life

Of human bondage

2011-01-29T02:31:00.000-08:00

Emotional attachment is what differentiates humans from most other living beings. We tend to develop a sense of bonding with people around us, right from childhood. We become attached to people we meet in the family, at schools & colleges, work places etc. The number of bonds increase with time, as we meet new people and the existing bonds grow deeper. Psychology tells us that this attachment is a human need and that we cannot live alone all by ourselves.

There may be several reasons for which people need these kinds of attachments. Attachments create a kind of trust in the person to whom we are attached – much like the way we undoubtedly assume that a beautiful girl is also very good at heart. The belief that we have a lot of friends and relatives gives us emotional and social security. We feel comforted that we have people with whom we can share our joys and sorrows, and seek help in times of need. We turn to them for direction and guidance when we have to make decisions. We turn to them for support when we feel low in life and share things with them when we are happy. And we believe that people help us selflessly, just because we are their friends/ relatives.

I have always believed that this bondage is the most beautiful thing in the world - the feeling that tied me to people around me, that gave me happiness when they were happy, that pulled me down when they were suffering, that made me think of their problems as my own and attempt to figure out solutions. It is this bonding that made me actively participate {interfere, rather} in others lives and advise them many times, even when they have not asked for it. All that I wanted was to make things easy for my near and dear ones. I wanted to share things I learned and help them avoid mistakes I have already made. I feel that there is no good in each one making the same mistakes, each generation should at least progress to make new mistakes rather than repeat the ones of the old. There was a sense of responsibility I felt and tried to help in my own way.

I wouldn't say that I have been living my life entirely for others. I have my own dreams and ambitions to pursue, but when my dreams came in the way of relations, I tried to be accommodative. And of course, there were trade offs I had to make in terms of time and other things. I never grudged because, as far as I knew, the bonding is what made life worthy and I derived happiness in being of help to others.

I had an idealized view that people should be selfless in relations. But the realization came as I started to understand the true need of attachments for most people. It came soon, and came more than once - to reinforce the learning - from people who want to cash in on my attachment, to people who want to save their professional networks by giving me an advise that they themselves did not believe in. And so, I realized that for most people these attachments are a means to achieve their goals, professional or personal. When I realized that the people I held very dear to my heart are not angels and wouldn't mind using me up if they needed, the bonds broke. All those attachments I nourished and cherished, all those attachments in which I found happiness, all those attachments that limited me vanished into thin air. I started feeling detached from people and the world.

I don't think it will be very difficult for me to take this. I love myself the most and I have a feeling that I am born to do some great things. This detachment is only helping me to shed the useless luggage I have been carrying so far in my walk towards my goal. In fact, it has made things a lot easier for me now. I am lucky that the lesson came soon, for, it would have been very difficult to take it at a later date. As we age, our thinking becomes rigid and we loose the ability to assimilate new learnings. Our heart will not want to accept things even if the mind sees them as clear as a day.

Trying to achieve your goals is fine as long as you work for them. But trying to use friends and relatives to achieve your means tantamounts to misusing the trust bestowed upon you. It makes your goals meaner, even if they are the most noble goals.

Old friends

2010-08-24T12:26:00.000-07:00

Meeting old friends is a very refreshing experience, especially after you realise that the friendship and solidarity hasn't changed a bit even after a long time. I was lucky to meet one this weekend, my B.Tech classmate, room neighbour and close friend.

I met him first at Sarayu, our first year hostel at Madras. His room was one room away from mine. After the first introductions, I realised that he was more or less like me, a calm going guy with a modest background. We struck a chord, and though we belonged to different departments and studied different subjects, we talked regularly. It was from him that I got to know the names of most professors from other departments, the happenings in the class rooms and even got the material for course work I had to do in the second semester.

If you were asked about a friend from your past, there would definitely be one or two characteristic traits that you would distinctly remember about him/her – a thing or two they said in the first meeting or something about them that captures your attention. When I think of him, there are two such traits that immediately come to my mind. First one is the meticulous way in which he did things. He is simply perfect. From engineering drawings to lab reports, the way he did them left me amazed. Till then I had a feeling that I was good at doing things neatly but he showed me what I needed to learn. He introduced me to extra dark pencils (2B,4B etc.),the ideal way of submitting reports etc. The second thing is the neatness of his room. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that finding a speck of dust in his room was difficult. It was always clean and neat and gave a nice feel whenever I walked in.

Second year moved us to different hostels, but the association continued. Getting to a regular hostel introduced us to computers, and we, who were reading novels or playing cricket to pass time started discussing about processors and hard disks. He was my technology guru. From installing Windows to CD burning software, I consulted him for everything. Even when people from computer science told me what was good, I looked up to this chemical engineer for the final word. Again, he introduced me to the 1GB pen drive, virtual DVD drive etc. He experimented a lot with computers, and reinstalled the operating system every now and then. I wonder why he did not move to Linux.

Even though I had many good friends by second year, he is the first one with whom I shared the most important things in life. Some of my friends still taunt me that I went all the way to Jamuna from Tapti to tell him something that they got to know two years later. I don't know if sharing problems with friends solved them or not, but it definitely made me feel better and calm. It gave me solace, that this guy from the city was listening to a villager and giving his perspective. In short, he was my safe-locker, where I could lock in all my troubles and worries.

After graduation, we parted ways. He took up a job in Bangalore, and I moved from place to place, Hyderabad to Chennai to Bangalore. Though we stayed in touch through occasional emails, his office timings made it difficult for him to be seen online, and he effectively disappeared from the online social networks for the last two and half years. We met just once after college, at a friend's wedding, where we couldn't find much time to talk to each other. Though I was in Bangalore since the last one year, I couldn't meet him.

Finally, his job shift brought a welcome change and he started being active online. It did not take me long to find out his phone number, talk to him and know where he lived. I went to his home this Saturday, met him and talked my heart out. After the “how are you doing” talk, we discussed about college days and a few things that mattered to me. I knew that it was not difficult for me to talk to him about things, but I realised how good it felt only after I started back home. The same warmth and the same maturity of thought when he explained things. I realised that nothing changed with respect to our friendship, and even the characteristic traits that defined him. His room is as clean as it was back in college, and he is still using Windows.

Some friendships are like rain that drenches you when you are thirsty. But some friendships are like plants. They grow slowly and silently, with the change unnoticeable on a day to day basis. After a while you look with wonder at the tree standing tall and firm beside you, offering you its shade and protection for the rest of your life!

MISSING

2010-01-14T06:58:00.000-08:00

After six months of life in Bangalore, here are a few things that I miss the most.

The Chennai sun and the heat
Coffee @ Hot Chips
Honda Shine 125 cc
Venkatanarayana Road
Sambar Idly
Ranganathan Street
Teammates at Emmeskay
Berth 035, S6, 7043-Circar Express
Meals @ Rathna Cafe
Lord Anjaneya's temple, Nanganallur
RC 108, Vodafone
Chennai Egmore Railway Station
Breakfast @ Tifanys
Tairsadam (Curd rice)
Badminton Matches at Office
Besant Nagar Beach
Murugan Idly
Hindi Prachar Sabha Street
Andhra Mess
IC Engines Lab, IIT Madras
Satyam Multiplex
IITM LAN
Emmkays Super Market
Gajendra Circle
Gurunath and Moserbaer DVDs @ Rs 13

Piled Higher and Deeper

2009-11-11T02:31:00.000-08:00

Long time since last post. My apologies.

The news not-so-new: I have joined the Indian Institute of Science for a PhD in aerospace engineering. It has been more than three months since I became a student again, and in this post, I would like to summarize the events in my life since I started working.

Two years of corporate life was good. In fact, I enjoyed it thoroughly, along with all the shocks and shakes it offered. Right from formally dressed business consulting at one of the big four to casual campus like life as a technical consultant, I liked it all. 'Like' not in the literal sense of it, but for the lessons learned at those places.

I took up my first job as if it was another team project at college. It did not take me long to realize that corporate world was nothing like college. Team mates and seniors were not like the ones I saw at IC engines lab at IITM. Every one had his own interests and did not care to hurt others feelings and even trample others careers to advance their own. Of course it was painful, but taught me a good lesson when it came to dealing with people. I learned to start with no expectations when it comes to professional dealings.

But there were good things as well, that my first job gave me. I learned the importance of networking and how important it was to stay connected with people. The best thing was the financial freedom it brought along. Not that I lived in dire poverty till then, but I have this feeling of independence and the belief that if I want to drive a bike, I should be able to earn for petrol myself. Once I joined office, not only did I buy a bike and went around Hyderabad, but was also able to pursue reading which I liked most. My weekend pilgrimages ranged from Himalaya Book Depot in Punjagutta, Hyderabad to Visaalandhra in Arundalpet, Guntur.

Six months into job, I realized that what ever I was learning was like the icing on cake. However, the cake was missing. There was no field or area of business in which I could claim experience nor any useful tool that I could master. I started feeling suffocated. Lucky that the tipping point, the event which made me decide to move out came early. And so, after eight months of business analysis, I moved back to a core job in Chennai and started to bake the cake.

I approached my second job with all the pessimism acquired from the first one. It did not take me long to realize that I was wrong. The people here were angels, in the literal sense. Every one, including the managers were very friendly and good, that I started feeling as if it was college again. Till then, I could never imagine an office that had such a good work culture and people that were excellent human beings. And there was a clear demarcation between work and personal life. Getting back to Chennai was another big advantage. Firstly, it had Insti, the place where I studied for four years. Secondly, it was the kind of place that suited me best – temples, vegetarian hotels, Moore market for books and beyond all, hot sun that never let me catch cold. I got time to read all the books I bought in Hyderabad and to visit juniors and friends in Insti.

This job gave me all that I could ask for. It gave me a good feel of automobile technology which I like so much, great friends to play badminton in the evenings, money to spend, and more importantly, time to pursue my hobbies, time to go home once a month and attend friends' marriages. But sometimes, good times come to an end too soon. Recession made things hard and I had to start thinking again of what to do next. So, I came back to do what I like the most, studying.

Nano - Turtle

2009-04-08T21:16:00.001-07:00

I like Tatas, but I like the turtles too.

Shoe Polish

2009-02-24T19:54:00.000-08:00

I first saw him as I was walking to office after breakfast. He was smiling at the school kid who was walking ten paces ahead of me. Seeing him smile at the kid, I smiled too. As he passed the kid, I saw the shoe brush in his hand, and he looked at my shoes. In a while, as we got closer, he said “Anna, brush anna”. I wear sport shoes that don’t need a shoe brush to clean. So I dismissed his request and walked past, saying “Venda thambi, pongo.” {No need, please go}

He kept walking behind me, insisting to brush my shoes. I could not see his face, and failed to notice the emotion with which he pleaded. As he kept pleading, walking behind me, I thought “Who would spend money so simply in these hard times?”

I walked into my office, wishing the security guard a good morning. I knew that the he stopped outside, and would probably go back. I got in to the office and watched him from the first floor of my office. He was pleading with some one on the street. It was then that I understood the urge with which he was pleading.

As I walked into my floor and switched on my computer, many thoughts raced my mind. “He might be very hungry and needed money to eat. How many people would he have pleaded with, to polish their shoes? What would happen to him if no one buys his service today? Would he go hungry or will he resort to stealing/begging? Was he not a very dignified guy, asking money in return for his work, instead of simply begging like most other people do? If he resorts to stealing, would it not be due to people like me, some one who can not appreciate his sincerity?”

And I saw all this in the light of my recently-improved understanding of life and hunger. Until last month, five hundred rupees meant a movie at Satyam and lunch at Saravana Bhavan, that’s all. But things change, don’t they? Recession had its effect on me too, and since then I was thinking of nothing but cost cutting. Reducing phone calls, eating at decent hotels compared to good hotels, banning movies altogether. It was then that I began seeing more value in a hundred rupee note.

Coming back to the present, I could not even sit down. Something in me was not letting me put aside the matter. The security guard looked at me in surprise, as I walked out of office. I was searching for him, and walked in the direction I saw him go. He wouldn’t have gone far I thought, reassuring myself. I was looking into the side lanes and walking fast, trying to locate that hand and the brush. I found him after ten minutes of search, pleading with some one at a stationary store. I called him out aloud “Thambi, inge vaa.” {Brother, come here} As he came to me, I asked “Pattu roopa pogumaa?” {Will you polish my shoes for ten rupees?} I sat down on the steps of a store, removed my shoes and gave them to him. As he was brushing I asked him, “When did you eat?” He replied, “Last evening” and carried on with the brushing. I could see a smile spread on his face, or may be I just imagined. I was already feeling much better. As he finished, I put on my shoes, handing him a ten rupee note. And I walked back to office with a slightly light purse, but a much lighter heart!

This is life

2008-12-23T22:08:00.000-08:00

Last week I was at the PAN IIT meet. During one of the sessions on entrepreneurship, there were many questions on the role of IITs in nurturing entrepreneurial skills among its students. A few people were even skeptical about the interest among IITians in setting up their own firms. Having seen such kind of bashings for the last five years, here is what I have to say.

If the meeting is about political awareness, then they claim that IITs are not doing enough to nurture political awareness among students. If it is about environmental protection, they point out at each and every thing done at IIT and examine how environmentally unfriendly it is. If it is entrepreneurship, they point to the lack of diversity {of business thought} among students at IITs and how that has prevented them from becoming global business leaders overnight. If it is about social service, they point out towards the lack of courses in social sciences for an engineer at IIT.

And they do all this sitting in the CLT, at the center of IITM.

Fine, we understand and accept your ideas. But it is better that you try understanding us too. IITs have not been set up to do all sorts of these things, from political awareness to social sciences. A host of other institutions are there to officially '”train” you in such things.

IITs have been set up for providing technological leadership, and they are good at doing that. That does not mean all of us do engineering design alone. There are quite a few of us who have excelled in one or more of the things in the list above. It is not because IITs have trained them to. It is because of their own personal interest coupled with the confidence and thought leadership that IIT life has provided them with.

Dear friends, next time you come to CLT to bash us out for not having produced world class musicians and painters, please bear this in mind.

We Salute

2008-12-14T20:17:00.000-08:00

I, Sri Vallabha.

2008-11-03T20:17:00.001-08:00

There has been a slack in my blogging activity and it took more than two months for this post to come out. I acknowledge this delay. When ever there is something that we all know, I feel that it is better to talk about it and clear up things, than keeping mum. This delay had been due to a few things. Till end of September I was busy preparing for GRE and TOEFL. And then, joblessness took over. {Don’t worry; I am not jobless in the literal sense, I have a job.} With applying to the US delayed for a year, and having finished GRE etc. I find myself free, so free that I am lost in confusion about how to use this free time. I have been trying to do many things, from learning flute to volunteering for Janaagraha, to blogging in Telugu to carrying out a few experiments in human psychology. Experiments which gave me valuable insights into how people from different academic and social backgrounds think. More about these in the next post.

In this post I would like to talk about my thought process and behaviour, something that interests me the most. I wish to explore the various phases it went through and how it matured to what it is today. Here it goes.

As a child, I was a bit naughty. Of course, all children are naughty. I never hesitated to make the fullest use of an opportunity for mischief. At school, these opportunities presented themselves in various forms: sitting in the last bench, lunch break, games period or a favourite teacher’s class. During these times, I was at my usual best, doing what I liked. Sitting in the last bench, I used to play pen-games during class hours. {There were two designs for a pen-gun. Competing with friends, I perfected both. Feel free to contact me for more information on pen-guns.} In sixth standard, during history class on one lazy afternoon, a misfire from my pen-gun sent the ‘bullet’ straight to the teacher from the last bench I was sitting in. May be he did not know how it came, or may be he did not know about pen-guns, the teacher left it at that, and I escaped punishment. At home, picking up a fight with my little sister was the easiest thing to do. Whenever I felt its time for some liveliness, I used to scare my sister or pull her pig tails and run away. Those chases felt more heroic than most of the ones I see in films today. Of course, if I was unlucky, I would get caught and receive a slap or two from my parents. Being a kid, I was not at all worried about the consequences of my actions. If I felt like doing something, I did it.

As I grew up, my understanding of the surroundings improved. I was able to think through and understand the consequences of an action. If I wanted to do something, I would think of what others would feel about it. During that time, ‘others’ comprised of my parents, teachers and my friends’ parents. Being a first ranker at school, I was supposed to be a good boy, who would conform to the norm. And I followed it religiously. This restrained me from being mischievous or being myself. When my friends would scale the school walls to pluck mangoes, I would stand outside - watching. Actually, I was uncertain of what was right or what was wrong, and how I should act.

This confusion and indecisiveness only increased with time. As I came to Hyderabad, to study at Ramaiah, the number of ‘others’ increased greatly. Now, apart from being a good boy for those back at Ponnur, I was also expected to conform to the opinions and expectations of people in Hyderabad - may it be my relatives or people I got to know through my uncle. Added to this was my poor academic performance during those days. I was doing badly at Ramaiah, and that made me withdraw into a shell; into a set of rules I framed for myself, hoping they would bring me success. I was not willing to watch movies, as good boys always focussed on studies. I remember one particular day when I waited at a theatre for an hour to get tickets for my uncle’s family. Despite their prodding, I refused to watch the movie myself, gave them tickets and went back home to study.

