Once more Muziboo time...

The more I surf this website the more I love this, maybe basically because I love music, especially guitar, today since morning I have been sitting here, on my chair and just listening to the music posted, So I thought that I am going to put some of my favourites and you will surely like some of them..

Starting with the best song that I have seen on Muziboo... this is composed/sung by this girl called mimi... I dont know her but really loved it...




Then with this vocal from Prasanna....


Aadat... almost looks like real song..


Amazing vocals.. of a Rafi song



and Finally this "Dooba Dooba" on guitar... this song has always sounded great on Guitar..



Have a great weekend ahead..
:)

Delhi police website...

Recently I have found this story about Delhi Police lifting the complete website from Singapore, floating in Blogosphere.

So the story is that the Delhi Police website... which is called...
http://www.delhipolice.nic.in/

NDTV claims that the full website has been lifted up from the Singapore police website.

And early in morning I get a mail like this....

Subject: Dark side of Delhi police (Part of the mail below)
"
In 21st century, when Nations are using Internet as boom, Delhi Police cant
even get a simple website

Some of the “HOT” quotes from Delhi Police website. (followed by some mistakes on the website, which I find no necessity of putting them down here)


Read the complete striptease of website (and link pointing to NDTV article)

"

First I really dont understand what is the big deal if they copied website from Singapore police website. How does it matter? I guess everyone would agree that making websites is not the core competency of Delhi Police, they just want a place holder and fastest way to make things work. So they did the easiest thing to do. I think it is smart thing to do.

I am sure that there will be mistakes and they are going to sort them out. But I really appreciate Delhi Police initiative.


But more importantly than all this, I really don't understand why people take so much fun in criticizing and tearing apart things. I mean some of the comments on the NDTV article and the tone of the above mail for example are so bad.

It is like finding mistakes and letting someone down. I am not saying that you should not criticize, but I guess there is something like constructive criticism, "I think you it is really good, but I guess if you improve on this you will really make it brilliant ". And I really believe that even in most shabbiest of the efforts you will always find, something good to cheer, if you try to look with that attitude.

There are things that can make you feel good and there are things which can completely demoralize you. And I guess we all should make this choice carefully.

The mail early morning really put me off, and I really hate getting those kind of mockery filled, letting down emails.


PS: Actually I did look at the website and I think it is cool.... and should serve its purpose. And am also sure they are going to set all the small things all right.

Music Time..... Muziboo time...

Not very long ago, I was having this after dinner fatta session with Prateek and Nithya, and they were telling me about having a website where amateur music lovers could upload their music. And here goes six weeks, which I spent blissfully hanging about here and there, but these guys got the site up. And they call it Muziboo (I dont know why Muziboo, perhaps prateek will be able to comment on this).

Lemme explain what this site is in this way...

As Flickr is for Photography
As Blogger is for writing lovers

So is
Muziboo is for budding guitarists, drummers and any kind of music players...

So on Muziboo, you can upload your music, and it is visible to whole lot of people and many times you get quite useful comments, good/bad/praise/junk/crap and so on... similar to blogger and flickr. But for me the biggest thing about these kind of websites is that, (that is true for blogger as well), I really get to meet and talk with like minded people. Meet people with whom i can discuss music and probably even meet up for jamming.

I am not going to write what the website has and what not it does not have, this is not the review of website, you can take a look, it is easy to use, and has everything that any such website should have.

Hold hold before you go off... and if you have headphones... I uploaded some of my stupid music as well...



So if you are music lover, i guess you are gonna like this website... so take a peek. If you have any feedbacks on the website you can mail it to contact@muziboo.com

PS: This is not a paid marketing... :( . But as a last note, i wanted to write about this, because I guess lot of us keep talking, about doing this and doing that... but this guy talked about it, put fight and has almost bought this to completion... and he is a motivation for him... and he is Nike kind of guy for me... "Just do it" types...So way to go guys keep it up.

In the mess...

It happened again.... that sunday afternoon, I was again sitting in between the mess... yups the mess of my room... I had decided to clean it. And as everytime the same thing happened, I was sitting in middle of the room, with things scattered all around me, pencils, guitar notes, music sheets, hand written notes, shells, colours, cards, letters, marbles, pearls, coffee mugs .....



Everytime I invariably open up everything... and then it is like another journey down memory lane...



There is this badge that I have, which states, Class Representative, that was way back in 8th class and that badge was made by my heart throb then, and I had preserved it, because that is the only material thing that I have of her, and that was the time I had recently read treasure Island and it was my fantasy that I should go with her to some unknown place and stay there for rest of the life.



Then I have these guitar notes, scribbled sitting at 7:30 am class with our guitar teacher. This guitar sir, had a notebook, where he had written all the songs, and he used to ask us to copy, and his hand writing was no better than doctor's prescription, that was the ritual for first ten minutes of the class, and this one fine day we were doing "Hero" song by Enrique( at that time I had no knowledge enrique, and I used to think it was Henry K), and I could not believe that the song lyrics has the following line..

"Would you mind if I touched your hips??"

It was only later that I realized that it was suppossed to be "lips"...



I have this collection of shells, that I have gathered it from various beaches... I had this photo of miss xyz and me, really cute one on one of my first trips to goa...



This crayon picture that I drew of vani Vilas dam, which I visited while driving from Pune to Bangy, and the place was so beautiful, with dam, sorrounded by mountains, which had wind mills, and I did not have camera, and I had reached home and immediately drawn it, but later to realized that I suck at drawing and it was a great mistake that I used to ask my mom to finish my drawing books..



