Raatri Shubharaatri..

Santhosh Pandit and the Malayalam media made some easy money thanks to broadband internet and the well inflated mallu ego. While SP earned every bit of it, by making an impossible movie hit the screens and most importantly by taking tons of unbearable slurs and sarcastic appreciations, the media shamelessly sucked on, playing different roles at different times- as a moral police, the intelligent satirist and now the ‘lets celebrate this’ enthusiast. The attitude of the average online mallu remained the same throughout..- Ignorant, Irritated and Intolerant..
SP has done something that the mainstream Malayalam film/serial industry has been doing for the past many years - Selling dog crap in expensive packages . The only difference was that SP had just enough money to afford a package that read.. “Worthless dog crap” and he sold it as 'worthless dog crap' and people bought it so that they could tell the world how worthless the dog crap really was and thereby display their commitment towards quality literature and art..
I think there is one good thing in all this.. Next time when we see Shaji Kailas blabbering about how he shot Mohanlal’s bouncing belly using 25 HD cameras and the Hubble telescope, when we see Mayamma , Ponnamma and Ammakkili crying vehemently to save their marriage with some Shibu , Thomasukutty or Kumaran, we will have a familiar song playing at the back of our minds.. “Raatri Shubharaatri..” :D

Electrons ,protons ,neutrons etc must be the most successful sub atomic particles. There might a billion trillion other ordinary folks revolving around doing ordinary things like working in a call centre or IT company or something like that 

Religious Hullabaloos on Facebook

I have been watching a lot of religious posts and videos on facebook lately. Reminds me of something I read a long time back (Kushwanth Singh I guess) which goes something like “Religion is like your underwear. Don’t boast about it in public”.

My take on religion and god as it stands now.

1. God exists – With form or without form. I just need someone to talk to about my worries and feel relieved that he will take care of me if I don’t do anything wrong.
2. Faith doesn’t need logical reasoning. All beliefs are blind but that doesn't make them evil
3. Any religion is as logical and scientific as the growth of science at the time in which it was created. If someone started writing a new Bagavath geeta or Bible or Quran, I am sure he will include a periodic table in it.
4. Anything vague and sophisticated can be interpreted in n number of ways. If I write something like “And it will burn from inside and erupt killing all those who took the forbidden spirit” , it can be interpreted as a “Vyaja madya durantham” (Methanol poisoning) or a volcanic eruption which will destroy all who neglected a religious rule.
5. Everybody has a right to believe in his religion. To say that mine is the only religion is to say that someone else’s is not. Your religion is between you and your god.No one needs to see your underwear.
6. We are not even the tiniest speck in this whole universe. If god created it, why would he need our advertisement? 
7. Did all those Neanderthals and Cromagnons and the rest of our pre religious ancestors go to hell?

You are in Love (Dedicated to a "fallen" friend)

When the snow white doves lock their tiny grey beaks

when the glistening blue streams make cute gentle giggles

when fairies in red frills tickle you in sweet day dreams

when butterflies flutter around with wings- blue , red and green

when happy white lambs blink their wide eyes and gaze

That’s when you know you are in sweet little love..

Sing a new song and waltz around blue berry hills

And if you fall down and end up in a trash bin

wake up and walk!! ..it was just oxytocin and vasopressin

"After all love is just a chemical reaction"- ennu (Prof) Kavi

Kasab

Silence is a terrible thing. It gives time for the mind to rest. To walk back down those dark corridors, those crowded streets, those bloody hotel rooms.. It makes you remember faces you can never forget and voices you always missed. Silence is a terrible thing when you are lying down behind the closed doors of an ICU with your heart throbbing at each Beep of the machine.

The reflective glass doors showed the pale face of a dead man, the widening patch of blood on the forehead being the only sign of life. I felt the warm wetness on my forehead. There was no pain like apprehension. ’ What next?’ was too powerful a question. It won’t let me die in peace. 

“Who are you?”  - A lady kept asking. I mumbled through my tightly shut lips.. My brain couldn’t lie anymore.. The drugs had already taken effect.

 “Who are you.. Who sent you.. Why.. How? “  a thousand voices played riddles with my brain.

“Who are you..? You? I don’t know you.I hate you.. Who am I..? Me..? "

The machine was beeping loud and fast.

Ayisha came running from the corner, her long hair fluttering in the wind, her little steps making impressions on the hot desert sand. I felt her soft cheek press against my face.. “My sweet little Ayisha” Behind us Abu was holding his Mother’s hand and smiling as usual. A golden sun was setting behind our hut.

“Who sent you?"

Who?God.. I think.. But I am not sure.. I haven't seen him.. He never said anything to me.. But I know the priests..They know god..Do they? I am not sure.. I think they know.. Abba got the money..He can feed the children now..I want to see them smiling happily through their fully stuffed mouths..

Why did you do this?”

“Why did I do what?”
Aazad Kashmir.. But I am not sure..Abba got the money..

The girl in blue skirt lay beside her dead father’s feet.. She wasn’t dead. Her eyes stared at me..Questioning me. Soaking up her dead Dad’s blood, she didn’t look scared or defeated but destroyed-devastated. I aimed the gun at her head. We both closed eyes.

A sharp streak of pain passed through my head. I cant feel anything..I am floating in thin air.


The girl in blue skirt kept asking me the same questions over and over again.  Ayisha lay dead on the desert sand.Abu was holding a gun.The priests and Abba were having their supper. The golden sun was setting  forever. My name is Ajmal Ameer Kasab and I dont know why I did it. Please hang me

The English New Year

There are so many things that come to my mind when I think about my UK journey. The George Clooney look alike cab driver who picked me up at the airport with an Iphone in one hand and a placard reading “Barun” on the other, the friendly ,hot and beautiful single Mom landlady who reminds me of Julia Roberts in Erin Brockowich, the Indian hotel bearers with an accent as good as Shashi Tharoor, Chicken biriyani’s worth Rs 450, Relationships so complex that you would start thinking of B tree algorithms and Kirchhoff’s laws, Boyfriends and Girlfriends as old as your Grandparents and as young as any school kid that you know of, beautiful places , beautiful people and much more.. So when I thought of typing something here, I felt it difficult to choose anything in specific. So here goes some random thoughts..

Ever thought of England as the fortress of Victorian morality? Ever thought of girls with high necked attires and polite language? Well, thanks to my ignorance in world history, I never did and I was not wrong. Girls in England can be broadly classified as four. The teens (under 18), the young ones (under 30), the mature ones (under 60) and the old ones (under 120). You can call all of them as “Girls” for one reason. They are all someone’s girl friend or are waiting to be one. I looked up in google. There is no such term as Granny Friend or Mommy friend or Old lady friend. All are GIRL friends. I am intentionally ignoring the wives as they are very rare here and can’t be distinctly identified as one man’s wife is usually another man’s girl friend. And I don’t mean this in any bad way. This is how England lives. You live the way you find it convenient. It’s as simple as that.

