A new feeling

A new feeling or emotion was introduced to me off late, by one of the employees at work. It is strange, the way it had come out. One of our employees got me to talk to her about her work and there was some hot exchange of words and she eventually helped me to talk to her in high pitch and express my anger. The talk, the reason and the situation is not new to me. Normally, in such situations, the anger is replaced by disgust or anguish; however this instance, my response to the situation was anger. I could feel my nerves being pulled tight, hands trembling as my body was not used to react to these new type of brain messages.

Strange it was, but I am happy that, that employee got something out of me. She introduced me to anger. I thank her for that.

Thought - Short Story

He was lying on the bed, looking at the ceiling fan and was both happy and sad. He turned around, and saw on his bed, his laptop next to him, three books, Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, Interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud and The Living Universe by Sir Francis Younghusband. Looked at the name of the author, younghusband, thought what would he be called if he is old and living with his wife for many years.

It had struck to him after he returned meeting his friends who all had partners. He was still happy that he was doing all that he wanted and was sad, that it might not last all that long as well.

Peace-full Dream

It has been a while since I dreamt. It is very unusual of me that I sleep with all my senses put to rest at the same time. I have something always running, which will eventually keep me away from a good deep sleep. Result - no deep sleep, no dreams, no remembering of it (even if I do dream)

Strange as it sounds, this afternoon's sleep was amazing. No response to the phone calls, door bells, nothing... It was a deep peaceful sleep where I dreamt and after that I woke up to remember bit of it. I remember a girl running and whole lot of people all scattered across and crying for help. Someone came flying from the sky and started to pick the people up. Well, a lot more things happened after that, but I remember only this.

I presume, I was trying to keep the peace even in my dreams. Trying to fight the odds and I would like to assume that the man flying was me, not heroic, but the scene was a desperate attempt to get something done... I wish I remember more.

That's why I say. It was a dream to bring in the peace in full

'He' again

He feels elated, he feels nice seeing the people around him and thinking how better he is than them.

At the same time, he seeps into thinking the use of it, him being better. All in vain. No efforts to recognise it nor any recognition. Feels sad....

He drinks two cups of coffee back to back and get on with work. He is not sure if it was the coffee or it is just him.... he continues being sure that it is not the former one....

Karma eh?

Am not sure, if this exists in the real life. Off late, I have been coming across this word fairly a lot, or may be it is that I have been reading a lot of books which speak about Karma.

They say, it is carried on for lives you take up in your lifetimes. Again, controversial. I have no opinion on it.

Anyways, a recent incident makes me think, it exists

My colleague was late to work and when he came in, I asked him about it and I was surprised to hear what had happened to him. He lives in one of most affluent localities in Bangalore, India, where the roads are wide, clean and with not many pot holes. People are educated and do think of other people and not just them.

He said,he left his home very early and, may be 6.30 and he was on his bike, to reach office by 7.00. He lives a few kilometers away from the office. He said, it was a pleasant start, nice weather, beautiful morning and he saw a man who was walking his dog. He said, it was nice start and was enjoying his ride and he looked around to notice that there was no one else in the road apart from the man, the dog and him. He said, he met with an accident and I looked at him puzzled. He said, the dog ran away from his master to come under the wheels of his bike. He fell over and on the road and the dog ran away. Is this what you call Karma?

Punctured - Hope Lives on

Monday Morning.. packed up with hectic work schedule starts like this

- Getting ready for a client meet, wearing all the business formals including a suit

- I leave home on my bike to drop my nephew to my cousin's

- The bike wheel punctured on the way to work after dropping my nephew, I think.... bad start

- I park my bike on some street and take an auto rickshaw to reach office

- Just two kilometers on, the auto gave away. The back tyre got punctured !!!

