Salesmanship!!

My dream-house doesn’t necessarily contain a large lawn. But it definitely contains at least one tree each of coconut, mango, jackfruit and almond; a flower garden and a small kitchen garden. It will be a 2-storey house with about 6 bedrooms. Like in some Telugu and Tamil movies, in the center of the house there will be an open-top space with Tulasi plant in its center. The floor will have Rangoli patterns as also the walls.

Even cluttering them all together without leaving a space for lawn will require at least 600 sq. yards (5400 sq. feet). Sites in and around Bangalore will be as suitable as any other place including my native place on the banks of the Krishna (of course, I am not sure my wife would be as open as I on the choice of the city/town/village.) The only condition is that trees should grow well unlike in Hyderabad (my observation tells that in Hyderabad trees grow slow and will not be of great size.)

The sites-men have somehow got my mobile number and have been calling me for the past few weeks at quite an irritating frequency and especially at very embarrassing situations. As the thoughts of building own house are active now, I have been receiving the calls and responding as well. I observed a pattern. The salesmen easily grasp the potential buyer’s readiness and quote prices accordingly. Almost always the prices are a tad higher than what I would be ready with – but more interestingly, I would either compromise on my specifications for a less price, or get close to accepting the price. Of course, as of now, all this is on paper, and much more thought would go in before "actually" buying one.

The reality on realty that is revealing is very disturbing. On the one hand, the land sharks are turning beautiful green spaces into residential layouts and on the other hand, they are quoting unearthly prices. Now, a site enough for my dream-house, even in an area far from any livable location in Bangalore will cost me beyond my home-loan eligibility!! One of the salesmen tracking me has recently hiked the price of his offer by 10% within one week.

In the wake of this, my dream-house relegated itself to the back of my mind. I started looking for even 30X50 sites. Out of such a site, I would earmark 30X10 for trees and in the rest I would construct a house. Upon matured reflections I understood that such a plan would be a grave murder of my own dreams – I hate small houses with small rooms. I have slowly gravitated towards thoughts of a less gruesome murder. I am now thinking about apartments of size more than 1200 sq. ft. For greenery, I have the option for Bonsai, and of course flower pots. This compromise can be met within my home loan eligibility. Now I have to start oiling my mental and verbal faculties to face the apartment salesmen and negotiate prices.

Thinking this I collected the last speck of what were a couple of idlies in my breakfast and started for my bike. A small boy and a smaller boy accosted me; one selling magazines and the other, wiping cloth. A pamphlet on real-estate naturally attracted my attention, but I managed myself away from it. Wiping cloth seemed more relevant as the one I was using for my bike was lost in a parking place the other day. A pack of 3 cloth pieces, which was offered for Rs 10/- three weeks ago is now being quoted at Rs 15/-. I declared that I would not pay more than Rs 10/-. The boy bargained and looking at Rs 20/- note in my hand, offered 4 cloth pieces for Rs 15/- and the pamphlet for Rs 5/-. This set me thinking but as I was adamant on 3 for 10 the boy groped to select 3 cloth pieces and passed the 20 note to his companion, asking him to give change. Seemingly inadvertently, this second boy slipped the pamphlet on my bike and dropped down a five rupee coin while handing me another.

Then picking it up he claimed, “Sir, the pamphlet must have belonged to you. That’s why this fiver didn’t reach your hand and the pamphlet sat on your bike.” He left it on my bike and started to leave. I liked their salesmanship. I gave the fiver back and took another cloth piece.

Unfair

Last ten days have been very dull.. My team and I have done some backend work for a couple of demos by our company for a large telecom conference in Dallas.

We have in fact put in a lot of work. I patted myself on my back for coordinating a reluctant team do a lot of work in the last minute. I was actually satisfied with my "work". But the end result was not so good.. lack of coordination from people who went to show the demos - all of us here felt we should have gone there, instead.

Still, the work was recognized, and we got a "pat on the back". When I got a mail to inform this, I thought it was praise and felt happy. But today I came to know that in this company, "pat on the back" is a cash prize of 2K!!

It really disappointed me. I was expecting a word of appreciation (and later I would leverage it to reap better career gains), but people gave 2-grand bucks and washed their hands.. This is "unfair".

