Nothing but entropy

Oh my!

2011-07-21T15:37:00.006+05:30

Twitter time line can be very inspiring. Apart from creating an impulse to get a fancy haircut or shop for total unnecessary , it does give an inspiration to babble when someone else share the link at which they had babbled ("Comeon! I can crap like this..")

This week has been entertaining so far. I think its the brother's visit from home. He in this post-college-before-next-thing phase of life where you are so bored that you actually end up cleaning the Songs folder in D: drive. The other day, we took a walk to the Cream centre in IndraNagar (which btw is totally worth visiting!) for a early dinner. As usual I was being healthily inquisitive (this translates to gossiping in XY dictionary apparently) on the current state of romantic affairs at college.

I learnt a couple of phrases from the conversation.

1. Ladyman : A guy who can mingle with any crowd of girls without approaching any dangerous relationship status related territory within ten minutes of introduction. And has the capability to carry on the conversation for another 10 mins.

2. Pseudo : Pseudo are the guys who are percieved to be lady man but are actual brother figures for most of the girls. These are the guys who are resorted for any protection, escorting in the late evenings after curfew and thulping the ex boyfriend in case of any trouble

3. Fielder : These are guys who go for girls who have been out recently from a relationship. In the sense that they often catch the ball that was missed by the batsmen (I know! I know!)

4. Point 3 guys are also referred to as father of foreign country* for obvious reasons :P

5. Mama-max : These are the ultimate peacemaker guys as the name suggests. Post the 2 o clock cell phone fights in wing corridor, they are the guys who receive the hurled cell phone on their face, wake up joltingly, wipe the drool and make peace between the parties.

Oh my!

P.S: Sidin or someone said that they write in Georgia font, size 14 in notepad. Totally works! And as for the previous post, the answer to self in the same style is

*Father of foreign country

Resolutions and the like

2011-01-03T20:38:00.004+05:30

This idiotic woman I know, named ‘time’, is popping out a kid every annum!.With the new year around the corner, this is the time when everybody thinks the most of themselves – sheer assumption that a lot of things can be done. So, there is this immense pressure to come up with an answer other than “punch the people in the face who ask such questions” for the “what is your new year resolution then?” question.

Life would have been much simpler if it was the 6-7^th std time.

An old aunty (who always talks in English for reasons unknown to me): What is your New Year resolution, Mathangi?

Me (on an autopilot): To beat Ramesh and become class topper this time.

Btw Ramesh is not the usual Ramesh, Suresh names used in Indian short stories. Class topper Ramesh existed 100%. Met him recently in the train station. He said he is writing CAT. There was this momentary urge to give CAT just so I could beat him. Yeah yeah. Done with the digression.

Around high school, I had to accept the fact that since intelligence is distributed as a normal curve amongst the population; its unity probable that I am not the maxima in the y axis. So, I gave up on the former and tried to instead come up with stuffs like, learn karate or swimming or basketball just to flip out my mom. (Who btw still thinks that it’s better if I have long, shiny, chlorine-unaffected hair than to risk drowning some day. Honestly, I prefer the former too.)

Later in college, the concept of New Year and all was completely ditched because the sem would start on Jan 2 and it used to be freaking -2 or -3 deg. There were more pressing problems like who would get the ‘hottest’ bucket of water from the wing bathroom geyser or unanswered questions like ‘how the hell that girl from the 9^th block gult wing manages to look all pretty and girly with sweaters and shawls clad around? (Actually, for this I got my answer pretty fast – I owned (still own) 3 sweaters, 2 blue and a brown. Both the blues are with tooth paste and Night canteen maggi stains and the brown is 2 sizes larger which I am supposed to grow into. I would have dry cleaned those 2 times in 4 years. So no mystery there)

After graduating, the New Year came with this ‘katchori sized’ fear in the stomach of “Damn. I am growing old. And I am running out of new ways to procrastinate taking decisions in life.”So this year I thought I will do something different and actually plan out 2-3 things which I want to do. One is to write more often. Not bother about the quality of the outcome, but just narrate the eccentric world as I see it. And do it more often. Monthly one post is what I have in mind (I know I know. This is like “I will go to gym every week” resolution which is lasts till Feb mid and then gets converted to one gulaab jamoon every time I pass Anand sweets.)

