Izzai ek, Habibi?

"Sabbah Al Khair", "Salaam Aleikum" and all that stuff. Ever since I've come to Al-Masr, most of my vocabulary has been rendered pointless - the English vocabulary at least. Some basic Arabic verbs, pointing and grunting help you fare better than elaborate expressions in English. In fact, in the very beginning, I could converse as well with a camel as I could with an average Arab here. And hence, in a desperate attempt to obviate (or at least delay) the onset of the "Me Anirudh; you who?" stage, I write this post.

The past two weeks have been a learning experience to say the least. From picking up basic phrases in Arabic and learning concepts which govern occurrences sixteen-thousand feet down-hole to mastering the art of picking up pipes which are heavier than most dumb-bells I lifted in the Roorkee Gym, there has been a fair amount of inflow into the grey-cell area. It has been a great knowledge sharing experience for the people around me too! For example, the other day I had to explain to a fellow that Hind was not near Mexique but near Pakistan. He found the information hard to digest but he managed a smile at the end of it all. And then, there have been numerous occasions where I've had to inform fellow members of the human race that Islam and Christianity aren't the only two religions available to mankind. Another stunning fact, no?

As ignorant as they may seem, Egyptians are really friendly people. They make an effort to talk to you slowly and explain things again and again until finally you gather the essence of what they're saying. They're open and warm too. In fact, Egyptians impose their opinions upon strangers all the time. It's not something they consider rude. And they can barge into your room and then ask you  if it's okay to come in. You can do the same to them, of course. They're a welcome change actually after all the stuck-up foreigners we get to see.

And then, there's the food! Salads and salads and a few salads more... There's olive oil, rice, bread and meat. These guys eat everything - from camels to pigeons. My 'bland' diet alarms them as much as a Vampire's would. I never thought I'd say this about salads, but they're quite delightful.

It's all a mix of the fun of discovery and the discomfort of change - something every travel is about, I suppose; the same bittersweet feeling that passes through you when the sun is about to set over a lonely oil rig in the desert. You know it's going a brilliant sight. But then again, it's going to get so cold!

Root of all Evil...

Cognizance has tried hard. But cannot absorb me completely.

A day after I posed questions like "How many hours can you spend in the Cognizance office", "How do you propose to manage some ten things together" and associated interview-standards, I ask myself the same. January first saw the Winter viruses finally vanquished, as my body cooled to more acceptable temperatures. Ever since, it has been hell.

A month ago, I'd have laughed - had anyone told me I can make myself busy and place that strange 'red dot' against my status. I'm afraid my worst fears have been realized. While thoroughly enjoying the process of 'search-call-extort', I am finally beginning to see the other side of things. Those unending hours of velaness have all been killed in one powerful, crushing blow. No longer do I play PES endlessly. I don't listen to music for the sake of listening to music. I sleep as soon as 'work' gets done. The frequency of my trips up and down Mount Library have more than doubled. Why, I am no the longer omnipresent Green I used to be, on GTalk!

After a long time, I have managed to spend four-hundred rupees on a monthly phone rental at 50p/min, and I'm not too glad about it. While the wonderful warmth of the Cogni - radiator remains one of the few reasons which make me glad to spends nights and days there, the thought of negotiating that cold kilometer more than makes up for it. I still enjoy the task of Sponsorship - which, according to me, is the next best thing to Writing. Nevertheless, I have been severely chastising myself for ignoring my beloved blog for so long. Incidentally, it turns two, today! Happy birthday blog! May you stay healthy and live long.

I've got a phone call to make. Over and out.

"I didn't steal it!"

After a spate of serious posts, I have to break off! And what better time than when Christmas is around? Apart from the promise it holds in the form of cakes, goodies, Saint Nicholas and well... mistletoe, Christmas tales have always held me rapt with attention! From Christmas Carol and ol' Ebenezer "Humbug" Scrooge to 'Home Alone', I've found them all rather interesting. Here, I refer to the greatest Christmas villain of all time - The Grinch (who stole Christmas) - Thank you, Dr. Seuss. Thank you, Chuck Jones. Well, I happen to think he wasn't that bad after all!

The boys and girls of the world
Have all heard about the Grinch
Through the lies, which have been told;
Tales of evil which made them cringe.