One more heroic act: I recommended release of my demotivated team members into other projects. When I tried to reason with them and found them "not reasonable", I recommended the inevitable. I now need to hunt for 5-15 new members for my team.

The *long lost-bike story

The *long lost-bike story

When the insurance company employee smiled at me this afternoon as he was entering the restaurant, which I was also planning to enter, and in front of which I was parking my bike - I felt very embarrassed.

It was not because I was caught ogling at a bevy of tight-dresses emerging from the nearby girls' college. Nor it was because I was so bad at parking my bike. It was not even because I owe him anything - in fact, I met him for a home insurance policy bond his company owes me.

It was because what I told him - that I lost my bike - contradicts my act of parking it. Not that I didn't lose my bike. The fact that I found it again has worked to my disadvantage in front of this man with whom I was bargaining tough few minutes ago and need to continue further.

Want to understand more?? Read on.

I prepared a list of must-dos for today, last night itself. The first among them was to sit on the insurance company to get the said bond. I applied for it with him more than three months ago and didn't get it till date.

Not feeling well - blame it on 3 chilli-bajjis I had late last evening on a stomach that starved the whole yesterday except for a cup of ginger tea - I woke up late and lazy today. I was determined to get done some of the works on the list before going to work. As I started on my day's work, by the time I reached the gate I was already wearing my helmet. What I have (not) found outside was not unusual. So, with still the helmet on, I glanced on either side of the street end to end. Sometimes, my Splendor would be relegated to less honorable spots by some workers - a lot of construction activity is going on in a house beside ours and the workers consider that bikes have to move when trucks have to unload their material. And the bikes cannot move themselves, so the workers shift them.

Since the work has been on for many months, I know some of them by face. Most of them know me as the silent man that emerges from Kukke-Mane (my landlord and his late father are known by their surname 'Kukke'. 'Mane' is Kannada for house) at odd times and vanishes into it at late night hours. Some of them are Tamilians and some of them arrived from Rajasthan six weeks ago to work on "granite floor, pillars and walls." Others who had been working from long since on the house-in-the-making-for-the-past-3-years know that I have a wife and that she went to 'amma-mane' for 'delivery'.

Back to the bike: where is it?
Not to look too conspicuous, I took off the helmet and walked up and down the street - I could not find even a single Splendor, though it is the most ubiquitous bike in India now! By the time I returned, the workers took some interest in what I was going through. Usually I never speak to them. When I arrive, if they are on my way they silently get up and go away. If one of them doesn't see me approaching, others admonish him/her (in Tamil though) in a manner to attract my attention. A dark woman that never did any work, seemingly the eldest of them all, used to ask me everyday ever since my wife left for her mother's place, "delivery aaitchaa?" After Mahati was born she has been enquiring when they would come to Bangalore. I think she shared my answers with the other workers; and she in fact knows the age of Mahati (my daughter), more correctly than I. Her darker daughter, who usually remains silent till her mother speaks out, was standing beside.

Now they all were looking at me with some amount of curiosity. A curiosity that lied to me that they knew where my bike had gone! I mustered some Tamil words and asked the inevitable. All I got was a deluge of Tamil, from which all I could make out was that they didn't know. Also that they thought I had also disappeared early in the morning before they woke up, with my bike. Now, this established the painful reality. I lost my Splendor. My bike was stolen!!

I always kept it outside the gate. There was place inside, but the ramp had a very rude step at the end. Usually at the end of every day I am too sapped out to "step in" the deci-tonner. Instinctively I ferreted for the bike-keys within my pocket and found them - always when I "lost" the keys, I found them safe on the bike, which stands lonely on the road, throughout every night! The hoary adage that on every grain the name of its consumer is written (dane-dane pe likha hota hai khane-wale ka nam), must be true about bikes and their owners also - at least on my bike my name had been written. But it was wiped out now!!!

I return to my house to put the helmet back. I watered the withering plants. Calmly I came out on to the road again. With utmost composure, I asked the contractor's representative (Ameen), the address to the nearest police station. I clearly sensed some of the workers' unpleasantness at the mention of police station. Long ago one night two policemen arrived and beat up one of them - the hapless Tamilian later claimed that he didn't do anything except cursing them in Tamil in a drunken state the night before.