Another is to travel for pleasure. There are a couple of places in the “I want to visit before I am 40 and mother of two” list. Hope is to check at least 2 places out of them as done. There is another resolution but I don’t want to jinx it by making you read it.I have this weird belief that resolutions don’t last if told to the world. But what the hell. They don’t last most of the time anyways. Might as well make a blog post of it.

Happy new year, everyone!

P.S: A wise stranger I know, once said something like “the problem with the future is that it becomes present quite soon” Vehhry true.

Indian Premier (Washer) League

2010-03-17T22:34:00.008+05:30

Damn.This is the eleventh sentence that I chose to begin this post with. OK, twelfth if you consider the swearing also. Did so since the other nine were like quahh--aah--aaah [ insert brain-blown-away-by-2-fingers action here].

I was having my lunch today. Since it had something to do with ragi, or something that was ragi,
my concentration slipped off and I started watching something else. That and the fact that we were all sitting water-throw distance from the wash area.

I was glancing at the thin banana in my plate when something chill fell on my elbow. Looking up, I realized it was the work of a wash basin-er. To take revenge on him and all the people like him, I came up with this wierd classification of the ways Indians use the wash basin water resource.

1. Nail edge washers : These people wash just, and only just their painted nail edges. Heppy females in the age group of 20-25 fit here. I guess this is an efficient way of cleaning the part that gets affected while eating brown bread sandwiches. And no, not the way of stuffing 75% of it in one go and wondering whether you should have ordered 1+2 on the same plate.

2. South Indian full hand mixers : These gentlemen use all the palm area (both front and back!) of the hand while mixing rice. So they typically fill their hand with soap, like the way water is filled while drinking directly drinking it from the tap.Then they go with full furious scrubbing until the soap overflows till three fourths of the looking like wash gloves. Some of them , smell their hands after the wash.Guess that's just to make sure that they have used sufficient soap.

3. Non Invasive Sound makers : These people are the vocally active class. They make noises that go like Guaah- Quahh- qerrghh- krheeh and then spit.But they are non violent Gandhians compared the next class.

4. Invasive Sound makers : Apart from being vocally active, these people typically put two to four fingers inside the mouth during the process. Sometimes, it looks like they are trying to pull their large intestines out. ( through the mouth. Obviously). They also go with a using-the-index-finger-as-a-brush action after the invasion. Why one wants to one's capability of not throwing up is beyond comprehension

5. Foreigners : These are the typical Marks, Steves and Johns from the west who are onsiting in the corporates. They use only spoons or chopsticks. So they take tissues from the dispenser, fold them and wipe their hands fully. But the mystery is why they have to do it in front of a wash basin. Bigger mystery is why they have to bend down while doing that in front of the wash basin.

6. Bend it like Beckham-ers : These are the visually harmful people. They bend over the washbasin till the extent of a half postrate as though the flowing water hissing secret blessings. What they fail to understand is that, no one is interested in seeing stitched-pants-clad-backs of men. Neither men nor women.

7. Splatterers : These are the kind because of whom the post came into existance. They wash the whole area in the vicinity ie. three washbasins on either side. Unlike the group 6, these people stand unusally erect and the let the water come down with F = mg force causing others to get drenched.

Of course, there is a eight variety, who use the washbasin in the most dignified manner. They are the kind who just observe the others and milk sarcasm of out of it. The world should learn from them.

P.S : This looks like my first post of the year. Yay! :) Hope wierd things keep happening in the world and I remain sane enough to document them in Web 2.0 :)

Small things - Taught and learnt

2009-12-09T13:37:00.031+05:30

On a friday evening, when all the bugg-able people on my gtalk list were yellow, the following thing happened. But before you guys know what the following thing is, I have to say that my mom is in my gtalk list. The fourth year summer holidays (college) are to be blamed. That was when I was like 24x7 online, checking imaginary mail and talking non stop with all the greeners and redders. Used to shoo her away when she came to call for the meals which i insisted on having right before the comp. She screamed at me and challenged that she would learn all this in one year and , here it is. Admirable! (Ahem!)

