A very memorable trip

This is still WIP...

The Man who stopped the City...

Its a Saturday. And I am in office -  a fact I am yet to come to terms with...

Its past 4:30 pm. Someone is talking on the phone - loud enough for me to overhear him. He is saying "He has passed away..."
I suddenly know what he is talking about.
And I am suddenly concerned - as concerned as I was on Thursday, when there were rumours about "his" passing away.
I am concerned for my Dad who is travelling - on his way back from Pune.
I am concerned about my sister who has her exams tomorrow.
And I am concerned about my way back home...

I have reasons to be concerned... I still remember Thursday.
I heard the rumour first from my colleague "The media claims 'he' is still on life support. But inner sources are saying that 'he' has already passed away. They are just keeping the fact under wraps in order not to disrupt the Diwali festival for the people." At the time, I was a bit skeptic - "disrupt"?
Ok - a prominent political figure has passed away. But how is that going to majorly disrupt the common man's lives - in the City of Mumbai - where a true Mumbaikar stop not even during natural calamities or terrorist attacks?
Yes, I was skeptic... until I happened to peek out of the window and notice that all the "tapri"s were closed. The chaiwala, paanwala, sandwich-wala, idli-wala, everyone of them had wrapped up and gone home. In the middle of the sunny morning - at the peak business hour... Later I found out that most of the shops and restaurants had also closed down. What about lunch? Fortunately, one restaurant had kept home delivery services running... Those who had not got tiffins did not go hungry... For tea, we had to walk 15 minutes and venture right into the heart of Kondivita village. During the walk I noticed how empty the streets were. I had never seen this lane so empty before...

This was the situation on Thursday - when the official version was that "he" was still alive and recovering well...

And now, its official. "He" is no more... My friend messages me "Saheb is no more. Jay Maharashtra". I understand the first part. Fail to understand the second - what has the greatness of our land got to do with a politician's passing away? But then again, I have never been so big a fan of either politics or "him".

Suddenly the hot topic in the office is Logistics (there are a few other unfortunate ones like me who had to come to office today). People are planning on leaving soonest. I wish to leave. But my work is pending. So I plug in the ear-phones of my mp3 player and drown out the commotion around me.

Around 6:00, I decide to go get something to eat. The shops will be closing down fast, and then I am not sure I will be able to get anything - not even biscuits. Most of the "tapri"s are already shut down. The lane outside our office is full of people. I have never seen this lane so crowded before. It suddenly reminds me of the story of the Pied Piper of Hamelin - how all the rats must have looked - all of them going in one direction following the sound of the musical pipe... Unlike Finance and IT sectors, other sectors don't enjoy 2 day weekends. So, many people were at work today. Now they are all on their way back, eager to get home before anything untoward happens.

The vadapaav-wala at the corner had put a tarpaulin over his tapri. I ask him whether he has anything hot to serve. He denies. Says, he is about to close down, due to the "problem in the city". One of my friends who is a great follower of "Saheb" said that some shop-keepers were voluntarily closing down their shops out of respect for "him". Here I see no respect, no grief, only fear in the vadapaav-wala's eyes. And its bound to be there. After all the vadapaav-wala is a North Indian... He does have some cold samosas. I buys three and return back to the office...

Its 7:00. My TL is reading out the latest news updates to me. Traffic Jams at many places in  Mumbai, as people clamber to get home asap. Situation tense. Auto-rickshaws and Taxis are all off the roads. Shops and Restaurants have shuttered down all over the city. So may be its a good thing I did not leave early.

I leave by 8:30. Dad calls. He reached home safely. He is concerned about me. I promise him I will be home in a hour.
The Andheri Kurla road is deserted. Never seen this major artery of Mumbai traffic so desolate, not even late in the night. And now its only past dinner time. And the only vehicles on the road are an occasional car or a bike and a few empty buses.
As I am about the cross the road, a police Jeep passes by, emergency light flashing on it's roof. I notice another one pass by in the opposite direction after I have crossed over. While I wait for the bus at the bus stand, I notice a third police jeep pass by - that's 3 police vehicles in as many minutes... The bus stop is as deserted as the road itself.

A bus arrives at the stop. It has no bus number displayed on it. I ask the conductor "Andheri jayega?" ("Will this bus go to Andheri Railyway station"). He nods and I get in. Another passenger gets in with me. He says "Pehli bar aisa hua hai, bus mein ek aadmi nahi hai". Its true, apart from the conductor and the two of us, the entire bus is empty. The other guy gets down at Chakala. Now I am the only passenger in the bus. I mull over the fact that when was the last time I had an entire bus as my very own personal transport at my disposal? I gaze out at the closed shutters of the shops and the emptiness of the road.

