I think...

Day One...

2011-01-25T06:42:00.000-08:00

Today was the first day in Penang and luckily no jetlag... Lucky or meticulously controlled sleep during the flight will stay a mystery. I woke up after my 6 hour sleep and decided to try the gym... (it was too dark to go outside for a run). Mission accomplished for day 1.

The first two things that struck me about Altera Penang were - cleanliness of the carpet and the inviting brightness inside the building. As I observed and learned more I discovered that both had specific reasons - the reason for the later was the fact that all lights were on :-) I had forgotten how it feels with all lights turned on!

Meeting everyone was the best part of the day. 10 of us went for lunch together and thanks to a colleague who is also vegetarian all the meat-eaters were forced to eat veggie food for the day! But I am sure I need to find more hybrid places if we are to go out together for more than a week.

Dinner was with a colleague and a friend and we tried an Indian place. The food was pretty good except for the oil but more than anything we had a great time chatting and getting to know each other.

The most thoughtful gesture for the day was that by Tat Hui though, while I was trying to gather information on which pre-paid phone service to get and looking for someone with a pre-paid phone, he pulls out his old phone and passes it on to me - charged and ready to go with all our department contacts loaded. He it up just a day before for me and I hadnt even mentioned it, much less ask for it. A shout out to him for being to considerate!

Now time to get some sleep so that I can make it to my 7AM meeting!

Shredder RIP-off

2009-06-11T10:14:00.000-07:00

Every Evening, W runs down to the mail box and gets a bunch of stuff. It includes our magazines, credit card statements, Pre-Approved offers , dvds etc etc...These are then (eventually) sorted . The DVDs goes near the TV, all the subsciption renewals, offers, coupons into one pile and everything else to be shredded into another. We got out Shredder last Nov From STAPLES hoping to keep our sensitive junk mail in check. Imagine our dismay when one evening, while trying to shred some paper, it groaned and churned and finally came to a halt. We could still hear the motor (trying maybe) to turn but the sharp teeth were at its place. Hmmm..Lucky we got a Store brand product. Right.....? WRONG !!!

That weekend we head off to a staples store fairly confident that "customer satisfaction is the number 1 priority"...
We Enter with our head held high. We stand in line over the customer service counter with a smile on our face.

Staples Rep : "How can we help you Sir ? "

W : "We got this shredder last Nov ..It hasn't yet been a year and it just died on us..The motor still runs but the teeth don't turn."

Staples Rep: "Do you have an extended Service plan ?"

W : " For a 30$ Shredder from your store ? No !!"

Staples Rep: " Sorry Sir , we cannot do anything in the store. You have to call the 1800-Number, Wait in the Queue..Then ship your 30$ Shredder to them which would cost you more than 40$ to ship and they may consider "..

Ehmm, Ehmm,.. Well he really did not add all the other lines ..

W : "Sir, So you expect me to call the 1800 number, Wait in the Queue, Then ship the 30$ shredder which would cost more than the shredder so that they might consider ? "

The Rep : ...Repeats the same S*** ..

W : "Sir, We prefered to get this Shredder and pay the sales tax so that if things did get to this point, we would have someone to talk to, to help us out. "

The Rep : Sorry , We cannot do anything.

How Naive were we to think that every product has atleast a year's Warrenty.....Guess not Staples !! Every time they change the model, we cannot do anything without the reciept.

Fine.....We give up against this corporate mumbo jumbo....
Let us pick out another shredder and hope to get a discount..So we go and pick up a decent shredder worth 64$ on sale for 34$...

We go to the checkout and talk with the assistant manager...
We think maybe we should look at the Extended service plan so that if anything goes wrong with our shredder, we can get it replaced...(read : The only think the reps would even consider talking about )
Ha Ha Ha....Keep wishing...
The plan had nothing to do with "replacing the shredder" or taking responsibility of the product..If it does go bad, we will get back the $$ that we spent for the shredder....(Dumdfounded)..

These were the two options we were given :
(1) Take the 15$ worth of plan and we will get out 22$ back if the shredder decides to die
(2) Pay the full price...(with the same outcome after 1 yr...)

W : Lady you asking me to pay a 70% premium so that I can get my 22$ back..

Rep : Sorry the system does not allow us to do anything else..

I chime in : Can't you even write a comment describing the situation ?

Rep : Nope..

So off we go with our new shredder and the 15$ "warrenty"...Vowing to ourselves never to go back again..

If Staples keeps on this kind of service it would be next in lineto follow Circuit city.
From the store's standpoint, this model might be good...But unfortunately its not for the customers... Talk about total RIPoff .. Hmphhh....

The ideals.

2009-03-31T15:51:00.000-07:00

You've got mail !!

Gears of thought started churning when I got (yet to be updated) mail from my Friend, and I started to ponder...

I looked up the meaning of ideal as the webster dictionary states.

1: existing as an archetypal idea
2 a: existing as a mental image or in fancy or imagination only ;
b.broadly : lacking practicality
c: relating to or constituting mental images, ideas, or conceptions

I liked 2b. the best.

“Ideal” though seemingly absolute, is hardly so. Especially when coupled with the word “wife” or “husband”. Over the years, generations , society and the media, have created a solid mold for an “ideal wife” and anything outside the mold is perceived to be non ideal, not necessary bad of course.

I believe, as the pieces of a jigsaw, no piece by themselves can have a label of perfection, but it’s the picture that they make together. That is the metaphor I use when describing a marriage. It is the couple that can make their marriage an ideal picture for themselves. “Compatibility is not overrated".

Would you call a wife ideal if she does not empty the dishwasher or load the washer/dryer as her husband loves to do it? ( you would sure call her lucky).

How about the husband, if he likes taking it slow when his wife is earning enough and willingly so?

Well, at least the dictionary tends to agree "its all in the mind" :)

ponder on !!

The Sur`prize'

2008-09-14T14:40:00.000-07:00

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME, .... Is this really it ? "

" Excuse me ? "

"Do you know what this is ? Do you know what its called ? "

" Not really Maam ! " {with a wild look}

"Oh My Gosh! I dont believe this, I have found it, I have finally found it ".

"My Precious.... Finally after a year's search in Watsonville , Menlo Park Farmers Market , San Jose flea market, And ..and ....its right here, 2 miles away from my home, Under my very nose,
a constant supply of Purslane.... Verdogala .... `my mumma's Gol Ki Bhaji ' , Haven't been this estatic before " ..

"(Thinking) Crazy lady"...

55 Fiction

2008-06-05T17:53:00.000-07:00

Friends

"Well? Don't you have anything to say?"

"I'm just...I really wasn't expecting this."

"Say something. Anything."

"I'm sorry. But I don't feel about you that way."

"Oh."

"I mean you're a great guy and I like you but..."

"Oh."

"I hope we can still stay friends."

"Hmm..."

The Study Group

The readings did not match the graph. Five people, four months and no results. He heard the beep of her cellphone. She excused herself. He saw her blush as she closed the door behind her. He leaned back in the chair and sighed.

He knew she would leave now. The simulation would have to wait.

The Invite

He had been away. A business trip. The mailbox looked like it was about to burst. Bills, preapproved offers, a wedding invite, dvds, more bills, flyers...wait! Her wedding invite. He threw it into the trash.

He couldn't sleep. He came back and fished it out. Better shred it. Too much id theft nowadays.

Terminal C

"Hi."

"Hey, fancy seeing you here."