I am not very sure as to why I was so meticulous in following such things, but they gave me a sense of satisfaction, of doing the ‘right’ thing. It was not just about doing things I liked, it was also about things I felt wrong with other people. If someone did things I disliked, or hurt me with their caustic comments, I never replied back. I used to think of their comments and the possible repartees, but never had the desire to express myself. Some doubt that I might be wrong and they might be right prevented me from doing this. In this process, I had to sacrifice many things I liked, had to put up with that mental strain and had to calm down the surge of emotion at feeling insulted. In short, I was like a wax statue, moulding myself in the way people wanted to see me.

This kind of thinking didn’t leave me till my third semester at IITM. During the first year, I was the same introspective and cautious guy. In fact, even to play cricket in the hostel quadrangle, exams had to be as far as a month away. However, three semesters of life at IIT brought back the same old confidence I had as a kid. The sense of being capable; of doing things I liked, returned slowly. Of course, there was an event that triggered this. It made me understand that sitting and ruminating about the course of action will take me no where, and to at least get close to what I wanted; I need to take the plunge. And so I did something I liked, after a long time, in the October of 2005. Since then, I started being myself again. Never hesitating to enjoy those small pleasures that matter, either coffee in rain or badminton at night, or riding my bike @ 70kmph in city traffic. Of course, I know my limitations. I only did those things that did not trouble others.

Speaking my heart was a different story. In the process of expressing myself frankly, I hurt a few people; some who matter the most to me, and some I wish I had never met. With people who mattered, it was more of explaining myself, convincing them that I had my own ideas and beliefs too. Making them understand that I was right in my own sense was difficult, but a worthy exercise. And with people I wish I never met, it was more of an ego satisfaction. With their feeling of self importance and skewed sense of equality, they would subject me to unwanted trouble. Not being able to appreciate an idea is fine, but refusing to think, to use the brain that is given for the sole purpose of thinking is not fair. Dealing with such people had been and will be difficult. In such cases, I had and will have the last word and prove that I have a set of superior moral values or what ever. I have no regrets for doing this, because at the end of the day, all that matters is being at peace with myself than being a good boy to the wrong people.

Here is a way to explain all this behaviour. As a I kid, I did not know that there was something called a value system, and hence did not care about right or wrong. As I grew up to be a teenager,I knew of its existence, but was not sure as to what it comprised of. The cognizance of its existence made me cautious in my actions. I did not want to cross the line, but did not know where the line was. Now, having lived for more than 20% of my life, my value system is approximately 80% complete.{I am just applying the Pareto's principle.} And hence I act, in accordance with my value system and live at peace with myself.

I, Sri Vallabha mean what I say, speak my heart and do what I feel is right !

Life means

2008-06-30T06:56:00.000-07:00

Views about life, of a 24year old engineer from IITM working with an MNC in Chennai.

Do not misunderstand me if these views sound too materialistic, these are just a collection of things that make me feel good about life.

Life means:

Coffee @ Hot Chips
Tapti Hostel, IIT Madras
Honda Shine 125 cc
Gutti vankaaya koora (brinjal curry) by Mom
Dell Inspiron 1525
TTD-IC Temple, T Nagar
Of friends and more of friends
Berth 0035, S6, 7043-Circar Express
Meals @ Rathna Cafe
Traffic police and an AP vehicle on Chennai roads
Prasadam @ Lord Anjaneya's temple, Naganallur
Kathipara Junction
Barrons GRE 17^th Edition
STD @ Rs 1.30/min, Vodafone
Maggi @ Gurunath
Group mails on Gmail
Send offs @ Chennai Central
Loan repayment, Andhra Bank
Moserbaer DVDs
Masala Dosa @ Tiffanys
Career fundaes to sister
Credit card bills
Tairsadam (Curd rice)
Local trains
IRCTC

Now coming to the most odd item on the list, point no 8. Since I shifted here, I have been traveling to Ponnur on the Circar express. And the four times I have traveled by it so far, online reservation allotted me the same berth, time and again: Coach S6, Berth no: 35.

The fundamental laws of professional life

2008-06-05T21:53:00.000-07:00

Deevi's laws of Professional life { On the lines of the “Newton's laws of motion"}

The zeroth law, that exists only for thermodynamics and not for kinematics, can be extended to the laws of professional life.

0. College - Office(that you don't like) = (Work+ Interest) - (Work) = Interest [courtesy: Sriram]

1. Every employee continues to be in the state of ultimate enthuless-ness or of absolute procrastination unless a new girl joins his team

2. The rate of change of interest in work is directly proportional to the state of the girl {state = function (beauty, nativity, marital status, interest [she shows on you]) etc.}

3. To every overture to the girl, there is an equal and opposite admonition from the boss

Parting

2008-03-05T02:23:00.000-08:00

Parting is not an easy thing, but when the memories attached with a place are bad, it is "made easy". Leaving deloitte was made easy for me, so to say. I am finishing the formalities ,meeting friends and bidding my farewells to the people here in Deloitte.

I did think of writing about my leaving this place but wanted to do it at a later date. But now, there was an incident that made me write this post from a public terminal in office. Two of my friends, here in deloitte.

I first met them eight months ago, during the induction for the new campus recruits. Though we had very less things in common,we became friends and "still a student" sort of attitude tied us closely. The fact that we belong to different work streams made it difficult for us to meet daily or talk. But today, when I was leaving the firm, they met me and handed me over a gift with their warm wishes. I felt like I was in school again. It was like classmates parting. Their attachment moved me immensly and as I walked out of their floor, my eyes were wet with tears. It was the pain, the pain of seperation and having to part.

Dear friends (you know who i am addressing to) thank you very much. I lack words to express my feelings, but one thing is sure, I will cherish your friendship for ever.

Pan IIT - the "Machchan" feeling that stays for life....

2008-01-27T23:46:00.000-08:00

Some of you might have heard of the Pan IIT Entrepreneur Mentoring Program that was held across 16 cities in India on this Republic day. It was conducted to help the would-be entrepreneurs of IITs (though many other people came in to seek guidance and mentorship) gain more clarity about the businesses they were planning to start. The mentors were super seniors of IITs who have started their own companies and have gained experience in various fields of business. I had an opportunity to volunteer and help organizers in ensuring that the session at Hyderabad went smoothly.

The first dilemma I faced was the dress that would be appropriate for the occasion. Back in Insti, people never bothered even if one turned up in ManU's jersey for an official event. But this was going to a place where one meets big people who run companies and have been in corporate world for a long time. A formal dress seemed appropriate, but I decided to wear my Insti sweat shirt, and infuse a sort of freshness into all that corporate thinking. When I first met the organizer, and asked him if the way I dressed was fine, he laughed and patted my back saying, "After all you are in a Pan IIT meet, this is more than fine". He was from IITM too, an electrical engineer who graduated long before I was born. Most of the seniors turned up in business formals (coat and tie) but nobody bothered about my sweatshirt. They would look at the emblem on the shirt and try to figure out the name. I would suggest them "Madras" and a smile would appear across their face. "Are the elephants in your campus fine? Do you still have a water problem?" Questions would come pouring in. I feel more than happy, telling them about the centralized water supply system and the elephants at GC.

The best part of this experience came from a super senior. He was sitting at a table, waiting for his "mentee" to turn up. I went to know if there was anything he needed. He was looking at the emblem and I suggested him Madras. As soon as he came to know that I am a mechanical engineer from IITM, he stood up, shook hands heartily and said “I am a mechanical engineer too, from IITM. I graduated in 1968." We had a talk about the Insti, his experiences as he came out in search of employment in young India. His affable smile and feeling of friendliness made me extremely happy. What had he to do with me, some one as old as his grandchild? For the first time I realized how strong the feelings of cordiality can be towards ones juniors. It was the power of alumni and I felt fortunate being a part of the brand IIT and a strong network.

The first hour or so has been busy, with us sorting out the lists of mentors and "mentees" and helping them to meet in their given time slots. These "mentees" were recent grads, people with some four to six year work experience. They wanted to know about various things, ranging from the "tech" part of business to the "business" part of business. Once the event started, it was easier, and we had enough time to move around and interact with people. What inspired me was the diversity of ideas that people came up with. Apart from the fully commercial ideas that would generate revenues and provide employment, there were people with sustainable ideas that would help to uplift the quality of technical education and the lives of masses.

Another thing I noted was that the sense of being classmates and friends doesn't subside easily. You may be running a big company, but you are still my classmate- that’s the feeling they had, and let me give you an example. Two seniors from the same batch turned up for the program. During a break I was talking to one of them, and the other came in to join his friend. They fell back to talking in the same old familiar language, and made fun of each other as if they were still in college. One of them was teasing the other on how he changed after going to US. I admired their friendship and stood watching. Will my classmates be at the same ease after 10 years? I thought.

Apart from being called "a kid" for being fresh out of college, I learnt a lot from seniors about their experiences with running a company. One of them told us why he chose to employ non-IITians. "We are impatient and get frustrated easily. We can't sit learning the basics for a long time, and want to get into action soon" he remarked. I reflected on how true it was in my case. Just six months out of Insti, and I was getting frustrated at not being able to change the world.

At the close of the event, there was a lecture by Dr APJ Kalam on how IITians can help the country, by creating employment opportunities. He said "IITians should not be job seekers but job creators" and stressed on the importance of us contributing towards the cause of India.

2008-01-09T02:06:00.000-08:00

Lengthy hours of work in the office with laptop have made me reluctant to touch it at home after work. Though I have a couple of topics to blog, I have started to hate computers. So, there may not be posts for a while.

The journey

2007-11-20T01:10:00.001-08:00

After an initial set back, I got an opportunity to visit IITM. It had been seven months since I left Insti, five months after I started my corporate life. It was Diwali week. I was taking a bus to Chennai, the first time to travel by road to the place. During college days, it was always Pinakini express that carried me back and forth. Besides the fact that train journey was fast, we didn’t have buses plying between Ponnur and Chennai. I used to look at the highway running beside the railway track, and wished that I was traveling by bus. I don’t exactly know why I like it, but it has more to do with the fact that a road trip takes longer, and one can get to see different places more closely than what is possible in a train. It may be also due to my liking for the Dhabas on highways. They may not be great places, but a brief stop at a Dhaba will make me feel that I have got a little understanding of the place, its people and most importantly, the way they make tea. Funny it may sound, but it’s only the need to refuel myself periodically with tea that makes me look for a Dhaba and I have sampled tea from quite a number of places, from Bidar to Sullurpet, all during my long road journeys. With all this enthusiasm, I embarked on a journey that was supposed to take ten hours.

In order that Murphy’s Law is fully obeyed, and reiterated, the bus was late. With the joy of going back to Insti, I didn’t care about it. It was mostly an eventless journey, but for the fact that we had a brief stopover at a Dhaba near Sullurpet. I had a sudden feeling that the world has become very spacious. Having been on the crowded and cramped Hyderabadi roads for months, the highway seemed to be very wide and free. There weren’t many vehicles, except for the cargo trucks and buses. One tea at the Dhaba in the cool breeze of the place made me feel fresh. I sat through the rest of my journey watching the landscape change from hilly to plain terrain, and become more.

As the bus was nearing Chennai, I was immediately able to recognize the village that I had once visited as a part of my NSS activities. I was then told that the road led to AP, and now I was able to link up facts. As we neared the city, the roads started getting congested again. We passed through the industrial estates of north Madras that were once the subjects of my study for the pollution and health hazards they caused. After a few traffic jams and delays, I was at Chennai Central by 11am. First I walked to the book seller beside the subway, bought a few books and then took a local train to Guindy. The first signs of being in Chennai were already showing up, I was sweating profusely in winter. However, the trademark Chennai effect came only later. I tried hiring an auto from Guindy to Insti and for a distance that was hardly six or seven kilometers, they demanded sixty rupees. That killed away the feeling, the special feeling that everything is good in Chennai. As I got into a bus to Insti, the feel good factor restored. I realized that seven months is very short time to change the notorious auto drivers of Chennai to good law abiding citizens carrying people for normal meter fares.

A sense of emotion gripped me as I entered Insti. I looked around to find acquaintances, and the first one I saw was the security guard who used to be in Tapti hostel during my second year. I went and spoke to him. He inquired about me and my job, and after a small chat, I left. There was a battery van in the bus stop, and the driver was sitting under the trees whiling away time. I understood that it was going to take some time before the bus would start, but gave up plans of taking a lift. I sat there in the bus stop, looking around, at all those things I hardly noticed during the four years of my stay there. The small garden at the entrance, the Institute emblem standing on a pillar, bus stop, everything seemed invaluable.

The brief ride to the hostel was so exhilarating that it brought back memories of childhood trips to my mother’s home in a village, some fifty miles* from Ponnur. As a child that was the most awaited part of my life. During holidays, my uncle used to come to Ponnur and take me there. We had to change buses at a town in between, and the last leg of journey was most exciting. I used to sit beside the window and wait and wait, as the bus rolled forward slowly on the dusty road. I had a similar feeling now, and understood how emotional attachments change over time. As a child, I was more attached to my grandmother and her village, as I moved to Hyderabad; it was Ponnur I craved for. Now, Insti took the place. It was the same emotional attachment, the same old feeling of happiness. As I passed through GC and Cenlib, memories came flooding by.

As I got down at Gurunath, one of my hostel juniors met me with a smile. I walked to Tapti, the place that has become my home for three years, and still continues to retain the same status. Nothing much has changed, expect for the new dining hall for residents of Taramani Guest House, which was set up in Narmada hostel mess. I walked into the hostel, ignoring the question mark faced security, and banged the doors of my wingies open. Ahak was awake, and I put up a small fight to wake up Venky and Bombay.

It’s good old days; again.

* Now that I am reading R K Narayan, the old English has caught my fancy, and hence the miles instead of the SI system.

{For readers who may not be familiar with the names, here is the legend. Ahak, Venky and Bombay are my hostel mates pursuing their final year dual degree. GC, Cenlib and Gurunath and places in IITM, that come in the same order while traveling from main gate to hostel zone.}

Looking inward

2007-11-15T00:02:00.000-08:00

Some sort of unhappiness, a feeling that I am doing the wrong thing, that I am not able to enjoy what I am doing is haunting me. Don’t know if that is a similar feeling to a majority of you or if I am an exception. I am pained with life, the people, the circumstances and everything in general. Not being able to pursue what I like or what I enjoy.

Please help me, and give me some suggestions as to how I can get out of this mess.

Bicycles and Bikes

2007-09-26T01:40:00.001-07:00

The first vehicle I owned is the “Black beauty”- a Hercules Thriller bought during my IIT days. Before I became an IITian I had been riding either dad’s or my sister’s bicycle in Ponnur. Though I knew how to ride a scooter, I never borrowed my dad’s scooter fearing an accident. Ponnur is a small town, and one can find acquaintances on the road where ever he goes. That was one thing that prevented me from scooter riding, what if I hit some or the other friend of my dad accidentally. The other thing was that I wanted to earn {the money for} the petrol I used. So, I never used a scooter though my school friends have shifted over to bikes and scooters as soon as we passed our tenth class - this tenth class restriction being imposed by our tuition master. He never tolerated school children riding powered vehicles, for his own reasons.

The black beauty was a thing to cherish for me. Being “first” may be the reason why I used it carefully. IITM roads were good and ditch-free and enabled my bicycle to stay in shape for four full years. I never rode too fast, neither used rapid braking. Be it to class on weekdays or joy rides in the campus on weekends, it was there for me. Whenever I rode it over a speed-breaker or accidentally rode over a bump, I apologized to my black beauty and promised to be careful next time. It was cleaned and oiled every weekend. As always there will be contenders, Vamsi and Sriram also maintained their cycles well. I tried to stay ahead always in this funny competition but Sriram with his knowledge of Tam and Chennai outperformed me once. He was the first one to get his name written with radium stickers on the cycle. Of course I followed the next weekend.

I was so meticulous in maintaining my bicycle that by the end of my second year, I was the only source of bicycle to the ones in need. Most of my classmates’ cycles were either lost or rusted and gone out of use. While Ahak changed three cycles and Subbu bought two cycles, mine was almost new. The biggest moment of happiness was in my third year, when a second year guy tried ragging me, mistaking me for a freshie because of my “new” bicycle. In the first two years, I even hesitated to lend it to friends. Whenever some one came to borrow it from me, I either offered to give them a lift to the place or gave reasons and declined to lend. By third year friendship outweighed that fear and people like Prof made full use of it. Life was beautiful- paining Prof as he came to borrow it or re-scheduling things so that GT could go to his lab on my bicycle.

As I finished my engineering, I made it a point to get the black beauty transported to Ponnur carefully. After serving me faithfully for four years of college life, it now rests peacefully in the store room of my home. I didn’t want to give it off to my cousins or sell it. Though my dad points to the rusting rims or aging tires, I act deaf.

The second vehicle is the Honda Shine which I recently bought. I wasn’t confident of driving in city traffic, but the irregular office timings made it necessary to have a bike. All I did was to choose the color and stickering of a Honda Shine. A 125 cc engine appeared to be a good tradeoff between power and pick up. I took a small test ride in the lane beside the showroom and felt comfortable. For the first few days, I practiced driving in the mornings. But to drive during traffic time, that too Hyderabadi traffic is another thing! At first the new cylinders gave me some pain. The bike would stop whenever I slowed down and as my Mechanical Engineering background suggested, it needs to run it for at least a thousand kilometers before the piston ring wear brought the engine to a steady state. So I made use of every chance to put it to use and wear the piston rings.

