The Da Vinci Code - It could be true...

Watched The Da Vinci Code again last night. Though people the world over lambasted the movie, I liked it.

Yeah, the movie has its pits - no character development & a virtually plastic Audrey Tautou. But the screenplay is very loyal to the book (perhaps a bit too loyal, choking the characters out) and is well-paced. Ron Howard has commendably brought the history of the Grail & the multiple associated, abutting legends to life. I could feel those goosebumps again as I watched the movie unfold.

Now, here is a thought which has nagged at me ever since I read that best-seller.
Could it be true? Could there be a descendant of Jesus Christ walking among us?

I have heard a million n one folks point out the poetic licenses the book has taken with some locations & historical facts in the story. However, I think they miss the larger picture.

Look at it this way - Arguably, there could exist a secret brotherhood, a la the Priori of Sion, protecting the bloodline over the centuries. They could ostensibly have a mission of revealing the truth at what they saw as the opportune time.

That time could be now. The Da Vinci Code could be a first in a series of plots towards achieving this mission. Dan Brown could be a member of this secret clique (one of the Senechaux, or perhaps, the Grandmaster himself!!). Or he could be a pawn in a larger scheme of things. Whichever way, the wheels of history could be in motion again.

Think about it. Think about what can be & not what is. How sensational it would be - it promises to throw every aspect of human belief into throes - history, religion, world politics. It'd be an event of true apocalyptic proportions!!

I'd love to be alive when such an event if & does ever happen. Conspiracy theories rock...

Requiem for a dream...

Somebody please sing me a lullaby. Or get a bathroom singer to sing तुम तो ठेहरे परदेसी to me.

If you get Indian channels, tie me to a chair and forcibly make me watch one of those many stupid 'K' soap operas. Or call back Daddu - professor of Materials Management at IIM Lucknow - and ask him to start his drone on whatever it was that he so solemnly professed all over again.

Or thrust a Nancy Drew in to my hands. Try Paulo Coelho if Ms. Drew fails.

Get the witch of Sleeping Beauty to cast a spell on me. Ask Dreamworks to make some soothing works for my dreams.

If everything fails, stick some chloroform into my face. But someone please do something.

I wanna sleep. Desperately...

Saturday "Day" Fever :)

From recent memory, today would easily count as the best Saturday I have had!!

The beauty of the day lay in the fact that it wasn't a planned, campaign day which I might have been looking forward to for a long time. Was just a regular weekend day which I spent in the company of people I like.

As weekends go, the day began early around 9am. Woke up to a nice, tranquil breezy morning - perfect day to be reading a book sitting by the window. Literally skimmed through Prey, my last Crichton novel, till around noon when Addie called unexpectedly.

He asked me whether I'd be eating lunch - to which I obviously said yes, and if I'd be game to hop over to his haunt - to which I again obviously n shamelessly said yes :). The best part about being a 25-year old bachelor is that you are old enough to be invited for luncheons and get-togethers, yet escape from it being viewed under the aegis of "social obligations".

Now, delightfully, the lunch (which was wondrous in its own "home-food" right) also had another tacit invitation piggy-backing it - a long awaited turn to try my skill at the Sony Playstation 2. And boy, did I have a blast!!
Played NFS and to my own surprise, drove pretty well for a stark amateur. The sheer thrill of that game is in its simplicity - accelerate all the time, keep the car straight, keep collisions to the minimum. Plus, there was the sadistic glee of seeing the game chide Ashim saying "you were last" - in a 2 player race ;-).

Then my teammate at work, Claire, came over to Addie's to see his house, as Addie is vacating it soon. The vacancy though is not just restricted to the house. Addie is quitting and going back to India. I am 99.9999% sure that office won't ever be the same again without him :(. The poignancy of the whole situation was inextricably woven into the mirth of the afternoon.

Addie deserves a full post dedicated to him. It'll be one I'll write with utmost care and a swell of emotion in my heart. Can promise him that much!!

