3 The Height of a Love...

What could be the height of a love? What could be the extremes of longing, craving and yearning desire? This particular post throw some light. However, I am not sure whether my emotions are getting translated into words.

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 It was first Saturday of the month, again. It was a half day, today so a nine years old boy had already returned from his school. Steam engine of the train had blown its whistle to synchronize the mental clock of the boy from a distance of two kilometres. Whistle of the train also triggered a sequence of events. Yes, the steam engine was giving indication that it would reach “Saraigarh” the nearest railway station in another ten minutes. The boy started counting another 90 minutes from his mental clock. (Wall clock was still a luxury before economic liberalization). This much time was required for walking and taking a boat ride for reaching home from this railway station. The boy was actually waiting for someone.

The mental clock of the boy indicated him that it was just half an hour now. The boy positioned a wooden chair at his "dalaan" and started looking endlessly towards pagdandi (a grass laden elevated pathway through middle of the agricultural field, on which only one person can walk at a time). 

While he would be sitting in isolation, many people would enquire with him that why he was sitting alone. The boy would either ignore or would divert the question. With every passing second his restlessness would increase to next level. It would not take more than 90 minutes to pass. There would be two possible outcomes, now:

Firstly, there would be no outcome and his restlessness would not bring any result, not even a disappointment. Rather he would start waiting for next train which would come probably two hours later. While he would be involved in his daily chores, his radar would be meticulously switched on to receive signal from the whistle of steam engine of next train. Again, the same restless waiting for 90 minutes. Probably, it would bring the same results and nothing would happen. 

Or secondly, during the last phase of any of those 90 minutes, the boy would see a man in his mid thirties walking through the "pagdandi" towards his "dalaan" with a suitcase in his one hand and a big duffle in his another hand. 

The boy would be elated and would run towards him at his maximum speed. In a moment the boy would meet this man. The man would also be elated to see him. He would keep his luggage aside and uncounted numbers of hugs and kisses would be exchanged. Both of them would then walk towards the home. The boy would walk fast and then would stop occasionally to sync with the pace of the man. Upon reaching home, the mother of the boy would ask him the same question again, “I know why you have been waiting at "dalaan”. The boy would gracefully lie that he was actually longing for the arrival of his father. He would pose as if it was merely an incidental meet, co-incident indeed. 

Yes, the man in this story was my father and I was the “the boy”. The first Saturday of the month, whistle of the train, restlessness of the waiting, elation of meeting and finally uncounted numbers of hugs and kisses packaged together were probably the best memory of my father that was happening every month (in late 80's) when he was coming to our native place from Gorakhpur.

1 On a fine wednesday evening

Wednesdays have been most promising day in my corporate life. While hangover of “full formals” days still remains there, hope of coming weekends always keep luring me. Prepared for untimely yet highly desirable thunderstorm and rain, I boarded the bus. I was the last, in fact, to board. I tried looking for a convenient window seat, but settle my mind to the middle one seemingly vacant on the fourth three-seaters-row. The gentleman on the window seat and lady on aisle helped me to get in.

I did not need to wait even for a minute for bus to start. The moment, the bus climbed on the elevated highway, everyone joined their business. People started talking on their phone. The man on extreme left on the window seat of the two-seaters started bashing his junior colleague. It was appearing that someone from the team had disturbed his predicted deadline putting his project management skill at stake. The man on the aisle seat of the same two-seater, junior in age, hierarchy and physical size was terribly scared. I am not sure, whether he was from the same team too.

After sometime the lady adjacent to me got a call. The first thing she asked in bangla, with the trust that I would not understand (probably she saw my name on ID card), “did papa came?”. Later on, I come to know, with my three years long romance with this language in kharagpur that she was talking to her son and pissed out on her husband for the ever pending work.

My neighbor on right hand side called his room/flat partner and found that their cook took casual leave without a notice. He was happy to have lavish dinner outside. But what I got from their conversation, his room partner was not willing to eat outside, most commonly reason for an eligible bachelor, for the sake of premarital blues.

I have heard from my immediate behind, a girl was talking to her mom about her prospective groom. She was somewhere from MP, insisting her mom to pick only handful bio data so that she can meet them in her forthcoming tour. Her enthusiastic voice lowered down, I noticed, when she started talking to her father. I have heard her saying to her father that she did trust on them and she need not to go to her hometown for this petty reason. I noticed, her father was insisting to meet her prospective grooms in that life centric decision.