What I have learned here over the past few months about English folks is that they are a complete different breed than ours. They look different and they live different. Almost any girl looks as good as a fashion model in India. You can stare at those lovely blue, brown or black eyes until you get slapped on both cheeks. Those silky flowing golden hair locks would remind you of waltzing angels from your childhood comics .Ofcourse, after a while you might have a slight illusion of the magic wand in her left hand turning into her middle finger. But that’s quite normal. And yea, the body follows the face.

But moving away from my obvious interests, England is definitely a place to be in. It’s a place of opportunities. As for me, it was an opportunity to take my first flight, see a whole new world, earn much more that what I used to, feel homesick at times and feel bad at doing night outs when the people whome I work for leave at 5 in the evening. As I take my walk to the office every morning, I pass a park full of flowering trees. I see an old guy clearing fallen leaves from the green lawn grass using some kind of an air blowing machine and I wonder how tranquil his life would be? To wake up in the morning, take a machine and walk through a beautiful lawn and blow away leaves and earn a living out of it should be wonderful. I look at the truck drivers who bring stuff to the warehouses of my office from far off. Wouldn’t that be a life to climb up a huge truck with a posh driving seat, switch on your radio and ride through all those beautiful country roads, passing snow clad mountains and clear blue streams on a road as smooth as glass?.And those young girls and boys riding their bikes or roller skates to schools and colleges might remind you of a lost childhood. Sometimes they ride cars too. You will know it when you see them wave at you in brotherly affection shouting “ F* You PAAKKEESS”. Well, I guess there’s only one place in the universe were Pakistanis and Indians live in unison claiming the same level of respect.. England !!

The Bar Code

Disclaimer:- This story is pure fiction. The characters in the story may have resemblance to some of my friends. So I have deliberately encrypted the names using the "Varun Mohan's first letter replace very complex algorithm" so that none of you will ever figure out.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Epidose1 : Rubin Woke Up

Rubin woke up early and rushed to the mirror to check his new hairstyle. This has been the case for the past many weeks. He would have the same stupid dream every morning, wake up in a startle and run to the mirror to make sure everything is in place. Marriage was indeed an intimidating affair. He tried to remember the symptoms of thyroid deficiencies from his 10^th standard biology class. Sleeplessness,Dizzines,Palpitation.. What else?. Yea!, memory loss.

Anyways everything has been sealed now. Its like getting inside the general compartment of Parasuram express and wishing you hadn’t got in. There is no way out.

His father in law owns a bakery in Bangalore. He thought he should have kept that information to himself. That would have avoided those IDIOTS asking him the MRP of 1 Kg Laddoo and giggling like .. like..er.. idiots ofcourse. Idiots they are, but can’t ignore old friends can you?.Rubin checked his watch. 9 hours to 4.

Epidose2 : Gone is the purse

Shaggy loose low waist jeans and a full sleeve 44 size buy one get two free Excaliber checked shirt folded up at the wrist revealing the golden strap of a Timex watch!Two black bata shoes polished heavily to cover up the hole near the protruding thumb stepped out elegantly from the Guruvaayor-Chennai express.
Sunny (some spell it Sunni) looked around and walked to the ticket counter. The line was long as usual with the engineering college students going home. Sunni rubbed his well trimmed mustache and let out a fulfilling sigh happy to see so many girls learning engineering. Gone are the days of male domination in engineering. It’s feminism baby!. He joined the line and waited. It had been raining for the last few days and the station had an uneasy dampness. The dripping sound of water, slippers crunching wet mud, a moody atmosphere. Some street kids were punching keys on the Information Kiosk trying to figure out something. Sunny stretched his hand and pressed an option on the touch screen. “There you go kids. It’s a touch screen panel. Select your options and then punch in the keys. You will know what you need to know” Sunny winked. The old guy behind him in the queue smiled. Sunny smiled back and turned slowly enough to catch eyes with his daughter standing behind. The children had turned around and held out their right hands, the left one pressed against the stomach, face expertly mocked to show painful hunger. Sunny looked away at the ticket counter. The children waited for some time and uttered something very mature and left the scene laughing. Guruvaayoor-Chennai express was slowly moving out of Thrissur. A few more minutes and Sunny was at the counter. “One Ernakulam South”. The lady at the counter expertly pressed a few keys on her computer and frowned at the screen for a while as if wondering why the rocket hasn’t taken off even after the count down had crossed 0.A printer coughed and spat from behind. “Its 65.Please gives 5 Rs change”. Sunny put his hands in his back pocket and touched cool air from the other side. The purse was gone.

A few moments later Sunny sat down on a bench and stared ahead. On the next platform he saw a face he recognized. They both waved hands.

Epidose3: Don’t chop them.

“Do you believe in God, Mr Cadar?”

“Yes sir, I do”

“Then you should be knowing that God wants us to live in a particular way so that he can take us in his league when we are dead”

“Yes sir, I do”

Khalid Mustafa Khan shook his head in disapproval and opened the book.

A child started crying from the back seat.

Mustafa khan took his eyes off the book and pounded the hammer on the table. “Order ..Order”.He read some more from the book.The child was still crying.

Mustafa Khan cleared his throat “ Mr Cadar, You claim to be believing in God but you certainly don’t follow his path. Stealing is a serious crime in this country and we have very clear rules about how to handle crooks”

“But sir, I didn’t steal anything. I just copy pasted some code snippets from Google”

Musatafa raised his voice. “What do you think you are Mr Software Engineer? You think you can fool us all by hurling such technical jargons at us? Mr Jabbar Khan here is a certified computer operator and the entire town gets their computers installed by this guy.He has confirmed that what you did is definitely copy writing and not copy pasting and as you see here in this book, copy write violation is an offence comparable to stealing”.

Mustafa Khan adjusted his specs and turned to his subordinate sitting beside him.

”Type a letter to the president requesting a constitutional amendment. Someone has misspelled copy write to copyright.” Mustafa whispered in his ears. The subordinate nodded his head like a bouncing ping pong ball.

Mustafa cleared his throat again and stood up. “So as it truns out, Mr Cadar you have certainly done a heinous crime and by the laws of this country I have made my decision. Let the condemned be taken to the jail and let those filthy copy writing fingers be chopped off his hands.”

“But sir, I just copy pasted from Google” Cadar cried as two heavy men dragged him away.

Stepping down from the chair, Mustafa khan told the subordinate “When you type that letter, add a post script asking for permission to ban that Google thing”

The prison turned out to be a desert. Cadar had his face against the sand. From the corner of his eyes he saw the shadows of a vulture circling under the intense sun. Behind him there were mumblings about the knife not being sharp enough.They will have to use some force.Cadar thought about the fateful day when he decided to fly to Saudi Arabia.But how could he not? How could he not come when his dear love Armana was calling from the other side.How could anyone refuse that call.He flew in like a dove and now lay here waiting for them to chop off his wings. He remembered his friends warning him not to leave. They had said "Don't leave dear Cadar, they will chop things off" and he had said "I dont care dear friends . As long as I am with my Armana".