I get down at Andheri station. Its not entirely deserted (I am not sure if such a thing is possible at the perpetually busy railway station of Andheri). There are a handful of people. But this is nothing compared to the crowds that throng this area every day at this hour.

I get a call from my sister. She is studying for her exams tomorrow. She says the exams have been postponed. I am surprised. The exams are held throughout India. How can they postpone the exam on account of the death of a great man whose sphere of influence stretched most prominently, only in our state? She says, the exam is postponed only for the regions of Mumbai, Thane and Navi Mumbai. I am still surprised. Such is the power of "Saheb"? Even exams by National level institutes had to be postponed?

The trains are not so crowded now. I get down at my destination and walk through the empty streets. All shops are closed. The only open shop i came across was a solitary chemist store. Few vehicles pass by - private cars, bikes, almost empty BEST buses, even an ambulance... Not many strollers on the street. And so, finally I reach home.

Like I have said, I never followed this great man's career. Never was interested in politics. So I am not sure how much I will remember about what he did in his life. But I will certainly remember what he did in his death. He brought the perpetually moving city of Mumbai to a grinding halt.

Look through my eyes

Take a look through my eyes...

Everything changes

You'll be amazed what you find

Take a look through my eyes...

 - "Look Through My Eyes" - Phil Collins (from "Brother Bear" movie soundtrack)

Look at yourself...

Not through your own eyes - they will deceive...

Look at your self from someone else's eyes.

That's what it takes to know who you really are.

How good you are.

Or how rotten.

The revelations can be quite surprising - even shocking... But mostly sobering... It will bring you down from the sky of ego; or pull you out of the quagmire of self-depriciation...

Such an exercise is necessary every now and then. For its good to know your true self...

But when you do know your true self - can you live with it? Can you accept who you really are?
For when you look at yourself form someoen else's eyes, you will also judge yourself from that person's eyes. And you may not stand up to that person's standards or beliefs.

So either you change yourself - hiding your true self - so others appreciate you... but it leaves you unhappy from inside...

Or you accept yourself for who you really are - good, bad, rotten - for better or for worse... and learn to live with it... Thats the only way to make peace with your inner self... To shrug off the weight of everyone's expectations and feel the lightness of your being...

Oh but how difficult that can be... Hated by some, looked down upon or ridiculed by others... How can one face all that?

Look at yourself from someone else's eyes. But don't judge yourself from their eyes...

Unenthusiastic Introvert's Guide to attending an Office Party

Its your company's Annual Function Party today.
There is this obnoxiously festive mood in the office.
Everybody is busy doing everything other than work - which is good.
But the "everything other than work" translates into "having fun" - which is bad - IF you are an unenthusiastic introvert who is yet to find the meaning of "having fun" in your "BailGaadi Concise Dictionary of Everyday Livelihood Idioms and Phrases"

If you are such an unenthusiastic Introvert, like me, then this Guide is for you.

Lets start by taking the very wise advice the Hitchhiker's Guide to Galaxy (another very useful guide just like this one) has to offer - "DON'T PANIC!"

Beware!
The fun-bug is active around you.
And it is highly contagious.
Everyone is having fun. Maybe your party has a theme - like hat-theme or mask theme. So most of the people are busy making a hat or a mask.

You have 2 choices:
1> Either ignore this madness around you.
2> Or just let go of your rationality and go bananas with everyone else.

The first choice is naturally a good one! But it has one little drawback. The more you try to ignore the obvious, the more obvious that obvious becomes. The obvious presence of all the fun activity around you will never grant you the peace you so desire.
So here's what the UI (Unenthusiastic Introvert) Guide suggests: Go with the flow. Let the fun-bug take over your mind - no more conflicts, no more decisions - and things will become easy.

Unmasking the fine art of making a mask...
So you have finally decided to give in to the impulse. And you are now busy making something - for example, say, a mask...

There are card papers everywhere. And Gum. And stapler. And colors and crayons and brushes, scissors, cutters, ribbons, crazy enthusiastic artists and fun-lovers. You name it, its there, strewn around you. Total chaos and disarray. Its the neat-freak's worst nightmare come true. Give the neat-freak in you a break for a while, and dive in.

So you are about to make a mask. But you have no idea where to start. Wouldn't it have been useful if you had put in more efforts in the Crafts projects during school, instead of taking help of Mom / Dad / siblings / poor, gullible, helpful, "bakra" friend???

