There was once a lovely Miss
with whom I started talking.
Talking to her was more refreshing
than a midnight walk in the park.
All I wanted to do was to hear her voice
everything else was just mundane noise.
ahh... wonderful Miss communication!
But will communication overcome
a great distance?
Little did i know
voices get blurred over oceans.
Something was certainly amiss
and when we do talk its not the same
Wish I could talk to you still
without the hint of a chill.
ahh... I miss Communication!!
There must be a lesson in all this
that I just dont seem to learn.
Sometimes things are too late
and you need to leave everything to fate.
aaaargh... I hate miscommunication!!!
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Monday, October 03, 2011
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Bull****
I dont think my blog's all bullshit. But simetimes I might get quite close to it, dont you think?
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Lick. Yumm. Slurp. Burp!
Ive just got around twenty days left in India. So following every one's advice, I'm doing a lot of desi food eating. Every day I'm in a good restaurant or a mausi or kaka's house stuffing myself.
After a month I'll have to eat my own cooking. I don't know anything sadder than that. Maybe eating my roomie's cooking might be sadder..who knows. But then that would mean I cook for room mates and myself which would be the saddest case. Or maybe evennnn sadder would be being such a bad cook that I have to wash the dishes instead. Hmmm. Think I'll abandon this depressing para and move on.
So I'm enjoying myself now. Ive seen more restaurants last few months than ever before. Ive also seen many many relatives in the last few months. And relatives especially the old granny variety (oh no no! I meant elder aunty) mean only one thing.. getting your stomach, small and large intestines, and food pipe all stuffed with sweet and spicy goo that was awesomely mouth watering food just half an hour ago. Delicious!!! And just a tad disgusting.
After a month I'll have to eat my own cooking. I don't know anything sadder than that. Maybe eating my roomie's cooking might be sadder..who knows. But then that would mean I cook for room mates and myself which would be the saddest case. Or maybe evennnn sadder would be being such a bad cook that I have to wash the dishes instead. Hmmm. Think I'll abandon this depressing para and move on.
So I'm enjoying myself now. Ive seen more restaurants last few months than ever before. Ive also seen many many relatives in the last few months. And relatives especially the old granny variety (oh no no! I meant elder aunty) mean only one thing.. getting your stomach, small and large intestines, and food pipe all stuffed with sweet and spicy goo that was awesomely mouth watering food just half an hour ago. Delicious!!! And just a tad disgusting.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Skin
Few days back I went to the dermatologist. A skin doctor if you please. Now what’s so special about going to the skin doctor… you might have wondered in your head. Hello... wait till I tell you the full story, I might have retorted had you expressed your thoughts aloud. And now having achieved the double objectives (objective?) of creating an artificial impression of suspense and managing to conjure up a opening paragraph with zero useful information when nothing writable was flashing in my head (third objective being writing a ridiculously long sentence that the reader wishes will get over, only to confront an another equally long ridiculous line at the end - within parenthesis) …gasp… I shall continue with the actual story.
So there I was in Jayanagar 4th Block walking around. A little aimlessly. That’s when I got this sudden urge to finish some pending stuff on my to do list. And there was point no 6 in black ink - ripe and fuzzy with age: Do something about rash.
It’s a silly little rash really. Not so silly that it can be ignored for long. Something that lies around until the day I’ve just forgotten about it. And then decides to erupt in indignation a little later. Not something contagious though. So if we've been in touch don’t worry! ( but again, you have only my word for this. And I’m not a Doctor. Yet.)
I took a little detour and sauntered into the dermatologists' clinic, pleased with myself. Just the day before I'd read some fundae by J Krishnamurti about how the "the first step is the last step". I’m taking the first step, I’m taking the first step I thought as I nearly tripped on the last few steps leading to the clinic. I entered the clinic and saw people packed into seats like French fries in a fat boys’ mouth. I decided to forget about J Krishnamurti's fundae for the time being. I entered gingerly, tried to fit in between two French fries but lost courage and ran back to the receptionist.
“Eh huh.. I don’t have an appointment. How long will it take to meet the doctor? “
“There are seven people before you. And its already 12.30 now. You will most probably not get an appointment by 1.45. Better you come after lunch around three.”
So I went back home. I knew the right thing to do would be to go back to the clinic at three. But I could make up some excuse and avoid doing this. So much work to do on the computer (I made myself think, handing myself a guilt free pass in the process).I headed blissfully back home knowing fully well I'd end up reading random stuff on the net instead of going to the Doctors’. But guess what. No current at home! And no marks for the second guess. No UPS at home!!
Once in every million years, when a first step is taken in the right direction, many other things conspire to make the right thing happen.
Sounds quite corny but you can quote me on this ... as "Nikhil Balaji's counter corollary to Murphy's law circa 2009”. So come 2.45 pm I headed back to resignedly to the dermatologists'. And finished my business with him.
