Jemba2006

In July 2005, I had the rare opportunity to interact with MBA students from the London Business School (http://www.london.edu/). Though I was introduced to them as an official translator who would assist one of the 14 teams to accomplish their project, I saw it as an opportunity for cultural exchange and some fun at the expense of office work. When I asked my boss if he knew people, preferably students, who would volunteer as guides, he did well to ignore my prudent attempts at tricking him to give me three days leave.

There were nearly 80 Executive MBA students with average work experience of 10 years. The youngest was 27 years (Charlotte) and the oldest in their mid 4os. I had no reasons to be particularly happy about HIS decision to put one of the only PYTs in my team. But I was certainly disappointed when I heard that she was going strong with her Irish boyfriend. Darn cupid and damn the first strike! HE made amends by giving me not the slightest chance for nurturing any more mushy thoughts about my team so that I could focus on what I was invited to do. The remaining four students - three guys and a lady (Belinda) - were too serious or guys for my tastes.

Among the students who I was in charge, there was a Vice-President with Morgan Stanley (Sonny) and a Marketing Manager from Munich Re (Will). The third guy in the team was an NRI from Kolkata (Tarun).

Tarun was back in India after 14 years but had no plans to visit his folks in small town Kolkata. He worked for Capgemini. I was surprised when he remarked that nothing has changed in India since he last visited here; many of my friends visiting Bangalore after two or three months blabber about the mammoth changes that have undergone this city. And, here we have an NRI who thinks nothing has changed in 14 years. Tall claims by any standards. Noticing my apprehensions, he quickly clarified that he was referring to the “vehicle-infested roads, bumper-to-bumper traffic, beggars and stray cattle…” The list seemed endless putting me in a spot of bother and shame.

The other students were also high profile and had clear reasons for doing the Executive MBA. It didn’t surprise me that the Jemba 2006 batch of EMBA had chosen India ahead of other countries for their internship program. To me their decision spoke more about the emergence of India as an economic power (I would hesitate to call her a super power yet!) than their interest in our culture and history, which would have been the case in the early 90s.

So here they were in many-a-times-dubiously-in-the-news Bangalore wanting to make the best out of their week-long stay. When the agenda was set on the day of their reception at the Royal Orchid, it became clear to Tabby (the other guide) and I that Jemba 2006 batch had their tasks cut out - visit a specialized industry (manufacturing, IT, healthcare, hospitality, etc.); study their management patterns; find gaps in the internal communication process; compile the data; analyze and discuss with the company Management; and suggest improvement measures.

It was a rock-and-roll party for four days (the translators and the sutdents may have different opinions on this) starting with banquet at Royal Orchid. Our team would visit a manufacturing unit on the outskirts of Bangalore with the following agenda – meet the company's top management, middle management, and finally, the most important link in the communication chain, the laborers to study their communication process. The sumptuous lunch, sarcastic jokes and bullying apart, it was business as usual from the word go.

After the initial meetings and floor visits, we huddled into a conference hall to review and revise the communication questionnaire. We had three days in all and three employee layers to interview. We set off with a series of meetings with the middle management of the company. What started as a process to first understand and then identify communication gaps, turned into a conundrum when the interviewers and interviewees found themselves well short of being able to adjust to each others’ language and accent. There lies my chance and raison d'etre, I thought. Donning my translator cap I jumped into the ring. Translation is an oxymoron here because the “From” language, the “To” language, and my interpretations were all in English…that too an all too familiar British English. In the end I was happy that my skills were put to best use for the team.

After three thoroughly enjoyable days, it was not easy returning to work. I had become a student and learner; moreover, I had rediscovered the urge to pursue an MBA. As days passed, the sweet memories began to blur, until one morning when a little birdie delivered the following note of thanks taking me back in time and memory:

Hello Prashant,

Thank you for all your help with the focus groups last week. We truly appreciate your assistance and the fact that you took time out from work to be with us. We hope you found the experience interesting and rewarding.

We're now back in the UK after some lengthy delays due to the Mumbai weather.

Please keep in touch.

