Posted On Tuesday, June 30, 2009 at
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6:52 PM
by Bijesh
The thing about life is that you keep trying to grasp it but it's always a step or two ahead. It lets you think you are catching up only to sweep it all away in one stroke. It took Deena an amputated leg and twenty years to accept this. He knew the truth in his heart of hearts but he never gave up the hope that someday everything would become good. Of course, some days everything had been good but good things - happy times - had a way of rapidly unravelling for him.
He sat there at the entrance to the waiting room every day, noon and night. The railway station was always busy and the waiting room was always full. He didn't really have anything of importance to do there but a then minister of the state government had winged this job for him. He was greatly thankful to the minister for this, although he was the reason Deena limped around on a single leg.
Day in and day out he checked people's tickets and decided who would be allowed in and who wouldn't. He was the master of the doorway and quite protective about it. If someone ignored his request to examine the ticket, he ensured that the evader got an ear full of his opinion on how civilization was going to the dogs.
Looking at the nose-cringed affluent in the waiting room, he often wondered how his own life would've been if not for that fateful year. He had been a better than average student made it to one of the better known "arts" colleges in his town. Deena emerged one of the finest students in his class during the first year of his bachelor's degree. He had taken up Commerce and aimed to get certified as a CA . The dream of one too many teenager in every town but even his teachers believed that he had the drive to succeed.
One fine rainy evening, on his way back home, he saw this girl at the bus stop. She had a worried look on her face and stood there alone. He stopped to ask her if she needed some help. As she explained that she had missed the last bus home and it was quite a long way off to home, he noticed the way her long braided hair reached her waist and how the droplets shone under the lamp. Prying his eyes away, he offered to wait with her until the rain stopped and take her home on his moped.
Deena had fallen for Priya that first day but he didn't tell her that until after many many chance encounters with her. All his friends in college knew, of course and they him on with their unsolicited advice and their random bantering. When he did decide to tell her, she simply said that she was already engaged to another guy. He was devastated. Now, when he thought back, he saw clearly how he wasn't even that much in love with her but it was a big blow then to his adolescent ego. If he had been that clear-headed then!!
Someone tapped on his shoulder. It was the station master. He was a kind man and brought sweets to him whenever his wife packed them in for his lunch. "Too old for sweets but can't have the missus think that, can I?", he said. Deena and the station master chatted for a while running their eyes over the people huddled inside and sighing at the monotony of it all. As he was leaving, the station master mentioned that "his" minister was scheduled to take a train that evening.
Deena saw Ravi walk down the platform with what seemed like fifty men following him. Every single one of them was dressed in the trade mark white that politicians seemed to favour. That was just to project an image of honesty, Deena thought to himself. Ravi had risen from the same background as Deena but his life had been set on a completely diferent course.He had been a shy kid in school. Deena had been a year older than him and naturally Ravi was not even a speck on his horizon. Even otherwise, Ravi was not on anyone's horizon. He was very frail and was lousy at sports. He was neither a geek nor a cool kid and he was left to his own most of the time.
After school, Ravi had managed to enrol in a college in the nearby city. He was only an average student but his father's network had ensured him a seat in the course of his choice - Literature. Less than a year into his collegiate studies, Ravi had transformed into a very popular student. He was devoted to Tamil literature and could quote from poets known and unknown. His own compositions were well regarded by his peers and his diction showed the makings of a great politician. It was a remarkable thing how Ravi discovered his abilities. He had risen like an eagle and soared through everyone's ken. He became a member of the circle of intellectuals and politics was a natural progression for him.
After being rejected by Priya, Deena had pursued her in vain. He felt humiliated and didn't want his friends to think low of him. He was miffed at Priya's rebuttal of his advances and hounded her like a maniac. Like many a spurned suitor, he tried all the classic formulas he had learnt from watching the movies. He threatened to kill himself and have her blamed her for his suicide. He wroteto her that he would kill her and for good measure, her parents too.He hunkered around her home and at night threw flowers through her window. He wrote letters after letters and got them delivered through his friends and her friends. Nothing convinced Priya. She told him to get lost.