Letters of just when i entered college, (did not have any mail id then) stating that I was so impressed with the food in hostel, sambhar and idlis... :)



There was this piece of bandage, which someone had tied on my leg, when once in the middle of the wroking day, when I was stupidly running around in the parking, and I fell full flat face down, and dragged myself along the ground for couple of feet, like the way they fall in movies, and I badly hurt my knee, and tore my jeans as well...



Dairies, colours, lots of bits and pieces written on paper, love letters, hate letters, time pass letters, letters which never found that way to post office... and so on...



And by the time I am looking at all this, it is already late, and it is raining outside, and I feel like sleeping. So as always I just put all this in the box, or rather boxes, and doze off.

The boxes have only been increasing in number as I am have going all collecting and attaching the immense sentimental value to all this..
:D

Goli

PS: Have been off blogger for a while, but am going to be back with quite a few of posts soon..

when old meets young...

Hey,

Well it all started with my and Yshesha visit to old age home (Anandaashram)... and then Reema's idea that why dont we have some sort of combined thing between orphanges and old age homes... and then pritesh on his bday introduced us to this wonderful school for street children called Annanya.... and the final thing when Shashi aunty (who runs Annanya, will write about her sometime really an inspiring story) was all enthu about it.

So we set on mission to get old people and kids together. After running around here and there to get the necessary permissions, last saturday we were finally all ready to go.

There are about 26 inmates of Anand Aashram. Most of them above 70, they have been living there for varied of reasons. (Am not going to write their stories here, some of them are really depressing, and further to do any justice to that there has to be one full blog post on that.) So at 10 in morning we reached there with the army of nine kids. And we were not sure what we going to do there. We did not organize any games, any music nothing. Just went there and then asked the kids that they have to go and talk to atleast one inmate for one hour and then come back. And thats it kids were on the job, some in chairs in corridor, some in dining hall, some in their quarters, talking, interacting, smiling. I dont want to write more about this, I think the following picture tells the story better. (Picture Courtesy Alice)


At the end we asked the kids if they would want to come back to this place and the answer was YES in unison. And as to why they wanted to come here, they have variety of ideas...

"We want to take them out for a walk"
"We want to sit and do drawing together"
"We want to come and study"

So I hope the enthusiasm does not end here... Finally we want to make it a weekly affair, every saturday we want kids to go to Anandaashram and spend time there. We also thinking that once kids get more used to the people there and develop some kind of rapport, we would try to do specific activities like teaching, drawing and so on. Well things are not this flowery flowery also, some of the people there are really depressed, and I guess it would take quite a task to get them out of their shell. So I guess still there are lots of things to do and lot to learn.

But we do think that this kind of interaction would be beneficial for both kids and the inmates of the old age home. Atleast last saturday we felt like that. So will see how it goes...

Thanks to all who made it happen, starting from Shashi Aunty, Pritesh, Alice, Maddy, Manish, Ananwita, Dhruv and to everyone else whose names I could not mention here.

I do hope that the enthu does not die...

This is just the beginning....
--
Goli

PS: We have asked all the kids to write an essay on what they saw and what they perceived. So will post that.
PS: somehow I managed to delete this post and I dont know how.. and am reposting it again... and I lost the comments... :(

GK Vale... Customer Service SUCKS

"A time when Maharajas and Viceroys ruled over us.
A time when hand-painted portraits were still the norm.
A time when photography was still in its infancy. "


Sounds familiar?? Yes this are the marketing lines of the famous GK Vale, the photo studio in Bangy. They also have this one other line "We were here before MK Gandhi became Mahatma Gandhi".

So one of this days, I also had the privilege of walking in to this great great store, as I wanted the photograph for my new ID card. And I needed the photo urgently. After all the shooting-footing of my photo done, I told him that I am in hurry, and it would be great if he could give me soft copy of the photo, I did not want the CD and all that jazz. And he refused point blank.

He was standing there jobless, he had digi cam with usb interface , he had a usb cable, I had a laptop, all that was required was to connect it. But No. In spite of all the arguments and requests he did not budge.

Maybe it is one of the written rules that they should not give soft copies to customers, though I dont understand the logic of this rule. But it was complete indifference that bothered me. It was like I don't care a shit about you. He almost said "If you want come after two hours and take your photographs, else F*&% Off"


Am not going to walk in to that store again. (Ofcourse I had to walk in one last time to collect my photographs, on top of that I dont like that photograph as well. )

I wanted to write this because one I got very irritated and second I wanted everyone to know about it. I do also hope that some kin of GK Vale should also read about this and he should wake up and do something about customer service.

I think next time am going to take a video on my mobile and post it on YouTube.. :D


--
Goli

Once upon a Time...

"
Once upon a time, there lived a great great sage, in the middle of the forest with all the lovely trees around him. He was a great archer. He had a beautiful wife. His wife was a great athlete... pre PT Usha types.

So as it used to happen this sage used to shoot an arrow, and then his wife used to run and get it back. That is why sage had only one arrow, because he did not need another one. He used to shoot and his wife used to run and get it back.

Now as it happened, one day his wife went after the arrow but did not come back for long. Sage was getting very worried and angry. His wife was very beautiful so he was getting suspicious. Finally very late in the evening she arrived. Sage asked her very angrily "Where have you been, it is almost night?", she said "Dont get angry at me, get angry at the sun, because it was so hot that my feet burnt, my face burnt and I got tired and fell down. Only after the sun went down I could do my work".

Not this sage got very angry. He knew that right in the middle of the day sun stopped for a second. And he said "I am going to teach a lesson to Sun, tomorrow at afternoon am going to shoot the sun down."

Having heard of this all the gods got very disturbed, because the sage was the greatest of archers and he was quite capable to shooting the sun down. So they began to worry. Next day sage took bath did his morning pooja and got ready to shoot the sun.