One more thing which struck me was how far ahead the dermatologist was booked for appointments. When I asked for an appointment, the only slot I could get was for 3 weeks later! And appointment on Saturdays and Sundays... Forget it. Why what’s with the skin? Is it more susceptible to diseases and problems than other parts of the body? Or aren’t there enough dermatologists in India? Haven’t the medical fraternity figured the simple logic of supply and demand…why don’t more of them take up (for lack of a suitable word in my dictionary and a lethargy on my part to look up the internet) dermatology studies?? What the hell!!
Note to self: Meditation is apparently not working for you right now.
So there I was in Jayanagar 4th Block walking around. A little aimlessly. That’s when I got this sudden urge to finish some pending stuff on my to do list. And there was point no 6 in black ink - ripe and fuzzy with age: Do something about rash.
It’s a silly little rash really. Not so silly that it can be ignored for long. Something that lies around until the day I’ve just forgotten about it. And then decides to erupt in indignation a little later. Not something contagious though. So if we've been in touch don’t worry! ( but again, you have only my word for this. And I’m not a Doctor. Yet.)
I took a little detour and sauntered into the dermatologists' clinic, pleased with myself. Just the day before I'd read some fundae by J Krishnamurti about how the "the first step is the last step". I’m taking the first step, I’m taking the first step I thought as I nearly tripped on the last few steps leading to the clinic. I entered the clinic and saw people packed into seats like French fries in a fat boys’ mouth. I decided to forget about J Krishnamurti's fundae for the time being. I entered gingerly, tried to fit in between two French fries but lost courage and ran back to the receptionist.
“Eh huh.. I don’t have an appointment. How long will it take to meet the doctor? “
“There are seven people before you. And its already 12.30 now. You will most probably not get an appointment by 1.45. Better you come after lunch around three.”
So I went back home. I knew the right thing to do would be to go back to the clinic at three. But I could make up some excuse and avoid doing this. So much work to do on the computer (I made myself think, handing myself a guilt free pass in the process).I headed blissfully back home knowing fully well I'd end up reading random stuff on the net instead of going to the Doctors’. But guess what. No current at home! And no marks for the second guess. No UPS at home!!
Once in every million years, when a first step is taken in the right direction, many other things conspire to make the right thing happen.
Sounds quite corny but you can quote me on this ... as "Nikhil Balaji's counter corollary to Murphy's law circa 2009”. So come 2.45 pm I headed back to resignedly to the dermatologists'. And finished my business with him.
One more thing which struck me was how far ahead the dermatologist was booked for appointments. When I asked for an appointment, the only slot I could get was for 3 weeks later! And appointment on Saturdays and Sundays... Forget it. Why what’s with the skin? Is it more susceptible to diseases and problems than other parts of the body? Or aren’t there enough dermatologists in India? Haven’t the medical fraternity figured the simple logic of supply and demand…why don’t more of them take up (for lack of a suitable word in my dictionary and a lethargy on my part to look up the internet) dermatology studies?? What the hell!!
Note to self: Meditation is apparently not working for you right now.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Abysmal Jokes (AJ's) Part 15
Message I recieved..
Hi! An update..Ive changed my mum.
99001xxxxx
Silly sidenote: he didnt send me the x's. I put them there.
If you have some abysmal jokes and like getting hit with tomatoes, send them to
wannabe.comic@gmail.com
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Abysmal Jokes (AJ's) Part 14
What do you call a wealthy, strong, incredibly clever magician ?
RichHard FeignMan
If you have some abysmal jokes and like getting hit with tomatoes, send them to
wannabe.comic@gmail.com
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
ITPL. Traffic. Politicians.
The company I work for happens to be located in ITPL (International Tech Park Limited). It’s actually ITPB (International Tech Park Bangalore) and this is how you will find it on the web. ITPL is a huge place and with an aura of regality around it. But don’t let that deceive you. It’s almost like a city on the outskirts of a city. ITPL is home to many IT people in more ways than one – in addition to working , the people live here from morning to late evening, doing all their stuff in ITPL and returning to their ‘room’ or home only to sleep at night. If there were enough bunkers or cheap accommodation available, there would be a group of people who wouldn’t see the outside of ITPL gate for weeks on end.
The main pain in the backside about working at ITPL is the commute. This is especially severe if you stay out of a 5 km radius from ITPL, and it varies acc to the square (or cube ?) of the distance of your dwelling from ITPL. The two big factors exacerbating the pain in the pain in the backside are peak hour traffic (figurative pain ) and the bumpy roads (literal pain).
Peak hour traffic: traveling a great distance up and down to ITPL teaches you a great deal about time management (or conversely teaches you what a mega disaster can await you if DON’T practice time management). It’s a little like water surfing, only instead of trying to ride the crest of a wave; you try like hell to avoid the crest of the traffic. You need to time yourself just right. There’s a fine line between getting caught in a maddening peak hour traffic jam, and sailing through greeny traffic signals one after the other in a smooth flow. Like all other lessons of life this comes only with practice and experience. For example if I leave my home at JP Nagar at 7:30 am or earlier (on my bike), I can comfortably reach office in 45 minutes, worst case. But leave at 8:15 am, and I’ll take at least an hour and a half. Missing the time window has severe consequences, the time taken to reach ITPL leaving home at 9:00 am can easily be upto two and a quarter hours.