“He is Green! And he is mean!”
In his town, they cried, aghast
They ran away when he was seen
And they ran really, really fast!

But this li’l boy called Grinch
Had problems, few too many
His heart was small, by thrice an inch
He was green; he looked real funny.

He was shunned, by one and all
The brats hated him real bad
Finally, he ran away one fall
His eyes were moist; he was sad.

Running up the hill, to his lonely dwelling;
(A shack, high up amidst the mist)
With his books, he sat there thinking
For few knew he was a secret Environmentalist.

‘Tis where the terrible lie starts
The tallest stories ever told.
They called him a loner! Unbelievable twats!
They said his heart was small and cold!

Today, I'd have them put behind bars:
(1) For ridiculing physical handicaps
(2) For perpetrating such abominable farce
(3) For introducing into the society- Gaps.

Poor Grinch didn’t like trees being chopped
Nor did he permit animals slain
He cried out loud when plants were topped
To eat only vegetables, he did train.

He was Green, as the World’s never seen
He’d have made Copenhagen* proud
But they said that Green was Mean;
And a Villain, they proclaimed him loud!

Then came the cold; December and fests!
(There were no Room-Heaters back then)
What the brats did next, you never will guess
For these boys were savage, wicked men.

‘Global warming’ was a concept, new
But alas, these kids had learnt of it!
To use it, they proceeded – these few
And with axes – the trees, they hit.

“They’re for Christmas,” they said, at ease.
(Only you and I know what they’d planned)
Robed like Claus, they chopped off trees
Causing in Winter, warmer land!

What’s worse? To celebrate this feat,
The scoundrels demanded gargantuan meals
Featuring dressed-Turkeys, head to feet
And Chicken, Caviar, Crabs and Eels.

Our Green hero, no doubt, alarmed
Set out for Town, down the hill.
He didn’t want his Nature harmed;
He would save them from the kill!

Dressed as Claus, he rode at night;
As his companion, was his dog
He then slid, into their chimneys, light
And climbed out with their Christmas log.

One by one, he did each house
And calmly, meticulously cured the town.
Then – silently, like a mouse
He ran the hill, up from down.

Morning came and obviously, tempers flared
They spoke about “The Grinch who stole Christmas!”
Charging up the hill, they said, “Do you want your life still spared?!”
“Return our trees, then… without a fuss!”

“But… Christmas is about the spirit,” said Green,
“It’s about sharing, caring, joy and all!”
“Oh! Cut the crap! You’re just jealous and mean
You green creature!” retorted all.

“We all know it’s about trees!
It’s about cakes and pastries and wine!
And the turkeys – minus their fleas…
Just return the trees. And we’ll do dandy fine!”

This is when the story hits a rather abrupt end
An enigma – so unfortunate, is it not?
We’ll never ever know what really happened!
Was our Green hero ever caught?!

But let him not be known from here
As a criminal, but a martyr great!
A Happy Christmas and a Merry New Year,
Together, let us all celebrate!

Winter Rank

Christmas break is around the corner again. New year parties, albeit beguiling with great promise, as usual, will be missed out on, yet again, by us R-fools who, so desperately, rush back so as to save up on an extra-form and a few hundred bucks! I can almost see those stars and bells hung on every other household's front balcony. 2009 has behaved well and deserves a pat on the back. Holiday FB activity, as you normally expect, is on a high. Blogs are overflowing, again. Then what's different, one may ask. Well, a few things to say the least.

For starters, its been a while since we have managed to retain the lead on the top of the table at the break. My fingers are crossed. More importantly, I'm still stuck here in R, wondering when I'll get back home, reunited with Rasam, Dosais and Appalam. This winter has started off weirdly, to put things lightly. Nevertheless, Winter remains my favourite season of the year, ever since I was introduced to the concept two years ago. Here are five things which never change - things I'll always love about winter.

(1) The Fog: It delays flights, alright. But its one of the things I look forward to. The sheet of white takes me all the way back to my Scooby Doo days. At the stroke of half-beyond-six, bro, I and a handful of munchables used to plonk ourselves in front of the Tele singing for 'Scooby Dooby Doo - Where Are You?' There were times when Shaggy would take out a knife and cut a hole in the fog. The great mist takes me back to those days!