"Yeah, work travel. How about you? Another annual trip home?"

"Yes."

"Alone?"

"Yeah, actually he...uhhh...Why don't you sit down?"

"No, my flight leaves soon. I just saw you so stopped by to say hi. Sorry, gotta run."

He seems happy.

She's been crying.

Opinions

"Who is this girl?"

"Huh?"

"The one you write about."

"No one. She doesn't exist. It's fiction."

"Raaaight..."

"Anyhoo, could you just tell me what you thought about the stories?"

"I can't, without knowing more about the characters. So, who is this girl?"

He sighed. He would just have to post it as it was.

Late Night talk

2008-04-15T17:37:00.000-07:00

A Typical Afternoon in the office includes a hot cup of coffee which usually just sits there half empty, a colorful screen with all kinds of red, orange and if lucky green-blue simulation signals, and a good set of sony headphones, the kind which I recently received from D. No, unlike what you might be thinking, I did title this correctly. It not about afternoon that I wish to talk to you about. From the "circumaural" headphones comes out a very sweet sound of a song which takes me back to those cold nights in Cincinnati at a speed more than my simulation can run.

Those were the days. Me and one of my very close girlfriend with our class of 2007 use to spend nights after nights in our VLSI lab at Cinci. Our survival kit included the fudge cookies, brisk ICE tea from the wending machine across the hall in the nap room/break room and the our lone CD in the lab. We used to play our favourite song, "bheegi bheggi ratoon mein by leslie lewis". And not only did we play it , we kept on playing it. As the number of nights we spent in the lab increased, the sweet sound of the song was followed by our out of Sync voices. The song transcended from being an addition to the project nights to an addiction.The nights I spent in the 880 Lab does not remind me of the project deadlines or blood shot eyes but more about the fun we had as a group.

It would be close to a year now since I left my student life, but every little thing brings back memories including the 9'O clock Fox shows. My rommie's blog does not make the task any simpler. I miss those days and above all I miss the people. Wish I could go back in time for just a day back to the lab, back to my friends back to Apt 12, relive the moment over again.

Confessions Of A Cynic

2008-04-15T11:06:00.000-07:00

The following thoughts and ideas have been loosely abridged from my observations of life and are postulates so to speak, to be accepted without proof.

Expectation is the root of all misery

Expectation sets mental standards. Failure by people around you and life in general to meet these standards leads to misery. So ingrained in our minds and lives is the law of action & reaction that we subconsciously expect returns for each and every action, no matter how small it might be. Master the art of giving up expectation and you will overcome unhappiness once and for all. However, the fact that you won't be unhappy does not mean that you will be happy.

The worst unanswered questions in life start with Why

"Why did he say that?" "Why did she do this to me?" "Why must life suck so much?" "Why Me?" It all starts with Why? We all wonder Why? Given a choice, most people would rather want to know "Why can't we be truly happy?" instead of "What is true happiness?" Answers to What questions are philosophical. Answers to Why questions are practical.

Hope is the biggest trick of them all

The biggest trick that was ever pulled on mankind was to make one believe that having hope can somehow affect the outcome of whatever it is one is hoping for. Thinking about it logically for a second makes one realize how ridiculous the idea is. However, the success stories of a small percentage of people hoping for something and then getting it, usually get more media attention and thereby overshadow the huge failure rate. It is this fact that keeps up the smoke screen. I put it rather bluntly though. Hopeful people would rather put it as: This is what keeps people going.

Rejection is the root of all conflict

Rejection: Of ideas, of love and often of common sense. Wars, heartbreak, crimes, divorce, global warming...the list is endless. But it can all be traced down to rejection. Rejection of one basic value, on which had the conflicting parties been able to agree upon, would have led them to not being conflicting parties in the first place. Variety is not the spice of life. The varieties of rejection are the spice of life. In fact, it would be a safe bet on my part to assume that many of you readers would rather reject my ideas of cynicism after having convinced yourself that optimism is a better choice.

Love is a scarce natural resource in need of conservation

Understanding a quality as complex as love requires the application of logic beyond the normal realms and boundaries of analysis. The world population is constantly on the rise. However, there is only enough love to go around. A common scenario of demand exceeding supply. It would help you to understand if you think of love as a spiritual or psychological oxygen for the human race. Or for the technically inclined, an internet connection with limited bandwidth. For new people to fall in love, people already in love have to fall out of love to make resources available, leading to divorces and split-ups. However, if the feelings of mutual affection of the new people who want to be in love are not stronger than those of the current people, resources are not freed up, leading to heartbreak. Love, therefore is a non-renewable scarce natural resource in dire need of conservation.

Footnote:

These ideas have not been presented with an aim of converting you into followers of cynicism. In fact, I suggest to the optimists among you that you feed on these golden morsels of information and think of how lucky you are to be privy to this knowledge without having to undergo the arduous quest to cynical enlightenment.

En Route to the Epicurean Alley

2008-03-10T18:24:00.000-07:00

I have always loved reading blogs. I feel most people do an amazing job of being witty and informative at the same time. I never really thought I would try out writing one myself but the love of food and the excitement of sharing innovative recipes made me turn to my windows machine ( Now now, I wouldn’t do this on my linux, would I !) But still am not too hopeful to create a blog of my own and so would take up a few MegaBytes and appear amidst toastmasters speeches and short stories, adding a little zest to topgunw’s blog (as I did in his life :) ).

A little introduction would be a good starting point. I hail from a west Indian City of Ahmedabad, Gujarat. {You have a gujju ben amongst you.} But surprisingly only a part of my food has been influenced by Gujarati cooking, that too thanks to my childhood neighbors and my mom-in law. The rest is all Hyderabadi.
My friends teasingly call me Hajrati J Not such a tough sandhi is it.
Due to my mom and more so my aunt, I love ginger and green chilies in my cooking. My crisper is dull and boring without them. I believe they have a knack of making any dish fresh and green. Try adding greens to any dish, it can be just cilantro, and experience the change it creates. My friends last week just had a close brush with my green chili passion with an overdose of them in a potato curry. I believe that was the end of my “cooking for my friends” phase. They would never lend their gastronome tract for my experiments again.

Being in San Jose, California, we have plenty of sunlight (or so people say, we have been through this cold dull month of winter recently). Hence I head to the farmers market whenever I can. As a result I get so many “special” veggies which we would have never tried otherwise.
To figure out which recipe best enhances the taste of a particular vegetable, I go through many food blogs before dinner. Recently I came across some who really did a good job of food blogging. Some of my favorites are http://www.nandyala.org/mahanandi/about/ and www.evolvingtastes.blogspot.com/

Next time I experiment, I would be loaded with chilies, ginger, garlic and my canon SD600. Let’s see how much quality contribution I can make to the world of food blogging.

The Time Machine

2008-01-28T21:30:00.000-08:00

The final test. He had perfected the time machine. No flaws or explosions this time. "The mad scientist" they had nicknamed him. He'd show them. Those mindless fools sleepwalking through life without a purpose, who couldn't recognize his genius. He'd show them. Just one last test. A human subject. Him.

He knew it was dangerous. But he had a strong feeling it would work. This time it was for real. After all, the tests with inanimate objects and animals had worked fine. He had to try it.

He set the date. 18th century. The Revolution. He wouldn't see much as he would return in five minutes. But still, it was an interesting period. And it would look good when he announced his invention to the world. He was ready. Everything double checked. He'd show them...