I needn’t explain Hyderabadis how chaotic the traffic here is. But for people from other places, here is how it feels. Imagine a primary school with classes in the third and fourth floor. When the school bell rings at 4 in the evening, all the kids without even heeding teacher’s warnings rush to the stairs. They try to get into what ever space possible, even climbing on to the railings of the stair case and trying to get down. It’s almost the same here. Cyclists and bike riders get onto pavements too. They travel through the narrowest spaces, rubbing shoulders and rear view mirrors with other bikers and pedestrians. And if you want to ride like a Good Samaritan, waiting in line behind the cars at a traffic junction, it’s assured that the journey will definitely take an hour longer. Colleagues at office have expressed their utter disbelief at the way people here drove. It was this traffic that I ventured into, third day after I bought the bike. After a few near-misses with cars and a few more thud-thuds into deep holes on the road, I am a Hyderabadi driver now. The roads are worst too. As long as it is dry, the only concern is the man hole covers and telephone pits on the road. Traveling at 50-60kmph, not only is it difficult to sever aside, but also the risk of being hit by the guy behind is large. The shock absorbers get damaged, but all that I can do is feeling sorry for the bike.

By mid august, it started raining here. It was then I realized a basic funda: It’s easier to clean a bicycle than a bike. The roads become small cesspools, for the excellent shape they are in. Traveling on a bike, I used to get drenched both from the rain as well as the splashing of water on the road, thanks to four wheelers. Nature has its own way of doing justice to everybody and so is human design. When it comes to traffic jams or crossing signal lights, bikes are an absolute advantage. You can squeeze into the little space and race forward. But when it comes to rainy days, four wheelers are better. One can sit dry and comfortable and look at water splashing from under the wheels onto bikers beside you. I had this experience too. The helmet doesn’t let me see clearly during rain and one day I lifted the cover glass up for a better view. In no less than a minute, a car splashed the dirtiest water on the road onto my face. At that moment, I felt like killing myself. Bike getting dirty is another story. As I came back home, I could see dirt all over it, and it isn’t easy to clean it either. To wet clean, a high pressure jet of water is needed and to dry clean, 50% of the dirtiest parts are inaccessible. I gave up on maintaining it.

This is how my life changed after graduation, from a neat and clean bicycle to a dirty and ill maintained bike. GOD, grant me salvation.

Of auto wallahs and shop keepers

2007-07-30T23:14:00.000-07:00

After a long gap of almost three months, here is my new post, something about the place I am now in. Well, Hyd is not exactly the place I like, may be because of the Ramaiah effect. My first spell in this place was marred by many troubles and painful events, one of which was Ramaiah. I wrote about it in my previous posts and will write more of it in the ones to come, but let me now confine myself to the current topic: auto wallahs and shopkeepers of Hyd.

Before I first came to Hyd, I spent most of my life in Ponnur, a relatively small town in coastal Andhra. It was only school, home and play ground, and as the distances involved were very small, I never had a need to hire an auto or take a bus. Rickshaws were the main means of transport, and the rickshaw wallahs were always obliging and never picked up a quarrel. If they wanted a higher price, they would try to convince you in a polite manner.

If you have had an experience with the auto-wallahs of Hyd, you would understand how enlightening the experience can be. Leave aside the six year old memories, even when I came here recently to join the office, the fist auto wallah that agreed to take me home from the bus stand picked up a quarrel demanding more money. Such was the welcome I got. He could have refused to take me had he found the bargain unsuitable. Instead, he chose to try and extract money from me by trying to sound rude. I remember one particular incident during my Ramaiah days that’s worth mentioning. When waiting at the bus stop, auto drivers used to come and try to pick up a passenger or two. They would rudely drive on to the people at the bus stop, make them jump from their places and stare at them asking if they wanted an auto. This happened to me most of the times and I got used to jumping this way and that to avoid being hit by an auto. One day, a fellow came dashing onto me, and shouted “punjagutta, punjagutta.” I chose to ignore him, for I felt it was no use talking. He shouted a few more times and asked me “Are you deaf?” Now, that stung me like anything and I replied “Go and mind your business, you fool.” That he was piqued was evident as he got down and tried to scare me, but a timely interruption by an old man standing beside me made him refrain. All the passengers at the bus stop spoke for me, and criticized the auto wallah for his rude behavior and he left, staring threateningly at me. Now that I am in my twenties, no one dares to do that to me again.

Next in line are the shop keepers. I still don’t understand whether they don’t know what a customer means to them or they don’t care to lose a customer, but I found a few shopping experiences in Hyd really troubling. Back at home, almost everything we needed was brought from some one or the other we knew for years. Right from groceries and provisions to getting dresses stitched, we had a man for it. We even had one court – cobbler (like the courtiers of a king) to whom we went to gets our shoes mended. If he wasn’t there, I would just come back rather than going to another once. All of them knew me and when ever I had to buy a book or get something needed at home, I would just go to the shop, pick it up and credit it our account which my dad paid as soon as he received is salary. So, I had no idea of the costs involved, and I never asked for them of course. It was when I came to Hyd that I had to do a lot of things myself, deal with unknown people and pay directly. The costs of even small things seemed to be very high and I hesitated before I bought something. Now I am aware of the general price levels demanded here, and if it’s a service that’s being offered, the cost is at least thrice the one I pay back at home. For those wanting numbers, haircut at a decent shop in Hyd costs you around 60 bucks, while you can get the same done for Rs15. But this is not the issue I am bothered about. It has more to do with the behavioral science.

When I go to some shops, typically the traditionally run stores etc, the way they respond or treat me really irritates. All that I have read in marketing management, that customer is supreme and that he had to be satisfied at all costs seemed to mean nothing to these men. They would shout back rudely or try sarcasm. Just today, I went to a small shoe shop, and asked if I can get my shoe mended. They guy asked me back “What does this look like? Do they mend shoes in a show room?” What crap I thought, so much for a small shop that doesn’t even measure a thousand sq ft. At that moment, the thought of those big brands and those large showrooms came to my mind. If they too chose to behave the same way, shopping would be a night mare. Thank God they are educated in dealing with a customer.

But that’s not all. I made an observation recently that I have failed to make during my initial stay at Hyd. For each one of the guy that pains, there is some one else, who is good and makes you feel comfortable. For the shopkeeper who was thinking too much of himself and his showroom, I found a road side cobbler who mended my shoe despite the rain. For the Airtel guy that pained me by barring my services and giving unclear assurances, I found a Hutch fellow who helped me recharge my old mobile number and put me back on the grid, while I was leaving to Chennai. More about the SIM card story later, my hands are already giving me clear hints that typing on the lap top is painful.

refresh

2007-07-11T20:53:00.000-07:00

its time to hit the refresh button or ctrl+R or what ever. joined the new office, and connected to the grid (WEB) again. so dear readers its time to hit the blogsphere with new articles again.

thank you.

A prayer

2007-04-15T02:00:00.001-07:00

Dear god,

I won’t ask you to change the people around me,

But don’t change me either;

I won’t ask you to instill gratitude in them,

But don’t let that ingratitude stop me from helping others;

I won’t ask you to make them feel responsible,

But don’t let that take away my sense of responsibility;

I won’t ask you to make them reciprocate,

But don’t make me insensitive to delicate feelings that matter;

I won’t ask you to make someone standby me in need,

But don’t let me move away from them in difficulty;

I won’t ask you to change the people around me,

But don’t change me either.

Written in a moment of extreme frustration, after years of taking all that the world had in store for me. These are feelings I wanted to express, opinions I wanted to voice and ego I wanted to exhibit. I didn’t want them to come out, wished I could bottle them up and keep them to myself forever, just to be accommodating. But today, it had exceeded the limits, I can’t keep it to myself, and so I vent off here.

Being in Love

2007-03-20T05:33:00.000-07:00

As most of us would agree, being in love is the most beautiful feeling one can ever experience. It makes everything around us feel good, enables us to put up with the most irritating situations and gives us the strength to bear the most excruciating pains. It never takes away the smile from your face, and as far as I know, it also enables us to understand the actions of other people and see world from their perspective. There will be no moment to sulk and complain, for when ever you feel low; the thought of your loved one is enough to lift your spirits, even in the worst distress.

Pleasant thoughts fill every moment of leisure and every wait is enjoyable, even if the wait is for a ticket at the railway station. Love makes a poet out of common man, and it is interesting to see those transformations. Every song appears to be meant for you, every poem heart touching. The simplest displays of Nature, may it be a cool evening or a sunny morning, appears romantic and awakens the inner soul.

It is only with experience does one get to know all this. And yes, it only means one thing; I have been through all this. Taking the heart for a canvas, there have been pictures on it. Not once but many a time. If love means cherishing the thoughts of something or someone, thinking of nothing else, then most of us would have been in it. Let me come back to pictures on the canvas.

During childhood, it was mostly inanimate objects. As a kid and like every other child, I was fascinated with toys. Aeroplanes, cars and various other things filled my thoughts. I still remember the toy dog my mother bought for me when she had to visit a doctor and left me with my grandma at home. I was three then, and of course, it is still there in my collection of toys. Each time I go home I see it there in the show case, painted red and black in places, a display of my artistic excellence. More about it later. As I grew up, my attention shifted to cars and trucks. I would buy cars when ever possible and stack them up in the old iron box on the attic.

By the time I was in seventh class, I first saw a hand held videogame. An uncle of my classmate bought it for him from Hyderabad, and it captured my attention immediately. Day and night I thought of nothing else but brick game and snake game. I got one for myself and every evening as soon as the school got over, I would rush home and would be engrossed in playing with it. After all I had just one hour between school and tuition in the evening, and at night my dad would order me to eat and sleep as soon as I came back from tuition. Thanks to it, my eyes turned myopic and I was sporting a pair of glasses in less than two months. Later TV video games entered the scene and Super Mario and Islander became the buzz words. In class we would discuss nothing but how to cross various stages and how to get more powers.

As I grew up, animate objects (faces, rather) starting appearing on the canvas. It would be as most of us know, the girl in the next section or some distant cousin whom you meet at a marriage, that captures attention. A mischievous act or a cute smile is enough to make one admire them. Agreed, I or in fact any one of that age, lack the maturity to see beyond external appearance. But the admiration is short lived too. A slightest disturbance, a silly quarrel was enough to erase the face. In retrospect I laugh at myself, thinking how silly I have been, but that is what makes life beautiful. Faces appeared and disappeared, and the frequency with which this happened decreased over time. To make it clear, as I became older, a face took long time to appear and it took even longer to erase it from memory.

All this happened till I finished my schooling. The days of my intermediate education were some of the most painful ones in my life and I was fully troubled with Ramaiah and JEE coaching. I never cared about others, not a moment to think of some one else. It was perfect, I was just following Henry Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, I come first to everything else. And there was nothing on the canvas, except a good JEE rank. Those days in Gowtham, when I was repeating for JEE were golden days. I still wonder how focussed I was on the exam; I cared about nothing else, food, sleep nothing mattered. It was that dedication that earned me the nick “Machine” with my friends there. It was for the first time that I understood how enriching it is to love one’s dream.

A year after I came to the Insti, the face that was to last, appeared on the canvas. Of course, I was the culprit, and it was my fault to cherish and nourish meaningless thoughts. Nevertheless, it helped me in its own special way. I started enjoying the beautiful nature in the campus, and the smell of soil after a rain. I became a poet and many other developments took place. It was all one sided, and now I realise that I was lucky that it was so. When you don’t get to know the other person, you tend to idolize and attribute all good qualities to her/him. It doesn’t hurt you, as you don’t get to see the harsh realities and there is nothing to disappoint you. And so I lived in utopia, for a half and two years. The goddess was deaf and the devotee dumb. The former wouldn’t hear and the latter couldn’t speak. But to call a spade a spade, it was really a beautiful feeling. I never had a moment to complain, and nothing would disturb me. Everything was pleasant and fine. So did life go on until I realised that, after all she is human too and had her own shortcomings.

I don’t have much to say about a two way thing. But literature survey (read literature survey: experiences of friends and fellow men) indicates that there can be two cases. The first case is when it’s mutually enhancing. One complements the other and life can become a really wonderful experience. The second case is when the opposite happens. Each one tends to restrain and mould the other to fit to their ideas and life becomes painful.

Let me come back to my story, the whole point of writing it. Now there is a new face on the canvas. A fresh and an altogether new experience. This time I am sure that I will not fail. It’s going to be a life long relation, an enriching one. For it isn’t the face of any other girl. Not a human with all possible problems and traits that may disappoint me. All that can happen is that I can become a better individual. It’s the worlds most beautiful face; the face of Miss Ego.

Formals

2007-01-12T20:00:00.000-08:00

I saw him at Gurunath, eating maggi. He seemed to be fully preoccupied with thoughts, as he did not even lift his eyes to look at me, when I stood at his table.

I saw him walking down the road, talking to someone over a cell phone. I smiled at him, as I usually do. His eyes met mine, but they didn’t seem to recognize. He walked past, still speaking. I could see something missing.

I saw him at Tiffanys. Precariously balancing coffee in one hand and a file in the other, and walking through the maze of tables. I tried again to strike a conversation with him, but something in me warned. I heeded the warning and left.

After a few more similar events, I started thinking about him. We used to talk and chat freely all the while. Neither he nor I ever hesitated to start a conversation before. Yet, now here I am shy and hesitant.

As I started thinking more about it, many thoughts began to arise. Will he mind if I go and talk to him as usual? Or will he find it offensive, as a sign of mockery? Will he take my silence as lack of my care for him? That is the last thing I want, to be perceived as a fair weather friend. I wanted to talk to him, tell him that I am with him, hear what he wanted to say, and console him if possible. But something in me is preventing me from doing it. Is it a characteristic to this place? Or did I fail to develop intimacy with him? No, we are good friends! Lack of intimacy is not the reason. Why this stale-mate then?

I was pondering over it, when the reason dawned upon me. I was in a similar situation, times when I thought of The Fountainhead and Ayn Rand. Some of my close friends too went into silent mode during that period and almost forgot me. One day, I could not hold it up any longer and called up one of my friends, and asked him why he forgot me. He replied, “Machha don’t know how you would take it.” I am in his place now, hesitant to talk to the other one.

My dear friend, I am with you, ready to share your feelings. Please don’t take my silence for indifference, and don’t count me out. The only fact is that I lack words!

ALL THE BEST.

[Dedicated to the guy, still awaiting placement.]

My intern story

2007-01-06T17:26:00.000-08:00

Let me get back to the posts I promised earlier, how I got an intern, how it was non technical and how I became a binder.

As soon as the first announcement regarding internship was put up, I busied myself, trying to get fundaes from seniors regarding various interns and how to crack the interviews. It was only then did I write my resume for the first time ever. Downloaded the Insti format, the one with the table, took out my grade card and listed all the courses faithfully. It became some 4 page resume with large spaces, but I didn’t know then that it was arbit. I made extensive preparation for the first interview, which was by Reliance. I didn’t even know there is something called a shortlist, and went on to buy a dress and a pair of shoes two days ahead of the first interview.

The day finally arrived, and I felt pained to bunk classes for the interview. After the first class, I came back to my room to dress up formally and went to the placement office. Instead of the interview, there was a pre-placement talk for the seniors and we were asked to attend it. The interview was in the afternoon and a shortlist has been put up after the pre-placement talk. Some ten of us have been short-listed on the basis of CG and the interview was a mere formality. Just before the interview, I had plans of dropping out, hoping to make it to ITC. Timely intervention by a good friend of mine saved me, who explained me how difficult it was to make it to ITC. Two months later, ITC came for intern recruitment and only then did I come to know the level of difficulty involved. The interview with Reliance went on smoothly and I was selected, right in August 2005 for my intern in May 2006.

This may have given me peace of mind avoiding all the trouble my friends experienced in finding an intern, but only during the placements this year did I realize that I lost something with that early selection. I had no fundaes about a Group Discussion, nor was I used to interviews. [And as luck would have it, the people who conducted mock technical interview for me this year were also from Reliance.] And that lack of experience clearly showed up during interviews this year, all my GDs cupped.

Coming back to the intern story, the projects were assigned somewhere in March 2006, and were mostly based on company requirements. They weren’t core mechanical for they had nothing to do with Design or Technology. Instead they dealt with operations related problems of the company and I chose one related to Maintenance Management.

I reached Surat on 13^th May 2006. We had a day to familiarize ourselves with the company, where we were explained about conducting ourselves in a petrochemical complex. [I have already written about my plight with the food in Surat, here.] The first two weeks slid away, without me figuring out how to go about with the project. And I knew nothing about Maintenance. So I started studying about maintenance management from the material available there, and read a few books on six sigma and lean production systems too. My mentor asked for a plan to be chalked out on how I was going to do my project, but wasn’t satisfied with my first plan. Fortunately, I found one employee there who gave me an excellent idea to carry out my project- A survey. The only thing he said was “Do it a consultant’s way!” I caught up his idea and quickly proceeded with a plan. Read various maintenance management programs and made a questionnaire.

The hardest task was getting it answered. Most managers took it as an intrusion into their authority and felt that I was cross examining them. One was even rude to me. [Here is the account.] Some delayed it indefinitely, while others wanted me to sit with them to get the thing done. There were a few good managers, who appreciated my idea and made sincere efforts in filling up the questionnaire. It took two weeks for the questionnaires to be filled up. I made a presentation and my mentor was extremely pleased. The final presentation to the management went well, despite it being the last one, after six hours of presentations by my friends. My final report was two books of 29 and 52 pages each, one for RIL and one for my Insti.