Gods came and requested him not to do this, because that would destroy the earth, but he was very angry "Sun has troubled my wife and am going to teach him a lesson"

That is when one of the Gods came and gave him an umbrella and a pair of slippers and he told the great sage "Instead of shooting down the sun, why dont you gift these to your wife"

That is how umbrella and slippers came in to existence.
"

I happened to attend one of the seminars of guy called Devdutt Pattaniak . This story was narrated then. Devdutt is a medical doctor by education, marketing manager by presentation and a mythologist by passion (that is what his website says). What I know about this guy is that he is a fantastic story teller. He made a two hour presentation, explaning the relevance of Mythology in todays corporate scenario. I liked the way he put the analogy, it was very new and innovative some of the things were far fetched, but it was full of all this kinds of story, that made it very pleasurable to sit up and listen to him, that too right after heavy lunch.

For example the above story says, "Instead of changing the world change yourself, or rather Adapt to changing world"

Anyways, his website has some nice interesting stories, take a peek. And keep his name in mind, next time he has a presentation somewhere please attend it.

The story of Lost shoe...

My shoe died. I dont complain, it had a fair bit of adventurous journey starting from US (my friend had got it), and it had been to sakleshpur trek and to Karwar, bombay, delhi, baroda, pune, hyderabad. The left shoe had kind of given up and I had to keep three of my left foot fingers at a particular angle else they would just come out of the shoe. And it became too embarrassing to wear it anywhere, because of the fear that the slightest stress and the figers would pop up.

So off I went yesterday with one of my friends, to great old Marathalli to buy a pair of nice shoes. After a lot of looking around at the astronomical pricing of the Reeboks and Adidas, I finally settled for one nice and cute looking Levi's canvas types of shoes. Did not cost whole lots, and was quite decent, dung colour, long shoelaces (the longest that I have seen).

It took me about ten minutes to buy the shoe, and you wont believe how much more time we took to buy a shirt for my friend, hopping from one shop to another, trying to match the colour, buttons, neck, fit, collar, sleves, print, length, fabric, texture, and dont remember what more and after two hours my friend could not find the desirable combination of all of them, and we decided to call it quits. (this shopping is another experience all together, will write about it sometime later)

Exhausted we took the rick back to go home. Wanted to go to a particular shop and it was closed, then my friend wanted to buy the cake for some birthday and wanted to buy it from Swe-chei(Sweet Chariot), and we could not locate it. It was getting late and little bit of drizzle, it was getting little chaotic but finally we just managed to locate one Swe-Chi. We were having a small debate as to who to pay the auto bill, (sometimes I act nice), I lost the debate and had to pay the bill. Got down, paid, went to shop only to realize that in all the confusion had left the shoe in the auto.

So depressed, one K, down the drain. At all these times I always feel this pinch of guilt, because I start thinking about my parents, and how they have saved each and every penny to raise us. Even ten rupess means a lot of money for them. And here I was throwing 1K, just like that, by being nothing but purely careless, there was no excuse for this. Among this big guilt thought, there were these other small thoughts emerging as to when to go again to buy the shoes, if to buy the same ones or the other pair, and how long I will have to keep wearing floaters in office which I so hate because of all the dust and mud that gets in to between my fingers. Furthermore I was embarrassed at the my declining impressions over my friend, (this was the second time it had happened, last time I had lost the helmet, and then the bike key, all on same day, but found everything).

My friend suggested that I run along the road, and look for the auto guy, but I put off that idea, because there was no point running around the road looking for a particular auto, considering that all the autos look same, and I had not paid much attention to how the auto guy looked.

Thankfully though we got the cake, but would you believe it, as soon as we were about to step out of the shop, and there on the other side there was this auto-guy, he U'ed and came to our side of road "Sir, aap bag bhool gaye", We were so happy. He even did refuse to take money for the extra round that he might have had to put. I got my shoe back (am wearing it now). The auto guy disappeared, and lost himself among other autowallahs. I absolutely like the auto guys in Bangy, they rock.

So the story of shoe ends here.

Yesterday incident really made me happy :D. It was a perfect ending to a near chaotic evening.

Robert Clive..

In one of those after lunch film making sessions, when I was feeling terribly sleepy, all of sudden, I hear some discussions on some Robert Clive commiting sucide. The named looked very familiar, mentally I tried to locate where I had heard the name, thinking about any suicides that had been featured on CNN-IBN. Was he some music band guy or something, no movie star as well, perhaps a political guy.

I blurted out in class "Kaun Robert Clive yaar?",

"How did you pass out, Robert Clive, who established British Empire in India?",

Ooops, everything came back, Battle of Plassey, Siraj Ud Dullah, and so on. And he committed suicide, I did not know that. The guy who I would assume, had everything name, fame, money. He killed himself !!!

As the story goes, (I did not know most part of this story, maybe you all may know it), he was the spoiled brat, was expelled from multiple schools. He was sent of to India at the age of 18, to get rid of him, because at that time survival rate in India was only about 50%. He was posted at Madras as a clerk. It is said that he was totally depressed there and made a failed attempt to suicide.

He was considered lowly character by his fellow British, because he spent lot of time with locals, boozing, and doing all kinds of shitty things. But this is where, he developed lot of those contacts with locals, and where he discovered the way of getting things done by bribing.

It is also said that the "Great battle of Plassey", (that I used to imagine was a big fierce battle) hardly lasted for more than an hour. There was no attack from the opposition, Clive had bribed Mir Jafar (head of armed forces of Siraj Ud Dullah), and in the final battle, Mir Jafar refused to move. And the battle got over. Siraj Ud Dullah, fled, but was later captured and killed. Mir jafar became a puppet Nawab of British.