She: Hi

Me:amaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

She: yes

Me: amma..naan iniki chennai varene :D (I am coming to chennai today-Yay!)

She: very happy

Me: put a smiley then. Semi colon and a closing bracket

She: :)

Me: super!

She ;)

Me: that is winking. You are learning fast \m/

She: \m/

Me: that is yo

She: i don't know all these dee. Enna berth?
(The most important concern in her life)

Me: (Not paying attention to the conversation at all) Smile :) wink ;) sarcasm :P love <3

She: :) adi podi nee varumbothu u explain (Explain when you are here)

Me: scorpion V.v.V frown :-/ sad :( cry :'(: kiss :-x

She: You people remember all these things? Aiyo rama! What are you doing?

Me: Nothing. Watching something.

She: What are you watching?

Me: Nothing ma. English serial.

She: Enaku theriyum.(I know) That friends only no?

Me: (Wow! Inside head) yes. That only

She: Don’t watch all that kanna. That day ninju was watching it on the TV. It had gay and all.

Me: What???! (Stifling laugh) Amma, Gay is not some kind of a thing one has. It is...

She: (interrupting) I know what that kanraavi* is . I made ninju tell

Me : (Feeling lucky for the millionth time that I am not my brother) Hahhaaha. And?

She: Paakathenna paakatha. Avlodhaan (Don’t see means don’t see. That’s all). I was so worried that ninju is also watching it like you.

Me: Why are you worried again? Because it had the term or because ninju was watching it? (Yeah. I like to freak my mom out)

She: Vaai neelama pochu rendu perkum vara vara (Mouth has become longer for you and your brother these days)

Me: Hehe. (Now totally in the mood to freak her out) Amma, there is a cute guy in my bus. I see him daily.

She: Hmm

Me: (Realising its not working as planned) Tall and all

She: Hmm

Me: (Damn it. Still nothing?) Fair too

She: Hmm

Me: (Thats it.. Going for the final cut..) Stubble-ed also..

She: Hmm

Me: (Disbelieving!) What? did you see what i said?

She: Yeah yeah. One question. Did he see you ?

Me: (Damn it damn it damn it!!) (Mumbling something, typing nothing) Po* maa.

She: Velaya paaru dee :P *

Me: (Sarcasm?!!) Grrr.

Lessons learnt:

1. Teaching smileys to mothers aint all that great an idea. But atleast, she got the sarcasm thing right.

2. I am losing the abitlity to freak my mom out these days. Sadness.

3. Later in the day she called me up for something else but innocently enquired whether it was a Tamil Iyer boy and warned...,well..., lets just say that the freak out gene is still active. - Comforting!

4. Moms are just levllee*

5. Point 4 should have been point 1.

Translations:
kanraavi = basic shit
Po = go
Velaya paaru dee = Shut up and do your work. (buried in a truck load of sarcasm)
levllee = Oh, thats just me saying lovely. Come on!

Friday nights

2009-09-15T21:29:00.006+05:30

And so, I sat down finally to open the notepad and scribble something. Needless to say, the blog has been idle for all practical purposes for a long time now.It struck hard when there was "Nothing -but-entropy, Life is good, 2 months back" in another blogroll. One can justify it using many reasons but almost always none of them are true. So, skipping all those parts I am going to the so called the main thread. Having become a bangalore resident for over a year now, the trip to home every alternate weekend is kind of getting a ritual that seems to happen by default. Thanks to our railway system that guarantees tickets that get over faster than Anand Sweets samosas kept in the next cubicle for another baby born.

And so, on a typical friday. I like fridays. Those are the days that I start exhibiting time defying properties. I forget my time-space coordinates and the whole day goes in the hope of 5.30 pm's arrival. The frantic dirty clothes packing is an important part. The mere fact that those can be dumped somewhere is a great feeling by itself.