On the last day, I got the report printed from my co-mentor’s brand new colour printer. To get it bound was a different story altogether. Only the documentation centre has a binding facility, and the employee there told me plainly that he was only going to show me how to punch holes for a few sheets. I had to do the punching myself for the rest of them, put the sheets together and then use a comb binding strip. As it always happens with me, there was a correction in the report that I made for my Insti and my mentor corrected it. The writing on the printed paper looked odd, and I wanted to change the sheet. So I went back to my computer, made the correction in the page printed it and went back to the documentation centre to re-bind it. I had to be careful to see that the page was properly punched and that the alignment was right. I pulled out the already bound report and switched pages with a sense of satisfaction. Finally towards the evening, Sardie, the IITD friend of mine wanted me to help him in binding his report. He had some other work to be done and I had to bind his report too. This is how I became a BINDER. I learnt spiral and comb binding. This definitely would have been one of my options for self employment, hadn’t I been placed.

That night, at 1 pm on 15^th July 2006, I took a train to Mumbai, amidst the tense atmosphere in Surat. I was supposed to take a flight to Hyderabad the next day evening from Mumbai. I missed it, and that is the story to come next.

Dont Quit

2007-01-02T18:26:00.000-08:00

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As everyone of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don't give up, though the pace seems slow -
You might succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man,
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor's cup.
And he learned too late, when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt -
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit -
It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.

This poem has been the guiding light, through my years of engineering here, and will continue to be, for years to come. When my life seems to be in wrecks, when I feel low, when I feel devastated, I still look for this poem, on the wall of my room to give me the strength to keep me going.

9.12 (How Sri Vallabha got shelled, bumped and frustrated)

2006-12-27T08:32:00.000-08:00

I started writing this on the sixth day of placements, after getting frustrated with my performance in GDs and interviews. I retain the lines I first wrote, to give you a picture of how I felt, then.

“Six days gone and yet, not a sign of it coming. I am not writing this in pain but in frustration. Not the typical feeling of “How did this happen to me?” but the feeling “Why did this happen to me?” Do I deserve this situation? May be I do!”

On the first day was a consulting company’s test; the questions were more on probability than programming, but I got kicked out of the first shortlist. The fact that only computer science students were short-listed gave me solace. Next was S****, the only tech company I could ever think of getting in. There was an orientation session on the evening of the first day, and the PPT hall was more than full. We sat with our legs pressed against the chairs before us, listening to the way the interview was to proceed the next morning.

Mine was the first slot on the next day. I woke up at five am, prayed God, and swallowed some biscuits I bought the previous evening from Gurunath, dressed and ran to the placement office by 6.30am. It was still dark and only one other guy was present when I went there. The case study was lengthy and before I could sort out all the papers, I had to go for an interview. It went decent and then there was an interview about my summer internship. The GD was okay too, and I felt that I can’t do it any better. After six hours of wait, and infinite prayers, I found that almost everyone else made it, except me. I rode back to my room, speaking to my mother, who was more worried. Thus started the most frustrating part of the wait.

Some companies straight away eliminated students on basis of CG, with very silly tests. In an exam, where the questions where

“1. How many sides does a triangle have?

2. What is 2563+3682? [Don’t use a calculator]

3. What are the three types of rocks?” what could be the basis of a shortlist?

Some companies sent me back straight after the written test. Out of blue came an offer from a company that offered me a job on the basis of my CG. I felt happy for the first time. [One fact they didn’t know was that I had taken their test and failed to make it to the shortlist. I was in a special shortlist for 9 pointers.] But with two famous companies coming the next days, where I rated my chances to be high, I declined to make a decision then and there. I asked for time and came back to room delighted that my CG worked finally.

The most hopeful day proved to be an equally big disaster. I didn’t have enough credentials for the good ones. In one GD, I spoke too much knowing that I can’t make it in the technical round. For the second one, my resume was cup-level. Got to know how badly I wrote it only after I opened it to see what I have written. I regretted my carelessness. During the resume submissions-exams, projects, what else and what not took precedence and I didn’t realize that I was seriously compromising on my career when carelessly filling up resumes. When I read my resume that I had filled up, I hardly doubted the fact that I won’t make it. In the GD, I got carried away by a friend, and both of us where out after that round.

Since that day, it was the same story every day. Go to GD, cup and come back. Financial Services, Investment Banks and Consulting Firms-every one drove me crazy. Almost to the point that I started doubting if there was some thing seriously wrong with me, which made me unemployable.

On the eighth day I left home for the vacation. My eyes watered as I cycled to the main gate. In the place where I lived happily for three years, life seemed to be like hell. It only seemed to show me that I was leaving like a loser. I had no ego to be pacified nor did I expect to be trend-setter, just a decent job in the first week was all that I wanted. I had no other back-ups, and at one point of time started regretting the fact that I was not apping.

I was equally undone at home. Though my parents were caring and understanding, some sense of guilt haunted me every minute. I could not stay calm and was so much lost in thought that at one point of time, my father said “Don’t worry, we have our traditional job if you don’t get one. God will take care of everything.” I spent equally uncomfortable time in Hyderabad, when I went there to visit my uncle. Memories of my days at Ramaiah, which was an equal failure came flooding in, and decapitated me still. My uncle sensing all this provided me solace with his encouraging words. I found the quickest opportunity to return to IITM and preferred spending days in front of my monitor rather than at home.

And finally I made it, on the first day of second innings. A company that didn’t want people to fight against each other in a GD, granted me an interview and the rest as they say is history.

And finally the wait ends

2006-12-24T20:37:00.000-08:00

Finally the most excruciating wait has ended. I am placed in Deloitte Consulting, Hyderabad. Back to the old place. I will start posting, once I meet my BTP prof and return from home. So, readers please be patient for a while.

Thank you.

terribly struck up

2006-11-12T09:03:00.000-08:00

I am sorry for not being able to post since a month. BTP yet to be started, Minor project pending and endsems looming large have prevented me from writing anything. But I promise to come back and do something about this.

The girl at the cafe

2006-10-09T22:14:00.000-07:00

It was during the third week of my intern, somewhere in the first week of June. It had been raining since three days and since I forgot taking my umbrella, I was having a really difficult time. Though getting wet in rain didn’t bother me, it was the chemicals in the complex that made me worried. I had a slight itching sensation right after I got wet in the first rain. That brought me to my senses and made me give up the idea of getting wet in rains there. After coming back from office, Kaka and I decided to go out to buy umbrellas. We had already inquired at a shop nearby but it didn’t have much varieties. All that the old shopkeeper had was a very big umbrella which he kept insisting that we should buy as it is very useful.

It started to rain slowly by the time we started. We walked to the main road and got into an auto going to Athwalines. We inquired the auto driver about umbrellas and he started narrating all the places where we can get umbrellas. He told us that we will not get them at Athwalines and promised to take us to a shop in Park Street where we could get them at affordable prices. We told him that we had no idea whatsoever of the place and he told that he would drop us back at Mysore café where we were planning to have our dinner.

He took us to a shop, talked to the shop keeper and helped us buy two umbrellas and dropped us back at Mysore café, all for thirty rupees and we were lost in admiration of auto drivers of Surat. We talked about the auto drivers of Chennai and the exorbitant fares they demand. Finally we were at Mysore café for the first time. It was half past nine and the place was relatively empty.

The hotel looked like just another traditional hotel from south India. The white washed walls, narrow and small rooms. A photo of goddess Lakshmi with a small oil lamp lit before in a rack just above the proprietor’s desk, gave it a southy touch.

We sat there relishing the plain dosa and talking to each other about our likes and dislikes and various eatables. It was a small room, just after entering the hotel. There was another room with a board “Families only” inside. I was sitting facing the door of that “families only” room. Once or twice I turned around to look for the waiter and I felt that some one was watching me. At first I couldn’t make out who it was, but my eyes started searching even while talking to Kaka.

It was then I found her looking at me. I was not sure at first, and felt uncomfortable. I looked away and kept on talking. After a few minutes, I felt like looking back and make sure if she was still looking at me. I turned and my eyes met her eyes, still looking at me. That sent a small chill down my spine. I was never used to girls looking at me. After all mine was just an average face and I looked like any other guy. And I even gave up putting my trademark “Namam” in Gujarat owing to the communal sensitivity of the place. Hence there should have been nothing that differentiated me from the rest. The discovery that there was a girl staring at me made me uncomfortable.

The only other and the first time this ever happened was in Chennai, right in front of the gates of my college. That was a very long time back. I don’t remember the date exactly. It was around 11o clock on some Saturday morning, and I was returning to my college back from Hotchips with a cup of coffee in my hand. Then I noticed a girl, a pillion rider of her father’s scooter, looking at me. They were coming down the flyover in the opposite direction and I spotted her looking at me. The scooter moved past, but she still kept looking at me. After the scooter crossed me and moved past well behind me, I turned back to see if she was still looking. In fact I found her still “looking”. That brought a smile onto my lips and I told my self “Parledu raa, ninnu choosey valloo unnaru.” [Don’t worry man; there are girls who look even at you.]

And then this girl, sitting beside her parents and boldly looking at me! After I saw that she was still looking at me, I kept glancing at her, making some incoherent talk, to which Kaka was attentively listening. A moment later, I gathered enough courage to lock my eyes with hers and I stared hard in her face. To my surprise, she didn’t turn her face away. She kept looking at me, into my face and I could take it no longer. I turned away, finished my eating and started to leave. I gave a final glance, looked at her and wanted to say a “good bye” with my eyes. To my disappointment her father was talking to her and she was listening. I had an impulsive feeling to and speak to her, but I didn’t dare to. And soon we left the place and were back to our apartments.

In my room, I sat thinking of her. She had a good looking face and I am not the sort to assess other things. Her nose was thin and looked properly set in between two sharp eyes. Her fair complexion contrasted well with the burkha she was wearing. And I tried hard to memorize her face, pixel by pixel. She boosted my self confidence and the sense of pride which, I am sure would by the common feeling for anyone after such an experience. After that I lost the sense of shyness and started feeling great.

I remember her face, and will remember it forever. The face of a fairy that brought joy to my life and made me feel good. I want to meet this girl too. If I meet her again [hope she is reading this], I will only tell her one thing……

“Thank you, madam. You made me feel great.”

In a slump

2006-09-19T02:40:00.000-07:00

I am in a slump. Don’t know how or when I fell into it. During the intern I was very much longing to come back to Insti. The work there seemed so painful that I wanted to run away from the place. I felt that mugging was much better than any thing else. I had nothing interesting to do but read about maintenance and quiz people. But finally the report turned an eye opener and I felt happy at my work. Good results with least effort. I came back home determined to get back to the Insti and work well to get placed. I had already decided that I will go for placements and not APP or CAT. I thought that I could do some good work in my BTP and learn more from the Insti.

But what did I realise after coming here? I realised that I lost all enthusiasm in life. Don’t know why! Exams aren’t making me nervous anymore. Nor is the urge to study as strong as before. During the first two weeks, I didn’t realise this. It was a common thing. Nothing really happens during the first two, three weeks in the Insti. Life will be peaceful with nothing to do but meeting friends, discussing interns, and gathering books from Cenlib. So I got to know about the slump after the first month. Quizzes started last week, and even a week before the quizzes, I had no inclination to study. I tried hard for that feeling of panic that drives me to mug each time. No, no sign of panic, instead I was playing cricket in the quadrangle two days before the exam, without as much knowing the syllabus. May be this is what they call 4^th year blues.

Also, my enthusiasm to work left me. Do you want a proof? Take a look at my dust ridden bicycle waiting a cleaning or the cobwebs dangling in my room. I wake up late everyday, don’t even sweep my room and go around as if everything is fine. Many a time I said to myself [mostly during some class] that I will change, go and clean up everything and live normally. But once I come back to the room the only thing I do is to switch on the computer and sit before it for hours, doing nothing literally. Anyway, I don’t think flash games and movies are a good way of spending time.

There were days when I was there at book bank by 2o clock, waiting for it to open at 4 pm. In fact there would be many of my friends, waiting for two long hours before they could get one book issued. I did that in first year, second year and God knows how, in third year too. Of course, I went there at 3:30 pm in the third year. This year nothing drove me to book bank so early. Went there casually at 4:30, saw around and picked up two books, one for me and the other for a friend. I didn’t even care to see when they issued the second one. Only after Sriram told me that he took second book weeks ago, did I go there again.

I remember that distinct feeling of panic that struck me each time, a week before the quizzes. Till then I would have read a few pages from each course and would have an idea of where the course starts. But the week before the exams, I would start reading each subject, making notes and memorising important concepts. This semester no such thing happened. In fact I think I was promoted from the test team to the one day team. I started one day matches, mugging a day before the exam. [Don’t exactly know if it’s a promotion or a demotion moving from tests to one day. Cricket pundits out there should tell me which is better, test or one day.]

The courses are less this semester. Not many classes, but more of self study courses and projects. Had there been classes for every course, I might have realised the gravity of the situation. But when everything is left to my discretion, I am the laziest guy.

The exams also failed to evoke any enthusiasm. Three exams over till date, three one days and I am satisfied with my performance. I know I haven’t done very well in the exams, but there is nothing that is ringing bells, asking me to read, I am to continue the same old story, movies and games. God save me from this lethargy.

With classes on and off, one at 9 am and the next at 11am , I started visiting one place where the coffee is as good as that in Hotchips- Tiffanys. The coffee here is great and especially between classes and with friends, it tastes better. Long walks and hours and hours of chat sessions with friends are taking priority over other things. Yes they have to; for this is one last year we live together before we part.

Himalaya- the MESS

2006-09-06T05:59:00.000-07:00

All of us are aware of the fact that the sole purpose of setting up the Giga mess is to provide better quality of food through competition. At least that was reason we were told, when the idea of Giga mess came up. And last month’s reshuffling strategy disproves all this notion of competition.

To those of you who are not aware of what happened last month, here is the account. A large number of students opted for CR, where the quality of food was better than others. It turned out that the number of students who opted for CR was almost the double of the next mess. The management and the “caterers” decided that this was an unacceptable distribution. It seems that the CR management themselves expressed their inability to cater to such a large number of students. Hence people were distributed almost equally to the three caterers. Some 150 were given the facility to dine in CR and 50 in RR, to provide the “competitive edge”. I don’t think the previous statement explains the situation clearly.

Let me be more precise.

If ‘x’ is the number of students dining in Sakthi, then ‘x+50’ is the number dining in RR and ‘x+150’ is the number dining in CR.

If I am not wrong with the figures, each mess gets almost equal number of students and in a total strength of 2300+ students, I am not sure how this 50 or 150 students is going to bring in a competitive edge! And the spirit of competition that was the essence of this Giga mess concept is surely sidetracked. So why do we have Giga mess?

As coming to choices made by students, I don’t think many people got the mess of their choice. They were redistributed randomly to suit the number quota, making a mockery of the whole process of choosing options. [And dropping votes in a ballot box.] If they were in anyway going to be distributed randomly, why these claims of letting us make our choice? This is not directed at any individual, but at the system and the forces that run it.

And does the present system breed competition in anyway?

Besides being assured of the minimum number of students a caterer is bound to get, he is also assured of the fact that the number he has is going to stay for a month. Not only does this inhibits competition, but makes them complacent .If I know that I will get at least 700 people to eat the food I cook for a month, what attempt will I make to improve the quality? I can even afford to compromise on taste sometime during the middle of the month. All I need is to make sure that the food tastes good during the last week or may be ten days of the month. Is this what we wanted? Is it for this that we are forced to walk long distances, during sun and rain, even for tea?

In the ideal model as I see it, mess allotment should be on a daily basis. We have our smart cards anyway and their advantage has already been demonstrated in Cenlib. So why not let us choose our caterers on a daily basis? Let the caterers put up their menu daily. We can go to the mess of our choice by using the smart card. Swipe or whatever the card at the mess you want to eat and the cost of the dinner/breakfast gets transferred from your account to the caterers. This is more like a hotel where our bills are prepaid. This method of daily choice not only keeps the caterers on their heels, but also improves the quality of food. When I am not sure about how many people are going to eat at my mess, I try to draw more people by providing tasty food. Who doesn’t want to maximize his profit? This search for profit is what is going to improve the quality.

You may ask me one question. What if the food gets over and people are left without food? This can only be a short term problem, for a week at most. After all this is what it takes to enjoy good food, a minor glitch before the start of great days.

This is the idea of a perfect competition. This may be a utopian vision but certainly not difficult to implement. Good food can be the only pay off for all the fight we put to go to Himalaya.

Chanakya’s Quotes

2006-08-17T19:46:00.000-07:00

1. "A person should not be too honest. Straight trees are cut first and honest people are screwed first."

2. "Even if a snake is not poisonous, it should pretend to be venomous."

3. "The biggest guru-mantra is: Never share your secrets with anybody! It will destroy you."

4. "There is some self-interest behind every friendship. There is no friendship without self-interests. This is a bitter truth."

5. "Before you start some work, always ask yourself three questions - Why am I doing it, What the results might be and Will I be successful. Only when you think deeply and find satisfactory answers to these questions, go ahead."