Clive returned to England, with all the glory, but was severly criticized for making lot of money in unfair ways, and he was as it seems in state of depression. He was levied with charges of corruption.

At 48 he commited sucide. It seems there was even a controversy over his burial. And after a life of establishing a British empire in India, his grave was unmarked and remains so.

The gloriouis Robert Clive, abandoned by his family, and almost like expelled to India, looked down upon by fellow people, ended up changing the face of history, but personally had rather a sad life. Almost feel sorry for him.

What you see is now always what it is!!!

I guess before you start cursing me, of this uninvited history lessons, I will sign off.

PS: Wikipedia says that "mirjafar" in Bengali is still used as synonym to traitor. Wonder if it is true.

One more PS: What I wrote above is as narrated by our film making instructor, but verified from wikipedia, seems true.

First day at school

Sunshine wrote a post on gutter baby, recalling how she had once fallen in gutter when she was three, and I have a similar story to share..

It was way back in 1983

As it so happened, we have recently moved in to the new house, my paernts had bought a house (just 85k !!!). We were among the first to occupy a house in that colony. And all around our house lot of construction was going on. Among the other things getting constructed there was this one rectangular gutter. For some vague reason on that day, they had kept it open. Me and my elder sister were jumping across it (along the shorter side). Each trying to tell the other , "If you can I can too". And then my sister just to show how big and how capable she is, as compared to me jumped along the longer side as well. How could I stay behind. I wanted to do the same, and bang I went inside, with my head hiting the edge of it as told later to me, with blood dripping nonstop from my head.

I dont remember anything after that, neither does my sister remember anything. I guess she would have just gone inside shouting and calling for mom. My mom says that they took me to the doctor, (our next door was a doctor). And saved me.

But as a momento of that incident, I still carry this deep cut on my forehead, whose reference I have given in infinite forms that I have filled. While people may search for their unique identification marks, in split second I say "deep cut on my forehead).

I have only two photos of myself, which dont have that cut... :D

Now that I am at it, there is one other incident that I vividly remember, that is my first day at school.

I was all in tears, I never wanted to go to school, but my papa would not take anything. I got ready to go to school but with the condition that papa was also going to stay there with me all the while, but somehow smart as my papa is, he managed to dodge me and disappear and I was in this room with all the kids and monstrous looking spectacled teacher. I did not talk with anyone, and finally this teacher cames and asks me my name and I say "Rajesh", (Yups Rajesh is my real name), and next she askd me was my surname. I had no idea what was that supposed to be. At home they had made me momorize my name, fathers name, mothers name, all about pencils, slates, bicuits, but never this surname.
I still remember that scene so well, teacher bending over me trying to catch it at all I muttered soemthing, wondering if I was shy, afraid, with green and white oil painted school wall in backgroud, with other kids staring at me, some even laughing and giggling at me, I was terrified as hell, wondering what was gonna happen to me, papa was nowhere to be seen.

For that one moment, I hated my papa with all my might, why did he not tell me. Where had he dissappeared. He had broken his promise and he was not there, I was never ever going to listen to him again. Probably I would never even talk to him again, but for one moment I wanted him there, to come and open those iron gate and take me outside, I wanted to be home and play.

I dont remember anything after that, just that one teacher took me somewhere and I was again made to sit. And I guess I sat there, crying all the time, looking at the door, just waiting to see some familiar figure there. Forming all those schemes to take revenge from Papa. And go and tell mom, about all the things that had happened, I was sure she was never even going to send me here again.

The confusion, which I learnt much later from my papa, apparently was because they were planning to divide the batch in to two classes and as is the case always there were more than one Rajesh, they wanted to know my second name, so that they could put me in right class.

But as it turned out later, I hardly went to the school for more than a week. I was always full of tears and would break into crying everynow and then again. Teachers also got sick me. My parents got me out of school. And I spent one more year at home, playing, and blissfully Njoying. Next year they got me admitted directly to U-KG.

Even now, when I go back to my hometown, and I meet some of our old family freinds, they keep telling me about those days, and wondering how I ever managed to study to be an engineer.

Smiling cockroaches...

Have you ever seen a smiling cockroach... or for the matter of fact an irritated, or angry or happy or sad or any kind of emotional cockroach. Have you ever bothered to figure out? I wonder if they exhibit any such emotions.. why this questions popped up because I was just looking at the way, everyone at my home takes extreme pleasure in crushing this poor insects under the chappals, and whatsoever that they find, not that I am a big cockroach fan and that I would love to keep them as pets, I dont like them that much because they are ugly, especially their colour, I wish that they were more colourful or atleast have some other colour other that stupid orage'ish brown. But I was wondering if cockroaches instead of running around here and there like idiots, could do something with their antennas to amuse people, I guess then people would not be so harsh to them. Imagine as soon as we switched on the light they would, instead of running around, would do something cute, as if saying "Why did you switch on light, we dont like it", by moving their antenna in some way or walking in someother manner, or doing something different rather than running away blindly. I guess they could stir our emotions too, and then we would not be shovering chappals over them.

I was just wondering, why we feel sorry when we see dogs getting killed and chickens and goats getting killed for food, I guess that is only because they have learnt to do some actions which sort of stir our emotions and we start feeling sorry for them. Like dog wagging their tails and goats with always that so called sorry looking and innocent face. But most of times when we see the cockroach have only one thread running in our head, find something before it vanishes and satakk... missed... another satakkk.., gone and then we feel happy and think that we have accomplished something.

