alarm for an alarm

I am not at all an early riser. My tussle with alarm to wake up has been well documented here before. I still continue my 3 alarm pattern, however, the only problem is, on first look, what can only be described as a case of my cell phone developing its own personality or intelligence. I recently got a smart phone on which I can set many number of alarms and can schedule to ring at that time on the days I want them to beep. It worked fine for couple of days. I realized something was wrong when I woke up an hour late than usual. I thought it was one of those days where I was very sleepy and switched the alarm off in my sleep. Since I keep my cell phone beyond my arms reach just so that I don’t turn it off while in sleep, still I gave it the benefit of doubt and took the blame on myself - given that it was a new phone and I was a deep sleeper.

Last month, when for the nth time I woke up late since I started using this phone, I started doubting something wrong with my cell phone. This time, I didn't hear even single one of the 3 alarms. Even though I tried to tell the weirdness with which my phone acted, they blamed it back on me saying I would have switched it off in sleep. I installed an alarm app just in case if it was some problem with the default phone clock. Guess what, none of them beeped again and I overslept for the second consecutive day!

Just as it was trying to play with my mind and making to start to wonder about myself and take the blame back on me, at last, last week I got an opportunity to verify what was wrong. Last week, one day, I somehow managed to wake up with 5 mins to for my first alarm. Since I didn't want to oversleep, I somehow tried to stay awake to see if my alarm really does ring or not. And it did ring. Since my second alarm was only 15 mins later, I stayed up again fighting my sleep off (the secondary objective of keeping multiple alarm is just to wake up and realize that you can go back to sleep for few more minutes! If you have not tried it, please do...it’s a heavenly feeling!) And then, proving my suspicion to be true, my alarm didn't ring at 5.45 am! It cleared my mind up and immediately I woke up and reassigned the alarm to 6.00 again. And sure it did ring at 6. But it was good enough proof for me that my alarm was not all perfect.

Off late I have been waking up right before my first alarm goes off and reassign the times and ringtones. As D said, I have been waking up the alarm for last few days. The height of it was today morning. I had stopped scheduling my alarm to ring all days of the weeks and had started to set it ring for that particular day before I went to bed which I forgot to do last night. However, owing to a disturbing dream I had, I woke up at 5.20 am. Just as I was about to drop back to sleep did I realize that I had not turned on the alarm to ring for today. Immediately i turned it on, wondering even in such deep sleep, I had started to care and think about my alarm details. The thing I forgot to do when I was fresh last night occurred to me in half sleep! It was indeed as D had joked...I have started to wake up to wake up my alarm!

AVS

obsessive compulsive driving

I am not superstitious...okay, maybe a little bit. Of course I have my own share of tiny obsessive compulsives, but nothing that would disrupt my well being or those of my fellow beings. One such thing which I do regularly is taking my car forward when I take it out for the first time in a day. I have to obsessively put the car in the drive gear and move it a step forward before I can reverse it out of the parking spot. I have been doing it since the day I bought my car.

I think it started with the ritual we Indians usually follow of doing this right the first time. And since it was my first car in my life, I didn't want to piss of any superior powers that might be watching over me. And something which was meant to be for the first time only became a first time everyday thing.

Come to think of it, it might have been my horrible attempt at drive right the next day I got my license. I learned driving in India when I was in college. I learned it in a good old ambassador car with huge stick gears which you had to literally pull and move into the required slot to change the gear. And turning the steering meant using all the force you can gather on your hands plus the added push by swirling your body in the direction of the turning of wheel. And once we managed to get the license, a roommate of mine had a maruti car and he encouraged me to take it out and take it for a spin. The thing he never mentioned nor I thought about was that it was power steering. It was parked in front of our hostel facing our room window. So, here I step into the car and changed the gear to reverse. The smoothness with which the gear shifted was a new experience for me. And like I had done for the last few months in the ambassador, I pressed the accelerator as hard as possible and the car just jerked back. In the panic all I could do was pull the hand brake with my feet still rooted on to the accelerator. Don’t ask me if it is the safest or wisest thing to do, say if it was on a road, when your vehicle speeds up uncontrollably, you have no idea how mind works in panic. And his almost new maruti skidded back and halted at 90 deg. from its initial position with the hood now facing the wall. It still is a mystery how I managed to do that given that there was not much space available there to perform such a maneuver.

I immediately stepped out of the car and handed over the key to my roomie. Surprisingly he didn't appear to me much ruffled, most likely because he, being a new driver himself, might have pulled off such a trick before. Anyway, that day I decided not to drive someone else's vehicle so that I don’t end up in the wrong side if i cause even a slightest scratch on it. And mind you it was my first attempt at driving a car without any supervision and i felt I should have started on the right note - in this case a move forward. Hence, when I got a car of my own car, I wanted to take it forward as a good omen for my future rides. However it had gotten to me like a habit which I cannot get rid of. And the sad truth that I don’t know how to reverse parking is presenting me with opportunity to continue doing it every single day.

A small foot note: For the most part I have stuck to my resolution of not driving someone else’s personal car. I have done it only on 2 occasions in the last 8 years; and need I say I was extra cautious taking it up.

AVS

up in the air

I feel jet lag is an overrated concept. I have come to the conclusion over the course of last few years with my trips to India as well as those by my friends. If you can sleep timely and comfortably in the flight; I am sure it’s possible (maybe in the luxury of first class!). Though I know that people get bogged down by traveling across time zones, and I, myself, am a victim to that, though I have wanted to prove that people give undue respect to jet lag.