Bumpy Roads: Ah bumpy roads of Bangalore! No dearth of words can describe the wrath you unleash on the poor Bangalorean soul. The basic funda is : Don’t sit on the last few seats in the ITPL bus, unless you cant afford Dashing Cars at WonderLa (at least in dashing cars you can get down in 5 minutes). Also you are screwed at both ends because sitting too front near the engine will make your eardrums scream for mercy. But of course the option of the middle seats first goes to the traffically handicapped. These are the people who wear collars around the neck or carry special pillows to sit on.
Not too early to coin the word Traffic Related Injuries or TRI? Remember you heard about it here first. The unemployed youth can organize mass ergonomics classes with themes like
This way we can solve unemployment and traffic related problems in the same breath.
But wait! This can give birth to a new economy too, which focuses on traffic.I can already imagine the brash young politicians talking..
Guptaji Dude “To hell with roti, kapada aur makaan ….the future is in traffic, jaan! We need to build more city outskirts and inject traffic problems into these outskirts, so that we can solve them later. ”
Mukeshji Dude “Now we’re in luck. All cities In India are built embodying the lofty goals of frugality and simplicity. So they have little or no roads at all.”
Guptaji Dude “Right … the small city will form the core of our master plan. All we need to do is to declare some fad announcements like SBZ‘s … “
Mukeshji Dude “It’s actually called Special Economics Zones (SEZ's) dude…”
Guptaji Dude “Ya Ya I know you have completed 11th standard your own, stop showing off. You know dad gifted me a MBA Degree for my birthday, so remember who you are talking too ! Anyway, we will make a lot of Special Economics Zones and similar things. And all the IT companies will fall over each other to set up companies here. While letting out this place we’ll just make sure the roads are not too big! Plan good enough? “
Mukeshji Dude “I don’t think we can build bigger roads even if we wanted to! (Polite heh hehs from the chamchas and politicians) Also we SHOULD not build bigger roads. Our forefathers have worked so hard for this; there haven’t been big roads in India since time immemorial. We may be the future, but we can’t forget where we come from! “
One chamcha gets up and starts playing “Yeh jo desh hai mera ” at the background.
The main pain in the backside about working at ITPL is the commute. This is especially severe if you stay out of a 5 km radius from ITPL, and it varies acc to the square (or cube ?) of the distance of your dwelling from ITPL. The two big factors exacerbating the pain in the pain in the backside are peak hour traffic (figurative pain ) and the bumpy roads (literal pain).
Peak hour traffic: traveling a great distance up and down to ITPL teaches you a great deal about time management (or conversely teaches you what a mega disaster can await you if DON’T practice time management). It’s a little like water surfing, only instead of trying to ride the crest of a wave; you try like hell to avoid the crest of the traffic. You need to time yourself just right. There’s a fine line between getting caught in a maddening peak hour traffic jam, and sailing through greeny traffic signals one after the other in a smooth flow. Like all other lessons of life this comes only with practice and experience. For example if I leave my home at JP Nagar at 7:30 am or earlier (on my bike), I can comfortably reach office in 45 minutes, worst case. But leave at 8:15 am, and I’ll take at least an hour and a half. Missing the time window has severe consequences, the time taken to reach ITPL leaving home at 9:00 am can easily be upto two and a quarter hours.
Bumpy Roads: Ah bumpy roads of Bangalore! No dearth of words can describe the wrath you unleash on the poor Bangalorean soul. The basic funda is : Don’t sit on the last few seats in the ITPL bus, unless you cant afford Dashing Cars at WonderLa (at least in dashing cars you can get down in 5 minutes). Also you are screwed at both ends because sitting too front near the engine will make your eardrums scream for mercy. But of course the option of the middle seats first goes to the traffically handicapped. These are the people who wear collars around the neck or carry special pillows to sit on.
Not too early to coin the word Traffic Related Injuries or TRI? Remember you heard about it here first. The unemployed youth can organize mass ergonomics classes with themes like
- Best Practices while travelling in the Bus
- Traffic Yoga – Calm yourself and make three hours of traffic a pleasure
- Rulebook of Ideal Sitting Postures while travelling (available for all vehicles)
This way we can solve unemployment and traffic related problems in the same breath.
But wait! This can give birth to a new economy too, which focuses on traffic.I can already imagine the brash young politicians talking..
Guptaji Dude “To hell with roti, kapada aur makaan ….the future is in traffic, jaan! We need to build more city outskirts and inject traffic problems into these outskirts, so that we can solve them later. ”
Mukeshji Dude “Now we’re in luck. All cities In India are built embodying the lofty goals of frugality and simplicity. So they have little or no roads at all.”