(2) The Girls: While 'Kingfisher's Swimsuit Model of the Year' contest will have you disagree strongly with my opinion, I remain constant. Winter is the best time for Girl-watching. The fairer gender turn all the more fair and the glowing cheeks make the wait worthwhile. Well, some might try chastising me with a reminder about the place we dwell in. Well, all observations are relative and after all, the multiplexes are just a bus-ride away. Yes, Girls definitely make Winter worthwhile.

(3) The Baths: These are privileges which come at a premium, few and far between, but remain one of the glorious aspects of Winter. While the icy air looms ominously as a powerful impediment, the hot steaming water transports you to warmer climes. You splash yourself and lo! - the perfect combination of Yin and Yang; much like fried ice-cream! The best part, however, remains the smoke emanating from the pores of your epidermis - when you resemble a sizzling brownie.

(4) The Coffee: Caffeine is a killer. While most people intoxicated by the roasted beans strongly detest Tea, or vice versa, my preferences aren't that strong. Nevertheless, I've never for once thought that the gentle leaves of the slopes could ever match the zing of the power-packed berries of the coffee shrubs. And come Winter, it's effect becomes all the more profound. I would bear sub-zero just for the coffee!

(5) The Sleep: While it would be sacrilegious and profane to speak (4) and (5) in the same breath, such are the funny ways of Father Frost. The weight of a heavy blanket, a broken alarm clock and a cunningly cold Sunday morning can combine in ways which would put every other pleasure to shame! The sweet arms of Morpheus are never this kind!

Dispor(i)ted

Arun's status message on FB (paraphrased): "Our life is like a fraction; The numerator being what we are... And the denominator being what we want to be." Do your arithmetic.

My wing emptied itself out today, leaving Yours Truly as the sole company for dear ole Pink-punk. The cold wind blows through the hollow corridors as I find emptiness within...

While my neighbour pines for company, I must tell you I'm enjoying it. Simple astrology would tell you that it is but an expected trait of a Virgin, not because they are loners but because it gives time to reflect. To ponder. And it was during one of these bouts, in the afternoon, when I began to wonder about that 'Denominator', in my life. A rather disheartening picture crept up, with life tending to null and void. Feeling rather dispirited already, I walked out of S-7's safety into the open second-floor corridor... That was when it hit me. The reason why I was, all of a sudden, thinking about life as a fraction hit me hard. It was the same reason why my corridor is all but empty.

I am, generally, rather content with my routine, my achievements (whatever measly total they amount to) and my goals. But come December, I start feeling that vacuum again. Last year's Chennai and this year's Kanpur leave me estranged. The answer's cold hand slaps me across the face. This happens to be just the tip of a massive iceberg.

When I was in the fifth grade, I was introduced to the world of Classical music. I barely understood it then; I love it now, but without understanding. Then, in Standard Seven, I began to learn the keyboard and the 'Casio' entered my life. For three years it stayed; years when it would sing in harmony with my vocal chords. Incidentally, it was also Class VII when I began 'Tennis'. The coach liked me; 'vice-versa' not being applicable. Soon, I began Volleyball lessons in school. I wasn't nearly the best, but fast improving. I still boast of the one certificate I managed out of it in my résumé! I loved Cricket as a playing sport and I wouldn't be boasting if I said I was the best Batsman and Spinner within a few blocks' vicinity. Then.

It was when I began Volleyball, that I gave up on the tennis coaching. And then weirdly enough, I dropped Volleyball as it bored me! The Casio stopped singing to my fingers' dance almost in sync with my larynx's reluctance to produce melody. It was Standard X. Cricket lived on in my blood. Football grew on me. Then, I reached IITR. They both hit 'Pause'.

You realize the pain of failure when your denominator is so large. When you dream of doing great things, each setback is like a spear through the heart. Worse, however, is the pain of not being able to fail! Just because you gave up too early. I still can sketch brilliantly (can't say the same about painting) but I don't. I can sing. I don't. I could relearn the keyboard. I won't. Tennis exited my life early, though I'd have loved to go on. I almost made NSO with 'Volleyball'. I simply never visited the courts again! Life seems to have sapped me of Cricket. It all seems late now. I have a long way to go in order to become finite once more. All I do is crib. And write.

Awake!