Anyways, getting back to the main thread of the post - the afternoon flowed to a evening coffee with a friend, here for a conference, at Orchard. Was fun reminiscing about the old times, how she totally fell in love with everything Singaporean, how the bevy of petite, super-modelesque Singaporean beauties made her feel like Humpty Dumpty :). And for the first time ever, I found the Starbucks coffee palatable! And no, it wasn't the company, the coffee could actually pass on as "tasty" and "potable" :).

The library beckoned after this evening hour fleeted by. That turned out to be an adventure that shouldn't have been :). I was to show some juniors (who didn't have a mobile phone) to the library and we spent 20 mins on the footpath trying to trace each other, when we were all but half-a-football-field away at different ends of the mall. Amazing how obsequious we've become to mobile phones & how paralyzing absence of one can be!!

The crowning caper of the day was the surprise birthday party for Arthi. It was a coordinated, conspiratorial surprise treat at Modesta's. 15-16 of her IIM A batchmates and some other friends had conspired to not wish her the whole day, turn down any dinner/meeting calls from her and then surprise her when her roommate got a dejected looking Arthi to the restaurant for dinner.

Well, that was the plan!! As it turned out, we got there before she did ;). When she got there, there was already a huge table for 20 set out, with some of us conspirators seated at it. The icing on the cake, though, was that in spite of this she didn't suspect that somethin' might be cookin'. She still believed that it was coincidental that some of us were at the same restaurant at the same time. So, we kinda did pull the surprise off :).

As for the food - l'italiano era deliziosamente fantastico!! We downed copious amounts of food. Brace yourselves, here is what all we devoured :-

1. 3 12" pizzas
2. 4 pastas
3. 2 salads
4. 2 king prawns
5. and the star of the evening - 3 20" pizzas.

They had to get a separate barbecue-style stand to hold the 20" pizza trays. It took 2 people to serve - one to balance the tray, the other to serve ;). Was terribly amusing to just see them orchestrate that spectacle!!

All in all, I had a great day yesterday. The wait now begins for the next Horsie's Day Out :).
Hope the coming week passes by quickly!!

Images that changed the world.

Got this link to someone else's blog from a friend.

The images are really thought provoking. Follow this link to view the image - http://pinguy.infogami.com/blog/vwm6

As MJ said in his heydays,

Heal the world,
Make it a better place
For you and for me
and the entire human race...

Amen.

1 more reason I love being a guy.

I love being a guy. Gals - Boo boo :P.

Reasons:
This article shares some relatively unimportant, but very practical and potent ones. - Niki's blog -
What the...
One more reason - Men don't ever get Orkut scraps like "Hi...Wazzup...u know u are so pretty, I have never met someone nice like u. Wanna frendship with me. Plz, plz dont ignore my message, I write my tru feelingz."
(just for the record, this piece of genius isn't mine. It's from a female friend's scrap book, left by some wannabe Romeo ;) ).

Lolssssssssssssss.....Rotfilmao. Guy world roxx!!

The CMK meaning of Idiot proof!

I often think that we CMKers have taken our motto of "making things simple" to another level. We like to make things idiot proof. But somewhere along the line, unconsciously & unintentionally it manifests itself as "other function proof".

With all the "simplicity", Marketing'ers must definitely feel like 2 year olds learning Ba-Ba Black Sheep in school in our presentations. (No snide remarks about Marketing, even though restrain is tough!!).
When asked questions that are uncomfortable or something we can't put our buck on, we say "Oh! That's technical in nature (you won't understand it?). I can take you thru it separately later (later when? later never?)".

I mean c'mon. Who are we trying to kid? For Christ's sake, both CMKers and Marketing'ers hail from the same echelons of excellence - the IIMs.

I finally quelled my embers thinking that it must be that CMKers are from 'Indian' Institute of Management whereas Marketingers are from 'Idiots' Institute of Management! See, so simple again :).

