Among all the things that I enjoyed in Mysore, the thing that I enjoyed most was the opportunity to write and express.  My stint as the editor in chief of the Infosys Mysore newsletter was a brilliant experience on the whole.  I got to read the general public’s psyche via poems and articles and I crap you not, 90% of the trainees are lovelorn, dejected, suicide risks.  I was mind numbed by the the sheer amount of emo poems and stories that I had to proofread.  MY perception of the IT industry as employing the high IQ demographic took a few upper cuts and a left hook to the jaw.  Knocked out cold.

But a great experience overall.  Made the whole experience of training a lot more enjoyable with all the characters on my team.  Training per se was a massive farce.  Seeing that I got trained to work in Open Systems and find myself being trained to work on a Networking project instead.

Most of my team mates spend every waking hour studying to ‘get better’.  No one will ever be able to pay me enough to take my work home. Period.

My new target is to write a book.  I don’t care if anyone reads it, or doesn’t read it.  I don’t care if it’s published or not.  I just want to write a book.  To do so would be phenomenal and I have given myself a couple of years at the most to achieve this.  Otherwise it’s a chillum, a jhola and dum maro dum.

On that note, if anyone can help me score a couple of T’s in Pune, help much appreciated.  Do drop a line if you can.

EDIT:  This post was conceived a long time ago.  Now I am financially incapable of hanging out in Pune.  Alcohol is expensive, petrol is platinum and time is money.  And I have none.

So all hail.

I’m having immense difficulty stringing two words together but this post must come up for the sake of write.

Speaking about official mail, the team that succeeded me on the newsletter in Mysore are increasing their rep as A-list spammers by managing to spam my 200 meg inbox each and every day.  And they manage to roll out killer editions to boot.  Credit.

I feel like a noob writing a first blog.  This is awkward.  Like a conversation with an ex.  And the shorter I cut it, the better.

Return shall be made.  Later.  At a more appropriate time.  I need to get accustomed to civilisation.

0430 hours

I stood on the precipice and watched as the amber sun began to show it’s first rays on the distant horizon over the northern plains.  Unlike in the movies or novels, I felt no sense of romance watching the sight of the sunrise.  The same thought crosses my mind every time I watch the sun rise;  If I see the morning hour, I have one more yesterday.  I take life from tomorrow cause I burned out my today.

Well, what else can you expect when you wake up to a mechanical sun in a world ruled by machines with capabilities beyond the ken of any mere mortal?

 47 years, 4 months and a few days it is since the independent panel of experts proudly announced the heralding of the AI singularity.  A momentous development, no doubt, that enabled humans to transfer their consciousness to machines and continue to exist in the form of thoughts, ideas and memories forever.  Machines far more intelligent than the most intelligent human were now a reality and the world was never a better place.

Load of tosh.  That was the day the human race signed their death warrants and began to count their days of existence on the earth.  Today, the world is ruled by Skynet.  The single largest manufacturer of robots in the universe.  Note that I don’t say androids.  Androids are commonplace.  We now have droids with limbs that can mould themselves according to the terrains, morph into artillery or implode to act as a shrapnel dispensing bomb.

Aggressive expansion, lack of ethics and greed led to Skynet’s lead scientists delving more and more into the AI and eventually, they ended up moving  their consciousness into machines.  Now Skynet is run by these machines.  Their vast memory didn’t help them remember their humanity.  Raw processing power of the machines backed by the unpredictability of the human brain minus the emotions.  Recipe for great progress or absolute annihilation.

After years of producing droids to take over the world, 7 years ago, Skynet’s haze of industrial smoke accumulated over years blacked out the sun.  The sun for the earth now is Skynet’s masterpiece.  The largest Terminator in the world, designed to provide a means of light to the humans and surveillance to the machines.  The colossal droid could track movements throughout the galaxy and relay information at 5000 times the speed of sound anywhere within one light year of the Milky Way.  Rumor says that Skynet calls this a beta version.  They have plans to unleash upon the universe, a Death Star.  A mobile star that could annihilate solar systems like they were made of gingerbread.  Scary?  Welcome to the 22^nd century.  2174 A.D and Armaggedon seems ever so near.