Thanks,
Belinda, Sonny, Tarun, Will and Charlotte

Chembra

As kids, my little brother and I would look forward to bed-time stories that dad would tell us every night. One of my favorites is that of how the Mount Everest was humbled by Tensing and Hillary. I would get so carried away that every other day I would force dad to repeat the "tension" story. My persistence may have rubbed off on my brother too because he would chorus in my whines.

Recently, my friends and I scaled Chembra, the tallest peak in Wayanad (Kerala). We had three obstacles to trail before we got started - the fickle weather; warnings about rough terrain made worse by incessant rains; and our own "it's-overwhelming" demon (on second thoughts, there were four, not three hurdles, if I must add blood-starved leeches; oh! Anand, how can I forget the blood shed and bitterness.) It was as though four of us had four different views about the trek. If at all we agreed on one thing, it was photography. Gods Own Country has plenty on offer and Chembra was no exception. But before we could smell the aroma of lush tea plantations en route to the hills, we had to kill the devils within.

We set ourselves milestones - three in all. First, reach the watch tower at the foothill and seek a guide; second, reach the first camp site - a trek of nearly 45 minutes to reach a heart-shaped lake; third, proceed to the peak if the weather is clear.

We were at the foothill of Chembra watching the awesome peak, when Mother Nature sent down a gentle shower to bless our trek. The weather was bountiful and pleasant, but we had read into the warning sooner than later, that heavens may pour their fury on us anytime. We were in a spot - should we go or should we abort. Of what worth is a visit to Chembra if we don’t visit the heart-shaped lake in the lap of nature! Our aunts would tease us to wits end for our cowardly behavior. Filled with surreal enthusiasm, we set out for the watch tower in search of a guide. We agreed to hire a guide even though Shashank is no stranger to Chembra. A seasoned climber aware of the local terrain would be what the doctor prescribed; he will be our best bet in times of danger, be it from snakes, leeches, or forces of nature. Our joy didn't last long because the officers and the only guide among them bluntly refused to join us in the trek. They only raised their eyebrows to check that we were not carrying beverages. Regurgitating the care-for-nature rules, they sternly warned us against using mobile phones when (and if) we reach the peak. Despite our requests (rather groans), they unmindfully continued playing cards.

Wayside chapel

This is to provide some comic relief...You just can't stop laughing for every single sentence in the letter below.

In the days when you couldn't count on a public toilet facility, an English woman was planning a trip to India. She was registered to stay in a small guest house owned by the local schoolmaster.
She was concerned as to whether the guest house contained a WC. In England, a bathroom is commonly called a WC which stands for "Water Closet". She wrote to the schoolmaster inquiring of the facilities about the WC.

The school master, not fluent in English, asked the local priest if he knew the meaning of WC. Together they pondered possible meanings of the letters and concluded that the lady wanted to know if there was a "Wayside Chapel" near the house . . . a bathroom never entered their minds.

So the schoolmaster wrote the following reply:

Dear Madam,

I take great pleasure in informing you that the WC is located 9 miles from the house. It is located in the middle of a grove of pine trees, surrounded by lovely grounds. It is capable of holding 229 people and is open on Sundays and Thursdays. As there are many people expected in the summer months, I suggest you arrive early. There is, however, plenty of standing room. This is an unfortunate situation especially if you are in the habit of going regularly.

It may be of some interest to you that my daughter was married in the WC as it was there that she met her husband. It was a wonderful event. There were 10 people in every seat. It was wonderful to see the expressions on their faces. We can take photos in different angle. My wife, sadly, has been ill and unable to go recently. It has been almost a year since she went last, which pains her greatly.

You will be pleased to know that many people bring their lunch and make a day of it. Others prefer to wait till the last minute and arrive just in time. I would recommend your ladyship plan to go on a Thursday as there is an organ accompaniment. The acoustics are excellent and even the most delicate sounds can be heard everywhere.

The newest addition is a bell which rings every time a person enters. We are holding a bazaar to provide plush seats for all since many feel it is long needed. I look forward to escorting you there myself and seating you in a place where you can be seen by all.

With deepest regards,
The Schoolmaster

The Woman fainted reading the reply!!!!...