No Problem. Be innovative. Let your core skills guide you. Are you a techie? Search on Google. Download a Black and White image of a nice mask. And simply Print it. After all it is your moral duty to make good use of the office printer.

Or you want your own custom-made mask? Then find a poor, gullible, helpful Bakra colleague to draw one for you. A colleague in need is a true Bakra indeed.

Now you have a mask outline ready. Use the scissors and cutters and give it a shape. If you cut it wrongly, don't worry. just tear out a little part. Nowadays, broken masks are quite as fashionable and common as broken hearts.

Now go give yourself an Art-Attack. Use all the colours, crayons and sketch-pens at your disposal. You did not pay for them, some poor, gullible, helpful colleague did. So make the most of them.

And if you are not at all good at Art, then Education is there to help you out. (If this line does not make sense to you dear reader, then just ignore... Don't mind. Its not meant for you. Only the guy who inspired me to write this will understand what I mean)

Playing your part.
Its past afternoon, and you are finally there at the Party.
The stage is set.
The chairs are arranged.
All you have to do is go at the back and occupy the last row with your colleagues. But unfortunately, not all your colleagues were back-benchers like you in school? Tough luck. But no problem. Just move a little to the front and occupy some seats in the middle. But NEVER in the very front - because the audience at the back may find the balding dome of your head more entertaining than the pandemonium happening on the stage.
 
According to The Unenthusiastic Introvert's Guide to attending an Office Party, there are only 2 ways to enjoy any office event:
1> Participate in the event. Go perform something on the stage.
Or...
2> Or you will be forced to bear with other peoples' performances and wonder when they will start serving the booze.

Hmmm... Being the Unenthusiastic Introvert that you are, you did not participate in any event? No problem.

Being an Audience can be fun too. Just follow the few pointers mentioned below and you should do just fine:
(a) Remember, the seat you are sitting on is keeping you comfortable. So it is your moral duty to keep it warm in the Air Conditioned auditorium (yes, yes, the same way you donate the warmth of your tush to your office chair). That fun activity should keep you occupied most of the time.
(b) Be enthusiastic. Appreciate the performance of others. At least they have the guts to stand up there on the stage and knowingly make a total ass of themselves. Do you? Then Don't criticize. Do your bit. Clap. Cheer. Shout "once more" (especially for a particularly boring and uninspired performance)
(c) Play the Musical Chair, by getting up every now and then to go relieve yourself or have some water. By the time you are back, somebody else has probably occupied your seat. So hunt for another one. That's how you play the musical chair...
(d) Did you forget you made a mask? Use it. Wear it. Its extremely useful. Wearing it will help you look up all those beautiful ladies in the party, or that special dream-girl of yours, without anyone catching you in the act. It will also hide the fact that you dozed off during a particularly interesting performance.
(e) Be one with nature. Feel the thirst of the Rainbird / Skylark. Feel how it waits for the rains, in the same way you await the opening of the cocktail counter.


And the award goes to...
Its an office event. So there is bound to be speeches (zzzzz), presentations about how well the company is doing (yawnnn...) and the award ceremony of course (you call it a party, but the company calls it a forum - where they can appreciate those poor souls who are gullible enough to let the company milk them of their efforts and talents and get away with just an appreciation).

If you get an award, convince yourself that you are NOT the gullible soul described above, and bask in the limelight. Such happy coincidences don't happen often.
If you don't get an award, keep your ears open and listen to your neighbours criticize the one who got the award and the unfairness of the company's selection criteria. Join in with your own valuable snide remarks.

What you have been waiting for...
Finally that moment arrives. The announcer says that the performances are now over and you can all please move to the dining area and enjoy the dinner.

If your idea of "enjoy the dinner" involves finding the Cocktail bar counter and instantly starting a torrid love affair with a glass of alcoholic beverage, then you will find that most other guys have the same line of thought as you. For they are all instantly drawn to the counter like moths suicidally attracted to the camp fire.

Once you have struggled through the crowd and laid claim over your own private ticket to the wonderland, carry that "ticket" to a dark corner and enjoy the trip...

So the most busy and crowded counter is the Cocktail counter. All the rest of the counters are indiscriminately ignored. That's a good thing if you don't drink. Go have something to eat. Start with the starters. And if you plan to dance, then you might as well end with the starters. For heavy food does not follow the laws of gravity when you are dancing. It will just try to get away from you the same way it went in.

D.I.D.: Dance Idiot Dance
While the food counters are being opened, the audi is being cleared. The DJ is readying his instruments. Soon the speakers are booming with the drum beats of some dance number. If you enjoy dancing, go have a blast.

