tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82662497428629723352024-03-14T01:27:21.307-07:00The conscientious mindMidhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-57271869449454283042020-06-29T11:39:00.001-07:002020-06-29T11:39:16.347-07:00Falling Out of Love<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">The sound of the closing door stirred her. It sounded louder inside her head than it actually was. She felt a slight head ache starting or was it the one continuing from the night before, she was not sure.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">Preethi contemplated going back to sleep, closing her eyes and pulling the sheets closer. Almost immediately she realized sleep was not an option. She grabbed her phone from under the pillow. It was 8:30 a.m. The closing door was her husband Vikram leaving for work. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><i><span lang="EN-GB">He didn’t even say goodbye. </span></i><span lang="EN-GB">She told herself.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">Staying almost still and moving just her fingers, she ran through the notifications on her phone dismissing the few from WhatsApp groups. She was not in the mood for rosy good mornings and cheerful images teasing a nice day ahead. She was sure she was having neither. Usually she checked her to-do list first thing in the morning but not today. Not yet. Putting the phone back under the pillow she shut her eyes one last time. Giving up again, she clicked her tongue and sat up on the bed with her feet touching the floor. Rubbing her eyes, she walked towards the bathroom door almost creeping towards it. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">Few minutes later, she came out of the bathroom a little more awake and put her phone on charge on the bedroom desk where she noticed the cup of coffee gone cold. She thought about throwing it in the sink and making herself a fresh cup but instead threw it in the oven to reheat it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">Taking the cup to the dining table, she sat at her usual place. The chair was pulled back where Vikki, as she called him, had sat with an empty plate and cup in front. A casserole was placed at the centre of the table. She sneaked a peak at the sandwiches and closed the lid. The coffee seemed to be helping though.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">After the coffee, she took a bath and changed into a t-shirt and track pants. She opened her laptop and checked her mail and official WhatsApp. She had some enquiries which she moved to her to-do list to be dealt with later. She deleted the spam mails and moved to her social media pages checking for messages and updates. This took up a considerable amount of time on a daily basis and was the mundane but necessary part of her job. Opening her to-do list, she noted she was supposed to start work on the cake to be delivered tomorrow evening.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">Preethi had quit her job in marketing to become a home baker more than a year ago. It seemed like a great idea back then. All their decisions seemed like great ideas then, till things stopped going according to the plan. She envied Vikki. She missed having a job, the need to be at an office at a specific time, being answerable to a boss and sometimes showing off to colleagues. She shut the device, there was no going back.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">Not in the mood to cook, she ate the sandwich, dumped the plates into the sink and sat herself in front of the TV. It was 1 pm. Browsing through content on Netflix she stole a glance at her phone. There was no call or text from Vikki. He used to call her during lunch every day. Sometimes she used to beat him to it and then bicker childishly. Change was inevitable and she knew that, but she had always believed that the net result of all change was positive, you gain more than you lose. Maybe she was wrong. Unable to decide on what to watch and sensing the headache coming back, she switched off the TV and slid down to lie flat on the couch. She fell asleep immediately.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">She woke up at 3:40 pm to her ringing phone, it was her mother. She ignored it, making a mental note to call her back later. She sat up and felt like her brain had put on 2 kilos while she was asleep. Her headache had got worse. She had reminded Vikki last night to buy her regular medicines prescribed by Dr. Poornima on the way home but she was not sure if there was Dart, tablets for migraine, in the prescription. She walked to her bedroom desk and opened the drawer praying they had some left and was relieved to see that they had. She took one and drank water from the bottle on the desk as her phone gave a buzz. It was a single ring from Vikki. She wasn’t going to call back.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">She made some coffee and sat with it in front of her laptop, intending to respond to those queries and then start work on tomorrow’s cake with some research. Her desktop wall paper was a photo from their holiday in Mumbai 2 years ago. This was from their second trip after their honeymoon and 6 months into their marriage but in many ways it was more memorable. They were in a bar by the beach. Preethi was laughing into her right hand while holding a glass of wine in her left. Vikki had a glass of beer on the table in front of him and a 2 year old Bryan on his lap. He was smiling, saying something funny to Bryan and that had triggered her laughter. The photo was clicked by Jane, Preethi’s best friend and Bryan’s mother whom they had gone to visit. She browsed through other pictures taken during that trip. They had visited Bandra fort, the Gateway of India and a hundred cafes in between. She missed the food and missed the way they were in those pics. Like best friends. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">When she was done, it was 6:30 and she was hungry. She cooked some Maggi noodles and washed the dishes at the same time. Vikki usually arrived by 7, so she made some for him too. She finished her portion and was washing her plate when Vikki arrived half an hour later than usual. He placed her medicines on the dining table and went into the bedroom to freshen up and change. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">He joined Preethi on the couch in front of the TV, noodles in hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Jumanji just released on Amazon I think,” he said<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Didn’t you see that movie with your friends?,” she retorted without looking away from the TV.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Yeah, but it is a really good movie. I can watch it again.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“I don’t feel like watching it now,” she said<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Are you ok? You saw the medicines kept on the table?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Yup. I’m fine. Just a head ache.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“You took dart?” He asked, scooping some more noodles into his mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Yes. I think I’m gonna sleep early tonight.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">With this she got off the couch and went into the bed room. She brushed her teeth and washed her face. She took her tablets, switched on the AC and switched off the lights before getting into bed. Pulling up her blanket she turned away from Vikki’s side of the bed and lay like that for almost an hour at which point Vikki came into the room. She heard him brushing his teeth and then flushing the toilet. She felt the bed sinking on his side as he lay down.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">She felt anger. She felt frustration at the fact that he didn’t realize she was angry. Maybe it was intentional because he didn’t want to go through the argument that would follow. The argument that would eventually end with him saying that it was not his fault. It wasn’t his fault things didn’t go according to plan. It wasn’t his fault that she had a mis carriage 6 months into her pregnancy. None of it was his fault but none of it was her fault either, still it was she who took the damage. Life was back to normal for Vikki, maybe better than before. Maybe the doctor’s advice not to try again for a child immediately was just what Vikki wanted to hear. The abortion had shown him a Preethi that he had never seen before. They say that a friend that sticks with you during your lowest point in life become your best friend for life. What about the best friends that suddenly see you at your worst? <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">Vikki was still awake and on his phone. Preethi suspected he was texting. She had spied on his phone on occasion and found some texts to women who were his friends or colleagues. Some of their texts did seem borderline flirty but not enough to win a point when an argument is drawn. So it never came up. She half wished she could turn around to snatch his phone and start blowing off some steam, but she felt too tired and sleepy. She dozed off cursing herself for not working on that cake.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">Bryan was standing in the bar, lost and panicked. He was shouting her name, “PREETHI!! PREETHI!!!” she opened her eyes fully awake. It was Vikki standing by the desk.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Preethi, here’s your coffee honey,” he said, smiling<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">She smiled back, at which point he came forward and kissed her on her lips. She tasted a bit of the coffee now waiting for her on the desk. He went into the bathroom. She checked the time, it was 7 am. She got up to grab her coffee and took it into the kitchen. She had her to-do list by heart. She started preparing upma, their common favourite breakfast. After a quick visit to the bathroom, she made a call to her client and clarified a few things about today’s cake. She browsed through some google images for cake ideas as she finished up the upma and took it to the dining table.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">He joined her at the table well dressed and looking sharp. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Wow!” he exclaimed at the upma.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Wow yourself!” she replied. “All dressed up. Big date?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Ha ha! You can say that. I’m getting my official promotion papers today.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Ah yes! Congratulations again dear,” she said smiling, touching his hands on the table.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">He smiled back. That same smile from the bar in Mumbai. They finished the upma clean and he kissed her lips again before leaving for work. She had held him in that kiss for a second longer.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">She put the plates away and immediately started on the cake. After making the mixture for the cake base and putting it in the oven, she decided on the design and started work on the frosting. Soon the mixture was ready and the oven needed a few more minutes to catch up with her. She responded to the new enquiries and some new once received on WhatsApp and Instagram. She was sure to get the orders. She was a good baker and she knew it. She had a good number of regular customers and new customers trickling in from her social media. If orders increased at the pace they were, she may need to employ a full time help by next month. She was picturing the spare fridge for ready-made and ready-for-delivery cakes placed near the dining table when the microwave oven dinged. She spent the next hour preparing the cake and placed it in the fridge and took out the Biriyani from 2 days back to heat it up. Work always made her hungry.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">During lunch she caught up with her mom and then got in touch with the customer to arrange pick up of the cake. She proceed to call Vikki.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Hey! new boss,” She said<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Hey sexy.” He replied<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Got those papers?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Yup, right here on my new desk”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Calls for a party.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Your choice, my treat.” He said<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“I’ll book the table. 8 pm ok?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Perfect honey. I’ll fill you in during dinner. I’m still upset you didn’t call me back yesterday”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“It rang just once. I thought you called me by mistake,” she said, faking innocence.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Really? You know I gave a missed call in case you were asleep.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Ok. My bad.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“I’ll see you in the evening honey, Love you,” he said<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">“Me too dear,” she cut the call<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 17.1200008392334px; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-indent: 25.5pt;"><span lang="EN-GB">Vikki’s energy was contagious and was the thing that attracted her during their first meetings arranged through their parents. If her life was a book, Vikki was the book review that assured her everything was going to be alright and there was a happy ending. She loved him and knew deep within her that he loved her just the same. He made the mountains into hurdles that she could jump over. The mountains that were the last few months, with her mis-carriage and subsequent sessions with her psychiatrist, Dr. Poornima. As she was thinking about what to wear for the evening, she reminded herself to take the afternoon medication. She didn’t think the experimental new drugs made any difference. In fact, she secretly believed she was part of the control group taking the placebo medicines. Maybe she could skip it today…<o:p></o:p></span></p>Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-39934045942220118302020-06-19T01:59:00.000-07:002020-06-19T01:59:20.452-07:00Artificial Intelligence<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US">Every few days, some news regarding Artificial Intelligence (AI) catches the attention. Either there is some breakthrough in the field or some famous personality has an opinion about it. Perhaps the most commonly discussed aspect of AI is the potential it has to replace human jobs. There are a lot of articles and studies on this, and it goes on to predict the probability that each job sector has of being taken over by AI. The individual people who may lose jobs to AI are in the millions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The most famous job being taken over is perhaps driving. And with good reason. The technology is almost there and it makes a lot of sense in terms of safety. The desired end result is a world where every car is driven by AI and every unit is connected to each other. When the system knows where every car is and controls them, there will be no accidents and there won’t be the need for traffic lights even. Sounds amazing and very desirable, if you are not an employed driver. Though the self-driving tech is almost there, the idea of interconnected cars is very far away in the future and not without its challenges.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">This got me wondering who will be transported to where in these self-driving cars of the future? As millions of jobs are lost, there will be no need for millions of other jobs that support those jobs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">During this COVID pandemic, there are some sectors that are still doing good trade in the short term, like medical supplies, online content, gadgets etc. But every sector will eventually be affected by this pandemic. You realize that every field and sector is interconnected. There may be cases where individual sectors like housing or air travel have taken a bad hit and in some cases, dragged the economy along with it. But the opposite does not happen. In a falling economy, every sector gets hit at different stages of the fall. And no individual sector can bring it back up. Similarly, as AI takes over jobs in sectors one by one, it is going to affect all the sectors, even the ones not being taken over by AI. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">In a way, the jobs that are being taken away by AI will soon become obsolete. There will not be a need to move people around because people have nowhere to be. AI enabled robots may replace humans in factories to make products which will no longer be required because there are no humans to use these products or the humans that survive are unable to afford them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The prediction is that as AI replaces human jobs, humans will have new jobs that arise to facilitate the transition. Humans may be used to train the AI. So what will be the purpose of these new jobs? We all work for our livelihood. But then there is a second purpose. The farmer works to produce food, the doctor works to get people healthier, the teacher works to make better humans, so on and so forth. What will be the purpose of the new jobs? To make sure machines work continuously, to run programs faster, to reduce power consumption of these programs. Jobs will move from supporting humans to supporting machines and programs that support other machines and programs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Couple of decades from now, one of us waking up from sleep and taking his breakfast pills before putting on his skull mounted communication hub will ask himself, “What the hell am I doing? Why the hell am I doing this?” and continue to plug in the device because he knows why he is doing it. So that he can get that special pill at night that takes him to that special place. Maybe that’s not so bad. If the machines can ensure that all of us get equal physical nourishment and mental stimulation in the safety of our pod, it’s worth a shot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-27128399882190282562018-06-25T01:34:00.000-07:002018-06-25T01:43:13.365-07:00My Journey Away From God<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I recently got this whatsapp message<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">“Pope Francis needs our prayers. Pope Francis has suffered from illness and this is the second time he has fallen in a month. Pope Francis has only one lungs because the other has been removed due to infections. He needs more of our prayers than ever. We ask all Catholics and non Catholics all over the world to pray for Pope Francis so that he can continue his reforms and helping the poor as the leader of humanity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Our goal is to reach ten million Hail Mary for Pope. The campaign has just began. Share this message to 5 groups in order to support Pope Francis' work. Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with you. You are blessed among women and Jesus the fruit of your womb is blessed. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us poor sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Don't forget to share to help us reach our goal of 10miillion Holy Mary. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">We can achieve it.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Now, I’m almost sure that the information on the pope’s sickness is fake. Even if it is true, the below opinions remain. And also, such messages are common to all religions. Since I was brought up a Christian, I know some basics and so this message brings some logical questions to mind. For example, I have a hard time understanding the concept underlying this logic of praying to heal the pope’s lung. I can think of 3 logics behind it from a believer’s perspective,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">This is a fight between good and evil. God being the leader of good and the devil being the leader of evil. Now the evil army is getting stronger and thus has affected the pope’s lung. By reaching 10 million Holy Mary, the good army will reach enough strength to combat the evil army and restore his lung or heal him temporary till the next war. Point to be noted that it is somehow calculated that the evil is currently leading the good by approximately 10 million holy Mary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">God has forgotten about the pope’s lung. Since God is in control of everything that is happening in this world, the pope’s sickness can perhaps be attributed to his slip in attention and therefore the people will pray to remind God. Perhaps 10 million holy Mary is the decibel level that is audible to God in heaven.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">God needs convincing. So somedays back, God was doing his usual thing and suddenly felt like he wanted some praise or prayers. He thought, “what better way than giving the pope a bad lung.” Or rather God does not decide what has to happen but takes decision based on feedback from people at every step. A good leadership skill none the less.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I was not always this way. I used to believe in God and Jesus even without the miracles. I believed that the miracle of birth that happens every day around us is enough proof of God. Though I believed in God, my belief in religion was mostly shaky. Because religion had rules, some of them without logic and I have interacted with people of different religions and refused to believe that people of any specific religion were superior or deserved more than the others. And when I thought over it, the whole idea of God that I believed in was actually painted by the religion that I follow. So one cannot believe in God without a religion, but religions would make you think that God created religion. There are clear but flimsy efforts to this effect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Before I go any further I would like to make some disclaimers,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I believe that following any religion or following none, is a matter of personal choice and one should believe what he/she wants to believe and whatever belief gives him/her comfort, happiness, confidence etc.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">My opinions and beliefs are a result of many environmental factors like my education, books I have read, people I’ve listened to or admired, movies I’ve seen, what I think is cool and as many people would judge, “How my parents failed to bring me up in good faith”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I found the transformation from being a Christian to a non-religious person (I’m not saying atheist because maybe atheism is not so simple and I need to understand it before I can say that I’m an Atheist) very difficult and would not want anyone to go through that unless they are unhappy with their religion. So I’m not trying to convince anyone here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I was religious and now I do not believe. So there is a chance that in a few years I may change back or change to something that is trending at the time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">What I really mean to say is that if you find any of this disturbing or uncomfortable, please stop reading. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I can’t really say that it was a single incident or day that changed this belief of mine. It has been happening over the last 4-5 months and some of the components of the transformation have happened long time before and has gained a new perspective today. A few years back, when my wife Jaisy was in Australia and before we had kids, My friend Nikhil visited me and we spent a considerable time discussing religion and he was against it while I supported it. Today, many of his points seem very true and I even think that discussion may have played a minor role in my switching teams. At the same time, I’m not even sure if the transformation is complete. My mom knows that I do not believe in God so that is a big hurdle that I crossed. I’m still a member of my church. Maybe when I remove myself, I would consider it complete. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">But I could say that one incident actually triggered this transformation. We have some distant relatives who are priests or nuns and one day, a nun from Jaisy’s relation, who was posted to our church, visited us. Initially she said and I believed that she came just to meet us. Then she started saying things to encourage us to pray more and stuff, which I was also fine with. Actually I was sort of ok with the whole encounter. Bored a bit but ok. It was actually after she left and as I thought about the things she said that something really clicked. I kept coming back to the different things she had said and felt that each one was a tactic to get me more attached to religion. And for each one of them I developed a reaction, cumulation of which is my journey away from God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">She said: She started by saying that we as a family have to pray more because I have daughters and there is a lot of love jihad happening and there are so many rapes happening. So in order to protect my kids, I need to pray more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">My Reaction: This I feel is an indirect threat. Religions use this fear tactic to avoid people from going away from religion. Can anyone else come to your home and tell you that if you do not do an activity they say, your children (who were not older than 2 years mind you) would be raped? The fear is so inbuilt that as I was transforming, there would be automatic thoughts in my mind that, “What if I’m wrong and God is watching me? What would be my punishment?”. I later told myself that not all humans are Christians, and that I’ll live with whatever punishment will be meted out to Hindus, Muslims and non-believers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">She said: Then she recounted her personal experience where she believes that because of their family’s habit of praying every day at a fixed time, it saved her father’s life. She said that he met with the accident on the highway and fell on the road around 8 P.M., their prayer time, and as long as they were praying, no vehicles came that way which would have run over him. Before the prayer was over, someone found him and saved him before the vehicles came. She strongly believed that their prayers saved her father.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">My reaction: Why did God not save him from the accident in the first place? There was a similar skit in church some months back, where there is drunkard father, praying mother and a son who cannot walk because of an accident. The mother prays every day for her son to walk but to no avail, then one day the drunk father thrashes the son and Mary appears and cures the son and also scolds the father. While they said that the moral is to never stop praying, I feel the story’s hero is the drunk father who finally managed to bring God to his house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">She said: She explained how Hindus and Muslims are very strict about their religious practices. She was admiring how the Muslims fast and was saying that we too need to be strict about the rules of our Christian sub category which is not to be mingled with other sub categories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">My reaction: While her first assault I was not prepared for, and the second one was personal to her, I did not react to her directly at the time. But by the third round I was starting to get involved and express my thoughts. I asked her why do we have to compare to other religions. All religions are unique and they all have their positives and negatives. Tomorrow would you say that like Muslim terrorists, we also need to be willing to die and kill in the name of God? It seems that later when she was talking to my mom, she asked to stay away from Muslims, that her inner spirit thinks that a Muslim guy is trying to hurt our family. My mom said that when we started business in Chennai in a rented building, it was the Muslim house owner that became best friends, almost like family and stood with us through many troubles that we faced at the time. I know the Muslim owner and his family and I can say that they loved and cared for us more than we did for them. When I asked her the importance of sub categories when we all say that we are Christians, she said it has something to do with miscommunication among communities a long time ago, which I felt is even more absurd.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">She said: We used to pray at home in Malayalam, since I do not know to read Malayalam, I never used to read the bible during family prayer. There was a time that me and Jaisy would ensure that we prayed every day, if not with parents, then alone and then, I would read the bible. The nun said that while reading bible I have to read it aloud in front of an audience.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">My reaction: I argued what is the difference between a person who reads the bible in his mind, in a low voice, in a high voice and someone who listens to someone else reading it. For some reason she asked me to find a specific verse and read it. It said that, “In the beginning there was the word of God”. She explained that this book in my hand, its contents, were there even before the creation of the world. A smile escaped my mouth as I thought, “I could write that on any book or any piece of paper, would it make that piece of paper as good as the bible?” She saw me and gauged that I was not convinced. Now it was time for the secret weapon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">God’s magical army: I was not prepared for this last phase. She held my hands and said we shall pray. I prayed, trying to repeat her words and suddenly she was like, “Do you sleep well at night?”. I said I sleep fine. But I’m thinking, “Did I enter some clinic? Why is she worried about my sleep?”. Then we do the thing again and she suddenly stops to ask if I’ve ever fallen off a bicycle. I honestly didn’t recollect any such incident and said so. So we went to round 3 and 4 and so on. Most of my responses were in the negative and I was really trying to give her something to be satisfied with. She said she is getting a vision of me as a small kid standing near the altar at church in front of a candle or a bunch of candles. I said I do not recollect any such cinematic scene in my life, all though I used to stand in the first 2-3 lines as a kid and even as a teenager. She felt that was close enough and stopped the session. I left to office and then she proceeded with a similar session with my mom and dad. She didn’t get time with Jaisy though. My mom later said that the nun said to her that her son was someone who thinks a lot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">The magic really put me off that time. I have always hated these so called religious miracles and have never understood why people were so crazy about it. Because we have 2 very young children, she must have thought we sleep less. But Agatha used to sleep through the night at the time and Hridaya too. And the rare times that any of them woke up, Jaisy was the go to person. I’m known in my family circles for my deep sleep. Once I volunteered to stay as attendant to a cousin who was admitted at the hospital. Let’s just say that no one has ever asked me to stay the night after that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">About the cycle accident, I think everyone has a couple in their lifetime if they have learnt to ride a bike. But I honestly didn’t remember any. Now I do recollect that I had a couple of bike accidents and one of them was a near miss and I could have died. If she had asked if I have had a bike accident, she would have hit jackpot, but she didn’t. Maybe because she didn’t see any bike at my home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Though I was very affected by her words soon after the encounter and was disturbed for some days, I later felt and still feel a little pity for her. Maybe she truly believes that God saved her dad and that may have been the trigger for her journey towards God and sisterhood. She is even more bound to religion and all its ties than me. It is impossible for her to choose not to believe. That set me thinking about the religion itself. Its origins and the different types of people that are involved in it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Around that time and after it, I was reading a book, “The better angels of our nature”. It’s a big book and was actually recommended by Bill Gates to university students. It is a great book and I have been recommending it to almost everyone. In that book, the author, Steven Pinker, talks about how humans have become so much less violent over the centuries and religion had played an important role, both in promoting and reducing violence. While it reduced violence within the religious community, there was increased violence among communities to prove religious superiority. Religion can also be credited for teaching basic moral values to the society before there were governments and law enforcement agencies. Even in today’s context, religion is very handy in teaching your kids what is right and wrong and few other altruistic values. But this is the same for all religions of the world, not just Christians, and if you really think about it, you could devise a way to teach these values without being religious. Why do we need such a way? Because we have evolved as a society where religion is causing more bad than good. If the violence has to reduce further as per the trend, we have to stop fighting for religion, for which we have to stop believing. The Greek gods have been reduced to Marvel and DC comic characters over time. I also personally believe that humans will evolve to a non-religious population because that is a better future.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Do not have any doubt in your mind. If you belong to a religion, you are contributing towards the fight to religious superiority in many ways. I remember on my wedding and almost all the Christian weddings that I have seen, the priest at some point would advise the newlyweds to have as many kids as possible. I was told before my marriage by a priest that as per our laws (laws of our sub category), any marriage where the couple have previously agreed not to have kids, is considered null and void. This concept of more kids = more power to the religion is not limited to any specific religion. Nor are any of the concepts that I’m writing about. My experience is in this religion and I’m too lazy to research into other religions to provide a balanced article.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">The money in form of donations given to any church does not go into just maintaining that single church. Each church is part of a sub category of Christianity which has a head office church. It is in no way less complicated or less structured than an MNC. Some of the money goes into maintaining that specific church. Some of it goes “mission activities” where modern day Christian missionaries go into the lowest strata of society and help them with basic needs and preach the word of God, in other words get more conversions to increase the power of religion. Some of the funds are used to build churches for the above said converted people. Some of the funds are used to build businesses like schools and colleges and hospitals. Some of the funds are used to acquire assets. I’m sure all this was instructed somewhere in the bible (sarcasm). The believers go one step further and build bigger and more beautiful churches as a symbol of how much they love God more than the other Christians.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">All these activities are interpretations of the bible and what people understand from it. By participating in Mission activities, people believe they are doing what Jesus had instructed his apostles to do. Some of them believe the concept that if you know the path to salvation, it is your duty to share this information with as many people as possible. They honestly think that they are doing a favor to the people by helping them convert to Christianity. I can understand such people, but the system is not made of only such people. There are people in the system that have a clear agenda and use these brainwashed individuals for these purposes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">Just after the nun’s visit, mom went to a prayer retreat along with my sister in law. I picked them up on their return and on the way they were explaining their experience. I did not share my opinion because by that time I had realized that faith was not a debatable topic to them and many find it offensive when someone tries to argue that there is a chance that something they have been believing all their life could be false. Some years back during an MBA class, the professor posed a mathematical problem to the class. The problem was unique, such that there were 2 possible solutions to the problem. So the class was split on the answer. He asked a few students to come up and debate for their answer and debate they did, heating up occasionally. His point was that though both answers were correct, we are so attached to one of them because we have physically and mentally worked on it. This also makes us aggressive towards anything on the contrary.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">My Mom experienced the prophecy thing again and this time she said their deductions were highly improbable to be by chance. There was something else that my sister in law said that had triggered another chain of thought. She said that the priest explained how even looking at someone with sexual intention was like committing adultery. Further he said that when a women wears something like a legging, she gives men the chance to stare and commit adultery by thought. The women have given the men the opportunity to violate them. This is where I feel that religion has played another important role in shaping the society we live in. Religion has perhaps contributed majorly towards the gender inequality or the notion that the female gender is the property of the male, made from his bone, for him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">All major characters in the bible and all the religious scriptures are men, because they are all written by men. And still, it is the women who are more religious and god fearing than men. The western world as they move away from religion witness more equality than the other countries. Which supports my thought that humans have to leave behind religion in the path of evolution.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">If you think about it logically, religions and superstitions are based on such flimsy concepts. Even non-religious people believe in Karma. Rightly so because we are brought up to believe that if we do something wrong, we will be punished, if not immediately, eventually. While it is a good way to teach kids to be good, as we grow up and mature and see the world around us, we should understand that there is no such thing as karma. People do bad stuff and get away with it all the time. Bad things, when they happen, do not differentiate between good and bad people. There is no disease in the world that spreads only to bad people. Say karma existed, it would be so damn complicated. Image the amount of data that would be running through the system. As mature human beings that respect each other, helping each other and not hurting anyone is a natural way of living. You don’t need a reward and punishment system to reinforce that behavior in fully developed humans.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">If we come to the basics, Christians believe that God created man in his form. But man actually created gods in his form to reinforce his superiority over other animals. To imagine that this super power that created this whole universe including this solar system with its sun and planets and moons, would actually look anything like us is just plain funny. The worst part is that they have given this God all human emotions of anger, love and narcissism. This God that they have created monitors each human being and records their activities for judgement. He also forgives people if they pray really hard or confess or make up with some good activities. He also like praise for everything he has done. People singing songs for him and calling him names like savior, king etc. really get him in a good mood apparently.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">In the pursuit to give humans a purpose in life, they made a god with no purpose of himself, Obviously God is a male. What is the purpose for God? Why did he go through all this trouble in the first place?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I can’t say I have ever been a good Christian. I have attended most of the Sunday masses in my life thus far although I was late to almost all of them. I’ve never taken lent and all other stuff seriously. I do not know which book belongs to which testament and in what order. I do not even know the hierarchy of the different sub groups of Christianity. Some people ask me if I’m a Roman Catholic or a protestant. Initially I would say I’m catholic because my sub group also has the term catholic in it although preceded by another term. But as I grew up, I would admit that I do not know. I have asked and clarified this with my mom a couple of times and she had explained it to me but I tend to forget it again by the time another person asks me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I tell very often to my friends that after having 2 kids, I can understand why some couples choose not to have kids or to postpone them. Not that I regret having kids. I understand there are advantages and disadvantages to having or not having kids and that these advantages and disadvantages are subjective and carry different weightages to different people. Similarly, I can understand people who like going to a church every Sunday where they are well known and even appreciated for something. They have a status and respect there in the community. Myself with very less social skills would naturally turn away from such a place. I understand people who derive hope and happiness from prayers. I can empathize with people who turn to god for their problems and seem to find answers or help. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">The fact that I cannot get out of this easily troubles me the most. Jaisy says that she agrees with most of my points but cannot come out of it because we have kids. They need religion to have a good name in the society. And when the time comes to get married, they would get a good alliance or would not be rejected on the grounds of being non-religious. But she also said that she will not force our kids to follow any religion beyond a certain age. We as adults have reached that age but are unable to change even though our parents could not object to it. My point is that religious freedom does not mean walking up to your 18 year old son/daughter and asking them to choose their religion. By that time there are many societal pressures for them to remain in the faith. Real Religious freedom is bringing up children with information of all religions possible and then asking them to choose. And if a child is brought up this way in today’s world and sees the religions from an external point of view, I think he/she will choose none.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-53765879599615726612017-05-06T23:44:00.000-07:002017-05-06T23:44:58.573-07:00I hate my Phone (don't tell that to my phone)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I
wish we had not grown so dependent on our smartphone. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">There is this constant
tendency to look at the screen and connect to the outside world and check if we
have missed anything. Like an auto update for apps, we check for updates every
few minutes. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">It is literally automatic. I have this app for news feed called
inshorts. If I’m idle for 5 minutes, and thats no exaggeration, I <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">automatically</b>
check my phone for alerts and then <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">automatically</b>
open inshorts for any news updates and then <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">automatically</b>
open Instagram. It is so frustrating sometimes because I take the phone to make
a call and see that I have received a text. It is obviously some company who is very much concerned if I have enough clothes/insurance/internet in my life and are going to great lengths and discounts to ensure I'm happy. Then I open inshorts to learn that some uneducated politician with a criminal background said or did something that an uneducated criminal would do. Or some movie star said or did something that is in no way whatsoever going to affect my life, sometimes it doesn't even affect his own life. Last, I check Instagram which rarely has any updates since I follow very few people and I'm sure it would take just 30 seconds if I choose to just check it just once at the end of the day instead of 5 seconds 20 times a day. And by the end of this very important life saving routine, I have forgotten why I took the phone out in the first place. And this
is when I’ve consciously kept facebook out of my phone. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I feel constantly
conned by my smart(ass)phone and the internet and they slowly but surely eat
away a huge chunk of my time. The beautiful photos and videos that
I am able to take of my family and things I love just because the phone is
within reach all the time is priceless. Clearly, there cannot be a future
without either of them, but if we don’t manage to balance it, it will collapse our lives.