6."As soon as the fear approaches near, attack and destroy it."

7."Once you start a working on something, don't be afraid of failure and don't abandon it. People who work sincerely are the happiest."

8."The fragrance of flowers spreads only in the direction of the wind.

But the goodness of a person spreads in all direction."

9."Whores don't live in company of poor men, citizens never support a weak company and birds don't build nests on a tree that doesn't bear fruits."

10."God is not present in idols. Your feelings are your god. The soul is your temple."

11."A man is great by deeds, not by birth."

12."Never make friends with people who are above or below you in status. Such friendships will never give you any happiness."

13.”Treat your kid like a darling for the first five years. For the next five years, scold them. By the time they turn sixteen, treat them like a friend. Your grown up children are your best friends."

14."Books are as useful to a stupid person as a mirror is useful to a blind person."

15."Education is the best friend. An educated person is respected everywhere. Education beats the beauty and the youth."

the girl in the train

2006-08-04T04:30:00.000-07:00

The summer heat was oppressive. I looked at my watch for the fourth time in two minutes. Fifteen minutes past 1:10 in the afternoon and still not an indication of the coming train. I looked around to see if there were any acquaintances in the station. After all it’s Guntur, my native place.

I was waiting for the Nagarjuna Express. It was the summer of 2004 and I was going to my uncle's home in Hyderabad. I had come to the station by 12.30PM and was waiting since then. With no friends to be seen around, I sat their impatiently waiting for the train. Finally the train showed up at 1:40 pm and we were soon moving out of Guntur. I was feeling happy that I was able to get a window seat. I didn’t want to sit somewhere in the middle, sweating.

There was a child beside me, constantly nagging his mother for something or the other. I was watching his antics with amusement. His mother was trying to calm him, as he constantly demanded all that was being sold. An old lady in the front seat was trying to find some space on the opposite seat to rest her legs. I took out "The blind men of Hindoostan: Indo-Pak Nuclear war scenario”, a book by a retired general and was quickly engrossed with it.

In an hour, the train reached Nadikudi. I was deeply immersed into the war scenario being enacted at Delhi by the defence staff when suddenly, something caught my attention .Through the corner of my eye I noticed someone dressed in red walk past. I lifted up my eyes to see who it was. I think she was a teenager. She was wearing a red Parikinee*, and was slowly carrying a heavy suitcase. She moved past me with difficulty balancing her luggage carefully, before I could see her face. Suddenly I was very excited. To describe the feeling truly, my heart started thumping and I could feel it. She was gracious and I wanted to see her face. I was longing to sit there and watch her for ever. She walked forward and seated herself two rows ahead of me, facing away. I tried to come back to the book but to no avail. All my attempts to concentrate proved futile.

I kept glancing in that direction, but the seats blocked my view. I don’t know why I felt so or what the reason was, but I still felt like sitting there forever if I was given a chance to look at her. On one hand I was feeling guilty that I was doing this, but I couldn’t take away that feeling of wanting to look at her. I offered my window seat to the kid beside me as if I was pleased by the fellow. I sat at the edge of the triple seat, from where I could have a convenient look at her, and held the book in my hand, pretending to read.

I tried to look away, read and I tried doing everything possible, but could not look away. Finally I gathered enough courage as I would call it, to walk past her to the door and then turn back to look at her face. I slowly placed the book away and walked towards the door as if I was going to wash my hands at the wash basin. I held the tap just for a minute, before turning back to look at her. I tried to do all this as casually as possible, but couldn’t avoid the nervousness that was catching up.

She was looking away, through the open window. Her face didn’t seem to look like what I thought. But what did I expect? Nothing. I just had a hunch that her face is going to enthral me as much as her gait had. But I was disappointed. I glanced at her face for a few seconds before walking back to my seat.

I sat there for almost an hour or so, glancing at her stealthily, never having enough courage to strike a conversation. At the end of it, I felt so bored that I dropped my book and fell asleep. I woke up with a start and by the time I woke up, the train has passed Miryalaguda. I searched for her. She wasn’t there! I had a sudden feeling of dejection grip me. I lost some of the happiest moments of my life to sleep. I cursed myself for being such a moron. Finally I fell to introspection.

I tried to find out what made me feel like that towards her. I didn’t want anything else, but just wanted to sit there looking at her. I didn’t want to trouble her even. All the while, I knew that this joy will be momentary, and that we will part in a few hours. Even that didn’t prevent me from enjoying the moment immensely.

It was for the first time that I felt so towards a girl. May be I liked her red Parikinee. Red is my favourite colour and may be the culprit. It wasn’t her personality, for she looked excessively lean. May be it was just the Parikinee it self. Andhra dresses, though largely ignored by people now have a certain degree of charm in them. I don’t exactly know why, but to me a Parikinee looks much better than jeans and I rate sarees above any other western costumes.

After sometime, I tried to imagine what she would have felt, had I gone to her and told that she was charming. The reaction may be a pleasant surprise or a suspicion. I just tried imagining what she would say, but couldn’t conclude anything. It would have been a suspicion followed by some beating by the co passengers, it was funny to imagine me being beaten up and me shouting “I didn’t intend any harm, I didn’t intend any harm”.

Now I just want to meet her once, if it can ever happen. Just to tell her "Madam, you are charming”.

Final day at RIL

2006-07-14T03:23:00.000-07:00

Posting one last time from RIL/586/3170. (That's my computer number) Going to leave the company in 90 minutes. My train to mumbai is at 1 am tomorrow.

Feeling nostalgic about all my colleagues here. They have been of good support and have become good friends. I will present the anti glare filter to a friend, delete all my files on comp, check smail for last time in RIL and leave.

Soon, I will be back to my beloved Insti, and start posting all that I have promised. How I got a project, how it was non technical and how I became a Binder.

passed the test

2006-07-12T20:54:00.000-07:00

Finally, the day went well. With the support of my friends and colleagues , I pulled out comfortably. My mentor was pleased, my colleagues appreciated and me satisfied. I will post in detail about my Intern story as soon as I come back to Insti.

RIL- and how I finished a non-technical intern.

the judgement day!

2006-07-12T01:48:00.000-07:00

Going to make my final presentation at Reliance Industries Ltd, on my project. Going to start in at 2:30 pm.

God save the king,

God save the queen

God save my friends

And God save me!

Coming soon....

2006-07-08T01:34:00.000-07:00

This is a promotional post, just to raise enough enthusiasm in people to make them visit my blog. Having been denied access to Orkut, Yahoo and Gmail, I have nothing but Smail, Dostpost and this Blogger to pass time. This is one reason to why you have been seeing many posts coming in these recent days. Also I am going to make a final presentation on Wednesday, the 12^th July and leave this place by 14^th. Till then I can write nothing, literally, though many ideas and events are there that are to be reported. Being a reporter or a news analyst is one of my dream jobs. Hope I become a studd reporter one day.

Firstly, I have lots to write about Painax, as he is notoriously known in the Insti (a.k.a Sash) and his miss-adventures in Banglore. My friends staying with Sash {Sandy, TN, and Vyas to name a few} have promised to remember his attempts at befriending “dig” females. We are about to start a new blog, “ The chronicles of Painaxxx” – Painaxxx with the triple x. But this awaits permission from our dear Painax, and I don’t know if he is already fuming at this misadventure.

Coming next are stories of two girls. Now that I have given up, I am liberated and free, to speak my heart. All the while, the fear of tarnishing my already fragile image and destroying my chances by making me a bad boy prevented me from telling my dear readers, the most exciting episodes of my life. I am going to blog them once I come back to Insti.

One is the story of a fairy, I chanced to see in a train to Hyderabad, almost three years ago. I was surprised and my heart thumped in excitement for two hours that seemed like minutes then, before I lost the sight of her. She was the first girl I officially “sighted”. [Sight: the colloquial used to refer to the phenomenon of staring/stealthily glancing at the opposite sex. I may have gotten the spelling wrong.] The story of the girl that forced a “good boy” to hold a beat, just for a look at her face, putting aside all the moral rules he stuck to.

The next one is the story of the second girl that ever “sighted” me. This took place very recently, in Mysore café, Surat. On my first day at Mysore café, I found her looking at me, rather boldly, sitting beside her parents. It was a turning point of my life. Not only did it bolster up the very little confidence I had about me looking smart, but also gave a thrilling joy that will last for the rest of my life. I will remember her forever. Of course, to know about the story of first girl that sighted me, await the post. These two stories are supposed to hit the blogsphere as soon as I come back to Insti.

Supposed to come next is the almost discontinued story- My Ramaiah Days. Haven’t written about it since long. A few episodes are in the offing. A few sequels to “ The privatisation of the petroleum industry” may follow. Though there are lots and lots of hot topics to discuss and debate upon, I think our media is doing enough and it will be good to present my readers with something unique- my story. [I have my opinions and will surely debate, but I prefer to do it on a later date.] In fact, not just me but every one has their own USP, their story. It only needs a few good friends to read and know more about you, and a few comments from them [readers, please make a note] to keep you going. Not that I am suddenly craving for appreciation, but comments tell me that, someone is reading my blog, and that it isn’t lying there gathering “e-dust”.

Also in line is the plan to write about the Insti, the Profs and our life here. Inspired by some classmate of ours! You may be wondering why I am trying to put my plans here. Once the semester starts, I may give up posting. Hence I am expecting people to remind me all that I have promised, and make me deliver.

Dear readers, please note that I am committed to quality and will provide you only with true and interesting stuff. Also, I will make sure that nobody’s sentiments are hurt, and that nobody’s personal life is infringed upon by my actions. [Hope you can see that I am trying to be a “pro”.]

I know that my posts are becoming lengthy. This is due to fact that I have started writing in MS-word, checking spellings and then posting it in Blogger. I also like this font “Bookman Old Style” and decided to make my report and presentation in this. I promise to be back soon!

Rains: in the Insti and elsewhere

2006-07-07T02:29:00.000-07:00

Actually, this is my recent post on our IITM group blogspot. With just a week left to finish my intern, my enthusiasm to post has subsided considerably, overtaken by a small fear that had been lurking somewhere, about the presentation. I had had a bad time in the mid term presentation, and I have already posted my feelings here. But the feeling of dissatisfaction that comes when you don’t receive (m)any comments, but for one friend Shankie, who refused to give up posting comments, drove me to re-market my post. Though I have had electrifying experiences and slightly sensational stuff to share, I can’t unfortunately advertise my posts now, putting them up as my yahoo messenger/ g talk status, at least till I get back to the Insti. So, I have copied my post from another address and pasted it here, anticipating at least a few more comments.

{It took me more than two months two comeback to the promised post. Seeing that no contributions have come since “years”, [years: Lingo for anything referring to long intervals of time. Years may actually be days or hours too.] I decided to take the initiative and start posting something. I promise that this will be as good as those articles you find on my blog, if you ever get to read that.}

As all of us agree upon (all: not the readers but the contributors :P) the fact that our Insti is one of the most beautiful and lovely places we ever got to live in. Its majesty or charm, I don’t know what to call it exactly, increases many a fold in rains. I fell for the charm of this place during my second year. Since then, when ever it rains and wherever I am, I long for one place-my Insti. It will not be an exaggeration to say that I prefer my Insti to my home.

I am in Surat, presently, doing my Intern at Reliance Industries. And you would have realised why I am writing this post! It’s raining here. And the more it rains, the more I want to be back in Chennai.

In my first year, I was almost indifferent. My hostel was Sarayu, where we had had very less social life. It was new, the first year in the Insti. Most of us were not so well acquainted and all I had to do was to stare at the rain in the forest outside my hostel compound. I had a corner room with a breathtaking view of the forest, those bamboos and an assortment of other trees with deer sprawling around. Whenever it rained, I would open my portico door, place my chair there and drop down to admire the view. Thoughts would wander, and I would compare how various places looked in rains. Sorry to say, but I felt Hyderabad was the most gloomy place in rains. I had been there for two years and have seen enough rains, that I certify this with a bit of confidence.

It was in my second year, when I moved out to Tapti, that I realised how beautiful it was to take a stroll in rain. Of course there are a host of other factors also, which I refrain from mentioning that made me enjoy rains in the Insti. By second year, we were a good gumball of friends, with similar interests and tastes. Whenever it rained, we would assemble in one of our rooms or in the corridor and start, what we IITians call “farting”. It is one of those infinitely long sessions of discussions, about nothing in particular and everything in general. We discuss almost everything under the “rain” ranging from courses and Profs to movies and events. It is here that we get to know more about others better. But for a rain and an associated power cut, all of us would be locked in our rooms, staring at the lifeless monitors.

It was also then that I started enjoying the music of rain. If people were not very ready to “fart” I would take my umbrella and walk out into rain. Walking beside OAT, listening to the sound of water droplets trickling from leaf tips would transport me to an other world. If Gurunath was open, a coffee in rain had nothing to beat it. Sometimes I would meet somebody on the road and we would stand there, talking, talking and ignoring the showers.

Another favourite activity was “baddy” with Raghava, the only other fellow who is willing to soak himself in rain, just for the fun of it. While all others would stay indoors and watch, we used to keep playing baddy for hours together. Of course, the cold and fever next day are to be taken with the same spirit. As they say, there is no free lunch in this world.

By third year, we were able to gain access to the roof of Tapti, thanks to our friends in security. All the gumball would go to the roof, sit and talk, looking at Chennai skyline, dulled with over hanging rains clouds. And that habit has not left us still.

Sometimes, we would abandon our bicycles and march to classes. Many would laugh at my desperation to go to class in such a rain, and I would coax Sriram to walk with me to the class. I remember one particular day, when we walked right from Tapti to MSB, getting wet in howling wind and heavy showers, to attend the only class of that “afti”. (Afti: afternoon) And it was a pleasant surprise to discover that that the class had been cancelled. None of us regretted for having walked all the way. It was so refreshing and I came back to my room, drenched.

It was more titillating after we started visiting Durgapeeliamman koil. (Of course, life’s little ironies made us staunch devotees too : P) On one festival day Ahak, Sriram and me walked to the temple in what can be surely called a storm. The day was normal and we decided to visit the temple in the evening. By evening it started raining monkeys and deer. (Monkeys and deer are to IITM what cats and dogs are to others.) Of course, it took a bit of persuasion before every one would agree. That day we saw that channel/canal before the temple gushing, full with water for the first time in our three-year stay. I stood there for a long time, watching the water rush, and flu-mech (flu-mech: fluid mechanics) fundaes came raining in. Vortices and turbulence I saw, along with leaves and twigs that were being carried into our lake downstream.

Now here I am, stranded in a lonely place, with all the exhausts of a petrochemical complex coming down mercilessly with rain. I can’t help that desperate feeling of deprivation. Once I finish this intern, I will get back to my Insti with all haste, to enjoy one final session with rain. This is my final year and by the next rainy season, I would be away from my Insti, slogging for my career, don’t know where. And before I leave, I want to make the most of it.

Thank you, dear Insti.

The privatisation of petroleum industry-2

2006-07-04T00:09:00.000-07:00

This is in continuation with the previous post and I have decided to write this after a few comments from my fellow bloggers who have read my article. One blogger expressed an opinion that a few such ideas are enough to take our country back to the days of quota and license raj. Others were mostly concerned about the ease of implementation. So, I would like to make a few points clear.

Firstly, I am strongly against quotas. They only lead to distortion of demand and add what are called dead weight losses and reduce the total surplus. But even subsidies do the same thing. They increase the demand for a product, just because it is available at a price much below its free market price. And we are unable to see that, just because our government is pumping in all that difference or taking the blunt. Once we are supposed to pay the actual price of fuel, we tend to reduce our consumption. This is the basis for the whole argument. You can still by as much fuel as you want, but only that you will be subsidised less and less as you want more.

I feel it is unfair to subsidise every one equally. People who use fuel-guzzling cars pay the same price for fuel as people who use fuel-efficient vehicles. And since there is now way to sell diesel at a higher price to an SUV owner and at a low price to the owner of a Maruti800, which also is extremely difficult, the only way I see is to make people take the blunt as they use more. This differential pricing, based on consumption doesn’t introduce any dead weight losses, but just leads to shifting consumer surplus to producer surplus.

I will present one more point before going to distribution system. Consider a citizen who doesn’t use an automobile. He pays his tax and the government in subsidising fuel is using a part of this tax money. I fear, according to current subsidies, this amount is going to be substantial. These subsidies reach someone else, who may not be a taxpayer. While the taxpayer doesn’t receive any benefit for the part of the money he has spent, a non-payer gets an undue benefit. Is this just? You may come up pointing to government’s expenditure in various fields like education and health. But as far as I can see, these actions benefit the society. So, I feel there is a stronger need for this differential pricing. Not just to unload our government’s subsidy, but to all that development that can be possible, once this money is diverted to other activities.

Now, coming to the distribution system. The idea is not to fix a limit on the quantity of petrol/diesel you can consume. Have as much as you want, with the only fact that the prices approach the world prices, as you want more. To achieve this, each consumer gets something similar to an ATM or a credit card. Once private companies take up distribution of fuel and manage fuel outlets, it is not very difficult to link them up, electronically to regional data banks that record the consumption pattern of a consumer. Even the existing lines used for credit cards can achieve this purpose. How many villages didn’t get connected to the Internet as philanthropic institutes spread their activities? When the objective is profit, I don’t think any company will hesitate towards this action.