I stand and watch the plains impassively.  Again, unlike in the movies, I have no heightened sense of things or a feeling of foreboding.  Simply a bone freezing chill.  That though, we can safely attribute to the cold storms that were now characteristic of the earth.  Without the sun, we hardly saw the mercury rise beyond 5.  Soon enough, I heard the buzz of my sentinel.  Assigned by Skynet to watch over me, it relayed images of me real-time to the central Skynet server in Eastern Siberia.  24/7.  No room for deceit or skullduggery.  One false move and in a matter of seconds, the nearest squadron of Patrol terminators would arrive and put an end to my miserable existence.

I won’t say that I haven’t thought about making a move and thus putting an end to this miserable life.  But I can’t give up.  Not just yet.  They have my family.  Amongst many other humans.  Taken hostage to create spies against the resistance.  I won’t get to see my family till I complete the assignment Skynet has given me; To get the locations and co-ordinates of the resistance’s camp in south-east asia.

Till then, I have my sentinel for companionship.  Time for reminiscence was over.  Wearily, I trudged back to my camp and flicked on my transceiver.  I quickly scanned through the frequencies looking for a sign of human broadcast.  This had become my favorite pastime in the course of my captivity.  You see, the funny thing was, all of Skynet’s sentinel were deaf.  Apparently, they were of the belief that it would place unnecessary load on the transmission networks and servers to track and store millions of zetabytes of useless human blabbering.  Even the colossus, the sun, was incapable of tracking human sound transmissions.  This is where I came in.  I was expected to listen for the resistance and get in touch with them.

The problem in all this was that the resistance used an encoded secure transmission system. Only those with a passcode could access their transmissions.  So day after day, I spent my time, fidgetting through countless hours of radio chatter.  Sometimes even between the droids.  You’d be surprised to know how talkative some of these bots can be.  The rest of the day will be spent like this, listening for signs of the resistance.  Waiting for that one breakthrough.

 1530 hours

The mechanical sun has gone back to patrol the northern hemisphere.  All is dark here and with the departure of the colossus, a cold breeze has swept over.  I hear a scuffle a few hundred yards to my south-west.  I quickly picked up my bolt-action laser shot and rushed towards the sound.  MY sentinel didn’t follow.  It had instructions to hide and be invisible so that my position as a spy wouldn’t be compromised.  Imagine my luck when I found out that it was a party of rebels escaping from a squad of moto-terminators.  What a magnificent mess they had made of the droids.  Scraps of metal lying for a good mile in every direction.

I approached them.

“Some first impression you guys have made.”

A man with a buzz cut and a scar running down his left shoulder stepped up and said, “It’s about time you make one yourself mate.”

“Greetings, I am Trinity.  A dune-rider.  I scour these lands ridding the plains of the few terminators around and spent the rest of the time trying to join up with the resistance.”

“well you’re in luck today buddy.  We are the eastern wing of the resistance.  I’m skipper, this here is Rico and the guy with the big rifle is Pavel.”

Introductions were short and terse.  Living under the permanent shadow of the terminators had ensured that people had little time for niceties.  A conversation meandering for too long often ended badly.  More often than not, people in question ended up getting liquidated.  You can say that this was probably the only upside of the machine rule.  People gave up beating around the bush and learnt to be straight-forward.

We moved quickly to take cover and once witihin the safety of the camp, we let our guards down.

Over food, the conversation continued as I tried to extract as much as I could out of this trio of resistance hoodlums.

“So skipper, what brings you to these parts?  I’ve been in and around this place looking for signs of the resistance and I’ve never seen as much as a trace.”

“you’re right.  This generally is not our area of operation. We were here on….how do they say….a vacation, isn’t it Pavel?  Yeah.  We were on a vacation.  And these damned droids decided to poop on our party.  Well one thing’s for sure, they ain’t going to be pooping on anything for a long time eh boys?”

And skipper chuckled.