There should be a scientific method to determine and limit the use of such
technology within a threshold limit for individuals. But technology is moving
into a more invasive mode with future devices getting stuck to your face,
creating a virtual reality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Talking
about the balance, you take a nice photo on your phone and then send it to your
close family and friends or post it on social media and get a few likes. That
is the threshold. Now you can take that photo, print it, frame it in your home
or desk and enjoy that. That would be very positive, but you wouldn’t do it
because there are so many, which would you print? And you have a very expensive
phone with an awesomatic 24k SXYHD display, why would you want to spend more
money, and more importantly time, to print and frame it when you can see it any
time in your phone. But the fact is you don’t. You never see those photos
again. These beautiful photos and the memories are so short lived and limited
to how many likes and comments they get on social media. Before you can fully
comprehend the beauty and joy of that moment, the next photo is already
uploading. I wish we had a day of the month when we would just look at a large
screen with a slide show of all our photos and talk about them to our family. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We think there is a future where we are not so busy and will have time to do
all these things that are accumulating in our virtual to do list. But even
before we finish that thought, we know that it’s not true. We have seen our parents
buy into that scheme and ask for a refund. They thought they just wanted to see
a foreign country, so they felt they could do it later. But later they realized
they wanted to eat their sugar and cholesterol rich street food which they can’t
due to diabetes. They realized they wanted to roam in leisure without anyone’s
assistance or orders which they can’t because they have fallen behind
technology and don’t have the guts they once had. They realized they wanted to
reach atop mountains in early mornings and have adventures which they can’t
because of arthritis and asthma. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Technology
is already preparing for our old age. Virtual reality will let us go anywhere
we want at the comfort of our own bed. Devices will be able to send signals to
our brain that will replicate the sensations of eating pork ribs in Australia. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Many
of our decisions like buying some car or clothes are taken with a lot of
thought and research because we know that they will affect our lives even if is
for a short period of time. We spend a lot more collective effort to decide on
a life partner. But somewhere in our past, we have decided to get in a very close,
tedious and mutually beneficial relationship with technology and social media.
Have we given it enough thought before we took the decision? Is it possible to
break up? Or better yet, can we reverse roles? Be the dominant one?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-49258758285185892712016-01-16T18:42:00.002-08:002016-02-02T10:22:52.850-08:00First Assignment<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;">THIS WAS MY ENTRY FOR A WRITING COMPETITION BASED ON THEIR GUIDELINES</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Q1. Write a
scene (</span><u><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;">in not more than 500 words</span></u><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;">) based on the following outline: </span><i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Wife is at home. Husband
enters. They have not been talking for some days. One of them tries to cajole
the other. The other withdraws. The first</span></i><i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;"> one goes back to doing what he/</span></i><i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;"> she was doing. The other
comes to the first one and kills him/her.</span></i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;"> Please note that the scene cannot have any dialogue. So
you can only write the scene-description.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
APPLE PIE</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Priya is mixing some batter in the kitchen. She stops to
wipe the sweat off her fore head. The door bell rings. She rubs her hands on
her apron and hurries to the front door. Through the peephole she sees her
husband, steps back, takes a deep breath, exhales and then opens the latch but
not the door, before walking back to the kitchen. Vikram hears the door unlock,
but nothing more, doubtfully he opens the door and just manages to catch a
glimpse of his wife’s back retreating to the kitchen. Bowing down his head with
disappointment, he closes the door and locks it. He walks into the bedroom
carrying his shoulder bag along.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few minutes later he emerges from the bedroom in his
pajamas and finds his wife sitting on the sofa, watching TV. He sits nearby but
not too close and pretends to watch TV. He can smell something baking in the
kitchen. The microwave is ON in the kitchen indicating 12 minutes to finish and
there is a half empty box of Apple Pie mix. Slowly he places his hands on hers.
She looks up at him with anger and removes her hand swiftly and turns her
attention back to the TV. The frustrated Vikram stares back and just when he is
about to say something, his mobile on the table in front of them rings. The
caller ID indicates it is “Dr. Rekha”. Priya glares at the phone for a second
before pressing hard on the remote to change the TV channel. He starts to
ignore the call but then decides against it and picks the phone. He gets up and
walks towards the balcony with the phone and closes the door behind him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Twelve minutes later, the microwave beeps loudly indicating
that the baking is done. Priya looks towards the kitchen, gets up from the sofa
and walks in the opposite direction towards the balcony. She opens the door and
steps out. Vikram is sitting on the ledge with one leg on either side of it and
talking over the phone. He sees his wife come out and mumbles something into
the phone before cutting the call short. She comes really close. He can see
tears rolling down her cheeks. He places his hand on her shoulder to console
her but she grabs the hand with her left and with her right hand she holds his
pajama pants and then pushes him over to certain death. Without even looking
back, she heads to the kitchen, takes out the apple pie and goes back to the
living room. She sits in front of the TV. She cuts out a slice before taking a
spoonful from it. Tears still rolling down her cheek.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Q2. Re-write the same scene between the husband and the
wife </span><u><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;">with dialogues</span></u><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;">. The dialogues can be in Hindi or in English. (Max 1000 words.)<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "calibri light"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
APPLE TART</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Priya is mixing some batter in the kitchen. She stops to
wipe the sweat off her fore head. The door bell rings. She rubs her hands on
her apron and hurries to the front door. Through the peephole she sees her
husband, steps back, takes a deep breath, exhales and then opens the latch but
not the door, before walking back to the kitchen. Vikram hears the door unlock,
but nothing more, doubtfully he opens the door and just manages to catch a
glimpse of his wife’s back retreating to the kitchen. Bowing down his head with
disappointment, he closes the door and locks it. He walks into the bedroom
carrying his shoulder bag along.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few minutes later he emerges from the bedroom in his
pajamas and finds his wife sitting on the sofa, watching TV. He sits nearby but
not too close and pretends to watch TV. He can smell something baking in the
kitchen. The microwave is ON in the kitchen indicating 12 minutes to finish and
there is a half empty box of Apple Tart mix. He looks to his wife who ignores
him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are we going to talk about this?” he asks. No response from
her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“According to you, the doctor said its not my fault that we
can’t have a child, then why are you angry with me for?” he asks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t want to talk about it” She quickly responded before
increasing the volume a bit.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Fine.” He replied. “Have you at least found my phone? It
took me two days just to buy a new phone on EMI and a replacement SIM card.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still no reply from her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Slowly he places his hands on hers. She looks up at him with
anger and removes her hand swiftly and turns her attention back to the TV. The
frustrated Vikram stares back and just when he is about to say something, his
mobile on the table in front of them rings. The caller ID indicates it is “Dr.
Rekha”. Priya glares at the phone for a second before pressing hard on the
remote increase the volume further. He starts to ignore the call but then
decides against it and picks the phone and at the same time he gets up and
walks towards the balcony connected to the hall. He closes the door behind him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hello Doctor, how are you?” he greets the doctor.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m fine Vikram, what about you? My office has been trying
to call you for the past two days. I was planning on sending someone over
tomorrow to check what happened.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I lost my phone doctor. Just now the replacement sim card
got activated. But why were you so worried. Priya told me about the test
reports. “</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“And how are you taking the news?” the Doctor asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I understand these problems are common in many couples
nowadays. So I’m learning to cope with it. But she is very upset and for some
reason she is very angry with me.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I don’t understand. What exactly did she tell you Mr.
Vikram?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She said the reports indicate that she cannot have a
healthy baby due to some problems with her body and that further tests have to
be done to determine if there is any treatment possible”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh my God.” The doctor was shocked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“What is it Doctor?” Vikram asked, confused.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mr. Vikram, it is good that you approached a doctor before
planning to have a baby. Many problems can be avoided if couples are a little
prepared. You have a very good chance of having a healthy baby, but the
complication is not because of her alone. Both of you have been tested positive
for HIV”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The microwave beeps loudly indicating that the baking is
done. Priya looks towards the kitchen, gets up from the sofa and walks in the
opposite direction towards the balcony. She opens the door and steps out.