Inside out

"I am a bundle of contradictions." In fact, I am not! But when my close friends accuse me, I can't help but ponder. What is the basis for their claims? I wanted to find out. When I should have been looking within, I simply went around town with a pitiable look asking everyone that crossed my path: "What do you think about me?"

Each one had their own share of abuses and praises. One half of the sample went overboard with remarks like - careless, rude, brutish, opportunistic, plastic, populist, pig headed, porous, and what not. I realized from their grumbling that even if u are a genie in a bottle they would complain. Though I had inkling about my reputation, it came as a rude shock to me that some of the comments were acrimonious.

A sling of abusives sent my confidence level dipping. If not for the other benevolent half, I would have been buried live in a heap of abrasives. The 'esteemeter' slowly began to look up and soared to its zenith only when heavenly words like friendly, caring, chivalrous, popular, smart, intelligent, hep, cool, and more fell on my ears. It was certainly music to my ears, I must admit. But this poll did little to help me attain my objectives. I was sitting on a truck load of responses that did anything but clarify my position.

Curious that I was, I did not stop with my friends circle. The perceived existence of this dualism had started showing up on my behavior to such an extent that my parents began to wonder what happened to their happy-go-lucky son. I thought they will be the perfect people to ask. Who else but parents know their children inside out? After all they have watched you closely during every stage of growth. I wondered why I did not think about this earlier.

When I approached them, they had a "come on sonny! we know what you want" look. So, without much beating around the bush, I got down to business. In less than half an hour, I was a transformed man. At least, they thought I was. The moment I asked dad and mum "where do I need to improve", they pounced on me like hungry lions. From brushing teeth to spreading bed, they had a piece of advice for me on one thing or another. "Not this time dad, I protested." "Mama, at least you should refrain, I pleaded." No, they would have none of it.

I felt like a politician who went to the public asking their opinion about his image. If only our corporate head honchos are like parents, I thought. Parents admonish you and raise the bar every time, but protect and praise you in front of others. Isn't it just the opposite with our managers?

Here I was, completely drained and desperate, but enlightened that one should never take parents for granted. When I walked away from them tired and lost, my consciousness betrayed me and I tripped over the imperfections and glitches strewn in my path. The next minute I was rolling down the stairs screaming for help and reaching out for something to arrest the fall. But the bottomless pit continued to suck me into the abyss. My voice conked out and hearing failed. The gushing wind stripped me to flesh and bones, and I sensed that my end was near. As I closed my eyes in retreat, a faint light emerged from the bottom and held me in her arms. Before I gathered my wits to ask "who she was", the angel replied: "I am your conscience. I am here to help you. Ask me and you shall find your way out." I was overcome with profound emotion - a mix of happiness, sorrow, satisfaction, shame, and realization. It dawned on me that I should have looked within much earlier. I had knocked on every possible door and turned every stone. But I had failed to understand that the power lies within...

On a lighter vein

"I spik inglis"

There's not doubt that universal language has universal appeal and flavor. Errr..., if you are new flavor, then click the link below:

http://www.gnu.org/fun/jokes/foreign-signs.html

What women wants?

Time pass... [no that's not the answer ;-)]

Young King Arthur was ambushed and imprisoned by the monarch of a neighboring kingdom. The monarch could have killed him but was moved by Arthur's youth and ideals. So, the monarch offered him his freedom, as long as he could answer a very difficult question. Arthur would have a year to figure out the answer and, if after a year, he still had no answer, he would be put to death.

The question?....What do women really want? Such a question would perplex even the most knowledgeable man, and to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query. But, since it was better than death, he accepted the monarch's proposition to have an answer by year's end.

He returned to his kingdom and began to poll everyone: the princess, the priests, the wise men and even the court jester. He spoke with everyone, but no one could give him a satisfactory answer.

Many people advised him to consult the old witch, for only she would have the answer.

But the price would be high; as the witch was famous throughout the kingdom for the exorbitant prices she charged.

The last day of the year arrived and Arthur had no choice but to talk to the witch. She agreed to answer the question, but he would have to agree to her price first.

The old witch wanted to marry Sir Lancelot, the most noble of the Knights of the Round Table and Arthur's closest friend!

Young Arthur was horrified. She was hunchbacked and hideous, had only one tooth, smelled like sewage, made obscene noises, etc. He had never encountered such a repugnant creature in all his life.