It was apparent.  They were on a recon mission.  No army sends such a small troop on a major assignment.  And against the terminators, the smallest group needs atleast 5 members if you want to flank the droids.  It wouldn’t make sense to sacrifice good soldiers like these on some crazy suicide mission.  So the obvious remained.  They were spying.  Getting a good gauge of the land, the topology and the concentration of resources and importantly, the battle formations of the existing patrol terminators.

I said to the three of them.

“I lost everything when the terminators levelled my city.  I was out on work and when I returned, everything was lost.  After days of roaming around like a madman, I got a grip on myself and ever since, I’ve travelled east in search of the resistance.  I heard whispers of a base camp in south east asia and hence my presence here.”

Skipper replied, “I can’t guarantee that the resistance will take you mate, but you can come along if you want to.  Consider it payment for your hospitality.  But get one thing in that head of yours.  If you’re thinking about crossing the resistance, think again.  They can be worse than the machines, once roused.”

“thanks for the heads up.  I’ll join you guys.  Leave at sunrise?”

Rico shook his head at the mention of sunrise and spoke for the first time since we met.

“Sunrise did you say? It’s all night now son.  All night.  There ain’t no sunrise till we put skynet in the dirt.  Just night .”

There was a profound sadness about the man.  The face of a man who had lost everything.  We’d all lost something or the other.  God has forsaken this planet.

Within moments, they all crawled and curled wherever they found places and slept.  Not soundly, a soldier in hiding can’t afford that luxury, not comfortably, a rocky terrain offers only so much comfort, but assuredly.  With the knowledge that they were capable of handling anything that fate could throw at them between now and the morning. 

It didn’t matter though.  My luck had taken a turn for the good.  After months of failure, I finally had a foothold.

 Day 473

0230 hours

After 12 days of hiking along and stealing rides wherever possible, destroying a few terminators and performing detailed recon on the routes, we finally reached the outskirts of the Resistance base camp near Tibet. 

As we approached, Skipper instructed me to raise both my hands in the air and get down on my knees.  I followed his word and did accordingly.  A sentry spoke to him in a language that I estimate was German.  Could’ve been dutch either.  Nevertheless, we were cleared to enter and enter we did.

As I entered the camp, I couldn’t help but look around like a kid in a carnival.

What a sight that was.  Hundreds and hundreds of people all around, sentries around the perimeters, stealth fighters hovering over head.  If there was one thing this place was built to do, that was fight.

I was proud.  It felt wrong to betray such a movement which worked for the good of all humans, all the planet.  But who was I to decide between right and wrong.  I’m a small man, an inconsequential man.  All I do is what I’m ordered to.  Too much thinking can ruin things and that’s exactly what I’m trying not to do right now.  I have to get my family out.  And this is the only way through, I remind myself.

Skipper and his team left me in a tent with a few other soldiers and left.  Probably to debrief their leader about the mission.  In a few moments, I had fallen asleep.  Sound, dreamless sleep.  For the first time in months, I felt secure and safe.

 1400 hours

Pavel came to fetch me.  I had just woken up.  The tent was empty.  I felt embarassed.  I must be the only one to sleep for so long.  I quickly got to my feet, splashed some water on my face and quietly followed him.  He told me, “You said you want to fight didn’t you?”

I replied, “Of course I do.  What point is there in living if you can’t fight back against the tyrants destroying your home, your planet?”

Pavel nodded. “True my friend.  We’re on our way to meet our commander.  We’ll probably leave on a mission in a day.  Just thought I’d prepare you for what to expect once inside.”

I looked at him and nodded. “I appreciate it Pavel.”

And we walked towards what I believe was the centre of the camp because after a few minutes, I could barely make out the southern boundary and the western and eastern boundaries were not even visible.

A building with a flat terrace.  HQ of the resistance.

We walked in to find ourselves in  the midst of 6 people I didn’t know and Skipper.

“Good to see you boy.  Slept like a log I hear.” Skipper grinned.

“Yes sir.  Haven’t slept like that for years.” I replied.

“My fellow soldiers.” I heard a voice.

