Picking up the RAIT attitude

I watched the bollywood hit movie 3 Idiots (again) recently. The movie is about life in the Engineering campus. Being an engineer myself, I ended up relating a lot to the movie and some of its scenes. It inspired the writer in me to start typing a few memories from that life and in the process try and relive the nostalgia.

I passed H.S.C with flying colors (or so I thought) ... but soon enough I realized that my colors weren't flying high enough to land me into the top colleges of Bombay. So I took a tour of New Bombay (or Navi Mumbai as it is called now) the adjacent city to short list alternatives. A look at the vast RAIT campus (the D.Y.Patil campus) in Nerul and I was sold. Soon enough I'd secured admission into this college through the centralized admission system and here I was staring at the notice board in the college trying to figure out how my next four years were going to be. The college for First Year Engineering (F.E as we would be known for the rest of the year) hadn't started yet. I was there just to pay the fees.

Naive and idiotic as I was, I had traveled there all alone. After I was done with the formalities, I was looking for the canteen so that I could have a beverage to quench my thirst. RAIT then was notorious for "ragging" but I did not know that.
As I was wandering about clueless on the ground floor looking for canteen, I saw a friendly looking person with a book in hand. I figured it was good to ask for directions (rookie mistake no 1... never ask a senior for directions on day one). I think the book was really a decoy so that the spotter could trap gullible juniors like me.

This senior politely asked me if I was an FE. I did not understand the significance of this word yet. He even politely explained to me the meaning and then I said yes. Then instead of guiding me to the canteen (thankfully he did not - I learned later that canteen = hell for FEs) he took me to his classroom.

There I was in an FE's nightmare (if not hell). A classroom comprising of about 20 odd Second year (SE) boys spending their free lecture. I was the source of their entertainment. Now the whole infamy of the word ragging dawned upon me. The next one hour was spent with various connotations of the F*** word and S** words being hurled at me. If I thought something was a joke and opened my mouth to smile I was to flush my smile (can't describe the meaning .. but it sort of equates to flushing after shit in the potty). One of the early scenes of the movie 3 idiots shows a bunch of juniors being "ragged" by a bunch of seniors with a customary salute ("Jahapanah tussi great ... tofah kabool karo"). I was also taught a similar (less vulgar) salute (aka RAIT salute). Towards the end of the hour a few girls entered the classroom. I was thanking God for getting me out of this nightmare ... but I was wrong. The Nightmare just got worse for this shy guy (yours truely) cause I used to be a shy guy in front of girls. There was this bold female standing before me. One of the SEs behind me dared me to propose to her. As I was standing tongue tied in front of this female, she instantly pointed to huge Macho guy (for those who know me as a lean guy now, I was a bag of bones then weighing just about 50 Kgs). She mentioned that he was her boyfriend and if I dared say anything he would beat the crap out of me.
The next few moments seemed like an eternity and I was nearly sweating trying to figure out what to say. Finally the SEs decided to pity the nice guy in me. One senior walked with me out of the campus (lest some other SE catches me again).

The long 1.5 hr journey back home was a thought provoking one. I was feeling humiliated and questioning my decision to enter this college. Then I  thought,what the hell .. all they did was challenge me to open my mouth and hurled a few abusive words for being silent and shy. The one hour was an eye opener to the challenges of the real world. I was no longer in my neighborhood - the protected kid of protective parents. For my life hereon I would always be on my own in the world. Yes, the parents and well wishers would be there if I needed their help. However I would have to shape my life hereon. There dawned the my first lesson of Engineering - "Be Shameless" (which also loosely translated to be bold, give up your inhibitions etc).

A few days later I returned for the beginning of the first semester. I saw whole army of rats (read as FE). We had strength in numbers. But at the first sight of a cat (reads as SEs and any other seniors), the rats would disperse and hide in their rat holes (FE classroom). There my "be shameless" attitude became my boon. Thanks to my previous brush with seniors I was no longer afraid to hangout outside the classroom. The rest of the FEs were always hiding inside the classroom till evening and then run home. The very seniors who had been a part of my nightmare were now quite chatty with me (to be precise they wanted to sell their FE text books to the new batch). Among my batch mates, I was seen as a bold (aah .. a new meaning of shameless) FE as I would talk to the seniors.

I was even responsible for introducing a few FEs to SEs willing to sell books without first ragging the junior. I even learned (albiet not at my own expense) why the canteen was treated like an FEs hell. I ventured into canteen at lunch time. The canteen was inside the basement, with dull lighting. It seemed like dark dungeon. The smoke and steam from kitchen made it look like the dungeon's furnace. The place was certainly a little more than warm. There was a whole bunch of seniors (like an army of cats) busy with their stuff ...smoking, writing journals, discussing sports, discussing college politics, discussing their subjects, banging benches and also having food. Any single FE caught there would then serve as a source of entertainment for seniors for rest of the day. If one group had to leave the canteen, the FE would simply be passed around to the next group and so on. In that sense, for an FE, the canteen was really hell. Thankfully my previous acquaintances (nightmare) with some of the seniors meant that they
were now quite friendly with me. So if any unknown senior would serve thoughts of messing with me, these friendly guys would come to my rescue.

Over the next month I had metamorphosed, from a shy guy who cared about a lot of things people said to or about him, to somebody who didn't give a damn about things people said about him. I learned to "be myself" and be proud about being that self. This next month was also the month where most FEs dreaded the seniors. All of us in FE did not have our names ... we just had one collective name "FE". If a senior shouted across the floor "Aye FE" it meant run for your life. Of course my early brush with seniors meant that I was unafraid of the seniors or ragging. Towards the end of the month, was the grand FE nite - party thrown by the seniors to all FEs. It was the informal welcome from all seniors to juniors and and end of the period of dreading the seniors. From now on no senior would attempt to trouble this batch of juniors. This was kicked off by some seniors doing the RAIT salute in front of juniors.

Of course the word ragging took a new meaning for us for the next four years. We learned (as Viru Sahasrabuddhe from 3 idiots would say) that "life is a race". Every one in the college would be there ragging us (so to speak). There were the boring lectures where some bad lecturers threatened us into attending lectures with "attendance norms". There were the lab assistants who would make faces at us as they handed out old and crappy lab equipment for the practicals as if they were handing out their life savings. Then there were the term work Submissions at end of each sem, where each of bold and dauntless students were reduced to mowing like cows in the hope that our Term work would be accepted and we would be cleared without the ignominy of KT (aka Allowed to Keep Terms - which I'll explain in my next RAIT blog). That one hour of ragging was nothing compared to the torture that the college staff would put us through over the next four years. To say the least, the very seniors whom we avoided for the first month, were to become our saviors over the next couple of years. They would provide us tips and tricks (besides books, journals and notes) to help tide through the term work submissions and exams.

Its has been more than a decade since my FE status.Almost a decade now since I left my college, I don't remember much of what was taught in my curriculum...The extra curricular stuff though (including that little one hour nightmare) did prepare me for my life thereafter and so far. Alongside the "be shameless" and "be myself", I learned several small lessons over the next fours years that I collectively call the "RAIT attitude" (pronounced Right attitude).

Attention around ragging by both college and law enforcement has increased and they are rather strict. In most colleges FE students need not hide like rats. But I ask, has the ragging really stopped.... I mean the students may have stopped ragging their fellow students. The real ragging by the system and enforcers continues in the name of exams, term work and syllabus. The emphasis is still on theory and mugging than on creativity, innovation and learning.
Signing off this one - hoping that future RAIT students learn a little more than just the RAIT attitude.


PS : For a more funnier account of Joys of being and FE click this link from another fellow RAITian who writes the blog named Dirtscapes
I also thank him for inspiring this blog and in general indirectly influencing my writing style.

Watch out Monginis

In a departure from my usual ramblings, today I am attempting to write a report. Before I begin, I should thank (or curse) two of my regular blog fans for literally forcing me in to writing this one..

Last week I was happened to visit a community fun fair where one of my blog fans (aka Narad) and his better half (more importantly the better half) had invited me.... It was a rare public appearance by your truly in capacity as a famous blogger. So what if my fan list is smaller than the number of fingers on my hand - one of my articles was published recently in Mumbai DNA's print edition. I think that qualifies me as famous (wonder what DNA was thinking when they published me ... but who cares .. I am in the newspaper)...

Now that I have been my boastful self for a paragraph, it is time to shift focus to Mrs Narad's culinary treats. The inside story is that Narad was often found sneaking into bakeries to gorge some Muffins.. That sparked Mrs. Narad into considering an expansion of her then limited Culinary skills to add muffins to the list. Months later, I found myself as an observant (read greedy) bystander at her cake and muffin stall in the fun fair.

After spending time attempting to ogle around in the crowd, I realized that there was nothing much other than food to spark my interest. At dusk bucket loads of muffins arrived with Mrs Narad, her family and my other blog fan (Mitra - who was hired as photographer). At first look, I was a little overwhelmed by sheer number of bakery products (both in number and variety). Not to mention, I was also skeptical about the possibility of a sell out. For a change my skepticism would have sweet rewards. I mean if Mrs. Narad failed to sell the muffins, I as a friend would have to step in to help avoid wastage. (In essence I was hoping for a free take out order).

Apparently a whole weekend of hard work had gone into preparatory work and now was the time for the acid test ... or should I say taste bud test. The first few minutes went by hoping for customers to show up... Having a few friendly customers drop by helped. A few of muffins left the store and soon enough caught the eye of the kids. Mrs. Narad seemed to know how to make the package attractive to the customers that matter. So not only were they baked well to taste and texture, they were neatly boxed up and appropriate creamy and colorful toppings added to catch the eye of any wandering kids. Soon enough we saw a crowd of kids around the store. All busy staring and choosing what the wanted to eat. So kids who had now developed a craving for muffins were seen coming back to give in to their temptations.