It all began in the dying hours of the 25th of this month... What began? I mean the week; the week began with the stroke of midnight 26-01-2009. Of course, I'm assuming that you, like me, wish to think that a week begins on Monday (unless it is a Muslim country in which case I would believe that the week started on Saturday). Let me assure you - It's a good way to go about things.... This way your week ends with a bang; the 2 big S's of the week bringing some respite after a tough 5 days.

The way I look at it, Saturday and Sunday provide the much needed motivation and hope to go on with life; to go on with the week and end it... a hope like the light at the end of a dark tunnel. (I’ve discounted the possibility of that light at the end being a train.) Anyway, God bless the man who declared Saturday a holiday. (Not the creator of the 'Sunday holiday’. You see, Sunday has always been a holiday – there was never any doubt.)

Now, where was I? Ah yes, 25th January, 2009. That was a Sunday of course. Like I told you, I love the concept of 2 day weekends - It's the coffee for life; it keeps us going. This time, it was different – even better. 26th was a holiday too! God bless the British! (Someone ought to suggest celebrating our liberation from the Mughals et al - we could always do with more patriotism... and more holidays.)

It was around 10 p.m. that night when I first took notice of what I thought was a primitive game with ancient graphics, which anyone with a good knowledge of C++ and some graphics could create. I laughed it off with disdain and ridiculed the people who were playing it. Such a childish game! 'Little Fighter', I believed, was strictly was the birds. A multiplayer fighter game with heroes having special powers like 'Tiger Dash', 'Destructo Disk' and 'Fireball' etc.... I wondered how stupid you should be to play that! Well, how wrong I was…. I had completely ignored the delicate mastery of the game design, the small features which lead to such great addiction and finally result in the complete incarceration of the human mind. I was called to play a single game, but the brilliance and simplicity of 'Little Fighter' left me awestruck and glued to the screen.

We were 8 people and all combos were played - 3 vs. 3 (2 people were asleep), 3 on comp, 4 vs. 4, 8 vs. computer... this list goes on. It was only the clock which brought me to my senses again - it said 4 am. Normally, it wouldn't have been such a big deal, but I had plans for 26th Jan.... I wouldn't want to let go of a chance to see the RD parade on live streaming video - it brings out the patriot in me. More to the point, I wouldn't let go of a chance to see the cadets freezing their a**es off in the cold to put up what at best can be called a shoddy, dismal show. That brings out the sadist in me. It’s like saying, "Ha ha! Look at you poor B@#$*^%s! I can't believe I did that last year! But anyway, this time, it’s you..." (I wonder if many people share these feelings of mine.)

At 4, I left the gaming room – vowing to rekindle my romance with 'Little Fighter' when I got the time – which by now, I called the 'Most Fun Multipayer Game in recent times'. But it was only 2 hours of 'Friends' later (I realized that I would anyway miss out on the patriotism and sadism) that I finally succumbed to fatigue. After all, Monday was a holiday too. So I guessed I would sleep into the afternoon (or maybe the evening). One thing I definitely believe in is that your week must begin well or else you are in for a bad 5 days ahead. So hoping for a pleasant beginning, I hit the sack.

Soon there were beautiful meadows and a bright sun overhead... A land covered in a misty overcast. It was a lovely sight. People were few, mostly travellers and maybe a handful of farmers here and there; an inn here, a farm there...

It was only after a while that I noticed that people were afraid of me. No, not afraid – Maybe a tad respectful. But why? Then, I noticed the cape... My cape. Hmmmm…. Was ‘it’ real?! I realized that I was some sort of a superhuman being (after all, I was floating most of the time). Was I...? Was I really... I was a 'Little Fighter'! The power – I had, the force was with me!

But there was so much I didn't know.... Did I protect this hamlet? Had I slain many foes? What was my name?? I realized that I required a name. Maybe I had one; but one that I didn’t know wouldn’t have been useful so I started wondering about a new one which would send chills down my opponents’ spines (before I broke them). But my thoughts were cut short. On the horizon, walking towards me was this most lovely sight. The most beautiful girl I had ever seen... I couldn't see very clearly due to the mist. I was about to wave away the mist when - Bam! My head had clearly been hit from behind... and I went flying.

