My home for the week.

Two More...

When I started this blog a few years ago, I wasn't planning on just posting some pictures here. I was hoping to write more. Write for myself, not for anybody else. I wasn't thinking anybody would read this blog either. It was just going to be an outlet for myself.

Unfortunately, that hasn't happened. I mean the writing part.

But who said pictures don't speak and aren't expressive? Mine may not actually fit that bill, but pictures have been about the only creative stuff I have been doing lately. I am not counting the 'creative' stuff I do for livelihood.

And they say if you don't feed your blog, it will die. So I am feeding it. With pictures. You might find them boring, but hey, it is my blog! :-)

At 6000 ft.

Gold Rush

...And Back.

And that feels like home! All you need is a look outside the window.

And Away...

(Picture taken just a few seconds after sunset.... at an elevation of about 7000 ft)

Away

Keep Thy Smoke To Thyself

Just when I was happily concluding that the day started out really well, this lady had to come and sit next to me on the train and screw my morning up.

My (Not So) Dear Smokers Everywhere: If you are going to board a train or a bus or enter any enclosed area that is likely to be inhabited by other human beings (actually, I would say other animals too, especially dogs), don't walk in carrying a cloud of left-over smoke around you. Take your time, stand in a remote corner, re-inhale all the smoke you have exhaled, and then proceed. If you can't do that, stay as far away as you can instead of picking me out in the crowd. You are guaranteed to give me a headache, and if it happens to be your lucky day, I might even oblige you by puking on you. I am serious. JUST STAY AWAY.

I know you have been told 'n' times, but I'm telling you again just in case 'n+1' is your magic number.

And to those smoke-walkers on side walks: No, we don't need you to go around spreading the goodness. If your smoke-cloud allows you a clear vision, take a look at the stream of people walking right behind you. They are following you not because they are penniless poor folks who need you to manufacture smoke for them so they can gulp it, but because they are in a hurry to get to work. Don't gag them with your smoke. Find a corner, finish your cigarette and then take a hike.

Not that my health is great, but if at all it is going to be totally messed up, at least I want to have a say in it!

The Week That Was

When you can juggle too many things and can do that everyday and every week, the amount of fun you can have can only be endless.

BlackBerry Photography

I just love getting there early when it is still misty all around, buy a hot cup of coffee (the small coffee shop's owner at the station holds out a cup for me the moment he sees me enter the building -- kinda adds to the nice feeling), and take a few sips before my train pulls into the platform. Sometimes I reach the station too early, early enough to catch the train before the one I planned to take, but not early to get my coffee!? So I let it go... like I did today. Not the coffee. The train.

Ah.... Early mornings... Fall weather... hot coffee.... What a beautiful way to start the day!

And to think I am not a morning person.

me.PRETTY_PLEASEd

Only two hers in water for him... muddy poor fellow!

A decade and a half since...

And the day and everything on either side of it is still very fresh in my heart:

The burst of activity at home as I suddenly left for the US carrying dreams of doing exciting research in computer science, the commotion on the morning of my travel after spending one last night in my favorite room as my best friend and I packed my bags with tears all night, and in the commotion leaving my future brother-in-law's brother (who had come from Chennai to bid me farewell) locked inside the house as we headed to the airport only to be rediscovered when the farewell party returned home; Spending 4 hours in Mumbai airport waiting for my cousin who was going to show up "any moment", and then being coaxed into going with him to Andheri to have one last Karnataka meal before leaving the country; And then finally leaving the country a little past midnight with a heavy heart. Little did I know that it was going to be another 4.5 years before I would see my home again.

And little did I know that Chicago would eventually become the place I call home. And that I would eventually give up the passport bearing the above stamps. And that, 15 years later, I would be writing this post on this blog.

Interesting things happen here in Chicago

Just as I stepped outside the building after work this evening...

Don't stop when you shouldn't, and stop when you must

The flight is already late by 2 hours. We are told that the flight has just arrived from Rome and is being prepared in the hangar for its next leg. So it is another hour to kill at the terminal. It is already past lunch time, and the mini lunch I had gulped more than two hours ago has already been forgotten. And the gate is crowded with people whose faces and expressions have become way too familiar to hold any more interest for me.

Thankfully, there is a small food court right in front of the gate. I grab an overpriced and cold sandwich, take a table very close to the bar counter facing the gate, and start looking around for unfamiliar faces to observe. Even the sandwich is way too familiar to look at it -- it can make its way into my tummy without my supervision.

