As much time and effort that has been cumulatively dedicated to the study of ancient religious texts, civilizations, mental disorders, general medicine and discovering new sea routes has been spent understanding the fairer sex. Somehow this 'fairer sex' phrase is something of a misnomer. It's like you see someone you like perhaps at a bar or in a pub and you go hot under the collar. Understandable. Then your heart starts beating faster as you toy with the thought of speaking to her. Not because she may be the most beautiful person in the room but because you feel that this exam is gonna be real tough. Meeting women is always a high pressure event, something like an exam. In most of the encounters we are the ones who are weak or need protection (from the hulk at her side called Sunny). So why call them the fairer sex?
Think about it. Why is it that we males are always the ones being assessed? Why can't we do the assessing? Not that we don't. But that is different. In fact most women term that as gaping, ogling, leching (completely not true), eyeballing and if you type out stare in the Thesaurus you would get the remaining variations. Women check you out. The reason we don't feel offended at this is because it so rarely happens. but mind you we are still being assessed. If she likes you well you will get a sign like a come-hither look. (I don't think that this has ever happened in the history of my life though I do like to imagine it sometime.) Yeah sometimes it so happens that it is more of a please-pass-the-salt situation but who is gonna ever verify that huh? Well it does make a great story.
"Man! She is totally checking me out!"
"Get over it mate. She was just looking around"
"Dude, but she gave me a second look"
"No ways! That was just her eye-sweep on the way back. You are sooo drunk!"
"Whatever!!"
"Just finish your beer and let's go someplace else"
The interesting thing is that we love taking these exams. Whether it is the come-hither eyelash flutter or a quick eye-lock in a crowd scan, I would normally walk up and open my mouth. Yeah most of the times sound does not emanate. The result FAILED! Or it is "Scuze me, I have to pass through" Yeah you guessed it FAILED!
Now any self respecting engineer like me knows the value of the "Try... try... till you succeed" adage. (Wistfully: Brings back fond memories of that thermal engineering paper or papers ;-)) Well we return to our seat, pick up our mug and drown our sorrows. (Stupid adage never worked. You would typically end up writing that Thermal paper over and over again until the law of averages caught up and you passed)
Ordinary warriors have faced Vikings and hordes of barbarians with more courage than any one of them would have trying to talk to a woman. Heard of Hagar the Horrible? There is something to the way he acts in front of Helga, which only goes to show that you can never be free of those examinations. Unless of course you would much rather spend time with your tools or a lathe.
Coming back to those examinations. To get a guys attention a woman may go to the extreme of pretending to be faint. Then as she is falling he catches her and she looks into his eyes and the rest is history. Ever seen the reverse happening. A guy falls over near a woman. She picks up her skirts and takes to her heels. Where is the sympathy? Where is the milk of kindness? All we get in this situation is a look that one would normally reserve for the ugliest frog in all of Ribbidland. WHY!??
So you walk up to her and open your mouth. She smiles sweetly and touches the side of her mouth with her little pink finger. BELLS ARE GOING OFF IN YOUR HEAD!!! RUN! RUN! RUN! DAMN YOU!. And all the while you are thinking...
"Is there ketchup on my mouth, or something in my teeth? Have I not shaved the left side properly? Maybe it is not near my mouth, maybe it could be anywhere on my face. Is my shirt inside out? RUN!"
FAILED!
Another sticky situation is the one where you are pretty sober and sure that she is giving you the once over. You take that last swig out of your glass and swagger over. Just as you reach her she coyly slips her arm around the 100 kg Punjabi sitting beside her, probably called Pinky, Twinky or Pappu. What the hell does it matter RUN! You fool RUN!! This FAILED! stamp is better than having to see a bone setter or an undertaker for that matter.
Well well.... So you go over. And you open your mouth and some coherent words come out. "Haven't I seen you someplace before?"
"Heaven must be short one angel because she is standing in front of me"
"You know what I like about you? My arms."
"I hope you know CPR, cuz you take my breath away!"