The interesting thing about having a kid fan base is that they have an amazing power of influence Of course with their power of influence they were back with their parents which meant that customer base had now doubled itself. In all the frenzy that followed, I noticed one 6 yr old who kept coming to the stall despite repeated attempts of grandpa, to advertise that muffins aren't quite healthy. (sure Grandpa so much sugar ... so many extra calories). But the bundle of energy that they are, kids don't really need bother about the guilt that we grown ups have after consuming those calories. Persistence payed off, and grandpa caved in to her demands after 3 attempts to draw her attention elsewhere.

That gesture said several things to me ... For one, Narad & co had figure how to woo their customers. More importantly, it meant that my free take out was not going to be there. I quickly turned around to the customer side of the stall and paid for a banana muffin (yes ... the cheapskate me had to pay ), lest they run out of the good stuff before I get a good bite. Sure enough the muffin was worth every penny.Thus Narad & co was the first stall to wind up for the day .. alas they were sold out !!!. I would like add a little futuristic prediction here. In years to come if and when Mrs. Narad gets tired of her software career & economics permitting, baking certainly seems to be an tasty venture. Only time will tell if I am right, till then Watch out Monginis..

If you are still reading this its probably a few hundred words already and I know a picture is apparently worth a thousand words. So here are the links to the photo blog from Mitra
Mesmerizing Muffin Madness -I.
Mesmerizing Muffin Madness -II

Dumb-a-dumb

All my blog fans might look at the title and think what a dumb title. Yes unlike most of my posts, not much thought has been given to the title. The title is merely a word play on the actual subject of the post - the movie Damadam.
While I usually don't write about movies (except for one article four years ago about a changing Bollywood), I do watch a lot of movies in 3 different languages. Movies are merely a way of quick entertainment and I prefer not to spend time thinking or writing about them. So what happened today to get me to write about movies... Nothing special. Thanks to some utter dumb-witted sibling banter and useless show of bravado - I ended up in the movie theater to watch this movie.
The ordeal that followed, ensured that this movie got its own share of fame on my blog.

Rewind a few weeks:
Me and my bro - two couch potatoes are in front of the idiot box and a promo of this movie shows up. Some banter ensues around the worst movies each of has endured and in trying to prove the ability to take on more crap we end up agreeing (in fact challenging each other) to a Ghatiya Film festival (GFF).
(For my non Indian readers - Ghatiya is hindi for "lousy")
The promo in question was none other than "Damadam".

So what is a Ghatiya Film festival. Take the usually entertaining Movie Hall visit to the next level by planning a series of "badly rated" new releases and watch them week after week. Being a fairly regular weekend movie goer means that GFF can happen simply because one drops by the movie theater by force of habit and watches any of the available flicks (ratings don't matter). In the words of Mogambo ka bhatija - the great Gogo - "Aaye hain - kuch na kuch dekh ke jayenge".

This was of course the first time we actually agreed deliberately to a GFF.
It wasn't hard to plan one as there are a bunch of lowly rated flicks releasing this time of the year. Of course Damadam (long before it was released or rated) made it to the list simply because it was a Himesh Reshmiya (HR) movie.

After postponing the start of this festival for various reasons like vacation outing, diwali, cleaning day (I think the real reason was both me and my bro were simply afraid to take up the challenge), we finally agreed to start of the GFF - thanks mainly to the release of Damadam. Minutes before leaving for the movie both of us were showing signs of weakness. The stakes were high - one who goes through the whole GFF whilst retaining sanity and consciousness wins the title of "Connoisseur of Crap". So acceptance of defeat meant that I lost claim to title and of course the bro gets the bragging rights which by the way - is a huge thing in sibling banter. Guess same thought was going through bro's mind as well.

Minutes later there we were at the theater, entering a dark near empty movie hall - wondering if we were the only 2 people who turned up for the movie. After taking seats we looked around (and heaved a sigh of relief) to note that we were not the only people in the hall. I had spent some time without pulling my hair. Then I looked at my watch. To my dismay what felt like at least half an hour in perceived time, was only 7 minutes on the watch. Suddenly Einstein's special theory of relativity had a new meaning. I am not sure if traveling at near velocity of light slows down time (as postulated by the great physicist). Watching HR certainly does.

After about 15 minutes in the movie (which seemed like an eternity), the only silver lining in the movie happened. Enter the boss's hot sister (Sonal Sehgal).
The rest of the movie was made more bearable thanks to that female who kept flashing her beautiful smile ever so often (and of course looked sexy in mini skirts). Despite that the torture, of watching HR display his ever so blank expression for pretty much all emotions and a drab script was so immense that I kept pulling my hair and staring at the watch. I even offered to my bro that we call it a draw and walk out at intermission (with both still in contention for the title).

Dumb pride can be a suicidal and we both proved exactly that to each other when we both returned in the hall after intermission with a bucket of pop corn and couple of cold soft drinks. I was returning with a mild headache - but the title contention meant we both dared to continue. The popcorn and soft drink gradually helped in drawing my attention away from the head ache and made the movie more bearable. A few more songs and several badly emoted scenes later the story went through a few minor twists and turns. The ending was with a song that censor board should perhaps adopt as an anthem (it has wordings like "no kissing noo kissing - only seeing .. only seeing").

On hind sight, I think the story was a little like one of those "ordinary" man Amol Palekar / Farooq Sheikh romantic comedies of the late seventies and early eighties. The comparison though is an insult to those movies (which I consider amongst some of the best comedies of bollywood). Over the years, I have seen my fair share of bad movies but this one challenges the worst of those movies.
When we both eventually walked out happy that we were both conscious and sane, we agreed that we both stood at same level with respect to the title contention. Perhaps we should not bother continuing with the GFF and hopefully Dumb-a-dumb has bestowed some common sense. Guess we'll really only know when we engage in our round of sibling banter.

To end this post - I would just like to say this - in the interest of the benefit of brave man kind who choose to watch "Dumb-a-dumb" - "You have been warned"

Mumbaikar - Uncomfortably Numb ?

Last few months I have found myself avoiding trying to write new posts on this blog, not only because I have been busy but also because of lack anything creative to write about.

Once again bomb blasts happened in Mumbai about a month ago. Yet the very next day, people were back on the roads, braving the heavy rains, crowded trains and their own fears. We Mumbaikars seem to have gotten so used to these things that our reactions to some of these events are bordering on the numbness. Politicians and Journalists are quick to attach adjectives such as bravery, resilience and like to the Mumbaikar. Is it really resilience or bravery? In the daily struggle to earn an honest living and support the family, an average Mumbaikar is just too pre-occupied in his/ her own daily routine and struggles, to be too worried about these external threats. The worries of rising prices, rents, monthly bills, water cuts, bad traffic and so on are just so overwhelming that there is little time left to worry about terrorist threats. All that we do is heave a sigh of relief knowing that self and near and dear ones are alive and kicking after that bomb blast.
This is numbness to the situation - no doubt. It however is an "Uncomfortable Numbness". To quote the protagonist common man from the movie "Wednesday" - "We are resilient by force and not by choice". The title of this article had struck me the very next day after the blasts but what am I going to write about this topic was my question.

My question answered itself today. We are not completely numb, we do feel the pinch of everything.
It is just that with 61yrs of being a part of a Democratic Republic, we have simply seem to have lost the hope that democracy offers. Not because democracy is hopeless, but because the corruption in this democracy has systematically destroyed all hope. Every time I go out to vote, I have to make a choice amongst several unworthy and corrupt candidates who just have promises. For too long has the government has enjoyed lack of accountability. This hopelessness has given rise to our numbness. This numbness has become our defense mechanism for protecting self from the troubles, we seem powerless to fight. I often find myself as a part of agitated debates and always the frustrations and hopelessness returned.

A few days ago I heard the news of one man demanding the end of Corruption. Anna Hazare and demands for Lokpal bill need no introduction. To be frank, I doubted this man's resolve and credibility when he first voiced his demands some months ago. However this time he backed his demands with a hunger strike and the resolve that has been equated (by media) with the famous Mahatma.
What has followed over the next few days has been unprecedented in the history of Free India.
His movement against corruption has captured the imagination of the old and the young alike. Again I am not reporting anything different from what the news channels are reporting. In fact my own numbness meant that I was conveniently ignoring the happenings around me and getting busy with my life. Living in a quite neighbourhood certainly helps.

Today though something different happened. On my way back home I noticed a crowd of familiar faces - friends and neighbours along with their families, taking to the streets with candles in hand and being vocal in their support to Anna's cause. These are not people swayed by a glib politician's eloquence. These are not people paid to form a crowd at a political rally. These are not people fanatic about cricket or religion. These are the same well educated, numb office goers who till yesterday formed a part of those inconsequential rants and arguments.
As I took the opportunity to take a few pictures, I could see those playful kids who cannot even spell corruption, cheerfully lead the way. The crowd ranged from 4 yr old toddlers to 70 year old grey hair.

This movement is a democratic movement in real sense of the term - "of the people, by the people, for the people", unlike the government which remains so only in the text books. Practically its full of corrupt politicians. It is thus not surprising at all that when the cause is so noble, the very politicians who are supposed to be representatives of the people, have stayed away from the cause. The opposition politicians who are usually very quick to point finger on the government on seemingly trivial issues are now simply mum. Perhaps standing for the cause is a suicide for the corrupt politician. Perhaps the corrupt politician is just waiting for the movement to die its natural death. Perhaps they are all conspiring to strike back at the people. Only time will tell.

