Yesterday a friend of mine was talking about some stalking problems she has had in the past and it occurred to me, "Wow,What a wonderful idea!! And a wonderful position to be in. being stalked by someone.. sort of like a mini Celebrity status"
I said "that's so cool. I wish I had one."
She replied "I think everybody should have one"
I think stalking should be encouraged worldwide.. My brain is full of ideas now..
1) Start a company called International Stalking Corporation
2) Create a worldwide database of experienced stalkers, amateur stalkers, wanna-be-stalkers
3) Categorize all stalkers by their behavioural classification - more like the chicken wings options - mild, hot, suicidal
4) Market my stalker database to potential stalkees.
5) Become the founder of a stalker-stalkee rights activists group..
6) Lobby to make stalking an international pride event
7) Lobby for a ruling of 1 year of mandatory stalking for everyone immediately after school (imagine stalking a hot girl and telling her "I can't do anything about this.. It is mandated by the government.." )
8) Gradually rise to become the supreme leader of a stalker-stalkee cult
9) Become the President of America
10) Take over the world
or
9) Become a billionaire
10) Travel around the world in my own private yatch, or may be I could buy a ship and randomly get people to go on a cruise with me..
I have not made up my mind yet, but what a brilliant idea? Like my own ten steps to success, I should give a call to Stephen Covey.
....
Yup, you guessed it right.. I am crazy.. I slept late yesterday and woke up very early this morning
Why late? How could I sleep when all the CSI Miami folks were getting royally screwed..Horatio was being framed in a murder. Somebody shot Wolfe near the eye using a nail gun (with the half penetrated nail literally popping out of his eyeline). Eric is about to lose his job for caring about his dying sister. And to add to my grief - she is gorgeous and she is dying, what a waste!! Beautiful girls should never die and never should they be single.. It is a terrible waste of human talent
I am not a big fan of CSI, neither do I watch it regularly.. but yesterday was super dramatic and they were showing about 5 episodes back to back..
And then today I had to get up at 5:00 am, had to get into a meeting at 7:00 am and had to be in the office at 6:00 for the prep... Can you imagine a meeting at 7:00 am? I never got up so early even for my University exams.. I hate people who schedule meetings before 8.. Yeah, You heard it right. All you selfish predators - I hate you!! You took more than an hour off my most precious sleep time.. 3-6 am is the time when I sleep really deep.. But, regardless of that, it was a very productive day
I feel happy in general - may be it is because days have become more productive, or may be because a happy soul just brushed past me.. Feels good.. Life is good again..
Oh! I forgot, we also executed the first 100% remote fusion exercise in the company's history today. Technology is absolutely brilliant sometimes. We had participants from 5 different locations - Calgary, Edmonton, Toronto, Boston and Houston. Pretty impressive, eh?
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Saturday, November 10, 2007
My two heroes
For some reason I have been thinking about these two personal heroes. None of them are alive - nevertheless they continue to be my heroes.
The first one most definitely is my maternal great grand father. - the same person who built the home where I grew up most part of my younger days. He used to travel frequently to his other farm lands, but weekends he was always at home. He continued that lifestyle until he was about 85 years old. The remaining 10 years of his life, he was mostly home suffering from Parkinsons, I'd already moved out to stay with my parents by that time.
A great man who commanded respect from everyone he met. He was well educated for someone of his time - a farmer, a banker, a firm practicing Christian (btw, unlike most people think, Christianity came to India almost 2000 years back). My great grand mother used to tell some of his stories. Kerala was divided into 4 different small kingdoms, India was mostly under British control, but the British were lenient enough not to attack these kingdoms, but maintained diplomatic control over these regions. My great grand father was from the kingdom of Kochi while my great grandmother from the kingdom of Travancore. He had to frequently travel across the border to take care of the farming lands there. Bullock carts or boats were the major form of transportation. He'd have to cross this jungle which was infamous for robbers. He always used to carry a walking stick which had a long sharp sword inside - well armed and well equipped it was sort of a caravan whenever he crossed the border.
I was his favorite (not surprising considering that I was the only kid around), sometimes I'd accompany him on his evening walks, it was more of a social walk and didn't have much of a "work out" value, he'd have lots of people coming and talking to him and I would pretend that I had a very important part in the decisions being made and the instructions being given out. Sometimes he would handover money to people, and he would always give the cash to me to handover.
Evenings he was particular about the long 1 hour prayer before dinner (ok, I have to agree, didn't quite like that part) Dinner time - I would always get the chance to sit next to him and at times on his lap. I was so proud that the same person who could terrorize the house with a slight change in his tone was actually feeding me at times. After dinner I would sit with him outside, looking at the stars while he told me stories - sometimes funny, sometimes fictional - he was never a character in those stories, and when I am almost asleep he would call Grandma to take me to my bed.
I was there by him during his final 2-3 days. He couldn't recognize anybody, was mostly in coma, but the morning of his death he was awake, he had a constant smile on his face, he was tired but he would touch affectionately anybody sitting next to him. He passed away that evening. The funeral was the biggest I'd ever seen. So many people - political figures, popular figures in the community, a number of bishops, lot of priests, etc.. I think at least one person from every household attended the funeral. I was so proud of him..
My second hero is my paternal grandfather. I didn't get a lot of chance to spend time with him and he wasn't always approachable as my maternal great grand father was but as I was growing up and learning more about him, my respect for him grew day by day. He and my maternal great grandfather were almost of the same age. My father was his sixth son, so his house was always full of kids, many of my cousins were almost the same age as I was and obviously I didn't get the undivided attention except for my mischievous nature and my reputation for getting in trouble.
He was a lawyer (or a Barrister as they used to call in those days). Becoming a lawyer during the pre-independence era was definitely an achievement. He began his practice in the early 1940s and was a great sympathizer of the freedom movement - I am still not sure whether he supported Gandhi's nonviolence theme or Subash Chandra Bose's way of the Indian National Army. But he was definitely daring and outspoken. Famous for his Hitler style moustache, can you imagine wielding a Hitler style moustache and walking into a pro-British court as a lawyer, that too during the Second World War era? It doesn't mean that he supported Hitler's Nazi ideology, but he most certainly viewed Hitler as a power who threatened British supremacy and treated enemy's enemy as a friend. He was the first in his community on many accounts - first lawyer from the community, first man to own a car, first man to have a telephone, a pretty successful lawyer, many of the lawyers who practiced under him went on to become judges, and he was also the lone successor of the vast areas of coconut/paddy farm lands, prawn farming fields, family operated business.