Already Ameen had gathered the news from his workers. He said he arrived there an hour ago but corroborated the claims that the bike was not found from the early morning itself. He also claimed that none of the workers might have been responsible for the theft - trying to clear a thought I was developing but was careful enough not to express. One of them attempted to ascertain that the time of theft was between 12:30 last night and 4:30 this morning when he was asleep.

I read in a Yakov Perelman book in my childhood that boatmen walk awkwardly on level ground. Because they are experts in standing straight and walking on the thin edge of the sailing and rocking boats, they can’t walk straight on terra-firma. I feel that I walk equally bad, having been used to a two-wheeler for the pat 5 years. As I started walking to the police station quite mindful of my walk - I was feeling that I should look unperturbed. Ameen approached from behind and offered to take me to the police station on his bike.

We arrived at the police station with all documents descrining my Splendor within five minutes. All the while I was praying and to a temple I found on the way, I promised a visit and a coconut if I regained my lost Splendor.

I never entered a police station in my life. Having seen them in many movies I felt the insides very familiar. In fact there was a young man sitting on the floor beside a wall, handcuffed and chained to a table, upon which a TV was playing a Kannada movie. On the opposite wall, facing the road a dark be-spectacled policeman was sitting. He was thoroughly enjoying the movie. There were some books in front of him. One of them was open and it had some tables and some entries were made in it with very illegible handwriting.

I explained the policeman the case in Kannada. He entrusted me to constable Anand waiting around the corner, and resumed watching TV. Anand took me outside and asked all the details again. As I was explaining him, I saw that there were many bikes inside and outside the compound. Some of them had a ton of dust each - they must have been there for many months or even years. I could not help dreading the prospect of getting one of them in lieu of my Splendor!!

Anand enquired if I forgot to lock the bike. I showed him the keys, as a proof that I locked it. He exercised a few more investigative thoughts and asked if I doubted anybody. I was courteous enough not to name Ameen's men. I said "no." Anand continued to make me understand how careless people lose valuables and approach police for help; how criminal Bangalore has become of late; how he and his colleagues recover "all people" their belongings. He also mentioned that during night-patrols, they found that bike-thefts are on the rise these days. It seems they caught some "careless theieves" red-handed. The one inside was found with eight cell-phones.

I grew restless. I was very angry on the insurance company. Now I lost my bike, and was feeling as if I lost my legs; how can I do so many works without a bike? If some burglary happens at home, without the insurance policy how can I recover anything? I felt like shouting my heart out on the insurance guy. But he is at least 2 kilometers away from where I was and there is no bike to go!!

As Anand was rambling and we kept ambling in the police station compound, I searched for Splendors and filtered out the non black-lavender colors. There were four black-lavenders, but none was mine. Meanwhile Anand felt like standing at the station’s main gate and talk. Outside the compound wall there were more bikes and a car. "All of them were caught last night," Anand told. There! Beyond two other bikes, I found mine!! Suddenly I jumped at it and claimed my ownership. Anand verified the credentials and led me in.

The policeman at the table, enjoying the Kannada movie opened his notes to take down my complaint but I told him I found my bike! He instructed me to return at 4 pm to see the Sub-Inspector and verify the credentials. I beseeched him to let me take my bike, as I was "not well", "having a lot of work", "have to go to office". He would not budge. He explained how my bike got there.

It seems I forgot to lock the handle. Some thief was dragging my bike last night when the night-patrol found him and confiscated it! "Any bike that enters the police station compound should go out only after the SI consents." I told him that it is as yet *outside* the compound wall. Anand took over now and explained the complexities involved in getting my bike back - FIR, court visits, RTO notifications and more. He reminded I was lucky that the police spotted it in time. "Imagine, had the thief dismantled it and took some good parts!!" He coerced me to "think."

While I was really thinking, it struck to me that he meant without saying, that I could "give *something* and take it." Ameen also requested the constable, on my behalf. He said that I was a busy man and that I was already late to work! I surreptitiously showed my five fingers to Ameen. He replied with his two fingers. I uttered "two hundred" to Anand. Anand reminded me that I am a "big man working at Electronics City" and the deal was finally struck at ‘four fingers.’

As I took out my purse and took four hundred-rupee notes, Anand admonished me for the public act. He swiftly went inside and told me to give the money to Ameen. After some minutes he came out with a newspaper and started reading it. Then the other policeman from inside came and told me to enter my details, including my bike's registration number. He once again verified the bike documents and license. All the four of us discussed the city news for some time. We also discussed about a movie playing in the nearby theater. At the end of the ritual Ameen and Anand "shook hands."