For now this movement has given me and every Indian a new hope. I just hope that this movement gives its ultimate outcome, not the just the lokpal bill but the end of corruption. I hope that this movement does not die a premature death. I hope that the politicians wake up from filling their coffers and get on with the job they were chosen for - public service. I hope that for the sake of the 4 yr old holding the tri-colour, this movement means that he can grow up to earn an honest living in an honest country. I hope that the 70 yr old lives to see his 4 yr old grand kid become an honest youth driving the country.
I have nothing more to write for now - but just end this blog with the words "Hope is everlasting" and a few pictures from my neighbourhood which inspired this article.

Vande Mataram and Jai Hind.

Travails of the Chromatically challenged

A large number (read as 2) of my blog fans have noticed that I have not been writing for a while. I wasn't aware that people can actually miss my online presence, but with two fans personally pointing that out to me, I am sure that my whole fan club is craving for more (and even if they are not .. I am still writing this post). Let me just say here that I have been too busy lately. Also I have not had any epiphanies of creativity to prompt me too start typing vigorously. However there is this one post that has been in my mind for a while so I think its time for me break my silence over this topic.

Humans have a very perceptive eyesight in that we can distinguish several colours unlike many animals who mostly see monochromatic shades. Thus when we see things around us we see several colours and have come up with several words to describe them. There probably are hundred or more words in our vocabulary just to name the colours. Then there are those of us who cannot describe so many colours, not because we lack the vocabulary, but simply because we lack the ability to attach a specific word to the colour that we see. I am not entirely sure if there is a word to describe this scenario. So I have come up the the phrase "Chromatically Challenged".

At the risk of sounding a sexist, I am going to put the claim that most men are chromatically challenged (at least I am one). I am not putting a percentage here as I do not have a scientific study to prove that. The rest of this article is purely a aggregation of my observations and experiences in this matter. Those who agree with me read on to find points to support this argument. Those who don't, read on and I hope by the end of the article you will agree with me.

A few years ago I used to travel quite regularly between Mumbai and Pune. Often a female friend of mine would be there in the bus and we ended up chatting about several useless topics. One of my first discussions around colours was with her. Somewhere within one such discussion I pointed out that most guys were not capable of describing more than 24 colours. She suddenly became defensive about guys and argued that they could do better.So we decided to start counting the colours that I could describe. The next half an hour was spent with me trying hard to go up to 25. She ensured that she threw enough names of colours to help me get to that point, however a lot of names almost fell on deaf ears as I couldn't distinguish the colours. I think eventually I stopped around 22 (and may I point that I tried very hard to go beyond that number). Ever since I have presented this argument to several guys and almost always my point has been validated.

Exercise:
I have been thinking about making my articles more interactive so I think it is now time to give an exercise to my readers. Please try naming the colours you can recognize. There are two simple rules here if you know a word as a color but you can't name it when you see it then it does not count. This rule is specifically for those intellectuals who think it is their duty to expand their vocabulary but by virtue of being chromatically challenged cannot use that expanded vocabulary to good effect. There is another rule - use of words light and dark prefixed to colors don't count as new colour names (go polish your vocabulary in this case).

Now time for exercise results :

1. If you are a guy and scored more than 24 :
   You are artistically oriented (e.g. you like painting and thus know your colours), or the knowledge of additional colours has been enforced upon you by the significant women in your life (wife / girlfriend and in some cases mother, sister). In case of the enforced knowledge it could also be the case where you are in a profession which requires the knowledge of colours (e.g. you sell women's clothing). If you are the former than its time to consider giving up your well paying desk job (I don't think any real artists read my blog) and moving to become what you really dream of. Don't blame me though if you end up becoming broke. That will most likely happen as you would realize that your feeling of being artistic was also enforced upon you.
2. If you are a guy and scored less than 24:
   Its perfectly normal. After all you are the subject of this blog.
3. If you are a girl and scored more than 24:
   Don't worry its perfectly normal. It is your duty to teach the significant men (son, husband, brother) in your life to break the barrier.
4. If you are a girl and scored less than 24:
   I didn't actually think that this category was practically possible. However since its a logical possibility I have to write something here. Either you are a girl who is in early stages of learning English (in which case you are really category 3 but only need to add a few words to your vocabulary to move there) or you are hypothetical.

Now comes the part when I did deeper into travails of the category 2 - aka the Chromatically Challenged aka men.

To start with I postulate that when it comes to colours it is the men who are the weaker sex.
Imagine when it comes to formal office clothes what are the options that we men have ?.
Full Shirt, pant, tie and sometimes the suit / blazer to make it very formal. Again the range of colours that is most popular here is very short- blue, black, white, brown, gray. When it comes to shirts they variety of colours can be expanded a little with entries like green,cream, yellow, orange , red etc. There are very few patterns and colours available really. It is almost as if the fashion world somehow conspired to give all men a uniform look. I know men in Uniform are supposed to look smart. However, compare that with females they simply have too many options not just in colours, but also in the variety of dresses that are acceptable in formals. In fact in India apart from generally accepted western formals, a whole lot of Indian traditional wear are also accepted as formals (e.g. Sarees, punjabi suits). Not the same case with men. The moment one of us men decides to walk in to office in an Indian traditional formal wear (like Kurta) it better be some festive occasion or you are going to get asked to explain your "informal" dressing.Of course since this article is about colours, the type of dressing is not quite the point, but you get the drift.

Coming back to the choice of colours (rather the lack of it), for a chromatically challenged individual though it is not that bad. It makes life so much easier when it comes to selecting the colours on anything (not just clothes, but accessories, electronics, cars etc). Imagine a person who can barely count more than a dozen colours having to make choice of one of 99 colours If you are a man its probably hard to believe that any product can have a choice of those many colours -so check this site from TVS Scooty. So in general we men are happy with our limited choices in colours but the problem starts when we have to go shopping with women.
Since I have sighted the Scooty as an example, imagine a guy shopping for his little sister so she can have a cool ride to her college. She pulls up the colour chart and picks 3 colours from that - Ruby, Toreador red and Rouge Babylone. Now perhaps women see them as 3 colours, but for us guys they are all red. So the little sister here is putting dear bro in a fix by giving him 3 choices - A - Red, B - Red,C- Red. Now when bro picks A, the next question will go something like why not B or C. Poor bro is now having justify why he picked A against B and C while in his mind he thinking "inny mini myna moe... whatever, lets just make the payment and take it home".

I know by now some of the ladies reading this article are thinking, "hang on - my husband / boy friend knows colours well. He always helps me in shopping with distinctive opinions on each choice". Lady don't be fooled. He is likely a very smooth lair. He must have also told you that he loves you like hell and you are the most beautiful woman and blah blah .
For the rest of the ladies its either shopping with your other female friends or having to one out of below possibilities (when shopping with your beloved)

• a quick and decisive choice with no justification (because the guy is just busy with some gadget or wants to get home to catch the cricket match).
• an eternity of confused indecision (case in point the choices between A,B,C above).
• (can't think of other possibilities really ... guys enlighten me by putting some comments)

I think I have been rambling along, to the point of this article now becoming a bore. So I think I should end this article now, but as I do it, I will leave a cheat sheet of how chromatically challenged see some colours.
In the below list are the names for colours that are clearly seen by chromatically challenged individuals.
White, Black, Red, Green, Blue, Yellow, Pink , Orange, Violet, Gold, Silver, Gray, Brown, Indigo, Cream.
Yeah if you were counting that's just about 15 colours. Most other colours can simply be described by prefixing the above with the words "light" or "dark" or by denying that they are even colours. Men reading this blog you may stop here.
For the women who are still reading, here is a list of colours that you know and men don't (the words in brackets indicate how most men would describe those colours). Please spare us by not trying to teach us that difference between the 15 colours above and the rest. We are happy to use the words in brackets.

1. Mauve (light violet)
2. Lilac (light violet)
3. Lavender (violet)
4. Magenta (dark pink)
5. Peach (that's a fruit not a colour... ok if you insist it is light orange).
6. lime (light green)
7. purple (indigo)
8. Navy blue (dark blue)
9. Aqua (other name for water .. .oh wait that's light blue)
10. Sky (Sky is blue .. my teacher taught me that)
11. Cyan (light blue)
12. Mint (light green)
13. Olive (that's a fruit not a colour)
14. Tan (light brown)
15. Beige (light brown)
16. Maroon (dark red)
17. Ruby (is a precious stone)

Spock's tricorder

Star Trek fans can relate with both the tricorder and Mr. Spock. So imagine an episode from the series  - Spock lands on an alien planet. He draws out his tricorder and starts scanning the atmosphere around him. He hears a noise and learns the its a native life form attempting to communicate with him. He uses his universal translator to understand the alien and communicate back. As he is about to bid adieu he gets a call from Captain Kirk inquiring about his findings. 15 years ago  this was science fiction.

Fast forward into today. Imagine yourself flying (should I say beaming) to China on a business trip. You land at the city of Shanghai. Unable to comprehend Chinese, you draw your mobile phone. You open the translator application on phone and speak English into the phone which in turn translates it into Chinese so the cab driver can take you to the right destination. On your way you scan the surrounding with your reality browser application and get instant information about the various places that you see.
Just as you get off from the cab you get a call from your boss to check if you have reached the venue of your conference.