And I turned to find myself facing a man who was not too tall.  Well built.  But he had a steely glint in his eye.  Determination.  The likes of which I had rarely seen.  This had to be the famous John Connor.  The chosen one, the Terminator-Terminator, God were only a few of his rumored names.  John Connor was the one his parents afforded him.  One of the most powerful and intelligent people on the planet.  The man who carried the struggle against the machines on his shoulders.

And he went on to brief us about the mission.  We were to ambush a maintenance unit near the western border of the Sichuan province of China.  Our target was to cut-off communications and recover as much ammo as posible.

It was part of an attempt to de-stabilise all Skynet units around the base camp.

We would leave 3 hours before sunrise a day from now.

As I lay in the tent listening to the odd sounds of target practise with an assortment of guns, I heard the buzz of an announcement.  The legendary resistance broadcasts.  John Connor addressing the rest of the human race.

How eloquently he talked.  Told them how he would help and support every human willing to fight the machines.  He assured them of security.  He would lay his life down for them.  And he would.  He was a man of character and he would lead from the front.  Be it the planning or the execution.  He was the man.

And as he signed off, I remember those lines as clear as day

He said, ”…..Don’t wait for them to come to you.  Don’t wait till you lose something or someone dear.  Don’t let it be too late.  Let us fight this tyranny together as a race.  We’ve stood the test of time and again, we shall triumph.  This is john connor signing off.  If you’re listening to this, YOU are The resistance.”

 Day 486

We returned to base camp after a successful mission.  I had now spent enough days in camp to know how to slip out without anyone noticing.  You see, security was to check who’s coming in and not who’s going out.  This worked to my advantage and I slipped out virtually unseen.

I had accumulated data about the numbers, the locations, the camp, their battle formations and their plans in the future.  This would be enough to buy my family’s freedom.  IT felt wrong to give up my own kind like this.  That too to the machines.  But I have no choice.  It’s either this or never to see my family again.  You’ve got to make hard choices sometimes and I made a very difficult one.

It was not easy to flee, but from Tibet, I moved north-west hoping to hit Afghanistan and then Russia.  For days on end, I travelled almost non-stop lest someone find out and catch up with me.  That’s where being a small fry helps.  No one knows you.  No one remembers you.  You’re inconsequential.  It’ll be some time before people notice that you’re gone.

My sentinel caught up with me a day after I left the camp.  It could track me via my heat signature.  As soon as it joined me, I made contact with my handler at Skynet and transferred all the information I had.

I’d upheld my end of the deal.  Now I would wait for skynet’s confirmation so I could go meet my family.

Without a purpose anymore, it felt very lonely.  The evenings and nights seemed never ending.  The sentinel actually started feeling friendly.  I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that I had no option.  That I’d done the right thing.  But my conscience drove at my mind.   I felt like trash for breaking the trust of my own people.  A few more days of this and I would go mad.

I try not to think about it too much.  But there isn’t much else to do or think about.  It had been the purpose of my life for almost a year.  And now that it was done, a hollow feeling remained.

I told myself I’d get over it and laid down and tried to sleep.

  Day 507

1430 hours

I’m lying in my camp alone.  With my sentinel of course.  In 2 days, we will reach the prison holds of central skynet and I will free them all.  It’s dark and eerie as ever.  But after years of living alone as an outlaw, without human presence, I had grown accustomed to it.  Every sound was a welcome distraction.  Every sight as interesting as the northern lights.

We had halted for the day.  There was a snowstorm on the way.  And before it hit, I wanted to get some rest.  It’s very difficult to navigate through a snow storm and would require all my energy.

So I went back to my old pastime.  Flicked on the transceiver and surfed through the bands.

As I lay coursing through the frequencies as usual looking for human chatter, I stumbled upon some bot chatter.  The transmission was not clear today.  I checked the weather.  No electronic storm clouds visibile.  My transceiver was in fine condition.

For a second I thought I was being tracked by someone other than the machines.

But that isn’t possible.  My transceiver was with my sentinel.  No one would be able to to do it.

I’m just paranoid, I told myself.

I let the matter go and went back to my scanning.