How vanities come by - even with an honest intent and whole-hearted commitment.

A need for awareness of the world

My take on how my world today has such different needs of awareness from my campus days. But I present my opinions in third person, for the sake of generality and applicability to perhaps a much wider audience.

Today's scenario
There is an accentuated need for awareness of the environment around you. However, no one's going to knock on your door and tell you the world is changing. You have to observe things for yourself - read emails, track news n developments, watch conversations, pick up cues for yourself. You need to take that effort yourself to keep yourself aware n connected. No one's going to spoon feed you.

From these observations, you need to make your own conclusions and judgements. It then comes down to how much you can rely on your instinct. Some plunge in and test the waters for themselves, others wait for the comfort of group think and dive in when the currents aren't as turbulent.

Campus days
A far throw from these days. Firstly, campus was a microcosmic, almost self-contained world in itself. Which meant that the need in question itself became dormant - you could get by just fine without a care of the bigger, real world outside those hallowed grounds.
Secondly, the gazillion people around, the bombardment of cases, etc. ensured you kept hearing snippets of almost every topic under the son. This ensured you kept getting your periodic infusement of news.

Also, there was always a sense (and need) of belonging to a close-knit community of 300 similar intellects. This meant that group think or mass opinion was more the norm rather than a choice.

How things have changed with time!!

Blog-o-miles = 50 :)

Yippee, have clocked 50 posts. And it's 11 months since I set off on my journey.

i.e. Speed = 54 ppa (posts per annum) or 1 ppw.

Could be better, but what the heck!!

Now that I stand at a self-proclaimed milestone of sorts, have to say that I have become quite fond of blogging. I am quietly passionate about my blog. Nowadays, actively keep parking thoughts/ideas in my mind that I wanna write about.

All-in-all, the journey on blog road's been great fun so far. The road's been silken at times, slow going at others. Have had to sojourn away in my mind-motels to allay my weariness from time to time. But a great adventure it's been all along - never drab, never uninsightful! Have discovered aspects to me that I never knew existed!!

So, for the moment - Time to refuel, pat myself and bask in the self-cast limelight. Hehe.

P.S. - And, yes, I do love it when people read my ramblings and leave comments. Always nice to get feedback :).

My trammels of inarticulateness

It’s that feeling again. And I dread it!

As I sit to post something on my blog, I find myself fumbling ever so often to pick out that exact word. I know that I know the word, it gnaws at the annals of my memory and just when I reach out for it - vanishes with a poof!!

English & vocabulary have been cherished passions, ever since I can recall now. Have dreaded ineloquence - it makes me feel that my brain's stagnating and decaying.

I had this exact feeling about 5 years ago while in engineering. The internet and computer science were happening (yes, continuous tense as it was a 4-year course). Which meant that the books got renounced :(. Slowly, I found the depths of my language were silting into shallows. Yet I couldn't do anything to stay the atrophy. Felt helpless, felt miserable...

Then the GRE and the infamous Barrons' word-lists happened. Peers cursed 'em, I loved 'em. Felt a sense of pride and accomplishment as I studied them. (I actually made a hand-written book of all the words I had learnt, with meanings, usages et al. Treasured that book above anything else. Misplaced it in the myriad books after L and till date am aggrieved about its loss :( ).

In retrospect, I feel that that test was a landmark event in my life in many ways. It brought me my passion back. I expanded my vocabulary manifold. It almost felt like graduating to the adult world of English. Started feeling good about myself :). After this episode, I decided I wouldn't let my language stagnate again and would keep polishing it every now n again.

The succeeding 2 years at L passed like a whiff. I don't recall reading too voraciously there. But, the stint at Placecom there, with its million mails and articles, fed enough fodder to my left brain and didn't let it hibernate. It's amazing how when we look back at our pasts, most events end up playing a larger role than you earlier accredited them for!!