Weird thing, this modern music. When played very loudly in closed spaces, it has 2 effects on you:
1> It makes you go temporarily deaf. It makes your heart go thump-thump as if its trying to escape its life-long imprisonment.
2> It makes the various parts of your body twitch and move, without you ordering them to.

What you CAN do about it is spare your body and your ears the acoustic torture and get out of the cacophony. Go find one of your drunken friends and listen to him speak sensibly for the first time in your life.
What you SHOULD do about it is just get on the floor and dance!

No! Really! I mean it. You may not have the rhythm and the grace. It does not matter. Just stand there in one corner and have a look. See that fellow doing actions like a snake? Or that other one having an apoplectic seizure? Or that group of guys doing some ancient ritualistic steps around an imaginary bonfire? Or those bunch of folks trying to imitate a train? No, they are not going crazy. They all are actually dancing.

Loud music has magic. If you let go and let the music guide you, it will make your hands move, your feet shuffle, your head sway, your body go wild. That's the theory of Dancing in general. For dancing in a party, the truth is a bit different.

An expert who is well-versed with the fine art of party dancing has this to say about it: "Dancing in a party is the art of making uncoordinated body movements appear coordinated and graceful. It is a martial art where you constantly try to defend yourself from getting hit by your neighbours from all 5 sides (top being the 5th side). It is a very competitive game where you save your toes from being trodden upon, all the while trying to step onto other people's toes."

So just let go of your inhibitions and go start dancing. "Start Dancing"? How do you do that? Here are a few pointers the Guide has to offer to the Dance-ignorant Unenthusiastic Introvert:
1> Don't know any dance steps? No problem. Keep it simple. Use the everyday gestures. For example - remember your school-time PT exercises? Just do one of those. "One, two, three, One...". Its not much different from all the dance steps so famous nowadays.
2> Try to keep away from others. Dance makes you perspire. Perspiration can stink. And we don't want anyone around you falling unconscious on account of suffocating sweat-smell.
3> Always be alert. A party dance floor is like 100+ billiard balls moving this way and that on a single billiard board. You are one of them. We don't want this ball to go rolling down a hole.
4> Save your toes. Keep a lookout for your neighbouring feet. Who knows which one is aimed at your toes?
5> Don't laugh at the dance of others. Others are probably doing the same for you.
6> Stop staring. Pull back that involuntarily dropped jaw. Ok. She looks good. But you are dancing, not sight-seeing.
7> Post-party, never ever look at photos or videos of your dance. This could lead to massive inferiority complex and heavy shame.
8> The next day, if you wonder why your joints are paining and your muscles are cramping so much? Don't wonder. It means that yesterday you danced. And you danced to your fullest...


Game over...
The party is just about over. The food counters are closing. So is the cocktail counter (unfortunately for some).

Whatever else you did at the party is immaterial. At this moment, the only thing that matters is how much you drank.

Are you sober enough? Then you have great responsibility on your shoulders. To ensure that all your colleagues and friends who are not sober enough, reach home safely. You need to escort them outside and bundle them into the Rick. Or wait patiently and listen them out until they are ready to leave. Or worry whether the one you sent packing in the rick, reached home safely? Or did he go into the neighbour's house? Or try to find the missing friend who disappeared without a trace (and it later turns out he has already gone home.)

Are you only slightly drunk? Don't be. There are problems with not bring fully drunk. For instance, you have got a nice buzz. But you are not fully drunk yet. Someone asks you the way to the Gents Toilet. You guide him: "Go straight out the door. Turn left. And then go right." After a few seconds, it dawns on your muddled head, that you should have said, go left, instead of right. Because, the gents toilet is on the left. On the right hand side is the ladies toilet! Now you are so worried for the unknown stranger, that all the nice buzz you were feeling quickly wears off. Such a waste.

Here's what The UI Guide suggests: Get drunk. Fully Drunk. As drunk as Captain Haddock. When you are drunk, you are automatically absolved of all your responsibilities and worries. Now you are someone else's responsibility. Let them worry about you. Also, if anyone asks you for directions to the toilet, you will confidently guide him to the kitchen - and not even know it to feel bad about it later...

And a final piece of advice from the Guide:
When finally you are on your way home, if your writer friend suggests you write a blog post about this, you don't doubt his judgement. You just go ahead and write it. Like this...

