Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts

Sunday, June 13, 2010

The Wonder Years

Every generation has a golden era. For my generation, it was the 90's. Most kids on the cusp of adoloscence found their calling in the eventful period that preceded the Y2K euphoria.

As a bunch of early teens just discovering the birds and the bees, the 90's heralded an exciting phase in our boyz-to-men journey. Coupled with the changing political and economical situation in the country, the period was significant for the various influences it had on us.

As India, under the able yet eventually discredited P.V. Narasimha Rao, opened its doors to the world in a clear cry of capitalism, the first noticeable change in our lives was the advent of satellite TV. For a bunch that found its entertainment in a single channel on the state run Doordarshan for years, the sudden exposure to a variety of international channels, and the liberal dose of skinshow that they brought along, was a shock that took a while to adjust to. The influences of those early days, after a long period of latency, is now clearly seen in the way the youth of today dress.

The exposure to Satellite channels also opened the doors to international pop music, and as we later found out, so many other genres of music that we had previously never known to exist and had therefore, grouped under the convenient umbrella of Pop music. Out went the tapes of Mukesh, Rafi, Latha, Kishore etc, and in came the likes of Michael Jackson, GNR, Def Leppard, Eric Clapton, Bryan Adams etc. The period also saw the advent of the Remix music. Old Hindi classics, that had lost ground to the more appealing International music genres, resurfaced in a new remixed avatar, the most notable being Bally Sagoo's remixed version of "Chura Liya" which became a rage during the times.

This period during the early 90s is also memorable, for my generation, for the adoloscent crushes and the experience of first-love. The song "Pehla Nasha", from the classic JJWS, could not have come at a more apt time and became the anthem for all kids my age. The song, till date, continues to be the perfect ode to teenagers experiencing the magical sensations of first love.

The mid 90s heralded the beginning of a new wave of Bollywood movies. The industry had already started to move away from the abhorable stereotypes of the 80s, thanks to movies such as QSQT, Maine Pyaar Kiya, Hum Aapke Hain Koun etc. The baton had already been passed from the previous generation of superstars to the new one. In 1995, when Shah Rukh Khan played his now legendary character of Raj in DDLJ against Kajol's Simran, the Bollywood transformation was complete. SRK became the superstar and Yashraj films found their formula to a fortune.

In 1998, when a debutante director Karan Johar announced his arrival with "Kuch Kuch Hota Hai", made clearly using the Yashraj formula, the whole country laughed and cried with SRK, Kajol and Rani. With a generous dose of heavy duty emotions, and a world devoid of petty issues such as poverty and crime, the Yashraj- Johar formula offered the audience a chance to dream of a world that they would love to be a part of. The formula was used over and over again, and continues to be used, mostly to great effect since the movie going majority in India and the NRI population abroad just don't seem to tire watching rich people and their merry making, with a dash of tragedy and romance, and embellished with melodious music and fashionable clothes that also facilitate liberal skin show.

As the decade came to a close, my generation had also completed the metamorphosis from the excitable kid to the cynical adult. Student life had given way to professional life, and the innocent dinners at roadside dhabas had been replaced by expensive parties at exotic restaurants and nightclubs. Money and ambition had started to drive our lives, and we had no time for the simple joys anymore.

As the nineties gave in to the new Millennium, it also marked the end of an era- of innocence, romance, passion and self-discovery. Fond memories and strong influences of the era continue to shape our lives even today, and as an entire generation that found its calling in the 90s will agree with me, those were the days of our lives. For us, those were the "Wonder Years".

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Goodbye or Good Riddance?

Yesterday, I finally resigned formally from the organization that I had given my blood and sweat to for the past 6 and half years.

There was a strange sense of loss even as I was filling in the Separation Form. Having started my career as a junior software engineer, I graduated through the ranks to finally end up where I did. The journey, despite all the shortcomings and the denied opportunities, had its good moments. So many experiences. So many memories. So many changes that my life went through while I was part of this organization.
Surely, IBM will remain very close to my heart.
It wasn't the perfect organization to work for. But then no organization is perfect. The fact that I didn’t ever seriously think about quitting in the past 6 and half years is proof that there was something innately good about working for this organization.

For all the good things about this place, there is one big aspect where this organization is a big letdown. And I am not even talking about salaries here. The moment I told them I cannot be persuaded to stay back, there was a sudden chill in their attitude. Although I asked to be relieved only end of this month, or early next month, the direction from the management was very clear.
GO NOW.

