Hithopadesham

A five year old brother to his eight month old sister :

Respond with oohs and aahs when these people talk to you. Only then will they buy you stuff.


Mushti Quote - Run

Mullah ki daud masjid ko. Humaari daud bathroom ko.


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.

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.


Seri Dhaan Po Di

Best way to end an argument.


Mushti Quote - Quality

Nobody bothers.


Mushti Quote - Viscosity

Blood is thicker than water. Always.


Tum Kahaan Ho

saaansein gayi hai tham, aankhein meri hai nam tum kahaan ho, tum kahaan ho

kahaan ho tum, kahaan ho tum kahaan ho tum, mere jahaan ho tum

rothe se naina hain, na soye hai na jaage hain tum kahaan ho, tum kahaan ho

ji liya pi liya zeher zindagi ka ji liya pi liya zeher zindagi ka ji liya pi liya zeher zindagi ka ji liya pi liya zeher zindagi ka

( Tum Kahaan Ho is a song from Akash's album Aks. The song is a rehash of their popular Ji Liya. The lyrics put up here are the extra lines that aren't there in Ji Liya.  ) 

Peace in Adversity

Many people have had a lot to say to me, encouraging me. A friend, though verbose, made me this painting.

Peace In Turmoil

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


An apple a day

costs Rs.15 per day.


My First Lawsuit

I intend to sue Microsoft ( Windows Vista), Apple ( Safari ) , Dell ( Vostro 1400) and most importantly Wordpress, for not telling me that blog post drafts cannot be saved while not being connected to the internet.

Moral of Another Story :

Use Notepad. Always.


Mushti Quote - Destiny

What you think you are destined to be is definitely not what you are destined to be.


Mushti Quote - Time

Time will answer many more questions than I ever will.


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. )


Mushti Quote - Uppu

Uppu lo uppu ekkuvundi.


Mushti Quote - Pessimism

Pessimists are the best planners.


Mushti Quote - Convenience

Sarvam Krishnaarpanam. Sarvam Sivamayam. Sarvam Unga Sauryam.


My Dad

This post shall be long, depressing, emotional and random but most importantly it shall be extremely personal.

Yes, this blog is personal again.

My dad is no more. He chose to leave this world on 15th May 2008 at 340pm IST, right before my eyes. The day is separated by a fortnight on either side, from my parent’s 25th wedding anniversary and his potential 58th birthday. He was cremated on 16th May 2008, which happens to be his janma nakshatram, with due vaishnavite rites.

He was admitted to the hospital on 7th May 2008. I was supposed to return to Hyderabad, early hours on the 15th. He was on a ventilator and hence on sedatives as well, so as to be able to withstand the painful process. The doctors had given him very little chance of survival when he was admitted. His edema and the resultant infection had spread over to the rest of the organs. I wasn’t informed of the seriousness but was just asked to prepone my arrival to Hyderabad. I came on the night of the 12th and was briefed. He had improved, the ventilator had been removed and repeated dialysis had been performed. He had regained consciousness as well but said that he just remembered being admitted and nothing else.

I met him on the morning of the 13th.

The most difficult sight for any child is to see his father powerless. Wires, tubes and oxygen mask do nothing but add to the agony. He saw me, sat up, removed a few tubes and gave me a hug that I can never ever forget. He then played with my cheeks as if I was an infant. This gesture is so special that I cannot express it in any words. My father and I were never very expressive with each other. He was more of a father figure to me than a friend. It was totally different for all my cousins and my sister. I am talking in terms of physical presence. All my cousins got the customary tap on the head which he would give whenever they met him. I for one was kind of scared of him. Till not very recently, I still was. The most we ever shared was I think a firm handshake. I hope I am putting into context what that hug means to me. With the look that he had on his face then, I am sure it meant a lot to him as well.

The first thing he talked to me, was asking me whether I had talked to my sister.