1945 hours

Now I realise what the distortion in the chatter was.  It should’ve been obvious.  I have been a sitting duck.  It’s a bomb, wedged deep inside my Sentinel.  Skynet double crossed me.  The thing was wired to blow on command.

Skynet got what they wanted.  I delivered the resistance to them, thereby alienating myself from my own race and they could now finish me off and make it look like a Skynet operation.  IF the resistance found my body, they’d think Skynet killed me.  They would never suspect that I worked for Skynet.  They would never know that Skynet knew everything about their operations.  It was brilliantly planned and executed.

Escaping was futile.  I would be dead in a matter of seconds anyway with the patrol terminators.  I could hear the delay timer clicking.  This was a heavy charge.  Not very heavy, but heavy enough to ensure that I would die in minutes but my body would be recognisable.  I waited and embraced death as I had never embraced life before.

My life was ticking away.

Beep Beep Beep.

A few seconds and it would all be over.

Beep Beep Beep…..

0715 hours 2011 A.D

With a huge gasp, I took a big gulp of breath in and coughed into my respirator.  Everyone is huddled around me looking like they’ve just seen a ghost.

I’m lying on a stretcher with a few medics unplugging an assortment of wires.  By the look of it, I’d just received shock therapy.

 “Anyone die?” I ask

Everyone looks at me like they’d like to kill me personally.

“You almost did.”  They tell me.

“You hit your head on the wall in the pool.  You didn’t bleed, but as soon as we took you out you passed out.  The medics rushed and your heart rate was dropping.  They said they had to prevent you from going into cardiac arrest.  You got the jolts.  And after a few you came back.

I try to look up and the sun blinds me.  Funny.  I don’t feel irritated or tense.  I can vaguely remember dreaming about something weird.  I remember feeling intense emotions.  I’ve just had a near death experience, but I’m not feeling like I’m going to die soon.

 I remember something about a metal sun and a flying radio.

“You gotta stop watching Sci-fi movies buddy”,  I told myself.

I shook my head with a slight grin, and lay back as they lifted me into the ambulance and hauled me off for an ECG and a detailed check up.

“I’ve got to watch all the Terminator movies in a terminator marathon at the earliest.  And download the theme music while I’m at it.” I tell myself.

They tell me I won’t have the ECG today.  I am advised bed rest and to avoid doing things that could cause stress.  Okay, I guess.

I switch on the television in my room at the hospital.  I would’ve been dead without the defibrillator.  Would’ve probably died of boredom without the television here.

It’s not 2174 A.D .  It’s 2011. The machines haven’t taken over yet.  But some way or the other, they’ve already enslaved us.

I’m tied to machines that keep me alive.  We’re so dependent on them.  Mental note to be a little less dependent on machines.  All it takes is a little push.  The effect can be like dominoes falling over.  Be independent of technology wherever possible.  Every little bit counts. 

This is Trinity signing off.  If you’re hearing this, you are the resistance.

Coming to Infosys’ Mysore DC, I was well aware that my already vast vocab would be widening it’s horizons with the influx of pigments from multiple cities and languages.  A month into the life, I have friends from almost every demographic in the country, every direction on the compass and I have picked up a lot of the beautiful poetry that were otherwise restricted by boundaries of state and region.

Plenty of friends from Macha-land have joined us in symbiosis where we trade our gifts of the gab.  A lot of words have added themselves to the list for eg: Taioli, Tevdya, Kena Punda. (You want to know what they mean? Go to Chennai and shout them out loud at some busy junction.)

The most colorful and entertaining character though, is this guy from Bengal (whose real name was a mystery for 3 weeks, in the course of which we named him after his favorite abuse),  Betichod. Maa? Behen?  Passe.  Beti is in.  Paedo ka zamaana hai.

A real live wire, happy-go-lucky to the core, I have a little fact-list which should give the reader a good idea of what the guy is like.

Day 1:  Finds out that his room is right next to the smoking zone.  Conducts a recce of the room and finds out all smoke detectors.

Day 2:  Makes acquaintance with all sutta-loving people in the building.

Day 3: unleashes Betich** upon the world.

Day 7: Manages to conk the smoke detector.  Starts smoking in the room.