- I take another auto and just a kilometer away, it gave away.... another puncture.... I could not believe it

- I just gave up and decided to walk, though it was almost 11.00 am and I had a client meet at 11.30 am, the office in Electronic City, which was 25 Kms away

but hope lived on I guess... I was walking, pretty much not thinking how the day has started; but thinking how to plan for the rest of the day, with my jacket, helmet, water bottle, my bag in my hand and sweating...

then another auto guy, saw my state and said ' Yellige sir, Banni bidtheeni' (where do you want to go, I shall drop you). I was close to my office and I said, 'elle road end, parvagilla hogtheeni bidi, thanks' (No problem, I have to reach the end of the road, I shall go, Thanks). He said, 'Parvagilla banni, naan yenu charge madalla' (No problem, come in, I wont charge you).

I hopped on to auto and 2 minutes, my office was there. It was good experience, even after such a 'punctured' start of the day, the hope lived on. The client meet was fantastic and we bagged an order as well. May be, it is the luck of another person who had accompanied me.

And all these things happened on the way to office, which is just 4 kilometres away from my home.

Capitalist - is it?

My friend says this little write up and this is all capitalistic by nature. Not sure, if he is true. I always feel, a genuine few words and expressions are worth a million.

A few good words

He was at work, when a client called up, called up for an immediate meeting in her office, 10 miles away. He had to agree as he had no option, reached there on time. Felt good, the client rep was a very pleasing woman. Her smile was genuine, her words were real and this made him more comfortable. She had to discuss an escalation that was not handled well by him, but it was so well put, he felt that he had done a great job and not handling the escalation well, was one off incident. Though the outcome of the meeting was not great, he felt, he had done a great job. Well done ‘he’

Little Pleasures

He was thinking of small things in his life which would give him little pleasures. He had even discussed this with one of his friends as well, who agreed to what he had said, but did not add any value to it. Your beloved coming out of the home to wish you good bye everyday when you leave to work, nice bright happy faces at office, a genuine smile, reading a good friends blog and understand where he/she is coming from, identifying the questions children might ask before they do and surprise them by telling them their next question and seeing their expression on face. Beautiful, he thinks and thinks he is wasting time, trying to identify things that don’t add any value to his daily work. His phone rings and starts the fake conversation..... “We value you as a customer........ and looking for long term relationship with your company.... a fake demeanour..... a fake smile”....................

The 'he' stories

The 'he' stories - I have been thinking of him for a while, well, my beloved blog readers, meet 'Mr.He', a simple human being, trying to tie all of loose ends of his life and exploring himself, in his journey. He is fictional, he is real, well he is like that ....... confused...read on his stories... all blurbs.

Deserve

I always get what I deserve....including the mouthfuls :)

Noticed - Releif (Short Story)

He was there yet again not knowing the ‘What’. He picks up the phone after it started to play that horrible ring tone which he had chosen after a lot of deliberation few months ago. ‘Haan... were the only words he started off with... he removed his specs...wiped his eyes...scratched his head... drank some water...said...”give me sometime... I guess I need more time”

He wore his specs, smiled with confidence and shame, and continued his work. He was happy, the unnoticed was noticed. Relieved!

On the roads – the psychology

Um........ I don’t know how many of the people have had the experience of driving/riding cars/bikes on Indian roads. I am sure most of my blog readers do have. I have been riding my bike for years now and have started again after I have returned to India. It has been great, great experience being there, in the midst of chaos. All of them complain no traffic sense, no rules being followed, bad roads, blah blah ....and I don’t deny any of that. All of it is true and you would know if you are a part of it every day. It is easy to notice it; however it is fairly not so common when someone says, the traffic on roads in India has a charm of its own. An innate thing which is rarely seen in any part of the world, at least not while driving on roads. Imagine this picture

You are on your bike; there is an auto rickshaw (a three wheeled car with a canopy on the top, which can go anywhereJ. This is how one of my acquaintances in the UK had described an auto after his visit to India) in front of you. You are approximately 200 feet away from it and the rickshaw has reached the end of the road and he has to take a turn (either right or left). Something in you, will tell you the direction he would take. He wouldn’t have given you any indication what so ever, but you will still know the direction he would take. Some signals are being sent, may be your intuition or may be your imagination. I guess there is something more here. May be there is an underlying philosophy of psychology. Some vibes are being sent and these vibes are decoded and understood, if not there would be uncountable number of accidents on roads.