Cadar shut his eyes tight as someone grabbed his fingers and kept them aligned on a flat rock.He heard the metal strike the rock but felt no pain. He felt something moving in his pants. Something vibrating. A familiar hindi song filled the air. Some lady was saying something in the background.Cadar tried to listen. "Yaatri kripaya dyaan deejiye. Travancore se Mangaloore thak jaane waali gaadi number..". Cadar jumped out from the top berth, grabbed his bag and ran for the door.The mobile alarm was still buzzing in his pants.He ran out as the train slowly moved away. Cadar looked around ,threw his bag down and sat on a bench. He looked at his mobile. The time was 6:00 AM. But the station wasnt Thalassery. Behind him the lady was calling out "Thrissur station aapka swagat karte hain. Welcome to.."

Epidose 4 - About Shimid

Senior Software Engineer, USA, Washington DC, Miami Beach, Las Vegas, Disney world, Tom and Jerry, Spiderman, Poompatta, Balarama, Mayavi, Kuttoosan- The chain of thoughts invariably betrayed Shimid.No matter how high he started, he always ended up where he belonged.

“Enge ponam saar”.The auto driver with the RajaniKanth hairstyle asked.

”Railway station pongo”.

The auto crawled through the Chennai traffic. The beaming headlights from the oncoming vehicles created mysterious creature with the suspended dust and smoke. “Om hreem kutti chaatha” At 25 ,Shimid still couldn’t resist that. He had got a chain mail some time back which said he would gain incredible powers by forwarding the mail to 10 others. So why not give it a try. Shimid whispered again “Om hreem kuttichaatha Om hreem”

”Inneku rombo traffic saar”. The driver said as he switched off the engine.

“Aama. Wait pannuvo” Shimid agreed though he didn’t feel the traffic was any different on that day. It was normal. It had been the same way when he first landed in Chennai.

The chain of thoughts started linking.

Kundoormala, SHREADS,Interview,Job,Chennai,Rejani kanth,Vijay, Aseen,Namitha,Nayanthara,Trisha,Shakeela, Mariya,Silk Smitha..

“Che!” Shimid shook his head and tried again.

Kundoormala, SHREADS,Interview,Job,Chennai.STOP!

Thoughts were galloping horses and Shimid was no cowboy. But thanks to Yoga master Thottada Kumaran mestiri, he now had the ability to hold his thoughts at least on the second try.

Shavaasanam,Sheershaasanam, Kukkudaasanam,Pathmaasanam,Puttaalu, Lottulodukku ,STOP!,Gulugulmaal, STOP!,Kapeesh. STOP STOP STOP!

Shimid gasped for a while unable to control his breath. Maybe it’s the heat. His concentration has gone weak. He took some deep breaths. Or maybe it’s that mail.Shimid had tried to be modern and open minded by ignoring a forward mail. Maybe it’s the mail. “Oh forward mail. Please don’t hurt me. I have disrespected you by not doing what you asked me to do. I shall not have another drop of water till I forward you to at least 50 people. Please forgive me. Pleaasee” Shimid shut his eyes tight and prayed.

The tipper lorry in the front roared to a start and everything behind followed. The Chennai traffic started moving again.20 minutes more to the train station.12 hours to home.Shimid waited in anticipation unaware of the grueling chain of events to follow.

Many miles away from Chennai, a tectonic plate under the Arabian Sea tried to crawl above another tectonic plate for no particular reason. This was not taken in good spirits by the second tectonic plate. She fought back. All hell broke loose and Arabian Sea ran to the shores for cover.

A few hours later in Cochin, Mukuon Mammu ran out of his hut half naked crying “Sulaani vanneee oodikooo..” (Tsunami is coming.. Escape!!)

Monsoon

One Monsoon evening

He stared out blankly through the side window. The gloomy monsoon clouds have painted the sky in patches of black and grey and the trees have put on their humble tilt. A tiny droplet crashed on the glass window, ran sideways and disappeared behind, breaking his brood and bringing him back to the vacant backseat of the Indica cab. The driver changed a gear and looked out at the starting rain. In a few seconds it should pour down heavily. The clouds have been holding it for long trying to extend the inevitable embarrassment. He struggled with the twitching muscles on his face . More drops started hitting the glass. He bent down on his lap and covered his face with both hands.

2 days ago

Tintu peeped in from behind the bathroom door. His elder sister Mini was lying in the tub with her donny duck swimming over her tummy. She had a tiny mirror in her hand on which she was trying to see her face from all four corners- making monkey faces and smiling and winking from each angle. Tintu had earlier taken the beating for pulling out that tiny mirror from Indu aunty’s handbag and now to see his sister devouring herself with his hard earned price made him feel sick.

Lately he had been noticing that she was no longer the girl whom he slept with during night and played with during daytime. This girl who used to hold his palm to school or wherever they went now starts walking so fast and tries to somehow get him off her tail.

She has become over cautious of her looks. She would get very edgy about her purple earrings being too large or her flesh colored top looking pink in room light and she would never spare any chance to belittle her little brother. On his 4th birthday she had insulted her in front of all his girl friend’s when he said he didn’t know how flesh was different from pink. At 6, maybe she was turning into a big lady. But he didn’t care.

Tintu smirked as he opened the LCD display panel on his Sony Handy Cam.

It’s payback time. He pushed the door slightly with the thumb of his toe and poked the lens in.Mini was now examining the inside of her nose in the mirror. Having not found any monsters inside she started examining her mouth.Tintu pressed the zoom button to capture even the faintest expressions of this proud lady.

PEEP PEEP PEEP Wrrrrrr was how Sony said “My tape is over” and it said it loud enough for Mini to hear and see Tintu.

The chase had begun and as always, Tintu was pinned down to the floor. As he stretched his hand as far as he could trying to keep his valued possession safe, Tintu saw from the corner of his eyes, the front door open.

“Daddy.. Catch” was all he said before tossing the cam up.

Sunil watched as 20000 Indian rupees scattered into 20000 pieces of plastic, metal and glass. Sony Handy Cam was history in a second’s fraction. Standing behind the staircase railing was his son in a half torn T shirt and his daughter in her blue underwear. Sunil wanted to get angry but was too tired for that. He threw his laptop on the settee and rubbed his eyes as he thought “I make 20K in 3 days”. Opening his eyes, Sunil winked at them bringing fresh smiles on their tense faces.

Paatti amma heard the sound from Kitchen and was ready with the broom. She gathered the bits and pieces, dumped them in the trash can and took it back to the kitchen. Inside the bin, a tiny piece of lens glittered in rainbow colors. Paatti took it out, rubbed the dust with her pallu and buried it somewhere inside her waist. She stared at the trash bin for a while unable to understand the value of the strange looking items inside. After scratching her grey hair for a while trying to think of what to do, Patti gathered the bright colored ones in a newspaper and pushed it inside her plastic bag.