Then one day he followed her on her way back home from the bus stop. He kept begging her to love him back and when she didn't even pretend to have heard his rage knew no bounds. He caught her by her arms and pulled her towards him.
Priya was made of stronger stuff than that. She had been a fiercely independent girl. Her father had died young and she had seen and learnt from the struggles that her mother faced. A lone woman needed grit to survive the world - a world bent on taking advantage of the unfortunate. She had been gratefulto Deena for helping her that long past evening and that was the only reason she had tolerated him until then. She would've been good friends with him if he hadn't gotten smitten with her.
She pushed him way and planted a slap on his cheeks. She could see the blood rushing to Deena's face. She saw how anger soared through Deena and his entire body tightened. Deena raised his hand to strike her and that's when both of them heard and noticed Ravi running towards them. Ravi came in between them and pushed Deena away. Deena silently withdrew. As he turned away he noticed Ravi put a protective arm around Priya and they turned and left the place.
That night as he lay in his cot, a group of men had dragged him out of the house. He remembered how the sky had been bright with moonlight and the stars had seemed outshone by the moon. He remembered how he had withdrawn into himself and did not seem to feel the thuds the logs made on his body. Not a sound escaped his mouth until he saw the glint of steel slice through the air. The next moment his heart seemed to explode and his eyes bulged. He could feel a warmth in his left leg and then every nerve in his body screamed in agony. He heard himself shout out a long wail and wondered if blood spurted out of a severed leg or if it flowed like from a normal wound.
He felt a hand settle on his shoulder and he awoke from his revery. He looked up and saw Ravi's smile. They exchanged a few words and Ravi left after putting an envelope into Deena's pocket. Deena knew that it was Ravi's way of penance.
Posted On Monday, June 15, 2009 at
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10:45 AM
by Bijesh
Most often than not, I have seen bloggers ponder over their respective blog journeys. Wondering how their blogs have seen ups and downs, how for weeks or months together they don't have anything to say and how one day words come gushing out. To me what's fascinating, more than the journey of this blog, is the journeys of blogs that I happened upon and added to my growing list of reads.
Over the years - not that there were that many - I have come across numerous blogs through links and cross links. There have been blogs that were intellectual, bordering on philosophy and examining the world and its ways. There have been those that told stories - stories that kept you asking for more, stories of real people, stories of fictional folks. There have been those that saw the world through the looking glass of humour. There have been the ones that worded out what the blogger saw, how the blogger felt - an open journal laying out interesting questions, delivering possibilities.
The blogs have changed over time. Growing with the authors, is my guess. Their views may remain more or less the same but they have become tempered with experience and exude a richer aroma. Some have changed even more transforming into something that's completely different. Many of the blogs have slowed down considerably. The occasional posts on some of these are still interesting enough to warrant their presence on my RSS feed. Then there are those that have disappeared from blogdom leaving no traces behind. I haven't cleaned out my RSS feed in a long time but I don't see a need to do that.
P.S: Pondering out loud in a without-any-point-really post.
Posted On Wednesday, June 10, 2009 at
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7:45 PM
by Bijesh
A group of us ran a sandwich stall at work. It was a for-charity event. Our sandwiches, especially the Corn-N-Mayo, were a big hit. Sadly, the Employee Club imposed price controls after the fiasco by another team yesterday. A lot of folks were unhappy about that event. Two (yes two) potato wedges for 20 bucks was not their greatest idea. Our collections weren't anywhere near what we could've done, because of the price controls but it was totally worth it. We spent almost two non-stop hours in the kitchen, catering to the demand. Totally washed out now but Yay!!
Posted On Tuesday, June 09, 2009 at
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2:20 PM
by Bijesh
So this friend says something to the effect - "UP was fun" and I go "UP what?" (That's a prelude of things to come).
The friend meant the new Pixar animated movie. That should get to India in a few months as long as the poor-and-need-to-loot-more-people Muxes (he he he) don't land a shouting match with Hollywood. The Muxes apparently lost crores of rupees during their stand-off with film producers. Goes on to show the amount of money they grab out of the GIMC's pockets. 200 bucks to watch a movie that will 80% percent of the time turn out lousy! Thank God for our protectors - the movie reviewers. They help me reject every single movie - "Na, that's said to be a lousy movie." All of that is thrown out the window if someone else is paying for the tickets.