My father sometimes tell us - His pride was his biggest enemy. My grandpa did trust some wrong people, and of course did many things and gave up so much money to defend his pride, and on his death bed only had a fraction of his fortune.
Regardless, he was one heck of a man, my grandpa, my God Father and most definitely my hero.
The first one most definitely is my maternal great grand father. - the same person who built the home where I grew up most part of my younger days. He used to travel frequently to his other farm lands, but weekends he was always at home. He continued that lifestyle until he was about 85 years old. The remaining 10 years of his life, he was mostly home suffering from Parkinsons, I'd already moved out to stay with my parents by that time.
A great man who commanded respect from everyone he met. He was well educated for someone of his time - a farmer, a banker, a firm practicing Christian (btw, unlike most people think, Christianity came to India almost 2000 years back). My great grand mother used to tell some of his stories. Kerala was divided into 4 different small kingdoms, India was mostly under British control, but the British were lenient enough not to attack these kingdoms, but maintained diplomatic control over these regions. My great grand father was from the kingdom of Kochi while my great grandmother from the kingdom of Travancore. He had to frequently travel across the border to take care of the farming lands there. Bullock carts or boats were the major form of transportation. He'd have to cross this jungle which was infamous for robbers. He always used to carry a walking stick which had a long sharp sword inside - well armed and well equipped it was sort of a caravan whenever he crossed the border.
I was his favorite (not surprising considering that I was the only kid around), sometimes I'd accompany him on his evening walks, it was more of a social walk and didn't have much of a "work out" value, he'd have lots of people coming and talking to him and I would pretend that I had a very important part in the decisions being made and the instructions being given out. Sometimes he would handover money to people, and he would always give the cash to me to handover.
Evenings he was particular about the long 1 hour prayer before dinner (ok, I have to agree, didn't quite like that part) Dinner time - I would always get the chance to sit next to him and at times on his lap. I was so proud that the same person who could terrorize the house with a slight change in his tone was actually feeding me at times. After dinner I would sit with him outside, looking at the stars while he told me stories - sometimes funny, sometimes fictional - he was never a character in those stories, and when I am almost asleep he would call Grandma to take me to my bed.
I was there by him during his final 2-3 days. He couldn't recognize anybody, was mostly in coma, but the morning of his death he was awake, he had a constant smile on his face, he was tired but he would touch affectionately anybody sitting next to him. He passed away that evening. The funeral was the biggest I'd ever seen. So many people - political figures, popular figures in the community, a number of bishops, lot of priests, etc.. I think at least one person from every household attended the funeral. I was so proud of him..
My second hero is my paternal grandfather. I didn't get a lot of chance to spend time with him and he wasn't always approachable as my maternal great grand father was but as I was growing up and learning more about him, my respect for him grew day by day. He and my maternal great grandfather were almost of the same age. My father was his sixth son, so his house was always full of kids, many of my cousins were almost the same age as I was and obviously I didn't get the undivided attention except for my mischievous nature and my reputation for getting in trouble.
He was a lawyer (or a Barrister as they used to call in those days). Becoming a lawyer during the pre-independence era was definitely an achievement. He began his practice in the early 1940s and was a great sympathizer of the freedom movement - I am still not sure whether he supported Gandhi's nonviolence theme or Subash Chandra Bose's way of the Indian National Army. But he was definitely daring and outspoken. Famous for his Hitler style moustache, can you imagine wielding a Hitler style moustache and walking into a pro-British court as a lawyer, that too during the Second World War era? It doesn't mean that he supported Hitler's Nazi ideology, but he most certainly viewed Hitler as a power who threatened British supremacy and treated enemy's enemy as a friend. He was the first in his community on many accounts - first lawyer from the community, first man to own a car, first man to have a telephone, a pretty successful lawyer, many of the lawyers who practiced under him went on to become judges, and he was also the lone successor of the vast areas of coconut/paddy farm lands, prawn farming fields, family operated business.
My father sometimes tell us - His pride was his biggest enemy. My grandpa did trust some wrong people, and of course did many things and gave up so much money to defend his pride, and on his death bed only had a fraction of his fortune.
Regardless, he was one heck of a man, my grandpa, my God Father and most definitely my hero.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Eastern Cowboy
"Eastern Cowboy".. My colleague remarked, he was glancing over my screen while I was googling for "Western Horse back riding lessons".
I asked him "So any places I can use to fulfill this desire?".
He said "Lots of them in the outskirts of the city. But winter may be the wrong time to pursue something like that".
Who cares its winter or summer? I feel like doing it and I want to do it.
I have always been passionate about horses, not a surprise since my favorite movies are historical movies with passionate men on horses, weilding their swords, fighting for what they believed in.. (not that I am blood thirsty or anything)
Come to think about it, in a way I was always a cowboy. For the most part of my younger days I grew up with my maternal grandparents at their house - access to a better school, relief to my parents who were struggling with the recent failure in my father's business. My maternal grandparents had this house in the middle of acres of agricultural land - paddy fields, coconut trees, aracnut trees, mango trees, jackfruit trees, cashew trees, guava trees,.. and lots and lots of them. Four generations living in the same big house which was older than my grandfather himself. My maternal great grand parents were still alive and in good condition, my grandparents who were still young if you were to draw parallel to western standards (my grandfather looked so young and handsome, he could get a dozen girlfriends in Canada), my mother's brother and sister were also staying in the same house and then me - the only kid in the family and centre of attention.. It was lovely.. And boy wasn't I something?, my aunt was a sprinter and it took all her talents to catch me and get me bathed every evening.. I had a special relationship with my great grandfather, but more on that later..