Then P&G happened and the relocation to Singapore reacquainted me with the forgotten joys of reading :). Thanx to the NLB, have taken back to reading like a fish to water. Now, while all the reading has ensured I have a solid rearguard in place and don’t slip further, writing is critical to keep the blade sharp. It’s the good old theory n book knowledge vs. practical n wisdom duality.

This duality was one of my inspirations then (there are more than one – an individual + this + my practical obsession with writing A1 docs in office, in that order) to enlist myself on blogosphere. Blogging is my first notable, consistent and serious effort in a long time, at penning down the swirls in my head. And as was Karna's curse, so is mine - cometh the hour, not cometh the required skill - words… :|.

Obviously, the solution to my pangs is to keep writing more n more. But, with the million worldly needs & expectations & commitments that one necessarily has to devote time to, a desire or passion has to cede priority. However, that is but an excuse at the end of the day.

Hence, I have decided to apply my project management lessons to this as well – have put a goal for myself of x posts per week and am tracking myself to it. Status so far = Okay, nothing pathbreaking.

So there it is, I think I have evolved a solution to deal with my hallucinations of a wordless hollow creeping up on me. Simple n pragmatic. The classic engineering approach, my ever loyal refuge, bastion and liberator…

Amazing what fear (even if irrational) of affliction to a cherished haven can drive men to!

Happy Birthday to you...

A birthday celebration in office today reminded me of this particular rendition of the Happy Birthday song :).
This is how it goes

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you...
.....
(more verses)
.....
You were born in the zoo

You look like a monkey
And smell like one tooooooooooooooooooo!!!

Lolssssssssss....Rotflmao :D.

I think it's too cool improvisation. Goal is to sing it in office on a close friend's birthday ;).

Thoughts on a quiet Sunday

Another quiet Sunday goes by. Spent the day listening to some good music and completing my reading of the Silmarillion.

Posting the lyrics of a song which I love. Alone by the Bee Gees. I love it as I can identify with it and find that it is very true of life. In music, I find a steadfast aide everytime my soul needs a draw of strength. (These lyrics aren't mine. Claim no IP rights whatsoever.)

Alone - Bee Gees

I was a midnight rider on a cloud of smoke
I could make a woman hang on every single stroke
I was an iron man
I had a master plan
But I was alone

I could hear you breathing
With a sigh of the wind
I remember how your body started trembling
Oh, whats a night its been
And for the state Im in
Im still alone

And all the wonders made for the earth
And all the hearts in all creation
Somehow I always end up alone
Always end up alone

So I play, Ill wait
cause you know that love takes time
We came so far
Just the beat of a lonely heart
And its mine
I dont want to be alone

Well, since I got no message on your answer phone
And since youre busy every minute.
I just stay at home
I make believe you care
I feel you everywhere
But Im still alone

Im on a wheel of fortune with a twist of fate
cause I know it isnt heaven, is it love or hate
Am I the subject of the pain
An I the stranger in the rain
I am alone

And if there glory there to behold
Maybe its my imagination
Another story there to be told

So I play, Ill wait
And I pray its not too late
We came so far
Just a beat of a lonely heart
And its mine
I dont want to be alone

And all the wonders made for the earth
And all the hearts in all creation
Another story there to be told

So I play, Ill wait
And I pray its not too late
We came so far
Just a beat of a lonely heart
And its mine
I dont want to be alone

Gone, but not out of sight
Im caught in the rain and theres no one home
Face the heat of the night
The one that you loves got a heart thats made of stone

Shine and search for the light
And sooner or later youll be cruising on your ocean

And clean out of sight
Im caught in the rain and theres no one home

O blue ocean...why are thee...oh so... SALTY????

Had gone to East Coast Park yesterday. To cycle and to just chill by the waterside. Had a mixed morning as was having trouble breathing while cycling and hence couldn't build or maintain any speed which would get my veins tingling.