DUH!! You get it, right FAILED!!
At this point I am usually hammered out of my mind and just stagger home. This exam is way to hard. (Thinking: Man those days of the Thermal papers were just too good! Atleast there was a law of averages). Convince myself that it's just not worth it. (Yeah the grapes are sour if you wanna put it like that)
Who am I kidding!
Friday, June 24, 2005
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Waqt - A waste!
Ok so I went to see a Hindi movie in the theatre. Yeah it wasn’t the first. No I didn’t like it. How would I know it was going to be so bad? Of course I had something better to do. Like what you say… like NOTHING! Or perhaps foraging around in some metaphorical haystack for a bloody metaphorical pin (OK needle if you insist). I went under peer pressure. What will you do at home anyways? Is someone coming over? You don’t like our company? All of which are purely rhetorical. Any answer to any of the above questions would have put me and my activities under severe scrutiny. Now I really wouldn’t want this to happen. No Siree! Not when at 23 I haven’t too many restrictions. Well all I did to fend these off was to open my mouth the first few times as of to say AH and then let it sort of drag into a UMMMNN… and the next few times to vehemently deny it with a strong NO, but well it went into the same effect. Then came the emotional blackmail. “You never come (Of course not! I don’t like the stuff)”, “You need to be more Indian (More Indian than what? I do pay all my taxes)” “Maybe you are afraid you won’t understand or not get any of the jokes. (OK this hurt me. I mean I have lived in Mumbai long enough to get most of the jokes). The bottom line is that I went.
There were five of us, my dearly beloved Mom, Sis, Uncle and Aunt and self. The ladies moved out in time to get the opening song sequence where as Uncle (S) and self lingered with our food and of course the Confederations cup match between Argentina and Tunisia. Twenty minutes into the game, about three phone calls (All with a similar theme “Where the heck are the both of you’ll) and consequentially three false reassurances later we left for the movie hall. We reached well in time for what was perhaps the 3rd or the 4th song sequence in that half hour of edited film. (Seems like they could have edited it a bit more and done away with a few song and dance sequence). Regrets aside, I endured that tree boogie and sundry other beating about the bush.
The thing with Hindi movies is that you can walk in at any time during the movie and within five minutes of dialogue pick up the story. They were fixing up the arranged marriage about the time I got in and when I awoke five minutes later to a well-placed and determined elbow, the son (Call him Ambitious A) had run away and got married to Pretty P (Yes she was the highlight of the movie). Well he brings her home and like the understanding parents Mr. Big B and wife Mrs. Salty S accepts her. A lives a carefree life and is doting father (who owns a toy factory) indulges him. S chides her husband for giving in to his every whim. The father-in-law Nutty N is always involved in some kind of one-uppism with B. Well B gives A a deadline to make a lakh of rupees. He Doesn’t meet the deadline so he is kicked out of the house. His lovely wife P tags along understanding the moral of the story that everyone has guessed by now. B is trying to bring A on track and is in nearing the final stages of cancer. (Clichéd!).
Upon waking up a little later to a smart, well-aimed rap to the back of my head (Oh yeah there was a comment to the effect “If you wanted to sleep you should have stayed at home!” HALLO!!) I found them in the middle of another dance sequence. As it was the festival of Holi, there was a rain dance in white clothes. (Standard fare for the lecherous public.) It was on a boat of sorts that was connected to land by streamers. (Yeah the boat. Yeah I was wondering too what the heck was going on) I took care of that by concentrating on the rain dance (the key words being rain, white and wet).
Then thankfully the intermission interrupted the movie and as the light came on, I was subject to a couple of cold looks (I told you I didn’t want to come… but no, nobody listens). After the well-deserved break was over and the movie resumed there was a complete switch in the sentiment portrayed. From the slapstick humour of the man-servant (who was probably the head man of the village ‘of’ idiots), it changed to an excessively maudlin episode. There were sniffles from almost all the 20 people sitting there (read as hopeless movie = no takers). As the rift between the Big B and Ambitious A is increasing, B is dying but is more adamant in reforming A. A is determined to make something of his life by winning a contest that will be his ticket to movie stardom.