The long strip of coconut plantations were ideal for playing, and I would often get lots of kids to play with me, neighbors' kids and kids of those who used to labor in our farms.. If nobody else, I had the baby cows to play with. There were about 5-6 cows and 1-2 calves at any point.. I would have stacks of hay preserved from the past harvest season to jump into and swirl around..my grandmother would yell at me warning me against snakes, it really didn't bother me.. its a different thing that I would feel itchy all over my body during the night and my grandmother would patiently apply local herb medicine on my body..
Calves are great to play with. A calf will start running few minutes after it is born. And the next few days it will be running most of the time. It was fun chasing it across the plantation, trying to catch it, wrestling with it, sometimes I would press my head against its head and challenge it for a head to head match, and it would most willingly comply..
Weekends, I was either playing or climbing trees.. Have you ever climbed a mango tree, plucked a ripe mango and eaten it while you are still on top of the tree? It is an incredible feeling, for that matter guavas or even cashew fruit..
Every month the coconut pluckers would come to pluck coconuts, and that was a big activity for 2 days, I would tag along making sure that I don't miss a minute, I would even have lunch with them - drinking rice soup and mango pickle using the folded leaf of a jackfruit tree.. oh that was so tasty after all that hardwork (agreed i never used to do any real work, but it was still physically demanding to shadow them at every point). They used to treat me like a little prince, often cutting me a ripe coconut full of sweet coconut water - my stomach used to be so full..
Summer was mostly the fruit season - we would have so much of mango, jackfruit, pineapple, that too so many varieties, we would have so much left even after giving to the neighbors and the cows and the squirrels and the birds that we would have to bury the left out pieces.. I think I only ate mangoes and jackfruit during the season. Summer was also the fishing season, there were ponds in the land which would be connected by small streams throughout the year. The streams will dry up during the summer and fishing in those ponds would start. My uncle and his cousins would come over on a weekend, they had a special technique of passing electricity into the pound, the fish will get paralysed for a few minutes, they would then cutoff the supply and jump in and collect as many fish as they can. The fish never dies and we would keep it for days in huge pots until its turn came to be cooked. There is this associated story about my cousin, he was holding back his pee for a long time and interestingly thought the pound would be a good place to relieve the pressure.. except that it had a live wire.. ofcourse the charge was very minimal and he survived with no long lasting damage(He now has a kid to prove that, you know what I mean?:D It was panicky initially, but as soon as we found out he was ok, every body were laughing their lungs off..
Harvest season was almost like a festival. Machines were not used as much. Morning of the first day of harvest season we would have about 10 - 15 people coming in who will basically pluck the paddy plants and organize them into small stacks. My great grandfather and grandfather would be around supervising and guess what, me too.. I always used to pretend that I am doing something very important.. A few days of plucking, we will have the courtyard full of stacks of plants, the grains still on them. Then they will start separating the grains from the plants using their foot, I was there every step of the way.. Once that's done a group will move to dry the stem so that they could get stacks and stacks of hay (for feeding the cows). Another group will start boiling the grain (Have you heard of boiled Kerala rice, you won't find it anywhere in North India, it is a special process of boiling before the shell is separated from the rice grain)..
Immediately after the harvest season is Onam, Kerala's most colorful festival. 10 days of festivities and holidays.. The place would be the most beautiful with lots of flowers blossoming all over.. My great grandfather always made it a point that we celebrate every Onam and I get the maximum out of every bit of celebration..
Once Onam is done, there is this man who came with a large herd of ducks and unleash them into the paddy field so that all those left over grains and worms could be eaten.. Then comes one of my favorite parts - my grandfather didn't favor tractors too much, probably because he had a regular person who would come in and plough the fields with his pair of bulls, he was old and I think he was doing this for my great grand father even before grandfather was born. I would be allowed to shadow him as well, I would jump into the mud and follow him as he ploughed the large fields..
Then came the cowdung treatment, we didn't use as many fertilizers, it was primarily dried cowdung that was used as a fertilizer - for some reason I preferred to watch :)
And then the sowing season and the planting season.. I didn't miss any of those, why would I? I was like a prince among those people and I always got what I wanted (well most of the time..)
Sometimes I do miss those days.. Last time I was there, I had a few visitors, the same people who once labored in my great grandpa's fields, they had become old.. It is customary for you to give away some money to each of them, and as I handed over the few bills they looked at me with gratitude, thanked me, some touched my hand with affection, some told me stories about my childhood and how they had to comply with my demands and I could see that the gratitude in their eyes changed to affection and love, some complained about their life and complained how the younger generation is not interested in cultivation and the old way of life.. There is practically no cultivation in those areas now, but how can I complain? I didn't stay back either.
Many of them are since dead, most will not make it to the next harvest season, but if they make it I am sure they will come to meet their little prince every time I am there..
Peace..
I asked him "So any places I can use to fulfill this desire?".
He said "Lots of them in the outskirts of the city. But winter may be the wrong time to pursue something like that".
Who cares its winter or summer? I feel like doing it and I want to do it.
I have always been passionate about horses, not a surprise since my favorite movies are historical movies with passionate men on horses, weilding their swords, fighting for what they believed in.. (not that I am blood thirsty or anything)
Come to think about it, in a way I was always a cowboy. For the most part of my younger days I grew up with my maternal grandparents at their house - access to a better school, relief to my parents who were struggling with the recent failure in my father's business. My maternal grandparents had this house in the middle of acres of agricultural land - paddy fields, coconut trees, aracnut trees, mango trees, jackfruit trees, cashew trees, guava trees,.. and lots and lots of them. Four generations living in the same big house which was older than my grandfather himself. My maternal great grand parents were still alive and in good condition, my grandparents who were still young if you were to draw parallel to western standards (my grandfather looked so young and handsome, he could get a dozen girlfriends in Canada), my mother's brother and sister were also staying in the same house and then me - the only kid in the family and centre of attention.. It was lovely.. And boy wasn't I something?, my aunt was a sprinter and it took all her talents to catch me and get me bathed every evening.. I had a special relationship with my great grandfather, but more on that later..