Guptaji Dude “Right … the small city will form the core of our master plan. All we need to do is to declare some fad announcements like SBZ‘s … “
Mukeshji Dude “It’s actually called Special Economics Zones (SEZ's) dude…”
Guptaji Dude “Ya Ya I know you have completed 11th standard your own, stop showing off. You know dad gifted me a MBA Degree for my birthday, so remember who you are talking too ! Anyway, we will make a lot of Special Economics Zones and similar things. And all the IT companies will fall over each other to set up companies here. While letting out this place we’ll just make sure the roads are not too big! Plan good enough? “
Mukeshji Dude “I don’t think we can build bigger roads even if we wanted to! (Polite heh hehs from the chamchas and politicians) Also we SHOULD not build bigger roads. Our forefathers have worked so hard for this; there haven’t been big roads in India since time immemorial. We may be the future, but we can’t forget where we come from! “
One chamcha gets up and starts playing “Yeh jo desh hai mera ” at the background.
Abysmal Jokes (AJ's) Part 13
Teacher : What is half plus half ?
Kid : Zero
Teacher : Thats wrong. The two halves make a 'one' .
Kid : But we learnt last English class that two halves make a hole.
If you have some abysmal jokes and like getting hit with tomatoes, send them to
wannabe.comic@gmail.com
Abysmal Jokes (AJ's) Part 12
Before spell check : We would like to express our heartfelt congratulations to Srimati Kavita ….
After spell check : We would like to express our heartfelt congratulations to Primate Kavita …
If you have some abysmal jokes and like getting hit with tomatoes, send them to
wannabe.comic@gmail.com
Monday, March 02, 2009
Abysmal Jokes (AJ's) Part 11
Why did the soldier scramble and try to get a seat in the armoured military vehicle?
Because the other option of fighting the war on foot was a tankless job.
If you have some abysmal jokes and like getting hit with tomatoes, send them to
wannabe.comic@gmail.com
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Abysmal Jokes (AJ's) Part 10
What do you call a collection of birthday snaps where the unlucky chap gets more than a few kicks on his backside?
Photo All Bums !
If you have some abysmal jokes and like getting hit with tomatoes, send them to
wannabe.comic@gmail.com
Abysmal Jokes (AJ's) Part 9
Carefree Employee : So what program this Sunday man ?
Stressed Out Employee : Same bloody program I was supposed to finish last Sunday man!
If you have some abysmal jokes and like getting hit with tomatoes, send them to
wannabe.comic@gmail.com
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Sirprize!!
"I'm going to Savandurga tomorrow for a trek with my friends" announced Gaurav.
There was momentary silence in the Kulkarni household. Everyone was waiting for someone else to begin. No one wanted to be the first to take the blame for starting the whole drama.
"So does that mean you are going to miss physics tuition tomorrow?" sister asked. Gaurav's silence was answer enough. This was promptly followed by a derisive snort, some rolling of the eyes and a few coughs from father, mother and sister respectively.
All knew what was to come next. There would be an explosion of fireworks from four big mouths. Each person would chip in to give very well meaning and very bitter advice to Gaurav. Gaurav would declare he was fed up of being controlled by everyone.
"But you just went to the farmhouse party last week"
"All my friends are going tomorrow. I cannot miss it"
Ah, using the friendly example to evoke feelings of emotional repent. Now mother and sister began to tread carefully, trying to modulate their voice so that they cannot be perceived as being unjust or sadistic. The situation was a little like India Pakistan fighting for Kashmir.... either a constant war or undercurrents of it other times. But no solution in sight.
"Friends or enemies, you cannot go. That’s it." Dad said.
So it was decided then. Once dad put his foot down, NO one could lift the handkerchief from below it.
Next Day Gaurav started using the next tactic in his bag of tricks. He began pitching for his upcoming birthday. "You didn’t let me go to the trek, at least get me a nice birthday present" he told amma, the softest target. Gaurav was really competent in using diplomacy.
"You spend so much on makeup. Have you ever considered making up with me by buying me a good birthday present?" Gaurav said to sister.
Gaurav knew such tricks won't work on his father though. Dad was an accomplished diplomat and was a role model for Gaurav in a weird sort of way. Probably he had pulled off similar tricks when he was a kid. But dad had one weakness : studies.
"I got 86/100 last maths exam. I need money for books and maths tuition, or else I may not get good marks in the coming mid terms"
Ah, he had touched a soft and wanting-to-help-at-last nerve.
"Little kiddo wants to buy books and study! He wants to do well in life!!
This birthday I'll will break the rules and give him a present." thought dad.
The birthday dawned.
Gaurav got a home made cake and few Tin Tin books from amma.
Gaurav got an original Reebok sweatshirt from sister.
Gaurav knew he would get nothing from dad for his birthday, but he was to get the money for his books and tuition today. That would be his biggest present!