If we ignore the hole that international roaming and 3g data connectivity creates into our pockets, the situation of Spock and my imaginary visit to China ain't too different. Today's mobile phone is no different from Spock's tricorder. Technology is changing our life even as I use my tricorder to write this log. Pity voice to text isn't quite working on my mobile (tricorder) yet. Else I could have simply dictated this blog. Guess this tricorder still has a few functions desired, but we are getting there.

Android geekdom

I got hold of an android  phone a few weeks ago. Since then I spend more time online using my phone as if it were a pc. My dear home desktop must be craving for some attention. But I guess it will have to wait its turn as for now I am preferring my phone for anything remotely connected with communication. Besides this post is dedicated to android phone and how it appeals to the geek inside me.

Soon after me buying this phone , my office lunch group was planning an outing. On the pen-ultimate day came the requirement that we needed to colate everyone's phone numbers. Suddenly I woke up from my hibernation and mentioned that i had all phone numbers on my phone book and volunteered to mail everyone the same.

Now all i had to do was open outlook on my work desktop and type in all names and numbers and send. That of course is not quite as geeky as i would like. So i decided that i will use my android effectively. First task was to transfer contacts online without typing them. So In absence of a much desired 3g connection I used my GPRS internet to sync my contacts to Google addressbook. Next I realised that our corporate intranet had blocked gmail access from inside the firm's network. So even though All contacts were online I could not access them. Give up and type ..? No way! not when I am so close.

A little thought and I realised that iGoogle has a contacts gadget. So I imported the same on my igoogle page. Luckily this gadget was not blocked. So i picked all contacts of my interest and exported as csv. Now with those open on my desktop it was a mere copy paste send routine. The sweet accomplishment was that my goal was achieved without typing a single letter on my keyboard.

So now its time to blog this. So here I am typing this on the blogger app on my latest android phone, which uses my home wifi network to go online. Geeky and loving it.

A salute to my XBOX

Ever since as a kid when I first saw an Atari console at a friend's place, TV video games always fascinated me. However they were quite pricey then and I didn't dare ask my dad for one.
Even when I got my first computer while in college. I had to convince my Mom that I was going to use it strictly to supplement my engineering education (i.e. programming, research etc).
With computer a whole new avenue of education and entertainment (mostly the later) opened up. Soon enough I found myself fighting with my brother over usage of the computer. Both of us were completely hooked on to computer games (mostly strategy and simulation). Given that we were in our teens we also used it for educational purposes (perhaps not the education that my Mom intended .. but you get the point).

Years passed, I graduated with flying colors (i.e. managed to clear all subjects and got a job). The gaming hobby was now in my blood but being away from home meant I was away from my dear computer as well. Soon enough I found myself in an "Electronics City" store in the US staring at a whole bunch of different gaming consoles. My research had already narrowed the choice between the Playstation II and XBOX. There I was staring at all those consoles with a look of "the kid in the candy store". It was the day after Thanksgiving sale and while rest of my roommates were busy coming up with strategies to lay their hands on the best deals on their electronic gadgets (cameras, mobile phones, laptops and so on). Here I was in the gaming section, staring at the XBOX (being sold at its regular price), a 10 year old kid caught inside the body of a 23 yr old me. Finally the temptation, to own the only gaming console in the neighborhood, won (definition of neighborhood here is limited to the few Indians who lived in the same apartment complex and worked for the same client).

On day one I got my first controller and a Star Wars game. Of course no one else among my roommates were interested in Star wars itself, let alone being interested in seeing me play a unskilled Obi-Wan on the only T.V. available in the room. So I had to struggle to get hold of the T.V. for games. I figured the only way I could play games on that T.V. if they were all interested in playing the same game as me and I had to have extra controllers.

Thus I got Dead Or Alive III and one extra controller. Soon enough everyone found that with human opponents button mashing the controllers, the fighting games provided far bigger challenges then the ones they had scene as kids. When I returned to India, it was even easier to get my roommates hooked onto games. Soon we found ourself planning new strategies, learning new attack - defense combos to beat each other. Of course DOA was not only about fighting. The beautifully designed female fighters added to the visual treat - of watching the ladies gracefully execute the moves. I think we eventually got over the visual treat and were all interested in beating each other fair and square. Although the best fighters - Jan lee, Hayabusa and Brad Wong (think mostly due to the ease of controlling them) were all male, who can ignore Helena, Kasumi, Leifang or Ayane.

I think the funniest fight I can remember was a day before leaving Bangalore for good. Me and two of my dearest roomies most of us drunk to the point of being emotional. Then we got in to a discussion about who amongst us was a better fighter. Obviously being the owner of the console, I had to bet on being the best. While being a few pegs down and barely able to keep my head stable let alone being half asleep, I was betting against all odds. More so because the other guy who used Hayabusa to very good effect, had already beaten all of us and he had not been drinking that day. Since I was drunk, it had to be Brad Wong, the drunken master who was my character of choice. After all this way I could feel one with the character that I was playing online. I don't remember how many fights we had decided on, but half way through my only supporters (the other two drunk guys) fell asleep. Then it was only me, with no cheering concentrating as hard as I could. The only other sane person in the room (chacha) was having a hearty laugh watching my butt (or rather brad wong's behind) getting kicked as also watching me move in the same way as my character moved on screen. After a lot of effort I did eventually I win (or was it that Hayabusa let me win). However all the effort meant that I stayed away from drinks for a long while after moving from Bangalore.

My second trip to US brought with it a few more new roomies and opportunity to improve my portfolio of games (which was limited to 2 at that point). So the famous Halo - a game largely considered the reason for the popularity of the XBOX itself, made its debut on my console. Soon enough I found myself playing the Mithun da / Rajnikanth of gaming aka Master Chief. Master Chief provided me with several hours of the vicarious thrill of shooting several evil Aliens. Most missions typically started with a few supportive fellow humans (computer controlled dumb soldiers who usually died long before a particular mission was accomplished). However soon enough, I would find myself the lone soldier taking on hordes of Aliens.

Halo's music track was quite engrossing, the alien opponents were quite smart and switched their stance between being aggressive to being stealthy depending on the situation. While first person shooters have improved drastically over the years, I think the strong story line, engrossing sound track and most importantly the relatively smart AI really helped Halo gain its cult status. Once I had completed a significant number of levels, the challenge started to become redundant and only the number of aliens increased. A few new and hardy aliens came up to improve the challenge, but by now I realized that I needed to involve my room mates for lasting fun. Soon enough two more controllers were bought and saturday afternoons or friday nights became battle time.

After trying different battle configurations we found that all of us were pretty slow shooters and not meant for a fast deathmatch. However we all loved to play the hide and seek using sniper rifles. Again it is not really hide and seek if you can see through the eyes of all 4 players (i.e. 4 way split screen), but every now and then we managed to sneak into places that the other 3 guys wouldn't know and then the battle was on. I remember a short battle where me and one my roomie aka "Master Chef" (note the missing I) were literally facing off. Thanks to the split screen we could both see each other. One guy hiding in a den somewhere in the mountain and the other guy hiding behind a distant tree. We both kept moving and shooting at each other for a few minutes without a single bullet touching each other (so much for being good snipers and all ). During this whole battle we felt like those cowboys from the movies. Those few minutes we were pretty much in the same hiding place and those gun shots felt like taking an eternity to get close to the other guy. Yet when the fight was eventually settled, it had only been a little over a couple of minutes (I think). I think the Chef eventually won, gaining his crown as the best with the Sniper rifle, but we had just fought an epic battle (at least for epic for all the roomies).

Not all good things last and neither did our Halo battles. I had to move to a different location on project deputation and was now at a place where I did not have half a dozen friends or roommates. Then I discovered the fun of XBOX live with DOA2 Ultimate and Halo 2, the live versions of 2 of my favorite games. Playing over internet had its advantages and disadvantages.
On the bright side, I was never a lone player and with just a few clicks could play online and face off against world's best.
The disadvantages however outweighed the advantages. I was good at beating the computer and would often feel overconfident and decide to go online for a real test. Only then did I realize that the world's best were true pros. So not only that I lost, almost every time I suffered humiliating defeats sealing my status as an amateur at best. Besides having gotten used to playing on split screen, the lack of it meant that I couldn't see through my opponents eyes, which only made my situation worse. Even so I think I managed a decent amateur ranking later on in DOA. While playing on internet provided a challenge, the fun of beating roomates and teasing them in face was definitely missing. Nevertheless I still remember those good times of playing on internet.

Years have passed since those fun days. The live version DOA2 has been stopped for ever and replaced by its successor (DOA4). The XBOX console I used is now two generations (by gaming console age) old. My own console is rusting in peace underneath a cloth that hides it like a kafan. The few wires hanging from it serve as the reminders of those good times. Those memories itself have started fading in my mind. So I thought it would be best to post them online. It feels as if I am writing an eulogy for a dead pet just before doing its last rites. As I sign off, I have found a store which claims to be able resurrect my dear XBOX. So I sign off with the hope that I will be able to let it live an after life and maybe even relive some of those memories.

Are Vegetarians hypocrites ?

I happened to read a small article about PETA and their advertising strategy in India. Despite being a staunch non-vegetarian by diet, I believe in their purpose of treating animals with due respect. After all if I want to eat a chicken it better be a healthy well bred chicken. That however is besides the point. My little knowledge of PETA and most supporters of vegetarian diet (India surely has a very high proportion of Vegetarians) begs the question if they really mean what they say or are they plain hypocrites.