I: I did.( in the most mocking tone one can have when one is crying their eyes out ) But why should I? He: Because I am not. I: (mock laugh ) Nice reason you give ha. He: I have not reconciled. I am sure even you have not reconciled. But after me, you are the head of the family and if you do not talk, then there will be no one to look after her.

From there on, the conversation changed tones and it was more pleasant. He had had no idea what had happened, so he thought that it was the 15th. I let him know of the change. He enquired about the journey and then asked me to go back home so that I stay away from the heat for 2-3 days to get slowly re-acclimatised. He asked to have a haircut to which I said that I could not since it was a Tuesday. He seemed very happy to see me. I returned home after some time and stayed home for the whole day. I did not visit him during the evening visiting hours, but my entire family had come down to see him and possibly even me. I stayed overnight at the hospital, without letting him know of it and saw him early in the morning. He had improved to an extent, one could not imagine. He even drank coffee all by himself, resisting my efforts to hold the cup. He also made me have some of it. He asked me to get the newspapers. I had some tea myself, gave him the paper and returned home. My mom, my grandmother and I redistributed the chocolates that I had brought into packets for disbursal later. My mother told that she would give one chocolate to dad. I told her not to do so and not to try to veer away from the diet that the hospital was giving him.

His improvement was so pronounced that a shift to the wardroom was being contemplated. They said that they would do so the next day and for that, they decided to move him around in a wheelchair that day. In the evening visiting hours ( He was in ICU. We were not allowed to be with him all the time ), he persisted with the security guy and got himself out into the corridor to meet everyone outside. He talked with everyone wholeheartedly. When my cousin Pachu came in, he hugged and played with his cheeks like he did with me. He talked so very well, was in perfect mindset even quoting newspaper articles from different papers. He asked my grandmother ( they never talk to each other directly, maintaining some old tradition of the mother-in-law-son-in-law-mutual-silence-to-be-observed-when-in-person pact ) to return home as per scheduled plan now that he is perfectly fine and improving very well. Later I went into the ICU with him, where we talked about how to revive our home PC. He gave me a list of what to back up before installing Ubuntu. He admonished me for not getting anything for my sister’s husband and told me to give the shaving kit that I had bought for my dad, to him. Then the mixed vegetable soup arrived. He had half of it and made me drink the other half. He even defended the security guy against the authorities, who was being admonished for leaving my dad alone in the wheelchair. He was to have dialysis then so I left. I returned later at night, again without letting him know and stayed overnight outside the ICU. In the morning, he showed me his legs, which had till then been bandaged pretty tightly. He showed the parts that had improved and told that he was picking out the dried skin at some of the pieces. He asked me if Ashwat was coming, to which I replied, that he was most willing to do so but it wasn’t clear if he would. I said most of us at some level were vexed and some way or the other, needed a break back home. He replied saying that “you guys have so many facilities to communicate and still you guys feel so frustrated. think about those who were there a few years back”. He then said that in spite of the ticket to Hyderabad from Guntur being around Rs.15, he would think so much about it before actually making one such trip, during the times he lived alone. In the recent past, he was referring to those times frequently to me. He then asked me for the newspaper which I brought after having tea. He said that he would prefer staying in the ICU for another 2-3 days since there was no A/C room available. Those were exactly my feelings as I felt there wasn’t any need to rush this whole shifting-to-room process.

I returned home to have the haircut he had asked me to have. I even took before & after photos. Unexpectedly, I had to make the inevitable conversation with my sister and her husband. Tempers flew. I said what I had to say. Then I took her to her school for some paperwork. Returning home, I had one of the best mor-kozhambu+katthirikkai curry combo. I always brag that my dad is a far more accomplished cook than my mom, but I am sure if dad had had this, even he would say otherwise. I couldn’t savor it for long since mom had called from the hospital saying dad’s BP had gone down. Nothing serious, but still she asked me to come down. When I reached, she was worried. They had said that his heart rate had come down. My mother and my sister were performing Reiki and trying to heal him. I sat beside them for some time but left that place since I was getting only negative thoughts. Sometime later the doctor called me and my mother in and said that he had a cardiac arrest and was a bit critical. They said they would try using a ventilator and if necessary a pacemaker. The chances were bleak. My mom could not stay there anymore and left outside. I stayed there and saw him. They tried CPR, put the ventilator on, inserted an external pacemaker, thumped his chest and what not. His heart was contracting without any pumping power or rhythm. I saw this scene for about 30 minutes and all through this time, there was a line playing in my mind.

