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The Scene
Many of you may be still spending some money buying computer magazines. Here is an alternative from Warez–bb.org. I liked it and thought I would share it with you guys.
Doubting Thomas Finds Similarity in Blasts
I am not talking about Bangalore and Ahmedabad. This is between the blast in Mecca Masjid, Hyderabad last year and today’s blasts in Ahmedabad.
The first pictures to come on all the news channels were from TV9. I’ll get back to the Hyderabad part in a bit, but for a local Andhra Pradesh Channel to be the FIRST one to air pictures from Ahmedabad, means either a record response time or a larger than national channels/ firangi money backed channels’ ground network. I shall let you come up with your own options.
Now the Mecca Masjid blast, a TV9 cameraman was IN the Mecca Masjid, supposedly shooting the praying public at the mosque, for a religious program to be coming on the channel, with him at a safe distance away from the blast point, and the camera pointed at exactly the same angle as the blast. Strange coincidence ha.
In both the cases, I am sure TV9 made a quick buck with their feed being picked up by channels with larger reach. I cannot allude to the Gokul Chat and Lumbini Park Blasts in Hyderabad as I did not see the tv coverage.
I know it is a sick thing to come up with, but hey, with the kind of uncertainty we are living around in, there is a chance of anything to be right.
As far blasts are concerned, Kolkata and Chennai are the big ones which are left untouched, till now. Touch wood or whatever.
I am God
or so I would like everyone to believe, since I am about to predict the future by making the following announcement.
This blog shall be updated at a feverish pace till the end of this month and then, after the fever, cease to exist for a long time. At least a year I would like myself to believe. The reasons for this planned hiatus are pretty straight forward. Not burn-out, no way. I just want to concentrate on a few things which are lower down on the priorities-ladder, after climbing which, I shall get back to full fledged blogging like this again. Till then enjoy the flow.
Once upon a train journey
Today I intend to tell you the story of Ramudu and Shyamudu.
Ramudu had to travel to Chennai from Hyderabad, to check the average height above mean sea level of the Chepauk pitch. Considering the Iraq war, the oil crisis, the recent air-fare hike and the relocation of the Hyderabad airport to Shamshabad, he decides that traveling by Indian Railways is a far cheaper and more comfortable option. So one fine morning, he goes early to the Railway Reservation Counter at Secunderabad. The office is yet to be opened, yet he reaches early in time. He is joined by many others most of whom, who weren’t like him. Ramudu was there to book a ticket , well ahead of his scheduled departure, whereas most of these people were there to book tickets under Tatkal quota.
Fools, Ramudu thought of these people, because he saw the Tatkal quota in a totally different light. It was similar to what he saw at Anand theatre in Begumpet. The management would open the advance booking counter for the evening and night shows in the afternoon and close it early. Later in the evening, before the respective shows, they would put up House-Full boards and then sell a significant chunk of the tickets for these shows, in black. Ramudu saw Tatkal quota as a front put up by the Indian Railways to sell tickets in black. If only the government could do the same by legalizing ( illicit ) drugs, betting and the related what nots and earn heavily and do away with the multiple taxation structure and Ramudu, with his enhanced savings, could travel to Chennai by a flight, in spite of the higher airfares. But then again, this was the stuff dreams were made of. Ramudu realized he was still standing in line for the Railway Reservation Office to open.
Open it did finally at 745AM and he rushed to the inquiry counter, picked up a reservation form and rushed to one of the many counters. Since Ramudu was a regular to this ordeal, he knew one thing very clearly. One might be at the end of the line before the office is opened, but with so many counters, one can still be in the first 5 persons in a line at any one of those counters. It so happened that he was the fifth person at one such counter. But there is a sense of uncertainty about these counters at the start of the day. In front of every counter, there is a display board, showing the availability, train no., fare and related details of the booking they are making, assisting the customer to get the exact change ready as the Booking Executive (B.E. if one may call them that ) goes about booking the ticket.