Initiating time-travel sequence in 5...4...3...2...1...

He vanished from the lab. So did the time machine. Broke the space-time continuum. The Big Bang, they would call it. Years later...

The Cliché

2008-01-08T21:17:00.000-08:00

He opened his eyes. He was waiting for her at the train station. It was late. Almost midnight. The train would be leaving soon. And they'd go away. Far away from the family feuds and the intimidation and the pain and the...But why hadn't she come yet? She had to. She had promised. The light turned green. A whistle sounded. The train set off in motion with a gentle shove. One last searching look. He rubbed away the tears. And stepped on to the train...

He opened his eyes. His head felt heavy. And a couple of sizes too big. Something cold was pressed against his hand. A .45 automatic. Used quite recently. He could smell it in the air. He tried to get his eyes to focus. And regretted it immediately. She lay on the carpet in a pool of blood. He stumbled over and hugged her. Then carried her lifeless body and placed it on the bed. He knew he would be the prime suspect. His fingerprints were all over the place. Well, so be it. He rubbed away the tears and reloaded the gun. They would pay for this...

He opened his eyes. Someone was calling his name. He walked over and got his espresso. 3 more hours of studying. And then 2 more in the examination hall. He wondered how many more espressos he'll need. He tried to concentrate on the squiggles which according to the author were a data plot. Someone who smelled nice squeezed past him, stumbled and scalded his neck with her latte. He screamed. She panicked. Everyone stared. She got some napkins. She said she was sorry. He said it was alright. He made a quick trip to the restroom. He sat down. He saw she had the same textbook...

He opened his eyes. The hospital tiles stared back at him. Cold, unfriendly and spotlessly clean. She'd been in surgery for almost three hours now. His brain was numb from worrying. And praying. All he wanted was for someone to come out and tell him that she was going to be okay. It had been a drunk driver. One who hadn't noticed or hadn't cared for the red light. Why? Why her? Why today? Why hadn't he picked her up from work like everyday? He rubbed away the tears and looked up. The nurse was walking towards him. Please let her be okay, just please let her be okay...

"What are you doing? And why are these crumpled papers on the floor?"

"Well, what does it look like I'm doing? I am trying to write a short story. But everything I've tried so far just sounds so clichéd."

CSI

2007-11-01T20:39:00.000-07:00

It was about three in the night when they woke me up. I was used to this. Part of the job. Crime has an uncanny habit of happening late in the night. Either that or the police dispatch hated knowing that I was asleep. I got into the car. Detective Jackson from Homicide. Good man. Ten years on the force. It was my third. I looked out the window. The night was perfect for murder. No moon, no wind, snowing. I needed a drink. But there was work to do.

We reached the crime scene. A large estate. Old money. Very snobbish. R.J. Edwarton is the name said Jackson. Hmm, so old man Edwarton had croaked. I tried to feel sorry. We went up to the study. The walls were lined with books. Leather bound. The place reeked of money. And someone had wanted it bad. Bad enough to whack the old guy. He lay sprawled over the large mahogany desk. A gleaming knife sticking out of his back made it obvious why he wasn't moving.

I knew the chief wanted me to sniff around for clues right away but I took my time. I always made it a point to observe the people. It usually told me a lot. Put me on the right scent. Something pretty was quietly sobbing in a corner. Probably the old man's daughter. A handsome hunk, the kind pretty dames usually fall for, was trying to console her. I checked the corpse thoroughly. Nothing suspicious or out of place. Well, that was that. I was ready to leave the whole sordid mess. But wait, something smelt funny. Yes, the handle of the knife, a faint smell, almost unnoticeable. It didn't belong here. I tried to remember what it was but I couldn't quite place it.

The hunk had been watching me all the time. He seemed troubled now. He whispered something to the dame and she got up and started walking to the door, sobbing some more. But it seemed fake. I noticed her hands were shaking. Her hands!!! Ofcourse. The smell. Moisturizing cream. That's what it was. He had seen me sniffing the knife handle and hence told her to leave. I had to stop her. And make sure. But she had almost left the room. The door was swinging shut.

Woof! Woof! Woof!

"Hey Jackson. Let the stupid mutt out will ya. He doesn't seem to be of much use inside anyway."

Great. Here I had the case busted wide open and this is how I got thanked. Somedays, it just wasn't any fun being a police dog.

The Envelope

2007-10-18T20:42:00.000-07:00

He was jittery. He paced about in his apartment counting the number of steps he took. 754...755...756. He knew he should stop walking. His legs were starting to ache. 757...758. He had been waiting for the envelope for two days. It had to come today, it just had to. He was sick of waiting. 759...760...

He was glad it was a Saturday, so he did not have to go to work. It also meant he could check the mail as soon as the postman delivered it. He had called to enquire on Thursday and they had assured him that he would definitely get the envelope by end of business on Friday. But he hadn't. Returning from work, he had opened the mailbox and it was empty. Frustrated, he had slammed the mailbox shut and punched it twice thereby scraping his knuckles and scaring away the nice old lady who lived two floors above who had also come to check the mail.

He had ranted and raved for a few minutes, then calmed down and called them again. He knew what he was going to say. He would ask to speak to the manager. He was done waiting. He wanted to know why he hadn't received the envelope and that if they didn't care about him then they should just say so. But he had reached a recorded voice which said that it was after business hours and that he should call later.

He had not slept well that night because of the nightmares. Nightmares in which he chased elusive envelopes over steep mountains and long flights of stairs and when he finally caught them and tore them open, they turned out to be empty. Since morning he had done little else other than pacing about nervously. The morning coffee had made the jitters even worse. 761...762...763...He was glad the postal department did not take Saturdays off. There was still hope. 764...765...

He saw the postman driving up in his little van and his heart leapt up. He raced downstairs, then back up again to grab the mailbox key and back down again. But the postman had gone into the building across. He cursed and snarled and muttered incoherently for another ten minutes about how he was entitled to receive his mail before those no-good-studio-renters who paid lesser rent than him. The postman came and stared at him suspiciously. He realized what an awful sight he must look. He tried to appear casual and inconspicuous but the postman kept checking over his shoulder while delivering the letters as if he expected to be attacked anytime.

As soon as the postman was done he ran to his mailbox. He had to hold the key with both hands to stop it from shaking. Yes!!, the envelope was there and he ripped it open. The movie dvds had arrived. It was going to be a good weekend.

Conversations With God

2007-10-05T21:28:00.000-07:00

Hello there...

Huh? Who is it?

It's me. God. Can't you see me?

Well, maybe I could if you stopped shining that bright light in my eyes...

Oh sorry, I'm having trouble adjusting the brightness since I switched to these environment friendly CFLs.

Huh?...you use CFLs???

Ofcourse. Incandescent bulbs are so last year.

No, I mean to create light. I thought You created light.

Well...duh. Don't you know the law of conservation of energy? I can't create light out of nothing. Didn't they teach you this stuff in school?

Hmmm...so what about the whole "Let there be light" thing?

That was just a catchy tagline that my PR guys came up with. Helps keep up the cool image.

Oh. Okay.

So what brings you here? What is it this time?

What's that supposed to mean? Can't a guy just drop by to say hello?

Oh...I see...well, you know...most of the time it's only when people want something that they come to see me.

That is just so stereotypical. I expected You of all people to be a little more open minded.

Well, technically speaking I'm not one of the people...heh heh...

Hmm...funny. I've heard things about your sense of humour.