Gaurav's dad came and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I have always thought giving presents on birthdays is a stupid idea. Look I never got presents on any of my birthday's ever (wife glared at him now). Other than from Amma of course..heh heh..Sure... Correct!!"
Whenever amma stared at him, he forget his lines and suddenly became very optimistic in general. "Er..anyway, this birthday I wanted to get you something."
Gaurav's throat became dry after hearing this in spite of the Pepsi he had drained a few moments ago.
"I remembered what you asked for sometime back!"
Gaurav also desperately tried to remember what he had asked for last time.
"See you always complain I don’t take any spontaneous actions! So I personally went to Manju sir and booked the maths tuitions for you!! " (When no one clapped, dad continued) Lucky chap! Not many people can afford tuitions for two subjects. Now you will definitely get super marks in the coming mid term!"
Mother and sister looked at dad with mock disbelief.
Gaurav looked at Dad with real stomach wrenching disbelief. He was screwed. This was the worst birthday had ever had. What a terrible sirprize!
There was momentary silence in the Kulkarni household. Everyone was waiting for someone else to begin. No one wanted to be the first to take the blame for starting the whole drama.
"So does that mean you are going to miss physics tuition tomorrow?" sister asked. Gaurav's silence was answer enough. This was promptly followed by a derisive snort, some rolling of the eyes and a few coughs from father, mother and sister respectively.
All knew what was to come next. There would be an explosion of fireworks from four big mouths. Each person would chip in to give very well meaning and very bitter advice to Gaurav. Gaurav would declare he was fed up of being controlled by everyone.
"But you just went to the farmhouse party last week"
"All my friends are going tomorrow. I cannot miss it"
Ah, using the friendly example to evoke feelings of emotional repent. Now mother and sister began to tread carefully, trying to modulate their voice so that they cannot be perceived as being unjust or sadistic. The situation was a little like India Pakistan fighting for Kashmir.... either a constant war or undercurrents of it other times. But no solution in sight.
"Friends or enemies, you cannot go. That’s it." Dad said.
So it was decided then. Once dad put his foot down, NO one could lift the handkerchief from below it.
Next Day Gaurav started using the next tactic in his bag of tricks. He began pitching for his upcoming birthday. "You didn’t let me go to the trek, at least get me a nice birthday present" he told amma, the softest target. Gaurav was really competent in using diplomacy.
"You spend so much on makeup. Have you ever considered making up with me by buying me a good birthday present?" Gaurav said to sister.
Gaurav knew such tricks won't work on his father though. Dad was an accomplished diplomat and was a role model for Gaurav in a weird sort of way. Probably he had pulled off similar tricks when he was a kid. But dad had one weakness : studies.
"I got 86/100 last maths exam. I need money for books and maths tuition, or else I may not get good marks in the coming mid terms"
Ah, he had touched a soft and wanting-to-help-at-last nerve.
"Little kiddo wants to buy books and study! He wants to do well in life!!
This birthday I'll will break the rules and give him a present." thought dad.
The birthday dawned.
Gaurav got a home made cake and few Tin Tin books from amma.
Gaurav got an original Reebok sweatshirt from sister.
Gaurav knew he would get nothing from dad for his birthday, but he was to get the money for his books and tuition today. That would be his biggest present!
Gaurav's dad came and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I have always thought giving presents on birthdays is a stupid idea. Look I never got presents on any of my birthday's ever (wife glared at him now). Other than from Amma of course..heh heh..Sure... Correct!!"
Whenever amma stared at him, he forget his lines and suddenly became very optimistic in general. "Er..anyway, this birthday I wanted to get you something."
Gaurav's throat became dry after hearing this in spite of the Pepsi he had drained a few moments ago.
"I remembered what you asked for sometime back!"
Gaurav also desperately tried to remember what he had asked for last time.
"See you always complain I don’t take any spontaneous actions! So I personally went to Manju sir and booked the maths tuitions for you!! " (When no one clapped, dad continued) Lucky chap! Not many people can afford tuitions for two subjects. Now you will definitely get super marks in the coming mid term!"
Mother and sister looked at dad with mock disbelief.
Gaurav looked at Dad with real stomach wrenching disbelief. He was screwed. This was the worst birthday had ever had. What a terrible sirprize!
Adityaism
In these times of recession, praying to God and faith in religion can help only so much. However much you pray, your religion may not help you fix the innumerable bad patches in your life. So it is good to consider the option of having a backup religion. Much similar to having backup offers in college placements during rosier times.
After some searching , I stumbled across this religion called Adityaism. It looks like an ideal backup religion in these recession times. Also many people dont know about this religion yet. So now is a good time to adopt this auxiliary religion, before this religon also becomes big, cumbersome and political. Check it out!