Anyways by now if you aren’t thinking of leaving this post and going back to doing whatever it was you were doing I won’t feel offended. I completely understand.
The race is against A winning the competition to prove a point to his dad – B and against A staying alive to see his grandchild. In the true infallible ‘Hindi’ movie style all the 3 events converge unto the same hour.
At the end A is dying as he holds his grandson in his arms and his entire family is around him telling him to name the kid. I mean WHAT PRESSURE!! Poor old man is dying, and instead of giving him an oxygen mask and a drip all around him are like “Name your grandson! Name him!”
AAARRGGGHHHH!!
Goodbye O cruel and unrelenting world! Goodbye! Call him whatever the heck you want. You people just can’t let me even die in peace.
Waqt… A complete waste of!
There were five of us, my dearly beloved Mom, Sis, Uncle and Aunt and self. The ladies moved out in time to get the opening song sequence where as Uncle (S) and self lingered with our food and of course the Confederations cup match between Argentina and Tunisia. Twenty minutes into the game, about three phone calls (All with a similar theme “Where the heck are the both of you’ll) and consequentially three false reassurances later we left for the movie hall. We reached well in time for what was perhaps the 3rd or the 4th song sequence in that half hour of edited film. (Seems like they could have edited it a bit more and done away with a few song and dance sequence). Regrets aside, I endured that tree boogie and sundry other beating about the bush.
The thing with Hindi movies is that you can walk in at any time during the movie and within five minutes of dialogue pick up the story. They were fixing up the arranged marriage about the time I got in and when I awoke five minutes later to a well-placed and determined elbow, the son (Call him Ambitious A) had run away and got married to Pretty P (Yes she was the highlight of the movie). Well he brings her home and like the understanding parents Mr. Big B and wife Mrs. Salty S accepts her. A lives a carefree life and is doting father (who owns a toy factory) indulges him. S chides her husband for giving in to his every whim. The father-in-law Nutty N is always involved in some kind of one-uppism with B. Well B gives A a deadline to make a lakh of rupees. He Doesn’t meet the deadline so he is kicked out of the house. His lovely wife P tags along understanding the moral of the story that everyone has guessed by now. B is trying to bring A on track and is in nearing the final stages of cancer. (Clichéd!).
Upon waking up a little later to a smart, well-aimed rap to the back of my head (Oh yeah there was a comment to the effect “If you wanted to sleep you should have stayed at home!” HALLO!!) I found them in the middle of another dance sequence. As it was the festival of Holi, there was a rain dance in white clothes. (Standard fare for the lecherous public.) It was on a boat of sorts that was connected to land by streamers. (Yeah the boat. Yeah I was wondering too what the heck was going on) I took care of that by concentrating on the rain dance (the key words being rain, white and wet).
Then thankfully the intermission interrupted the movie and as the light came on, I was subject to a couple of cold looks (I told you I didn’t want to come… but no, nobody listens). After the well-deserved break was over and the movie resumed there was a complete switch in the sentiment portrayed. From the slapstick humour of the man-servant (who was probably the head man of the village ‘of’ idiots), it changed to an excessively maudlin episode. There were sniffles from almost all the 20 people sitting there (read as hopeless movie = no takers). As the rift between the Big B and Ambitious A is increasing, B is dying but is more adamant in reforming A. A is determined to make something of his life by winning a contest that will be his ticket to movie stardom.
Anyways by now if you aren’t thinking of leaving this post and going back to doing whatever it was you were doing I won’t feel offended. I completely understand.
The race is against A winning the competition to prove a point to his dad – B and against A staying alive to see his grandchild. In the true infallible ‘Hindi’ movie style all the 3 events converge unto the same hour.