Come out, come out, wherever you are.

The most difficult sight for any child is to see his father limp in spite of the doctors applying electrical shock. At about 3.40pm, his heart slowly gave way. I didn’t want to tell my mom. I asked the security guard to stay in, lest his face may give it away. I asked the doctor to inform my mom. I stayed in and waiting for the nurses to remove whatever they had to. I went in to see him.

The most difficult sight for any child is to see his father dead. I kissed him on the forehead, something I wish I had done before. I went out and told my mom myself. His brother and all his sisters were there. I decided I would not cry. I was now supposed to be the support for my mother. For most parts, I put up almost a smile, for he was lying in there, with almost a smile. He looked peaceful, something that was rare since his health problems started a few years back.

Now the mode shifted. It is so difficult for someone mourning to do the funeral arrangements, but in some strange way, it helps I tell you. It somehow makes it less personal for that small amount of time. There was all the help one could ask for. We got him home. A sea of people came and went. I almost still maintained my smile. I tried to stay as much as possible near my mom, but when I could not control my tears I left the place. I did not want her to see me weep. Later at night, I and my mom were forced to eat something by friends and family. Later, we slept. Around 230am, I woke up and walked around. In the cellar, I found my brother sleeping on my chitappa as if he were a 3-year-old who needed a paternal presence to sleep.

I have never felt more jealous than that ever.

I couldn’t control myself anymore. I cried like a kid on my mom saying I wanted my dad back. I took Yavvan to the terrace and talked for about an hour. I decided to get the smile back again and I failed miserably at that. I called and let as many of dad’s friends know as I could. People flooded in. The vaatthiyaar arrived in the afternoon. My chitappa was to perform all the rites on my behalf.

What with the atheist/agnostic/part following culture/whatever feelings that my dad and I shared as far as religion was concerned, it was strange to see my dad and myself with a naamam. I had very little to do with all the rites. For the first time, I properly put on a vaeshti( dhoti ). I saw rice burn in fire. I said to mom that we would give him a happy farewell from home and hopefully we did. We reached Bansilalpet. From what I could gather, electric burial had been stopped and it would be a normal one. The rites resumed.

The most difficult sight for any child is to see his father’s face for the very last time. I kissed him one last time and then all was done.

We returned home to take bath and later have food. It was strange again, to be having food in the way I liked, but not in the manner I had planned. The scene was less teary, what with the kids being around. Time heals they say. Slowly should be appended to that. At some point in time in the evening, my mom said to me, that no amount of money can buy the family and the support we have.They helped a lot in every which way.

The next day, we had to pick up the ashes and so we planned to go to Beechpally ( Deechpally? ) to spray the ashes in the river. At the final moment, it was decided that we’d go to Nagarjuna Sagar. At Bansilalpet, a few more rites were performed. These were a bit interesting. The ashes were shaped in the form of a man and then fed some half-cooked stuff. This is supposedly for the unsettled spirits, who on eating these, are believed to think that the food at this place is not proper and that they would decide to leave the place in search of good food elsewhere. After that proper food like pori, boiled moong, milk and coconut water were given to the departed soul( coincidence being, all four are liked by my dad ). Then we picked the ashes and collected them in a pot.

The surviving male members of the Raghava Iyengar ( my paternal grandfather) clan started for Sagar. We had various discussions en route, their range being way too infinite for this post. We reached Sagar and did the needful there. We spent some time in the water, which was a sea change from the otherwise scorching heat. After lunch, we reached home and I am writing this after everyone has left.