Fifteen minutes later, I was at home, with the bike. I related the tale to the Tamil workers, the Rajasthanis and a tailor who has his shop in front of our house, in their respective languages. Half-an-hour earlier I was thinking that I would tell the police that I doubted the workers as they behaved rudely with me two weeks ago.

I was irritated by the continuous sound of cutting granite stone-slabs for floor, pillars and walls of the famed house-in-the-making-for-the-past-4-years. The stone cutting was taking place for at least the past 7 months and my irritation reached a peak, on that holiday. I could not sleep for even a few minutes that day because of the sound. I expressed my anger to them, and as they responded rudely. I told that I would complain to the owner of that house. I also told them that I would tell the contractor that if the work was not finished in two weeks, I would lodge a complaint with police that this construction activity has become an unending nuisance. The deadline, incidentally, ends tomorrow. I had to see the police one day in advance!

I resumed on my day’s plan. The first work was the insurance stuff. I told the person at the insurance office, that today I am living in unsafe neighborhood and I already lost my bike! It makes getting the policy very critical for me to feel comfortable.

* Pun intended. It is a long story.

Raja

The king of South Indian film music.

Many people have agreed this: "If we list out songs of Telugu and Tamil film music of the past 30 years, that are 'good' to 'very good', 'melodious' to 'memorable'... more than 80% of them will be tunes composed by Ilayaraja."

There is a lot in his music. I can hear (any) one song composed by Ilayaraja, 20 times at a strech and still don't feel bored of it.. in fact I will look forward to hearing the song 20 times more, at the same strech. I have a keen ear for his music. By hearing even a small bit of a composition for the first time, I can identify if it is by Ilayaraja (seems he composed music for more than 1000 movies - so a high probability of being correct is anyway there).

I don't like to compare Ilayaraja with anyone else or vice-versa. Everyone has a unique style.

However, I have some beliefs, especially about music: To show how light music (including film music with a lot of classical touch) should be sung, God has created Ghantasala (and P Suseela) for Telugu and Rafi (and also Lata) for Hindi. To show how Carnatic classical music should be sung, He created M Balamuralikrishna. To show what a flexible voice means, He created SP Balasubrahmanyam. To show how violin should be played, L Subramanian was created. Similarly Ilayaraja is created as His masterpiece of a film music director. Ilayaraja is God of Indian (South Indian, if you want) film music. Unlike his closest competitors who seem to have already peaked, Ilayaraja has quantity and quality - not any more on comparison.

Just because I am "now" hearing the song: lets have a word about "Sivapujaku chigurinchina siri siri muvva" from Swarnakamalam. In this song, the two completely different personalities of Venkatesh and Bhanupriya are portrayed by the tunes of their respective portions of the lyrics. The song gives the feeling of two different currents of breeze touching a person sitting on the beach - it doesn't strike as two different waves from the sea!!
It will be a sin to end any talk on Swarnakamalam without a mention of Seetarama Sastry. It is only because what I mentioned were God's creations for music world that I didn't mention about Sastry above. I feel that he and Veturi form God's example of how film-song lyrics should be written. More on this duo later. Lets remember the lyrics of the song "Sivapujaku" and thank God (or K Viswanath?) for presenting Seetarama Sastry to Telugu film world.

Rain rain - go away..

Yesterday, there was an announcement - a company wide mass mail. Since there was prediction of heavy rain in Bangalore, the company buses would leave early. 6 o'clock buses started at 4:30, and others, correspondingly early.

In fact throughout the day weather was so cool that nobody was in working mood. Ambling in the corridors and around lawns, having overly long lunch and coffee breaks, people were enjoying. Add to that, this announcement. It was very much like a paid holiday. Of course, I and a few others were working on till late in the night - I left for home at 11:45 pm.