In other news, someone named "Krushnaa Patil" (with the ubiquitous letter-repetition) climbed Mt. Everest. Well done, girl! Our fellow countrymen congratulated her with such gems as -
"
Why MHtrian going out of MH o climb.
"
Mt. Everest has also been declared a holy place by someone that calls himself "gg gg". This is as historical as it gets. If only this other poor dude (be warned, queasy tummy) had known that the top of a train was also a sacred place and it could take him to a more sacred place in a matter of seconds.
I have been trying to tweet but never have any interesting ways to answer the question - "What are you doing?" I can't really have people know what I am doing, can I? Or like the real deal, I could go - "I am now typing letters into the twitter box...." Anyway, tweetvalue declared that my twitter account was worth a measly 9$. Anyone wanna buy it off me? Every penny/dollar counts in this recession. (Ha, I used the in-word of the year).
Have you seen Room 401 on vh1? It's frigging awesome. The scariest part, of course, is the host himself. A man as plasticky as that has to be supernatural. I am just kidding. It is a good show. Go watch.
Posted On Friday, May 29, 2009 at
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8:27 PM
by Bijesh
Bands in India ought to wake up and smell the goddamn coffee. Most bands are musically unaccomplished and have only gimmicks up their collected sleeves - Fake accents to sound cool; Resorting to metal to cover up their inadequacies. I mean metal is energetic and everything but that doesn't mean you don't need tight music to go along. Metal is not just making some loud noises and screaming w/o the musical talent to support it.
Just happened to chance upon a show called "Launchpad" on Channel V (which is a t.v. channel I learned to avoid long ago). The finals featured a band called "Faridkot". They were perhaps the only guys that really did make music from the heart. Whilst the other bands took to gimmicks that showed none of their talents, these lads made music. Sad that they didn't win but what they do is what bands in India should learn to do - make music not sound.
Oh, and TAAQ rock solely cos they do that. They make music.
Posted On Monday, May 25, 2009 at
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10:18 AM
by Bijesh
Yeah, yeah. It is the same grilled chicken recipe from the last post but with a brocolli sauce. Yep, you heard it right. I had once before had brocolli sauce at some restaurant and remember it being surprisingly good. Got the recipe from here and it came out decently well. Not as awesome as the restaurant sauce but doable.
The chicken came out better but I couldn't get the outside charred at all and I didn't want to over-grill at the risk of making the chicken too firm. I am still looking for the trick to get the proper brown grilled look.
Maybe I ought to get one of those charcoal compact grills.
/Been looking in vain for mushrooms for more than a week. Where do all the mushrooms go?
Posted On Sunday, May 17, 2009 at
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8:02 PM
by Bijesh
The original recipe was from here. My marinade was Olive Oil, Red wine vinegar, ground pepper, coriander, shallots and a lil bit of mint. Don't ask me why though. :) The grilled chicken turned out a bit dry. Should have used more oil.
The brown sauce recipe was from here. I tried this first but screwed it up totally. It wasn't even brown. Of course, the second attempt was only ok. At some point during the making, the sauce appeared good and very flavorsome. Then my experimentation took over and it ended up with a bit extra flour. Wasn't a total success but I was cooking for myself. :-D
The side was steamed green beans and brocolli tossed in olive oil and pepper. The brocolli could've been a little more done though.
Happy with the attempt. Probably will attempt this gain next weekend. :-) Practice makes perfect, innit?
Posted On Monday, April 20, 2009 at
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11:35 AM
by Bijesh
To tell you the truth I am not that old. In times before, I would've been a mere few years over the limit. In the current state of the age-psychology I am just a few years away to the magic (and disliked for god-knows-why) number. I know you are not here interested to read this. I know that you most probably inadvertently tumbled in here for no fault of yours. So. Let me get to the point of the post, if it does have one.