At the end A is dying as he holds his grandson in his arms and his entire family is around him telling him to name the kid. I mean WHAT PRESSURE!! Poor old man is dying, and instead of giving him an oxygen mask and a drip all around him are like “Name your grandson! Name him!”
AAARRGGGHHHH!!
Goodbye O cruel and unrelenting world! Goodbye! Call him whatever the heck you want. You people just can’t let me even die in peace.
Waqt… A complete waste of!
Friday, June 17, 2005
The Fred Factor
I am reading this “National Bestseller” called The Fred Factor – Mark Sanborn . At the time I am typing this post out I have read about half the book and am going to put down my thoughts at this point. Maybe I’ll have another post when I am through reading it.
So far what I have read is good and pretty inspirational. (Are these the right words? Maybe I am sure you can add in a few of your favourite words that you use when describing these inspirational, straight from the heart kind of books.) OK I know what you are thinking right now. You are thinking that I am about to launch into a long-winded tirade condemning this book or pointing out something out of the ordinary here right?
NO!
I like what I have read so far in this book. But the thing is that I don’t quite get the peoples reactions… “Hey I know a Fred!” just like finding out that an old stock that they found in their granddad’s bunch of papers is worth a small fortune. C’mon they should be ashamed and go about changing quietly. I wouldn’t like to buy a $12 book that told me what my parents told me to do in the first place!! Or maybe they just didn’t say “These thing also apply when you are making money”
In school we are taught to say ‘Good Morning’, ‘Please’, ‘Thank you’ etc. and mean it. We are taught that ‘Honesty is the best policy’ blah… blah… blah… But doesn’t any of this apply when we go out to make money and build our own little financial empires. Would it not be more profitable to make money and make people feel like humans at the same time? Wouldn’t relationships esp. business ones improve?
Or maybe at work these things don’t matter. He is like that and he won’t change so why the hell should I not pay him back in his own coin? Maybe “his” is a reaction to my perception of his character! Which means that we could all be reacting to someone else’s imaginary character!
Ok this is a little far fetched with the likes of the people our gaols are filled with, but I think that most of us would classify as normal sane people. Guess this would also qualify all of us as potential Freds. But we are held back by some peers opinion of how an ‘X’ year old should behave. Is that why when we are kids we can make friends with any other kid but when we are older well there always has to be an ulterior motive?
This book is an extremely well written book and really gives one an outside look at the goodness that happens. I guess only then can one make an effort to perhaps live the Fred way.
I haven’t yet come across anything about turning the other cheek in this book but then again I haven’t finished reading it.
So far what I have read is good and pretty inspirational. (Are these the right words? Maybe I am sure you can add in a few of your favourite words that you use when describing these inspirational, straight from the heart kind of books.) OK I know what you are thinking right now. You are thinking that I am about to launch into a long-winded tirade condemning this book or pointing out something out of the ordinary here right?
NO!
I like what I have read so far in this book. But the thing is that I don’t quite get the peoples reactions… “Hey I know a Fred!” just like finding out that an old stock that they found in their granddad’s bunch of papers is worth a small fortune. C’mon they should be ashamed and go about changing quietly. I wouldn’t like to buy a $12 book that told me what my parents told me to do in the first place!! Or maybe they just didn’t say “These thing also apply when you are making money”
In school we are taught to say ‘Good Morning’, ‘Please’, ‘Thank you’ etc. and mean it. We are taught that ‘Honesty is the best policy’ blah… blah… blah… But doesn’t any of this apply when we go out to make money and build our own little financial empires. Would it not be more profitable to make money and make people feel like humans at the same time? Wouldn’t relationships esp. business ones improve?
Or maybe at work these things don’t matter. He is like that and he won’t change so why the hell should I not pay him back in his own coin? Maybe “his” is a reaction to my perception of his character! Which means that we could all be reacting to someone else’s imaginary character!
Ok this is a little far fetched with the likes of the people our gaols are filled with, but I think that most of us would classify as normal sane people. Guess this would also qualify all of us as potential Freds. But we are held back by some peers opinion of how an ‘X’ year old should behave. Is that why when we are kids we can make friends with any other kid but when we are older well there always has to be an ulterior motive?