Hold on... please dont label me as cockroach activist. Dont start forming images that when you come to my home you will see cockroaches sitting and having a merry time on my bed and in my bookshelf. It is not like that. Whenever I see one of them, depeding on my mood and availability of appropriate weapon, I too do also do the same. And as such I am now staying in a newly constructed house which as of yet remains as one of the unconquered territory by these species.

But it is just that yesterday, at a friend's place, the death of one of this fellows with a chappal triggered this chain of thoughts.

Anyways, have a good week ahead :D

Anandashram....Old Age home

Ever since Tejas (my old company ) moved to Bannergatta road, everyday while passing by that road, I used to see this board "Anand Aashram, Old age Home". This was like Aug 2005. And since then I had always wanted to go inside it once. But as idiotic as I am, who wants to do 100 things in life and hardly manages to do four or five of them, I could never make it there.

Until but yesterday one friend of mine, showed similar interest and immediately off we went, yesterday evening after office. Actually you are supposed to take permissions to visit there, but when we reached at round about 6 the office had already closed, so we just walked in to the gate and there were couple of old man sitting there and yups minutes later we were talking to them, about weather, about our natives, about Bangalore city changing, and so on.

Later on one of the guy, took us to his quarters. His wife was watching TV. The quarter was just one single room about 10x10 feet, with attached bathroom. He said that he paid about 1.2 lakhs for that (it seems they have to pay to construct the room, which remains theirs till they are alive and then goes to aashram), and he was paying about 3k per month (for both of them) for other facilities (like food and water and all).

He was telling us about his job, he was a retired railway employee and had a pension, so in a way he was like self dependent. He had two kids, son in mysore and a daughter in Bangalore. He said that he spent most of the time doing, actually doing nothing.

The place was very nice, and green and silent. But there was this feeling of abandonment there, feeling of being cut out from the world, which was very sad. This is bang on Bannergatta road but I wonder how many people walk into those gates.

Listening to him, I kept wondering how it would be to live without a aim or aspirations, when sunday is just like monday and everyday is just like any other day, when I think about myself, I always have this small things in life which i keep looking forward to, like am going to bombay next week (for some customer meet) and there is this film that I have to make as a part of Film making course at CFD.

You might get the feeling that I am talking like a Buddha, a spoiled brat who goes out for the first time goes out to see the sufferings. Not it is not like that. These people are living very comfortably, good food, resonably decent medical facitlity, good atmosphere, but I guess it is a quite a different thing to be lonely, and the feeling that you cant do much about it.

Ok coming back, we spent about an hour there, talking to couple of people, could not talk with others because most of them knew only kanada, (and I was ashamed to admit that I have not learnt a word of kannada even after close to five years in Bangalore)

I came out feeling little weird. Wondering if I could do something about it. They had everything there, carrom, library, chess etc. But somehow they had lost enthu to do anything. They just want do nothing. I dont think I can blame them, because I guess sometimes circumtances, the feeling of hurt, the feeling of being left out, might just kill your spirit, and it would take a lot to rekindle that.

Can you please write it and give me...

Recently, I have realized the power and effectiveness of the statement "Can you please write it and give me"..

Let me explain...

I have registered for the BSNL broad band connection nine months back and have not got it yet. So I went to customer care, and asked the lady behind the counter about the status, and she very casually asked me to go to some RTNagar exchange and find out.

"Why cant you do it?" I asked..

"Nopes we dont have any person here who is responsible for the internet connections" she said

"Can you please write it and give me?" I said , "Please write that a customer has come to enquire for net connection and I cant help but ask him to go to some other place"

"No I cant do that", She said

"Why not?" I asked

"Because I am not responsible for the net connections" she said.

"Ok in that case, please write and give me that Customer Care is not responsible for net connections, for this kind of things customers are required to go exchange and find out", I persisted, "See, I dont want to complain, but just I want to figure out where I have to go for what"

Thats it, she started calling some numbers, gave my details, retrieved the information and told me.

Never mind what the information was, but I got some answer, and I avoided running to someother place.

This is the third time that I have employed this technique, First at the railway reservation and second at ICICI, and this time here.

I guess it works because people are afraid to give in writing, because they know that it is their responsibility and they are just running away from it. So if you persist, they would solve the problem for you.

Please use this freely, you dont have to be rude and all. Be nice and very straight. Trust me it works....

Cheers..

My First Job...

"
The sanskrit exam had just ended, and it was the last exam of 10th class and I was feeling very happy. Finally had finished school, and probably would go in to college. From time I had started watching movies, and seeing all the heros having so much fun in college I always wanted tobe in college.

But at the same time somethings were troubling me. The community in which I grew up, there was a rule that everyone does business. Other career options were unheard of. All my friends were planning to go with their fathers/elder brothers to their own shop/business and learn to work. But sadly my father worked in the bank, and he did not have business. So I was kind of stranded. So I wanted to find out what I wanted to do in life. Vivek, one other friend of mine had same problem. So united in our problem with the anxiety of uncertain future, we thought that we should start finding a job for ourselves.

We looked up in papers and found this particular sales agency which wanted sales executives. Next day we ended up in this sales agency. I dont even remember the name of it right now, the only thing that I remember is that the owner of the sales agency (as was murmured to us by the other guys who had come there), was a young man of 25, and he had started it when he was our age, and he had reached a level where he was earning lakhs of rupess per month. WoW.

There was supposed to be interview as well, and first one for us in our lives. Both vivek and me were nervous, vivek had even tried reading up all the maths and all. But we just cleared the interview, he did not ask anything. He only explained that we were supposed to do door to door selling. He explained how we could sell more and more and keep multiplying our return. He was so casual and looked so cool. Instantly he became our hero, and we wanted to be like him. He was so smart and a great man. We were wondering why his name had never figured in papers. All of sudden felt that we had found our career option.