Yeah. I know they say I have a funny sense of humour. Seems kinda redundant if you ask me. I mean, if it is a sense of "humour" it's gotta be "funny", right?

Hey, that was cool. The way you flickered the light to do the quote-unquote thingy.

Aww, you noticed. Thanks.

So how are things in heaven?

Well, we are having some trouble with the FORCE.

You mean like an imbalance in the force? Like Star Wars?

No no...the FORCE...the Federation Of Roman Catholic Engineers...

Oh.

Well, now that you mention it I guess you could call them imbalanced...heh heh heh...

Hmm...funny.

You seem pensive. Something on your mind?

Well, it's just that...I don't know if I will ever see you again...so I was wondering if you could tell me the meaning of life...why we are here...where we are going...what our purpose in life is...

I guess I could. Except that...

Except what?

"Honey, wake up. You can't doze off like that during prayers. I thought the whole reason for coming to the temple was that you wanted to be in God's presence."

The Fortune Cookie sayeth...

2007-10-04T18:06:00.000-07:00

Just the kind of motivation IndiGeek needs. And that's the way the cookie crumbles :)

Coffee...

2007-09-27T20:23:00.000-07:00

He was sitting on the back porch steps. She walked up to him.

"I'm leaving now."

"Please. Don't."
"Did you get everything?"

"Yes. Except for the brown stroller."
"And the memories."

"I'll help you with it."
"I always said it was too big for you."

"Thanks."
"Aren't you gonna say anything to stop me?"

[PAUSE]

"Uhhh...It's going to be a long drive. Do you want a cup of coffee before you...?"
"One last time. For old times sake?"

"Well, I should get going actually, but I guess I could use one."
"The coffee-pot's already on. And he is using coasters. I guess two years of nagging does have effect after all."

"Why are you smiling?"
"I've missed that smile so much. But why am I even asking? I know she's not gonna say anything."

"Nothing...it's nothing."
"For chrissakes, stop smiling. But he does look cute when he's confused."

"I'll...I'll go get the coffee."
"In her favourite mug. I wonder why she didn't pack it up with the rest of her stuff. Good thing I didn't smash it to pieces like I wanted to the other day."

[PAUSE]

"That was quick. Thanks."
"Mmmm...not too frothy, not too sweet, hint of cinnamon. Perfect. If only he had done things like these more often. I can't remember the last time..."

"I hope it's okay."
"Never mind. I can tell you like it."

[PAUSE]

"What are you thinking?"
"You'd better be thinking of something to say to stop me."

"About how simple things used to be. How did we get here? What happened?"
"I guess life happened."

"Hmm."
"What is he getting at?"

"We never went to Paris like we always said we would."
"The City of Love."

"I guess we just got busy with our careers."
"Seriously, if he's just gonna go off into one of his reminiscense daydreams, I'd better leave now."

"Well...so, you know...I was just thinking that...I'm off work for two weeks...and you're already packed...so if you want...we could..."
"O my God, she's giving me that dazed look. Oh wait, now she looks like she's about to cry."

"You are the most crazy...impulsive...deviant...oddball I've ever known, you know that, you silly idiot?"
"Thank you God, thank you..."

[PAUSE] [SOBS] [TEARS] [HUGS]

"So what do we do with the divorce papers?"

"Well, you always said we didn't use the fireplace more often."

"Oh and you do remember that we always said that we'd fly to Paris first class, right?"

"I can't say I do. We still have to pay the lawyers you know."

"No worries. I'm not moving out so you don't have to pay for that."

"You are such a spendthrift."

"And you are such a cheapskate."

The Date

2007-09-20T20:06:00.000-07:00

He was late. He muttered silent curses as the crowd jostled and shoved politely to get through the turnstiles. Taking the Harbour line used to be an enjoyable ride, he thought, and now look at it. He ran the rest of the way and reached the platform out of breath. The train was late. He had got worked up for no reason. It had been happening a lot lately. It wasn't good. But then today wasn't any ordinary day. He was taking her out today.

He had met her for the first time on the morning 8:05 northbound. Two months ago. Two months of patience. And persistence. After all, he wasn't much to look at. And she was...well, she was way out of his league. But he had persevered on. He had started with finding out everything there was to know about her, almost bordering on obsessive stalking. Her personal history, her friends, where she lived, where she shopped, where she worked. Finding out about her work had been most difficult. All he had been able to uncover was that she worked for some hush hush department in a company that was almost unknown to the public. And he hadn't pressed on afraid that she might find out she was being watched. Gradually all that had paid off and they became train buddies. She would save him a seat. He would get her a coffee. And this had gone on for quite some time. Till today morning, when he had asked her out. And she had said yes.

The train ground to a halt and he realized it was his stop. Another lapse in attention, thinking about her. Not good, he reminded himself. He hurried out of the station. There was a lot to do. And very little time. But he had planned for this since long. For the next one hour he worked efficiently, almost mechanical in his motions while following his mental blueprint and then got dressed.

He took a taxi uptown but walked the last block while he made a phone call to check on the reservation. The apartment concierge buzzed him in and he took the stairs to number 207.

"Hey. You're here, right on the dot. You'll have to give me a coupla minutes. Come in."

"After you."

The gunshots were almost a whisper. She went limp.

He dialled the number.

"It's done."

He checked the time. Half an hour to the airport, easy. He looked at her. And smirked. One less in the Harbour Line crowd tomorrow.

Journey Of A 100 Rants

2007-09-15T00:43:00.000-07:00

This blog post has been in the making for quite some time now. I started out to make a list of top 5 or top 10 things that I find most annoying but I soon realized that a count of 5 or 10 is too small to fit the purpose. So here is my list of 100 things that annoy me the most. I'm sure you will be able to relate to most of these. And in case of the unlikely event that you find yourself on the list, don't worry, I always make exceptions for friends and readers of my blog, so I still love you. Besides, most of it is just tongue-in-cheek humour :P

I hate:

1. Infidelity.
2. Procrastination.
3. Assignments.
4. Grading on a curve.
5. Global warming.
6. Being misunderstood.
7. Lying awake at night unable to sleep.
8. That I am already having a midlife crisis.
9. Gals who pretend to be single but actually aren't.
10. Guys who are actually single but pretend that they aren't.
11. That great gals always go for the sensitive guys.
12. That great gals who don't dig sensitive guys fall for the jerks.
13. That I am neither sensitive nor a jerk.
14. Married people with kids (here on called MPWKs to conserve writing space)
15. MPWKs who get to use the carpool lane although they are not actually carpooling since they would have driven in the same car anyway.
16. MPWKs who weasel out of taking their car when it comes to actual carpooling to a group event since they have no sitting space for co-workers because of the kiddie seats.
17. MPWKs who complain about crowds.
18. MPWKs who create crowds by bringing kids and prams.
19. MPWKs who believe that after entering a restaurant, it is the restaurant owner's responsibility to make their kids behave.
20. MPWKs who have bumper stickers "My kid is a honor student at..."
21. Flip cellphones.
22. Cellphones with loud ringtones.
23. Cellphones with loud people.
24. That incoming SMSs are not free.
25. The iPhone hype.
26. The Windows blue screen of death.
27. The Xbox360 red ring of death.
28. Smog tests.
29. Parallel parking.
30. That public transport in US sucks.
31. Roads that have intersections/traffic lights but are still called expressways.
32. That inspite of spending so much to buy a car, it is the pedestrians that have right-of-way.
33. ATMs that have transaction surcharge.
34. Crowded gyms.
35. People at the gym who walk the treadmill at 2 mph with zero incline.
36. That people who want to play ping pong keep increasing in proportion with number of available ping pong tables.
37. People who stare at you blankly while listening to their iPods.
38. Pink color.
39. Unattended shopping carts.
40. Keys that say "Do not duplicate" on them.
41. The State of Arkansas.
42. High Fructose Corn Syrup.
43. That most desi restaurants close by 9:30 pm.
44. That instant tea is no where as good as instant coffee.
45. That sausages and scones taste nothing like what Enid Blyton described in her stories.
46. That chocolates in the US are no where as good as European chocolates.
47. That good French food is so expensive.
48. That Starbucks discontinued the Chantico.
49. Devaluation of currency.
50. Taxes.
51. Single people whining about paying more taxes than married people.
52. Married people whining about not getting enough tax breaks.
53. That the IRS will catch you if you don't pay the right amount of tax but won't tell you upfront what that amount is.
54. That Halloween is not a national holiday.
55. That company workplaces do not have spring break.
56. Exits that say "Do not exit. Alarm will sound."
57. Forwarded emails that tell you to enjoy life.
58. Forwarded emails that tell you to forward the email.
59. That India did not qualify to the Super 8's.
60. That I don't have any super powers.
61. Scratched dvds.
62. Dvd players that are overly sensitive to scratched dvds.
63. Kareena Kapoor.
64. Sooraj Barjatya.
65. Paris Hilton.
66. People who think Paris Hilton is just misunderstood and deserves a second chance.
67. Neal N' Nikki - The movie, the characters in the movie and the actor-actress in real life.
68. That Neo had to die.
69. That Alfred Hitchcock never won an Oscar.
70. The guy who played Luke Skywalker.
71. That cable companies charge extra for HD.
72. Gals who watch Lord Of The Rings just coz Orlando Bloom looks oh-so-cute with his pointy elf ears.
73. The K-serials.
74. People who follow K-serials and won't shut up.
75. Hangovers.
76. Heartburn.
77. Bad hair days.
78. Private jokes.
79. That there aren't any 1UP mushrooms in real life.
80. Racism.
81. Street muggings.
82. That the really annoying people you wish would get mugged, never get mugged.
83. Nightmares.
84. Having nice dreams and then waking up to realize it wasn't real.
85. "Do not walk on the grass" signs.
86. Cute gals who swear.
87. Musicals.
88. Drunk driving.
89. The rat-race and the fact that even if I win, I'd still be a rat.
90. People who add veggies while making Maggi.
91. Toast speeches that try to be funny but fall flat.
92. That I still don't have a numbered Swiss bank account.
93. Wet blankets. (Especially the really soggy ones)
94. Plastic packaging that says "Peel here to open" but refuses to peel open.
95. Dentist appointments.
96. That gals say "Nothing. I'm fine" when asked what's wrong.
97. Obsessive Compulsive Disorders.
98. Initiation fees, processing fees and non refundable deposits.
99. That I am no where close to starting my own coffee shop.

And last but not the least: Hippies.

Whew! Now I feel better :)

L3T'5 ¢H@T

2007-07-09T13:42:00.000-07:00

Ping. Buzz!!!

Hey. Wassup?

Busy?

Not really.

Cool.

Where were you last night? I called a million times.

Heh heh...sorry...phone was switched off...was in library...assignment. Why didn't you leave a message?

Yeah, right. As if you check messages.

Heh heh :P

What assignment?

564

Didn't you have the midterm just last week?

You know I did. So stop rubbing it in. Not my fault the prof is a freakin sadist.

Whoa, wrong side of the bed today morning, eh? :P

Shut up. Slept just two hours. That too in the library.

Aww. You poor thing, you.

That's better :)

Well, if it's any consolation even I was up all night.

How come?

Was thinking about you. Couldn't sleep.

Nice try :P Was your graveyard shift, wasn't it?

Rats ;)

Heh heh...

So you pretty sleepy huh?

Yeah, will have to get a coffee. Boy, am I glad this boring lecture is over...

Yeah, me too.

Stop typing, idiot...we can talk now.

Unplug my laptop first...the power cord's right next to your feet. Hey, cute shoes.

Thanks :) You are such a geek :P

Overdose

2007-07-06T13:53:00.001-07:00

Him: "Come on baby, just a couple of snorts."

Her: "Isn't it dangerous?"

Him: "It's just a couple. Trust me babe, you'll feel great."

Her: "Ok."
.
.
Satan: What do you think?

God: I'm not convinced yet.

Satan: You'll see...
.
.
Him: "How do you feel, babes?"

Her: "Oh this is groovy. I see all sorts of colors. And I feel like I am floating. I wanna do more."
.
.
Satan: Well?

God: Fine. You can take her.
.
.
Her: "Make me a line. I wanna snort a whole line."
.
.

A Conversation

2007-06-29T11:18:00.000-07:00

"Honey, I'm home..."

"What took you so long?"

"You know, the work, the traffic. They closed the Drake Avenue exit. It's a parking lot out there."

"I've been home for three hours. I left early today to pick up some groceries on the way. Can you believe it? They didn't have any chunky peanut butter. I had to buy the creamy one."

"Quite a misfortune. Really, what is the world coming to these days?"

"You don't have to be sarcastic. I was just saying..."

"Yes dear, I know you were just saying. How was your day?"

"It was okay. Nothing great. How was yours?"

"It was a blast. Mooned the boss and told him to go drown himself."

"Very funny. Did you call the phone company about the extra charges?"

"Yes, I did and the lady suggested it would help some if you spent less time on the phone with your mom."

"Sometimes I wonder why I even try talking sense with you."

"Yes, it is a pity, isn't it? Sometimes I wonder why you said yes when I was kneeling on one leg with a diamond ring in hand."

"The sparkle of the diamond must have blinded me from seeing your true self."

"Ah, some of my wit is finally rubbing off on you. So what did you cook for dinner?"

"Spinach lasagna with ricotta cheese."

"Sounds like a lot of work."

"It was. Opening the packet, thawing the lasagna, heating it in the oven. That's tough, mister."

"Hah...I should have guessed."

"Well, you can crack wise all you want. I have an early presentation tomorrow, so I am off to sleep."

"No wait...listen, sit down for a minute...let's talk...it seems like such a long time since we just sat and talked. I mean talked about each other. Not about work or friends or the weather. Just about us."

"I would love to darling. But not today. It's so late and I just have to get up early for my presentation. We'll talk tomorrow, I promise. Now you just go and have a nice hot shower and enjoy your dinner. Good night, dear."

"Okay. Good night."

He looked at the clock. 7 pm. 10 pm in New York. How he hated the time difference. He sighed. And hung up.

The Departure

2007-06-08T20:23:00.000-07:00

He was leaving. We sat nursing our beers at the bar of one of those typically expensive restaurants you would find at the airport. The silence was soothing, a silence that comes naturally to friends who have grown used to each other's company. There was nothing to be said, well, nothing that really mattered. I looked at him. He looked tired and haggard. He hadn't shaved. His eyes were bloodshot and it wasn't because of the booze. But then, a girlfriend breaking up a long term relationship could do that to a guy. If only things had worked out for him.