Now it was a known fact for Ramudu and others, that the counters which had their display boards powered off, were not going to opened immediately and would be done only if there is a huge rush for reservations. But it also happens that some of these counters, which had their display boards on, are not opened at 8am, but a little later in the morning, say after 30-45 minutes or so. But there are customers at all the counters which have their display board powered on. One by one, the railway staff started occupying their seats at the counters, in a seemingly random order. At this stage all but few ( 2-3 ) lines, were being catered to by the railway staff. Ramudu was in one of those few which weren’t. But he had not wasted time while this simple situation was being obfuscated by a gargantuan description. He had meticulously filled the reservation form and was patiently waiting.
But his patience started to run out, when he saw that he was in one of those lines. He started contemplating moving to another line. At this moment, sanity prevailed as he remembered The Golden Rule of Lines in Railway Reservation Office ( to hell with Queues ), which stated that, the moment you ditch a line on the premise that it is moving slowly and move to another, that line will move so much more faster than the line to which you have moved to. Of course, the rule never alluded to the pace of the line when you showed loyalty to it in the time of a conflict of interest between two lines, but the disincentive proved enough for Ramudu to decide against moving to another line. For this, he was rewarded with a railway staff person immediately taking charge of the counter. Poor fellow got stuck in traffic it seems.
There were a few who shifted lines only to be done in by the Golden Rule. Their counters, got staffed 2 minutes after they had left the line and they created a huge commotion at the Chief Superintendent’s counter. In spite of all this around him, Ramudu was not perturbed one bit. He was in fact, feeling good about himself for having stuck to the line. It moved and it was now his turn. The B.E. , after confirming with Ramudu, entered the details in to the DOS command like package from the previous century, from the reservation form. After a final confirmation about the berth to be allocated, the B.E. pressed a combination of keys and voila, came out the ticket, looking something like this Know Your Ticket dummy ticket.
( Note that the ticket has no details about the passenger’s name or the photo-id that they ought to be carrying )
Since this story was supposed to also include Shyamudu, let me bring him in now. Shyamudu wanted to accompany Ramudu, since it was his barometer that Ramudu was taking for the measurement. Ramudu informed Shyamudu about his travel plans. Shyamudu was not inclined to go to the Reservation Office, stand in line and book the ticket manually. Instead, he preferred to use the Indian Railways online booking service at www.irctc.com. He logged in, searched for the train Ramudu was traveling by, entered his travel details, credit(debit) card details and photo-id details. Everything is done in a flash and a printout of the ticket is ready.For travel, Shyamudu (foolishly) decides to take a photocopy of his passport and not the passport itself, citing ( to himself ) security reasons.
The travel to Chennai went ahead without an incident. Together they found out that a barometre would hardly suffice their cause, and that they needed to invest in a differential GPS to get anywhere close to the accuracy levels they needed to settle their argument on the pitch at Chepauk. After having a nice meal at Murugan Idli Shop, they boarded the train back to Hyderabad. The TTE ( Traveling Ticket Examiner ) arrived a good hour into the journey. Ramudu gave his ticket, following which the TTE did the routine looking back forth into the reservation chart and ticket, ticked the reservation chart across Ramudu’s name and returned the ticket to Ramudu with the most lifeless face. Then he took Shyamudu’s e-ticket, checked with the chart and asked Shyamudu for his photo-id. Shyamudu showed the photocopy of his passport. The TTE refused to accept the photocopy of the passport, which had Shyamudu’s photograph, as a valid proof of identity. He insisted on the passport being present in original for him to verify. Shyamudu was fined for traveling without ticket. What happened after that is beyond the scope of this textbook.
Finally the rant after all that crap.
I do not know whether Shyamudu actually paid the fine. As such he could have just shown another valid photo-id in original and be done with the process. But Shyamudu was a 70 year old lady who at that point of time, did not have any other id on her person. All she could come up with was a <em>this will not happen another time as I was not aware of the details</em>. Probably someone else had booked the ticket for her online.
This whole situation made me finally write what I felt about a situation. The verification of identity, for railway travelers using an e-ticket. It is important to note the premise of this verification; a ticket booked on one person’s name is not transferrable to another person. Verification is needed, that is something I totally agree but what is irksome is the fact that the same verification is not done for Ramudu. Note that Ramudu needn’t always be a manchi baaludu ( good boy ). It could very well be that Bhimudu had booked the ticket on Bhimudu’s name but Ramudu travels ( he got the ticket somehow ) pretending to be Bhimudu.