My recent trip to India gave me an opportunity to test my theory. It was a very short trip for a week and I was sure that I would not have the luxury of taking time to get over my jet lagging at home. So, I was all prepared to 'sleep tight' in the flight. I was optimistic of catching a good sleep at some point of time of the flight given it was the longest ever time I had spent on the single leg of a journey. Mind you given my long legs and wide torso, just about managing to sit in the flight seat comfortably itself is a big deal, forget about sleeping well sitting. And adding to my misery was a severe and literal pain in the neck. I just could not keep my head leaning against the support and take even a small nap without feeling a pinch on the back of my neck. It was the most excruciating 18 hrs I have had to spend on a flight so far. I ended up watching 5 movies and about 3-4 one hour TV shows goes to prove that I just could not sleep at all!. I could not even sleep during the multiple layovers and ended up sleep deprived for good 32 hrs and more.

Despite of the self inflicted insomnia, I was determined not to sleep during day time in India and wait till its night there to sleep so that I can negate the effect of jet lag screwing up my biological clock and I was indeed successful in doing so. I was out of the house the very same day I landed and was back home only by night and went to bed when others in the house did. I woke up fresh the next day morning and for the next one week I was there I was successfully following the Indian timing. I was glad to have proven once and for all that jet lag was indeed not a big deal and yeah, I did spoke volumes about it to anyone who asked.

And my equal long return flight could not have gotten any better for me. The seat next to me was unoccupied and I had the luxury of lifting the hand rest and lying down and sleeping. And I did utilize my space well. I watched only 2 movies in the entire flight time is good enough testimony that I had good rest and sleep. And one of them I watched just for the heck of it. And back in US, I was again back to my US timings for I could not catch any more sleep.

Just when I was feeling jubilant for having successfully beaten the jet lag; not once but twice within a span of a week; it came back with vengeance. Two days after my return, I was walking around like a zombie in the afternoons at work - many cups of coffees having no effect on me. And for straight 2 days I was out as soon as I reached home and work up only to see the dawn of next day. Fortunately for me, it was the week of New Year and work wasn't heavy and the week was short. And within 2-3 days I was fine.

Given that I had slept for over 10 hrs in the flight, I am sure that the fatigue I was feeling was not from the return trip but from the 32 hrs vigil during my on flight to India. It took a week and more I succumbed to the jet lag. Not bad given the hectic and long flights I had! Though I didn’t prove conclusively that you can beat jet lag, at least I partially proved what need to be done to do so. Had I not had neck pain or if I had the provision of more space to sleep, I would have felt anything after a total of about 50+ hrs of air travel. And I look forward to my next trip to close this once and for all.

AVS

meri awaz suno

Last week I came across a news article about a homeless guy with a radio voice – the unique tone of speech which you can get to hear only from a radio host. And sure did he not look anything like what he sounded, which made me reconsider writing a blog on a related topic which I have had in my mind for some time now. Many months back, I thought of writing a blog post about one's voice and had started drafting it couple of times. But for some reason I scrapped it. But this news article was sort of a divine intervention; or so I feel; that – (1) I need to do something about my dormant blog (2) I had to get this thought out of my mind into my blog.

Every person has a fitting voice. Like, you cannot imagine Amitabh Bachchan with Sachin Tendulkar's voice, right? I tend to assign a face and a vague image to a person, whom I have never met, based on their voice or what I have read about them. I am sure that I am not the only one who does it (and I have checked it with few of my friends just to ensure that I am not weird). And invariably the person would be nowhere close to resemble my mental image of them. A colleague of mine from our overseas office who appeared to be a 6 footer with a thick mustache over the phone turned out to be clean shaven 5 footer (just quoting one to prove that it can be as different as chalk and cheese).

The city where I live in US had a high density of desi population and hence a number of desi radio stations which I listen to whenever I am driving. One particular station which I tune to most often had this radio host with a deep voice. Sometime back, I happened to see a photo of his in a news paper and to my utter surprise, he was EXACTLY the way I had imagined him to be. What is more baffling is I had even imagined him to have a goatee which precisely resembled the one he had! (he was a tad thinner than what I had figured, but it was certainly within the ‘uncertainty limit’ of the estimation)

Okay, I don’t what to make any claims of having gained sudden psychic power or anything of that sort; neither am I admitting to the possibility that I might have seen his photo somewhere sometime back and it might have forgotten about it. Let’s say it was just coincidence – after so many misses by a mile, the law of probability had to catch up with me at some point of time or other. But, just the fact that I am a huge fan of spooky movies and what I had conjured up was eerily close to reality makes me marvel at my revelation.

AVS

ramblings of a whiny viewer

I am a self confession movie buff. Ok, I should rephrase it - I am a connoisseur of movies - for 1) I don’t watch any and everything that gets screened on screen 2) I don’t go to the extreme of risking my life to catch the fist day first show of a new release 3) I don’t have the posters or clippings of my favorite actor/actress on my walls.

Watching movies is one of my favorite past times, but I do make sure that on most of the occasions, I have atleast a vague idea about what I am getting into before really getting into the theatre.