On her way home she planned to visit the “Padmanabha electronic repairs” .20 Rs should fetch 1 milma packet, 1 pack Glucose biscuit and a bread for Ramu

Paatti washed herself and rushed to the pooja hall and started cleaning the floor -her last chore for the day.

1 month ago
Anantha Murthi took another sip of the chilled drink.He had quit drinking in his college days but at 55 couldn’t handle life alone.The past few months had been tough and today was the culmination of his 30 years of corporate love affair. The business pages of all newspapers had similar headlines. –“TechnoResolve in big trouble”. TechnoResolve was indeed in big trouble and Murthi knew it more than anyone else.They had taken a major hit and everything started tumbling like dominos. He sipped another one .He had been in pressure situations before but this was different.He was captaining a ship which had lost direction and was running out of fuel. He had two choices- Wait for the inevitable or call for outside help. Murthi had made the decision a few hours ago. TechnoResolve and 50% of its employees will be taken over by PCT. Murthi will retire to his Newyork apartment.50% of his employees will have a job. Murthi looked at his glass. Was it half full or half empty? He emptied it in one single gulp and slammed down the glass hard on the table. The whiskey, somehow tasted like blood.

Today

“I still remember the day I sat in the backseat of my cab and wept like a child, unable to face the gory paths that lay ahead. I remember breaking down at the thoughts of raising my children. I remember cursing myself for being selflessly dedicated to my job. I remember being a loser – a terrible gutless loser. But as it turned out, every gutless loser had his day- the day when you sit in the backseat of a cab and weep like a child-the day when you get kicked on your butt and pulled out of your cozy little lake to the dreaded vastness of the ocean. I remember trying to paddle my way back to my cozy little lake in vain. As I walked in and out of test centers and interview rooms, I felt the restlessness of someone within. Someone whom I had never known. As I paced through busy highways, I had felt this someone taking control, leading me, pushing me that extra yard. And when I decided to sit down before my laptop and code, I had finally met him. He was the invisible me that none ever saw. He was who I really was. I have already told you the rest of my story.

Today as I am writing these last few lines of my book, the website I wrote has been rated as the most popular search engine for years on end, My little online company is growing at a stealthy pace, My employees are earning well above their friends and my children are growing fast and smart. As I am writing these last few lines of my book, I still remember the day I wept like a child in the backseat of my cab and I can never thank my lucky stars enough for putting me there.”

The car jerked a bit as the driver expertly avoided a crossing cow. Ramesh took his eyes off the book. A slight gush of wind slithered in through the driver’s window. The pages fluttered and the book closed to reveal the front cover. It said “That Monsoon Evening- Sunil George”.

Beside him, Amma was still sleeping tight. He had to spend a whole week convincing her to come with him abroad. Ramesh smiled at his success. Not the success of growing up from the rags of Chenkalpettu colony to the riches of professional life but the success of being able to take Patti Amma along with him- to show her how well she had raised him. Patti Amma was still sleeping. Outside ,the monsoon clouds were dark as usual. But a bright bow had formed around them and it was glowing in rainbow colors.

I am back

I have nothing else to do.. So I break my promise.. After almost a year of blog free life I am back to post just a few more

Adios Amigos.. I'm done here.

Its time to say good bye to blogging.From now on, unknownexceptions will no longer be anchored. You will find it floating around in cyber space until a google black hole decides to bring it down.. ( :) )
For all those unfortunate souls who trotted in, its Adios from me..

Turtles Can Fly

First movie from Iraq after Saddam's fall.

Man..What a Movie!!

Devotional pollution

Yesterday also I couldnt sleep well - thanks to the heavy metal devotionals coming from the near by temple.Why dont they go for satellite transmission or interplanetary internet if they really want the whole of universe to hear them?. Hope dear god has enough stock of earplugs to escape from these maniacs.

No offence meant towards temple or religion. Offence directed towards those rock hard eardrums with nothing but air in between.

Yet another Day

Yet another day.
If this whole world was a big datawarehouse, I wonder how many batch jobs would have run today.Someone up there might have setup a 24X7 support team working hard to meet an SLA.
I hope they get aborts saying - "Duplicate human_idnt in human_dm table".
What do they do then? . They might filter out the duplicate human_idnt's. As a permanent fix they might add a group by or a distinct. Someone will do performance analysis of the code and suggest that distinct works faster on weekdays and group by on weekends.So they end up having a weekly job and a daily job. Pretty simple logic.

Maybe thats why you dont find two exactly same people in this world.I sense they've got a major enhancement coming up if Ian Wilmut's research flies high. Human Clone Release 1 will need an architecture level rework I guess.Hope somebody has already started working on the estimates.

I wonder how a human would be refered at an item level. I might raise my hand and ask - "Is it a white male of height 170 cm and weighing 85kg or is it a white male of height 170 cm ,weighing 85kg having a brain tumer?"
Someone would say "It depends.Depends on how they look at it".I might feel upset that I asked such a silly doubt.

And what all reports do they generate? I bet there would be a Daily Delete Dashboard and a Daily Insert Dashboard.There's got to be serious concerns over the daily insert/delete imbalance over the past many years.I have serious doubts that they are planning to run a yearly Tsunami job to handle this. I reckon the test run was very successfull.

Do they mess things up? I think they do. Last week I saw a lady on TV who eats mud.It seems she is a celebrity somewhere.Its obvious that the food attributes got updated from earthworm_dm in her case.Infact if you look around you can find many such anomalies.
Would you call me a racist if I doubt a monkey bug for Andrew Symond's and an obnoxious weed bug for Harbajan Singh?
My mom says me and my dog Chinnu looks the same when we get angry. Somebody up there has to be held responsible.

So what would have happened to me today? I hope my name comes up in the Salary Hike pending Dashboard.I hope nothing gets deleted by mistake or otherwise.
And as I scratch my head, there goes yet another day.

I Dont Know Why I Write Here But I Do

It’s close to one year since I wrote my first blog here. I had started it as a getaway from my boredom and have enjoyed doing so. I have shown this valour to write anything from autobiographical stuffs to stories to even philosophy mainly due to the anonymity of this blog. Though I started this as an innocent endeavour, I have been having some covetous thoughts lately of making money through google ads.
And when I decided to shed this google greed today it was more because of its impracticability that earned me 4$ in 12 months than anything else.

And so I am here again, with a fresh heart and a pure mind. Thought of writing something but couldn’t find anything to hold on to.Hence the title.

The title came to me from a movie that I watched some time back.“Forest Gump” starring Tom Hanks had a song going “I don’t know why I love you but I do…”.
Its a song that won’t make much sense to you if you hadn’t watched the movie, but a song which captures the essence of an innocent love of a “stupid” guy to his childhood friend.The movie is based on the novel written by Winston Groom (which I havnt read).
Forest Gump is a story that has touched me in many ways every time I watched it. So I shall fill this space with my thoughts on this unique story.