They insisted that I wind up my act at the soonest, and leave. Not just that, they are going to adjust my balance leaves against the notice period that I will not be serving. Sad, considering that although I was willing to serve at least most part of the notice period, the organization has forced me out by end of next week.

Anyways, I can't complain too much since this is strictly business. And they must have several such people to get rid off, and therefore, cannot afford an emotional farewell to every employee who resigns.

At least now, I won’t have the slightest guilt in not naming IBM as one of the companies that I would want to work for post-MBA.

Goodbye.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Goodbye Vasanth

March 05, 2006. Sunday. Around 7 PM.
A family of 5 is driving back to Bangalore from Tirupathi, in their new car. A young man, all of 24 years, is behind the wheel, driving along the highway as he has so many times in the past. His uncle had bought a new car, and had planned to visit Tirupathi over the weekend with wife and twin daughters. Since he was known to be a very good driver, his uncle asked him to accompany them to the sacred shrine.

On the way back, about 10 kms from Kolar towards Bangalore, he is driving through a series of treacherous curves on the highway. To avoid the muddy lane, he steers the car just a wee bit to the right, almost to the center of the road. An oncoming tanker appears out of the blind curve. Before he realizes, it's all over.

A head-on collision so strong that it split the Santro into two halves. His uncle died on the spot with his skull busted open. He suffered internal bleeding, with ruptured testicles, and finally succumbed on way to the hospital. The 3 women in the backseat are seriously injured, and are being treated even as I write this.

The sight of a motionless 24 year old cousin, seemingly at complete peace with himself, was horrific. As I bent down to place the rice grains at his mouth, as per Hindu tradition, I saw his face from up close, almost without any visible injuries.

Visions of a 9 year old kid pleading with me to teach him to ride a bicycle flashed before me. It seemed like only yesterday that the two of us were at the annual fair at Ragigudda, trying to shoot balloons with an air-rifle, and attempting to carefully aim and throw the metal ring over that elusive box of Parle-G biscuits.
So many memories played in front of my misty eyes that I couldn’t conceal the smile on my face.

And then when all the mist cleared, I was again staring at reality.
A still, lifeless body being carried into the funeral van. For the last ride.
Goodbye Vasanth.

May God give your parents the strength to handle the enormousness of your loss, and the will to live on with your memories.

They say if you are genuinely missed by at least a few people after you die, then you have had a good life. Going by that measurement, you've had a truly great life.

Wherever you are, I know you will still continue to make a difference to everyone around you.
In life. And in death.

Monday, February 20, 2006

Back to Blogspot

Have been inactive on blogspot for an entire year.
I had been posting my ramblings on rediffblogs for the past year. After trying out both blogspot and rediffblogs, I am now convinced this is the best place to be.
I intend to be back on blogspot from now.
A few posts will be copied over from my other blog, over the next few days, due to want of original posting material.

Monday, February 07, 2005

My year so far - Chronicles of the Leon

I have nothing to write, but since it has been such a long time since I visited my blog, I felt compelled to write a few lines to reassure myself that I havent turned illiterate. Not just yet.
Last few weeks have been very eventful in terms of the mental turmoil that I have been going through. Weekends have passed pondering over what my next career move should be, or whether I should pursue higher studies. I have spent hours reading up Servlets, EJBs, JSPs and struts. And ofcourse, someone told me that a 5 year experienced techie should be well versed in design patterns as well. So I tortured myself for a few hours learning that . And some UML too. And managed to force myself to attend a couple of interviews at some reputed places. Personally, I felt I did the interviews rather well. But my salary demands have probably not gone down too well because of which I havent really got any decent offers yet. Why would anyone pay me so much when they can get people from smaller companies to do it for much less? It's a lifestyle question, and therefore I cannot compromise on my demands. And so my quest continues.
And then there was wifey's illness that kept me occupied for a week. I think after seeing the kind of service I am capable of, my wife decided to prolong her bed rest by a few more days just to enjoy the privilege of my 5 star service. Anyways, now that she's up (touch wood), I can go back to leading my life.
On the friendship scene, this month has been rather cold. My best buddy has been hopelessly busy even for his own fiancee to get any time from him. So even on those rare weekends when I actually had time to go out for a drink, I couldnt because of lack of company. Last weekend was better though. Managed to guzzle a little with an old friend.
Work wise this new year has been hectic. A new release followed by production support activities is hectic by itself. Add to that some more development tasks for the next release. And since there are separate managers for the two activities, I have easily added a few more inches to my height due to being pulled between the two managers.
On the homefront, bro came back to Bangalore, and stayed with us for 3 weeks. Now that SIL has also moved back to Bangalore, and they have found an apartment, they have shifted out of 1256 . Bro seems to have gotten a really big break this time around. Not that he hadnt already. But this one's even better. Good for him. Looking at his career, it makes me want to pursue higher studies even more. If only I can take a month off work to prepare for my GMAT. And the only way I can get a month off is if i switch jobs, so that I can join the new job a month after i quit this one. But to get a new job, I have to sit and work on my technical funda for about a month. So it all comes back where it started. How do I get that one elusive month of my own life to myself?
Perplexed. Unsure. Confused. But focussed. Yeah. That's me.