I got up immediately to identify my foe and put him down for good. To my surprise it was a decent looking middle aged man, a man with a familiar looking bulky cloth bag - someone I recalled from somewhere.... But I didn't have time. I ducked two of his wild swings and caught his chin with a reverse roundhouse. I thought that it ought to have immobilized him for a while and I began to turn towards the damsel again... But no! He began to multiply. He, no – they chanted something. Soon I was surrounded by clones of this man all shouting something which made my head throb rhythmically - Bam Bam BAM! What were they saying? 'K... P... D....' Something like that... BAM! No it couldn't be!!

I realized who the men were... But it couldn't be. Not you, not here! Dammit, this was supposed to be a good dream! I realized that these people were my 'Dhobi'. It all came together – the cloth bag and the familiar face. No! I knew I was going to open my eyes.... Of all people, it had to be him. MY DHOBHI! Not just one, but hundreds of him! I had to leave this place… But one last time, I had to see... I turned to look at the lovely lady. But  'K... P... D...' BAM!!

'ALRIGHT ALRIGHT! I'm awake already!!'

'Bam Bam Bam' went the door....

'Kapde de do Bhaiyya!!' went the washerman. Ohh, that was it. Not ‘K... P... D’ but ‘Ka..p..de’.

'You sadist... Killjoy.... It's a free Monday.' But I knew that I had to go and fetch those clothes before he tossed them into that eternal vortex of lost garments. The cold woke me up completely... But then, determination, grit and the satisfaction that he had returned 100% of my clothes helped me attain the gifts of Morpheus again in a few minutes. But as you would have guessed, it wasn't long before the second bout of attacks came in....

This time with authority. 'What the hell,' I thought. I wasn't going to open that door this time. I thought that by ignoring the door, the imbecile(s) would have sense enough to leave... But no! They were very persistent, and with unerring and irritating accuracy, they didn't even miss the beat. Thud, Thud... Thud... Thud Thud... A few muttered expletives later, I managed, "Abey kaon?" (Who the hell is it?)

Reply: Warden.

Now that hit me with a jolt. Even through the stupor, I distinctly recalled that I had no blood ties with the warden of Cautley Bhawan. Nor did I know the bloke too well. So he definitely didn't come here out of love or care for me. I quickly went through the possibilities. I didn't smoke – anyway they don’t chuck people out of a hostel for that. I definitely didn't have any grass on me... Oh no! Where did I put that last bottle of Smirnoff? Then I realized, I didn't possess that either. I was safe.

Gathering myself (and shoving the “illegal” water - kettle under the bed), I reached for the door, unbolted it and yanked it open. The sunlight was too bright for any sleepy man's liking. There, just outside S-7 Cautley were two men in suits. One man strolled straight into my room as if it was his and said to the other, "Welcome sir. This is your room."

What? For almost 7 months now, I've been under the belief that this room belonged to me! I pinched myself to make sure this part was real and not a dream. It hurt.

'This is where you stayed 20 years back," he added.

Ohh great! 20 years ago! A damn alumnus to wake you up... I couldn't have asked for more. I tried to control myself from saying something wrong in front of the warden but an abusive was bound to slip out. What a @*&%#!\ without any consideration! Like he didn't sleep on holidays during his hostel life….

The warden then states, “You sleep too long lad. You know what time it is? It’s almost 10 and you have missed breakfast!”

10 am??!! Brilliant! First he wakes me up, then he advises me…. I briefly wondered how I had performed that perfect reverse roundhouse kick.

The alumnus looked at me and smiled. I wanted to beat him up then and there. ‘What should be my opening lines?’ I thought, “Which insult has the privilege of going first?”

And then, to my surprise, I shook his hand (keeping as far away from him. You see I hadn't even brushed then) and said, "Good morning sir. Glad to meet you. Please do come in and enjoy for a while what was once yours... and please don’t mind the mess."

Nice way and nice words to begin the week, I guess. 

P.S. I believe he came to the wrong room anyway. This room cannot be 20 years old!

Happy Birthday To You

Anirudh

My Blog,

www.konfessionsofageenius.blogspot.com,

The World Wide Web.

8 - 1 - 2009

Dear Blog,

Sub : Hearty Birthday Wishes

Happy birthday blog. Don't be surprised - today is your birthday. This is one thing we kept from you and I think now that the time has come for you to learn everything.