The movie is the life of a seemingly mentally abnormal guy born with a crooked spine–Forest Gump. Having said this, its not a movie where you can see a crippled man struggling with his plight begging for your sympathy.It’s a movie which depicts life so lightly that it begins and ends as a feather floating in the winds. (That wasnt my imagination.It really is so :) )

I am not a good story teller. But I will try to visualize some parts of this story that touched me the most.

The scene where the young Forest runs from the villains and the crutches break apart from his legs was brilliant. This single slow mo shot will make you despise the great Mallu movie director Vinayan for the rest of your life for all the miseries he had depicted in his movies with crippled people.

The movie is not a full time eye wetter.Infact it will make you laugh a lot and will make you think about it later. Forest’s negro friend in the Vietnam war who always talks about catching shrimps would make you laugh. But you will surely think about it in a not so funny mood later on.
When Lieutenant Dane who initially hated Forest for saving his life in the Vietnam war and leaving him crippled for life, jumps off the boat enjoying a dip saying "I never thanked you for saving my life", the sacredness of life -no matter how crippled it looks is higlighted.
That’s the greatness of this movie. There are not many shots which are framed to tickle your eyelids. But you are sure to be touched.And no words to explain the acting brilliance of Tom Hanks, Gary Sinise and all the others. Awesome show.

I wouldn’t dare to dig in deep and spoil this movie for you. But it’s a must watch.
Incase you have already watched it and liked it as I did,I leave you with some dialogues from the movie.Hope you would enjoy reading it (courtesy http://imdb.com/title/tt0109830/quotes).

"The world will never be the same once you've seen it through the eyes of Forrest Gump" - Movie tagline

“That day, for no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run. So I ran to the end of the road. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd run to the end of town. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd just run across Greenbow County. And I figured, since I run this far, maybe I'd just run across the great state of Alabama. And that's what I did. I ran clear across Alabama. For no particular reason I just kept on going. I ran clear to the ocean. And when I got there, I figured, since I'd gone this far, I might as well turn around, just keep on going. When I got to another ocean, I figured, since I'd gone this far, I might as well just turn back, keep right on going” – Forest Gump (After Jenny left him)
******************************************************************************************************
“You died on a Saturday morning. And I had you placed here under our tree. And I had that house of your father's bulldozed to the ground. Momma always said dyin' was a part of life. I sure wish it wasn't. Little Forrest, he's doing just fine. About to start school again soon. I make his breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. I make sure he combs his hair and brushes his teeth every day. Teaching him how to play ping-pong. He's really good. We fish a lot. And every night, we read a book. He's so smart, Jenny. You'd be so proud of him. I am. He, uh, wrote a letter, and he says I can't read it. I'm not supposed to, so I'll just leave it here for you. Jenny, I don't know if Momma was right or if, if it's Lieutenant Dan. I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I, I think maybe it's both. Maybe both is happening at the same time. I miss you, Jenny. If there's anything you need, I won't be far away” – Forest Gump (at Jenny’s grave.The only time you will see him cry)
**************************************************************************************************

(My choice for the best one)
Jenny :Were you scared in Vietnam?
Forest :Yes. Well, I-I don't know. Sometimes it would stop raining long enough for the stars to come out... and then it was nice. It was like just before the sun goes to bed down on the bayou. There was always a million sparkles on the water... like that mountain lake. It was so clear, Jenny, it looked like there were two skies one on top of the other. And then in the desert, when the sun comes up, I couldn't tell where heaven stopped and the earth began. It's so beautiful.
Jenny: I wish I could've been there with you.
Forest: You were
******************************************************************************************************
Mrs Gump: Remember what I told you, Forrest. You're no different than anybody else is. Did you hear what I said, Forrest? You're the same as everybody else. You are no different.
Principal: Your boy's... different, Miz Gump. His IQ's 75. Mrs Gump: Well, we're all different, Mr. Hancock. There must be something that can be done?
Principal: Is there a Mr. Gump, Miz Gump?
Mrs Gump: He's on vacation.
Young Forest: Mama. What's vacation?
Mrs Gump: Vacation's when you go somewhere... and you never come back.
******************************************************************************************************
Jenny: His name's Forrest.
Forest Gump: Like me.
Jenny: I named him after his daddy.
Forest Gump:He got a daddy named Forrest, too?
Jenny: You're his daddy, Forrest.
Forest Gump : (PAUSE) Is he smart?
******************************************************************************************************
Young Jenny : Are you stupid or something
Young Forest : My Momma always said “A stupid is as stupid does”
******************************************************************************************************

(Second best)
My momma always said, "Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." – Forest Gump

Subbu, the Mahatma and the Goat

It was 9:30 in the morning and Subbu felt terribly bored. He could hear the Memoirs of Mahatma Gandhi rhyming in the background in a monotonous Kottayam accent. It was very evident that the Mahatma had little effect on Sunny sir's spirits. The class was silent and everybody had their eyes glued to their textbooks.Subbu looked out, scanning the corridor, searching for any “out standers”. Not a single one-Not even outside “Kamsan’s” dangerous darbar. He felt sad. Surely this isn’t going to be a good day for him. Even the boundary walls were clean of new literary ventures on Zeena madam’s anatomy.These calm mornings have always given way to torturous evenings in his case. The uneasiness started creeping in as Subbu zoomed out his vision back to the class. Drop a pin here and you could here it’s echo across the room.Everyone seemed to be so much interested in Mahatma Gandhi that Subbu simply couldn’t resist listening. Sunny sir was reading through the earlier ages of Gandhiji when suddenly the topic seemed to turn towards Subbu’s arena of interest. As Sir Sunny rushed through the passages involving Mahatma Gandhi eating mutton for lunch and visiting a brothel with his friend, Subbu looked around to spot some mumblings and giggles-but in vain.Even his buggy benchmate Suresh sat dumb and his sleepy eyes lay out of focus on “The Russian Revolution”.

Subbu felt some fresh wind inside.All this time, the thought of being the only stray idiot around had pricked his morale and now to find his best friend grazing over a history book in an English class room made him feel really good. He looked around in a victorious charm.

“OK Children Listen Up. There are lot of difficult words in this book that you don’t know.I am here to answer you.Start reading the passage” Sunny Sir raised his voice for once. Suresh jerked a little, looked at Subbu and got back to Russion Revolution.

Subbu started reading.As he read, he felt the pages getting blurred.The tiny black letters started to spread across his book and outside to the desk and the floor and then to the walls engulfing every little ray of light in the room.Everything went dark and a cold wind hit him.

Subbu felt the leaves crunch beneath his feet and the fog sweep over his face. He could see two long skinny legs moving before him.Subbu looked up to see a half naked man with a balled head and a walking stick in his left hand. From his right hand, started a rope which ended on Subbu’s neck.Subbu looked around in disbelief. He could see his hairy white body now and his four legs and he could feel his tail wag from behind.Subbu cried out loud but all he could hear was a long and loud “Mbeeeeeeeeeee”.The skinny bald man started pulling him harder as they crossed the shallow forest and reached an isolated river bank.
The bald man tied the rope to a tree stub and turned around- his long stick pointing skywards.As Subbu stared at the skinny face wondering where he had seen him before, he saw a glimpse of the long stick coming down fast.A sharp streak of light flashed in his eyes and everything went totally dark.

