her phone and called a hospital and enquired about an Ultrascan to be done for her, by the next day. The receptionist on the other end enquired about the reason for the ultrascan, here we go,all the castles built on air started falling down, "Ultrascan for Pregnancy" she screamed as if she wanted to cut through my heart using the pregnancy dagger. The guy next to her gave me a look, a look that would have said now move your ass out of here.
I got up and suddenly started laughing, laughing about my psyche, the thought process I had and the failure not to have evolved to a man through the years. Thoughts has to change, fundamentals need to be strong and the DNA needs to be edited. Life will go forward but the eternal journey, moksha will be hindered. Intentional life again is a concept far from being implimented !!!!!!
Friday, April 24, 2009
Goal, the one thing that can make you great !!!!!!
There are times; your mind slips away, for reasons unexplainable. For reasons that would not qualify as reasons, pains without wounds and tears that kind of bleeds. Life looks tough and deeds meaningless, as if the exciting walk towards death has slowed down and the torture prevails. Stimuli and response does not have a difference at this phase and the mind just asks you to explode, the execution is done with such accuracy that all the senses are turned off and just the Ego is on, Kill that ego, the daemon and you win!!!!!!
Is there a way a man can actually mend ways, “Will power“I have heard is not about with standing pressure, climbing mountains or reaching heights, It’s about denying yourselves a chocolate when you have decided to diet, It’s about learning a topic until you master it, It’s about having control on your eyes when you are along side your girl friend!!!!!!!
Searching the wounds is a big task, without knowing what to fix, fixation will be an issue. The demands of the external world and the needs within are often regarded different, the needs within are to be mapped to the demands outside. Decisions taken to change yourself, resolutions that has been run over, a hundred times which itself is capable of telling you “Hey you going to kick me out in another day”. Inspiring moments which makes you take these resolutions, raising questions, quite Valid though, “Will this inspiration last, if it lasts will it live as much as the resolution lives “????
Keeping yourself Inspired is a tough job, the toughest ever. Might be focus on a single goal and the work towards it can get the job done. Every bit of success keeps you pumped up and failure makes you come back, and the journey of life becomes easier and fruitful. A few lucky bunch never thinks on these lines they live, they laugh and leave one day, a few are aligned to certain instincts by birth they sing, dance, play and fade away one day as if it was magic and the rest we mortals who search for that goal, get stranded, get on the track every other day, just to realize that we are off track again, we go round and round.
Might be having a goal and not having one is the difference between, being great and not.
Is there a way a man can actually mend ways, “Will power“I have heard is not about with standing pressure, climbing mountains or reaching heights, It’s about denying yourselves a chocolate when you have decided to diet, It’s about learning a topic until you master it, It’s about having control on your eyes when you are along side your girl friend!!!!!!!
Searching the wounds is a big task, without knowing what to fix, fixation will be an issue. The demands of the external world and the needs within are often regarded different, the needs within are to be mapped to the demands outside. Decisions taken to change yourself, resolutions that has been run over, a hundred times which itself is capable of telling you “Hey you going to kick me out in another day”. Inspiring moments which makes you take these resolutions, raising questions, quite Valid though, “Will this inspiration last, if it lasts will it live as much as the resolution lives “????
Keeping yourself Inspired is a tough job, the toughest ever. Might be focus on a single goal and the work towards it can get the job done. Every bit of success keeps you pumped up and failure makes you come back, and the journey of life becomes easier and fruitful. A few lucky bunch never thinks on these lines they live, they laugh and leave one day, a few are aligned to certain instincts by birth they sing, dance, play and fade away one day as if it was magic and the rest we mortals who search for that goal, get stranded, get on the track every other day, just to realize that we are off track again, we go round and round.
Might be having a goal and not having one is the difference between, being great and not.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Love Stories Busted !!!!
When the phone rang at 12:00 in the night, from a number outside the country, I never knew the same would have been a moment much awaited by my Chilhood friend. Abin would have even searched the bowels of his memory or I believe would have hired professionals to hunt me down and get My number !!!!!. But he did it, and decided to spend 50 Indian Rupees on me, Quite high to his spending Standards. Being the bully of the gang I always had a gut feel that I would get back whatever I am giving !!!!.
The moment, I woke up from the " Manager Haunted Sleep " courtesy Asim Mehra my X manager, I could hear someone laugh, laugh his guts out. My hello's and attempts in different Languages made no Sense, the Laugh was emphatic, It signified a victory. The laugh ended and I hoped to hear this Alien Introduce me, all he said was your " First Love is getting Fucked Now". Then my job started to think who is he reffering to, affairs was common, heart breaks BAU !!!!.
Abin then settled dwn told me that the heroine of the most accalimed Love affair of my school days has officially being married. The girl is enjoying with her partner now, thanks to my taunts and bullying at school days, the news came from Dubai.