After some searching , I stumbled across this religion called Adityaism. It looks like an ideal backup religion in these recession times. Also many people dont know about this religion yet. So now is a good time to adopt this auxiliary religion, before this religon also becomes big, cumbersome and political. Check it out!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Confused Cyclist
Am I a vehice or am I a man…
which of these two roles should I don
when I'm stuck in a terrible traffic jam
Slowly but surely I can weave my way
between honking cars and smoking buses
without being led by glaring autos astray
Now that Ive reached the end of the line
I see a traffic policeman ready to foil my plan
can I ride across the signal and yet avoid a fine ?
On both road and pavement Im in no mans land,
equipped with only a useless bell going tring tring
why, why such fate had God for me planned?
which of these two roles should I don
when I'm stuck in a terrible traffic jam
Slowly but surely I can weave my way
between honking cars and smoking buses
without being led by glaring autos astray
Now that Ive reached the end of the line
I see a traffic policeman ready to foil my plan
can I ride across the signal and yet avoid a fine ?
On both road and pavement Im in no mans land,
equipped with only a useless bell going tring tring
why, why such fate had God for me planned?
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Crazy Song ; Craaaaazy Song
For a brief period today morning a certain bollywood song 'Desi girl, desi girl' was playing at home. The tune goes something like 'a dessi girll ; a deeeesi girrrrrlllll girl girl girl...'. Ever since , I just cant get the song out of my head. Really irritating. The song has hijacked my brain and ever since I'm wandering about the house aimlessly humming the tune over and over. And over again.
Having a lot of spare time, I started googling to find out more about this and a few searches later, Bingo! A search for "song stuck in head" gave the result, the phenomenon is apparently called earworm. Heres a description of 'earworm' pulled out of wikipedia :
Earworm, a calque of the German Ohrwurm,[citation needed] is a term for a portion of a song or other musical material that repeats compulsively within one's mind, known colloquially as "being stuck in one's head". Use of the English translation was popularized by James Kellaris and Daniel Levitin. Kellaris' studies demonstrated that different people have varying susceptibilities to earworms, but that almost everybody has been afflicted with one at some time or another.[1] A more scientific term for the phenomenon, involuntary musical imagery, was suggested by the neurologist Oliver Sacks in 2007.[2]
There have been claims "that earworms may be songs or tunes that become stuck in the phonological loop, the part of the brain that rehearses verbal information in Baddeley's model of working memory. This usually happens when a person sings the song or hums the tune once and then repeats it in his or her mind." However, this information is not supported by any scientifically published information and was presented only as a guess of an unknown author.
Having a lot of spare time, I started googling to find out more about this and a few searches later, Bingo! A search for "song stuck in head" gave the result, the phenomenon is apparently called earworm. Heres a description of 'earworm' pulled out of wikipedia :
Earworm, a calque of the German Ohrwurm,[citation needed] is a term for a portion of a song or other musical material that repeats compulsively within one's mind, known colloquially as "being stuck in one's head". Use of the English translation was popularized by James Kellaris and Daniel Levitin. Kellaris' studies demonstrated that different people have varying susceptibilities to earworms, but that almost everybody has been afflicted with one at some time or another.[1] A more scientific term for the phenomenon, involuntary musical imagery, was suggested by the neurologist Oliver Sacks in 2007.[2]
There have been claims "that earworms may be songs or tunes that become stuck in the phonological loop, the part of the brain that rehearses verbal information in Baddeley's model of working memory. This usually happens when a person sings the song or hums the tune once and then repeats it in his or her mind." However, this information is not supported by any scientifically published information and was presented only as a guess of an unknown author.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Stupid ATM, Stupid Me
Sometimes when things go wrong, the aforementioned things perfectly synchronize with each other to form a deadly sequential combination of wrong things which can make even Gautam Buddha'ish kind of people go completely insane. If I’m not making much sense, it’s because as I write this a furious me is sitting at the footsteps of a rally stupid ATM which having swallowed my debit card with great gusto, now refuses to return it back.
In an instant I'm reduced from a savvy laptop carrying IT professional to a tense blubbering fool trying to desperately call SBI or SBM help lines to report a case of ATM mishap. WITH NO AVAIL of course!! By now I can feel droplets of bile form in my stomach (liver?) as my body prepares for a fight or flight situation. But having about 5 million years of evolutionary catch up to do, my body is totally unprepared for anything in this situation. (don’t correct me about 5 million years if you know better. I’m in front of the ATM now with no Internet access to verify this fact. Not that I verify facts that I otherwise write in my blog anyway...) In an ideal case a human body should have learnt by now that it is clearly of no use producing bile, adrenalin and other such stuff when it encounters either a toxic alien dubbed 'government official', or any of the toxic alien establishments dubbed 'Government offices'. Few notable examples of toxic alien establishments in Bangalore would be the
Anyway, my body far from being the ideal one (in more respects than I'd like to admit) continues to produce copious amounts of adrenalin as I wait for the bank to open, making me imagine with much relish how soothing it would be to box the ears of the first toxic alien I come across. Finally at 8:45 am a toxic alien appears. I don't box his ears.I tell him my predicament.