Personally I have been a vegetarian (Lacto vegetarian to be precise) in past and I am sure I am a hypocrite (although I try to convince myself otherwise) on several ideologies of mine . So I believe it qualifies me to examine certain arguments made in favour of vegetarianism. In India, generally or colloquially vegetarian means Lacto Vegetarian.The more restrictive Vegan, Jain vegetarianism also exist. In the rest of the blog Veg - means the Lacto vegetarian form unless otherwise specified.

Since me turning to the dark-side (read as as turning non-veg) I have heard several arguments about turning veg again. Lets examine some of them based on some actual arguments that I have had in past. To make this slightly intereting, I am now going to take some creative liberty and create a few fictional characters - Jimesh Jain (the name says it - staunch follower of the jain way), Madhav Oak (Hindu - Kokanastha Brahmin - a confused lacto vegetarian) and Shelly Fernandez (a recently converted Vegan ).
Me and my fictional characters are having lunch together and among other things mine contains a well done steak and some chicken nuggets.

Madhav Oak (Maddy) : Dude what is that dark red meat that you are eating.
Me : Steak.
Maddy : I mean is that mutton or pork.
Me : Neither. Its beef.
Maddy (Exclaims in shock ): How can you eat cow? You are an insult to Hinduism.
Me (Cool as a cucumber): And why would eating a cow be an insult to Hinduism.
Maddy : For one, Cow is worshiped as a holy animal, the Kamadhenu. Secondly you do drink cow's milk so in a sense its like your mother.
Me (Looking at Maddy 's footwear). Aren't those Lee Cooper shoes ?
Maddy (with a sense of pride) : Yup. Good quality ones and great style, not to mention the brand. But why? You are digressing from the topic.
Me : Hmm. Just wondering what kind material would it be. Are those made of cotton, linen or nylon.
Maddy : Moron, it is leather.
Me : So it is alright to be wearing the "holy cow" in your feet but it is unholy to eat its meat. Let me put it this way, I am just eating the meat from the dead animal which was killed to make your shoes. As far as Religious belief goes, I am not really that religious. I don't see such a great distinction between the Cow and any of the other animals we eat.
Maddy (Now a little defensive): Hey I don't eat any animals or their eggs. I am a pure veggie.
Me: So what's your definition of veggie. No animals or animal products ?.
Maddy : Of course. I take the point about leather. Will considering moving to non - leather alternatives for formal shoes (wondering if there are any formal shoes which are not made of some kind of animal skin). However in general, I think we should not be harming animals for food.

Me: Interesting point. In that case you should also stop having milk or milk products. (Maddy looks startled again).
Two simple reasons
a. It is an animal product. And if we go by the animal product = non-veg definition then milk definitely falls in that category.
b. If we go with no harm to animals, then think again. The calf isn't jumping gleefully when it is taken away from its mother so that the dairy farmer can take the milk and transport it to us.
(At this point Maddy is feeling dejected as if his principles of religion and vegetarianism have been blown inside out. Shelly decides to take my case now).

Shelly: Yeah.. Milk and eggs kind of blur the distinction between Veg and non-veg. That's why I have gone vegan. I eat neither milk nor eggs. Why should we harm animals so that we can have food. There are so many varieties of plants and their products that should suffice.

Me: So do you don't eat farm products - rice, wheat, and so on.
Shelly: Of course I eat them. Didn't I say plants / their products.
Me : No I mean't "no animals should be harmed for food". So obviously you shouldn't eat agricultural products.
Shelly : Why ? What's wrong with agriculture ? How does me eating agriculture products amount to killing of animals.

Me: Yeah.. That is true, you don't kill any animals for eating agriculture products.
You just happen to accidentally add boric acid or like to preserve rice. The bugs just get a high from that and decide to give up rice cause it is like having drugs ...
Oh come on, how can you forget all the insects and rodents that had to be destroyed so that that rice can make it to your table in one piece.

Jimesh Jain (JJ) (So far he has been quietly nibbling away his food and enjoying the lesser mortals squabble over veg - non veg). The true way is the Jain way. We do not eat any animal products. We do not believe in harming animals in any way. In fact to avoid eating animals we don't even eat anything that grows underground, as typically its the abode of some organisms. We believe that we should not have to consume anything that has life for the sake of self.

Me : Dude, with all due respect to your religious beliefs, I think you are being a hypocrite as well. Let us assume for the moment that some how, you only eat the unharmed, untouched left overs after any insects and rodents have had their share of the agriculture products. i.e. avoided harming life for sake of self. But farming itself requires so much land. To feed the ever increasing demand, we end up clearing vast parts of forest land for farming. Not to mention - that even existing farms employ all sorts of chemicals to kill pests even during the process of growing. So harming animals is not exactly something that you can avoid.

JJ (maintaining his buddha smile) : Yeah, with modern technology some things are inevitable. However at least we can avoid killing some form of life by staying veg. Think about the scene, where a huge knife is used to chop the chicken's head and the blood starts flowing through it. Don't you even have some empathy ?. We have so many laws prohibiting killing of humans, but that animal can't even speak against its killing. It feels so cruel.

Me : So you are saying that its cruel to be killing animals cause they can't even protest against it.

JJ : Yes. In general the we believe in non violence.

Me : Do you know how crops are harvested. All the plants (crops) in the field are cut from above the ground, which means that basically "killed" just that the name for this killing is a euphemism called harvest. So while it may seem non-violent as no red liquid gets spilled during this process, the killing still happens.

JJ (now sort of shaken off his foundations) : Yeah but we got to eat something to survive. In that sense plants are meant to be consumed as food. We make an effort to apply the bare minimum amount of violence as necessary for survival.

Me : I agree with that point to some extent. The only big difference is that I don't bother making a distinction between veg and non veg for the convenience of religious principles. I will have to eat some form of life and therefore I really don't care if that form is plant or animal. The only principle is survival. .....
...

This argument would probably continue (and might even get ugly) if JJ,Maddy and Shelly were real people. However I think I made my point. Stepping out of my imaginary conversation, I think there are some side effects of civilizations. One such effect is food is not meant only for survival. It has several socio - economic impacts. These socio - economic aspects associated with food mean that we as "civilized" humans have created very violent occupations which can be collectively pooled in agriculture and food processing (aka dairy farming, meat processing et all). Every morsel of food we consume, or cloth we wear almost always has some form of violence involved and with human population explosion that violence is inevitable.
What we call as civilization is perhaps worse in this respect than the aborigines or tribals who dwell at the fringe of civilization. At least they have learned to live in harmony with their surroundings.

The only real alternative to go the "non violent" way would be to go ascetic like an ancient sanyasi who would survive in the forest with only fruits and roots taking due care that no seeds (carriers of life) are harmed. Of course most of civilized beings aren't capable / ready to survive that way (not to mention the lack of sufficient forests to follow that lifestyle).

So until we accept true sanyas or invent /evolve a photosynthetic gadget to simply convert incident energy into food for survival, we will have to consume some life to survive. Which means there is no point whining about non - vegetarianism being unethical or violent. All veggies really do in the process is establish themselves as hypocrites.

Disclaimer -
This article is not meant to belittle or malign any religious faith. My apologies to any readers who feel that I may have harmed their religious sentiments. That was definitely not the intent.
This blog is only an attempt to rationalize the validity of the popular culture around vegetarianism.
You could be a vegetarian for various reasons like religion (the jain way), guilt (I saw blood spew out from the goat's neck at the neighbourhood slaughterhouse), fear of disease (e.g. bird or avian flu) or simply taste (I don't like meat). It is the reader's individual opinion and faith that governs their choice of diet.
All I am doing here is laying out my own opinion around the topic (albeit with the help of that imaginary discussion). There are also some very good reasons to being veggie (other than ethics or violence), but that is "besides the point".

The Green Hitchhiker

On my way back from workplace I often drop some of my colleagues who stay nearby by my home. Sometimes I even give a ride to hitchhikers near by my work place. However today I found the most unusual hitchhiker. I was cursing the Mumbai traffic as I was stuck on the Gandhinagar, Kanjurmarg Railway over bridge. Its a routine traffic jam at this point. The usual honking, was on. There were the young entrepreneurs selling roasted peanuts. Of course there were all the fumes bellowing out of the vehicle emission outlets.

Amongst all this and my impatience, I noticed something that looked like a piece of green leaf perched on top of my bike's dashboard. A few minutes later I was startled when I noticed that the leaf was moving. It was not a leaf but a grasshopper (or some other similar creepy crawly) approximately the size of my thumb. The insect moved around for a while before deciding to settle down near the direction indicator button. As the traffic started clearing I drove into the eastern express highway expecting that as I picked up speed the insect would either be blown away or fly off.
As I was riding, I could still see the green hitchhiker from the corner of my eye. This hitchhiker was certainly not going to give up its free ride. The speed, the cold wind, the bikes rumbling engine, the potholes nothing seemed to deter its resolve to stay perched on the bikes handle.
For the next 20 minutes or so I did not touch the indicator but used hand signal to indicate my intent every time I had to turn. By the time I got home I was half expecting the insect to be still around. My expectations were met when I entered my building gate with the fella still resting on the bike's handle. So I decided that this arthropod deserved more fame and its about time to put it on my blog.

She commands respect

Its beginning of 2009.
She is a curvaceous beauty, looking alluring in black with dashes of chrome. I just brought her home and am looking at her still unable to believe that I have actually taken the plunge and got into this commitment.