He refused to force his friend to marry her and endure such a terrible burden; but Lancelot, learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur.He said nothing was too big of a sacrifice compared to Arthur's life and the preservation of the Round Table.

Hence, a wedding was proclaimed and the witch answered Arthur's question thus:

What a woman really wants, she answered....is to be in charge of her own life.

Everyone in the kingdom instantly knew that the witch had uttered a great truth and that Arthur's life would be spared.

And so it was, the neighboring monarch granted Arthur his freedom and Lancelot and the witch had a wonderful wedding.

The honeymoon hour approached and Lancelot, steeling himself for a horrific experience, entered the bedroom. But, what a sight awaited him.

The most beautiful woman he had ever seen lay before him on the bed.

The astounded Lancelot asked what had happened. The beauty replied that since he had been so kind to her when she appeared as a witch, she would henceforth, be her horrible deformed self only half the time and the beautiful maiden the other half.

Which would he prefer? Beautiful during the day....or night?

Lancelot pondered the predicament. During the day, a beautiful woman to show off to his friends, but at night, in the privacy of his castle, an old witch? Or, would he prefer having a hideous witch during the day, but by night, a beautiful woman for him to enjoy wondrous intimate moments?

What would YOU do?

What Lancelot chose is given below. BUT....make YOUR choice before you take a look.
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Noble Lancelot said that he would allow HER to make the choice herself.

Upon hearing this, she announced that she would be beautiful all the time because he had respected her enough to let her be in charge of her own life.

Now....what is the moral to this story?
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look further
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The moral is.....If you don't let a woman have her own way....


Things are going to get ugly!

Beyond the line of control...

When we first met, there were fireworks all around... literally! I had blown my top off when the luggage you carelessly shoved under the seat had ruptured the skin on my feet. The flames of bitterness were fuelled further when you feigned ignorance and refused to apologise. Had your father not intervened that day, this post would never have materialized. That was not a dream finish I would have liked as an occasional visitor to Kerala; also, because I was already feeling nostalgic after visiting my grandma. More than the wound itself, the lack of acquiescence hurt. I decided that we will never talk again. But I failed to understand that a deeper force within was plotting against me. Today, when I look back, I feel ecstatic about the way our friendship has blossomed.

During the train journey, the infantile fight apart, I sensed gentleness and warmth in your actions. The initial unpleasant experience faded quicker than I thought. I began to look for ways to get closer to you, without your knowledge, of course! Then came Vimla like an angel at the next railway junction. She was talkative and friendly. Soon she became the bridge between you and me. I still remember our playful arguments and how you would use her as a mediator to talk to me.

There is something very special about you. I like your childish behavior and mature thinking - I had noticed with excitement how your eyes would sparkle at the mention of 'Mickey' or 'Tweety'; in the same breath, you would speak volumes about life and relationships.

I didn’t believe our acquaintance would last beyond the train journey. We exchanged numbers. I was very happy to get the first SMS you had sent out to thank us for making your journey pleasant. But the message sounded more like ‘good bye’. For about a week or so later, I would impatiently wait for a message or phone call from you, until I decided to call you one day. Your voice was sweet and warm. I had a hundred things to tell you; but, when I heard your ‘hello’, I began to fumble; there was a lump in my throat. All I managed to get across was a confident ‘bye’, very much relieved that I didn’t make a fool out of myself. In retrospect, I began to wonder if your gentleness had an overwhelming influence on me. I was to be proved wrong again.

A few SMSs later, your calls started pouring in more frequently. You would call me up from office. After getting five or six calls, if I didn’t return one, you would tease me and call me names. During these calls, you would tell me about your friends, fans, crushes, colleagues, relatives, parents, brother… you had something new to tell every day. Sometimes, our calls would extend beyond office hours. On couple of such occasions I have had to spin stories at home, painstakingly explaining who had kept me on tenterhooks for such a long time. My parents would not believe me. To rub salt on my wounds, you would play all sorts of pranks like making crank calls and sending silly SMSs.