The long strip of coconut plantations were ideal for playing, and I would often get lots of kids to play with me, neighbors' kids and kids of those who used to labor in our farms.. If nobody else, I had the baby cows to play with. There were about 5-6 cows and 1-2 calves at any point.. I would have stacks of hay preserved from the past harvest season to jump into and swirl around..my grandmother would yell at me warning me against snakes, it really didn't bother me.. its a different thing that I would feel itchy all over my body during the night and my grandmother would patiently apply local herb medicine on my body..
Calves are great to play with. A calf will start running few minutes after it is born. And the next few days it will be running most of the time. It was fun chasing it across the plantation, trying to catch it, wrestling with it, sometimes I would press my head against its head and challenge it for a head to head match, and it would most willingly comply..
Weekends, I was either playing or climbing trees.. Have you ever climbed a mango tree, plucked a ripe mango and eaten it while you are still on top of the tree? It is an incredible feeling, for that matter guavas or even cashew fruit..
Every month the coconut pluckers would come to pluck coconuts, and that was a big activity for 2 days, I would tag along making sure that I don't miss a minute, I would even have lunch with them - drinking rice soup and mango pickle using the folded leaf of a jackfruit tree.. oh that was so tasty after all that hardwork (agreed i never used to do any real work, but it was still physically demanding to shadow them at every point). They used to treat me like a little prince, often cutting me a ripe coconut full of sweet coconut water - my stomach used to be so full..
Summer was mostly the fruit season - we would have so much of mango, jackfruit, pineapple, that too so many varieties, we would have so much left even after giving to the neighbors and the cows and the squirrels and the birds that we would have to bury the left out pieces.. I think I only ate mangoes and jackfruit during the season. Summer was also the fishing season, there were ponds in the land which would be connected by small streams throughout the year. The streams will dry up during the summer and fishing in those ponds would start. My uncle and his cousins would come over on a weekend, they had a special technique of passing electricity into the pound, the fish will get paralysed for a few minutes, they would then cutoff the supply and jump in and collect as many fish as they can. The fish never dies and we would keep it for days in huge pots until its turn came to be cooked. There is this associated story about my cousin, he was holding back his pee for a long time and interestingly thought the pound would be a good place to relieve the pressure.. except that it had a live wire.. ofcourse the charge was very minimal and he survived with no long lasting damage(He now has a kid to prove that, you know what I mean?:D It was panicky initially, but as soon as we found out he was ok, every body were laughing their lungs off..
Harvest season was almost like a festival. Machines were not used as much. Morning of the first day of harvest season we would have about 10 - 15 people coming in who will basically pluck the paddy plants and organize them into small stacks. My great grandfather and grandfather would be around supervising and guess what, me too.. I always used to pretend that I am doing something very important.. A few days of plucking, we will have the courtyard full of stacks of plants, the grains still on them. Then they will start separating the grains from the plants using their foot, I was there every step of the way.. Once that's done a group will move to dry the stem so that they could get stacks and stacks of hay (for feeding the cows). Another group will start boiling the grain (Have you heard of boiled Kerala rice, you won't find it anywhere in North India, it is a special process of boiling before the shell is separated from the rice grain)..
Immediately after the harvest season is Onam, Kerala's most colorful festival. 10 days of festivities and holidays.. The place would be the most beautiful with lots of flowers blossoming all over.. My great grandfather always made it a point that we celebrate every Onam and I get the maximum out of every bit of celebration..
Once Onam is done, there is this man who came with a large herd of ducks and unleash them into the paddy field so that all those left over grains and worms could be eaten.. Then comes one of my favorite parts - my grandfather didn't favor tractors too much, probably because he had a regular person who would come in and plough the fields with his pair of bulls, he was old and I think he was doing this for my great grand father even before grandfather was born. I would be allowed to shadow him as well, I would jump into the mud and follow him as he ploughed the large fields..
Then came the cowdung treatment, we didn't use as many fertilizers, it was primarily dried cowdung that was used as a fertilizer - for some reason I preferred to watch :)
And then the sowing season and the planting season.. I didn't miss any of those, why would I? I was like a prince among those people and I always got what I wanted (well most of the time..)
Sometimes I do miss those days.. Last time I was there, I had a few visitors, the same people who once labored in my great grandpa's fields, they had become old.. It is customary for you to give away some money to each of them, and as I handed over the few bills they looked at me with gratitude, thanked me, some touched my hand with affection, some told me stories about my childhood and how they had to comply with my demands and I could see that the gratitude in their eyes changed to affection and love, some complained about their life and complained how the younger generation is not interested in cultivation and the old way of life.. There is practically no cultivation in those areas now, but how can I complain? I didn't stay back either.
Many of them are since dead, most will not make it to the next harvest season, but if they make it I am sure they will come to meet their little prince every time I am there..
Peace..
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Procrastination and Rationalization
"C grade players come in two different flavors - Procrastination and Rationalization". I'd borrowed this quote for an article I wrote about two years back for the department news letter of my alma mater. They had contacted me to contribute towards the alumnus section of the news letter. That was probably one of the best articles I have ever written - both technical and non technical; really enjoyed writing it from the moment I started the first sentence. Forwarded it to one of my Managers for a quick review, and before I knew it, it went to the Director, the then India MD and finally to the CEO and co-founder and actually heard back from some of them - one of those proud moments.
But over the last two years I'd deviated from what I had written. I was working deeply embedded within the client teams. They'd get a bunch of staff developers on board and put a consultant as a lead to make sure that the project gets over the line. No high expectations, less driven team (no matter how much you try), before I knew I'd fallen into that routine and started procrastinating (lets just say there were other distractions to add to the fuel).
But the past few weeks, I have been working my butt off, and strangely it felt so good. So much being thrown at, with high expectations, I guess that was a wakeup call. Got my 77 model Ambassador upgraded to an F1 Ferrari. I love that energy, and all the more felt good to get back into long GDD calls, pulling legs of colleagues,... It is fun, plain fun! Sometimes work can be very interesting, you just need to mix the right amount of fun; and people always do love a cheerful person around!!
I'd ended the article with the thought "If you are not doing anything outstanding, what's the point?". I have been sort of reflecting back on that - if you are not thrown into difficult situations, what's the point? if you are not given chance to turn things around what's the point. Experiences mould somebody's character. Thank your good ones, but thank your painful ones too.. Cauz they triggered a silent but long lasting change in you..