Mom : "Why did u get so much clothes?"
Me : "Eh? Coz I dint wash them"
Mom : "But u said u were washin clothes the other day i had called u"
Me : (Realising "that" was the day with some season finale and hence calls were being mercilessly cut) "Oh! That was previous week's clothes"
Mom : "But you got those last weekend here only"
Me : (Damn!) "Then it would have been the week previous to that!"
Mom : (Now eyeing suspiciously) Do u ever wash clothes?

By that time, I would have gone into a detailed mathematical illustration of what weeks come after what weeks in a chronological order using a lot of numbers. This always works like a charm to get out of any conversation with her. But enough of digression. Coming back to the friday evening. And so, I land up in the station atleast an hour before the departure. This is another pity while going to chennai. The trains normally start just before conventional midnight and reach chennai by my midnight!.Struck up at the station there is nothing one can do except randomly glance at the various other specimens like oneself! Quite often, one does bump into some known person of years back (especially so, when most of the ppl one knows have ended up in engineering) and the conversations are entirely for courtesy purposes

Random familiar face : hey u are mathangi right?
Me : Yes .Hi..How are u? ( Still trying frantically to rem the name)
RFF : Fine.So watsup?
Me : (entire college + work history in a line max). U?
RFF : (Answer in the same format).
Me : So...Hmm...Good... (single words or single syllable sounds one after the
(elongated) other)
RFF : (Realising that there was no need of that enthued Hi)........ ...... ...........Yeah......
(Both simultaneously) : So see u around then?!
(Both simultaneously) : (Relieved) Sure!

Hence, I take extra care not to walk around too much in the platform.There are of course books that are entirely written for reading during Indian railways second class travel but the look that some nerdily cute guy passing by gives while seeing me with such a cover gets really intimidating. Finally the train came and the settling down started after the eternal confusion of upper, middle, lower and the side upper and lower. I always check out the list pasted on the compartment beginning. It kind of prepares me mentally.That day there were these 2 dudes before me checkin out the list.

Dude 1 : Hey look da. Some 22 year old female in your bay.
Dude 2: Yes
Dude 1: If u sleep off early, I will kill you. We are gonna talk late
Dude 2: Hehe

Having the agenda of checking the list mercilessly squashed, I got inside the compartment and looked around to check the other passengers in the bay.Always, actually always, one of those co-passengers would be a baby of not more than a year old. And there it was! It looked at me with a smirk that said "So, u think you can sleep. lets see, how that goes". I gave up the last hope of a decent sleep and climbed up to my berth. I have to mention about how strategically these berths are placed. Whenever the pity mom or the angry dad picks up the cryin kid to get to a standing position, the kid's mouth lands up right next to my ear! I drifted off a little after the tough adjusting of my frame into the berth ( The railways should allot berths according to passenger's height. The 6 year old kid next to me got a nice middle berth to sleep like the Vitruvian man on the cover of Da Vinci while the poor 5 foot 8 inches frame of mine had to fit inside a side upper berth! - Atrocious I say!) and that is the time the baby started off with a mild waaannn. I turned in the hope of increasing the mouth-to-ear distance and still it dint make any effect. By this time the 'mild' in the above sentence turned to 'an intense screamy' and i gave up and conceded defeat. After me staring pleadingly into its eyes for 15 mins (or after it became tired or whatever) it stopped the howling.

I was relieved and started to try falling asleep again. This time there was a periodic sinusoidal noise. Initally for a second, I thought I was having a dream about the resonance frequency experiments of my high school physics lab.But that sounded ridiculous even to my subconscious mind since I had always dreamt through those experiments too. So, I got up to find the source of the noise. It was a well based snoring from a gigantic tummy in the opposite berth (gigantic tummy because, that was all I could actually see). By this time, I was beyond irritation and more towards resigning and accepting the fate. I started observing the crests and troughs of the wave pattern which by the way was intruiging since one seem to come from the mouth and the other from the nose!