Vikram is sitting on the ledge with one leg on either side of it and talking
over the phone. He looks up at his wife approaching him. Shocked, he tells the
doctor that he will call him later and cuts the call.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He can see tears rolling down her cheeks. He places his hand
on her shoulder to console her, “baby, I don’t understand what is happening”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But she grabs the hand with her left and with her right hand
she holds his thigh and then pushes him over to certain death. Without even
looking back, she heads to the kitchen, takes out the apple pie and goes back
to the living room. She sits in front of the TV. She cuts out a slice before
taking a spoonful from it. Tears still rolling down her cheek.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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The wind slithers through the kitchen window, tumbling the apple
tart box to reveal a bottle of poison behind it.</div>
</div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-45010545142955978462015-04-07T03:57:00.000-07:002015-04-07T03:58:10.140-07:00Laugh Out Loud<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Laughter is contagious. And awesome. Not the normal one which you get while watching videos of babies and puppies, but the ones where you have tears hanging on your eyelids and hands holding your stomach. My mom, my wife, my nephew and my grandpa, all look so different and fun when they laugh. The more uncontrollable the laughter, the more beautiful they look and it brings some warmth to watch them laugh. But its not easy to see them laugh like that and it doesn't happen in a planned manner. In recent times, when at home, I have a tendency to literally LOL for a decent enough joke. I tend to laugh a little louder and longer than the joke deserves. Not so different from Mogambo and other super villains. So much so that i get that odd stare from my mom or wife now and then, but I don't care, I don't feel guilty. I actually feel sorry for them that they don't get to do it so often. I can't explain to them why I do it. It feels like I'm feeding my brain some stimuli. It feels good, life seems better for as long as the laughter is prolonged.<br />
<br />
We all earn to feed our body and mind. The amount of money required to feed the body and meet its basic needs are very less and increase very slightly as your status in the society or wealth increases. Rich or poor, you pretty much eat the same quantity of food and need the same amount of space to rest the body. As you get richer, the quality of food increases and more money is spent on keeping the body fit so that you can continue to work more and earn more. But the increase is not really significant or proportional to the increase in your income or status. So where does all the money go?To feed your mind.<br />
<br />
We all toil to feed our mind. The mind that always wants more. The mind that needs continuous entertainment and enrichment. Books, movies, gadgets, alcohol, drugs, internet, more internet. It is a never ending list that keeps changing. Nothing is pinned to the list, if something is pinned, then chances are that it will become your doom or cause maximum damage to your life at some point of time. The mind wants to have it all. The latest mobile phone, that two digit GPD growth, that greater than GDP growth salary hike, that mandatory promotion without change in duties or responsibilities followed by the mandatory low appraisal because of the mandatory promotion, that secondary and tertiary income source, those schemes to reduce your tax burden due to those income sources. It wants to see all the wonders of the world, experience everything possible and envy everything else.<br />
<br />
But the mind's desires are evolving as I said. Remember how children desire toys that they use for a few weeks and break it or lose it or lose interest in it? As they grow older, the desires become more expensive but at the same time more lasting and significant. Like bicycles, video games, clothes, girlfriends etc. But nothing lasts forever. Add few more years and desires change to better job, bigger home, snazzier car, alcohol etc. You get the drift, as you gain more age and wisdom, you look for more permanent stuff. Do you?<br />
<br />
The mind while it craves for large chunks of desires and achievements, also looks for the small snacks every now and then. The mind needs continuous feeding. Not just the main course but also the soup, starters and desserts and even tea. Long needed holidays, meeting your childhood friend, winning in some game. That desire to check into Facebook every few hours, that tendency to watch pointless videos shared by strangers and liked by someone in your friends list. That favourite movie of yours thats running on TV that you just want to watch again. They are like short sips of tea to the mind. We spend so much time and resources to feed the mind. Even pleasing your senses is feeding the mind. That beautiful looking steak is not to feed your tummy but to satisfy your taste buds which feed the mind. While we appreciate the capabilities of the mind for its multi tasking skills and speed at which it works, these desires are the hidden processes that are happening simultaneously and still they say that the mind is not even utilising a quarter of its processing powers.<br />
<br />
Science works on boundaries and framework. When there is lack of it, they use terms that sound scientific but actually are just words. Like Infinity, Space and the mind. The mind thinks of good things, bad things, productive things, harmful things, stupid things, so many things at the same time. It feels emotions, takes decisions, regrets them, changes them and feels emotions again. If you start writing down the functions of your mind, how long do you think that list would be? Would there be a structure or hierarchy to these functions? Could they be grouped/categorised? In all this chaos, is there really any control? Is there this thread that holds everything in place? Is it a really strong thread?<br />
<br />
Is there actual control? Is there supposed to be a balance? between the smaller desires and the bigger ones? Can I hack the system that is my mind to feel fed and full without actually feeding it?<br />
<br />
Or is the thread really a flimsy one? Is each one of us on the border line of insanity? Are we sane at all times? Are we sane at all? Mmmmmwwwahahahahahaha</div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-9552686967338914132015-04-07T02:13:00.000-07:002015-04-07T03:57:02.891-07:00Probably<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Getting placed in Ashok Leyland was the dream job in my engineering college. They came every year and took one or maybe two students, from the Mechanical Engineering department. Only the top scorers got the job and sometimes they left without taking anyone. After the first couple of semesters, the top scorers were known to all and then the rat race began among them. Each one of them dreamed and worked towards getting that job. I was never in the race. I was never in any race, since childhood. I used to get the maximum scores that last minute studying can get you, just above average. I wouldn't say I was happy with that. I guess it didn't bother me much. Having a father who could afford college donations helped.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But I had a plan. I had scored above average, had an arrear (in probability) but cleared it in the subsequent attempt. I was sure of getting into one of the many IT companies which were in a hiring spree around that time, and they didn't completely understand the concept of majoring in UG. I was quite good in aptitude and knew a bit of programming. My plan was to get into one of the 3.5 lakh CTC companies and ride along until eventually returning to the family business.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So the first day of campus placements arrive with a major IT firm in the country doing the honours. I sail through the first 2 rounds and get selected for the interview. There is a clear system and process for selection of candidates, but when you are one of the students, it feels a lot like random. The interviews happens in a big conference room with a number of tables spaced out inside. There are 10+ interviews happening at the same time in the same hall. Anyway, I find my table and take a seat after the formal question of "May i take a seat". The interviewers proceed to test my knowledge in my Major by asking me to name the subjects that I had in my 3rd and 4th Semester. Yes. They actually have my mark list in front of them and ask me to name the subjects that I had studied a year ago. I fumble a bit and the interviewers rightly reject me based on their scientific process of assessment. A classmate of mine who told the interviewers that she is looking at higher education and will leave at the first chance she gets, got the job. A good number of guys got placed that day. There was a good probability of me getting placed but things didn't work out. I went home with the news and got a few insults from my Dad. It comes with the donations so i couldn't refuse. I didn't tell him that Ashok Leyland was recruiting the next day though.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So the next day, recruiters from Ashok Leyland reach our campus. This is the biggest day of the year for the Mechanical engineering department. For a brief period, everybody else in the college is reminded why the administration puts up with a department full of psychos. For a day, we are the flagship department of our college. Preparations are in full swing. There is tension in every body's faces and books in every hand. Some books that have been passed down generations of interview attending toppers. With the disappointment of the previous day still lingering, I joke about it to my close friends, who also didn't get through the previous day. I think that was a time and age when you could actually reduce sadness or increase happiness by sharing it. As we get older, the formula doesn't work that well.<br />
<br />
I move around the groups and see what they are discussing and find one of them going through one such interview book with the key definitions and stuff. The first definition in the book is that of 1 ton of refrigeration. Now, my Dad's business is in the field of refrigeration and I have been studying engineering for 3 years, so I though this is the least return on his investment that I can give him. So i go through the definition.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The selection process begins. There is a needless introduction to the company and declaration of a 6.5 lakh CTC, followed by a couple of written tests. Technical first and then aptitude. Myself along with 7-8 more students get through and are asked to come to their office for the interview the same evening. I had literally put in zero efforts for these tests. The probability of me getting to this stage was zero. So I was in no way prepared for an interview. I was wearing one of the most comfortable = most lousy formals I had. Although i knew that there was not a chance that I could pass the interview, I didn't want to enter an office like that dressed in the clothes like this. Soon enough I found that some of the students had actually brought "Interview shirts".<br />
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Interview shirt - A clean, almost new pressed shirt, folded neatly and packed carefully, to be worn just moments before the interview.<br />
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I borrowed one from a class mate who did not get through to the interview. So I have my lunch, wear his new shirt and get on a mini van with the other students shortlisted for the interview. Here again, the others are doing some last minute preps. They have their thick text books and handy notes on formulas. I was on my way to get rejected again so I never bothered with a book. I was sure of it, I was actually thinking of the recruiters coming to our campus the next day and hoping I get placed then. We reached their guest house where we got some tea and biscuits. Its evening already and I'm wondering when it will all be over. They call in the candidates one by one. The tension in their faces are still in my memory, face covered with sweat before entering and disappointed eyes on the way out. I had no worries at all. I was just a filler. I knew that the moment they saw my scores and realised that I had a history of an arrear, they would definitely strike me out and I expected that to happen in the first 10 seconds of me entering the interview room. So I walk in with a smile and answer their questions to the best of my knowledge. Most of them were pertaining to the projects I had done and some casual questions about my background. 2-3 technical questions that I barely managed to answer before the final question "Define a ton of Refrigeration". I walked out a few minutes later still with a smile on my face and still zero expectations of getting through.</div>
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You know how sometimes you are sure that something is impossible but you still fantasise about how it would be if it happened. I didn't even fantasise about getting that job, not for a second. And then they came out to let us know who the selected candidates were and I was shocked to hear my name at the end. I got someone's dream job.</div>
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Forget probability, there was no permutation or combination where I could have got that job. Ever since, I have had a hard time with the concept of probability. Actually I have had a hard time with it ever since i failed in the subject in college. I could trust someone if they said it was possible or impossible but if they introduce a number or percentage probability, it unsettles me. Probabilities seem meaningless most of the time for people going through the event. The probability of a road accident is meaningless for someone who just experienced one. It is more useful for insurance companies. The probability of you clearing an entrance exam is useless to you but useful to entrance coaching centres. The probability of a bad marriage is not useful for the couple but useful to divorce lawyers in the country.<br />
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Have you seen the probability details shown in between the 2015 cricket world cup matches? Indian wins 85% of the times spinners take 4 wickets or more. What does that even mean? Is it helpful in any which way? What I am trying to say is, the word probability and the way it is expressed may seem scientific and reliable, but it is purely based on past experiences and not calculated based on merit or performance or nature of the task/event. Unlike the mileage figures of automobiles, events never happen in standard test conditions. When we do not trust mileage figures, why do we even consider probabilities?</div>
</div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-2789957109169196742014-06-08T23:01:00.001-07:002014-06-09T03:07:27.423-07:00Stillness In Motion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After the unrelenting heat of the past couple of months, I woke up today to the soothing sound of rain drops. Not actual rain drops, but the drops that lingered on the roof tops and leaves the night before and were slowly descending to the earth. It had rained the night before and the dull light from the frosted window showed a promise of more to come.<br />
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There were tasks lined up for the day and appointments to keep which seemed tiring till yesterday, but now they seem less tiring in this new setting. After some minor chores, I'm quick to get ready and leave for work. The streets seem deserted for a Monday morning. I feel like turning off the aircon and winding down the window but resist the urge, for the fear of water splashing inside. A few kilometres out and I'm on the road that joins the highway at the end. I can see the highway in the distance and clearly make out that it is raining a few hundred meters in front of me. I cannot tell if I'm moving towards the rain or the rain is moving towards me. It starts with small splashes here and there on the window, and soon the whole car, as if being devoured by the rain. Millions of droplets falling on every surface, some to rest, some to bounce off and some to replace the ones already there.<br />
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I turn on the indicator and the wiper as i enter the highway. I pick up speed through the less than usual traffic. I have to take the exit which is only a few kilometres away. As I stare ahead at the cars in front, spraying water behind them as they tread through the wet roads, heading towards a far away destination, I think of her. I wish the day was different. I wish i had woken up with her by my side and looked at the frosted glass together. I wish I was on this highway with her on my side, but not about to take the next exit.<br />
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I wish we had broken away from our routine, just brushed our teeth and left home, or even skip the brushing part. We enter the coastal highway and drive on along the sea. Windows lowered a bit, music in my ears, wind in my hair, her hand in mine, as we cruise through the different intensities of rain. We go farther away from where we are supposed to be, doing nothing that we are supposed to do. When we feel far enough, we stop for a sip of coffee from a road side shop, sitting on unbalanced chairs and looking at speeding cars through the steam coming from the cup. And then head further down, to find a deserted beach, where we lay on the sand and let our eyes drink from the ocean. The calm and at the same time restless surface, reflecting the dark clouds above, with no sign of the sun or the blue sky.We talk a lot but communicate a lot more. We lay there careless, not worrying about the sand in her hair, the time of the day, mistakes of the past or decisions of the future.<br />
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Maybe some other time, maybe after she comes back in town, maybe when there is less work, maybe if it rains on a sunday, but i want that day to come. Happy or sad or routine, everyday ends for a new one to begin, but I don't want that day to end, or i don't know how to end it. For now, I don't have to worry about it, because here comes my exit on the highway, my exit towards where i'm supposed to be. Or is it.....</div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-37810817018226613922014-05-29T00:34:00.002-07:002014-05-29T22:15:51.815-07:00The Invisible Glasses<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My exceptionally tall friend was on the phone, giggling in embarrassment, "Dude, Modi just killed it man." He hated Narendra Modi, who was winning the elections with the greatest majority in the history of India that day.<br />
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"The thing on everyone's agenda today at office is to pass some sarcastic comments at me or within hearing distance from me. I didn't know so many people work here man." He was open and loud about his hatred for Modi and his preference for AAP. Although he expected Modi to win, the margin was just too much for him to bear.<br />
<br />
The Godhra riots of 2002 is synonymous with Modi. Its the first thing that comes to mind when you hear his name, all around the world. My friend's hatred for Modi originates from this. Some time after the riots, one of his friend's father who was in the Gujarat police force at the time, had told him something to hint that Mr. Modi was indeed at fault. These words had formed such a strong picture of Modi for him that even though the person had not given any proof for his accusation, in my friend's mind that became the truth.<br />