I have somewhat of a high standard set on the quality of movies I like. The hind side of this is that most of the times I come of the theatre not completely happy or satisfied by what was offered. I tend to over analyze what is shown on the screen and as one would know, majority of the movies releasing in a year, irrespective of the language they are made in, are at best average to mediocre, with just a few really good ones to a lot of abysmal ones. I clearly remember, when at Cincinnati, of all the movies I saw at AMC (which is pretty much every other weekend), the movies which I was happy with are so less that I can actually recollect the names of each of them.

To contrast this, my colleague at work is the other extreme of mine. He, by his own admission, can watch any movie and invariably comes out of the theatre happy with what he saw. His justification is that I don’t go in with high expectations and once you know exactly what you are going to get, it’s not that bad. Hence he is happy with a movie like Last Airbender, whereas just the thought of watching that movie itself is sacrilegious for me.

How I wish I could think like him, for most of the times I feel my money was wasted, its time well spent for him. Blame it on my upbringing in Kerala, where the quality of Malayalam movies made in the 80s when I was growing up were extremely good. Even the so called movies made for the masses had some really good direction and/or screenplay associated with it. Unfortunately it’s no longer the case, with the quality of movies deteriorating alarmingly that I have almost given up watching Malayalam movies completely and been hooked to Hollywood movies.

AVS

fried oreos

I am not sure how many out there has heard about a snack called Fried Ores. Yes, you read it right and it’s exactly what it sounds like - Oreo cookie which is fried! I heard about it first from a co-worker from work who was from Louisiana. She was telling me it was a very popular delicacy in New Orleans and how she hated it. It was also mentioned in one of the Jay Leno Show episodes I happened to watch around the same time. They are prepared like any other fried snack- dip the cookies in the batter and deep fry it.

I am not a fan of Oreo cookies in the first place. but, being a sucker for any fried snacks, when you add a ‘fried’ to it, even fried cookies sound enticing to me. I had been wanting to try it out just out of the curiosity to know about how two contrasting items would add up or how bad can it be. In my defense, other items which you would expect to be the last item to be fried, tasted awesome – fried ice cream, fried vazhapazam etc.

Recently, I got the opportunity to try it out at Houston Rodeo. It was not just Oreo they were frying, but fried brownies and fried snickers, fried M&M, fried cheesecake etc. I think they fry pretty much anything one can think of to be NOT fried. We tried out Oreo, brownies and snickers and all sucked equally bad! Infact, friend brownie and snicker were so bad that fried Oreo was the least offensive of them all. Maybe it got something to do with the oil in which they fry it at the Rodeo; I couldn’t take more than 2 bites of it. It baffles me how can someone even like it!

I am one who always gives a second chance to any food item; before making a conclusion on how good or bad something is (I have even tried Dr. Pepper more than once!). So, I might try it again sometime in the future, but I think I am certain I have made up my mind on this one.

AVS

what's god?

A poem, called The Blindmen and the Elephant by John Godfrey Saxe, so beautifully written that I was compelled to post it. Thanks to RSK for introducing this to me

It was six men of Indostan
To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the Elephant
(Though all of them were blind),
That each by observation
Might satisfy his mind.

The First approach'd the Elephant,
And happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
At once began to bawl:
"God bless me! but the Elephant
Is very like a wall!"

The Second, feeling of the tusk,
Cried, -"Ho! what have we here
So very round and smooth and sharp?
To me 'tis mighty clear
This wonder of an Elephant
Is very like a spear!"

The Third approached the animal,
And happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
Thus boldly up and spake:
"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant
Is very like a snake!"

The Fourth reached out his eager hand,
And felt about the knee.
"What most this wondrous beast is like
Is mighty plain," quoth he,
"'Tis clear enough the Elephant
Is very like a tree!"

The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: "E'en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most;
Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an Elephant
Is very like a fan!"

The Sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope,
Then, seizing on the swinging tail
That fell within his scope,
"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant
Is very like a rope!"

And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right,
And all were in the wrong!

MORAL:
So oft in theologic wars,
The disputants, I ween,
Rail on in utter ignorance
Of what each other mean,
And prate about an Elephant
Not one of them has seen!

AVS

kerala born confused polyglot

I think I am an Indian equivalent of an ABCD - to be born in one culture and been brought up in a place of another culture. I am, by birth, a Tamilian and belong to that clad who have come to be known as ‘Palakkad Iyers” whose ancestors migrated to Kerala and settled there many generations ago.

However, I consider myself to be a Keralite since I have always lived there. Moreover, though I speak Tamil at home, I am more comfortable and fluent in Malayalam than any other language. Inspite of some serious canvassing and cajoling from one of my dear friends to convince me that I am a Tamilian, I stand adamant on my mallu stand much to her annoyance. She had to settle with the truce that she would consider me to be a Tamil and doesn’t give a damn about what I consider myself to be (It’s a miracle I still get invited for dinner at her place!)

However the bigger issue was when it came to what is my mother tongue. Much before I had to confront this question of picking an identity, I have always been conflicted by the same issue whenever I had to specify my ‘mother tongue’ in application forms. I have used both Malayalam and Tamil for that particular column depending on how I felt about what my mother tongue is at that particular moment, though I never could convince myself which one was it for me. I don’t buy the explanation that mother tongue is the one your mother speaks (which is just the literal translation of the word and not I am certain that’s not what it was meant to be when the word was coined).