It snowed today in Calgary, damn it's only October.. Last year in Toronto I didn't see snow till the New Year. I was excited to see snow when I went to Toronto for the first time in March 2004. I remember running out of my apartment and taking a long walk when it snowed (well, it was hardly a few flakes). I might not appreciate it as much today, but I am looking forward to Calgary's infamous brutal winter. I guess it is sort of the adrenalin pumping with a "Bring it on" attitude.. But I am sure I will start bitching about it someday..
This weekend I am flying to Halifax. Nick called me and said "Dude, there is a big halloween party here. Promise me you will come down!!". I thought what better time to visit the Atlantic coast
But over the last two years I'd deviated from what I had written. I was working deeply embedded within the client teams. They'd get a bunch of staff developers on board and put a consultant as a lead to make sure that the project gets over the line. No high expectations, less driven team (no matter how much you try), before I knew I'd fallen into that routine and started procrastinating (lets just say there were other distractions to add to the fuel).
But the past few weeks, I have been working my butt off, and strangely it felt so good. So much being thrown at, with high expectations, I guess that was a wakeup call. Got my 77 model Ambassador upgraded to an F1 Ferrari. I love that energy, and all the more felt good to get back into long GDD calls, pulling legs of colleagues,... It is fun, plain fun! Sometimes work can be very interesting, you just need to mix the right amount of fun; and people always do love a cheerful person around!!
I'd ended the article with the thought "If you are not doing anything outstanding, what's the point?". I have been sort of reflecting back on that - if you are not thrown into difficult situations, what's the point? if you are not given chance to turn things around what's the point. Experiences mould somebody's character. Thank your good ones, but thank your painful ones too.. Cauz they triggered a silent but long lasting change in you..
It snowed today in Calgary, damn it's only October.. Last year in Toronto I didn't see snow till the New Year. I was excited to see snow when I went to Toronto for the first time in March 2004. I remember running out of my apartment and taking a long walk when it snowed (well, it was hardly a few flakes). I might not appreciate it as much today, but I am looking forward to Calgary's infamous brutal winter. I guess it is sort of the adrenalin pumping with a "Bring it on" attitude.. But I am sure I will start bitching about it someday..
This weekend I am flying to Halifax. Nick called me and said "Dude, there is a big halloween party here. Promise me you will come down!!". I thought what better time to visit the Atlantic coast
Thursday, October 11, 2007
rare astrological phenomenon? me?
This is like the 4th person telling me this week that I am being missed. First it was Dev, then two of the clients that I'd worked with in Toronto.
One of them said "Miss having you around man, When are you back to Toronto?" Yeah, I have this incredible inborn ability to invoke brotherly affection and love among ladies whom I interact with . Isn't it really something?
And today another colleague of mine says "yaar yehan aa jao (dear friend, come back) , its getting very boring here"
I think I am in the middle of a rare astrological event or something? Or may be they do genuinely miss having me around.. whatever..
I should take an LOA for an year and go to the Himalayas.. Rare astrological events cause great spiritual awakening and I could come back and start a spiritual movement, change my name to Swami Swaroopananda..hmm.. that will sell
According to me, three things sell the best - spirituality, security and sex.
People often don't have a clear understanding of what spirituality means and something that they can only fantasize about intrigues and fascinates them. It is the same premise for religious extremism as well as commercial spirituality. A young suicide bomber thinks that he will be rewarded with a beautiful virgin once he reach God's presence - power of a promised reward. Commercial spirituality sells the idea of feling good about yourself. But aren't you already unique and special to someone, shouldn't you be already feeling good about it?
Politicians and Corporations alike have utilized man's feeling of insecurity to their advantage. How many wars were fought on the pretext of having a secured nation? How many products were sold with the undisclosed theme of expoliting someone's insecurity? I think countless.
Sex - Do I really need to say something? Scientists say an average man will think about sex as often as once a minute (nope, I haven't counted, have you?). An average woman will think of sex much less often, as infrequently as once every one or two days (No, I haven't asked either).
So essentially what I am saying is - I am not cruel enough to exploit insecurity, I am no Brad Pitt. So spirituality is the only option left, and I am capable of making people feel good or atleast confuse them so much that they forget about the problem that they started with. Makes sense? Think about it.
But seriously, stop counting now. I know it's bothering you, but scientists also said your great great great great......... grand dad was a monkey. But you didn't start jumping across trees and scratching your friend's back after hearing that? Did you?
One of them said "Miss having you around man, When are you back to Toronto?" Yeah, I have this incredible inborn ability to invoke brotherly affection and love among ladies whom I interact with . Isn't it really something?
And today another colleague of mine says "yaar yehan aa jao (dear friend, come back) , its getting very boring here"
I think I am in the middle of a rare astrological event or something? Or may be they do genuinely miss having me around.. whatever..
I should take an LOA for an year and go to the Himalayas.. Rare astrological events cause great spiritual awakening and I could come back and start a spiritual movement, change my name to Swami Swaroopananda..hmm.. that will sell
According to me, three things sell the best - spirituality, security and sex.
People often don't have a clear understanding of what spirituality means and something that they can only fantasize about intrigues and fascinates them. It is the same premise for religious extremism as well as commercial spirituality. A young suicide bomber thinks that he will be rewarded with a beautiful virgin once he reach God's presence - power of a promised reward. Commercial spirituality sells the idea of feling good about yourself. But aren't you already unique and special to someone, shouldn't you be already feeling good about it?
Politicians and Corporations alike have utilized man's feeling of insecurity to their advantage. How many wars were fought on the pretext of having a secured nation? How many products were sold with the undisclosed theme of expoliting someone's insecurity? I think countless.
Sex - Do I really need to say something? Scientists say an average man will think about sex as often as once a minute (nope, I haven't counted, have you?). An average woman will think of sex much less often, as infrequently as once every one or two days (No, I haven't asked either).