Interim days:  Invites other people to borrow smokes and lights from his room.

Day 21:  Flunks the first Bridge program.

Day 24: Caught copying in the retest.  Flunks again.

During the lunch break on the day after the test, myself, a friend of mine who we’ll just call Roy and beti himself were waiting at the counter for a glass of juice.  Beti unleashes another few pearls of wisdom.

Verbatim:

“Mere baap ko pata nahi aankhon ke saamni kaunsi patti laga rakhi hai.  Lagta hai apna baccha bahut honhaar hai.  20 saal me kabhi kuch ukhaada nahi, fir bhi lagta hai mere bete me talent pada hai.  ABCD me first nahi aya, Infosys me kya ghanta aaoonga?”

Another one of the brilliant characters in the setup is one of our very own, Naresh Kumar a.k.a Kadak  a.k.a Thakur Kadak Singh.  Names are deceptive.  The guy is anything but Kadak.  Tamilian by birth, Agri by association, bewda by choice.  This is a list of Kadak’s achievements:

Day 1: Wow, Infy is cool.

Day 2: Have to walk a lot.

Day 3: We can smoke in the bathrooms.  Laaaaay Bhaaari. (Marathi slang for insane.)

Day 7: Wine shop only 2 km away.  Love the system in Karnataka.

Day 8: Puke in food court and then explain how you went to Shila your Su.

Day 9-29:  Sneak out of campus and down one quarter every day.

The guy gives the word Stone-age a whole new definition.

Amidst such brilliant characters, I’m pretty sure, 6 months will be a piece of cake.  Life is productive, fun and I am for the first time, NOT jobless.  We make win here everyday, in various forms.  The Infy intranet belongs to Trinity, Alpha, Delta, Charlie, Tango and Dragon with SGT Shera abusing every other member now and then, we own the Gazebo and the Banyan, and we own the Atrium.  Ownage and stone-age.  That is what success stories are made of.  Shiv Khera, shake THIS.

A part of the depressingly cliché Software programmer fraternity, I am now supposed to be based “out of” Mysore.  After calling Thane home for 21 and a half non-eventful years, I  have shifted base.  It’s been pretty easy settling into life here, seeing that I was born in this state and have immediate family close by.  Familiar DNA makes things a lot better when you’re settling into a new place.  And the DNA I had on hand couldn’t have been any more familiar.

A month of attending long drawn sessions where I’ve come to realise that I am a serial rapist, arsonist and habitual drunkard and I am not supposed to indulge any of these sides of my personality in order to retain employment with my current employers, have weakened my mental and physical faculties to a large extent.  I now lose chess games in 7 moves.

On the other hand, post training fraternizing has been productive.  I am now equipped with the ability to abuse in 6 different languages and our Knowledge Base is constantly widening.  My vocabulary is now akin to the universe (modesty aside);  Immense and ever-growing.

Immense lack of write and putting my mojo-jojo sized brains to use have led to major sessions of inactivity-induced highs (I admit to taking copious amounts of  help from external stimulants as well) which leave me drained and bereft of master-stud ideas though and mischief making is down to a bare minimum which makes for plenty of destructive energy left unspent.  The only write and mischief is performed via email and ping where Trinity is in his element all day.

My blog is now as sad/happy as my love/hooligan-life.  But the up-side is that I’m spending my own money now.  Whiskey never tasted better and the hookahs never produced more smoke.

To do is to be – Descartes

To be is to do – Voltaire

Yabba Dabba do- Fred Flintstone.

No prize for guessing which legend I’m taking advice from.

P.S: I also follow his style while bowling.  Strikes and spares guaranteed.

The explorer remains forever one.

1. Out of the top drawer

Next time, pull one out of the bottom drawer, the other drawers feel neglected.

2. They have clinically taken XYZ FC apart.

Yes, Iniesta runs with a scalpel down his pants.

3. The Champions are flexing their muscles

Wait, are we still talking about the UEFA Champions League?

4. And it’s 5.  This is why they’re the champions.

Wow, and I thought it was cause they topped the table last season.  Silly me.