Thursday, December 23, 2004

promotions and pitfalls

In times of disgust came a shimmer of light. And washed away all the discontentment, only to leave me with a new confussion as to which path I should tread on now. Till this good news came along, I had come to terms with the fact that my career had reached a standstill, and therefore, I had to innovate to set it back on track again. On a new ground. But now, after this huge leap, I am not sure if I have the will to tread new grounds. When the current one seems to be getting good, why expend energy looking for new ones. But again, If I dont explore outside, I may be missing out on things much bigger than what I have received now. But after such a long period of discontentment, even a small ray of light can light up one's eyes like a million bulbs. For now, I am contented. And confused.
Is this really a promotion? Or just another pitfall? Am i being made to bite some cheap bait? Should I sing my urge to explore to sleep ? Should I celebrate and succumb ? Or should I explore and rediscover my career?

Monday, December 13, 2004

Blast from the past

This past Sunday, as I was sulking in my boredom, I couldnt help trace back to my childhood days, when every holiday was an event. When weekends meant cricket matches, pranks, fighting with my brother, breaking things, some more fighting with my bro etc. I was this fresh faced, innocent little kid that was exceptionally good at almost everything that kids his age were expected to revel in. Like Cricket, scoring marks in tests, athletics, putting on a good behaviour in front of guests, and always being truthful. This last quality that i mentioned didnt augur quite that well with my bullying brother. Everytime he broke a vase, or everytime he helped himself to some cashews stolen from my Mom's treasured collection, my innate need to be truthful would always put him in trouble. And in most cases, pain. Here are some of my treasured memories from my younger years:

1)I was about 7 years old when my brother invented a new game. He was a maverick who always wanted to come out with something novel. And in this case, it was a new game. And the game went something like this. I would be the thief and he would be the cop. However, this was a cop-thief game with a twist. The cop would be armed with a huge brick that he could feel free to hurl at the thief. And ofcourse, my brother was bored of being the thief in all those "mystery of the missing cashews" stories. So he always chose to be the cop in this game. And since I was such a nice kid, I didnt mind being a thief if it meant my brother would get to be a cop. Atleast for once, he would get to be on the right side of the law. And so this game would begin. And sooner than I would realise, my cop-bro would get completely immersed in his role, and naturally, that would mean bricks flying at me. Although I was kinda tiny, I was not tom thumb. And therefore, I wasnt completely immune to the brick attacks. And at the end of the game, I always had a big bump on my head, or a huge wound on my leg etc. And yeah, for all my valour, I would still be in tears at the end of the game. And my brother would be all pompous of how no thief could get past his honest cop avatar. I am so glad that he chose to be a marketing professional. If he had become a cop, I would pity the thieves that came his way. And if you find that hard to believe, I have so many scars on my legs to prove it.

2)This was about a few months after I figured out his brick trick, and started refusing to play the thief anymore. So we, that's bro and me, started playing cricket. It wasnt as wild as the brick-trick. But my bro had to compromise. And so began our tryst with the gentlmen's game. Very soon, bro and me were winning accolades for being the young turks. We were rather good at the game, and it wasnt too hard to notice that. My bro was really good at those nasty bouncers. And if there was anyone who could face up to his wild pace, it was me. And not just face it, but even smash it all over the park. This didnt really go well with my bro. And one fine day, after plotting for months, my bro finally got his chance to get back. We were playing a game of cricket in the ground in front of our house. And I happened to take a wicket off my bowling. And ofcourse, it called for celebrations. So i went about hi-fi'ing all the homies. And when I went to hi-fi my bro, he turned me around, and pulled my shorts down for everyone to have a full view of my naked rear. I was a rather sensitive kid. Especially when it came to nudity. And I ran away from the place, with tears rolling down my cheeks. The ones on my face, you perverts.