These are not simple bus rides. I object to the opinion of those who do not want phone to be used in the buses. You can see a mini prospering ever young India in Infosys buses.

As it happens most often, I got excited by the different phone calls of my co-passengers and called my wife. She took time to pick up the phone. I said, “I am coming”.

“So what?”, She said wondering.

I realized, my wife was not in Infosys bus, I immediately came to the point and said to her, “Oh! Get the tea ready”. She kept mum for a while, thinking whether I am talking “nonsense” or she is “missing” something. On the other hand, I thought, phone is not the only medium; I will explain her in leisure about the mini India traveling in Infosys buses.

Mood: witty and humorous

0 The recession is really over

The recession is really over. Did you not notice the chaos on the hosur road? especially on Bommanhalli junction. You have “all the rights” to argue with me about the validity of this statement. What is the relationship between hosur road and recession?

When I came to Bangalore in mid 2006, market was at its peak. Sensex was roaring to cross 20,000 landmark. Every IT company targeted to hire 25000 employees in that financial year. The rent and property cost was at its all time high. The rent of one bed room, hall and kitchen was at least Rs 6000 a month. The landlords were increasing rent of their existing tenants at the rate of more than 10% a year. The financial results of our own company were beating all street guidelines. Our company distributed crores of rupees among the employees in addition to good variable components of the salary upon crossing two billion landmark (I believe I am not disclosing my company secrets, I read this news in media). There were all signs of the flourishing economy seemingly visible to even common man in Bangalore.

However, at the same time, it was taking at least “one hour” to reach silk board junction from Infosys bus stand. Buses were crawling on the roads. Pedestrian were faster than any motorized vehicle. The decibel level of the entire hosur road was breaking all records with all kinds of shrill horns of different vehicles.
I am staying near silk board. Yesterday, I boarded 06:15PM bus and reach home only at 07:05PM. I saw the same chaos on the road, “the one” I used to observe in mid 2006. Decibel level was the same. Only addition to the infrastructure was the elevated expressway. I felt, I returned back to the history, the time of 2006, when I used to sleep at least for an hour in bus.

I have seen the recession and its effects very closely. I also kept observing my commuting time. I felt commuting time on hosur road is directly proportional to financial health of the IT company in electronic city of Bangalore. My commuting time increases or decreases on tune of the IT business. During the recession, I was able to commute to my home merely in 20 minutes.

Now since the commuting time is one hour, I can tell with confidence that recession is over. I don’t need to give any logical reason for it. There are so many thing correlated but yet not explained logically. I feel good to know that recession is over. But, yesterday, I failed convincing the same to my wife. Yesterday, as usual she was waiting for me to join her on evening tea. As usual, I gave her a miss call when the bus started. However, one hour was too long for her to wait for me. I could not turn up at the expected time even with added grace period. It ends up in arguments. Actually, I don’t have a problem. Problem is with her. She is not able to correlate the commuting time with the recession.

Mood: Lethargic yet witty

0 Review of book "two states"

What would happen if Sachin Tendulkar appears as lead hero in a bolywood masalaa movie. What would happen if Dr. Abdul Kalam starts playing a cricket match in eden garden. What would happen if Mrs Sonia Gandhi appears in saas-bahu serial in a lead role. Yes that movie would be the biggest hit. It will break all records at the box office. The entire Eden Garden would be jam packed full to see a cricket match with Dr. Kalam as an opener.

Let us give a second thought. IIT JEE is a craze for over a million school boys of 17 years old. At least half a million dream for a single seat out of five thousands availability in the B.Tech first year in one of the IIT. So, four lacks ninety five thousand teenagers get disappointed every year. Going by the simple calculation among millions of people in the age group of 21 to 27 there are 3.5 million people, who once dreamed about getting into IIT end up settling down somewhere else.

There are 300 million people in India (equivalent to population of US) whose purchasing power is more than twenty thousand rupees a month. There is army of youths who starts earning early (in early twenties). They are exposed to western culture thanks to multiple ways of socialization, communication, and entertainment. They have Indian values with western mindset confusing them all the while.