Me: Hi! Good Morning! (have to use this kind of bullshit platitude to put the toxic alien in a good mood) Do you know what I’m supposed to do; my debit card is stuck in the ATM machine.
Toxic Alien: Hmmm. Why are you sitting on the newspaper? It belongs to the bank employees you know.
Me: #@$%^&!! I’ve missed my bus , I'll miss the meeting at office and I’ve been waiting for 40 minutes like a watchman in front of your ATM , all the while shooing away other hapless customers, so that their cards don't pile up behind mine in the goddamn machine, and you’re worried about newspaper ? NEWSPAPER!! Come on! By the way , I’m considerate enough to sit on the classified section listing houses and plots for sale, none of which any bank employee dare buy in this wonderful economic climate that we have. And do you expect me to sit on the dust adorned ATM steps while I’m wearing a shiny black pant that happens to be both washed and ironed today?? Balls to you.... Of course I don’t say this. I was fond of my debit card and wanted it back. I turned sycophant again.
'Oh! Sorry about that. I thought someone else left it here by mistake.'
He glared at me, asked me to wait for five minutes and went into the ATM booth. I stood at the doorsteps of the adjoining SBM branch office. Five agonizing minutes later, he came up to me with the card and said 'Here, it had fallen down under the ATM machine. Our ATM's are very good, they don’t take the cards into them, you know. Next time be more careful'.
I stood there open-mouthed and dumbstruck. I mean, how the hell could the card fly out of the slot and place itself neatly under the ATM machine without me noticing?? The alien looked pretty earnest though (I mean earnest; he wasn’t pretty by any means. To me at least.), and I didn’t think he'd be lying about the card having fallen down. I forgave him for that.
But what about the last line - 'next time be more careful’? Nice move on his part-to put the blame back on me and make me feel guilty? To deprive me of my one source of toxic alienic punching bag? No way. I’m going to hold the stupid ATM responsible for wrecking my tight daily schedule(made tight solely by my inveterate slothfulness and procrastination) And I’m going to hammer out a blog on this , however stupid it may seem! Aaagrh!!
In an instant I'm reduced from a savvy laptop carrying IT professional to a tense blubbering fool trying to desperately call SBI or SBM help lines to report a case of ATM mishap. WITH NO AVAIL of course!! By now I can feel droplets of bile form in my stomach (liver?) as my body prepares for a fight or flight situation. But having about 5 million years of evolutionary catch up to do, my body is totally unprepared for anything in this situation. (don’t correct me about 5 million years if you know better. I’m in front of the ATM now with no Internet access to verify this fact. Not that I verify facts that I otherwise write in my blog anyway...) In an ideal case a human body should have learnt by now that it is clearly of no use producing bile, adrenalin and other such stuff when it encounters either a toxic alien dubbed 'government official', or any of the toxic alien establishments dubbed 'Government offices'. Few notable examples of toxic alien establishments in Bangalore would be the
- Government Banks
- BDA
- RTO
- KEB
Anyway, my body far from being the ideal one (in more respects than I'd like to admit) continues to produce copious amounts of adrenalin as I wait for the bank to open, making me imagine with much relish how soothing it would be to box the ears of the first toxic alien I come across. Finally at 8:45 am a toxic alien appears. I don't box his ears.I tell him my predicament.
Me: Hi! Good Morning! (have to use this kind of bullshit platitude to put the toxic alien in a good mood) Do you know what I’m supposed to do; my debit card is stuck in the ATM machine.
Toxic Alien: Hmmm. Why are you sitting on the newspaper? It belongs to the bank employees you know.
Me: #@$%^&!! I’ve missed my bus , I'll miss the meeting at office and I’ve been waiting for 40 minutes like a watchman in front of your ATM , all the while shooing away other hapless customers, so that their cards don't pile up behind mine in the goddamn machine, and you’re worried about newspaper ? NEWSPAPER!! Come on! By the way , I’m considerate enough to sit on the classified section listing houses and plots for sale, none of which any bank employee dare buy in this wonderful economic climate that we have. And do you expect me to sit on the dust adorned ATM steps while I’m wearing a shiny black pant that happens to be both washed and ironed today?? Balls to you.... Of course I don’t say this. I was fond of my debit card and wanted it back. I turned sycophant again.
'Oh! Sorry about that. I thought someone else left it here by mistake.'
He glared at me, asked me to wait for five minutes and went into the ATM booth. I stood at the doorsteps of the adjoining SBM branch office. Five agonizing minutes later, he came up to me with the card and said 'Here, it had fallen down under the ATM machine. Our ATM's are very good, they don’t take the cards into them, you know. Next time be more careful'.
I stood there open-mouthed and dumbstruck. I mean, how the hell could the card fly out of the slot and place itself neatly under the ATM machine without me noticing?? The alien looked pretty earnest though (I mean earnest; he wasn’t pretty by any means. To me at least.), and I didn’t think he'd be lying about the card having fallen down. I forgave him for that.