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Casually browsing youtube, i chanced to come across this video of a TV interview of Narendra Modi just before the election. I was impressed by the way he spoke and presented himself. Although I'm aware of the riots, I haven't gone into the details and have not heard many people's opinion on the matter. So for me, it is just something I'm not sure about. Soon after the video was over, I glanced at the side pane and found some suggested videos and checked them too. A few videos in, I noticed that all the videos suggested to me were against the other parties contesting the elections and a few of them praising the BJP. I became a Modi supporter. A few hours of such browsing can completely change your opinion and preference on a subject, and this preference is not formed based on facts but on the representation of facts.<br />
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My friend does not know the real facts about the riot, the other person had merely presented some facts in such a way to impose his opinion on my friend. This happens all the time. To a point where, people get away with mixing a bit of lies in the presentation. For instance, in an election rally or an interview like the one I watched, politicians constantly give out some figures and infer that they are better than the opposition. But at the end of the interview does anyone go back and check if the figures are right? Or if the figures actually represent what the person inferred? The facts do not remain in your mind. What remains is an impression.<br />
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And it is rightly said that the first impression is the best impression. Because once you form a good impression about a party, you believe everything they say and claim that the opposition is lying. Once you form an opinion that a person is stupid or dumb, everything he says or does seems to resonate with your opinion, when in reality you do pretty much the same stuff yourself. The best part is that we never realise that our thoughts and opinions are being controlled. Makes me wonder if i really did chance upon that interview or was led there without my knowledge.<br />
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All these election campaigns, product advertisements, gossips, movies etc, influence our minds to such a great extent. We make so many decisions in our life not based on the truth but based on what we are told is true. You will always think your detergent brand is the best even though you haven't tried them all. Why should you test your theory, when actors in lab coats constantly come on television and tell you that they have done that? The other day, I saw this surf excel ad telling me that it has vibrating molecules which remove dirt. And initially the ad for Tang said that it has real fruit, and now it says it has the taste of real fruit. Don't get me started on the names they give to things they put in fairness creams.<br />
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So next time you feel hatred or love or any strong feeling towards a person, try to stop yourself and force your mind to feel the opposite. Give the bad guy the benefit of doubt. Assume that he may indeed be good and you're just not able to see it.<br />
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I have tried it and failed.</div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-87902351343636597472014-05-15T02:22:00.002-07:002014-05-15T02:22:54.379-07:00The Illusion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
She side-steps some dog poop as she begins her early morning jog of three laps around her home measuring a kilometre each. She would like to listen to some songs but because of the inconvenience of the wires and risk of accidents, she opts to sing them instead in her head. Its the peak of summer and she starts to sweat by the first turn. As she cuts left at the corner with the temple, she hears some strange animal cries similar to that of a crow. But as she approaches the overflowing garbage bin she spots the source which is a tiny little kitten in the middle of the road.<br />
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Her heart goes out to the poor thing, so small and fragile, probably shouting out to it's mother. The way it just about manages to keep one feet in front of the other and move in one particular direction, indicating that its just born.<br />
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She keeps running, hoping it's mother comes to her soon. Between the vehicles passing by and the crows flying above, such a small kitten in the middle of the road, shouting out like that, has no chance of survival. For a brief moment she considers taking it home if it survives till she completes her first lap, but then decides against it considering the number of stray cats already loitering around her house, specially the kitchen. As she turns around the temple with the dual coloured walls again, she finds the kitten at the same place, still shouting. She keeps running.<br />
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A couple of turns and a few hundred meters after the garbage bin, she begins to hear similar cries. This time from behind her and gaining on her. As if the kitten is chasing her. Before she could look back, the cries go past her, originating from a bike driven by a middle aged man and his daughter seated at the back. They are taking the kitten home. The kitten's fate had turned, just like that. From an almost zero chance of survival to a comfortable nine lives.<br />
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On her third round, she finds the place around the garbage bin empty and silent. Her mind lingers on the events that took place. Realising that the kitten would never know that its caretakers had saved it from inevitable death.<br />
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Again, a couple of turns and a few hundred meters ahead, at almost the same spot that the bike had overtaken her, she again hears some cries. This time its dogs, two of them following a third and dangling from the mouth of this dog was the kitten that had just been rescued. The kitten hung lifeless, held by its head. The dogs ran past her. She kept running.<br />
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She feels sad for the cat. The fact that the cat was almost rescued makes her feel worse. She had expected the kitten to die when it was crying near the rubbish bin, but not now. It was supposed to live. More than what happened, it is what she expected to happen that troubles her. Something good should always be followed by something better. Everything we get is forgotten or taken for granted. Not only do we expect to get something better, we are not prepared to lose something that we got before.<br />
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The kitten had never realised that it was in fatal danger in the first place and that it had been saved by that girl on the bike, who convinced her father to take it home. It had neither memory of the past nor expectations from the future. Everything in its life, including life itself, was temporary.</div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-53549915611168405842013-11-29T22:47:00.001-08:002013-11-30T00:13:48.655-08:00Business Idea #2 - Clean, Green Earning Machine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Idea number 1 and 3 were deleted because someone not as lazy as myself worked on their idea and brought it to the market before i could bring my lazy a#@ to the computer and type a few paragraphs about it.<br />
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Recently, my Mom was saying that dumping waste on the road was now punishable under law in Tamil Nadu with a fine or even imprisonment. Like always, i was quick to say that it will never be effective and the government will forget it even before the news spreads to all the citizens in the city. But then, measures such as these are designed to fail.<br />
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We do not live in a homogenous world. People in the same house are not alike and do not always concur on thoughts or actions. I would like to be in a clean environment and i'm prepared to spend x amount of time and money to make my environment clean. That does not mean that everyone in my house or my street or locality has the same thought process. But we all concur on one thought, "Let someone else start it"<br />
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We are so good at following. Half full garbage bins with more garbage strewn all around the bin are a common sight in this city. I wish there were cameras installed there, so that we could clean the place just once and wait and watch. The first person that dumps garbage outside the bin should receive a royal a#@ kicking because i feel it sets off a chain reaction. All of a sudden, it is now ok to dump garbage outside the bin because there is garbage already there.<br />
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When the process of making a place dirty is a chain reaction, so should be the process of cleaning. Instead of having a state wide law, we should start at a small place in slow pace.<br />
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Thats where this idea comes from. Take a locality in the city, lets say Nungambakkam. More specifically Loyola college. This is where it will start. We start by cleaning the campus and putting measures in place to keep it clean. Simple announcements by the dean and frequent bulletins will help immensely in this environment of almost like minded people. We learn from our mistakes and make constant improvements and establish a system that can be horizontally deployed. Next, we do not move to other colleges but jus outside the campus.<br />
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We tie up with the local businesses and schools and churches and expand the system to the streets and roads near the college. Place dust bins, employ cleaning staff, supply cleaning equipment and fix time tables. We should spread information and knowledge through these institutions to the people living and working the area on how the cleaning system works and what small things they can do to keep it working. Distribute leaflets to all houses in local languages and pictographic representations. Have a helpline number that would respond to any call in case there is a lapse in the system. Gather some media attention so that people even crossing the area become aware of the speciality and maintain the cleanliness.<br />
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Get in advertisers for the dust bins of cleaning staff uniform and expand slowly, street by street. Students of the college can form a special team that continuously studies the progress and also alerts of any lapses. At each step, it is important to check on the areas covered. It may take years to cover the city and perhaps decades for the state, but then, better late than never.</div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-67198981564019043322013-11-29T22:11:00.000-08:002013-11-30T20:09:20.797-08:00News This week<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
OUTCOME OF 2014 GENERAL ELECTIONS COULD SHAPE INDIA: GOLDMAN SACHS<br />
Saturday, 30th November, 2013 (Actual headline on front page of economic times)<br />
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In the most shocking of revelations, Goldman Sachs has said that the upcoming parliamentary elections could play an important part in shaping the future of the country. The government and the citizens of the country are equally in shock after this statement. The leading investment advisory firm based in the US have gone on to say that India needs to focus on reforms.<br />
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Finance Minister P Chidambaram said, "We did not see this coming. But then, these are investment advisory firms and their reports are based on a number of criteria assigned different weight ages. It is not necessary that they have to be true. We would like to assure the public that we are doing everything in our power to change the opinion of Goldman Sachs"<br />
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The report says that greater stress on reforms and the removal of infrastructure bottle necks may spur India's economic growth. "Firms like Goldman Sachs are such a boon to the world", Rajan said. "If it weren't for this report, we would never have known the secret to economic growth. I would like to emphasis that we are in a very safe position and are on track towards a zero inflation future." Sensex rose by 11 basis points after Mr. Rajan's statement.<br />
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We could only get a quick response from Rahul Gandhi, "What elections?"<br />
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NaMo responded to us through whatsapp, "I'm very good at shaping the future. Shaping is actually a passion that i have held close to my heart since my childhood. I have even managed to shape an image of myself as a secular and religiously unbiased lauda"<br />
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"typo *leader"<br />
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Our special correspondent whom we had sent to the Goldman Sachs office in the US was not available for comments since he had apparently missed his connecting flight from Hawaii.<br />
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As the nation is gripped by this report, it prepares itself for the high octane mega budget drama that is the general elections 2014.</div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-73686017172402257882013-10-28T23:50:00.001-07:002013-10-29T09:15:23.049-07:00Irritant<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I was employed with a commercial Vehicle manufacturer in the past, we studied the various things that can go wrong in a vehicle. These faults / complaints were grouped under different categories and each one was given a rating of sorts depending on the severity and dis comfort to the customer. There was one category called "Irritant". That was sub divided into two, Major and Minor irritants. These were small complaints that would not lead to any monetary loss but still concerned the customers, like a rattling door or squeaky passenger seat or stuff like that. But one should not under estimate the power of minor irritants.<br />
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When i can sit and learn and lecture on what irritates others, why not have my own list? So here it is,</div>
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1. My latest irritation (and what prompted me on this topic) is the new BB pin thingy. Seriously what the hell? As if the unwanted number of messenger services and their lousy ads on TV were not enough. Now terrorists don't have to go to the extent of encoding or decoding their messages, they can transmit messages through one of the messengers and the government would take forever to find the right one. Our generation, sorry, great generation, has the power of communicating infinite number of non sense messages, moral lectures, photographs that are a waste of disk space and 3g data to infinite number of people through infinite mediums.</div>
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2. Filthy advertisements. Not the ones that you don't want young kids to see, but the ones that the advertisers themselves don't want you to see or notice. I have done some little study and come to understand that some people have the power to switch off their minds during advertisements. They are clearly watching the ad, but if you ask them something about it, they say they didn't listen. Sadly, I do not have this super power. That is why i get irritated when every week, some cosmetic or soap company comes up with a new chemical element that can make your skin look better. I think all the research they do is finding words that are not in any dictionary. Only if they were sure that the listeners aren't really listening, they can come up with soaps that are made of fruit milk shakes, face wash with magnet action and deodorants that smell like chocolate. I think within the advertising circle, the power of your beauty cream is determined by how ugly you make your model look before they use the cream. Something that put me off recently is the Tang ad. Initially, the mother says that the new Tang has fruit inside. But recent ads have changed the wordings. Now the mother says that the new tang has the taste of fruit. Same ad but changed voiceover. I don't know why, there is no logical explanation, but this highly irritates me.</div>
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3. Real Estate. An ad not so far in the future. "<i>Are you looking for a home in Chennai? Look no further. ABC builders (my intention is to quote a random name but i'm pretty sure there is some builder by that name already) is here to solve your problem. Just a 2 hours flight journey from Chennai airport is our lush villa style houses ready for occupancy".</i> Advertisements are everywhere. It is impossible to escape them. There are already premium TV channels that do not have ads. Slowly there will be premium radio and premium internet browsers that will block all ads. Then there will be a time when customers will be paid to watch/read/listen to ads.<br />
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4. High beam head lamps. This is the most irritating experience of driving in India. At least 50% of the drivers always have their head lights on high beam. Most of them are bikers. I fail to understand how they cannot notice that they are flashing their lights on faces and not the road. This, and a lot of other things root from our deeply engraved misunderstanding of FREEDOM.<br />
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Our freedom is more important than the freedom of others around us. People are entitled to make their own choice, so they go around choosing. Choosing to cross when the signal is red, choosing what their children would graduate in, choosing where their wives should work, choosing when their sons should marry and choosing whom their daughters should marry. We believe we are right, we are more experienced and we know what is best for everyone. Do we?<br />
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Assume we have a choice. The most important choices will never have a sure, definite, time bound, quantifiable result. Like buying a home, choosing your spouse, etc. And if a choice has a sure, definite, time bound, quantifiable result, then they are most likely insignificant decisions. Like ordering your food, selecting clothes, etc. Coming to the significant decisions, there is really no way of telling for sure that your decision was wrong. One cannot say that it would have been better if one had selected option B instead of option A because of the simple reason that one did not select option B. The comparison becomes between something real and existent with something that does not, cannot and will not exist. We exercise great strengths of imagination to create this parallel universe where we have made all the right decisions in life, just to gain a feeling of regret or hatred towards life as it is.<br />
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Some may lecture on the concept of probability. The probability of success in class B is higher than the probability of success in class A. Try that lecture on someone who has survived a plane crash or a family who lost a loved one in a lightening strike. The number loses all its charm once you become part of the statistics.<br />
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You had a choice to read this article or skip it. I have consumed 3 minutes of your life and given you nothing in return. But don't regret it, because you would have to spend another minute doing that.</div>