Love affairs at school are fun, when you turn around and think, Getting kissed and explaining the process to your freinds, who get calmmered under the stair case listening to the spiced up stuff , gives you the elevated status of having felt a woman!!!!!. Our gang had initiated the process for Abin with the heroine through me, Being a born Marketeer, My gang believed in me getting the project rolled out.Sadly, Instead of Abin, the chick chose me, there started the Affair which continued for the next Six years. The hidden meeting at the construction sites of the school, special classes that never happened, tears rolled out during vaccations, Money stolen from fathers pocket to call her up, The girl at the phone booth who acted as her friend an affair is a Drama in Itself.
I laughed at Abin for his ethusiasm for calling me up and taunting me, he was the most tortured soul during my school days and the torturer " Mr Deepak ". The call ended and I again went to sleep, but a pain remained, will remain, does not matter how much ever you laugh, you talk about practicalities of life, Love does not leave hapiness when lost, getting into it must be a very thoughtfull act. At school, you love and get loved for the no reasons, you do not bet your options and choices, future and needs are not evaluated, you love for the sheer joy of falling in love. People grow and so does the evil, the system teaches them to compare, evaluate and do the weeding, I was weeded out, but my love, Hey thats a joke !!!!!!!!
The moment, I woke up from the " Manager Haunted Sleep " courtesy Asim Mehra my X manager, I could hear someone laugh, laugh his guts out. My hello's and attempts in different Languages made no Sense, the Laugh was emphatic, It signified a victory. The laugh ended and I hoped to hear this Alien Introduce me, all he said was your " First Love is getting Fucked Now". Then my job started to think who is he reffering to, affairs was common, heart breaks BAU !!!!.
Abin then settled dwn told me that the heroine of the most accalimed Love affair of my school days has officially being married. The girl is enjoying with her partner now, thanks to my taunts and bullying at school days, the news came from Dubai.
Love affairs at school are fun, when you turn around and think, Getting kissed and explaining the process to your freinds, who get calmmered under the stair case listening to the spiced up stuff , gives you the elevated status of having felt a woman!!!!!. Our gang had initiated the process for Abin with the heroine through me, Being a born Marketeer, My gang believed in me getting the project rolled out.Sadly, Instead of Abin, the chick chose me, there started the Affair which continued for the next Six years. The hidden meeting at the construction sites of the school, special classes that never happened, tears rolled out during vaccations, Money stolen from fathers pocket to call her up, The girl at the phone booth who acted as her friend an affair is a Drama in Itself.
I laughed at Abin for his ethusiasm for calling me up and taunting me, he was the most tortured soul during my school days and the torturer " Mr Deepak ". The call ended and I again went to sleep, but a pain remained, will remain, does not matter how much ever you laugh, you talk about practicalities of life, Love does not leave hapiness when lost, getting into it must be a very thoughtfull act. At school, you love and get loved for the no reasons, you do not bet your options and choices, future and needs are not evaluated, you love for the sheer joy of falling in love. People grow and so does the evil, the system teaches them to compare, evaluate and do the weeding, I was weeded out, but my love, Hey thats a joke !!!!!!!!
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
About Terrorism and All that Crap !!!!!!
Read a book, quite a sensational one, which will make every human being look into himself and find out wether its life worth living that is being lived !!!!!. Intentional Living is an aspect that is seldom explored, we are logs of wood in water taken by a current from places to places, Intentional living is about swimming across the currents,Cutting through challenges and getting to the destination which kindles the light within your soul, which makes you live. For that we need a cause,a direction, an ambition which makes us put a fight, and Mortenson had one, Quite a big reason !!!!!!
"Three cups of tea" has awakened me more than any beverage that I had till date, not that we all can contribute to humanity the way Mortenson does, but the fact that the sheer thought of contribution towards humanity itself is a distant dream. " Islam is the best religion and Muslims are the worst followers " is a funny quote that I had heard quite sometime back, Mortensons experiences in Pakistan especially with illiterate and conservative muslims tells us that there are only these religions on this earth, the rich and the poor, the priviledged and the under priviledged,the survivors and Victims, Benificieries and the Exploited.For a teenager in tough terrains of Northern Pakistan, terrorism is not by choice its by force.Education is a luxury and Madrassas the only place to look up for any kind of formal " Education". Mortensons fight to get education in place for girls in Paksitan, is a much better fight that Americas war on terror, A fight which has meaning and sense, a fight which aims at helping a society to reach out to the world. This American getting justice in " Shariat" the most conservative muslim way of delivering justice and that too against powerfull religious leaders in Balti and Skardu, reflects the Quality of Justice system in the most dreaded parts of this world.
More inspiring is the way, this Ex- Mountaneer, Sleeps in the car, saves money and tries to get closer to his dream.For us the mortals, even for our selfish needs sacrificing the present for the future, always remains a challenging task.Shells that we fire against Pakistan, does not hurt the terrorists and the fundamenatlists, doesnt get to the Musharaff's and Bhuto's, all it does is to make a bunch of people homeless, kids fatherless and thier future hopeless.