Pause your thoughts....
Before the readers start getting any thoughts about me getting into commitment, let me clarify ... I am not referring to a female of the human species. I am only referring to my motorcycle. I know motor cycles cannot really be classified as male or female ..but if I am riding one .. it has to be declared female.
After coveting the Royal Enfield motorcycle for several years and resisting the decision to buy one for several months, I finally made the decision and brought home The 2009 Royal Enfield Thunderbird. A beautiful, heavy (i.e. 170 + Kgs) and sturdy cruiser bike.

Play .....
I have parked it in the lot. The guy from the showroom had shown me a specific way to mount the bike on its main stand. It involved descending from the bike first and then using a handle above the rear Tyre and a lever attached to the main stand to mount the bike in place. That way the bike would balance on to the main stand effortlessly (even for some one with a lanky build like me). I followed the instructions religiously and the bike was set perfectly in place. The only glitch was that I thought it is not stylish enough if you have to descend from the bike first to mount it on the stand. After all other bikes that I had driven (i.e. a 100cc Hero Honda Passion), I would comfortable set them on the main stand just by one strong pull on the handle, whilst still perched on the bike seat.

So I start thinking there has to be a way to do the same to this heavy bird as well.
I sit on my bike and unmount it. Now I summon my energies to try and pull it up on to the main stand. First try ... the bike is just too heavy for me. Does not budge.
I am thinking ... hang on .. I am much stronger than I look. I can do this.
One more try. I pull hard on the handle with my left leg pushing the stand in place.
This time the bike shakes a little as if to indicate that I am angering her. However she refuses to get on to the stand. I say .. I can do better. One last try.
This time I summon all my energies and pull onto the handle really hard. The bike almost gets on to the main stand. However I am off balance due to the extra effort and the main stand snaps back in its place . The bike tilts to the left taking me down with it. It does not actually fall down as there is another bike adjacent to it which is steady enough to support it.

So there I am stuck between two bikes one steady and the other ready to fall on me.
I am like WTF ... day one and I have managed to get my bike to come down crashing on self without really riding it.
Some how I descend down from my bike (albeit still sandwiched between my bike and the other one). There is not enough space for me to turn around to grab my bike with both my hands. Now the bike tilts further downwards is pushing onto my ass (don't even ask how it came down onto my ass .. its quite too embarrassing already) . I can feel all the 170+ Kgs of kerb weight on the one hand still holding on to the bike's handle and my ass. Some how I push her back into the vertical position and this time I use the good old tested technique to set her on the main stand.

I realize that this is not just another 100kg kerb weight, 100 cc engine motorcycle. She is after all the Thunderbird. All 170+ Kgs of it and with the large (by Indian standard) 350 cc engine. Thus I need to afford her the appropriate respect. I have a look at myself. In the whole balancing act, I have managed to inflict a small burn on my right leg thanks to the bike's silencer which was still hot when this whole tussle was happening.

Next few weeks were spent getting used to the Thundering (not really a thunder as compared to other enfields .. but loud enough) of the Thunderbird. Every time I sat on her and started the engine, I could feel the rattling of the several moving parts and the thumping sound so synonymous with the brand. The thumping sound would start to make the heart want to pump in sync with the sound. Never again have I treated her like a 100 cc bike. If there is one thing that I realized, it is that this is one wonderful bike and she commands respect.

The Ghostquake

Date and Time : around 1:07 am 17 Aug 2010

I am sitting on my couch in front of my laptop writing about one of my treks to a remote place called Harischandra Gad. I have just about finished describing a close encounter in the jungle. My brain is hyper on thoughts (read horror / suspense / thriller movies).
As I am contemplating the words on my next para, I have an eerie experience.

In a span of less than a second, I feel the rustling of trees outside the window of my living room, followed by the sound of the wind hitting the sliding windows and then a jerk on the couch as if some hit the couch hard. Startled I look around but there is no one.
Now my already hyper on thoughts brain takes two forms. First form the Rational brain (hereinafter referred to as "aaR") and second form the Paranoid one (hereinafter referred to as "Par"). Aar swiftly starts rationalizing the experience and comes up with 3 options in the order of rationale correctness.

1. A strong wind blew through the window and shook the couch.
2. An earthquake hit the area.
3. A burglar broke in and accidentally brushed a side of the couch before hiding in another room.

Before even Aar has finished ruling out options, Par supplies one more
4. Its a ghost.

I usually consider myself quite a rational person so Aar is always favoured to explain such experiences. So here goes the discussion between three (Aar, Par and me) of us.

Aar : Even though the trees rustled and the window shook, I could not feel the wind on my skin. Option 1 is therefore ruled out. It could be option 2.

Par : Earthquakes will usually mean a little more disturbance. I have seen enough discovery channel and I know that it usually involves at least sound of shaking utensils and crockery. I did not hear any of that. Besides since the whole experience lasted less than a second it is highly unlikely that its an earthquake.

Aar & me : Hmm ... In that case lets ascertain option 3.

I get up and check all the rooms, windows and doors. I even check on my mom (the only other person in the house at that moment) and she is fast asleep oblivious to my experience. I look out of the windows and nothing. Convinced that there is no sign of forced entry and that there is no one other than myself and my mom in the home I return to my couch.

Par : So it is my explanation. A ghost has entered the house.
Aar : No there are no ghosts. There is no such thing as God or Ghost. They are both creations of the human mind trying to blame the unexplained happenings of the nature on something supernatural.

Par : I am convinced that it was a ghost. If you can believe that there is ghost than like two sides of a coin you also have to accept the presence of God. Lets pray God and may the almighty give us strength to overcome the evil.

Me : Saalo AarPar ... Shut up both of you. You guys are scaring the living day lights out me. Ok its 1:00 am in the night, but that makes this whole discussion way too creepy. Lets go to sleep.

I then go on to switch of my laptop, relieve my bladder and come back to sleep on the same darn couch. I switch off the light and for the next 15 minutes or so I am lying there inside the sheets with only my face outside and my eye half closed. My eyeballs are moving to check out all corners of the room to spot any movement. Aar is still thinking option 3 while Par is convinced of option 4. The only light inside the room is the faint one coming from flashlight at a nearby construction sight. There is the shadow of the trees on the walls. No movement however.
Pretty soon I have overcome my momentary fears and am fast asleep.

Next morning at breakfast I narrate the experience to my mom (minus discussion with Aar and Par). My mom agrees with 1,2, 3 as possible explanations and dismisses all of them with similar arguments as AarPar. I stop short of telling her option 4 but then She adds a 5th explanation.

5. Since I was writing (and she is not particularly fond of my style) about some close encounter, my brain was hyper and I would have hallucinated.

Again AarPar get into discussions and Par likes option 5 better than option 4. Aar is still not convinced but with nothing rational in site keeps quite. I tell my mom to forget about it and carry on with my usual routine and go to office.

Towards the end of the day, just as everyone is winding up to leave for the day, a mail drops into my mailbox from the Firm's Corporate Security.
The subject reads "Security Advisory - Earthquake Respone...."

The mails body starts as below
"A minor intensity earthquake, measuring 2.6 on the Richter scale, hit Mumbai and parts of western Maharashtra early morning today at 1.07 am with Bapsai (Thane District) as its epicenter."

Aar has a last muhaaahaahaaa laugh.


This is a post from my other blog.
Original post can be found here

Chacha

This is one blog I have been meaning to write, for quite some time. However somehow I my writer's mind has been on a vacation for quite a few months. Then I found myself talking fondly about old memories and becoming nostalgic about my days in Bangalore, living with room mates.

Those days we were 6 guys sharing a large 3 BHK apartment. All of us were working for the same company and all about the same age. So there we were enjoying our care free lives - movies, parties, outdoors, attempting to woo the fairer sex etc. All of us behaving like typical twenty something bachelors. Yet there was this one guy who always (may be often but not always) behaved like a 50 something uncle.
This guy hailed from Jammu. I am not too sure why he was the way he was, but he always had an air of confidence about him. It could even be mistaken for arrogance. He always knew of a definite way of how things should be done. So whether we were talking about how the food at some place was, or what we should buy for the kitchen etc, he had his piece of advice. More often than not whenever he used to present his opinion, it would go "Hamare Jammu mein na ....". It sounded as if some old uncle of mine was telling a tale from his old days. Then again this guy was also balding a little early. His narratives and his hair added to that look of an uncle. Thus he earned his nick name of "Chacha".
In our first year end at this place, this guy really lived up to his nickname. Since it was new year we all wanted to party. However the cost of stag entry in most pubs and discos was quite high and we were all low on cash. So our thrifty and jugadu Chacha came up with an idea - "lets have a party at home". At first I thought this was a lame idea of an old mind. However like an uncle planning a b'day party for kids, he soon swung into action. While rest of us were like clueless yet excited kids, he was all calm and ready with a plan. Out of no where he found some contact to get hold of an amp and loud speaker (yeah we did not have our own hi fi music system). Next thing I found myself at an unfamiliar location acting as a translator while he was negotiating price with the music system guy. Ironically,the music system guy did not know any language other than kannada and all I knew in kannada was "kannada barud illa" (meaning I don't know kannada, but I guess that was more kannada than Chacha knew). Somehow we came down to a deal. Next he found out some other contact who would create CDs with play list of English and hindi dance numbers. Again I found myself at another unknown location choosing a bunch of english tracks (Chacha did not have too much of a taste in English music).