By this time, I already got the "Welcome to Chennai, Have a pleasant stay" message from Airtel. Gathering the backpack I step outside. Smelling the masala dosa and filter kaapee from the Saravana Bhavan in Central Station, I somehow felt that it was all worth it! Home is home I say!- whatever may be! :)

P.S : Read somewhere that the title of the blog is the biggest reader attractor - Hence, tried something :P :)

Life is Good :)

2009-06-25T21:06:00.003+05:30

Life is good.
Design Engineer in 'High Performance Analog' team
Dream profile in my dream company
Thanks to The Higher System!
So, life is good :)

Sequence of actions in an 'i-made-a-mistake-by-coming-here movie' in a theatre

2009-05-27T16:52:00.011+05:30

Titles + hero introduction song
Sit with the back perfectly adjusted with the seat contour.Arms and legs in casual sitting posture.No eatables. Definitely no fags.

Hero +heroine first duet
Slightly inclined to one side with the hand on that side, pressed against the handrest of the chair, with the other hand in the air. Frequently looking at the red exit signs to stage a possible escape. Miniskirts or bare chests (as the case may be) may act as a hesitation causing agent to excecute
the escape.

Pre Intermission
Desperate need to get out. (Screen)-(Watch)-(Screen)-(Front row attractive entity) will be the trajectory of the eye.

Intermission
Heavy Sigh from the nose+mouth area. This phase concentrates mainly butter popcorn, coke and vegetable puff procurement.May involve some cursing and profanity usage because of the queue involved.#Fags default assumption.

Post Intermission
Note :This phase may not happen in cases of absolute realisation of the progressing trashness. In such cases, the termination happens here itself. For the 'realisation-ally challenged', this stage involves in the concentrated consumption of the raw materials procured in the previous stage. Questions addressed here are related to 'the extent of molten butter on the popcorn surface', 'the coke+ice ratio' etc. Eyes NEVER travel to the screen.

Hero swearing on Villain Phase
Profused yawning which causes eyes to water. Slow Blinking to clear the eyes. Searching for the last pieces of popcorn in the paper bag. Staring at the ceiling wondering about life.

Climax fight
Looking back at the previously referred 'Front row attractive entity' to determine the nature of relationship between it and the opposite gender accomplice. Sigh of relief if the accomplice is of the same gender.Else the amount of brow frown is directly proportional to the attractiveness of the accomplice. Eyes may occasionally go to the screen if the fight happens in non-old-houses, non-bare-grounds, non-sumo-filled-with-men-hanging-out-of-window.

End credits
Dusting the remains of the meal. Adjusting the looks. Furiously trying to follow the 'Front row attractive entity'. Exit. Cellphone retrieval and "Super padam ya. Definite aa paakalaam"(Super movie dude. Definitely can see) on the lips but "Naan mattum patta podhuma.Neeyum padu"(Is it fair only if I suffer?You too should feel this pighead) inside head.This phase mostly will involve the non acceptance of the bad decision of entering this phase progression.

Footnote:

1. This is applicable to most (read ALL) Kollywood/Bollywood/Tollywood/Timberwood/RedWood/
Sandalwood (and thelike movies).
2. Raw materials used = f(poshness of the theatre involved, amount of budget allocated, hunger of the self/accomplice)
3. The length of the progression undergone is indirectly proportional to the sanity of the individual undergoing the progression
4. I worked on a 'table' like format for some half an hour which anyways got screwed.

Disclaimer:
I wrote this on an extremely cranky and hopeless days of my life. The post is an attempt by me to make me atleast stop frowning. Quality of humor may not be upto usual standards.

The Truth

2009-05-11T21:16:00.004+05:30

It was a cool breezy evening.The blue bike was making its way through the traffic. He was happy. His daughter was clinging to his back with her little arms wrapped tightly around him. The signal was red now. The bike stopped and he turned back to look at her face. He tugged the windwept hair out of her face. He looked at her eyes. He always liked her eyes. Those innocent beautiful black eyes.He smiled. He turned around just in time to feel something tugging his left leg. He bent down to see the reason.

It was a small girl - probably six or seven. The girl was wearing a faded pink skirt patched up at so many places that the skirt no longer was pink. Her hair was put up in the back with little or no traces of oil. Her bare feet were pitch dark filled with dirt. There was a calculative glance in her eyes. They quickly were darting between his bike, another red car with a lady driver, a bike with a couple and another bike with a typical 4 member family scooching in. She tugged at his pants and said again "Sir, paisa".