Sometime back a friend of mine wrote about the language one thinks in. I thought it was a good way to figure out the mother tongue for polyglots like me (I know 4 languages and working on the 5th one ;). A person’s mother tongue should be the language in which he/she thinks. It doesn’t matter where you live or what you speak. The language in which you have thoughts has to be considered your mother tongue since that is the one which comes involuntarily to you and by that theory; my mother tongue has to be Tamil. I have always had my silent thoughts in Tamil, the one which I have used and still use to communicate with my family even since I can think of. So, does that make me a Tamilian? Maybe it does, when I put it that way (my above mentioned friend would be delighted to read my confession :)

I know there would be people who refuse to accept this argument of mine. In fact, a very close friend of mine vouches that he thinks in English though he hails from Chennai and speaks Tamil at home (well, at least most of the times!). For him, English is the language in which his thoughts flow. In my defense, he doesn’t have confusion as to what his mother tongue is and is certain that its Tamil. This hypothesis stands true only for confused souls like me.

Spare a thought for a friend of mine from Mumbai; she has lived her whole life there and can just manage Marathi but converses in Malayalam Tamil at home since her parents are Tamil speaking Keralites like me!

AVS

worst ARR album

I got hold of an extensive mp3 collection of ARR songs from a friend of mine sometime back and ever since it has been playing on a loop in my music player – starting with the genesis ROJA and other majestic creations from the 90s like Thiruda Thiruda (90s, being the decade in which I grew, brings back all those nostalgia too). It put me in a really hard situation of picking the best from the list which was impossible for me. Hence I thought it would be easier to find the worst ARR album of all time. I had shortlisted on few of the in consequential hindi track and those tamil songs which he made for Prasanth (Jodi or something), Manoj (Alli Arjuna?) etc. But even in those there was atleast one track which was good, since ARR had rehashed them from hindi to tamil or vice versa (The criteria I used to gauge the album was it should not have even a single track worthy). A quick inquiry in facebook and couple of my friends unanimously suggested a real gem (!) which I hadn’t even heard of. An Arjun starrer tamil movie – PARASURAM. I was told it has the least noteworthy songs Rahman has ever composed.

I managed to hear the songs of the album last day and yes it is the least spectacular album of the Maestro. However there was one song in that which Rahman had used in the hindi film Zubeida. But I can confidently say, if not for that track, it is by far the poorest album by ARR’s standard (which would still rate better than some other so called ‘music composers’. Hence, my wait for the utter rubbish from Rahman continues. I have to add that I will be more than happy to be disappointed in this one.

living offline

I am addicted to my computer. Even if I am watching TV or on phone, I need to play around with my fingers on my computer, either you tubing or gaming or something like that. And this includes checking my 5 email ids every 15-20 mins. It’s not that I cannot live without going online, but just knowing that I have the access at hands reach is a comforting thought (there is some reasoning behind my Uncle calling me a ‘Googler”, as per him, I can find him anything he wants online). So, you could imagine what I would have to go through if I am to get past a day without my laptop. And quite befitting the Halloween month, I am having to the horror of parting with my computer.

It all started few days back when I resumed my attempt to connect my laptop to my TV. Mind you my television is a good ol’ CRT TV and for some reason I was not able to get any display on TV though it said in my laptop that it’s connected. I am someone who preferably likes to resolves issues my verbal conversation rather than by email or chat. That’s the reason why I usually call up the customer care of any company for troubleshooting so that I could explain my concerns to them in detail. But for the last one week, I have been on phone for almost 3 straight hours after going home from work with my laptop company customer care. Even by my tolerance level to talking, this has been quite a tedious effort.

So I made my first call to the support team of my laptop makers. One of the major pains of customer service is that it makes you go though all this menu options and voice recognition stuffs before you can reach a real human. And every single time, despite of my best efforts to sound as “american’ as possible, the automated lady on the other end refuses to recognize my menu option. So after all the yes and nos I get connected to a representative who turned out to be located at Kolkata (fortunately, he still had his Indian name intact, rather that a Dave, or Andy with Indian accent). I spend good 3-4 hours on phone troubleshooting my laptop and updating some system drivers and all with no luck. Next day on, I noticed that the fan inside my laptop was making unusually loud noise and my laptop battery wasn’t getting charged though it said so. So I made my second call in 2 days to the company to complain about the sound and charging issue going though all the options which the auto lady utters (including the spanish lady).

Another thing that irks me is that every time you call, you get connected to a different person and you have to start explaining the issue from scratch. This time I was connected to a lady in Canada and it turns out that the pervious guy had updated the wrong drivers on my laptop and she updated the right ones for me. Still my laptop refused to charge. And to add to my frustration, here was that guy from Kolkata following up with me to see if I could get my laptop to display on TV (He seemed more interested in fixing my problem than me).

So, after my 3 call in as many days explaining the story from the prelude to the epilogue to the 3rd representative, I got my laptop battery replaced. Still, even with a new battery, my problem remained unresolved. Anyway, the long story short (I have already lost the credibility to say that!) after 2 more calls and couple more hours on the phone, I had to send back my laptop to the service center for detailed diagnostics. It is expected that I will be out of computer for good 1½ weeks (and it’s been only just 4 days so far!)

Update: Its been a week without laptop and my vitals are all good so far and I am yet to manifest any withdrawal symptoms. I am surviving and weathering through it. Just the fact that I am posting this entry even in the absence of my laptop is proof enough for my well being.