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Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-46089703317195724342013-07-24T02:13:00.001-07:002013-07-24T02:13:47.282-07:00On a roll<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am sitting in my office going through my blog after a long time, almost a year, determined to add something today. There are a few ideas i had drafted in the past year but none of them seem interesting once they are typed out in black and white. I guess things are a lot colourful when they are inside your head. I start to dwell on a new topic, try to build on it, check a few things online and finally give up when i reach an article on brain death. I cross my hands on the desk and rest my forehead on them and close my eyes for a bit. Getting the idea out of my head, thinking of removing the blog's bookmark from my browser. Thinking... thinking...<br />
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<i><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Suddenly the office door is kicked open from the outside and three men enter. One leading and two following, dressed in shabby clothes and looking like none of them has seen water for a week except for when they mix it with their drinks, which i'm guessing took place just before they came over. Having spotted me, they come straight towards me making loud noises with their mouths and also by moving objects in their path. Startled as they come closer, i begin to ask them who they are and what they want but before i can complete the first word, the leader pulls out a gun from inside and places it on my forehead and asks, "Are you Midhun?"</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i>
<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Should i say "Yes"? Do </i><i>they want me alive and don't mind killing the people who aren't me?</i></span><br />
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<i><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Now I should be saying "No". They are obviously looking to for me and in all probability they want to kill me. They don't look like they care of the consequences and they definitely don't look like the practical joking types.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">"Are you Midhun?" He shouts again, this time the other two get excited and kick at the table and chair.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">"Yes", i stammer. Honesty is the best policy?</span></i><br />
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<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>He pulls the trigger. </i><i>BANG!! </i></span><br />
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I get up. What if something like that really happened? What would happen to me after a death like that. Would there be a me? Would i be in heaven or hell? When would that be decided? Is it already decided? Because the gruesome death that i just went through should be accounted while judging my life. That and all the years that i could not live must have nullified all the wrong that i have done. And some more. I imagine i must be in some place in between where the decision is taken. Standing in front of the judging entity or in a line to meet the judging entity. That person standing in line, does he look like me? would i be carrying my body or would it be just my thoughts or conscience looking like a cloud? Wait a minute....<br />
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What if there is no heaven or hell the way we think? What if i don't leave my body? My mind just goes into infinite sleep. I can only dream. I can dream everything, sweet ones and nightmares. Maybe, if i have lived good enough, i get to see only good dreams and if i have done wrong, there would be nightmares playing in endless loops. That looks pretty much like heaven and hell. but wait a minute....<br />
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What would happen to my body? That body lying lifeless on that office chair with blood dripping through the leather, to the floor. It would be a mess indeed, taking hours to clear the body, days to clean the place and weeks to get rid of the furniture and still people would hesitate to enter the office for a few months to come. It would take a year for the body tissues to decompose depending on the depth of burial and the waterlogged in the soil and many decades for the bones to become brittle enough to.... Wait a minute....<br />
<i><br /></i>
The guy pulls the trigger, igniting the gun powder in the bullet to set it in motion. The bullet leaves the barrel and enters my head, the time reduced considerably because of the nil distance between the two. It penetrates the skin without any fall in speed. I guess i'm still alive at this point. The sensation of pain racing against the bullet to reach my brain first. The bullet boring through the skull taking it some effort before entering the brain. The soft brain tissues easily burning away to give way to the hot piece of metal that comes out through the back and then through the black chair before finally coming to rest on the wall behind me.<br />
<br />
Boy...... If i could write at the speed of my thoughts........</div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-41053560942131347962012-09-13T03:26:00.003-07:002012-09-13T03:26:34.363-07:00A Conversation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"Have you thought about organ donation?", he asked, after searching for topics to discuss. Its been almost a year since they were married. An ordinary couple.<br />
<br />
"Not really, but where did that come from suddenly?", she replied. Aware that the subject, like many others, would have come to his mind before.<br />
<br />
"Just making conversation. One of the topics that interests me. I have been hearing some ads on the radio encouraging it.", shifting the gear up as they enter the highway.<br />
<br />
"I don't know... have you thought about it?", taking more interest. In their busy schedule, they rarely get time to discuss matters that are not really important. Things that she picks up during the day, making a mental note to talk about it later when they are together and have the time. She makes another note to write them down in the future.<br />
<br />
"Not seriously, but yes. People don't really need the organs once they die. If it makes someone's life better, its a good thing to donate. What the.... Did you see at what speed he went by? I bet he won't have anything worth donating if he crashes,"<br />
<br />
"That maybe one of your school buddies going to the same wedding reception as we."<br />
<br />
"Probably. Its not everyday that people get to drive their cars at double digit speeds for a continuous 5 minutes. Another advantage of keeping the reception at the outskirts" noticing that smile on her face. Its different from the smile she has on other occasions. All her work left behind and a long weekend ahead, this one is a rare combination of happiness and peace, something we all pray for and there it is. Just like that.<br />
<br />
"I agree", getting back to the topic. "It is a good thing to donate. Imagine someone who is blind gets vision one day. They get to see how their parents and siblings look like, how their food looks like. How <i>they</i> look like"<br />
<br />
"How flowers look as good as they smell." he adds. "How the sun looks as warm as it feels."<br />
<br />
"Or if someone gets a new heart, the load that would get off their minds. How their family would rejoice?" Her imagination getting her high<br />
<br />
"They can start worrying about the next Speilberg movie or the latest government scam instead of their next heart attack and raising medical bills", suddenly that sales target and raising fuel prices seem silly to him.<br />
<br />
"The donors would never be forgotten. They would be seen as Gods by these people"<br />
<br />
"All that for giving away something you won't be needing. Initially there was that reservation about donating eyes that the donor would not have eyes during the funeral. But i hear that nowadays they replace them with dummy eyes or something so that they won't notice the difference", Adding another reason to donate.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I've heard that too. But then they also say that the success rate is very low. The probability that a donor's eye, heart or kidney would end up being used is very less. The probability of a successful transplant and a healthy life for the patient is even lesser."<br />
<br />
"Oh yes. When dad had been to the doctor for his liver problem, the doctor was expressing his sympathy for his liver transplant patients who even after very rarely successful transplants, live like patients who are in constant danger of fatal infections."<br />
<br />
"And its the same case with blood donations. The probability of someone's donated blood being useful is very less."<br />
<br />
"But I still feel its worth it. Its like our reservation system. The chances of a worthy candidate getting the appropriate aid may be very less, but i say hundred donations are worth it even if it gives at least one person and his family a better future." Bringing the car to a halt in front of the hotel lobby, "pick up the gift from the back seat, would you?"<br />
<br />
"Ok. Hey! is my hair ok?" she enquired, adjusting the sides a bit.<br />
<br />
He peeps back in, "You look gorgeous honey" with a smile, before turning to the valet boy.<br />
<br />
The couple proceed to the reception, have a great time and a sumptuous meal, and drive back home. This time a new subject, something to do with her colleague who joined another company few years back and now came back to the old company as boss to someone who was his boss before he left.<br />
<br />
The topic of organ donation may come up again as something less important or may never come up again. Is it the fear of committing to something that isn't really in our hands? We don't know when, where or how we'll die.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Or is it the belief that there is still time left? A feeling that we are not destined to die so early, or god loves us and our family too much to put us through the pain, or there are so many things left to do that we just can't afford to, or don't have the time to die. When you see those accidents on the road, have you wondered what that person was planning in his life? What was he planning to do that weekend? How many parallel futures of people related to him were disturbed and in some cases destroyed?</div>
<br />
Or is it the hesitation to think about one's death? Maybe the thought sets in motion a chain of other thoughts that relate to our death. Like our will, or our bucket list, or something that we want to achieve in our lives, or some mistake that we want to correct before we leave the world, or the fate and future of our families when we are gone. No. We can't die now. Not possible. Or is it?<br />
<br />
"No matter how rich you become, how famous or powerful, when you die, the size of your funeral will still pretty much depend on the weather." - Micheal Pritchard</div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-62024617840453273892012-09-07T04:05:00.001-07:002012-09-12T04:53:56.970-07:003 is greater than 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A common problem with people when they drink is that they want everyone within a 4.79 meter radius of them to drink too. If you happen to be in such company and are not the drinking types, then be prepared for a 10 minute lecture on the health benefits of drinking alcohol followed by a 5 minute brief on how it relaxes the body mind and soul. To check if you understood the concept, the offer to drink would be extended to you every 5 minutes in between other discussions till they are in their senses. Once they start loosing that, you'll be tried in the court of law for the crime of not drinking and making them look like irresponsible citizens.<br />
<br />
So this time, i gave in at the fifth minute. A beer and a few burps seemed like a more energy saving option. We were in a hotel room, 11 PM, the three of us, after a very very long day. There are some trips that you can never forget in your life because of certain incidents that happened. May be an accident, or a close escape, or getting into trouble with the cops, or sharing the passenger seat with your crush who friendzoned you at the end of the trip. There were no such incidents in this trip but i can never forget this one.<br />
<br />
I live in Chennai and the other two (Nikhil and Sagar) live in Bangalore. We had planned this one for a few weeks. To meet at Bangalore and then go somewhere and do something fun. I started in the Innova, early on a saturday morning. The plan was to reach Bangalore, pick up the guys and head out to Sangam (a place where 2 rivers meet) and Barachukki falls which were around 150 Kms from Bangalore and about 40 Kms apart, and reach back to Bangalore. I picked up Nikhil at around 1 and he started listing out reasons why we should be sitting in a cinema hall and follow it up with a burger instead of starting out so late without planning any accommodation blah blah blah. Sagar was out with his cousin who had come to Bangalore, so he was out. Its a wonder how relatives manage to fly in at such crucial times. However, the trip was called off, almost. I didn't drive all the way to Bangalore on a weekend to pay for weekend premium tickets to watch some movie sad enough to be still selling tickets. So I talked Sagar into ditching his cousin. Nikhil didn't need convincing, i was driving. Change of plans. Pick up Sagar and spare clothes, drive to Sangam, pass time, drive to Barachukki, have fun, sleep in the car, wake up, drive back.<br />
<br />
Again, i would like to mention that there was nothing crazy in this trip. It did not remind us of "Zindagi naa Milegi dobara", although we did take a few pics based on the movie poster. You could call it a "Dil chahtha hai" type of trip, minus the mercedes, and the beach, and the girls, and the boat. Anyways, there was one factor that was common in these movies and our trip, we were 3. Its a magical number. Less than 3 and there is only one conversation in which you necessarily have to participate. More than 3 and there will be multiple conversations and you are left out. When there are 3, there is still only one conversation, but you have a choice to participate. You can doze off and wake up to some keyword and join the conversation again. You are never left out and there is always a conversation in progress.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTObRw3kcfcmDP0HTyHMY6zSeHRS-pUfvQ79nuAaZwgp0oe3FqEHSe2faMJf8Gx8GQC7DgJ5oV1m3gJYXJjzQg15kfUv6E7fQFmNYM0OyvS5BUZNZpQCkZHdDkk6Vl8-95kaD5yLhZHrxb/s1600/2011-07-17+08.45.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTObRw3kcfcmDP0HTyHMY6zSeHRS-pUfvQ79nuAaZwgp0oe3FqEHSe2faMJf8Gx8GQC7DgJ5oV1m3gJYXJjzQg15kfUv6E7fQFmNYM0OyvS5BUZNZpQCkZHdDkk6Vl8-95kaD5yLhZHrxb/s320/2011-07-17+08.45.39.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The trip was never planned to be great. Just 3 professionals taking a peaceful break from the routine weekend. But everything seemed to go our way. The weather was just fantastic, the roads and routes just perfect, safe fun in the river, playing Jhonty Rhodes in waist deep water, found a very decent place to stay the night (enter alcohol), woke up early on sunday (that is a great achievement in such a group), took a boat close enough to the waterfall to touch the water, got wet in a smaller waterfall, some very memorable pics, and the drive back to Bangalore to have tandoori for lunch.<br />
<br />
There were these moments in between, like when i was lying in the rear seat with my feet hanging out the window, and using the window as a sunroof, singing some classic songs together, discussing non sense. At these moments there is a feeling of real satisfaction with life. Weekends like these make the troubles of the other days worth it. I forget my boss, my dad's expression when i said i'm taking the car to Bangalore, that cool new laptop which is on my wishlist for sometime, everything is gone. There are no regrets, life suddenly seems perfect. I wish this weekend never ends but i don't regret the fact that it will. I'm ready to face the world. I've recharged myself.<br />
<br />
We always plan trips, most of the time they don't happen, other times they don't go according to plan. This was one trip where we got exactly what we wanted, a memorable break. A weekend to cherish, photos to upload, and a story to tell. There cannot be another one like it, but we still wish.........<br />
<br /></div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-89325261605332733752012-07-08T23:22:00.000-07:002012-07-08T23:22:00.890-07:00I Close My Eyes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"You never call me. Actually, no one calls me. Even if they do, they wanna talk to your grandfather, not me.", My grandmother complained with tears in her eyes. She was wearing this night gown that my mom had bought during our last visit, after searching a lot. People of her size (10-12 yr olds) prefer frocks and night dress (shirt and pant). She is so tiny that you feel like Goliath sitting next to her. I had gone to visit her and grandpa in Kerala after my wedding to show them the lucky girl, since they could not make it to the wedding in Chennai due to their delicate physical condition. These are my Mom's parents, aged around 90 years. My Dad's father passed away many years ago while grandma visits frequently. She's fit enough to travel, although not comfortably.<br />
<br />
My grandparents have their separate room. They live in the family home, taken care of by one of their sons and his family. One of 10 children that this fragile being managed to give birth to. Their room has no fan since it causes discomfort to both of them. I have no memory of my grandmother being anything close to good health. She's always been weak and tired. Grandpa is quite different. Until a few years ago, my grandfather was exceptionally healthy and fit. He used to carry out a vast range of house hold chores. And house hold chores in Kerala is a whole different ball game. It includes milking and feeding the cows and clearing their stable, churning rubber and making compressed sheets after extracting the fluid from the trees and plucking fruits and vegetables from the surrounding trees whenever one of their children decides to visit them. He had a very healthy set of teeth and never wore a piece of footwear in his lifetime. The only physical issue he had was that his hearing was low. We had to speak a bit louder for him to listen, which was never really a problem. I think old age got to him at the end. He grew weaker and slower. His visits to the rubber dealer were replaced by the visits to the hospital. Now, he barely manages to go to the church across the street on Sundays. The church that was built on his major contribution of time and money. It pains to see these people of such magnificent strength and character, now reduced to mere humans struggling to get through the rest of their lives. Every activity, from waking up in the morning to breathing throughout the day takes so much struggle that you wish from deep inside, if there was anything you can do to release them from their suffering. All these thoughts run through my mind as soon as i enter the room and find both of them awake on their separate beds breathing heavily interrupted by groans of pain. But the moment they see us, and start talking, the mood changes.<br />
<br />