I am sorry if I am being too descriptive, but I am excited about this and hence want to explain clearly. As you come to a fuel outlet you will be required to present your card for buying fuel. This card then lets the transaction take place between the database and that outlet, while at the same time updating your consumption record. And according to the record, you are billed. If things break-down, as in case of emergencies, you can always buy fuel, though it may be priced a bit higher, which will not need a data base interaction.

The amount of subsidy government pays will depend on this database. Please don’t tell me that it can be tampered with! I just read a news item dealing with the petrol pricing methodology and the way public sector companies are losing out to private players with the rules of subsidies. It said,

“ While private petroleum companies need not sell LPG and Kerosene at subsidised price, the government companies sell them at a lower price and are hence losing out vis-à-vis private players.”

I am completely against taking away subsidies on LPG and Kerosene, for they are the cooking fuel for the poor and middle class. But petrol and diesel are not as critical as LPG and Kerosene. Public transportation is still available, and it only needs an improvement in efficiency. Haven’t we heard of the popularity of local trains in Mumbai and Chennai? They serve an excellent alternative to road transport.

Let me tell you one more thing. The same article I read above also tells about the pricing policy of petrol and diesel.

“Most people would be aghast if they understood how petroleum prices are actually set in India. India is self-sufficient in refining crude oil for conversion to petroleum products. Since the dismantling of the administered pricing mechanism (APM) in 2002, prices are determined using the import parity principle. This is a purely notional price, arrived at on the basis of the assumption that petroleum products are imported. The notional price includes the free onboard price, ocean freight, insurance, exchange rates, customs duties, the losses during transit and port charges. Further, the retail selling price that consumers pay includes the cost of transport from the depot to the retail outlet, the marketing cost, the margins of the oil companies, State-specific taxes and duties, dealers' commissions and other charges. As the accompanying graphic shows, taxes, duties and levies of the Central and State governments account for more than half the retail selling price that consumers pay for fuels.”

Now I am not able to tell you for sure, whether petrol needs to be sold at world market price or domestic price. But in an open economy, the prices are supposed to be equal to rule out disparities and distortions.

The privatisation of petroleum industry

2006-06-30T22:38:00.000-07:00

This is a response to one of the articles I read from my friend Mahesh’s blog. He was talking about the privatisation and its effects on petroleum industry. He felt that government should run the petroleum sector, as no private company will be willing to offer any subsidies to consumers.

However, I think there is a better way to do this. I hope there will not be any contradiction to the fact that it is competition that breeds efficiency. This article is an attempt to marry of the benefits of privatisation to the petroleum industry with all its volatile nature of prices. After all I would like to show-off all that I had learnt in my last semester’s economics course. Hope you will not mind this, Mahesh.

Let private companies take over the production and distribution of petro products. Once it is privatised the industry will search for its own levels of optimum and efficient performance. The government in areas of need can use the proceedings of disinvestments. Education and schools will be one of them.

Coming to the subsidy, with all my economics fundaes, I can suggest a method. It is like this. As with our electricity bills where we have a slab system, the price of fuel should be higher for higher consumption. To achieve the differential pricing, each consumer gets something like a petro-card, which is already existent with many companies. But this card is not to promote the consumption like the existent ones but to discourage consumption. Whenever you buy fuel at an outlet, you will need to present this card, which has a record of your consumption for the month. In effect, so to say, you have to use this card like an ATM card or a Credit card to buy fuel. Based upon your consumption you will be billed. You can get the first 50 litres, say at the present prices. But as your consumption increases the subsidy decreases and you will have to pay more for the next 50 litres. All these transactions recorded electronically will help the government to pay the differential. It will not only ease the pressure on government for equally subsidising those who really need petrol from those who are not in such a dire need, but also will lead to efforts in reducing unwanted consumption.

According to economics, each consumer has a certain price he is willing to pay for a product, which need not be the market price. Some are willing to pay more for the same item than others. This difference between the price/value consumer places on an item and its actual market price is called the consumer surplus. This current fixing of market prices will treat alike those with a higher and lower consumer surplus. Hence due the current scenario, consumers whose willingness to pay less than many others or those with less consumer surplus also get the same treatment as those with higher surplus. To put in common language, a teenager who wants to take joy rides on his automobile gets fuel at the same price as an employee who needs fuel for his daily commuting. Hence the government subsidises both people alike, it has to pay the same price of subsidy, both for the joy rides as well as for a well-needed journey. Once this differential pricing in place, it effectively discriminates between the two people and will restrain the teenager’s joy rides and save on fuel. It will also lead to higher value realisation of taxpayer’s money, which is used in this subsidy.

In places, which are electronically isolated, coupons can be used instead of cards for the same. Also there is no need to discriminate people in the tax slabs. Only differentiations needed may be among industrial and personal consumption, emergency and government services.

This is a crude plan and needs to be fine-tuned. Nevertheless, it will largely help the government and the economy by a reduction, not only in amount of subsidy, but also in the consumption of fuel.

Warning:Copyrighted material. For implementation and usage of ideas, contact "The Economist"- Sri Vallabha Deevi.

The assertive,the modest and the egoist

2006-06-27T02:09:00.000-07:00

I discovered my ego, rather suddenly. Though I don’t know still, for sure, whether “ego” is good or bad. Before I made it to IITM, I never bothered about accusations various people made and corrections they suggested. Whenever someone would tell me that I made a mistake, I, in all my childishness, [traces of which are still present] would accept it. I would start thinking that it was, indeed a mistake and would try to imitate what people, whom I saw as role models did.

I would try to mould myself, batter down my feelings trying to emulate SOPs. [SOP: Standard operating procedure] To put it more clearly, SOPs are those traditions or practices followed and passed on generation to generation. I don’t question their wisdom. My only problem is being forced to follow it, even when it hurts me. To be true, I was well aware of this problem since my school days, but I never dared to complain. Whenever somebody punished me in school for some mistake, I would simply follow what I was told to do. But I still remember quite a few events, where I was not able to compromise and incurred the wrath of quite a few elders. It would take my father to explain me clearly what I was supposed to do, and me to half-heartedly mutter some apologies.

Let me tell you one thing before proceeding further. I am not an egomaniac. I have no problem with people trying to correct me and I will, most willingly accept suggestions. But there are a few fields or areas, where I pride myself (I may be wrong!) in being meticulous. I don’t have a ready list of these fields but technology and academics are certainly not among them. In fact I can get you testimonials from my friends telling how open I am with regard to academic suggestions. You come and tell me two twos are six and not four and I will start believing you.

After I entered the Insti, my most cherished place I started to understand how important it is to believe in oneself. I am in fact indebted to my Insti, my Profs and my friends for the self-confidence I acquired. I started to see things in a new light and I will remember the day I confronted one of my Profs in the class about an issue. I felt that my action was right and that my opinion mattered. So stood up and spoke while the rest of my classmates stared at me in surprise, for what seemed to most of them as an attack on the Prof itself. Of course, one thing why I like my Insti most is that people are able to differentiate an ideological difference from a personal confrontation. Later, not only did the Prof discuss the matter in detail but also became a good friend of mine. We stop and speak to each other whenever we meet.

The whole point of writing this blog is to tell you not about the past, but about the present. My worry is that these self-assertions are becoming more frequent. In the three years of my being in the Insti, I think it was only twice that my ego showed up and made me felt pricked. But it took hardly a month in this present place [I think you already know where I am. I refrain from mentioning because I feel that it is not good to brand a whole place for the actions of a few people] to trigger my ego, not once but twice.

The first was when one of the people I met here tried teaching me discipline. I met him one day as a part of my work and it didn’t take more that three minutes before he shouted, “ You should learn discipline first”. I didn’t reply, for, a brawl with an elderly man was the last thing I wanted. I withdrew but it pinched me so hard that I spent almost a half a day, figuring out what to do. I finally decided to mail him and wrote a long letter explaining him the consequences of trying to teach discipline to strangers. I made it cleat that I didn’t need any lessons from him and also made him understand what would have happened had I shot back at him. I met him again and asked him whether he read my mail. He grinned uncomfortably and replied “ no problem”. I understood that he lacked a reply and that was a satisfying moment.

The next one came yesterday, after a mid term presentation. One of the employees expressed dissatisfaction and asked me if I was satisfied with my work. Of course I realised that my presentation was short and terse, but couldn’t see any reason for the question. I don’t claim to be the most sincere at work, but I did my work with a considerable degree of involvement. It naturally irritated me and I replied, “ I am absolutely satisfied and I am sorry for you”. It took me whole of the evening to drain away the frustration and I flared up today morning when on my friends tried digging the matter up.

Now, here I am trying serious measures to bring down these flare-ups and be my old modest self again. By the way, suggestions are welcome.

My first salary.

2006-06-08T02:51:00.000-07:00

Today, I received my first salary. A HDFC bank cheque attached to an A4 sheet, making an announcement

Pay Sri Vallabha Deevi an amount of ***** _

I filled the amount with ****, just because I wanted you to keep guessing. It is in fact a great one time experience, first salary. I am happy and want to shout at the top of my voice. Well friends, I lack words and so I stop.

A day I will remember for ever!

Mysore cafe

2006-06-05T03:54:00.000-07:00

In about a week after coming here, I started to feel what it is like being away from home. [IITM has become a home away from home, to most of us.] With all that sweet curries and baked papads, the food in Insti mess seemed much better. The difference showed up, especially during breakfast. One day I had to eat aloo-paratha for breakfast and I felt terrible.

I never understood when my Northie friends in Insti were grumbling in the mess about the food. The menu always had something in common to what I ate at home. Breakfast was mostly idly, dosa, pongal or in the least pesarattu which I would eat at home occasionally if not regularly. But I started eating aloo-paratha only in IITM, on Sunday nights in the mess, that it made me feel terrible when I had to eat it for breakfast in Surat. And this with something that tasted like curd, early in the morning made a deadly combo. [Combo= combination, caught the usage very recently from my IITB friends here.] The alternative was bread, which I felt was no better. So, it was a memorable day when I ate aloo-paratha with curd for a breakfast.

After that my heart started longing for dosa. Though I am not very particular about food, when the means were well within my reach I felt no problem in going for it. To put it clearly, if I have to live on aloo-paratha I will. But when I can search out a south-Indian hotel and eat a dosa, I found no point in not doing it. Thus started one of my most exciting searches, one that showed me a major portion of the city/town and gave me an idea of Surti (Surti= belonging to, or of Surat) way of life.

It would almost be seven by the time I came home on weekdays and being exhausted, I wouldn’t attempt to go out for a search. I have to work six days a week and hence Sunday was the only day when I could go out and search. On the first Sunday, I started of with my friend in search of malls and shopping complexes, just to wile away time. Subconsciously I was searching for any hotel that would offer south-Indian cuisine. I saw Parle-point, a small junction in Surat that had a model of Eiffel tower standing at its centre, then Athwa lines, where there was a model aeroplane standing in a small circle at the junction. Peculiar idea I thought! At all junctions and circles the city sported some or another curiosity. At some other place was a ship, while yet another contained the frame of a woman holding a basket. These are not exactly statues but things made out of iron frames. The first search was futile, as I couldn’t find any south-Indian restaurant.

The second Sunday I marched all along Ghod-dood road, with the hope of finding the place I was searching for. Two hours spent to no avail. All I could find was pizzerias and chat bhandars where people were eating something or the other for break fast. I came back exhausted, filled my stomach with a packet of chips and a fruit juice. I came to a conclusion that Surat doesn’t have any south Indian restaurants and the thought sickened me. And the worst part of it was that dosa was the breakfast at the mess, which I unknowingly skipped in search of it. That evening, having heard that a restaurant called “Bombay bites” offered south-Indian cuisine; I went there hopefully to lay my hands on a dosa. Imagine my disappointment when the proprietor told me “ We used to have that sir, but we scrapped it a few months ago.”

Now, having met with bad luck both times, I started using whatever brains I had. Some of the employees that work with me here in RIL are from south and hence I started enquiring about south-Indian restaurants. To my relief, they guided me to a one near by, one that I have overlooked in my previous searches, Mysore café. It is just 4km away and there I could have all the south-Indian dishes, I was told.

I didn’t wait any longer and finally on a rainy evening made it to Mysore café. I will cherish that moment forever, the moment I ate a plain dosa with coconut chutney and sambar in Surat. A coffee that tasted just like another coffee at Saravana Bhavan gave the day a perfect ending. Since then Mysore café, Athwa Lines, Surat became my place of pilgrimage.

Surat, Gujarat.

2006-05-26T03:36:00.000-07:00

As I stared out through the door of my compartment, colourless buildings and busy roads greeted me.There was a different smell in the air, something that made me want to go home. It was 3'o clock in the afternoon of 14th May,and the place was Surat, Gujarat.I have come to this city/town (don't still know if it's a town or city) for my Internship at Reliance Industries.

It was a 24 hour journey by Navajeevan Express.I had a 2nd AC berth and hence escaped the wrath of sun, though I was missing the diversity and vibrance that is normally found in non AC compartments.A family travelling along with me in the same coupe prevented my boredome. Whenever I travel, I generally keep observing people and their mannerisms or engage myself with a book.So, I speak less frequently to my co-passengers. But here, I had nothing to observe but these three people sitting around me and the book I chose for this journey was slightly boring,forcing me to talk.

The couple were very homely and the way the spoke made me feel good.So I spent my time in conversation with the family and hence was able to pass most of my time. The dinner and lunch in the train left me feeling odd, chapathi and curry, that papad and others.

As soon as I got down at Surat, a car picked me up, along with two others and carried us to RIL guest house. The city seemed strange. Most of it was filled with colourless buildings, rusty shops. I had an eerie feeling and an urge to go back home.

Welcome to Gujarat, the land of sweet curries and baked papads.This was my impression after eating the dinner at the guest house. Curries were sweet and after a week I understood that curries are sweet. The papads,I felt were rivals of our appadam/appalam (as we call them) baked directly in fire without oil, tasting different when eaten. The greatest shock however was when, something I took for Sambar tasted sweet.

However I had a pleasant surprise when two sparrows came, early the next morning and sat on the window of my room. Their chirpings carried me down the memory lane, to my childhood days when there were sparrows in coastal Andhra. They used to come everyday, sit on windows and chirp, gather a few grains of rice we occasionally threw at them and fly off. Those cute little things, I love them so much. Due to the
excessive use of pesticides in fields,they gradually disappeared from coastal region of Andhrapradesh. It was very sad, and the feeling of guilt still haunts me. So, you can probably imagine my happiness at finding these little friends in an unexpected place.

Surat is an industrial city and towards Hazira,its all petrochemicals and other related stuff. I was really wondering how these sparrows could survive in so harsh surroundings, with all those hydrocarbons and other odd gases in air.

Anyway, I had a great fortune to be able to see them again, thank GOD!

Professionalism-and its lack thereof

2006-04-01T21:54:00.000-08:00

"How the hell can you?" was the first thought as I saw it.I actually wanted to narrate the whole event,but by the time I sat down to write,I felt I was acting stupid.No point in harping over a committed error and its better that I forgive the wrongdoer, I understood.

I felt the I would demean myself with all this mess.After all what's there? Nothing substantial would happen,had the mistake been avoided.And I incurred no great loss by that mistake being committed.

And after the error,it was a burst of emotion and I went along to make myself heard, right from the lower most rung of the heirarchy.Starting from the coord I went straight to the secretary. Thank God!I didn't crib with a volunteer,it would make me a real stupid then.

And I came back to my room with full steam,deciding to blog it.By the time I started, this realisation occured. (Those of you who are familiar with my frequent enlightenments, don't worry.To me realisations and enlightenments are a weekly occurence,but in different spheres life.)

So, I turn it over to a more general discussion "Professionalism and its lack...."

When you are in some position of responsibility,you are expected to behave responsibly."Mistakes do happen!" If this is what you say after a blunder,please do realise that it is your ability to avoid mistkes that takes to power and position.If a CEO would give this reason,I seriously feel he doesn't have any eligibility to be there.And all of us acting in various responsibilities are supposed to exhibit this professionalism in our day to day activities.Hence "Mistakes do happen" is not the reason, my dear friend. Try something else,please.

I am sorry for all this, as I feel the traces of previous anger haven't left me still.But I want to make one thing clear,I have nothing against the people involved here.

A small piece of advice.

"Take up some responsibility if you have the ability and professionalism needed to do it.If you don't,I beg you please refrain ,because you will cause more harm and damage than any good by being there."

And I copied down the dictionary meaning of professionalism here, as I am not worth it to put it down in my own words.

Professionalism - the combination of all the qualities that are connected with trained and skilled people.

Cameron Mounger-Nostalgia

2006-03-05T04:32:00.000-08:00

Cameron Mounger and I have been friends since we were teenagers.Both of us liked music,and several years after we left school,Cam as we called him,became a disc jockey.

Recently he told me a story about the day he was down to his last dollar.It was the day his luck and life changed.

The story began in the early 1970's when 'Cam' was an announcer and disc jockey at a radio station in Texas and attained celebrity status.He met many country-music stars, and he enjoyed flying to Nashville-the centre of country music in the company plane with the station owner.

One night Cam was in Nashville for a show.After it was over,an acquaintance invited him backstage with all the stars."I didn't have any paper for autographs,so I took out a dollar note,"Cam told me."Before the night was over,I had virtually everystar's autograph.I gaurded the dollar note and carried it with me always.I knew I would treasure it forever."