AVS

dry spell

Its been years since I have published a post here. In blogosphere, months are the years, days are the months….you get the drift. Its just that I was preoccupied with work and rest. I have never been a systematic blogger, though, even by my standards this had been a long dry spell. A glance through the archive list this page would tell you that I often go through such phases where I just can’t get myself to blog about anything. At times I run out of topics, and some other time I want to write, just that I don’t know how to put it in words. This time the lack of posts has been due to the former during the earlier months and latter in this month. By now you might have figured that, I don’t have any point with this entry and it’s just meant to shake off the cobwebs from this page. I have some quality free time with me now a days and hoping to get few things, about which I want to write, posted.

AVS

a mouthful of feet

I am sure I will not be the first or the last person who would have experienced this. You blurt out something and the very next moment regret why in the bloody hell you said that. Not only the whole thing is embarrassing, but your every attempt from then on to save yourself from the disgrace can be equally embarrassing or even dangerous. I, for one suffering from acute case verbal diarrhea, am prone to such situations. And the worst one comes out when I try to make a casual conversation.

It was during my first year in US and I was at my on-campus work place. I was in the coffee bar and I, along with two employees of the plant was waiting for the coffee to brew. Since I was new there, just like all people waiting for coffee in any coffee bar in any work place, those two were chit chatting with me about what I was doing and how long I have been in US. It was a hot summer time and one of the person asked how the weather in India was like. And since I had received so many questions from curious minds in US about India, I started explaining with zeal how much hot the weather in my part of India was. “Is it this bad there?”, asked one of the two. “Its worse, that’s why we are this dark” and immediately I felt the taste of my foot in my palette and a sudden brain freeze. One of the two guys was an African American!! Since nothing I would say from then on could make it any better, all I could do was to conjure up the strength to pour my coffee and just vanish from that room forever. I was never to come across that guy again.

What made me recollect this was a similar incident my brother who was in US few weeks back. This one too, curiously enough, involves brewing coffee. He was at the coffee bar having a coffee. An African American person who was next to him spilled some coffee on his own shirt and was trying his best to clean up the stain. And my brother in an attempt to lighten up went “you should wear a dark shirt like I have; then no one would see the stain”. And that person in his broke English went “you mean….I...me…dark?” (it was his first visit to US and as part of the orientation I gave him, being the ‘more experienced one’ here, I had instructed him specifically to avoid any conversation which could be misinterpreted as racial) and immediate he too felt the delicious taste of the feet. However, unlike the not so gracious exit I made, he managed to convey it to that person that he was referring to the shades of shirt.

Though there have been other instances where I have regretted saying something, none has freaked the bejesus out of me like this one. Maybe its one of the drawbacks of having a mouth which works faster than the brain. Or maybe it as a rookie mistake made in an alien nation…or maybe it just runs in the family.

AVS

one man show

Houston is one of the few cities in US with a large contingency of Malayalee population. Hence it is not totally surprising that new Malayalam movies release here every other week. Though the movie theater is very close to where I live, I hadn’t seen a Malayalam movie, partially due to lack to company and partial due to the abysmal standard of the movies churned out from my home state off late. So I had pretty much forgotten about it till last week when someone asked in chat if I get to watch Malayalam movies here; if so there was this new movie which was really funny. To my surprise, the same movie had released here and was still playing. Given that I hadn’t seen a Malayalam movie in a theater in a long time and the fact that it was a sequel to a very funny and super hit movie released almost 2 decade back, I had to watch that movie in the theater.

Since it was a Saturday night, I expected many of the mallu families in Houston to flock to the theater and hence I set forth a bit too early so as to get a good seat. Also, it was a good opportunity for me to meet some of my fellow Houstonians from my home state and maybe strike up some conversation in Malayalam. So here I was all geared up headed to the theater.

The theater was surprisingly deserted for a Saturday night. Given that there were Telugu, Tamil and a Hindi movies too playing, I expected some Indian crowd…...nope, none was seen even going out of the theater.

I purchased the ticket and the usher directed me to the theater. I entered the hall and there was no soul there. Here I was all alone in an empty movie hall with about 200 empty seats. I picked the seat right in the middle and settled myself. Minutes passed and start time was near, still no sigh of any other human. It would be absurd to carry on with the show when there is no audience (which has been the case in India) and I was certain that the show would be canceled and I would be refunded the fare me.

As I was thinking of what to do with the rest of the night, now that the show would be canceled, to my surprise, the screen lit up and the titles started to roll and the movie started! And here I was watching the movie all alone in the theater as if it was my personal media room.

To cut short the tale, the entire movie 2.5 hr was played for a single person. It was a unique experience for me. Never before have a seen a movie in such solitude. Did I like it? Not really. Not just because the movie wasn’t as good as I expected it to be, but because I was so lonely. Not that I would chatted through out the movie, but I don’t prefer watching movie in a theater alone. I am sure everyone enjoys the movie in the company of friends and so do I. But this time, I wished there was a stranger atleast.

AVS

choice control

“There are many parameters that determine your course of action now a days...…..and your control over those are reducing”, I remarked recently to couple of friends. Though it was one of those comments which I ‘uttered-before-thinking’ (which I do quite often), this one made complete sense when I heard it back as I said. The work and the related intricacies are making the decision making a hard nut to crack. Like, for example, taking some time off or going home for vacation. Other than the obvious difficulty of getting the leave, there are further issues like the stringent rules imposed by the immigration off late. I have heard the horror few people had to go through with the immigration that I am more than willing to put off my travel plans. It is true about life decisions too. The economic situation and the uncertainties associated with it have forced many of my friends and acquaintances to postpone their marriage or relocation or buying a house. Life’s always been about making choices, but think the number of if’s and but’s have increased, which is making the task even tougher. You control over your own life is getting loose.