The two basic ( for my rant ) differences between a normal ticket and an e-ticket is that for the e-ticket you pay a little bit more and that the information is keyed in by a railway employee in one case and the customer in the other. So the railway decides to trust their own info excessively but is totally skeptical about the customer. Fine. But the chances of malpractice are the same in both the cases. In that case they ought to be checking every single passenger’s identity. I know it is not all that viable but that is the only solution that I see that can be termed fair to e-ticket passengers and monetarily beneficial to the Railways. One might say that it ends up being more workload for the TTE’s but for someone whose job is checking every ticket, checking another ID should not be a big deal. But then not everyone has an id, you may say. Then why the insistence on an ID for an e-ticket only?
As I see it now, one gets suspected for using the online portal, paying more to the railways and avoiding the personal contact with the Reservation office whereas you can go scot-free for having a normal ticket, even if you are flouting the most basic of rules.
Peace in Adversity
Many people have had a lot to say to me, encouraging me. A friend, though verbose, made me this painting.
Here is what’s written in it :
The unknown unsettles the mind The unchartered unlocks the divine It’s a grace Enjoy it :)
The light, the strength is inside.. Behold! It is out to win the world over
The sun leaving its trail of fire with a dash of crimson And the moon taking over charge of the sky in violet Leaving the mind speechless and lets the heart Speak in silence; in communion with wonder
Hazaaron khwahishein hai aisi, ki har khwahish pe dum nikhle Bahut nikhle hain mere armaan, par bhi, kam nikhle
Life turns out strange…Call it fate, I’d like to call it myth.. Nice ( not ) to know where the road goes
The Science of Question / The Question of Science
An important attribute of science is the right to question. Knowledge advances and science progresses because people exercise their right to question.
However, to question existing knowledge ( for e.g. a fact or a law arrived at throught the method of science ) without any rational basis, is as unscientific as never to question at all.
The reasons for your questioning may be :
- a flaw you have found in an earlier argument or example
- a known observation which you can show to be incompatible with the fact or the law
- an alternative explanation you have found for the evidence on which the fact or the law was based
- new evidence you have discovered which is incompatible with the fact or the law
The question may arise out of careful observation or analysis of existing knowledge. If you have framed your question properly, you are already on your way to finding an answer. A well framed question is one, to answer which , means are available within the framework of the method of science. Such a question should lead to a hypothesis which can be tested by an experiment. The more carefully you observe, the better framed your question would be. ( Going through the someone’s belongings is a really confusing job because every piece of paper is part of a jumble that you are trying to piece together, but are unable to do so, as you do not have the complete picture as an aid. I found this piece of description on a scrap paper in my father’s handwriting. )
My Kovil Prasadam Experiment
Have you ever wanted to just feel the environs of a temple, while being at home? I mean, the smell of that old granite stone, with residue vibudhi and kungumam smeared all over it. Now here is an extremely strenuous and boring procedure that you can meticulously follow, so as to create the same feel in your kitchen.
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Soak Black-eyed Peas overnight ( Not the singing dancing ones. Leave them alone. )
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Boil them Black-eyed Peas.
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Heat some arbitrary amount of oil in a suitably sized pan and put some moong dal ( instead of urad dal), cumin seeds and asian mustard seeds into it.
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Strain the water from the boiled peas and put it into the pan. Stir randomly till you get bored.
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Put some italian chunky pasta sauce into the pan. But before doing that, check for fungus in the bottle. If fungus is found, throw the bottle into trash and remind yourself to never buy that thing ever. Forget about this point. Stir a little.
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Put sambar powder, haldi powder, salt, MTR chutney powder ( Idly/Dosa Kaara podi ) and asafoetida powder in proportions as deemed comfortable for your taste buds. Pour half a cup water which should help in stirring the whole thing.
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Pour 6 cap-fulls of lemon juice concentrate. Mix the whole thing up very well.