As I sit there, two ladies, one around 50 years, and the other, apparently the mom, whose very wrinkled skin and slow gait revealed she must be at least about 75, walk up to the bar. A couple of minutes later, the bartender shows up. I can't hear the conversation clearly enough, but I can make out that ladies ordered drinks. Now, if you have ever been asked to show your ID when buying alcohol, or even over-the-counter medicines that induce drowsiness, and have felt flattered, think again. If there is one thing this world is never going to run out of, it is 'idiots.' Don't get flattered by their actions!

So, anyway, the bartender, the most law-abiding citizen there is, asks the ladies to show him the proof that they are above drinking age. They pull out of their purses what appeared to be passports from an European country, the bartender inspects them, and satisfied, goes back, does his thing, and brings back two glasses full of what looked like Gin and Tonic. Nice, I thought. The old ladies haven't allowed age to end their small indulgences.

And how! The older lady, with the glass in her hand, walks up slowly to the trash can close to my table, dips her wrinkly fingers into the drink, and starts pulling out ice and dumping it into the trash can. Yeah, ice is really bad for her sensitive teeth/denture. And it should never be allowed to spoil the taste of alcohol.

An hour passes by comfortably. And I board the plane. It is crowded. Everybody settles in their seat eagerly waiting for the take off.

And then comes the announcement. There is some problem with the brake. They said they saw smoke coming out from around the wheels (but didn't bother to ask us not to board while they fixed it!), and the mechanics were working on it. The most useful information they gave us: They had no idea how long it would take to fix it but would like us to remain seated.

Eventually the plane takes off after another 45 minutes. The weather is looking great, and the plane is flying smooth. Absolutely no turbulence. But the only thought running in my mind is, "I don't care as long as the plane is in the air, but will the brakes work when it hits the runway?" The software engineer in me is yelling "these new brakes haven't been tested yet!"

Apparently, it wasn't needed. Those brakes are not like software written by 'engineers' with made up resumes, you know.


(Drafted the day the above incident took place, over a month ago, but posting now)

Invictus

I had heard the name, and knew Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon were in it, but beyond that, I hadn't cared to know much about it. I rarely get to watch movies these days, in spite of subscribing to Netflix (both online AND via a Roku player I bought) which has essentially become a monthly donation to them.

So when this movie started playing on one of my flights last week, I reluctantly switched my headphone connection from iPod to the armrest port and started watching. I wasn't too keen on it anyway -- it mostly served as noise-canceler as I tried to read a book over the screams of kids and loud adults around. But I did catch a recurring reference to an old English poem that continued to linger in my mind long after I disembarked. And then the question hit me! Where did the movie's title come from?

It is from this poem, written in 1875, by William E. Henley:

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

It is never too late to find inspiration. And it's never too much.

Mothers know best how to protect... against all odds!

Does this need a title?

With all the recent goings on -- busier work schedule, travels, etc., etc., the best I can come up with, once in several weeks, is nothing but a ragged patch of disconnected thoughts and observations. Darn! It is hard to write once you lose touch, especially if all you write day in and day out is code, proposals, estimates, project plans, and emails. And an occasional shopping list that never gets looked up.

Thankfully, I can still read. Though not as much as I used to. I read Lajja recently. It was long pending but I ended up not liking it. Found the style very immature. Maybe it was the translation that did it in. Still, I fail to understand why the author was taken so seriously recently in Karnataka where people ended up killing each other over something she was supposed to have said.

***

What is worse than getting stuck in the middle seat between two men on a long flight? Of course, getting stuck in the middle seat between two women on a long flight! No wiggle room whatsoever, and you can't even nap fearing you might sway a bit too far like a drunk and embarrass yourself!

But then, you can't always help it. I couldn't on Monday.

A hefty lady to my right. She wouldn't even let me imagine that we had an armrest between us. And she closed the windows even before the plane took off cutting me off totally from the outside world and thereby depriving me of the joy of seeing sunset from 30000 feet.

To my left, a skinny woman who busily worked away in her notepad calculating some strange numbers -- tens of thousands of dollars per week. Wonder what business she was in.

And me, with my skinny book, sitting like an overwhelmed school kid. And Pandit Jasraj singing my favorite Todi variations into my ears to help me forget the discomfort.