I used to play tier- volley-ball in school. I was ok at it, relatively speaking. I was in a proper team and all that (It's a different matter that we didn't win much). Other than volley there was a spot of cricket (aarrghhh, I hate that game) and a bit of badminton, where some trained champs that I had for friends mercilessly smashed my egos to pieces. On a side note, there was one day when, one champ smashed another's awesomely light, all-graphite Yonex racquet that cost a small fortune even then. The owner, surprisingly, held his own and resisted smashing the breaker. Damn it, there I go off-tangent again.
So I used to do some active sporting in school. That vanished once I got into college. For one, the college team was no place for a frail, unaccomplished player like me. I don't remember any active sports/games during those four years. After that, when in my new job, a few of us got together to play weekend volleyball or cricket. That must've lasted for a few months but once again given up on. Beyond this, it was an occasional game during a team outing or such. Until this weekend that is.
Folks in my apartment community have been playing some clubhouse cricket on weekends. Our club-house is supposed to host a badminton court but right now it's just one big four-concrete-walled room. So every Saturday and Sunday a group of anywhere between 3 to 10 people gather around and play some bat and ball. After promising to join them quite a few times (and obviously not waking up before 09:00), I finally delivered on my word. This Saturday I played some no-net badminton for a half-hour. On Sunday played some cricket from 07:00 to 08:00 before totally giving up. I can't bat for someone's life or bowl for mine. Though I was in the zone for a couple of rounds, it soon became apparent that I am just not cut out for cricket. That and I was beat tired too. Thankfully no aches and bruises. I missed the touch-wood incantation and the thanked joy was short-lived. By evening I could feel my muscles pulling up tight and not the good kind of body-building tight. My back was sore, my shoulders were sorer. This is what sudden activity after a long hiatus does to you.
Anyway here I am (on Monday afternoon) boring you to death and still nursing some aches. Nursing them like a bad tumbler of blended whiskey - you don't really like it but you can't dump it. I am hoping that with continued persuasion it all becomes a nice, warming scotch on the rocks.
Posted On Tuesday, April 07, 2009 at
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12:09 PM
by Bijesh
So we moved into "our" new apartment. "Our" in air-quotes because every well-wisher reminds us of the air-quotes thanks to ICICI home finance. Remember how Matt LeBlanc used air-quotes in Friends? Hilarious within genuine quotes, I say.
Nope, to be honest, moving into our new apartment did not keep me away from blogging. Weekend mornings are spent making plans for the evening, while waiting for the god-incarnate mason/painter/plumber to turn up and fix up long pending niggles. Of course for the tasks to be long-pending, it is obvious that the god-incarnates don't turn up. Weekend evenings are spent lazing around and disposing off of any plans that were made. I just didn't blog. No reason, no "writer's" block.
Being "our" apartment, we now have the boon (or bane depending on how you look at it) of decorating it however we want. This means weekly ideas and daily vetoes. Let's paint it another colour, says missus. The off-white/cream-whatever makes the house look spacious, says I. Let's do textures, says missus. Watch for cracks and seepage, warns everyone. Let's get a used sedan, says I. "Are you mad?", asks the missus. I just had to slip in the last one :-D
For now on the backburner are the plans of a bicycle for me, a scotterette for wifey and a car for us. On the car front, I am a great admirer of the Nano. No, I wouldn't get it for myself although it's my favourite weapon to frustrate the missus. I am waiting to see how the Nano changes things on the road. There are many theories for and against the Nano. One theory that I hope turns true is that "With a large section of the two-wheelers replaced by the Nano, the average size (length, width) of vehicles on the road will become a little less skewed and ultimately mean better flow of traffic." Ah, for some inkling of road sense in our country!
On the immediate list are the rest of the furniture (I am gonna miss you, space). We've successfully bought and slightly burnt a couch already. It's a nice piece, priced double what I wanted to pay. Snooping around for furniture has brought us in contact with a lot of price ranges and one arrogant old man in FurnitureWala, Koramangala. With his octogenarian glare, the gentleman said - "All our furniture are expensive. Starting at xyz onwards." Holy, mahogany.