At this point of the preparation, the smell that emanates from the pan will make you nostalgic and you will start reliving every single temple prasadam that you have ever devoured. I went to Himayat Nagar’s TTD temple. I like that temple. There was hardly anyone there every time I went. I went there regularly in my final year, bunking my GATE prep classes. Now tell me who would be willing to forgo curd rice at 6 am, after a refreshing early morning bath. Plus, the peace and serenity combined with forced divinity, was any day far more alluring to me, than a classroom fit to hold 50 skinny students, but overflowing with 300 oversized ones. Hopefully, I’ll go to that temple in a week and have their excellent curd rice once again. By the way, the temple-smell goes away in about 3-4 minutes and then settles down to something I could not smell. I have a very weak sense of smell you see. I can only smell really strong ones.
- Take the pan off the stove.
Whatever you have just made, is very much an edible preparation. As such, if you put some grated coconut, you can easily pass it off as kovil chundal. Name it whatever you want. Eat it with, bread, rice, roti, whatever. I had it with bread and it was filling.
Koi Jaldi Nahi Hai
I have always had nothing but dislike towards auto-drivers. This extended to cab drivers, once they took over the roads of Hyderabad. I once got laughed at by a cab driver, for letting him overtake me following all non cabbie legal traffic protocols. I sympathise with their need to maintain timing and timing sheets with all the quality control seeping into their operations as well. But driving recklessly is no just means to achieving that.
An acquaintance of mine is currently struggling for his life after being hit by a cab while crossing the road today. From what I hear, the doctors have all but given up. Miracles. Well this is the time for them. I am hoping against hope that he makes it.
Update : Miracles don’t always happen. RIP HV.
The best road advice I ever got was from an old auto driver. We had missed our bus and got into an auto. The driver was a hefty old man with a long white beard. It was one of those exam days and we were going through the pages one last time. The auto was moving at a steady pace. It was early in the morning, and with empty roads, we could have possibly gone faster. So I asked him to do so , as we were getting late for the exam.
His reply :
Koi jaldi nahi hai. Road pe sirf do waqat tezi se chala sakthe. Jab kisi ka accident hua ho aur use haspathal le jaana ho, kyun ki tab ek jaan ka maamla hai. Doosri, jab ek bacche ka janam dene ke liye ek maa ko haspathal le jaana ho, kyun ki tab do jaanonka maamla hai. Baaki sab ke liye duniya ruk sakthi. Exam hii tho hai. Fir se likh le sakthe. Koi jaldi nahi hai.
( There is no hurry. There are only two reasons for driving fast on road. One, when you have to take an accident victim to the hospital, because one life is at stake. Two, when you have to take a pregnant woman to the hospital for delivery , because two lives are at stake. The world can stop for everything else. Its just an exam. You can always take it some other time. There is no hurry )
Same Mistake
[youtube=www.youtube.com/watch
I’m not calling for a second chance, I’m screaming at the top of my voice, Give me reason, but don’t give me choice, Cos I’ll just make the same mistake again
P.S.: P.S. I Love You’s OST is worth a listen
Thalimpu Pepsi Reddy
Prologue : This blog does not care for the feelings of Thalimpu Reddy. This is my version of a story that had been told to me and many others, in the first person. This post is purely, a practice of vendetta against him as I have had to bear the brunt of his TRIES in this nation. I have already done enough to shut him up with due help from extremely disgruntled and cooperating friends in the town of Gainesville. But then after all, Yeh Dil Maange More.
There was a time when Thalimpu Reddy went by one of the common names of a Hindu God, whose IUPAC equivalent is the Sun. This is a story of the times when our Thalimpu Reddy, was in school. He was, as he is now, very much pretending to be the goody goody boy. He was , as he is now, failing miserably at that. Well, almost. Because there was one person, who felt otherwise. That person bought his story.