(Thanks for this post goes to my friend Shush, who saw a possibility of a blog post based on this experience of ours, where I did not see one. He is the one who put the germ of the idea for this blog in my head. So if you did not like this blog - please blame him :-P)

Code Name: Daal Bhaat

This happened yesterday.

It was 7:30 in the evening.
I was waiting for the elevator outside my office. There were 4 others. Ladies. They did not look familiar. Probably from another firm on our floor.

The elevator arrived. They all shuffled into it. I followed and stood there into a corner, eyes on the floor.

The elevator began its lumbering descent.

Inside, it was as silent as a tomb. Its positively unnatural when more than 1 women gather within an area of less than 9 sq ft, and there is NO talking going on...

I felt eyes upon me... Was I being observed?

Before I could process how I should react to this new and (to me) unknown phenomena, one of the ladies blurted out "Daal Bhaat" (refer: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daal_bhaat)...

And this broke the silence like a Birthday Balloon going off during a funeral.
All the 4 ladies started giggling - pretty loudly I might add...

I looked up. None of them was looking at me. I got a feeling they were trying pretty hard NOT to look at me. "You and your code words" another giggling lady says to the first one...

The elevator door opened. I squared my shoulders, straightened my back, pushed out my chest, trying in vain to look as cool and dashing as James Bond, and stormed out in a huff... because I had a feeling their "Daal Bhaat" - blandness and uninterestingness personified - was me...

Monday Blues on Saturday

Its Saturday. Weekend...

Its just past 9:00 am in the morning.

Usually on this day, I am at home.

At this time, I am busy disentangling myself from the sweet embrace of ever-faithful sleep...

But today I am not at home.

Instead I am wide awake and in office (as if living out my worst nightmare)...

I am supposed to work. The "dead"line died and was resurrected several times. This time my TL doesn't want to let it die... So I am supposed to be busy coding...

Instead I am busy writing a blog.

Why?

This is my way of telling my PL (he hasn't reached office yet. If he was here, I wouldn't be doing this. Instead I would be busy doing what I do during normal work days - pretending to work, while I try not to fall asleep) "Bhaad mein jaa" ("Go to hell")...

Ye re ye re Pausa, tula deto Paisa. Paisa zala khota, Paus aala motha

We have been asking for Rains the past two months. And our prayers have been answered. And how. Its been raining for more than a week now. Floods devastating lives, not only in our state but in many other places in India... Be careful what you wish for - the Rains might hear you... But is it not a good thing? I mean imagine what we were facing 2 months back as we contemplated a drought situation, while waiting for the rains to show some mercy on the parched earth... So are floods better or drought (For, with the moody rains that visit us now-a-days, there doesn't seem to be a "in-between")? Well, who am I to decide that, anyway?

So its been raining past week. The powers that be who reign over the dark potent clouds, have been catching up on some much pending backlog. And yesterday, they went into maximum overdrive.

We Mumbaikars are characterized by our apathy towards most things - including rains. We never paid much attention to the rains. Not until the misguided ambition of a group of heavy-weight clouds to turn this city into an Indian version of Venice badly misfired - with disastrous effects. After 26th July 2005, no Mumbaikar took rains lightly. And that's why so many of us peeked out worriedly, yesterday, at the fast darkening sky and the torrents outside, praying for the working-day to get over soon...

Its past 4:00 in the evening. Tea time. We go down to have tea. Not that we don't have tea machines. But the powdered tea can never hold up against the traditional cutting from the chai-wala's tapri. Its raining heavily. Its been raining through out the day, but now its seems to have worsened. We are a group of 4 tea-drinkers. And between the 4 of us only one has had the foresight to get an umbrella. So, we borrow another umbrella from a friend, and two of us venture out to get some tea for us all. And just when we thought it couldn't rain much heavily, the rains intensify. So foolish of us to assign so relative a term as "heavy" to measure the rain's fury. By the time we get back we are more than half drenched.

5:30. A lady looks out of the window from the pantry and cries out excitedly (a bit too loudly if you ask me). Me and my friend Shushu make fun of her. Shushu even goes out of his way to go up to the pantry and imitate her. "oh my, look at the rains" he mimics in a "girly" tone... I was planning to leave a bit late. Lots of pending work. But may be I better leave on time? I am not the only one thinking this. I am sure similar thought bubbles are popping up in offices all over the city.

6:30. Officially, the working day is over - "officially" being the operative term, because for many of us in the IT industry, 6:30 is just half-way mark. But not today. The rains have not abated. If anything they seem to have intensified. At 6:30, its already as dark as night. We receive messages that all the office drop buses are running late due to traffic jams. Yup - Traffic Jams. These heavy rains have triggered an irrational(?) wave of panic - and all the "mango-people" have left office early in their rush to get home. And now they are all caught up on the vehicle-logged roads..