Both of us are hooked to "How I met your mother" and "Scrubs". "According to Jim" and "Different Strokes" (yeah that old blue series) are our not-so-bad side orders. Yep, that's what's up! Couch potatoing! And it's fun(tm)!
Posted On Thursday, March 05, 2009 at
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1:41 PM
by Bijesh
TAAQ's single One Small Love makes it video debut. Watch on youtube. The mp3 is available for free download on their webpage. An inspiring song for the times that we are in now.
TAAQ has been around for 12 years and are one of the most mature and easy bands in India. They don't try to be hep, they don't try gimmicks. They just make music that everyone loves.
Posted On Monday, February 09, 2009 at
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1:15 PM
by Bijesh
Bullshit me not! Culture in India is definitely going to the dogs. This was a country where mythological women gave birth to children without "doing that". All it needed was a tear drop or drop of sweat or a bit of light. Look at the country now!! People want to do it for pleasure. Not for procreation (mind you, the one thing that our culture and tradition has excelled in) but for pleasure. How horrendous!
You must stop and admire these xyz-Sene gangs. Not that they wanted to, but they are mostly staunchly celibate. For the cause of the nation and its culture, they have given up one of the most basic of human desires. Except for the occasional groping of the "pub-culture" women, there is no physical intimacy (with the opposite gender) in their lives. Poor, poor souls. Their life is more miserable than the "Big Bang" category of nerds.
You should understand that by declaring a war on Valentine's day, they are also reducing the misery of millions of wannabes (including themselves) who are alone and without "partners". What the heck will these men do if all the girls are already in love with someone else? How will they "fulfill" their own destinies? That just cannot be allowed. And why do we need a special day for showing love? For eons, men in India have been showing their love not just to their wives but to any woman that walks by them. Don't mistake their leering for leechery. They are just showing their love for all humanity.
We must applaud these brave souls and marry them off to their pet goats.
Posted On Tuesday, January 20, 2009 at
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4:03 PM
by Bijesh
Picked up from Vani. Total timepass. Play your iTunes or iPod in shuffle mode and write down the songs that play under the question. I did skip a few songs that would've gotten me skinned alive by various folks :-)
Posted On Thursday, December 18, 2008 at
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12:11 PM
by Bijesh
I couldn't come up with a humourous title, so please adjust.
It all started the day before yesterday when getting home from work, I was welcomed by a tap that started out well and within nanoseconds began producing some disgusting sounding phhssstss and what not instead of that so-called elixir - water. "Man, looks like someone forgot to fill up the overhead tank" I said to myself (not in the exact words). I walked down to catch hold of our all-in-all guy in the aparment and lo! what do I see? Clustered on the lobby floor were buckets in pink, orange and green and various other storage implements. It was starting to look ugly already. The a-i-a guy confirmed my worst nightmare. The water pump was broken! Of course, nobody knew what the heck was going on. Putting together whatever blabber I could get out of a-i-a and other residents one thing became clear - the pump won't get fixed in a jiffy. Which brought up the question of what to do? Well, it had already been answered by the bucket sammelan. Time to do what grandma was so used to doing not 10 years ago.
Carrying whatever buckets we could get hold of, wifey and I entered the arena. A kind fellow working in the construction site opposite our apartment had agreed to switch on his pump so that we could gather as much water as we could. I saw that some families had recruited a lot of help (relatives, maids, drivers, etc.) and were hoarding up buckets and buckets of water. I knew I wouldn't match any of them. Thankfully a light bulb went off in one of our heads (wifey's in most probability but still). Slogging our way across the road, we managed to fill our washing machine with water and then about four buckets of water. Thanks to wifey's over-ruling of my objection to buying new buckets, we had a couple of them extra.
As I stood waiting for the buckets to fill, I remembered how this used to be an usual occurence at grandma's place. Chennai's metro water ruled the roost then and being the unspoken emperors of everything water, Metro decided when and who should get how much water. Early in the morning or late in the night, one stubby voice hollers "Water" and a hundred different voices from up and down the streets echo the jubilant phrase. The voices are naturally not remembered in the sudden deluge that follows this chant. The army has already been on red alert and in a jiff hundreds of feet stomp out the coming of the king. No buckets, only the multi-hued plastic and metal "kodams"(pots).