You have a pride of place in my heart, especially because of your tensile nature. Initially it would surprise me that you could get tensed at the drop of a hat – for getting calls, not getting calls, talking, not talking, staring, smiling, gifting, listening, riding bikes, on dimly lit roads… there was not a minute when you were relaxed. It took me some time to realize that this is how you told your friends ‘how much you cared’. Others would dismiss this as rather outrageous. But I know you are simply being yourself. And believe me, that is not easy.

You are a great stabilizer and neutralizer. In times of mood swings, I have found you are a great passage for my emotional outbursts and volcanic eruptions. At times, with great maturity you would give me reassurance; at other times, like a kid you would play with me to ease my nerves. Always, you have stood by me like a rock.

The best part of our friendship is that we have never let the flickers of our first meeting to die out; I mean those verbal duals. You are a perfect foil for my grand ego. I love you for accepting me as I am.

At the dawn of our friendship, your garrulousness had brought me closer to you. Now, we enjoy silence and stillness. Our relationship has matured over time. I think about your genuineness quite often and feel happy that I came across you. Though you don’t visit me even in my dreams, I take pleasure in the fact that you touch my life in more ways than one… most importantly, as a friend.

Humor in a capsule

A few words from the visionary Steven Wright: All those who believe in Telekinesis, raise my hand.

a.. I almost had a psychic girlfriend, but she left me before we met.
b.. OK, so what's the speed of dark?
c.. Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.
d.. When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.
e.. Hard work pays off in the future, laziness pays off now.
f.. Everyone has a photographic memory, some just don't have film.
g.. Shin: A device for finding furniture in the dark.
h.. Many people quit looking for work when they find a job.
i.. I intend to live forever, so far so good.
j.. Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.
k.. 24 hours in a day... 24 cans of beer in a case... coincidence?
l.. When I'm not in my right mind, my left mind gets pretty crowded.
m.. What happens if you get scared half to death twice?
n.. I used to have an open mind, but my brains kept falling out.
o.. I couldn't repair your brakes, so I made your horn louder.
p.. If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.
q.. Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it.
r.. For every action, there is an equal and opposite criticism.
s.. No one is listening until you make a mistake.
t.. Success always occurs in private, and failure in full view.
u.. The colder the X-Ray table, the more of your body is required to be on it.
v.. The problem with the gene pool is that there is no lifeguard.
w.. Monday is an awful way to spend 1/7th of your life.
x.. The sooner you fall behind, the more time you'll have to catch up.
y.. A clear conscience is usually a sign of a bad memory.
z.. If you must choose between two evils, pick the one you've never tried before.
aa.. A fool and his money are soon partying.
ab.. Plan to be spontaneous tomorrow.
ac.. If you think nobody cares about you, trying missing a couple of payments.
ad.. Bills travel through the mail at twice the speed of checks.
ae.. Only borrow money from pessimists, they don't expect to get it back.

Six Sigma

Came across this spoof on Six Sigma. Thought I should preserve this for its entertainment value...

A shepherd was herding his flock in a remote pasture when suddenly a brand-new BMW advanced out of the dust cloud towards him. The driver, a young man in a Broni suit, Gucci shoes, Ray Ban sunglasses and YSL tie, leaned out the window and asked the shepherd, "If I tell you exactly how many sheep you have in your flock, will yougive me one?"

The shepherd looked at the man, obviously a yuppie , then looked at his peacefully-grazing flock and calmly answered, "Sure."

The yuppie parked his car, whipped out his notebook and connected it to a cell phone, then he surfed to a NASA page on the internet where he called up a GPS satellite navigation system, scanned the area, and thenopened up a database and an Excel spreadsheet with complex formulas. He sent an email on his Blackberry and, after a few minutes, received a response.

Finally, he prints out a 150 page report on his hi-tech, miniaturized printer then turns to the shepherd and says, "You have exactly 1586 sheep." "That is correct; take one of the sheep." said the shepherd.

He watches the young man select one of the animals and bundle it into his car. Then the shepherd says: " If I can tell you exactly what your business is, will you give me back my sheep?" "OK, why not." answeredthe young man."

Clearly, you are a Six Sigma Black Belt." said the shepherd. "That's correct," says the yuppie, "but how did you guess that?" "No guessing required." answers the shepherd. "You turned up here although nobodycalled you. You want to get paid for an answer I already knew, to a question I never asked, and you don't know crap about my business. Now give me back my dog."