I watched as fresh information cascaded over the dot matrix departure display after an invisible hand had wiped it clean. Another ten minutes and he would have to proceed for security check, announced a sweet voice. Ten minutes. After years of beer outings and football games and cookouts and late-night parties, it had come down to ten minutes. He had heard it too as he was now unsuccessfully trying to gulp down his pint. I smiled. He would not finish it. He never could. But he always ordered a pint. Some things never change.

We walked to the security check area. He hated long drawn out goodbyes. No pithy sentimental speeches like the ones they gave in the movies. Besides, he had already heard all of it over the past few days. We reached the gate. He turned around and said goodbye. I wished him good luck with a hug and a pat on the back. Yes, he said, luck is something I could have used. And he walked in through the security gate.

I stood there thinking about the way things had turned out. It was a darn shame. The stupid visa quotas. It was a darn shame alright.

A Fairy Tale

2007-05-21T20:08:00.000-07:00

The prince staggered over the final steps of the spiral staircase. Leaning against the door, he drank the last few drops from his vial of healing potion. Not enough. His sword broken at the hilt and the obscene looking wound in his chest were proof of the bloody battle he had fought against the bewitched guards of the bell-tower. Slaughtering the last guard with his trusted dagger he had reached the topmost room of the tower, confident that his quest would soon be over. Behind that door lay the fair princess in deep slumber, who had been cursed by the evil Queen many years ago.

The potion, although failing to heal his wounds, had given him renewed hope. He gave the door a strong kick and sent it flying off its hinges. The room was awash with sunlight, filtering through the pastel colored curtains that hung over the diamond casement windows. He could hear birds chirping on the eaves and felt a faint whiff of citrus blossoms in the air. He stepped closer to the four-poster bed and it felt like walking on clouds. He could see now that the stories he had heard did not do her justice. He had not seen anyone so beautiful, so delicate, so exquisite in his life. He sat down and carefully drew away a long ringlet of golden hair that was resting across her face. He looked at her for a long moment as if not wishing to disturb her peace, then bent down and kissed her for what seemed to him like eternity.

He drew away and waited. Moments slipped by, each passing one giving strength to the nagging doubt in his mind. For a moment he had felt that the princess was about to open her eyes, but he knew that it was his mind playing tricks on him. He looked away. For the first time since he had begun his journey, he did not know what to do. He had been confident that his love was true and pure, that it would break the curse, even the fortune teller had said so. But he was wrong. He felt the energy and hope drain away from him, his wound bleeding again as profusely as before, the miniscule effects of the potion having faded away. He knew he could not defeat the guards again. The guards, who thriving on the dark magic of the castle, would have regained their strength by now. But he was a prince and he would rather die fighting than hide in the tower. He drew his dagger again, took one last look at the princess and stumbled down the stairs.

"I ought to have told him about the magic shield. It's too bad he wasn't better looking. Oh well, I'll just wait for the next one. Besides, it's not so bad here."

The Death of A Blogger

2007-04-05T14:03:00.000-07:00

A blogger died and reached the Pearly Gates to be interviewed by St. Peter...

St. Peter: Welcome to the Pearly Gates. The name is Peter, Saint Peter. (to himself) Great...another blogger...I am gonna need more coffee...

Blogger: Hey, this place is cool...nice gates...and I see you have a fog machine for the mythological touch...I could write a great post about this place...you wouldn't happen to have a camera, would you?...I like to include pictures along with my blog posts. (smiles annoyingly)

Peter (rolling his eyes): Why do I get all the screwballs on Monday?

Blogger: And hey, you've got a cool pc and everything...did you upgrade recently?...if not, you should really consider it...you know, Microsoft just released this great new operating system called...

P (exasperated): Would you just sit down and be quiet already? Now, the reason you are here is that we have to decide whether to send you to Heaven or to Hell...

B: Sheesh! What a grouch...I wonder how Mrs. Peter puts up with Mr. Sunshine here...

P (with an oily smug I-knew-it look): Ah, it says here that I have to send you to Hell.

B: WHAT? No...there must be some mistake...I have led a good honest life...I did not commit any sins...

P: Well...it looks like you plagiarized one post too many without giving credit to the rightful bloggers...

B (sheepishly): Uhhh...heh heh heh...ok, maybe I was "inspired" while writing a couple of posts...but I wrote a lot of genuine ones too...you know, thoughts for the day, movie reviews, poems, jokes...

P: Jokes, eh? Well, guess who's laughing now? (breaks into guffaws of laughter)

B: Uh, you are.

(Awkward silence)

P: You weren't supposed to answer that. It was a rhetorical question. I was just saying - That the "joke" is on you, buster. (laughing hard while beating the desk with fists)

B: Uh, what joke?

(Silence again)

P: You know what, Mr. Smartypants? I am too old and too rich to put up with this. Off you go...(presses a button...hidden trapdoor under B's chair opens and B falls with a rapidly fading yell)

(B lands in front of Satan)

Satan: Ah, another one of you...it's surprising how many of you bloggers turn up here. Welcome to Hell. Let me be frank...I don't know what Peter Parker up there told you but the reason you were sent here is that you are a smartass. Oh and in case you haven't guessed already, I am Satan...

B: I thought you said your name was Frank...

S: I am gonna pretend I didn't hear that. Now, if you follow me I'll show you the Blogger's Room.

B follows, trying to stomp on S's tail. S leads him into a huge air-conditioned room with row after row of shiny new workstations.

S: In here, we have the latest computer technology ever conceived, entirely for use by you bloggers. You can sit in here for as much time as you want and create blog posts unrivalled to anything you might have composed before.

B: Wow...this is unbelievable...just look at all the cool stuff in here...the templates, the formatting tools, the photo albums...oh I must be dreaming...or I must have died and gone to heav...Hey, wait a minute...I thought you said this place was Hell...so how come you give us bloggers the best possible tools and facilities for blogging?

S: Ah, you see, that's the best part...none of our systems have a "Submit Post" button...

B: NOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooo...

The Wedding

2007-03-27T17:54:00.000-07:00

The wedding day. He watched her as she walked down the aisle towards him. She looked radiantly beautiful in her white gossamer gown. She looked at him and smiled. That enchanting, infectious smile. He wished he could lift her in his arms and carry her away at that very moment. He smiled back. So far, everything had gone according to plan.

For the past two months, they had meticulously planned the wedding. No detail was small enough to be neglected. She was a stickler for detail. One of the many things he loved about her. She had dragged him through a countless number of bridal shops before selecting the gown and he had accompanied her with a smile. The guest lists, the invitations, the cake, the floral arrangements, the limo, the rehearsal - she had intricate plans for each. And he had agreed, never saying a word in protest. It had paid off. So far, everything was perfect.

And now she was near. The minister read the vows but he had zoned out. All his thoughts were focussed on her. And then, almost in a flash, it was over. She was all smiles now. She tossed the bouquet and there was a momentary rush of hands to grab it. The guests swarmed around to offer their congratulations. It was time for the final part of the plan. They wanted to rush off to the honeymoon immediately and the getaway limo was standing ready outside. She winked at him and they were off. Everyone shouted and cheered as they ran towards the exit. Yes, it had been perfect. Just as she wanted.

She and the lucky bloke she had married, were going on a month long cruise of the Bahamas. He, was going back to his apartment in Queens.

Tracer Spade - Private Eye

2007-03-21T07:29:00.000-07:00

It was a dark night in a city that knew how to keep its secrets. I lowered my hat and turned up my overcoat as I walked through the bitter cold that had frozen the city's heart. I had a .38 in my holster, fifty greenbacks in my pocket and a case to investigate. Tracer Spade - Private Eye, that's what they called me.