So I log off and leave the office. I reach our gate where so many from our office are waiting for the company buses - buses that will not be coming any time soon.

We wait, 15 minutes, we wait half an hour. 7:00 pm. No sign of the buses. Some have been trying to flag a rickshaw - with no success whatsoever. No point going for the public transport. The BEST buses will all be jam packed. Whats worse than having to travel in a Jam-Packed bus? That Jam packed bus getting stalled in Jam-packed traffic, thats what. The only option that leaves you is to rely on your two faithful legs to wade through the water-logged streets.

One of my colleagues, Mr. Punk, suggests this to me. I tell him "Its raining so heavily. Lets wait for the rains to slow down a bit." And then it starts raining cats, dogs and God knows what other domestic mammals...

Again I am reminded of how ineffectual the term "heavy" is, in describing this watery wrath of nature. We wait for another 10-15 minutes. The size of domestic animals thats been pouring down has now reduced. I guess one could say its now raining rats and rodents. So we finally decide to leave. I curse the idiotic moment when I decided to wear my best cream-coloured cotton-jeans trousers in the morning today. But no point crying over already worn trousers. I fold up the legs of my trousers, open the umbrella and follow Punk out into the sheets of rain.

This section of Andheri Kurla road, at J.B. Nagar, is clogged with more than ankle-deep water. The heavy construction work going on to lay the metro bridge right in the middle of this already narrow road isn't helping either. We reluctantly step into the water and start our one-two routine.

Progress is slow. For some time we walk on one side of the road. But its too water-logged. So we cross over. Now for some time we walk on the other side. But there is hardly any space to walk here. Too much traffic - stalled vehicles, blaring horns. Now we walk right in the middle of the road meandering our way between the stalled vehicles. Punk has been taking the lead. But he has to wait more than once to tie up the loosened knot of his Woodland shoes. So I am not the only one regretting his dressing-decision taken at the start of the day.

As we cross the JB Nagar signal, the water logging recedes and the road is clear - for now. But the incessant rains just won't give up. So we start walking besides the foot and a half wide divider that provides support to the under-construction metro bridge which now runs from Andheri station to all the way beyond JB Nagar. This is Punk's idea - taking shelter of the wide canopy of the metro bridge. Its quite comfy, except when you pass below a bridge join where the collected rain water falls on you in heavy waterfall-like torrents.

And we are not alone. There are a lot of people who form a part of this exodus of working-class-Mumbaikars migrating to Andheri. We soon cross the Chakala intersection. The traffic is jammed here. A mass of vehicles waiting right from this intersection till the highway.

Punk is in the lead as he makes way for both of us. He is like a horse - unable to see left or right - just what lies ahead... He keeps going straight, picking up the shortest possible path, irrespective of how difficult it may be - not for him - for me (he is as agile as a snake and I am only as graceful as a hippo in quicksand)... Its as if he is a man on a mission - to get this over with asap - by whatever means possible. And I don't blame him. We are pretty drenched by now - in spite of the umbrellas. Actually BECAUSE of the umbrellas. For as we have been picking our way through the throngs of people, their umbrellas have been dripping the runaway rivulets straight on to our shoulders. You hold my umbrella up, out of consideration for your neighbouring passersby. And they return your favour in kind, by holding their own umbrellas lower - depositing their waste water on you. Human nature. Kindness be damned - first save your own skin.

When we had started, I had mentioned to Punk that we might eat something on the way. But he declined - "I don't eat anything outside. But you can have something if you want". So, though pretty hungry, I did not broach the topic again. Now Punk suddenly stops at a vada-pav wala's tapri and says "If you want to have anything then have it now." - as if its another chore he wants to get over with and move on. I decline. I am hungry, but not so hungry that I would eat selfishly while my friend just stands there. But it was a very considerate gesture from him. We move on.

As we near the W.E. Highway, the roads are again water-logged. The water is again more than ankle deep and getting deeper with every step. There is water current here. Its flowing. Flowing from where? Flowing to where? Who cares. I am struggling to ignore the little pricking-poking-irritating pebbles that have managed to lodge themselves into my rainy sandals. Whatever I do, they just won't get dislodged.

Now we are passing below the canopy of the metro station which covers almost the entire breadth of the road here (near the highway). The sounds get amplified and echoed in this hollow cave-like place. The water is now deep enough to cover half my calves. And its flowing. So walking is difficult. The ladies in the crowd are crying out excitedly every now and then.