So, to catch my breath for a while, I cycled on to the pier at ECP. It is a jetty that extends out into the ocean from the walkway. There is usually a good breeze blowing there and makes the pier an ideal point to refresh yourself. So, I cycled to the farthest point on the pier and perched myself on the balustrade.

Now, here is the interesting part and the reason why I called it a mixed morning. Outlined below are the thoughts playing catch me if you can in my junk-box as I sat perched on my high throne.

1. I have been in sea water close to the shore. It tastes horrible and salty. Is the sea water as salty and yucky even in the interiors? Hmm...I should ask a sailor man when I meet one next.
2. The Oceans hold almost 69% of the earth's water. What dizzying quantity of salt must it take to maintain the salinity of the sea?
3. Fishes must have taste buds as sensitive as bamboos to be able to live thru a life's intake of salty water.

Well, I was hoping the ocean could have inspired some poetic instinct in me. Poetry somehow seems so classy and the hallmark of a writer who has arrived.

And the ocean just so perfectly fits the bill for inspiration. The mighty seas epitomize romance, adventure n discovery, power, humility, pain n triumph, the vibrancy of life - everything basically!! Its got the perfect mix of all the right ingredients to cause one to weave words into verse.

But no. Try as I might, my engineer-brain could only think up arbit, utterly uninspiring thoughts about the formula for concentration, methods to measure the salinity of the sea and the mechanism of how taste buds work! Just plain defiance to transgress over from geek land to mojo land.

I even tried doing a Leonardo di Caprio, standing with my arms stretched out, facing the sea, trying to take in the so called smell of the seas. I finally gave up and got back to plain, old cycling when the only smell that my olfactory senses could discern was of my deodorant overworking to suppress the sweat!!

No wonder Harika keeps asking me - Are belligerence and ire the only effects I can have on women! Damn.

The purging of Tennis of the Williams era

I loathe the Williams sisters. In my eyes, they have spoiled Women's Tennis - taken it from its suave, violinesque charisma of the Graf era to the brusque, inharmonious, heavy-metalesque current state of affairs.

The earlier game was so much more fun to watch. It was about elegance, ball placement and skill. One could almost sense why tennis was called the game of the nobility seeing Women's matches.
Then came along these two grunters! (whose grunts were almost as bullyish as their ground strokes). Suddenly we started seeing 120 MPH serves and a bombardment of aces in the female game. The game morphed into yelling and whacking as many balls back with as much brute possible :(. The eye-candy index obliteration also did not help ;).

Serena, against all bets, won the first Slam for the Williams at the U.S. Open '99. Then began the Williams run! Between them, the sisters won 9 of the 16 Grand Slams from 2000 to 2003 - a whopping 56% success rate. Their domination was complete - they blew away opponents like strands of straw. No opponent could put up any notable or consistent resistance to the Williams juggernaut. With no nemesis in sight, Richard Williams' plan of ruling women's tennis and destroying the game stood on the verge of completion.

But thank God for Belgium and Russia. And for more than mere sporting reasons ;).
The arrival of Justine Henin, Kim Clijsters, and the Russian babe-army derailed the Williams' orgy and began tennis' seismic shift to Europe. Slowly, but surely, the Williams holocaust began to clear and the game breathed in a new life :).

Come 2007, the Williams brawn-house looks nowhere near its former potency. The aura of invincibility has almost been stripped away to naught. The stats stack up perfectly in parallel - only 3 out of 14 Slams from 2003 to the 2007 French Open - a measly 21% success rate from the pompous 56% of yore.

I, for one, am elated that the much feared Williams hoodoo hasn't really materialize and has afflicted only the loss of Martina Hingis to tennis. Now, even she has made a comeback to the circuit :).

But the sisters have left what seems an indelible mark on the game - power is now deeply embedded in the women's game. I ain't complaining though - the lasses are getting fitter, the legs longer, the skirts shorter ;). A steady in pour of Russians and Europeans to the women's tennis bandwagon has ensured that the racquets n balls remain in good hands on great bods ;).