Then I hear about this former college mate of mine who has decided to go back to India for good. And his reasoning is because he felt like doing so. And how I wish if it was that easy for me to make a decision! For a person like me who finds picking between one or the other is one of the hardest things to do (and would be more than happy if there were no choices), it would be nothing short of a blessing. I am sure it would make my life much simpler.

AVS

avan, aval, naan

He was 5’11”, well built, brownish complexion, handsome and smart. She was almost 5’7”, wheatish, lean, beautiful and gracious. We were not surprised when he fell for her. “I was hooked to her the very first time I saw her”, he confessed. “There is something magical and magnetic in her eyes that attract me towards her whenever I see her” he went on, typical of him given how filmi he was.

Invariably I would be there with Raj when we would come across Anu. I swear it was coincidental and not deliberate. In my defense, whenever possible, I used to excuse myself from the scene to facilitate any course of action from Raj, if he may.

********************************

“Did you talk to her?” I quizzed

“No da, not yet”, he gave me the same answer he as been giving me for the last one month. Ok, I have been asking the same question to him. Maybe I should rephrase my question.

“Are you ever gonna?” I deliberately put a tone of warning into the query.

“I will, I am just waiting for a right moment.” I think valentine’s day would be the right time”

That’s a whole month away!….i sighed

***********************************

Namrata Shirodkar in a navy blue mini skirt smiling at me from the wall right across my bed, when I woke up

She was nice, infact, she looks really gorgeous in the pioster; not only on the one on the wall, but also on the 2 which had appeared behind the front door.

“What the heck?”……my eyes were searching for Raj.

“Don’t you think Anu looks like her?” you can’t but agree with Raj, when he puts in such innocence in his questions (don’t believe, try being his roommate for 3 years)

“She might be, if you think so”…the most I can do is to give him moral support.

There is something magical and magnetic in her eyes that attract me towards her whenever I see her”.

*************************************

“Hey come.. she’s there in the caffeteria”…he dragged me out of the library and threw me behind his bike. I don’t need an life insurance as of now, but if such events are gonna recur frequently, it wont be a bad idea to get one…..a rather big one given the speed at which he was beating the traffic.

“ Why do you need me if you are gonna talk to her”…..i could help wondering.

“She’s with her friend”

“Who?”

“Your labmate Megha”

“So?”

“So get rid of her from there. I have a thing going on for her, don't you?”

“heyyy, nothing like that!" I pretty much yelled back wondering how he figured!. "So, you want me to kill her?” I had to crack the PJ. It invariably help hide my blushing; as well as change the subject.

“Poda….shut up if don’t want me to do that to you”

“Given how you are driving, I think you are trying your best”

******************************************

“I will give the card to her today”… I had heard that million times in the last one month. Atlast the day had dawned.

“Good”, atleast I will be spared from now on from your countdowns”. I had to be sarcastic irrespective of the mood of the occasion.

“Its today or never”…he vowed.

When I got back from college, Raj wasn’t home yet. Being an optimist, I assumed things worked out well with his card giving and my best chance of catching him would be in the caffeteria with her.

I don’t know when I dozed off, but I was in the middle of a nice dream – I was practicing dance with Rani Mukherjee; which would have been a nightmare if it was real! - when Raj banged on the door.

“Haaaaiiiii” my yawn sounded like a greeting. “So, how did you give it to her?”

“Naaaaa”…his dejected tone sounded more authentic than my yawn.

“Whats wrong”?

“Nothing”…..he paused ...”I think she is already with someone”

“Oh damn”, I felt sorry for my roomie…"Did she say that”?

“Kind of, she said she has personal reasons, what else it can be!”

“Its her misfortune da, take it easy. I am sure you will find a much better girl”…I had to do my part in consoling.

“Com’on Raj, let’s go out, the beer's on me”, I felt like doing more than just consoling for my dear roomie. I swear, my urge to have a beer after the nap was only a secondary reason.

“It was a good card by the way, maybe someone else can use it”…I hoped my inopportune jokes which usually works its charm in cheering people up with do it this time too.

*****************************************************

“Hurry up man, you are getting late for the match”…..Raj shouted over the revving of the bullet.

“In a minute, can’t find my wallet”

“Make it fast, I wanna warm up a bit before the game”…Raj was quite sure of the expectations from the best batsman in the team.

Just as I was retrieving my wallet from the drawer, I noticed a green envelope addressed to Megha under the directory. It is cheap to read others mails, but curiosity got the better of me. It might have got the cat killed, but I had to take my chances. After all it was addressed to Megha. Having decided to find some excuse later for my defense, I opened it. Inside was a small sky blue color card with lamination like finish and written inside in lovely print like handwriting were the words I had come to memorize listening to over the last few weeks.

“there is something magical and magnetic in your eyes which attacts me towards you whenever I see you”

AVS

lost in translation

I had a dissapointing revelation few days back!

As most close to me know already that though I am a born Tamilian, I am more comfortable with Malayalam owing to my upbringing in Kerala. That also accounts for me being more fluent, both in verse and speech, in Malayalam than Tamil or Hindi or for that matter even English. Malayalam used to be a compulsory subject for me in school and I can confidently claim that I am pretty good in it (I learned the Tamil alphabets on my own and still can only stutter through reading any text in that language and my spoken Tamil, well, all know how that goes).