So essentially what I am saying is - I am not cruel enough to exploit insecurity, I am no Brad Pitt. So spirituality is the only option left, and I am capable of making people feel good or atleast confuse them so much that they forget about the problem that they started with. Makes sense? Think about it.
But seriously, stop counting now. I know it's bothering you, but scientists also said your great great great great......... grand dad was a monkey. But you didn't start jumping across trees and scratching your friend's back after hearing that? Did you?
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
around the flagpole and some pre-historic bones
Another weekend.. and me faced with the inevitable boredom. Finding something to do has become more challenging than ever.
Anyways I decided not to go down without a fight. I had to drive to the US border anyways to get my visa change reflected. And on Friday evening out of the blue I decided to rent out a car and just drive 300+ kms.
The day started pretty good. I reached the car renting office and mentioned my reservation for a compact car. She looks at me and says "I am sorry.. I don't have a compact car available now, but I can give you a bigger one for a special price of 20 dollars per day".. "Good deal.. which one?".. "That one" and she points to the 7 seater Ford Taurus crossover SUV. What in the world will prevent me from saying Yes to an SUV?.. Few minutes later she finished my paperwork and I hit the road (btw, she was the cutest among all girls working there.. I know.. I am such a shameless creature.. )
There's nothing like a long drive across the country and I decided to beef it up with some country music.. I have never been a big fan of country music (except Johnny Cash, my friend Nick got me into the entire Johnny Cash world.. eating and drinking like an authentic russian and listening to some Cash, some Marley and some Hendrix..sometimes he'd even play some Russian songs, I had no clue what they meant, but I went along.. sometimes I would make him watch some mallu action scenes from one of those Mohanlal movies.. it was cultural integration..or was it disintegration??)
Ok.. getting back to what I was talking about.. So there I am driving through the provincial route, with cattles and horses grazing in farms on either side of the road, listening to Keith Urban, Tracy Lawrence and a number of other artists I am hearing for the first time, occassionally switching to my favorite road trip song "Roadhouse Blues"..
Driving is something I love to do- be it any part of the world.. But the songs I hear change all the time.. when I am in Kerala I listen to proper mallu songs, if in North India I switch to old Kishore Kumar songs and now in cow town, I should hear country..
Was a long drive, with occassional Tim Hortons breaks and I reach the border post.. Now heres the tricky part - I need to exit Canada without actually entering the US (my US visa had expired about 4 months back), and then get back to Canada. How do I do that?..there is no no man's land in between. Relying on what I'd heard, I courageously drove to the US post. They flagged me down and asked for my details, the gentleman led me to the immigration post and I explained my desire to return to Canada without actually entering the US. He was pretty helpful, handed over a sheet which says I am withdrawing my request to enter the US (except that I am already in US soil..) At the reason column it says "Flagpole"..
Apparently a lot of people do it and both the Canadian and US officials has coined the ceremony "flagpole". Basically you just drive around the pole and get back into the country where you originated from. I signed in the column which says Signature of Alien (I always thought there is a high probability of alien existence, but this.. I didn't know I was one)
I woke up the next day with an even more desire to drive somewhere else.. After contemplating between the Columbian Ice Fields (Athabasca Glacier) which is 5+ hours drive and Dinosaur Provincial Park (2+ hours drive), I decided on the latter. So I was off, hitting the road once again with the right mix of country music, but this time to another direction.. Dinosaur provincial park is the place where they found the maximum number of dinosaur fossils (around 150 of them).. The terrain itself is interesting because of the soil erosion, which made the area so much more likely to find fossils in the first place.. I was lucky to reach on time to hop into the guided tour of the restricted area.. A restricted area is a place where you can't go in without an official assistance.. The trip was awesome, particularly the point where they just let us off the bus, gave simple tricks to differentiate bones from rocks and said "Now go and find some bones".. Can you believe that? actual Dinosaur bones.. small ones though.. the scientists are usually interested in big ones, particularly where they have the entire feet or hands or spine or even better the entire skeleton.. There were lots of small bones in that area.. I personally found about 3 of them.. You are not allowed to pick them up, but just touch them with one finger..
The group had a number of kids, and I sort of found myself playing the Dinosaur version of "Are you smarter than a 5th grader?" These kids knew so much about Dinosaurs and all that I could talk about was J2EE, Sharepoint and Facilitation 101... I felt ashamed (oh yeah, I do feel, sometimes)..
We also saw a number of complete fossil structures including one that of a Corynthosaurus, Albertosaurus, mostly veggie dinosaurs.. and our guide was explaining how these were attacked by predators and their defense mechanisms.. An excited parent goes "I thought dinosaurs were so big, why were they attaked by predators?".. There you go.. I knew the answer for that one.. I felt happy.. I am not the worst in "Are you smarter than a 5th grader?"
Finally it was driving back time.. some country music.. a few Tim Hortons breaks and I was back home..
But it felt so good.. being irresponsible and driving around.. I love my life..
Hey not that I was irresponsible always.. Infact this is the first time in my life that I can afford to be a bit irresponsible.. and I am enjoying it..
Anyways I decided not to go down without a fight. I had to drive to the US border anyways to get my visa change reflected. And on Friday evening out of the blue I decided to rent out a car and just drive 300+ kms.
The day started pretty good. I reached the car renting office and mentioned my reservation for a compact car. She looks at me and says "I am sorry.. I don't have a compact car available now, but I can give you a bigger one for a special price of 20 dollars per day".. "Good deal.. which one?".. "That one" and she points to the 7 seater Ford Taurus crossover SUV. What in the world will prevent me from saying Yes to an SUV?.. Few minutes later she finished my paperwork and I hit the road (btw, she was the cutest among all girls working there.. I know.. I am such a shameless creature.. )
There's nothing like a long drive across the country and I decided to beef it up with some country music.. I have never been a big fan of country music (except Johnny Cash, my friend Nick got me into the entire Johnny Cash world.. eating and drinking like an authentic russian and listening to some Cash, some Marley and some Hendrix..sometimes he'd even play some Russian songs, I had no clue what they meant, but I went along.. sometimes I would make him watch some mallu action scenes from one of those Mohanlal movies.. it was cultural integration..or was it disintegration??)