It was two days ago that she had shown up at my office. Business was dull, the fridge was empty and so was my bank account. The door swung open and trouble walked in. Tall, blonde, beautiful and dangerous. She looked familiar, but then, most did. I listened to her yarn and reviewed the facts. There wasn't much to go on but she was a pushy dame and I was a sucker for tall blondes so I offered to do it for fifty bucks a day plus expenses.

And now, it was time. I had shadowed her to the building. She hadn't noticed me because I hadn't let her. I leaned against a lamp-post in the shadows smoking a Laramie slim while I watched her fumble with the keys. I knew where she lived. Apartment 5B. It was going to be easy. The locks put up a fight but I had the upper edge. I had been quiet. And I meant to stay quiet. The .38 would do the talking. She was humming softly with her eyes closed as she clasped her necklace. I placed the .38 on the nape of her neck. She stiffened. Click!

"Oh, knock if off darling. Have you been out rehearsing again? You do know that we still have two weeks to practice till the play opens..."

The Wait

2007-03-15T16:41:00.000-07:00

"Come back young man when you can afford to give her all of life's luxuries."

And he had vowed that he would. She had promised that she would wait for him.

The day had come. He rang the doorbell. The butler let him in.

"Madam will see you in the study."

Few minutes passed. He paced about nervously. Then noticed a pair of eyes peeking from behind the curtains.

A little girl. The same blue eyes. And the same smile. His heart sank.

"Are those flowers for me?"

"Yes, my little angel, just for you."

It was time to leave. He did not wish to see her anymore.
.
.
.
"Who was it dear, that wanted to see me?"

"I don't know Aunt Mary, but look, he brought me these pretty roses."

Saturn Aura

2007-03-12T20:17:00.000-07:00

I was looking at the Motor Trend car of the year award and came across Saturn Aura. The newest offering from Saturn (part of GM) in Sedans at least as one can argue about which is latest the Aura or the Outlook. Of course I can't say that the Aura or Outlook are the ones which reminded that Saturn still manufactured cars that you could consider because just a little over one year Saturn came out with the Sky... a two seater sports car which caused a lot of ooohhh and aahh.

Since I am considering getting a new car for myself I decided to checkout the Saturn Aura. Here is what I discovered:
A good looking sedan, nice jewel shaped headlights, tail lights with metal inserts. More than anything I liked the optional brown leather and the fact that you could remote start your car :-) This was the same period when it was as cold as California should never be.

Also, it was pretty spacious, especially at the back which was impressive. It also has a decent engine in the XR model V6 with around 250+ HP and a six speed transmission which gives you better ratios and improves mileage. 5 yr. 100K warranty is an added plus especially since my old just recently gave me a transmission problem.

Whats the not so good thing about this car, you would ask. Apart from the cost - meaning its not really cheap, a feeling less brake pedal and NO Navigation option... is that its American.
I truly believe that American cars have greatly improved their quality (including reliability) in recent years, granted that they still use the same interior components in their 13k cars as they do in their 45k cars but common you cant blame them for having so many of them built already, because after all they were selling like hell and if ppl didnt complain then the companies thought we never would...

It also talks about how difficult it is to change an opinion once its formed and especially when you are investing in something. I love cars, test drive them for fun, read tonnes about them and now am even trying to write on them... I know these are good cars and dont want my assumptions to prevent me from giving the Saturn Aura a fair chance as a potential canditate in my next car's selection. I will pick the Aura if it does offer all that we need in a car...

The Irony

2007-03-11T21:07:00.000-07:00

He placed the rose on the casket. A silent tear drop. More would come. Later.

The world spun. He staggered. When had it been? Two...three days ago? It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Now that...

He closed his eyes. She was back. That day. They had parted at the coffee shop. A two-percent French roast venti latte. Never again, he thought. Their last kiss. Her fragrance of jasmine. He could smell it now. She was late, she had said. Her hand drew away. And waved. If only he had held on. He turned the other way. Remember, dinner at eight, she had shouted. Not looking back, he had nodded, not...looking...back. Few more steps. And then the screech of rubber. He had stopped. He didn't turn around. He couldn't. Somehow, he knew.

He opened his eyes. Blurred. Must be the tears. Better closed. Her again. The first time. She had walked into class. Heads turned. And the murmurs. Stunning, someone said. He had felt a rage. He didn't know why. Quite a traffic-stopper, he heard. The irony was sickening. The car hadn't stopped.

He fell. A stroke. No air to breathe. Just silence. Then, a white light. And her.

How Did This Happen?

2007-03-11T10:37:00.000-07:00

HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

What…. How did this happen, when did this happen? Why didn’t anyone tell me before? The last time I met mom she looked very healthy but you are saying she is in a critical state, doctors have given up hope and that she may not even see tomorrow?
The person on the other side was my dad from the far end of the Pacific Ocean. My heart wanted to believe this wasn’t true and that I wasn’t guilty of not caring for what was going on in my mother’s life but once again my mind (which was smart and pragmatic) said otherwise. It wasn’t a matter of hours not even days or months – I had last seen my mother 5 years ago… at this point
I said to myself: HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

These were the last words I said aloud over the phone… but I was shouting and screaming within… unsure of what made me feel worse, the fact that my mother – the lady who gave me life was about to depart this world or the guilt that all this time while she was getting to the state she was in today I wasn’t with her, I didn’t even know. But the knowledge that I had almost lost her suddenly made me realize how much she mattered.

My mind raced back and forth along 35 years from the day I was born to today looking for an answer to the question: How did this happen? How did I lose touch with the person who had provided me my first home, fed me, kept me warm and safe until I was complete enough to enter the world? I was extremely sad but was unable to cry because my mind was searching for an answer to the question: How did this happen? We were a team – my mom, my dad and I. Like the marines we had a code too: Team, Family, Friends, World. We would always decide everything together. Discuss openly the issue at hand and respect each other’s thoughts. Respect, Transparency and Agree to disagree were part of the core values of our team. What happened to that code? Was she really going to leave me? How would I survive with out her? Foolish me I was still thinking of myself first, what would happen to me… me.

I was the first and only child in the family and hence was very dear to her. In fact I was as dear as anyone could get as I didn’t have any competition, all the love and candies were for me alone. Although one would expect over protection and excessive instructions as a side effect but surprisingly they were completely absent. She took great care to ensure that she was never over protective. Being a father myself I knew what a great control a parent has to exert over their feelings to overcome it and more so for a mother. But if she cared for me through all these years, where was I when she needed me the most – how did this happen?

I learnt about business from my dad, math and science from my teachers but creativity and most important of all emotions from my mother. More than anything, she, was the source of my emotional development. She brought emotion in our team and it was from her that I learnt about feelings. Understanding what others feel and what emotional needs are. Deciding when to use one’s heart over the mind was something she always wanted me to learn. And learn I did, a ready proof of that was the success rate of making girlfriends in high school and college. But if I could be a successful Casanova in school because I understood the human heart (the female human heart specifically); what happened with the most beautiful woman I have ever known… Why didn’t I understand what she felt…? How did this happen?