I have not got any opportunity to use Malayalam in writing for almost 5 years now ever since I landed in US. I never lost touch with the language (or so I thought) since I regularly read Malayalam news online. But what I forgot to realize was how much I had not used the language in my writing. And to my own horror I realized it few days back. I had to translate some notes to Malayalam and I just couldn’t get the letters right! Usually, I just sleep walk through the words, but this time I messed up the letters with similar looking scripts (and there are quite a few similar looking letters in Malayalam).

I am afraid I have to confess with at most shame that I might be losing touch with my first language. I feel embarrassed about myself since I never expected it to happen…feels almost like what I would feel if I ever forgot how to ride a bicycle. I maybe over reacting a bit, and for as much trivial as it sound, my worry is valid given how much low I feel about the whole issue.

I recollect an incident last year. The last time I had to write something in Malayalam was for Vidhyarambham (Aayitha pooja) and while writing in Malayalam, I misspelled the very first letter itself...no wonder I had hard time finishing my studies last year!

AVS

i wonder why

I used to be stubborn kid. I have been the recipient of many self inflicted injuries as well as those inflicted by my mother given my mischief. (If anyone is surprised to read about such a version of me should be thanking the god that they got to see a mellowed version of me). I have been very unruly and short tempered which has landed me under an auto rickshaw, on a concrete floor head down from the terrace etc other than the innumerable slaps from mother (well, those are stories for another time).

Sometime in the early nineties, at around the time when the bollywood movie Phool Aur Kaante released (which launched Ajay Devgan as the new action hero), I was at my unmanageable best - getting pissed at the slightest of things and throwing tantrums and yelling to a stage of physically attack - and my cousins gave me the name Ajay Devgan….for being the angry young man I was!

Cut to year 2004, I was at the wedding reception of my cousin at Utah. There I met one of my other cousin’s husband and he remarked that he had recently seen the movie Raincoat and Ajay Devgan in that movie reminded him of me. Mind you, it is a movie where the mentioned actor played a gentle character which a heart of gold.

It was a surprise for all of us present there since he had no idea that I have been previously compared to that actor. And my cousin said “See, we told you that years back!”

In my personal opinion, I don’t think I resemble Devgan in anyways. The only similarity can find is the skin texture we share ….(also, maybe the unconventional good looks too *wink*). Yet it still bewilders how I was compared to AJ all over again. After all those years, my alleged similarity to the actor surfaced again albeit for different reasons.

(Maybe a cue for future filmmakers, who wants to make a movie on my life, whom to cast as the lead actor....or maybe vice versa ;)

AVS

the man who wasn't there

Note: Though the characters in the story are real, the incidents narrated are fictional.

He had a noticeable hunch on his back, which was more pronounced when seen from the right side than the left. Sometimes he was seen wearing an orange monkey cap. Other than these, there wasn’t much noticeable about that old man. I am told that he was always found sitting on that bridge over the river. My father says he has seen him there ever since he was a toddler. That might be exaggerating a bit since he himself mentioned on another occasion that bridge was not built till he was in his high school. I think he just meant to emphasis that the old man has been there for a very long time.

I have seen him at the exact spot on that bridge every time we visit our ancestral village with my parents and brother. It was almost a ritual for me to look out through the window of the bus whenever it crossed the bridge. “Wake me up when we cross the bridge” I used to instruct my mom as I dozed off during those 6 hr bus journey.

My father always mention about that great flood of 1970 to everyone, which drowned his village and forced him to move to the city. He says even as the river was overflowing over the bridge, the old man refused from there. He clearly remembers noticing the old man, standing waist deep in flood water near the middle of the bridge as he and my uncle paddled over the bridge on their canoe with all the stuffs they could salvage. As if it was that old man's sole responsibility to stay put. My father appreciate his courage; at the same time,he confessed to us, made him feel guilty - for abandoning his village at the time of distress. When he heard in the radio that his village wasn’t washed away, almost a miracle given the intensity of the flood; he was certain that it was that old man and his will which saved his village.

I believe it was also an act of redemption for him to take my mom, brother and me to his village atleast once a year, visit the temples and meet all his childhood friends, old neighbors, acquaintances or whom ever is left of them. So, even from when I can remember we have been making the trip to that village. And every time we crossed that bridge my father would look out to see that old man; and so would I.

From what I can remember, than man always looked the same, disheveled, and shabbily dressed. He looked weary and tired, but never unhappy. I couldn’t picture him being young. My father said he couldn’t recollect how he looked when young. I believe he was born this old and lived that way his whole life.

I didn’t know anything about him. But his act of defiance against the Mother Nature and the fact that my father admired him was good enough for me to respect him. His constant presence on that bridge made him a cult figure of me and he was an identity of the village whenever I mentioned about it to someone. He was the guardian of the village and I believe his presence there was one of the factors which made us connected to our roots in spite of our city upbringing.

Over the years that village underwent many changes. The panchayat built a check dam over that river not far away from the bridge few years back. And another bridge, bigger one for heavy vehicles was constructed adjacent to the old one. Bus no longer made service through the old bridge and the traffic was confined to pedestrians and light motor vehicles. With less time to dispose in hand with the fast paced life, we switched the bus journey to a faster and sophisticated car trip. And thus we still commuted through the old bridge and never missed the sight of the old man. It was as if, we shifted to car because a trip in bus would make us miss him.