3)This was when I was in 3rd std. About 9 years old. My bro was the cricket captain in his class. And they had this prestigious final to play for the school shield. And they had one player less on the D-day. So my bro and his friends decided to play me. And since I was such a puny little kid, the opponents couldnt care less. As the match progressed, we had a handsome total to chase. My brother, the captain, perished rather early leaving the team reeling at a paltry total. When everything had seemed lost, I went in to bat. And I batted and batted. Till the target was just 6 runs away. There was just one wicket left. And my brother was doing the umpiring bit. The final over, and I hit the first ball straight over the bowler's head towards the boundary. Now, the boundary was a wall, that had gaps at several places, and my shot took the ball into once such gap in the wall. Although it crossed the imaginary boundary line, it rebounded against a huge rock and came back into the field. Now, in every other case, it would be declared a four. But not when my brother was umpiring and me batting. I had stopped in my stride seeing the ball cross the boundary. To my utter disgust, the fielder who retrieved the ball threw it back to the bowler who promptly clipped the bails since my brother had already announced "Not a four". And there i was stranded in the middle of the pitch, and cheated out of a victory by a jealous brother.It was sweet revenge that even the opponent team unanimously decided that I should be the Man of the Match. The prize, I still remember, was a notebook and a pen.

Too many memories, but too little time to pen them. More later.

Thursday, December 09, 2004

My best friend's wedding-part 2

A few months ago, I had blogged about the seemingly impossible task of finding a suitable bride for my super-eligible bum-chum Shankar. Seemingly impossible because Shankar had to find a girl who would meet the high expectations of all his well-wishers. And knowing Shankar to be the noble samaritan that he is, he certainly has a lot of well-wishers. And therefore, finding a girl who would be physically attractive yet demure, intellectually stimulating yet naive, academically brilliant yet not headstrong, professionally settled yet willing to give it all up if asked to, was a tall order. Add to this, the sense of urgency that he was forced to conduct his search under. And ofcourse, unrelenting work pressure which Shankar is innately incapable of rejecting. In such a boiler room situation, even the toughest nut would crack.
But not our man. Or did he?
Well, Shankar, after the minutest of deliberations, was almost impatient to say yes to the girl that we now know to be his fiancee. The impatience , I am guessing, was part due to the fear of professional vilification from a smitten female colleague, and part due to the irresistable charms of Miss Rashmi.
Sometimes, when the heart does the mind's job, impatience is the end result. And in decisions such as this, the heart certainly rules over the mind.
But one thing's for sure, Shankar certainly is on Cloud nine, and his feet barely reach terra firma these days. And why not! Rashmi is every bit the dream woman that Shankar wanted. Pretty, shy, culturally rooted, professionally on the rise, mature, understanding, and simple.
Now, if he had shown the same impatience in getting married to her, I wouldnt have had to wait another six months for an excuse to celebrate. At my best friend's wedding. Finally!

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

Wedding Blues

Tuesday, Nov 9th 2004: It is just 5 days to the Wedding. My wedding.

And yesterday I was a kid. I still have those bermudas that i adored in school. My Hero Ranger is still lying in Sid's place cos he wanted to shed some kilos by cycling. And ofcourse, my marble collection from 5th std was all intact and sparkling when I gave it away to the maid's kids last month.Sid still calls me CK, just like he used to in high school. Alright, so he doesnt sound like Donald Duck anymore. My mom still mixes my rice for me , just like when I was a kid. And yes, I am getting married this weekend. No, it is not illegal for a 27 year old to marry. Certainly Not in India. But I was a kid just yesterday.

But today I am an adult. So is Sid. Likewise with Shankar. And that's why Sid doesnt come to me with stories about his walk-up-the-hill-holding-hands-with-Chithra. That's why Shankar doesnt show me around Reshu's house when we cycle upto Gandhi bazaar. And that's why CP doesnt show me his new costume on his birthday. But I was a kid just yesterday.
Now, I am on the threshold of marriage. Forget being a kid, I wont even remain a bachelor. I will come home everyday to a wife, who I do not know well enough to be myself with, just yet. So i put on my best behaviour, day in and day out. Because I am not a kid anymore. I am a man. A soon-to-be-married man. Am i scared even a wee bit? Not a chance.