I asked this tiny creature how she found my girl for which she replied that she's perfect for me, with the most genuine smile that you can imagine. Grandpa was a bit critical when he said, "She's nice. There are a few defects but thats natural. She's a fine girl". When i asked him what defects he saw, he said that he would disclose that to anyone but me. Over the years I've got to hear a very few words from my grandpa but they have had more meaning and wit to it than i can contemplate. My grandparents are a funny lot. Even at her age, we can afford to make fun of grandma, about her tiny outline and her huge asthma inhaler, and she would laugh along with us with a few coughs in between. A few more minutes with them and you realize that they have accepted their life the way it is. They complain of the pain and discomfort and silently pray for it to subside. I hear them, see their suffering, feel their fragile hands, and i close my eyes. I close my eyes to their suffering. I try to forget their pain and converse normally. To avoid complaints and dwell in jokes. They play along. Because they know that I cannot give them any physical comfort. Its our presence that they long for more. To talk to them, laugh with them, show some love and care, call them. I had decided to call them every month to start with. Been 2 months and i haven't called them yet. Grandma was hospitalized soon after our visit and then brought back home. Mom says its difficult for her to talk over phone now. I know what i should do, but i close my eyes. I close my eyes to the simplest of their heart's desires. I give my reasons for not doing it, but can't manage to convince myself. When i can do so much good, with so less effort. Sin is not always something we do, it can be something we don't.<br />
<br />
Before leaving, my grandfather advised my wife, "Never do everything that your husband wants, understand his parent's needs and you will have a happy family". My mother recounts that he said the exact same words when he married her off to my Dad. (A love story that i have saved for later)</div>Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-67073156794969061862012-03-05T02:53:00.000-08:002012-03-05T02:53:52.883-08:00Congratulations<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
All my friends, who are getting married this year are broadly classified into two categories. a) Ones getting married before me, b) Ones getting married after me.<br />
<br />
But seriously, whats with all the weddings? School friends, college mates, colleagues, acquaintances, family friends. Wedding bells everywhere, every week. I don't see any weekend in the near future where I've to eat home made food. And there is variety too, hindu marriages, muslim weddings, christian weddings, arrange marriages, love marriages, even register"ed" marriages. I suppose the rumor, about the world ending in 2012 is having its effects, or is it something like the Arab springs where one wedding gives a signal for the others in the group that its time. I think I'm part of that generation which is in the "find a partner" stage. Most of us, who couldn't get into top universities in and out of the country after graduation and are too cozy in the current job to think of a shift, are now moving in to the next phase of life. The settled life. But can life ever be "settled"?<br />
<br />
In fact, everything is unsettled even before the wedding. Your routine, diet, dressing, music playlists, everything goes for a toss. Even mobile bills are unsettled. Literally. Its not only you, people around you are unsettled. All of a sudden there is this special interest by family members in how much you eat, what you wear, length of your hair. Some people say you look fat, some people say you look slim. Few people suggest the parlor, others suggest the gym. Notice the rhyming there??? Even friends and colleagues are in on the fun. The bachelors look at you with pity and the married look at you with a grin. Every smile, every mistake, every success, every comment, every mis step is inevitably force linked to your partner, which is not completely untrue.<br />
<br />
The engagement marks the beginning of this unsettlement. It starts with the engagement dress. All this time you would have come across so many suits that look so damn great, but when you go out to get one, they all seem to be hidden or sold the day before you started out. The number of people coming with you for shopping makes all the difference. If you ask me, 3-5 is the best number, including yourself. Less than that, you'll end up getting something that only you and your spouse (if she is sweet enough) would like. More than that and you will end up losing time and patience and finally get something that you'll start to hate even before you bill it. After all that, if you manage to get something you like, Dad says its too unorthodox, Mom says it doesn't suit the skin color, Grandma doesn't like the tie, you end up hating your own face. (especially in my case due to some last minute skin treatments). After this, the wedding preparations begin. Here, you start to appreciate the Indian government and the way they are able to pass bills in the parliament or make decisions, whereas a family of single digit members find it difficult to select a wedding card.<br />
<br />
But something that shines through all this is the genuine happiness and enthusiasm of all family and friends. New family members, new friends, more treats, friendly comments, wedding purchases, more wedding purchases, printing invitations, family photos, travel plans, leave applications and more wedding purchases. Every one is excited and its contagious. As the wait nears its end, everything seems perfect. The pink tie, the bad make up, the font on the wedding card, the stage, the rings. This period of happiness and joy gives hope for better times ahead. Great times, filled with love and companionship. To share this ordinary life with someone extraordinary.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrNbLMXcy7SMDDP8k2l3q0BHqQ1ANO9yBh1YOH1eAMEcNxxD1CkngfaNmxMoR1KWnDQQCprAfJvMhHiXExMfS2BbdA5alO3WHvGChnvkiR9W-d-dXI_l7ItDiBvgiTRpHfMC0qv6Nb0XrO/s1600/DSC_0174+copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrNbLMXcy7SMDDP8k2l3q0BHqQ1ANO9yBh1YOH1eAMEcNxxD1CkngfaNmxMoR1KWnDQQCprAfJvMhHiXExMfS2BbdA5alO3WHvGChnvkiR9W-d-dXI_l7ItDiBvgiTRpHfMC0qv6Nb0XrO/s400/DSC_0174+copy.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Some days are long, some days are short,<br />
Most days i dream... (dot dot dot)</div>Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-33221755670968482742011-12-16T01:58:00.000-08:002011-12-16T01:58:57.437-08:00Please don't ask me to sing....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As I'm standing close to the sofa, with what I'm picturing as the worst imitation of a smile across my face, there is only one thought on my mind, "How in the world did i get myself into this!!"<br />
<br />
Its sunday afternoon, and my initial plans of getting off work early yesterday were rejected in favour of taking the day off. Obviously the occasion called for preparations of epic proportions. Clothes that are to be sanctioned for approval by my dad and a dozen other relatives, clean shave like i'm auditioning for a Gillette ad, perfumed in case they wanna smell me and hair, cut short and neat just in case the country goes to war tomorrow and there is an urgent need for not so tall army men. My future fiancee's relatives are coming to see the boy and family that their girl is going to deal with for the rest of her life. Whoever said that marriages are made in heaven was probably not from India. Here, marriages are not merely made, they are manufactured. The raw materials (boy + girl) enter the process and go through a million steps before they take the first step together. Each step requires agents (family, relatives and friends) and there are a hundred ways of doing every step. Of course, there are some basic rules that apply. Like today, they didn't bring the girl along (according to tradition, i'm told). I guess our ancestors got tired of girls complaining that things are completely different from what they saw before and after marriage.<br />
<br />
The thing about marriage, be it love or arranged or 12 different combinations of these words that people come up with, is that it puts the raw materials (boy and girl) through so many weird and awkward situations. Its like falling in love. You end up doing a lot of crazy stuff and later laugh it off or feel good about it. Like the day when we first went to her house to see her (as if we haven't seen her before). The point to be noted here is that the girl is first hidden. After initial round of discussion on the weather and how politicians should be assassinated, there is a request from our side to see the girl. She responds to her father's call and presents herself in front of us. Now this is the most awkward moment even for the guy, I can't even imagine what she is going through. At this moment, all the people gathered around take a good look at the girl. Even her own people take a look from head to toe, just to make sure the face, hands, tummy and other parts are her own. Then, normally there is a question to the guy if he wants to talk to the girl alone. This did not happen in my case, since we had already passed that awkward moment a few weeks back. As i said, there are a hundred ways of doing each step of the process. After a few more of those embarrassing minutes for the girl and "am i supposed to do or say something" minutes for the boy, the girl is sent back in. Hidden safely from the world till the next step where her presence is required.<br />
<br />
You would think that it is very unfair on the girl and she is being treated like some "thing" which is showcased. But on the contrary, these procedures are followed because the girl is of immense value to the family. Any guy intending to take her hand cannot just come and see her. The family hides the girl and makes sure that the boy and his family are worthy enough to even look at her with the intention of marrying her. Only if they feel that the boy is up to their expectations, that their daughter would be happy with this family, that these people could be trusted, they let them see the girl. And when the boy's family looks at her, its not just her physical beauty that they study. This girl is the one. What their son becomes tomorrow, depends on this girl. The world will see his achievements, his failures, his character, his financial status, his talents, his mistakes. All of which are not his but theirs. She is the other half of their son. So i wouldn't blame them for ogling at her. If you observe closely, all the undocumented steps in the manufacturing process (marriage), have an inner meaning similar to this. Everything in India is not against women. There are crap like female foeticide, sati and dowry that are seriously sickening. But in most parts of the country and in all the family matters, women were, are and will be of prime importance.<br />
<br />
The awkward moments of silence and my chain of thoughts are suddenly broken by her father's casual voice "So... This is the boy." motioning me to come to the centre, so that they can get a better view and also check if I walk normally. The tricks these agents play... "If you people wanna ask him something or make him do something like sing or recite a prayer, Now is the time". My smile growing wider, i pray they don't spot my false tooth....</div>Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-32487012268072815172011-10-29T00:46:00.000-07:002011-10-29T00:46:53.945-07:00Power dressing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm not the kind of person who's into fashion and stuff. Not very concerned of what dress i wear to what occasion. Well, that was what i thought, but recently i've realized that i was like that a couple of years back. A reflection on my recent buying habits reveals quite the contrary. I'm quite specific about my clothes. There was a time when my mom used to curse me for not dressing appropriately for church or any other occasions for which i had to tag along with them, but that was some time back. I think the transition started when i started buying clothes with my own money. I already have a plan of what clothes i'll be buying next. It has to be a dark blue jean, a fitting all black kurta and a t shirt with light purple horizontal stripes and yellow collar. Not to be worn at the same time of course. I have picked up the idea from various sources, some of which are figments of my imagination.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ZECUKT_hggK453UYwrjIYTHwG68PeF7nF3JPcvp2RbNFsAO7PPOgMxW4gcRzvRfqho8gd2Y9ygSut1FJf3zGm1hTbEwLQTdOFJzUfS20zifpGGAuTh7O0U9MCFDckqLwjXSVo-qgAqlJ/s1600/stock-photo-the-worker-in-uniform-and-hardhat-with-wrench-isolated-on-white-51196255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ZECUKT_hggK453UYwrjIYTHwG68PeF7nF3JPcvp2RbNFsAO7PPOgMxW4gcRzvRfqho8gd2Y9ygSut1FJf3zGm1hTbEwLQTdOFJzUfS20zifpGGAuTh7O0U9MCFDckqLwjXSVo-qgAqlJ/s320/stock-photo-the-worker-in-uniform-and-hardhat-with-wrench-isolated-on-white-51196255.jpg" width="204" /></a>There is an idea that has been fascinating me for quite sometime. One that i find really amusing and would like to try out sometime. I like the idea of over dressing. completely inappropriate dressing actually. Imagine a few neighborhood friends just randomly decide to go to the local restaurant for dinner. One that serves only a handful of dishes and with a maximum of one waiter. All of them would be in their bare casuals, shorts, sleeveless, bathroom slippers, etc. Now imagine one of them turns up in sherwani. Gold colored with all hand work done in silver. Or imagine a guy wearing a king's attire complete with the sword and turban going to a mall to meet his girl friend waiting for him in t shirt and jeans. Or a guy wearing a full suit for playing football with his son. Wait a minute, i think raymond took that idea for an ad. And then, this one i actually witnessed, a guy working in a corporate, wearing a red t-shirt and blue jean mechanic uniform (See attached pic, remove the helmet) to a colleague's wedding. I could not resist the temptation to click a photo with him.<br />
<br />
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But it all ends there. Come to think of it, boys have shamefully less choices for clothes. No wonder we don't take time for shopping. Just think about it, if a guy wants some clothes to adorn on the lower part of his body his choices are two. Trousers or shorts with a combination of materials varying from cotton to jean to baggy. I'm not counting 3/4ths. They look good * provided you are the beach and topless with a body that you can dare to flaunt. But look at the choices a woman has. There is micro, mini, short, 3/4ths, full length and extra length. And there is a choice of pants or skirts in all those sizes. Don't even get me started on the choice of salwars. There is a new salwar born with every new actress in tinsel town. Thats more than the number of movies released in that period. There are even different ways and styles of wearing a saree. Try wearing your t shirt inside out and people are thinking you are having a hangover. In fact, i think the sherwani was a desperate attempt to catch up with them ladies. More of a revenge for stealing the lungi and calling it a skirt.<br />
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I think there should be some progress in the evolution of our clothes. All those sci-fi movies about the future show awesome cars and buildings and electronic devices but the guys are almost always wearing the same old shirts and trousers. Time for a change.</div>Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-40314762114411167812011-09-19T00:23:00.000-07:002011-09-19T00:23:25.326-07:004700 kilometers from home...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"Slow down." My dad said to my brother, who was driving us to the airport. It was 4:30 AM in the morning.<br />
"Some smart ass cops wait just around the airport at this time, waiting for people like us. They are sure to extract some cash, given that no one would like to miss a flight." he continued, "And, make sure the plumber comes and repairs the motor today. Take care of your mother and sisters"<br />
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Myself and my father are to board a flight at 6:30 AM from Chennai to Delhi and a 12 noon flight from Delhi to a foreign country. My first trip abroad. It was an official trip. We were importing some machinery for our industry. There was some excitement before the trip but as the day of the trip comes near, there is this lazy feeling to pack and leave. Happens to me on every trip. The same feeling recurs when coming back from any new place. Feel lazy to pack and go back home. A silly desire to procrastinate the journey.<br />
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Waiting in line for the security check at Delhi, i noticed this lady walking across counters showing some papers. I'm guessing, she had missed her flight and checking for the next flight for her destination. She was a little fat and as if carrying herself around was not stressful enough, She was carrying this heavy duffle bag which her 8-9 year old son was constantly kicking from behind. She must have been cursing herself for buying him those shoes with lights on them. He was apparently under the impression that the lights blink brighter based on the intensity of the kick. Mothers..... you got to hand it to them (leg it to them in this case). There is something with lines/queues in India. There should be a survey to find out what percentage of lines actually move. Either there are people constantly cutting in between, or one person standing to represent his whole joint family, or the people at the counter are working two jobs, one of which is outside the counter. Next was a 6 hour flight. The choices on the in-flight entertainment were so many that i opted to sleep rather than decide and sit through a whole movie. Sometimes i wish i knew just one language. We reached the destination and a long drive to the hotel where we settled for the night.<br />
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Next day we had a heavy continental breakfast at the hotel since my father had warned that getting "our kind of food" would be difficult for the rest of the day. We met the exporter who is sourcing the machines from different industries in his country. He took us to the bus station, booked us on a 3 hour bus to a nearby town where one our machines were ready for trial. Waiting for the bus to arrive, i casually glanced around and felt, "This is strange, i don't feel like i'm in some other country." Apart from the faces around us, there was nothing noticeably different. It was as if i was in a different city in my own country. A more developed city perhaps. Huge, creatively designed architectural sights were everywhere. It looked a lot cleaner than my city. Not that i'm complaining. One thing that i felt strongly was that whatever was done in this country was done well and complete. For instance, every street light worked and they glowed with the same intensity. Whereas, from where i come from, there are no street lights in some places, half of the available do not work, some of the other half are stolen and the very few that work glow with different brightness and colours. That description actually sounds like a city of disco lights. Anyways, the point is that even though there were these differences, i didn't feel alien here. i did not realize that my skin colour was different from theirs. There was no awkward stare from anyone. Seemed like a very comfortable place.<br />
<br />