When he woke up, Subbu found himself falling down a lighly lit translucent tube.Is this some kind of a dream? Subbu wondered.He started to pich himself but his whole body was covered in some kind of sticky fluid that he couldn’t grip his own skin.

At the end of the tube , he could sense something burning-he could feel the heat.Where am I? Subbu wondered.Surely this isnt some water sport that he is in.This is his journey to hell.At the end of it lie the devil’s kitchen where he would get himself deep fried in boiling oil.A well deserved end for all his misdeeds.



As Subbu spiralled down throught the slimy hole, he heard some feeble sounds-like people talking.Subbu tried to listen.He could hear some women talking now.At first he thought those were his teacher’s.They would have been brought here to supervise the frying process – and make sure he doesn’t go down easily.But on closer notice , Subbu found that the talks were too abusive in nature to suit any of his teachers.These were street talks – abuses of the highest degree and since they sounded female, Subbu knew exactly who they were and he knew exactly what was happening to him.For all his mischiefs-for drawing monkeyface on the board-for cheating in class tests-for making up stories about Father Jose and Zeena madam-for nicknaming teachers and for all the other endless trouble he had caused in his little life, he is now being fried alive along with all the dirtiest whores of the streets.He could feel the fall getting faster.The talking ladies sounded more close. Any time now , he would be spiralled out into the hottest and filthiest death pool of hell.
Suboo gave one final cry “Mbeeeeeeeeeeeeee” and then another and then again.And as he continued crying his throat out, he felt the fall slowing down.The atmosphere started to get cooler.He could here some very soft voices outside now- as if someone whispering or praying perhaps.

The sticky tube started to become thinner and thinner as it finally melted away.Subbu was in free fall now.He could no longer hear the abusive ladies nor could he feel the death pool’s heat.An old male voice was still praying.For once Subbu felt as if it was the Devil himself praying for forgiveness.
Everything around turned white as snow and he felt as a snow flake waltzing its way down in the gentle breeze.He hoped this fall would never end.


“Standup you Idiot .Where is your English textbook?”

The snowflakes vanished in a second.The spirall tube,the prostitutes,the praying devil and the skinny bald man flashed before him one last time and a bunch of dark little letters started to crawl back into Subbu’s vision.

“I am asking you again-Where the hell is your English textbook?” Sunny sir was fuming as he churned Suresh’s large ear’s between his fingers.

“I forgot to bring it sir” Cried poor Suresh

“Ok.Then tell me what incident made Gandhiji become a vegetarian”.
As Suresh started to stammer, the next question was shot
“What did Mahatma Gandhi learn after going to the brothel”
By this time two of Suresh’s ears where doing circles under Sunny sir’s strong palms.

The bell rang just in time and poor little Suresh relaxed.

During lunch break Suresh asked Subbu
“Hey do u know why Gandhiji became vegetarian and what he did at the brothel?”
and Subbu said “Ofcourse I do. I was there when he did it”
As Suresh stared at him in utter discontend, Subbu smiled and said –“It’s a long story.I will tell you next class”

A Simple death

The blood on his offwhite shirt took a deep black shade in the moonlight.
It was a neat cut with the head a few feet away inside the track and the body lying outside on the belly.

A few years ago, he fell in love. A few months ago they got married.
A few minutes ago, he tried to call her.A few seconds ago, Rizwanur lied down on the track and smiled at the stars.

The breeze had dried up a portion of the fluids. A mobile lay wet, buzzing a popular hindi love song. His heart would have beaten one last time.

A few hours later, a mother fainted. A brother wept. And a hundred men ran around with microphones and video cams.

A few months later... who cares!!

SQL> SELECT sysdate FROM dual;

SYSDATE
---------
26-SEP-07

SQL> SELECT * from mind WHERE status<>'CONFUSED';

No rows selected

The black birds of Triaqua

The sun was up from its mountain crib. The lush green grass was sparkling with the melting frost and the soggy soil was ready to sweat. The air was silent except for the mild breeze waltzing with the tall eucalyptus trees shedding their last night’s tears.

The birds in the tiny timepiece chirped 7.The old man rose and sat down on his bed. He was already hours late but somehow couldn’t shake the sleep off. Today he felt his head heavy, his eyes swollen and his mind sick. Triaqua had her morning stage set up as usual but the old man felt so unready to raise his act.

The old man came to Triaqua when he was 20 to take up his dead father’s job as a forest guard. And now he was 70.His children think he is too weak to work now. They want him back home. They want him to fly with them abroad- They don’t want him to be lonely anymore. He had to retire – He knew it.

50 years was too long for a man to remain lonely in the woods-but he wasn’t completely lonely. She was always there for him-To wake him up with her sweet breath and to tuck him into sleep with her soft lullabies. She used to drench him with her downpours and frighten him at times with her thunderous shouts. She was always there for him. She was Triaqua and he was in love with her.

The old man stood up. His legs were a bit shaky. Supporting himself on the bed, he reached for his walking stick and slowly moved to the door. The door opened and there she was- gleaming so bright that the old man had to shut his eyes tight for a moment.His eyes had lost its shine, Age has painted ugly pictures on his skin and his muscles had worn out, leaving just the skin lingering on to his bare bones in many places. But she was still the same. An extravaganza of raw beauty.

He had always had the feeling that Triaqua, though she shines so bright was so sad at times. He never found anything lively and beautiful around her except for the very rare squirrels. Maybe it’s the cold. Triaqua had no beautiful adornments. She was bright and yet sad - like a widow.

The old man raised his hands high and clapped them loud, over and over again. His eyes scanned the horizon. He could not see the approaching black spots in the sky but he could hear them flutter their wings. The black birds landed beside the old man’s feet. He emptied the plate of rice before them and watched them eat. They were black, could not sing, had an ugly black beak and had cruel eyes which showed no signs of gratitude. But he loved them. They were the messengers of Triaqua.And he had been feeding them all this time.50 years have passed and generations of black birds came and went. He had some old favorites whom he could recognize with their grey patch works. He had once decided to name them. But later decided not to, because he felt bad when suddenly one day the old “big beak” would stop coming. So he decided to treat them all alike. To believe that they were all the same, that they never left him- never left Triaqua.

The birds started to leave. The old man walked back to his door. He turned around one last time and took a deep breath. The black birds were flying back.

---------------------------------------------------------

Years had passed. Now his eyesight was pathetic and he could not stand up anymore. His children had taken him abroad to their place. He visited them in turn. They paid his air tickets. The house maids took good care of him. He played riddles with his grand children. He was happy and sometimes, before going to sleep he would think of Triaqua and her black birds.