I am just plain paranoid.

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

Living a dream: My friend Aj

Last Friday, I woke up not-so-early to a ringing cellphone. To my pleasant surprise, it was my good friend Aj from the US. Speaking to him after a rather long time felt good. It also rubbed in the realisation that one of my best buddies was not going to be around for the biggest moment of my life. But I guess things are the way they are meant to be. I was very happy to hear from Aj about his professional growth. He termed it as a "dream come true". That must really be something then, because Aj is rather tough to please, and I can vouch for it from our 11 years of friendship.
Anyways, it always feels great to begin your day talking to a friend. Especially if he's one of your best buds. And he seems to have taken a massive liking to the US and its people. And he certainly knows a thing or two about the Presidential elections in US. And he expressed his regret at not being able to cast his vote for Kerry. Not sure if his regret was for Kerry missing out on a vote, or his not being eligible to vote. To quote Aj, when he met Kerry's supporters :" I am afraid I cant vote for Kerry because I am not YET a citizen of USA".
No prizes for guessing the reason for his regret after this dead giveaway.

So much for too much...

At a round table meeting with one of our senior account managers, I asked "Is there any incentive for employees who have put in long years for the company? I ask this because there is a general belief that such people are taken for granted since they will anyway continue to stay on". My question served to humor all the people around for the sheer bluntness with which I put it. However, it didnt serve to exact an answer from the manager.Now, I ask the same question again. However, this time it concerns my personal life.Why is it that the people you love the most, the people you want to be with whenever you can, take you for granted? Why is it that when they know you would go out of your way to meet their demands, they make sure you go out of your way? If it is just to test whether you really love them as much as you should, then it is probably acceptable a couple of times to go through their unreasonable demands. But if you are being tested every day , and you are expected to go out of your way everytime, you start thinking if this is really a test worth passing. And the very fact that you have to prove your undying love so many times can be very insulting.Every relationship, be it professional or personal, reaches a stage where one is taken for granted. Excessive loyalty, or excessive love. They all merit the same treatment. Disdain.

Friday, October 29, 2004

Mock-Tale Cocktail

Do those cocktail designers really intend to mean anything when they christen their concotions with extremely fanciful and imaginative names? Or do they just borrow these visually and aurally appealing names from some tourist magazine and then randomly distribute them across their collection of mixed drinks that they believe taste differently from one another?I am inclined towards supporting the latter.

This past weekend, there was a "Caribbean" (visual imagery again) cocktail festival at Zero-G, and R and I were curious to see what this was all about. Add to that R's curiosity about cocktails.

We walked straight into a super-suave waiter at Zero-G who even allowed us to choose the corner we wanted to place ourselves at. Call it great customer care, or simply, empty seats in every corner. We decided to give the benefit of doubt to the waiter, and decided to tip him generously for his politeness. Till this point, everything was fine.

After we placed ourselves at seats of our choice, the same suave waiter decided to pay us a visit to help us decide on the cocktails that he found suited us best. Am not sure if it was a mix of Italian-Tamilian accent, or Spanish-Bihari, but listening to him speak English made me prepare myself for a not-so-perfect evening. And he gave us so many options that HE found it very difficult to choose what drinks we would be ordering. After lot of pondering, HE decided that Caribbean Delight was the best drink for a man, and Arabian Fantasy was the light mix best suited for a non-drinker like R.

Since we are used to the psuedo-democracy having stayed in India all our lives, we decided to agree to whatever he decided. And soon enough we had our drinks placed on our tables. Colorful and photogenic. I started sipping away at my Macho drink, fully expecting a strong "kick" at the end of it. And R, after deliberating whether she should even taste her drink, finaly succumbed to my persuasion.

Our first sips of our respective drinks took us by surprise. I was sipping on a mocktail, or almost. And she was feeling dizzy already. We decided to exchange sips from each other's drinks to make sure our complaints were genuine. And sure enough they were. As common sense would indicate, our drinks must have been exchanged. And so we swapped our drinks and continued till we emptied them.