5. ( After a player scores a hat-trick after inconsequential performances for a few months) He has blossomed, matured and is shining like the star he is.

6. He’s playing like a man possessed.

Possessed by what? The spirit of Shankly?

7. He’s a man on a mission.

Mission to save himself from being the subject of horrible lines.  Like this one right here.

8. They have reached the promised land.

Yes, and they’re all dead and buried.

9. You pay to watch stuff like that.

Technically, you pay to watch the entire match, but I guess it comes as a part of all that.

10. Take a bow son. (Andy Gray, YOU take a bow for that phrase)

Actually, players should listen to dear old Andy.  Taking your jersey off gets you a yellow card, taking a bow doesn’t.  Simple logic.

11. Steven Gerrard with a thunderbolt.

Learnt it from Pikachu himself.

12. Rooney- Tevez-Ronaldo, it’s orgasmic football.

Jizzed my pants, I just did.

I can’t remind myself of anymore.  If you do, feel free to add some comment love.

I write this on the back of playing in an absolutely horrifying match for my team.  Over the last couple of months, every time I’ve turned out, I’ve been way below par.  Surprisingly, that is not the case when I kick about with my other football buddies.  Something seems to have diluted the pure pleasure we used to get out of playing with each other.  I don’t feel the joy anymore, only the pressure of not living up to other people’s standards.

I have, as a rule, always refrained from doing things only because it is the norm.  I do not mean that I am a maverick or a rigid non-conformist.  I simply mean that I do things only after looking at it from my point of view.  This is a result of me being decidedly follow-the-herd and having paid the price every single time, I am a wiser man.  You might say that I am Bohemian.  Perhaps I am.

Digression apart, I have now totally accepted the fact that I am never going to be good enough to play professional football.  It might sound funny that I say this at the age of 21 when it should have been pretty apparent about 4-5 years ago.  I wouldn’t call this my delusion.  Instead, I like to think of it as an unlikely dream, albeit one that I loved experiencing.  I will probably never play football as frequently as I have been playing for the last few years owing to the fact that I will be shifting base in a month’s time.  I feel the pain of having let my team-mates down as our time as a team draws to a close.  But, I am a better person, because now I’m sure I was never meant to play the game I love at the highest levels and I have shaken myself out of the ludicrous dream.

Football has always been a very important part of my life and affects me in ways most people would find funny/idiotic, but that’s the way I’m wired and I cannot change that. (Nor do I want to)  The melancholy I feel when I(we) lose, the unadulterated bliss at having watched/played a beautiful game are far too precious to me to give away without the loss of my identity.

I have never been a huge sharer or very social.  Quite on the contrary to be honest.  But over time, I have also realised that holding back is quite toxic and when I read this, I found myself nodding along.  I am a man with many friends, yet none of them know me.  I am a man with many interests, but none of them define me.  I am obscure, I am obtuse and I think I’d agree if you said I was reticent and circumspect to the point of being a loner.  That is why I chose to write all these things here rather than confide in any one person.  Which I must accept is improbable as I am my only confidant and I’d hardly be helping if i talked to myself.  What with me saying I’m a loner and then if I said I talk to myself, I’d be branded a psychopath before I could spell it.

I can sum everything I’ve written with the help of these lines by Edgar Allan Poe, one of my favorite poems:

Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had journeyed long,
Singing a song,
In search of El Dorado.

But he grew old-
This knight so bold-
And o’er his heart a shadow
Fell as he found
No spot of ground
That looked like El Dorado.

And, as his strength
Failed him at length,
He met a pilgrim shadow-
“Shadow,” said he,
“Where can it be-
This land of El Dorado?”

“Over the Mountains
Of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride,”
The shade replied-
“If you seek for El Dorado!”

P.S: We all live our lives in the quest of our own private El Dorado.  I live to enjoy the quest and I’m not giving up on it, simply changing the way I envisioned my El Dorado.