Next morning we were supposed to go there at 8 and start the work. We had decided that we were not going to tell our parents, because they may stop us from doing this. We would tell them later, we were sure that if we were able to earn enough money, then they would feel proud.

Morning, and we were handed 10 packets of dining table mats. Each packet was to be sold at 100 rupees, and 10 rupees was my earnings from the same. We were even made to wear the tie. And we were asked to memorize something to the effect.. "Maam, we are from DontRememberTheName company and we have this ....".

May, Gujju land and tie, but somehow these things did not seem to bother us, we were just thinking that this was the thing to get into. We were just looking at this as a great opportunity to become rich. We would sell lot of dining table mats, and make loads ofmoney. Even 10 sets sold would give us 100 rupess, which did seem lot of money. It just meant selling one set an hour, which did not look difficult. Further still everyday the item seemed to change, dining mats one day, dining set other day, books on third day and so on. It looked so exciting. We had even decided that after some days we would carry different items, so that we could sell one or the other.

So out we went, we figured out a locality that we had to go and we started. Went from house to house, we had a little tough time in figuring out most of the times weather the lady washing clothes outside was the kaamwali or the house owner. But we kept on. Sometimes lecturing only to realize that we were talking to kaamwali, but then we would start again.

I remember one particular house we went, were after the intial lecture of introduction, the lady asked us to wait. We were hoping that she had gone to take money, but instead she got in her hand a similar packet of dining mats, and they looked spoiled and badly damaged, "I had bought it last week from similar guys like you and now in one wash it has got spoilt, please take this and give the money back". Ooops...not knowing what to do, both vivek and me broke off in a run, and ran away from her house as fast as we could. Did not stop until we reached the next street. I still dont know why we did that, but I guess we were afraid. Afraid that she would snatch a good packet from us. We did not want to get in to 100 rupees loss. 100 rupees was loads of money at that time. We stood at the corner of the road discussing about how we are going to deal with this situation. Wondering if we were cheating people. Wondering if the lady would have send her son to follow us.

We started again after sometime, but somehow the rosiness of the whole business had disappeared. We were begining to feel tired. And started wondering why could we not go back home and watch DDLJ.

At the end of day we had sold three packets, made thirty rupees. The owner of that company, our Hero of the morning, (I say hero of the morning, because somehow in the evening things did not look same, we started doubting him, his success) told us that we had done great, and tomorrow we should sell more.

From next day onwards we never went there. I guess that I decided salesmanship was not the right career for me. I dont even remember what I did for rest of the vacation. I guess spend it with TV, cycling here and there, and so on. Wonder what I did with those fifteen rupees (that was my share).

But I still think about that day. That image of me and vivek with mats in hands and the face of that lady are still fresh. I guess I learnt the importance of money that day, learned to respect my parets for taking care of all my needs and pocket money.
"

Sales conference with Jeans-Tshirt ??

I never understood why is that blazer with leather shoes and a suit is formal, whereas a tshirt-jeans is not formal. I keep wondering who defined all those things. Why is it that when people are expected to go for seminars, they are supposed to wear these so called formal clothes. I think if I ever become a CEO, I would go in jeans and tshirt, or may be a kurta. As long as I am neatly dressed, I dont think it should be of concern to anyone.

Same goes with eating as well. Have never been able to realize the fun of eating with knife and fork. Have found it more cumbersome then useful. I mean nothing wrong with that, but eating with hand should also be equally good. I guess it should be left to individual choice.

I remember the first time I had gone to Montreal-Canada on account of office work, I got a nice yummy chicken leg piece for dinner with a pizza. I could manage pizza with knife and spoon, but simply could not figure out how was I supposed to eat the chicken piece with fork and a knife. I told my host that in most of India, we would rather eat it with hand, and then I ate it as I would nomally would by holding it in one hand and nibbling at it. Actually that did trigger off a nice conversation, about India, and how things are the way they are and so on, which in turn actually did help me a lot in later days. Now actually when I recall that day which is still so fresh in memory (because that was my first time abroad), I was wearing bright red Kurta that day. That facinated my host to no end. And the conversations kept becoming more and more interesting, as the days went by, starting from food, to clothing to marriage and to basically everything. The best part of all this was that, this fellow took me for one full day trip of Montreal just before I was about to leave, the trip started from harbour, to church, to shopping, to dinner and finally ending up at a disc. (would blog some other day about that). Wonder if I would have even been able to strike a conversation with host, and subsequent friendship, had I been busy trying to look like one of him, trying to be so-called formal and ceasing to be myself.

Coming back, why do we still follow the tradition of wearing ties and learning to eat with spoons and forks and knives? In some companies they even give the training for the same. Wonder how many people wear tie by choice rather than by compulsion. I dont know why cant we be ourselves. I also hate the gowns that they give us in convocation, we have pay something for renting that. I dont know why. I guess it would still be very nice if everyone could come neatly dressed. Ok..I guess uniformity is required, because it gives a very pretty picture, but then it could be kurta-pygama as well, which I guess everyone would have one at home, and which would be useful later as well.

Imagine May, 45 degrees, small dusty road, a bank on side, and poor employees forced to wear a tie. It is ridicolous! This is not orginated in my brain, this is what happened to one of my fathers friend, where the bank he worked for all of sudden imposed this dress code for ties.

I guess we should all be allowed to be ourselves.