I was hardly 3 rows from the door. So as soon as the doors closed, I started looking around for an empty aisle seat, and I didn't have to look far. The 3-seater row to my left had an empty window seat with the other two occupied by a young Chinese couple. The guy then moved to the window seat, leaving the aisle seat vacant. Perfect. And as I was eyeing that seat, the guy noticed me and in one quick perfect move, asked the girl to move to the aisle seat leaving the middle seat vacant. What a disaster! I resigned myself to my fate, and settled down uncomfortably into my seat. But I couldn't help notice, albeit grudgingly, that the young couple flew the entire flight sitting a seat apart! It was as if they were saying "We would rather keep a small distance between us than allow a stranger invade our privacy." Fair enough!

***

I have seen women cry for all kinds of reasons, "absolutely no reason" being one of the more common. However, I had never seen a woman cry watching a movie on a plane! The skinny lady who was working some crazy numbers before the movie started got so absorbed in the movie that at the end, as Leo Tolstoy was dying, broke into uncontrollable tears that wouldn't stop even a good ten minutes after the movie ended! I just couldn't believe that somebody could cry in public while watching "The Last Station"! Sure, it was a good movie with some great performance by Helen Mirren and Christopher Plummer, but still....cry?

I guess this lady has never seen a bollywood movie!

Bits and pieces

OK, not much of a full blog post, but some bits and pieces that have been playing in my head. Needed to get them out of my system... so here they are.

* * *
Lalit Modi is OUT! CLEAN BOWLED! Nah, actually, make that hit-wicket. Good riddance! I have never been a fan of IPL. Actually, I would have wholeheartedly hated it if not for the fact that Dravid, Tendulkar and Kumble were playing in it. Two reasons why I detested it so much:

1. It is not cricket. It is mockery of cricket.
2. Modi. Do I need to say more? If BCCI was Corrupt, Modi is Corrupt++. And vulgar. And he flaunted it with no shame.

* * *
While I've hated IPL, and have never watched a single game in IPL 1, 2 and 3, I've kinda followed it online (you can't help it if you visit CricInfo.com everyday and read as many blogs I read!). And I was particularly impressed with the way Mumbai and Bangalore played this year. I didn't really favor any one particular team, but if I were to pick a team, I would have picked 3, none of which eventually won the trophy though each of these 3 teams deserved (and promised) to win.

In general, here's how I look (love, hate, and why) at the 8 IPL teams, in alphabetical order:

1. Chennai Super Kings: Hate. Reason: Hayden.

2. Deccan Chargers: Hate, in spite of Gilchrist and some connection I have with Andhra. Reason: Andrew Symonds.

3. Delhi Daredevils: Love them. In fact, one of my most favored teams this year. Sehwag and Gambhir are obviously two of the big, but not the only, reasons. The fact that I used to live here hasn't influenced much though. And have nothing against this team, despite the fact the Ashish Nehra plays for them.

4. Kings XI Punjab: Kings? Of what? The 'Also-Rans'. Deserved neither hatred nor love. Poor Zinta -- if they keep losing like this, it won't be too long before her dimples disappear. Oh, btw, it turns out there is Modi-connection here too -- so maybe I can hate them. ;)

5. Kolkata Knight Riders: Oh boy! Where do I start? I would have so loved to see Ganguly just sit home and keep his dignity. Poor guy! Two arrogant Australians screwed him up big time. And a Khan almost did him in.

6. Mumbai Indians: Love them. Because of Tendulkar. I have never really supported a Mumbai Ranji team because of the big bullies they usually are. Does anybody remember the Ranji final in Mysore? But in IPL this year, the way Tendulkar played and led the team, I wanted them to win the championship.

7. Rajasthan Royals: HATE them. Modi. Warne. Modi. Warne.

8. Royal Challengers Bangalore: Ah! My home team with Dravid, Kumble, Kallis, etc., etc. How can you not love them! But there is one thing that is really bad about them: the vulgar Malya.

* * *
In the middle of this, while the thugs like Modi were making big by breaking every rule, how did they summon the moral courage to ban Ravindra Jadeja for negotiating for a better deal? I guess one can't use Indian politics, cricket, the business of cricket, and morality in the same sentence.

* * *
I never thought I would write about IPL in my blog... I guess strange things do happen.

सार॑गा तॆरी याद मॆ॑...

.

The End.

Just because it is Jan 18th