Above three paragraphs should be sufficient to convey my review of the book “Two states” written by Mr. Chetal Bhagat. First of all the literature of the book is such that it could not have been sold alone. It is the IIT+IIM combination which is being sold in the market. Mr. Chetan Bhagat is at the wrong place doing something good as an author as Dr. Kalam as opener of a cricket match, Tendular as a lead role in bolywood masala movie and Sonia Gandhi as lead role in Saas-bahu serial.

Mr. Chetan bhagat has done the same thing bolywood have been doing since long. If you can not sale your art and creativity, sale the sex. It has been sold in past, it is still being sold in the market and it will continue in the future too. After all, millions of confused young minds would love read how an IITian in IIM persuade his girlfriend for having sex. They would love to read what a girl would write to his boyfriend about this three odd letter word. Chetan Bhagat exploited this mindset very well through this book.

The book starts with the multiple such instances where the main character of the novel persuade his girlfriend. The story move fast how two families came as individual obstacles. How two families try to show off their respective culture, leaving behind the feeling of two highly educated minds. Author explained the mentality of the people coming from two contradicting cultures with the story. The novel has well woven story with multiple numbers of breath holding ups and downs. However authors has gone being permissible level of authority to put fiction (read false storyline) in the non-fiction book. Read following quotation:

“Most women at conveyor belt looked like Ananya’s mother. I couldn’t tell one from the other. They all wore tones of gold, but somehow it looked more understated than Pammi’s necklaces that had precious stones and pearls hanging from them shapeless dry fruit.

I came out of airport. I had to find an auto to go to my chummery. “

Who will tell author that there is no auto available at the airport.

“Can’t it wait? The old gentleman asked. “she is having her final interview. All our senior management is here. “

Actually I can’t”, I said …

… Ananya Swaminathan, I, Krish Malhotra, am deeply in love with you and want to be with you always, apart from when we go to office of course. Will you marry me?”

I am wondering is it really possible in real life, that a boy will go to the interview room where his girlfriend is getting interviewed for her first ever job.

It appears to me, it is not a book. It is a script for yet another comedy movie of bolywood with Paresh Rawal as father of heroine, Amresh Puri as father of hero and with Sanjay Datt in the lead role. It is a disappointment to conventional reader who will not find anything beyond the story itself. Generally author has authority to write something which is non-obvious. Mr. Chetan Bhagat did not show any kind of authority either on the language or on the story itself which is non-obvious for a common man. Story and conclusion is very straightforward. If we leave behind the athority of an author to take control of the feelings of reader by non-obvious explanation, I will give 10 out of 10 to the author as a script writer of comedy movie.

0 Never marry a scientist who is poetic in nature

Thanks to the depressed social and atmospheric condition of United States, I did not get opportunity to fulfill my talkative appetite. Yes, people from the US socialize only in the clubs. Though you will always be flooded with the hello and hi even by strangers. I am stating this because I had very bad experience. Here, is the first example. In last week of October, I visited a team of scientist collaborating with us in Berkeley. I have given a talk to them. Our hosts, the US colleagues, used to sit in the conference room with a mug of coffee in their hands. They never offered me a cup of coffee, on any occasion. Now imagine this in India. This is never possible that your host will take something without offering you the same. If this happen at all, it will be considered as a rude. But we need to keep in mind this is what a culture is. Some of our behavior make look strange to them.

Anyway, yesterday was one of the best days in last few weeks. At least, I got the chance to fulfill the appetite of my talkative disposition, and I can vouch, this was not “yet another unplanned and unacknowledged talks” to my team members. It was well received. Though I am very talkative in nature but it rarely happened that whatever I am talking becomes a great statement to be quoted by others. But yesterday was my day and it happened like this. I told Amrit, if you want to be a good researcher, you will have to develop a poetic skill in yourself which will instill a courage in you to compare a moon and a lady which seems very absurd in consummated terms.

Amrit is my junior colleague in the team which I have been leading, a very enthusiastic and energetic in nature. I have rejected some of his innovative research idea in recent past. Yesterday, I was explaining him, how to channelize his energy to produce good and quality research. I told him that a scientist needs to compare two entirely different sets of objects, which seems to be very absurd at first glance. I told him, how I used my childhood experience related to the behavior of torch (battery power flash light) during the last hour of draining of the battery. I told him “how I used the idea that if you put the battery on rest, after sustained draining of current, it regains some of the energy.” Yes this was my childhood experience and I used it successfully analyzing the idea and producing a result which was never thought before and which helped me to write a complete chapter of my PhD thesis, producing at least 6 international research papers.