What the @##$$%%$...?!

Chalte, chalte...

When my boss approved my request for leave on Monday, I was on cloud nine already. I dreamt about ushering beautiful young girls into the banquet hall at Srichakra International, one of the better known hotels in Palakkad. I could not explain amid all self-centeredness why the bride and groom (my cousin, whose wedding reception I was gonna attend) were missing from my dream. After all, it was my dream and I could fabricate it the way I wished to see it. Boy, I spend that Friday night at home in the world of dreams "entertaining the crowd with jokes that I saw myself learning by rote during the 8-hour long train journey."

Traveling with parents by train is anything but exciting. With due respects to Jean Jacques Rousseau, "I found myself in chains everywhere." It filled me with remorse that all those pretty ones sitting not so far away from me are completely helpless to save a 20-something (that's me) from being wasted away. I would not give up though!

I grabbed Jack Welch's "Straight from the Gut" from my backpack and began skimming through the pages. Through the corner of my eyes I kept track of the metaphysical changes in the surrounding. When I was convinced that mum and dad had shifted gears to slumber, I broke out of the shell and struck a cockeyed conversation with my immediate neighbor, a new college graduate who had just started working on a philanthropic project at Nimhans. I listened curiously as Vidya comfortably switched from one topic to another with the ease of a conductor. While I had conned her to believe that I was listening, my co-passengers saw me running around trees in the thick eucalyptus forest singing Kitna hasin hey yeh ek sapna...

I had not even completed a mukhda of the song, when a hard blow on my left cheek startled me awake. The book was still wide open in my hands. A transvestite was staring at me ready for a second blow in case I spurned her/his romantic advances one more time: Bhaiyya dena. Talk about romance in a train.

Vidya was thoroughly enjoying the scene. That was the last time I looked at her or attempted to speak with her. I fixed my gaze at the distant hills ebbing and falling like tides on a full moon night. Sun played hide and seek announcing every now and then the arrival of monsoon. And the train continued her journey unmindful of the mysterious ways of the mind.

"Enter the Dragon"

It's not everyday that you would be very happy about burning a deep hole in your pockets at a restaurant. But Wednesday, 22nd June was different: My friends would not wait for the weekend to celebrate my birthday. So, without much fussing about, we set off to party. All of us agreed on wine and dine at one of happening pubs on M G Road.

The 13th Floor on Barton Center was the first unanimous choice. But when we got there, we were disappointed to know that the balcony was either occupied or reserved. The raised chairs on the balcony would have given us the awesome view of the well-lit city, the trooping crowds, and the fleeting vehicles 13 storeys below us. But the drizzle was threatening to turn into a heavy downpour any time. When the staff offered to seat us at the next best spot indoors, I pitched in to support them. But I could not convince my friends enough to hang on for a later ticket to the balcony.

Spinz, Urban Edge, Peecos, and Down Town popped up next on the list. These were quickly turned down as either frequently visited or too crowded. One of my PG classmates had recommended Taeka (am not sure if that's how it is spelt). We weren't even sure if we pronounced the name correctly. In the end, our efforts to locate this place did not yield positive results. Meanwhile, I could see that our patience was fast running out. RR and Bhima, the two Andhra restaurants on Church Street, were too conservative for our jeering and brawls. When it seemed like we were near the end of our options, Nikhil suggested Aromas of China. Having run out of options, we did nothing to hide our excitement. Off we left for hinterland.

Aromas of China is located in an aging building on the Richmond Circle junction. Its visibility is further obscured by a flyover rising like the Phoenix. We did not expect to see much of a crowd here, let alone think about letting our hair down on a Wednesday evening. But, we were not prepared for what we saw and experienced. There was "Enter the Dragon" written all over the place. The wall hanging, carpet, table mats, flower vases, murals...everything had distinct China flavor. But what made us go gaga over the place is not any of these, but the chopsticks. Like battle hardened soldiers we wielded the sticks between our fingers and began what can be mildly described us a forgettable adventure.