Then it happened. My first purchase. We needed some water for the journey, so i went into a nearby departmental store. Chaos. There were so many 500 ml / 300 ml bottles of substance that looked like water but the fancy labels and writings suggested that they were something else. Except for the numerals, nothing else was in English. I took one of them and went over to the counter and asked the lady (a pretty one) if this was indeed the elixir of life. For which she typed the numerals 2 on her calculator and passed it on to me. I tried my hand at sign language for which she raised her hands in surrender. Lesson learnt: English is not their second or third language and the calculator is a very very effective tool for bargaining in a foreign country. I took 2 of those bottles along with a soft drink which i identified by a familiar logo and a packet of biscuits who's manufacturer got a wild idea of having a picture of the biscuit on the wrapper rather than pictures of dolls and rabbits like the others. Then we were off on our journey. the bus was scheduled at 11:30 AM and when the digital clock in the bus struck 11:30, the bus started backing out of the station. Out of curiosity, i tried to switch on the reading light over my head. They never work in the buses in my country. And what do you know, it did not work there either. I had a silent fist pump before moving the curtains to get the view of the city and the journey ahead.<br />
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On one of these bus journeys, i was seated next to one of the locals. I had this app on my mobile which translates from english to their language. Tried my hand at that for a while and made conversation but it was only one way. By the time I figured out a way for him to type in his language, he seemed annoyed by my enthusiasm. By the time we reached our destination, I ended up spending around 700 bucks on the gprs used for translation and download to know that he was 30 years old, was married and had a girl child. Who said information is cheap??<br />
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Through this visit to this beautiful country there were a number of things that i observed. First, the architecture is just amazing, an uncle traveling with us had said, "Whatever images or ideas these people get in their wildest dreams, they just build it". There is a 34 kilometer bridge across a water body and at 17 kilometers from either end, attached to the bridge on one side is this beautiful looking complex. I was wondering how they bought the area to build it? The buildings on normal land were no less. All the places we visited made us feel this presence of human creativity and hard work around us. The lights, the cleanliness, the way trees were uprooted from someplace and then planted as a whole in the place they desire, how they managed to grow plants around concrete posts at heights of 7 feet from the ground. A treat for the eyes. There were so many unique sights that would have looked so awkward and out of place in my country. Sights like men rolling up their t shirts till their chest to showcase their paunches (it was end of summer time), mini skirt and shorts were the uniform for the ladies, Queues at bus stands, small Children with their clothes vertically slit at the bum portion so that they can pee or take a dump comfortably when they want, large smoking population (smoker's paradise actually. every building, office, meeting room is built in such a way that people can smoke inside. And the people we met, offer cigarettes even before we shake hands), sexy looking cars of a million brands, two wheeler taxis, Chicken legs (not the type we get here in India), multi level bridges, bus stations where you board on the second floor and the busses come straight out from there and join the road through a bridge, large number of electric bikes, warm tang juice at buffets, etc. By the time I started noticing these differences and to enjoy the sights and sounds of this country, we were back at the airport staring at similar looking faces which were to travel back with us. Business trips suck. Sometimes I wished I had my whole family with me or a group of friends. I guess a place is defined or remembered by the people around and with you as much as the buildings, geography or climate. Thats why they say "Home sweet home".<br />
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On a serious note, during a recent flight, my father lost a gold chain he had kept in the check in luggage. I heard a similar story from another person about his watch and camera going missing from the check in luggage. I think there is something fishy going on in the airlines. Wonder if this is how they make their ends meet!!</div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-61186134408302187282011-08-25T01:08:00.000-07:002011-08-25T01:08:36.541-07:00What I expect in heaven...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The concept of heaven is like a sweet blurry dream from last night. We do not remember it clearly but we're sure that it was good. Similarly, There is no accurate description of heaven but we all know that it is the best place to be. There are certain illustrations of heaven in movies and childhood stories that come to mind, like blue skies with dense silver clouds, clouds all around you as if you are walking on one of them, almost blinding light everywhere, beautiful trees bearing fruit, every person in the surrounding in white overalls and calm faces (to show that they have attained "inner peace" - though i frankly think that word was created by people who do not like to have fun)<br />
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From childhood, i have been taught, through my religion as well as from other sources, that i need to be good and do good things to be in this bright, beautiful place for eternity. These illustrations do make heaven an attractive place to be, but for how long? The movies and stories do not last for more than a few hours, What would you do in a place like that for whole of eternity?<br />
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Then what should heaven be like? what can make it pleasant and joyful for whole of eternity? First requirement would be people. People i love and like to be with. Parents, brothers and sisters, cousins, uncle and aunts, grand parents, friends, colleagues, class mates and some acquaintances. And walking in the clouds all the time would be really boring. I would like to visit different places like waterfalls, lakes, beaches, my native, my house, my room, watch a movie, eat out etc. Speaking of eating out, how long can one just live on apples and oranges? I don't see any chickens walking around in the clouds in those illustrations of heaven. The more i try to draw this picture of heaven, the more it resembles my real life. I'm surrounded by people i love and like to be with. I can visit any place i like, and I think i do that quite often. And there is no limit to the choice of food available these days. Some may argue that when you enter heaven you lose all these worldly desires. You would not want anything. But then, it should not make a difference to such a person if it is heaven or hell. He doesn't want either.<br />
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What is it then that would make the difference? A natural desire would be to remove all the negatives in life. That would make the difference. A life without failures, sickness, and arguments would be very close to heaven, one may think. But doesn't failure increase the joy of subsequent success? Doesn't sickness increase the value of good health? Don't arguments and fights help us understand each other and ourselves? So i wouldn't want them to be removed. I would like to feel sad and happy, be healthy and sick, fight and make up. and fight again. The point is that i firmly believe that heaven is here, right here, right now. Right now, the joy that i get from writing this blog and posting it on the internet with a belief that the very few people who would read it, are reading it not just to pass time (if you are reading this to pass time, you have really bad taste) but because they think i'm important enough to them to spend a few minutes of their time on. And it is these people who make this place as heaven for me. It is my duty to make this heaven for them and everyone around which is why one one should do good and be good. not in return for some dream called heaven in the future.<br />
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Moral: I love my life. Go hug yours.</div></div>Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-28141982534107978152011-06-17T04:35:00.000-07:002011-06-18T02:50:43.166-07:00Tea time<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><u><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I LOVED MY JOB</span></b></u><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I recently resigned my previous job at one of the leading vehicle manufacturers in India, to join my family business. While there is no scale of comparison between the two and both have their own advantages and headaches, there are somethings about my previous job that i would miss. A Lot. Some of them, i've tried to elaborate as a tribute to the great work experience they gave me.</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><u>Tea Time:</u></b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">This in one of the most important contributors to an efficient work environment. If insufficient, it leads to fatigue and job stress and at the same time, if more than required, leads to increased gossip affecting productivity. There should be a subject in Human Resource Management at B schools on how to manage the refreshments and their intervals.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">There was no specific time for tea at my previous employer. We could have it any number of times a day and anytime of the day, within office hours that is. ALL FREE. We could not carry the beverages to our desk for obvious reasons but we could have them brought to meeting rooms. Initially it was just the usual varieties of tea and coffee but later we had the choice of lime tea, tomato soup, horlicks and badam milk added to the menu. Believe it or not, this added feature was a cause for some excitement at the highest levels in the organization. Every meeting had the head of the department usually asking around which was better, the tomato soup or the lime tea, before ordering some to be brought to the meeting hall. Lime tea was my personal favorite.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Though the options and the taste are memorable, the time that i spent at the fire exit having the refreshments were more so. Sometimes with department colleagues, sometimes with friends from different departments, sometimes alone, on rare occasions with my boss. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">With colleagues, the discussion usually started with some recent news or the cricket match the previous night but always ended with everyone laughing out loud at some joke. Usually its this one person who turns out to be the butt of all jokes. Not that there was something wrong with him, i guess we just liked him a lot. Not sure if he shares the same feeling though. Similar to us, there are different groups within the office. We somehow manage not to crowd the fire exit. Not that we discuss it but its like an understood agreement. Rarely, we bump into the other groups, sometimes older ladies talking in whispers on how one of the ladies (who is obviously not in the group) got her promotion or sometimes older gentlemen discussing the dress worn by the heroine in a recent item song.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">All our weekend plans were made at this very fire exit. Usually followed by one of us going back to his seat and booking movie tickets. Movie reviews, love life, higher education, irritating bosses, latest songs, the HR intern, hangovers, cars, pay hike.... you name it and we have discussed it here. Some of the discussions are carried over to our work stations. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Then there are those lonely tea breaks. When we just need some time alone, to think, introspect, and reorganize ourself to tackle the issues at hand, sometimes official and sometimes personal. Sometimes we just end up alone, because your boss had something very important (from his point of view) to discuss when your colleagues were having a break. Such breaks were times when i would be reminded of old memories, of close friends, some happy times, past achievements, little mischiefs. Usually the break ended with me in a conversation with one of my partners in crime during school or college.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I will miss those tea breaks. Now when i see the employees in our factory during the tea breaks, i realize one important part of those tea breaks, "the smile". Those few minutes with the cup in your hand are when you are happy, when there's a smile on your face, when you forget your tensions and deadlines, when your colleagues become more than just colleagues, when you feel light. And it is this feeling that remains common across all the employees everywhere. Be it huge corporates, or the people who take out your trash. We all have our little tea break. Cheers!!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I Loved My Job.</div></div>Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-50262232575973723022011-05-30T03:37:00.000-07:002012-09-17T04:09:50.471-07:00The HR intern<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<u><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I LOVED MY JOB</span></b></u></div>
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I recently resigned my previous job at one of the leading vehicle manufacturers in India, to join my family business. While there is no scale of comparison between the two and both have their own advantages and headaches, there are somethings about my previous job that i would miss. A Lot. Some of them, i've tried to elaborate as a tribute to the great work experience they gave me.</div>
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<b><u>The HR Intern:</u></b><br />
What i'm talking about here is not a specific person but a phenomenon that occurs in most organizations and even colleges.<br />
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Being an engineering company, the female to male ratio was somewhere around 1 : 123456 and counting. With all the female population concentrated at the head quarters where i was stationed. Now that would sound so much like paradise, until you consider the age spectrum. If built a little differently, the office could be easily mistaken for an old age home.<br />
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Rarely could we spot good looking females who were not married. There was a good chance that they were in relationships, but hey, who cares?? Anyways, these occasional sightings would mostly be college students doing their internship in the HR department or the likes.<br />
Advantage: you get to see different females every 2-3 months.<br />
Disadvantage: There was no scope of an actual relationship. Not that it was achievable in a longer timespan, but it sounds like a really good excuse.<br />
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We didn't know her name, or her college, or any information. in short, we couldn't even find her on facebook. but we knew the one most important information. The time she has lunch. I think the only good thing about our canteen was that everybody was forced to eat there. Even if we had brought our own lunch, we had to sit in the canteen and eat.<br />
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Our whole group ensured that we were in the canteen at the exact same time that she had lunch. We would enter as a gang and crane our necks in all directions to locate her and sit at a table closest to where she was sitting or where she would probably sit, if we reached before her. If you are a lady reading this, let me tell you that we are not as cheap as you think. it would usually be one of us who would be interested in the female and not all. we are just there for moral support. its part of team work i guess. But it is also true that it is usually that one shameless guy who is interested in all the interns. And i'm not that guy.<br />
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Well, moral of the story is that it was great fun, something that i will miss. And i'm sure it happens everywhere. Sometimes its the HR intern, sometimes that new recruit from a rival software company, sometimes the fresher in EEE.<br />
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P.S. if you are a lady reading this, please do leave your number.</div>
Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8266249742862972335.post-50045343868516715782011-05-10T04:44:00.000-07:002011-05-30T03:41:50.910-07:00The Boss<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><u><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I LOVED MY JOB</span></b></u><br />
<br />
I recently resigned my previous job at one of the leading vehicle manufacturers in India, to join my family business. While there is no scale of comparison between the two and both have their own advantages and headaches, there are somethings about my previous job that i would miss. A Lot. Some of them, i've tried to elaborate as a tribute to the great work experience they gave me.<br />
<br />
<b><u>The boss:</u></b><br />
Yes, i will miss my boss, in fact all my colleague's bosses. The pleasure we get in abusing each other's bosses over tea would be greatly missed. Sometimes, the insults would be so bad that you would reject a promotion if it were handed to you at that moment.<br />
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I would like to think that we are different from our bosses. We wouldn't be so bad or that we wouldn't be abused so much. But the fact is that the abuses do not depend on your behavior but more on the number of subordinates you command and frequency of tea breaks at your office. If refreshments are free, God save you.<br />
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It is a very common misconception that only bosses take credit for all the achievements and blame the incapability of the subordinates for the shortfalls. The fact is that they do, but so do we. We do the same thing to our bosses. How many times have you praised your boss for his achievement? How many of you responded to the previous question with "let him achieve something first"? How many times have you complained to your colleagues about how your boss doesn't get his priorities right? Its all in the game, a part of the corporate life. The entertaining part if you look at it that way.<br />
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I will never forget an incident with one of my colleague's boss. I had forwarded him an automail with details he had requested for. He called on my desk phone and invited me to his cubicle, popularly known as "torture cell". He had my mail open in his laptop (a waste of company resource).<br />
He asked me, "Where is the customer's name and number in the mail?"<br />
"Its in the mail, let me check." i said, scrolling down the mail on his laptop, a really old one but still a waste of resource.<br />
I showed him the detail in the mail for which he replied, "See, its somewhere down there. now i know that the detail is available in the mail, but my mental ability does not allow me to scroll down. instead i opt to call you on the phone and ask for the details."<br />
I was shocked. I looked at his subordinate standing next to him. He was smiling at me. Here was a man telling me about his mental incapability in front of his subordinate and expecting me to be sorry for it. I have been a fan of my colleague ever since.<br />
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This is just one of the incidents with one of the bosses. My suggestion would be that the company should start a TV serial like "Friends" by compiling videos captured through the CCTV cameras. it would run for 20 seasons and we could sell the DVDs later. we could name it "Yes, we get paid for this."<br />
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P.S. This is my first blog. Hope to improve in due course of life.</div>Midhunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14863766764063961374noreply@blogger.com2