However, thankfully, grace and skill have also simultaneously made a comeback thru Henin's rise to the throne. It's a delight to watch women's tennis again ;). Looking forward to tonight's French Open Final between Henin-Hardenne and Ana Ivanova!

The Club and Spade of I being me ;)

I can distinctly recall my growing up, engineering days when my Ma-Pa always asked me to temper down. I was always a fractious horse who would call a spade a spade, and pretty much in the face of just about everyone. I was labeled quite a few things - the superset being "opinionated, sarcastic, racist, sexist, skeptic, supremely cynical" - and other wonderful adjectives that I care squat about ;).

So, it was an earnest request to not make a public parade of my politically incorrect and extreme opinions on almost everything!! Surprisingly, I did understand Ma-Pa's stance that they didn't wish for people to build impressions and colorations of me that would tail me forever. So, as the years went by, I tried to confirm and be the "good" boy ;), pushing my true instinct to let my brain n tongue lash into hibernation. With time, even tried at my hand at polity and temperance.
(That's the Club of me. It's complicated. At this time, I = Spade, but, me = Club.)

Failed miserably :). But, the horse remained staid and wouldn't yet come out prancing in full glory.

Now, after a year in Singapore, I sense this compulsion rising inside me to set the fractious horse galloping free. My senior at office, Oli, notes and points out my mavericking and rebellious behavior very often these days. I agree to every single observation of his, and with some glee ;).

Don't get me wrong. I don't want to be imprudent or rude or hurt people. Nay, wanna continue being the nice person people have me believe I am :P. Just that I don't want to masquerade any longer with some sort of a filter or mask on. As Adil says, wanna be what I am.

So, I have decided to let the reins loose a bit and let the horsie have some fun! The temperance will be exercised on the tongue (as it causes more hurt than a sword), though not on the mind at all :).
(That's the Spade of I. I = me = Spade ;) ).

Words I treasure...

Steve Waugh had penned an article in the Times of India around the 9/11 attacks' time and when his Australia was steamrolling everyone in the world. The last paragraph of that article were his thoughts on the 9/11 happenings. Been carrying that cut-out in my wallet(s) since 6 years.

Here are his words:

"The recent happenings in America are a catastrophe and put many things into perspective, namely that you must enjoy the moment right in front of you, value your family and see the good in people. So often it is only the negative we hear and obviously things will get worse before they get better in this current situation. Let's hope we can all learn from this and push for a more united world."

Its a para written in typical Steve Waugh style - simple, to the point, real world founded and profound. That's the reason why I find the words so calming and wise. Just like the man who wrote them. (By that logic, if one's writings convey one's persona, I am sure I must come across as utterly confused :). Which I happen to be!!).

Steven Waugh...an exemplary player, leader and human being!! My idol.

My most negative post. Yet.

The feeling of helplessness, of seeing your final weed of hope slip away is extremely debilitating. In my case, paralyzingly so.

Been living like a Zombie for the past few days. For no apparent reason. Just that my mind has parked itself into what computer engineers would call an orphan state. It responds to neither +ve nor -ve reinforcement or stimuli. I feel dispassionate, enervated and completely detached. I take pleasure from nothing, pains from nothing, look forward to nothing.

I have just been reading novels like a maniac. Found my usual favorite Crichton also to be thoroughly insipid. I barely work. Everyday I battle my urge to give up, become a recluse and run away.

Why did I come to this? Why didn't I do anything when I could foresee this? Why is hindsight so painful? When will I get to be a generally happy soul in life without these nags and worries?

This post reeks of negativism. Why am I like this? Is this what they call a quarter life crisis? Am I sick, do I need therapy?

There is no pain, you are receding.
A distant ships smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I cant hear what you're sayin'.
When I was a child I had a fever.
My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I got that feeling once again.
I cant explain, you would not understand.
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.