On the day of the party while I was busy wrapping up my work to get home early, he already had got hold of another roommate to do the shopping of cold drinks, snacks and decorative items.
When I did get home, he directed rest of us kids to put in place all the decorations. The coloured paper ribbons were taped all over the place. One guy was made the DJ. Since we did not have coloured disco lights, we put coloured gelatin paper over the tube light and bulbs.
By the time rest of our friends arrived, we were already having a great time. When all the guests arrived it was more the merrier. Its been years since that new year party. To date though it has been the most memorable new year party I have ever been to. I wonder if "hamare Jammu mein" there are parties like that one.

Its been a while since I moved out of that place a long time ago. I miss not just the fun we all had but also those "hamere Jammu mein " dailogues. Chacha has since moved to a different place and has found himself a chachi. I guess now he has some who will always listen to his tales.

What they don't teach at an engineering college ?

Recently a friend of mine dropped an email to me to consider writing for the college magazine.
Got me thinking about writing something relevant and yet informative. I could of course write about my professional experiences and my technology knowledge, considering my career in software. I think however that would be too boring for a college magazine. So I zeroed on the subject, What they don't teach at an engineering college ?. For the rest of the article, I am going to write about some experiences during my college life and what they taught me.

S**t happens, deal with it.
This is one lesson every engineer learns in the first or second semester. I managed to clear my first 2 semesters without any of the dreaded KTs. Soon I had built this superstition about growing a beard during exams. However in the sem 5, there was one subject on Microprocessors. It helped shatter that superstition completely. We had a good 3 days of holiday before this one. So in typical engg exam style, I hadn't really bothered preparing much. The 3 days were spent reading through pretty much the whole curriculum for the subject. I thought I was quite well prepared. That was only until about an hour of writing the paper. I turned to section II (or was it page 2) of the question paper. Found myself staring at a whole set of μP design problems that none of us in the exam hall had expected or bothered to practice.For next 2 hours everyone in the exam hall was either staring at the other students in the hall, hoping some one knew the answers. For a change the invigilators were not worried about cheating, ... cause pretty much nobody had a clue of what the right answers were.

We all came out expecting, the by now not so dreaded, KT. Luckily I managed to clear the the exam. But my scores for that sem were messed. Since this sem counted for the final engg grade it meant that I had to work a lot harder in the next 3 sems to up my average grade. S**t had happened and I found myself was dealing with it for the next 1.5 years...

Never give up - cause life is like a sinusoid.
I remember me and a few of my friends had registered for a robotics competition in IIT - Bombay. The competition required us to build a manually controlled vessel which could move over water in a small tank and play water polo with table tennis balls floating in water. None of my team mates had any idea of how to build a boat, or materials around it or principles of a motor boat. Next month or so we spent a lot of our spare time researching, trying out stuff and coming out with designs, prototypes. After all the hard work, with just 2 days to the big day, we realized that our machine design had some serious flaws and we found ourself staring at a complete failure of the project. Just then we took a lunch break and when we came back we decided to persist with our aim and not give up. That day and next morning we took our machine apart and build a completely new machine. Soon enough, at the competition we surprised ourself and pretty much everyone at in the audience at IIT, when we narrowly missed a berth the finals and stood third. Taught me that if life is like a sinusoid. If you are staring at a trough, its probably time to cheer up and trying a bit harder, cause the crest will follow soon.

Listen to your intuition.
I graduated in a recession year. The campus placements that year were few and some of my friends got through. There were others who wanted to pursue a PG in Engg. Then there were those who wanted to do a degree in management. There were also some who planned to take up post grad only so that they could skip the painful job hunt in those recession times. I couldn't manage any campus placements by sem 7 and by sem 8 the campus placements had completely dried up. I wasn't keen on an international PG or Management. I tried my hand at some of the entrance tests to get into an M Tech but fell short of the score to get into course of my choice. So by mid of sem 8, here I was like numerous others without a job in hand or a college admit, staring at the abyss of unemployment.
Something inside me said that things will look up and that something good was in store for me .. After all life is a sinusoid. So I kept posting my resumes to any and every software, electronics or telecommunication firm that I saw posting advertisements in newspapers for experienced hires. By end of sem 8 the lot like me were doing these post graduate diplomas in hope of building additional skills that would make them job worthy. I chose against it and instead worked at a meager pay with my final year project guide for around 2 months on another project. Soon enough my intuition turned out to be right and in early September that year I had in my hand an offer letter from Infosys - one of the most respected and India's second largest software services companies. So I think it helps to listen to one's intuition and substantiate it with action.

Curricular helps, but extra-curricular builds you.
I think this is one point which most of my college professors would not agree with. I was habituated to bunking lectures and spent a lot of my time in canteen planning or enjoying the extra curricular activities (mostly college events or festivals). In essence I think most of my lecturers thought I had no future. But all those extra curricular had subconsciously taught me some great soft skills. Things like how to work with people, dealing with pressure, and above all maintaining my focus and calm in the most trying circumstances. These were skills that the engineering syllabus or lecturers could not teach. When at work, I found that these were very skills that gave me a slight edge against some of the bookworms who were now my batch mates at Infosys. These guys were still learning these skills, which seemed to come more naturally to me ... I guess extra-curricular stuff had helped after all.

Its alright to be selfish but have a conscience. One of the things that I learned through all those extra curricular activities was that every one is selfish. Our moral sciences preach ideals like selflessness. Truth however is that without a selfish motivation, hardly any one give their 100 % to anything they do. Back in college, I was into the organizing the tech fest, I was in them for the experiences they offered and the fun. That was my selfish motive. There were others who wanted the certificates and awards. There were still others who wanted to add to their pocket money (albeit by messing with the accounts). There were some who wanted recommendations from the professors and so on. In short the motives differed but the immediate task at hand was common. I was not always comfortable with people who didn't share my motive. In some cases when I'd hear about any accounting issues, it would irritate me and has even led to bad breath with some of my college friends.
However in retrospect, I realize that all people despite their different motivating factors worked well as a team. The only reason they worked well was because they did have a selfish motive that could be achieved through the task at hand. I therefore say that it is alright to be selfish, as long as you also allow your conscience to have its way.

Finally signing off on this article, hoping that it makes the cut for the magazine

A Dummy's Guide to Baby sitting : Toddlers

Recently I visited a cousin of mine. She is mother to a kid who is currently a toddler.
During the visit I had the privilege to baby sit my nephew. While the experience of being responsible for the kid, albeit for just a few hours, may not teach much about parenting... It is still a great leveler... It taught me that a degree in college and growing up from infant to adult may give you all education and experiences to carry on life dauntlessly, but it can't teach you anything about kids. Even though all of us have been kids at some point of time ....we are never quite ready for handling kids ...until we have handled one...
After an emotional start to this post, its now time to get serious and give out the words of wisdom that I got from my few hours of baby sitting..

1. Toddler = Duracell Bunny....
The first thing I learned when my cousin left me with her kid is that kids are like the battery powered bunnies. I mean, most of us would have seen those battery powered bunnies which once powered up can keep running all day .. till the battery gets exhausted. The situation ain't any different here. A toddler is powered by food and milk, and once powered up ... its exactly like a Duracell bunny ... keeps running around, shouting, smiling, crying (all Moms reading this post .. please add a few more verbs). Typically the person running after the baby will get tired long before the baby needs a power up (foor or milk).


2. Toddlers are heavier than dumbbells.
Anybody who has done any weight training might beg to differ. After all dumbbells come in various weights and sizes and thus you could always pick up a 30 Kg dumbbell which is theoretically heavier than most toddlers...But there is one detail that a gym going bachelor will miss.....
The dumbbell is .. well .. dumb !!! and it does not fight back.
A toddler on the other hand will not sit quite on your arms. I learned that a kid needs to be occupied and entertained all the time. Not to mention that a kid will wriggle, play, jump around etc .. all of it when in your arms. Then again, unlike a dumbbell ... even if your arm hurts, you can't drop the kid.. Even if you try to put one down gently, the chances are that the kid may not be ready to give up the free ride on top of your arms....


3. Poop and Pee alarms - the most desired inventions for baby sitters.
We are in an age of technology. So I thought to myself what would be the most desired invention for baby sitter... A toddler as you might realize is not quite potty trained and thus will shit or pee without adequate warning. Sometimes even when perched comfortably on your arm. However as disgusting as the act may seem to you, I think the toddlers thoroughly enjoy the activity and its output. While you are searching for a place to dispose the diaper or a mop / tissue to clean up the pee, the kid will seize the to opportunity to play in the pee. Thus if some one invents a Poop / Pee alarm that goes off about a minute before the moment of truth, that invention will be very popular with babysitters.


4. "Actions speak louder than words"... "Crying Baby speaks louder than actions"
I once attended a soft skills training about body language. The trainer reminded us about a proverb to prove his point "Actions speak louder than words". That's often correct cause actions can be seen from a distance much farther than sounds can travel.
However inside a home, actions in one room can't be seen in another, but sounds can be heard. So we shout to get our voice across. Nothing however, can beat a crying baby. I think the crying of the baby is loud because it is a survival skill. At least till they learn to speak, it is the only language they know is to cry out aloud.... "wah wah wah.."
So for baby sitters here is a definitive guide to baby vocabulary...

Repititive "wah wah" (mostly unless the bottle of milk fails to quieten the baby) = Feed me
"wah wah" (with arms held upwards and an innocent look in the eyes) = Pick me up
"wah wah" (while looking at gadgets like mobile, remote control etc) = I want that toy
"wah wah" (with eyes half closed) = I am sleepy
Non stop "wah wah" (none of the above works) = I want my mommy
"wah wah" (when you try changing clothes) = I don't want to wear shorts / daipers
"wah wah" (when in your arms) = Put me down
Loud "wah wah" (when in your arms) = Stop restraining me

It looks simple yet so complicated. Everything the baby wants is conveyed just through its crying... I know most of us like to think that the baby's mom can make out the different needs from the way it cries ... The truth is ....all moms are as clueless as rest of us.
I think that they just try out different stuff (from the list above) till the baby stops crying.