There is water logging not only on this side, but on the other side of the highway too. And both these sides are blocked off by the metro-bridge construction. Which leaves a very narrow space for both vehicles and pedestrians.

Once we cross the highway, there is another major traffic jam all the way to Andheri station. To get out of this mess Punk comes up with his master plan. He navigates us to the middle of the road. Then he climbs up over the wide divider supporting the pillars of the metro bridge. I hesitate. Walk OVER the divider??? What a zany idea!? But he is already up there and extending his hand to pull me up. I finally struggle a bit and heave myself up. We start walking over the divider. All is well until we find the massive bridge-supporting pillar blocking our way. This leaves very little space for us to pass by on either side of the pillar. We some how cross this hurdle hugging the pillar for support. We contine like this till the water has receeded and the road is clear again...

As we near the Andheri station, Punk suddenly spots a "bhutta-wala" (roasted corn). Now I guess he is hungry too. So hungry, in fact, that he jumps up the divider to cross over to the bhutta wala on the other side. So much for his not eating outside. But his choice is certainly healthier than the other junk food. Each of us has a nice hot cob of roasted corn. And it tastes awesome! Hunger is the best pickle - traditional hindi proverb...

When we reach Andheri station, the trains are running very late. So, Punk waits on the platform, while I go take a much needed leak... Then we cross over to the West side. On SV Road, we wait for the BEST bus. After a wait of 15-20 minutes, I spot a 359 coming our way. I leave Punk and go sit in the bus. As the bus moves on, I see Punk standing outside grinning away at me.

And so ended my journey back home on that rain-drenched day. As I think back, I am thankful I had Punk's company. It made my exodus to Andheri less tiresome and somewhat fun too. Especially I admired his idea of walking below the bridge. It kept us out of the water most of the time. And I was thankful to him for that. Thankful - ONLY till today evening, until, he comes to me and says - "Remember how we walked under the Metro Bridge yesterday?"
"Yeah man! It was quite an experience."
"A slab from that bridge just collapsed..."
All I can do is stare at his perpetually grinning face... So much for his "brilliant" idea...

Generation Gap in the Fast-moving Information Age

This aged person sitting besides me draws my attention and asks, "Son, what does this mean?". He points at the form in his hand. Specifically, he is pointing at the section titled "Salary" against which someone has filled "35K". "What does this 'K' mean?", he asks, with genuine puzzlement on his face...
I reply, "1000. It means '1000'"...
"Sorry...?", he doesn't get what I am trying to say. So I elaborate...
"'K' indicates 1000. That's 35,000"
He still seems unconvinced, as if I have told him that Green Gandhi means a 100 Rs note (which it does - but for my generation, not his)... So I elaborate further...
"'K' as in 'Kilos' you know, hence its used as short-form for 1000..."
Now he looks incredulously at me. Trying to decide whether I am pulling his leg or whether I am daft in the head... Then he seems to recognize the sincerity on my face, and accepts the info i gave him at face value. But the confusion is still there... Finally, looking back at the magic figures, he says "I have seen so many forms... never seen salary written like this before...?? I mean, its salary right, not vegetables or fruits, that you use Kilos for it???"
I have no answer to that. For how many times have I myself using this same short-form before?? Many!
Now that's a good example of Generation Gap...
So is the example of how my Grandfather asks me whether email "address" is like our house address or where is this or that particular web"site" located?
And the example of how my parents find it difficult to use the simplest of mobile phones (forget the "smart" phones)
And the example of how I feel "left behind" when I realize that the school-going kids from our colony have iPads and Facebook accounts while I don't...

I agree that Generation Gap is a part and parcel of life. But the frequency at which generation Gap occurs is fast increasing...

There was a time when Generation Gap existed between Grandfather and grandchild. Which means there was a change in the way a generation thought and acted, every 4-5 decades. That got reduced to generation gap between Father and Son - i.e. a generation gap occuring every couple of decades or so. By the time I was studying in college (about 10 year back), that had gotten reduced to a decade - max. But then it reduced rapidly.
Now, a Generation Gap occurs every 3-5 years.
I feel a Gen. Gap between myself and a fresher joining the organization. And that fresher equally feels a Gen-Gap between himself and his juniors - the college-going kids. They in turn feel a Gen. Gap between themselves and the Kids in school nowadays.
It difficult to notice this generation gap because, we have learned to adopt fast. We accept new technology and changes happening around us and change ourselves accordingly. It is only apparent to a neophobe like me - when you don't have a facebook account while everybody else does; or you find it difficult to use smart phones while even kids can operate them easily; or you look down upon the people in the mall (even the middle-aged ones) wearing "modern" (to your eyes) attire like jeans, t-shirts, three-fourths, etc - as if they are showoffs; or when you sit and wonder where the public telephone booths have disappeared... That's when you realise how fast the generation gap is increasing nowadays.