This book is an extremely well written book and really gives one an outside look at the goodness that happens. I guess only then can one make an effort to perhaps live the Fred way.
I haven’t yet come across anything about turning the other cheek in this book but then again I haven’t finished reading it.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Impossible or I'm possible
Brilliant Solution.
This is a real story that happened between the customer of General Motors and its Customer-Care Executive. A complaint was received by the Pontiac Division of General Motors:
"This is the second time I have written to you, and I don't blame you for not answering me, because I sounded crazy, but it Is a fact that we have a tradition in our family we have Ice-Cream for dessert after dinner each night. But the kind of ice cream varies so, every night, after we've eaten, the whole family votes on which kind of ice cream we should have and I drive down to the store to get it. It's also a fact that I recently purchased a new Pontiac and since then my trips to the store have created a problem. You see,every time I buy a vanilla ice-cream, when I start back from the store my car won't start. If I get any other kind of ice cream, the car starts just fine. I want you to know I'm serious about this question, no matter how silly it sounds"
"What is there about a Pontiac that makes it not start when I get vanilla ice cream, and easy to start whenever I get any other kind?" The Pontiac President was understandably skeptical about the letter, but sent an Engineer to check it out anyway. The latter was surprised to be greeted by a successful, obviously well educated man in a fine neighborhood. He had arranged to meet the man just after dinnertime, so the two hopped into the car and drove to the ice cream store. It was vanilla icecream that night and, sure enough, after they came back to the car, it wouldn't start.
The Engineer returned for three morenights.
The first night, they got chocolate. The car started. The second night, he got strawberry. The car started. The third night he ordered vanilla. The car failed to start. Now the Engineer, being a logical man, refused to believe that this man's car was allergic to vanilla ice cream. He arranged, therefore, to continue his visits for as long as it took to solve the problem. And toward this end he began to take notes: he jotted down all sorts of data: time of day, type of gas uses, time to drive back and forth etc.
In a short time, he had a clue: the man took less time to buy vanilla than any other flavor.
Why? The answer was in the layout of the store. Vanilla, being the most popular flavor, was in a separate case at the front of the store for quick pickup. All the other flavors were kept in the back of the store at a different counter where it took considerably longer to check out the flavor.
Now, the question for the Engineer was why the car wouldn't start when it took less time. Eureka - Time was now the problem - not the vanilla ice cream!
The engineer quickly came up with the answer: "vapour lock". It was happening every night; but the extra time taken to get the other flavors allowed the engine to cool down sufficiently to start. When the man got vanilla, the engine was still too hot for the vapour lock to dissipate.
This is a real story that happened between the customer of General Motors and its Customer-Care Executive. A complaint was received by the Pontiac Division of General Motors:
"This is the second time I have written to you, and I don't blame you for not answering me, because I sounded crazy, but it Is a fact that we have a tradition in our family we have Ice-Cream for dessert after dinner each night. But the kind of ice cream varies so, every night, after we've eaten, the whole family votes on which kind of ice cream we should have and I drive down to the store to get it. It's also a fact that I recently purchased a new Pontiac and since then my trips to the store have created a problem. You see,every time I buy a vanilla ice-cream, when I start back from the store my car won't start. If I get any other kind of ice cream, the car starts just fine. I want you to know I'm serious about this question, no matter how silly it sounds"
"What is there about a Pontiac that makes it not start when I get vanilla ice cream, and easy to start whenever I get any other kind?" The Pontiac President was understandably skeptical about the letter, but sent an Engineer to check it out anyway. The latter was surprised to be greeted by a successful, obviously well educated man in a fine neighborhood. He had arranged to meet the man just after dinnertime, so the two hopped into the car and drove to the ice cream store. It was vanilla icecream that night and, sure enough, after they came back to the car, it wouldn't start.
The Engineer returned for three morenights.