Considering the frailties of the anachronistic memory of the author, this story can be dated to the season of 2000-01 with a tolerance of one year towards negative time. This was the time when our hero used to go to school with his cousins. It so happened, that none in his class bought his theory of goodygoodyness, but as it so often happens, he was proposing it to the wrong audience. In his cousin’s class, there was this innocent dame, who got enthralled by this theory and got deeply involved with it. Her mind started weaving stories ( just like this one ), and started taking genuine interest in Thalimpu Reddy. But then again, which gullible female, who ended up having a good opinion about him, would not want a tall, dark and handsome hunk to be her knight in shining armour.
And so started the series of short sightings. Short, since the boundaries of classrooms was becoming a serious barrier for her. She could not get to see him for much of the time in school. Our hero, even went off home for lunch, which seriously reduced her chances. But this girl was very determined and made every effort to see him. Mind you, there wasn’t any talking as yet. Ah the pleasures and pains of teenage love! One sight of the beloved and the heart fills with joy. Her only way of getting in contact with him was his cousin in her class and use that way she did. Our hero, too involved in getting more believers to bite into his theory, was totally oblivious to all of this. Why? Well, we all know why.
These mini meetings and small talk was not getting her anywhere. She for one, wanted to pour her heart to him, but couldn’t. From all that she had learned Children’s Knowledge Bank Volumes 1 - 6, Bollywood songs and Tollywood movies, it was very clear to her that he was expected to start the confession/ proposal. She took her time, tried every little way possible, to let him be aware of her feelings without actually doing it. But, it was Thalimpu Reddy, and for people who know him well it is common knowledge that there are certain things even when directly told, with absolutely no allusions , still do not attract his attention ( further stories on this in the very distant future ).
There came a day, when she decided that she couldn’t hold it any more and that she had to express her feelings. She decided upon penning a letter, as she knew she would not be able to face him and tell it. Fair play I say. The letter reached our hero via the obvious postperson, the cousin.
It is every schoolboy’s dream that he have a beautiful girl as his girlfriend. Not so much for the possible love, care , attention and the related melodramatic crap. No. That never matters does it. It is for the sheer pleasure of “Neighbour’s Envy. Owner’s Pride”.
Got sidetracked there a bit. Yeah , our hero got the letter. Thrilled to bits was he? No.Since he was the prophet of goodygoodyness, he decided that he was not part of the every schoolboy clan described in the previous paragraph. He was scared as hell. He saw this as a possible blot on his theory and that this could seriously damage his ( non-existent ) good boy image. She was seeing this as a lifelong commitment. He was seeing this as a battle. He sent message through emissaries( who else but the cousins ) and called for a meeting.
So on one fateful evening after school hours, the meeting began. For her, it was an opportunity for a prolonged sighting and possible exchange of pleasantries by word and not blink. Little did she know of what was in store for her and how life changing it would end up being. Thalimpu Reddy, started talking. Not one pleasant word from him. He started shredding all her dreams that she had built up over these days. Infatuation it was, that we all agree, but in one ruthless speech involving words such as education,career, future, parents,culture, morals, RSS, principal, curd, lassi and buttermilk, he ruthlessly shattered all the enthusiasm , all that could have been, in one go. She wept. Well that was all she could do then.
Days passed by. She still wept. Every right she had to that. That was the least she was entitled to do, as further efforts to contact him through emissaries or even eye-talk to him were repeatedly turned down.
And they lived happily ever after, separately.
Epilogue : This blog still does not care for the feelings of Thalimpu Reddy. But it cares for that girl and is sympathetic towards her and all that she endured in the times described in the story and the times left out of the story.
Notes : Due to repeated re-telling of this story, many discrepancies have entered the actual story. Pepsi Blue or Chota Pepsi were not contemporary drinks, as research suggests that Pepsi Blue was released in India as a special edition drink sold only during the ICC Cricket WC 2003 and 200ml Chota Pepsi bottles were introduced during 2002.
Biznezz Matterz
Guy1 ( just finishing up on the phone ) : Maama. Aa Guy3 gaadi cycle kontunna ra. 35$ ki cycle + lock + pump .
Guy2 : Manchi deal kadha. Vaadu koni eppudu vaadaledhu kadha daanni. Alaane kotthala untundi.
Guy1 : First cycle maathram 25$ ki istha annaadu.
Guy2 : Whaaat!!!!