Of course most people will not notice it and there is a reason for that... I was reading a Michael Crichton book which had an article in it. It said that scientists have arrived at a conclusion that the genes that cause people to grow mature are getting suppressed in the modern generation. Partly this is because, the world around us is changing too rapidly. Growing up makes us rigid and resistant to change. While a kid-like immature attitude helps us to cope with the continual changes happening around us... So we are adapting by staying immature...
In short, what it says is, we have stopped "growing up". So, Loss of Maturity is the price we pay for our fast technological progress in the Modern Information Age...??

The Curse of the Infinite Universe...

They say, there is a solution for every problem.

And THAT is the problem...
If there is a solution for everything, then anything is possible.
And since nothing is impossible, so the Client and the Boss will demand anything and everything from the software developer...

It is at times like these that a developer wishes for a small, limited, finite universe with finite options and finite possibilities. This makes life simpler for both the Programmer and the program...

But then - fortunately or unfortunately - life is not that simple :-)

Truth Hurts

Sometimes, someone says something about you, and it hurts - not because what that person said about you is wrong or a lie, but because its true...

The Blind Man

Place: Andheri Railway Station - Footover bridge.
Time: 8:45 in the evening.

I am weaving my way through the crowd.
My destination - Platform Number 1.

I am in a hurry. I need to catch the next local train. If I miss that one, I will have to wait for FIVE WHOLE MINUTES for the next one. Being a true Mumbaikar, I don't mind if I die in my hurry, but missing a train is simply unacceptable.

Suddenly I feel a gentle touch. Someone is holding my forearm. Its very momentary really. As I slow down and turn to look at who it is, the hand has already left mine. I look at the owner of that hand. He is going in the opposite direction, he has already moved past me. The man moves slowly, carefully. People are passing by him, all in a rush, just like me. The man is trying to avoid being pushed and jostled.

As I look back at him, I notice it for the first time. He is holding the red and white stick in front of him.

It is obvious that he cannot see.
He had been right in front of me; had he not held my hand, I would probably have collided into his side.

But in my rush I did not see.

I wonder, between the two of us, who is Blind?

What days have come

Today is Gudi Padwa - New year for us Maharastrians.

Yesterday, my Mom asked me what sweets I would like to have for Lunch. She thought I would have a holiday. I told her I had to go to office, we did not have a holiday. She showed me the red numeral on the calendar - "Its a Bank Holiday". But I did not work in a bank. She really wished I had a holiday. So did I. I felt sad for myself as well as for her.
So it is with a heavy heart that I left for office today. The buses were not crowded. There was no traffic on the streets. I got a window seat, all the way to the office. It took me just 20 minutes to reach my office - a journey, that usually takes at least an hour.

I was sad to have to leave home on such an auspicious day, to have to look at the disappointment on my mom's face. But by the time I reached office, I was as Happy as I can be in office...

What days have come. My happiness hinges not on the happiness of my loved ones, but on the comfort of my journey to the office. Welcome to the Mad world of Mumbai...

The very busy Software Developer

Do you see that Software Developer looking intently at his screen? His hands are hardly moving - may be just the first finger scrolling the mouse wheel up, down, up, down. His concentration is complete. His eyes never waver from the code on the screen. His thinking is so furious - you can almost hear the gears whirring in his head...

When you see a software developer like that - looking intently at the code with extreme concentration, then don't be under the impression that he is thinking very hard. Some think that he is trying to memorize the code. But even that's not the case.

It just means that he has no work OR he is feeling sleepy. And hence he is trying to look busy while trying hard not to fall asleep.

The Hurting Truth

A very important lesson: Truth always hurts.
Telling the truth will hurt.
Hiding the truth will hurt too.
Which truth to tell and which truth to hide? I guess it take a life-time of mistakes and hurting your loved ones to know that...

I guess it has to do with the nature of the truth. Truth, I guess, is basically words. And we all know how the wrong kind of words can hurt...
How I wish I could take back my words? But won't it mean hiding the truth? And then again, hiding the truth can hurt too, because such inconvenient things like truths never remain hidden, however much you try... What a dilemma... (Someone said very correctly, we mostly hurt our loved ones)