You were not born on the first of November, 2007. Instead you actually came into existance on the 8th on Jan the following year. Though others may believe that 'Of Soothsayers, Believers and Fools' marked your beginning, it was actually 'The Average Winter Day' which brought you into existance as it is indicated in the note following the P.P.S of the former. Read through patiently and you will understand everything.

'The Average Winter Day' was written on 8-1-08 and 'Soothsayers...' followed. However, due to some negligence on my part (of which I am ashamed) and some laziness (which I cannot help), some error in the dates crept in. I am unwilling to correct this error as of now due to some stupid sentimental reasons. Anyway, I am sorry if I have hurt you in any way.

I am also sorry if you feel that I have ignored you at any point of time. I try to make 1 post every month but as you know, sometimes this is not possible due to some of my prior commitments. I feel bad for you especially because I have been notified that some authors have been making 9 posts in one particular month! Well, I am sorry for not postingeven once in December but I promise you that I will NEVER make 9 posts in any particular month! (Maybe in three months; not even two) - By the way, this is the second for Jan. You had better note that down.

It has been one hell of a ride - this one year. You have stuck with me through thick and thin. You were with me when I braced for a 1.5 degree chill last year (and no doubt you will stick around this year too). You helped me face the wrath of the 10 registration cards; a daunting task had I been alone. As a reward of course, you have had the opportunity of sharing the lighter and happier moments of my life.

We have come through 365 days though it doesn't feel as many. Last year, this very evening I still remember making up the final draft of my first post. Yes, there were drafts those days; not the present day concept of "write + post in the same sitting"... It has been a bumpy ride or a sinusoidal wave (as HHH would put it) in terms of comments. We started with 0 and then up, down, up...  It doesn't really matter; though comments often motivate you to frequent this place more.

The year of 12 posts has finally come to a close. 12 is a good number. No? Anyway, that is how much I have managed. Maybe the next year will see more. (This counts as number 1 in those) I hope we see many more bloggiversaries like this. Cheers, have a great year!

Thanking you,

Yours in an 'Authorly' way,

Ani Arun

P.S. Same time, same place, last year - it was much colder. That's why I began to write in the first place - because it was too cold to do anything else.

P.P.S. I love P.P.Ss. Long time since I used them though.

P.P.P.S. Ditto

Of Soothsayers, Believers and Fools

The room was dark, everyone was still... The doors were tightly shut as the room resembled a sepulchre. My friend concentrated and I feigned it too... The saint had been called, Peter, please answer:... My friend (Kumar) Prashanth touched the screen of the laptop and the question was posted on the website - "What is my name?"...

It took a while... A few fellows from my branch stared expectantly(even though they didn't know what to expect) - half curious, half frightened... Kumag Rashanth jj - was the answer; the guy next to me jumped so high, he almost banged his head on my fan... St. Peter had answered...
(For those unfamiliar with the concept of 'Peter-answers', it's a website which allows you to ask any question and then discretely enter an answer to it; when the poor guy seeing it for the first time turns white thinking the saint has been invoked from his heavenly abode to answer his petitions...)

The next few hours of the night brought me questions from all over the bhawan... "Does she like me or not?", "I lost my keys, where is it?" and some other really interesting ones! Oh my god, how can you fall for such a corny thing! I answered the difficult ones by fiat - "Peter cannot understand the emotion of love... He can only answer those questions whose answers the questionner has in his subconcious...."

Soon I heard shouts and yells - "Peter baba ke jai ho!" (literally translating to 'Everyone, praise St. Peter') After this frenzy gradually subsided, a very pertubed looking friend approached me...
Friend : "Dude, what will be my CGPA at the end of SemesterII?"
I : "Peter is not a fortune-teller or a gypsee you know! You should treat him with more respect!!"

The poor guy fled (perhaps fearing the Curse of The Wicked Website)... We all (the seers and the feigning believers) had a hearty laugh. It was only a day later that we told the guys about it... (They were fuming with rage)


P.S. I hope this rage has subsided.

STATUTORY WARNING : Demonstrating excessive rage is strongly discouraged. (As it may result in a badly brutalized author.)

P.P.S. This post does not, intentionally or unintentionally, wish to hurt anyone's sentiments. So any such occurence is purely coincidental.

Note: This post was made after 'That Average Winter Day' yet, according to blogger, this is dated earlier to that... Now how did that happen?? Hmmm I wonder... maybe I must ask Peter.