He looked at her eyes. She had the same black eyes.

He closed his eyes.

It was that hot summer day.The bike was coming fast. He was sitting on the back of the bike with his eyes aimlessly observing the traffic on the roads. He was already late for his interview which was scheduled at half past ten. It was his seventeenth interview in that recession time and he desperately needed the job to atleast start paying his educational loan. The signal was red now. The bike stopped and he leaned in to ask the time to his friend. It was already ten fifteen. He felt something tugging his left leg. He bent down to see the reason.

It was a small girl.She tugged at his pants and said "Anna, paisa..."

Normally on occasions like these, he never gives alms. He vehemently opposes the concept of begging, especially to people who are not physically challenged. He believed that everyone has to do their part of charity in the world but it has to be done with a proper purpose and in a way that ensures that the help reaches the real needy. But this little girl was something different. Those big eyes dint just potray the urgency of the normal 'traffic signal beggars'. It had that inexplicable innocence hidden somewhere which was desperately trying to fight its way out. She was tugging at his pants again "Anna..paisa"

He reached for his purse. His friend said " All fraud da. Its a way for her parents to sit and eat. Don't fall for it ". He stopped, turned and asked "Unga amma enga?" (Where is your mother?)The girl pointed her hands towards the dark corner and said "Anga Saar" (There Sir) He got down the bike and took the little girl's palms and urged her to lead the way. She was scared now. She started to wriggle out of his grip and go to other people waiting in the signal "Vidu Saar. Amma thittum." (Leave Sir. Mother will scold)The guy was firm and though he was hopelessly late for his interview, he wanted to see the parents who were responsible for this little girl's fate. He was visibly angry at them for making girls of that age to beg for alms . He was now dragging the half scared-half crying girl to the corner she had shown.

It was just the starting point of the dark alley that began after the bus stop. The guy went till the corporation dust bin that marked the start of the alley. He threatened the girl that he would take her to the police if she dint show her parents. Then a voice came from the depth "Yaaru Saar? Yaaru?"(Who is it Sir?Who?). A very old lady was lying behind the bin with three stray dogs at her side. She identified herself to be the grandmother of this girl and told the irate guy that the mother had died five years back from an accident at the very same signal and since then, this little girl was the means of survival for both of them. The guy was speechless. He gave a couple of ten rupee notes (which was all he had) to the little girl and started back to walk towards the signal. He turned back to look at the little girl and then the old lady mumbled "Vera engayaachum porandhrukalaam Saar indha ponnu". (She just could have been born some where else Sir..this girl...) He just gave a deep solemn look for a minute before turning and walking towards the signal.

He opened his eyes.

She watched as her dad grabbed the hand of that dirty girl and take her towards the other end of the road. She saw him talk to that girl and then take out his phone . He then took her by hand and got her back to his bike. She dint like the dirty girl at all. Her dad on the other hand, made the dirty girl sit on the front of the bike and started. She was wondering all the way that why her dad is acting so strange. 'He had her. Dint he? Why then he needs another girl. That too a dirty one.And where are they going?' . She saw her dad stop in front of some building. She was scared. She dint want her dad to leave her here. She held his hands tightly and dint let him go.He moved her palms with a "I will be back in a second sweetheart. Just remain seated here." He then went inside with that girl and talked to a lady who looked a lot like her english teacher. He then wrote something on a paper and finally came back. She went and hugged him tightly.She was so releieved to see that his dad has left that girl there itself. As they went outside the building, she slowly read the name on the board "Lord Hands Mercy Home". She dint understand what was happening but was happy that they were going home now. She tightly held on to him.

(Later)

The little girl was screeching "Dad! I want to know how was I born. My friend told that a big bird drops us from the heaven. Really? Tell me! tell me! tell me! tell me! tell me! tell me!". He slowly opened his eyes and caught his little girl who was now leaning and playing on his shoulders from behind. He pulled her forward and looked at her eyes. He always liked her eyes.He smiled involuntarily. He wanted to tell the reason of her birth was something he did not do ten years back.Some thing that he did do today. That same some thing which made him adopt a female baby. Instead he just looked at his wife. They shared a contended smile.