I have noticed this many times, another biker on the road, kind of turns his handle to the right or left, hinting he would make a turn now, the message is being recorded by you or any other biker behind the first one. You don’t yell at him for not showing any signal, you just carry on with your ride. I guess it defies the rules of the roads and assure that we Indians are not restless people on roads; we are a group of well understood people travelling at the same time, on the same road and still getting things done with some struggle and finally living in harmony.

A paradox!

Silence - Now and Then

It was silence between us even then, it is silence even now, but I like the silence now. It has something special in it, a warmth, a satisfaction, words, emotions and a lot more. I would want more of this silence, it speaks a lot. Nothing has changed between us except this silence and I love it.

Words of Wisdom

"One's not half two.It's two are halves of one"
- John Powell

Birlliant, it is........

League

How interesting will it be to be an ordinary man in the league of extraordinary men?

On Road

Strange is the word which I have to use today. A bike ride of some 20 kilometeres with not a lot of pre occupied mind, can make one feel realize the petite pleasures.

A small family on a motor bike and their little daughter in the front was enjoying the dusty ride and was not happy when her father stopped at traffic lights. The father started to say why he stopped at red lights. The child was happy to learn a new thing and was quiet for a few seconds and then she smiled at her father. I guess she must be imagining what would have happened if her father would have jumped the signal.

An elderly couple on the TVS 50, the once life line of commute among the urban middle class Bangaloreans, was so happy. I cant think of a reason for them be to be sad. There was something strikingly different in them. They were so full of life and smile and were genuinely happy.

A baby, toothless, was all smiling at all the people in the traffic lights. It caught the attention of four more bike riders other than me around the baby and that smile was transferred to all. All of us exchanged the smiles. All random strangers on road.

Strange I feel! I wonder, if most of us (includes me) have lost the art of finding pleasures in trivial things like these.

Hail!!!

Hail Kingfisher!

Hail Mallya!!

Hail Music!!!

Questions .............. answerless eh?

Why-should-I-listen-to-you attitude? Who should give up and why should one give up? Why should we always be good to others? Why cant I get what I want by the way I am? Why should not people listen to me? Who wins in a relationship? Why don’t I get to do what I really would love to do? What don’t I know what I really want to do? Why do people always advice and especially to me? Why don’t I like what most of the people speak? Why don’t people hesitate to open up to me? Why am I scared to tell what I want to tell? (Also a book by John Powell)

These are few of the questions which each of one will have in mind. A small collation of these by stories (another very interesting hobby to pursue) I have heard from people.

The law applies to human nature, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The more forceful you are, the more forceful the other ego retaliates. Most of us know the solutions, but why we don’t still don’t follow it? Is it the EGO? Yours or ego of other person?

What is EGO?

Q&A

Q---How can a humble, sweet, liked-by-all person turn out to be a rude, loud and villian to most of them?

A---Leave the person to manage a few people at work.

Nice...

It is a pleasant feeling, if what you think will happen, happens! Isn't it?

Strange Equation

30 seconds = 30 years

30 seconds can make a relationship for 30 years

and

30 seconds can break a relationship of 30 years

growing up

We grow up with issues at varied intensities and at varied intervals
Age 5 = issues with your mother/father/brother/teacher
Age 10= more issues with mother/father/brother/teacher
Age 15= issues with teacher/ more issues with friends
Age 20= more issues with friends/relationships/environment
Age 25= super issues with relationships/family/yourself
Age 30= issues with wife/boss
Age 35= more issues with wife/in-laws/parents/boss/children
Age 40=more issues with teenage children/boss/in-laws
Age 45=issues with wife/health/children
Age 50= issues with health/retirement plans/parents
Age 55= super issues with retirement/health/grandchildren
Age 60= issues of relying on children/friends

We all grow up with the issues, the more we tend to resolve it, the more, we get deeper into it, similarly, the more we tend to get away from it, we still get deeper into it. It is a maze, endless maze with no escape route.