Now for the finale. Our suave waiter, putting on his charmer avatar, came to our table for the check, and he couldnt resist asking us the obvious question.

" Did you enjoy your drinks sir? Madam?".

R politely suggested that he must have gotten our drinks exchanged, and that she almost fainted sipping the strong drink that he served her . I was also going to add my own piece after she finished. But Mr.Waiter suddenly stopped me, and with an annoyed expression, and a frightening frown on his face, he said

"Are you crazy? Those WERE your drinks that I served. And make no mistake about it".

Whoa! So much for being polite. We just nodded apologetically, and tipped him generously for enlightening us with his mixological knowledge. And silently decided never to vist the place again.

That night R made a vow never to touch alcohol again.
Some wounds cut deep. Real deep!

Monday, October 11, 2004

Nostalgic musings

Been a while since I penned any thoughts in here. Haven't been able to squeeze in any time for blogging of late. And today, I stumbled across a few rediff blogs and got "inspired" by some of them for their sheer nostalgic content. As for me, nostalgia has always been a favorite activity whenever I stumble across any artefact from my past.
Just a couple of weeks ago, I was clearing my attic, and had to throw away my text books from high school. And that triggered off a huge wave of nostalgia, thinking about those great times that I had in St.Paul's. Those friends, the crushes, the intense rivalry with Deepak to secure the 3rd rank (the first 2 were never up for grabs, thanks to Rohini and Janhavi), and the thrill of never having lost out in that rivalry ever, etc. Kids these days are missing out on the kind of innocent fun that our generation was lucky to have had. The time when a monthly allowance of Rs.50 was a princely amount, and was enough to actually add to my already bulging savings. That despite the almost daily indulgence in "Dil Kush" at Krishna Bakery. Today's kids would probably look at Rs.50 as "one day at coffee day" money.
Some of the best memories from my high school:
1."Dil Kush" at Krishna Bakery
2. Riding doubles with Siddha on my Ranger
3. Playing leather ball cricket every evening on matted wickets, and captaining the school team.
4. Playing football against the next section, and always squandering the four goal first half lead due to a 7 goal second half onslaught due to our defenders insisting that they want to come forward and score a few goals too, and consequentially, leave the goal unguarded.
5.Siddha's feminine voice
6. Deepak's intense jealousy towards me for outscoring him in every test.
7. The school excursions, and the crushes that we would inevitably pick up on those excursions due to the extended hours of drooling at them.
8. The eventful squabbles and controversies that would surface after every excursion, and my peace-maker role.
9. Crushed crushes (sigh!)
10. Results from the 10th ICSE exams, and the euphoria that came along with it. And yes, managing to come on top again in the rivalry with Deep.
I better stop before I get misty eyed , overcome by nostalgia. School days are the best days. Period.

Thursday, September 23, 2004

My Best Friend's Wedding

Contrary to what the title to this article might lead you to guess, my best friend is still unmarried. Infact, he's not even hooked yet. If there's any eligible bachelorette reading this, you know whom to contact if you are interested in meeting the nicest guy on this planet.

Now, I am really not exaggerating when I call him the nicest guy around. What would you call a guy who is way above the average in terms of his professional achievements, who has, in my 11 years of knowing him, never been vexed at anyone or anything, who adores his family and does everything to make sure they are happy, who blushes red in the face when reciting even a vegetarian joke, etc etc. Nicest guy would be the closest I could get to being able to do justice to his extremely delectable demeanor.

Shankar and I first met in 1993 when we joined 11th std in NCJ. I cant say we hit it off immediately. Shankar was this noble samaritan who would religiously attend classes with rapt attention, and then disseminate his gyan to all the not so intellectually privileged fellow students after class. And I was this arrogant, disinterested, self-professed intellectually superior creature who wouldn't need to listen to what was being taught since he could score much better studying on his own. Or so i thought, and who's to argue since it was never disproved. But Shankar and I shared a common passion for Brahminical brethren to make intellectually stimulating conversation. And Raghu served as the common friend who served as a catalyst to help us know each other better and bond a friendship that should, I am sure, last a lifetime.