The following are some of the feelings that I have gone through over the past 3 days:

Was he just waiting to see me so that he could leave?

Couldn’t I have come earlier than when I did?

Couldn’t I have just let mom take the chocolate and give it to him?

He didn’t see my laptop nor did he see the gift I brought him, which I was desperate for him to see.

Why did I have to delay my haircut by a day? Had I done it on Wednesday, he would have seen me as he wanted to.

With Pandu, Akshay, Diraj, Ashwat and I being the friends that we were, I always wanted us to all go out to lunch with all our parents. Why didn’t I do it before?

Why did I not say what I had to say on their wedding anniversary?

Why did I have to stay away from him the past year?

Also, there seems to have been some kind of premonition on my part. Maybe I was seeing signs. Maybe I am reading too much into things that happened. But these are some :

Around 20 days back, I had a dream in which I was attending a funeral. Initially, it seemed that a close school friend of mine had died but it changed to the death of his father. I woke up from it and called him enquiring his welfare. All was fine at the other end. But I felt something was wrong. I had never seen his father.

The day before he died, he was in the best of his spirits. As such I have not seen him being so expressive ever in his life, and so happy in the last few years. My mom even said that he was as happy as he was in their initial days of marriage, way before all these health troubles. I spent a lot of time with him and was very satisfied with his progress. But Yavvan said that I looked very worried that evening.

Never before was I present, when a doctor had summoned my mother to say my dad was serious. He had ALWAYS come through when that was said.

I was randomly seeing Google Maps a few days back and for some odd reason, zoomed in on Nagarjuna Sagar Dam.

I was helping a friend design a spinal disc implant, to be placed between vertebrae for spinal support. I picked one of my dad’s vertebrae in the ashes.

I do understand that it is a great loss for my mother and my dad’s siblings. But being the selfish person that I am, I am very jealous of them. They have so much more memories than I do. And more so because I had exactly planned to say this to him once he was moved to a room.

Appa, now that you are getting better and going to come out of the hospital in a few days, I want to tell this to you. What more do you want in life? I know you want your kids to be successful, but that aside, for yourself and mom, what is it that you want? I want for you to have a plan in this regard, something just for the two of you. You two have done more than your share in sacrificing your luxuries and in some cases necessities even, for our luxuries. You have never let us feel the need for having something because you have already fulfilled it before we felt the need. I think you have done enough and now it is time for yourself. Dad, you have so many strong views on current affairs. I want you to present them in some kind of a blog. I feel that I do not know you enough. I want to know more about you, the times you were in Nanguneri, in Nuzvid, when you were alone working, with the union, with mom. Everything. I want you to write those on a blog and send me daily. This way we both can have something more to look forward to each day. If there is anything else as well you can add it to your list. Same with you, mom. I hope you understand why I am saying this.

It hurts me so much more because, I wanted to know him more, I wanted him to know me more. It is gutting me to a stage that I cannot stand it and hence this post. I just wanted to get this out of me. I know it won’t die out any soon in me, but still, I am hoping that this helps a lot.

Now for the other side of things :

He was extremely happy to see me. I know that he was. My mom said that he boasted to her about my Orkut profile, quoting testimonials and telling her what my friends felt about me. He wanted me to study more and do whatever I wanted to do and that he would leave no stone unturned to see to it that I get to do what I wanted. That is enough motivation for me for this lifetime.

Just like any other story, even this one has a moral. If you think you have to say or do something, do it. Else, you will repent forever for not having done it.


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.

  1. Soak Black-eyed Peas overnight ( Not the singing dancing ones. Leave them alone. ) 

  2. Boil them Black-eyed Peas. 

  3. 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.

  4. Strain the water from the boiled peas  and put it into the pan. Stir randomly till you get bored.

  5. 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.

  6. 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.

  7. 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.

  1. 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.


Mushti Quote - Sunday Afternoon

Four Cousins. Each separated by 3 hours. One cousin’s voice changes gender. Mayhem on Skype. Good Morning.


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 )