Everywehere on this earth,there is only one war that is waged, the war to keep the strata of this society alive, the war to ensure that a bunch of people remains who could be exploited, a bunch who remains dependent on the upper class, A kwan which ensures that the life of others is easier, though thiers continues in misery.Every war, every struggle is waged at the cost of the poor, the blood that is spilled,does not get accounted under Jehad or under the Saffron register, It gets registered in the hearts of the families who loses thier sole bread winners, under wounds which leaves scars for a life time. I love Pakistan and the people there, Why would I fight a tyrant thousand miles a way, when there are thousand tyrants for me to fight a mile away.
"Three cups of tea" has awakened me more than any beverage that I had till date, not that we all can contribute to humanity the way Mortenson does, but the fact that the sheer thought of contribution towards humanity itself is a distant dream. " Islam is the best religion and Muslims are the worst followers " is a funny quote that I had heard quite sometime back, Mortensons experiences in Pakistan especially with illiterate and conservative muslims tells us that there are only these religions on this earth, the rich and the poor, the priviledged and the under priviledged,the survivors and Victims, Benificieries and the Exploited.For a teenager in tough terrains of Northern Pakistan, terrorism is not by choice its by force.Education is a luxury and Madrassas the only place to look up for any kind of formal " Education". Mortensons fight to get education in place for girls in Paksitan, is a much better fight that Americas war on terror, A fight which has meaning and sense, a fight which aims at helping a society to reach out to the world. This American getting justice in " Shariat" the most conservative muslim way of delivering justice and that too against powerfull religious leaders in Balti and Skardu, reflects the Quality of Justice system in the most dreaded parts of this world.
More inspiring is the way, this Ex- Mountaneer, Sleeps in the car, saves money and tries to get closer to his dream.For us the mortals, even for our selfish needs sacrificing the present for the future, always remains a challenging task.Shells that we fire against Pakistan, does not hurt the terrorists and the fundamenatlists, doesnt get to the Musharaff's and Bhuto's, all it does is to make a bunch of people homeless, kids fatherless and thier future hopeless.
Everywehere on this earth,there is only one war that is waged, the war to keep the strata of this society alive, the war to ensure that a bunch of people remains who could be exploited, a bunch who remains dependent on the upper class, A kwan which ensures that the life of others is easier, though thiers continues in misery.Every war, every struggle is waged at the cost of the poor, the blood that is spilled,does not get accounted under Jehad or under the Saffron register, It gets registered in the hearts of the families who loses thier sole bread winners, under wounds which leaves scars for a life time. I love Pakistan and the people there, Why would I fight a tyrant thousand miles a way, when there are thousand tyrants for me to fight a mile away.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
My good bye mail @ Microsoft !!!!!!
Hi Team,
It was an amazing run, one which can give a man confidence to turn the world upside down. All the assignments that I had taken till date, from a re-training batch in IE7, to an SDIP team of close to 100 and last but not least the Vista backend, I had tasted success, Success which makes me indebted to a big bunch of people.
I would like to take a lot of names but would limit it to a few, John Samuel who inspires everyone by his punctuality,Vijay Chellappa and Rishi for their indefatigable dedication, Amal for keeping his foot to the floor even at that level,Chenna and Praveen for the practical perspectives they have about the work and the business, Nithin and Madhan for the support and friendliness, Manesh and Deepak for choosing me to handle the backend, last but not least Arul for being the manager he continues to be.
At this minute, am distressed about the fact that I am moving at a time when everything looks the way we wanted,“ Vista painted in green”. I would proudly say that I played a role in the team who fixed Vista, and in this note would like to thank Sriram for being supportive and to have allowed me to try things that I wanted to.
I am sure, I would miss this crowd, the liveliness and the energy, the reviews and rigor and the whole team. I would look up to the company for the fact that it gave me a career and wish the team every success in future endeavors.
Regards,
Deepak.K.C.
It was an amazing run, one which can give a man confidence to turn the world upside down. All the assignments that I had taken till date, from a re-training batch in IE7, to an SDIP team of close to 100 and last but not least the Vista backend, I had tasted success, Success which makes me indebted to a big bunch of people.
I would like to take a lot of names but would limit it to a few, John Samuel who inspires everyone by his punctuality,Vijay Chellappa and Rishi for their indefatigable dedication, Amal for keeping his foot to the floor even at that level,Chenna and Praveen for the practical perspectives they have about the work and the business, Nithin and Madhan for the support and friendliness, Manesh and Deepak for choosing me to handle the backend, last but not least Arul for being the manager he continues to be.
At this minute, am distressed about the fact that I am moving at a time when everything looks the way we wanted,“ Vista painted in green”. I would proudly say that I played a role in the team who fixed Vista, and in this note would like to thank Sriram for being supportive and to have allowed me to try things that I wanted to.
I am sure, I would miss this crowd, the liveliness and the energy, the reviews and rigor and the whole team. I would look up to the company for the fact that it gave me a career and wish the team every success in future endeavors.
Regards,
Deepak.K.C.
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