The Wiki culture

2009-04-30T22:36:00.005+05:30

The culture will catch on. Wiki shall rule the world :)

Perspective

2009-04-24T22:11:00.012+05:30

Bunking work and sitting at home has its own significance I guess..
So I was sitting at home, in front of the comp with this plate of cookies..

The room door opened and I sensed some soul was moving in the back.As this was a usual thing at home, I just ignored and continued along..
After some minutes, I sensed that some soul staring at me from behind.As this was definitely not usual, I turned back to scowl at the observer..
It was a family friend's 7 year old son (third standard dude) who had come home for a visit..

I quickly minimized all the irrelevant stuff and started a conversation with him.After around 10 minutes of the usual inquiries I drifted off to xkcd, with him at the back,asking questions that I was answering in some irrelevant order..Somewhere down the lane I lost the enthu to answer him and got immersed in xkcd.

He: Akka

Me: Mmm..

He: Akkaaa

Me: Mmm..

He: Akkkkaaaaaa..

Me: (Still) Mm..

He: Mmaatthh!!

Me: (Turning suddenly) What!? Where did u learn that?

He: I saw in that blinking box there (gtalk window)

Me: (Having got my theory that a 7 year old cant read/grab that much of English grossly disproved, I quickly minimized all the gtalk windows)..Yes da.Tell!

He: Can I ask you some riddle questions?

Me: (Oh! No! Its the damn riddles again!) Mm..Tell..(Got back to xkcd by then)

He: In which room, u cant get in?

Me: (Tried to think but gave up)..MM-Hmm..U tell me

He: Mushroom (glee!)

Me: Oh! (I was actually amused here.Its been bleddy long since I had heard jokes(?!) like this one)

He: 3 Men get into a small umbrella and tried to walk together. None of them got wet.Why?

Me: No rain?!

He: Yes (slightly put out)..Which key is very difficult to turn?

Me: (Not even listening).Mmm-hmm..

He: Donkey (glee again!)..Which is the dress you cant wear?

Me: (Having lost him wayy back)..U tell!

He: Address..

(silence as there was no reaction from me)

He: How can a girl keep the love of a guy?

Me: (Picking up girl and guy and henceforth rapidly turning) What??

He: How can a girl keep the love of a guy?

Me: (Actually thinking-not the answer but the wierdness that how the question is coming from him)..I dont know?(doubtful)

He: By not retuning it!

Me: (Actually laughing out loud)Who told you this?

He: My friend told me!!

Me: (Now Highly doubtful) What is your friend doing?

He: He is studying 2 nd standard

Me: (Speechless) Oh! (Whoa! inside head)

Moral:
1. Never underestimate the capacity of today's single digit age!
2. I guess I am getting old!

P.S: The whole conversation happened in English only. No translation was needed!
P^2.S: It was good since I dint have to ask the dude whether I could blog this :)
P^3.S: In case, the dude reads this blog after growing up, "No offense man! You are one of the brightest in the family circle :) "

Interview

2009-04-22T12:15:00.005+05:30

An insanely bored interview candidate + 1.30 pm without lunch + clean conference room desk + a black white board marker = A blog post!

Homo Sapiens' boredom algorithm

2009-04-18T00:37:00.003+05:30

Click on the image for an enhanced (= readable) version.An attempt to maintain the log of the system states while on full swing operation!

Murphy and Me

2009-03-24T09:15:00.001+05:30

At the onset, I will clarify a few things: One. I am definitely writing this piece out of utter boredom Two. I am not writing this piece to do any greater good to any soul i know or not know of and as always Three. The only other alternative is to refresh on Fourier transforms- if I have to get on the imaginary plane, might as well get on it for this.

Not wanting to spend another evening in searching youtube for "Funny clips" or watching an arbit Friends episode, I decide against the humanity to go out and get some fresh air. (Translates to my mom's "come with me to XX and XY's daughter's wedding reception"). Murphy is my constant companion these days. We start out together.