Rewind forwarded

It is an hour past mid night and guess what am I doing? I am reading my own blog and reliving my past.

Try it!

Faces

My friend’s sister’s friend, a distant acquaintance of mine, short, sweet, beautiful and works in the same place as I do now. It’s strange; I have met up with her many times at workplace not as a part of my work, but in food courts. One of my first meetings was rather strange, because both of us remember each other by faces and not by names. We exchanged smiles and small talks in which she mentioned she has moved into management cadre of her organisation. All composed and professional, I appreciated the way she carried herself. We met a couple of times again, this time we knew each other’s names (obviously both of us had checked our names at our respective resources) Some time ago, I saw her yet again in the food court, with her team, trying to convince the way who serves the food to make a special dish for her team. She was all smiling, bubbly and energetic and was speaking in Hindi addressing he man as ‘Bhaiyya’. Another set of girls joined her and pressurised (rather buttered) the man up to which he finally agreed.

I was standing beside her and observing the way she was talking, expressing and convincing the man. She dint notice me. After a while, she looked at me and was surprised (can say, rather she was shocked) to see me there. I was smiling enough for her to understand that I have been there for a while. She asked “How long are you here for?” I said, “Right from the time you and your team started to butter this man up!” pointing at the man. She wasn’t really about it I guess. She said “You should have spoken to me earlier, I dint see you here. If I had, I guess I would have behaved well” .....Those last few words “I would have behaved well” is lingering in my mind since then. It is, yet again conformity to my belief that we all are two faced ‘private faced’ and ‘public faced’. I thought it is just me, this experience, kind of make me believe, it is just not me, I guess all of us. Why aren’t we just ‘WE’?..... Always.........?

Indigenousness

I think it has been at least 10 years or even more I guess, since I saw this man (well, a boy at that time) I don’t even remember his name. Well, I met up with this man, who was once my tuition mate and we had interacted quite a lot then. I was amazed that he recognized me because I could have not, I guess. I was eating pani poori at a gaadi near my work place as I had some time to start my work.

Um... he stopped seeing me, though he was on his motorbike. It was a nice meet, it was awkward because I could not remember his name, (in such situations like this is it pretty usual with me). I vaguely remembered his face, but yet again, I managed somehow.

Some time ago, I was talking to one of my friends while having coffee at Adiga’s, (a restaurant) one of my teachers who had taught me in high school was also there. I was glad that I knew (rather remember) him, but to my surprise, he too remembered me and called me out by name. We spoke for around five mins while my friend was busy having coffee and talking on his mobile. I waved bye to my teacher, and my friend asked me who he was. I told him that he was my high school teacher and he was pleasantly surprised that my teachers remembered me (and that too by name) I told him, it is because I have not changed a lot in the way I look, which is fairly true. I would rather like to say, I remain young in my looks, but unfortunately I can’t. Yet, the indigenousness of this place makes it mine, makes it special, and makes me feel where I belong to.

Smirk

Some strange things are always a part of our lives, things which you don’t want to encounter and yet you encounter or you would be forced to be encountered. I come from a true Jayanagar (Bangalore) based Brahmin family, and such families have their own set of clichés or say a standard decorum that a boy (especially a Brahmin boy) has to maintain. The more I tend to run from that frame worked lifestyle, the more I am getting trapped into it. It is not bad; it is just that I don’t want to be a part of it. Well, it goes something like this, English medium education for school, admissions into some reputed colleges in the same area, an engineering degree from one of the most reputed institutions in Jayanagar/Basavanagudi (old Bangalore) and a job in an MNC called Infosys. For parents of young boys, this is the dream path which their kids should follow and how much ever I wanted to deviate from this oath and carve my own way out, things seem to cross this ideal path. Crossing is okay, as it still doesn’t make u following that path, but the time or the period of the crossing is a bit awkward. As mentioned earlier, this is the path ‘Ideal’ according to many parents and my parents are not exception to it either. One such situation was encountered recently by me, my father was speaking to random man on the street where we live and he was asking about our family. My father was proudly telling that I am now working in Infosys and my entire story of where/when/how I got educated. The conversation was being continued and I interrupted to speak to my father and the strange man asked me the same things what my father had spoken with him a minute earlier, as a confirmation I guess. Then it struck to me, that I actually fit it really well into that cliché and all I did was SMIRKED!