By ourselves, I dont mean Indian, or Gujju, or Hindu, or corporate or anything. Just someone whom we call "Me" "myself"

Down Memory Lane.... Ek Anek Aur Ekta

This is a cliche kind of post, but I am sure that this is going to ring some bells inside you. I used to absolutely love this video as a kid, infact I still love it. In my old office I used to have this video on my PC, and people used to gather along my cubicle and we used to watch it, but I stupidly lost it, today remembered and found it on You Tube. Njoy

Crazy and Embarassing

"
That was the time when I was new to Bangalore. Just one year in to the IT job, and my life was mostly like everyone else, Brigade road roaming, KFC eating and Rex movie watching. But at the time of the story I had acquired something new, a girl friend. For the first time in life I was bitten by the love bug, you may say it is a little late, but I was a goody-goody boy in college, parachute oil in hair putting type, and the only pleasure known to me at that time were playing cricket and solving cryptography puzzles from "The code Book" (Simon Singh) and as such our college was never known for any fairer sex. So here I was in a totally different world. I found myself moving away from the late night discussions about "Brief History of time", and found myself sending lot of smses, and engaging myslef in late night calls which lasted for hours. I did not have a bike then, and further still I did not know how to drive one. But sensing the necessity of such a skill I borrowed a bike from one of my friends, not a Pulsar not even a splendour, but it was boxer, Bajaj Boxer. But I guess it did not matter at that time. I spend couple of days learning it.


On the day in question, I found myslef, on boxer with this newly acquired friend of mine. She did not know that I was a novice at biking, and I guess I drove brilliantly for a "two day experienced biker", and she could not guess it, until it was the time to drop her back after full day of doing somethings none of which I remember right now. But I do remember clearly as I was dropping her, around about 8 in the evening, it was already dark. She was off my bike, and after bye, and holding hands, and discussing when to meet next, to another bye and another shake hands, I was ready to go. There was this feeling of having accomplished something. But Ooops krrrr, krrrr, krrrr, krrrr,.....five kicks and the bike would not start. Some more kicks but the engine refused to start. I was getting little tensed. Such a situations had never been presented to me before. With racing mind I thought I would put the bike on stand, and try, but no... i had a better idea, (atleast at that time I though it was brilliant) I reasoned that the bike would have got cold and now given that it had already taken my 20 kicks it should start soon. So to save my man-li-ness pride, I just turned the petrol key, to off and on again. I did this because I wanted my friend to believe that petrol was off, am sure she would not paid much attentions to what I did with the key. So with renewed confidence and smile on my face, murmuring "Arey petrol was not on", I started, one... two...three... ten. It would simply not start. Now I was in soup.


I was feeling very embarassed and irritated. All the while this girl was standing there, looking little amused. I had never used bike for long, neither had I any knowledge about the failure points in a bike, not did I have any idea where to check the oil and all such things. Minutes later I found myslef walking with girl, dragging the bike, searching for some mechanic. Shops were already closing, and my house was not very near, I could not stay at this girls place also, because her aunty would have killed me, with all the thoughs racing we were walking down. I did not want to talk, I wished that the girl had left me alone, but according to her she was being a good friend, trying to sort out my problem, and I was getting irritated and wondering what kind of impression this girl would have formed of me, fear was lurking inside me that this might be the last time that girl would go with me.


But, then came the God send rescuer, a man who was walking away briskly, saw us two kiddos dragging the and came to our help. I handed him the bike feeling pretty sure that he would not be able to start it. But bang, first kick and the bike started. I was like you can understand very embarassed and very red. Then he pointed his hand to a small switch near the right handle of the bike, which was supposed to be the on-off button. The button was in off position and he simply put it on. You may ask how come it went in to off position, even I asked the same question to myself then, and I still dont know how that happened.


By the time the girl was laughing like mad, I was wondering what that man might be thinking about me, I wished that he was not from the same colony, I did not want to see him again. I wished he had never come and that I would have passed on the problem to some thing going bad in bike. But anyways, I took the bike and dropped my friend (girl) home, I did not switch off the bike, because I did not want to take any risk, and this time did not even go through the cylcle of bye...talking...... bye, just one small bye and I was off.


Today whenever I am with this friend of mine and we see a boxer, we both laugh like crazy, and remember that day, when the boxer would not start.

"
Excerpt from the dairy..

Now coming back to the present state, the most embarassing thing that I have done in recent past is to burn a white board marker with the soldering Iron. Being a very experienced hardware engineer, I guess that is something which I am not supposed to do. (I think it is ok to leak this information here, and that it would not affect my future career, since my resume does not mention Goli anywhere)

Another crazy thing that I did some days back was when I came to office very early and I did not have the keys. This happens quite often in our office, because we dont have a security guard. And no one was expected to come in another hour. Thankfully I had a my guitar, So I sat on my office steps facing the road and started playing, "knocking on heavens door", people came, saw and went. But I did not care. I wish I had a "katora" with me that day. I guess I would have made enough money for atleast a "set dosa" in the evening.

:D

Company called Elina

I am on 55th post, and I never blogged about my company... so I thought that it is a good idea to blog about the place where I work...

My company
Elina(sounds very weird name, actually we picked it up from babynames.com and it means intelligence in some european langauge) ... started 18 months back, makes networking hardware. I am not going to bore you with all the technical jazz. In simple terms we make those boxes(solutions) with which you can interconnect all your offices(stores) ... for example if food world has 500 stores in india, and they want to have a centralized management, they can put our box at each of their location and thats it... I am not going to go more tech, any other tech you can get on website and ofcourse you can ping me.

I have been lucky enough to get job in startups. As soon as I graduated I worked in Tejas Networks.... that company rocks...I mean rocks in terms of company culture. Ofcourse everyone thinks that his company rocks, but I guess in small company you have that feeling of ownership which makes if very different.