That reminds me of a story one elderly friend of mine shared long back. Once while he was studying in a North Indian state, where there had been scanty rains over some years, there was heavy rain forecast - that people should be prepared. The news has stirred excitement and enthusiastic youth gathered and wanted to make preparations. They have certainly seen reports of floods in TV news, and they knew its effects. They wanted to protect their fellow beings from the flash floods that may attack their city. They went around all houses in their neighborhood and gave instructions - if there is heavy rain pack your belongings and go to terraces, wear light but warm clothes, hold children close to you - if your houses don't have terraces that protect from rain and flood, visit your friends' or relatives' places, especially those with roofed terraces. If still you face menacing water , just look around - we are arranging *boats* just in case! And it seems they actually brought a couple of boats from nearby lakes and kept them in street corners.

Towards the eventide, the sky grew dark and heavy with low-hovering clouds, the breeze turned into wind that raised dust on the roads, the roads quickly got cleared of people, children were huddled inside their homes - some of them peeping out of the windows, curious to see a storm filling their streets with water and the heroes undertaking rescue operations... Then it started.. large rain drops.. quickly wetting the roads, buildings and trees.. then it became louder.. forcefull gusts of wind.. hail-storm.. pebbles of ice pounding on the terraces and asbestos roofs.. fine smoke of dust that appeared with the initial showers is now absent.. ..the lovely rain-smell - especially the one that comes when it showers on parched clay - was soon forgotten ..potholes were getting filled with muddy water.. slender trees in houses and sides of the streets got bended because of wind and hail.. a sight hitherto unknown to most of the children.

Meanwhile the sun set unnoticed and darkness slowly engulfed the whole city (there was a precautionary power-cut).. the ponding sound of hail-storm, the chill of wind, the waving of trees looking like agitated wild beasts in darkness continued.. for a good half-an-hour.. then ending a long spell of hot and humid weather with a pleasant evening.

Yesterday in Bangalore also, the rain played 'phooey-phooey' to all our prepared-ness. Except some drizzles, there was no considerable rain till late in the night. After that, there was no rain at all!

Pondicherry

This beautiful town/city/state/Union Territory always manages to be in news. Like many other major cities of Tamilnadu, this place also is full of life and activity. Tea-kadais are seen everywhere, airing out aromas of tea and songs of Tamil Superstars. Temples old and new, colored and discolored, faces smeared with holy ash, chandanam and vermillion are as ubiquitous as in Tamilnadu.

Of course, a Pondy-ian may consider himself/herself 'different', but that is similar to people from Vijayawada considering thesmelves above the people of the rest of Andhra Pradesh.

The area around Aurobindo Ashram near the beach is very beautiful with straight clean roads, French style buildings. Rest of the place is just like the rest of Tamilnadu! Except a few French spellings at one or two places, what one can see are Tamil and English letters. A small caution, though: Spellings in Pondicherry can get really different. "Tiru Venkatachalapati" in rest of TN (India, for that matter) becomes "Tiru Vengadasselavady" - French influence, I was told.

In my numerous visits to Pondicherry, I could not hear any locals speak English or French - it is Tamil everywhere. In areas like Pillaichavady one can bump into French people. Of course, at these places other tourists who plan to go to Auroville (more on this in another post) can also be seen.

The recent news of Kanchi Seer's case being shifted "out of Tamilnadu" to Pondicherry has interested.

Pondicherry is as much out of Tamilnadu as Yanam is out of Andhra Pradesh. Population is fully Tamilian - at least 90%. Political parties are nearly same as in the "rest of Tamilnadu" - for example, in general elections, major Tamil political parties devise strategies that seem to suggest that they consider Pondicherry just as a part of Tamilnadu. There is a lot of exchange of people, goods, information etc. between Tamilnadu and Pondicherry. I have not seen any semblence of a border between the places.

I also read news reports that this shifting by SC is a setback to Jayalalitha. It may be a setback to Jayalalitha (which also is debatable), but it certainly is not a sign of victory for Sri Swamigal. Shifting the case to Karnataka or Kerala would have been better - it would have really meant shifing the case "out of Tamilnadu" - and might have ensured some bias is avoided in the trial. Shifting the case to Andhra Pradesh also might have been good. Best part would be to shift the case out of South India itself.

My confession - a lie

I like one aspect of Christianity. Cofession.

A sin is cleared (at least partially) if the sinner confesses (am I right?). Of course, it is in Hinduism also and I am sure it is in all other religions in one form or another. "Prayaschittam" - repentence - is one form of atonement.

But one should not forget the subtle difference between crime and sin. Criminal should be punished and sinner should atone.