5. Toys = An adult's futile attempt to understand the kid.
I think toy industry was built by adults to milk the helplessness of other adults when they are unable to understand the "wah wah" mentioned above. The whole idea they want you to believe in is that your kids need toys and that these toys can help them become smarter while they play. Certainly sounds useful, that is if the kid actually plays with the toys. While kids need toys, toddlers don't really bother classifying toys, gadgets, kitchen tools, furniture, books etc differently. For them anything and everything can be a toy.

When I saw my nephew playing with anything and everything that he could lay his hands on (mop, broom, gas lighter, mobile phone, telephone, remote control, electric switches, .... and of course his toys), I was reminded of that master card advertisement about watching something priceless. While I completely endorse the part about watching the kids play being a "priceless" experience, I think the toy industry does make significant profit by making us adults believe that the kids actually need those toys.
I think the truth is that we as adults want to play with our own toys (mobiles, laptops, telephones, tv etc) and not share them the kids, so we buy them toys and teach them to play with those.


6. The next generation always seems to be smarter than your generation.
While playing with my nephew, I observed a couple of things. First that he (like a lot other kids) wanted to play with gadgets and tools that adults use. Second that he was always thinking of ways and means to get hold of those gadgets. I heard that kids learn by imitation. If that is true, then it is no surprise that kids want to play with gadgets that we adults use. They are really just trying to imitate us. But we don't trust them with our gadgets, sometimes for their own safety. Thus the parents try harder and harder to keep their gadgets out of the kids reach. The kids keep coming out newer distractions, pranks, tricks to lay their hands on the gadgets. Soon it becomes like a game of chess played between the parents and kids. So the kids have to outplay adults to get hold of their toys (adult gadgets) and thus every time they succeed, they only seem smarter.


7. Laugh with the baby.
A small prank from my nephew will remain fresh in my mind for some time to come. In the morning while I asleep I felt something move beside my arm. That's where I had kept my mobile phone after turning off the morning alarm. A few moments later I heard my nephew laugh and my cousin shout at him. I woke up and saw that beside my arm was his milk bottle instead of my mobile, which was now in his hands. I was a little concerned about him thrashing my mobile to pieces, but when I saw the twinkle in his eyes and the smile on his face I was no longer worried about my mobile. He did manage to send out a couple of short messages while I was negotiating a trade (yeah... trade, you can't just snatch the mobile back.....lest they start their "wah wah") with him to get back my phone. I did eventually get my phone back but learned a simple and important lesson.

A baby laughs a lot throughout the day. Even simple things like the rotation of a fan when switched on can put a smile on a kids face. They remind us of the simple smile that we have all forgotten in our clockwork. Through all their tricks they give us opportunities to regain the lost laughter.

These were but a few tips based on my own experience. At the end a very important disclaimer. All those tips will be useless if you are faced with the task of babysitting a toddler... Wishing you lots of luck, cause every toddler is different and no matter how smart you are, the toddler will probably outsmart you.

dheeme, sureele, dil ke kareeb gaane

I have been tagged by "dust unsettled" to write about a few soft and soulful songs close to my heart.. A serious compilation would be rather long but ... I'll try to keep the list short and sweet...

Hai Apna Dil to Awara (Movie - Solva Sal. Singer : Hemant Kumar )
Kabhi Kabhi (Kabhi Kabhi, Mukesh)
Everything I do, I do it for you (Bryan Adams)
Tu Hi Re (Bombay, HariHaran)
Pal Pal Dil Ke Paas (Kishor Kumar)
Tum Ho To (Rock On, Farhan Akhtar)
Shamo saveren teri yaaden aati hai (Luky Ali, Sifar)
Aa chal ke tujhe mai leke chalon (Kishore Kumar)
With or without you (U2)
Tum se hi (Jab We Met, Mohit Chauhan)
........

I think my memory is a little slow ... and I might come up with a few more songs if the music catches my ears ..
Thus this is a work in progress post ....will keep adding to this...

Rocking in cradle of death

If one asks me what have I taken back from my experiences in last 3 days.. the spontaneous answer is "Life". The experiences I have had last few days were enough to reinforce my vanishing faith in God. A self proclaimed agnostic as I am, I think the experiences that I am about to narrate are enough for me to not became an atheist as yet, or may be ever.
My New Royal Enfield	It all started on the way back from a dinner meet with old college friends. There were no cocktails so I wasn't drunk at all. On my way back, as I was driving my new bike, I heard a low noise near my back wheel as if two objects were constantly hitting each other. I usually carry a second helmet and this time there was no pillion rider. I reached out my left hand to feel if the helmet was were it usually should be (on the pillion back rest) but it wasn't. I promptly stopped by the side of the road to check the status and found that helmet was hanging beside the back wheel (causing the low noise). I placed it in proper position and started accelerating again. What I didn't realise was that I hadn't moved the side stand from its parking position.
Oblivious to the fact that the side stand was just about an inch or so above the road, I accelerated the bike to my usual cruising speed of about 65 kph. After a few minutes I was about to change lanes and tilted just a little bit. The lane had some muddy debris on it. Just then heard a screeching (the side stand rubbing against the road) noise as if something was skidding against the road and the next thing I know the bike was down and so was I skidding against the road. I somehow got off the bike as it skid a few more meters ahead before coming to a stop. I got up walked up to the bike and picked it up, the engine then came to stop. There I was on the right most lane (fastest) of a "keep left" high way with my bike at a stand still and staring back thanking heavens that there wasn't any big speeding truck right behind me. In fact all this while there was no vehicle in sight. The first vehicle passed me only after I had mounted back on my bike and was attempting to bring it back to neutral gear to start off again.
I dragged my bike to the side of the road and then got off again to have a look at myself. A few scratches on the hand, a scratch on the left knee, a sore left thigh and shoulder, a torn left pant pocket, a scratch on the helmet was what I could see. Then of course was the site of me on the ground with the sparks flying off the leg guard of the bike as it skid away from me. A site firmly etched in my mind to remind me that I am lucky to be alive to tell the tale.	The leg guard that took the fall
It took me a few minutes to realise how lucky I was to escape with just a few scratches. I wiped myself up then drove back home another 15 kms or so and some how managed to hide the scratches from my family, who would have been shell shocked to hear this, needless to say that I wouldn't have gotten the permission to drive my bike again. I think eventually they will discover, but by then I would have regained my confidence and may be able to make a case for myself. After all one learns from mistakes and I am not in habit of repeating fatal mistakes.
As if the bike experience was not enough to scare the living day lights out of me, I went ahead the exact next day with my plan of doing the Harischandragad trek via the famous "Nali chi vaat". I somehow felt fit enough mentally and physically to try a testing route. Harishchandragad is host to remains of an ancient fort by the same name and a well known trekkers paradise near Mumbai and is well known for the scenic Konkan Kada, a semicircle shaped approx 1800 high feet vertical drop from the plateau of Harishchandragad. The "Nali chi vaat" is literally a path via a narrow pass formed by erosion due to a seasonal river. Among the trekker community in Maharashtra, this route is considered one of the most challenging ones and I discovered exactly that over the next 2 days. Our return route was another challenging route - a narrow pass called SadhleGhat.	The famous Nali chi vaat
I went into the trek carrying my bike accident scratches. Apart from the scratches I didn't feel any problems with my body so I went on with the trek plan. However about a couple of hours into the trek I realised that I had a sore right knee. I didn't think much of the knee and continued on with the slight pain. The route was fun (and challenging) so I kept moving from strength to strength. But small accidents had to be there. In one section I was trying a rock climb on a brittle slate rock and I slipped. Luckily I landed on my feet and remained balanced and escaped that fall with just a long cut on my elbow. By the time we reached the top, we were out of gas ( I mean water) and my knee was hurting real bad. Every time I bent the leg, to climb I could feel the pain in the knee. When we reached the cave temple atop the fort I was hoping that I had seen the last of my pain. I was so very wrong about my knee. The next day I woke up in pain and with the daunting thought of climbing down all the way with the pain announcing its presence every I time I bent my right leg to climb down. I had to try and avoid stress to that knee so I was walking as if I was handicapped on the right leg. That however meant that I had to sit down and drag my ass (literally) on some of the sections of the descent. I kept falling slipping, skidding, getting pricked by thorns all the way as we came down through the jungle and the mountain pass.
The rock that almost crushed my leg	At one point as I was descending, I sat on a rock about 1/3rd my size and was feeling my next step below, just when the so far steady rock moved right below my ass and dragged me with it. I hugged it with both my hands to prevent it from falling on my legs. Again as luck would have it, I was untouched by that rock. Thanks to my hands and a small stone that stopped the rock, which looked destined to trample my already injured right leg. Thankfully I did have the sense humour to pose for this snap while I was still figuring out, how to get up without moving the rock. A little help from our trekking guide and I was up and moving along again.
I made it back home all in one piece ready to write this tale. The last 3 days however have left me thinking as I literally been rocking in a cradle of death and survived it with nothing but a few scratches and a sore knee to show. The scratches will soon vanish and the sore muscles will heal. The memories will fade out as time passes by. However I think I'll still continue to remember these 3 days for a long time to come... may be even till my last breathe ...

This is a post from my other blog.
Original post can be found here