Guy1 : Yeah. Lock + Pump ki extra .
Guy2 : Oreii. Aadiki aa pump lock free lo occhindi. Plus niiku cycle icchesi , lock + pump tho vaadem cheskununtaadu. Mooskoni utti cycle theeskuneddhunde kadha, migitha rendu vaade icchevaadu.
Guy1 : !!!!!!
Through the Roof, Underground
Perspective
[youtube=www.youtube.com/watch
Don’t blame me if you die after listening to this.
[youtube=www.youtube.com/watch
Dream Boy
Setting : Mid 1800’s. A small village in the Americas.
The village was a very close-knit community and spent a lot of time together. Well, with a population of just around a hundred and with pretty much nothing else to do, this was their way of staying in high spirits. So one such day, while almost the entire village at the bar, merrily drinking and laughing, a stranger entered the bar. He looked the perfect gentleman so to say, with a gentle demeanour. He joined the party, saying that he was one amongst them. He said he was born in this village, but ran away when he was a young boy to seek greener pastures. When he took some old names and recognised a few people, they believed his story and let him be.
He ordered something and sat on the bar stool, chatting away with the locals. The locals started introducing themselves to him and it so happened one person wasn’t all that enthusiastic about it. He hardly ever made eye-contact with this new guy. It so happened, that even he was a new guy. He had come to the village, with a similar storyline, just a week before. He said was a successful businessman and wanted to ply his trade in this village as well as neighbouring places.
Are these two guys upto something? Do they have a plan to con the entire village?
The villagers let it be, the tension between the two and moved ahead. They introduced a 7-year old boy to him. The boy was orphaned recently, with both his parents dying in a freak accident. He had been pretty much silent ever since. The village took good care of him ever since, but he was not the bubbly kid anymore. He lost interest in everything. Everything, but the longing to be with his parents again.
The New Guy (NG) looked into the kid’s eyes for a long time and said nothing. The Old New Guy (ONG) stared at the NG.
It was getting late and slowly the bar was emptying. The NG approached the village head and setup a proposition. He said he wanted to take the boy with him, for business purposes and the like. The head agreed thinking that even the boy needed some change from this place and that the NG seemed a decent guy. At this juncture, ONG comes up and says that he would like to have the kid with him. The head says that he will let the kid decide with whom he would like to stay and leaves the bar himself.
The NG and the ONG look at each other and smile. They ask the boy, not with whom he would like to go but where he wants to be the most. The boy says " I want to be with my parents " and they replied " ..and we want to be with you.
" The kid suddenly had a bright smile on his face. So did the NG and the ONG. The three were never seen again.
His parents were sent to get him to where he belonged.
( I have just woken up to this dream )
Do You Believe In God?
I did not know what to answer when my cousin asked me this a few years ago. In some ways, I still do not know. This identity crisis is because of being party to a lineage of priests and atheist/agnostic/communists ( all are the same to me ).
Whatever.
This is my favorite devotional song.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzDGcaXw4u0&hl=en]
First Minute Rush
I always have had a dislike towards those who tend to huddle up at the door on a train approaching a halt, way before it is to reach the halt. Especially when it is a significant halt. This crowd may have its reasons. Old age, line for the auto, whatever. My problem with these people was that they blocked my way to the toilet. I have this thing with trains. I drink coffee only on trains (yes. that very watery brown colored liquid passed off as coffee) and I need to use the loo only when the train is approaching a station. So these people effectively block my way to attaining nirvana.
I see similar routines being followed on flights ( I do not have any on flights, not yet ). Once the flight taxis down to the gate, the rush begins. The captain hasn't yet turned off the seat-belts on sign, but the aisle is already filled with people fighting for space and their baggage. After a lot of hustling, staring, jostling and sometimes swearing, they all have their bags. And then, it happens. The wait for the cabin doors to open. 10-15 minutes of standing, with bodies mashed up against each other and luggage. I just love this part, because these guys are absolutely not used to the essence of bus / metro train travel. Their discomfort always makes me laugh. I feel that this is some kind of revenge taken by fate on my behalf. I happy. I very very happy.