I should describe the arrangement a bit. Now, there were two kinds of water taps that Metro provided - one was the community tap that stood revered at most street corners and the other installed in an individual's house. Although the latter was in an individual's house, it was sort of a given thing that they would allow the community to fill up there as well. Yet, the individual claimed ownership of the tap and therefore was its master.
The community taps would've a queue of kodams already waiting for the water. Sometimes they stand there alone like a huge battalion of soldiers. This is where the great battle for water begins. Fingers are pointed, line jumpers are called out. A fierce word duel would break out every single time. There were of course occasions when long standing rivalry egged-on by the enthusiastic crowd becomes a fist fight and much hair pulling. There is one more thing that I ought to mention. Men, being the "superior race", never bothered with such simple things as water. So it was mostly the women and the children that were entrusted with the job of filling water which is why the hair pulling.
At the latter variety of taps, a different situation would arise. The house owners were the controllers and therefore it was their right to fill as much water as they pleased. Every house used to have these "drums" - usually bought from the discarded stock of factories. Don't even ask what those drums could've stored in their original birth. The house-owner took her own sweet time to fill up one or more drums of water. The others had to wait for them to finish.
You must realise that Metro being the lord of all lords had the only say in when the water flow would stop and it was as good as anybody's guess. Hence while the house owner filled up, there would be an anxious crowd waiting for access. After about ten pots, a weak murmur would start among the crowd. People questioning the house-owner's intentions and evilness. After about fifteen pots, the crowd would become restless and a low heckling would start in the background. The house-owner would feign ignorance and continue with their priorities for some more time until someone from the crowd lets out a venomous shout. At this the owner would let drop all pretenses and in an effort to stamp their authority would say - "No water for any of " Thus another fight would break out. This wouldn't usually degrade into a dog-fight cos the house-owner is secure within their fenced out wall. With just about enough time left, some wise-one would console the house-owner and win back their chance to fetch water. In just a few hours time, you would see the house-owner and the hecklers sharing a joke across their gates or more commonly bitch about some other neighbour or even more commonly wondering when the Metro-god would bless them again.
Thus were formed many a bond and many more a lifetime enmity in these tiny little neighbourhoods.
Posted On Wednesday, December 10, 2008 at
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11:10 AM
by Bijesh
One of the most common things to happen to the code-churners in software companies is the "squeeze". Don't let your dirty mind wander, Mr. Sander. I talk (write) about that seemingly unimportant but exceedingly irritating phenomenon called squeeze seats. In simple words, you are rendered homeless and are living off the street. That's an exaggeration, of course, but you get my point.
This phenomenon is brought out when the company is expanding (hmm, I wonder when that word will ever come back into vogue) and runs out of locations for its employees. There are more people than the number of "actual" seats on the floor. Someone in their infinite wisdom decided long ago that all cubicles should be sufficiently spaced. Why? Don't ask me. I can only come up with some very weird-but-makes-sense possibilities that I don't want to share. Anyway, what this visionary achieved was that there was sufficient space in every 4-persion cubicle to squeeze in a fifth person. Sometimes even a sixth person.
So there is an eco system within the cubicle that established itself. All the occupants - four humans, sundry lucky bamboos, sometimes a fish or two, mugs, bottles (of water) - are in a state of equilibrium with each other. Routines get established around this ecosystem with the occasional visitor disturbing the peace by grabbing a chair. There are always chairs going missing, chairs getting switched, paper dump boundaries getting crossed, etc but the equilibrium remains. At least on the outside.
Into this eco-system, the admin team introduces a poor dunce who is usually new to the team, project or even the company. To accomodate this new addition, the current masters of the eco-system have to move around their little strewn personalizations. Then comes the power sharing agreements - which electrical socket to plug into and which network port is free. The poor addition begins to settle into his/her seat trying to not let focus wander onto the neighbours' computer screens.