With my studies and subsequent employment, I was not able to make the trip to the village in the last couple of years and I had forgotten about that man for a while now until last year’s vacation. When I was told by my mother that she had planned that trip this time around my thoughts went back to the old man. I realized I never knew him. Did he ever leave that spot? When did he eat? How did he eat? Did he ever have a family? Was he abandoned by them? Or did he abandon them? - I didn’t even know his name. I think I never bothered to know anything about him. I wanted to be detached from him that way. I sympathized with him, yet was not willing to do anything for him. I felt meek and inferior and wanted to redeem myself.

“I am sure that man will be still there on that bridge”. I told my mother, “I think I should give him some money this time” and immediately feared if I sounded like a pompous NRI who pitied the less fortunate, albeit inadvertently.

“Yes, we should”, agreed my father. “And I will inquire more about him and know him better”, I told myself.

A long blast of air horn from a truck behind our car woke me up when we were few mile away from the bridge. “Slow the car when we reach the bridge”, I instructed the driver. As we approached the bridge, I glanced outside to see the man. He was not to be seen. “He’s not there” said my brother. “Not on this side either”, my father said with his head still stuck out the car window on the other side, sounding as if a close relative of his was missing. I could understand, that stranger he has been a constant frame of reference throughout his life; one whom he might have seen more often than many of his relatives.

No one seemed to know anything about him around the temple area. After much inquiry, we were told by the nearby restaurant manager that our old man passed away almost a year back. And no one seemed to care much. He was a nobody to the new generation there. Even to the surviving older folks, he was just a pavement dweller. For some unknown reason I felt that I was more disappointed to hear the news than my father. He was definitely more wiser to know the truths of life.

While going back, I involuntarily gazed out through the window as the car approached the bridge. I am certain I will continue to look for him whenever we cross that bridge. Our future trips to the village will not be the same without that old man on the bridge.

As we were crossing the bridge I noticed the traffic was slow across the bridge. I want to believe it was to pay respect to the man who wasn’t there.

AVS

unspoken language

Today at work, my manager wanted me to help him out with some reviewing stuffs. So, I took the material and sat in a empty cube in front of his office room. I was about to return it to him after completion that I noticed someone was already inside his room. So I was there standing on the corridor in front of his office leaning against the wall with crossed legs with a document in one hand and a pen on the other running the tip of the pen going over each line again to make sure I have done a neat work. Just then an engineer passed by me and he impromptu asked ,with a straight face, “Getting ready for exam?” and immediately we both burst into laughter simultaneously. It is not a hilarious incident, but was one of those genuine moments.

Even after he was out of sight I just couldn’t stop giggling picturing myself in his shoes and seeing me standing like that there and I cannot but completely agree with his perspective. t was so true….standing like a college boy right before he enters the exam room, uncertainly going through the study notes for one last time. My body language fitting that scenario perfectly.

It makes me wonder how much your body language and mannerisms can gives away a lot about you. I don’t recollect having seen anyone else in my office who was standing the way I was in the corridor or say, with that kind of body language. I have seen people waiting outside offices, I have seen them with documents in hand; but none ever looked like ‘preparing for exam’.

I do feel at times that I still have that student hangover in spite of having done away with college almost 2 years ago (maybe the after effect of spending a bit too much time there than expected).

It was entirely involuntary from my part to stand there the way I did, but now that I am conscious of it, I do want to change it. Not that there is anything wrong with it, its just that I j don't want it to be that way anymore and I certainly do not know how. It could either be one of the two - maybe there a fine line between acting like a student and a professional which I need to cross....or maybe I just need to grow up!

AVS

baby talk

Disclaimer: It is just a goofy post for the heck of it. Neither it made much sense while drafting, nor is expected while reading.

The very first word of a kid holds a special place in the life of his/her parents. And invariably the magic word would be 'ma' or 'pa' (or some other close variant of that). Hence, its of at most joy when he/she starts to talk and they go ecstatic and with much delight they spread the glad news to all near and dear, going over the moon explaining how their own blood called them out for the very first time.

In the last few months, I have been in gatherings/get-togethers where I have come across couple of my married acquaintances with toddlers. And naturally, someone would ask about the kid and the conversation would slip into how the babies are doing their growth developments. In one such gathering the conversation was about how one of the babies had started to talk and an attempt to make him repeat 'ma' in front of the present audience. He did repeat his performance much to the delight of the parents and the joy of the others, but it got me wondering….why is it that the first words of most toddlers are either 'ma' or 'pa'. Why is it always that? And why is 'ma' is the short form for mother in almost all languages around the globe?

Couldn’t it have been the other way round - that sound 'ma' started representing mother since most children manage to utter that sound before any other. Maybe it’s the easiest phonetic that a toddler is capable of producing and hence there so called first word. So the question to ask is not from when the kid started talking, with the word ma; but from when on did ma became a synonym for mother.

I am not an expert of the etymology and no way claiming to be an linguistic expert, but it cannot be just chance that Ma or Pa became mother and father universally!

Maybe some clever elderly in some family many many generations ago might have come up with this idea “first sound produced by all in our family has been ma, since they have been in close proximity with his/her mother, lets make that then synonym for mother”.

.... I still wonder!

(On an personal note, I have been told that my first word was aani or aana. Hard luck either way, since it means nail and elephant respectively in our dialect. Please spare a thought for the horror my parents would have had!)

AVS