Lie can be both sin and crime.

Assuming that my lie is not a crime, I am confessing: I lied.

(Are you curious to know what the lie is? I wont tell.
If it is a sin, this partial confession would partially absolve me.. which is enough for me.
If it is a crime, confession is not enough, anyway.)

Celebration of life

It is beyond descriptions, the overwhelmingly sweet feeling one gets when a little kid looks into one's eyes.
The shining limpid eyes, which the baby is still learning to fix on objects of interest, carry with them rays of pure love - the emotion that remains beyond all others. The freshness can only be described as being devine. The tender face, the little limbs, the sounds of the baby's breath and occassionally the voice, the whole aura of the baby... all these accompany the sweetest form of the celebration of life that God endows us with.

Yesterday and the day before, I grabbed a chance to revel in that celebration with Mahati - my daughter.

An unusual morning and a usual day

Weather in Bangalore has been extremely lovely today. Early in the morning at 6:30 I woke up and found it to be too 'cool'. So I did the best thing one is supposed to do in such a weather.. muted all alarms and dozed off again (I generally employ an alarm clock, and my mobile phone's alarm and reminder - and regularly defeat all of them).
I forced myself out of the bed again at 9am and discovered it was raining.. the familiar pitter-patter.. The usual din of vehicles - most depressing of them being that of auto-rickshaws - was conspicuously absent. Once in a few minutes, only biggies - buses and lorries - were moving, giving the roads a look and feel of Bangalore ten years ago.

As I opened the front door, I saw the following things:
1. There was no Sun in the higher hemisphere of eastern sky - he was lost behind the clouds.
2. The clouds wore a pleasant light-peach color and didn't expose their contours - actually the rain drops obscured them.
3. The coconut tree in front of our house was wet throughout and the small tender coconuts were in their freshest looks.
4. A tall tree outside the opposte house was dripping and shivering in the breeze; my bike parked under it felt warm as its deep orange flowers fell on it - the color of the flowers earns the tree a sobriquet, "Flames of the forest"
5. Potholes on the road became little pools with numerous ripples created by rain drops.
6. What looked like tiny pearls studded on large emeralds were drops of mist on waxy leaves of a betel creeper safe from rain under the verandah roof.
7. One stem of a rose plant stooped into the rain from under the roof. Like an adventurous lass it was waving with joy - the newly opening yellow bud relflecting all its mirth, constantly patted by little rain drops.
8. Draped in warm woolens and a rain-coat, the toddler son of my landlord was being coaxed into his school cab.

What a pity - I have to go to work and slog throughout the day to prepare a couple of documents!!

I rushed through the inescapable rituals of brushing teeth, taking bath and finishing ablutions, prepared and gulped a light breakfast and washed it down with a cup of hot coffee.

Two kilometers from my home on the way to work, I got stuck in traffic jam.. and reached office two hours later..
Whatever mood you wake up, Hosur Road is a great equaliser!!

To reassign myself the role as spectator of nature's wonderful performance, I opened the window curtain near my corner office (yes, I do have a corner office - the south-east corner of a large floor) and... got lost in work.
Now, as I try to look out of the window, it is dark and nothing is visible - it is already 11 pm in the night!!

Tough question

An enterprising student - a final year undergraduate of Electrical and Electronics Engineering in a well known college of Andhra Pradesh - has just presented me with a tough question.

I would have been very happy had she asked me some interesting problem on power electronics like equivalent circuit modelling. I would have been happier had she posed me a question or two from semiconductor electronics. Happiest would I have been, had she bombarded me with questions on electical and electronic communications..

Of ocurse to all these questions my reply would have been not much different from the one I gave when an imposing elderly professor asked me in a non-exam setting in a premier institute during a demo we made on wireless applications, "what are the dependencies between the mobile mini-browser's capabilities and carrier/bearer technologies, if any?". I was glad that I replied the professor with complete confidence. And my reply was 'I don't know.'

But this girl shot a query from the most dreaded quiver - the one enterprising students start carrying towards the end of their undergraduate courses - the one on career planning!!

She asked, "Which way shall I go? Masters (MTech), or job?"