Then the radio station where he was working was put up for sale and many employees found themselves without a job.Cam landed part time work at another station,and planned to hang on to this job,long enough for a full time position to open up.

The winter was extremely cold in Texas.The heater in Cam's old car emitted only a hint of warm air,the wind shield defroster didn't work at all.Life was hard,and Cam was broke.With the help of a friend who worked at a local supermarket, he occasionaly got food that had spoilt and was being thrown away."This kept my wife and me eating,but we still had no cash."

One morning as Cam left the radio station he saw an old man sitting in an old yellow car in the car park.Cam waved to him and drove away.When he came back to work that night,he noticed the car again,parked in the same place.After a couple of days,it dawned on him that the car never moved.The fellow in it always waved cordially to Cam as he came and went.What was the man doing sitting in his car for three days in the terrible cold and snow?

Cam discovered the answer next morning.This time the man rolled down the window.He introduced himself and said he had been in his car for days with no money or food,Cam recalled.He had come from out of town to take a job.But he arrived three days early and couldn't go to work right away.

Very reluctantly, he asked if he might borrow a dollar for a snack to get him by until next day,when he would start work and get a salary advance.I didn't have a dollar to lend him;I barely had the petrol to get home.I explained my situation and walked to my car,wishing I could have helped him.

Then Cam remembered the dollar which the country-music stars in Nashville had signed.He wrestled with his conscience a minute or two,pulled out his wallet and studied the note one last time.Then he walked back to the man and gave it to him."Somebody has written all over this,"the man said,but he didn't notice that the writing was dozens of autographs.He took the note.

"The very morning when I was back home trying not to think of what I had done, things began to happen,"Cam told me."The phone rang;a recording company wanted me to do an ad that paid $500.It sounded like million.In the next few days more opportunities came out of nowhere.Good things kept coming steadily,and soon I was back on my feet."

The rest as they say,is history.Things improved dramatically for Cam.His wife had a baby.Cam openend a successful car repair shop and built a nice home. And it all started that morning in the car park,when he parted with his last dollar.

Cam never saw that man in the old yellow car again.Sometimes he wonders if the man was a beggar or an angel.
It doesn't matter.What matters is that it was a test and Cam passed.

By now you would have understood that this is a story.It is indeed a story, given in my first ever national level exam.This is the comprehension passage from ENGLISH PAPER 1 ICSE-2000.

Believe me,if all those endearing young charms

2006-03-01T05:19:00.000-08:00

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day
Were to change by to-morrow,and fleet in my arms
Like fairy-gifts fading away,
Thou wouldst still be adored,as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will;
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still.

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear;
That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known
To which time will but make thee more dear;
No,the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sunflower turns on his god when he sets
The same look which she turned when he rose.

Thomas Moore.

Faithfully copied (makki ki makki) from
"PANORAMA A selection of Poems."

My Ramaiah days-8(The wallet)

2006-02-26T08:06:00.000-08:00

One day I was walking back to the bus-stop after a class.A student was walking a few paces ahead of me. He stopped at the same bus-stop as me.It was for the first time that I was seeing him.Soon a 113Y arrived,and I got in.To my surprise, he too got in and sat beside me.After a few minutes, I asked him "Are you from Ramaiah?"
"Yes."
"Which year?"
"Second year"
I was interested."How do you like the classes?"
"They are good."
"In your first year,were you able to follow all that was taught?"
"Yes of course."

This answer saddened me greatly.I was still unable to follow the mathematics that was being taught there.Two months or so have already gone by.This was contrary to what was told by Ramaiah sir on the day of counselling."At first,you may not understand what is being taught,but in a month or so,you will be able to catch up."I told the senior that I was not able to follow the classes.He gave a life-less laugh."Try to pay more attention", he suggested.

"Ticket,ticket"the conductor arrived.I bought myself a ticket to Punjagutta.I put the change in my wallet and pushed it into my trouser-pocket.I turned back to the senior,and was soon busy seeking explanations to all my problems in the insti.But to my dismay,his answers were short and terse.

I got down at Punjagutta and took an auto home.By the time I had to pay,I fumbled for the wallet and recieved a rude shock.It wasn't there.I searched and found enough change in a pocket, which I promptly handed over to the auto driver.I tried to recollect where I missed it.May be I didn't put it back properly after I bought a ticket in the bus.It should have slipped down.I didn't know what to do.Though it didn't have much money, the thought of losing something made me feel uncomfortable.

All that day I couldn't tell my uncle about the lost wallet.I was very hesitant to do that.The next day,just an hour before starting for the class I asked him for some money.
"What happened to the hundred I gave you two days ago?"
"I lost the wallet."
"May be you didn't notice,some one would have picked your pocket in the bus."
"I took a metro express,it wasn't crowded."
"So you were careless.How can you keep losing money like this Vallabha.You are not a small boy."

I recieved a good lecture from my uncle that day.Then, as a punishment or what ever my pocket money* was cut down to a double digit from a triple digit figure.To be more precise, it was cut down from Hundred rupees at a time to more frequent payments of Twenty rupees at a time.I was forbidden from possessing a wallet,and I started carrying money in my shirt pocket.This habit continued for a long time.Even in Gowtham, I never had a wallet.Only after I made it to IIT did I ever think of buying one.

Last summer, during the vacation I met my uncle at my grandmother's home.He said "I have something for you" and handed over a packet.I was surprised on opening it, for, it was a dark red leather WALLET.

*Pocket-money (n):The maximum amount of money that I can have at any point of time.

The friend

2006-02-18T06:27:00.000-08:00

Sitting on my bed,trying hard to concentrate on the course book in front of me, I noticed someone in overflowing white dress cycle past.I peeped out of the window to see who it was.The cyclist slowed down and made his way to the cycle stand.I could at once make out that it was C******,a Post-graduate student staying in my wing.

As he walked out of his room five minutes later,I went to greet him,thinking that it was his birthday.I asked him "Is it your birthday?"

"No" he replied."It's my friends birthday.He was a childhood friend.He died in an accident.I went to the Madhyakailash temple for a pooja."

My eyes misted over as I heard him speak.I saw something divine in his gesture.Suddenly the thought of my classmate who drowned in the sea,flashed past.It was during my Tenth class.I felt bad that I never thought of it later, though the memory haunted me for a week then. But I stopped going to the sea after that,and even if I was forced,I stayed on the shore and never ventured in.It isn't fear, but a sort of loathing.For, it was the sea that gobbled up my class-mate.

We were children then, and we didn't properly understand what it means for a mother to loose her child.But now I understand.

I was filled with a sense of respect for this man,who made a point to remember his friend this way.C******, you are really great!

My Ramaiah Days-7(Resnick and Halliday)

2006-01-31T01:53:00.000-08:00

Walking along the road, I asked A** "Do you have a Resnick and Halliday?"."Yes" he replied hesitatingly.I didn't sense any reason for hesitation and asked him "Can I have those problems xeroxed?".I was confounded by his reply.He thought for a while and said "I am sorry.The book will be split open if xeroxed.I can't give it for a xerox".This is the first time that I was listening to that "funda" (as we call in IIT).The class was just over and we were asked to solve all the problems from the first chapter of Resnick and Halliday.

I didn't know that it was a very important book.Thinking that a xerox will do, I was tempted to ask this guy.He used to walk back with me to the main road,where he took an auto home,along with a few other friends of mine.It was already a month since we met,and I was foolish again to expect help from people.

I didn't know what to do.I was thinking all the while about the homework.I didn't even know where Adarsh Book Depot (the official store for IIT books)was.And I really felt shocked for the second time.(You remember the question paper story on the second day, I suppose.) All the way home I was thinking of nothing but his reply.

"You can imagine a sphere as a collection of disks and proceed"Mr. Surendranath was lecturing.I was able to understand that a sphere can be seen as a collection of disks. That's ok,but what to do?Where to proceed?I realised that I missed out something important, thinking of this Resnick and Halliday fiasco.I felt stupid.Why is this eating into my brain? Perhaps it was the first time I was listening to that funda.

Luckily Arun came to my rescue.He is one of those friends I mentioned above.[Later this fellow was to become the best friend I ever had in Hyderabad.He was the one who understood me,my problems and stood by me in times of need.](Thank you very much,my dear Arun.)He told me"Vallabha,I have a Resnick.Come to my home and get it xeroxed this sunday".I will never forget the way I was recieved by his parents.His mother treated me like her own son and his father spoke to me very well.By that time Arun already knew about the trouble I was facing there.I think he had told his parents about this.His father narrated his journey to IIT and I felt very much at home.I got the book xeroxed and that problem ended there.Of course, its an entirely different issue that ,later,not only did I come to know where Adarsh was,but also bought myself a Resnick and Halliday.

Saa(re)rang

2006-01-25T21:50:00.000-08:00

"What is the musical instrument made from clay,and derived its name from it?" I stood there,staring at the question trying to guess the answer.I was neither good at music nor the instruments related it.I answered,and U replied "Its wrong." As I was a coordinator of I** , U let me take another chance.I took out another slip."What's the biggest temple of south India,with the longest pillared corridor of 1219 mts?"This time I didnot hesitate, "Madhura Meenakshi temple" I answered.U replied,"wrong again".I stood there, dumbfounded."What's wrong with me?I questioned myself.Why am I going wrong?"

As far as I am concerned,I rate myself as one with some knowledge of ancient India.I know that I am not a genius in that field,but I never thought I would fail that way.I started feeling lost for the second time.

That previous time I felt lost was yesterday evening.I walked out for the first time into Saarang,to attend the Choreo-Nite at 5:00pm in the evening.My friend was in one of the participating teams,and so I went there to watch his performance. People were moving around,in colourful dresses,looking tired,still fumbling with the event schedules,even in the evening.I walked looking around for any familiar faces. Not many were around, and most of the people I knew were moving here and there with coord badges dangling around their necks.I stood there, feeling lost in my own college, the place where I have been living since three years.

Suddenly,I spotted a group of my classmates,God sent people.They too were there to attend the Choreo-Nite."Thank God" I said to myself.I was quick enough to associate myself with the group,and made sure that I didn't seperate from them.I still do not understand why I felt lost,in my home turf.May be those events that don't match my wavelength, all those people I percieve to have descended from another world,made me feel so.I came back as soon as my friend's performance was over.Luckily his team was the third one to perform. My class-mates wondered why I was leaving so early,but I wasn't interested in other performances any way.I walked back to my room and dropped down to an early sleep.

And this quizzing early today morning, gave me a feeling of being struck in a quagmire.All the way back to my room,my mind was racing with thoughts.What happened to me? What happened to all that general knowledge I had greedily gobbled up during my school days?I was known to be good at quizzing then.How did I forget all these?

Finally while I was leaving,U gave me another suggestion,"Come on da,acads is not everything".I replied without any feeling of being hurt,"I know da,acads isn't everything.There is something much more than acads..." what next?I couldn't figure out what to speak.Amnesia again,I thought.

I came back determined to put all these in words, to express myself in one way I was good at-writing.

Of suggestion and complaints about My Ramaiah days

2006-01-20T20:58:00.000-08:00

Thanks to my friends and others who have painstakingly read my blog,I started getting whole lots of suggestion,complaints, and jibes too.I will start off in the chronological order.

1."Looks as if you want to portray those people as devils.Why don't you write your opinions,rather than writing your experience?"-Dont know whether he would like his name to be mentioned.

2."Are bhai,why don't you write about the peaceful life you are enjoying in IIT?Why do you want to evoke those poignant memories?"-Rajeev.

3."Why dont you bring in an interesting character,say a girl?"-Sravan,my friend from IIT KGP.

4." Dear Vallabha
What did u mean by "I "really" grew up and was always 2nd or 3rd in my class"! Think about it. How would your blogs had been had u performed well at ramiah ? By ur own admittance u felt "confident" being made to sit in the front benches . So don't u think that ur angst is more due to urself and less due to how u have been treated?"
-"I am what you want me to be "[ I don't know who this guy really is.This was a comment to one of the episodes.]

5."Your story is unclear at times,though your description is immaculate"-PS

Let me explain:I wanted to write this because I wanted to tell people about my experiences,my difficulties,my feelings and all the trauma I had underwent.

1.Opinions differ and I feel there is no point in shouting to a crowd about what I think. Instead let them "have the facts" or know one true "story".Its for them to opine.

2.All is well that ends well.

3.This is my life and not some fictitious story.So,no inventing characters.

4.By the statement "I really grew up slowly and was always 2nd or 3rd in class,I was talking about my height.[The physical height,you metaphysical genius,who interpreted it in an other way.]The seating in my class was always based on how high a boy was.I was short,to be clear.Hence was always seated in the first bench.Had I done well at Ramaiah,I wouldn't have written this at all.True,take me as some crazy idiot.If you feel I am biased,then I advise you,please stop reading my blogs.
This blog is "world through my eyes,the way I percieved it".My anger is definitely at the way I was treated.If you are patient enough , wait for the future episodes, when
everything gets clear.Atleast,I hope so.

My Ramaiah days-6(The journey)

2006-01-20T06:48:00.000-08:00

I shifted my weight onto the other leg,and cast an uneasy glance at my watch.It was almost 40 minutes since I came there.The august sun was blazing mercilessly. Lots of vehicles were moving this way and that.Trucks,cars and predominantly bikes carrying young people made enough din and irritated my nostrils.I shifted slowly into the shade of a mango tree and leaned against a pillar supporting the bus-shelter.

I had been waiting all the while, for a bus.I had a class at 4:00 pm every evening. Owing to the fact that I was too young for a bike,and that my uncle lived in a place far away from Ramaiah,I had to take a bus to attend my classes.

Ramaiah is well known for its punctuality. They would drive you out,even if you were late to the class by a minute.[Good things have to be appreciated.I developed my sense of punctuality owing to their strictness.Thanks!] I would start everyday by 2:00pm. Don't laugh at me.For I didn't know how valuable an hour was, to someone in Ramaiah. I was foolishly minimising my risk of being turned out. So,everyday I would be there at the bus-stop,faithfully by 2:00pm.Though the journey wouldn't take more than 45minutes by bus,I never risked starting just before an hour.

Slowly a shiver started down my spine.Will the bus never come?I pulled out my wallet to see how much cash it had.It was hardly sufficent to hire an auto.Finally much to my relief, I sighted a bus taking a turn and proceeding towards the bus-stop. "Oh no" I said to myself.It was 47D and it would take me to Punjagutta,to the main road just 3km away.I got into the bus and sat down.In a few minutes I was in Punjagutta, stranded again in another bus-stop.

Finally I was able to get into a fully packed bus heading towards VST. I slowly nudged my way to the middle.It was a tedious exercise.When ever some body wanted to alight,I had to bend completely over to oneside,avoiding the big sack called "bag" hanging on my back, from hitting them. People were very impatient about such things and when ever something blocked their way, they would shout.So I had to be very careful to avoid their wrath.

Finally,I was at the VST bus-stop(near Ramaiah) by 3:25pm. I got down, stretched myself and walked into a nearby cafe.Sipping tea,I tried hard to overcome the sleepiness,that had sprung up due to all that acrobatics in the bus. By 3:40pm I was in the class,in my last seat.Generally after all this hardship, I could hardly concentrate in the class.I would at times drop into sleep,only to find myself missing important parts of the lecture.In retrospect,I feel nothing could me much better,nor worse,ever in my life!

The classes would be over by 8:00pm,and I would start back,on the same route.This time I would generally get a seat,as it was out of any office timing.If I was very lucky, 113Y would come, to drop me at a walkable distance away from my home.During such times,I would tell someone beside me to wake me up at Yousufguda,and fall asleep. Some people were very willing to help,once they came to know that I was a Ramaiah student. I remember one very helpful co-passenger announce "Sure,I will wake you up.You will be working very hard there, and need a lot of sleep".

My Ramaiah days-5(The kick-back)

2006-01-15T04:55:00.000-08:00

I rolled in bed uneasily.All the while I was aware that,I was chanting "amma,amma" in pain.I looked up at the watch.2:45am,it said.This was the fourth day of my fever.I didn't know why or how I caught it,but it felt horrible.

It all started like this.Three days ago,after class I started walking back to the bus-stand.I felt frail and weak.I could not walk.Hardly had I carried myself to the bus-stand,I almost felt like collapsing.I rang up home,and told uncle of the situation.He asked me to take an auto back home.It took 45minutes, and as soon as I came,I fell flat on the bed.Since then,I was hardly able to get up.

I was delirious at times,thinking of my mother and all that she would do in that situation.I couldn't sleep at night,and was literally down.I sincerely hoped that my uncle would send me home,once and for good.The doctor was a family friend of ours,and came to see me.I thought ,he would tell them that I was home sick,but alas he didn't.And all my hopes proved futile.

After a week,my father came to see me.I burst out into tears on seeing him.He tried consoling and cazoling me.But nothing would stop me.I urged,begged and pleaded with him to take me back home.He stayed there for three days and left with out me. After a day or so,I had to go back to the institute.

While we were first seated in the class,I was in the third row.And it would be imprudent for me to explain that these seating orders were based on one's performance in the exam.All of us understood this without being told.I felt a bit confident and at the same time horrified to be there.Now,it is also to be understood without any mention that if one is absent from the class for more then two days without informing the reason,he/she is bound to be kicked back to the last row in the class,to the chair that is farthest away from the teacher.