Enter the hall. I start to count the minutes to find out how long it takes to bump into another soul i know. Nothing yet. We go inside and I carefully avoid the kids playing outside. The phobia with kids started because somehow I got projected as this model scapegoat who is referred with advices of "andha akka maari padi" (study like that akka)...Once a kid asked me "What have you become after growing old?" My answer was somewhere between " I dont know" to "Did you have the samosa"? <> I carefully find my way in.

Actually i dont know what is classified as 'inside' in a wedding hall.To me, after the slippers, its pretty much the same everywhere. Just chairs to park dashes on.So I start to find some parking spot that is not too close to any old paati who seems yet to understand the mystery of my left open hairdo or any baby booming tax paying maama who enquires about the much wondered future plan of life - which, i guess, basically translates to some spot alone. But yes, thatz like asking story in a Vijay's movie. Never the wish gets granted.

The count actually reached upto 15 here and I was pretty happy. But that was the precise moment that Murphy chose to hold my hand and whisper "Honey, you are not alone!" . Arrival of Padma maami (of course, the names are changed). She is the reputed matchmaker for the entire South of chennai. She comes in with an escalated screech of some greeting and drags me across some chairs to some place (Basically it was all a blur because of the speed involved). Stop .I see this dude standing in front of me. Clean shaven, blue shirt, white dhothi and a big strip across the forehead that read "I am a NRI" . I am half way between exasperation and boredom thereby missing out the intros. At this juncture, i have to tell about a South Indian mathematical marvel called a half saree . Never can anyone attempt to understand the trignometry behind the design. Its too complex for an engineering graduate. The essence is that the design rarely holds up without the support from atleast 12 columns called safety pins. This is the conversation between us:

Dude : So i hear you are trying for MS abroad.Do you have any specific univs in mind? (geography concern i suppose)
Me : (Shit i guess column no:7 on the left side is slowly tilting off)..yes ..some....no....not really (it makes a lot of sense this way !)
Dude : Hmm(Certainly having got the general idea)...So, you watch Friends? (alwayz the ice breaker)
Me : (Now seriously needing to adjust the trignometric structure)..Friends?What is that?? (sure shot way out)
Dude : Its a ...
Me : (Cutting in) I guess we are late for food..Catch you around sometime..

Dashing the way toward the dining hall, I then desperately try to locate my long lost mom in the crowd.Half dragging her and half dragging the dress, we get into the dining hall. This is actually the best part of the ordeal. As long as its not a buffet punishment ( Here it works in direct proportion- the more you carry , the more you can eat.....much like doing manual labor for food), anything should be fine. I convince my mom for some nondescript seats and we settle down. Everything looks like a fine progression till paparazzi comes in. I seriously wonder as to who invented this concept of taking footage of people eating meals in a dining hall.Its like asking " seriously?you are enjoying THIS food?God, we need some proof!" I sense the danger approaching and try to look everywhere but at the camera. I then remember that the safe way out is to look down, but 20 seconds is the maximum time any human can stare at the food before eating it.The video dude is still there. I remember that another intelligent solution is to have an animated conversation with the person next to you about today's weather or the petrol price. I appreciate my acumen and turn to my mother, only to find out that she was already smiling big and posing for the camera!. Now I am lost. I accept the unconditional surrender and look pleadingly at the video guy's face. He seemed to smirk before moving along the row.

By now, I look like a zombie long lost in the tyranny of time. I scream/beg my mom to come out and we locate the car (again avoiding any souls of nature and kin). I vent my fusion on the clutch and slam out as fast as I can. We reach home. After scourning at my dad, who silently phrased " You should have enjoyed this" in his sarcastic smile, I dash up to my room upstairs and fell on the bed. It then strikes me " wait a sec! the bag is still heavy!"I open and extract the mass responsible. It was neatly wrapped in a gift paper and had a card that read "With best wishes from Raghuraman and Family"!
Oops! I contemplate just for a second about going downstairs to accept my felony but then quickly decide against it .Well, its not everyday that you get a surprise gift. And after all the tyranny of the day, I definitely deserve it. I open the package and found a big 11x14 inches frame that read "Happy married life! " Well what can I say ? Murphy seems to be my constant companion these days!