She is facing the same dilemma as I faced 7 years ago. In both our cases, the genesis of the problem is the job offer from Satyam Computer Services Ltd.
Less ambitious than Infosys, which is announcing plans of adding 20200 (you read it right) heads to their staff in the coming year, Satyam is also apparently staking its claims on the produce of numerous engineering colleges across the country.
In my case, the answer was obvious and clear - I didn't have the interest and stamina for crossing the GATE for MTech. That I nurtured dreams of belling the CAT for MBA but could not make it is a different story.
Ther is no ready answer for this girl. Not only eligible to think of MTech, she has already proved her merit in BE third year itself. She got a good percentile already in her first *trial* attempt at GATE - 98.9~ and a decent All India Rank of 256.

If you jump to the conclusion that answering this girl was also easy and that I told her to go ahead with MTech plans, you are wrong. It was not easy.

Assuming that the girl gets a better percentile in this years attempt at GATE, unless she joins a premier course in institutes like IITs and IISc, as she readies for graduating, she will again end up facing the same Wipro, Infosys, TCS, HCL, Satyam (may be, even in the same order) offering similar jobs with probably a better salary, which, considering inflation, works out to be nearly same. Add to that the "opportunity cost" of losing the salary for two years. It is a loss.

I would have considered the fact that MTech leaves a candidate with in-depth knowledge of a specialized subject and hence the candidate has a better chance of getting a job which is close to that subject and her heart. But the case of a dear friend of mine who studied Electronic Communications in the one and only IISc, presently working in J2EE technologies discouraged me from discussing in those lines.

While I was busy with these thoughts the girl put forth some more discussion points - obviously naive and typical of students who are enterprising but uninitiated to the vagaries of life.

Despite the complexity of the question, I spelt out the answer as a crisp and clear discourse. Summarised, the discourse reads: "You are poised to get a good percentile in your next attempt at GATE. Join the best institute in the best specialization available, for MTech. Concentrate on getting the best out of student life, especially from one of those hoary institutes where you will spend your two valuable years in. Have the aim of increasing your knowledge. Higher education will always be more satisfying."

I ended the speech with this famous line of RW Sockman, "The larger the island of knowledge, the longer the shoreline of wonder."

If one of the same Big 5 Indian companies find her at the end of two years, I am not to be blamed.

Venture of a Sunday afternoon..

Late in the afternoon on Sunday (Oct 9, 2005), four of us gathered - Kanth, Pavan, Ravi (Kanth's colleague) and I. While having lunch we decided to go out somewhere.

Makalidurga is too far to start at 3:15 pm. Cubban Park and Lalbagh didn't enthuse Ravi. He wouldn't be satisfied with anything less than climbing up and down an at-least-a-100-meter hill.

We had to decide fast and we did. On two bikes we started zooming off on the Hosur Road. The weather was excellent and the traffic was bearable. In less than one hour, we reached Anekal.

Kanth and I were on my bike and, as usual we started our endless discussions. The presence of 'residential layouts' on either side of the road leading to Anekal disturbed us. The place is beautiful with lush greenery, and the undulating meadows with trees and fields makes a great sight; and here we have people selling pieces of that paradise and people buying them - only to change the whole of it into concrete jungle in an unduely fast course of time.

Anekal is supposed to mean, "Village of Elephant" in Kannada. With man on rampage, occupying every bit of land, whither go the elephants?
Six years ago, once in a while, I remember reading news snippets like: "leopard hurts a village boy", "elephants destroy sugar-cane crop", etc. from these areas.. some time later there were news reports of leopards being caught and elephants being electrocuted.. now there is no such news.
Villagers had their families safe, and their crops completely to themselves.. and now they are aspiring for "greener pastures" - selling their agricultural lands for residential townships! They have a ready market in middlemen that tap the Bangalore techies (and their colleagues) growing in numbers by hundreds everyday.

We crossed Anekal and reached the road that leads to Muthyala Maduvu alias Pearl Valley. There was a family of monkeys, probably on their routine rounds. They were completely lost in their world and didn't even care to attack a gourd vendor at the corner. Well, we bought a deliciuos snack of keeras.

The weather was getting better by the minute.. On the way to Pearl Valley, as we cross the tiny village after Anekal, suddenly the world around turns serene, green, windy.. the plains develop more pronounced undulations.. and turn into ravines that were once homes of elephants and leopards!! Of course, at least part of that land has already been sold as farm resorts - man need not fear any beast now.