"Ghaangothree" को सास्ठांग नमस्कार

No, I haven't got tambi-ized living in the midst of Tamilians in Singapore. Dispel any such thoughts!! I don't want anyone thinking anything even remotely resembling this thought lest the bad karma spread and I start gasping at some induced metamorphosis in myself :). Yikes, how I dread just the idea of being a Tambi.

But this post isn't about my strong racist inclinations and psyche. It's about this restaurant in Little India which chooses to call itself "Ghaangothree".

Presumably, it appears as an attempt to suit the title to the holy glacier Gangotri in the Himalayas. Out of curiosity, I went up to the cashier (possibly the owner of the joint) to confirm my hypothesis. Not surprisingly, he confirmed that this was precisely their intention. Guess my reaction upon hearing this. I went ballistic after making my discovery.

I mean just how badly can you screw up something as simple as Gangotri?? Damned Southies!! Yet, inconceivably to my inane mind, they have somehow connived to transform it into what almost sounds like a mangled abuse.

Now, my only grouse is this. Why wouldn't you just consult a North Indian before you set out on some mighty venture as christening a South Indian restaurant with a North Indian name? The difference between a North Indian and a South Indian is similar to that of a Dosa and a Kulcha, a man and a woman, a priest and an emperor. Each has his specialties and domain of expertise. Try transposing domains and faux pases like this is what you land up with!!

However, to the credit of the guy, his restaurant is apparently quite famous! Try searching "Ghaangothree" on Google and all your results will lead to this innocuous eatery @ 5, Hindoo Road, Singapore. (All roads lead to Rome, eh!!).
It is listed as one of the must-try restaurants by the Singapore Yellow Pages.
Hence, my सास्ठांग नमस्कार to this ill-fated but honest fusion attempt of the North with the South :).

Why are grocery provisions called "supplies"?

A completely superfluous post. On a random thought that got stuck into my head as I was reading the novel Eragon last week.

Random thoughts are like bad songs. Much as you'd like to erase them from your memory and move on, they will just irrepressibly linger on. Like that painlessly irritating niggle on your back which will keep on twitching every now n then until you scratch yourself. (Hail the Ape man ;) ).

However leaving random thoughts on random thoughts (even I am in a tizzy :). What's the term for this concept?) and getting back to the point, here is what I've been pondering over since 4 days.

Why is food/grocery shopping referred to as "supplies"?? Travelers stop to pick up supplies, bachelors bulk stock supplies, westerner's convert their supplies shopping trips into outings... The phenomenon is global and omnipresent!! (Come to think of it, even I've called them supplies for as long as I can recall!! How ridiculous!!)

What possibly could be the story behind this usage of the word "supplies"?
It sounds so corny, almost as if you are delivering material to some war-front!!

What was wrong with calling them rations or provisions or foodstuffs? Victuals if you are the unearthly, imaginative types.

But no, supplies is what it is!! It can be so terribly misleading...
Imagine a situation like this. You are traveling by the Metro and you overhear this super-babe of a woman talking on her mobile - "Please don't forget to pick up supplies on your way home".
How drawing, titillating and yet desperately frustrating that is!!
You'd be wishing, almost praying, that you could swap places with the dude at the other end of the line. And yet, you could get just end up cooking dinner for her ;)...kill the whole vibe!!

Amazing how we overlook these small small trifles and nuggets that run thru our everyday lives.

जो शहीद हुए हैं उनकी, ज़रा याद करो कुर्बानी

These words moistened the eyes of Nehru (in spite of him enjoying top slots in the India's biggest bastard list). 5 decades on, as a billion Indians hurtle thru the rat race that is an average Indian life, its saddening to see my country just chug over the sacrifices millions of men are making for us.

Thanx to rediff.com, I came across these articles about the fate of some of our army's officers. The series is very aptly titled "Lest We Forget".

Posting the links here for public viewing. Read every single one of them. Shed a few tears and be grateful. We live and run after millions while these men lay down their lives.