Today is his 80th birthday. And when his son asked him what he wanted as a birthday present, he said he wanted to go back home. And so they sent him back home.
The flight took off and it flew over seas and islands. The old man sat beside the window. He looked out and saw clouds- faint white clouds and through them he saw a small green patch. And as he looked on he saw the eucalyptus trees swaying. He heard the wind whistling through them. He touched the dew drops on the glistening green grass.
He stood up and clapped his hands hard. He heard the fluttering noise of wings. He felt them land on his shoulders and lift him off his wheelchair.He felt the cold dip as they dived through the clouds.He saw them looking down at him.They were black, could not sing, had an ugly black beak and cruel eyes which showed no signs of gratitude. But he loved them. They were the black birds of Triaqua and they were taking him home.

Inherent Intricacies of an Indian Wedding

A few days back I got a friendly mail from a very true friend of mine. The subject line carried the “Be careful” caution as usual. I opened the mail to find a rather huge document attached. The name said it all. “Marriage.doc”

I had read many such docs before and was not very interested in reading the same old story with the actors changed. But the introduction looked different. It promised to be educative and hence was inviting. But each line I read further, plunged me into deeper and deeper levels of discontent. It was turning into the same old talking, touching and more “ing” story. That’s what made me write this blog. It’s not a “How to” article. Neither does it hold any “Shortcut to better” prefixes. It is simply impossible for a man (or should I say Kid) of my experience to write such things.
What I shall jott down here is what I feel right now - at this moment about a marrige. Ask me an hour later and I might have a completely different story to tell. These are my thoughts as of the 22nd of April 2007 -10:30 AM sharp.

This thought of getting married has got a lot less interesting and a lot more disturbing during the past many years in my case (Hmm.. Yes,I said many years.Dont know if its legal to do so at that age.Let the longs hands of law spare me for my ignorance ;-) ). And I see this growing reluctance very normal considering the fact that I am finding it hard to manage myself and more responsibility is definitely the last thing I would crave for. The act of remaining unhooked for life has also been thought over. But that lonely old age that everyone talks about, haunts me. In that sense, I see it all as a give and take game. You love your wife- she takes care of you. You raise your children – They look after you when you get old.If you dont do anything and if you are not lucky or rich enough, keep yourself healthy coz u will need a lot of that saved energy to take care of yourself.

For this reason I have always felt that Parents should be kept immortal so that you can have your Mother’s hand cooked food till your last day home. And it’s not hard taking care of your parents because mostly they take care of you. They rarely ask for costly gifts. Rarely expect you to remember their birthday’s and rarely consider you weak and useless. So I suspect. And even if they do, you can always put the blame back on them. ;-)

But sadly its not just food and shelter that man is entitled to enjoy in this world. The very old Eve and Adam story keeps selling and none can live without apples. And with so many apple trees and Eves around, its hard to withhold the temptation.

My Experiments with B tech

Sitting in the production support cubicle on a fine Saturday morning staring at Control M schedulers searching for breaking jobs, my mind takes a ride through the past. I wont let it wander too far but just a few years back. 5 years to be precise - to a hot summer day in May 2001.

DECLERATION and INITIALIZATION
----------------------------------------
It was supposed to be a shopping complex but didn’t look like one. It was just a dirty lifeless concrete building with the cement and dust yet to settle down.
I did not like the look on my mother's face. But i was happy. I am finally going to join an engineering college and though it was supposed to be a temporary affair with me preparing for the next year entrance and hopefully going to some "reputed" college as expected by my many "well-wishers", the thought of being relieved of the tons of multiple choice bullshits I would have gone through in an entrance crash course made me feel great.

It would have been around 10 o clock in the morning. The queue was pretty long and i was standing last.
I was disappointed at being stupid enough to back the analysis done by many of the "well-wishers".
I thought about the day when the entrance results came. Sounded more like the 'Little boy' hitting Hiroshima. ( Little boy is a nuclear bomb and Hiroshima is a japanese city. For those who thought otherwise :-) ). Along came the tremor, the smoke and dust of condolences and advices.

Using their immense knowledge and experience in these matters, my "well-wishers" came up with the prediction that there would not be many guys coming to join a college like this. After all who will take such stupid decisions with their life?. And moreover a guy with an entrance rank as yours is not supposed to join a college. You are a begger (to be pronounced in an Indo Butlorian accent with utter discontent.) left with no choice and will have to take what is offered. You have disgraced the fundamental laws of entrance oriented education. You should go to Trissur and get trained from the best. You should learn how to mark answers without thinking - at the blink of your eyes.You will find it very hard coz you dont have the brains to do it.But still you might make it. And then only you will succeeded in life. Very true indeed. I shall not waste my life. I shall go through it again and with the grace of god ,I might have the opportunity to get into a reputed college. I shall live happily ever after.

The day was getting hotter and the queue was moving at a snails pace. I looked around and found no faces I recognize. I saw many others but didn’t bother to talk. I didn’t know that the coming fours years would transform these unknown faces as my bench mates and best friends.
I remember the big guy leaning on a pillar dreaming with his sleepy eyes. He was so good at this that somebody had to
wake him up when his name was called. Later this guy was to become the integral part of the BBD(back bench dudes). The one and only Prabinettan.. :)
I remember seeing a glimpse of Adarsh.That was all. Later I learned this vanishing act from him and found it very useful in bunking classes.
I met Safdar- the first established chaaran and role model of other chaar aspirants.

Now was the chance for the only senior batch to have their say. They did it well by organizing a march and cautioning us of the disastrous plight we are about to suffer- of loosing recognition from the University. After having had a very eventful pre degree at SN college, I was happy to see the "samaram" and hoped to have more of it in future which was not to be.

And finally after waiting till 3 o clock in the evening I got called. I returned receiving loads of advices and inspirations from Nambiar sir.

College life in CETLY declared and successfully initialized!!

THE CODE BEGINS HERE
---------------------------

Classes commenced on some unfortunate date of the year. I was yet to loose the hangover from my PDC experience. I have now been deprived of my freedom of choice, freedom of speech and freedom of movement. Bunking classes from the two storied college was virtually impossible. Thanks to space constraints we had only half day classes.

Environment is set. Now comes the objects.

There was this tall irritating guy who had a misconception about B-tech courses. Somebody had convinced him to fill English wherever possible in his conversations with others. Some “well-wisher” might have said. “Mone u r going to become a big engineer. So behave like one.Dont talk to people in Malayalam.“
It’s said that wise men learns from mistakes. Has to agree that this guy was pretty wise. He still hates the phrase “good name” as in “What is ur good name ? “ J
This guy was to become the BUJI in BBD. The only guy who had the privilege to go to Shreads and attend tests before 7th sem. Shimith is his name!!

I wont give such lengthy descriptions to all. To keep it short I’ll name the rest

Unni- A drop out from agricultural engineering, Unni joined CETLY a few months late. Tries hard to maintain a ruf and tuf look.
Adarsh- Cool guy unconcerned and unaware of what’s happening around.
Jijin – Helpful (especially in drawing margins and picking balls) and humble guy. Gets easily agitated when talked about Communism. Looks like a communist from outside.
Mahesh – The guy who claims to have first hand experience of almost everything. Likes to become the big brother. No “doubt” goes unresolved.
Vigil (aka Raj Kumar) – Cool guy. Again claims first hand experience in many domains.