During the next 2 years, we formed an amazingly witty, and yet enviably intelligent group who knew exactly how to balance fun and studies. The group, which we fondly, and maybe immaturely, called SARKAR (to abbreviate Shankar, Ajeya, Raghavendra, Kiran, Ajith and Radhakrishna) was the toast of the town for its innate ability to keep itself and everyone around humored despite always being politically, ethically, and socially impeccable. Interestingly, there were a few fringe members who were almost part of this elite gang, but not quite. And then there was Radhakrishna who was never really a part of the gang, but got lucky since we needed an extra "R" to complete our sobriquet.

It was, therefore, not surprising when Radhakrishna drifted out of the group right after 12th. And nobody really cared too much since his contribution to the group was just his "R", and little else. And after 12th, we were not too keen on the sobriquet anymore. So the group now consisted of only the real members-Shankar, Ajeya, Ajith, Rags and me. As the years passed, and as our careers took us in different directions, most of these names became just that...names. Ajith is now a super achiever with the UN. Rags is a "wannabe" super achiever, who conveniently sheds the "wannabe" tag in proclaiming himself to be the super achiever that he stops short of being by quite some distance (Just kidding Rags). Ajeya, despite his "rolling stone" professional lifestyle, has carved quite a niche for himself and is now minting dollars in the US of A.

And that leaves just Shankar and me behind, in good ol' Des. And in times like this, when I am scaling major milestones in my personal life, the need for a true friend is much more pronounced. And Shankar fits the bill perfectly. It is to my credit that I have uncovered a few real gems in the form of friends.

Now , coming back to the title of this article, Shankar has now grown up to be one very charming young man, and unfortunately for him, charm like his has very few peers in the fairer sex. And since we (his parents, my parents and me) cannot accept anything less than a perfect bride for our man, the search for his bride is turning out to be a rather elaborate affair. And since Shankar is the kind who cannot disappoint anyone, it's that much more tough to find a bride whose beauty will appeal to Shankar and his mom likewise, whose height and qualification will match up to the expectations of Shankar and his Dad, and whose charm will match up to the charisma of Shankar. And above all, whose horoscope matches Shankar's to a T.

Now, if anyone can help find a girl who matches this tall order, I can soon start planning for "My best friend's wedding".
Until such time, the search goes on..

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Another one bites the dust

As I sit here cursing my situation for having to come back to work after a 4 day vacation, I cant help but stare at this diamond studded ring sitting pretty on my finger. For the weak witted, that means I am engaged. In a small ceremony on the 19th Sep, I exchanged rings and a promise to share the rest of our lives with Dr.R. Conventional humor would demand a cliched punchline "Another one bites the dust". But deep down, I am thinking, if dust was this sweet, who wouldnt wanna bite it. Come children's day on Nov 14th, we should be pronounced man and wife. Sounds exciting!

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

Welcome to wherever you are!

I am new at writing blogs, but I have been sufficiently inspired by some very close people, who have convinced me that this is the best way to put my weird thoughts to good use. When I say weird, what I really mean is thoughts that one would not really want think too much about, but ones that everyone would come across some time or the other. This is just an attempt to record everything that would, at the time of its conception, not seem proper to be discussed with people, but would serve to humour me, and anyone who cares to read my blog, at a later time. There are times when I read an article from a newspaper, and disagree with most things written, and would want to lash out with my opinions but cant, only due to the absence of a medium to lash out on. Which is why I think this is a great idea to help people with strong opinions such as yours truly to hold on to their sanity by venting their frustrations, or just their calm and composed thoughts , on to a medium which can be accessible by everyone that they want to share their thoughts with. While I dont claim to be very knowledgeable in terms of factual content that I will be able to disseminate through my stray thoughts, this would be more like a play ground for unvalidated opinions. If nothing else, it will atleast serve as a diary of my thoughts, which I can read a few years from now, and probably manage a smile thinking of how my thoughts would have evolved over those few years. It will be just a place for uninhibited entertainment where I'll shred movies to pieces, rip ads apart, scream loud expletives about the state of governance, preach opinionistic gyan about Hindutva and how it continues to be misinterpreted, scream foul everytime India loses a cricket match or Pakistan win one...in short, paisa vasool entertainment where you dont really need any paisa to vasool. Oh, and my passion and passtime is football. Not the kind where they play ball with their hands and then call it football (the American style), but the conventional European style soccer. So I am sure ,sooner than later, once my limited knowledge on most other things fade away, all my writings would be based on football and its exponents. So for all my fellow Arsenal and Barca fans, I'd like to reach out to the fraternity and request people to respond with their expert opinions.