Remember how when you walk down a dark street on a dark night, you get the vague feeling of being watched and of a presence? That's what a squeeze-seat feller goes through. There's always the irksome itch that makes you believe that someone is staring into your screen, that someone is watching every line of code you type or every line of chat that you send. Cross talk between the cubicle pals goes around your shoulder.
Got the idea? Ok! I was that unfortunate one for 3 months at my new workplace and fortunately for me I am out of there (I mean the squeeze seat). Got my own niche now. Ha!! My space, my stuff!
Posted On Thursday, November 27, 2008 at
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9:37 PM
by Bijesh
Having to live up to the various sobriquets - Silicon Valley (of India, of course), Hi Tech City, etc., - Bengaluru's dear old traffic police (also known as "mamas") decided it was time to go techie. So we have traffic junction cameras, synchronized greens and many such other. It's an entirely different matter that nobody really understands these things and none definitely care about them. Given the prevelance of illiteracy even amongst the educated, the traffic lights don't serve any purpose. After all, a red could mean anything from anger to hotness to non-veg food but I digress.
As I said, the traffic police is busy installing hi-tech devices to help solve the problem. In all the hoopla, what they miss out on is the fact that most of the traffic lights don't even work properly. Take the HSR BDA Complex junction for example. If you are driving down from Agara junction towards Silk Board, you actually have to cross this signal under a red. Yes, that's true. This particular traffic light hasn't been working for weeks now, so the road-user is left to ensure that the other directions are red and then assume that s/he is good to go. Excellent road signal training it becomes for the road romeos.
A month before it was the Iblur junction signal that wasn't working for weeks. Thankfully, someone had the brains to fix it up. How difficult is it to track and maintain traffic lights? Must be awfully tough as no one seems to do it.
Then there are times when the traffic policeman takes over signalling without switching off the traffic lights. This doesn't happen too often but when it does it adds to the confusion.
One of the main segment that is conveniently ignored by our road makers and police is the pedestrian crowd. The pedestrian lights almost never work and even if they do, the traffic marshall himself ignores it and goads the vehicles to move under a red. On a regular morning visit Silk Board junction to see what difficulty the pedestrians face. There are tens of pedestrians zigging and zagging their way amidst moving vehicles. Of course, the speeding cars don't ever slow down adding to the risk that you have to take to get across a road. Busy building multi-year, multi-hundred-crore flyovers, elevated roads and grade separators, the authorities don't have the time and the inclination to put up some very basic foot bridges for the pedestrians. I would especially like it if they could build sub-ways for pedestrians but I guess that's asking for too much of our incompetent BBMP and others.
Posted On Wednesday, November 26, 2008 at
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11:02 AM
by Bijesh
After failing to understand why the American firms wouldn't agree to cut compensations scales for its senior executives, I read about 3 former board-members of the Swiss UBS decided to forego part of the compensation due to them. It's absurd that the American companies, currently begging the Fed for money, still want to keep their bonus payments and compensation intact.
I mean, come on!! People are being fired to cut costs and these head-honchos continue to get paid a lot more than they deserve. Why fire people? Why not cut costs by chopping off salaries across board - starting with the chief executives?
And then there was what-should-have-been-but-was-not- embarrassing episode of the Big Three heads flying down to Washingtion in individual private jets to ask the government for money. Oh, yes, they did promise that they were looking at ways to cut costs in their respective companies. Yeah, right!
I am a fan of that ubiquitous sitcom - "Friends". Yeah, call me lame but I did like that. Now, once I got hooked on to HIMYM, it's move over "Friends" I've had enough of your re-runs. Agreed, HIMYM has almost the same ingredients - 5 friends and a bar (yeah, this is a grown-up version) but it's quite good all the same.
Posted On Tuesday, October 14, 2008 at
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3:11 PM
by Bijesh
I once read a seven book series called The Dark Tower and well, I liked it. Ofcourse being one of Stephen King's Constant Readers, I might have been biased towards the books. In my opinion, he did manage to keep you hooked and not unnecessarily.