You may ask, why did I leave tejas, yups after sometime your mind yearns to do something different. And that different thing happened to be Elina.
Elina is another extenstions of tejas, I mean another product company from India (but we dont compete tejas, we are totally in different domains)

Great things about startups... is that you can play music on speakers all day long, I love playing radio indigo, and torture everyone to listen to music which I want to listen... and food from the caterer is good because the number of people is less..... the fights... the temper running strong in board room over some important decisions..... designing and choosing your office.....frustration of coming to office on weekend to finish some work, only to realize that you dont have the keys because we could not as yet afford a security...thrill of first sales......seeing the first product installed at customer location... despair of fear that we might have to close down ...some days I have driven back home thinking that I have completely screwed up decision of joining this place..... and days like today i am totally escatatic and am thinking that we are going to conquer the world...I get so depressed sometimes that my first sales meet has not yet resulted in a order (still not happened :( )... and get so excited whenever I get a new lead to chase someone...Got galis from one customer because I did not call him when he wanted me too....Trying to design a Tshirt for my company...There was a time when there was no water in our new office, and everyone was trying to figure out the nearest sulab....crazy fights.....no AC.... in IIM office (our office was in IIM incubation) once we had water coming in through the ventillation windows, and all of us left work and were engaged in rescue effort of sticking papers, plastics, and whatever was available....

I have had a chance of putting hands in everything starting from hardware, software, manufacturing, customer installation, marketing and now desperately trying to do some sales. I absolutely love the faith that my team puts in me to do stuff, which I have never done before. Somethings I have done well, have screwed up some things. Sheer number of different things which I can do makes everyday very different.

Till now ELINA is doing quite well, and hope that we would fly someday soon...

By the way if you ever go for a haircut at Limelite (@brigade road, jaynagar, 100feet road, vithalmalaya road, koramangala in bangalore)... you can peek down at the reception desk, just below the world space radio, is our box, purple color small and cute.

Cheers... and Happy holi

RaNDom ThOUgHT's

Absolutely loved this jpeg.... (Again stole it from Mayuri..)

To all the guys out there..

A "Damsel from Bombay " Mayuri's... response to "To all the girls out there.... A humble request"

Please Note: Published with due permissions from Mayuri and for the benefit of all the guys.


"

First things first, I absolutely abhor this addressing guys as ‘Bhaiyya’ business.’ I swear, even my trusted subziwala packs in inferior vegetables when I address him as ‘Bhaiyya’, though my mother vehemently disagrees, citing my annual visits as the real reason.
So imagine the plight of those guys who are addressed as ‘Bhaiyya’ by every Priya, Pinky and Pooja whom they see in ‘that way.’

‘I can’t look at you in that way’, is a line I am guilty of using more times than I would like to admit.

When I was younger, foolish and pushed into a corner and asked to elaborate on why I couldn’t see them ‘that way’, to save my skin and the guys feelings, I’d blurt out ‘Because you are like my brother.’

Though those guys weren’t anything remotely like my brother who, while we're on the subject, is a strapping, tall, dark, handsome, though sometimes very exasperating, lad. Because, if they would be anything like him, minus the exasperating bit, I wouldn’t be using the line ‘I can’t look at you that way’ in the first place.

However, having grown older and wiser, besides realizing and accepting the fact that no Indians are my bothers, except one, I am now am honest enough to not use the ‘Because you are like my brother’ line.

Now, when pushed into a corner and asked to elaborate on the ‘Why’ after telling them ‘I can’t look at you that way’ I quell their bubbling curiosity by enlightening them with the precise reason.
Then as I walk away, I hear faint wisps of words like, ‘...thinks no end of her self...’ , ‘choke her or strangle her?’ and assorted other similar terminology floating my way ;))

The reasons a girl declines coffee could surprise you and the biggest surprise is that you hardly figure in any of the reasons.
Ranging from the fact that coffee is not the brew of her choice to maybe she doesn’t like the cutlery in the particular place you were asking her out to (warned ya you’d be surprised!)

What? You didn’t mention any place, yet?

Oh! Oh! What color shirt were you wearing when you asked, then? (Sorry, orange reminds her of the Shiv Sena) What cologne were you wearing? (Sporty colognes remind her of the *&%$#@ ex-boyfriend) Were your shoes right? (Badly scuffed shoes remind her of her horribly cruel PT teacher from school)

So, you see, It’s Not About You.

You think it about looks then? Wrong, again!

Ok, let me explain something more. It is never, ever about good looks and the perfect physique for girls, contrary to what guys think. You don’t believe me?

Ok.

Look around you and tell me who is the hottest hunk women drool over right now? Go, on.
It’s Abhishek Bachchan. Does he have the perfect abs? (Not. He even has a bit of a tummy for God’s sake!) Besides a tummy, he has the worst hair and hairstyle in the history of mankind and don’t even get me started about his ungainly gait and the extra weight!

But girls drool over him more than they drool over Hritik Roshan, who has the six-pack, the right hair and hairstyle and chiseled face and what not!
Why? Only God, and the girls, know.

So don’t ever try to fathom why a girl turns down coffee and trust me when I say It’s Not About You.

Just smile your smile, be yourself and try asking a girl out with a ‘Would you like to join me for a glass of Orange Juice’, instead.
Either she’ll be too stunned to react and just nod a submissive ‘Yes’, or her mind will start whirring faster than the cash register at her favorite boutique and she’ll connect things you can’t even dream of, for instance
‘heaskedmeoutforanorangejuice
-thatsmeansheisadifferentsortaguy-
whichmeansibettersnaghimbeforeanyofmyfriendsdo.’

And before you know it you’ll be sitting across her, nourishing your health with Vitamin C and nourishing your ego with the smiles she’s flashing your way and maybe, just maybe she’ll start thinking of you and seeing you in ‘that way.’
;)

"