The rest of the guys can come along during the course of the story.
Life moved on. So did the college. With money flowing in as semester fees, it prospered and scaled new heights. (Around 200 feet from sea level) .Our new campus got set up in kundoormala to the utter disappointment of the many “well-wishers”. Everyone else felt good.

The silence of the sea is deceptive. You never know when the next Tsunami will hit.
And so it came. There had been rumors about it. Some said it would never come. Many others hoped. But it did come. People ran frantically from kundoormala to Delta and
back.
God’s prayer resolution server took a major hit from the hundreds of high frequency transmitters sending loads of prayers and sorrows across. Network admins spotted the site as kundoormala. But they didn’t stand a chance. The server crashed. S1S2 results were out!!. Those who prepared day and night blamed the syllabus, the teachers and the university. Others simply agreed. Many wise men learned from this mistake. Some planned to work harder. Others thought planning was simply a waste of time.They believed in actions.
BBD was confused. They weighed their options over and over again. Working harder was a good option. But what if it didn’t bring results. They were more concerned about the amount of energy that would go waste if their option failed. Taking action requires more guts and involves more risk. So they decided to do nothing.

In the afternoons they would move to the shades and enjoy the cool breeze. They will discuss and debate on a variety of issues. These mid noon discussions made immense changes in BBD (or rather kept them from changing).

Life moved on fast but in circles. The same thread ran again and again in each semester.
The flow of assignments, series exam, sem exam was basically the same. Just the logic changed every time. Sometimes good sometimes worse. And to cope with these changing requirements wise men had to come up with ingenious solutions. While the masters used enhanced secondary storage options and innovative resource sharing protocols, the cowards stuck with the traditional multichannel visual data scan options. The marks came proportional to their eye sight. Lab exams produced codes as Xerox copies of records. Unknown files of senseless lines gave expected results. People started believing in modern day miracles.

But these things are easier said than done. Sem exams were simply Chaos. Its that time of the year when you start thinking about your future. And every time you think about it ,you feel the chill right there in you belly.

It’s a time when the following four phases come into play. I call it the Btech sem exam life cyle model. (BSELC model)

1) Resource Gathering phase:-

The time of the year when people start gathering study materials. The phase starts with the search for the sem’s syllabus. Xerox machines get unusually busy during this period printing Btech textbooks. The phase ideally begins at around 3 to 4 weeks prior to the sem exam.

2) Planning phase

The MOST critical phase of all. The phase starts once all the acquirable resources are in place.Previous years question papers are thoroughly scrutinized and a consensus is reached on the distribution of marks among modules. Based on this data , people take independent decisions on how to go ahead with their preparation. Some skip chapters, Many skip modules and the remaining who cant find any feasible approach, simply skip the exam.

2) Reading phase

It’s the time when everyone gets super active. Books get attacked from all possible sides. The most energy consuming phase of all. A time when the budding engineers prepare themselves for the inevitable. Now and then the plan gets updated. Phone calls go to and fro all the time. Everyone eager to get the latest updates.


3) The day before (Hell)

The phase is marked by symptoms like lack of apatite, sleeplessness, headache and many more uniquely disturbing feelings.
In this phase you will find yourself sitting in any of the 4 corners.

Corner 1: The plan was pretty good. You feel confident about the preparation. You think about reading discarded chapters just in case something goes wrong. You brush up learned chapters once more. This corner is rarely occupied. Its there mostly for the sake of it.

Corner 2: You have lost all hopes. The plan was a disaster. You play cricket 2005 to ease the pressure.

Corner 3: You are utterly confused. You don’t know where you are. You see unrecognizable printed lines in your sleep. You feel like you know something but you won’t recollect anything you felt you knew. You hope and pray for the exam to get postponed. You start getting philosophical. You start listening to ENIGMA to ease tension. You start respecting your elders. You seriously think about quitting smoke and drink (once the exams are over) . You start giving ten rupee notes to beggars. You feel sad for stray animals. Might even go to the extend of giving them chocolates. You feel very strange .But you always have company as this corner is always full . You will have a tough time fighting for your seat.

Corner 4:
You are hyper optimistic. You think you still have a chance. You start reading..
After reading you use blades or scissors to make tiny cut outs of what you read just in case you forget.
You sit opposite to corner 2 and will find it very disturbing seeing the cool guys from corner2 laughing at you. You will fight hard not to accept corner 2 invitations. You finally end up in corner2 or corner3 but will still be confident coz you have all the bits in place.

4) D day

Everything comes down to this. You visit temples/mosque/church early in the morning. You take care not to dislodge the sandal paste marks on you forehead. You wear your lucky shirt.
In the examination hall you feel numb. Your hands shake when you write your register number. You turn around to find if anybody stays close by for a help. You start writing. You think hard about where you placed the needed bits. You think even harder whenever the invigilator looks at you.
You wish you had an owl’s eyes. You count your marks after each question you attempt. At the end you again find yourself sitting (sometimes lying down) in any of the four corners.

Corner 1:
You feel satisfied but not happy because you did not get enough time to write everything that you wanted to. You know you will score somewhere above 70 but you might choose to look unhappy so that onlookers from other corners don’t feel bad.

Corner 2:
You feel really happy. Your calculations suggest that you could score somewhere in between 45 to 50. Even after cutting down some marks you find yourself standing on the boundary line. You feel proud.


Corner 3:
You are at the mercy of the almighty. You find it very hard to cross the margin. You start adding grace marks here and there and somehow drag yourself to 45. You never stop praying.

Corner 4:
You don’t feel anything. You stop thinking about the exam. You start enquiring when the supplementary exams begin. You desperately search for company and feel relieved to find some. You drink a lime soda near the bus stand and rush home.


And then when the sem exams are gone life would be same again. The fun would be back.It will be time to take some rest for all the hard work we did in one month.And when we wake up again it would be time for yet another battle.
But one fine day everything just ended.Btech was over just like that !
And then came the most difficult times of all. The search for a job.The "well-wishers" were all back in action.Everyone just went their own way.Once in a while they'll called each other. And someday they would just loose all contacts.
Two years down the line, I am sitting here in my air conditioned office missing those hot summer days when we trotted downhill laughing loud, sharing jokes and playing pranks on each other.
I miss those downpours when people used to get inside the other guy's umbrella even if they had one in their bags.Sitting here as a decently paid software engineer with more diverse and matured worries smoking in my head, I am finding it hard not to miss my Btech days-those nail bittings and head scratchings.
But thats so and no one can change it. I am seeing red spots here and there on my screen.Recovery is gonna call me any time now.Kundoormala and Btech has to move out.Got to let some Unix and Oracle pour in.
I dont have to worry though , coz I know for sure that those golden memories will always be with me- written deep in my heart.

Every code has to be delivered some day! ;-)