Capt. Saurabh Kalia - http://specials.rediff.com/news/2004/jun/07kalia.htm
Capt. Vikram Batra - http://specials.rediff.com/news/2004/jun/17batra.htm

This is one of those few times when I appreciate the Indian media (more of my cynicism in some later post). Thanx to them, such stories get etched into contemporary public memory and unite (one of those few times we do) the nation in grief, pride and rage.

But don't for one moment think that reality is only full of such paeans of valor unsurpassed. Read the next two articles and feel a pang in your heart. (If you don't, you are not human. You might as well go and start monkeying around in some zoo.)

Flight Lt. Abhijit Gadgil - http://www.rediff.com/news/2003/aug/13inter.htm
Lt. Colonel S. Ravi Shankar - http://specials.rediff.com/news/2007/apr/23slide1.htm

This is just the tip of a gory, deathly iceberg. The cries and woes of the families whose sons don't make it to the media's fancy go unheard. And you better not ask for data on this one. Some simple arithmetic can easily lead you to this conclusion.

Let's talk of just peace times. War times, to me, are too scary and blood-boiling to comprehend.
Think about how many officers and jawaans die every year thanx to terrorism and anti-insurgency operations. Think about the no. of MiG crashes that happen for pilots in training. These, at least, make the headlines.
Now think about the scale on which the Indian army operates. How many cantonments, how many offices, how many posts manned in how many locations. It isn't preposterous to then assume that many a scrupulous Lt. Ravi Shankar's would be turning martyrs. And, all the Defence Ministry and the administration can do is think of a cover-up to protect their slimy, blood-soaked asses!!

That said, it triggers a tsunami of rhetorical questions.

1. What sort of a nation treats it's soldiers this way? How can we forget our war heroes so easily?
2. What becomes of a soldier's family if he dies at service? Is the future of old parents or a young infant-son of a soldier secure if he is not around?
3. Why doesn't the government - those dickheads who parade themselves as the saviors of the nation - have the balls to stand up to Pakistan and take perpetrators to task?

Surely, conferring a medal, giving a notional compensation, best case - a post in some God-forsaken public service, can never be commensurate to a mother's loss of a son. Perhaps nothing can ever be.

Then, what should we be doing? Have a system in place that is rich enough to provide on-going care for soldiers' families and not just one-point braggadocios. A few thought starters are listed below:

1. A corporate can set-up a fund that provides for the welfare of martyr families.
2. A simple campaign by the army will generate selfless millions in donation, if they willfully wanted to do something for these families.
3. The media can take this cause up which would open tons of avenues of help.

As with any other system that aims at mass-welfare, the biggest challenge is in ensuring reach to the families of those countless, faceless jawans that die unglorified. This segment will be the largest and the one in biggest need of support as their families would be the most strained for survival. (Jawans are usually not super qualified and would be the main bread earners for their families).

The clamor for a defence-mechanism against such tsunamis should have been irrepressible by now. Sadly, it just remains a trepid, indiscreet murmur masked out and lost in the loud honks and blares that are India.
We are eons away from where we should be. Guiltily, it hurts to know we could've been there but apathy and indifference again got the better of us :(.

If I make something of myself some day, this post should serve as a reminder for me to do something for this cause. A few tears though is what I close the note currently with. It's the least each of us can do.

Country roads...are taking me home :)

Country roads, take me home
To the place, I belong...

Am going home this coming Friday. Will see Mama and Dad after 4 long months.
4 months that have been more happy than sad. Had some great weekends with friends here, had friends visiting from India, roamed around Singapore - a city I am fully enamored with by now :).
Made a coupla trips to Philippines, fulfilled a long cherished dream of watching a Grand Prix.

But, am going home now - there's simply nothing quite like this feeling.
There's much to look forward to - friends, relatives, food, warmth, peace, belonging and some much needed counseling and advice. Yoohooo... :)