My mom would always share all information with my dad but the only times she ever made an exception to that rule/practice was for some specific incidents that involved me. I think this is one of her biggest sacrifices for me far more than waking up early every morning for so many years to wake me up for my activities and studies, to stay awake by my bed all nights while I was sick or never taking up a job to be able to take care of me in the best possible way. This showed that if it seems right then a mother would put her motherhood above any thing else even her own marriage and trust that her kids would respect her sacrifice. My mom loved me in spite of my mistakes, my shortcomings and her love was unconditional and unparalleled. Was it this unconditional love that made me take her and our relationship for granted? Since she never asked for anything in return, ever, it made me forget it was - only because she believed that I would give back without her ever asking. Had I let her down again?

I knew how much she has done for me then how did I get so distanced from her all of a sudden. May be it wasn’t all of a sudden my mind said (remember smart and pragmatic). The same mind which had at many instances taunted me “Grow up Dhwani, how long will you be a mamma’s boy for?” The same mind which taught me to say “This doesn’t concern them, I can live my life and they can live theirs”. Since when did our lives become separate, I didn’t realize but my team was falling apart. I had fallen prey to the common mistake of forming a new team instead of expanding the one I was already part of. Why didn’t I correct my self the first time I uttered “my website for the wedding” or “my new home” or “my success”. I didn’t define my achievements in high school as “my success” ever. It was always our Team’s achievement and why not it be my team’s achievement they usually had more faith and took more pride in the achievement than I did myself. They still did, but I didn’t share the reward anymore…

That’s when I turned to my wife and confided in her. She knew the moment she saw me that something was terribly wrong. I told her what had happened and I could see how she felt the pain I was feeling. She drew a hot bath for me, readied out the clothes I was to wear and confirmed with the airline that the flight to India was on time. I saw it then, how the roles had got replaced, how my wife was now doing the same things that once my mom had done. Maybe this was why I had never felt the void of my mom's absence since my wife had filled that void and the unconditional love that I should have returned to mom had unknowingly gone to my wife instead. This realization came with a blinding flash of light.

That’s when I woke up and realized that my girl friend had turned on the light. I was still disturbed but greatly relieved that it was a dream, a very painful and eye opening dream but just a dream. She asked me if I was ok offered me a glass of water. I told her about it and she calmed me down and ensured me that we would only be an addition but never abandon my team. We called both of our parents right away and they laughed at the mention of this nightmare. Nevertheless, I corrected my statement to them from previous night about it being my wedding and my plans and told them lets discuss and put things on the table…

Life's Greatest Present

2007-03-03T23:51:00.000-08:00

Mr. Miller was a successful old man – retired from an envious top position in a big corporation, very well respected in the society for both his knowledge and services to the community. Above all he was extremely energetic and cheerful.

Little Johnny lived opposite to Mr. Miller. He had known Johnny since he was a kid and like all other kids even Johnny loved talking to old Mr. Miller. They would often talk about various things and once while talking about gifts Johnny asked what gift Mr. Miller liked the most in his life. Mr. Miller took no time in replying that he loved “the present” that was enabled him to be happier and better do whatever he set out to do. Johnny was curious about the present and asked Mr. Miller if he would share it with him. The old man said sure and Johnny gladly returned to play.

They didn’t talk about the present for a while but Johnny never forgot it. As Johnny got into his teens he realized how the joy of all his gifts would pass away in time. He still wondered if the ultimate present which would make one happier and would enable one to do better whatever they set out to even existed. Mr. Miller loved the company of young people and especially Johnny whom he had seen grow from a young kid to a teenager. He would often observe Johnny mowing his neighbor’s lawn, observe how Johnny loved what he was doing and how much happiness it gave him. Johnny had already confirmed that the present was neither a magic wand that can make all his wishes come true nor was it a time machine which could take him anywhere anytime. One day after being determined to find out what the present was and where to find it Johnny went to Mr. Miller and pestered him to answer his questions. Mr. Miller replied “You already know what the present is; you already know where to find it. And you already know how it can make you happy and successful. You knew it best when you were younger. You have simply forgotten. Johnny had no idea what Mr. Miller meant and completely perplexed the poor guy left.

Johnny grew older, only to expect more in everything and become impatient. He would be anxious about what kind of life laid ahead and be upset about what he had done wrong in the past. He tried hard to be the same cheerful young Johnny but happiness seemed to get sparser every year. He searched the internet, books, magazines and almost everyone he did ever met to find the present but failed. Finally he decided to start working and tried to forget the present. At work he seemed well from the outside but from within he often wondered what he was doing there. He would spend a lot of time trying to find out some other work that would give him more enjoyment and thinking about what he would do after work. His mind often wandered during meetings and even conversation with his friends. He performed adequately but deep down knew that he could have done better. He would think about his girlfriend when at work and would worry about work when with his girlfriend. This not just caused stressed and made him unhappy but also affected his relationship with his girlfriend.

Not completely losing hope on the ultimate present, he returned home to pay a visit to Mr. Miller and share his concerns. Mr. Miller sensed the suffering the moment he looked at Johnny. Johnny asked Mr. Miller to give him the present as he needed it more than ever. Mr. Miller said that though he would love to give it to him, he didn’t have the power to. The present has to be found by each person for himself/herself. Some find it sooner, some take a little longer while some don’t find it at all. He asked Johnny how he felt while mowing the loans. What he was thinking while doing it? Johnny replied, “Al I thought about while mowing the lawn was the lawn in front of me. How I would mow the tricky areas. The other neighbors were so impressed that they too wanted me to mow their lawn and such appreciation for one’s work felt so good. Of course I would also think how to improvise on my work. He sounded as if the answer was obvious. Mr. Miller pointed out that the answer contained the present in it. He suggested Johnny take a break and spend some time alone by himself trying to discover the present.

Johnny felt much better even talking to Mr. Miller and while leaving right before entering his car he saw a kid working like he used to – mowing one of the house’s lawn. Unaware that he was curiously being observed by Johnny the kid continued working in his own way. The lawn was done perfectly with no corner left uncut. So commonplace a task yet it looked like the work of an artist. The young kid paid attention only to moving the grass while whistling and being completely present in the present.

That’s when lightening struck Johnny…. This was “the present” to completely live in the present. Truly it is something we all already have he realized and its only up to us to unwrap it and start using it. Being in the present means focusing on what is happening right now! It means appreciating the gifts we are offered every day. Delighted he went back inside and the moment Mr. Miller saw him enter the room, he realized that Johnny had found the present. Johnny was unable to express his joy… he said, “I found it Mr. Miller, I did, I realize how all my worries can be gotten over if only I live in the present. I am just feeling silly that I didn’t realize it before – all this time when you were trying to give it to me.”

Johnny went back to work next day with new lifted spirits. He put a note on his desk that said “Live in the Present, Concentrate on what’s Important NOW!” that reminded him of the great present he had finally received. He soon saw the success it brought to him. He would now be completely involved in the conversation while talking to people and would try to be present in the meetings when someone was talking. Often his mind would drift into the past or the future but he would look at the card and remind himself of what was important then.
This was the story of young Johnny who discovered the greatest gift of his life – The Present via old Mr. Miller. Why is Johnny’s story important? How does it touch us? Don’t we sometimes if not often too engrossed in worrying about our future that don’t see what lie in front of us. Havent we heard of complains at home – you aren’t listening? Spent too much time day dreaming about our anniversary trip that when its time to leave we find it difficult to let go of the work that had piled up while we were day dreaming? Don’t we sometimes spend too much time feeling sorry about the mistakes we did in the past? If answer to any of the above questions is a yes, we can learn from little Johnny’s story.