Ok.. getting back to what I was talking about.. So there I am driving through the provincial route, with cattles and horses grazing in farms on either side of the road, listening to Keith Urban, Tracy Lawrence and a number of other artists I am hearing for the first time, occassionally switching to my favorite road trip song "Roadhouse Blues"..
Driving is something I love to do- be it any part of the world.. But the songs I hear change all the time.. when I am in Kerala I listen to proper mallu songs, if in North India I switch to old Kishore Kumar songs and now in cow town, I should hear country..
Was a long drive, with occassional Tim Hortons breaks and I reach the border post.. Now heres the tricky part - I need to exit Canada without actually entering the US (my US visa had expired about 4 months back), and then get back to Canada. How do I do that?..there is no no man's land in between. Relying on what I'd heard, I courageously drove to the US post. They flagged me down and asked for my details, the gentleman led me to the immigration post and I explained my desire to return to Canada without actually entering the US. He was pretty helpful, handed over a sheet which says I am withdrawing my request to enter the US (except that I am already in US soil..) At the reason column it says "Flagpole"..
Apparently a lot of people do it and both the Canadian and US officials has coined the ceremony "flagpole". Basically you just drive around the pole and get back into the country where you originated from. I signed in the column which says Signature of Alien (I always thought there is a high probability of alien existence, but this.. I didn't know I was one)
I woke up the next day with an even more desire to drive somewhere else.. After contemplating between the Columbian Ice Fields (Athabasca Glacier) which is 5+ hours drive and Dinosaur Provincial Park (2+ hours drive), I decided on the latter. So I was off, hitting the road once again with the right mix of country music, but this time to another direction.. Dinosaur provincial park is the place where they found the maximum number of dinosaur fossils (around 150 of them).. The terrain itself is interesting because of the soil erosion, which made the area so much more likely to find fossils in the first place.. I was lucky to reach on time to hop into the guided tour of the restricted area.. A restricted area is a place where you can't go in without an official assistance.. The trip was awesome, particularly the point where they just let us off the bus, gave simple tricks to differentiate bones from rocks and said "Now go and find some bones".. Can you believe that? actual Dinosaur bones.. small ones though.. the scientists are usually interested in big ones, particularly where they have the entire feet or hands or spine or even better the entire skeleton.. There were lots of small bones in that area.. I personally found about 3 of them.. You are not allowed to pick them up, but just touch them with one finger..
The group had a number of kids, and I sort of found myself playing the Dinosaur version of "Are you smarter than a 5th grader?" These kids knew so much about Dinosaurs and all that I could talk about was J2EE, Sharepoint and Facilitation 101... I felt ashamed (oh yeah, I do feel, sometimes)..
We also saw a number of complete fossil structures including one that of a Corynthosaurus, Albertosaurus, mostly veggie dinosaurs.. and our guide was explaining how these were attacked by predators and their defense mechanisms.. An excited parent goes "I thought dinosaurs were so big, why were they attaked by predators?".. There you go.. I knew the answer for that one.. I felt happy.. I am not the worst in "Are you smarter than a 5th grader?"
Finally it was driving back time.. some country music.. a few Tim Hortons breaks and I was back home..
But it felt so good.. being irresponsible and driving around.. I love my life..
Hey not that I was irresponsible always.. Infact this is the first time in my life that I can afford to be a bit irresponsible.. and I am enjoying it..
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Survivor Calgary
Sometimes a small fever is all that it takes for you to understand how vulnerable you are in a strange city. Add to that severe body pain, sore throat, fatigue, head ache, chills - you have a killer combination. I was struck with one of those combinations.. and I survived.. read on for my survival story..
A doctor is key to survival. I hooked on to my laptop, did a search for walkin clinics - surprisingly only one walkin clinic in downtown core. And it says "urgency care, patients will be attended in the order of severity of sickness". God bless you, mine is damn severe, I havent been able to eat anything in 2 days.
Back home, I had been spoiled by the Indian medical system. Hospitals are aplenty, specialist doctors are aplenty, for about 100 Rs (thats about 2.5 dollars), I could see a specialist, infact if you were a doctor who did not have an MD or MS, I would refuse treatment as a principle. Ah!! those good old days..
Here, if you don't have a family physician, you are doomed!! You can't see a specialist without a physician's recommendation. I remember calling a dermatologist office once requesting an appointment (apparently this was the only doctor my traveler's insurance had a tie up with). The female voice on the other side goes "Are you concerned about wrinkles? Do you feel aging?"..
"Err.. No, i have a rash on my neck and its sort of itching!!", as if I was going to stop her from saying what she wanted to say..
.."Let our revolutionary anti aging technology help you........... Summon Samson's strength with our hair restoration and transplantation techniques.."
"Samson.. who?"
Finally, after listening to the entire range of products and services, the system was kind enough to let me speak to a real person and she goes "Dr. Anne Silverstone is taking appointments for November. Did you want to book your time?"
"Hmm.. thats kind of late.. Its August you know and its really itching now".
"I am sorry, but thats the earliest date we have got".
Now there are two parts of my brain that kicks in with a response - I call it the gentleman part and the naughty part. The gentleman part said "Ok, Bad for me, thanks". And the naughty part says in my mind "Oh! sure. which is her favorite restaurant? btw, is she still single? Not that I care, but still good to know".
Anyways cut to present day, I reach the clinic, the receptionist says, "please wait in the queue.. a triage nurse will see you".. Yup, thats right, a triage nurse.. sort of like the defect triaging stuff we do, identify P1, P2, P3, P4 based on specific criteria (the ones we dont want to fix, make it a P4)
So I walk to the queue (except that nobody else is in the queue). The triage nurse looks at me top to bottom, and I could easily imagine her thinking "well, you dont seem to be limping, not bleeding, have got all your body parts intact, you are a P4".. I am not supposed to make a move unless she calls me..
Thats it Swaroop, you are done.. if you need to survive, use all the tricks in your armour, someone must feel pity on you.. Remembering all the good actors that I have ever known from Marlon Brando to Viggo Mortensen, from Raj Kapur to Amitabh Bachan, from Prem Nasir to Mammootty.. I reached out to the nearest chair with the most painful look anybody could ever show, crossed my arms with a fake shivering, and my head down as if I had a 50 pound weight on my head... "Come on somebody please call me".. a few minutes passed, a clerical lady passed by, I looked at her, she looked at me, our eyes met, and in that one moment I passed all my feelings of despair..