The first night, they got chocolate. The car started. The second night, he got strawberry. The car started. The third night he ordered vanilla. The car failed to start. Now the Engineer, being a logical man, refused to believe that this man's car was allergic to vanilla ice cream. He arranged, therefore, to continue his visits for as long as it took to solve the problem. And toward this end he began to take notes: he jotted down all sorts of data: time of day, type of gas uses, time to drive back and forth etc.
In a short time, he had a clue: the man took less time to buy vanilla than any other flavor.
Why? The answer was in the layout of the store. Vanilla, being the most popular flavor, was in a separate case at the front of the store for quick pickup. All the other flavors were kept in the back of the store at a different counter where it took considerably longer to check out the flavor.
Now, the question for the Engineer was why the car wouldn't start when it took less time. Eureka - Time was now the problem - not the vanilla ice cream!
The engineer quickly came up with the answer: "vapour lock". It was happening every night; but the extra time taken to get the other flavors allowed the engine to cool down sufficiently to start. When the man got vanilla, the engine was still too hot for the vapour lock to dissipate.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Back by Demand!
Hey great news.....
I seem to be finally getting hits on this site from people I don't know. Yeah of course they are hiding themselves under their pseudo names. Though I strongly suspect that the Princess who visits here is my sweet cuz Sharon. My sis believes that people who live their life out of a blog thinking that this is one of the coolest things to happen to them seriously needs a life. Well she thinks the same about all engineering students and wannabe engineers!! I am cornered!
Was kinda giving up on this thing for a while....... something what others call work... My opinion here doesn't matter.
It is hard to say who reads this.... famous etc... etc... ok ok narcisicm aside, I shall use this to solicit my completely uncalled for opinion, write trite book and movie reviews, to keep you all updated on what I am currently listening to and distill out the effects of all my hangovers... (if any of my relatives are reading this please remember that you cannot believe and trust all that you read on the internet nowadays). I shall pen down random thoughts in class(when concious) else you shall get to hear about my dreams..... Yeah woman of my dream included. (You wish!! LOL!) ;-)
Marc... thanks for taking the time out to read this. Do recommend it around. If Princess here threatened that you read this and write some comment I am sorry. (kidding Cuz!) If you wanna like your blog site up to mine lemme know. If you can link mine up to yours it would be great.
@GoneMAD: I still have the ticket stub of the concert up on the wall of my cube.
Here are a few links....
For some pix. Really good stuff. Nice colour combinations and some excellent shots.
Check out the Satch man's home page....
..........And his tour schedule.
I seem to be finally getting hits on this site from people I don't know. Yeah of course they are hiding themselves under their pseudo names. Though I strongly suspect that the Princess who visits here is my sweet cuz Sharon. My sis believes that people who live their life out of a blog thinking that this is one of the coolest things to happen to them seriously needs a life. Well she thinks the same about all engineering students and wannabe engineers!! I am cornered!
Was kinda giving up on this thing for a while....... something what others call work... My opinion here doesn't matter.
It is hard to say who reads this.... famous etc... etc... ok ok narcisicm aside, I shall use this to solicit my completely uncalled for opinion, write trite book and movie reviews, to keep you all updated on what I am currently listening to and distill out the effects of all my hangovers... (if any of my relatives are reading this please remember that you cannot believe and trust all that you read on the internet nowadays). I shall pen down random thoughts in class(when concious) else you shall get to hear about my dreams..... Yeah woman of my dream included. (You wish!! LOL!) ;-)
Marc... thanks for taking the time out to read this. Do recommend it around. If Princess here threatened that you read this and write some comment I am sorry. (kidding Cuz!) If you wanna like your blog site up to mine lemme know. If you can link mine up to yours it would be great.
@GoneMAD: I still have the ticket stub of the concert up on the wall of my cube.
Here are a few links....
For some pix. Really good stuff. Nice colour combinations and some excellent shots.
Check out the Satch man's home page....
..........And his tour schedule.
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