The Chinamen (no offenses meant) laughed their way to stomach cramps watching us feed our clothes and litter the entire table. They did not need much time to conclude that we are better off using the sticks to chase away flies. Polite as they are, one of them quickly came to our rescue. With eyes barely open, and well-oiled hair falling on his face, Lu Chuk quickly demonstrated how to use the chopstick. The four of us looked at each other in disbelief at Chuk's adeptness. Ignoring the polished crowd around us enjoying a pleasant dinner, we set out on our own paths taking off from where Chuk had left. In no time, Kotti was seen eating sauced cabbage leaves with the sticks. Each one of us enjoyed the exotic meal thanks largely to the chopstick.

They served us complementary China Tea. For once, tea tasted better than "Black Dog" on the rocks. Marinated cucumber slices and manchurian kept us busy until we were served the main course. When we left the restaurant, the aromas of China lingered on.

Stay hungry, stay foolish.

"Stay hungry, stay foolish." What a statement to sign off a fantabulous speech to Stanford graduates? When I reached the end of Commencement address by Steve Jobs, I could not control my tears. They flowed down my cheeks unperturbed by the people and noises around me. There was a devastating silence amid the chaos. My fingers were hitting hard at the keyboard trying desperately to keep pace with the flow of thoughts. The noise resounded in my ears making the overall experience next to heavenly. Suddenly, I woke up to reality.

What am I fantasizing and why am I doing it? Perhaps, it had to do with Steve’s speech. When I read, see, or hear experiences of life, love, and death they transform me to a different plane. Death turns out to be the agent of change today. In all my fantasies, death has never instigated me to ‘act’. Today, it’s different. I have vowed to live everyday of my life as if it was my last day. Thank you Steve!

I have loving parents, caring friends, interesting colleagues and friendly neighbors. I play with my neighbor’s two-year old almost everyday. When I wish her good night and tell her that I’ll bring chocolates tomorrow, I’m unknowingly playing god. When I go home after a long day’s work, I hope my mom would wait with a cup of hot coffee in her hand. At office, we plan the tasks for the next few hours; we prepare project schedules for months on end with ‘delivery’ dates. We make hollow promises to our girl friends or spouses. Never once do we envision the role of death in any of these activities. How strange and unavoidable? How else can we explain our hope in future? What is the guarantee that we will live to see the sun rise again?

There should no such thing as procrastination or plan in any dictionary for the simple reason that you have to be god to procrastinate or plan. Let gods do their work. I’ll be a happy man if … well, there are no ifs and buts in death.

I do long for that day when I will have the opportunity to shed my "old skin" as mentioned in the Bhagavad Gita. Until then my hunger for knowledge will remain suffused; my foolishness will ensure that I'll never run out of fodder for my brain.

Killing Writer's Block with wandering thoughts...

Wanderer strikes an instant chord with me. The name was spontaneous, like this archaic piece of literary diarrhea. I guess the blog name was wandering somewhere in the back of my mind, waiting for an outlet to gush out. Finally, it had to be today at this time.

I had been thinking about blogging for a long time. I realize after umpteen attempts that I was a chronic victim of "Blogger's block". It gives me a rare sense of satisfaction today as I wander into my grey cells culling out what I think are interesting words to construct these meaningful sentences. So, I am not too surprised when the darker corners of the grey space does not return anything meaningful or colorful (guys, you know what I am talking about...)

Talking about color, I am coaxed (once again by my wandering mind) to wander into not-so-distant ITPL (the International Tech Park in Bangalore) where my company was once located. It seems like a long time since we have shifted here; believe me, it's been less than a fortnight. Ever since we have relocated to a 'bigger campus with better opportunities', the colors have dimmed. I, for one, have become completely color blind. Day in and day out, we meet the same people, talk about the same stuff, eat the same food. The day was when three or four of us friends would submerge ourselves in a thickening crowd of post lunch nomads who would congregate at the lawn for a fag, or for cooling the eyes, or for warming in the sun, or just for the heck of it. We would be the last ones to leave the lush green meadows after the pretty ones have called it a day. Talk about nostalgia!

Hang on guys! Something tells me am on the wrong side of the day for wandering too far... let me pen down for the day. Catchya soon...