It worked.. she went to the triage nurse, got another nurse to look into my case.. Once I had my opening it was all easy.. I was always a master in dialogue delivery, this was a test of my body language acting and I passed the test in flying colors..
To cut the rest of the story short, I had two rounds of nurse interview (sort of like the technical interview). As soon as the interview started they would ask me "How are you feeling today?".. "Helloo.. why do you think I am here"..
And it was time for the doctor's interview (sort of like the final HR interview), and me the anxious candidate.. The nurse hands over a sheet which says the doctor's name..
When I was a kid, my father took me to this movie about a South Indian king who was known for his heroic efforts to fight the British off. His name was "Veerapandya Kattabomman". The movie was pretty good with a lot of thrilling action scenes and dialogue sequences.. I came back home with a lot of respect and fear for the character.. From that day on, any large and difficult name would invoke fear and respect in me..
I look down at the doctor's name. It says "Dr.Kharryam Khatoumi".. oh.. oh I am in big trouble.. The doctor will be atleast 6' 2", 240 lbs and he is going to make me spit out every damn thing I have done in the past two years...
A few moments passed, I hear foot steps near the door.. Courage Swaroop.. courage.. you can face this.. be a man.. The doctor walks in and.... hold on.. this is not what I expected.. she is a lady.. and she is cute..
Not to mention, the remaining few minutes were the highlights of the entire disease episode.. My head ache was checked, my sore throat was checked, my fever was checked.. I came out with an antibiotics prescription and a smile on my face...... I survived..
A doctor is key to survival. I hooked on to my laptop, did a search for walkin clinics - surprisingly only one walkin clinic in downtown core. And it says "urgency care, patients will be attended in the order of severity of sickness". God bless you, mine is damn severe, I havent been able to eat anything in 2 days.
Back home, I had been spoiled by the Indian medical system. Hospitals are aplenty, specialist doctors are aplenty, for about 100 Rs (thats about 2.5 dollars), I could see a specialist, infact if you were a doctor who did not have an MD or MS, I would refuse treatment as a principle. Ah!! those good old days..
Here, if you don't have a family physician, you are doomed!! You can't see a specialist without a physician's recommendation. I remember calling a dermatologist office once requesting an appointment (apparently this was the only doctor my traveler's insurance had a tie up with). The female voice on the other side goes "Are you concerned about wrinkles? Do you feel aging?"..
"Err.. No, i have a rash on my neck and its sort of itching!!", as if I was going to stop her from saying what she wanted to say..
.."Let our revolutionary anti aging technology help you........... Summon Samson's strength with our hair restoration and transplantation techniques.."
"Samson.. who?"
Finally, after listening to the entire range of products and services, the system was kind enough to let me speak to a real person and she goes "Dr. Anne Silverstone is taking appointments for November. Did you want to book your time?"
"Hmm.. thats kind of late.. Its August you know and its really itching now".
"I am sorry, but thats the earliest date we have got".
Now there are two parts of my brain that kicks in with a response - I call it the gentleman part and the naughty part. The gentleman part said "Ok, Bad for me, thanks". And the naughty part says in my mind "Oh! sure. which is her favorite restaurant? btw, is she still single? Not that I care, but still good to know".
Anyways cut to present day, I reach the clinic, the receptionist says, "please wait in the queue.. a triage nurse will see you".. Yup, thats right, a triage nurse.. sort of like the defect triaging stuff we do, identify P1, P2, P3, P4 based on specific criteria (the ones we dont want to fix, make it a P4)
So I walk to the queue (except that nobody else is in the queue). The triage nurse looks at me top to bottom, and I could easily imagine her thinking "well, you dont seem to be limping, not bleeding, have got all your body parts intact, you are a P4".. I am not supposed to make a move unless she calls me..
Thats it Swaroop, you are done.. if you need to survive, use all the tricks in your armour, someone must feel pity on you.. Remembering all the good actors that I have ever known from Marlon Brando to Viggo Mortensen, from Raj Kapur to Amitabh Bachan, from Prem Nasir to Mammootty.. I reached out to the nearest chair with the most painful look anybody could ever show, crossed my arms with a fake shivering, and my head down as if I had a 50 pound weight on my head... "Come on somebody please call me".. a few minutes passed, a clerical lady passed by, I looked at her, she looked at me, our eyes met, and in that one moment I passed all my feelings of despair..
It worked.. she went to the triage nurse, got another nurse to look into my case.. Once I had my opening it was all easy.. I was always a master in dialogue delivery, this was a test of my body language acting and I passed the test in flying colors..
To cut the rest of the story short, I had two rounds of nurse interview (sort of like the technical interview). As soon as the interview started they would ask me "How are you feeling today?".. "Helloo.. why do you think I am here"..
And it was time for the doctor's interview (sort of like the final HR interview), and me the anxious candidate.. The nurse hands over a sheet which says the doctor's name..
When I was a kid, my father took me to this movie about a South Indian king who was known for his heroic efforts to fight the British off. His name was "Veerapandya Kattabomman". The movie was pretty good with a lot of thrilling action scenes and dialogue sequences.. I came back home with a lot of respect and fear for the character.. From that day on, any large and difficult name would invoke fear and respect in me..
I look down at the doctor's name. It says "Dr.Kharryam Khatoumi".. oh.. oh I am in big trouble.. The doctor will be atleast 6' 2", 240 lbs and he is going to make me spit out every damn thing I have done in the past two years...
A few moments passed, I hear foot steps near the door.. Courage Swaroop.. courage.. you can face this.. be a man.. The doctor walks in and.... hold on.. this is not what I expected.. she is a lady.. and she is cute..
Not to mention, the remaining few minutes were the highlights of the entire disease episode.. My head ache was checked, my sore throat was checked, my fever was checked.. I came out with an antibiotics prescription and a smile on my face...... I survived..
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