I kept reiterating him, be like a poet only who can dare to compare the two absurd things. Take lessons from all those poets who compared a moon and a beautiful maiden. Yes a moon, the non-living satellite without oxygen in it, a heavenly mass where man walks like kangaroos, which consists of the mountains and craters of sands, where American flag doesn’t wave even after investing billions of dollars and about which, the people still suspect that there will be millions of viruses hidden in their magical sands. And a lady which still remains the ultimate subject of a dejected or over enthusiastic poet. As two individual objects the moon and the lady are two extremes but it has been compared by the poets.

Today, when I was commuting back to my office, I tried to find out the outcome of yesterday’s 10 hours and 30 minutes which I spent in the office. I did a volume of pending work including 3 meetings and telephone calls and a bit of study. I analyzed each hour, I spent yesterday in the office. I didn’t find any one of them worth remembering or adding to the value of my intellectual assets. Everything was a regular corporate routine work. Except the one statement which I made to Amrit. Today evening when I will return back to my home, I will tell it to my wife, “Honey! only scientists or a poet can compare two absurd things of the life”, giving her an example of a beautiful woman and the mystic moon. I believe it will be the double depressing blow, a big impasse to her. Because, at any moment of time, I claim to be a poet and a scientist both, within four walls of my mind.

1 My dinner: a strategic game plan for him

It has been 13 years, since I had taken breakfast regularly. I had completely abandoned the idea of breakfast and I am sure, I had never taken breakfast at least in this millennium. When I was in school in late 80's my routine was like this, I use to wake up at 05:30 AM, got myself ready at 06:00AM, breakfast at 06:30AM, mathematics tuition from 07:00AM to 08:30AM. Taking bath at 09:00AM, Lunch at 09:30AM, school from 10:00 to 03:30AM, snacks at 04:30AM, all (wild) play from 04:30 to 06:30PM, study/home work from 07:00PM onward and dinner at sharp 08:45PM just before hitting the bed. I remember, I use to follow this routine 340 days a year. Rest of 25 days were meant for festivals, guests and the days when we were celebrating the preparation of non-veg, which was very rare, because my mother has been a pure vegetarian, right from her childhood. Point to be noted my lord, no TV, no internet and no cricket. Still what a fantastic lifestyle.

Everything has been changed now. Virtually no routine, lunch timing is always based on work schedule and the leisure time after work is attributed to the internet. My famous slogan is "जब से इन्टरनेट ने साथ दिया टी.वी. और बीवी दौनो की छुट्टी हो गई thanks to the internet my wife and TV both got reliving letter" But irrespective of the schedule, I have made sure that we take dinner at the same time (08:45PM) with everyone sitting on the ground, plates and bowls spread around us and we ensure we use our four fingers to stimulate the taste buds effectively. Though the schedule of most of the activities changed but still the schedule of our dinner remain same. We still take dinner at the same time 08:45PM. Moreover, now we have 3 years old Ayachi, my son, in the family to be with us for dinner.

It is our dinner but it is a strategic game plan for Ayachi. Mostly his mom feed him "daal-chawal-sabji" three times a day. However, he never miss to be with us during dinner. He always use to occupy the middle seat. He insists his mom to match the numbers of bowls and plates. He use to sit like me, with two of his legs cross folded into his lap (palathi) and his body erected at 90^o to the ground.

Though, he always positioned himself to be in line with me and my wife, however, he is more happy in positioning plates and bowls strategically within the reach of his hands, rather he has to re-arrange the system for him. He use to put sabzi in daal and enjoy rotating the mixture with his index finger around the periphery of the bowls, thus making a hollow cone. If he finds either of us staring at him, he makes sure to give us an intelligent look, pretending that he is very serious in his business. Even if it is not require, he will ask for spoons and play with the bowls. He rotates the roti several times like a wheel and sometimes ups and downs. He maintain the pattern very well in either of the case. In between, just for pretending, he will put a piece of aloo. Instead of bringing his hand closer to his mouth, he bends down at 90^o making his half of the structure parallel to the ground. For anybody else, this may be his immature behavior but for him, it is "yet another game". If we leave him at his will and if we give him company, he will continue to eat (read play) for 3 hours, 4 hours or any number.

I don't have any hesitant in writing, though I happen to be our dinner, but it remains his strategic game plan.