So,I came back to find that I was kicked-back to the last row.It was a centre seat, directly opposite to the teacher.It became my permanent seat for the rest of my life there.The number of students before me,all attentive and concentrating made me feel dumb.

In my school,seating was based on height.And me being one of the shortest boys in the class, was unmistakably in the first bench.I felt bad at times to be short.I wanted to be somewhere behind,so that I could talk to friends during classes.Day after day, my friends would be narrating there back bench adventures.All the goose-berries they ate, the pen-games they played,home works they copied during class hours.I felt a strong sense of wanting, to be there.But I really grew up slowly,and was always the second or third boy from the first.So, I didn't have the chance to be there.

I knew that such wasn't the situation here,and a back bencher meant some one hopeless to be trained.Teacher here never really cared for them, and they would be the first ones to be punished in case of a mishap.I felt something choking my mouth to speak,and something barring me from raising any questions or doubts.I felt that I wasn't entitled to any attention,and that I was supposed to suffer.It intimidated me.

Thus started the greatest change in my life.
"Life from a back bencher's perspective"

The greatest misfortune

2006-01-13T19:23:00.000-08:00

Can there be a greater misforunte than being misunderstood without being given a chance to explain?It's like "You are an idiot,you are a rogue,you are a criminal and... ....no,no, don't try talking.If you try giving explanations, the sword hanging over your head will fall and kill you". Are yaar,ye kyaa hai?

It is likely that people misunderstand actions and words.After all the world is so complex,languages so profound,and people are so intransigent that misinterpretations and misunderstandings are regular occurences.No harm till then.

But the problem snowballs when explanations are denied.May be some one is really at fault,but atleast oneshould be given a chance to explain what the circumstances were that led one to that situation.And the greatness of a person lies in understanding this and (may be,in trying to)forgive the culprit.

Not all crimes can be forgiven,but at the same time there is no crime that isn't worth giving the accused a chance to plead.I am not talking of those "organised crimes" where motives are as clear as a day.I am talking about "emotion driven mistakes" which the law calls crime.It's really difficult to find fault in such situations, where even the jury would have done the same thing as the accused.

Emotion-a "boon" or "curse", I can't tell for sure.After all, it's emotion that makes a father happy at the antics of his child,it's emotion that makes your sister/brother the most lively person on the earth[sorry, single children],it's emotion that drives a granny to pamper her grandchild.I think it's not improper to attribute the orderliness in today's world ,to an extent to emotion.

At the same time it's emotion that drives people mad in certain situations.It's emotion that supresses equanimity,it's emotion that leads to hate and dislike among people.Hence,it is the very same emotion ,that also leads to disorderliness in the world.

The final word is always the same."There can be no light,without darkness.There can be nothing good,without bad.There can be no coin with just one side.And last but not the least,there can be no emotion without commotion".

I am a coward

2006-01-09T05:02:00.000-08:00

I am a coward.Yes, I am.

I am afraid of being called a badboy, that's why I don't resort to mischief.

I am afraid of breaking rules, so I remain disciplined.

I am afraid of being called selfish ,that I do some things though they trouble me.

I am afraid of being termed eccentric, that I refrain myself from simple joys,which please me immensly.

I am afraid of an accident,that's why I speed only on my bicycle.

I am afraid of speaking my heart out, so that I may not hurt others,as well as invite trouble.

God,grant me courage.

And I think I am a sage,that I don't do many a thing that are common.May be its human psychology.No one accepts that he is a coward.So this fear manifests itself in the form of "hate".

Now, I hate all the above said things.And that's why I don't do them.

I am not a coward,but a man with lot of commonsense.

I didn't know

2006-01-07T07:23:00.000-08:00

At first, I didn't know many things in this world. This first can be any thing.I still don't know what this first really is..

I didn't know that there would be joy more wonderful than rain accompanied by the beautiful rainbow,than the music of rain drops trickling through leaf tips,than the sweet fragrance of soil that welcomes the rain.

I didn't know how one can be elated and be extremely ebullient about something, even if it is just a dream.

I didn't know that life could more joyous when you have someone to think of you, rather than being alone.

I didn't know how all those great poets are made out of common men.

On the other hand, I also didn't know that there are other things in the world apart from happiness and joy.

I didn't know that life could be more miserable than being stranded all alone on an island.

I didn't know that one can experience hell directly on earth with just one dream being ripped in bud.

I didn't know that all the elements of nature which support life can also debilitate one with nostalgia.

I didn't know that there could be a bigger failure in life than what?.I dont know.

I didn't know that there are other parameters in this world, weighted greater than sincerity and commitment.

I didn't know that there would be people whom you believe to be friends,but are totally unworthy of sharing any of your joys or sorrows.

I didn't know that seeking help could harm more than actual destruction, and sink you down into a deep quagmire.

I didn't know that people would believe you to be still immature even in the third year of your graduation.

I didn't know that you will have to supress your feelings(and sneezes too), just because you are in a cultured society.

And I still don't know a lot many things.

I still don't know how to understand people.

I still don't know how to prove that I am believable.

I still don't know how to prove my commitment.

I still don't know how to establish that I am differently different,though I know that I am.

I still don't know what other things are there in this world that I need to know.

My Ramaiah days-4(Beginning of the Dark Days)

2006-01-04T23:53:00.000-08:00

The first week passed almost with out any other incident.At first everything was normal, but after some fifteen days or so,I started feeling home sick.On the second sunday, after a test I came back home and told my I uncle that I wanted to leave.I told him that I was unable to follow anything taught there and that I wanted to drop off.It was normally said and my uncle didn't mind.[It had already been "explained" to parents by Mr.Ramaiah that, most of the students will not be able to follow what is being taught there for some three months.Thanks.]He thought that it was a casual outburst of homesickness.So he did nothing in particular to pacify me.

Thus started the darkest days of my life.I felt more and more home sick and the desire to go home snowballed.I thought of nothing but of my home in Ponnur, my friends and everything associated with my life there.Even people very distantly know to me in Ponnur seemed to be my closest friends.

Hyderabad started appearing gloomy day by day.Everything there looked scary and dull. Sorry to my Hyderabadi friends, but I started despising the city with all my heart. I knew no moment of happiness there for two long years.All I knew in life was gloom and sorrow.Nothing else.

I also had a problem adjusting with those city people.That a city is so unwelcoming to an young villager [I am one,for mine was a very small town]troubled me a lot.People so busy with their jobs,rushing on their daily business,without a moment to hear to someones woes[I don't blame them,for I am able to comprehend now].I didn't even have friends to whom I could pour out all my sorrows.I suppressed everything and lifelessly went about.I lost my ebullient self.

May be my mother,for that matter anyone who had known me earlier would have made out the difference in my behaviour.But since I was new to the people there, no one noticed.And the fact that no one was bothered about me[I pictured so]troubled me still more.

My Ramaiah days-3(First week in insti)

2005-12-23T20:47:00.000-08:00

That I was selected for the two year course made everyone happy.I can't tell how I exactly felt,for I was used to faring well in exams.It brought me no special joy.It was a mixed feeling,leaving home was painful on one side,while a new place was welcoming on the other.My mother meticulously packed all that I would need in a place away from home,though I was going to stay in my uncle's home.I moved out to Hyderabad, a few weeks ahead of opening of institute.Those days before college were , largely peaceful. New place, new people and almost many things new.I spent most of the time familiarizing myself with buses and their numbers etc etc.

Finally, the first day arrived.I went to the class, and made friends with my neighbour before the class started(at least I thought so).Mr. Surendranath took the first class.It was like any other introductory class,getting to know the names and place of study.

When I told him that I attended a "crash course" in Prashanti Niketan, he said something I couldn't exactly classify.Was it a praise or a jeer I didn't understand. Later I formed a firm opinion that it was a jeer , for I learnt that those people are never known to praise anybody,except those whom they felt were newtons or einsteins.I knew that I was none. He asked us to get the exam question papers the next day.

Since I didn't have them, I asked my neighbour, to have it xeroxed. He said that he had those papers at home.I asked if he could get it xeroxed for me.He replied something, so I took it that he would get it done.

Imagine my shock the next day, when he didn't get them, and the teacher made all those who didn't get those papers stand through whole of the class.A punishment right on the second day.And my neighbour showed not even traces of being sorry for not being able to help me.

Here comes an important point to discuss.To be frank, I wasn't used to that treatment. It made me angry at both the teacher and my neighbour. I can't exactly tell whether it was justified or not.For,how can one expect an ODA(one day acquaintance) to help you?(Do you feel the same?) Well, thats a metropolitan school of thought.(I initially attributed it to Hyderabad, but later understood that its the same everywhere.)

But it wasn't so in my school.Even a ODA,once made friends was helped.No one sacrifices his life for an ODA,but getting a xerox wasn't a big deal. In all my country innocence I assumed that he would do it for me.I never forgave that fellow, and soon he wasn't seen in my class.He shifted over to an other batch, I later learnt.But it gave me a good taste of Ramaiah,and I can never forget it.

She is not fair to an outward view

2005-12-23T19:14:00.000-08:00

She is not fair to an outward view
As many maidens be;
Her loveliness I never knew
Until she smiled on me;
O then I saw her eye was bright
A well of love, a spring of light.

But now her looks are coy and cold,
To mine they ne'er reply
And yet I cease not to behold
The love-light in her eye:
Her very frowns are fairer far
Than smiles of other maidens are.

Hartely Coleridge

Faithfully copied (makki ki makki) from
"PANORAMA -A Selection of Poems"

the DEAN

2005-12-23T06:11:00.000-08:00

Why do institutes have DEANs?.And if they ever have, why are these people expected to interfere in all MATTERs and meddle with anybody and everybody? BTW can anyone tell me if I have to put a "pull-stop" after a "qwecchen mark"?. I am confused. About what am I confused? Wait...........let me remember. Because of late I have realised that I have been suffering from wait...... what do they call it?.Let me refer to the dictionary......"amnesia". Aaah! now I remember. Its the DEANs ,that I have been talking about.I keep forgetting things and of late I started forgetting spellings.I can't say for sure whether its evoparation or evaporation. Any way I learnt a new technique and a new philosophy.

New technique: After writing a word,look at it.If you are doubtful(l) stare at it.If something looks wrong , that's it.You got to spell it the otherway man.

New philosophy:"Bhaavnayoko samajnaa hai. Bhasha ko nahi"- Hindi.
" Bhasha kaadu, bhaavam mukhyam"-Telugu.
" Its the meaning that's important , and not the spelling"-u no wht langauge.

New discovery: As usual, I forgot to mention this above.People tend to guess\understand\comprehend a word by the letters at the ends.So, it doesnt make much difference between evoparation and evaporation.

the DEANs-some time later yaar.Didn't actually form a picture of what I have to rite.

My Ramaiah days-2(In Prashanti Niketan)

2005-12-23T04:16:00.000-08:00

The same morning I came to Hyderabad, my father took me to Prashanti Niketan, where I was to attend a "crash course" for Ramaiah entrance exam.Fortunately I found a friend who was also going there,along with me.Days rolled on(just a month ).Work was intense, but I was used to it as I finished my ICSE Board exams a few days ago. Though I couldn't grasp all those real analysis etc etc that was being taught there, I worked in Chemistry and Physics, which interested me immensly.It was the first time I went along without understanding much of anything in maths.I didn't know that it was to become my lifestyle for two years from then.

All that limits, continuity,binomial theorom and other arbit stuff we didn't have in our school syllabus started troubling me.I couldn't do anything, for I had no source who could properly teach me things.And so I made a month long co-existence with all that math, hoping that it would be over, once the exam is over.Little did I know that my assumption was a great mistake.Things went on and finally the day of exam arrived.

What a sight it was!Thousands and thousands of people, all gathered at one place.Osmania University-it was the place where the exam was to occur.I never saw so many people gathered at one place, though I had been to beaches on occasions, where I could see many people.But there, the vastness of the ocean intimidated these huge numbers.Here it wasn't so.I gave the exam and I felt that my performance was satisfactory.All the while I never bothered about "What if I couldn't make it to Ramaiah?". I really never bothered about it, till I got to join the institute and had a chance to experience the way people treat students from Ramaiah.

I gave the exam and went back home, feeling sorry that I missed a precious month after the exams, while all my friends were happily enjoying at home.I heard of their activities, the movies they saw,and a whole lot of other things they did in that month. It only saddened me, made me feel bad about those days that would never come back for me.

My Ramaiah days-1(Just after ICSE)

2005-12-21T17:31:00.000-08:00

I studied in Ramaiah.Had my two years of hell on earth, you dont believe.(I know , many of my friends will come up, vociferously defending Ramaiah.But let them keep it to themselves.)Let me give a detailed account of my those two years, I can never forget in life.

I had my schooling in a small town , a few hundred kilometers away from Hyderabad. So, when I was first told about Ramaiah(which incidentally happened to be the night of my last ICSE board exam day)I thought,"ok lets go to Hyderabad". It was the thought of visiting places that drew me there , more than my desire to enter Ramaiah.The next day I bid farewell to my mother, sister and friends and got into the "Hyderabad Express" ,along with my father.Little did I know that I was bidding farewell to my beloved town, almost permanently.For I never got to stay in my town for more than a month, at any point of time afterwards.

The next morning, my uncle came to the railway station in Hyderabad, and took us home.All the way home,I was admiring/wondering (dont know what to call it exactly) Hyderabad.Those huge roads, large number of vehicles, planes flying overhead,large shopping malls.In short everything took me by surprise, for afterall I grew up in a small town where all these never existed.

Heidi

2005-12-21T17:30:00.001-08:00

"Heidi is the heart warming story of a young girl who brings sunshineand joy wherever she goes.Her adventures ( I prefer to refrain myself from calling so, as she suffers a lot during her life) will take you up into the beautiful Swiss countryside and into the big city where Heidi is "educated".And,along with Heidi, you will be surprised by all the wonderful things that happen when she finally returns to her beloved mountains."This is the actual introduction I read on the book.

But for people with my tastes and considerations, this is a wonderful book. It takes you on a journey into the life of an orphaned girl called Heidi. Intially left behind with her grandpa by her fortune seeking aunt, Heidi develops a love for the simple life her grandpa leads and their home atop a mountain in the Swiss mountainrange.
She brings joyto her grandpa who has forbidden the world and prefers solitude.
Suddenly her aunt appears claiming that she has a fortune in store for Heidi , and takes her away to Frankfurt where she is to accompany "Klara",a handicapped girl of a rich family as a play-mate.The house keeper keeps making futile attempts to "culture" her , much to the amusement of Klara, who finds Heidi's company joyful.
But the girl takes ill owing to her longing for her old grandpa, her home and nature.
Finally she is sent back home by the considerate father of Klara.
Her life, especially at Frankfurt where she is almost caged and her perception of the world makes one nostalgic.It author's narration makes you laugh and weep with Heidi.
A really wonderful story.

Smile

2005-12-21T17:30:00.000-08:00

What does a smile cost you?
What in the world are you going to loose by smiling at an acquaintance?

True, you may be having lots and lots of worries,you may be carrying the whole earth on your shoulders , I agree but no one in this world is free from worries and if every worried soul decides to stop smiling ,we would be no different from animals which dont know to smile anyway.

And there are another bunch of people , who think they are einsteins and newtons(I intentionally left e and n in smalls , I want to reiterate that these are no different men) in the making.These are especially found at so called premier institutes like IIT ( I am a sorry in a way to be here).They bother about nothing but themselves , speak to none unless he has some need with that individual. They dont return smiles and blankly stare at any pleasantry.You feel as if you have been forced into Hell for sure if you ever get into their company.God save these men!

I dont hate anyone in particular , nor am I a misanthrope. All I care for is a good-word or smile from an acquaintance.
For its smiles that keep you going miles.

Being at home

2005-12-21T17:28:00.000-08:00

To me "being at home" means something more than mere nostalgia.It is something more than days of peaceful sleep, savoury dishes by mom and endless movies and freaking out.

Each time I go home I get to enjoy "the greatest experience called life".I am from a small town in rural Andhra , hence each time I go home I get to meet people from various walks of life. Old people in my grandma's village , middle aged ones in my father's school , young ones mostly my schoolmates.Each with their own outlook for life , with their own distinct problems ,their aims aspirations ...which represent the middle-class attitude of an average Indian, which I feel is a very fortunate thing to possess. It teaches nothing but perfect contentment in life.

I won't mislead you by saying that these people are contented with what they are and strive for nothing. True , they have their own aims and struggle to achieve them in their small own world. It is this simplicity that gives me immense joy to be one among them.

To those of you who dont really understand all these just understand how it is to listen to a neighbour who had recently married off her daughter and waits eagerly for her homecoming. Or to one of those school teachers in a village school who is worried about his son's higher education.

I will come back with more soon .

Feeling hearts

2005-12-21T17:26:00.000-08:00

This is a review of the poem "Sympathy" written by M.Johnson.

"It was a sunny day.The day was quite warm.A sweet little girl saw a thin little bird in the meadows.She was filled with sympathy for the little bird. She thought that the bird must be feeling very cold because it was without clothes like her.

But on the otherhand the bird too felt deep sympathy for the little girl.It thought that the little girl had not any feathers on the body and must be feeling very cold.

Thus,though it was a sunny and warm day, both the little girl and the little bird thought of each others pain."

This may seem childish to most of you but this poem touched me deeply.