Towards the west Ravi spotted a spectacle of sun and clouds. From beyond the clouds, the Sun was reaching the mountains and meadows with his golden rays. The rain-washed emerald plains and lush trees frolicked in added glory and extra beauty as the God of thousand rays caressed them. A lamb or two from a flock in the ravines bleated to the shepherd's call.

The photographer in Ravi lept out and captured the scenery through his Fuji lens.

We proceeded to the Pearl Valley. What happened there?? Read in the next post on this (Adventure of a Sunday afternoon)

Good day

I had a good day with my team members showing a lot of promise. They have increased my confidence.

Good omens (as described in The Alchemist)? I would certainly like to think so.

Catching up with work was never so happy as today.

Constantly running through my mind has been the thought of Mahati - I am away and have been longing to kill this 800 km distance. This morning I heard her voice over phone.

It is as if I am living someone else's life. Heart has hardened and it is not feeling any emotions... I have a lot of work to do, a lot to study. I need to start NOW to finish things on time.

Mysore

It was called Krounchapattanam and Mahishmatipuram in the epics.

The City of Palaces exudes a great charm. Everybody knows that. I became a fan of the city when I saw it the first time in December, 1996. I had a dream of making the city my home. Of course meanwhile I developed a deep emotional liking with Vizag also..

The last two sundays, I went to Mysore in the early mornings. Starting at 3 am in Bangalore, I reached Mysore by sun-rise. As one nears Mysore, the scenery around (especially in this rainy season) is the first thing that grabs attention. As one enters the city, the smells, sounds and scenes catch up.

In my case, the beautiful world around slowly revealing itself out of the night into early morning light, a lark fluttering and chirping away the mist-filled sky's night-long slumber, green fields and meadows with rain washed trees, fragrance of fresh air.. all these started filling my eyes and occupying my thoughts.

While I was in Mysore, I was spell-bound by the city's charm so much that I felt a nostalgic longing when I had to return in the evening. Everytime I return from Mysore, I get this feeling.

My destination was close to Chamundi Hill - in fact right 'behind' it - on the Nanjangud/Ooty road.

The air was chill and my auto was lumbering through the tree-lined roads. Soon it passed an over-pass. The road under was hosting what looked like a sunday market. I was surprized to see the market place buzzing with so many people. They all had woken up so early in the morning and are so actively trading in that lovely weather. I would be usually sleeping in such a time and such a weather, and even if I were awake, I would be enjoying, lazing in the bed or couch.

Through the trees, I could see the majestic Chamundi Hill easing itself out of the mist. Distant lights on the hill were still on. The far end of the hill was not visible, because of mist. The hill looked as if it was re-appearing out of a divine heavenly overnight disappearacne. I kept watching at the Hill, seat of one of the 18 (Ashtadasa) Shakthi Peethams (seats of the divine Goddess).

I went up the hill, more than 3 years ago. From atop the hill, one can see Mysore in its full beauty. A beautiful city, indeed. One can see the royal palaces, the race-course, temples, rows of houses, all in their eternal glory from a height and distance. The whole city looks as if a little princess arranged her toys - of houses, lakes and palaces - for playing.

Like most other cities of India, Mysore is also getting spoiled. People take things for granted whatever they have been given, even precious gifts of God. They way greenery is getting lost in Bangalore is a clear sign of this. The clay in Bangalore is fertile, even if one doesn't take special care plants flower and trees grow to large sizes. But people don't make use of it. Nobody seems to be interested in greenery. What more than a cluttered concrete house can a 30X40 plot accommodate? Mysore is getting spoiled in the lines of Bangalore. The city's skyline is one of the first casualties.

More on greenery, in another post.

No work and no play

I was busy for two weeks. Working 24 hours a day.

Now I am back to usual 16-hour-a-day routine.

It feels as if I am having no work and no play.

No work because I am not really able to figure out how to do all that I am having. I am feeling as if I am a honey bee in a blooming garden. A closer comparison would be: "like a mosquito in a nudist colony." I know what to do, but don't know where to begin.

No play because with so much work, I cannot think of recreation.

Mahati

Hi...

This is the first time I am blogging. I signed up earlier, but never posted any stuff.

What is Mahati? I would like to know what YOU know about the word first.