Considering the immense delay between the last post and this one, I might not have a method or definite purpose in writing this other than re-connecting with my blog.  As my mind stagnates each day with the utter lack of activity, the yearning for write and read increases.  I do not have easy access to a huge supply of ganja/cannabis/marijuana and the only stimulation available is in the form of football, which judging by the current standards in the World Cup are like Grade C weed adulterated with huge amounts of wild grass.  Mighty few performances of orgasmic quality have emerged and apart from Tiago and Co. against DPR Korea or El Guaje’s brilliant run and finish against Los Catrachos, there’s been very little to rave about.

Different issue, there has been a marked rise in the demand for dual SIM phones thanks to people’s need to be connected all the time and to avail of different services provided by different providers.  Fair enough.  Today, I find an advert in the paper for a triple SIM phone.  I’m sorry, if you need a triple SIM phone, you don’t have a need to be connected, you’re probably schizophrenic and like to lead a double life.  I find it hard enough paying one bill, so go figure.

The power of write has been drained out of me.  With time and a little injection of medichlorians, I hope it returns to it’s former glory.

Project submissions are not that big a deal if you live in the times of the Galactic Senate and control a million Storm Troopers.  I would’ve successfully provided a demo of my Death Star.  Alas, I live on humble ol’ Earth and my project only logs and tracks attendance and performance details for students rather than blowing entire planets out of the fabric of space-time.

Everywhere I look, I find people pining over their “college-life”, the memories, the friends.  Makes me wonder.  I don’t remember most of my college life.  I don’t think I made many friends. I definitely won’t miss any of this shit.  Is it them or am I just wired wrong? (rhetorical question.  I am always correct)

I have always been blessed with the gift of pure, unhindered, utter indifference.  Maybe that is why I find myself immune to sadness and those other little joys/happiness/boners that people experience as they get ready to get out of college.  My indifference now has developed to such heights that I could sit calmly as I saw Chelsea annihilate Wigan and regain the BPL title from our grasp.

I think I’m finally turning into Vader.  Aaah.  Success.  Now all I need to do is beget 2 children of Natalie Portman and then get myself an ultra stud costume.

The World Cup is almost upon us and Waving Flag fever has gripped the world.  With all due respect to K’naan, it’s a good track.  I don’t find it as awesome as most people, but what I like is it’s made by someone who actually understands what the WC means to the continent of Africa and to people who love the game.  I’d much rather Wave my flag along to K’naan than listen to Shakira and shake my booty or have Anastasia telling me how you gotta hear “Boom” everytime you hit the back of the net.

But what I realise is, one way or the other, I am a super hero.  In all my endeavors, I became something i didn’t expect.  Something which is the real me.

By the power of Write, Slumber and Bacchanalia, I am CAVE-MAN.

I’ve been trying to understand diverse viewpoints on issues like Racism, Sexism and a plethora of bias and segmentation of people.  Personally, I don’t indulge in or give a monkey’s ass about any of those.  Why should I?  I’m a brown brahmin, myself a victim of caste based bias and a sure candidate for color based racism in the near future.  What I really do care about though is my sandwich, and YOU are going to go make me one.

Why all the sudden Chauvinism you ask?  Well, here’s the thing.  My brother and guide, recently pointed out a paragraph in a book which provided proof(?) supporting the theory that the human male is the most supreme being in all of creation.  The paragraph points out how the human male is the only being who can CONTROL the flow of his reproductive fluids and release/unleash it at will ALL his life.  No being is capable of this distinctive feature which makes MAN divine.

There’s a lot behind many things we take for granted.  I have also heard that the Taj Mahal is a Rajput palace which was made into a mausoleum when the Mughals captured it.  This because of the distinctive mughal policy of making mausoleums out of conquests.  Another thing supporting this evidence is that mughals prided in their superior craftmanship and every mughal monument had printed plans which were made available for the future reference of scholars.  The Taj and other few monuments don’t have any.  Conspiracy theories abound.  Prateek Baliga is the expert on these issues.

To complete my “woohoo-education-over” week, I also received my formal offer letter from Infosys® and I shall be moving to Mysore this November.  Gives it all an amazing sense of finality.  November shall see the explorer shift cities.

P.S:  I am not sexist.  I just love sandwiches.