Note: I work IN Infosys and not FOR Infosys.

Saturday

‘Saturday bandhu thumbha dina aiythu alva amma’ (It has been long time since it was Saturday) This is what my 5 year old nephew asked my sister and we all just laughed, but, if we think, do we all feel like that? I don’t at the moment.

$%^&*Confusion $%^&*

I cant just be I. Dont know why?

Ammamma

“Ammamma”, a name, a beauty, a lady and an epic. That is what we used to call our grandmother. We USED to, because she passed away a few months ago. She was a legend, someone who never considered herself less than any in anyway. She had an amazing charm in her, I am sure; she would be the ‘babe of the village’ in her teens. She was unusual in her family, because all her brothers were dark in colour where as my Ammamma was fair and beautiful. All of us, we cousins would always tease her the same and I am sure my grandfather was completely bolded over her beauty. It was not just that, she was a bit too much of everything. She never considered herself less to anyone in anyway. Though she was not from a wealthy family, she never let anyone knew about her family status.

She was an epic among all her family members. She was loud, demanding and very authoritative. She had five sons and one daughter, who was the apple of the pie of family. My grandmother had her seal everywhere with a lot of talcum powder on her face and a big round bindi (of vermilion) with a fake hair bun (usually shaped like a bread roll) and a lot of flowers on it. She was an example of exemplified Indian beauty. She was indeed beautiful to many of them, men loved her and women envied her beauty. She had too much of hospitability in her and especially to her grandchildren, she was someone to who we were waiting to meet. Functions, festivals and every other celebration at home; she was the main co-ordinator. Not to forget, she was the ideal mother-in-law to all her daughters-in-law with all the regular ‘clichéd’ things between them (both good and bad with more bad than good)

Her death marked the end of all the celebrations of my return to India. She died with disease that was strange to our family. She was in hospital for 20 days and she faced the life with courage. It’s unfortunate that the advanced medicine could not make her do what she wanted to, Live... live longer and enjoy life. It is then, that struck to me, how trivial the science is. It is like, that there is someone who is very thirsty with a pot of water in front of him and he can’t get there to drink it.

Many a times she has been an example to me, though she dint teach me literally. She couldn’t because she was uneducated. She could not write nor read, yet she lived a life the way she wanted to, keeping everything and everyone in control. Considering that, she was a genius in the art of life. I have learnt from her and always have appreciated her ways of doing things. She even taught me something or made me realize when she died; she enabled me to realize how feeble I was, both physically and emotionally. She was there lying on the hospital bed lifelessly in a small room and all the visitors were showing their condolences, some fake and some real. I was near her head which had the gauze tied around it and there were no visitors for around 10 mins. I was alone with her and I touched her forehead. It sent shocks to me; she was cold and not moving. It was for the first time, I realized what death is, I had not seen death so closely till now. I was infect scared for a fraction of second with so many what ifs in my head, What if she would move my hand away? What if she will start talking to me? What if she sits on the bed and pulls her gauze away? Nothing like that happened though.

Her death helped to understand myself better I guess (I am being selfish here) she made me realize that emotions run high, I wasn’t emotional to see her death, I was about to break down when I saw my sister’s hand shivering as she touched her and waived a final good bye and when my aunt wished her the final adieu. I don’t know why, there are a few people who I can’t see crying. I went upstairs to the kitchen and held my handkerchief hard against my eyes. I was actually crying, don’t know the reason, but I was. I learnt something more about myself. I guess that is life...self discovery.

Finally, hats off Ammamma....may your soul rest in peace.