But what about the last line - 'next time be more careful’? Nice move on his part-to put the blame back on me and make me feel guilty? To deprive me of my one source of toxic alienic punching bag? No way. I’m going to hold the stupid ATM responsible for wrecking my tight daily schedule(made tight solely by my inveterate slothfulness and procrastination) And I’m going to hammer out a blog on this , however stupid it may seem! Aaagrh!!
Monday, January 19, 2009
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Art and I
So here I was, a couch potato half asleep watching TV on a Saturday morning. I zeroed in on HBO and started seeing a documentary Art-ish film 'My Kid Could Paint That' primarily since no other channels had any meaningful movies going on. The initial part of the film was about a 4 year old girl 'artist' whose paintings won much acclaim and sold for large sums of money. About the later part.. I didnt know anything about.Why so ? Read on...
The first few parts consisted of interviews of Marla's (the child artist) parents and other people closely associated with her. The really good part was the footage of Marla painting. The scene was very natural and sort of pure: a little girl sitting on a sheet of canvas, taking out colors of various hues in oodles from toothpaste-like tubes and spreading it on, using her paint brush, hands, feet and what not to make cute patterns on the paper. The documentary nature and background chat with her parents made you feel like you're sitting there in Marla's living room, watching her and her kid brother play with colors. I felt just like a child, I could almost smell the paint on my own hands, and I felt a little jealous: grown ups really suck at having fun..
So I decided to be proactive. I decided to paint. What the hell, if a 4 year old can do it so can I.. I stopped the movie in the middle, went to the nearest stationary shop and brought some white chart-paper and Oil Paints, and sat down for some serious arting. And by mid-afternoon I had 3 masterpieces ready !!
This one is pretty amateurish I agree.... Depending on your mood you may think of it as
1) green and blue grass on an alien planet
2) a group of teenage snakes at the disco
3) how Bangalore buildings would look like in 5 years time
4) a traffic jam nightmares are made of...
Any other suggestions?
This one may appear ugly to the untrained eye. But don't be fooled, as you are well aware all art especially modern art needs a fine asthetic sense to be appreciated. Only a trained eye (like mine, probably the only one) can percieve the fine melange of colors, the sensuous brushstrokes and abrupt and dramatic use of fingers in the art form to evoke a sense of helplessness as one tries to grapple with the inherent meaninglessness of the picture. Some of you people may even be sorely tempted to tear your hair out in frustration. Therein lies the difference. You think I created the sense of meaninglessness by mistake. I know I created it on purpose. A true abstract artist am I eh?
Aaaaand finally the Picasso! The jewel in the crown !! I present to you ..this! Well dont ask me what it is-I dont know myself , but it sure is hot property. I am willing to part with it though, for any sum above Rs 500..
By the way, see 'My Kid Could Paint That' if possible. And let me know how the second part goes.
The first few parts consisted of interviews of Marla's (the child artist) parents and other people closely associated with her. The really good part was the footage of Marla painting. The scene was very natural and sort of pure: a little girl sitting on a sheet of canvas, taking out colors of various hues in oodles from toothpaste-like tubes and spreading it on, using her paint brush, hands, feet and what not to make cute patterns on the paper. The documentary nature and background chat with her parents made you feel like you're sitting there in Marla's living room, watching her and her kid brother play with colors. I felt just like a child, I could almost smell the paint on my own hands, and I felt a little jealous: grown ups really suck at having fun..
So I decided to be proactive. I decided to paint. What the hell, if a 4 year old can do it so can I.. I stopped the movie in the middle, went to the nearest stationary shop and brought some white chart-paper and Oil Paints, and sat down for some serious arting. And by mid-afternoon I had 3 masterpieces ready !!
This one is pretty amateurish I agree.... Depending on your mood you may think of it as
1) green and blue grass on an alien planet
2) a group of teenage snakes at the disco
3) how Bangalore buildings would look like in 5 years time
4) a traffic jam nightmares are made of...
Any other suggestions?
This one may appear ugly to the untrained eye. But don't be fooled, as you are well aware all art especially modern art needs a fine asthetic sense to be appreciated. Only a trained eye (like mine, probably the only one) can percieve the fine melange of colors, the sensuous brushstrokes and abrupt and dramatic use of fingers in the art form to evoke a sense of helplessness as one tries to grapple with the inherent meaninglessness of the picture. Some of you people may even be sorely tempted to tear your hair out in frustration. Therein lies the difference. You think I created the sense of meaninglessness by mistake. I know I created it on purpose. A true abstract artist am I eh?
Aaaaand finally the Picasso! The jewel in the crown !! I present to you ..this! Well dont ask me what it is-I dont know myself , but it sure is hot property. I am willing to part with it though, for any sum above Rs 500..
By the way, see 'My Kid Could Paint That' if possible. And let me know how the second part goes.
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