Every Tom, Dick and Harry wants to write a series of books now. What ever happened to the good old single volume novels? To me, it is nothing but a money making tactic. They know that once you start reading a story, it is not very easy to resist wanting to know how it all ends (if it ends, that is). And I always believed writing was art to the authors. Ah, just like Linus thought Miss Othmar would never accept money for teaching.
It hit me when I finished with book 3 of the Inheritance series. I had always assumed that it was a trilogy and spent a truckload of money on the books. And then I turn to the last page and there in bold letters, Paolini tells me that I will have to fork more moolah to know what the heck happens. Damn it, I was not even remotely interested in dragons and dungeons in the first place. "Why did you even bother with 3 books?", you ask? No comments!
Let me first apologise. Sorry LOTR fans. I am sure LOTR is the best magnum opus that has ever been written, typed or just read out. I am sure the history of Upper Earth, Middle Earth and Side Middle Earth (sorry, I just had to use that) is excellent reading material. Not for me though. I haven't been able to get through even the first book. Now, Hobbit. That was a fun read. Short (qualifies for a pun?) and to the point.
And then I learnt that The Hitchhiker's guide.. is now a six book series. Holy Magrathea!!
Let me apologise again. This time to my dear, dear better-half. Stephenie Meyer writes a four book series. Hold on. A four book "romantic" novel series. Of course, it is no ordinary romance. It's the love of a vampire for a mortal woman. But four books for that???
Ah ha, now I know what a Constant Reader means. I fell into the same pit long ago, didn't I? No offence, King!
For the love of god, authors. Price that one book twice or thrice its worth, but please spare your loving readers the agony of the wait and the horror of wading through some many million words. Verbal diarrhoea *is* a disease.
Posted On Tuesday, September 30, 2008 at
at
11:10 AM
by Bijesh
Some things that I ponder about.
The glass-and-metal mammoths that are our IT campuses seem to use so much of energy. All lighting is electrical and that must eat away a lot of power. Why aren't companies and architects making conscious effort to use natural lighting to the maximum? Why does it all have to be flourescents?
Look at any board room or conference room. There are always some lights that cannot be switched off at all. Why? What's the need for that?
Why is it that a single switch very often controls a large bank of lights? Why can't the control be more granular? Is it that inconvenient to toggle a switch? Why not have the switches within each cubicle so I can switch on the one light bulb that I will need? The same applies to plug points. Why can't each switch control exactly one point?
Why can't the switches and the plug points be above the table or work area? Most times it's tucked underneath. If it were more conveniently placed, more people will take the effort to switch off completely.
There are lots of such simple things that could be done. All of the corporates speak about social responsibility and environmental awareness, but I am yet to see one corporate that puts any effort into even these small things. Can't the govt or the development authority recommend and enforce such requirements?
Why can't these large campuses have some trees planted around them? Landscaping doesn't have to be just grass. Trees even serve as a shade for the occupants when they want to stretch their legs or have a quick smoke.
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What's the bit I can do to help the environmental causes that are being battled for around the world?
1) I consciously use the shower less. Yes, a shower is a shower and so I haven't given it up entirely. What I do is that I shower a bit and then use the bucket-and-mug technique to complete my bath.
2) I consciously avoid using the paper hand towels and instead rely on the good old handkerchief to dry my hands.
3) I try and switch off anything that isn't required. I walk around the house turning off lights and fans. I monitor the geyser to switch it off as soon as possible. I switch off all unused electrical points at night.
Read how the CEO of Wachovia (the latest one to fall - as of now) had a very positive message to the investors only 2 weeks before it had to get bought up.
This is the kind of ridiculous stuff that has put the whole financial jungle on the spot.
The bail-out has been rejected albeit temporarily. That should remind the Fed, the Treasury and Mr. Bush that they shouldn't rush in when dealing with so much of the taxpayer's money. Wall Street's reaction to the rejection should help push the proposal through the next time it gets tabled.
It's surprising that nobody wants to question the managements on how they screwed up so big and what they intend to do to prevent this from happening. All they want to do is give them more money. Bah!! I know nothing about business, but that sounds outright idiocy in my view.
